Here's That Attention You Ordered (Rumble RP#4)
Apr 15, 2023 13:20:36 GMT -5
Mongo the Destroyer, Dave D-Flipz, and 4 more like this
Post by bloodiedfox on Apr 15, 2023 13:20:36 GMT -5
We fade up to Bloodied Fox seated on a hotel bed, with the air of a man undertaking a tedious but necessary duty.
Well, it happened. Like flies to honey, people not interesting enough to be worth particularly mentioning on their own merits felt the need to run their mouths at me. Given the danger in a Rumble of giving too much focus to individuals I shouldn’t really indulge your desperate need to steal a sliver of my limelight, but I’ve already pointed out what a weak fucking field it is this year so I may as well do something for the sake of variety.
He shrugs.
Let’s start with the more pathetic of our two cases. Hi Cross!
He gives the camera a mocking wave.
I’m sure you’re just bristling at the idea that I consider you lamer than Death Trap, but it shouldn’t come as a surprise. Unlike you, he has actually accomplished things on the Network. Fuck, I nearly choked on the irony of you accusing me of being unable to win ‘the big one’ when you can’t even make the leap from small to medium. You’ve always had an inflated sense of your own importance, and running XHF RoH with funding from your “totally legitimate business associates” ~cough~mafia~cough~ has just made it worse. Let’s face facts, Cross, your burn out ex-girlfriend has achieved more than you, not the least of which is actually beating me in a match.
By the way, am I the only one who’s willing to tell you it’s creepy as fuck you still have a finishing move named after fucking her? Just me? Okay then.
And please, before you even think about saying it, you winning the HKW World title doesn’t count. I mean, it’s HKW, so no-one actually cares except for maybe Lord Dominicus. Also you didn’t win so much as let Marty Donovan beat himself. I think I rewound and rewatched him flopping into those thumbtacks fifty times. Funniest shit I’ve ever seen.
Fox pauses for a moment and smiles serenely as he does a 51st rewatch in his mind’s eye.
Anyway, I’d suggest taking some of that half-arsed concern that I’m driven by “arrogance and hatred” and save it for yourself when Jack Diamond gets his hands on you. Real genius move taunting your company’s Openweight champion when you still sign paycheques to the guy who cut out his wife’s tongue. What are you expecting from Poena this PPV cycle, Cross? Shoving Jackalope in a Saw deathtrap? Does he get a bonus per fatality, or is it pay per organ?
But remember, I’m the bad guy here.
He gives a disgusted scoff.
And then there’s Death Trap. Now there’s part of me that wants to just be pithy about your whole lecture; dismiss it as an Abe Simpson ramble with an “okay, boomer.” But as I said to Cross, you have actually achieved things in the XHF: X*Crown, World champion, half of the longest reigning tag team champions. For that I respect you. But respect is a double edged blade. Cross Recoba can say I’m no better than that treacherous piece of shit Seth Dillinger and I do not give a fuck because the opinion of someone like him is worth less than two tugs of a dead dog’s cock. But when you sit there and you fucking dare to compare me to Donzig, and you fucking dare say that I turned my back on the people I love, then there are consequences.
Fuck you, old man. You have the unmitigated fucking gall to sit there and lecture me about disloyalty, to compare your CTE-fuelled flailing in the old days to me refusing to be some fucking dancing monkey to ungrateful fans who’ll cheer for the man who tried to murder me, then go home and vote for politicians enacting laws to try and wipe people like me from existence. You say that I let Zoran get to me, then in the same breath say he deserves a second chance. Yes, poor old Zoran, how dare the man he stabbed and tried to drown hate him. You know what Zoran deserves, DT? He deserves to be fucking dead. He deserves to lie there, bleeding out in a pool of his own piss and shit, hearing his wife’s weeping echoing in his ears.
What I have done, all that I have done, is finally accept that this world does not want me; that it at absolute best tolerated me and under sufferance cheered me if someone more palatable wasn’t immediately available. These people would rather have Seth and Zoran and Marty Donovan and Steve Awesome and Dylan Black than me. Well fine, they can have them, but they’ll get them bleeding and broken at my feet, and since you’re so insistent on standing in my way because I’m not a grateful little rent boy on my knees with mouth open for all these fuckers, you can join them there. I have no desire to make Mistress Discipline a widow, but on your stupidly behatted head be it.
There’s a knock at the room door.
Guess that’s all the attention you two are worth. Hope it was good value for you.
