Post by robriot on Mar 1, 2023 6:00:40 GMT -5
A backstreet in Blackpool. You don’t need to have been to Blackpool to picture it. It’s a dirty seaside town that was popular with tourists in the 1950s. The tourists have long since moved on; they found cheap holidays to Spain and the rest of Europe. It’s cold. The winters are long. The people are hostile. Growing up here does something to a man.
It certainly did something to Rob Riot.
Dressed in jeans and a leather jacket, Riot leans against a chainlink fence, staring into what looks like a wasteland of concrete debris and weeds. The sun’s going down, and the coastal wind blows trash across the vista behind the fence. Riot slams a hand against it and turns around to the camera.
“There used to be a school here. St. John’s County Primary school, to be precise. Where I grew up. The school was next to…”
Riot jerks his thumb to the right, indicating the camera should move. When it does so, we see a brick-built pub with traditional frontage. It's called "The Blue Room," which presumably means something to the locals but isn't relevant here.
“...a pub. Yeah. Between the ages of five and eleven, I walked a mile to this school every day and spent my formative years playing in a yard with the stench of stale alcohol and cigarettes drifting over a wall that separated the kids from the drunks. And people wonder why I grew up with a fondness for drinking hard and beating up bums. I got started early. Everything about this town starts you early. And when I moved on from here, I went somewhere worse.”
He sweeps a hand through his hair, which is growing back in a way that didn’t seem possible a year ago. Maybe he’s paying for treatment. Maybe he was never actually bald in the first place. Who knows?
"Six miles from here is a council estate called Grange Park. Statistically, it's the most socially deprived ward in England. Do you know where my secondary school was? Right on the edge of Grange Park. That's where I was from eleven to sixteen. They used to have to lay on security for the buses that took us to and from school. There was a fence around the back of the school fields to keep the addicts and the ne'er-do-wells out, just like there's a fence here. Only it never felt like a fence to us. We were bused in every morning and spent the whole day staring out of the window across those fields, all the way up to that fence, and it felt like a cage."
The Riot Star closes his eyes for a moment, seemingly lost in a memory; perhaps more than one. This is a rare window into his personal past.
“My primary school has been knocked down. My high school has been knocked down. I’ve moved on from this town, and it’s like the town tried to respond by erasing every trace of me. That's the way it is with Blackpool. It either swallows you or spits you out, and if you manage to get spat out, it's like you never lived here at all. I have no past, but the people here have no future. What I'm telling you, Wrestle:UK, is that I have no fear of being put inside a chamber or a cage; I've either been inside one or escaping from one for my whole life. I have no fear of sailing past the point of destruction because I have already been destroyed. I have no past, no future. I am a series of endless presents, and unfortunately for my opponents, my "presents" are the gift I'm going to give to them."
The wind's getting up, and the night's getting colder. The pub is closed, so at a guess, it's probably somewhere around 2am. Only the brave or the stupid would be out in the middle of Blackpool at that kind of time. You can decide which category Riot belongs to. He flips up the collar of his leather jacket as a guard against the wind and presses on.
"People are going to look at this chamber match as a lottery. Normally there's a champion's advantage, but Crane's champion's advantage is taken away by the way the match works. If I were him, I'd be furious. Havok has a theoretical advantage because he's in last, but is that really an advantage? Coming in cold into an environment where bigger and better men have been fighting like their lives depend on it? The chamber shatters bodies, but it also levels the playing field. I don't see an advantage for anybody. Well, anybody except for me."
He turns slowly on the spot, looking at the pub. The school. The dirty street around him. Then, finally, the camera. It feels a little like he’s taking in his whole life to date.
"I said when I came back to wrestling in 2021 that I was here for a World Championship. I'm the Commonwealth Champion. I've been Tag Team Champion for longer than most people have even been in the company. I've worn gold, but I still want that championship. That's my mission. That's my validation. That's what brought me back to the dance - the dream of climbing that mountain one more time. What that means, wrestling fans, is that it doesn't matter whether I'm in there with five other men or fifty other men - I will stomp and smash and shatter until I get what I want. The World Heavyweight Championship. Goth, Havok, Von Krauss, I've beaten you all before. Billy, you know I love you, man, you're my brother in arms - but we've fought before, and you know I've always had that edge on you. You had your reign. It's time for mine. That leaves you, Crane. Party boy."
Reaching inside his jacket pocket, Riot pulls out a cigarette and lights it.
“You’re the champ. You’re on fire. You have been ever since you walked through the door at W:UK. But you know what happens when that flame gets lit?”
