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+--- Thread: Time Of The Season (/showthread.php?tid=47021)
Time Of The Season - Centurion - 10-23-2023
We open up in total darkness, with the sound of crickets and running water emanating in the background. The darkness is broken by a lighter being flipped open and lit. The flame of the lighter rises up to the lips of the holder, which lights the end of a cigarette. The lighter closes shut, and the figure steps closer to the camera. Finally, the figure steps out from the darkness and into the light, revealing a very familiar figure.
“Did you miss me?”
Centurion lets out a slight laugh as he steps down from his back deck and walks further away from his Pocono home, being lit by the path lights as he walks.
“That sound you hear was the collective sigh of every member of BoB that ever walked through the doors of the XWF.” Centurion says in a smug tone. “It’s also the sighs of all of their fans who consider me to be more boring than dirt and assumed they would never have to see me in the ring ever again. Sorry, folks, but I’m afraid you’re going to have to put the champagne back on ice.”
Centurion stops walking as he reaches the end of his walkway and stands on the bank of the creek that flows through his property. He takes a hit of his cigarette and smiles as he releases the smoke.
“I’m not going to stand here and make up some elabroate, heroic story about why I’ve been away.” Centurion says in a matter-of-fact tone. “I wasn’t injured. I wasn’t ‘finding myself’. I wasn’t stranded in some mythic forest, battling frost trolls and looking for treasure. Nope...I was just taking time off.
I bought this property, and I wanted the opportunity to sit around and do nothing. Watch the leaves change colors and shit. For anyone else, that could be a massive mistake. A blunder that your career may never recover from. But when you’ve been in this business for 22 years, you can just decide not to show up for work for a while, and you know there will be a spot available for you decide to come back. That is...
...unless they find some cheap imitation of you to prop up in the middle of the ring.”
Centurion smirks as he twirls his cigarette in between his fingers before taking another hit.
“I could write a book about the issues I have with the current product the XWF is putting out these days – from Thunder Knuckles being the top champion in the company to that one-handed prehistoric freak carrying the title belt Ruby spent so long propping up, but the absolute WORST offense is turning on the television and seeing a drunk, old dude who used to be rich, trying to maintain his lifestyle while battling it out in the ring with people half his age.
I wonder where that asshole came up with that idea.”
Centurion shakes his head as he takes another hit of his cigarette. He looks up into the night sky and exhales before turning to face the camera.
“They say imitation is the most sincere form of flattery. Well, not when the imitation is that fucking terrible. Not when the imitation is a man named “Dick” that has absolutely no idea what he’s doing and makes a mockery out of the business.
Of course, I know what Dick is going to say. “I’m not copying you! I’m my own man! I’m older than you! WOO!” Yeah, whatever. Like I’m supposed to believe you chose THIS place on your own to be a bumbling fool without having any ulterior motive. No, not only is this accidental, but you’re very clearly a plant.”
Centurion huffs as he takes one last drag of his cigarette. He walks away from the creek and back towards the deck of his home as he exhales the smoke. He presses a button on a post leading up to the deck, turning all the outside lights on and illuminating the entire back area of Centurion’s home. He raises his foot and uses the bottom of his shoe to put out his cigarette before walking up the steps and placing the butt into an ashtray on the porch. He turns back around to face the camera before continuing.
“That isn’t to say I think you’re faking being a washed-out alcoholic. Oh no, that is incredibly genuine. I believe every piece of your backstory. What I don’t believe is that you just sort of “wound up” here.”
Centurion points towards the camera, becoming more animated and angrier as he speaks.
“I don’t know who is in charge of this ticky-tack operation around here anymore, but it is plainly clear to me that they are doing all they can to BURY the brand Ruby and I spent so long building into a reputable place. And much like the current product is nothing more than a parody of the original Anarchy, Dick Drizzle is nothing more than a parody of me. Someone saw this bumbling fool and thought “hey, he’s a hell of a lot cheaper than Centurion is. Let’s bring in this old man to show him we don’t NEED him here! We have our own old man now!” That’s fine, have your laughs, but anyone who has been watching professional wrestling for more than a minute knows that the act that’s brought in to imitate a legend is never nearly as good as the original, and eventually, whoever decided that was a creative idea ends up getting tossed on their ass and laughed at by the entire industry.
Though, I doubt being laughed at is your concern, Dick. No, you’re just here for the money and the good times. Well, enjoy the money. You’ll get plenty of it. But you certainly won’t be having any good times once you meet your...
FINAL FANTASY!!!