He reaches out and turns off the camera. By some quirk of software or hardware, though the image goes we get a few last seconds of sound. We hear the door opening, then two voices:
Brendan?
Peter, we need to talk…
Well, it happened. Like flies to honey, people not interesting enough to be worth particularly mentioning on their own merits felt the need to run their mouths at me. Given the danger in a Rumble of giving too much focus to individuals I shouldn’t really indulge your desperate need to steal a sliver of my limelight, but I’ve already pointed out what a weak fucking field it is this year so I may as well do something for the sake of variety.
He shrugs.
Let’s start with the more pathetic of our two cases. Hi Cross!
He gives the camera a mocking wave.
I’m sure you’re just bristling at the idea that I consider you lamer than Death Trap, but it shouldn’t come as a surprise. Unlike you, he has actually accomplished things on the Network. Fuck, I nearly choked on the irony of you accusing me of being unable to win ‘the big one’ when you can’t even make the leap from small to medium. You’ve always had an inflated sense of your own importance, and running XHF RoH with funding from your “totally legitimate business associates” ~cough~mafia~cough~ has just made it worse. Let’s face facts, Cross, your burn out ex-girlfriend has achieved more than you, not the least of which is actually beating me in a match.
By the way, am I the only one who’s willing to tell you it’s creepy as fuck you still have a finishing move named after fucking her? Just me? Okay then.
And please, before you even think about saying it, you winning the HKW World title doesn’t count. I mean, it’s HKW, so no-one actually cares except for maybe Lord Dominicus. Also you didn’t win so much as let Marty Donovan beat himself. I think I rewound and rewatched him flopping into those thumbtacks fifty times. Funniest shit I’ve ever seen.
Fox pauses for a moment and smiles serenely as he does a 51st rewatch in his mind’s eye.
Anyway, I’d suggest taking some of that half-arsed concern that I’m driven by “arrogance and hatred” and save it for yourself when Jack Diamond gets his hands on you. Real genius move taunting your company’s Openweight champion when you still sign paycheques to the guy who cut out his wife’s tongue. What are you expecting from Poena this PPV cycle, Cross? Shoving Jackalope in a Saw deathtrap? Does he get a bonus per fatality, or is it pay per organ?
But remember, I’m the bad guy here.
He gives a disgusted scoff.
And then there’s Death Trap. Now there’s part of me that wants to just be pithy about your whole lecture; dismiss it as an Abe Simpson ramble with an “okay, boomer.” But as I said to Cross, you have actually achieved things in the XHF: X*Crown, World champion, half of the longest reigning tag team champions. For that I respect you. But respect is a double edged blade. Cross Recoba can say I’m no better than that treacherous piece of shit Seth Dillinger and I do not give a fuck because the opinion of someone like him is worth less than two tugs of a dead dog’s cock. But when you sit there and you fucking dare to compare me to Donzig, and you fucking dare say that I turned my back on the people I love, then there are consequences.
Fuck you, old man. You have the unmitigated fucking gall to sit there and lecture me about disloyalty, to compare your CTE-fuelled flailing in the old days to me refusing to be some fucking dancing monkey to ungrateful fans who’ll cheer for the man who tried to murder me, then go home and vote for politicians enacting laws to try and wipe people like me from existence. You say that I let Zoran get to me, then in the same breath say he deserves a second chance. Yes, poor old Zoran, how dare the man he stabbed and tried to drown hate him. You know what Zoran deserves, DT? He deserves to be fucking dead. He deserves to lie there, bleeding out in a pool of his own piss and shit, hearing his wife’s weeping echoing in his ears.
What I have done, all that I have done, is finally accept that this world does not want me; that it at absolute best tolerated me and under sufferance cheered me if someone more palatable wasn’t immediately available. These people would rather have Seth and Zoran and Marty Donovan and Steve Awesome and Dylan Black than me. Well fine, they can have them, but they’ll get them bleeding and broken at my feet, and since you’re so insistent on standing in my way because I’m not a grateful little rent boy on my knees with mouth open for all these fuckers, you can join them there. I have no desire to make Mistress Discipline a widow, but on your stupidly behatted head be it.
There’s a knock at the room door.
Guess that’s all the attention you two are worth. Hope it was good value for you.
He reaches out and turns off the camera. By some quirk of software or hardware, though the image goes we get a few last seconds of sound. We hear the door opening, then two voices:
Brendan?
Peter, we need to talk…