Post by R.W. Randolph on Apr 2, 2011 3:09:10 GMT -5
(Fade in.)
"How about make it MORE obvious, Erik..."
(Last time he was seen, R.W. Randolph had called out Erik Josten. Of course, the challenge went unanswered, dismissed as a mockery. Several reports came in that the Broken Saint was actively barred from the building during the last Solitary. Other rumors came in that Randolph was threatened with suspension or termination if he came to the ring. There is many suspicious activities going on. Made even more so with the Main Event for this week's Solitary, as the former Universal Champion goes one-on-one with Blake Gold, the #1 contender for the PWE Universal Title.
R.W. doesn't reinvent the wheel. It's the same thing as usual. He is in the Sound-stage, with the black backdrop and the Infractus Sanctus Logo. The Known Unknown's mask that was formerly ice-picked to the wall is gone, it's whereabouts are as undetermined as the so-called "Coldest Player in the Game" himself.
He walks in, stage right. He's surprisingly dressed up, in a black sport coat, white button down, blue jeans, and black cowboy boots. Beyond that, one look at the calendar would make one realize this was early in the week for the average PWE promo. But this is R.W. Randolph. There is always a meaning to the madness. And with this he speaks, his voice maintaining its usual calm.)
Randolph: I apologize if I seem a bit... over-dressed... for this occasion. Similarly, I am quite aware that this is coming in well ahead of schedule. Considering my last appearance came in a bit behind schedule, I hope you understand. There is a bigger issue than that at foot. The main airport I fly out of will be overloaded with golfer assholes in a few days. It's that time of the year, where the biggest small town in Georgia gets way to many people coming into town for one week. Needless to say, I want no part of it. I'm leaving for Morocco as soon as I'm finished here. The wife and my boy are spending the week in Michigan with her family, so we aren't taking part in the Masters-bation.
And, before I get to the task at hand, there's an issue from this past Solitary I had to address. I listened to what Captain Bullshit had to say. Somehow, a former PWE Universal Champion is undeserving of a Universal Title shot. You know, coming from the guy who people are still trying to figure out how he got shot to begin with, that's hilarious. And, to prove how undeserving of a Universal Title shot that I am... I get this note...
(R.W. pulls a folded up note from his pocket. He doesn't bother reading it. He doesn't even bother opening it up. He simply puts it back in his pocket.)
Randolph: ...threatening harm to my family if I come to the ring. I would have almost bought as my old buddy Devon, except for the signature "The Oldest Player in the Game." I figured it was some kind of retarded joke. I got word that they haven't seen a hooded freak running around, so I opted to bide my time. Then again, seeing how that greenhorn almost made a fool of you, I guess it was in your best interest that I didn't end up going down there. That way, Josten gets to continue to be Universal Champion without defending the belt, TKU can still run around with a stick up his ass, and Amerie doesn't have to worry about her role in Hold the Pepperoni 4 popping up at an inopportune time. Everybody is happy. Except for those of us who want to actually see PWE succeed. Oh, and the fans. But fuck them, right?
You are promising 1 Universal Title shot before Summer Slaughter, which is astonishing to me. I mean, you're actually gonna Be a champion for a change? What's this worthy contender's name? If I had to guess, his name would be either El Mexicano or Fairview Reed. And in neither event, would anyone be surprised. It's head scratching to me, because I am sitting here and I think we are all counting the days until All-Star Weekend when we finally get a REAL Universal Champion again.
(R.W. shakes his head. It is with this next statement that his frustration shines through.)
Randolph: And that leads us to this week...
(R.W.'s arms cross over his broad chest. His head tilts back in such a way that he appears to be looking down at the camera. It's from this position he addresses his current target.)
Randolph: The person I have to look at with disdain for this is Amerie Rodriguez. I know she was the one behind this. Look, hon. Everybody knows that Josten has some dirt on you. Why else would you allow him to go this long without defending the Universal Title? If anyone needs some legitimacy, it's him. And, seeing as how we all know you don't like me, and barely like anyone I think highly of, you decided to take a cheap way out. If Blake wins this match, he doesn't really gain much more than a win over R.W. Randolph. If I lose, I'm still a top name in the PWE. If Blake loses, all that momentum goes to hell, and for what? So I can have some kind of bullshit vanity win?
We both know that this match should have been me vs. Josten for the belt. That way, Josten and I have something to gain. He would have something to lose. Me not so much at this point. A smart person would have saved me and Gold for a pay-per-view or something. Of course, since Gold is on a roll, you're hoping I can knock him down a peg and hopefully injure him somehow so your pampered little zero can actually have a chance to beat him. Fine, I'll bite. It'll help me figure on my goals anyway. If you know who doesn't rear his head, we'll all know that he's done. He will have been run off by me. And I'll get Josten in line one way or the other, then I'll go back about my business. Which brings me to the Gold Standard himself.
(R.W.'s arms drop. His head lowers to the point where it appears he's looking up to the camera. These words are directed to his opposition.)
Randolph: I remember being the guy with all the fire in the world. I remember being the guy who was part of the "golden generation." I remember being the future of this business. I remember being all but unbeatable in the land before the PWE. I remember looking at every opponent as being beneath me. I remember thinking I always had the upper hand. I've been in Blake Gold's shoes.
