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Author Topic: The Good, the Bad, and the Bronxy  (Read 498 times)

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Offline Arizona's Most Wanted

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The Good, the Bad, and the Bronxy
« on: March 09, 2017, 04:47:02 AM »
Brandon: TANNER!

The loud shout of the Young Gun, NEXTWAVE Manager Extraordinaire Brandon Young rings out from somewhere inside the large house that is the 'Crash Pad,' AKA the Tanner-Young family household. The duo had just returned from a celebration trip to Brandon's cousin Jeremy's San Diego pub to celebrate Adrian's brand-spanking-new 4CW Tag Team Championship win. Adrian had headed into the kitchen to put some snacks he bought for Olivia away in the cupboard while Brandon had gone in to greet his wife and child. What he found though-

Brandon: ADRIAN!

The Arizona Assassin raises an eyebrow at the cadence in Brandon's voice during the second shout. He puts the groceries down and heads down the hall to what should've been his niece Olivia's bedroom...

Adrian: What's up man, why the shou- what the FUCK?!

The bedroom looks cleaned out. Most of the furniture is still there, but the majority of toys that are usually splayed all over the floor are gone, along with most of the clothes in the wide open dresser drawers.

Adrian: What the fuck is this?! Brandon...?

He was too flabbergasted by the scene to notice his best friend at first, but now that the shock has, well, not worn off but slowed down enough for him to register other things- Brandon is not in good sorts. Holding a piece of paper in one hand and holding back tears on his face he does not look happy.

Adrian: Yo? What- what's that, man? Can I see...?

Brandon: I...

Brandon turns and glances up at Adrian, and the Arizona Assassin's heart threatens to break.

Adrian: Dude...?

Brandon slowly hands him the piece of paper. Adrian scans it at first, then squints at the wording as he actually reads it.

Adrian: What the FUCK?

Kaycee: Brandon.

I have to go away for a while. I'm sorry. I can't tell you why, or where. It's just something I- I have to do. Olivia's with me, we'll both.... we'll be okay. Don't look for us. We'll be in touch.

Love you always,

Adrian: Whaaaat the hell is THIS!? Brandon....?

For his part, the Young Gun says nothing, hands balling up into fists so hard at his sides his fingernails look like they're gonna break his skin. He shares one more look with Adrian, who tries to think of something- anything to say to help at something like this but can't, then walks out of the room down the hall and into the room he shared with his wife. Adrian hears the door slam and then the sound of fists smacking into plaster and wood repeatedly. He stares down at the note again.

Adrian: The fuck, Kaycee?

Cut to black.


Paying little attention to Genie, Tanner looks to take Bronx’s head off with a superkick just as he gets back to his feet but Bronxy manages to duck out of the way. For Genie, it’s the absolute wrong moment as she’s left to be crushed with a superkick from Adrian Tanner Junior that flattens her instantly. Looking around, Tanner backs up to his own corner and sets his sights on Bronx again, who is down on one knee and pushing himself up to a wobbly standing position. Just as Tanner is about to move to hit the REVOLVER, Johnny Evil tags himself into the match and sprints into the ring, kicking Bronx in the stomach and then blasting him with FALL FROM SHANGRI’ LA.

To Tanners dismay and irritation, there’s nothing he can do but step back out through the ropes and watch as Johnny Evil rolls Bronx over and hooks his leg.


JOHNSON: ”Nobody else is moving. Everyone but Tanner and Evil are down and out!”




VASSA: ”Holy shit they’ve done the impossible!”

JOHNSON: ”Adrian Tanner Junior and Johnny Evil, the Asshole Antagonists, are the tag team champions. They’ve finally completed a journey that started, seemingly, at Bad Company Two!”

The scene opens up to a large indoor warehouse-looking area, which has long been converted into a training section. Multiple wrestling rings line the middle of the floor area, while numerous sets of gym equipment can be seen on either side of the rings behind glass walls. A large banner on one of the walls reads


TV monitors line the walls of the gym sections and sit on numerous tables around the ringside area.

Every single one of them is playing the same footage.


Luckily for the students who might not want to see footage of one of the Academy's star alumni repeated nonstop on every video feed, it seems to be an off-day at the school. Your Hero and mine, and NNNEEEEEEEEEEWWWW 4CW Tag Team Champion, Adrian Tanner Junior brings the stationary bike he's riding to a stop as he watches the last bit with a big grin on his face. He climbs off the bike, wiping away a few beads of sweat and grabs a nearby water bottle, taking a long swig. He sets the bottle back down on a table and picks up his half of the 4CW Tag Team Championships in it's place, resting it on his shoulder.

Adrian: Boy howdy, if I had a nickel for every single time I've had to tell people I told you so I'd have, well, I'd have a lot of nickels. Shit, I'd be in the hundreds from this fucking fed alone. I could make a Scrooge McDuck style Money Pool and swim in the tears and sadness, and nickels of course, of all the people who tried and failed to prove they were "better than me."

