Out on the Town [Battle Royal RP]
Mar 10, 2023 19:35:06 GMT -5
"The High Roller" Wesley Crane likes this
Post by Preston Reese on Mar 10, 2023 19:35:06 GMT -5
Strobes flash and flare with the beat of the music, and on the scattered stages among the crowds of leering men danced girls in various stages of undress. They danced and gyrated beneath the lights, and every so often a rain of dollar bills would block the light. Katie Moss frowned at all of that as she walked through the throng, drawing quite a few hungry stares of her own.
Whistles of course, and lewd comments. She grit her teeth waling on soon reaching the table near the corner stage where the one and only Preston Andre Reese sat. He had a girl on either side of him, the jacket of his finely tailored suit draped nearby. Bottles were scattered across the table before him, and he had one arm around a slender brunette as the other held a thick cigar.
He tilted his head, then smirked as he waved the cigar at Katie.
Reese: Sorry, babygirl. I am not in the mood for any blondes tonight.
The second generation superstar flung a pair of fifties at her, and Katie stared before she scooped them up.
Katie Moss: These are American!
Reese: Listen, babygirl, the exchange rate isn’t my problem.
The redhead perched on his knee giggled at that, and Katie stared at him before she tossed her head angrily. Then she leaned forward, moving aside some of the bottles. Reese stared at her in surprise, and he waved the cigar again.
Reese: Whoa, whoa, okay, you can table dance for the biggest signing in the history of the WUK if you want.
Katie Moss: It’s me, Katie Moss! We had an interview scheduled! You blew it off to come here? Are you serious?
Reese: Oh, shit, I didn’t recognize you. Sorry, tens don’t keep track of threes. But you know Crane’s into you anyhow. Not sure why to each his own.
Katie Moss stared at him, her eyes wide as she muttered ‘three?’ under her breath. Then she shook her head, taking a deep breath before her voice rose over the music. Men cheered at a nearby stage, and a pink bra flew past her head.
Katie Moss: I wanted to talk to you about the Battle Royal at St. Patrick’s Day Massacre.
Reese: Oh. That.
Katie Moss: Oh, that?
Reese: Listen, babygirl, I am a major talent. I am the son of a world renowned multimedia supertsar! I am in the hottest group in the entire XHF! You see people go on about these other groups? The Bastards? The Bang Bros? The whoever? This and that? Babygirl, let me tell you what’s up. I have three words:
High. Roller’s. Club.
Okay, that’s it. That’s the soundbyte! Me? Rage? Cage? We are going to run down these other chumps. We are going to throw them on their heads.
Katie Moss looked around the club, then turned back to Reese as he took a long drag from his cigar. Smoke swirled, and he blew a smoke ring which drew a few claps from the brunette.
Katie Moss: So you are going into this match against 19 of the elite superstars of the XHF, and you just assume you’re going to win?
Reese: Man, they didn’t hire you for your brains did they?
Reese: I am the Elite, the Elite! Write that down E-L-I-T-E! Okay, these other guys? They are okay, they are just fine, but they need to stay in their lane. They need to understand that this is the Club’s show to win.We are out there, and we are on a mission to keep that WUK gold around the waist of Wesley Crane!
And that goes for those five hacks in the Chamber too. Who are these people? What a band of misfits. Fowler? Come on, that guy is a dinosaur. He looks like he is going to tear a quad any minute! Rob Riot? Am I supposed to be scared of him because he has dirt on Blood or some shit? Please.
Eddie Havok? Former champ, key word being former. Psychotic Goth? The guy has a seizure or something everytime he talks.
Katie Moss: He is speaking in ancient dialects as he channels dead warriors.
Reese: Shit, I can get him a deal on the Traveler’s Channel! He just needs to ask me, like Long Island Medium or some shit.
Katie Moss: I don’t think he is interested in that.
Reese: Well, fine, he can just keep being a loser. No sweat off my balls, babygirl.
The brunette and redhead giggled, and Reese winked at them as he downed his shot. Katie sighed, shaking her head as her hand lifted to wave away cigar smoke. And a man leaned in, holding some pound notes in hand.
Man: How much for a lap dance?
Katie Moss: I am a reporter, sir!
The man shrugged and walked off, and Reese smirked.
Reese: See someone besides Crane is into you.
Katie Moss: Aren’t you forgetting Armand Von Krauss?
Reese: Is that the creepy German guy who collects semi-hot blondes? He’s immortal or something? Listen, that guy needs help. He needs some real therapy, and if he keeps doing this schtick?
Reese waved his cigar, shaking his head as he downed another shot.
