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X-treme Wrestling Federation »   » Archives » "Savage Saturday Night" RP Board
Exposing Estrada
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Cage Coleman Offline
Registered but either hasn't added self to a roster yet or doesn't RP



XWF FanBase:
The IWC

(gets varying reactions in the arenas, but will be worshiped like a god and defended until the end by internet fans; literally has thousands of online dorks logging on to complain anytime they lose a match or don't get pushed right)


#1
11-04-2021, 06:45 PM

Cage Coleman sits at a table of some random restaurant, chomping away at a salad and sipping white wine. He takes the napkin folded neatly in his lap and dabs the dressing away from the corner of his mouth as a man in a fancy suit approaches him.

[Image: 143653-410x600-Jim-Carrey.jpg]

"Caaaaaaaaaaaaage!"

"Bartholomewwwwwwwww!" Cage halfheartedly mimics, pushing out a chair with his foot. "Please, sit."

Coleman's agent takes a seat. "Why thank you."

"I've already taken the liberty to order for you," Cage informs him.

"What'd you get?" Bart asks, taking a quick glance over the menu. "I hope it's the stromboli!"

Coleman frowns. "It's not." He takes another sip of wine before disappointing the agent even more. "I got you the grilled cheese and fries."

Bartholomew flips between the front and back of the menu, until he finally sees the thing his client ordered for him. "You ordered me something off the kid's menu?!"

"It was the cheapest thing they had!"

"I could've paid for my own lunch!"

Cage goes to take another drink, only to stop right before the wine touches his lips. "Who the hell said I was paying?"

"................." A nervous Bartholomew takes a moment to fidget with his tie before getting down to business. "So.................... what's so important that couldn't be done over the phone?"

Without a word, Coleman neatly wipes his mouth before leaning across the table and slapping his agent upside the head.

"Ow!!!!" Bart cries out, rubbing the spot. "What the hell was THAT for?!?"

"For booking me with this shithole of a company!" Cage responds, angrily taking the last bite of his salad.

"You said you wanted a challenge!"

"Was I high?!"

Bartholomew thought back to the night Coleman called him about wanting some new opportunities in the wrestling business. He could barely understand his client, who eventually passed out mid-conversation after insisting Bart book him against someone he could make an immediate impact against.

"Probably."

"Uuuuuuuuugh," Cage groaned. "I really need to lay off the Xanax."

"You and me both," Bartholomew agreed, taking a pill bottle out of his pocket and popping a handful of its contents into his mouth.

Coleman sighs, thinking about his last match. "I can't believe he got me with a Backslide.............. that was MY idea, dammit!!!"

"Hey, it's better than being knocked out!" Bart pointed out, a notion Cage could agree with. "As far as everyone knows, he got lucky; not to mention, it was an incredible match!"

"They always are," Coleman speaks in a, literally, defeated tone. "Until next Saturday, at least."

The waiter arrives and places a tiny plate of fries and a grilled cheese sandwich in front of Bart, along with a kid's size chocolate milk; before setting another glass of wine and a monstrous steak in front of Coleman. "Can I get you gentlemen anything else?"

Bartholomew goes to request more food, but Cage speaks over him. "We're fine."

"Very well," the waiter replies as he turns to walk away. "Enjoy your meal."

Bart looks at the measly excuse for a dinner as Coleman immediately starts tearing into his steak. The agent shrugs and picks up the grilled cheese, before nearly finishing the bite-sized sandwich in a single bite. "So.............. *chew* *chew* *chew* "............what's the problem with next Saturday?"

The question causes Cage to cut into his steak more aggressively, his eyes widening with anger. "Gee, I don't know, Bart," he spouts sarcastically while popping a piece of cooked cow into his mouth. "Maybe the fact that it ISN'T a wrestling match!!!"

The agent finishes his grilled cheese with a mere second bite and washes it down with the 3 oz. chocolate milk before responding. "That's just the wrestling business, isn't it? You can't always expect to be booked in straight one on one's, sometimes they throw in a cage, or an extra person, to spice things up."

"Don't preach to ME about the wrestling business, Bart," Coleman fires back, spitting chewed up chunks of beef all over his agent's fries in the process. "Contrary to what Mark Flynn believes, I HAVE been around the block."

"Then what's the matter with Saturday?"

"It's an Abominable Snowman Destruction Match!!!!!!!"

"I.............. see."

"You see?" Cage asks angrily, waving a delicious piece of steak at the end of his fork in Bart's direction. "You see?!? Did you not SEE what you were signing me up for when you asked them to book me?!"

