Post by Raiden Ishimori on Dec 29, 2023 23:51:29 GMT -5
“MR. METTLEEERRRR, HAS LAIIID OLD OTIS IN HIS GRAAAAAAAVVVEEEE, YAH!”
“Fucking Christ, shut up!”
The camera fades into The Gambler’s Den, currently closed amid a cloudy afternoon in Sin City where most of The Harbingers are gathered alongside Brayden and Ronnie. The only one missing from the inclusion seems to be Raiden, though the other three Harbingers are going around and checking to make sure the Christmas decorations and lights are still up and functioning properly. At the bar, Brayden lazily swivels back and forth in his chair with a joint in hand while Ronnie is idly knocking his head against the desk with an irate sigh. Seems the usual antics were annoying the red-headed stepchild of the company as per usual, but who’s even surprised at this point?
Ronnie: “Brayden, I beg, you’ve been repeating that Arthur Morgan line for the past half hour on-and-off. Please shut-”
Brayden: “No.”
Ronnie tightens a hand into a fist, shooting a death glare at the DTF Champion who just flashes him a cheesy grin in response. Grumbling to himself, Ronnie goes back to keep his forehead plastered against the counter top while Orion polishes silverware across from him.
Orion: “He’s certainly in high spirits.”
Ronnie: “In more ways than one…”
Orion: “That is his way after all.”
Brayden: “Orion gets it.”
Ronnie raises his head up off the counter, shaking his head with a grumble. Brayden proceeds to take another puff from the joint in hand, spinning on his stool to look at the other three: Storms was busy making sure the lights were still rigged up properly, Daigo moved furniture around to ensure nothing was caught on the wiring that had to weave through some of the tables, and Kingsley appeared to be taking a general look around the place as he adjusted the ugly Christmas sweater he sported. An almost sky blue color with a big moose head slapped in the front.
Brayden: “Ayyyy, boss man. You need me to do anything?”
Kingsley: “Hm? No, no, the guys got it covered. I’m just making sure everything still looks presentable for what’s to come and also for the rushes we’ll get given that New Year’s is rapidly approaching. I thought about taking down the lights once Christmas had passed, but it’d be less of a headache to leave them up for now and then take them down after the new year hits.”
Brayden: “Word.”
Kingsley: “Ronnie, remember to do a check on the equipment today. Need to make sure everything is still operating at peak capacity heading into the new year.”
Ronnie: “Yeah, yeah, I’ll see to it later.”
The red-head gives a dismissive wave of the hand, sitting up straight on the stool as Brayden continues to lounge around. For a brief moment, he looks around his vicinity, brows knitting together beneath his sunglasses but the expression soon changes as he shifts and reaches down toward the floor, pulling up the DTF Championship onto the counter. He gives the belt a hearty slap on the center plate, returning to his current smoke session.
Brayden: “Soon the time will come…and I’ll either be bringing this back again or it goes home with someone else.”
Ronnie: “How are you so calm- Wait, rhetorical question. Better question: How are you even thinking about it so nonchalantly?”
Brayden: “Because I can. High, or not high. You ought to know better than anyone by this point that I just go with the flow, broseph. I go in, do my thing, walk out with a joint in hand and back to a bottle of champagne with my name on it.”
Kingsley: “He’s not wrong about the name part.”
Ronnie swiveled around toward Kingsley with a clear look of disbelief, only to be met with a shrug from the owner as he returned to inspecting the venue’s interior.
Brayden: “I’ve talked about how Cole and Armenia were my biggest challenges, but this one really puts into perspective what else could be considered ‘big’ in this industry. So many brosephs I have to square off against…”
Daigo: “It’s doable though. Just ask Raiden on that one…if he was here right now.”
Brayden: “Hasn’t he dealt with more than enough of those though?”
Daigo: “Probably, but when you rise up to be one of the top stars of the XHF’s Network Era as quickly as he did, you kind of get thrown around a bunch into them to showcase your skills. It was like…three X*Crown matches within seven months or something like that? For two of those, he wasn’t even all that active because of what happened to SBW. Then he went and joined AWF, and the first match they put him in was a Fatal Four-Way.”
Brayden: “Damn…broseph really is built different.”
