Post by richardroque on Feb 20, 2017 4:06:22 GMT
--BACKSTAGE AT REDEMPTION 105--
A bloodied up Richard Roque walked away from the Paramount Theater, blood dripping out of his nose and onto the sidewalk. The big man bled like a faucet, causing people to move aside on the street as he tried to pinch his nose to stop the bleeding. That’s when an angel in a peach colored dress came to his rescue. Peaches, his lovely wife pressed a handkerchief over his nose, holding it in place as thick gusts of RIcky’s breath hit the cold Seattle night air. She wrapped her other arm around his waist as she drew closer to him.
Peaches: What did you go and do?
Ricky looked embarrassed, ashamed that a person of his stature in the company got in a fight with a neanderthal. He looked down at the sidewalk, afraid to meet eye contact with her big brown eyes.
Ricky: I got in a fight with Ron Swat.
He didn’t have to say any more after that point. Peaches was well aware of the cancer to PW named Ron Swat. An incredibly stupid, offensive creature that doesn’t belong anywhere else but behind bars. All she could do is gently press her forehead to his, knowing his pain and wanting to comfort him. Ricky embraced her lightly, giving her enough space to cut off the blood flow from his nose.
Ricky: Thanks for always being there babe.
Peaches: I always will be.
She gave him a kiss on the forehead, bringing out his smile.
Ricky: You know there is a silver lining to fighting a man beast.
Peaches: What’s that?
Ricky: I got Ron Swat in a Last Man Standing, Loser Leaves Town match.
She drew back from him slightly but kept her hand over his nose.
Peaches: How is that a silver lining?
Ricky: If I beat Ron Swat at The Awakening, he’s gone forever!
Ricky beamed at the thought of it as Peaches could only think of the consequences.
Peaches: And what happens if you lose?
That smiled of his dropped once he realized what he would have to admit to Peaches.
Ricky: I would have to leave PW.
She immediately took his left hand, replaced his hand over hers on the handkerchief and prepared to scold him.
Peaches: Ricky! You fought so hard to get back into wrestling, and now you’re gonna give it all up just so you can get the chance to eliminate Ron Swat from PW? Don’t you think that’s foolish?
Ricky went to answer but she kept going.
Peaches: He’s a certified psychopath! He’s a nutjob! And then you ask for a Last Man Standing, Loser Leaves Town match with a man who will probably try to kill you in the ring?! Are you crazy!?
Ricky: I actually asked for Loser Leaves Town, he asked for Last Man Standing, so Seth Black…
Peaches: It doesn’t matter Ricky! He will do everything he can to hurt you, and I’m not gonna stand by and support you on this! How dare you even think of asking for a match like this without consulting me!?
Ricky: I’m sorry Peaches...wait, Peaches!!
Peaches stormed off in her tight dress, her butt bouncing as her high heels clacked on the sidewalk. As ashamed and hurt as Ricky felt, he couldn’t help but admire her round ass. Once she disappeared around the corner that shame came back, biting him hard. Ricky walked back into the Paramount Theater with a big sigh, ready to sign his contract with Seth.
--ONE WEEK LATER--
A bright sunny day out on the beach at Huntington Beach, California. One of the chosen few as the rain had been so unpredictable on the West Coast lately. Along the beach jogged two lifelong friends, Richard Roque and his former stablemate Sean Lynn Slate. The two jogged topless on the beach, keeping an even pace alongside each other as chicks stopped to check out the two buff dudes jogging. Ricky had one of those Phantom of the Opera nose guard masks on, protecting his fractured nose. SLS patted Ricky on the chest, wanting to take a break. The two came to a stop on the beach, taking deep breaths of the cool ocean breeze.
Ricky: You need to work on your cardio buddy.
SLS: You need to work on your tan buddy.
Ricky: Fair enough.
The two share a laugh as Ricky watched the waves crash in the distance.
SLS: What’s up with the mask dude? You said you were gonna tell me later after sushi, well, it’s later.
Ricky: This weirdo fractured my nose.
SLS: A big man like you? How did that happen?
Ricky: We got in a fight.
Sean couldn’t help but laugh at the business suit wearing, multimillionaire Richard Roque getting in a fight.
SLS: I know you used to be a tough dude back in the day, but aren’t you like an executive now or something? Not only that but brother you are so not the type to pick fights.
Ricky: Yes I am an executive. But I didn’t start the fight.
SLS: So like….why did he want to fight you? You’re one of the nicest guys on earth.
Ricky: I threw him overboard in PW’s inaugural show back, Boats N’ Throws. Ever since then he’s wanted to anal rape me and beat me up.
Sean’s eyes popped out of his head.
SLS: He wants to anal rape you?
Ricky: He wants to anal rape every guy on the roster. The guy is really messed up in the head.
SLS: I’ll say. So I’m guessing you guys got a match coming up?
Ricky: We do, it’s over in Portland on the 26th. Peaches is so angry I signed up for the match.
Ricky hung his head low, hating that he angered his lovely wife Peaches.
SLS: She’s only looking out for you brother, she loves you and wants her Ricky to remain Rock Solid.
Ricky smiled at the cheesy joke, but also at Peaches loving him so much that she doesn’t want to see him hurt.
