An RP I Did

[La Familia Gómez]

hey guys. I just did this rp for a fed called WEW. it's the next post down. check it out, and give me some feed back as a reply. thanks!

[La Familia Gómez]

"A Long Shit List, A Shorter Fuse
He is Untouchable and Gaurantees You’ll Lose"

-Dave Mustaine/David Ellefson [Megadeth]
"Captive Honour" (Countdown To Extinction, 1992)

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Scene I: No Proof
Setting: Backstage WEW; 12:30pm
Color Codes: Actions/Rocky J’s Thoughts (will be centered), Rocky J Dialogue, Mike (Scorpion) Dialogue
POV: First Person Narrative from Rocky J
Words: 1360 on the dot without codes.

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Attire
Long sleeved white t-shirt, dark jeans, and steel toed work boots. Nothin‘ special - ‘nother day, more bad company.[/b]

---

Another day, another ass that needs kicking.

Too bad this time, it’ll be four other guys getting put down. This week on Animosity, administration was kind enough to book the Universal Championship match. Five way ladder match, as well. Yay me.

Does it bother me that I’ve never won a ladder match in my entire career? Not really. Because I’ve only been in one other one with nine other competitors. The competition got so energy draining after a while, it took over an hour for someone to finally win. And they accidentally fell off the top of the ladder while winning it. Idiots.

Speaking of idiots, I have four of them that are going to be in the same ring as I am. They’re willing to rip everyone’s heads off for that championship. Chris Cane, Chris Mathews, Vantage, Broken Saint… the baddest of the bad - well, in their own thoughts, anyway.

You want to know what I think of these scumbags? Well, I just told you. They ain’t nothing’ but tools, like those wops from Jersey Shore. Anyway, I got a story to tell you.

I walked into the main WEW building, duffle bag and bottle of gin in hand. Sippin’ away at the gin, I was walking casually down the halls when I get a phone call. The phone was in my pocket, vibrating like crazy. I toss the bag onto a nearby bench and take a seat of it while I look at the caller ID on the phone. ‘Mikey S’ it says. That was my pal who wrestles under the name Scorpion. He trained me, he mentored me.

I answered the call.

“Mike?”

“What’s up, Rock Man?”

I sat back in my seat.

“Sittin’ in WEW, getting ready to start training.”

While I’m talking I’m watching people walk by me in the halls. Some creepy looking people in here.

“Training? For WEW? Come on man, you can kick everyone’s ass their without breaking a sweat!”

I laughed at that statement.

“Ha. Maybe in my prime, I could.”

I took a sip of the gin.

“You still can. Anyway, who you fightin’?”

I swallowed the liquor, and with a rather loud exhale I halfway answered his question.

“It’s a five way ladder match, dude.”

“No shittin'? Anyone I may know?”

I quickly paused to think. Then I look up and theres a copy of the match card posted on the wall. Ain’t that for some good luck. I looked for the main event, and read off the names; skipping over mine, of course. My name don’t need to be said, they’ll announce it as the victor anyway.

“Uhhh… Well, there’s Chris Cane, Vantage, Chris Mathews and Broken Saint all who I’m facing.”

Mike pauses, most likely to either think or take a sip of some hard liquor. I’ve known him long enough and he’d rather do the latter, like myself.

“Hey, I know Cane and Mathews! Cane was in EHWF but got fired, and Mathews was in ECWF for a while. Not sure if he’s still there or not, but still.”

Downing more gin, I nodded. Not that he, or anyone else for that matter, saw but it’s a habit of mine. Whatever.

“Oh really? Wow.”

As soon as I spit that from my mouth, he reacts.

“Yeah. They’re both fags and I hate them.”

I was taken back, it was one of those sudden things you didn’t see coming.

“Now, why do you say that?”

Usually I can figure him out, but this time it got me. How’d he know Cane and Mathews, and why’d he hate them?

“Cane didn’t bother to show in EHWF, and Mathews… well, he just sucks. Plain and simple.”

Ah, understandable. I guess.

“That bastard, not showing for EHWF. Burn the witch, ya know.”

Scorpion is Justin Taker’s right hand man. Together they run EHWF. JT is like a father figure to me, after I beat the shit out of my real one and disowned my foster father. Also, about the Monty Python reference... shut up. It fit the moment.

“I know man! He was a pain my balls anyway, and JT didn’t even want to deal with that shit.”

I let out a quick laugh.

“Ha! I don’t blame him. Sounds like a bitch.”

I could Masson say ‘mmhmm’ after I said that.

“And you know what else?”

I quickly got another sip of gin in when he asked his following question.

“What?”

“I bet he thinks he can out drink me.”

Mike laughed, but it died down after a few seconds.

“Out drink you? Is he fuckin’ stupid?”

I chuckled.