Kingsley: “His current record in Tap Out certainly backs that out. Speaking of Sin City, or rather Vegas based promotions, expect to be seeing some DTF colleagues around here in the near future, Brayden. Some agents have been in contact with me regarding some contracts for some of the guys from there, so you’ll have more brosephs to hang around with post-show.”
Brayden: “Ayyyyy.”
Ronnie groans at the thought.
Ronnie: “Fucking lovely…”
Kingsley: “Oh chin up, Ronnie. I’m sure some of them will like you.”
Brayden: “And if those brosephs don’t, then at least you got me!”
Ronnie: “I don’t know if I should say ‘Thanks’ or feel insulted by that.”
Brayden shrugs in turn, taking another puff before dragging the DTF Championship into his lap while Kingsley takes his leave, dipping into his office for the time being. For a few moments, amid all the silence, the only noises heard are the squeaking of furniture being dragged across the floor and the occasional grunt from Storms as he shifts and adjusts the lighting to keep it in place while Daigo follows behind him, and occasionally moving head to keep up with temporarily moving chairs and tables out of the way to let his fellow Harbinger continue unhindered. After what seems like an eternity, the two finally come to a stop, Storms wiping at his brow as Daigo gives him a hearty slap on the back.
Storms: “It’s done.”
Both Brayden and Ronnie look up from their respective spots at the counter, the former still continuing to swivel back and forth in his stool as he smokes. The duo’s eyes follow the various lines of lights lining the interior as the Harbinger duo returns to the bar. Orion slides a filled glass of water toward Storms who hastily picks it up and downs it just as swiftly.
Brayden: “Lookin’ good broseph. A little more holiday spirit for all in the city.”
Storms: “Gonna be pissed though if some drunkard ends up pulling some of them down though. That shit is not easy to rig and keep up at times.”
Orion: “I’m sure Regis will easily take care of it should it come to something like that.”
Storms shrugs in turn at first, but he gives a nod in agreement right after.
Storms: “In the meantime, I’m gonna go talk to Kingsley. He mentioned to me the other day about wanting to discuss progress about some other clients of ours, and Daigo, I think you’ll want to sit in on that conversation as well.”
Daigo: “I would imagine it has to deal with our boys over in Japan right now. Well, two specific guys for clarity’s sake. Kinda forgot that a few of the company’s stars would have flown out by now for J-ROK’s end of the year show.”
Storms: “Aye. We’ll catch up with you two later once business has concluded.”
Ronnie gives a small raise of the hand in acknowledgement while Brayden sends them off with a two finger salute as the Harbinger pair takes their leave. Ronnie leans forward on the counter, gaze turning back toward Brayden.
Ronnie: “Back to an earlier topic…DTF’s final show.”
Brayden: “Hm? What about it?”
Ronnie: “Fucking idiot…you need to prep for it!”
Brayden simply holds up the lit joint in response before taking another hit from it.
Brayden: “Already prepped, broseph.”
Ronnie shakes his head, groaning heavily.
Ronnie: “God, just take me out now…”
Brayden: “Like with a sniper or do you mean like a date?”
Ronnie: “Surprise me.”
Ronnie lets out a sigh, sliding off the stool and taking a moment to stretch and crack his back. Rolling his neck, he forces out an exhale before beginning to walk off.
Ronnie: “I’m gonna go do the check in the meantime. I stay here any longer and I’m bound to get a headache from your tomfoolery.”
Brayden: “That’s a pretty big word for you, broseph.”
Ronnie just shakes his head as he walks on, soon disappearing from the frame. Brayden shrugs as he takes another hit while Orion moves along the bar, continuing on with his work while he quietly hums to himself amid the momentary silence.
Brayden: “To think the months have flown by as fast they have…perhaps too quickly, and now we’re facing an ending that’s arrived all too soon in equal measure. The final Diamond Mine, the final stand…and I’m the one waiting for all the others to come charging up the mountain for the crown that sits upon my head. The Number One Broseph having to fight against all of his other brosephs for the sake of seeing who will walk out DTF one last time, championship in hand. The answer’s simple isn’t it? Me.”
He chuckles to himself, shaded gaze looking down at the championship in his lap.
