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Nio · **01-14-2013, 11:14 AM**

Oh, I’m sorry, am I being judged by Griff on how I give promos? Am I being criticized by a guy who hasn’t experienced half the shit I have? Are my promos being put down by a guy who couldn’t even both to put in an effort the first time around? So you were scared huh? Tough shit!

I’ve been put into situations where it’s life or death more times than is deserved, and I’ve always managed to come through with a promo. But that’s not good enough for you. You want perfection. You want a promo to come together in a nice little organized paragraph so it’s easier to detail what exactly someone says. Well I’m sorry Griff, but I don’t care want you want.

You wanna compare my speaking skills to my wrestling skills? Maybe if you didn’t spend your last promo being scared like some kind of pussy, you’d pay attention and notice the truth that I speak. I put together words like a modern day Langston Hughes mixed with an irreverent Eminem. You’re more of a…wanna-be Helen Keller mixed with Kanye West in a collaboration.

And hell, you act like my promo is the worst thing you’ve ever heard, but at least I take more time to talk and think about what I’m saying.

Look at you…you’re taking about my promo, focusing on the semantics waaay too much. So I fucked up a bit, way to spend your entire promo trying to correct me.

You know what, you’re right, Griff…since this is obviously too much of, what did you call it, “inconsistent babbling”, I’m gonna be perfectly frank with you.

I don’t care what you think about me, and I don’t care what you think about Neptune. Talk all your trash, police my promo like an English professor, and continue getting high off your ass, since that’s the only semi-productive thing you’ve cared to reveal to us. Congratulations, Griff, you’ve got jack to say that insults me.

I, on the other hand, have plenty.

You’re a pussy-whipped stoner with a brain filled with more sawdust than fucking Eeyore, which is fitting, since you’re both asses who manage to lose the one thing that should be most important to them.

For Eeyore it’s his tail.

For you Griff?

It’s any wrestling match you’ve been, and will be in.

I don’t care if I’m underestimating you at this point or not, because you’ve gone way too far past the point of failure for me to give an actual fuck about anything else you might have to say.

As for Neptune, I’m really getting tired of going through the same shit with you.

So I beat you once, that must mean I’m lucky.

So you’re the X-Treme Champion, that must make you better than me.

Behold the clichés I’m presented with.

I beat you once, because I’m better than you.

You’re the X-Treme Champion because you got lucky.

There is absolutely no defined reason why you’ve proven to me you’re the better wrestler.

Go look in the mirror, Neptune. What you will see, is a man who knows what he wants.

He wants a victory, he wants success, and he wants that “d.”

Well, I hate to be the guy who tells ya this, but you’re ugly ass just broke the mirror.

You’re not gonna get this victory, Neptune, because as I’ve proven before, I’m a better wrestler than you.

You’re not gonna get success, Neptune, because you’re somebody who backs out at the most inopportune time. You were primed and ready for the big time…but then you left. I really can’t blame you since the tail end of the Reboot era sucked, but the fact remains that you are the reason you lack true success.

And you’re not gonna get that “d”, because after your loss, you’re gonna be too busy whining about it being a triple threat, which makes it unfair, which means that I got lucky…something not a lot of people, guys or girls, find attractive.

So spout whatever nonsense you guys really want to, because we’ve all said it at least once.

Like this…

…I’m the best in the XWF today…if that reason alone isn’t why I’m gonna win this match…then here’s one…

…because when it comes fire, it doesn’t matter if you’ve got a candle, or a fucking blowtorch…all that matters in the end is who’s got the extinguisher, and guys…I’ve put out more flames in people than I can count on my fingers.

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November 12th, 2012

Good news and bad news.

The bad news is that I didn’t win the WGWF match.

The good news is that I scored 10 grand from the gig, which is more than enough to pay for gas money for at least six months.

Go declining gas prices!

“So…we’ve got 10 grand to spend. We need to know where we’re goin next, Nio,” Nathan says.