"All they told me was you'd be competing in a Tournament to determine the #1 Contender for the TV Title at Bad Medicine!" Bartholomew defends himself, wiping some of Cage's spit off one of his fries and taking a bite. "Considering you've never held a single Championship in all your years competing around the world, I thought you'd be thrilled!"

"Well, I'm not," Coleman says with brutal honesty. "I would've been thrilled had you gotten me a match with the TV Champion WITHOUT having to go through three other people to do it! But, instead, I've got to participate in the Alaskan Olympics just for a shot at one of the company's worst prizes."

"I............ I'm sorry, Cage," Bart apologizes, praying, deep down, he won't lose any money because of his mistake. "Maybe the other matches won't be so bad?"

Coleman lets out a sarcastic laugh. "Sure, if you like Super Mario 64, or being felt up by Eskimos!" A disgusted Cage shoves his half-eaten steak aside. "I, for one, prefer neither!"

A still hungry Bartholomew reaches for his client's leftovers, but is interrupted by the waiter. "Would you like a box for the rest of your steak?"

"No, no," Cage insists, handing the plate over as Bart eyes the hefty chunk of meat that remains. "Might as well feed the raccoons."

"Very good, sir," the waiter smiles as he turns his attention to Bartholomew. "I see someone barely touched their fries; shall I get a box for you, as well?"

The agent looks down at his cluster of fries, all of which are covered in his client's DNA and steak chunks. "I'm good."

"Ooooookay," the waiter says, grabbing the plate and going to leave. "I'll be right back with the check."

"That's checks," Cage is quick to point out, receiving an eye roll from his agent.

"My apologies," the waiter replies, before disappearing with the wasted food as the two guests continue their conversation.

"People are gonna walk out, Bart," Coleman exhales, shuttering at the thought. "Nobody's EVER walked out on one of my matches before!"

Bartholomew gritted his teeth, remembering back to one particular night in Japan when Cage had a match against one of the womens' vibrators because his opponent refused to wrestle unless the promoter gave him more money. Even though the entire audience left before the final bell, Coleman insisted it was the greatest match involving a sex toy in the history of wrestling; which was probably true.

"Right.................."

Cage leaned back in his chair and put his hands on top of his head. "It was gonna be hard enough having a decent match with Reggie Estrada as is but, with a stipulation like 'Destroy Your Opponent's Snowman,' its gonna be impossible!"

"Oh come on, now," Bart responded, picking a crumb up off the table from his grilled cheese and eating it. "He can't be THAT bad................. can he?"

"No," Coleman admitted, before throwing a little shad his opponent's way. "At least not compared to his THUG friends.............. former friends? I'm not quite sure, it's so hard to read these people."

Bartholomew went to pop another crumb into his mouth, but stopped halfway through, leaving the piece of bread suspended magically in mid-air. "Dude!!!"

"XWFers!" Cage reiterated, annoyed by the misinterpretation. "I meant XWFers!!!"

Bart slowly opened his mouth, allowing the floating crumb to continue its journey, his eyes never once leaving his client the entire time. "Sure."

"Oh, get your head out of your liberal ass!" Cage barked. "Not everything's about race, Bart!"

"You're right," the agent apologized, despite the fact their conversation had attracted the attention of a black family eating nearby, who were now staring daggers at Coleman."But, you don't ALWAYS have to have a good match; afterall, they pay you more for winning a bad match than they do losing a good one!"

"Yes, but why not have both?" Coleman pondered. "I didn't come here to squash people, I came here to make jaws drop, something I'll NEVER be able to do against someone like Estrada."

"Isn't the guy a former Xtreme Champion?" Bart asked, thinking back to something he'd seen in Reggie's file. "Twice, at that. Seems pretty good to me!"

Cage nearly spit out the wine he'd been sippin' on. "You CLEARLY have no idea what the circumstances surrounding those Title reigns are, do you?"

Bartholomew, who'd only skimmed Reggie's bio for a few seconds, shrugged.

"Reggie Estrada's first reign was essentially handed to him when he pinned Hanari Carnes under 24/7 Rules because Hanari was afraid to defend his belt against Robert Main," Cage informed his agent, who seemed astounded by this. "Back then, Reggie competed under a mask as Wrestler82, something I highly recommend he start doing, again, so we don't have to look at that ugly mug of his!" Coleman paused for a drink of wine before continuing. "He then went on to lose that belt a few weeks later to the man Carnes was afraid to defend said belt against in the FIRST place. In our business we call that a transitional Champion."

"Interesting," Bart stated before inquiring about the other one. "What about his second reign?"

