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Centurion · (02-18-2020)

(If Centurion dies sooner rather than later, his terrible life choices and his attraction to wild women will be the cause of death.

After a night filled with alcohol and other substances, Centurion slowly stirs from his sleep.)

Centurion: Hurmmfff...

(The noise that comes out of Centurion is barely human, as he adjusts his body. He slowly opens his eyes, and immediately gets hit with a flash of sunlight that blinds him and causes his head to pound. After a few seconds of adjusting, Centurion opens his eyes again.

He is lying in a bed he does not recognize, in a room that is not his. The open window curtains letting in the sunlight reveals the city scape of Seattle. He tries to blink himself into conscienceness, but luckily, a familiar voice is able to help him along.)

Genevieve: Good morning, sunshine.

(Genevieve is sitting in a chair, scrolling through a tablet while wearing a robe. Despite the lack of make-up, she looks flawless - definitely better than Centurion's broken body.)

Centurion: What time is it?

Genevieve: 8 AM.

(Centurion does the math - the last time he looked at a clock last night, he saw 3 AM. So, at most, he received 5 hours of sleep - not the healthiest thing in the world for a professional athlete. It's worst knowing that most of that night was spend consuming alcohol.

Centurion sits up in bed and removes the bed sheets. He notices his current attire - the vest of a tuxedo (not a shirt or a tie, just a vest) and a pair of official XWF branded "Theo Pryce" boxers. He looks confused, as none of this is familiar to him, but before he can ask any questions, Gaby, the woman he met the night before, steps into the room. She is wearing a button down white t-shirt - likely the t-shirt that goes with Centurion's vest - and nothing else.)

Gaby: Good morning, buttercup. Breakfast?

(Centurion rubs his temples as more of the night starts coming back to him. He cracks a slight grin as he remembers the night he had spent with the two ladies.)

Centurion: If you're cooking, sure. And some coffee if you have any.

Gaby: I'm from Seattle. If I didn't have coffee, I'd quite literally die.

(Gaby walks out of the room as Centurion swings his feet out over the bed. He slowly stands up, attempting to get his legs to adjust to the floor and get some blood moving. He stretches a bit before stepping into an ajoined bathroom. He turns the cold water on in the sink and splashes his face with it, and he looks up at the mirror.)

Centurion: Ugh...Genie?

(Centurion's tone is one of worry. Genevieve steps into the bathroom behind Centurion.)

Genevieve: What's wrong?

Centurion: Care to explain this?

(Centurion turns back to Genevieve and points to the left side of his face. There, a relatively large bruise is forming across his cheek. Below his jaw, on his neck, and on his collarbone are several more bruises and, more distinctly, bite marks. Genevieve cracks a smile.)

Centurion: You said you were going to be gentle.

Genevieve: Those aren't all mine.

Gaby: Yeah, sorry about that.

(Gaby walks into the bedroom with a cup of coffee and a small ceramic cup for creamer. She sets them both down on the nightstand next to the bed as both Genevieve and Centurion step out from the bathroom.)

Gaby: In my defense, you weren't telling me to stop!

Centurion: That doesn't mean anything! I don't know what's best for me. I would jump to my death if a pretty lady told me it would make me look cool.

(Centurion walks over to his coffee and begins to pour in the creamer.)

Centurion: I've been competing in professional wrestling for nearly 20 years. I have been full on punched in the face by 300 pound dudes. This is among the biggest, most visible bruises I've ever had. The hell did you do to me?!

Genevieve: Oh, please. Quit your whining.

(Genevieve turns her back to Centurion and Gaby and lowers her robe, revealing several rows of deep scratches going down her back. Centurion winces as he looks at the damage, then takes a sip of his coffee. Genevieve puts her robe back on and she and Gaby both turn and glare at Centurion.)

Centurion: ...oops.

(Centurion looks down on the floor at his pants, which are tangled up in a ball with the comforter of the bed, as well as other articles of clothing that got cast aside. He takes another sip of his coffee and reaches into the pockets of his pants, first pulling out his wallet.)

Centurion: Thank God, that would have been a disaster.

(Centurion tosses his wallet onto the bed and pulls out his phone. He opens the lock screen and notices a bunch of notifications.

Quote:Twitter: 10 pending notifications
E-mail: 3,829 unread emails
Waze is ready to be updated
Discord: "Notorious" Ned Kaye - Anyone awake?
13 Missed Calls - Walter Crowe (13)
1 Unread Text:
Walter Crowe - Hey, I don't know what kind of trouble you're getting yourself into now, but give me a call when you shake off the hangover. I have news about your house.