The Arizona Assassin takes a moment to ponder the awesomeness of a Scrooge McDuck style Money Pool filled with nickels and your tears. It's an entertaining thought. It's one he might have to actually go through with.

Adrian: At All or Nothing, I told the WORLD exactly what I was going to go out and do, and once again, I did exactly that. Y'know, aside from the whole Scrooge McDuck Money Pool idea, it's honestly frustrating having to repeat myself time and time again. It's honestly annoying how tiring it gets having to constantly spell out how much better I am than everyone else in this company and then proving it again, and again, and again. Wait no, that's the fun part. The annoying part is that no matter how many times I SAY I'm better than you, how many times I say I'm gonna do this thing because I'm better than you- nobody believes me. Not a single person. Every single one of you fuckers repeat the same bullshit ad-nauseum. "I'm da best you're garbage luls." It's the saaaaaame shit no matter what you say in response and it's just- sad.

What's it gonna take, 4CDub? What's it gonna take before people start taking me at my word? How many times am I gonna have to beat your 'faves,' how many ways I'm gonna have to crush the so-called 'top guys' dreams before they realize that what I've said all along is the goddamn truth?

Really, go on, think of an answer beyond "lulz u suk." I'll wait.

He does indeed wait, staring at imaginary watch on his right wrist. After a few moments he looks back up at the camera again.

Adrian: You can't, can you?

And that's the problem with this place. Nobody takes anyone seriously unless they're your friend or stablemate, then it doesn't matter how much fact and logic plays into it, your friends and stablemates are the bestest ever and that makes YOU the bestest ever you swear!

The Arizona Assassin rolls his eyes.

Adrian: And the funny thing is, Generation Who Honestly Fucking Cares? is the biggest perpetrator of this shit. That segment at the pay per view was cute, or it would've been if it hadn't been preceded and followed by three of your FIVE members losing high profile matches for championships. Sure, notTroll Guy finally, finally, finally after eight months  won a match again and the Elvira Looking Fuck who didn't beat me for my title hung Dakota but  the rest of you- woof.

And yet, Wallace puts up the card for the South Beach Brawl Cup tournament and heeeeeeeeeeeeere's Lauryn proclaiming Manny and Bronxy to be the greatest things in the history everything ever and they're TOTALLY GONNA WIN YOU GUYS BECAUSE HASHTAG GENNOW RULES 4EVER FUK THA HATERS.

A long, stern glare into the camera followed by a shake of the head.

Adrian: But it's not 'just' Lauryn, is it? Not this time, at least.

Everyone and their mother's already writing in Bronxy as the winner of this tournament, already writing me off in the first round.

(In a mocking, 12 year old fangirl voice) "Uhm, given the field involved, I'd say you're looking at a Bronx vs Genie finals!" (/end mocking 12 year old fangirl voice)

By the way, fuck you Frankie Morrison.

One middle finger, way up.

Adrian: Everyone and their mother's picking ol' Bronxy to win this tournament, to rush past me and all the way into the finals and the only thing I keep coming back to is-


Let's look past the obvious, glaring fact that I have YET to not do almost exactly what I've said I was going to do every. single. time. I step foot in that ring, and look at the easy ones for a second.

 "Bronxy's gonna win cause he almost won the last one!!!!" Ah yes, the last South Beach Brawl Cup where Bronx made it almost to the end and then what? Came down with some mysterious disease or broke 14 ankles and disappeared from wrestling for six months? That tournament. Yeah, sure. Surely that means Bronx is absolutely the front-runner for THIS one.


The sarcasm is strong in this one.

Adrian: "Bronxy came back for this specifically he's totes gonna win it this time!" Ah yes, and look at how WELL Our Little Bronxy's done since returning to 4CW at Winter Wasteland, shall we?

He grabs the bottle of water off the table it was sat on, readjusts his half of the 4CW Tag Team Championships and walks out of the gym area into the larger training warehouse area itself. He turns a corner walking from the side of one ring to another and we are led to a couple of photographs blown up to giant proportions. One shows Lauryn Wolfe laying on the mat while the referee Raises Eli, Genie and Tara's arms on the outside, the other shows Bronx, Lauryn, Genie and Tara all laid out in the middle of the ring while Adrian and Johnny are handed their halves of the 4CW Tag Team Championships.

Adrian: Hey Bronxy, remember that time you said you were gonna come back to 4CW and make a huge impact, and then you didn't?

Remember that time you and Lauryn and the Elvira Looking Fuck who didn't beat me for my title said you were gonna wreck the Royal Family and prove you guys were the top stable in the land. And then you didn't?

Remember that time you and Lauryn said you were gonna win the 4CW tag team championships-

The Arizona Assassin hoists his half of the 4CW Tag Team Championships into the shot, resting it back on his shoulder with a huge grin.

Adrian: -and then you didn't? Yeah. Pepperidge Farm remembers.

I remember too.

He chuckles.

