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| “Battle not with monsters lest you become one.”; - Frederick Nietzsche. Nick and Prime RP | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Mar 25 2008, 02:08 PM (86 Views) | |
| Spann | Mar 25 2008, 02:08 PM Post #1 |
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I'm just a soldier. I'm not worthy.
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Our scene opens in a typical greasy spoon cafe in a rather rough area of Manchester's city center. At one of the tables, seperated by a bottle of ketchup shaped like a tomato and metal salt and pepper shakers, are Gunnar Leland, portable Outside Broadcast mic in his hand, and Nicholas Allen, cup of tea, six sugars in his. GL: Mr Allen, can I just begin by thanking you for agreeing to this interview. I understand you have a particularly intense match ahead of you this week, FIW management offering you and Jay Bain another shot at Kennedy and Prime for the tag team championship? NA: That's right, yeah. *slurp* I tell you what though, Gunn. You mind me calling you that? Gunnar shrugs. As long he gets an interview he doesn't mind. NA: Well, Gunn. Jay can deal with Kennedy, she's of no real interest to me. My only real concern going into my match this week is chopping down one of the biggest trees in FIW. GL: I presume you are talking about Prime? NA: Got it in one, buddy. There's been some quite big beef between the two of us these last few weeks... GL: Which spawned from Prime's belief that you should have helped him when he was attacked by the Rejects, despite being almost completely paralysed at the time? NA: Exactly right, Gunn. *slurp* Now, since then we've met here and there, most noticeably a few weeks ago, when I had the guy tapping, begging me to stop. If it wasn't for Tier, I'd have got the win in that match, and be just as much of a Dual Crown contender as Mr. Brody is. Now, while I know that's an issue between myself and Tier, it doesn't change the fact that yet again, I had the better of Prime. Jay and I were moments away from winning the belts last time we fought, after I damn near Allenplexed the sucker through the ring. In fact, I reckon Prime's repressing the memories of there being a bigger, stronger, meaner "sum'bitch" than him in FIW, and that's honestly why Mr. Insecure-about-his-penis seems to think that he can actually get the better of me. I'm not a spiteful or vengeful man, Gunn, but Prime really knows how to press all my buttons. GL: So it's safe to assume that you're looking forward to meeting Prime this coming Sunday? NA: That's an understatment. The only thing that's really griping at me is the fact that it's not just me and him, one on one. Jut gives him more of a chance to rattle off some excuse as to why he didn't get the win. I'd relish the opportunity to throw him around the MEN arena, pin him for the three, and finally shut his mouth once and for all. Looks like I'm gonna have to wait for that opportunity, but taking those belts off him and Kennedy is a start. GL: If I could just take an opportunity now to ask you about your relationship with a few other FIW superstars? NA: Sure, go ahead. GL: Well, first of all, tell us about Team XK. Rumours are circulating that Xtreme Kitten wanted nothing to do with you and Jay Bain when the team was assembled? NA: Yeah, I heard that, and I've got a feeling it's true 'n' all. I think he's starting to warm to me though, I mean I've got some big wins for the team in the last few weeks, and Jay got that big win over Ninja a couple of weeks ago. GL: Bain wasn't so lucky last Sunday though, was he? NA: Yeah, I'm not too sure what happened there. Still, everyone has their off days, so lets not judge based on this week alone, eh? If I'm honest with you though, Gunn, I quite enjoy the fact that Kit-e-Kat seems to think I'm such a bad wrestler. Gives me chance to step my game up, really show him what I'm made of. This week being a case in point. If me and the Baininator can get our grubby mitts on the tag belts, then surely, he's gotta... Nick has been distracted by somebody walking past the window. He drops his cup, unfolding himself to his full height from under the table. NA: We're gonna have to finish this some other time, Gunn. Nick races to the door, swinging it wide open and charging down the street. He doesn't have far to go before he catches up with his target, whom he taps on the shoulder. NA: Well, well, well... I never expected to see you in this part of town. |
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| Triadred | Mar 25 2008, 05:04 PM Post #2 |
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Canada's Handsomest Boy
