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Ozymandias · (06-07-2015)

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

Roleplay Title: The Thrill of the Hunt
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]

::/The scene opens in a dimly lit room, lit only by a half dozen candles, as the sound of an acoustic guitar can be heard and the camera starts to pull back slowly out from the candle it was centered on./::

"I can hear what you're thinkin... all your doubts and fears...
...and if you'll look in my eyes, in time you'll find the reason I'm here...
And in time, all things shall pass away... in time, you may come back some day...

To Live Once More...
Or Die Once More...

But In Time... your time will be no more..."

::/The camera has panned out to show Ryan Hunter as the last note fades, sitting in a cowboy hat, a poncho made out of an XWF T-Shirt, and a pair of black jeans. As he looks up into the camera, his eyes open slowly and a grin spreads across his lips before he flings the guitar behind him, smashing it against the wall, and the lights in the room come up as Ryan stands../::

::[Ryan]::
Enough of that... ugh. Hate showing off sometimes, but damn. When a guy's gotta make a damn point, huh? Right? Lessons, in everything....

Sometimes you ain't gotta pay attention to the look of the man across from you and just know the intent in his eyes... you see, I've lived the words I just sang, Trax... but I can hear you right now... the unoriginal prick is even DRESSING like Shawn Michaels... this?

::/Ryan signals to the poncho, the cowboy hat as he takes it off, holding it in his hands, before shaking his head and dipping the hat into the flame as it catches, he tosses it to the concrete floor./::

::[Ryan]::
"Cowboy" James Storm... Longnecks and Rednecks are my friends... I've been known to throw a few... but it doesn't define me... You think because I wear a hat, and can sing a cowboy tune with a caw-bow-y twang that all of a sudden I'm just the next little white boy to come out and throw around a superkick? Oh, yea... I forgot... Last Call Superkick... man... it's like everyone's doin' it? Ain't that right? What's your finisher again?

::/Ryan smiles, and shakes his head, stripping off the XWF Poncho and grabbing a Reggie Miller Home Jersey with the blue pinstripes, and threw it on. He pulled his pony tail out and shook loose his hair as he looked at the camera again./::

::[Ryan]::
You keep wanting to judge a book by his cover when you don't want to see the man in front of you. You see everything I do as some sort of sycophantic douchebag who wouldn't know authentic if you kicked him in the face with it. Reality says that you saw one moment from me in a moment where I came out and I did something you never expected anyone to really do, Trax... I busted you square in the face. Now you're determined to show me the error of my ways. To deliver my recompense... my comeuppance if you will. By damn, I'm gonna get what I have coming to me... that'll learn me.

Part of me wants to say I get it... I mean, I can't expect you to have heard of me. We're pro wrestlers, we're on the road, reputations, if they proceed us, rarely are a good thing. You don't knonw the kind of man I am, and that's fine. Who could expect you to actually have understood what Ryan Hunter was all about. All you saw was some guy jump the rail and stick his nose in your business. Business where it didn't belong. Ultimately you're willing to make me pay for my insolence, but it's the mouth of my boy that still grinds your gears that much more. He's talking, and you ain't tryin' to hear that. You keep wanting to underestimate me, and you ask how I can compare myself to the one and only Heartbreak Kid...

Everyone forgets where Shawn came from. Dude was a tag team wrestler that made a splash by superkicking his boy through a plate glass window. I was a guy who pushed my mentor off of a ladder on top of a hell in a cell into the fifth row of the crowd... I was a World Champion in my third month as a professional wrestler. I could tell you all of the reasons that I have earned my keep, Trax, but here's the bottom line... it doesn't matter. My past, your past... it doesn't matter. You know what matters? What matters is when you have the brightest smile coming out of that black hole in the back of ya... that's what matters. The man that can drop the other with their shot... that's who walks out of this with their head held high. That's who matters. The question is will you accept it when I'm standing over you when it's all said and done? Or are you just gonna keep bitching about how much better you are, and how lucky I got? Or you just gonna trot out the midgets again?

