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X-treme Wrestling Federation »   » Archives » Wild Card Weekend Night 2 RP Board
Seriously, Wake The Fuck Up
Author Message
Prof. Bobby Bourbon Offline
Mad Scientist



XWF FanBase:
The 'cool' kliq fans

(booed by casual fans; opportunistic; often plays dirty while setting the trends)


#1
11-30-2016, 02:25 PM



Robbie Bourbon is having some difficulty waking up to train for the XWF Universal Championship Elimination Chamber Match at Wild Card Weekend. Chris Chaos just cut a scathing promo about threatening kids working at the pier and the rain, about how he reads the transcripts to Peter Gilmour videos in his spare time, and ultimately how he doesn't understand anything about Robbie Bourbon whatsoever.

Lions don't care if antelopes can understand them, though.

Since Robbie likes Chris, he asked this be on the screen at this time.

quote='Robbie Bourbon'

I guess if there's any question if Robbie said it or did it...

SERIOUSLY, WAKE THE FUCK UP

We open to see the skyline of Manhattan. The sunset strikes a definitive and imposing view of the city that never sleeps as the neon lights of Times Square conquer the light of the setting sun while defining the culmination of man defeating the dark once and for all, or at least until something brighter was around. The skyline, though familiar, just looks off from the accustomed viewpoints we get from aerial views shown on most TV shows. The fact everything has gone to sepia is telltale this is, well, janky.

We see the ground view of Times Square and it's busy with foot traffic as people in dashing dress from the 1930's scurry to and fro, screaming in terror at some abominable thing we can't even percieve yet. The terror of the people is evident as an enormous foot, clad in a very spangly wrestling boot, comes crushing down on a classic steel-framed piece of Ford history and turning it into a pancake. The camera tilts to show Robbie Bourbon, 10 stories tall, and what looks like Pest and Morbid Angel riding on his shoulders.

"Fuck, that was NOT comfy with these soft rubber soles!" Robbie bellows an inaudible moan as he beats his chest, King Kong style, and the rest of the chaos that he's creating goes near mute. Pest screams something into Robbie's ear, Morbid Angel chuckles and throws an empty Coca-Cola can at a passerby some three decades before Coca-Cola came in cans. "Okay, old man, I hear you, blah blah greatness, but you always have this fucking vile path that's utterly pointless, not direct at all. Too lofty and poetic in your approach, waiting to be the Brutus to Cesar rather than finding the Cesar to your Brutus. Wow, now I'm getting lofty and poetic." Robbie punches the brick facade of a building, and it crumbles away to show the inner room of the building, which shows a man in a bathtub looking very surprised at the giant luchador that just went wrecking ball on his bath time, allowing the world to peep his most private parts since they didn't have screen blur technology in the thirties. "Oh, damn, naked dude." Morbid Angel leaps from Robbie's shoulder onto the man and skullfucks him until he's both dead and dry using hyperthrusting techniques. "Oh, fuck, get that asshole Morbid! He's obviously a metaphor for one of the opponents we're facing as the Black Hand!" Robbie raises his fist, palm side upward to a nearby building, and raises his middle finger, then pokes out another portion of wall, revealing a room where a teenage girl sits, brushing her hair and looking befuddled at all the stuff she doesn't have to stimulate her mind because those kinds of things weren't made for girls in the thirties. Pest smoothly slides down Robbie's arm and hops off his middle finger, tossing his hat and scarf into the breeze to gently glide to the raging streets below. A police car crashes head on into Robbie, and both the officers riding in the front splatter face first into the windshield since they didn't have seatbelts in the thirties. Pest scoops the girl up in his arms and turns into an owl and flies her to safety. "Shit, what the fuck, Pest! I know Trax grew sci-fi balls, I had no idea you got some too!"

Robbie continues his stroll down the street until he comes to an above ground rail line. He sees a train is coming, then checks his phone. He shakes it then rolls his eyes forgetting there's no satellite signal to do shit with her in the thirties. He raises his left wrist and checks a watch. He nods. "This is the one."

