Lunch Meat (1st Round Tourney RP)
Oct 29, 2017 1:36:30 GMT -5
𝓓𝓾𝓴𝓮 𝓚𝓸𝓼𝓵𝓸𝓯𝓯 likes this
Post by Deleted on Oct 29, 2017 1:36:30 GMT -5
The scene opens to a dark room, with a table with various objects including a blowtorch, a ball peen hammer, and a scalpel. Standing behind the table is a man, heavily tattooed, wearing a cliche doctor’s uniform. On the name tag, you see the words:
The Doctor of Chaos, Rob Wyatt picks up each tool and examines it. He chuckles, and looks at the camera.
Rob Wyatt: Firestorm Wrestling Alliance… The Doctor is here. For a while now, I’ve been hearing talk of this so called great show on the XHF Network called FWA and well, I had to see for myself. And *whistles* I was very impressed with what I seen. This Duke Kosloff guy seems to be very similar to myself in a lot of ways. But that doesn’t matter right now. What matters is that I am fighting some bitch who don’t even know her own name. Like, who even knows this girl? Anyone? Bueller? Anyways, I hear you’re looking to find out who you are and shit. Whatever, I’m here to cause pain. Cause chaos. Leave everyone in a path of destruction while I claim my rightful throne in FWA. I am a god to all of you peasants. And, uh, Lethe or Lathe or whatever your given name is, I hope you’re not a bleeder. Because I’m a shark in that ring when it comes to bleeders.
*picks up scalpel*
Rob Wyatt: I can take this scalpel, and just cut you wide open, leave you in a pool of blood on the ground, and as you’re taking your final breaths, I’ll take the liberty of telling you your real name. Because in fact, I know who your are, your back story and your real name. You’re real name…..
…..is Lunch Meat.
You’ll be lunch meat to those prisoners because in that prison, after I take my pleasure in dismantling you, grindin you to a pulp, I’ll throw you to the prisoners. The starved, angry, murderous Russian mongers of death, they’ll tear through you like a bag of potato chips. You’re nothing to me, to anyone in this country, to anyone in the world. You’re just a waste of space who should just be disposed of. And that’s what I’m being paid to do.
*Wyatt places down the scalpel and picks up the ball peen hammer*
Rob Wyatt: Then, I’ll move onto the ex prisoner of war Dackle. We’ll have one hell of a match. A desire to dish out as much pain as humanly possible. You say I should either join you, or perish. Hm, interesting. And how exactly will you, a tiny little mole rat with Split Personality disorder, fare in a war against a 7’2, 400 pound man hellbent on maiming people? I can tell you, it WON’T end well.
*Wyatt then picks up the blowtorch and fires it up*
Rob Wyatt: And what would the FWA, the FIREstorm Wrestling Alliance be, without any fire? To whomever my opponent is in the end game, prepare to walk out without the title and scarred like all hell. Some 3rd degree burns on your stomach and back, maybe I’ll carve my name in your leg with the scalpel, maybe I’ll fuck up some ligaments with the hammer, or maybe I’ll throw you to the wolves that watch, and let them devour you. FWA…. remember that unless you live inside the Fire with me, you’ll die in the shadows.
*Rob Wyatt cackles as the vignette fades to black*
ROB WYATT, D.o.
CHAOS
The Doctor of Chaos, Rob Wyatt picks up each tool and examines it. He chuckles, and looks at the camera.
Rob Wyatt: Firestorm Wrestling Alliance… The Doctor is here. For a while now, I’ve been hearing talk of this so called great show on the XHF Network called FWA and well, I had to see for myself. And *whistles* I was very impressed with what I seen. This Duke Kosloff guy seems to be very similar to myself in a lot of ways. But that doesn’t matter right now. What matters is that I am fighting some bitch who don’t even know her own name. Like, who even knows this girl? Anyone? Bueller? Anyways, I hear you’re looking to find out who you are and shit. Whatever, I’m here to cause pain. Cause chaos. Leave everyone in a path of destruction while I claim my rightful throne in FWA. I am a god to all of you peasants. And, uh, Lethe or Lathe or whatever your given name is, I hope you’re not a bleeder. Because I’m a shark in that ring when it comes to bleeders.
*picks up scalpel*
Rob Wyatt: I can take this scalpel, and just cut you wide open, leave you in a pool of blood on the ground, and as you’re taking your final breaths, I’ll take the liberty of telling you your real name. Because in fact, I know who your are, your back story and your real name. You’re real name…..
…..is Lunch Meat.
You’ll be lunch meat to those prisoners because in that prison, after I take my pleasure in dismantling you, grindin you to a pulp, I’ll throw you to the prisoners. The starved, angry, murderous Russian mongers of death, they’ll tear through you like a bag of potato chips. You’re nothing to me, to anyone in this country, to anyone in the world. You’re just a waste of space who should just be disposed of. And that’s what I’m being paid to do.
*Wyatt places down the scalpel and picks up the ball peen hammer*
Rob Wyatt: Then, I’ll move onto the ex prisoner of war Dackle. We’ll have one hell of a match. A desire to dish out as much pain as humanly possible. You say I should either join you, or perish. Hm, interesting. And how exactly will you, a tiny little mole rat with Split Personality disorder, fare in a war against a 7’2, 400 pound man hellbent on maiming people? I can tell you, it WON’T end well.
*Wyatt then picks up the blowtorch and fires it up*
Rob Wyatt: And what would the FWA, the FIREstorm Wrestling Alliance be, without any fire? To whomever my opponent is in the end game, prepare to walk out without the title and scarred like all hell. Some 3rd degree burns on your stomach and back, maybe I’ll carve my name in your leg with the scalpel, maybe I’ll fuck up some ligaments with the hammer, or maybe I’ll throw you to the wolves that watch, and let them devour you. FWA…. remember that unless you live inside the Fire with me, you’ll die in the shadows.
*Rob Wyatt cackles as the vignette fades to black*