Well, That's Unexpected (XCrown RP for NOC, #2/9)

[The Anomoly]

..:: JULY 4TH, 2018 ::..

It’s been two days since The Anomoly declared war on those in the Four Ring Circus match, and ever since he’s been busting his ass to be in peak physical, mental, and spiritual conditions. Not a day went by that he didn’t prepare himself to be the best he ever could be. This match would determine if you could make it or break it in the XHF. Eight of the most top-tier fellas in one ring… erm, four rings. Each person would progress on until one finally came out, having defeated everyone in their paths. For Anomoly, this was a gigantic hill to climb… one filled with risks and potholes galore, more potholes than a Massachusetts state highway. Many men would have cowardly ran away in this position, but Anomoly knew no fear. He knew no pain, no boundaries, no-

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! 

The shot begins on Anomoly, waking from his slumber. Without even opening his eyes, he semi-rolled over and smashed the alarm clock. It briefly pauses, long enough for him to get out of bed. We see the back of his head as he stands up, stretching, and walks to the bathroom. A brief frame as the camera follows him shows the time being 4am. An unusual time to wake up, unless you’re the Rock or a workout freak. Anomoly feels blindly for a light switch, only to be blinded even more by the bright lights that drive out the darkness in his small bathroom. With all bits of his face blurred out, he washes off his face. After a brief moment, he looks up into the mirror, into his pale, heartless eyes. The bags beginning to form underneath his eyes from lack of sleep. Was all this training beginning to take a toll on him?

No matter, he thought as he jump cut to zipping up a grey hoodie, mask over his face and black AXW sweats running down his legs. He walked out the door of his apartment, walked down some steps. Upon reaching street level, he was met with the brisk cool Cambridge air. He hopped a few times, to get him psyched up for the enduring task ahead of him, and began to run. The camera begins to follow before the operator of it realises he’s too much a lazy arse to follow. SO instead, Anomoly runs away into a dissolve cut, as this song plays over the next sequence.

Oh yeah, it’s time for a motherfuckin’ montage.

A cut to a side view of him running down a semi-empty Cambridge street comes into view, and as he runs, the scene morphs into various different monuments. Nelson’s Column, statues of Peter Pan and Winston Churchill. The Eiffel Tower, the Pyramids of Giza, the Statue of Liberty… are we even in England anymore?

We zoom out with a fade in msic, to see Anomoly ran once by a big movie green screen, and the cheeky editor just fucked around with some editing. The song kicks back in and we see some fading transitions of Anomoly running around England some more, showing off his endurance. We fade into him slowly coming to a stop outside a local cafe. He looked at a wristwatch, which read around 7am on its elegant face. Taking heavy breaths, he walks inside the cafe, with a ding-a-ling from the bell on the door. He seats himself at the counter and picks up a paper, which details local and country-wide events going on. The most notable event; England’s recent victory in the World Cup. The cafe stirs, before a few rowdy guys begin to sing and chant.

Rowdy Footballers: IT’S COMING HOME! THE DOOR’S UNLOCKED AND OPEN, BECAUSE THE WORLD CUP’S COMING HOME!

Anomoly chuckles. He doesn’t care much for the REAL football, but he loves a bit of country pride like what those fellas have. A waitress comes over, muttering about the crazed footballers up at 7am. She nods to Anomoly, and slides a menu to him, leaning up against the counter as she chews on a pencil, pulling out a notepad.

Waitress: Damn whippersnappers. What can I get you, mistah?

The waitress had an accent Anomoly just couldn’t put his finger on. She definitely wasn’t a native to the UK, perhaps she was from the shithole that was the United States of America, land of the douches and home of nothing important.

Anomoly: Um, I’ll take the full breakfast, sunny side up eggs, and an English Breakfast tea.

The waitress nods, jots that all down on a paper, and takes the menu, before walking to an open, smokey window and pasting the paper on the side, shouting some nonsense to the cook. She brews the tea, and brings it over. She stares at Anomoly for a moment, before Anomoly takes notice.

Anomoly: Can I help you?

Waitress: You wouldn’t happen to be that fella from AXW, would ya? That Anom-O-ly guy?

Anomoly groans. She’s clearly American, and obviously mispronouncing his name, as all Americans mispronounce everything. Stupid fucking Americans.

Anomoly: It’s Anomoly. And yeah, that’s me. Can I help you?

The waitress brings over his cup of tea and smiles.

Waitress: Oh, nothing. I have a grandson who’s a big wrestling fan, goes to all the local shows. Loves to go to AXW and just loved seeing you in action. You don’t suppose I could get an autograph, could you?

