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X-treme Wrestling Federation » Warfare Boards » Warfare RP Board
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Steven Cooper Offline
Registered but either hasn't added self to a roster yet or doesn't RP



XWF FanBase:
Traditionalists

(has an old school wrestling mentality; no nonsense; less appealing to some younger fans)


#1
04-20-2021, 10:58 PM

OOC: Formatting later tonight.

Here are we.
One magical moment.



October 1st, 2019
Brookridge Wrestling Academy
Brookridge, TN


There was a silence that filled the routine days at BWA. A general malaise that set in on Cooper. He was constantly asked to hold some medicine ball or lug around a bucket of spit for the next talented, dreamless nobody. He couldn't quite put into words how disheartening it was to see all of that talent wasted on these uncharismatic, work-oriented students. None of them got that light in their eyes about wrestling or the act of wowing a crowd or lighting a passion in someone's heart. They wrestled as clinicly as they had been trained. So, as the air began to stagnate in the Academy, the familiar sounds of striking against punching bags filling the building, the door's chime rang and in walked a strange young man.

Steven looked up, recognizing the face almost instantly. It was the owner of that wierd hobbyist store that they rescheduled last minute to. The kid was by all means a bit of a dork, but he must've seen something he liked if we going to travel all the way out here. Tim Fox, the Academy's owner, happened to be managing the front desk at the time. His prize student had refused to show after the second match with Cooper, which was fine by the vet. His trainers had given him a lot more hell than a busted lip, so the kid could easily go find some office job. Still, as Steve carried the spit buckets around, remaining conscious about the possible splashes, he couldn't help but find himself interested in the young man's presence. There was something different about him. Something had shifted. Walking to Fox, the kid's words were brief, but determined.

"I'd like to look into becoming a student."

Tim dropped his newspaper down, having had his nose buried in it seconds earlier. He scanned his eyes over the kid, his classic determination for all entrants. After a few seconds, he responded, bringing the newspaper back up to his eyeline and turning the page.

"Nope."

The young man was in shock for a moment, repeating the response.

"Nope? Why not?"

"Sorry, kiddo, but I've got an eye for who'll make it and who won't. You won't."

An uneasy feeling filled Cooper's gut. He'd seen the boss tell plenty of folks no before, but this was different. All of them were garden variety wannabes who'd just end up hurting themselves. This kid wasn't that. Hell, he was still looking pretty in shape. A voice rang out from across the floor, one of the other staff members, Domingo.

"Hey, you're Eobard Stone, aren't you?"

The kid nodded, seeming uneasy about being recognized. Fox bursted with a short spurt of laughter.

"Oh, man. Yeah, sorry kid. We definitely don't tolerate quitters around here."

The young man looked down and whispered a few words.

"I have my reasons."

"Yeah? Well, we have ours. Beat it."

"Now, wait a damn minute."

Steve walked up to the front desk, moving the bucket just in time for someone to wind up spitting on the floor. He looked Eobard over, that aura just not disipating like he suspected it might. Besides, even if the kid wasn't worth the hassle, he wasn't about to hear these hypocrites go over the merits of quitting.

"You can't push this kid out over some bullshit like quitting!"

Tim looked at Steven oddly, wondering why he chose to challenge his authority now. Sure, Steve wasn't shy about doing it fairly often in other cases, but this was downright bizarre.

"I'm the owner, Steve. I can reject someone for anything, including quitting."

"Like you've never quit before, Fox!"

"Name one time!"

"2004. Tag match. You and me versus the Bringers of War."

"I dislocated my arm, Steve!"

"And I was on a broken leg! What's it to ya?"

Fox grumbled a bit, clearly not too happy about losing the upperhand in a conversation to Steve fucking Cooper. Before he could add anything, Cooper spoke up again.

"Besides, he did us a solid and hosted our last show. Way I see it, we owe him a solid."

"Alright, then. You train him, Steve."

"Me? You know I'm dogshit at that, Tim."

"I thought you wanted to give the boy a chance, Coop? Too hard for you?"

Cooper fumed a bit, leaning over to look Fox in the eyes. Still, he couldn't argue with the man's point. With a sigh, he swallowed a scream and spit out one word.

"Fine."

Standing up, Steven motioned to the kid, waving him over to one of the rings they had towards the back.

"You're with me, kid. Let's get you started on a few strikes."



Despite his early hopes for the kid talent wise, they'd been at the striking exercise for the past half hour with very little progress. The passion was definitely there, so Steve wasn't braindead, but he had a lot to learn. It didn't help that he could hardly understand what the kid was talking about half the damn time. Fortitiude? Stats? He just wanted the kid to throw a good elbow strike.

"You gotta follow through for the love of Christ!"

"I'm TRYING, but you keep changing instructions and giving me the "Hey! Listen!" treatment! I've barely thrown even two strikes!"

"Well, yeah, cus you're doing em' all wrong!"

Eobard readjusted his form, but it was still so sloppy. Maybe it was easier for Cooper to grasp, but all of this felt so ridiculous. When Steve was doing these exercises as a young lad, it all just came to him naturally, but this Stone kid was a work in progress and a half. Cooper raised his voice again.

"No, not like that!"

"Well, what do you WANT me to do?"

"I want you to hit me, god damn it!"

