The Long Way Around - Part 1 - The Elements
Jan 15, 2018 16:47:54 GMT -5
Mongo the Destroyer and Hyperion like this
Post by Robbie A on Jan 15, 2018 16:47:54 GMT -5
16 January 2018
“I’m sorry sir, but there’s just nothing we can do at this time.”
I stare carefully at the woman behind the desk, her determined face that dodgy tinge of orange that some would call borderline Trump-esque. She has just told me that there would be no guaranteed flights available for me out of Scotland to get to America within the day, I could take the option of being on standby or go elsewhere. I’d argued the toss, suggested money was no object, she would not be moved.
I stand back half a step and take a deep breath, keeping calm and nodding slowly.
“Fine, is there anything regional I can take back south? Where there’s no snow or poor weather to be scared of?” She sneers at my sarcastic comment, but still humours me by checking on her screen.
“I can offer you the next flight to either Birmingham, Luton, or Bristol as you seem in such a hurry.”
“Bristol, I’ll take Bristol.” I say without a moment’s hesitation. The woman behind the desk’s eyebrows braise slightly, given that I’ve shown more enthusiasm in the last five seconds than I had for the entire rest of the conversation. Now, no sooner do I say that I’d like to go to Bristol, I immediately realise that the logical decision would have been to have gone via Birmingham, as now I’ll have to go to Dublin to get across the Atlantic Ocean. Still, this will give me an opportunity to go tie up some loose ends, besides, Minneapolis can wait another day or two without putting my preparations in any harm. I hand her my bank card to allow the transaction and she finishes entering my details.
“Right, well Mr Arnold, you’ll be departing from gate twenty four in an hour, I hope you have a nice flight.” She hands over my paperwork in its entirety with a feigned smile.
“No you don’t!” I say light heartedly, which makes her pull her face back in a mix of shock and worry. “However I admire your professionalism!”
I laugh and walk away from the next. I can hear her thick Glaswegian accent mutter something along the lines of ‘what an asshole’ before calling for the next customer. This causes me to grin, there’s something quite fulfilling about goading people into that kind of reaction, especially when she was being such a bitch in the first place. She could have easily put me on a flight I wanted to go state-side, but for whatever reason she chose not to. Call it being a jobsworth, call it that she just didn’t like my face when I walked up to her, call it her having a bad day, I really don’t know nor care which it was. So I simply decided to play her at her own bitchy game, and I won. The moral here? Don’t start a game you don’t like losing if you you’re not likely to win, and when I’m player two in this game, you don’t stand much of a chance.
I place my paperwork into the inside of my jacket, then turn my wrist to check the time, which confirms the hour I have to kill. I run my hand through my beard and consider my options, quickly I decide that a coffee would probably be a good idea, so begin to march towards the cafe. At the same time, I reach into my right pocket and pull out my phone and select a number from speed dial.
“Hello mate, it’s me…listen, I’ve been re-routed so I’m going to be in town in a few hours, thought you may like to go out for dinner, my treat...no I’m not going to take us to Burger King you cheeky fucker! … Yeah sounds good, I’ll drop into the offices and we’ll head out from there? Excellent, I’ll see you later.”
I place the phone back into my pocket with a smile.
“Well then, it looks like the elements have made it so that I’m heading to Supremacy the long way around.”
Welcome to the XHF Network.
Your video is loading…
The scene opens to the top of a building. The weather can only be described as abysmal, the rain is heavy and the wind is blowing enough to make it appear that it is indeed, raining sideways. It is very well illuminated however, and as the camera pans around, it stops when a figure can be seen in the distance, as the camera comes to a stop the figure begins to walk towards it.
“Some say that this kind of weather is the work of gods. Some people say that storm is just a natural force that needs to be respected. Some people say that if you don’t respect the elements then you will pay the price.” Shouts the figure, which is advancing enough now to come into focus. The figure is Rob Arnold, dressed in a heavy coat, but allowing the rain to lash against him, his hair and face saturated in water, though this doesn’t appear to bother him at all.
“Me? I’ll come onto what I believe in. For now though I want to focus on what I know, what you all know. Now that I have taken care of Jonny with no h Bedlam by breaking his freaking arm, I’m now free to focus on my next challenge, the X*Crown Title.”
Arnold pauses to smirk.
“Supremacy is now upon us, and I have the opportunity of getting my hands on the XHF Networks flagship title. There’s going to be men, women...even a bear competing...There’s some old faces, there’s some new faces, but ultimately there’s my face, this face...”
He points with his thumb at his own face with a smirk.
“...and it’s this face that is going to be walking out of Supremacy with a massive smile, and the X*Crown Title in his possession.”
