January 18, 2018, 03:09:42 AM

Author Topic: Due Vendetta  (Read 194 times)

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Offline Arizona's Most Wanted

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Due Vendetta
« on: May 18, 2017, 12:39:39 AM »
Voice Over: Space- The final frontier.

These are the voyages of the Starship 'Go Fuck Yourself.' It's decade-long mission, to explore strange new worlds, to find new life in new galaxies- Because for the love of Raptor Jesus we all know this one is fucked. Any planet that just accepts the goofy stoner looking bitch who didn't pin me for my title suddenly turning over a 'new leaf' because she got her ass handed to her by Viduu's Vicious Voodoo is not the type of place I wanna live on anymore.

I mean seriously, how the fuck do you just cheer a person who faked murder charges, kidnapped a damn CHILD and put my tag team partner through Hell and never apologized for a fucking thing. A woman who has tormented anyone who got in her way for months, a woman who spent the majority of her first run as XTV Champion whining about Wallace not giving her the 'respect' she thought she deserved while holding a Title that should've been enough respect for her. You don't just get to walk away from shit like that and be the 'good guy' after one bad fight. You just don't, man.

....

Voice Over: But I digress.

In the 21st Century- Earth ain't shit because intergalactic space travel doesn't exist yet. But it needs to happen for real sooner than later, lord get me the fuck offa this hellhole. But let's pretend for a second they DID have a super cool space fleet.

One such ship, the USS Go Fuck Yourself, is piloted by Captain Adrian Tanner Junior, a courageous and noble man with an iron will determined to do everything in his power to make sure actual living garbage like Sativa Naveah doesn't get anywhere near the 4CW Title. Amber Ryan and that other guy are there too, I guess.

These are the tales of his adventures...

The scene opens up on the bridge of the USS Go Fuck Yourself. It looks like any other star ship bridge, although a lot more shiny and with way too many red buttons. But otherwise, pretty much what you'd expect. It's a Star Trek joke what do you want from me?

The Captain's Chair sits in the middle of the Bridge, the best place to oversee the rest of the minions as they go about their business of doing the actual work running the ship. Hey, when you're Captain you get the option to delegate power fuck you. Not that Captain Tanner's a slacker. No sir. But he knows full well the value of having people who know what the fuck they're doing running the things he doesn't know how to run for him.

When we find Captain Tanner, dressed in the usual khaki jeans and a black t-shirt with "TOP GUYS" in bold white font on the front, he's looking over readings on his cell phone data recorder. His half of the 4CW Tag Team Championships sits next to him in a special chair all on its own.

Adrian: Hmm, these readings don't look all that great. How're we lookin' over there, Commander Cecil?

Captain Tanner glances over and behind him to the left, at Cecil Kennedy, dressed in the usual Space Ship Show uniform with a large eye patch over one eye that doesn't totally cover the scarring, doing his best mock 'the ship's about to explode and we're all gonna die' pose.

Cecil: I c'n barely 'old her together, she's comin' apaht at the seams Cap'n!

Captain Tanner quirks an eyebrow at his best friend-slash-Commander.

Adrian: What?

Cecil stops, shrugging with a coy smirk on his lips.

Cecil: ...Nothing, sorry. I just always wanted to do that.

Adrian: Right. Everything good.

Cecil: A-Ok, Cap'n.

Adrian: Good.

Captain Tanner turns back to the front of the ship. After another moment studying the cell phone data recorder, he presses the little walkie talkie pin on his chest.

Adrian: Doctor Young-

Brandon: Doctor Professor Young.

Adrian: Doctor Young-

Brandon: Doctor Professor Young.

Adrian: ...MISTER Young.

There's a long pause over the walkie talkie pin.

Brandon: ...Aye, Captain.

Captain Tanner rolls his eyes.

Adrian: How are the patients? Recovering well?

Brandon: Aye, Captain. The Stupid seems to affect them less the further we get from Earth.

Adrian: Awesome. Carry on then.

Brandon: Aye aye.

He presses end on the walkie talkie pin, once more looking over the readings on the cell phone data recorder. With a long sigh, he gets out of the Captain's Chair, heading for the exit.

Adrian: Commander Cecil, you have the floor.

