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X-treme Wrestling Federation »   » Archives » "Savage Saturday Night" RP Board
Steve Sayors interviews N.A.Z.I - Part 1: Just an ordinary guy... minus the racism
Author Message
Nathaniel Idenhaus Offline
Not a Nazi



XWF FanBase:
Hardcore, psycho fans

(cheered for breaking rules and bones; excessively violent; creative with weapons)


#1
07-28-2018, 10:59 PM

Steven Sayors - the XWf's only reporter, stared blankly outward as he sat, white knuckling the steering wheel of his powder blue station wagon. He'd been sitting like that for a good forty, five minutes and still, made no attempt to move. He had been dreading this moment, all week but he was running out of excuses, to do his job. It's just that he knew... what doing his job, meant and he didn't like it. No, not one bit. Ordinarily he was put through the ringer by the wrestlers that he interviewed and he could just shake it off. That's right he Taylor Swifted it. No harm, no foul. Just another day and another dollar. The daily grind. It was worth it for the sweet, fat paycheck that he'd receive, at the end of the week. However, no one had really rubbed him the wrong way, per sa. There wasn't anyone that he loathed. He didn't have a list of people that he despised. That's because Steve Sayors was a limp wristed, pansy that tried to please, everyone. That is until the day he met, Nathaniel Adolph Zachary Idenhaus and he knew what it was like to hate. He hated Nathaniel, with every fiber of his being. The ideas that the spirited separatist suggested, were reprehensible to say the least. Yet after a while, the man left the wrestling industry. Steve's life went back to the mundane, glass of warm milk that it had always been and Steve couldn't have been happier. The extra long, delicatessen line that made up his existence, returned to a state of peaceful, dial tone drone, monotony. Just like he liked it. For years, he got out of bed and put his brown corduroy trousers on, one leg at a time. Buttoned up his favorite mustard yellow, shirt. Pulled on his tan sweater vest. Slipped into his dark brown, penny loafers. Fully equipped with the pennies. One in each loafer. And went to work. Unfortunately, for Mr. Sayors that vanilla ice cream bliss, wouldn't last. When Nathaniel Adolph Zachary Idenhaus, returned to the XWF.


Still he was just one man. Steve could avoid him. Take the long way around the main headquarters of the XWF. Don't attend shows where Nathaniel was wrestling. Make himself busy when someone was supposed to interview Nathaniel. On paper this totally seemed feasible to pull off. Nathaniel always seemed to enjoy taking matters into his own hands and recorded his own promos anyway. Usually it was just him and the camera. No fuss or glamour. Just Nathaniel and his words. Yet it's pretty hard to stay away from a wrestler when you're the only interviewer. People started talking. Wondering why Steven seemed weary when he walked down the halls. Asking why he seemed skittish and jittery. Inquiring who he was worried about running into. By people, it meant Vinnie Lane And Darius Xavier and by questioning him, it really stood for demanding him to do his job and interview Nathaniel. See, Nathaniel had won the Television Title, from Chris Chaos. He defended it against Scully and was slated for another title defense against Calypso. N.A.Z.I was gaining attention. Generating a buzz in the wrestling world. Becoming a household name. Can you imagine, he was actually developing a fan base? Were folks nuts?!?! They were rooting for a man who professed that he was going to be the next Führer? Who promised world domination and mass genocide? This is who the fans wanted and cheered for? Why??? Steven didn't understand. Yet the more cheers that he received, the harder avoiding the white supremacist was becoming, till eventually it was put to Steve as an ultimatum. Either interview Nathaniel or find a new career. Steve would be damned, if he would be forced to work for that lousey, WWE company. So he bit the bullet and agreed to interview Nathaniel. At least that was the plan, forty eight minutes ago. It still didn't make the endeavor any easier. Remember, Steve hated this man. Loathed and despised him. With every part of his being. How could he put on a brave face when he wanted to smash this man's face in and revoke his body and mind from the equation of life?


A loud ringing broke his concentration. It was his cell phone. A text from Vincent Lane asking, if he got the job done. If he only knew what Steve had just been thinking. A bitter chuckle erupted from Steve as he released the steering wheel and realized that his hands were now in tremendous pain, from gripping it so tight. With a sigh Steve opened his car door and shoved himself from the driver's seat, closing the door promptly after exiting the vehicle. The walk was the longest trudge in the history of long walks. Looking up at the door to Nathaniel's home, Steve would remember how normal looking the door was and how that seemed so strange to him. He didn't know what he expected, but he didn't anticipate the door belonging to the most sinister man in wrestling history, would look normal. The journey up the front steps felt strange to Steven. Like a march to his own funeral. Pressing the doorbell made him sick to his stomach. Several minutes passed. Maybe Nathaniel wasn't home? No such luck, the door swung open and Steve found himself, face to face with a vile, monster. Word on the street was... that wasn't even an exaggeration about his character. Nathaniel was actually a vicious beast, capable of unsavory tendencies. Mr. Idenhaus was a werewolf. He didn't look any different to Steve, so who knows if the rumors were true. With a visible grimace of dissatisfaction, Nathaniel opened the screen door but made no attempt to move. Really? He was annoyed by Steve's presence? Unbelievable. Steven swallowed hard and felt a lump of his pride, go down the wrong pipe. He cleared his throat; loudly, before he spoke with an overly, cheerful tone.


