[Terminator Theme] (Supremacy Tag RP #2)
Jan 24, 2019 22:56:34 GMT -5
Mongo the Destroyer likes this
Post by Dylan on Jan 24, 2019 22:56:34 GMT -5
January 20th 2018
Black/Viper Household
I walk in the front door, house empty for once. No mum, no Viper, just me and my lonesome. I'm learning to use my robot hand, to cope and calibrate and work it. It's still a bit shocking, the fact my hand got cut off. But at the same time, it's kind of cool.
I see a pile of envelopes on the counter, all labeled to me. Thumbing through them, a lot are royalty checks for my likeness in various wrestling shows, ads, but the last one stands out. Just a note that reads, “To my dickhead nephew.” Is this another sick joke from Jeffrey? I think so.
With careful precision, I tear the letter in hand. Stupid fucking robot hand. Falling out of the envelope, with a gross flop, is a condom. A used condom.
Dylan Viper: Gross! What the fuck?
I kind of just nudge it under the table, hope Jeffrey sees it and thinks it's a balloon. He's stupid like that. I carefully pull the pieces of letter from the envelop halves. Both are sticky with someone's personal protein shake… Gross. I'm able to piece it together, and read it aloud.
Dylan Viper: “To my dearest, bestest nephew who I’ve yet to meet. Fucking how are ya? You're probably thinking, ‘Wow, what a cool uncle have I got! Free condoms to use to fuck my mom!” Jokes on you, I used that condom to fuck her already! Anyways, tell Hailey I'll be over soon for another ‘workout session’
and tell Jeffrey ‘Ha! Hailey’s my bitch now!’ Best regards, Uncle Henry.”
…
What in the goddamn fuck is this? Uncle Henry? Who in the hell is this? Seems to know my mom and that fa- er, that man-whore Jeffrey well, perhaps intimately. Lemme call Jeff, ask what this is all about. Hey, I have a few missed calls and voicemails. All from… Jeffrey. Great...
…
What a useless cunt.
Alright. Time for mom then.
Hailey Black: (ringing, ringing, voicemail) Hi there. You reached Hailey Black at [REDACTED PHONE NUMBER]. Currently, I'm unavailable. If you're Jeffrey, go fuck yourself. If you're Dylan, stop calling me, I’ll be home soon enough. If you're Henry, I'll see you tonight. mwah Anyone else, leave a message and I'll get back to you ASAP. Thanks. 9(end call tone)*
...
Alright. Perhaps I'm on my own for this. No, no. I really shouldn't worry about this. I'm certain it's a sick joke, and jokes aren't what I have time for right now. Now, is time for preparation. I need to focus, focus. The Icons. Tyrants of the XHF. I'm bringing down that fucking regime.
Some time later
Dylan is pacing in a small room, his robot hand twitching and glitching behind his back. He bites his lip, the words formulating and arranging themselves in his brain. He's taken the time to hear the insults, the attacks by Bobby and... well jack hasn't done shit yet at the time this RP takes place, but we'll pretend he already had before now. He turns to the camera, a hint of a smirk plastered on his face.
Dylan Viper: Jack. Bobby. Icons. The quote-unquote "Greatest Team" in the history of the XHF. The first people in a year to topple the GUNS. The only two men to hold both the X*Crown and the Tag straps at the same time. Truly, your accolades are impressive. You both must be on top of the world right now... but, from a height so high up, your fall, it'll be hard. Painful. And breathtakingly beautiful as Jeff and I, who are near the mountain top, slithering through the grass, ready to strike at a moment's notice. The venom in my veins, the poison in my fangs as I sink my teeth into the two of you, and watch you crumble like mountains, leaving the Tag Team Championships to me.
He chuckles, scratching his chin.
