Carry on Cliquing (RP #1)
May 7, 2023 12:52:21 GMT -5
Mongo the Destroyer, Kira Izumi, and 1 more like this
Post by Donzig on May 7, 2023 12:52:21 GMT -5
‘How pleasant you make japes with us, Rob.’
A slow mocking clap, and Donzig smiled as he looked up. A cold unpleasant mocking smile, and he turned his head to spit.
‘Same bits as last week, same tired narrative that you and your ilk always do. Did you borrow Fowler’s notes from November by chance? It makes no matter. Because like every other smooth brained buffoon who has done this schtick? You will find that I am everything I say I am.’
A hand lifted and pointed.
‘Unlike you.’
Donzig paced, and his hand waved absently.
‘You see Rob, you claimed I was not relevant? So I told you why I was relevant. And your response is ‘you had to tell me you were relevant’. Clearly you didn’t know, you would have came up with better material. But since it seems the Bastards are sharing writers with half of the Network?’
Donzig smirked.
‘You ask now why I am upset? And I already answered that, you see much like the people you claim to hate? You made a mockery of our sport, you made a mockery of the thing that I at least have dedicated my life to. I know such things do not matter to you people, but sadly they do to me.’
Donzig turned his gaze back towards the darkness, and he sniffed.
‘Then again like the fucking idiot that you are, which frankly is what I have come to expect from the fucking vermin that infests Blackpool. Because let me assure you, that everyone in that godforsaken shithole is as thick as you. In fact, I have decided that Blackpool is the English equivalent of a place we in the States call New Jersey.’
His fingers snapped.
‘The difference being of course that people in Jersey aren’t soft like butter. But you see I had to tell you how bad I was because a certain self important, self-obsessed man child with delusions of grandeur–’ Donzig sneered, and he tugged at his beard before he laughed. ‘--Let’s call him Rob R.’
A pause.
‘No, too obvious. We’ll call him R. Riot. Who has spent the better part of a year doing whatever it is he does. And by the way, I don’t need to tear down this fucking idiot to make myself look better. I don’t need to mock him, or run down his accomplishments, or just do a riff on Chris Card’s CWA tournament spots to make myself feel more important.’
A wink.
‘By the way, you should probably let the professionals handle the Donzig impressions from now on. That was just fucking sad, kid. On a scale of one to ten, one being Dylan Black’s ‘you’re boring, Donzig’ to Chris Card’s bit being a ten? I am gonna rate your shit at a fucking negative three. Anthony Jordan has a better Donzig impression than that.’
A shrug, and Donzig paced absently.
‘By the way, it is good that you know I am the King of Death Matches. I don’t want you to show up at Legacy missing pieces and crying that you didn’t know what you were getting into. I like my victims to know exactly what they are getting into. Ignorance is no excuse, kid.’
Donzig laughed then, his eyes narrowed.
‘By the way, I blew up your old man so you would understand exactly who you were dealing with. Because you seem to have forgotten Rob, but now maybe you will remember. Sean Bean was just the first Bastard who happened to get in my fucking way. I know how very much you and your brave boys lean on him. How many times did we see Fowler’s reign saved by that old fool? How many times did he save your own little tag titles? But we are all supposed to just treat him with kid gloves, eh? No, no, no.’
Donzig wagged a finger, smiling as he leaned forward.
‘No one is safe now, Rob. You and your friends set the rules, and I am going to show the rest of this roster how to play the game. This is what you wanted, so you can do all the edgy fourth wall breaking that you want. But facts are? I am done playing your game, Rob. You walk around here, the three of you playing your little holier than thou, we’re the real main event, we’re the last draw in wrestling, oh we’re real fighting champs.’
Donzig paused, and winke again.
‘Or is it it’s unfair we have to defend our title so much, you see you like to call this an act? You like to say I am wearing a mask, but who are you? Because the three of you self-serving, self-aggrandizing pricks change the narrative so much that I am shocked I don’t have whiplash. And I get you have to do this little mocking game because we all know that is all you have in your tool shed, eh?’
