Shoot the Rat
Jan 30, 2023 15:43:18 GMT -5
Old Line Jeff and "The High Roller" Wesley Crane like this
Post by robriot on Jan 30, 2023 15:43:18 GMT -5
“What is it that you really want?”
Rob Riot is wearing a suit and tie. That’s a little jarring, because Rob Riot doesn’t often wear suits or ties unless somebody’s died. The other jarring thing is that he’s sat behind a table in a comfortable-looking leather chair in a well-lit, glass-walled room. It looks like a high-rent office space rather than the country mansion he lives in or the dingy basements he trains in.
"You'll find yourself asked that a lot if you ever go to therapy, so remember the question. One day, you might find yourself needing to come up with a good answer for it. If you're employed by HKW, you might want to start ruminating on that question now because I intend to put some of you there. Not just me but Billy, Frank, and half of the rest of the roster we represent. That's right, folks. I don't intend to destroy your bodies. Well - actually, I do - but that's a given when you face me. I DO intend to destroy your bodies, but I also intend to get inside your minds. That's what you've asked for, isn't it? That's why you came here?"
Riot leans back in the chair and takes a sip of water, thus bringing the number of jarring things in this vignette up to three. Maybe he’s out of whiskey, or maybe he’s trying to make a point. This explains the location and the look, though; you, as the audience, are in therapy with Rob Riot. What a horrible prospect.
Riot waves a hand dismissively at the camera as if you've responded, and he didn't like the response.
"No, no, I can see you're not getting it. Let's try something different. Let's go right back to the start. See, this began as what Mr Blood probably thought would be a fun, sporting competition. HKW versus W:UK in a battle for brand supremacy. See, I don't know much about Hong Kong Wrestling, but…"
He pauses, putting his finger to his ear as if being fed information through an earpiece, and then nods slowly.
"My apologies. Hardkore World. My my, how original. I don't know much about Hardkore World, but I imagine the chance to step into the ring with the boys and girls of Wrestle:UK must have been quite something. It could make you famous. OK, perhaps that's a stretch, but it might at least make you relevant. Anyway, you were excited about it. Too excited, in fact, because you ended up all over Aberdeen. I'm going to go ahead and assume you watch our show because, let's face it, everybody does, but that means something significant. It means you ended up on the Bastards' show, at the Bastards' time, at the Bastards god damn expense. You laid your hands on the Wrestle:UK roster. You laid your hands on the Bastards. You laid your hands on me. Worse than all of that, you interfered in a main event that had world title connotations. None of that happened by accident. So, let me ask you again, what did you do it for? What is it that you really want?"
Therapist Riot pauses and takes another sip of his water, allowing the viewer to formulate their own responses. Seemingly annoyed that no response is forthcoming, he begins to suggest a few.
"Attention? That could be it. Let's face it; the wrestling world doesn't give any of you much attention where you are now. Hell, someone had to pull up a phone and show the Society of the New Breed to me. Until you staggered out of the crowd and hit the ring, I just presumed you were drunk fans. What's with the name? Was "The Society" not enough? Did your lawyers explain that "New Breed" was already in use? Did you use a generic name generator? That would explain "Tuxedo Mask," certainly. What's that even supposed to mean? Is that what Tiger Mask calls himself when he goes to weddings? As for Kilroy, the only Kilroy I'm familiar with is the UKIP guy who used to present daytime chat shows. It makes all the sense in the world that you'd do what you did for attention. You were probably deprived of it as children."
He sneers.
"Or maybe that's the sort of thing every therapist says when they don't have better ideas. In any event, let's look past it. Maybe it wasn't attention. Maybe you were after something else. Acknowledgement, perhaps. That's not a million miles away from attention, but it's a little more focused. A lot of stalkers want attention. A lot of people who commit assaults on celebrities do it for attention - they want to be acknowledged by the people they idolise. Now Kilroy, Tuxedo, I can see how you'd end up idolising the Bastards. You're a tag team. We've been the benchmark for tag teams in pro wrestling for years. Don't tell me you grew up with posters of us on your walls; trust me, I already know. Don't tell me you're our number-one fans either; I've heard all that before, too. If it's acknowledgement you want, don't worry - you're going to get it in Los Angeles. But I think maybe there's something else you want. Something else you've come looking for."
