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X-treme Wrestling Federation »   » Archives » Leap of Faith 2017 RP Board
Back To Square
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Prof. Bobby Bourbon Online
Mad Scientist
TITLE - X-treme Champion



XWF FanBase:
The 'cool' kliq fans

(booed by casual fans; opportunistic; often plays dirty while setting the trends)


#1
10-02-2017, 01:23 AM



Robbie Bourbon, the no good son of a bitch, faces James Raven for the Universal Championship at Leap of Faith following a string of losses in which he was knocked out on his feet. A history of having his bell rung might have caught up to Bourbon at long last.

Only way to tell is to wait for the bell to ring again, signalling to the Universe that Robbie Bourbon is yet again to engage in something violent at the XWF mega-event.

BACK TO SQUARE

We open to see the medic room backstage at Warfare, following Robbie's humiliating loss to Robert Main. Robbie Bourbon is seated on a table being checked on by medics, his eyes blank and jaw slack. Beside him is Cyberjaw, the man with the cybernetic jaw, Xtreme Travel Agent, Cyberjaw's better half and possible victim of Stockholm Syndrome, Blue, Robbie's girlfriend and handler, Diamondback, the man who can blend into any crowd, and Ash, Robbie's personal stylist. The doctors continue to shine a light into Robbie's eyes, checking to see what kind of responsiveness there is left inside the head that has nearly suffered a thousand concussions.

I'm sorry.

Honey, what are you apologizing for? You put up a hell of a fight out there...

That son of a bitch made fun of Cyberjaw, becoming a complete racist fuck, and I failed to beat his ass for it.

It's alright, man. I mean...

Cyberjaw looks around the room as though the words would appear for him to say to Robbie. Xtreme Travel Agent simply looks to the floor. She pulls on Cyberjaw's hand, and leaves the room. Cyberjaw looks back at Robbie.

You'll get the prick next time. Plus given his words, any fool dumb enough to partner with him just exposes themselves in the process.

Robbie's mouth opens as if to speak, then shuts. Cyberjaw leaves following after Xtreme Travel Agent.

Look, you can't win them all.

I'm supposed to, though. I'm Robbie Bourbon, the...

The guy who's visiting doctors right now. Heal up, get better, go out and win on your terms next time. Look...

Diamondback, also embarrassed, struggles with what to say next just as Cyberjaw did.

Just go wait outside.

Blue scowls a Diamondback. He leaves the room along with Ash as Robbie sits slumped on the slab. The doctor puts his pupil gauge away and turns to Blue.

"He's fine."

The doctor walks away.

Well the doctor says...

I heard him.

Okay, well what do you want to do?

I want a shower.

Okay, babe.

Blue leans in and kisses Robbie gently on the cheek. A slight smirk appears on his face as some sense of life comes back to his otherwise dreary disposition. She steps out of the medic room as Robbie walks through another doorway into a nearly empty locker room. Empty save for one locker, laden with a slick looking button down, some decent slacks, black Puma sneakers, and a huge hoodie, along with a duffel bag. Robbie reaches in the bag and pulls out a towel, a loofah, and a bottle of soap; the cheap stuff you can grab at the dollar store. He then pulls out his phone, which is blinking a pale blue light. He sets his shower gear down and fiddles around with his phone. Robbie rolls his eyes.

Everybody sure likes to talk about kneeling a lot.

Robbie sighs.

I guess those NFL guys and Trump should be grateful they don't have to deal with knees the way I do around here. Caedus's are rock fucking hard, that's for fuck sure.

Robbie plops his phone back into the duffel bag and heads into the shower. We see him disrobe, from behind. No full frontal here, just the ever classless yet somehow more tastefull full behind shot of a very large, somewhat fat, candy apple shaped man and his narrow, nigh nonexistent Anglo-Saxon ass connected to statuesque columns for legs. Robbie struts into the shower and the camera pans up, showing only his massive upper torso and masked face. He turns the water on, and lets it rain down over his body. "That feels phenomenal." The sounds of the shower beading down on Robbie fade away as we hear his inner dialogue. Robbie squirts some soap into his loofah and starts to scrub under his left armpit with his right hand. He gingerly tosses the loofah up and catches it in his left. "Still got the hands. I might be a little long in the tooth to go try to get into some farm system as a first baseman, but I guess if we ever do that company softball game I'll be golden." Robbie scrubs under his right armpit with his left hand. He then scrubs across his chest, and we see his hand dip below the camera's view. "Gotta shave soon. Starting to look like a Bald Eagle with two eggs in a nest." Robbie glances down, watching himself wash his most private parts. Well, quasi-private, barring that whole Danny Sex with the PENIS thing. Robbie's arm glides around his body, as his eyes widen. "Get the stink out of there." Robbie pulls the loofah out and in front of him, performing an inspection. The then returns it out of view from the camera and in his ass crack, scrubbing out any hangers on or otherwise unwanted stowaways left there from his last visit to a toilet. His eyes widen again as he starts to whistle. You can't help but feel like you're watching your uncle shower, but not the uncle that wanted to watch you shower. Robbie places the loofah on a tiny shelf next to the bottle of soap after giving it a thorough rinse, then grabs the bottle of soap. He pours a dollop into his palm, and begins to lather up the crown of his mask. "Gotta keep it clean." Robbie rinses the shampoo treatment from his mask. He turns the water off and grabs his towel. He vigorously dries his head, then chest, then back, then nether regions, ultimately wrapping the towel around his waist as the camera zooms out, showing his body once more, no covered graciously by a towel hanging precariously from around the circumference of his midsection, half of his navel poking out.