Donzig stared at the camera, and his hand lifted to slowly count off on his fingers.
‘Squeaked out a win at New Years Brawl, won with some fancy tricks at the Gauntlet, and exactly how many times did you try and walk away from a fight in Wolverhampton? But I should be scared of you? Of you? Oh, Robbie. You know one time not so long ago a man told me that you shouldn’t say you are going to do completely wild things in the ring and not do them. Bear in mind this was after I tried to cut a man’s face off with a screwdriver. And so when you say you’re going to what was it ‘bash my face in’?’
Donzig’s smile froze, and then was gone as his eyes narrowed. A hand lifted, and curled slowly into a fist.
‘Please. Please. Do. That. I want you to do that, Rob. I want to see you try and do that, because frankly all I see of you? IS BULLSHIT! I SEE AND HEAR A LOT OF BULLSHIT, ROB!’
His hands lifted, slowly dragging across his face before he steepled them before his mouth. He took a deep breath, and he tapped them against his lips before he let them fall.
‘Theatrics, Rob? You’d be the fucking expert wouldn’t you. You and your fuckboys riding around your old fucking Cortina, acting like this is a joke, acting like it doesn’t matter to you. Walking out there for your fucking fingerpoke of doom moment like a low budget shitty British Nash and Hogan. Then the biggest act of all which is trying to pretend you forgot who I was for two weeks, acting like I had lost something over the last year. But now you want to tell me this is all theatrics?’
Donzig snorted.
‘I know you’re watching this, Rob. I know you’re waiting for me to tell you all of the things I have already said, so you can say Gotcha. But I don’t need to do I? Because you know, you know what I am going to do. And that is–’
His hands snapped together, a loud clap as he laughed that weird laugh.
‘--whatever the fuck I want. I am not even going to tell you what I will do, I will just let your little fucking hamster brain sit and think about it. That is my punishment to you. When I see you at London? You will be a blank canvas where I will work my art, boy. You wanted the old shit, Rob? Fine.’
He paused again before he reached inside of his long coat, and he pulled out the mask. His eyes stared down at the cool metal, his eyes on the eyes of the mask before he shrugged. The mask was slowly sat down, and he stroked it lovingly before he rose again. His hands lifted, making fingers guns that he shot off twice.
‘You want me to drop my mask, Rob? The facts are I wear my mask but it is my real face, you see a mask is what we long to be. They are a reflection of our true selves, but Rob listen to me. At least I am honest about wearing my mask, I wear my mask and the whole world sees me for what I am. But you? You hide behind yours don’t you. But that isn’t my affair, I don’t care what other men do with their faces and their masks. But when we meet in London? I will be taking yours off, I will be exposing you for the fraud that you are. All the world will see what you are, Rob.’
Donzig flicked his fingers towards his mask.
‘But since you brought it up? I won’t wear mine. You want me? You want the real me, Rob? So be it. For one night only, there will be no Scourge, there will be no Death in High Places. You want the old shit, Robbie boy? Fine. I will walk down to that ring as I began just little old me. The Hardcore Incarnate. The motherfucking American Destroyer. And I will leave you fucking laying in your own blood. You think you had it rough after the Elimination Chamber? You will pray for those days back.’
Donzig slowly knelt down, squatting as he tilted his head at the camera. His hand reaching over to caress the mask, and he shrugged.
‘This mask, these theatrics? They are what they are, they are a hard truth that I learned long ago. I was you once, I was all of the Bastards once, but I grew up. You see there is no Never Never Land, you aren’t the Lost Boys. And this? This is Childhood’s End.’
Donzig sighed, sounding bored.
‘You don’t understand Rob, because you are a child. You don’t see the world, it ends for you at the end of your cock. But since you don’t want to know who I am? What I am? I won’t burden you. But I will tell you this, I was a monster before the mask. I will be a monster after it. And at London you won’t be facing it.
You will face me. And you will beg for the nightmare to end, boy.’