Stone obliged, driving his elbow into Cooper's face. Afterwards, he seemed a little shocked, unsure if he had just blew his chances at staying at the Academy. Cooper brought his hand to his lip and touched it lightly, seeing the blood on his fingertips. And at the sight, he began to laugh. He hadn't seen something- someone like that since... well, himself.

"Y'know, kid, I think I'm beginning to tolerate you."

"...Was it a good hit?"

Cooper hesitated, thinking over his answer a bit.

"Yeah, I guess it was."

Once there were mountains on mountains
And once there were sun birds to soar with




Expert XWF correspondent Steve Sayors stands in front of a big banner filled with company logos and variations as he was last seen with The Trooper. He still seems somewhat confused by why this was Cooper's request. However, before he can even introduce himself, he is startled by the booming voice of Steven Cooper!

"SAYORS!"

"Gah!" Sayors jumps, holding his chest as little as Cooper grabs his shoulder, "What is the meaning of all this shouting, Cooper! Are you trying to give me a heart attack!"

"Absolutely not! Us Steves gotta stick together! Besides, I like sharing my promo time with a proper backstage vet such as yourself! Plus, you're fun to watch when you're angry or scared, little man."

"Well, I'll tell you one th-"

"'Scuse me, but do you have a cold or somethin' Sayors? You sound different."

"I don't think so... why do you ask?"

"It's nothin', go on with your anti-EXP nonsense."

"It's not anti-EXP, it's just the simple facts here! These teams have all shown you they mean business and that they'll take down you and your friends handedly!"

"Have they, Steve? Have they really? All I've heard is a bunch of dodging us because they're a little too afraid to step on our toes. I mean, who really said much about Stone and Cooper? Marforoni? Hell, the only thing he criticized us for is for helping our leader get his property back! Marfbag's just jealous that Avalanche doesn't waste its time beating up the same for people and ac tually goes after titles! And say what you will about Ned, but last time I checked, he didn't have to phone a friend to beat a champion like Marfin the Martian did. Buddy, I'd say your click is old news, but you're not really making the front pages. Hell, you're not making the back ones either and if you did, you'd spend eight months beating up whoever wrote the damn article. Lyquil on the other hand is a rising star in the world of out of work porn actresses. I've met some women's wrestlers in my day and Crycana couldn't stand with the lot of them, but that's probably partially because Marf is planted so firmly on her shoulders that she's not standing anytime soon. She's a Manson family member by way of Hot Topic. Brittney Spears in fetish clothing wasting away the talent she does have to yap on indefinitely on just getting a permanent overcast on her career from every other member of the XWF."

"Surely, someone else tried to adress you two in definitive fashion! There's no way they would allow you two scoundrals a fighting chance!"

"Oh, Sayors, how wrong you are. That said, we're not really dealing with the epitome of intelligence in this match. Take a look at Rust Licking Expert and Charbroiled Nipples. RL is out there giving a bad name to all us southern boys. He's like a cat following a shiny red dot that Avalanche swings around and while this pussy's seein' red, he still looks like Einstein compared to his dog-brained partner. Ol' Nipples is like the Pavlovian Man, he hears one word with three syllables and drool just starts seeping out! In just a few short weeks, he's convinced himself of all sorts of nonsense about Page, confused a 500 pound man for God knows who else, and can't even get his fucking identity straight! It's a miracle they trained him how to drool! So, not only are we not concerned with the two king idiots here, but we're highly convinced that the sounds coming out of their mouths only coincidentally sound like English!"

"I can't believe the disrespect you show this federation and its stars! Shame on you-"

Steve begins to remember who he's talking to, the anger beginning to snuff out completely with intimidation.

"Uh-uh... shame on... ahem... you."

"Shame on me?"

Steve shyly nods.

"I mean, we should be saying shame on a lotta people other than me and Stone. Hell, I don't know if I even need to mention the rest of the circus coming out there tonight? Is anyone really expecting a THUGS blowout? The only thing the THUGS are blowing out is their dad's speaker! Hell, maybe the music they're listenin' to will sound a bit better when it's harder to hear, I dunno! The Reintegrater are gonna have to do exactly that after society shuns them for hair that even I think is outdated! Cream-a-daintyass is gonna shit the bed so hard they''ll be digging turds out of their foundation! Call me an old guy, but if I'm ever using a walker to get around backstage, you just put me out to pasture like Stone and myself are about to do to these two fossils that were ancient history even when I was young! Even if we were facing a mountain of men, the snow's always on top of the mountain. And as Stone tells me: when you're dealing with EXP, you're dealing the next level!"

"You know what that means?"


"Can't say I do, Mr. Cooper."

"Well neither do I! The point is this: no amount of handwaving will make us disappear. No amount of ten cent champions will ever stack up to EXP. We're aren't a noise over the loudspeakers or last ride taking place in a hearse. We'll never be rockstars or thugs and we don't need to be. We're fuckin' wrestlers, Sayors, and we're goddamn good at it and you're about to see just how good at this business we are! Ned laid it all out there for ya'! You wanted to overlook us before Avalanche and now you wanna do it here. Unfortunately for you, we write the rules now. We make the front pages and we make Pages wait in line for their main events! We've got a single commandment structure here: You're Avalanche or you're nothin'. And on Wednesday night, EXP is about to throw a whole lot of nothin' in the trash. See ya around Sayors!"

Cooper walks off, flexing for the camera as he does.

"Seriously, though, why is he dressed in his gear for an interview?"
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