Ricky: So ya wanna come out and watch me fight?
SLS: I really would. Not only to watch you compete but also because I’m concerned brother.
Ricky let out a frustrated laugh.
Ricky: Why is everyone so concerned? I can take this guy, I know I can!
SLS: It’s because he’s got a few screws loose. He might take it too far. And if he does, I wanna be there to watch your back.
Sean’s intentions brought a smile to Ricky’s face, and he presented a hand up to Sean’s chest, to which Sean’s slapped it and grip hugged him.
SLS: A true brother never leaves another brother behind.
Ricky: You darn’ tootin’. Now how about we race on over to Coldstone two blocks away?
SLS: Mint chocolate chip, here I come!
The two ran off the beach and onto the street to get some tasty treats. Ricky smiled, feeling good that he had some sort of backup heading into quite possibly the most dangerous match of his career.
--FEBRUARY 19TH-ON CAMERA--
The camera fades into a shot of a heaving chest. From the vantage point all we see is the top of a red weight belt, a navy blue t-shirt, scruff on the chin, and some sort of plastic shield over the face. All around we can hear the sound of clanging metal and grunts, especially from Ricky as he drops a thick metal bar across his chest. He then presses up with a hissing intake of air, powering the bar up and down. Lowering it to the base of his chest, then pressing it all the way up again. By the thirteenth rep he’s getting shaky, but the man persists. Continuing his press up, then drop down. The fourteenth is a struggle, and the fifteenth is a grunting mess. But the man safely pops the bar back on the rack, then scoots his body up and out from under the bar. With a sit up we see the heavy breathing, clear plastic mask covered Richard Roque staring at the camera. He takes a good ten seconds to breathe, letting his heart slow down a tad before talking to the camera.
Ricky: 550 pounds fifteen times. Camera guy, get a good look at the plates.
The camera guy does as he’s told, showing two one hundred pound plates and one seventy five pound plate per side. This buys Ricky a little more breathing time. The camera returns to Ricky’s masked face.
Ricky: Swat, I hope you’re watching right now. I hope you see that when it comes to the strength department, I’m just as strong as you, if not stronger. And you know what the best part about that is? I got my size and strength naturally...no enhancement needed.
Ricky smirks at the camera as he flexes his vein covered bulging biceps.
Ricky: I know others are afraid to talk about it on camera, but I’m not Ron. You’re a pitiful steroid user. You’re a short cutter. It’s people like you who put a black eye on pro wrestling. Pro wrestling has tried so hard to keep steroids out, but a monkey brain like you had to drag it back in. What’s even worse is you’re proud to do it. You’re proud to ruin your body in the long term for short term gains. That’s why you’re bound to die young Ron. I hate to say it but you treat your body just like you treat everyone else...garbage. I honestly don’t know why Slaine keeps you around. He’s well aware you’re a user. The controversy you create is not worth having a walking lawsuit and a drug user like you running around reaping havoc everywhere you go.
There’s no trace of a smile as Ricky gets serious.
Ricky: You’re without question one of the worst people I’ve met in any line of profession. You’re a terrible human being with no regard for his actions, and no remorse at all. Your soul, your mind, and your body are pure filth. How you can wake up in the morning and look at yourself in the mirror with any sort of pride is beyond me. You’ve been a failure in every aspect of life, realizing that the only thing you can make money off of is your physique. Other than that you serve no other purpose than to annoy, harass, and generally make others' lives miserable. You’re a true to life troll. A man so pathetic, so worthless he has to mess with other people just to get any sort of attention. People like that I just cannot tolerate. I’m sick of you Ron, and from the looks of it Phoenix is sick of you too. This match is the best way I can think of to finally terminate you from PW’s existence forever. I don’t ever want you coming back, and if I have to destroy myself to defeat you, I will. I will do whatever it takes to get you out of here Ron.
He breathes deeply out of his nose, which makes a weird rattle as it drifts past the plastic.
Ricky: Everyone who I love and hold close to my heart is concerned for me. The wrestlers backstage are concerned for me. Heck even Slaine is concerned about me taking this match. But you want to know one man who’s not concerned?
Ricky points to himself with his thumb.
RIcky: I’m not concerned Ron because all this time I’ve been coming out to the ring, I’ve been studying you. I’ve been seeing how you work, and I’m pretty dang sure I've figured you out. I’ve devised a strategy to take you out, and I can’t wait for it to come to fruition. Now I’ll admit, I’m gonna get my keister kicked. I’m well aware of how dangerous you are Ron. With Last Man Standing rules, you’re bound to be your most violent. You’ve hospitalized a handful of people already, and I know I’m next on that list. I know I’m gonna sweat, I’m gonna bleed, and I’m gonna get hurt. But in the end? It will all be worth it. To finally purge the plague known as Ron Swat from Phoenix Wrestling.
A confident nod from Richard as he stares into the lense.
Ricky: No longer will you threaten me or the wrestlers. No longer will we have to hear your moronic hollering about anal rape and puppies. I will silence you, once and for all. There will be no going out for milkshakes and paintball afterward. Only a trip to the hospital and a pink slip.
That stare continues, staring right into the black heart of Ron Swat as the camera fades to black.