05-11-2013, 10:52 AM
(OOC: I'm really sorry about the quality of this RP and how close to the deadline it took.)
[The quiet blackness of the scene is interrupted by the constant, annoying beeps of a very loud alarm clock. A “click” is heard as the light begins to glow out of a tattered lamp shade. The sparse amount of light slowly grows brighter as the light bulb lets out a low pitched buzzing sound. As the light grows, a man is shown seated at the edge of the bed, his shoulders slumped and his head bowed. He is wearing nothing but a pair of boxer briefs. The man sits there for a few tense moments, nothing but the beeping of the alarm clock and the humming of the light bulb can be heard. Finally the man leans in closer to the light. This is Chester Brock. He slams his fist down on the top of the alarm clock, groaning quietly to himself. The room, now fully lit, is filthy and run-down. Chester looks about it, his facial expression never changing. This is all new to him. He doesn’t know where he is, or how he got here. After scanning the room he notices the large mirror on the opposite side of the room, to which he slowly rises and strides over to. He eyes himself left and right, almost curious as to who the man is looking back towards him. He dips his head and sighs, resting his arms on top of the dresser.]
Chester: “What... Where am I?”
With that a click is heard from off-camera, prompting it to turn and reveal the short-statured Frank Malone seated on the disgusting room’s second bed. Frank gleefully is swinging his feet off the corner of the bed as he smokes a cigarette, looking extremely pleased.
Frank: “We’re in beautiful Phoenix, Arizona. Current temperature is Satan’s asscrack, with a high expected to be in the neighborhood of two ferrets fucking in a wool sock. Jesus Christ this place is miserable. I can’t tell if I’m sweating because the sun is directly pissing on us, or because I have to take a shit.”
Chester holds his hand up, shaking his head.
Chester: “Frank, why the Hell are we in Arizona? Weren’t we supposed to be going to the Chumbuwumba concert tonight?”
Frank: “Look kid, I wish I could say ‘I’m only gonna tell you this once,’ but I can’t. Your last match... You got dropped on your head. Bad. And you don’t remember shit. The past few years we’ve been traveling from organization to organization, wrestling little shows here and there trying to scrape enough cash together to get you some help. Chumbuwumba broke up years ago.”
Chester: “My god. Chumbuwumba broke up?”
Frank: “Of all the shit I just said to you, that’s the part you pick up on!? You’re a real piece of work, kid.
Chester: “I guess you’re right. So we’re in Arizona for a match? Who am I wrestling for?”
Frank: “It’s called the XWF. Seems to be a pretty legit place. Got your typical asshole bosses, although that Witasick guy might be okay. You’re on the Saturday night roster. I’ve been watching their tapes and man, shit on the show that you’re on gets crazy.”
Chester: “How crazy?”
Frank: “Some bitch got her head guillotined right off a couple months ago. And there’s this Crimson Dong guy that... well, you’re just gonna have to see this guy for yourself sometime. It’s pretty fucking interesting if you ask me.”
Chester: “What the fuck, Frank? You tell me I have amnesia and then tell me you’ve got me signed up for a show where I could literally die? How about you look out for me a little here, huh?”
Frank: “Fuck you, King High-and-Mighty. What do you think I’ve been doing the past few years? After your accident you lost everything, nobody could help you. Your friends, your family... they split. But not me. I’ve stuck with you every goddamn day since. We go through this shit every single day. Do you have any idea how depressing it is for me to know that no matter what I do, the next day you won’t remember a single word of it? So don’t you fucking tell me to watch out for you, I’ve been doing nothing but watching your ass.”
Chester: “I’m... I’m sorry Frank. I didn’t think--”
Frank: “Well fucking lucky for you, your job isn’t to think. That’s what I’m here for. All I need you to do is get into that ring and beat down the scrubs the put in front of you. We get paid, we get out. No friends, no trails. Just you and I, on the road.”
Chester: “Why no trails?”
Frank: “There was an incident in Montreal a couple years back. It’s nothing that you need to concern yourself with, I handled it. But it’s safe to say that there may be a few people who won’t be too happy to know you’re alive and kicking still.”
