Set to one side of the screen, at an angle so as to allow the camera to view it, is a flatscreen TV, and across from it, also angled, is a comfortable looking leather sofa.
A comfortable looking leather sofa, occupied by none other, than Hans ‘The Baron’ von Richtoven.
He smiles a smile of pleasure, as he reaches down, and plucks the remote from its position on the left arm rest, and aims it at the flatscreen.
(Hans): Well, our champ has poked his head over the parapet and seen fit to deign us with some choice words…
Thumbing the remote, the flatscreen comes to life, revealing a recording; paused at the beginning of Ronnie McNeil’s latest promo.
(Hans): And what luck, since I find myself so creatively starved. So I’m just going to let it run, pause it at points, critique, and then call it a day.
A pregnant pause.
…
A devilish smirk begins to tug at the corners of his mouth.
(Hans): And no doubt cause someone’s panties to get all knotted… but I digress…
Teeth now showing as the smirk flourishes into a smile, he reaches down with his right hand, and cranks the wooden handle, reclining the sofa and causing the foot rest to arch outwards and up.
He allows a few moments to pass, getting comfortable, before moving the remote from his left hand to his right.
(Hans): Now, let’s begin shall we?
Thumbing the ‘play’ button, the recording begins.
We've been here before gentlemen… preparing to face one another. The last time I faced either of you, I was standing victorious. Talon, I made you tap out in the middle of the ring. That was two years ago. Hans, we battled in the middle of a cage, and even then, while Talon and Senester were pulling their trap, I was touching the 4th corner to defeat you as well. And as I look at the both of you, I don’t see anything that’s changed. Do you honestly think that you even stand a chance against me? I've done nothing but gotten better since those nights.
‘Pause’
(Hans): Let’s not forget the - relatively - minor issue of Talon cracking me across the head with a steel chair prior to you very nearly managing to make all four corners Ronnie. Or, for that matter, that I very nearly hit the four corners myself before everything kicked off with Senester and Talon…
As for you getting better? In a month? A negligible difference Ronnie. That’s all. Nothing to crow about.
…
I can almost hear the “I’m better than you anyway” or similar jibe coming my way already. Rushing out your lungs in as predictable a manner as the way you show your ‘charitable’ leanings and ‘good work’ with the kids after people take no truck with your excuses for your behaviour.
‘Play’
Man, you are just amazing. No wait, no you're not. You’re redundant, lame, old. Your promos don't change from week to week. The same shit talking every god damn promo. Take a page from my book and get creative. The buzz around the locker room is that you're talented. Which matches are they watching? You don't impress me at all. In fact, I….
‘Pause’
(Hans): No-one impresses you Ronnie. We get it. You’re the best technical wrestler out there period. I know it. Talon knows it. Deas knows it. You know it. We accept this…
The eyes roll.
‘Play’
Your hopes at becoming champion again, for the most part, are over. Hate to burst your bubble, but it's gotta be done. It's sickening watching you b###h and complain about your position on the card. You claim to be focused on the here and now, but you complain that you’re wrestling at this pot on the program, like your past accomplishments entitle you to be in the main event. What have you done for the world lately Talon, except ride the Senester coattails to relevance. You might as well put on your coverall, and put on your eye shadow. God you disgust me.
‘Pause’
(Hans): Correct me if I’m wrong, but… weren’t you not too long ago, doing the same thing that you’re berating Talon for?
…
Well, not that last part, the bit about riding Senester’s coattails. Everything before that though.
…
In fact, we could so easily replace that coattails part with my various grievances about you being, essentially, a dick, towards me.
…
See my previous promos for full details.
‘Play’
Every member of the roster has lost to me.
…
…
Can you say best wrestler ever? No you can't...but I can.
‘Pause’
(Hans): Really? Every member of the roster?
Tapping his bottom lip, he settles back into the recliner.
(Hans): Hmm…
A quiet tutting noise escapes his lips as he goes over the stats in his head, before looking over at the camera.
(Hans): I’m afraid I’m going to have to call you out on that one Ronnie. I’m sure there’s at least one of the SoA runts that you’ve not squashed… DnA… or those tag-alongs HATE that you were seen with when the nWo hadn’t yet delivered you what you wanted.