Robbie takes a deep breath like a relief pitcher readying to throw on a full count with two outs. Google baseball if you don't get that, unless you're in the thirties. Robbie waits for the train to approach, and quickly snags it as it slows on the overpassing line. As he lifts it, he sees each car is full with Bourbon Men. Blue is at the controls of the train, Ash is in a car keeping all civilians calm with Fat Francis the Weary and their ukulele duet. Diamondback, Cyberjaw, Joe Biden, Smashdyface McFace, Xtreme Travel Agent, Gallagher, Jesus, and Han Motherfucking Solo (props where props are due, we missed Han on the first run) all wait holding blaster pistols in one hand and a cool refreshing bottle of Coca-Cola in the other. Robo-Rob, the robot from Rocky IV painted to look like it's wearing a Robbie Bourbon mask, comes flying down from the heavens, raining laser fire down upon the hapless citizens of New York, '33. Robbie strings the train around his waist like a utility belt.

Robbie takes two paces down the street when suddenly we see Unknown Soldier, 10 stories high. Robbie looks at him with a scowl and begins to howl at him. "Jesus, fucking you. You're the fucking drizzling shits. First off, if I was ever given a shot at your Xtreme Title, I would have walked out of the building with it like I'm going to at Wild Card. That's one, I'm telling you, when all these fools claim that Wild Card's Elimination Chamber main event for the Universal Championship is their endgame, where they finish their journey, that's reason one that when they say that it's bullshit. Second off, a real man would be defending his Tag Team Championships at an XWF Pay Per View and they would do it with fucking pride. You and your top are just fine and fucking dandy with being paper fucking champions. Third off, and this is the kicker, while everybody else sees you as this thing or monster that can defy science and nature, I know why they do, and it's in the initials. Unknown Soldier. U.S. You're the U.S. It's not a surprise. Welp, sorry chum, I'm motherfucking America! It's, well, not really a correct way to say it, but more of an idea, a concept, or a positive possibility than anything else. See, I am here for the people, of the people, and by the people. Billions of people around the world, watching XWF on their TV, their laptop, their phone, or through the neighbor's window, all hoping that the best shit happens, the fight goes hard, the blood spews, the knuckles bruise, the fighters clash and they smash and bash each other's skulls for cash. They want to behold something astonishing, something incredible, something amazing, and the greatest feature of America is being astonishing, incredible, and amazing! Being that beacon of light for the world to defend it and acknowledge it and be a part of it as it is a part of America! It doesn't matter if you're in Uruguay, Australia, Japan, Russia, or Sweden! Can you dig that shit!" Robbie belches a spray of fire at Unknown Soldier, melting him into a puddle. He continues down the street.

"Well, I guess I should go do some training." Robbie walks up to the Empire State Building and begins to climb it. "Phew, I figure getting up to the top of this will be pretty good training. I know the Chamber isn't really one of those cages you gotta climb or escape, more like survive, but being ready for a vertical game, one that it seems like nobody else is ready for, might help. Plus, King Kong up in this motherfucker, these silly bastards don't know a damn thing what that's all about. They don't know what it means to come out and have every damn opponent fear them, call them a monster, a cheater, a liar, and a fake week in, week out. Week in, week out, keep bringing that bullshit, you stupid motherfuckers, and I will too, and week in, week out, you can talk about who's a liar and who's a winner and who deserves what, because I come to that fucking ring and give the people what they deserve, and I give them the truth. It's not pretty, it's not pristine, it's sometimes brutal, but it's always there. The everpresent happening of entropy." Robbie smiles at the camera. "But what would a buffoon like me know about entropy?"

It starts raining.

"Entropy is that deviation that causes something to decay or break down without any real cause. It is what allows things to flourish, because without that gap in necessity there will be no change, there will be no growth, and stagnation will cause everything to become just a part of the food chain that sits somewhere around the middle. Just happy to be there, really." Thunder is heard as lighting emblazons the whole scene. Robbie howls back at the thunder. "And before anybody tells me I'm fucking cute or adorable or novel for what I'm doing, I already fucking know I'm a fucking brilliant performer!"

