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The Real Speed vs. Shyne
Topic Started: Oct 4 2007, 05:42 PM (242 Views)
Kassie Khane
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The Real Speed vs. Shyne

GOOD lUCK EVERYONE!


Deadline: 11:59 pm EST Tuesday, October 9, 2007
RP Limit: 1 RP PER MATCH
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The Real Speed
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ooc- Not anywhere near my best work, or even good work. Sorry Shyne, just not feeling it this week.

[align=center]

Schemin'

"Fuck school, I'm to cool to go back. Show me where the fuckin' studio at."

--

The Devil does exist..

That's all that ran through Speed's brain for the last week and a half. Everywhere he went, everyone he saw. They all looked different to him. No more bowing, no more manipulation. It was just a bunch of people whispering about who that guy was. The leader of the Evanist Union, the religion that was just starting to boom, until it's leaders just let it die. After the attacks by Damian, Speed couldn't have been fucked to rebuild the Evanist Union, or even his own men. It was to much work, for something that Damian would just shatter in one night.

The Devil himself.. only he could destroy what was so carefully planned out and built.

The Unions, Evanist Union or Speed Union, whichever you prefer. Was now dead. And even if it was alive, it would be on life support. Damian Angels crucifiction of Speed had been the final nail in the coffin. Speed lost to Wheeler, and so did Chad. So disrespectful. But you know damn well that it wouldn't have happened if it wasn't for...

The Devil...

That bastard has screwed everything up since day one. Since the day he had started his holy crusade against Speed and Chad, Mr.Angel had been a thorn in thier side. Ruining the Holy Seminars, and making those with low or little faith, not pay their monthly dues. It was costing Speed money by the second, and when you fuck around with Speeds money, you fuck around with the Hardcore Messiah who will eventually exact his revenge. It was money over fame, family, friends, even relationships. You could tell Speed that he could be the happiest man in the world, but if his bank account wasn't over seven figures, you could go fuck yourself. And now, without a rising bank account, Speed was a little bit worried. Sure he was still rich, and sure he still could buy a small island if he wanted to. But that wasn't the point. As long as there was blood in his veins and he had to feet and heartbeat, it came down to making more money then the next guy. Bill Gates makes a thousand dollars a second, Speed wanted to make two thousand. So that meant only one thing. Another scheme, another marketting strategy and more hours of headaches and labour to achieve said goal.

So how do the rich get richer? Well that's all Speed could think about lately. Sure he had a million dollar contract to kick ass in SCW, and sure he had his stock options on the side where his dived-end we're more then most peoples houses. But come income tax season, he would get fucked up the ass as usual. He needed to do something before everything went downhill and his millions of dollars turned into a few hundred thousand. And that's where we join Speed, in his penthouse ranting and raving on his cell phone with his banker.

--

Narrator- Speed is pacing back and forth in the living room of his penthouse, behind him he is watching some channel that displays the top stocks, as he yells into his cell phone. The vein is his neck is starting to swell out as he gets more pissed off with every word.

Speed- YOU WANT TO CHARGE ME 11 FUCKING PERCENT?! GO FUCK YOURSELF MAN! I PAID YOU MY MONEY, I PAID YOU 7 GOD DAMNED FUCKING PERECENT EVERY YEAR! YOU DON'T RAISE MY RATES, YOU FUCKING COCK SUCKER!

Banker- Speed calm down. The economy is a disaster right now, I'm just trying to protect your money, and our branch.

Speed- Protect my money? You think, you think taking more out of my fuckin' bank account is protecting it? You really are a stupid piece of shit. Put my rates back down to 7, or I'll be heading to your rival bank.

Banker- I'm sorry Speed, but I gotta raise them. Most I could do for you is 9.

Speed- No, fuck that. 7 percent was the deal last year, so it's the deal this year.

Banker- Look, we'll put it at 9. And I'll give you an extra 3 points on your mutual funds.

Speed- Uhh..