Captain Tanner nods at his Second as the door to the rest of the ship opens up.

Cecil: Alright fuckers, it's Captain Ceece time!

Captain Tanner chuckles to himself as the door slides closed behind him and he steps into the ship proper. A moment passes and the sound of a cannon firing comes from behind him...

Cecil: Keep firing, assholes!

Captain Tanner squints at the sounds of more things being fired back on the Bridge.

Adrian: I should probably go back and check on that...

He starts to take a step back towards the bridge then stops and shrugs, continuing on down the hallway until he gets to a door marked 'Captain's Chambers.' He presses a button on the door and it slides open, and he walks inside. He drops the cell phone data reader on the nearby desk before grabbing a nice refreshing can of OhNo Cola, taking a sip.

OhNo Cola: You'll drink it and you'll fuckin' like it.

Adrian: Heh, the more things change...

He sets the can down on the desk as well, leaning against the edge of it.

Adrian: Hello out there in 4CW-Land, I'm Adrian Tanner and I'm coming to you today from the Starship Go Fuck Yourself. After Cashe literally shitting the bed this past show I figured I needed to get as far away from planet Earth as possible for a bit.

And before someone- most likely the goofy stoner fuck who didn't pin me for my title- says it: Yes I know this isn't actually Space, it's a bit, roll with it.


Roll with it like the eye roll he's giving you right now.

Adrian: Last week at 4CW's 100th show, After finally coming to some sort of an understanding yours truly and my fuckass- sorry, sorry- my World Tag Team Championship Partner once more did exactly what we said we were gonna do when we squashed Jett's hopes and dreams like the tiny gnat that he is.

He rubs his chin with one hand, remembering the ending of that tag match fondly.

Adrian: Man, it's really gotta suck to be Jett yknow? More so than every other day, I mean. Guy scored a huge win over Marquis at the pay per view only to get almost-murdered by me and Johnny E, even with the Almighty Queef as his partner. I'd say hopefully Jett learns not to run his mouth anymore but we all know that's outta the question so I'll be content with the win on it's own.

He takes another sip of his OhNo Cola, again daydreaming of crushing Jett with the Rapture.

Adrian: This show, I go from defending the honor of the AA's Division, to competing in the second Ante Up Qualifier, for another shot at the 4CW Championship.

He pauses, letting out a long sigh.

Adrian: I'll admit, I came up short the last time I had a shot at the 4CW Championship.  I dunno if things'll change at Ante up- Between Cashe and Bronx this thing's already stacked with talent.

But it's the 4CW Championship. Of COURSE I'm going balls to the wall for this shot.


He gives a determined look at the camera.

Adrian: Honestly this four-way should really be a two-way, and even THAT's questionable but I'll put my bias and outright hatred for the goofy stoner fuck who didn't pin me for my title aside for a moment and pretend she deserves this for her run as Extreme Champ.

Y'know, before that guy I beat in like 10 minutes almost killed her.


A small hint of a smirk crosses his lips.

Adrian: I'm not going to count Amber Ryan and That Other Guy out but, come on man. This match is me or Sativa. No other outcome makes sense for a match as big as the one building at Ante Up. Amber Ryan? The fuck's she done in 4CW?

"Undefeated streak?" She's had four matches. And only one of them was against someone who had any sort of a claim to being credible. In this company at least.


Pour one out for the homie Keaton Saint.

Adrian: Amber, your only credible win is against Lauryn Wolfe, and I barely consider the woman who calls herself the 'Trigger Queen' yet couldn't stop rushing to tattle on me literally anytime I said the slightest thing about her shitty stable credible.

Still better than Paris or Niobe Martin though, I guess.

Or Keaton Saint.


May he Rest in Hell.

Adrian: That's not to say you're not talented- on the contrary. I think you could go far in this company. I just don't think you're ready for it yet. Against Niobe you talked about towing the line, staying outside the radar, after Adrenaline you're gonna wish you'd stuck to that. You're stepping from the aether directly into the lion's den with a Marksman who hunts the Pride of the wrestling jungle for sport.

You can walk in believing you're one of the Lions but really you're just a Lamb being led to the slaughter.  My Revolver is my Weapon of Choice and she's a dangerous, cold-hearted weapon with lethal precision. Anyone who thinks your little undefeated streak is impressive should go back and look at my history.