"See, entropy is the sign that there's a flaw within a system, and most importantly, it is the part of chaos that shows there's a flaw within every system. Chris Chaos is a good wrestler, but not a very smart man. He doesn't understand a word I say, and as such, renders it as useless or stupid, which is just like some help desk jockey not understanding the number three when you call them about your broken whatever the fuck. In my day to day, it's usually a headache I suppose, but in a wrestling ring, well, who gives a fuck if Chaos doesn't understand me? I can say it, do it, be it, because I want it, and if none of that renders with him, that's his loss. Now, do I know why Chris Chaos doesn't understand me? Absolutely." Thunder strikes again as lighting crashes somewhere, creating a strobelight effect against Robbie's body as he ascends the Empire State Building from the exterior, breaking every OSHA standard known to man, but none of the OSHA standards of the thirties. "Chris Chaos doesn't understand me because I am his flaw, I'm his deviation. For the nerds out there, I'm Chaos's kryptonite. Or even nerdier, I'm Chaos's dropping the One Ring into the fires of Mount Dum. Or, even nerdier nerdier, I'm Chaos's wood to the golden age Green Lantern. He doesn't understand that in the Xtreme Wrestling Federation, we do things to the Xtreme. He doesn't understand that tables, chairs, ladders, chains, bats, barbed wire, and even knives and guns can come into play and make matches more memorable! I mean, if he did, he would know that a handful of tights and some feet on the ropes are, well, just par for the course, not cheating." Lighting strikes Robbie as he says this.

Robbie's body tumbles through the air to the ground at a fast pace, and in seconds Robbie lands with a thud on the concrete, cars, and people below. The belted train around his waist is seen dangling from the side of the Empire State Building, stuck on a flagpole. How a train is stuck on a flagpole is pretty baffling, but it is what it is. A blonde wizard walks up to the fallen Bourbon, hands in the air as he commands the storm.

"What the fuck?" Robbie's body doesn't move an inch. "I think I just got nailed, fucking struck by lightning climbing the Empire State Building, talk about your horse shit right there." Robbie's body barely stirs. "Come on, you fat lazy fuck! Get your ass up, are you what they all fucking say you are? Every fucking second someone is telling you this is what you are, just a big fucking monkey on the ground looking up a the stars. Is that what you are?" Robbie eyes go wide. "Attaboy, get your ass up." Robbie gets to a knee and another bolt of lightning hits him. "FUCK! That fucker needs to pay! Wait, that's the thing, it isn't that Chaos is the nemesis to Entropy, I am the nemesis to Chaos! He's just doing this to duck me off, to survive the brunt of what I have, and to try to outwit me like I did him!" Robbie grabs the blonde wizard with a hand. With a sickening crunch coming from Robbie's freshly clenched fist, the rain simply stops. He opens his palm and easily casts aside the broken figure he held.

Robbie turns again to the Empire State Building and charges it this time. He leaps at the building with a Thesz Press, grabbing the train holding all his Bourbon Men from the flagpole holding it and putting it around his waist again as the whole Empire State Building begins to keel backwards! The deafening roar of panicking people and collapsing skyscraper take on the whole scene as Robbie brings the whole Empire State Building down instead of climbing it.

"Shit, maybe I can check out some other building?" Robbie pulls his train car belt up to his face. "I gotta train for my belt."

BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAACK.
BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAACK.

The sudden and sharp sounds of an alarm going off on a cellphone break the air as we see a very different view of a darkened bedroom. Robbie Bourbon, still in his mask, groggily reaches up for his phone from his night stand and fiddles with it. Blue, roused from her sleep besides Robbie, stirs.

MMMMMMMph!

Five more...

Robbie fiddles with his phone.

You have to fucking train!

I know, I just had a really weird dream again.

What did you dream?

I was making a porno in the thirties.

Blue giggles.

What the fuck?

[Image: DtUCPfZ.png]
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