Fickle Mistresses
Jan 8, 2023 13:31:53 GMT -5
Eron Hunter and "The High Roller" Wesley Crane like this
Post by robriot on Jan 8, 2023 13:31:53 GMT -5
“I think it was first said in a ‘Batman’ movie that you either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become a villain. Well, maybe it wasn’t a ‘Batman’ movie. Maybe I’m just uncultured. Either way, it’s a good point. It feels like everywhere we went last year, people cheered us. 2023 is still young, but now it feels like people want to boo us. That’s fine - we don’t really care - it just reminds us how fickle you all are. We know we’re not breaking any new ground by calling wrestling fans ‘fickle,’ but the point holds true. You’re fickle. You think you know what you want until you finally get it, and then you decide you want something else.”
These words are, of course, Rob Riot’s. He’s sat on this precise chair in this precise room many times before. Fans tend to call it his “promo room.” It’s a plain wooden chair under a naked bulb, which he occasionally swats while he’s talking, casting long and dark shadows across his face each time he does. The Riot Star sits open-legged on the chair, dressed to wrestle, but with his Commonwealth Championship piled atop his Tag Team Championship on his knees.
"Think about all the gifts we gave you last year. Let's talk about Ronnie Long, the antique braggart. Ronnie came back to this company thinking he was King Shit. He came for the World Title but had to settle for the Commonwealth Championship. More importantly, though, he came for me. In doing so, he overreached. What happens when you overreach? What happens when you reach into the tiger's cage? You get your arm snapped off. I broke Ronnie Long's arm, and I guess old man Long must have been living hand-to-mouth because when I snapped his limb, I shut him up. Ronnie Long is on the shelf. Ronnie Long should stay on the shelf. Even if he manages to climb off it again, he's never going to be the same man. Injuries like that don't heal at Ronnie's age. I rescued Wrestle:UK from Ronnie Long. Fans, you're welcome."
Riot allows himself a smirk at that. It’s impossible to say whether he’s being sincere or not - but that’s nothing new for the Englishman.
"Second - we gave you the longest tag team championship reign that any of you have ever seen. We're the only tag team champions that Wrestle:UK has ever known. Myself and Frank Windsor have faced down every team, turned back every challenge, and beaten everyone there is to beat. Now I'm hearing that we took the cheap way out in our last match. Have none of you idiots ever heard of the Champion's Advantage? The rule exists for a reason. We could have won that match the same way we've won all of our other matches - by pounding a couple of curtain jerkers into the dirt. If you think Frank got us disqualified because we were scared of losing, you know nothing about us. Do you want to know why we did that? Because it means we keep the belts, and because it's funny. You best believe we laughed all the way home. If you want to stop us from doing that, change the rules. Don't blame The Bastards - blame the system."
Riot swats the lightbulb again, sending it arcing back and forth over his head. As it does so, he looks down for a moment and pats his (semi) recently won Commonwealth Championship - a title that he took from Eron Hunter by maiming Ronnie Long.
“So, boo us if you want, but don’t pretend we’ve changed. We’re doing what we’ve always done, which is making sure The Bastards stay on top. Whether the fans decide to be ungrateful or not, we’re going to keep delivering gifts. I already know the next gift I’m going to give to you - the head of Armand von Krauss. Oh boy, has this been a long time coming. Hi, Armand. It’s so very good to see you again.”
From looking down at his championship, Riot is now looking up - and straight down the camera lens. There’s a glint in his eye - one that only ever appears when things get personal.
"What a way for us to be matched against each other. You weren't even Blood's first choice for this match, were you? I was supposed to be defending against DiMaria, but she threw a fit, packed her bags and went home. How demeaning for you. How does it feel to know that the powers that be realised that they needed a replacement for a spoiled, whiny little bitch, and you were the first name that came to mind? You're a substitute. You're a wild card. You're a lucky dip. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. Remember the days when you stole my promotion out from underneath me? It must feel like a very long time ago. You thought you stamped me out, and yet here I am, still at the top of the wrestling world, and you're feeding off scraps. Everything you invested into getting rid of me - all that time, all that money, all that hired help - and in the end, I'm a bigger deal now than I was before. Tell me, Armand, how does that feel?"
There’s a confidence in Riot’s voice that tells the listener that he believes what he’s saying. These words are pointed - they’re designed to rankle. It’s an attempt to open very old wounds.