Adrian: Yeah you could say you're 2-2 and you could say the only reason the Royal Asshats won that six-man tag match is because of JPD interfering but we both know you probably woulda lost that anyways. Your big huge epic return to 4CW has amounted to you beating two shlubs who couldn't hack it and didn't even TRY to hack it until they disappeared into the aether a week or so later, and then losing to anyone with any actual talent. That's the real buzzline of your little group, Bronx: Failure. Failure and excuses.

Fuck you're already doing it on twitter, making up excuses about being sick with pneumonia the last three weeks or whatever. Anything to hide the fact that you just got out-fuckin-wrestled, amiright?

But again, that's what this place does so I'm not that surprised that you'd pull it too. Saddened, but not surprised.

It's fine, make up whatever excuse ya gotta think of, do whatever you have to do to reconcile the fact that for two straight shows in a row you're gonna find yourself on your back staring up at the lights while the BEST Light heavyweight in. This. Business. puts you into the ground yet again. It's okay, I'm used to it. People, and in wrestling specifically, haaaaaaaate admitting when someone's their better.

He stops to take another sip of his water.

Adrian: But that's the thing Bronx, I AM your better. Well, I'm a lot of people's betters but specifically in this match and this tournament, I am your better.  I mean really, what the fuck did you even DO in that tag match anyways? A couple dives, hit a couple finishers but- and again speaking as one-half of the team who did what we said we were going to and won the whole thing you spent the better part of that match getting your fucking shit kicked in, whether it was by  Genie or Tara, or me, or my glory-stealing fuckass partner. Fuck man, I threw you off your entire game just by stealing your stupid ass sunglasses!

And I'm supposed to sweat you? I'm supposed to buy YOU as the favorite in this thing?


This continues for a long, looooong moment.

Adrian: -aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah, no.

He stops to take a deep breath.

Adrian: Noooo, noooo, noo.


Adrian: See I'm used to this Bronx. You claim to be some ultimate underdog™, oh you've never won the Big One, nobody takes you seriously all that shit but bro, I LIVE that life. Everyone goes 'oh well even though he's only lost one match in eight months and only been pinned once in his entire 4CW career he absolutely CAN'T beat Bronxy! It doesn't matter that he actually already did that two weeks ago this time is DIFFERENT and Bronx is TOTALLY gonna win!!" Despite the fact that I keep telling everybody, and I keep showing everybody different, they keep saying the same things. It doesn't matter how many times I show otherwise they're stuck in their own world view where somehow YOU are better than ME.

And I know I keep repeating myself but I'm going to keep doing it until it sticks in their thick skulls that you DO NOT bet against the Arizona Assassin! I have made most of my career out of proving people wrong and I am not going to stop now. Because the delicious salty tears of the losers who lose and wonder how they could've POSSIBLY done so when I'm 'such a nobody' and/or am 'not top level talent' in their eyes fuels me almost as much as my obsessive need to win everything forever.

He readjusts the championship belt on his shoulder.

Adrian: You're a good wrestler, Bronx. I won't take that away from you, honest. But you're not me. It's okay, nobody else is either.

A smirk.

Adrian: I told the world I wanted these 4CW Tag Team Championships, and when the smoke cleared I stood victorious, just like I said I would.

So right here, right now, I am telling the world that I will BE at the finals of the South Beach Brawl Cup. And I will BE victorious. In this match and the tournament in itself. And then I will go on to South Beach Brawl and I will TAKE The 4CW Championship from Eli's cold, dead hands,

Because I am the Arizona Assassin! And winning titles, and tournaments, is what I do!

You can TRY and stop me all you want, and this goes for you and for everyone else in this tournament- but you will FAIL, because I have one thing the majority of you fucking assholes don't-

He glances over at a lone tv monitor that ISN'T playing his 4CW Tag Team Championship victory. It's playing a scene from The Replacements.

Gene Hackman:  You gotta have heart!

He smirks, along with a short nod.

Adrian: While you're busy shitposting on twitter I'm busy working here, at the place where my career started, coming up with fun new ways to drop your ass with my Revolver. While you're making lame jokes and doing bad 'gotcha!' comedy on the tweet machine with 'Braun' and the rest of the idiots who spend too much time over there, I'm busting my ass with Cecil learning new ways to twist your loser ass into a pretzel, or refining my ability to drop you on your head with my older brother. Or any number of fun new and old things I can touch up on so I can be the best Me that I can be. Because I am and forever will be a student of the game, and this is a game that you never stop learning from no matter how good you truly are.

And Bronx? I'm really fuckin' good already.

I'm not just sayin' that too boost my own ego, I'm sayin' it so when you inevitably eat a Revolver or three and I move on to Stevens or Alexis you can have a better excuse to throw out than "oops I was sick oh well." I'm doing you a favor here, man!

Sadly it's the only one I'm gonna do for you.

Adrian: This is the way your world, or at least your chances and hopes of once again going to the finals of the South Beach Brawl Cup, end, Bronx. With both a whimper AND-

Finger gun, camera, you get it.

Adrian: A Bang.

Ya see what I did there?

He grins.

Adrian: See You, Space Bronxy.