“I guess. He can’t even out drink you, I bet! I think he’s stuck on them Bud Lights there.”

“Bud Light sucks!”

We usually agreed on what alcohol tastes good and what doesn’t. Only thing was he didn’t like Pabst Blue Ribbon and I do. Not that big of a deal, but still.

“Yup. Sparkling water at the most.”

Mike laughed.

“Anyway dude, you’re going to go train? I’m going to shoot down there.”

I was shocked. Mike hated the WEW, not sure why.

“You sure? I’m in the WEW building, man.”

“Oh, that shitty place?”

See?

“Well, get your ass down to the gym or something.”

I rubbed my forehead. He kills me sometimes.

“Fine, I’ll be there soon. “

We said our goodbyes and got off the phone, and I picked up my bag. I continued my stroll on down the hall and found my locker room. With the turn of a key, I let myself in. I stepped halfway in the door before throwing my duffle bag inside and shutting the door behind me as I turned around and exited. I’m not sure if it landed on the couch, the floor, or in the toilet for all I cared but it’s there and ain’t going anywhere. I locked the door and headed outside for the door.

On my way, I stopped by one of the WEW interviewers. They asked me for an interview, but I declined. I informed them I had somewhere important I had to be like yesterday so I had to my ass moving. That was enough for them, and I shot out the door. Had to jump on the interstate and make my way through some back roads to get to the gym. Remind to me to murder Scorpion later.

I finally got there, and as soon as I pulled in, he pulled in right behind me. We parked next to each other in our usual spots behind the building. We walked in and shat the shit with others for a bit while stretching and doing some light cardio. No water for this guy, no… I was moving onto bourbon. Alcohol while working isn’t the best idea, but I felt like it gave me the energy to do more and recover faster. Kind of like steroids, only I get to keep my testicles as their abnormally large size.

We hit every machine in the joint, sharing this bottle of bourbon like dumb asses. This was actually the first time I’ve trained in a little while now. I haven’t had a match this big or important in a while either, and I wasn’t about to take this passively. Also, I felt like I was people's fifth overall choice to win the match. I was the underdog by that much most likely, and it pisses me off. I’m going to do everything I can to make sure I’m the one walking out of that arena with the title belt slung on my shoulder. Chris Cane don’t believe it, Chris Mathews don’t believe it, Vantage don’t believe it, Broken Saint don’t believe it… But asses will be kicked, and my name ain’t on that list.

You guys think you’re tough and hardcore?

Prove it.[/center][/b][/size]

`End Scene`

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Scene II: Ego & Ingenuity
Setting: Backstage WEW Interview Room; 2pm
Color Codes: Actions/Rocky J’s Thoughts (will be centered), Rocky J Dialogue, WEW Interviewer
POV: First Person Narrative from Rocky J
Words: 1460 on the dot without codes.

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Attire
Blue t-shirt under a long sleeved red and blue plaid button down. Blue jeans to match, and a pair of black shoes. Spiffy J.

[/b]

---

Interviews. Honestly, I hate them.

I do them because they give me a chance to say what I want to say, to whom I want to say it, and have it on tape. I can do the same thing in a much more traditional way, but I'd rather it be taped so everyone can see with their own eyes. The vulgarity of such, however, rarely changes. I'll say 'fuck you' to whoever, whenever, where ever, why ever, however, blah blah blah. Cliche, I know, but it's the truth.

Today I'm sitting in the official WEW Interview room, I guess it's called. For a place so vibrant and outspoken and colorful in a sense, this place is really dull. The walls are a light blue color, the ceiling is white with a ceiling fan and a few lights here and there. Inside the room, we have a small table, two chairs with one on each end of the table, a small TV set and... air. The table is wooden, the chairs are cheap steel fold outs with cushions on them. That's about it. This room is disappointing me, puts me in a rather depressive mood. Either that or I've been drinking too much. Could be either.

I'm sitting at one end of the table, across from an interviewer under employment for WEW. His name escapes my memory, and he doesn't bother to mention it to me. Dirty bastard. Anyway, at the present moment he's sifting through papers that he brought with him in a folder. There's also a disc in front of him too. I'm not sure if that's a DVD or a CD. Could be a DVD of my highlights last week in my victory in the battle royal, or it could be a CD of Bloodshot's latest album entitled Hyperblast which you can buy at any music retailer near you in the heavy metal section. Not to promote my band or anything.

After a few minutes of silence, I start to get pissed off. I'm watching him and he's barely paying any attention to anything else but the damn papers. What else is there to pay attention to, anyway? Well, I guess I can't blame him there. But I had to speak up.

"Uhh... hi there."

He looks up at me and adjusts his glasses. I didn't even know he wore glasses.

"Hello."

I blinked, and he kept looking at me like I'm taking up his time.