Chester: “Shit... what happened?”
Frank: “I’ll tell you tomorrow. We’ve got more important things to worry about. Your debut match for the XWF is tonight, and you’ve got your work cut out for you. Tonight, you’re fighting for the XWF’s X-treme title. Cool, right? If you hold on to that title long enough you get yourself a briefcase with a guaranteed shot at one of the XWF’s titles--whenever you want. It’s like a blank check.”
Chester: “That’s awesome! I get a shot like that in my very first match?”
Frank: “Kid, you might have the memory of a crack-addicted goldfish but boy can you wrestle. Still. You haven’t lost a step since your accident, I made damn sure of that. But we should maybe talk about your gimmick... The game has changed, and people aren’t that interested in a kid walking out in his underwear and just beating people up anymore. They want characters, they want someone bigger-than-life, and we’ve had to adapt to what the people want.”
Chester: “Christ... please don’t tell me that I have to wear a costume. Please, not that.”
Frank: “We gotta make money kid. And it’s not that bad, you’ve been pretty pumped about it the past few months you’ve used it. The fans are really loving it too.”
Chester: “...What is it?”
[Frank reaches down in his pants and begins fishing around. His face distorts constantly, with occasional looks of pleasure. Finally his eyebrows raise and his hand stops. He pulls with all of his might and a black object snaps up from inside his boxers. Frank places it on his head and pulls it downward- It’s an eyepatch. He grins wildly as Chester drops his head to one of his hands.]
Frank: “ARGGGHHH! Matey!”
Chester: “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me...”
Frank: “Yo hoe! It’s a pirate’s life for we. Now, let’s get you ready, shall we? We’ve gotta get you studied up on this match of yours tonight. This XWF place is pretty good, I could see us settling in here for a while, at least. We’ve got some film to watch, you need to see what you’re up against. There’s this big, scary bunch of panty-waists named the Black Circle that having been running amok around here, and their little lap dog happens to be the current X-treme champion. Tonight isn’t going to be a cakewalk.”
[An hour later.]
Chester: “Yarr, this be what you told me to be worryin’ about?”
Frank: “A scurvy dog, but he has the gold.”
Chester: “ Well, well, well... Allow me to say ‘ahoy’ to his booty.
Frank: “...You know, maybe we should work on your pirate speak a little bit more before you start speaking in public. You can’t say you want to say ahoy to another man’s booty. It’s just not right. I mean, they let a lot of shit slide on Saturday nights, but that might even raise a few eyebrows.”
Chester: “I was speakin’ of the gold, ya yellabelly.”
Frank: “Of course you were. You’re supposed to be Blackbeard’s ancestor, not a butt pirate.”
Chester: “Speaking of butt’s, what’s with this toilet’s filled with shit thing? Isn’t that a tad unsanitary?
Frank: “I keep my lunch warming in my diaper, I really am not the person you should be asking about sanitation measures.
Chester: “I guess it doesn’t matter. I’ve seen these guys in action. If I’m half as good as you say I am then I’m not too worried. These guys are a bunch of clowns. Especially this Luca guy. He isn’t even respected by the members of his own fucking group, I sure as hell won’t show him any respect. That title is basically mine. But, I’m still going to have me some fun. This is my first match here and I need to make an impact. Maybe I’ll make Luca walk the plank, and have him take a dive head-first into a toilet filled with shit. These other guys, I don’t give two shits about. As far as I can tell, they’re just filler... But Luca? No... he’s special. He’s the the dog that licks the peanut butter off the Black Circle’s balls. Who better to make an impact against? He’s not walking out of that match with his title, or his ego. Tonight, Chester Brock takes the XWF by storm. A shit storm, it appears, but a storm nonetheless. And Luca, Danny Devia and Markus Conan are going to be the first ones to feel it.
[The scene ends with Chester, fully clad in a pirate’s outfit, standing tall next to Frank. Frank is gagging as he eats a rather odd looking sandwich.]
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