Dylan Viper: Now, we all know Bobby's too invested in the X*Crown match, I'm almost certain he's going to leave Jack hung out to dry and do the dirty work to retain for him. It's the kind of backstabby, use-your-friends type attitude Bobby embodies. Jack though, he's a lazy shit that wants Bobby to carry him to victory. It's a wonder he even won the X*Crown in the first place, let alone twice! Almost as if people are rigging his matches for him.
Dylan winks at the camera.
Dylan Viper: One thing these dickweeds have in common, is their terrible sense of humor. Seriously. Jack made like four jokes in a moment's span detailing "Ha he lost a hand." Seriously, your jokes would make dads cringe. And Bobby, he was kind of creative. Called me a poor man's terminator or something. Kinda funny, because at the end of the match, I'll be the one to terminate your tag title reign. I'm the underdog everyone tunes in for, and Bobby. Come Supremacy, you are terminated!
*He pauses to put on some aviators and pull out a prop shotgun, "shooting" at Bobby through the camera.
Dylan Viper: There's one thing I've heard from everyone who's ever came across Team Viper. "Their hate for each other will be their downfall." And you know what happens? We overcome all odds, and we crush out competition. Sure, we're not besties like you ol' chums. But you see, we don't need to be calibrated together to work with each other. You know why? We're unpredictable. We'll turn the tides of the war just like-
Jeffrey smashes through the door, nearly knocking it off it's hinges as he stares holes through Dylan.
Dylan Viper: -that...
Jeffrey Viper: Get the fuck behind that camera. It's my turn to record an RP.
Dylan is flabbergasted.
Dylan Viper: Your turn?! You already recorded the obligated three RPs we all agreed on before we started the grind.
Jeffrey Viper: Just shut the fuck up. I missed something when I recorded.
Dylan sighs, there's no use attempting to fight this battle.
Dylan Viper: Fine. Have your fun.
Dylan walks behind the camera, as Jeffrey steps up to the batter's box.
Jeffrey walks out, proud of his wordy mcwordness. Dylan stands there, dumbfounded, as he whispers to himself:
Dylan Viper: We're so fucking losing this match...
Dylan turns to the camera, a look of "kill me now" daintily plastered on his face.
Dylan Viper: Hasta la Vista, Icons.
Fin.
Black/Viper Household
I walk in the front door, house empty for once. No mum, no Viper, just me and my lonesome. I'm learning to use my robot hand, to cope and calibrate and work it. It's still a bit shocking, the fact my hand got cut off. But at the same time, it's kind of cool.
I see a pile of envelopes on the counter, all labeled to me. Thumbing through them, a lot are royalty checks for my likeness in various wrestling shows, ads, but the last one stands out. Just a note that reads, “To my dickhead nephew.” Is this another sick joke from Jeffrey? I think so.
With careful precision, I tear the letter in hand. Stupid fucking robot hand. Falling out of the envelope, with a gross flop, is a condom. A used condom.
Dylan Viper: Gross! What the fuck?
I kind of just nudge it under the table, hope Jeffrey sees it and thinks it's a balloon. He's stupid like that. I carefully pull the pieces of letter from the envelop halves. Both are sticky with someone's personal protein shake… Gross. I'm able to piece it together, and read it aloud.
Dylan Viper: “To my dearest, bestest nephew who I’ve yet to meet. Fucking how are ya? You're probably thinking, ‘Wow, what a cool uncle have I got! Free condoms to use to fuck my mom!” Jokes on you, I used that condom to fuck her already! Anyways, tell Hailey I'll be over soon for another ‘workout session’
and tell Jeffrey ‘Ha! Hailey’s my bitch now!’ Best regards, Uncle Henry.”…
What in the goddamn fuck is this? Uncle Henry? Who in the hell is this? Seems to know my mom and that fa- er, that man-whore Jeffrey well, perhaps intimately. Lemme call Jeff, ask what this is all about. Hey, I have a few missed calls and voicemails. All from… Jeffrey. Great...
…
What a useless cunt.
Alright. Time for mom then.