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A hulking mass of a man whips around and lays steely blue eyes on Allens equally massive frame. That target, of course, is one half of the FIW tag team champions, Prime. Face to face, Allen and Prime square off on the side walk with little more but air and opportunity between them. Anticipation. That's the name of the game right now. Who's going to to make the first move on who? Prime does. The big man throws a finger in Nick Allens face while his own face contorts and twists with bitter aggrivation. Prime: Look, Allen... I don't know who you think you are, but let me set you straight right here, and right now. You talk your talk, and you walk your walk, but you keep that shit in the ring. Out here in the real world, you lay your hands on me and I'll put you through the damn street! Allen doesn't even so much as budge. I highly doubt Primes rage is by any means a threat. I'd like to assume it's more a fair warning. Prime: But, while we're standing here face to face, maybe I'll just take advantage of this opportunity and get a few things off my chest as far as you and this shit attitude of yours goes. First, you wanna run your mouth and say this all started because I'm beefing over your ass showing me no support when I was getting beat down by a Reject free-for-all? You need to calm the hell down, Allen, because the fact of the matter is shit got hot in that ring, and God damn man, how the hell am I suppose to know if some strayed dart took your ass down?! Prime shrugs. Prime: Stuff like that just doesn't happen every day, you know? I found out after the fact, and I havn't said shit all about it since. Fact of the matter is I moved on, but you? You can't seem to let anything go... so you gotta run your mouth, like I said, and spew a bunch of trash about 'roid-rage this and small cock that. Bottom line, Nick Allen... you wanna fight a man, you treat him like a damn man. If you wanna be FIW's biggest and baddest, then I say bring it on and we'll just see who the baddest is. But when you go and make shit personal... then we've got a problem. Again, Prime shrugs at Allen. Prime: All I hear about is you griping and pissing and moaning about some match where you had me tapping. At the end of the day, and as well as you should damn well know, it doesn't matter if I was tapping or if I was begging you for mercy... the fact of the matter is it didn't win you the match. So you wanna make like it's all my fault that you couldn't get the job done, by all means, be that guy... but me? I don't bitch, I don't moan, and I dont make excuses for myself. Just like Sunday at Anarchy. Win, lose, or draw you wont hear any excuses come outta me. If you take those straps off Kennedy and I, then I applaud you sir, because I'll be damned if any combo in FIW can. Prime expands his arms and presents himself as the dominant force he boasts to be. Prime: And as far as having my number goes... had me tapping? Had me begging? Bottom line, Allen... I've gotten my ass kicked before. I never said I was the most indestructable sum bitch in the locker room. All I've ever said is that you don't want to let me get these hands on you, 'cause when I do... it's all over. Nothing or nobody can deny that I am one of the strongest bastards in FIW ever. When all is said and done, I may not fly like a Shaun Wilson or grapple like an Ethan Adams, but I'll be God damned if I don't stove in a few skulls! So before you go and figure that it's over before it starts, you might want to consider one thing... nothing's over 'til it's over. A really smart man told me that once. I may not be a wise sum bitch like he was, but I'm smart enough to know that much. Prime shakes his head at Allen. Could be the big man has no real beef with the Millwall Bushwhackers. Judging by the expression on Primes face... he pitties him. Prime: You and me, Allen... we're two sum bicthes cut from the same cloth, which is why I've pretty well got you figured out. So I'm gonna shoot from the hip here and tell it to you straight... you want to make this Suday about proving your worth? I guarantee you, even if you win, you wont feel like a winner. But if you make this about respect... if you wanna come and fight me man to man... then come get your respect Nick Allen. Prime starts to back away from the Firm, but keeps his eyes locked on his Anarchy opponent. Is Prime retreating? Perhaps. Or maybe he's simply keeping with his own advice and saving everything for the ring... for Sunday. Prime: Come get your respect. |
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| Spann | Mar 25 2008, 08:04 PM Post #3 |
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I'm just a soldier. I'm not worthy.