Donzig rose, and his face twisted once more into that terrible smile. And then he walked off into the darkness.
‘Carry on Cliquing.’
A slow mocking clap, and Donzig smiled as he looked up. A cold unpleasant mocking smile, and he turned his head to spit.
‘Same bits as last week, same tired narrative that you and your ilk always do. Did you borrow Fowler’s notes from November by chance? It makes no matter. Because like every other smooth brained buffoon who has done this schtick? You will find that I am everything I say I am.’
A hand lifted and pointed.
‘Unlike you.’
Donzig paced, and his hand waved absently.
‘You see Rob, you claimed I was not relevant? So I told you why I was relevant. And your response is ‘you had to tell me you were relevant’. Clearly you didn’t know, you would have came up with better material. But since it seems the Bastards are sharing writers with half of the Network?’
Donzig smirked.
‘You ask now why I am upset? And I already answered that, you see much like the people you claim to hate? You made a mockery of our sport, you made a mockery of the thing that I at least have dedicated my life to. I know such things do not matter to you people, but sadly they do to me.’
Donzig turned his gaze back towards the darkness, and he sniffed.
‘Then again like the fucking idiot that you are, which frankly is what I have come to expect from the fucking vermin that infests Blackpool. Because let me assure you, that everyone in that godforsaken shithole is as thick as you. In fact, I have decided that Blackpool is the English equivalent of a place we in the States call New Jersey.’
His fingers snapped.
‘The difference being of course that people in Jersey aren’t soft like butter. But you see I had to tell you how bad I was because a certain self important, self-obsessed man child with delusions of grandeur–’ Donzig sneered, and he tugged at his beard before he laughed. ‘--Let’s call him Rob R.’
A pause.
‘No, too obvious. We’ll call him R. Riot. Who has spent the better part of a year doing whatever it is he does. And by the way, I don’t need to tear down this fucking idiot to make myself look better. I don’t need to mock him, or run down his accomplishments, or just do a riff on Chris Card’s CWA tournament spots to make myself feel more important.’
A wink.
‘By the way, you should probably let the professionals handle the Donzig impressions from now on. That was just fucking sad, kid. On a scale of one to ten, one being Dylan Black’s ‘you’re boring, Donzig’ to Chris Card’s bit being a ten? I am gonna rate your shit at a fucking negative three. Anthony Jordan has a better Donzig impression than that.’
A shrug, and Donzig paced absently.
‘By the way, it is good that you know I am the King of Death Matches. I don’t want you to show up at Legacy missing pieces and crying that you didn’t know what you were getting into. I like my victims to know exactly what they are getting into. Ignorance is no excuse, kid.’
Donzig laughed then, his eyes narrowed.
‘By the way, I blew up your old man so you would understand exactly who you were dealing with. Because you seem to have forgotten Rob, but now maybe you will remember. Sean Bean was just the first Bastard who happened to get in my fucking way. I know how very much you and your brave boys lean on him. How many times did we see Fowler’s reign saved by that old fool? How many times did he save your own little tag titles? But we are all supposed to just treat him with kid gloves, eh? No, no, no.’
Donzig wagged a finger, smiling as he leaned forward.
‘No one is safe now, Rob. You and your friends set the rules, and I am going to show the rest of this roster how to play the game. This is what you wanted, so you can do all the edgy fourth wall breaking that you want. But facts are? I am done playing your game, Rob. You walk around here, the three of you playing your little holier than thou, we’re the real main event, we’re the last draw in wrestling, oh we’re real fighting champs.’
Donzig paused, and winke again.
‘Or is it it’s unfair we have to defend our title so much, you see you like to call this an act? You like to say I am wearing a mask, but who are you? Because the three of you self-serving, self-aggrandizing pricks change the narrative so much that I am shocked I don’t have whiplash. And I get you have to do this little mocking game because we all know that is all you have in your tool shed, eh?’
Donzig stared at the camera, and his hand lifted to slowly count off on his fingers.
