Post by Ryan Hughes on Aug 11, 2010 13:10:07 GMT -5
The air is terse as the fans await yet another enthralling episode of Tuesday Night Triumph, ready to bear witness to some more extremely brutal H-Games action. As the title credits roll, the hardcore GHW loyalists begin to strike up a chant of “G-H-DUB!”, which echoes its way around the packed in stadium. The opening camera shot pans around the fanatics as per usual, with each and every one of them trying to garner it's attention. Eventually, the cameras leave the excited fans, heading over to the commentary team of Colin Jennings and “Big” Al Mulligan, who are ready to address the worldwide audience.
“Hello ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to another high-octane edition of TUESDAY NIGHT TRIUMPH! H-Games is set to continue, along with a NEW King of the Deathmatch Champion in James Walker, and more ultraviolence than you can shake a stick at!”
“And boy, it's gonna have to do quite a lot to match up with the first round. It was like upset city! Metal Dragon fell to Millson. Heck, even Hayden lost his title at the first defence! Oh, and let's not forget-”
Al doesn't need to bother with a formal introduction, as the music of Babylon Zoo's “Animal Army” says enough for him. Mulligan simply finishes his sentence, strangely pleased at being cut off.
“-this guy!”
The long since gone “GHW” chants are replaced by equally passionate boos, which are aimed directly at the man entering the arena- Ryan Hughes. The Batman doesn't flinch at the onslaught of insults, possibly caring much less than usual for what the people think. The former GHW New Age Champion walks with more of an authority, compared to his usual careless stroll to the squared circle. There is a bulge in either pocket of his cargo pants, both of which press in to Hughes' legs as he walks.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome... Ryan Hughes!”
“Boy, he looks pissed right now.”
“That's like saying Bret Hart took Survivor Series '97 with a pinch of salt. Hughes was screwed, Colin.”
“Oh get over yourself! Damien Carter was the better man last week!”
Ryan climbs the steel steps, grabbing the microphone laid on the top step for him. He enters the ring, barking at Charlie Coors to leave the ring, which is an order quickly fulfilled. Hughes paces back and forth, talking to himself in a inaudible tone, before finally stopping and raising the microphone to his lips. He goes to speak, but is quickly beaten down by the volume of the fans in the arena, hurling their insults at the Mancunian Mentalist. After giving it a few moments, Hughes speaks.
“Now if you are quite done...”
This was obviously the wrong thing to say, as the fans have gotten even louder than before. Hughes pauses again, before the crowd finally die down.
“Thank you for your warm welcome, you inbred imbociles.”
Again, wrong move. Now as well as launching their insults, they are launching their cups and bottles at the Briton. This doesn't phase Ryan, in fact, he starts to laugh at their rage.
“Yeah, because that sort of behaviour REALLY helps your case, doesn't it?
Now, if I can get to the point. I'm guessing you all saw the shambles that was H-Games last week, didn't you? And I'm going to just hazard a guess and say you all bore witness to my match with Damien Carter, right?”
This actually gets the fans to cheer, despite the fact that Carter is a member of the Psychotic Circus. A chant of “YOU JOBBED OUT!” begins to emanate from this seemingly smarky audience.
“Think what you want, but I am out here tonight to tell you saps the truth. Last week was a fluke.”
Just like that, the negativity is back. Hughes goes on regardless.
“Championships are not, should not and cannot be won by fluke. It defaces the glory and the honor of that championship, and is a sure fire way to bring any company to it's knees. GHW needs to learn, if they want to stay alive, they can't afford to let slimy little bastards like Damien Carter get their grubby little hands on any championship, let alone the King of the Deathmatch belt. GHW needs to realise that these silly little tournaments, they don't show true greatness. They don't show courage. All this is, is a contest to see who can ride their luck the longest.
So I am going to do something that has never been done before. I am going to be the catalyst that sparks the revolution. I am going to boycott this silly little tournament until Reverend Vortigern and all those other yes men in the back realise that this is nothing but a sham. This sort of behaviour will never find a true hero, just a lucky little snot-nosed punk who thinks he's special because he wears a glorified belt buckle!”
“Like Ryan Hughes, then...”
“No, Colin. Not like me.”
Colin bears a look of shock, thinking that his smart remark wasn't heard by the Mancunian Mastodon. Hughes just smiles his sick smile, and continues, leaving Colin in fear of an imminent attack.
“You see, I am the epitome of a worthy champion. I defeated ELEVEN other men to claim MY New Age Championship! I fought through three tiers of terror, to reach the pinnacle of this industry! I almost had my career ended along my path to greatness! I am the example of what a CHAMPION should look like! Me! Ryan Hughes!”
“Amen, Hughes. Amen!”
“Now if you excuse me for one second...”
Ryan drops his microphone, rolling under the bottom rope and landing on his knees on the floor. The former champion lifts up the ring apron, and slides out a shiny black steel folding chair. Clambering back in to the squared circle, he unflods the chair, and sets it right in the middle of the ring. Picking up the mic once more, Ryan speaks.
“Right. I am going to sit here, on this very chair, and wait until someone drags their ass out of here and tells me what I want to hear. Someone is going to tell me that H-Games 2010 is cancelled. Over. Void. Deceased!
And if you think I can't last the distance, I have something to show you.”
Hughes' hand dives in to his left pocket, emerging with a Bud Light, which he lifts in to the air, cracks open, and sets by the chair. He then delves in to the right pocket, pulling out several Twinkies before putting them down on the other side of the chair.
“I can go the distance. Hell, I can stay in this ring for the full two hours! It will give us that much needed ratings boost for sure. Now, let's get this party started, huh?”
