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X-treme Wrestling Federation »   » Archives » "Savage Saturday Night" RP Board
Don't Say I Never Do Anything Nice
Author Message
Centurion Offline
Active in XWF



XWF FanBase:
Traditionalists

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


#1
10-14-2021, 05:37 AM



(*BANG! BANG! BANG!*

The sound of a fist pounding on a large metal door echoes throughout the immediate area. Standing in front of a metal garage door are Centurion and Nellie.

Where they are is a familiar sight to so many in the United States - an old, Rust Belt city that is well past its prime, and a city block, that once teemed with life during the boom of the industrial age, now nearly empty, filled instead with brick warehouses, covered in graffiti, many with boarded up windows, and cracked streets that have not seen fresh pavement in decades. Nellie glances over at Centurion and notices a cut behind his ear. She reaches up and rubs it.)

Nellie: Is this from your match, or is this from Page's assault in New York?

Centurion: At this point, who the hell knows?

(Nellie examines the area around the cut for a second before lowering her hand. She looks around old industrial area and smells the air.)

Nellie: This place looks like tetanus.

Centurion: That's that Johnstown charm. If you take a deep breath, you'll smell the meth labs that are behind the Sheetz gas station.

Nellie: Yes, charming, but we could be doing something else right now. You know, like training, or media, or….being literally anywhere else in the world.

Centurion: This is where I was told to go, so this is where we went. We won't be long - I just need to pick up my gift and we'll be on our way.

(Before Nellie is able to respond, the metal garage door opens up. On the other side is a tall, bald, muscular man wearing a wife beater and black jeans. He easily towers over Centurion and Nellie, and he glances down at them as he speaks in a very thick, Russian accent.)

Man: No trespassing.

Centurion: Are you Sergey?

(The man, now identified as Sergey, glances behind him, before looking back at the two in front of him with eyes that show his distrust.)

Sergey: Are you cop?

Centurion: No, I'm here to pick up an order. I was referred to you by my friend Boris…

Sergey: COUSIN BORIS!!

(Sergey immediately wraps Centurion in his arms and lifts him with a huge bear hug. A very confused looking Centurion glances over at Nellie with wide eyes, and she just turns her head away from the situation.)

Centurion: Hugging? Why is there hugging?

Sergey: I have not seen Cousin Boris for many year! He tell me he become big American superstar, but he have no time to see Cousin Sergey. How is Cousin Boris? Is he big champion like he say?

Centurion: I'll tell you all about it if you...put me down.

(Centurion's breathing gets a bit more strained as the grip tightens around him. Sergey drops Centurion, who lets out a loud gasp as Sergey steps inside the building.)

Sergey: Come! Follow me! Sergey show you his goods!

(Nellie laughs and pats Centurion on the back before walking into the building, and Centurion follows soon behind her.

The building, like those around it, is an old brick building once used as some sort of factory. While the machines that were here are long gone, many of the old pipes and smaller equipment remain, though now rusted out over years of inactivity. A layer of dust sits on the concrete floor that is likely decades old. Only half the fluorescent lights are still working, leading to the building to be rather dim.

However, the building is also filled with several new items, boxes, and goods scattered throughout. Another Russian man is seen driving a forklift, while a third is opening up some cases and placing what appears to be used and second hand items onto a table. Sergey walks past these men, with Nellie and Centurion in tow.)

Sergey: So, tell Sergey, what is it you buy? Why did Cousin Boris send you to me?

Centurion: I'm here to buy a gift for a friend of mine. Names Thebe. The two of us kind of got off on the wrong foot, and I wanted to get him something that would help make amends, you know?

Sergey: Ah yes, this is sad thing when friends fight.

Centurion: Yeah. In my defense, I still don't think I did anything wrong. I felt like my friend was biting off a bit more than he could chew, and I gave him some advice that I felt would help him. Instead, he snapped at me, and wanted to fight me.

Sergey: People these days, they are ungrateful. Just other day, I told friend "Igor, you can jump across river, is too wide", but Igor, he call me verod and jump anyway. I will miss him. Anyway, Sergey has perfect thing for friend!

(Sergey stops at a bunch of wooden crates and picks up a rather long one. He sets it on a metal table before grabbing a crowbar and begins prying it open.)

Centurion: I was only planning on getting the product that I ordered. I wasn't really looking at buying a bunch of stuff.

Sergey: Nonsense, Sergey know what you need. If friend is mad and you want to make happy again, you need to give friend a brand new flamethrower!

(As advertised, Sergey takes the top of the crate off and pulls up a large military grade flamethrower. Centurion and Nellie immediately duck, but Sergey looks fascinated at what he is holding.)

Sergey: Is beautiful! You can see face of God in flame!

Centurion: Where the fuck did you get a flamethrower?

Sergey: Ah…

(Sergey taps the end of the flamethrower against the metal table.)