My fourth match in this company was in the middle of a giant Tag Team Tournament versus Cashe and Bryan Williams.

Your fourth match in this company was Niobe Martin.


His head cants to the side with a look of 'really.'

Adrian: Like I said, you're skilled, you're gonna go far, kid. One day. But this will not be your day. It's a Brave New World you're stepping into Amber, and if I have my way you, the goofy stoner fuck who didn't pin me for my title and That Other Guy, are gonna Boldly Go face down into the mat as many times as it takes for me to cement my place in the Ante Up World Title match.

See what I did there?


He grins.

Adrian: Speaking of That Other Guy. Sup Kasimir?

He tips the can of soda in a cheers gesture.

Adrian: The Rookie Russian who Really deserves to be here in less than Ms. Ryan.

Alliteration is fun.

Honestly this just feels wrong, man. I thought Wallace was throwing Amber to the wolves but you are literally a case of 'There's nobody else on the roster so fuck it throw him in' syndrome and that's just sad. Have you had more than one match on the actual main stage show yet?!


The walkie talkie pin lights up, Captain Tanner presses the button.

Brandon: Technically yes, the first match was the opener, not the pre-show like normal.

Adrian: Point. Question: How the hell are you listening to this from sick bay?

Brandon: Magic!~

Captain Tanner shakes his head, turning off the walkie talkie.

Adrian: For someone so new, so fresh off the boat you sure do got a lot of cahones, Kas. You sure do talk tough for someone with three matches under their belt.

YOU'RE NOT A WRESTLER! You scream at anyone who wants to listen.

...Then why the fuck are you in a wrestling match?


Arms slowly lift in a giant shrug, the look on his face a mixture of mockery and annoyed confusion.

Adrian: Here's the deal, kid. I AM a wrestler. A very, very, damned good wrestler. One of the BEST in this or any other company. I'm the guy who gets shit done when shit needs getting. Yeah, sometimes I stumble and fall in my goals, but I always pick myself up, dust myself off and I keep on keepin' on and eventually I do what I came to do. That belt sitting back outside on the bridge is a perfect example of that.

You? You're an unproven commodity. You've got a mentor who thinks he's the hottest shit around and that makes you think you're the hottest shit around but the best I've seen from him is 3rd grade insults at the Carlson's on twitter so you'll forgive me if I actually believe any of the shit that comes outta your mouth.

I'm not Trace Lando, I'm not Cliff White. I'm an actual goddamn talent who didn't wash out the second shit got 'real' in 4CW.

You're walking into a match with two of the top competitors in 4CW, and Amber Ryan, for a shot at the biggest prize in the company, this ain't your rinky dink training school, this isn't practice with your mentor and this certainly ain't some nothing match with Cliff White and Trace Lando. This is the big top, this is the Main Event of Adrenaline! And you? You're here for one reason, kid.

To be the one that one of us pins on our way to perceived greatness.


The look on his face changes from annoyance to understanding as he mouths the word 'sorry' at the camera.

Adrian: Tell me Kas, realllllly tell me, what do YOU bring to this match that Sativa or I or Amber don't? Why are YOU here over literally anyone else in the company? What do YOU have that makes you think you deserve to be in this spot 3 weeks into your entire career?

You can't. Or well, you can and I'm sure you WILL but nothing you say is going to convince either of your opponents or the rest of the world that you are capable of beating a woman who, though I loathe her entire existence, went through literal actual hell against a Butcher and a Voodoo Preacher almost back to back. Against a man who just fought his own tag team partner near to the death just because they could. Against... well, Amber Ryan.

You're the bitch boy in this match, Kas but hey, there's an upside for ya. It's a huge learning experience for you, you'll probably learn a hell of a lot more in this one match than your crippled ass mentor will ever be able to teach you about being 'not a wrestler' in a wrestling goddamn match.


He rolls his eyes, finishing the can of soda he drops it in a trash can under the desk. Then he takes a long, deep breath.

Adrian: And last, but certainly not least... Sativa.

He stares directly into the camera for a long, hard minute.