"We don't need to take the audience down memory lane, Armand. True wrestling fans know our history. When The Bastards returned to NPW in 2021, I even said you were going to be our first target - but we never got around to it. Someone or something more interesting kept getting in the way. The longer I stuck around, the less relevant to me you became. But, I'm a man of my word. I always deliver on the things I say I'm going to do eventually. So, in Aberdeen, you get your receipt. You got into this match with me the easy way, but believe me, old 'friend,' you'll be going out the hard way."
He reaches up to the lightbulb.
“See you real soon.”
Riot pulls the lightbulb out, and the feed ends in darkness.
These words are, of course, Rob Riot’s. He’s sat on this precise chair in this precise room many times before. Fans tend to call it his “promo room.” It’s a plain wooden chair under a naked bulb, which he occasionally swats while he’s talking, casting long and dark shadows across his face each time he does. The Riot Star sits open-legged on the chair, dressed to wrestle, but with his Commonwealth Championship piled atop his Tag Team Championship on his knees.
"Think about all the gifts we gave you last year. Let's talk about Ronnie Long, the antique braggart. Ronnie came back to this company thinking he was King Shit. He came for the World Title but had to settle for the Commonwealth Championship. More importantly, though, he came for me. In doing so, he overreached. What happens when you overreach? What happens when you reach into the tiger's cage? You get your arm snapped off. I broke Ronnie Long's arm, and I guess old man Long must have been living hand-to-mouth because when I snapped his limb, I shut him up. Ronnie Long is on the shelf. Ronnie Long should stay on the shelf. Even if he manages to climb off it again, he's never going to be the same man. Injuries like that don't heal at Ronnie's age. I rescued Wrestle:UK from Ronnie Long. Fans, you're welcome."
Riot allows himself a smirk at that. It’s impossible to say whether he’s being sincere or not - but that’s nothing new for the Englishman.
"Second - we gave you the longest tag team championship reign that any of you have ever seen. We're the only tag team champions that Wrestle:UK has ever known. Myself and Frank Windsor have faced down every team, turned back every challenge, and beaten everyone there is to beat. Now I'm hearing that we took the cheap way out in our last match. Have none of you idiots ever heard of the Champion's Advantage? The rule exists for a reason. We could have won that match the same way we've won all of our other matches - by pounding a couple of curtain jerkers into the dirt. If you think Frank got us disqualified because we were scared of losing, you know nothing about us. Do you want to know why we did that? Because it means we keep the belts, and because it's funny. You best believe we laughed all the way home. If you want to stop us from doing that, change the rules. Don't blame The Bastards - blame the system."
Riot swats the lightbulb again, sending it arcing back and forth over his head. As it does so, he looks down for a moment and pats his (semi) recently won Commonwealth Championship - a title that he took from Eron Hunter by maiming Ronnie Long.
“So, boo us if you want, but don’t pretend we’ve changed. We’re doing what we’ve always done, which is making sure The Bastards stay on top. Whether the fans decide to be ungrateful or not, we’re going to keep delivering gifts. I already know the next gift I’m going to give to you - the head of Armand von Krauss. Oh boy, has this been a long time coming. Hi, Armand. It’s so very good to see you again.”
From looking down at his championship, Riot is now looking up - and straight down the camera lens. There’s a glint in his eye - one that only ever appears when things get personal.
"What a way for us to be matched against each other. You weren't even Blood's first choice for this match, were you? I was supposed to be defending against DiMaria, but she threw a fit, packed her bags and went home. How demeaning for you. How does it feel to know that the powers that be realised that they needed a replacement for a spoiled, whiny little bitch, and you were the first name that came to mind? You're a substitute. You're a wild card. You're a lucky dip. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. Remember the days when you stole my promotion out from underneath me? It must feel like a very long time ago. You thought you stamped me out, and yet here I am, still at the top of the wrestling world, and you're feeding off scraps. Everything you invested into getting rid of me - all that time, all that money, all that hired help - and in the end, I'm a bigger deal now than I was before. Tell me, Armand, how does that feel?"
There’s a confidence in Riot’s voice that tells the listener that he believes what he’s saying. These words are pointed - they’re designed to rankle. It’s an attempt to open very old wounds.
"We don't need to take the audience down memory lane, Armand. True wrestling fans know our history. When The Bastards returned to NPW in 2021, I even said you were going to be our first target - but we never got around to it. Someone or something more interesting kept getting in the way. The longer I stuck around, the less relevant to me you became. But, I'm a man of my word. I always deliver on the things I say I'm going to do eventually. So, in Aberdeen, you get your receipt. You got into this match with me the easy way, but believe me, old 'friend,' you'll be going out the hard way."
He reaches up to the lightbulb.
“See you real soon.”
Riot pulls the lightbulb out, and the feed ends in darkness.