The sneer is gone. So is the pretence. This therapy session is ending. Riot begins unbuttoning his shirt.
“I think what you really want - what you crave - is a war.”
Riot finishes unbuttoning his shirt and stands up, revealing a target painted onto his chest with green and black combat paint.
"If it's a war you want, HKW, it's a war you're going to get - but if the Society of the New Breed are your soldiers, we're going to send them back home in body bags, wrapped in your flag. We've been to war before. We've warred our way through every promotion worth wrestling in for the past decade. We've destroyed most of them in the process. When there's no war to be fought with anyone else, we fight wars with each other. We've hurt. We've maimed. Hell, I don't check on what happens to our opponents after we send them to the hospital - maybe we've killed, too. The Bastards are a war machine. We couldn't care any less about anybody else on the Wrestle:UK roster, but it's our home. This is the promotion we built. This is the promotion we rule. If you come into our house looking for a war, you can rest assured you can find one."
He pats the logo on his torso.
"Everyone who walks into Wrestle:UK swings at the Bastards. Anyone who wants to make a name for themselves tries to do so at the expense of the Bastards. Everything you did in Aberdeen has been done a thousand times before, and it'll achieve the same thing for you as it did for everybody else - your own certain destruction. See, dismantling the Society of the New Breed is just an appetiser for Frank and me. That's the first course. That's what we're doing for fun. That isn't even a match - it's a sanctioned prison beating. After we're done with them, they're going to be rechristened the Society of the Newly Broken. But we're not going to stop there. When you interfered in our event, you showed that you care nothing for the rules and nothing for the natural order of things. So if you think you're going to be allowed to face any other Wrestle:UK member on any other match on that card without us watching, you're out of your minds. See, when it comes to our promotion versus outsiders, I'll even stand back to back with Donzig if I have to. We put a lot of work into this company. Don't underestimate how far we'll go to keep it safe. If you want to start a war…"
Riot reaches below the table and picks up a barbed wire bat.
“...we're going to finish it. See you in Sin City, Hong Kong Wrestling.”
{{{NB:- I wrote this with Covid sweats, cold bones, and under the influence of enough medication to kill a horse. PLEASE CLAP.}}}
Rob Riot is wearing a suit and tie. That’s a little jarring, because Rob Riot doesn’t often wear suits or ties unless somebody’s died. The other jarring thing is that he’s sat behind a table in a comfortable-looking leather chair in a well-lit, glass-walled room. It looks like a high-rent office space rather than the country mansion he lives in or the dingy basements he trains in.
"You'll find yourself asked that a lot if you ever go to therapy, so remember the question. One day, you might find yourself needing to come up with a good answer for it. If you're employed by HKW, you might want to start ruminating on that question now because I intend to put some of you there. Not just me but Billy, Frank, and half of the rest of the roster we represent. That's right, folks. I don't intend to destroy your bodies. Well - actually, I do - but that's a given when you face me. I DO intend to destroy your bodies, but I also intend to get inside your minds. That's what you've asked for, isn't it? That's why you came here?"
Riot leans back in the chair and takes a sip of water, thus bringing the number of jarring things in this vignette up to three. Maybe he’s out of whiskey, or maybe he’s trying to make a point. This explains the location and the look, though; you, as the audience, are in therapy with Rob Riot. What a horrible prospect.
Riot waves a hand dismissively at the camera as if you've responded, and he didn't like the response.
"No, no, I can see you're not getting it. Let's try something different. Let's go right back to the start. See, this began as what Mr Blood probably thought would be a fun, sporting competition. HKW versus W:UK in a battle for brand supremacy. See, I don't know much about Hong Kong Wrestling, but…"
He pauses, putting his finger to his ear as if being fed information through an earpiece, and then nods slowly.
"My apologies. Hardkore World. My my, how original. I don't know much about Hardkore World, but I imagine the chance to step into the ring with the boys and girls of Wrestle:UK must have been quite something. It could make you famous. OK, perhaps that's a stretch, but it might at least make you relevant. Anyway, you were excited about it. Too excited, in fact, because you ended up all over Aberdeen. I'm going to go ahead and assume you watch our show because, let's face it, everybody does, but that means something significant. It means you ended up on the Bastards' show, at the Bastards' time, at the Bastards god damn expense. You laid your hands on the Wrestle:UK roster. You laid your hands on the Bastards. You laid your hands on me. Worse than all of that, you interfered in a main event that had world title connotations. None of that happened by accident. So, let me ask you again, what did you do it for? What is it that you really want?"