Hughes sits on the chair, grabbing his beer, before taking a sip, much to the chagrin of the blood-hungry crowd. Ryan seems to be enjoying himself, that is, until a familiar entrance theme hits the speakers, causing the Batman to drop his beer in shock.
TBC They Know Who
“Hello ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to another high-octane edition of TUESDAY NIGHT TRIUMPH! H-Games is set to continue, along with a NEW King of the Deathmatch Champion in James Walker, and more ultraviolence than you can shake a stick at!”
“And boy, it's gonna have to do quite a lot to match up with the first round. It was like upset city! Metal Dragon fell to Millson. Heck, even Hayden lost his title at the first defence! Oh, and let's not forget-”
Al doesn't need to bother with a formal introduction, as the music of Babylon Zoo's “Animal Army” says enough for him. Mulligan simply finishes his sentence, strangely pleased at being cut off.
“-this guy!”
The long since gone “GHW” chants are replaced by equally passionate boos, which are aimed directly at the man entering the arena- Ryan Hughes. The Batman doesn't flinch at the onslaught of insults, possibly caring much less than usual for what the people think. The former GHW New Age Champion walks with more of an authority, compared to his usual careless stroll to the squared circle. There is a bulge in either pocket of his cargo pants, both of which press in to Hughes' legs as he walks.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome... Ryan Hughes!”
“Boy, he looks pissed right now.”
“That's like saying Bret Hart took Survivor Series '97 with a pinch of salt. Hughes was screwed, Colin.”
“Oh get over yourself! Damien Carter was the better man last week!”
Ryan climbs the steel steps, grabbing the microphone laid on the top step for him. He enters the ring, barking at Charlie Coors to leave the ring, which is an order quickly fulfilled. Hughes paces back and forth, talking to himself in a inaudible tone, before finally stopping and raising the microphone to his lips. He goes to speak, but is quickly beaten down by the volume of the fans in the arena, hurling their insults at the Mancunian Mentalist. After giving it a few moments, Hughes speaks.
“Now if you are quite done...”
This was obviously the wrong thing to say, as the fans have gotten even louder than before. Hughes pauses again, before the crowd finally die down.
“Thank you for your warm welcome, you inbred imbociles.”
Again, wrong move. Now as well as launching their insults, they are launching their cups and bottles at the Briton. This doesn't phase Ryan, in fact, he starts to laugh at their rage.
“Yeah, because that sort of behaviour REALLY helps your case, doesn't it?
Now, if I can get to the point. I'm guessing you all saw the shambles that was H-Games last week, didn't you? And I'm going to just hazard a guess and say you all bore witness to my match with Damien Carter, right?”
This actually gets the fans to cheer, despite the fact that Carter is a member of the Psychotic Circus. A chant of “YOU JOBBED OUT!” begins to emanate from this seemingly smarky audience.
“Think what you want, but I am out here tonight to tell you saps the truth. Last week was a fluke.”
Just like that, the negativity is back. Hughes goes on regardless.
“Championships are not, should not and cannot be won by fluke. It defaces the glory and the honor of that championship, and is a sure fire way to bring any company to it's knees. GHW needs to learn, if they want to stay alive, they can't afford to let slimy little bastards like Damien Carter get their grubby little hands on any championship, let alone the King of the Deathmatch belt. GHW needs to realise that these silly little tournaments, they don't show true greatness. They don't show courage. All this is, is a contest to see who can ride their luck the longest.
So I am going to do something that has never been done before. I am going to be the catalyst that sparks the revolution. I am going to boycott this silly little tournament until Reverend Vortigern and all those other yes men in the back realise that this is nothing but a sham. This sort of behaviour will never find a true hero, just a lucky little snot-nosed punk who thinks he's special because he wears a glorified belt buckle!”
“Like Ryan Hughes, then...”
“No, Colin. Not like me.”
Colin bears a look of shock, thinking that his smart remark wasn't heard by the Mancunian Mastodon. Hughes just smiles his sick smile, and continues, leaving Colin in fear of an imminent attack.
“You see, I am the epitome of a worthy champion. I defeated ELEVEN other men to claim MY New Age Championship! I fought through three tiers of terror, to reach the pinnacle of this industry! I almost had my career ended along my path to greatness! I am the example of what a CHAMPION should look like! Me! Ryan Hughes!”
“Amen, Hughes. Amen!”
“Now if you excuse me for one second...”
Ryan drops his microphone, rolling under the bottom rope and landing on his knees on the floor. The former champion lifts up the ring apron, and slides out a shiny black steel folding chair. Clambering back in to the squared circle, he unflods the chair, and sets it right in the middle of the ring. Picking up the mic once more, Ryan speaks.
“Right. I am going to sit here, on this very chair, and wait until someone drags their ass out of here and tells me what I want to hear. Someone is going to tell me that H-Games 2010 is cancelled. Over. Void. Deceased!
And if you think I can't last the distance, I have something to show you.”
Hughes' hand dives in to his left pocket, emerging with a Bud Light, which he lifts in to the air, cracks open, and sets by the chair. He then delves in to the right pocket, pulling out several Twinkies before putting them down on the other side of the chair.
“I can go the distance. Hell, I can stay in this ring for the full two hours! It will give us that much needed ratings boost for sure. Now, let's get this party started, huh?”
Hughes sits on the chair, grabbing his beer, before taking a sip, much to the chagrin of the blood-hungry crowd. Ryan seems to be enjoying himself, that is, until a familiar entrance theme hits the speakers, causing the Batman to drop his beer in shock.
TBC They Know Who