All of us have gathered in the middle of the RV on this lowly Tuesday afternoon. The idea is to discuss what exactly we’re doing moving forward. The answer is simple…

“Considering XWF and WGWF are the big two, they both pay-up pretty well. I’d say follow them around. According to one of those wrestling websites, they’ve both got a show in Las Vegas on the same day. I figure we go there and wait until that show, then pick one of the two to participate in,” I say.

It’s a long answer, but hopefully it’ll be satisfaction enough for them, and judging by their simultaneous nod, I’d say we’re in agreement.

“So it’s settled then…Las Vegas,” Gwen says.

And so we’re off.

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December 14, 2012

It’s not often I get to reference a Dreamworks film, let me tell you, but what makes it unique is that it’s an animated Dreamworks film, those are exceptionally rare.

“You know little voice in your head? The one that tells you to stop while you’re ahead?” I ask to, oh, no one in particular.

As we reside on the side of the road in beautiful and hot Paradise, Nevada, I am down to my fuck…much like we’re down to our last 500 bucks.

“You don’t have one!” I scream.

“Well it’s not my fault!” Nathan screams back.

I can’t help but slap my hand over my face. I walk over towards the RV, removing the hand from my face…and just slam my forehead into its side.

“Ow…” is my reaction.

“Who else’s fault would it be, Nathan?” Gwen asks with a high shriek.

“I don’t know, the hooker for dressing like Zone-tan, the slots for being amazing to look at…” Nathan says.

“Who’s Zone-tan…?” Gwen asks.

I hold my hand up to stop her.

“Ehnana, don’t ask, you don’t wanna know!”

So yeah, after we made it to Las Vegas just peachy, we still had over 9 grand to deal with. Instead of doing the smart thing and save it, Nathan decided to do the stupid thing and spent it on the slots and hookers that apparently looked like Zone-Sama’s avatar.

We really weren’t much better off in the wrestling department. We still had little under a month left until either XWF or WGWF made their presence known here, and now we only had a small percentage to survive on. A lot more than the hobo change we had before, but still, nothing compared to the Scrooge pool of gold we had only days ago.

I release a sigh from my lips and release my forehead from the dent I created in the side of the RV. I look into my jeans pocket and see if the 500 dollars are still there. The large amount of cash money I find proves positive to this inspection.

“Alright…new plan…Gwen, go talk to the WGWF guys, Nathan, go talk to the XWF guys, I’ll stay here and guard the RV, and the money,” I say.

“But what about transportation? How are we supposed to get around town?” Nathan asks.

“Gwen can go all anodite-y and get their faster and you can, I don’t know, walk,” I say.

The narrowing of his eyes proves this idea flawed, at least in the mind of my comrade.

“Consider it your punishment, now go,” I say.

This is gonna be a loooong month…

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December 28, 2012

…and a looooong month it was.

“So let me get this straight…you both have been in talks with WGWF and XWF officials, and you’ve both managed to approve my appearances at both shows….on the same day…in the same city…do you see anything wrong with this?” I ask.

I only gaze at my two comrades. Nathan is looking up and whistling with his hands behind his back while Gwen is leaning against a light post, looking at her recently painted nails. Neither of these reactions does well to ease my rising temper.

“I swear to the unknown, if you weren’t useful, I would take this RV and leave…” I say.

“Hey, you left this in the hands of us. Maybe if you spent less time obsessing over this ‘Diego’ guy and more time worrying about our finances, we might actually get somewhere of worth,” Gwen says.

As much as I hate to admit, she’s right. I don’t admit it out loud, of course, but it doesn’t change the fact that she is correct in this assumption.

The dreams haven’t stopped in the slightest. They’ve only plagued me as each day goes by. My sleep has gotten a little bit better, but only because I’ve gotten used to the off and on pattern that’s become my nights. And it’s not that I don’t care about the finances, it’s just that everything on Earth has always been second to my own problems. Having two people who are willing to help me despite the risks involved is hard to get used to.

“Besides, you’re not the only one with issues. I’m still trying to get back to my dimension, and Nathan’s dealing with…Nathan, what are you dealing with?” Gwen asks, glancing over towards the man in question.

