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Mr Killjoy · (06-05-2015)

[Image: Hunter%20the%20very%20newest_zps8okqb8op.jpg]

Roleplay Title: Complications of the Easy
Career W/L/D: 148-21-6
Next Victim(s): Trax... Mr. "F'n" Dominance
Notes: This should get interesting quick, fast, and in a hurry.
To Be Continued By: No One

[Image: Ryan%20Page%20Break_zpsqfsqdqy7.png]

::/Indianapolis, Indiana... quaint little burg in the midwest. Ryan's favorite place in the known universe...

Yea... right...

Ryan was a coast to coast guy. He grew up in the bright lights, the big city... places with water, women, and amazing shit. Los Angeles, California may not have been much, but Ryan ran So-Cal like Capone ran Chicago. It was his home, and between there and Miami, it was where he felt at home. He wasn't particularly excited to be in certain places, and Indianapolis reminded him of things he didn't particularly appreciate having to be reminded of...

He wasn't here for a history lesson though. He was here to make some history....

Okay, truth of the matter was he just happened to be in the right place a the right time for opportunity to come knocking. One minute he's hanging out in Miami with his protege and friend, Daemeion Street, his two daughters, and his phenomenally gorgeous wife Kate... the next he's getting a phone call from a beast by the name of Exodia. Exodia... one of those types of people who doesn't say a lot, and by not a lot, well, needless to say people mistake him for a mute quite often. So when he spoke, you listened. In this case, he was working under the suggestions of B.B. Black, another of the famed... or infamed, at least... "Playas In Action" ... to inform him of a man whom had probably been his friend longer than any other at this point.... Darnell McNeil. Christ, it had been a decade already for these two... thirteen years to be precise. Former rivals turned partners, turned partner rivals, turned brothers... Ryan just showed up in Dallas to give the man from San An-tone what Ryan Hunter delivers on better than damn near any in the known universe... a party that will shut down a city. For one night, the Lone Star City was owned by The Kings... and life was good...

Ryan was just at the show for Bad Medicine. He had no intent of getting involved. The only reason to be in Dallas was to reunite The Kings for a night or two. They hadn't run together for a long time, and Ryan honestly forgot to take care of his friend on a personal level. Darnell had always been one of the fringes. Everyone else came inward. The family ran together. That's how they survived. They all did their own thing, they all had their own personal corners of the earth, but they checked in, crossed over, moved like pieces on a giant chessboard just trying to rule the world in their own little way to make everyone in their world better. Daemeion Street, Dante Rose, X.T. Black, Syrus McNeil... there were others... but DMX? Nah, he was family, the same blood may as well have run through their veins, and his crew of Exodia and B.B. were thrown in there too.... but those guys were their own, and Ryan never pushed them to run under the same rules. Every man, woman, and child whom was in the family had to come under their hood in their own way....

It was a lesson he had to learn the hard way... a couple of different times....

Jumping that rail was a conscious decision by Ryan. One he knew he might have to take that he had come prepared for. When he jumped that rail he knew what was coming next...

...because there's a reason they called him the King of Khaos.

Standing in the now Bankers Life Fieldhouse, Ryan stood around, just walking through an arena again. Last time he was in an arena with any sort of crowd was in July of 2013. July 28th... the date of EPIC Retribution I: The End of an Empire. The Luxor, Las Vegas. When he lost his Freestyle Championship to Jasyn Devenoux. The kid was a phenom, but Ryan didn't exactly feel shamed in losing that match. It came down to a freefall in a ladder match where anything could have happened. Madness was on... and in this place, a long way from Vegas, nearly two years since that time... and Ryan had brought himself straight into the big dog in the yard.

Maybe it was time to introduce the world to just who Ryan Hunter was...

As the crowd in the Bankers Life Fieldhouse is loud and bumping, The lights go entirely out as the sound of rain falling and thunder rolling can be heard. An air raid siren can be heard, dogs barking in the distance. as the lights flicker green with the thunder, emulating lighting as the video screen flashes images of dogs hunting in the rain, chain link fences with razor wire, and news stories are heard./::

"Authorities say this man can't be trusted..."
"...poses a danger to society as we know it..."
"...a true terrorist, sociopath, master manipulator..."
"...he is being named as Public Enemy #1... and the world as we know it... will never be the same again..."

::/As the rain falls and dogs continue to bark in the distance, a path that runs up to a man standing with his back to the camera, handcuffs hanging from his wrist as he looks over his shoulder and smiles, before the screen cuts black, and the iconic words ring out.../::

"...Are you Ready?"

"YEA!!!"