Genevieve and Gaby continue to talk, but Centurion has them drowned out. He hasn't heard anything about his old place in months. The last thing he heard was that the bank was holding on to it, likely to sell it and the property off for commercial development.)

Genevieve: You ok?

(Centurion looks up from his phone and smiles. He takes a sip of his coffee before shaking his phone.)

Centurion: Never better, but I have to make a quick phone call. Looks like we're going to have to put Round 2 on hold for now.

Gaby: Round 2? We're far beyond that.

(Centurion walks out of the room with his coffee and his cell phone, rubbing the side of his face in the process. He hits the "call back" button, and his phone begins dialing Walter Crowe. Centurion takes a sip of his coffee and sits down at the kitchen table as Walter answers on the other end.)

Walter: You're alive. I'm shocked.

Centurion: Save it. What's up with the house?

Walter: The bank couldn't find a commercial buyer, so they're ready to put it on the market. It's likely to be up for sheriff's sale sometime soon.

Centurion: Couldn't find a commercial buyer? I thought George was going to use the company money to snatch it out from under me.

Walter: He thinks he will get a better price at sheriff sale. Plus, he's not worried about you at all. He thinks his blackmail of Erin worked, and you're completely out of the picture.

Centurion: Good. Let him think that.

(The sound of giggling from the bedroom is heard.)

Walter: ...what was that?

Centurion: Don't ask questions you don't want answers to.

Walter: If you get syphilis, I won't be around when you start losing your mind.

Centurion: You're such a pal.

Walter: Don't go too nuts. This Bourbon fellow is no joke. I doubt he's sitting around, getting wasted and sleeping with random floozies.

Centurion: No, Robbie's an odd duck. He isn't going to do like, normal human things. He's likely to do something completely far-fetched, like, I don't know...run around with a baby and a centaur.

Walter: Don't be ridiculous. He's in the gym right now, getting prepared to run your ass through a glass cage. And every second you spend galavanting about is another second he's putting in more work than you.

Centurion: After all these years, I'm flattered that you still care enough to give me the same doom and gloom speech you always give. Look, I'm not dead yet, and at a certain point, you're just going to have to...

Genevieve & Gaby: (yelling from the bedroom) Andy!

Centurion: ...I gotta go.

------Today da day da day day day-------

It's good to have goals.

It doesn't matter who you are, how old you are, or how experienced you are, having goals is essential to forward development in life. Hell, ask your grandpa. He might be 90, but I bet he has a goal for next week.

So I applaud Robbie Bourbon for having goals. It's not just great for him, but it's good for the XWF in general. Robbie Bourbon is an interesting character that people tend to gravitate towards, and him actually giving a shit is a huge plus.

He wants to win the Universal Title? Great! Go for it, champ. Combine the TV, XTreme, and tag belts into one giant gold block with a leather strap around it? Perfectly fine. Run around with so many belts it will take you hours to get through airport security? Wonderful, I'm happy for you, and I wish you the best.

Bring my Hart Title into it? Now we have a fucking problem.

You made a massive mistake, Robbie - several of them, actually. The major one was assuming you could just slide in and use the Hart Title as some sort of stepping stone for your Operation Annihilation. You could have started literally anywhere else, and this would have been an achievable goal. You could have gone after Fuzz or Noah Jackson, and you could have beaten them, and still see your goal within reach. Now?

Well, that leads to your other massive mistake - you tipped your hand. You showed your cards to the audience. You let the world know that this Hart Title match is Step One. Right? You were going to win the Hart Title, then unify it with the Universal Title. It's like a ladder - use the first rung to get to the second, to climb to the third, and so on.

But what if you slip on that first step?

You could have convinced people you earned a Universal Title shot, even if you lost to me...as long as you put up a good fight. If you took me to my limit, the XWF brass could say "hey, he didn't win, but he gave Cent a hell of a run, and since Sarah Lacklan decided to leave before taking the belt off Engy, we need a challenger.

Oh yeah, by the way, none of this is a conversation if Sarah stuck around. She would be the next contender, she'd win the Universal Title, and you and Engineer would be stuck battling over who can put the most nonsense in a speech.

But she did leave, and you were set up to challenge once again...until you made that stupid fucking speech.

How are you going to spin this one, Robbie? You've made it perfectly clear that this is all part of a process, and you're going to fail straight out of the gate. Why the hell would anyone grant you a Universal Title shot after that?