‘Squeaked out a win at New Years Brawl, won with some fancy tricks at the Gauntlet, and exactly how many times did you try and walk away from a fight in Wolverhampton? But I should be scared of you? Of you? Oh, Robbie. You know one time not so long ago a man told me that you shouldn’t say you are going to do completely wild things in the ring and not do them. Bear in mind this was after I tried to cut a man’s face off with a screwdriver. And so when you say you’re going to what was it ‘bash my face in’?’
Donzig’s smile froze, and then was gone as his eyes narrowed. A hand lifted, and curled slowly into a fist.
‘Please. Please. Do. That. I want you to do that, Rob. I want to see you try and do that, because frankly all I see of you? IS BULLSHIT! I SEE AND HEAR A LOT OF BULLSHIT, ROB!’
His hands lifted, slowly dragging across his face before he steepled them before his mouth. He took a deep breath, and he tapped them against his lips before he let them fall.
‘Theatrics, Rob? You’d be the fucking expert wouldn’t you. You and your fuckboys riding around your old fucking Cortina, acting like this is a joke, acting like it doesn’t matter to you. Walking out there for your fucking fingerpoke of doom moment like a low budget shitty British Nash and Hogan. Then the biggest act of all which is trying to pretend you forgot who I was for two weeks, acting like I had lost something over the last year. But now you want to tell me this is all theatrics?’
Donzig snorted.
‘I know you’re watching this, Rob. I know you’re waiting for me to tell you all of the things I have already said, so you can say Gotcha. But I don’t need to do I? Because you know, you know what I am going to do. And that is–’
His hands snapped together, a loud clap as he laughed that weird laugh.
‘--whatever the fuck I want. I am not even going to tell you what I will do, I will just let your little fucking hamster brain sit and think about it. That is my punishment to you. When I see you at London? You will be a blank canvas where I will work my art, boy. You wanted the old shit, Rob? Fine.’
He paused again before he reached inside of his long coat, and he pulled out the mask. His eyes stared down at the cool metal, his eyes on the eyes of the mask before he shrugged. The mask was slowly sat down, and he stroked it lovingly before he rose again. His hands lifted, making fingers guns that he shot off twice.
‘You want me to drop my mask, Rob? The facts are I wear my mask but it is my real face, you see a mask is what we long to be. They are a reflection of our true selves, but Rob listen to me. At least I am honest about wearing my mask, I wear my mask and the whole world sees me for what I am. But you? You hide behind yours don’t you. But that isn’t my affair, I don’t care what other men do with their faces and their masks. But when we meet in London? I will be taking yours off, I will be exposing you for the fraud that you are. All the world will see what you are, Rob.’
Donzig flicked his fingers towards his mask.
‘But since you brought it up? I won’t wear mine. You want me? You want the real me, Rob? So be it. For one night only, there will be no Scourge, there will be no Death in High Places. You want the old shit, Robbie boy? Fine. I will walk down to that ring as I began just little old me. The Hardcore Incarnate. The motherfucking American Destroyer. And I will leave you fucking laying in your own blood. You think you had it rough after the Elimination Chamber? You will pray for those days back.’
Donzig slowly knelt down, squatting as he tilted his head at the camera. His hand reaching over to caress the mask, and he shrugged.
‘This mask, these theatrics? They are what they are, they are a hard truth that I learned long ago. I was you once, I was all of the Bastards once, but I grew up. You see there is no Never Never Land, you aren’t the Lost Boys. And this? This is Childhood’s End.’
Donzig sighed, sounding bored.
‘You don’t understand Rob, because you are a child. You don’t see the world, it ends for you at the end of your cock. But since you don’t want to know who I am? What I am? I won’t burden you. But I will tell you this, I was a monster before the mask. I will be a monster after it. And at London you won’t be facing it.
You will face me. And you will beg for the nightmare to end, boy.’
Donzig rose, and his face twisted once more into that terrible smile. And then he walked off into the darkness.
‘Carry on Cliquing.’