Therapist Riot pauses and takes another sip of his water, allowing the viewer to formulate their own responses. Seemingly annoyed that no response is forthcoming, he begins to suggest a few.
"Attention? That could be it. Let's face it; the wrestling world doesn't give any of you much attention where you are now. Hell, someone had to pull up a phone and show the Society of the New Breed to me. Until you staggered out of the crowd and hit the ring, I just presumed you were drunk fans. What's with the name? Was "The Society" not enough? Did your lawyers explain that "New Breed" was already in use? Did you use a generic name generator? That would explain "Tuxedo Mask," certainly. What's that even supposed to mean? Is that what Tiger Mask calls himself when he goes to weddings? As for Kilroy, the only Kilroy I'm familiar with is the UKIP guy who used to present daytime chat shows. It makes all the sense in the world that you'd do what you did for attention. You were probably deprived of it as children."
He sneers.
"Or maybe that's the sort of thing every therapist says when they don't have better ideas. In any event, let's look past it. Maybe it wasn't attention. Maybe you were after something else. Acknowledgement, perhaps. That's not a million miles away from attention, but it's a little more focused. A lot of stalkers want attention. A lot of people who commit assaults on celebrities do it for attention - they want to be acknowledged by the people they idolise. Now Kilroy, Tuxedo, I can see how you'd end up idolising the Bastards. You're a tag team. We've been the benchmark for tag teams in pro wrestling for years. Don't tell me you grew up with posters of us on your walls; trust me, I already know. Don't tell me you're our number-one fans either; I've heard all that before, too. If it's acknowledgement you want, don't worry - you're going to get it in Los Angeles. But I think maybe there's something else you want. Something else you've come looking for."
The sneer is gone. So is the pretence. This therapy session is ending. Riot begins unbuttoning his shirt.
“I think what you really want - what you crave - is a war.”
Riot finishes unbuttoning his shirt and stands up, revealing a target painted onto his chest with green and black combat paint.
"If it's a war you want, HKW, it's a war you're going to get - but if the Society of the New Breed are your soldiers, we're going to send them back home in body bags, wrapped in your flag. We've been to war before. We've warred our way through every promotion worth wrestling in for the past decade. We've destroyed most of them in the process. When there's no war to be fought with anyone else, we fight wars with each other. We've hurt. We've maimed. Hell, I don't check on what happens to our opponents after we send them to the hospital - maybe we've killed, too. The Bastards are a war machine. We couldn't care any less about anybody else on the Wrestle:UK roster, but it's our home. This is the promotion we built. This is the promotion we rule. If you come into our house looking for a war, you can rest assured you can find one."
He pats the logo on his torso.
"Everyone who walks into Wrestle:UK swings at the Bastards. Anyone who wants to make a name for themselves tries to do so at the expense of the Bastards. Everything you did in Aberdeen has been done a thousand times before, and it'll achieve the same thing for you as it did for everybody else - your own certain destruction. See, dismantling the Society of the New Breed is just an appetiser for Frank and me. That's the first course. That's what we're doing for fun. That isn't even a match - it's a sanctioned prison beating. After we're done with them, they're going to be rechristened the Society of the Newly Broken. But we're not going to stop there. When you interfered in our event, you showed that you care nothing for the rules and nothing for the natural order of things. So if you think you're going to be allowed to face any other Wrestle:UK member on any other match on that card without us watching, you're out of your minds. See, when it comes to our promotion versus outsiders, I'll even stand back to back with Donzig if I have to. We put a lot of work into this company. Don't underestimate how far we'll go to keep it safe. If you want to start a war…"
Riot reaches below the table and picks up a barbed wire bat.
“...we're going to finish it. See you in Sin City, Hong Kong Wrestling.”
{{{NB:- I wrote this with Covid sweats, cold bones, and under the influence of enough medication to kill a horse. PLEASE CLAP.}}}