A Labor Day Hangover [X*Crown Challenge]
Sept 4, 2023 2:08:48 GMT -5
Mongo the Destroyer, Dave D-Flipz, and 4 more like this
Post by Cross Recoba on Sept 4, 2023 2:08:48 GMT -5
[4th September 2023]
[Disney World, Orlando, Florida]
The sound of keys jingling on metal echoed through the corridor, growing louder with each step. The rhythm sounded like a bargain basement click-track for a waltz for androids that may or may not dream of electric sheep. Clomp-Jangle-Clink, Clomp-Jangle-Clink.
Outside of the door, the waltz abruptly stopped, only to be replaced by the rustle of keys.
“This one was a real asshole about being here all weekend.”
With a metallic lurch, the door opened. The security guard stood in the doorway, framed by the light like some Mall Cop Jesus.
“You’re free to go. Apologies, you were meant to be out the same night but we go hard in our Fantasy draft. Twenty-four people and two hours a pick, excellent snacks though.”
Recoba felt his face momentarily sour for the excuse.
“That’ll teach you though, the Mouse doesn’t like trespassers…or enemies and threats to America…except China.”
A raised eyebrow from the Tap Out Owner.
“At least you got your phone-call.”
The eyebrow remained cocked as Recoba stood to exit the cell.
“No phone-call, just your television with two channels, Disney or XHF.” The words flat and emotionless, there were no fans of the Wizards of Waverly Place in attendance.
“Would you like to make a call n-,” The words fell away as Cross walked past him to the corridor, “There’s someone here outside from the Network, or he claims to be from there anyway.”
Catching up with Recoba, the guard handed him a form on a clipboard. The signature was placed without a word on the page being written.
“You know this means that you can’t even appear on SportsCenter before the New Year?”
“Do I look like I want to be sandwiched in between a High School buzzer-beater and a dog that can play soccer?”
“You don’t need to be an asshole, I’m just telling you the ramifications.” The guard opened the door, sunlight bleeding in from the outside world.
Cross squinted as his eyes adjusted to the light. He’d barely taken a step outside before the next interruption to his day arrived.
“Cross, Brandon McKay, If The Walls Could Talk on the XHF Network. Have you anything to say following this weekend? Perhaps penance for going against Marty’s wishes? A belated birthday message for Doomguy Junior?”
Recoba walked past the reporter without a word until he was a yard or more past him. The HKW Heavyweight Champion turned to face McKay, a smile now in place.
“Actually, Brandon, I do... Fox, I watched your defence against Mistress Discipline, I watched the chaos, the comedy, and the shitshow that was you battling to a No Contest with someone with your belt should be putting away with ease. I watched as you managed to drag a title that has history, gravitas, and prestige into the mud as you gave a paper-thin challenger a shot and STILL you struggled. If you want to claim that you’re the Champion of the Network, you’re going to have to try better.”
“Cross, are you c-” McKay was cut off.
“I’m challenging you, Fox, for that belt. Why? Because I reminded everyone in the Rumble what a threat I am, because I’ve lost one singles match on the Network in a year, and because I am the XHF Box Office Smash! You can turn it down, but do you really want to look weak with End of Days looming? I’ll even give you some respect as Champion, you can pick the time, the place and the venue!” Recoba walked away from McKay as soon as his words dropped.
“You heard it here first, folks! Will Fox respond and if so, could we see him defend his title before End of Days?”
[Disney World, Orlando, Florida]
The sound of keys jingling on metal echoed through the corridor, growing louder with each step. The rhythm sounded like a bargain basement click-track for a waltz for androids that may or may not dream of electric sheep. Clomp-Jangle-Clink, Clomp-Jangle-Clink.
Outside of the door, the waltz abruptly stopped, only to be replaced by the rustle of keys.
“This one was a real asshole about being here all weekend.”
With a metallic lurch, the door opened. The security guard stood in the doorway, framed by the light like some Mall Cop Jesus.
“You’re free to go. Apologies, you were meant to be out the same night but we go hard in our Fantasy draft. Twenty-four people and two hours a pick, excellent snacks though.”
Recoba felt his face momentarily sour for the excuse.
“That’ll teach you though, the Mouse doesn’t like trespassers…or enemies and threats to America…except China.”
A raised eyebrow from the Tap Out Owner.
“At least you got your phone-call.”
The eyebrow remained cocked as Recoba stood to exit the cell.
“No phone-call, just your television with two channels, Disney or XHF.” The words flat and emotionless, there were no fans of the Wizards of Waverly Place in attendance.
“Would you like to make a call n-,” The words fell away as Cross walked past him to the corridor, “There’s someone here outside from the Network, or he claims to be from there anyway.”
Catching up with Recoba, the guard handed him a form on a clipboard. The signature was placed without a word on the page being written.
“You know this means that you can’t even appear on SportsCenter before the New Year?”
“Do I look like I want to be sandwiched in between a High School buzzer-beater and a dog that can play soccer?”
“You don’t need to be an asshole, I’m just telling you the ramifications.” The guard opened the door, sunlight bleeding in from the outside world.
Cross squinted as his eyes adjusted to the light. He’d barely taken a step outside before the next interruption to his day arrived.
“Cross, Brandon McKay, If The Walls Could Talk on the XHF Network. Have you anything to say following this weekend? Perhaps penance for going against Marty’s wishes? A belated birthday message for Doomguy Junior?”
Recoba walked past the reporter without a word until he was a yard or more past him. The HKW Heavyweight Champion turned to face McKay, a smile now in place.
“Actually, Brandon, I do... Fox, I watched your defence against Mistress Discipline, I watched the chaos, the comedy, and the shitshow that was you battling to a No Contest with someone with your belt should be putting away with ease. I watched as you managed to drag a title that has history, gravitas, and prestige into the mud as you gave a paper-thin challenger a shot and STILL you struggled. If you want to claim that you’re the Champion of the Network, you’re going to have to try better.”
“Cross, are you c-” McKay was cut off.
“I’m challenging you, Fox, for that belt. Why? Because I reminded everyone in the Rumble what a threat I am, because I’ve lost one singles match on the Network in a year, and because I am the XHF Box Office Smash! You can turn it down, but do you really want to look weak with End of Days looming? I’ll even give you some respect as Champion, you can pick the time, the place and the venue!” Recoba walked away from McKay as soon as his words dropped.
“You heard it here first, folks! Will Fox respond and if so, could we see him defend his title before End of Days?”
