Post by Frank Windsor on Mar 11, 2022 16:40:24 GMT -5
The scene opened completely dark except for a single ray of light coming down towards the ring. Frank Windsor sat in the deserted arena, long before everyone had arrived, even his own faction brothers. He sat on a metal chair in the middle of the ring as a single camera remained which he had set-up himself. It was to record this interview in the dimly lit arena. He looked down at the mat for a long, long time before he raised his head. He was dressed in a white retro " Bastards" T-shirt and black jeans.
“I’m glad that the words of my tag partner calmed me down,” Frank muttered. “He speaks sense in what can be seen as quite a calm figure representing the Bastards. Yes, I was and to be perfectly honest still fucking furious with the cunts known as the Empire BUT I love Robbie’s idea about the tornado tag Last Man Standing match. Pure fucking genius Robbie boy! Those Empire punks better bring it if they want to get hold of OUR tag straps.”
His voice rang loudly, echoing throughout the arena. He held his head for a few moments, until he raised it again to focus on the camera.
“I agree with Robbie to a certain degree,” Frank said. “We’ve all been robbed as of late BUT much more since this faction known unofficially as Donzig’s Angels turned up on NPW television. I know as we are the biggest thing on the screen at the moment that trying to take us out is your way to make a huge impact but guys, at least buy us a drink or two and we may put you over BUT to be fucking honest the disrespect that you have treated us with is like a kick in the bollocks with a hobnailed boot.”
Frank stood up and grabbed the chair. He threw the chair over the ropes and it hit the ground before it bounced against the ring barrier.
“People say that I shouldn’t count out Steve Awesome but I take one look at the tick turd and just crack up,” he said. “How can this moron be taken seriously? It’s only because he’s hanging out with those other two members of Donzig’s Angels that he gets any TV time as those two mooks are fucking gibbering messes. They don’t serve to even be selling our merchandise backstage let alone be in the ring with the Bastards.”
He leaned on the ropes with his back to the camera.
“I’m sorry Donzig if I can call you that but you must admit that you were scared of the Bastards stealing your spot and domineering here in NPW that you sold your soul and went to some dark alley and recruited those other fucking moronic ass clowns,” he continued. “Cowardice doesn’t look good on you Donzig but desperation breed strange bed fellows or some shit like that if I remember my old gran’s ramblings correctly. Yellow doesn’t look good on you sonny Jim!”
Frank looked down and saw his tag championship belt on the mat. He slowly bent down and picked it up.
“But what about the elephant in the room?” Frank said. “We saw the Vampire movie Stevie Boy; now that was possibly the WORSE Vampire movie I’ve ever sat through and I’ve seen Lesbian Vampire Killer and that film sucked major ass but this isn’t about your skills acting in front of a camera but if you can bring it in the squared circle Stevie. Can you? We know this is all about Donzig’s fucking ego and you’re just being dragged along to fuel it. I’m surprised he’s letting that asshole Timeless wrestle for the NPW North American Double Crown at Crowning of a Champion III as that would take the spotlight away from him. We all know that, that is my spot but that’s another story for another time. But it’s a strange fucking group that seems to say one thing and does another.”
He put the belt over his shoulder and caressed the face plate with the Bastards name upon it. Frank smiled slightly as a memory entered his mind.
“I know you say you don’t really want this, that you are going to take them because it follows by beating us,” Frank continued. “But I know you Donzig; you have fucking gold fever and we know that you crave this and the attention that it will bring you. Not so much your moronic mooks as we all know that you are just using them to back up your egotistical ways. If you think you can take these from us you are sorely mistaken. We will paint the goddamn arena red with your blood for these are quite precious for us.”
Frank turned back and looked right down the lens of the camera. He seemed to be looking right into the eyes of those who watched.
“Like Robbie stated before we need to have this match mean something,” he said. “If you do you usual thing and bring all kind of stupid, cowardly fucking shenanigans to the match then you won’t really have won anything would you? Using your numbers or jumping us beforehand may have got you over before BUT you forget yourselves; this is the time of the fucking Bastards not a bunch of pricks who think that they can live in the past.”
He visibly paused, switching gears mentally.
“This is going to be fun for someone,” he said. ”But I don’t think you’re going to like what happens unless you think anyone will remember you after this match?”
Frank looked around in a state of shock.
