From Ruby’s Go-Pro…

Ruby: “Hellooooooooooo, my flippies! Welcome back to another episode of ‘Ruby talks in front of a camera’. It won’t win any Emmy’s, but it’s good enough for midweek work.”

The image takes a while to focus and settle once the camera is popped down. As the silhouette slowly sharpens, we see our Tiny Canadian, her hair bound in a ponytail as loose as her hoodie and slacks. Clearly she’s not playing into the epidemic of like-digging, scantily clad females who care more about posting sexy pictures that delivering actual content. She’s sat in a long chair, her feet kicked up and one hand clasped around a beer bottle.

Ruby: “Grab a pint, sit those cutiebooties down, and remember to drink responsibly! Don’t disrespect their craftsmanship by letting it end up at the bottom of a toilet bowl. I know, I know, that’s the place a lot of my XWF colleagues get their inspiration from when it’s time to put up a promotional video, and some even have revolved their entire careers around the stuff. But we all know how seriously those people get taken, and it’s usually not a good look. Did I say usually? I meant ‘never’. But don’t worry, I’m not here to lower myself to toilet humor. I already know I overdid it last week with the penis ‘jokes’, even if that wasn’t really a laughing matter. But we’ll get to that in a minute! Now prepare for an extremely inspirational piece of ‘cutting up monologue sections’.”

Ruby sips from the bottle.

Ruby: “Ahh! Where was I? Oh, yeah! Lethal Lottery, right, guys? How about that! Look at Gilly carrying his weight and then some. Usually he just carries his p… no, no, I talked enough about that thing quite already. I wouldn’t want people who repeat the same word over and over again in an effort to be entertaining to accuse me of being one-dimensional. But back to Gilly! He really pulled through. And… sheesh, everything just sounds wrong.”

Ruby sighs and rolls her eyes.

Ruby: “Let’s just say that Peter Gilmour performed very adequately in our tag team wrestling contest. How does that sound? Totally PG, I’m digging it. Who’da thunk it, eh? Sure, that match was very weird and we had a nice little assist from Casper the Friendly Ghost, and I’m still not sure if that really happened or if they were just pumping hallucinogens into the air. Wouldn’t put it past this management, to be honest. But we beat them! That’s Round One of the Lethal Lottery done and dusted, and we’re moving on to the halfway point. So I just want to take this opportunity to give Gilly my thanks for being a super trooper and best of luck in the rest of the tournament! I’m sure any ink blot test I’d do would yield very interesting results after all the nasty pics you bombarded my inbox with, but Vinnie sure was entertained and he gave me a nice little bonus with which I could afford a water cooler, so in the end? I’d say it was all worth it.”

Ruby twirls her drink around in the bottle and takes a quick sip before sitting up a bit straighter.

Ruby: “So it was with bated breath that I watched next round’s draw. The extremely handsome host did NOT give me what I’d call a favourable draw however. I’m not talking about my tag team partner, of course. More on him in a bit. But I am talking about Tony Santos and Brian O’Haire. Not exactly a walk in the park. I mean, when right after the draw your inbox is getting loaded with messages about how Tony Santos especially is a top 5 guy on his worst day, you know it’s going to be tough. Don’t get me wrong, those messages were still a whole lot more agreeable than the ones from the past few weeks, but it’s certainly a daunting prospect. I don’t know that much about him just yet, as we’ve mostly run in different circles. XWF is a big company, and I’ve mostly been plying my trade on Anarchy. But while your name may sound generic, you seem anything but. But hey, who am I to talk about generic, right? Still, to win this Lethal Lottery I’m gonna have to get past you, and that sounds like a daunting and arduous task. I mean, there are things that are MORE arduous, like trying to get to Level 99 Runecrafting, listening to a Noah Jackson promo for longer than ten seconds, or trying to explain to Gilly that NO, I will not have sex with him as a pre-match warm-up. But hey, guess what? I’ve done all of those things, so I’m feeling quite confident, not gonna lie.”

Ruby gets up from her chair and grabs the Go-Pro, walking past shelves stacked with comic books and other geek literature. Ignoring her treasure trove, she walks over to the kitchen, before opening the fridge.

Ruby: “Isn’t this riveting stuff? I’m sure you’re all going berserk over how exciting it is to watch me grab another beer from the fridge. Such an original idea. I’m gonna keep it at two, however, don’t worry. Anyway, I’m trying to make a bit of a point here…”

Ruby sighs and twists off the screw cap (which is the only acceptable way to use the word ‘screw’, by the way!)

Ruby: “‘Box Office’ Brian O’Haire. Interesting name there, bud. Of course I know what you intended whilst coming up with that very clever nickname. At least you didn’t call yourself a ‘Queen’. Or ‘King’, because you’re male. Or any other kind of nickname that alludes to royalty, because let’s face it, more often than not it just sounds stupid. I remember this dude who came into a company once, acting like he was blazing trails and taking names, called himself the Emperor of Excellence. Turns out the only two things he excelled at was eating out of his nose and taking L’s. ‘Peasant of Booger Eating’ would’ve been more appropriate, but that’d have been insulting to our farmers, and those people are hard working and honest. Except for that farmer’s family that was growing weed in their underground cellar, but I busted up that operation real good when I still carried the mask…”

Ruby’s eyes trail away in thought for a second, before she recollects herself.