He laughs to himself briefly.
“This weather though, it got me thinking, it got me musing about those clichés people bark out so easily in times like this. It got me thinking about what I believe in as well, and I also realised how it particularly comes around to some of my opponents.”
Arnold smirks and runs a hand through his hair, water flicks off his fingers as he drops it back to his side.
“Firstly, the man that goes by the name Hyperion. However he doesn’t go by the word man, he goes by the word god. A god? What I find particularly interesting about this guy is that he clearly believes his own words, his own declaration of deity status. I’ve come across a variety of individuals in my lifetime, I’ve come up against a guy who despite being the size of a mountain could dance around the ring like an Olympic athlete, I’ve encountered Trons, something that I never thought I would have said before coming to the XHF, I’ve faced the dark, the light, the plain ridiculous. Outside of the ring, I’ve met the most diverse amount of people as well, I’ve met the purest individuals, I’ve met the types of people that to this day make my skin crawl, and I’ve met the insane who may claim to be something other-worldly.
Yet none of these people, not one single one of these individuals on all ends of the spectrum ever said with such belief, such categoric arrogance that they were a god. I’ll be honest, I don’t believe in gods, or a god, the concept that they exist and that they could control something like this rain is borderline comical to me. However, Hyperion and his self-belief troubles me somewhat. I’m all about self-confidence, there’s no prizes in anybody working that out, however where his self confidence lies... that makes him dangerous, very dangerous. Despite that though, he is a man, just a man, just like these storms are not created by the gods.”
Arnold nods in what can only be described as self agreement.
“Now, speaking of storms...Michael Storm, a familiar face to yours truly.”
Arnold stifles a laugh very deliberately.
“Though not too familiar. Let’s be honest Storm, I don’t think you ever got the chance to even throw half a punch at me, let alone anything else. Now I’m a fair man, I won’t stand here and mock or say that it was because you weren’t worth the shit off my shoes, because chances are it was because at that time you and I were on very different paths. I’ve been where you were back in those days, it was easy to get overlooked. Yet look at where we both are now though, we’re here on merit, talent, ability. These opportunities are earned and you have earned yours.
That is where my pleasantries end for you though Storm. You see, everything I’ve seen of you Storm, you’re the almost guy. You’re the guy that almost takes home the big one, you almost grab the brass ring only for somebody to get in front of you, or misdirect you, trick you, play you for a fool. Now you find yourself in the big match once more, and spoiler alert Michael, it’s going the same way as before. I’m grabbing the damn ring, just as I have before, and I’ll continue to do because when the chips are down, I cash in, I get the job done. Just like a storm, you come along and make a mess, you disrupt a few people’s lives, but no sooner are you here, you’re gone again. Just like a storm I’ll respect the dangers you pose, but I know deep down that you’ll be gone out of my worry in no time.”
Arnold laughs a little more obnoxiously.
“Now, since I also said about paying...the...Price.”
He smirks, seemingly pleased with his bridge.
“Where is he? I half expected him to suddenly reappear to try and put me through a table at the latest AXW on TV, but no sign of him! I was there, breaking a man’s arm, I was mocking an XHF Icon, I was in the height of my own ego and arrogance, just the time he likes to pop up like a computer-generated Italian plumber pops out of a pipe and take a shot at me. Yet...nothing. Could it be that I bashed his head in so hard that he’s gone the way of old Scorps? Maybe I hit him so hard he’s this time woke up and thought that he’s been reincarnated as a hermit, never to be seen again?”
Arnold’s arrogance is visibly growing, his voice getting more piercing and excited at spinning such notions. His head bouncing around in amusement with water flying in all directions. However, no sooner than he starts, he stops, and takes a deep breath.
“No, as fun as it is to mock the afflicted, and Price is generally afflicted in so many ways, I suspect that he is biding his time. He’ll be waiting for me at Supremacy, and I have no doubt that whilst he’ll say none of this is personal, which I agree with, I know he’ll want to take a few shots at me. In fact, I’m counting on it, because any excuse to do the same to him as I did a few weeks back is gratefully received.”
He pauses once more and runs a hand through his beard.
“Don’t get this confused for blind arrogance either. I know full well just how dangerous he is, head bashed in or not. I know that in the environment that a Throne of Blood match provides, he will be in his element, the Hardcore Messiah...ha, I suppose there’s more in common with him and Hyperion than I’d considered. Still, there is no way I will underestimate him, or anybody.”
He turns ninety degrees and looks back at the camera.
“Make no mistake, I am coming for every single one of you. What I’m bringing to the table is not a passing storm, no, not even a fucking arc could save you from the destruction I’ll be bringing to the table at Supremacy. And do you know why? Because I’m Rob fucking Arnold.”