Sergey: First rule - we do not ask Sergey where he get his goods. Now, Sergey could get $4,000 for this, but since I like you and you buy for friend, I only sell for...a thousand. Is good deal!

(Centurion and Nellie slowly stand upright as Sergey flashes a smile towards the two potential buyers.)

Centurion: I'm sure it's a wonderful deal, but I really just want what I came here for, if you wouldn't mind.

(Sergey frowns as he puts the flamethrower back in the box.)

Sergey: Americans are no fun. Fine, you go to back lot. Sergey meet you there with your item.

(Sergey goes back to packing up the flamethrower as Centurion and Nellie walk past him and towards a back door. They open it up and step outside into the back lot.

The back parking lot is just as grim as the scene in the front of the building. The lot is empty and filled with cracks that now have grass and weeds growing through them. There is one back garage door used as a loading dock, but what was once fresh cement long ago is now cracked and discolored. Centurion looks up into the sky and shakes his head as he reflects on the interaction he just had.)

Centurion: Sometimes I miss the Soviet Union.

Nellie: You dragged me all the way to this place to buy something from a Russian mobster for your opponent this week? Are you out of your mind?

Centurion: In my defense, I didn't know he was a mobster! I happened to mention to Boris that I wanted to buy something nice for Thebe as an apology gift, and he told me about his cousin in Johnstown that deals in aquisitions. It's Boris! I figured this would be some goofy dude who owned a grocery store or something.

Nellie: And you didn't bother to do any research on the guy?

Centurion: What was I supposed to type? "Boris' cousin Sergey"? You know how little that narrows things down? Every man named Boris has a cousin named Sergey! That's like...a law or some shit. Let's get this thing rolling while we wait for him to come.

(Nellie nods as she reaches into her pocket and pulls out a GoPro camera. She fiddles around with some settings for a little bit before pressing "record" and facing the camera towards Centurion.)

Nellie: Alright, whenever you're ready.

(Centurion clears his throat and paces around for a second before turning back into the camera with a smile.)

Centurion: Yo, XWF fans…

Nellie: Stop!

(Centurion's smile immediately fades as he looks confused at Nellie.)

Centurion: What's wrong?

Nellie: "Yo"? That's really how you're going to start your promo? By saying "yo"?

Centurion: You're the one who told me I needed to get cooler!

Nellie: Yeah, and a middle aged white dude saying "yo" is as far from cool as you can possibly get. Just be yourself, only...a little looser version of yourself, if you know what I mean. Try it again.

(Centurion takes a deep breath and closes his eyes before opening them back up and turning back towards the camera.)

Centurion: Greetings, folks. Welcome to beautiful...ish Johnstown Pennsylvania. I'm here for one very important reason, and that is to make amends with my opponent for this week's Saturday Night Savage, Thebe Nwadike.

See, I think we got off on the wrong foot. Some of the things I said last week may have been interpreted in various ways, ways that I had not intended, and I feel as if I should not only clarify the things I've said, but give Thebe a bit of a peace offering as we head into our match together.

Thebe seemed to think that my words against him last week were an indictment on his work ethic. That is not the case. I'm sure he was the hardest working employee in Angelo's or wherever the fuck he was working. There isn't any SHAME in working in the service industry - do what you have to do. I sure as hell wouldn't want to do it. People suck, so the idea of having to listen to a bunch of entitled assholes everyday and do so with a smile on my face nauseates me. It's why I got out of politics, and it's why professional wrestling is so great. You can always tell someone to go fuck themselves, and you're hardly ever punished for it. Sure, people may boo you, and one show booker in Memphis might think you're too "toxic" to put on the card, but other than that, you're golden. So if that's your grind, then grind away. Make your money. I'm not saying Thebe is lazy...

I'm saying Thebe is a dumbass. What Thebe is doing is similar to what it would be like if I walked into a hospital and demanded I become the chief of surgery. Thebe isn't an idiot because of what he is, but rather what he isn't - specifically, he isn't a WRESTLER. Sure, he has the wrestling boots and collects a wrestlers paycheck, but one match against a dud that nobody watched doesn't make you a wrestler.

A smart, normal human being who wants to make it in this industry usually gets a couple matches under their belt, impress some folks, earn a title shot, THEN shoot their mouth off when they have a quiet but impressive resume behind them. They don't start talking shit the very moment they decide they want to play wrestler for the weekend. That's the easiest way to ensure they're not around in two months.

But, I'm sure Thebe honestly doesn't give a shit, because long term planning was never his speciality. He's not here for a long time, he's just here for a good time. Take a couple of paychecks, call anyone who talks trash on him a racist, get beaten down a few times, then ride off into the sunset toward whatever new hustle he can break into. Maybe he'll become a pool shark. Perhaps he'll become a street busker. Or, if things get real desperate, he'll join the IWF. Either way, he's going to hit the road, which is why I'm here.