Cause that... that's original...

::/ Ryan sits on a bench, pulling his hands through his hair as he looks up at the camera, peaking his fingers in front of his mouth, before speaking again./::

::[Ryan]::
Allow me to be real for a moment, Trax... I'd go so far as to call you by your given name, but I don't honestly wish to be rude. I want to level with you. Put all this shit aside. Drop it. I'm not talking about the match, I'm talking about this gimmick bullshit... this... all this... this is for them...

::/Ryan points all around and above him quickly/::

::[Ryan]::
...these people. I love the fans, I hate the fans, I've had my fill of the fans, and some of them have had their fill of me. But those that care to know the real me will find a way to see the real me. Everyone else gets the show... and that's what they want to see. You're one of us. We're who we are... we are the men that do this, we don't get caught up in this ridiculous fucking pageantry. You don't know me... but you think you got me pegged. I don't know you... but I think I got you pegged. You see this locker room in which you haven't made an impact yet, and you want to make an example of another man who doesn't have a reputation... doesn't have anything but, as Tony Montana said, his balls, and his word. You took down X? Good on ya... do I look like X? Sure... you're bigger, fantastic. you got me by three inches and forty pounds. You wanna be so absolutely arrogant as to believe that you can beat me just because you're bigger than me? You aren't that stupid.

You wanna sit and talk to me about the Art of professional wrestling. Innovation. Creativity. Your whole argument is that everything about me is stolen, sapped from the established. Leading around the helpless minions like so many poodles. They follow me because of course they follow the shiny harlot who tells them what they wanna hear and gives them a chance to play sing along with The Showstopper. You wanna know what I love about pro wrestling? Chaos. It's the greatest professional sport in our world today that has what I like to call that "Any Given Sunday" effect. On any given night, any given man or woman can beat any other given man or woman. There's never a guarantee... there's never a sure thing. Any...given...night... anyone can be beat. You... me... X... Chris Isles, Vinnie Lane, even the good Doctor can be beaten on any given night. You put anyone in that ring, and they can lose. Over a long enough timeline, they will lose. Just like death man, you cannot, and will not, win them all. I don't have to be better than you, Trax... I just gotta win. You were the one that set the bar. Not me. You're the one who's "Mister F'N Dominance".... you're the one who's going out there with that monumental chip looking to prove you're the best that is, the best that wa-... wait... wait... lets not go down that road again.

You're out to prove that you're some sort of force to be reckoned with. Me? I'm me. I don't have shit to prove to anyone. I know who I am, Trax, and who I am is better than you. Who I am is a man who you don't know how to play with. You don't know what it'll take to put me down and keep me down. You don't know how much it will take for you to actually take me down and put me on that mat... do I know that with you? Nope... but see, I'm not the guy that said that he's just gonna whoop that trick... that was you. Am I keeping expectations low? Hell no. I'm a legend. I'm a master... I am the greatest of all got'damned time, and you can't fucking touch me when it comes to being able to fight in that ring. Better wrestler? Probably... but you can't take me down, Trax... but I don't have to say it. I'm not sitting here and trying to convince the world of shit. As Kid Rock is known for saying... they say I'm cocky... and I say what? It ain't braggin' motherfucker if you can back... it... up...

::/Ryan stands up, taking a look into the camera and smiles./::

::[Ryan]::
Come Madness, you get me in the middle of the ring. You get to watch an audience of millions, and thousands, and our peers. People who don't give two shits about the people in the middle of that ring, because no matter who else you gotta prove anything to. no matter who else you think you're in that ring with... you're in there with...

::/Ryan takes a deep breath... then stops.. and exhales with a grin./::

::[Ryan]::
Oh... wait... I forgot... you already know who it is you're in that ring with... and guess what. It ain't the midget...

See you soon, sunshine.

::/The cameras went off, and Ryan thanked the camera guys before he headed outside. Sitting in the parking garage, he pulled out his phone.../::

::[Ryan]::
Yea... listen. Meet me for a drink. I think we may need to go over some things...

== End ==

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