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Post by Stylin' Kyle Roberts [REBEL] on Mar 10, 2007 23:55:39 GMT -5
(The Land of Living Skies. Kyle Roberts is driving down Highway 11 from Saskatoon. He's alone in the car and Nelly Furtado's "Promiscuous" is blaring through his car's speakers. Kyle's singing along with the lyrics.)
KYLE ROBERTS: You expect me to just let you hit it
But will you still respect me if you get it?
(Kyle takes a gander at the camera man beside him before facing the road again. He turns down the volume until Nelly and Timbaland are a muted murmur.)
KYLE ROBERTS: Man, it's been a while since I've had to drive eight hours by myself. It's nice to have somebody to drive with, but it's not like my former running crew would be inclined to keep me company. It would just be awkward to, say, drive with Joey Malone. Every time we pass by each other in the back halls of whatever place we're wrestling in that night, I take a look at the former commissioner and owner of NAPW and start to snicker. If ever there was a guy that deserved to go back to the bottom of the rung after the shit that was pulled, it was him.
So instead I've got a cameraman and a Super Big Gulp along with my iPod to keep me company. I think I'm better off.
Gregory Hanson, you should be glad it was me who accepted that challenge. Rumour around the locker room was that Joey was going to face off against you in Regina. How would that have felt, Greg? Losing to the biggest jobber in the company? In your hometown? Nah, instead I thought, might as well give the fans what they deserve to see: Kyle Roberts kicking ass and chewing gum. Why? Plain and simple, I draw. Maybe the fans don't want to see me utterly dominate in the squared circle, maybe they'd like to see me get my retribution from Bruce Richards or anyone in that locker room. Guess what, Greg? It's not happening anytime soon. Not against Bruce, not against you, not against anyone. Because sooner or later, I'm going to get a shot at that NAPW Title. And I'm going to win it. It's one of the reasons I signed up for the Sole Survivor match. I'll go in there, and I'll stand tall on the bodies of twenty-nine other men. Because I'm that good.
What about you, Greg? Think you're going to have any cheers behind you come Tuesday? Who knows, against me, you just might. But, let's face it. You're no draw. Not as Provincial Champion, not as the monster that took down the Foundation. Hell, guy, even Chris Kamikaze draws more than you. But then, I enjoy his matches. They're all hilarious train wrecks. Your matches are more like the lame Henrik Ibsen plays Bruce was so into. At the end, you're ready to end your misery right then and there by taking a gun to your head. The sweet release of death.
Maybe I'm exaggerating a bit. But then, if I am, why haven't I seen an online video from you since I last hit you with a double-barreled pound of verbal buckshot? The only thing I can assume is that you've resigned yourself to the fate on facing the most charismatic man in NAPW. Yes, even more charismatic than that asswipe and Pure Honour Champ Chris Casino. Would he have that belt if not for his stable of awesomeness? Say what you will about the man, he always manages to ally with the best. Too bad he usually goes around burning the bridge after he gets bored of them.
Greg, I'd like to address something you said in your last promo about being done with cheating and trying to stand on your own two feet. For God's sake, man, why? I mean, sure, it's a noble sentiment and all, but if there's one man that you're going to need to pull out all the stops for, it's Stylin' Kyle Roberts. I don't want you to be the noble one, Hanson. I want you to try every dirty trick you know. Sure, that brain of yours can only handle retaining about two things at once, but I want you to stop thinking about, say, that girl you seduced on that plane, and stick in two dirty tricks to use against me. Not that it's going to help, but you'll probably be able to keep the match going longer than two minutes. Probably. If the stars are in your favour on Tuesday.
It might be able to save you from the Emerald Fusion. Or the Styleskick. But the Beartamer? Heh. You're big enough to me to REALLY focus on that back of yours. You might as well shave a target into your backhair. Because my whole purpose is, quite simply, to make you tap. But first, I'm driving to Regina earlier than the rest of the roster, not only because I've got a place to sleep nearby, but because I've got to do some recon on you and the rest of the Regina natives. Maybe I'll make a documentary for you, Greg. A little memento of happier times before Stylin' Kyle Roberts makes your life that much more miserable.