Arnold smirks, turns and walks away as the camera fades out.
“I’m sorry sir, but there’s just nothing we can do at this time.”
I stare carefully at the woman behind the desk, her determined face that dodgy tinge of orange that some would call borderline Trump-esque. She has just told me that there would be no guaranteed flights available for me out of Scotland to get to America within the day, I could take the option of being on standby or go elsewhere. I’d argued the toss, suggested money was no object, she would not be moved.
I stand back half a step and take a deep breath, keeping calm and nodding slowly.
“Fine, is there anything regional I can take back south? Where there’s no snow or poor weather to be scared of?” She sneers at my sarcastic comment, but still humours me by checking on her screen.
“I can offer you the next flight to either Birmingham, Luton, or Bristol as you seem in such a hurry.”
“Bristol, I’ll take Bristol.” I say without a moment’s hesitation. The woman behind the desk’s eyebrows braise slightly, given that I’ve shown more enthusiasm in the last five seconds than I had for the entire rest of the conversation. Now, no sooner do I say that I’d like to go to Bristol, I immediately realise that the logical decision would have been to have gone via Birmingham, as now I’ll have to go to Dublin to get across the Atlantic Ocean. Still, this will give me an opportunity to go tie up some loose ends, besides, Minneapolis can wait another day or two without putting my preparations in any harm. I hand her my bank card to allow the transaction and she finishes entering my details.
“Right, well Mr Arnold, you’ll be departing from gate twenty four in an hour, I hope you have a nice flight.” She hands over my paperwork in its entirety with a feigned smile.
“No you don’t!” I say light heartedly, which makes her pull her face back in a mix of shock and worry. “However I admire your professionalism!”
I laugh and walk away from the next. I can hear her thick Glaswegian accent mutter something along the lines of ‘what an asshole’ before calling for the next customer. This causes me to grin, there’s something quite fulfilling about goading people into that kind of reaction, especially when she was being such a bitch in the first place. She could have easily put me on a flight I wanted to go state-side, but for whatever reason she chose not to. Call it being a jobsworth, call it that she just didn’t like my face when I walked up to her, call it her having a bad day, I really don’t know nor care which it was. So I simply decided to play her at her own bitchy game, and I won. The moral here? Don’t start a game you don’t like losing if you you’re not likely to win, and when I’m player two in this game, you don’t stand much of a chance.
I place my paperwork into the inside of my jacket, then turn my wrist to check the time, which confirms the hour I have to kill. I run my hand through my beard and consider my options, quickly I decide that a coffee would probably be a good idea, so begin to march towards the cafe. At the same time, I reach into my right pocket and pull out my phone and select a number from speed dial.
“Hello mate, it’s me…listen, I’ve been re-routed so I’m going to be in town in a few hours, thought you may like to go out for dinner, my treat...no I’m not going to take us to Burger King you cheeky fucker! … Yeah sounds good, I’ll drop into the offices and we’ll head out from there? Excellent, I’ll see you later.”
I place the phone back into my pocket with a smile.
“Well then, it looks like the elements have made it so that I’m heading to Supremacy the long way around.”
Welcome to the XHF Network.
Your video is loading…
The scene opens to the top of a building. The weather can only be described as abysmal, the rain is heavy and the wind is blowing enough to make it appear that it is indeed, raining sideways. It is very well illuminated however, and as the camera pans around, it stops when a figure can be seen in the distance, as the camera comes to a stop the figure begins to walk towards it.
“Some say that this kind of weather is the work of gods. Some people say that storm is just a natural force that needs to be respected. Some people say that if you don’t respect the elements then you will pay the price.” Shouts the figure, which is advancing enough now to come into focus. The figure is Rob Arnold, dressed in a heavy coat, but allowing the rain to lash against him, his hair and face saturated in water, though this doesn’t appear to bother him at all.
“Me? I’ll come onto what I believe in. For now though I want to focus on what I know, what you all know. Now that I have taken care of Jonny with no h Bedlam by breaking his freaking arm, I’m now free to focus on my next challenge, the X*Crown Title.”
Arnold pauses to smirk.
“Supremacy is now upon us, and I have the opportunity of getting my hands on the XHF Networks flagship title. There’s going to be men, women...even a bear competing...There’s some old faces, there’s some new faces, but ultimately there’s my face, this face...”
He points with his thumb at his own face with a smirk.
“...and it’s this face that is going to be walking out of Supremacy with a massive smile, and the X*Crown Title in his possession.”
He laughs to himself briefly.