Ruby: “Anyway, back to my point. My point being: sometimes Box Offices fail, my guy. Sometimes they disappoint. Sometimes they’re a suspicious stain on a producer’s repertoire, clearly indicating that it wasn’t worth any kind of investment. “Box Office” in itself is empty and hollow, utterly meaningless. To be a box office success, you gotta be more. Just like it takes more than putting on a banana-lime costume and a mask if you want to be a hero. You’ll notice I’m still not wearing my former outfit. Like I told my buddy Cent on the Twittersphere, it’s a question of self-worth. I failed hard, and while I am regaining a bit of momentum, it will take a whole lot for me to regain the belief I’m worthy of my colors. Something like… winning the Anarchy title. Or just as good: winning this Lethal Lottery. But, as the name implies, that last one is a bit of a gamble. Even more so, a test. One to see what I am capable of. So bring your best. Bring the XWF’s best. I don’t want no hollow victories. I want the whole might of wrestling’s most hardcore company thrown at me, so it can splatter on my windshield and end up a dirty smear, trailing the wipers of the RUmoBYle. But you know what? All that brash talk, all of that brazen attitude means absolutely nothing if I don’t back it up. And not many people do. It’s why nobody takes that stuff seriously anymore. I know XWF prides itself on its old school mentality, but don’t tell me that if some guy were to walk in here, claiming to be an unstoppable force of whose might you should be in awe, and that the federation will fall before him, that he wouldn’t be the subject of endless ridicule? Those hollow phrases are a relic of the past, when they hadn’t been disproven time and time again. I mean, I put away an idiot like that until as recently as our little trip to the Bahama’s. These days, it pays to be original… sometimes… That’s the hardest part, isn’t it? No wonder some people just resort to stealing other people’s work.”

Ruby takes a run up, causing the camera’s image to wobble, and jumps into her couch, doing some flippy ish in mid-air just for the fun of it. That would be sure to upset a certain matron of pigeons. She lands perfectly on her back, her head comfortably nested inside a pillow while pointing her GoPro directly at her face.

Ruby: “Yep, still got it. Oh yeah, I almost forgot!”

She snaps the fingers of her free hand.

Ruby: “Mastermind! My buddy, my guy! My newest tag team partner! Ohhh, dude you have no idea how agreeable it is not to be saddled with a partner flooding my inbox with lewd pics. I mean, I know what you’re saying… how about Vita Valenteen? Well yeah, we partnered up, but she didn’t seem to be really into it. Kids these days… Didn’t even bother to get matching costumes on Anarchy. We could’ve been a great Ewok army, bringing down those pesky Imperials with spear and slingshot! But eh! We all know she’s a bit of a kid who’s severely flipped in the head. Her loss, even if we did win. But I digress… Mastermind! Love the name, bud. Sounds delightfully supervillainy, with plenty of opportunity for redemption. And you don’t seem too bad. How is it that we haven’t crossed paths on Anarchy so far? How come I’ve been stuck with the Bobbi London’s and Sarah Lackerlacklans? But we have a great opportunity to make up for it, methinks. I just want you to promise me one thing…”

Ruby does what could be considered a professional ‘gamer’ move: she sits up straight and leans forward.

Ruby: “We’re a team, right? Well, promise me this. We win together, and we lose together. That’s it. Simple as that. I’m saying this because I noticed something after Gilly and I won our match. It was, regretfully, as predictable as the sun rising in the East. But all too often, individuals of temporary teams try to save face by shifting blame. And hoo boy, of course that happened, the second the bell rang. After Liam Roberts got pinned, his tag team partner, his name escapes my memory for a second, couldn’t wait to rid himself of all responsibility. Claiming that his partner was the weak link, that it wasn’t HIM who lost. Mastermind, my guy, I hope your name implies you have brains enough to see exactly how cowardly that is. If that’s the sauce you’re dipping in, it is some weak sauce, my guy. Don’t be like that. We win together, we lose together. Promise me that, and I’ll do the same for you. Gladly. Because if we’re not team players, like last show’s opponents weren’t, we’re already lagging behind before our entrance music even starts. So no lame excuses, trying to desperately hide our own shortcoming like any weak coward would. Teamwork makes the flippin’ dream work. I think even Gilly understood that, deep down. Very deep down. Very, very deep down, at some kind of subconscious level that exists in the same part of the brain that makes sure you don’t forget to stop breathing. But some people just lack certain brain functions and can’t be fixed. Let’s not be like that. Let’s be better than that, even if we should fail. Because it’s in the face of failure and defeat that a person’s true character rises to the surface. Believe me, I know. It’s why I’m not roaming rooftops right now and am sitting here in my apartment, literally talking to my hand. Sure, it has a GoPro in it but I’m pretty certain it looks very weird. Best not think about that too much. I might look like an insane person.”

Ruby winks and leans back into a more relaxed position.

Ruby: “Best wrap this up though, my flippies. I have a lot of prep work left to do, and I need my sleep. Be sure to get in your eight hours a night and build up a good sleep schedule. Remember, you don’t need melatonin supplements if you do. Maybe also try meditating? In any case, I’ll see you some time next week. Mastermind and I will be sure to get on the same page. I’m sure he’ll want to prove that he was far from the weak link in his own team in Round 1. See ya!”

And with one button press, the GoPro cuts to black. There was no fade option, sorry.