Brayden: “I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again: The Number One is more than just a simple tag I slapped upon myself for the sake of merch or the sake of looking cool among my other brosephs. It is what I am, and what I’ve made a reality. I am THE Number One Broseph, DTF’s Number One, and month after month I kept proving that I am that guy, that I am The Ace of Brosephs even. A year ago, people would’ve found me to just be someone who was nothing but comic relief for others, or someone who was no better than crude oil given my track record in IPW before I came back Stateside and emerged from the rock I was sleeping under. People thought BEEF was gonna be the top dog in the beginning, but guess who’s risen up to take not only his place, but Cole’s.”
Brayden gives the championship another hearty slap on its center plate.
Brayden: “Ever since stepping through the doors for the first time, it's always felt like there’s been a calling within the Diamond Lounge. A place, a home, a site to finally make a legacy and a proper name for myself. No longer Meme Boi, but as myself: Brayden Duncan. Everyone else around me that I knew was carving out their own paths, Kaz most of all, and I was content at the time to just lounge around at the bottom of the ladder instead of pulling myself up to greater heights where I could’ve been so much more. Better late than never, as the old saying goes, brosephs.”
He picks up the championship, slinging it over his shoulder as he takes another puff.
Brayden: “This year has truly been the Year of the Broseph, and I’ve been the broseph to highlight it all here in DTF. Yeah, I was one month late to the party, but I sure as hell became the life of it with what I’ve been putting out in that ring every month I’ve been here. One of the top faces here in Vegas, and I will forever be the top guy here in DTF. This will not be me getting stoned, but etching myself in stone to make sure every broseph in this company and Network remembers my name when the doors close for good.”
Brayden slides out of the stool, pushing his sunglasses up to rest atop his head.
Brayden: “Jackie Boy, Imma need one last favor from you: Make sure you got a personal bottle of champagne set aside for me when I celebrate in the Lounge for one last time. The last time that I show that I’m better than some hot flash millionaire like AJ Shankz, who still can’t get the big job done on the larger stages in Sin City. One final time to show that I burn brighter than The Blazed Kidd, and I am always more blazed than him, day in and day out. For the last time in the Lounge, it isn’t about the size of the broseph that matters the most in that ring, but the fighting spirit that stirs within.”
He thumps his chest with the side of his fist.
Brayden: “Brayden Duncan. Know it, remember it, breathe it. I’m not just The Number One, I am The Ace of DTF. I am THE Broseph of this year, and the next..and this title is staying with me, brosephs.”
Brayden takes one last long drag on the joint before billowing it into the air, and then down into the camera as it fades to black.
“Fucking Christ, shut up!”
The camera fades into The Gambler’s Den, currently closed amid a cloudy afternoon in Sin City where most of The Harbingers are gathered alongside Brayden and Ronnie. The only one missing from the inclusion seems to be Raiden, though the other three Harbingers are going around and checking to make sure the Christmas decorations and lights are still up and functioning properly. At the bar, Brayden lazily swivels back and forth in his chair with a joint in hand while Ronnie is idly knocking his head against the desk with an irate sigh. Seems the usual antics were annoying the red-headed stepchild of the company as per usual, but who’s even surprised at this point?
Ronnie: “Brayden, I beg, you’ve been repeating that Arthur Morgan line for the past half hour on-and-off. Please shut-”
Brayden: “No.”
Ronnie tightens a hand into a fist, shooting a death glare at the DTF Champion who just flashes him a cheesy grin in response. Grumbling to himself, Ronnie goes back to keep his forehead plastered against the counter top while Orion polishes silverware across from him.
Orion: “He’s certainly in high spirits.”
Ronnie: “In more ways than one…”
Orion: “That is his way after all.”
Brayden: “Orion gets it.”
Ronnie raises his head up off the counter, shaking his head with a grumble. Brayden proceeds to take another puff from the joint in hand, spinning on his stool to look at the other three: Storms was busy making sure the lights were still rigged up properly, Daigo moved furniture around to ensure nothing was caught on the wiring that had to weave through some of the tables, and Kingsley appeared to be taking a general look around the place as he adjusted the ugly Christmas sweater he sported. An almost sky blue color with a big moose head slapped in the front.
Brayden: “Ayyyy, boss man. You need me to do anything?”
Kingsley: “Hm? No, no, the guys got it covered. I’m just making sure everything still looks presentable for what’s to come and also for the rushes we’ll get given that New Year’s is rapidly approaching. I thought about taking down the lights once Christmas had passed, but it’d be less of a headache to leave them up for now and then take them down after the new year hits.”
Brayden: “Word.”