Adrian: I fucking hate you. I hate the thought of your very existence. You are actual human waste and I want nothing more than for my good friends at NEXTWAVE Inc to finish the plans on their patent-pending Sun Cannon so I can shoot your ass into the goddamn sun.

You are the epitome of everything wrong with this business and your little fake attempt at pretending to be a 'good guy' all of a sudden is just another checkmark on the giant chalkboard of wrestling cliches that is your entire career.


An actual chalkboard is rolled into view from someone off screen.

Adrian: Smoke weed erry day- check.

Whine about not being given opportunities/being 'held down' by the 'man- check.

xXCraaaAAAAAaaaaaAAAAAAZZZzzZYYYYXx 'psychopath' goon who's really just the saddest clown in existence shtick- check.

 violence violence darkness stabby rip stab stab stab blood hardcore evil- Annnd check.


As he says this, each phrase on the board gets a check mark next to it.

Adrian: For someone who doesn't think I'm anything special you sure love to reference me a lot, even if you still don't have the slightest clue what you're fucking talking about. That's cool though, nobody else does either. I see you talkin' about me referencing your 'pic base' or twitter as the only things I use to insult people but if that's really all you got than you ain't got shit, bitch.

Just like you didn't have shit last time.

We spent that entire last match building up this epic war between you and me, and what'd you do? What'd you do, you little fuckin' confused baby?

Did you fight me one on one, did you give me all you got and beat me personally for MY title like you claimed you wanted to and would do?

Or did you bitch out and pin the non-factor the first chance you had?


Another long stare into the camera.

Adrian: All the shit you talked, all the bitching you did, all the trash you threw at me claiming you were 'better' than me and when push came to shove you took the easy way out. And the thing that bothers me the most isn't that you did that, it's that no matter how many times I explain why I call you names and claim you didn't pin ME for MY Title you just plug your ears and go 'lalalala not listiiinniiiing' and carry on with your dumbass bullshit excuses trying to make me look like the bad guy.

And what a great run you had with the belt, yeah?  Lost your first title defense to Dakota. Yeah you won it back, then you lost it almost immediately to fuckin who?

Viduus Morta.


The look on his face couldn't scream 'really?' any harder if it tried.

Adrian: Viduus Morta, the guy I beat handily in his what, first real match in the company. True, dude's come a long way since then, but you still got your shit handed to you by a guy I beat like it was any other Wednesday.

Some Champion.

Much like that match, this match is a 2-person affair. You know it, I know it, the entire goddamn wrestling world knows it. Amber Ryan's a dark horse but that horse is darker than the darkest shade of black.

 You want a shot at the 4CW Title, I want to see you buried in a wet grave somewhere. ...And also the shot at the 4CW Title. I know I can beat you, because I've beaten your type all over the goddamn world for 10 plus years. You ain't the hot shit you think you are, you're just shit. And this good guy act is the lamest shit you've done yet.

You're a fraud and I'm going to enjoy exposing you as one.

But the real question is, when the chance for the two of us to face off one on one comes up, will you fight me like a man- or woman in your case- or will you bitch out and pin Kas instead.

That was rhetorical, I already know the answer.


He shakes his head, chuckling lightly.

Adrian: Ladies, Other Guy. This is the chance of a lifetime. It's a guaranteed shot at the top title in the land.

And not a single fucking ONE a'you deserves it before me.

So I'm gonna do what I do, like I always do. I'm gonna walk into this match a champion of one division, kick some ass, take some names, and walk OUT of that match one step closer to being champion of the entire goddamn company!

Why? Because fuck you, that's why!

You especially, Sative.


A wink.

Adrian: This is a two-person match but there's only one winner.

Me.


The smirk is in full bloom. As he starts to speak again his voice is sing-songy, and the walkie talkie pin crackles to life.

Adrian: 'Cause I know I can (I know I can!)
Be what I wanna be (be what I wanna be!)
If I work hard at it (If I work hard at it)
I'll be where I wanna be
(I'll be where I wanna be!)

He stops, glances down at the pin, then back up at the camera with a grin.

Adrian: And what I wanna be, is the BEST goddamn WRESTLER in this company, and the Champion of everything.

He points his hand at the camera like a gun, eyes full of determined fire.

Adrian: You have no chance to survive, make your time.

Bang.