Post by fowler on Jan 11, 2023 4:53:08 GMT -5
A large throne sits in the middle of a luxurious room, sculpted from wood to show elegant images of lions and brave knights, and then gilded in shining gold. The furnishings around the room are of dark wood, deep red fabrics and shining precious metals, clearly all antiques.
Draped from the walls are banners depicting the Bastards with logos from the various federations that they had journeyed through, most showing the members with title belts draped upon them.
From off camera a door is heard opening and then abruptly closing with a sudden bang, followed by Billy Fowler slowly walking his way across the room and gently seating himself upon the throne.
He takes in the room briefly before addressing the camera.
“Loyal subjects, welcome. Welcome to my new throne room. Do you like it?
It took a little while to get it just perfect like this, but I did it. This is my space for quiet contemplation, somewhere I can simply relax and bask in the glory of not just my achievements, but the achievements of The Bastards.”
He glances up at a banner showing Rob Riot with the WrestleWars world title and then to the opposite wall Frank Windsor with the Riot Star Wrestling world title.
“Our history is rich, but let’s face it, no one cares about our history. The only thing you all care about is the here and now, but luckily the story always remains the same. The Bastards sit at the top of the mountain, the pinnacle that everyone else tries so desperately to either emulate or defeat.
Those that emulate us can never match the real thing, and those that try to defeat us are always left broken by the wayside as the yellow Cortina continues along the road.”
He pauses to glance out of a nearby window at a pebbled drive outside. Clearly this room is on an upper floor of a large country house. Parked in the middle of the drive is the Bastard’s Cortina, bedecked in the Wrestle: UK title belts.
“But it looks like this week I hit yet another bump in that road. This one shaped like you Eron Hunter.
Welcome to the dance mate. Yet another new name to add to the growing list of talent that I’ve left in my wake. At least you’re not Wesley Crane though, oh no, you have much more originality than that cheap copy of a Bastard.
You like stories do you Eron? Epic tales of adventure and overcoming, of good vs evil and heroes that save the day. That’s adorable, it reminds me of the days when I would read bedtime stories to my boy. But the problem with these tales is that there is no grounding of reality in them.
You want to paint me as the arch villain in your personal fairy tale. You claim that I’ve sold myself out to achieve the greatness that you and everyone else on the roster wants to take from me.
Well let me correct you.
I didn’t sell shit.
You see I function in reality, and reality states that I am no worse than you nor you than me. We, all of us collectively, are dark, deceptive, greed driven beings. That sounds overdramatic I know and at the risk of sounding like Donzig or Von Krauss I’ll rather explain it like this.
I know that I’m not a good person, nor have I ever been a good person. There may have been moments in my life where I did something kind, or showed someone love, but at the core of me is a heart that cares only about me.
You believe you are a paragon of honour and respect Eron. You want to be the hero in this tale being spun. Well I gladly oblige with being the villain.”
That last line is almost spat from the mouth of Fowler as the worse drip with malice. Fowler slowly reaches into the pocket of his jacket and pulls out a set of brass knuckles that look familiar. His eyes are fixed upon them as he slips them onto his hand.
“I’ll take great pleasure in showing you what I’ve showed all the others Eron Hunter. The pain that comes only from the hands of a Bastard. The only advantage that you have over those that have tried before you is that you’ve truly been paying attention.
You know what I am. Unlike Crane who I still have to go through again before you would even get a chance at my title, you know the measure of me and my friends.
And I’ll let you know a little secret Eron, that excites me. For once I think I have a challenger who truly fits the mould. Fuck… I’ll even go as far as to say that I want you to beat me.
We all know every great story needs that climatic moment, that final battle, you, and me for my title. The moment that you’ve waited for, the chance to defeat the villain.
And that is the moment when I beat you.
The moment that I crush your stupid little fantasy with cold harsh reality.
You will never be able to take from me the World title because reality is the killer of dreams.”
Draped from the walls are banners depicting the Bastards with logos from the various federations that they had journeyed through, most showing the members with title belts draped upon them.
From off camera a door is heard opening and then abruptly closing with a sudden bang, followed by Billy Fowler slowly walking his way across the room and gently seating himself upon the throne.
He takes in the room briefly before addressing the camera.
“Loyal subjects, welcome. Welcome to my new throne room. Do you like it?
It took a little while to get it just perfect like this, but I did it. This is my space for quiet contemplation, somewhere I can simply relax and bask in the glory of not just my achievements, but the achievements of The Bastards.”
He glances up at a banner showing Rob Riot with the WrestleWars world title and then to the opposite wall Frank Windsor with the Riot Star Wrestling world title.
“Our history is rich, but let’s face it, no one cares about our history. The only thing you all care about is the here and now, but luckily the story always remains the same. The Bastards sit at the top of the mountain, the pinnacle that everyone else tries so desperately to either emulate or defeat.
Those that emulate us can never match the real thing, and those that try to defeat us are always left broken by the wayside as the yellow Cortina continues along the road.”
He pauses to glance out of a nearby window at a pebbled drive outside. Clearly this room is on an upper floor of a large country house. Parked in the middle of the drive is the Bastard’s Cortina, bedecked in the Wrestle: UK title belts.
“But it looks like this week I hit yet another bump in that road. This one shaped like you Eron Hunter.
Welcome to the dance mate. Yet another new name to add to the growing list of talent that I’ve left in my wake. At least you’re not Wesley Crane though, oh no, you have much more originality than that cheap copy of a Bastard.
You like stories do you Eron? Epic tales of adventure and overcoming, of good vs evil and heroes that save the day. That’s adorable, it reminds me of the days when I would read bedtime stories to my boy. But the problem with these tales is that there is no grounding of reality in them.
You want to paint me as the arch villain in your personal fairy tale. You claim that I’ve sold myself out to achieve the greatness that you and everyone else on the roster wants to take from me.
Well let me correct you.
I didn’t sell shit.
You see I function in reality, and reality states that I am no worse than you nor you than me. We, all of us collectively, are dark, deceptive, greed driven beings. That sounds overdramatic I know and at the risk of sounding like Donzig or Von Krauss I’ll rather explain it like this.
I know that I’m not a good person, nor have I ever been a good person. There may have been moments in my life where I did something kind, or showed someone love, but at the core of me is a heart that cares only about me.
You believe you are a paragon of honour and respect Eron. You want to be the hero in this tale being spun. Well I gladly oblige with being the villain.”
That last line is almost spat from the mouth of Fowler as the worse drip with malice. Fowler slowly reaches into the pocket of his jacket and pulls out a set of brass knuckles that look familiar. His eyes are fixed upon them as he slips them onto his hand.
“I’ll take great pleasure in showing you what I’ve showed all the others Eron Hunter. The pain that comes only from the hands of a Bastard. The only advantage that you have over those that have tried before you is that you’ve truly been paying attention.
You know what I am. Unlike Crane who I still have to go through again before you would even get a chance at my title, you know the measure of me and my friends.
And I’ll let you know a little secret Eron, that excites me. For once I think I have a challenger who truly fits the mould. Fuck… I’ll even go as far as to say that I want you to beat me.
We all know every great story needs that climatic moment, that final battle, you, and me for my title. The moment that you’ve waited for, the chance to defeat the villain.
And that is the moment when I beat you.
The moment that I crush your stupid little fantasy with cold harsh reality.
You will never be able to take from me the World title because reality is the killer of dreams.”
