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Better Than You (WEEK VIII RP #2)

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8FOR!3
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« on: August 12, 2009, 04:18:18 pm »

    (Our cameras enter a scene in which filming is already taking place. We are still in New York City, though only days away from Ryan Cox's match against Pyronus Souria in Toronto, Canada. He is with NYC Prep star and good friend, Peter Peterson. The other cameras are indeed of the controversial Bravo TV show, starring Peterson among others.)

    RYAN COX - Damn PC, doesn't it get a little awkward to have the cameras around you every time you try and have a conversation with somebody? But then again, it looks like I have some cameras of my own over here, don't I?

    PETER PETERSON - Not at all, it's not as if everything I say is seen on television. It's not like that, the producers take bits and pieces and put it together as they wish. I'm aware you're a busy man and as you said, you were supposed to leave the city a few days ago, but I have to know something Ryan. Rumor around the scene is that you resigned with that wrestling company and you're going at it again. I have absolutely got to know if it's true or not.

    RYAN COX - Of course it's true my man. I mean, I'm what, 23 years old? And I'm still hanging around with a bunch of high school and college kids. It's not like there's anything else for me to do. I need a job, while we all have plenty of money, I can't exactly retire at 23. I'm not that lazy yet, but I'm working on it. And that's why I'm leaving the city tonight. I'm going to Toronto for a match this week. Some psycho opponent, but when you're the best, it's good not to be too worried. Now make sure this gets aired, I want to be on a reality TV show. Wrestling TV is overrated.

    PETER PETERSON - At least you have a job to go to. Jessie's been trying to force me to find a college to attend.

    RYAN COX - Seriously man? Jessie's the biggest **** in New York City. And if you're going to go to college, by all means go to the University of Texas. That's the only school in a major city worth noting. You'd love Austin PC.

    PETER PETERSON - Jesus Ryan, at least name a place I could bare living in. Not a bunch of honkies like you.

    RYAN COX - I'm not a honky, PC. Yes, I'm from Texas and I've lived in South Carolina, but there's a better term for that and I believe it's southern. But then again, you aren't the most politically correct guy I've ever met, so I'll let you get off easy on that one. Well I have a flight to catch, let's hope I don't get my ass kicked too bad. Brutal stuff.

    PETER PETERSON - Are you **** crazy? This is the Upper East Side of New York. You're the biggest hick I've ever met in my life. And I'm obliged to make you meet this girl I know, Taylor. She's like my protege. You'll like her man.

    RYAN COX - You're the insane one. I watch the show, PC. She's like 15. I'm 23. And you act like a douche bag. But then again, who am I to call someone a douche bag. Wish I could stay and hang out with the group though, but I really have got to get the hell out of here. If I miss my flight I'm ****, I'll keep in touch with ya'll. Peace man.

    (With that, Ryan shakes hands with PC Peterson and walks away. It's already getting later in the evening and he notices a lot of people in the street. Considering the maul a professional athlete would get in that crowd, he decides to take a back alley in search for a route to the airport, which isn't in walking distance anyways. Ryan spots a taxi, but decides against it. He stops in the middle of the dark alley, which isn't advisable for most normal people.)

    RYAN COX - Did you see that Pyronus? I'm famous man. My friends are famous. It's all part of being a pro entertainer and athletic extraordinaire. I have to avoid crowds like most celebrities, but I don't need some bodyguard to protect me, because when you wrestle for a living, you feel like you can handle yourself in most situations. I don't view you as a wrestler for UWE Pyronus, I view you as one of my situations. It's all about making a name for yourself. How can I view you as my equal when you don't hang out with the class of people I do and people don't know, nor care might I add, who you are. Unfortunately for you, I know who you are, win number two.

    Skill isn't something I'm lacking. Don't think the most prestigious elite people in a city like this want to be friends with me because of my good lucks. Not that they're lacking either and how could you believe I'd have this much money without a world of talent? People befriend me because they respect me Pyronus. I'm power and I demand it. I like the private school scene in New York City and with good reason. It's because they've all had everything in life handed to them on a silver platter. I can't respect that, because it wasn't my case. I had to bust my balls week in and week out to make it to the top. So in essence, you can call it a form of superiority. Even though people like my friend, PC are the best of the best, I'm better. So I'm assuming that you're starting to understand my point, right?

    I didn't stay in New York today so I could visit an old friend. I did it to prove a point. And I think I've done a superb job at getting that across. Now I'm not saying that you should be scared for your match with me this week, or even nervous. I'm just saying that you need to understand that you're outclassed and I don't like this term, but it's fitting for the situation; you're out of your league. Yeah, I'm mid card right now one week, but soon enough you'll realize that a loss to me isn't all that bad. It surely won't kill your career. But your joke of a gimmick might. You get it though, show up on Friday prepared as possible and I'll be sure not to make you look like the little **** you are.