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Allen grips Prime's immense shoulder. Not in an aggressive way, just to stop his opponent from retreating. NA: You wanna talk about respect? Well, it's about time. If I'm honest with you, there's two reasons why I wanna take you down. Number one, the fact that we keep meeting in that ring, and there's never a proper fucking answer as to who the better man is. It's never clear cut. Now yeah, that's probably my ego talking more than anything else, but you want to know reason number two? The main reason I want nothing more than ta' put you down for that three count? For the respect of my children. I couldn't give a fuck what you, what Bain, what Kitten, what anybody thinks of me, if my kids don't respect me then I've got absolutely fucking nothing else. That first time I met you in the ring, and it took both me and Jay to floor you? I'll be truthful, it scared the shit out of me. I've never met a man my physical equal. No, I've never met a man that much better than me. I'd had a bad run for weeks, and you were my big chance to show to them that I could properly hang with the big boys, and I fucked it up. I've competed for nearly every single belt in this federation, and not got a single one. Week after week of trying, and nothing. A draw with Ninja was the closest I ever got to being the big man my children are supposed to think I am. Now, I'm not asking for your sympathy. I'm not asking for you to feel sorry for me, because I'm past that now. Rather than wallow in my own self-pity, I picked up my game, got back in the gym, cut down on the drinking and made it my mission to show my family that I can make something of myself between those ropes, that I can be the champion my children want to see when they look at me. Nick lets go of Prime's shoulder, now pointing at the Evolution of Excellence at about chest height. NA: If I win this Sunday, if I genuinely out wrestle you, then I like to think that you'd show me some modicum of respect, because, fuck me, if I'm honest, under all the big words, the fightin' talk and the bullshit, I've got a lot of respect for you. Prime raises his head and arches an eyebrow. Did he just hear right? NA: You've got a belt to say that you're the best. You can wear that every day until somebody beats you, and say "I am the best at what I do", and come Sunday, you may well be a champion twice over. Now I can sit there and talk to Gunnar, or to Bostock, or Noon, or anybody else, and I can say big things to the camera about how much better I am than you, but at the end of the day, who's the one with the belt, hey? When Anderson calls those names at the start of the match, who's the champion? I've got none of that. I've got three tiny lives who need to believe in me, and I need them to respect me or they're gonna start to believe that I really am the useless man that my wife left four years ago. I'm like Tinkerbell. Yep, here comes one of Nick's strained analogies. NA: If my kids don't believe, then I die. Oh, that actually made some sense. NA: And so whether you call it proving my worth, or doing it for respect, that's why I won't stop until I've beaten you. You are my Everest. That first time we met in the ring, I had nightmares where you took my children away. Not being able to beat you was like proving Jess* right. If you ever have kids, you'll understand. I wish I could do something else to validate myself to these children of mine, but I've had too many bangs on the head, I'm too old, I'm too big, I'm too stupid to do anything else. So, I fight. I hope even you can respect me for that. The two men stand, eyes locked on each other. Can Prime see a tear beginning to well in the corner of Nick's eye? Allen wouldn't admit it, but it properly is. The two giants stand, facing each other in silence... |
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| Triadred | Mar 25 2008, 08:28 PM Post #4 |
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Canada's Handsomest Boy
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Eyeing Allens every feature, Prime tries his best not to let the pitty he has weeling up inside for Nicks situation come through, through means of his own features. Instead, and perhaps employing a little avoidance for sake of retreating before things get too emotional, Prime opts to start backing away from Allen again. Prime: Sunday... The big man says to his emotionally vulnerable challenger. Allens eyes follow Prime as the Goliath lumbers backward, trying hard to stay afoot while at the same time concentrating on Allen. Not because Prime feels Allen would sucker punch him out of spite or contempt... but never under estimate a desperate man. Prime: You want your respect? He calls to Allen once again as the gap between the two widens. Prime holds a pointed finger aloft and angles it Nicks way, stirring some what of a mixed reaction from the Millwall Bushwhacker. His face says intensity, but his eyes betray that written intensity with simultanious confusion and perhaps a touch of regret following his emotional out cry. As Prime backs away from Nick Allen, the English native appears to be a man lost and confused. And Prime, though his heart goes out to the man who would be his own childrens hero, prefers to maintain that confusion. After all... professional wrestling is a business. Not a charity. But at the same time, the big man isn't without morals. And in admitting as much, Prime calls to Allen one more time... Prime: Come get your respect. And with that, the FIW Impact Player and DCC hopeful turns slowly and takes his leave of the distraught and perhaps now regret soaken tag team championship hopeful, Nick Allen. |
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| Spann | Mar 25 2008, 08:57 PM Post #5 |
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I'm just a soldier. I'm not worthy.
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Nick turns, walking away from the Evolution of Excellence. Walking past the cafe he was at a few minutes ago, he notices that Gunnar has gone, which is fine. He's not sure how he feels at the moment, and doesn't want to speak to anyone right now. But Nick's luck doesn't last, as he bumps into Bostock. I mean, literally bumps into him. The little guy hits the deck, then quickly jumps back to his feet, dusting himself down. TB: Mr Allen, any chance of a quick word? NA: Not now, sonny. Nick brushes Bostock off, then carries on walking. He turns down a narrow side alley, a shortcut to wherever he is heading. By now though, the look on his face has changed. Gone has the ever so slightly quivering lip, as has the look of despair in his eyes. His face is now a picture of ambition, of determination and hope. This quickly turns to a look of complete and utter surprise as Herman Cardgage appears from a bin, Oscar the Grouch Style. HC: Excardon me, Miss, if I could just... NA: Not now, fruitcake. I've gotta go and find Jay... Nick sidesteps him, and keeps on walking... OOC NOTE: This now links rather nicely up to the RP that me and Jay are writing. |
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