::/A huge green explosion goes up on the stage, lighting up the dark, before "Survival" from Eminem hits the arena speakers. The lights flash with the beat. Smoke covers the stage, as standing in a single spotlight, back to the crowd, hood up, slowly extending a fist in the air, before snapping his head back and turning around toward the crowd. As Ryan stands on the stage, he overlooks the crowd, smiling, before tossing up his arms in an X above his head. The crowd half cheers and half boos, recognizing him from his earlier career. He steps of of the stage and down the ramp toward the ring. Ryan slides into the ring on his stomach... laying there and looking around from his stomach, before he pops up to his feet, and climbs the near corner, throwing up another X above his head. He goes to the far corner, doing the same motion, before returning to the center of the ring and doing it one more time... only this time bringing his arms down in the classic crotch chop, neon green X's going off behind him. He smiles, looking around as the lights come up. /::

::[Crowd]::
"Fuck You Hun-ter!!!!" / "WEL-COME BACK!!!! | FUCK YOU HUN-TER!!!! / WEL-COME BACK!!!!"

::/Ryan smiles, leaning on the top rope as he shakes his head, and laughing to himself, pulling out a microphone from the back of his waistband./::

::[Ryan]::
Ah... man... middle America... my favorite hole in the center of the known universe. Meth capital of the world, and all y'all decide to show up to somethin' that ain't a NASCAR event? I should feel genuinely touched folks, but as much as I know Indy remembers me all too well, the boys and girls back there?

::/Ryan points toward the back/::

::[Ryan]::
...They don't know yet. Hell, half of you don't know. You bitches just heard some people starting a chant and wanted to be a part of something awesome. Don't pay attention to the haters, it's cool to be a poser people. Trust me on this one. You see, I haven't been here five minutes and already I'm being called an unoriginal poser. Just another dude who's stealing his whole fuckin' image from... what was that? A "random create a wrestler generator"?

::/Ryan looks into the camera as he flashes a smile and shoots a wink./::

::[Ryan]::
Trax... Mister "F'n" Dominance... yea, cause that Mister F'n Anything hasn't been done to F'n death has it? Check your own house you ridiculous bastard before you even DARE come at me like that.... and take that dick out of your mouth before you speak to me, I don't need to see that prison pussy at work...

Come on, dawg... I'm betting you can do better than to hit the shallows... you wanna do what everyone else has done throughout my career? I get it, you don't know me, so you throw the pitch in the dirt, call me unoriginal, call me a poser, call me a cheap thrill looking to make a name at myself at the expense of a real man.... You know what's really fun about that Trax? It can be done with every fuckin' thing you look at. Marketing, amigo. It's just one of those things that's a bitch to deal with. Kinda like you, but I digress.

::/Ryan steps back toward the middle of the ring, pacing for a moment before speaking again/::

::[Ryan]::
Not the only one who knows how to run numbers, Trax. 6'4, 270. Outgunned already except I've made my career on taking out bigger, badder, better, and brighter. All of those "stolen" E'tarded shit that you claim I've just glopped on like your mother on a Saturday night working the corner? Yea, each one of them is legit when applied to me. I am The Showstopper... every bit as much as Michaels ever was. The American Dream? Dusty may not endorse it, but I promise you I know so many who dream each and every night that they could have the life I lead, and be the man I am, good, bad or indifferent. I've seen things, done things, that would make Bruce Wayne blush. Motherfucker, I AM BATMAN... but I'm still down to earth and I ain't above getting dirty. Just like Dusty, I've held court with kings and queens, and I've slept in alleys and dined on pork n' beans... and some shit that prolly is entirely less palatable. I am the People's Champion because like Dwayne I capture their hearts and minds and imaginations, and I have something you can only dream of, Trax... CHARISMA. I know, three syllable word, might be a little hard for you to digest.... oh, wait... I forgot...

...you a high class nigga, ain'tcha boy?

::/An audible gasp can be heard in the crowd, followed by an "oooh" and even a bit of booing as Ryan holds up his hand/::

::[Ryan]::
I'd say I cared about who I offended with that one, but I got my ghetto pass, and I know who I'm talking to. If there's one thing I can't stand it's a man who stands on being better than someone else regardless of race. Somehow I don't think Trax is gonna take exception to that comment. You see Trax, I know you better than you think I do. I understand you a lot better than you think you can possibly understand me. Black man with a chip on his shoulder. Who does time, who's thug life born, and thug life bred, if I may steal yet another WWE-ism... and you came up... rose above. Showed you're more than the sum of your parts and you read a few books, pulled yourself out of whatever the fuck hole you grew up in, Red Hook? Brighton? Nono... you didn't cross over man... too much of a chip... Bed-Stuy... I'd put money on it. You see, my mentor was from New York too. Long Island to be specific. Irish fuck who would never climb out of a fuckin' bottle. But you're living where I grew up now. My territory. LA. You see, you can't do that New York to LA transition and not have it just stink on you. You just can't. That pretentious "I can kill the world" arrogance of New York, mixes with that laid back "the rest of the world owes me something" entitlement of LA... and it creates a monster that needs to be burned to be purified. That's what I see when I look at you, Trax. Another man who thinks that he deserves the world, and will destroy everything and anyone who thinks otherwise.

