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X-treme Wrestling Federation BOARDS » Warfare Boards » "Wednesday Warfare" RP Board
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Getting Serious
Author Message
Robbie Bourbon Offline
Here for Fun



XWF FanBase:
The 'cool' kliq fans

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


Post: #1
07-28-2020 04:59 PM



The return to Warfare has been some time in the making for Robbie Bourbon.

He faces Thaddeus Duke, then moves into contention for the MVP of Warfare.

GETTING SERIOUS

So, what do you know of the Dukes?

Robbie sits at his desk, looking back at Cyberjaw, the man with the cybernetic jaw. Beside Cyberjaw is Diamondback, the man who can blend into any crowd, Guy Fieri, right mayor of Flavortown, and Ash, Robbie's stylist. The Bourbon men are, of course, wearing their face masks to prevent the spread of novel coronavirus. Robbie shrugs.

Not much. I heard if you look in a mirror and say "Sebastian Duke" eight times a tall man in a big garish hat will appear and tell you about a pyramid scheme.

Robbie, this is serious.

Yeah, bro, just like a great burger should pack serious flavor, you don't seem to be very serious very often.

What, I'm plenty serious!

Well the new fans of the XWF don't like it when you aren't.

I was serious at Leap of Faith! I seriously threw people out left and right.

Yeah, but you didn't win.

Neither did you.

Robbie, seriously.

I am plenty serious! I do a lot of things seriously!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We cut to a shot of Robbie painting a giraffe spangly blue. It looks serious.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We cut to a shot of Robbie throwing grapes at lifeguard. Very serious throws of the most serious of grapes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Star wipe to a shot of Robbie riding a log flume ride at any given amusement park. He looks gravely serious about the matter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Back to Robbie's office, where he and his face-mask wearing Bourbon Men hold conclave.

Look, flat out, what the people want is fun, not a bunch of emo reprobates who like to discuss how dour and droll their whole life is. I have personal drama like anybody else.

Good!

No, not good. Drama isn't good.

No, Robbie, showcasing how human you are is important to the fans of the XWF now.

What? Nobody wants to see how much of a loser I can be.

No, but they do! Look at all the big names in the XWF now. Warstein, Centurion, Big D, Chaos, Peter, all of them are massive losers who have no hold of their own existence or control over their fates except in the ring. Hell, look at your upcoming opponent. Thaddeus Duke is super rich and has ties to the Illuminati, but at the same time comes off as complete and utter victim of his own circumstance most of the time.

And, that, uh, that sells tickets now?

Apparently, yes!

Yeah, bro, the XWF is like one of the few companies out there not running empty arena shows.

They can still pack 'em in, regardless of Covid.

Dang. So, I need to ramp up the melodrama!

Yeah! Get some pity going your way! If enough people feel sorry for you, they'll support you more! The days of the strong, valiant, and conquering hero are gone!

That sucks.

Robbie, you gotta change with the times.

It still sucks.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In a dark and serious alleyway, the crash of thunder overhead is deafening. The flash of lightning is blinding. Seriously, this is one dark and stormy ass alley. As the torrent of rain pummels the pavement and bricks of the nearby buildings, we see Robbie Bourbon, dressed in tattered clothing, his wonderful spangly blue lucha mask still pristine, however. He's seen sitting next to a garbage can.

Well, here I am. Seriously down in the dumps. I hit rock bottom, skid row, I'm in a hole and I have no idea how I'm going to get myself out of it but I know I have a match at Warfare and I'll do it just in time for my match.

The trash can rumbles next to him. Oscar the Grouch pops up out of it.

Hey, what are you doing in my alleyway! Go sulk somewhere else, you sad sack!

Wait, wait, cut!

The rain instantly stops. Robbie looks at the camera smiling.

Muppets? Really?

What, people love the Muppets! Who doesn't like a good branded puppet! I sure do!

Robbie, seriously...

Even if you don't use this footage I better get paid!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The pallor of the room, beset be figures all dressed in black, is serious. The funeral for some soul, beloved by so many to be here in attendance. Robbie is seen seated along with a few of his Bourbon Men, all dressed in black, except for Robbie's ultra vibrant spangly blue lucha mask. A man is standing at a podium beside a closed casket, a photo of an old man in front of it. He's smiling, the serious irony of any funeral; there's always super happy pictures of the recently deceased.

John was a good man. I remember when he and I were fishing one time, and he caught the biggest marlin ever. Later that day, he proposed to his beautiful wife, Loraine.

The camera cuts to show a woman wearing a black veil. She's sobbing uncontrollably at her husband's funeral. This is serious.

Robbie, how did you know John?

Who?

Suddenly, the casket starts to rumble, and the lid is cast wide open! From within, the corpse rises and shambles out of the coffin! Everybody starts to scream in panic.

What? CUT!

The people keep screaming and running in terror as John doesn't seem to take direction on set.

What now?

Is that a zombie?

Zombies are cool!

You killed the melodrama, Robbie!

I do that!

Well, I said to cut, why isn't he...

Oh, that's a legit zombie, dude. I don't skimp.

The zombie climbs the podium and bites the man eulogizing him mere seconds before. Robbie rushes up onto the platform where the podium is and crushes the zombie's head in between the palms of his hands. He then turns to the freshly bitten man.

Oooh. Sorry, bud. But, rules is rules of zombies...

Cyberjaw walks up, holding a .357 magnum revolver, and cocks it. He points it at the eulogist's head.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We cut back to Robbie's office. Ash is pacing, looking very flustered.

You are terrible at this drama thing.

No I'm not! I go out into the ring, set up shop in the squared circle, and put on matches for the ages out there. That's where the real drama is!

No, Robbie, you need to convey you can do real drama in your day to day life. You're hopelessly optimistic and past that a silly heart.

Hyep!

It's not going to cut it anymore, Robbie. You can't just act like an ass and then smacktalk people in promos anymore. You aren't getting the ratings you once were, you know. Just look at the promos leading up to Leap of Faith. Do you think anybody was having fun watching any of Centurion's promos, least of all Centurion? No. But he got the ratings! I don't remember anybody thinking Andrew Logan's promos were a good time, and he threw you out of the ring to win the battle royale!

To be fair, I was really focused on whether he was going to beat me in the head with a trophy. I had no idea he could even get an armbar locked in from the Robbiebomb position without me just driving his head, neck, and shoulders into the mat. Kudos to the kid.

The kid? He's like three years older than you.

Whatevs.

Robbie, I think it's high time that you did something you've been putting off for a while.

If you think I'm getting a neck tattoo now, you are dead wrong. Yes, a bunch of monkeys holding hands around my neck sounds awesome, but now's not the time to consider new body art.

No Robbie, I mean...

Oh, and the shooting star press idea is a no go, too. I could really mess that up and hurt myself.

Robbie!

Ash!

Robbie, you're going to therapy.

Robbie's face goes blank. The silence is deafening for a moment, until with a complete lack of bluster and joviality, Robbie speaks.

Therapy?

Yes.

Um, shit. Do you guys think I need therapy?

Robbie looks at Cyberjaw, Diamondback, and Guy Fieri. They all look back at Robbie, nodding vigorously.

Well fuck.

[Image: 18ytmde.png]
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