As Robbie waddles back to the locker room, he yawns. The day was long, and bed was the next logical step for the big man. A quick camera change and we see Robbie is dressed in street clothes, and is toting his luggage behind him. He walks through the halls of the darkened arena, and steps through where all the equipment necessary to put on a production of Warfare is being staged and packed. Robbie bumps fist with a tech, shakes hands with another, and exchanges a high five with a third, showing he's well versed in communicating with his mitts. He walks past the road crew and a couple security guards through a door to the outside. A smattering of fans are seen, all hollering with excitement at Robbie as he steps through the door. He waves, but stops when he sees half are standing, and half are kneeling.

Yo, People, what's going on?

The crowd, though not large, cheers back at him.

Why are you guys kneeling?

Someone pulls their phone out, and after they fiddle with it, we hear the chirp of successful bluetooth connection come from a speaker as the Star Spangled Banner starts to play.

"We wanna see what you'll do!"

The people kneeling look smugly at the standing persons, and the standing persons look begrudgingly back at the kneeling people. Robbie looks deflated that he lost the peoples attention so easily.

Woah, woah, woah, this isn't a nationally televised event...

Robbie notices a smattering of phones in the hands of other fans, recording the whole proceedings.

"Woah, there's a smattering of phones in the hands of other fans, recording the whole proceedings!" Robbie's eyes go wide as he starts to speak to the fans, muted mumblings crumbling against the weight of Robbie's own thoughts. "Okay, say something snappy, give them a reason to record what they're recording. You're the number one contender. Way in over his head according to most of the world. The lovable loser goof that somehow had a day in the sun. Sure, there'll be other days in the sun. I've had plenty. Times where I was seen as the ultimate world beater, the hottest act in the XWF, times where I was seen as the asshole of assholes, the bigged dick in the XWF, and times where I was seen as the biggest turd in the septic tank, floating around and stinking up the place. Perceptions shift, it's pretty much the job of perception." Robbie's mouth moves along to every word crossing his mind. "I'm Robbie Bourbon, and you all know that already. You all know who I am, what I do, and tune in week after fucking week to see my big ass do something on your TV screens that'll make your heart skip beats, flutter, flush, drop, break, burst, burn, sing, weep, or anything other than just flaccidly and tirelessly work your whole life. At least I fucking hope. James Raven, well, he's the Greatest of All Time of the People, so he's the greatest person ever if you actually digest those words correctly, he's the guy you ask about whether he stands or kneels. He's the shining example to us all, and his example is what one thinks would be followed, definitely one humble man of the people." Robbie takes a moment. "You want to know what I feel when I hear this song? My Nation's anthem? You people, on your knees, get up." Half the crowd boos while the other half cheers. "You, standing people, stop lollygagging. Let's go." Robbie starts to lead the group away from the loading platform of the arena. "See, when I hear this song, I don't think about kneeling, I don't think about just standing, I feel what it does to my heart, and I want to move. I think if progress, and inching forward for the common good and benefit for all, I want to walk. I want to dance. When's the last time anybody danced for the Star Spangled Banner?" Robbie starts to do the Thriller (1987) to the Star Spangled Banner. Several of the people join in. This is Canada, after all, and a fan was kind enough to bring a copy of the National Anthem of the United States to a parking lot. "I think that's the greatest insult you can do to music is to refuse to dance to it. Whether you're standing with your hand over your heart or kneeling, you're doing a dance to the Star Spangled Banner. I do the Thriller. It's just that simple." Robbie continues to do the Thriller perfectly to the tune of the Star Spangled Banner. As the song closes, the people all cheer and disperse peacefully. Most likely because we're in Manitoba and not Kansas City. As Robbie walks towards his bitchin' Challenger, souped up to the max, he is approached by a man. Built almost exactly like Robbie, only half a foot shorter, short gray hair atop his head, a grumpy expression on his face.

Bob.

Oh, hey!

Dancing around like a jackass to the national anthem now?

What?! Some politicized flash mob shows up, you can't get outshined by them.

Came all the way to Canada to see you get stomped by Robert Main. How brain damaged are you now?

Oh, the usual seventeen percent for an athlete my age. Good to see you, dad.

[Image: DtUCPfZ.png]
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