Post by hate on Sept 16, 2022 20:32:10 GMT
God fuck the Queen.
We see Tommy, seated on a simple steel folding chair.
Here we are, Royal Crown. Biggest event IPW has put on so far, probably the biggest there's gonna be for some time. He might've named the show after the crown, but what JASON LONG really wants is this to be the jewel in the fucking crown of this company. Conquest was prestigious and made good money, but Royal Crown? It's gonna blow all that shit out of the water. And yet despite all that, when I look around at the matches being put on - the people that I'm supposed to share a ring with? I see the same thing everywhere.
Clowns.
Take the main event. Glue and broken glass. JASON LONG really sat there and acted shook, squirming in his seat like a bitch over some fucking glass? HANK HAGGARD JR. And MYOJIN really sat there and nodded along like oh yeah, this gonna be the ultimate test! This is a contest worthy of the biggest title on our brand! Unbe-fucking-lievable. Look at this...
Tommy shrugs his leather vest off and yanks up the side of his Motorhead shirt, exposing one side of his chest. he jabs his finger at a thick crescent shaped scar that reaches across his ribs and into his armpit.
This was a knife, a bowie. Much deeper and it might've actually fucking killed me. Check this out -
He drops that side and lifts the other only slightly, a roughly circular mass of scar tissue on his abdominals is pointed out.
This one's a fucking bullet - and on my back? Buckshot, another knife scar, one I got from someone trying to old-school me in the neck with a fucking ice pick too. And they don't stop there, I'm a Chicago street kid and I know brutal, unrelenting violence and carnage like nobody else can know it.
Hate drops his shirt and leans forward.
And you fuckers expect my ass to feel sorry for those little bitches, with just some fucking glass glued to their hands? What a crock of shit this is - I could eat glass and these two chucklefucks for breakfast in the morning and still shit right in the afternoon.
He leans back.
But hey, that ain't my scene for the night - not this time. Instead I'm going for that case and I've got who-the-fuck-knows-who piling in to try and nab it before I do, with a few familiar faces thrown in there as hard confirms. Now I'll fight any man or woman on the fucking planet, shit I'll kick a six year old around if you really want me to, but lets go over the people I really wanna get my hands on. I Want PRICE, I want SPIKE KANE and I want ANA SOMNIA. These three plus me are in my humble fucking opinion the people that have any chance in hell of winning, and regardless if I get the fucking case or not they're also the people I'm probably on a fucking collision course with anyway on my way to whichever of those shitbirds in the World Title match is still holding on to the fucking gold.
PRICE and SPIKE KANE - or fucking Chaos Theory, Or Pillars of Violence or whatever they're calling themselves, they might just be two assholes after my own heart. On the surface level we seem to have a lot in common, and when I saw 'em in action the first time I knew we were gonna collide at some point and probably more than once. But guys like this that proclaim to anyone who will listen how fucking hard they are? I can't know how much of that is horseshit until I'm in the ring with 'em. Granted a big fat battle royal isn't the best place to be testing that shit but hey - it's gonna have to do for first impressions. For what it's worth I hope it ain't, I hope you're both everything you claim to be. Now, only PRICE is confirmed to be in the match but who knows - maybe SPIKE will decide he hasn't had enough action for one night. I'm ready for either of you fucks. Might as well rush me together, it's the only way you have any goddamn chance.
ANA SOMNIA is a different beast, because she's done what only one other person has so far in this company - she's grabbed that big gold strap. Numero uno, that's a big goddamn ego trip for you huh? I bet, but I also bet it's a big fucking chip on your shoulder that you lost it too. You want it back, and why wouldn't you? But the match has been set for Royal Crown so grabbing this case is your ticket back to the top. Here's the issue you haven't accounted for though: me. I'm in your way, and I'm not like anything you've faced before. Ask the woman you beat for that strap in the first place. Ask AREN MISTILAV or LACHAPPA, ask them what it was like to stand in the ring with someone like me. All the ways you've studied to hurt people, dismantle people, all that kung-fu-karate bullshit you think gives you an edge? It ain't gonna work, because I kick just as much or maybe even more ass and I didn't need a fucking second of some asshole with a dirty belt teaching me how to do it. So formulate your strategy based on whatever fancy crap you got up your sleeve and do your fucking katas - everyone's got a plan until they get punched in the mouth.
Tommy suddenly stands, and KICKS the chair aside where it crashes noisily to the ground. He leans in close, speaking intensely.
I am not fucking human - I am in an entirely different bracket than the rest of you. I'm capable of things you could never dream of. I get stuck with the clowns? Fine - I'll be the ringmaster.