“Do you?” he laughed. “Are you that disillusioned? Do you think that these punks in the stand give a damn about you? That the asses watching live on pay per view want to see you get out of this unharmed? Hell!!! They want to see you bleed!!!!!"
Frank bowed his head and the light went out.
“I’m glad that the words of my tag partner calmed me down,” Frank muttered. “He speaks sense in what can be seen as quite a calm figure representing the Bastards. Yes, I was and to be perfectly honest still fucking furious with the cunts known as the Empire BUT I love Robbie’s idea about the tornado tag Last Man Standing match. Pure fucking genius Robbie boy! Those Empire punks better bring it if they want to get hold of OUR tag straps.”
His voice rang loudly, echoing throughout the arena. He held his head for a few moments, until he raised it again to focus on the camera.
“I agree with Robbie to a certain degree,” Frank said. “We’ve all been robbed as of late BUT much more since this faction known unofficially as Donzig’s Angels turned up on NPW television. I know as we are the biggest thing on the screen at the moment that trying to take us out is your way to make a huge impact but guys, at least buy us a drink or two and we may put you over BUT to be fucking honest the disrespect that you have treated us with is like a kick in the bollocks with a hobnailed boot.”
Frank stood up and grabbed the chair. He threw the chair over the ropes and it hit the ground before it bounced against the ring barrier.
“People say that I shouldn’t count out Steve Awesome but I take one look at the tick turd and just crack up,” he said. “How can this moron be taken seriously? It’s only because he’s hanging out with those other two members of Donzig’s Angels that he gets any TV time as those two mooks are fucking gibbering messes. They don’t serve to even be selling our merchandise backstage let alone be in the ring with the Bastards.”
He leaned on the ropes with his back to the camera.
“I’m sorry Donzig if I can call you that but you must admit that you were scared of the Bastards stealing your spot and domineering here in NPW that you sold your soul and went to some dark alley and recruited those other fucking moronic ass clowns,” he continued. “Cowardice doesn’t look good on you Donzig but desperation breed strange bed fellows or some shit like that if I remember my old gran’s ramblings correctly. Yellow doesn’t look good on you sonny Jim!”
Frank looked down and saw his tag championship belt on the mat. He slowly bent down and picked it up.
“But what about the elephant in the room?” Frank said. “We saw the Vampire movie Stevie Boy; now that was possibly the WORSE Vampire movie I’ve ever sat through and I’ve seen Lesbian Vampire Killer and that film sucked major ass but this isn’t about your skills acting in front of a camera but if you can bring it in the squared circle Stevie. Can you? We know this is all about Donzig’s fucking ego and you’re just being dragged along to fuel it. I’m surprised he’s letting that asshole Timeless wrestle for the NPW North American Double Crown at Crowning of a Champion III as that would take the spotlight away from him. We all know that, that is my spot but that’s another story for another time. But it’s a strange fucking group that seems to say one thing and does another.”
He put the belt over his shoulder and caressed the face plate with the Bastards name upon it. Frank smiled slightly as a memory entered his mind.
“I know you say you don’t really want this, that you are going to take them because it follows by beating us,” Frank continued. “But I know you Donzig; you have fucking gold fever and we know that you crave this and the attention that it will bring you. Not so much your moronic mooks as we all know that you are just using them to back up your egotistical ways. If you think you can take these from us you are sorely mistaken. We will paint the goddamn arena red with your blood for these are quite precious for us.”
Frank turned back and looked right down the lens of the camera. He seemed to be looking right into the eyes of those who watched.
“Like Robbie stated before we need to have this match mean something,” he said. “If you do you usual thing and bring all kind of stupid, cowardly fucking shenanigans to the match then you won’t really have won anything would you? Using your numbers or jumping us beforehand may have got you over before BUT you forget yourselves; this is the time of the fucking Bastards not a bunch of pricks who think that they can live in the past.”
He visibly paused, switching gears mentally.
“This is going to be fun for someone,” he said. ”But I don’t think you’re going to like what happens unless you think anyone will remember you after this match?”
Frank looked around in a state of shock.
“Do you?” he laughed. “Are you that disillusioned? Do you think that these punks in the stand give a damn about you? That the asses watching live on pay per view want to see you get out of this unharmed? Hell!!! They want to see you bleed!!!!!"
Frank bowed his head and the light went out.