He takes a drag of the cigarette.
“Someone eventually comes along to smoke you. My past. Your future. Rob Riot, World Champion. Coming soon.”
Turning on his heel, Riot stalks away into the night.
It certainly did something to Rob Riot.
Dressed in jeans and a leather jacket, Riot leans against a chainlink fence, staring into what looks like a wasteland of concrete debris and weeds. The sun’s going down, and the coastal wind blows trash across the vista behind the fence. Riot slams a hand against it and turns around to the camera.
“There used to be a school here. St. John’s County Primary school, to be precise. Where I grew up. The school was next to…”
Riot jerks his thumb to the right, indicating the camera should move. When it does so, we see a brick-built pub with traditional frontage. It's called "The Blue Room," which presumably means something to the locals but isn't relevant here.
“...a pub. Yeah. Between the ages of five and eleven, I walked a mile to this school every day and spent my formative years playing in a yard with the stench of stale alcohol and cigarettes drifting over a wall that separated the kids from the drunks. And people wonder why I grew up with a fondness for drinking hard and beating up bums. I got started early. Everything about this town starts you early. And when I moved on from here, I went somewhere worse.”
He sweeps a hand through his hair, which is growing back in a way that didn’t seem possible a year ago. Maybe he’s paying for treatment. Maybe he was never actually bald in the first place. Who knows?
"Six miles from here is a council estate called Grange Park. Statistically, it's the most socially deprived ward in England. Do you know where my secondary school was? Right on the edge of Grange Park. That's where I was from eleven to sixteen. They used to have to lay on security for the buses that took us to and from school. There was a fence around the back of the school fields to keep the addicts and the ne'er-do-wells out, just like there's a fence here. Only it never felt like a fence to us. We were bused in every morning and spent the whole day staring out of the window across those fields, all the way up to that fence, and it felt like a cage."
The Riot Star closes his eyes for a moment, seemingly lost in a memory; perhaps more than one. This is a rare window into his personal past.
“My primary school has been knocked down. My high school has been knocked down. I’ve moved on from this town, and it’s like the town tried to respond by erasing every trace of me. That's the way it is with Blackpool. It either swallows you or spits you out, and if you manage to get spat out, it's like you never lived here at all. I have no past, but the people here have no future. What I'm telling you, Wrestle:UK, is that I have no fear of being put inside a chamber or a cage; I've either been inside one or escaping from one for my whole life. I have no fear of sailing past the point of destruction because I have already been destroyed. I have no past, no future. I am a series of endless presents, and unfortunately for my opponents, my "presents" are the gift I'm going to give to them."
The wind's getting up, and the night's getting colder. The pub is closed, so at a guess, it's probably somewhere around 2am. Only the brave or the stupid would be out in the middle of Blackpool at that kind of time. You can decide which category Riot belongs to. He flips up the collar of his leather jacket as a guard against the wind and presses on.
"People are going to look at this chamber match as a lottery. Normally there's a champion's advantage, but Crane's champion's advantage is taken away by the way the match works. If I were him, I'd be furious. Havok has a theoretical advantage because he's in last, but is that really an advantage? Coming in cold into an environment where bigger and better men have been fighting like their lives depend on it? The chamber shatters bodies, but it also levels the playing field. I don't see an advantage for anybody. Well, anybody except for me."
He turns slowly on the spot, looking at the pub. The school. The dirty street around him. Then, finally, the camera. It feels a little like he’s taking in his whole life to date.
"I said when I came back to wrestling in 2021 that I was here for a World Championship. I'm the Commonwealth Champion. I've been Tag Team Champion for longer than most people have even been in the company. I've worn gold, but I still want that championship. That's my mission. That's my validation. That's what brought me back to the dance - the dream of climbing that mountain one more time. What that means, wrestling fans, is that it doesn't matter whether I'm in there with five other men or fifty other men - I will stomp and smash and shatter until I get what I want. The World Heavyweight Championship. Goth, Havok, Von Krauss, I've beaten you all before. Billy, you know I love you, man, you're my brother in arms - but we've fought before, and you know I've always had that edge on you. You had your reign. It's time for mine. That leaves you, Crane. Party boy."
Reaching inside his jacket pocket, Riot pulls out a cigarette and lights it.
“You’re the champ. You’re on fire. You have been ever since you walked through the door at W:UK. But you know what happens when that flame gets lit?”
He takes a drag of the cigarette.
“Someone eventually comes along to smoke you. My past. Your future. Rob Riot, World Champion. Coming soon.”
Turning on his heel, Riot stalks away into the night.