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X-treme Wrestling Federation »   » Archives » Leap of Faith (July 13th) PPV RP Archive
Operation: Kill the (Traitors to the) King (RP 3)
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#MemeQueen Luca Torchwick Offline
Waves don't die.



XWF FanBase:
Women and gay men

(physically attractive male on every level; can seduce you; that disarming smile; those bedroom eyes)


#1
07-09-2013, 08:20 PM

Act 5: On Judgement Day, We'll See Who's Actually Worth Saving

What does the scene open up to this time, I can already hear you ask. Well, the answer is simple. It opens up to nothing. Blackness. That's right, you idiots. You've been tricked, duped, and otherwise cheated by Luca Arzegotti. There is absolutely no promo here. Go away.

Okay fine, there is a promo here.

The scene opens up to, I say that a lot, don't I? How about I try something new? Ah yes, here we go...

Luca's standing in the view of the camera as it flickers to life. Leaning against a brick wall, his fingers drum against a line of dry cement. The rough corner of one of the bricks scrape against the bare flesh of his fingertips, although he doesn't honestly care. In his right palm, hidden from the view of the camera dead on, however noticeably poking out above his fingers is a white index card. Since when does Luca use index cards?

"Ahem."

Shut up, I'm trying to question you!

"Since I'm not going to speak ill of my opponent this Saturday, I have a lot of time to spend on everyone else who's on this roster. Now, I know what everyone's thinking, 'oh great, Luca's going to insult everyone again. He's so high and mighty, why doesn't he just leave?'

To answer your questions, because it's fun to hear everyone cry to me when I offend them. When JTC challenges me to a fight in the middle of some parking garage, when Brian Braxton threatens me with Sebastian FUCKING Duke as if he's a challenge to ANYONE at ALL. Both instances have actually happened to me, and both are equally laughable.

JTC's best bet would be me laughing at his inability to form a single coherent thought, giving him the time he needs to give me 'a ass kicking.' Newsflash, it's AN ass kicking. If you're going to threaten someone with it, you better know how to properly say it, because you sound like an even bigger idiot now that you've gone and royally flubbed it. The only way you and your wife will have a chance of winning your match is if Team Hurricane decides to not even come to the arena. Even then, I got my money on the match being declared no contest than you winning anything. At all. Ever. Deal with it, and move on to your next shtick, Mr. Phenomenal Freakazoid. I'm done with him now, I swear.

Braxton's a joke as it is, there's nothing I need to add.

Chris Legend of the lack of talent? I doubt he could even beat the weird pairing of LeBron James and the Dwightmare, let alone anyone who could offer an actual challenge. I mean, he couldn't beat CM Punk and Dean Moxley. There. If we're going by sheer wins and losses, he isn't on my level in the slightest. However, wins and losses are as important to me as whether or not the people the XWF signs speak English right, in the case of Ursula Oregano. What, too mean? If you're crying over that, just turn this thing off already."


He leans back against the wall, waiting for the crybabies to turn off the promo. He taps the bricks with his fist, laughing as they scrape his knuckles, smiling all the way. The smog in the air can be even smelled by the remaining viewers, he definitely was in downtown LA.

"Who else is there to make fun of? Honestly, is there anyone worth my time and insults in the slightest? No, not worth my time anyway. I guess that's all you can get when you deal with the unfathomly untalented, uninteresting, worthless batch of green as grass groupies known as the XWF undercard?

Oh yeah, there's always Hunter Payne! The guy who claimed to have no idea who I even was, even though I was main eventing shows he was lucky enough to be a part of. Newsflash, you ungrateful prick, if it wasn't for me, there wouldn't be a Madness to house your sorry ass! I've singlehandedly saved that show from being worse than the BI-WEEKLY/Whenever someone gets around to slapping together a card for it show Shove-it, just by setting one foot in the door! Oh yeah, but keep on playing dumb.