But Blake Gold has never spent one god damned day in my shoes. Blake had a taste of cold hard reality slapping him in the face at the hands of 'Bashi and Ms. Roshan Nocturne, but he never got to savor the flavor. Blake has never gone into a match as the underdog. Blake is often attacked for his redundancy, and rightfully so, but he has never once been dismissed because of his style. He, like myself, are subtle as a punch to the mouth. However, he has never lacked subtlety while being difficult to figure out. Gold has never known what its like to have a target on his back. That experience will come after All-Star Weekend, that I can guarantee.
I am going to bore you with some ancient history, if you don't mind. If you do? Too bad. You were chasing after Dylan Cage for quite some time, if memory serves. Funny thing to me is, I'm as close as you'll ever get to meeting him, now. A lot of his history coincides with mine. We've been Allies and Enemies. I furthered his career at one point, introducing him to officials in ICE. He helped end mine at one point, with a well placed Gateway Title to the back of the head. But understand this: facing me is nothing like facing Cage. He never seemed to reach his full potential, as far as I am concerned. I did much more than he did, with less natural talent.
(R.W.'s hands rub together as he builds to his final salvo on his opposition. His head returns to its original position, he cracks his knuckles and then speaks one last time.)
Randolph: You are going to talk about how good you are. How you're getting better. Probably about how I'm not that good. Same shit, Different day. You are gaining that valuable experience, beyond a shadow of a doubt. But you're gonna learn one hell of a lesson at my hands, Vato. My entire career has been built around the fact that I have faced people who are bigger, stronger, faster, and so called "better" wrestlers than I am. And more often than not, I would walk out of those matches the victor.
Just remember the first time our paths crossed. You tried to strong arm me, and you got the surprise of your life when you spun around, not seeing the left hand that would have knocked you the fuck out if I wanted to. At any given moment, I can pull off the one moment that can drop you. And as for your dreaded Money Shot... do you REALLY want to give up your back, elbows wide apart, hands over one shoulder, for even one second? I mean, it's not like you're actively putting yourself into a position where you'd be in a brutal submission or anything.
This Sunday, at Solitary, the #1 contender for the Universal title gets thrown into the fight of his life. To paraphrase Humphery Bogart, Here's look at you gettin' Knocked Out... Or Clocked Out, Kid! Now if you'll excuse me, I got to get the hell out of this town.
(R.W. abruptly leaves the area. He's avoiding the golf traffic as best he can. Will he be ready for Blake Gold as Solitary? Time will tell.
Fade out.)
"How about make it MORE obvious, Erik..."
(Last time he was seen, R.W. Randolph had called out Erik Josten. Of course, the challenge went unanswered, dismissed as a mockery. Several reports came in that the Broken Saint was actively barred from the building during the last Solitary. Other rumors came in that Randolph was threatened with suspension or termination if he came to the ring. There is many suspicious activities going on. Made even more so with the Main Event for this week's Solitary, as the former Universal Champion goes one-on-one with Blake Gold, the #1 contender for the PWE Universal Title.
R.W. doesn't reinvent the wheel. It's the same thing as usual. He is in the Sound-stage, with the black backdrop and the Infractus Sanctus Logo. The Known Unknown's mask that was formerly ice-picked to the wall is gone, it's whereabouts are as undetermined as the so-called "Coldest Player in the Game" himself.
He walks in, stage right. He's surprisingly dressed up, in a black sport coat, white button down, blue jeans, and black cowboy boots. Beyond that, one look at the calendar would make one realize this was early in the week for the average PWE promo. But this is R.W. Randolph. There is always a meaning to the madness. And with this he speaks, his voice maintaining its usual calm.)
Randolph: I apologize if I seem a bit... over-dressed... for this occasion. Similarly, I am quite aware that this is coming in well ahead of schedule. Considering my last appearance came in a bit behind schedule, I hope you understand. There is a bigger issue than that at foot. The main airport I fly out of will be overloaded with golfer assholes in a few days. It's that time of the year, where the biggest small town in Georgia gets way to many people coming into town for one week. Needless to say, I want no part of it. I'm leaving for Morocco as soon as I'm finished here. The wife and my boy are spending the week in Michigan with her family, so we aren't taking part in the Masters-bation.
And, before I get to the task at hand, there's an issue from this past Solitary I had to address. I listened to what Captain Bullshit had to say. Somehow, a former PWE Universal Champion is undeserving of a Universal Title shot. You know, coming from the guy who people are still trying to figure out how he got shot to begin with, that's hilarious. And, to prove how undeserving of a Universal Title shot that I am... I get this note...
(R.W. pulls a folded up note from his pocket. He doesn't bother reading it. He doesn't even bother opening it up. He simply puts it back in his pocket.)