"Nathaniel, I was told that you knew that I was coming, to conduct an interview with you today? Is this a bad time? Cause we can totally reschedule if it is a bad time. You're the defending champion, so I want to cater to your needs. Whatever they may be."


Mr. Sayors wanted to puke. He felt like the walls were closing in on him. Nathaniel blinked several times and then burst out laughing. He was actually laughing at Steve. Steven, wanted to punch the fucking racist in his big, dumb head.


"Wow. You must really hate me. The way you're pouring it on so thick."


"Excuse me?"


"The fake charm. If I didn't know better, I would think that you're trying to sleep with me. I'm the defending champion, so you want to cater to my needs. Come on, Steven! Have a smidgen of dignity. You couldn't even call me... yourself, you had Darius Xavier do it. Do you think I was happy about getting a call from that overpaid, sambo? No, I didn't want to hear from that monkey. The man can't even bring himself to look me in the eye. That's how frightened he is of me. He stares at his shoes, when we cross paths. The last time he nearly walked into a fucking wall. A fucking wall, Steve! How can someone be that mentally defunct that they almost walk into a wall, rather than make temporary eye contact? Not that I'd want to look into the red rimmed eyes of that dirty, knuckle dragging, jigaboo but come on, isn't that ridiculous? Like seriously, smack my own damn head, ridiculous? Now you're going to stand there and wear a shit eating grin and pretend like you want to be here. Just tell it to me straight. Say I fucking hate your guts, you kraut eatin', white power prick. Give me a dose of reality. For once in your pathetic existence, lay some truth down and we can get this interview started."


Steven looked down as he took a deep breath, releasing it slowly, like he was a balloon gradually deflating.


"Fine. I don't care for your political views."


Nathaniel laughed again. This time he shook his head along with the chuckle.


"Okay try again and this time, don't answer like a public relations, . You can do it, Steve. Go on, lay the truth on me."


"Alright. I fucking hate you. I despise you, with every part of my being. I loathe everything that there is to know about you and your warped beliefs. Honestly, I think you should be locked up, in a cell and have the key thrown out. You fucking psycho."


Another deep cleansing breath for Steve, once more he released it, like he was doing his best impression of a balloon, releasing it's contents.


"Damn Steve. You really let me have it. Feel better? Like you can actually conduct an honest interview."


Steve didn't answer but his expression said it all. He did feel better. A lot better. He didn't want to give the madman any satisfaction, by admitting that fact out loud though. Fortunately, Nathaniel seemed to already know that fact and he pushed the screen door aside as he stepped backwards, to allow Steven enough room to step inside. Which Steve did as a very, visible frown, overtook his face. Stepping aside from the door as Nathaniel closed it, he let his eyes pan the interior of Nathaniel's home. It was so painfully, normal looking. He was hoping for something terrible, like a giant swastika mural on the wall. Or a third reich flag. Or possibly some SS curtains and iron cross throw pillows on the sofa. Yet, none of that existed. You'd never know the difference between his home and any other wrestlers' place. This bothered Steve. Tremendously.


"Can I interest you in something to drink? I just put a pot of coffee on."


Nathaniel asked stepping around Steve, as he made his way into the kitchen. No this wasn't acceptable. The NAZI was offering Steve a beverage? What was the catch? Was it poisoned? Made from the ashes of a million, dead Jews? What? Steve was staying silent too long, he needed to say something to assert his male dominance. Who was he kidding though, that wasn't him. So he simply shrugged as a sheepish grin crossed his face.


"I guess so."


"You guess so?"


Nathaniel looked back at Steve and chuckled again.


"Well, I'm pouring myself a cup, so I'll assume that was your version of an affirmative response, to the request and pour you a cup as well."


Steven walked in tow, straight into Nathaniel's kitchen, yet again taken aback by how normal everything looked. Nathaniel could be an insurance salesman or a teacher, that's how normal it seemed. He watched as Nathaniel retrieved two cups from an overhead cabinet and proceeded, to fill them with coffee. Only after Nathaniel took a sip, did Mr. Sayors risk consuming the steamy, caffeinated libation. It was good. Steve couldn't believe it. He was actually drinking Nazi coffee and enjoying it.


"Did you think that I poisoned the coffee?"


"Maybe."


Steve took another swallow of coffee and set his cup onto the counter, island divider that separated him from Nathaniel and then, sat down on the stool that was next to him. Retrieving a note pad and pen from his trouser pocket, he uncapped the pen and wrote the date in big letters, at the heading of the paper. As he did this Nathaniel fired up a cigarette, using his silver zippo lighter with the bold, black iron cross on its face, and took a seat. There it was. The calling card of the spirited separatist. Nathaniel placed the lighter on the counter and exhaled a cloud of smoke. Steve never minded smokers but now, he hated them.


"So tell me... what do you want to know?"

[Image: VADiENp.jpg]
[Image: CbviDqC.png]
Current Hart Champion
1x X-Treme Champion
1x Television Champion
1x SOTM November 2013
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[-] The following 3 users Like Nathaniel Idenhaus's post:
Darius Xavier (07-30-2018), The Blue Tango (07-28-2018), The Engineer (07-29-2018)




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