You aren't playing, are you? You're just actually that moronic, huh? Do I honestly care? Am I losing sleep at night wondering why Hunter Payne is such a blind bastard? Nah, he's going to lose to Unknown Soldier. Y'know, the guy I've beaten.

The guy John Madison beat at Gauntlet City.

Keep crying that Maddy hasn't accepted your challenge Soldier. He already beat you, just like I have. Deal with it.

Back to Payne. Actually, no. I got to get this disgusting taste out of my mouth. It tastes like bad Mexican food mixed with unoriginality. Maybe I could take that Joy chick for a moment and show her some actual joy, since you want to be me so badly, maybe I could get the only watchable part of your promos.

Calm down, I'm joking.

About wanting you girl, not about your promos sucking. They still do.

Honestly, does he think he's clever? Doing the SAME EXACT THING that every other no charisma rookies have done in the last month or two? Talking a big game and then disappointing majorly.

This is the next generation, folks.

Shoot me."


Luca walks out of view momentarily, returning with a bottle of, you guessed it, Jack Daniel's. Opening the bottle, he takes a swig and then lets out a high pitched whoop.

"Just remember, this is the guy who's in YOUR main event. This is the guy who WON the elimination chamber match. The heir apparent to the throne as it stood actually EARNED his victory in the chamber and got a chance to challenge the King.

And even if we have to fight, which despite what Heyman says probably still won't happen, we're not going to try to tear each other apart. Not like what Heyman wants, not like what Feder wants, not like what Duke needs to look good by comparison. Because we have a respect for each other.

Respect.

There's only a select group that deserve it in this company.

They got it from me.

Now, if you'll excuse me...

...I'm going to drink myself into a stupor.

Why?

Because even in that state, I could still beat most of you worthless fucks."


With that, he places the bottle to his lips and doesn't pull it away until every last drop is down his throat. Then...

...He drops to his knees, and then again flat on his face.

Act 6: Under the New Moon Once More

Whatever time it was he snapped back to reality the first time

Albany, New York

A Long, Long Time Ago

"Bye bye, Ms. American Pie."

The guitar pick in Luca's hand brushed against the strings of his acoustic guitar as he sang Don McLean's "American Pie." An awfully weird song to serenade someone with, but you've all gathered that Luca's wasn't (and still isn't) all there. Victoria's head was bobbing and she was singing along to the lyrics she knew, which weren't very many.

Suddenly, in the middle of a phrase nonetheless, Luca stopped. His hand froze, his mouth shut. Dropping the guitar down onto the blanket they were laying on, he began to laugh silently, and bringing his fingers to his eyes.

"Hey."

Victoria nudged him slightly, poking his shoulder with his one finger. No response from him, just the same laughing to himself.

"Hey!"

She tried again to get his attention. This time pushing her hand off his shoulder twice. The first time garnered the same response as the first attempt, the second?

It caused him to look up at her, his eyes glowing red.

"Oh my god!"

She jumped nearly out of her skin and well of the blanket upon that sight, which only caused Luca to laugh harder. As she slowly approached the blanket again, he went back to messing with his eyes. When he looked up once more, his eyes were back to normal. On his fingertips were two contacts, the iris color?

Red.

"You're an asshole, you know that, right?"

All Luca does is hang his head in mock shame. Of course he was an asshole, and she already knew that, too. In the display, he even managed to form up some fake tears.

"Gee, I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to scare you...

...That badly."


Right back to laughing.

Victoria had had enough of that. She stood up and started walking back to the house, when Luca's hand reached out and grabbed hers, spinning her around to see him on one knee. In his hand was a small box.

"Before you storm inside, can I ask you a question?"

"What?"

She didn't even bother to look down at his hands as he opened the box and held it up.

"Victoria Serapin, will you marry me?"

And with that, Luca jolted back into consciousness. He stands up, still right where he passed out at. Noticing that the camera was still on, he ran up to it and pressed the power button.

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