    (End of the scene. Ryan nods his head and walks forward, putting his hand in the camera. He then walks up to the street and stands for a while until he sees a taxi. He calls it down and gets in, leaving New York City for the time being, headed out to Toronto, Canada. UWE management thought that a match between Pyronus Souria and Ryan Cox this week would be interesting. It's up to Ryan to prove that it won't be interesting, it'll be a lot blood and plenty of pain. But you'd have to be sick to find this upcoming dismantling to be interesting. Bring it on Pyronus.)
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« Reply #1 on: August 14, 2009, 10:15:56 am »

Pyronus is backstage, having watched part of Ryan Cox's in ring name dropping festival, and is beelining for the ring, intent to prove a point. All week, he has sat by, watching Ryan Cox say how much he doesn't want to talk about him, before proceeding to talk about him for what seem to be hours on end. Pyronus can take a lot of nonsense, it was just two days ago he opened his fridge to find every soda within opened and flat. He can take the endless contradictions of Ryan Cox, from how good he is for beating Clearly to how bad Clearly is. From saying how much he appreciated earned respect, but demands that it be given to him for winning one match. That, Pyronus could take. It was laughable, really, the endless tirades of Ryan Cox, spewing his illogical nonsese. At least when Pyronus spewed nonsese, it had a logical backing to it. But then, this. An open, bare handed, psychological slap to the face of Pyronus, by bringing out a small person in a Barney suit and likening him to Drigo. He could insult Pyronus, his style, his personality, but when you went as far as to insult his dearest childhood companion, you were asking for a third degree ass kicking.

Pyronus rounds a corner at a shockingly brisk pace, his fists clenched tightly, his knuckles white and palms sweating. He had left Drigo with Chelsea, not wanting either of them to be there incase things got delightfully violent. Pyronus looks ahead and sees the small fellow in the Barney suit round the corner in front of him, whistling a pleasent tune. He sees Pyronus, and his lips fumble together, before he turns around and attempts to flee, only to trip over his stubby legs and fall face first to the ground. Pyronus walks up to him and crouches over him, pulling something out of his pocket.

“Hello, friend. Be a pal and go tell Ryan I'm coming, alright?”

The cameras are now catching the last bit of Ryan Cox's “I'm better than everyone” hour, and as he tells Pyronus oh so elegantly to “Shut his motherfucking face,” the arena goes silent, waiting for a response. Before long, the Barney comes back out, and makes his way slowly down the ramp, up the stairs, and into the ring. He whispers something into the ear of Ryan Cox, and Ryan goes to raise the microphone to his mouth, but is cut off by a loud blast of flame and “Firestarter” by The Prodigy. Pyronus walks out from backstage, a microphone clenched tightly in his right hand, and another object hidden in his left. The song and flames quickly fade, and Pyronus raises his microphone up to his lips, his hand shaking.

“Really?”

Pyronus' is obviously having to control his temper, and it can be heard clearly in his voice.

“All week... ALL week all you have done is gone on the internet, sat in hotel rooms and stood in that ring, running your mouth, telling everybody how great you are for winning one match over a man that you said yourself is no longer respected. And, once again, according to you, if you're any good, you get respect. So if you can, do the math, and just see how stupid you're making yourself look. You come out to the ring, talk about me for fifteen minutes, and then tell everyone you don't want to talk about me. You win one time here, one damned time, over one person, and you're automatically better than the top champion on the brand. You believe people should earn the respect they have because you had to fight your way off the streets as a kid. Congratulations, you've done the same thing as one hundred and fifty rappers on the planet who are just as talentless as you.”

Pyronus pauses, taking a deep breath and shaking his head a bit to calm himself before continuing.

“Ryan, I think you need to get your head out of your ass and see the world for what it really is. You aren't famous. You aren't amazing. You are not the best in this business and you are definitely NOT better than me. What you are is tactless, tasteless, and completely without respect for anyone that doesn't inflate that ego of yours.”

With each point, Pyronus takes a step down the ramp, keeping his eyes focused on Ryan.

“I hate to break it to you, but you aren't important. You say how famous your friends are, right after saying how you're twenty three years old and still hanging out with high school kids. So, as a matter of fact, I do hang out with the same class of people as you. The class of '08. Are any of them famous? No. But, at least, in your endless tirades of circular logic and questionably pedophilic activities, you did get something right. You should be on reality television. Your stellar combination of a completely unchecked ego and face like a can of crushed assholes with the attitude to match makes you perfect for it.”

Pyronus is loosening up a bit now, obviously having gotten some of the stress of his chest. He has made his way to ringside during his speech, and he takes another deep breath and gets ready for the final move. He slides into the ring and quickly gets to his feet to avoid a cheap shot from Ryan.

“Now, up until your final little speech I would have said that you had a chance in this match, but you made one mistake. One tiny, yet fatal, mistake. Do you want to know what it is?”

Pyronus grabs the Barney, who is still in-ring, and takes off his headpiece, revealing the man inside, who promptly flees backstage. Pyronus takes the headpiece and sets it on the turnbuckle, pulling the small object out of his pocket again, revealing it to be a simple black detonator type device.

“You decided to mention Drigo.”

With that, Pyronus presses the button and the turnbuckle with the mask on it lights up with a burst of flame, sending the now flaming mask sailing into the air, before it comes crashing back down in the ring. By that time, Ryan has already left the ring and is heading backstage.
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