Now of course, had you meant to say ‘anyone that mattered on the roster’, then yes, agreed.
That would make two of us.
‘Play’
But seriously fellas, neither of you bring a threat to the ring. So congrats on getting wasted as part of your promo Hans. Hell... congrats on getting yet another shot at my world title. Do you deserve to be there? No… but every dog has his day right? Even that shitty one. But me, I do strike fear. I'm the guy that makes their opponents nervous. Not only do I beat them in the ring, I beat them verbally. Just like I'm doing to you. But feel free to use this shoot against me. It's the only chance you've got to try and hate on me right?
‘Pause’
(Hans): And people consider me arrogant?
Laughter.
(Hans): Congratulations to you too Ronnie. Congratulations for putting me in the position where I’m subjected to car bombs, all in order to find out what the f*ck you injected me with, you self-righteous b*stard.
Do I deserve another shot? Do you actually deserve to be anywhere other than rotting in some hell-hole jail, at the very minimum, for what you’ve pulled over the past year and a half?
‘Play’
Try and use my promo to your advantage, you uncreative prick. In the end, I'm the one with my hand raised, holding a victory over your head. I'm always going to be that one better than you, because I simply am.
‘Pause’
Again, that slow smile, as the head turns to face the camera for several long seconds.
(Hans): Danke Ronnie. I’ll do. Just. That.
‘Play’
It's almost as if this…
…
…
Ask Maniac. Ask Logan. Christ... ask the entire roster. They'll tell you that Ronnie McNeil IS King.
‘Pause’
(Hans): Let’s face facts Ronnie. Before they get around to saying that, they’d first be stating that you’ve got a pole up your ass, a chip on your shoulder the size of Manhattan and a superiority complex matched only by the ability to see favouritism towards others, where none exists.
That’s just for starters.
‘Play’
My name still means something Talon, while yours is being pissed on. Yeah, by me. I don't respect you. Never have, probably never will.
‘Pause’
(Hans): Again, out comes the ‘respect’ jibe.
But of course, for me, you always seem to have just a little bit more left in the tank, so that you can hit me with it again Ronnie. Sorry Talon, that’s one – nil to me on that there.
‘Play’
…
…
You think Hans is a challenge? Well you haven't faced the Angelic Enigma.
‘Pause’
(Hans): Well, I’ve beaten both of you, so he’d be foolish for thinking anything less Ronnie. And I’d hope you’d be following suit, for that matter. Yes, come the final bell, you’ve had the win chalked up to you more times than I have, but they’ve been close fought though, with little to separate us.
…
…
Not that you’d admit that last part of course, but I’ll say it for the both of us.
You’re welcome.
Like it or not Ronnie, the ‘Angelic Enigma’ was very nearly unravelled at “Blood, Sweat & Tears” by yours truly. A months gap between then and now will do nothing more than put a sticking plaster over the gaps that I’ve exposed, and now know how to reach, and exploit. The same is true in reverse, and I don’t shy away from that.
Will I be able to make full advantage of what I know when Talon’s in the mix, no doubt putting to good use what he’s learnt over the past few months and years? Yes, yes I can.
I can, because I’m capable. And I will, because I want to. Jason said it right when he called you a dick, at Havoc, because you are. And everyone knows it. I doubt you care, but you’ll gain an insight into the other side of the mirror, however involuntary it will be, at my hands come “Helloween Harvest”.
We’ve got a champion who, according to our ‘Lord’, is doing barely a better job than first time around. We’ve got the ex-champion who obtained it in spectacular fashion, and then blew it in an even greater fashion. And then we’ve got the most recent ex-champion, who’s been placed in as a buffer between the two.
Frankly, out of the three, I’m glad I take up the last slot. Talon’s out to win it. Ronnie’s out to keep it. I’m just out to physically maul Ronnie as much as possible, and no doubt in-between that fend off Talon and whatever interference Senester decides to bring into the equation. Then, I’ll go for the title.
‘Play’
Go back to drinking with your brother Hans.
‘Pause’
(Hans): Wiser words were never spoken.
…
…
But only after I’ve been to the gym.
The ever present smirk flowers into a full smile as he thumbs the power button on the remote, causing the flatscreen to fade out to black, mirrored by the scene, as Hans swings himself off the recliner, and makes his way off-screen.
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