Post by Oblivion Death Squad on Feb 26, 2024 19:14:22 GMT -5
Backstage stood Archie Rude and beside him were the Oblivion Death Squad alongside Sinclair Godfrey. Mormo and Moloch glowered at Rude, Mormo with his hand on his brother’s shoulder as Moloch ground his fist into his palm. His eyes narrowed, and Rude swallowed before he tugged at his tie before he turned to the Baroness.
‘At Belfast on the eve of St. Patrick’s Massacre, the ODS will face off against Bull and Bird. With the winners advancing to the finals of this tag team tournament. What are your thoughts?’
Sinclair sneered, and she arched a brow.
‘Thoughts? The Oblivion Death Squad are not wasting thoughts on the Van Zant Brothers. You see we are former XHF Tag Team Champions, we have been a threat to every tag team that ever graced this promotion. And that includes overhyped and babied ones that left as soon as they realized they were on borrowed time.’
Rude blinked, and Sinclair gestured.
‘We have already beaten Bull and Bird. And we will beat them again, and then? We will either face off against our old enemies the Glucks or–’
A frown, and Rude jerked away as Sinclair’s eyes narrowed.
‘--the so called Empire.’
Mormo leaned forward then, rolling his shoulders before his huge hand grabbed Rude’s jacket to jerk him closer. His other hand gesturing angrily as he snarled.
‘Demi dhe Zogu! Mendon se do të na vjedhësh në Belfast?
Jo!
Ne do të ecim përmes jush! Ne do t'ju thyejmë!’
Moloch nodded, and he tugged his brother back before he glared at Rude.
‘Ne do t'ju kujtojmë vendin tuaj! Do të të kthejmë te babai yt në atë moçal të mjerë copë-copë!
Dhe atëherë ne do të gdhendim rrugën tonë drejt lavdisë! Dhe ne do të kemi atë që është e jona me të drejtë!
Titujt e ekipit të etiketës WUK!’
Rude nodded nervously, and looked to Sinclair. The Baroness rolled her eyes, and raked her hair away from her face before she shrugged.
‘Bull and Bird! You think you will steal from us in Belfast?
No!
We will walk through you! We will break you!
We will remind you of your place! We will send you back to your father in that dismal swamp in pieces!
And then we will carve our way to glory! And we will have what is ours by right!
The WUK Tag Team Titles!’
Rude blinked, and lifted his mic.
‘These are strong words, but three of the other greatest teams in WUK stand in their way.’
Sinclair snorted.
‘Archie, do you not understand? We are Donzig-gun, we are inevitable! And it doesn’t matter who or what stans before us! Those WUK Tag Team Championships are destined to be ours! And in fact? So are the XHF Tag Team Championships, which we will reclaim soon enough! You see a war is coming to WUK! And frankly?’
The Baroness smiled, and she looked to her two frowning cohorts. A shrug, and she tugged on his long coat before she lifted her hands slowly.
‘We intend to win it.’
The three turned off, stalking down the hallway without another word. Rude blinked after them, shaking his head before he looked back to the camera man. And then he tugged on his tie, adjusting his jacket before he called for a cut.
‘At Belfast on the eve of St. Patrick’s Massacre, the ODS will face off against Bull and Bird. With the winners advancing to the finals of this tag team tournament. What are your thoughts?’
Sinclair sneered, and she arched a brow.
‘Thoughts? The Oblivion Death Squad are not wasting thoughts on the Van Zant Brothers. You see we are former XHF Tag Team Champions, we have been a threat to every tag team that ever graced this promotion. And that includes overhyped and babied ones that left as soon as they realized they were on borrowed time.’
Rude blinked, and Sinclair gestured.
‘We have already beaten Bull and Bird. And we will beat them again, and then? We will either face off against our old enemies the Glucks or–’
A frown, and Rude jerked away as Sinclair’s eyes narrowed.
‘--the so called Empire.’
Mormo leaned forward then, rolling his shoulders before his huge hand grabbed Rude’s jacket to jerk him closer. His other hand gesturing angrily as he snarled.
‘Demi dhe Zogu! Mendon se do të na vjedhësh në Belfast?
Jo!
Ne do të ecim përmes jush! Ne do t'ju thyejmë!’
Moloch nodded, and he tugged his brother back before he glared at Rude.
‘Ne do t'ju kujtojmë vendin tuaj! Do të të kthejmë te babai yt në atë moçal të mjerë copë-copë!
Dhe atëherë ne do të gdhendim rrugën tonë drejt lavdisë! Dhe ne do të kemi atë që është e jona me të drejtë!
Titujt e ekipit të etiketës WUK!’
Rude nodded nervously, and looked to Sinclair. The Baroness rolled her eyes, and raked her hair away from her face before she shrugged.
‘Bull and Bird! You think you will steal from us in Belfast?
No!
We will walk through you! We will break you!
We will remind you of your place! We will send you back to your father in that dismal swamp in pieces!
And then we will carve our way to glory! And we will have what is ours by right!
The WUK Tag Team Titles!’
Rude blinked, and lifted his mic.
‘These are strong words, but three of the other greatest teams in WUK stand in their way.’
Sinclair snorted.
‘Archie, do you not understand? We are Donzig-gun, we are inevitable! And it doesn’t matter who or what stans before us! Those WUK Tag Team Championships are destined to be ours! And in fact? So are the XHF Tag Team Championships, which we will reclaim soon enough! You see a war is coming to WUK! And frankly?’
The Baroness smiled, and she looked to her two frowning cohorts. A shrug, and she tugged on his long coat before she lifted her hands slowly.
‘We intend to win it.’
The three turned off, stalking down the hallway without another word. Rude blinked after them, shaking his head before he looked back to the camera man. And then he tugged on his tie, adjusting his jacket before he called for a cut.