Banker- Look Speed, you've been with us for years. Your money is good, don't worry about things just let us handle it. Besides, you'll pay less taxes at the end of the year.

Narrator- Speed thought to himself.. taxes? Why the fuck would I pay those, before remembering that he almost got audited for an entire year due to non tax payments.

Speed- Fine, do what you gotta do. But I want rate protection on this deal, you can't raise my rates for an entire year.

Banker- Done and done. Always a pleasure doing business with you.

Narrator- Speed hung up his cell phone as he collapsed down into a leather chair. Business was business, and he had been busy all morning trying to make sure his bank account stayed afloat. At least long enough so that he could think up a new scheme to get paid more money, and do less work. So far it hadn't worked out with the Evanist movement, but hey.. he still had some followers left. The die hards who didn't have anywhere else to go. So, Speed aqquired himself some henchman so to speak. That or bartenders. Chad was off in New York again doing whatever it is that he does. And the two hadn't really spoken in a few weeks. With Chad being banned from the upcoming Breakdown, Speed himself wasn't to sure if he even wanted to go. He would be a prime target with no protection, and he knew damn well that Diaz wouldn't stick to "old fashioned" ways, a sneak attack always comes before a big match. At least that's what Speed has learned in the last five years. There's no love loss or respect between him, and his opponents. Not anymore, it's just a game of win, or lose. You get the ball, run with it as long as you can. But ultimatly, make your money. Win your matches, and keep your ego. That's what it all came down to. Speed didn't give a damn what anyone else thought of him, he had been proving himself as the main event of SCW for the last four years.

Time in and time out, he had seen people rise and fall all within one match. He had ended carreers early with his hardcore style, and he had killed alot of peoples momentum just when they we're ready to break through. Shyne would be no exception. And Neither would Jeremy Diaz. Just two young punks who got placed in the ring with Speed at the wrong time. After losing his Extreme Championship, Speed hadn't really felt like himself. But you have to pick yourself up off the floor sometimes, and say "ok, let's try that again." And that's what he planned on doing. Take out Diaz, take out Shyne, and then take out Damian Angel. From there, recapture the Extreme Championship and go back to kicking ass and taking names. But first, he had to call Chad to find out just what the hell the two of them we're going to do. Speed looked at his cell phone with a lazy look, and raised it back up to his ear. He had just figured out voice activated dialing and spent the better part of his morning programming everyone in. As he said Chads name, and waited for the dial tone, he found himself repeating the name five different times. Getting more and more pissed off as the phone didn't dial, Speed contemplated throwing it out the window. Much like the other 100 cell phones he had back in the day. And then success, when he said the word "piece of shit" it automatically dialed Chad.

Speed- Uhh..

Narrator- On the other end, all the way in New York City, Chad picked up his cell phone.

Chad- Hello?

Speed- Yo, it's Speed.

Chad- Oh, hi. What do you want?

Speed- Busy?

Chad- Maybe.

Speed- I just wanted to talk about what we're going to do about our problems.

Chad- Which problems?

Speed- Damian Angel, and getting my title back.

Chad- I'm going to kill Damian Angel, problem solved. You want a piece of him afterwards, feel free to kick him while he's down. As far as your title goes, how is that a problem? Jay Gold holds it right now, it's back to being worthless.

Speed- Thus it's important that we get it back as soon as possible, before all hope of salvaging SCW's Extreme scene fails. That shit you pulled last Breakdown was just enough to keep things intresting. But now you're banned from the building this week.

Chad- Am I? Shit, I guess I'll just have to show up anyways. As God I have the damn right to show up and enlighten those peasents.

Speed- Do what you gotta do man. I'm not doing much this month anyways. I gotta take on Diaz at Tactical Terror.

Chad- Jeremy Diaz?

Speed- Yeah, he called me out.

Chad- The guys a punk, but don't lose to him.

Speed- Don't worry, I don't plan on it. But he's backed by Syndicate, that stable group thing. And well, you're banned from the arena.

Chad- So? Carry around your kendo stick, you can get off at least five shots with that thing before anyone touches you.