Until then, Greg. I've got to get another drink and some snacks, though. I'm running out here. Good thing Davidson's only five kilometers away.
(Kyle waves for the camera to be turned off, but before it is, the POV turns to the open skies of outside the car.)
KYLE ROBERTS: You expect me to just let you hit it
But will you still respect me if you get it?
(Kyle takes a gander at the camera man beside him before facing the road again. He turns down the volume until Nelly and Timbaland are a muted murmur.)
KYLE ROBERTS: Man, it's been a while since I've had to drive eight hours by myself. It's nice to have somebody to drive with, but it's not like my former running crew would be inclined to keep me company. It would just be awkward to, say, drive with Joey Malone. Every time we pass by each other in the back halls of whatever place we're wrestling in that night, I take a look at the former commissioner and owner of NAPW and start to snicker. If ever there was a guy that deserved to go back to the bottom of the rung after the shit that was pulled, it was him.
So instead I've got a cameraman and a Super Big Gulp along with my iPod to keep me company. I think I'm better off.
Gregory Hanson, you should be glad it was me who accepted that challenge. Rumour around the locker room was that Joey was going to face off against you in Regina. How would that have felt, Greg? Losing to the biggest jobber in the company? In your hometown? Nah, instead I thought, might as well give the fans what they deserve to see: Kyle Roberts kicking ass and chewing gum. Why? Plain and simple, I draw. Maybe the fans don't want to see me utterly dominate in the squared circle, maybe they'd like to see me get my retribution from Bruce Richards or anyone in that locker room. Guess what, Greg? It's not happening anytime soon. Not against Bruce, not against you, not against anyone. Because sooner or later, I'm going to get a shot at that NAPW Title. And I'm going to win it. It's one of the reasons I signed up for the Sole Survivor match. I'll go in there, and I'll stand tall on the bodies of twenty-nine other men. Because I'm that good.
What about you, Greg? Think you're going to have any cheers behind you come Tuesday? Who knows, against me, you just might. But, let's face it. You're no draw. Not as Provincial Champion, not as the monster that took down the Foundation. Hell, guy, even Chris Kamikaze draws more than you. But then, I enjoy his matches. They're all hilarious train wrecks. Your matches are more like the lame Henrik Ibsen plays Bruce was so into. At the end, you're ready to end your misery right then and there by taking a gun to your head. The sweet release of death.
Maybe I'm exaggerating a bit. But then, if I am, why haven't I seen an online video from you since I last hit you with a double-barreled pound of verbal buckshot? The only thing I can assume is that you've resigned yourself to the fate on facing the most charismatic man in NAPW. Yes, even more charismatic than that asswipe and Pure Honour Champ Chris Casino. Would he have that belt if not for his stable of awesomeness? Say what you will about the man, he always manages to ally with the best. Too bad he usually goes around burning the bridge after he gets bored of them.
Greg, I'd like to address something you said in your last promo about being done with cheating and trying to stand on your own two feet. For God's sake, man, why? I mean, sure, it's a noble sentiment and all, but if there's one man that you're going to need to pull out all the stops for, it's Stylin' Kyle Roberts. I don't want you to be the noble one, Hanson. I want you to try every dirty trick you know. Sure, that brain of yours can only handle retaining about two things at once, but I want you to stop thinking about, say, that girl you seduced on that plane, and stick in two dirty tricks to use against me. Not that it's going to help, but you'll probably be able to keep the match going longer than two minutes. Probably. If the stars are in your favour on Tuesday.
It might be able to save you from the Emerald Fusion. Or the Styleskick. But the Beartamer? Heh. You're big enough to me to REALLY focus on that back of yours. You might as well shave a target into your backhair. Because my whole purpose is, quite simply, to make you tap. But first, I'm driving to Regina earlier than the rest of the roster, not only because I've got a place to sleep nearby, but because I've got to do some recon on you and the rest of the Regina natives. Maybe I'll make a documentary for you, Greg. A little memento of happier times before Stylin' Kyle Roberts makes your life that much more miserable.
Until then, Greg. I've got to get another drink and some snacks, though. I'm running out here. Good thing Davidson's only five kilometers away.
(Kyle waves for the camera to be turned off, but before it is, the POV turns to the open skies of outside the car.)