Randolph: ...threatening harm to my family if I come to the ring. I would have almost bought as my old buddy Devon, except for the signature "The Oldest Player in the Game." I figured it was some kind of retarded joke. I got word that they haven't seen a hooded freak running around, so I opted to bide my time. Then again, seeing how that greenhorn almost made a fool of you, I guess it was in your best interest that I didn't end up going down there. That way, Josten gets to continue to be Universal Champion without defending the belt, TKU can still run around with a stick up his ass, and Amerie doesn't have to worry about her role in Hold the Pepperoni 4 popping up at an inopportune time. Everybody is happy. Except for those of us who want to actually see PWE succeed. Oh, and the fans. But fuck them, right?
You are promising 1 Universal Title shot before Summer Slaughter, which is astonishing to me. I mean, you're actually gonna Be a champion for a change? What's this worthy contender's name? If I had to guess, his name would be either El Mexicano or Fairview Reed. And in neither event, would anyone be surprised. It's head scratching to me, because I am sitting here and I think we are all counting the days until All-Star Weekend when we finally get a REAL Universal Champion again.
(R.W. shakes his head. It is with this next statement that his frustration shines through.)
Randolph: And that leads us to this week...
(R.W.'s arms cross over his broad chest. His head tilts back in such a way that he appears to be looking down at the camera. It's from this position he addresses his current target.)
Randolph: The person I have to look at with disdain for this is Amerie Rodriguez. I know she was the one behind this. Look, hon. Everybody knows that Josten has some dirt on you. Why else would you allow him to go this long without defending the Universal Title? If anyone needs some legitimacy, it's him. And, seeing as how we all know you don't like me, and barely like anyone I think highly of, you decided to take a cheap way out. If Blake wins this match, he doesn't really gain much more than a win over R.W. Randolph. If I lose, I'm still a top name in the PWE. If Blake loses, all that momentum goes to hell, and for what? So I can have some kind of bullshit vanity win?
We both know that this match should have been me vs. Josten for the belt. That way, Josten and I have something to gain. He would have something to lose. Me not so much at this point. A smart person would have saved me and Gold for a pay-per-view or something. Of course, since Gold is on a roll, you're hoping I can knock him down a peg and hopefully injure him somehow so your pampered little zero can actually have a chance to beat him. Fine, I'll bite. It'll help me figure on my goals anyway. If you know who doesn't rear his head, we'll all know that he's done. He will have been run off by me. And I'll get Josten in line one way or the other, then I'll go back about my business. Which brings me to the Gold Standard himself.
(R.W.'s arms drop. His head lowers to the point where it appears he's looking up to the camera. These words are directed to his opposition.)
Randolph: I remember being the guy with all the fire in the world. I remember being the guy who was part of the "golden generation." I remember being the future of this business. I remember being all but unbeatable in the land before the PWE. I remember looking at every opponent as being beneath me. I remember thinking I always had the upper hand. I've been in Blake Gold's shoes.
But Blake Gold has never spent one god damned day in my shoes. Blake had a taste of cold hard reality slapping him in the face at the hands of 'Bashi and Ms. Roshan Nocturne, but he never got to savor the flavor. Blake has never gone into a match as the underdog. Blake is often attacked for his redundancy, and rightfully so, but he has never once been dismissed because of his style. He, like myself, are subtle as a punch to the mouth. However, he has never lacked subtlety while being difficult to figure out. Gold has never known what its like to have a target on his back. That experience will come after All-Star Weekend, that I can guarantee.
I am going to bore you with some ancient history, if you don't mind. If you do? Too bad. You were chasing after Dylan Cage for quite some time, if memory serves. Funny thing to me is, I'm as close as you'll ever get to meeting him, now. A lot of his history coincides with mine. We've been Allies and Enemies. I furthered his career at one point, introducing him to officials in ICE. He helped end mine at one point, with a well placed Gateway Title to the back of the head. But understand this: facing me is nothing like facing Cage. He never seemed to reach his full potential, as far as I am concerned. I did much more than he did, with less natural talent.
(R.W.'s hands rub together as he builds to his final salvo on his opposition. His head returns to its original position, he cracks his knuckles and then speaks one last time.)
Randolph: You are going to talk about how good you are. How you're getting better. Probably about how I'm not that good. Same shit, Different day. You are gaining that valuable experience, beyond a shadow of a doubt. But you're gonna learn one hell of a lesson at my hands, Vato. My entire career has been built around the fact that I have faced people who are bigger, stronger, faster, and so called "better" wrestlers than I am. And more often than not, I would walk out of those matches the victor.
Just remember the first time our paths crossed. You tried to strong arm me, and you got the surprise of your life when you spun around, not seeing the left hand that would have knocked you the fuck out if I wanted to. At any given moment, I can pull off the one moment that can drop you. And as for your dreaded Money Shot... do you REALLY want to give up your back, elbows wide apart, hands over one shoulder, for even one second? I mean, it's not like you're actively putting yourself into a position where you'd be in a brutal submission or anything.
This Sunday, at Solitary, the #1 contender for the Universal title gets thrown into the fight of his life. To paraphrase Humphery Bogart, Here's look at you gettin' Knocked Out... Or Clocked Out, Kid! Now if you'll excuse me, I got to get the hell out of this town.
(R.W. abruptly leaves the area. He's avoiding the golf traffic as best he can. Will he be ready for Blake Gold as Solitary? Time will tell.
Fade out.)