My problem with you just started with X... You think for a second that I just knocked you out of the arena in Dallas because you were kicking the hell out of my friend? Please. DMX has gotten his ass beaten a lot of times... I've kicked his ass quite a few times myself. The man can take a beating... nono... it wasn't just that he was getting beat on and no one was stopping it. It's who was doing the beating. They say you hate things in others that are reflections of yourself, and in that, maybe it is purely for that reason that I hate entitled fucks like yourself Trax. A man who comes out and the only thing he can say to me is just how unoriginal I am. A man that takes his name from a WWE Training Center and EA's Music Menu in Madden 2007. Who calls his finisher the "Trap Silencer", hoping that people will fill the connection between the fact that you kick a dude in the mouth, or "trap" to shut them up or "silence" them, while bringing an touch of that thug life from your hood... because lets face it... everyone runs from an angry black man, am I right?

You went away after Bad Medicine,and you sat for a week in lockup, just waiting for your chance to get your shot at me. The powers that be in the XWF have decided to throw us into a Lumberjack Match. A match in which we'll be surrounded by all the people who already don't like men like us. We step into the yard, one of us leaves the yard, and the inmates throw us back in. There ain't no place to run. There ain't no place to hide...

::/ Ryan leans back against the turnbuckle and pulls the nearest camera man close to him as he looks directly into the camera./::

::[Ryan]::
I can feel you smiling right now, Trax. That's the way you want it. No escape, no excuses. Two men enter, one man leaves, and since I'm not really a man, only one man is really entering anyway. You want your little torture session to last as long as you want it to, and I can't get out anywhere to even begin to run from you. You've got me trapped in this little squared circle, and you get to toy with your prey until you choose to end him mercifully...

::/Ryan stands away from the camera, holding his arms out as he smiles, the energy flowing through him as he starts to laugh/::

::[Ryan]::
You still wanna talk about trivialities, Trax? I explained the WWE game... I explained each and every name put to me that coincides with them. You wanna keep going? They call me the King of Khaos my man... with a K... some say because they wanted to label me a KoK, some say its joke aside, that you never know what to expect when you step in the ring with Ryan Hunter... they call me the King of Pain... two kings... because truly, as a man who once dared to call himself the Innovator of Pain found out... when it comes to enduring, or inflicting pain, Ryan Hunter has no equal. I have taken worse beatings than a hyped up piece of absolute bullshit like you could possibly throw out. I've faced the best of the best in their ways. I've taken on the most insane, the most gifted, the most technically pure, the most vicious, the most brutal, the most savage... you name it and I've faced it, and I've come out the other side. You don't believe me? You don't gotta believe me, just watch and learn, and know that I've earned every single one of those nicknames, chief.

The One... Man... Army... taken on dozens, all who came together because one man alone wasn't enough to stop me. Because they couldn't break me, because they couldn't shut me up, or shut me down. They couldn't beat me hard enough, couldn't beat me fast enough, they couldn't put me down and make me stay down, because truly... there isn't a man alive that could manage to do it.

Public Enemy Number One, Trax... you know why they call me that? Because I'm that kid who no matter where you put him, no matter what you do in your life, you either want to be him, or you want to destroy everything about him. Haters love me... that's another WWE one right? You hate me because you ain't me... and you either wanna be me, or you wanna prove that people like me aren't real. People who are as loud, and brash, and arrogant and cocky as me, can't possibly be just that... damned... good. It don't matter whether I got the gold or not, the second I stepped out here and hopped on this mic, I became a man who has a target on his back. Fuck... the second I hopped that rail in Dallas and punched you in your ugly fuckin' face, I became a man with a target on my back. I had people THAT NIGHT telling me that if I didn't join in an open invite battle royal than obviously I was just a queer who didn't have the balls to step up to the plate. They love to hate me, Trax... and that's what makes me who I am... but you see... despite all of that... I am everything I say I am and I am so much more... because my name IS Ryan Hunter... and I AM...

THE SHOW STOPPER...
THE PEOPLE'S CHAMP...
THE AMERICAN DREAM...
THE KING OF KHAOS...
THE KING OF PAIN...
THE ONE MAN ARMY...
PUBLIC ENEMY NUMBER ONE...

...but just in case you think that's too great for one man to handle, Trax... lemme in on a little secret... because I am, beyond everything else...

YOUR OWN... PERSONAL... JESUS...

::/Ryan smiles as some of the crowd chants along with him... those who do remember./::

::[Ryan]::
...and just like MC Hammer... you can't touch this... but I'll tell you what. Since you believe I'm so unoriginal as it is... allow me to part ways on this note...

::/ Ryan looks directly into the camera, speaking clearly and concisely, as if to a two year old./::

::[Ryan]::
...if you ain't down with that... I got two words for ya...

::[Crowd]::
"SUCK IT!!!!!!"

::/Ryan listens to the whole place go up with the classic DX Chant, as he smirks and turns an eye back to the camera./::

::[Ryan]::
...and this time? They're right... be seein' you soon, cupcake.

::/With That "Survival" by Eminem hits the arena speakers, Ryan drops the mic, throwing up an X above his head, to the crowd, who aren't firmly on his side, but like most crowds are mixed enough to be behind him on principle. He rolls over the top rope backwards, landing on his feet as he walks up the ramp and out of the arena, as the camera fades to black./::

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