Hailey Black: (ringing, ringing, voicemail) Hi there. You reached Hailey Black at [REDACTED PHONE NUMBER]. Currently, I'm unavailable. If you're Jeffrey, go fuck yourself. If you're Dylan, stop calling me, I’ll be home soon enough. If you're Henry, I'll see you tonight. mwah Anyone else, leave a message and I'll get back to you ASAP. Thanks. 9(end call tone)*
...
Alright. Perhaps I'm on my own for this. No, no. I really shouldn't worry about this. I'm certain it's a sick joke, and jokes aren't what I have time for right now. Now, is time for preparation. I need to focus, focus. The Icons. Tyrants of the XHF. I'm bringing down that fucking regime.
Some time later
Dylan is pacing in a small room, his robot hand twitching and glitching behind his back. He bites his lip, the words formulating and arranging themselves in his brain. He's taken the time to hear the insults, the attacks by Bobby and... well jack hasn't done shit yet at the time this RP takes place, but we'll pretend he already had before now. He turns to the camera, a hint of a smirk plastered on his face.
Dylan Viper: Jack. Bobby. Icons. The quote-unquote "Greatest Team" in the history of the XHF. The first people in a year to topple the GUNS. The only two men to hold both the X*Crown and the Tag straps at the same time. Truly, your accolades are impressive. You both must be on top of the world right now... but, from a height so high up, your fall, it'll be hard. Painful. And breathtakingly beautiful as Jeff and I, who are near the mountain top, slithering through the grass, ready to strike at a moment's notice. The venom in my veins, the poison in my fangs as I sink my teeth into the two of you, and watch you crumble like mountains, leaving the Tag Team Championships to me.
He chuckles, scratching his chin.
Dylan Viper: Now, we all know Bobby's too invested in the X*Crown match, I'm almost certain he's going to leave Jack hung out to dry and do the dirty work to retain for him. It's the kind of backstabby, use-your-friends type attitude Bobby embodies. Jack though, he's a lazy shit that wants Bobby to carry him to victory. It's a wonder he even won the X*Crown in the first place, let alone twice! Almost as if people are rigging his matches for him.
Dylan winks at the camera.
Dylan Viper: One thing these dickweeds have in common, is their terrible sense of humor. Seriously. Jack made like four jokes in a moment's span detailing "Ha he lost a hand." Seriously, your jokes would make dads cringe. And Bobby, he was kind of creative. Called me a poor man's terminator or something. Kinda funny, because at the end of the match, I'll be the one to terminate your tag title reign. I'm the underdog everyone tunes in for, and Bobby. Come Supremacy, you are terminated!
*He pauses to put on some aviators and pull out a prop shotgun, "shooting" at Bobby through the camera.
Dylan Viper: There's one thing I've heard from everyone who's ever came across Team Viper. "Their hate for each other will be their downfall." And you know what happens? We overcome all odds, and we crush out competition. Sure, we're not besties like you ol' chums. But you see, we don't need to be calibrated together to work with each other. You know why? We're unpredictable. We'll turn the tides of the war just like-
Jeffrey smashes through the door, nearly knocking it off it's hinges as he stares holes through Dylan.
Dylan Viper: -that...
Jeffrey Viper: Get the fuck behind that camera. It's my turn to record an RP.
Dylan is flabbergasted.
Dylan Viper: Your turn?! You already recorded the obligated three RPs we all agreed on before we started the grind.
Jeffrey Viper: Just shut the fuck up. I missed something when I recorded.
Dylan sighs, there's no use attempting to fight this battle.
Dylan Viper: Fine. Have your fun.
Dylan walks behind the camera, as Jeffrey steps up to the batter's box.
Jeffrey walks out, proud of his wordy mcwordness. Dylan stands there, dumbfounded, as he whispers to himself:
Dylan Viper: We're so fucking losing this match...
Dylan turns to the camera, a look of "kill me now" daintily plastered on his face.
Dylan Viper: Hasta la Vista, Icons.
Fin.