“This weather though, it got me thinking, it got me musing about those clichés people bark out so easily in times like this. It got me thinking about what I believe in as well, and I also realised how it particularly comes around to some of my opponents.”
Arnold smirks and runs a hand through his hair, water flicks off his fingers as he drops it back to his side.
“Firstly, the man that goes by the name Hyperion. However he doesn’t go by the word man, he goes by the word god. A god? What I find particularly interesting about this guy is that he clearly believes his own words, his own declaration of deity status. I’ve come across a variety of individuals in my lifetime, I’ve come up against a guy who despite being the size of a mountain could dance around the ring like an Olympic athlete, I’ve encountered Trons, something that I never thought I would have said before coming to the XHF, I’ve faced the dark, the light, the plain ridiculous. Outside of the ring, I’ve met the most diverse amount of people as well, I’ve met the purest individuals, I’ve met the types of people that to this day make my skin crawl, and I’ve met the insane who may claim to be something other-worldly.
Yet none of these people, not one single one of these individuals on all ends of the spectrum ever said with such belief, such categoric arrogance that they were a god. I’ll be honest, I don’t believe in gods, or a god, the concept that they exist and that they could control something like this rain is borderline comical to me. However, Hyperion and his self-belief troubles me somewhat. I’m all about self-confidence, there’s no prizes in anybody working that out, however where his self confidence lies... that makes him dangerous, very dangerous. Despite that though, he is a man, just a man, just like these storms are not created by the gods.”
Arnold nods in what can only be described as self agreement.
“Now, speaking of storms...Michael Storm, a familiar face to yours truly.”
Arnold stifles a laugh very deliberately.
“Though not too familiar. Let’s be honest Storm, I don’t think you ever got the chance to even throw half a punch at me, let alone anything else. Now I’m a fair man, I won’t stand here and mock or say that it was because you weren’t worth the shit off my shoes, because chances are it was because at that time you and I were on very different paths. I’ve been where you were back in those days, it was easy to get overlooked. Yet look at where we both are now though, we’re here on merit, talent, ability. These opportunities are earned and you have earned yours.
That is where my pleasantries end for you though Storm. You see, everything I’ve seen of you Storm, you’re the almost guy. You’re the guy that almost takes home the big one, you almost grab the brass ring only for somebody to get in front of you, or misdirect you, trick you, play you for a fool. Now you find yourself in the big match once more, and spoiler alert Michael, it’s going the same way as before. I’m grabbing the damn ring, just as I have before, and I’ll continue to do because when the chips are down, I cash in, I get the job done. Just like a storm, you come along and make a mess, you disrupt a few people’s lives, but no sooner are you here, you’re gone again. Just like a storm I’ll respect the dangers you pose, but I know deep down that you’ll be gone out of my worry in no time.”
Arnold laughs a little more obnoxiously.
“Now, since I also said about paying...the...Price.”
He smirks, seemingly pleased with his bridge.
“Where is he? I half expected him to suddenly reappear to try and put me through a table at the latest AXW on TV, but no sign of him! I was there, breaking a man’s arm, I was mocking an XHF Icon, I was in the height of my own ego and arrogance, just the time he likes to pop up like a computer-generated Italian plumber pops out of a pipe and take a shot at me. Yet...nothing. Could it be that I bashed his head in so hard that he’s gone the way of old Scorps? Maybe I hit him so hard he’s this time woke up and thought that he’s been reincarnated as a hermit, never to be seen again?”
Arnold’s arrogance is visibly growing, his voice getting more piercing and excited at spinning such notions. His head bouncing around in amusement with water flying in all directions. However, no sooner than he starts, he stops, and takes a deep breath.
“No, as fun as it is to mock the afflicted, and Price is generally afflicted in so many ways, I suspect that he is biding his time. He’ll be waiting for me at Supremacy, and I have no doubt that whilst he’ll say none of this is personal, which I agree with, I know he’ll want to take a few shots at me. In fact, I’m counting on it, because any excuse to do the same to him as I did a few weeks back is gratefully received.”
He pauses once more and runs a hand through his beard.
“Don’t get this confused for blind arrogance either. I know full well just how dangerous he is, head bashed in or not. I know that in the environment that a Throne of Blood match provides, he will be in his element, the Hardcore Messiah...ha, I suppose there’s more in common with him and Hyperion than I’d considered. Still, there is no way I will underestimate him, or anybody.”
He turns ninety degrees and looks back at the camera.
“Make no mistake, I am coming for every single one of you. What I’m bringing to the table is not a passing storm, no, not even a fucking arc could save you from the destruction I’ll be bringing to the table at Supremacy. And do you know why? Because I’m Rob fucking Arnold.”
Arnold smirks, turns and walks away as the camera fades out.