Kingsley: “Ronnie, remember to do a check on the equipment today. Need to make sure everything is still operating at peak capacity heading into the new year.”
Ronnie: “Yeah, yeah, I’ll see to it later.”
The red-head gives a dismissive wave of the hand, sitting up straight on the stool as Brayden continues to lounge around. For a brief moment, he looks around his vicinity, brows knitting together beneath his sunglasses but the expression soon changes as he shifts and reaches down toward the floor, pulling up the DTF Championship onto the counter. He gives the belt a hearty slap on the center plate, returning to his current smoke session.
Brayden: “Soon the time will come…and I’ll either be bringing this back again or it goes home with someone else.”
Ronnie: “How are you so calm- Wait, rhetorical question. Better question: How are you even thinking about it so nonchalantly?”
Brayden: “Because I can. High, or not high. You ought to know better than anyone by this point that I just go with the flow, broseph. I go in, do my thing, walk out with a joint in hand and back to a bottle of champagne with my name on it.”
Kingsley: “He’s not wrong about the name part.”
Ronnie swiveled around toward Kingsley with a clear look of disbelief, only to be met with a shrug from the owner as he returned to inspecting the venue’s interior.
Brayden: “I’ve talked about how Cole and Armenia were my biggest challenges, but this one really puts into perspective what else could be considered ‘big’ in this industry. So many brosephs I have to square off against…”
Daigo: “It’s doable though. Just ask Raiden on that one…if he was here right now.”
Brayden: “Hasn’t he dealt with more than enough of those though?”
Daigo: “Probably, but when you rise up to be one of the top stars of the XHF’s Network Era as quickly as he did, you kind of get thrown around a bunch into them to showcase your skills. It was like…three X*Crown matches within seven months or something like that? For two of those, he wasn’t even all that active because of what happened to SBW. Then he went and joined AWF, and the first match they put him in was a Fatal Four-Way.”
Brayden: “Damn…broseph really is built different.”
Kingsley: “His current record in Tap Out certainly backs that out. Speaking of Sin City, or rather Vegas based promotions, expect to be seeing some DTF colleagues around here in the near future, Brayden. Some agents have been in contact with me regarding some contracts for some of the guys from there, so you’ll have more brosephs to hang around with post-show.”
Brayden: “Ayyyyy.”
Ronnie groans at the thought.
Ronnie: “Fucking lovely…”
Kingsley: “Oh chin up, Ronnie. I’m sure some of them will like you.”
Brayden: “And if those brosephs don’t, then at least you got me!”
Ronnie: “I don’t know if I should say ‘Thanks’ or feel insulted by that.”
Brayden shrugs in turn, taking another puff before dragging the DTF Championship into his lap while Kingsley takes his leave, dipping into his office for the time being. For a few moments, amid all the silence, the only noises heard are the squeaking of furniture being dragged across the floor and the occasional grunt from Storms as he shifts and adjusts the lighting to keep it in place while Daigo follows behind him, and occasionally moving head to keep up with temporarily moving chairs and tables out of the way to let his fellow Harbinger continue unhindered. After what seems like an eternity, the two finally come to a stop, Storms wiping at his brow as Daigo gives him a hearty slap on the back.
Storms: “It’s done.”
Both Brayden and Ronnie look up from their respective spots at the counter, the former still continuing to swivel back and forth in his stool as he smokes. The duo’s eyes follow the various lines of lights lining the interior as the Harbinger duo returns to the bar. Orion slides a filled glass of water toward Storms who hastily picks it up and downs it just as swiftly.
Brayden: “Lookin’ good broseph. A little more holiday spirit for all in the city.”
Storms: “Gonna be pissed though if some drunkard ends up pulling some of them down though. That shit is not easy to rig and keep up at times.”
Orion: “I’m sure Regis will easily take care of it should it come to something like that.”
Storms shrugs in turn at first, but he gives a nod in agreement right after.
Storms: “In the meantime, I’m gonna go talk to Kingsley. He mentioned to me the other day about wanting to discuss progress about some other clients of ours, and Daigo, I think you’ll want to sit in on that conversation as well.”
Daigo: “I would imagine it has to deal with our boys over in Japan right now. Well, two specific guys for clarity’s sake. Kinda forgot that a few of the company’s stars would have flown out by now for J-ROK’s end of the year show.”
Storms: “Aye. We’ll catch up with you two later once business has concluded.”
