"My patience is waning; is this entertaining?" (X*Crown RP1)
Sept 18, 2023 16:13:53 GMT -5
Mongo the Destroyer, Dave D-Flipz, and 3 more like this
Post by bloodiedfox on Sept 18, 2023 16:13:53 GMT -5
So, that was your big ‘statement of intent’ match to build to challenging me, was it Cross? Gotta say, not impressed.
Bloodied Fox looks at the skeleton. The skeleton does not look back because it doesn’t have any eyes.
Now I get how you visualised this all going down: you were going to sweep Brendan two falls to zero, striking fear into my heart by obliterating the man I once loved, allowing you to surf a wave of pure momentum into The Diamond Mine IV and seize the X*Crown from me. Of course, what actually happened was Brendan took the first fall clean as a fucking whistle; you got the second fall because Hayley Grimes interfered on your behalf; and then were in the middle of getting your arse beat for fall three when some fucking doctor decided to stop the match and hand you the win. Then, just to put the cherry on top of the shit sundae, Dan Stein shows up and the show ends on the visual of you pissing your pants in fear.
The skeleton hangs on a display stand. Fox pokes it, making it swing slightly. He watches the movement for a moment before moving back across the office where it and he currently are, sitting on a fancy desk that seems to have been swept clean of anything that should be covering it.
It’s funny how what you thought was going to be a showcase of your championship credentials ended up being the peer reviewed academic paper on why I’m going to wipe the floor with you on September 30th. You needed the second most unlikeable member of Sky Force and a doctor you probably paid off via your ‘legitimate business associates’ just to beat Brendan Harding. Now, while I’m sure my opinion is coloured a smidge by the abandonment and heartache, my very estranged husband is nowhere near my calibre as a wrestler. If you couldn’t beat him…
…and no matter what the record books say, you didn’t…
…what fucking hope do you have against me?
He lets the question hang in silence for a few moments before continuing.
See there are levels to this shit, Cross. Your level is low; kicking around backyarders and deathmatch goons in HKW and running your Las Vegas vanity project with dirty money. My level is holding the richest prize in our sport and beating everyone who steps up to me for it into the fucking ground. For all your posturing as rightful claimant to my throne, you are so far beyond your realm of aptitude that it is fucking laughable. But hey, congratulations on wheedling your way into a title shot you don’t deserve, and a crushing defeat that you most definitely do.
Fox rises from his perch on the desk and walks forward, the camera backpedalling as he moves through the disarray of the office and steps over the unmoving heap of a man on his way to and through a doorway. The camera doesn’t follow as he walks off stage right, staying instead to see the door close behind him, revealing its top half to be frosted glass, cracks cobwebbing from a point of hard impact stained with blood. Despite the damage, the name printed onto the glass is legible:
Dr. Harry Takahashi
Hawaiian State Athletic Commissioner
Bloodied Fox looks at the skeleton. The skeleton does not look back because it doesn’t have any eyes.
Now I get how you visualised this all going down: you were going to sweep Brendan two falls to zero, striking fear into my heart by obliterating the man I once loved, allowing you to surf a wave of pure momentum into The Diamond Mine IV and seize the X*Crown from me. Of course, what actually happened was Brendan took the first fall clean as a fucking whistle; you got the second fall because Hayley Grimes interfered on your behalf; and then were in the middle of getting your arse beat for fall three when some fucking doctor decided to stop the match and hand you the win. Then, just to put the cherry on top of the shit sundae, Dan Stein shows up and the show ends on the visual of you pissing your pants in fear.
The skeleton hangs on a display stand. Fox pokes it, making it swing slightly. He watches the movement for a moment before moving back across the office where it and he currently are, sitting on a fancy desk that seems to have been swept clean of anything that should be covering it.
It’s funny how what you thought was going to be a showcase of your championship credentials ended up being the peer reviewed academic paper on why I’m going to wipe the floor with you on September 30th. You needed the second most unlikeable member of Sky Force and a doctor you probably paid off via your ‘legitimate business associates’ just to beat Brendan Harding. Now, while I’m sure my opinion is coloured a smidge by the abandonment and heartache, my very estranged husband is nowhere near my calibre as a wrestler. If you couldn’t beat him…
…and no matter what the record books say, you didn’t…
…what fucking hope do you have against me?
He lets the question hang in silence for a few moments before continuing.
See there are levels to this shit, Cross. Your level is low; kicking around backyarders and deathmatch goons in HKW and running your Las Vegas vanity project with dirty money. My level is holding the richest prize in our sport and beating everyone who steps up to me for it into the fucking ground. For all your posturing as rightful claimant to my throne, you are so far beyond your realm of aptitude that it is fucking laughable. But hey, congratulations on wheedling your way into a title shot you don’t deserve, and a crushing defeat that you most definitely do.
Fox rises from his perch on the desk and walks forward, the camera backpedalling as he moves through the disarray of the office and steps over the unmoving heap of a man on his way to and through a doorway. The camera doesn’t follow as he walks off stage right, staying instead to see the door close behind him, revealing its top half to be frosted glass, cracks cobwebbing from a point of hard impact stained with blood. Despite the damage, the name printed onto the glass is legible:
Dr. Harry Takahashi
Hawaiian State Athletic Commissioner