“Beside the unending guilt of fucking this all up? I’ve got some serious trust issues with you Nio. You left me alone for a year, half of which I spent as a hostage to this ‘Diego’ guy. You’ve gotta do a lot to earn my trust back. You’re lucky I’ve even financed the money right. Without that first chunk of cash you would’ve been stuck in the hospital still with jack to off of.”

I release another sigh from my lips, sending a hand careening through my hair.

“You’re right…you’re both right…I’m sorry…I’ve been dealing with this shit alone for over a year now. It’s hard to adjust to not only getting back to reality, but also having people there to help me. Thank you guys…thank you both, for sticking by me despite everything. It really means a lot,” I say.

I would be crying if I was any sort of emotional man. Which I’m not. At all.

“So…that still leaves us with a conundrum…” Nathan says.

Yes, thank you Nathan for bringing us back to reality…you bastard…

“Luckily we’ve got a full tank of gas. With that, and the 500, that should be enough to get us to someplace, anywhere, to solve the problem, and the back. Hopefully…” I say.

“Too many problems…” Nathan says.

“I agre—” Gwen starts to say before I interrupt her.

“Nathan, say that again,” I say, pointing at him.

“Too many problems?” Nathan asks, slowly, his confusion clear to everyone around.

“Too many problems…too many problems…” I say.

That’s it! I snap in front of my chest, ready to reveal my ingenious plan.

“Too many Pinkie Pies!” I call.

Nathan slaps his hand on his forehead.

“Duh! That aired only a month ago, come on Nathan!” he says.

“Um…what?” Gwen asks.

“Hop on, I’ll explain later,” I say while opening the RV door.

This is it. The perfect plan. All we need is just one last guy. If he pulls through for us, then everything will fall right into place.

Hopefully.

Like it did in the episode!

Kind of…

But this’ll totally work!

It better…

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January 4, 2013

“So, remind us again why exactly we’re in Tampa at the home of some guy I’ve never heard of?” Gwen asks.

“Because reasons, so shush,” I say while knocking on the door of the house in question.

Come on, come on, be home, dammit!

I just keep on knocking, not stopping until I get the guy I want.

It’s been a minute, and he hasn’t answered.

“Maybe he’s not home…?” Nathan asks.

“He has to be,” I say.

I hope that the worry in my voice didn’t break through.

Finally, the consistent knocking pays off. The screen door inside opens to reveal the man in question.

“Aw shit…” he says.

The wooden door that leads to the man’s domain opens to reveal…Hawaiian Hardhead, standing there in a bath robe. His long locks are dark and slick. Clearly he just came out of the shower.

That is in image that will haunt me until the day I die.

And as the minutes go on, I wish that day would come sooner and sooner.

“What do ya want, Nio?” Hardhead asks.

“Well, Jack—” I hold my fist in front of my mouth to hide the gag before continuing. “Jack…I need the laser.”

All Hardhead does is stare at me. Clearly, he is not impressed.

That or he’s contemplating.

Hopefully it’s the latter. Hardhead releases a sigh before revealing his answer.

“Alright, alright…,” he says.

I hide the planned reaction of a fist pump, and opt instead for a smile to crack on my face.

“I’ll go tell Lydia I’m headin out, and get dressed, obviously. We takin your…RV? When did you get an RV?” Hardhead asks.

“Not long ago. Look, can we hurry this up? We’re kind of a tight schedule,” I say.

“But we’ve got a week—” Nathan’s words are quickly interrupted by a sound of discontent. I can only guess this is due to an elbow in his ribs.

“Yeah, sure, whatever. I’ll be right there,” Hardhead says.

“Oh, and Jack?”

The man in question glances back over his shoulder.

“Thanks…” I say.

A small smirk graces the man’s lips. He does a simple head nod before going back inside.

So this is it…finally…after this one last stop, it’s back to Las Vegas, where, in one night I wrestle for two organizations on the same night in the same city in two different arenas…

The more I talk about it the more I can sense its flaws.

This…this can only end poorly…

…that seems to be a recurring thing for me.

Click Here for the Exciting Conclusion (that was already posted somewhere else so not part of the actual RP)

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