"Now THAT's where things get interesting," Cage explained. "If you look at the Title History for the XWF Xtreme Championship, you will see Reggie Estrada's name directly under Robert Main's."

"Oh wow," Bart interjected, even more impressed with his client's opponent than he already was. "So he won his belt back from the man who took it from him?"

"Yes and no," Cage continued, holding a finger up in hopes his agent wouldn't be so quick to jump the gun. "Yes, he 'won' the Championship back from Robert Main, but it wasn't in a match. You see, simply looking at the history of the Xtreme Title can be quite misleading without any sort of context. The reality is, Reggie Estrada got his belt back by catching the former Universal Champion off-guard and pinning him backstage when he was least expecting it."

"Damn."

"Damn indeed," Coleman agrees. "Imagine holding the supposed second most prestigious belt in a company TWICE, under those circumstances! I don't know about you, but I'd rather go my entire career without a single Title run than win ANY the way Reggie Estrada did."

Of course Cage Coleman was lying, but he wasn't gonna let his agent know. The truth was, it ate Cage up inside knowing someone he viewed as inferior had held TWO Titles before he could even get his hands on one. He may not have respected Reggie, but he knew a win over him would make the sort of impact he'd hoped beating Mark Flynn would. Even IF he didn't make it any further in the Tournament, people would know Cage Coleman was for real.

"I don't know about you," Bart began, causing a skeptical Cage to raise an eyebrow. "But Reggie sounds alot better than you're giving him credit for. Constantly competing against top tier talent, with two Title reigns to show for it; sounds to me like you're jealous."

"Jealous?" Coleman laughed. "Jealous?! Yes, Bart, I'm jealous of Reggie's mixtapes and all the fake wins he's gotten over the years. I'm jealous that Reggie Estrada has wrestled guys I would have to BEG to step in the ring with, all because he was in the right place at the right time. I'm jealous that Eric Estrada's love child has made more of a name for himself in a single company, than Cage Coleman has competing around the entire world!!! Do I SOUND jealous to you, Bart?!?"

He did but, considering how crazy he was beginning to sound, Bartholomew was never gonna admit it. "No..............."

"Thank you!" a frustrated Cage jumped for joy. "The sporting world has seen a number of great Reggies, but not ONE of them has had the last name 'Estrada.' White, Jackson, Wayne, all masters of their respective trades. Reggie Estrada, though? His name will be mentioned alongside the countless other questionable Champions who lucked their way into becoming the company's alleged 'next big thing,' only to fall flat on their ass once it became time to PROVE they were worth of such an honor. You think anybody ever gave Reggie Jackson a home run, or Reggie White a sack?! HELL NO! Those guys had to earn it every single play against the Alias' and Robert Mains of their respective sports! It's not like Reggie Wayne ever got to start a play in the endzone, he had to fight his way past the defender and WORK for those points; something Reggie Estrada's never had to do!"

The waiter approaches the table with a check in each hand and places one down in front of Coleman, and the other in front of Bart. "I'll be back for these whenever you're ready." He heads back to the kitchen as Cage flips his bill over and frowns.

"He gave me the wrong one."

Bartholomew flips his over, only to be confused by his client's comment. "No he didn't."

"YES," Coleman boistered. "He did..............." Cage snatches the check for a meager $5 out of his agent's hand and replaces it with his own $65 one.

"I................ guess he did," A defeated Bartholomew concedes.

Cage reaches into his wallet and tosses a five dollar bill on the table. "Reggie Estrada's not the worst member of the XWF roster, but he's nowhere near being the best, either. There's guys who've never held gold that are MILES ahead of where he is, and you're lookin' at one of 'em. It ain't gonna be pretty, and will probably go down as one of the worst Cage Coleman matches of all-time, but, Saturday night, I'm gonna show Reggie Estrada that it's not about what you did but what you're GOING TO do. And, come Savage, I'm going to destroy a snowman, push a bitch into some ice water, and put on a wrestling clinic as a bunch of Eskimos give me a standing o at ringside! And ALL OF THAT will be a zillion times more impressive than anything Reggie Estrada's ever done!"

Bart was seeing dollar signs. "I love it, baby!"

Coleman nods at the agent and goes to leave. Before he does, though, Cage stops and turns to Bartholomew for one last request.

"Don't tip the waiter," he demands, holding up a scolding finger. "He was a dick."

Cage exits the restaurant as Bart frowns. He reaches into his wallet and places three twenties and five on the table, before reaching for another Andrew Jackson and adding it to the pile.

"He's not the only one............."
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