Speed- I'll figure something out. But we got bigger problems then that.

Chad- What?

Speed- We have no followers, cept for a handful.

Chad- So get more?

Speed- Nah, we need something new and improved. I was thinking of insider trading.

Chad- Do you know anyone into that stuff?

Speed- No, but I can find out.

Chad- Sounds stupid, risky, and not much of a payoff.

Speed- How's making five million in a day sound?

Chad- Ok so just risky and stupid, if you can come up with that type of money I guess it's worth it. Check it out, let me know how it goes.

Speed- In the meantime, what do you want me to do with our loyal followers?

Chad- What are they doing now?

Speed- Cleaning the suite.

Chad- Send some to my place, I need a new slave.

Speed- Cool, so see you on Breakdown?

Chad- I don't know yet, just bring your kendo stick. Just in case. I'll definatly be at Tactical Terror though, The Devil is going to die at my hands.

Speed- Ha, you do that. Chiou man.

Narrator- Speed hangs up the phone as he looks around his suite. Thoughts of insider trading crossed through his mind, as he wondered if Oleksa would go in on it with him. But remembering that Oleksa was a former lawyer, well, that thought quickly exited. Money was money, and with Breakdown a few days away. Speed had all the time in the world to make some more phone calls. Organized crime knows everyone and everything. And his inside leads would prove themselves useful for once. Speed got up from his chair as he paced around his room. He had to think this one out before going through with it. 25 to life wasn't exactly a party. At least he knew good lawyers.

Speed- Fuck it. I'll just call Timmy he'll hook me up.

Narrator- And so, Speed started out on his new scheme. Find out who knows stock options, and find out important information about mergers and buyers. Then move in, and get rich the next morning. Everyone get's their money, and everyone wins. And hey, who can argue that it's illegal when everyone wins?

--

Narrator- After a hard days work of talking with his friends from organized crime, Speed had settled into his leather chair as he half heartidly watched some television show. He had a glass of rum and coke beside him as he sipped away. Thing we're always quieter without Chad around, and with recent abondonment of the Evanist Union project, it was kind of nice to sit back and relax. Speed was tired of doing hard work anyways. He had setup his video camera about an hour ago, and it was busy recording him basically scratching his nuts, and having a drink or two. With an exhasperated sigh, Speed finally moved the camera closer as he gave some spiel of trash talking that would pass as "decent" in SCW. He really didn't have the heart to go back to Breakdown, not until his was at 100 percent. But shit happens, and you move on as they say.

Speed- Ahem.. hello there, Mr.Shyne. The man who wants to be known as hardcore. The man who wants to capture the piece of gold that I made famous. The man who is to stupid to realize he's being held back by Syndicate.

Oh.. wait, that wasn't what I was suppose to say was it? That was something that you wanted kept quiet, so that your peers and stable mates wouldn't look at you with questionable eyes. Come on Shyne, cut the crap. We both know what's going on here. You we're placed to face me, in a warm up match for this Sundays PPV event. Jeremy Diaz vs The Real Speed. A match that many of our SCW fans are awaiting, and a match that I could give a damn about. And that's all you fit into. You're the fodder, you're the slaughter, you're the lamb lead before his shephard. You are salvagable. Oleksa knows it, the fans know it, hell even your stable mates know it. Shyne, is a nobody. Shyne is just another body out there to protect Silkk, and Diaz, from everyone else. From the Greg Cherries, from The Real Speed's, hell even from the Jay Golds.

