Post by Nate Pierce on Feb 3, 2023 7:10:59 GMT
Nate walks into the living room of what appears to be his newest home in Connecticut, evidenced by some of the new high end furniture lining the interior. In the room with him are his fellow Chaos Theory stablemates including PRICE, who sits laid back in a recliner, gazing up at the ceiling with a nonchalant stare, and Spike, who’s currently laid out on the couch with an arm draped over his eyes. The small thud of takeout bags hitting the table stirs them both back into the present, a mix of aromas registering with their nostrils that gets them both to sit up straight.
Nate: “Burger place a few blocks over had a few deals going on so I got all this. Two burgers each, plus a boatload of regular and cajun style fries. Help yourselves and we can get down to business.”
Pierce rifles through the bag marked with his order before nudging the other respective bags towards the other two. Spike manages to get hold of his first while PRICE soon takes his shortly after. Both men are silent, perhaps still coming out of their latest haze in their smoke session. Unwrapping their respective burgers, the three begin eating in silence but Nate soon speaks up after sliding over a twelve-case of Cola.
Nate: “Alright, first off good shit on all of us for recent rebounds. PRICE, you’ve made it clear with your intentions to bash Alastor’s head six ways to Sunday, and Spike we got-”
Spike: “Mm…where’s this stuff from? Five Guys?”
Nate: “Yeah, you’d be right. Anyway, that recent victory against Jack Haggard bought us entry into that tag tournament going on. I’m sure you saw the announcement? We got that mother/son combination in The Novas.”
Nate looks between both men but evidently, Spike is more indulged with his burger while PRICE is practically wolfing down the french fries in his bag. The Whaler’s expression deflates at the sight.
Nate: “Guys…”
Spike: “Yeah, I hear ya, Nate. The Novas…but fuck this is a bomb ass burger. How many cheeses are in this?”
Spike holds his burger up, looking along the side.
Nate: “Triple cheese. Made sure they loaded the burgers with bacon on top of it considering your guys’ smoke session.”
PRICE grunts in approval at the prospect while Spike turns to his bag, rifling through it and coming back up with a handful of Cajun fries.
Nate: “Okay, hunger seemingly satisfied, we need to-”
Spike: “Damn, even the fries are seasoned hella good too.”
Nate: “SPIKE!”
The Irishman perks up at his name being called but the stoned look in his eye remains as he lazily chews on the current handful of fries. PRICE also looks up from his spot in the recliner, seemingly a bit more clear from the smoke sesh.
PRICE: “Dude’s still in recovery from that hellacious match you two went through. Which is something else to note: Since he hasn’t been cleared, I’ve opted to fill in and help us out.”
Spike gives a slow nod having processed the information from PRICE. Nate looks a bit dejected at the matter, giving Spike a concerned look but his gaze quickly steels over. Ripping open the case of soda, he slides a can over to Spike before turning back to PRICE.
Nate: “Well, that in mind, I can now address our situation in full then.”
Pierce wipes down his hands, elbows soon resting on the coffee table.
Nate: “TL;DR: Chaos Theory, The Novas. Winner advances.”
PRICE: “Sounds right to me.”
Nate: “Cool, cool.”
Pierce draws in a breath, steadily exhaling it as he rests his elbows on the table.
Nate: “Not gonna lie, I was concerned that we’d have to step away from the spotlight again after reclaiming a portion of it with that win over Jack, but if there’s one thing to know about us it’s this: We don’t fucking slouch nor shirk our work in this damn business. We get knocked down? Fuck you, we get back up, spit in your face and punch your lights out to make the statement known that you can’t keep Chaos Theory grounded forever. Spike may be out indefinitely for the time being because of the doctors but Tarah, Otto, you still have The Whaler and The Messiah of Hardcore to contend with.”
A chuckle escapes him.
Nate: “I’ve known the guy for a few years, and known him personally only a handful of months but god damn is he ever tenacious. Hell, he’s got more heart and guts than mother and son combined.”
A belch is heard off screen from one of the stablemates.
Nate: “It isn’t all that often that one comes across a family duo in this business, and truthfully I didn’t know about many successful ones until I witnessed PRICE’s kids carve out their own history. Nowadays, the older generation has to show that we can still get it done. Still kick ass, climb the ladder, and reap the rewards that are just waiting to be plundered.”
Nate pulls up a Cola from the case, cracking it open.
Nate: “Much as I have admiration, I also feel pity for you Novas. Having to face members of the group who have been receiving short end after short end as of late between all the atrocities occurring here. Guess what though: That shit starts its demise at Adrenaline XIV. We’re not being pushed around, or pushed back. Picked the wrong place and time to try and get your feet wet Otto, because your mom’s experience in this business isn’t going to mean anything once that bell sounds and you’re having to deal with two veterans in this business. Wrestling’s in your blood, but we’re the ones who have constantly reforged and refined ourselves time and time again.”
