The scene opens in what appears to be a large barbarian festhall. As could be expected, its filled with Barbarians. And the Barbarians are… get this… FEASTING! And guess who’s serving them. That’s right! SERVING WENCHES! COMELY COMELY SERVING WENCHES! Especially that one! No… to her left. The blonde. Yeah. Would you get a load of her? Bet she’d be great for makin’ babies. CAUSE THAT’S HOW SERVING WENCHES ROLL!
Suddenly, all conversation stops, and all eyes turn towards the flap of the tent, where a newcomer has just entered. It’s a big porty, yet burly man, covered in furs, with a large horned helmet stuck on his head. Oddly enough, the dude’s clean shaven, and the face belongs to that of Daniel Pollaski, with a sneer splayed across his lips. The hall is now completely silent in reverence of this man. This newcomer. This… WARRIOR.
*BOOM*
That’s the sound of him taking a step.
*BOOM!*
That’s how awesome this warrior is. THE VERY EARTH trembles under his feet when he walks!
Not bad sound effects either, mind you.
*BOOM*
Okay.. you get it right? We don’t need to do the boom thingie every time he takes a step. Just… visualize it. We’re not gonna spell it out for you.
The warrior stops in his epic walking through the tent, and glances to his side. What’s this? Someone seemingly has not given him the proper respect! The warrior turns, and walks right up to a large, burly, bearded barbarian, who shrinks away. But the warrior moves in, ever closer, a sneer on his face, a low snarl coming from his throat. The barbarian insolent begins to silently cry, as a sound-effect of him urinating himself from fear fills the tent.
At least, dear God, please let it be a sound effect.
Pollaski: “What’s that smell?”
Insolent Barbarian: (in tears) “D…d….dookie!”
Ew. Apparently both bladders went..
The warrior nods for a second, then, quick as lighting, grabs the man by the scruff of his neck. With a running heave (and a great help from the stunt double!), he heaves the man clear over the table, the unfortunate barbarian crashing into two other Barbarians, knocking them all, as well as a bench over! The warrior looks at the two barbarians that had been flanking, and both men shrink away as well. He points towads the man he just threw.
Pollaski: “Clean up on aisle BITCH.”
The warrior turns away, and stomps thunderously towards the high table of the fest hall, the other barbarians struggling to get out of his way. The warrior reaches the high table and takes his place at the throne, lightning flashing inside the tent and thunder booming as he does so. He leans on the table, glaring out at his nervous subjects.
Pollaski: “Welcome, to my VICTORY FEAST!”
The roar of delighted cheers fills the air, and the warrior smiles just a bit.
Pollaski: “Today, we eat, drink, and be merry, for I have defeated the great ROBBYN HELMSLEY!”
Another wave of cheers. The warrior begins to speak again, but a hand being raised halts him. He glares at the insolent.
Pollaski: “Yes?! What is iit?
Raised hand guy. “You haven’t faced her yet.”
There’s a long pause here as the warrior shakes his head, as if trying to clean out his ears to make sure its what he really heard.
Pollsaki: “Come again?”
Raised Hand Guy: “How can you have beaten Robbyn Helmsley if you… you haven’t faced her yet?”
The Warrior nods for a second, as if trying to still comprehend it.
Pollaski: “What’s your name again?”
Raised Hand Guy: “Um… S… Steve, sir.”
Pollaski: “Right, Steve. I want you to look at this. Do you see it?”
The Warrior holds out his left hand, and Steve goes to look. It’s a picture of a bikini clad supermodel. Definitely a looker.
Steve: “Ooh. She’s pretty!”
Pollaski: “Right…”
*SPLAT!*
As Steve continues to look at the picture, the warrior pulls out war hammer from his furs with his right hand, and brings it down hard on the poor dude’s head. Steve’s head explodes in a mixture of blood and brains and skull bits, and he staggers back and forth for a couple of seconds, then collapses to the floor. The Warrior cradles the warhammer in his arms, and looks around at the tent.
Pollaski: “So, before I continue,, does anyone *else* have any questions or comments?”
Shockingly, there are no takers. The warrior spins on his heel, and walks back to the high table (boom boom boom). He pauses for a second at the throne, then leans back on the table, lightning and thunder crashing again as he does so. He takes a several long moments before he speaks.
“There was a time, not so long ago, where Robbyn Helmsley was a respected member of the wrestling community. I mean she’s always been a needy, obsessive bitch, but at least, at some point in the past, she did have the wrestling chops to mitigate at least some of it. And I respected that. Hell, I respected her… at least as a wrestler. In fact, I recall saying last July that Robbyn should have been the final member of the Elimination Chamber, not Kat Stryfe.”
“I was proved wrong on that. Kat Stryfe, god bless her soul, would take that opportunity and use it to launch to the FFW Championship. Robbyn, instead would take the opportunity she had and tap out to Colleen quickly in a submission hold, and then later express pride that it wasn’t at least instantaneous. And that’s pretty much when that respect people had of hers began to wane. And it kept waning and waning and waning, until we are where we are now.”
“I think if you weren’t a wrestling fan, and you happened by what was going on here, you would think I’m the bad guy here. Sure looks that way, doesn’t it? Big, hulking, three hundred fifty pound behemoth picking on a dainty little girl. Some might even say what I’ve been doing the past couple of months might qualify as bullying. And yet… through it all, the fans have been behind ME. The fan’s, always so willing to root for the woebegotten underdog, have chosen the bully over the bullied. And that right there should indicate just how unlikeable Robbyn Helmsley has become.”