(The sound of the loading dock door opening is heard in the background, as Centurion takes a quick glance over in that direction before turning back to the camera.)

Centurion: See, in this match, there is a stipulation attached to it. If I lose, I have to make a public apology to the guy, which is ironic considering he's the one getting something out of this experience, and he should be thanking me just for breathing the same air as me, but that's fine. That's the stipulation attached to the match. Still, we all know that's not going to happen. Not a single person on the face of the planet thinks Thebe can actually win this match. Normally, in a stipulation match, the loser has to give the winner something, but hey, I'm a nice guy. I don't need anything for teaching the young kid a lesson. In fact, I want to give him something when I win. Sort of a, "congratulations on your ass kicking" present."

(Centurion steps aside as Sergey walks toward the camera, pushing a moped. The moped is in pretty rough shape - it's currently pink, but that's because it was once red and the color faded. The seat is cut up, and the handlebars are worn. Over one of the handlebars is a bike helmet. Centurion walks up to the moped and pats the seat, and as he does, a cloud of dust flies into the air.)

Centurion: Thebe, this is the best weekend of your life, because not only do you get the opportunity to watch an XWF Legend beat the snot out of a youngster who out jumped his skis, but you also get to walk away with this bad boy. This is a 1985 Suzuki FA50. Look at all this class! Check out the chrome wheels…

(Centurion points down to the wheels which are, of course, not chrome, but rather rusted and faded.)

Centurion: ...I mean, it was chrome at one point. The color's a little faded, but that just makes it more customizable! It's great on gas, and it only stalls out about 30% of the time, which are great odds. And look…

(Centurion grabs the bike helmet off the handlebars.)

Centurion: Even comes with a helmet.

(Centurion shows off said helmet, which is nothing more than an old kids helmet. Half faded SpongeBob stickers are dotted throughout, and the material appears to be nothing more than plastic over some styrofoam.)

Centurion: ...you may need to adjust the straps a little bit.

Look, I accept that I might be a bit "out of touch". It has been a while since I've truly had to grind in order to make ends meet. I haven't been a rookie in this business in 20 years. There are a lot of times when I might talk out of my ass, and I accept that as reality.

What I will not accept is blatant disrespect. You don't think the XWF wanted me to take this match, Thebe? You're damn right they didn't. They get nothing out of it, but this has nothing to do with the XWF or the OCW or anyone else. Hell, this isn't even really about you - you just happen to make for a nice example.

This is about all those little fuckers online that think they can hand wave me by saying "lol Cent's old" without acknowledging who the fuck I really am. All of your peers who talk a lot of shit when they sit behind a keyboard, but the moment they see me in a locker room they stand up straight, stick their hand out, and say "pleasure to meet you, Mr. Cortinovis." All those wrestlers who care more about the likes than the wins. THAT'S what I'm fighting against. And you? You're the absolute epitome of that.

So go ahead and call me whatever you want. Call me racist. Call me old. Call me lame. Call me everything you have in that tiny thesaurus you call a brain, because in the end, you're going to have to step into the ring with me anyway, and at that point, there's only one thing I have to call you.

Fucked.

So enjoy your bike, Thebe. And enjoy your next career, wherever it may take you. Because this brief ride you're on now comes to an end Saturday, when you meet your…

FINAL F…

Nellie: Wait.

(Centurion stops before he's able to finish his catch phrase as Nellie cuts him off.)

Centurion: What?

Nellie: How are we supposed to get this pile of rust to Columbus?

Centurion: Ah, yes…

(Centurion reaches out and pats Nellie on the shoulder.)

Centurion: Welcome to the world of being a wrestling manager. That's now your job.

(Centurion smiles as he casually walks away, leaving Nellie to pan the camera down at the old moped.)

Nellie: ...God dammit.

[Image: UdLSPlv.png]
XWF Record - 211-95-9
XWF All Time Wins Record Holder
Official XWF Legend
3x XWF Anarchy Champion
3x XWF World Champion
8x XWF Canadian Champion (Record for most Canadian Title reigns)
1x XWF Hart Champion
6x XWF X-Treme Champion
5x XWF Tag Team Champion
2x XWF United States Champion
Inaugural XWF IDL Champion 
1x XWF King of Anarchy
1x XWF King of Massacre
1x XWF Stable Champion
XWF Star Of The Month - May 2007
XWF Star Of The Month - July 2009
XWF Star Of The Month - December 2019
XWF Star Of The Month - December 2021
XWF Holiday Battle Royal Winner - 2007

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[-] The following 3 users Like Centurion's post:
Thebe Nwadike (10-14-2021), Theo Pryce (10-16-2021), Vita Frickin Valenteen (10-14-2021)
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Chris Page (10-15-2021), Oliver Main (10-15-2021), Thunder Knuckles™ (10-14-2021)




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