Ronnie gives a small raise of the hand in acknowledgement while Brayden sends them off with a two finger salute as the Harbinger pair takes their leave. Ronnie leans forward on the counter, gaze turning back toward Brayden.
Ronnie: “Back to an earlier topic…DTF’s final show.”
Brayden: “Hm? What about it?”
Ronnie: “Fucking idiot…you need to prep for it!”
Brayden simply holds up the lit joint in response before taking another hit from it.
Brayden: “Already prepped, broseph.”
Ronnie shakes his head, groaning heavily.
Ronnie: “God, just take me out now…”
Brayden: “Like with a sniper or do you mean like a date?”
Ronnie: “Surprise me.”
Ronnie lets out a sigh, sliding off the stool and taking a moment to stretch and crack his back. Rolling his neck, he forces out an exhale before beginning to walk off.
Ronnie: “I’m gonna go do the check in the meantime. I stay here any longer and I’m bound to get a headache from your tomfoolery.”
Brayden: “That’s a pretty big word for you, broseph.”
Ronnie just shakes his head as he walks on, soon disappearing from the frame. Brayden shrugs as he takes another hit while Orion moves along the bar, continuing on with his work while he quietly hums to himself amid the momentary silence.
Brayden: “To think the months have flown by as fast they have…perhaps too quickly, and now we’re facing an ending that’s arrived all too soon in equal measure. The final Diamond Mine, the final stand…and I’m the one waiting for all the others to come charging up the mountain for the crown that sits upon my head. The Number One Broseph having to fight against all of his other brosephs for the sake of seeing who will walk out DTF one last time, championship in hand. The answer’s simple isn’t it? Me.”
He chuckles to himself, shaded gaze looking down at the championship in his lap.
Brayden: “I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again: The Number One is more than just a simple tag I slapped upon myself for the sake of merch or the sake of looking cool among my other brosephs. It is what I am, and what I’ve made a reality. I am THE Number One Broseph, DTF’s Number One, and month after month I kept proving that I am that guy, that I am The Ace of Brosephs even. A year ago, people would’ve found me to just be someone who was nothing but comic relief for others, or someone who was no better than crude oil given my track record in IPW before I came back Stateside and emerged from the rock I was sleeping under. People thought BEEF was gonna be the top dog in the beginning, but guess who’s risen up to take not only his place, but Cole’s.”
Brayden gives the championship another hearty slap on its center plate.
Brayden: “Ever since stepping through the doors for the first time, it's always felt like there’s been a calling within the Diamond Lounge. A place, a home, a site to finally make a legacy and a proper name for myself. No longer Meme Boi, but as myself: Brayden Duncan. Everyone else around me that I knew was carving out their own paths, Kaz most of all, and I was content at the time to just lounge around at the bottom of the ladder instead of pulling myself up to greater heights where I could’ve been so much more. Better late than never, as the old saying goes, brosephs.”
He picks up the championship, slinging it over his shoulder as he takes another puff.
Brayden: “This year has truly been the Year of the Broseph, and I’ve been the broseph to highlight it all here in DTF. Yeah, I was one month late to the party, but I sure as hell became the life of it with what I’ve been putting out in that ring every month I’ve been here. One of the top faces here in Vegas, and I will forever be the top guy here in DTF. This will not be me getting stoned, but etching myself in stone to make sure every broseph in this company and Network remembers my name when the doors close for good.”
Brayden slides out of the stool, pushing his sunglasses up to rest atop his head.
Brayden: “Jackie Boy, Imma need one last favor from you: Make sure you got a personal bottle of champagne set aside for me when I celebrate in the Lounge for one last time. The last time that I show that I’m better than some hot flash millionaire like AJ Shankz, who still can’t get the big job done on the larger stages in Sin City. One final time to show that I burn brighter than The Blazed Kidd, and I am always more blazed than him, day in and day out. For the last time in the Lounge, it isn’t about the size of the broseph that matters the most in that ring, but the fighting spirit that stirs within.”
He thumps his chest with the side of his fist.
Brayden: “Brayden Duncan. Know it, remember it, breathe it. I’m not just The Number One, I am The Ace of DTF. I am THE Broseph of this year, and the next..and this title is staying with me, brosephs.”
Brayden takes one last long drag on the joint before billowing it into the air, and then down into the camera as it fades to black.