Welcome to the circus.
Cut.
We see Tommy, seated on a simple steel folding chair.
Here we are, Royal Crown. Biggest event IPW has put on so far, probably the biggest there's gonna be for some time. He might've named the show after the crown, but what JASON LONG really wants is this to be the jewel in the fucking crown of this company. Conquest was prestigious and made good money, but Royal Crown? It's gonna blow all that shit out of the water. And yet despite all that, when I look around at the matches being put on - the people that I'm supposed to share a ring with? I see the same thing everywhere.
Clowns.
Take the main event. Glue and broken glass. JASON LONG really sat there and acted shook, squirming in his seat like a bitch over some fucking glass? HANK HAGGARD JR. And MYOJIN really sat there and nodded along like oh yeah, this gonna be the ultimate test! This is a contest worthy of the biggest title on our brand! Unbe-fucking-lievable. Look at this...
Tommy shrugs his leather vest off and yanks up the side of his Motorhead shirt, exposing one side of his chest. he jabs his finger at a thick crescent shaped scar that reaches across his ribs and into his armpit.
This was a knife, a bowie. Much deeper and it might've actually fucking killed me. Check this out -
He drops that side and lifts the other only slightly, a roughly circular mass of scar tissue on his abdominals is pointed out.
This one's a fucking bullet - and on my back? Buckshot, another knife scar, one I got from someone trying to old-school me in the neck with a fucking ice pick too. And they don't stop there, I'm a Chicago street kid and I know brutal, unrelenting violence and carnage like nobody else can know it.
Hate drops his shirt and leans forward.
And you fuckers expect my ass to feel sorry for those little bitches, with just some fucking glass glued to their hands? What a crock of shit this is - I could eat glass and these two chucklefucks for breakfast in the morning and still shit right in the afternoon.
He leans back.
But hey, that ain't my scene for the night - not this time. Instead I'm going for that case and I've got who-the-fuck-knows-who piling in to try and nab it before I do, with a few familiar faces thrown in there as hard confirms. Now I'll fight any man or woman on the fucking planet, shit I'll kick a six year old around if you really want me to, but lets go over the people I really wanna get my hands on. I Want PRICE, I want SPIKE KANE and I want ANA SOMNIA. These three plus me are in my humble fucking opinion the people that have any chance in hell of winning, and regardless if I get the fucking case or not they're also the people I'm probably on a fucking collision course with anyway on my way to whichever of those shitbirds in the World Title match is still holding on to the fucking gold.
PRICE and SPIKE KANE - or fucking Chaos Theory, Or Pillars of Violence or whatever they're calling themselves, they might just be two assholes after my own heart. On the surface level we seem to have a lot in common, and when I saw 'em in action the first time I knew we were gonna collide at some point and probably more than once. But guys like this that proclaim to anyone who will listen how fucking hard they are? I can't know how much of that is horseshit until I'm in the ring with 'em. Granted a big fat battle royal isn't the best place to be testing that shit but hey - it's gonna have to do for first impressions. For what it's worth I hope it ain't, I hope you're both everything you claim to be. Now, only PRICE is confirmed to be in the match but who knows - maybe SPIKE will decide he hasn't had enough action for one night. I'm ready for either of you fucks. Might as well rush me together, it's the only way you have any goddamn chance.
ANA SOMNIA is a different beast, because she's done what only one other person has so far in this company - she's grabbed that big gold strap. Numero uno, that's a big goddamn ego trip for you huh? I bet, but I also bet it's a big fucking chip on your shoulder that you lost it too. You want it back, and why wouldn't you? But the match has been set for Royal Crown so grabbing this case is your ticket back to the top. Here's the issue you haven't accounted for though: me. I'm in your way, and I'm not like anything you've faced before. Ask the woman you beat for that strap in the first place. Ask AREN MISTILAV or LACHAPPA, ask them what it was like to stand in the ring with someone like me. All the ways you've studied to hurt people, dismantle people, all that kung-fu-karate bullshit you think gives you an edge? It ain't gonna work, because I kick just as much or maybe even more ass and I didn't need a fucking second of some asshole with a dirty belt teaching me how to do it. So formulate your strategy based on whatever fancy crap you got up your sleeve and do your fucking katas - everyone's got a plan until they get punched in the mouth.
Tommy suddenly stands, and KICKS the chair aside where it crashes noisily to the ground. He leans in close, speaking intensely.
I am not fucking human - I am in an entirely different bracket than the rest of you. I'm capable of things you could never dream of. I get stuck with the clowns? Fine - I'll be the ringmaster.
Welcome to the circus.
Cut.