A loud sip follows.
Nate: “Another chase for Moby Dick has commenced, and the only people who have the right to it…is Chaos Theory. It’s ours for the taking, no one else’s.”
Nate: “Burger place a few blocks over had a few deals going on so I got all this. Two burgers each, plus a boatload of regular and cajun style fries. Help yourselves and we can get down to business.”
Pierce rifles through the bag marked with his order before nudging the other respective bags towards the other two. Spike manages to get hold of his first while PRICE soon takes his shortly after. Both men are silent, perhaps still coming out of their latest haze in their smoke session. Unwrapping their respective burgers, the three begin eating in silence but Nate soon speaks up after sliding over a twelve-case of Cola.
Nate: “Alright, first off good shit on all of us for recent rebounds. PRICE, you’ve made it clear with your intentions to bash Alastor’s head six ways to Sunday, and Spike we got-”
Spike: “Mm…where’s this stuff from? Five Guys?”
Nate: “Yeah, you’d be right. Anyway, that recent victory against Jack Haggard bought us entry into that tag tournament going on. I’m sure you saw the announcement? We got that mother/son combination in The Novas.”
Nate looks between both men but evidently, Spike is more indulged with his burger while PRICE is practically wolfing down the french fries in his bag. The Whaler’s expression deflates at the sight.
Nate: “Guys…”
Spike: “Yeah, I hear ya, Nate. The Novas…but fuck this is a bomb ass burger. How many cheeses are in this?”
Spike holds his burger up, looking along the side.
Nate: “Triple cheese. Made sure they loaded the burgers with bacon on top of it considering your guys’ smoke session.”
PRICE grunts in approval at the prospect while Spike turns to his bag, rifling through it and coming back up with a handful of Cajun fries.
Nate: “Okay, hunger seemingly satisfied, we need to-”
Spike: “Damn, even the fries are seasoned hella good too.”
Nate: “SPIKE!”
The Irishman perks up at his name being called but the stoned look in his eye remains as he lazily chews on the current handful of fries. PRICE also looks up from his spot in the recliner, seemingly a bit more clear from the smoke sesh.
PRICE: “Dude’s still in recovery from that hellacious match you two went through. Which is something else to note: Since he hasn’t been cleared, I’ve opted to fill in and help us out.”
Spike gives a slow nod having processed the information from PRICE. Nate looks a bit dejected at the matter, giving Spike a concerned look but his gaze quickly steels over. Ripping open the case of soda, he slides a can over to Spike before turning back to PRICE.
Nate: “Well, that in mind, I can now address our situation in full then.”
Pierce wipes down his hands, elbows soon resting on the coffee table.
Nate: “TL;DR: Chaos Theory, The Novas. Winner advances.”
PRICE: “Sounds right to me.”
Nate: “Cool, cool.”
Pierce draws in a breath, steadily exhaling it as he rests his elbows on the table.
Nate: “Not gonna lie, I was concerned that we’d have to step away from the spotlight again after reclaiming a portion of it with that win over Jack, but if there’s one thing to know about us it’s this: We don’t fucking slouch nor shirk our work in this damn business. We get knocked down? Fuck you, we get back up, spit in your face and punch your lights out to make the statement known that you can’t keep Chaos Theory grounded forever. Spike may be out indefinitely for the time being because of the doctors but Tarah, Otto, you still have The Whaler and The Messiah of Hardcore to contend with.”
A chuckle escapes him.
Nate: “I’ve known the guy for a few years, and known him personally only a handful of months but god damn is he ever tenacious. Hell, he’s got more heart and guts than mother and son combined.”
A belch is heard off screen from one of the stablemates.
Nate: “It isn’t all that often that one comes across a family duo in this business, and truthfully I didn’t know about many successful ones until I witnessed PRICE’s kids carve out their own history. Nowadays, the older generation has to show that we can still get it done. Still kick ass, climb the ladder, and reap the rewards that are just waiting to be plundered.”
Nate pulls up a Cola from the case, cracking it open.
Nate: “Much as I have admiration, I also feel pity for you Novas. Having to face members of the group who have been receiving short end after short end as of late between all the atrocities occurring here. Guess what though: That shit starts its demise at Adrenaline XIV. We’re not being pushed around, or pushed back. Picked the wrong place and time to try and get your feet wet Otto, because your mom’s experience in this business isn’t going to mean anything once that bell sounds and you’re having to deal with two veterans in this business. Wrestling’s in your blood, but we’re the ones who have constantly reforged and refined ourselves time and time again.”
A loud sip follows.
Nate: “Another chase for Moby Dick has commenced, and the only people who have the right to it…is Chaos Theory. It’s ours for the taking, no one else’s.”