I know, it's shockingly true. But take a look around you. The only two people in Syndicate who will ever, or have ever made it anywhere. Are Diaz, and Silkk. Why? Because you idiots follow them around and get involved in their wars. You know what I'm expecting Shyne? I'm expecting a 5 on 1 attack come Breakdown. I'm expecting our match to get thrown out due to disqualification, and then Syndicate tears me a new one. I expect you to take Jeremy Diaz's advice and sneak attack me, to weaken me up before our big PPV event. I mean, look at it logically. I'm not at 100 percent. That's obvious. I still have scars that need healing thanks to Mr.Angels attacks a few weeks ago. It's prime time to attack me. Chad Evans is busy manipualtion and calculating his next move against Angel, and I'm busy trying to keep everything together. One one end of the stick, I have the over-rated Jeremy Diaz claiming to be the one who ends my career.. like I haven't heard that before, and on the other end of the stick, I have Damian Angel who is a sadistic son of a bitch ever since Chad broke his arm. In other words, I'm fucked. And not just regularlly fucked, but fucked in the ass with no lubricant. I have to heal up before this PPV, and I know for a damn fact that I WILL get jumped this coming Breakdown. I know for a fact that I might be able to bring my kendo stick, and knock out maybe two or three of your Syndicate fucks, but the rest of you will swarm me and make me look like a fool in front of the world.

I know this.. because I would do the same thing if the situation was reveresed. Let's face it, I'm an asshole, egomaniac, and a manipulating bastard. That's me in a nutshell. Half the world wishes they had my abilities, and let alone my personality. Half the world wishes they we're me to the tee so they to could be succesfull and not overlooked in this world. And that includes you Shyne. Yes, it does. I know what you're saying inside that feeble minded head of yours. "I would never want to be Speed", but fuck you Shyne. Everyone, and I mean everyone. Wants to be me. Look at me, I get everything I want, I achieve my goals, and I'm richer then anyone you know. I could buy you and your family out a hundred times over without breaking my bank account. That's what makes me more successfull then you. And it's because I took at look at this world, and said "what do I want?" Turns out, money is power. Nobody cares about friendships, relationships, or how you and your boys are hanging tough week in and week out. They care about seeing someone like myself, get rich off everyone elses misery. They care about watching The Real Speed wear somebody out with a kendo stick, and restore the meaning of the word hardcore in SCW.

And that is why you will never be anything great in this business. You bring nothing to our sport, and you certaintly can't entertain a crowd. I've got the entire arena on their feet just to boo me, you get maybe the front row fans trying to touch you because they're lives are so meaningless that touching a mediocore wrestler will give them something to talk about at the office. I see you and your little crew out here every damn week, trying to make a hardcore impact. Trying to prove to everyone that the Syndicate should not be messed with. And hey, you guys haven't died in a year yet. *golf clap* And you add more and more people to your crew weekly. Namely one Mr.Diaz. Congratulations, the egomaniac will destroy Syndicate from the inside out. No need for anyone else to bother. But back to the point. You guys are trying every damn week to make people believe the S in SCW stands for Syndicate. But what you seem to forget, is that the last four years of SCW's history, that S has always stood for Speeds Championship Wrestling. I am synonymous with showing up here in SCW, and immediatly taking out the "top competition." I am the true legend behind SCW's megalow operation. Four years ago, we didn't have all the flash and cash. In fact, I know damn well that Mr.Drachewych had taken out several large loans to get the ball rolling. But with me on his roster, it was only a matter of time before the whole world stopped and watched in awe as some punk kid with an ego, proved to the entire world that if you're going to talk shit you better back it up. I've been backing up my words for four long years now, and regardless on who leaves on a stretcher this week. I know damn well that I can, and will out wrestle you Shyne. You're the little stepping stone.. well.. no that's to much credit. You're like the little pebble of rock underneath the stepping stone. Nobody important, and a mediocore wrestler at best. You just happen to be aligned with one Mr.Diaz whom I have a date with at Tactical Terror. And once I'm done with the two of you. I will crucify Damian Angel as payback, and recapture the title that belongs to me. The Unde... Extreme Championship. And if you or anyone else doesn't like that, then step up or shut up. I'll be happy to snap a few ankles along the way. See you on Breakdown Shyne, I guess I'll be watching my back for the night, but I'll be damned if I won't take a few of you mother fuckers down with me.

Narrator- Speed flips off the camera as he walks out of the shot, and turns off his video recorder.

-End Rp- [/align]
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Shyne
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