Reese: He ain’t shit to us, babygirl. We run this show now, the High Roller’s Club is taking over!
Katie Moss: Billy Fowler has said he wants you after the Pay Per View.
Reese rolled his eyes, then he started to laugh.
Reese: Puh-lease.
Whistles of course, and lewd comments. She grit her teeth waling on soon reaching the table near the corner stage where the one and only Preston Andre Reese sat. He had a girl on either side of him, the jacket of his finely tailored suit draped nearby. Bottles were scattered across the table before him, and he had one arm around a slender brunette as the other held a thick cigar.
He tilted his head, then smirked as he waved the cigar at Katie.
Reese: Sorry, babygirl. I am not in the mood for any blondes tonight.
The second generation superstar flung a pair of fifties at her, and Katie stared before she scooped them up.
Katie Moss: These are American!
Reese: Listen, babygirl, the exchange rate isn’t my problem.
The redhead perched on his knee giggled at that, and Katie stared at him before she tossed her head angrily. Then she leaned forward, moving aside some of the bottles. Reese stared at her in surprise, and he waved the cigar again.
Reese: Whoa, whoa, okay, you can table dance for the biggest signing in the history of the WUK if you want.
Katie Moss: It’s me, Katie Moss! We had an interview scheduled! You blew it off to come here? Are you serious?
Reese: Oh, shit, I didn’t recognize you. Sorry, tens don’t keep track of threes. But you know Crane’s into you anyhow. Not sure why to each his own.
Katie Moss stared at him, her eyes wide as she muttered ‘three?’ under her breath. Then she shook her head, taking a deep breath before her voice rose over the music. Men cheered at a nearby stage, and a pink bra flew past her head.
Katie Moss: I wanted to talk to you about the Battle Royal at St. Patrick’s Day Massacre.
Reese: Oh. That.
Katie Moss: Oh, that?
Reese: Listen, babygirl, I am a major talent. I am the son of a world renowned multimedia supertsar! I am in the hottest group in the entire XHF! You see people go on about these other groups? The Bastards? The Bang Bros? The whoever? This and that? Babygirl, let me tell you what’s up. I have three words:
High. Roller’s. Club.
Okay, that’s it. That’s the soundbyte! Me? Rage? Cage? We are going to run down these other chumps. We are going to throw them on their heads.
Katie Moss looked around the club, then turned back to Reese as he took a long drag from his cigar. Smoke swirled, and he blew a smoke ring which drew a few claps from the brunette.
Katie Moss: So you are going into this match against 19 of the elite superstars of the XHF, and you just assume you’re going to win?
Reese: Man, they didn’t hire you for your brains did they?
Reese: I am the Elite, the Elite! Write that down E-L-I-T-E! Okay, these other guys? They are okay, they are just fine, but they need to stay in their lane. They need to understand that this is the Club’s show to win.We are out there, and we are on a mission to keep that WUK gold around the waist of Wesley Crane!
And that goes for those five hacks in the Chamber too. Who are these people? What a band of misfits. Fowler? Come on, that guy is a dinosaur. He looks like he is going to tear a quad any minute! Rob Riot? Am I supposed to be scared of him because he has dirt on Blood or some shit? Please.
Eddie Havok? Former champ, key word being former. Psychotic Goth? The guy has a seizure or something everytime he talks.
Katie Moss: He is speaking in ancient dialects as he channels dead warriors.
Reese: Shit, I can get him a deal on the Traveler’s Channel! He just needs to ask me, like Long Island Medium or some shit.
Katie Moss: I don’t think he is interested in that.
Reese: Well, fine, he can just keep being a loser. No sweat off my balls, babygirl.
The brunette and redhead giggled, and Reese winked at them as he downed his shot. Katie sighed, shaking her head as her hand lifted to wave away cigar smoke. And a man leaned in, holding some pound notes in hand.
Man: How much for a lap dance?
Katie Moss: I am a reporter, sir!
The man shrugged and walked off, and Reese smirked.
Reese: See someone besides Crane is into you.
Katie Moss: Aren’t you forgetting Armand Von Krauss?
Reese: Is that the creepy German guy who collects semi-hot blondes? He’s immortal or something? Listen, that guy needs help. He needs some real therapy, and if he keeps doing this schtick?
Reese waved his cigar, shaking his head as he downed another shot.
Reese: He ain’t shit to us, babygirl. We run this show now, the High Roller’s Club is taking over!
Katie Moss: Billy Fowler has said he wants you after the Pay Per View.
Reese rolled his eyes, then he started to laugh.
Reese: Puh-lease.