"Are we going to get this fuckin' thing started soon or am I just going to leave now? I got other plans for the day, you know. I can't sit around all day and wait here for your ass to take it's sweet damn time."

That came off a little angrier than I wanted it too, but fuck it. He was taken back, and now knows not to mess with the best. The best being me, of course.

"I'm sorry, sir. I'm just really unorganized and I'm trying to get everything straight."

I nodded because I'm the same way. He went back to looking down at his papers and I went back to sitting in awkward silence. After about 20 seconds, I stood up from my seat.

"Listen, I'm going to grab a beer. You want one?"

He looked up at me with a facial expression you wouldn't believe. It's like he's wanted a beer all his life but no one ever gave him one. It was like giving a dog a bone or giving Chris Mathews a picture of someone so you can get a cheap laugh at him trying to mock them or insult them.

"Yes, please."

I shook my head and headed out the door. I turned back to look at the number on the room. 83 was the magic number.

I look a right and started on down the corridors. My locker room was a ways away, but that no issue. I was walking kind of slow, to take up as much time as possible so I wouldn't have to go back there. The booze will help that, though. I was also hoping to see someone I knew so I could stop and chat and take up more time but that often doesn't happen when I want it to. Usually happens when I'm in a rush, because that's the type of luck I have. Not as bad as Broken Saint's come Animosity however. I don't even understand how a saint could be, quote unquote, "broken". Idiots these days.

I finally made it to the locker room after a bit. I took out my keys, unlocked the door, and headed in. I made a B-line for the fridge and opened it. In there were three 12 packs. One was Heineken, one was Rolling Rock, one was Sam Adams. I didn't know which one I wanted, and I didn't know what the other dude wanted. So here's what I'm going to do. There's a small, empty duffle bag on the couch. I'll put the three 12 packs in the bag and bring 'em on over. It'll be an old fashioned party. Excluding the fun, excessive amounts of people, and food.

I did that and headed back. That bag was quite heavy for a few packs of beer. I opened the door and headed in, and set the bag down on the table.

"What'd you get, a keg?"

At least he has a sense of humor. I actually let out a quick "ha!" at that one.

"Nah man, I wish. But here's what I could find..."

As I started naming them, I was pulling them out of the bag.

"Rolling Rock..."

I took it out and set it on the table. That one will go fast.

"Sam Adams..."

I set that one next to Rolling Rock. I'm surprised none of the cans fell out, it was actually opened and had seven of the original twelve cans left in it. I let him know of this, and he only nodded. I have a feeling that's what I'm going to plunge into first.

"And we got Heineken. Pick your poison."

I set the Heineken on the table next to the Rolling Rock. He looked for a quick second before responding.

"I'll take a Heineken, please."

I pushed the whole pack over to him. He looked confused.

"You wanted that, man. I'm going for Sam Adams. Take a can, and have as many as you want. I don't give a fuck, I'll just buy more if I run out."

"Wow, thank you."

I guess he wasn't used to this type of treatment. It was almost like I was taking pity on him, something I'm not used to doing. Vantage, Cane, Mathews and Saint will all see that come Monday Night.

We cracked our first beers and indulged in the pleasurable substance. After a few minutes of idle chat and downin' brews, we had to get to business.

"Alright, you want to get this going?"

I nodded.

"Yup."

"Alrighty. One sec."

He took out one of his papers, and looked at it. There was a camera set up now, with a guy standing behind it. My guess is that happened while I was gone.

"Okay, Mr. Rocky J. How are you today?"

I burped. Here we go.

"Fine, now that I have some beer. Yourself?"

He nodded and looked at his paper again.

"I'm not bad, thanks. First question..."

I cut him off.

"This ain't gonna take long, is it?"

Taken back for a second, he answers anyway.

"No sir."

"Good. First Question?"

"Okay... How do you feel about this match? Like, what are thoughts about how everything played out to how it's set up right now?"

I inhaled and took a moment to think.

"Well... Here's my idea. I'm going to get in that ring, right? And four other guys ready to bust balls are going to be on either side of me. There will be ladders... tons of them. Five highly competitive superstars with enough ego and ingenuity to replicate the Hiroshima A-Bombing, plus tons of ladders and a coveted Universal Title on line... Know what that equals?"

As hard as it was to follow, he did.

"What?"

I let out a small laugh.

"Blood, sweat, tears... and Rocky J as your new Universal Champion!"

From there I got up, grabbed the twelve packs in my arms and headed for the door.

"Where are you going? We're not finished!"

I didn't stop to look back. I just yelled my responce.

"I am!"

And with that, the door slams shut behind me and I go train to win my match. And ya know what... that interview went better than most. I just may start liking them.

Or maybe I'll stick to drinking beer and kicking ass.[/center]

`End Scene`

[rockyj]

looks nice <3