I know you've been around for a long time, Robbie, but there are still some things you need to learn. In this case, the lesson you should take from this is simple - leave them guessing. The more information you give them, the more they can use against you. Shane

and his cult of homosexuals hate me and the ground I walk on, but if they think they can take you out of the picture by helping me, you know damn well they're going to do that, and the last thing I want is Tristan Slater or Peter Gilmour getting their greasy hands all over our business.

I don't know what delusion you're under, Robbie, but you're NOT in a position of power. You don't have the luxury of painting a large target on your back. The moment your beaten and left for dead is the moment the entire company moves on from you. Trust me, I know.

And yes, fuck Tristan Slater. I'm glad you took out that son of a bitch, but if he isn't already in Edinburgh, he at least has his flight booked. And I don't want him involved. I don't want ANYONE involved.

Simply put, I don't want to leave any doubt in anyone's mind when this is all over. I don't want you to be able to make any excuses about how you were "screwed", and I don't want to hear from the rest of the wannabes who think they can take this belt off me that my title reign is somehow not "legit". I want everyone to know, when this is all said and done, that Centurion is better than Robbie Bourbon. Much like you would demand for yourself if you were to win this match.

Also, what is your obsession with my penis?! I would call you gay, but gay men wouldn't be as fixated on my junk as you are. It's not, like, a couple of little quips - you've devoted nearly a half hour of air time to my penis, and the size of such. Why? What ungodly reason would you have for being that focused on a part of my body that will not determine the outcome of this match?

Maybe it's because you ran out of shit to say, because the moment you get past the little insults, you're completely out of your element. You try to insult me by saying I repeat the past, but the truth of the matter is, the only reason that pisses you off is because you don't have a past to be proud of. Trust me, if you were in the ring with one of these new punks who think they're the shit, the first thing out of your mouth would be about what you've accomplished and the work you've put in to this company. But because you're on the other side of the ring with me, you suddenly don't want to talk about anything other than the here and now.

Ok, Robbie, I'll talk about the here and now. I'm smarter than you. By leaps and bounds. You've proven that by going on your rampage. You want to effectively take out the characters of the XWF? You don't do it all at once, dumbass! This shows why you were so ineffective the first time - it's all or nothing with you. You either don't give a shit, or you want to destroy everyone.

Do you know what I do, Robbie? I systemically, one by one, pick my targets and prove my superiority over them. I humble them so hard, they either find a new lease on life, or they find a new career. You want to know how to deal with Shane

's thugs? Just wait - I have a plan for that. What is that plan? Well...only an idiot would give away that information.

The reason you discredit me and my accomplishments is the same reason everyone else tries to say I'm "overrated" - because I'm boring. I don't have Unknown Soldier's devil worship. I don't have Noah Jackson's...vocabulary. I don't roid myself up and scream into a camera about rape like Socio does. No, I go to the ring, I take care of business, and I walk out. Quite frankly, that's how I like it.

Doesn't mean I don't have a line of folks looking to take off my head. All you have to do is search the internet to find the useless bullshit spewed by some of the worst wrestlers in the XWF. They're all clout chasers, looking to just be mentioned in order to boost their profile. I may be boring, but I sell tickets, and I win matches. Fuck the rest of that vanity bullshit.

Oh, and by the by, I didn't want Atara Themis in THIS match. I want Atara Themis in the match with Gilmour, because she got screwed. And does she deserve a title shot? Maybe, maybe not, but at least she didn't lose to Azrael Erebus.

Oh, sorry, am I talking too much about the past again? I forgot that I only can't do that when it comes to Robbie. Mentioning Atara's shortcomings in the ring? That's perfectly fine. That's just proof she doesn't match up in the ring. But mentioning Robbie's shortcomings in the ring? That's being obsessed. We can't do that.

And no, you didn't get "under my skin", Robbie. You've been on my mind for two weeks now, because I know you're going to bring it. I'm not stupid. I know you're a tough son of a bitch who will take a beating and keep rolling. Thing is, though...I'm tougher. Those aches you claim to give me? Those little pains I'm going to have because of you? They don't compare to the scars I ready have. I should be dead, Robbie. Seriously - a lesser man would be dead after all the shit I've gone through.

But I'm not dead. I'm here, and I'm better than I've ever been. I'm in the best shape of my career, and if I'm going to lose my title, it certainly isn't going to be to some fat luchador on a power trip.

Go ahead and talk about my dick one last time, Robbie. I'll see you tomorrow night. Bring a notebook, because you might just learn a thing or two out there.

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