(Hans): I thought I’d take a few moments to say some words before this place gets filled to the rafters with people.
In truth, I’d have been happy to be in the back, in my locker room, preparing as my normal routine dictates. But there’s been some inaccuracies bandied about that I can’t let lie, and my search through tarot cards, crystal balls and seers have all failed to tell me what Ronnie has been thinking, so to hear him speak at length has gotten me in the mood to come out here and say some things.
Before I get into that though, firstly, for the whole world to hear, thank you Vanessa and Butch for saying what you’ve both said these past days. I’m truly blessed that I have you both in my lives, and honoured that you would both speak out on your own accord.
A smile creeps over his face, as he nods his head in a conceding manner.
(Hans): Admittedly, I’ve already made this known to them long before now, but I guess I can be quite sentimental at times, and little goodwill is put about these days for all to hear.
But, to business. Now then Ronnie. Did I really hear you say that my hands are dirtier than both you and Butch’s combined? Pray tell, how could this be?
It’s not the time and place to get into the actions that Butch has done, let alone your own… both in and out of the Horde, but I’m sure that we can make good headway into mine.
I put Matthew in a coma… I ridiculed and provoked Butch at any opportunity, at one point getting hospitalized for my troubles… no doubt interfered in a few matches along with the others who were in the Horde at the time… and spent a remarkable amount of time drinking with Reaper. That’s about it actually…
He pauses for a moment, eyes going distant as he thinks back, head nodding slowly. Snapping back to the present, he continues…
(Hans): Yeah, that’s it. In, oh, give or take six months, that’s about the most that I achieved outwith my own matches before I disappeared. True, it was hardly a brief stay at the Towers, but I’d warrant shorter than yours Ronnie, and certainly Butch’s.
Now Matthew and I have made our peace, did so coming up on two years ago now actually, and even now, though he’s back home, we’re still in regular contact. Butch, well, need I really say anything that isn‘t known already? Interference in matches is something I’m glad to say that I no longer do, except for protecting a friend if necessary. My liver, I’m glad to say, hasn’t taken a pounding like what it did in years.
I’ve come to terms with what I did Ronnie. I did so publicly soon after I returned to the HWA. That you were on your slow spiral out at the time means that you probably missed it, but nevertheless, it happened.
As for Senester ‘favouring’ me. I can surmise that it’s perhaps down to me being ‘the one that got away’, perhaps? I stay out of his business, I don’t insult him off-hand at any given chance, I’m polite to him out of courtesy… Take your pick, or ask the man himself. Just don’t try to make something out of the way that he acts towards both you and I.
He spreads his legs apart slightly, taking a more relaxed stance as he folds his arms across his chest, dusting off his palms before doing so.
(Hans): So, allow me to enquire Ronnie, how does what I’ve done, make my hands bloodier than yours? I’ve not set out to assassinate any mayor like I believe you did, and I’ve not driven a van through a busy city while two terrorists fire indiscriminately out the back… Yes, extenuating circumstances, and doing what you needed to do to live etcetera etcetera, but that’s not what we’re discussing here. I’m not claiming to be whiter than white, and never have. But it’s like comparing a schoolyard bully to a murderer, and you’re the murderer…
The tenure I had in Dark Horse Towers changed me. It took a long time out of the camera’s glare for it to happen, but it did, and for the better. That I don’t harp on about it doesn’t make it any less true. Vanessa and I have spoken at length about it, often at my urging more so than hers if I’m honest. I like to keep such things private, like most of my life. What you see is a very controlled insight into my daily routines… so I must ask, Toya, a pleasure to make your acquaintance incidentally, what gives you the idea that I’m running from my past?
And on an unrelated topic, how could you know what interviews I’ve done and ’blown off’ this past week? I was under the impression that I didn’t have a secretary…
As it stands though, I’ll be happy to show you the tumbler and the plastic balls containing the name of every single member on the roster any time you please. It’s kept under lock and key when it’s not being used, courtesy of the management. And I’m sure your husband knows just how tight security is when it’s provided by Senester…
Chortling with amusement, he shakes his head as a wry smile forms.
(Hans): Oh, no doubt that’ll get the conspiracy theories going…
But like it or not, this lottery hasn’t been fixed. That your husband’s name hasn’t been drawn before now is simply down to chance, nothing more, nothing less. People don’t go to play bingo and act outraged when their numbers don’t come up, and they certainly don’t go and attack the caller because they feel aggrieved that Lady Luck isn’t smiling on them that particular night. Yes, few of the main eventer’s have had their names pulled out. And? What would you have me do? It’s a lottery. It happens. Plenty of people understand the concept. They’re the silent majority, but that doesn’t make them wrong Toya. You happen to ascribe to the vocal minority, and that is your decision to make. Both points are equally valid. We’ll leave it at that.
Cocking his head to the left slightly, he pauses momentarily, his attention distracted by activity off camera. His focus soon switches back however.
(Hans): Back to you Ronnie. Inside the ropes, I think you’ll find, I do have respect for you. You’ve beaten me, once for the Intercontinental title all those years ago… once for the All-Star more recently… and that’s it for one-on-one I believe. And yes, you’ve gotten the pinfall over me in that four man tag team brawl several weeks ago, so I know what you’re capable of. I hate to be somewhat pedantic though, but you’re forgetting that I do have a win over both you and Buff when we faced off for the All-Star belt… I’ve got a pretty good memory for these type of statistic’s Ronnie, but forgive me if I’m wrong on this one, however unlikely.
Let me ask you something Ronnie, and to be honest, I probably already know the answer to this one. If our positions were reversed, and it was you who was being constantly subjected to sneak attacks in the toilet, backstage or in-ring, having your rental car set alight and the lady in your life humiliated, would you show that man any visible sign of respect?
Now you can care less about what you actions out of the ring mean, but don’t think that others , much less the man it’s happening to, will agree. You can’t honestly expect me to overlook what you’ve done, brush it off as if it’s nothing, and then pour praise on you for your in-ring abilities, can you? Would you praise a dog that’s chewed through nearly everything it can in a home, just because it’s at least decided to do it’s business outside where it’s supposed to?
You want my respect Ronnie? How about doing something to challenge my expectations of you then.
The scene slowly fades to black.
(OOC: Yes, I know it's past the deadline, but I couldn't resist.)
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