Anomoly grimaced and took a sip of his tea, nearly spitting it out because it was so scalding hot. He ponders this for a moment, but sighs and nods. He may hate being a public figure known worldwide, but he was to be representing AXW and the XHF in a few weeks time. He didn't want them to come off as complete douches, even though guys like Bobby, Jack, Rob Arnold and Price are all assholes of the highest calibur. Then again, Mongo could just go fuck himself and his global phenomenon. Anomoly just had to hope nobody in the cafe saw min screawling on whatever he'd be signing on.

Anomoly: Sure, what the hell. I don’t see why not.

Anomoly quickly snatched a notepad and scrawled a sloppy signature on it. He slides it over to the waitress, who gleems at him.

Waitress: Thanks, mista. And your meal, it’s on the house.

The waitress walks off for a moment, returning with a plate of scalding food for Anomoly. He’d know better this time then to eat is straight out of the pan. He sipped his tea, watching the telly in the corner. The channel flipped from covering the World Cup to covering the XHF Network’s Night of Champions event. It gave a quick rundown of matches named so far on the card, solely the AXW Undisputed Championship match and the X*Crown match. It gave a quick tale of the tape of those announced. Jackson Steele, Jack Diamond, Zolotach, Raiden Ishimori, and Rob Riot. And himself, of course. He studied what the local sports broadcasters had to say about each one, and noted two spots were missing. The GUNS Show rep, and some local XHF scrub who had yet to be announced. Just a few days until that would happen.

A quick cut, and we see Anomoly just finishing up his meal. He sips the last of his tea, and his phone beins to buzz. He pulled it out, expecting it to be Evelyn or Olivia, but rather it was an unknown number. And this unknown number left a text message.

Anomoly,

It is with great importance that we request your presence on Saturday, July 7th, on the set of the GUNS Show as we reveal the full 8 contenders going into the X*Crown Championship match for Night of Champions. 

Attached to this text will be 3 tickets on the next flight out to the arena for the GUNs show, and then tickets out to Minneapolis, Minnesota; home of the XHF Arena!

Regards,

Mongo’s Assistant’s Uncle’s Brother’s Nephew’s Grandson's Boyfriend’s 3rd Cousin, Twice Removed Assistant.

Anomoly looks at this, wondering what the fuck this is all about. He then realises, it must be some sort of press conference for the X*Crown Championship match. He groans, and heads out the door. Soon as he’s outside on the busy London street, he rings Evelyn. Evelyn groggily picks up the house phone, and we cut to a side by side for the following phone conversation.

Evelyn: Anomoly? What’s going on? Why are you calling me at this time? Wait, where are you?

Anomoly: Nevermind any of that, hun. Look, I got a text from some XHF higher up. They say I need to show up for some press event for the X*Crown match at Night of Champions. They’re flying us out tomorrow night, and the event is Saturday. All accommodations are paid for. Tonight, we’ll need to start packing.

Evelyn rubs her eyes and yawns, nodding.

Evelyn: Alright, hun. We’ll begin packing later today, alright? I’ve tons of things to prepare for.

Anomoly: Alright dear, speak soon.

Anomoly hangs up the call, and begins to run away from the camera. The camera doesn’t even try to run behind him, rather it zooms until he’s nothing more than a speck of dust in the wind. The shot fades, as the rowdy footballers exit the diner, singing loudly.

Rowdy Footballers: IT’S COMING HOME! OUR DOORS ARE UNLOCKED, AND THEY'RE WIDE OPEN TOO, BECAUSE THE WORLD CUP’S COMING HOME! IT’S COMING HOOOOOOOOOOME!!

We fade into the next scene, where Evelyn is in the bathroom wearing nothing more than a bathrobe and slippers, her slender legs peeking out from the knees down. She seems to have gotten a bit of stomach since she was last seen on camera. Evelyn paces worriedly, occasionally glancing at something on the countertop. She paces some more, and looks down, picking up a skinny white object. She looks down, hand over her mouth. A shriek or happiness and slight horror escapes her lips.

The camera pans over her shoulder. In her hand is a pregnancy test. The screen shows two lines on it. The camera pans back to Evelyn’s face as she says what we all now know (unless your an underage delinquent like Maverick or Kuroi or Kira).

Evelyn: I’m...I'm pregnant…

DUN DUN DUNNNN!!!!!!!!!!

..:: END SCENE ::..

[Mav.]

I still understand what a fucking pregnancy is dumbass