The Warrior sweeps backwards, falling into the throne and making himself comfortable while continuing to talk.
“This is a woman who believes that everyone needs to know which song she is listening to at every single moment, although, spoiler alert, it’s probably either “I can Only Imagine” or something by Hedley. This is a woman so forlorn that she needs to retweet a turn-on list simply to arouse herself. This is a woman who prides herself on faithfulness, yet openly makes sexual advances on Twitter towards individuals outside her latest partnership. This is a woman who claims to be not a whore, but can’t even remember herself how many girlfriends she’s had in the last two years. This is a woman who’s had such a crush on her ‘best friends’ husband, it borderlines on creepy. This is a woman who, along with her friends, has made Deadhorse, Alaska the stupidity capital. Of the world.”
“Robbyn Helmsley is like the Energizer Bunny being sent down a bottomless pit. She just keeps going lower, and lower and lower.”
The Warrior chuckles, and shakes his head.
“Robbyn keeps talking about the hellhole of a company she used to work for. How horrible it was. How lucky she is to be out of there. But she never let’s on to the fact that it’s because of HER that she was even there. She HAD a great job, in the greatest women’s wrestling promotion in world history. Hell, she was even, like I said, well respected there. She was in the Femme For All, and that’s a pretty damned hard tournament to get into. And then, she got fired, or had a meltdown, or accidentally set fire to her contract. I dunno. Reports keep changing. It doesn’t really matter.”
“What does matter is that Jacob Stryfe ‘rescued’ her from that Hellhole…for reasons God only knows. And her first night back. Her first speech to all the SVW world… she calls me out. I suppose I should have expected it. I mean, even guys like me have to pay the piper at some point, right? But the reason she gave for challenging me… because I called her fat?”
There’s a long pause as the Warrior looks around the room, barely able to contain his laughter.
“Am I seriously the only one who appreciates the irony in a three hundred fifty pound guy calling a one hundred thirty pound girl fat? I mean… for crying out loud people…”
“But Robbyn Helmsley wanted a war, and by God, I’ve tried to give her one. I figured it’d be fun, a little bit of back and forth. A bit of build-up, right into the epic confrontation. I didn’t exactly go the Christian Kane route and try to resurrect her dead parents, but I think I did pretty good here. In return, Robbyn’s given us… well nothing. I mean, hell, when’s the last time she’s mentioned this match? You wouldn’t even know we were set to compete at the biggest SVW show of the year, going by her. What’s the deal? After all, this is what she wanted, right?”
“The deal is the same it was back in FFW, and how its been every time Robbyn’s come up against a little bit of resistance in her life. She puffed out her chest, got called on it, and ran back to her shell to hide. She won’t dare spar with me, because every time she spouts off her bullshit, no matter what it is, I’m not afraid to call her on it. It’s “FUCK YOU!”, and back to her little shell she goes, where it’s nice and warm and safe and the only person there is Keiji Mitsuhide who enables her and makes her feel better about herself.”
“You don’t think people have noticed this? Ask the fans. Ask her colleagues, no matter who they are. With a few exceptions, the respect knowledgeable people in this business have for Robbyn Helmsley is minimal at best. Is there anything else you can get people like Brad and Lyv Jackson, Eileen Amaro, Chris Strike, Christian Kane, and Lyn Dallins to all agree on than the fact that Robbyn Helmsley is a moron?”
The warrior laughs and puffs out his chest a bit.
“I’d love to pretend that’s been all my doing. And I certainly did help out quite a bit here. But in reality, Robbyn’s dug her own grave here. She’s the one who made stupid decisions. She’s the one who made idiotic comments she had no hope of backing up. I just called her on it.”
“But herein lies the rub. If Robbyn beats me tonight, how will ANY of this change? Do you think people are suddenly going to start seeing her as anything but the unintelligent hack she’s become? You think the ‘Supergirl’ monicker is going to be ripped off Nikkii, and placed back on her chest? Absolutely not. Robbyn Helmsley could kick my ass from pillar to post tonight, and it’d change NOTHING.”
The warrior breaks into a smirk.
“Because, you see, kids? I’ve already won. Robbyn wanted a war, and I bombarded every single defense and fortress and castle she had into rubble. She’s got NOTHING to fall back on. Even if she manages to rise up and slay her evil tormenter tonight, she’s still ruined. No one takes her seriously anymore, and like I said, so much of that, she can only blame herself for.”
“Winning tonight… it’s not going to be about victory. It’s not going to be about backing up my words or defending my honor or anything. I’ve already done that. Tonight, the goal is only one thing. Annihilation. To pour gasoline on the last remnants of her dignity, and set it aflame. It might sound harsh and cruel, but, she should have known. I proved it with Whitley. When you piss me off… I don’t go halfway here.”
The warrior snaps his fingers, and suddenly behind him flames spring to life. They resemble a funeral pyre, with a woman- quite resembling Robbyn herself- lying in the middle.
“And this isn’t just a victory feast for me, everyone. This is the funeral feast of Robbyn Helmsley’s career. Because it ends tonight, in a count of one two three, any hope Robbyn had of recovery from her mistakes will be burnt to a crisp. Any remaining respect she had from her peers will be burnt to ashes. Tonight, Robbyn is going to be pitched upon the pyre, to never be heard from or seen again, and there was much rejoicing.”
Voice: “Uh, should we put Steve on there too?”
The Warrior glances over at where Steve’s body is still laying.
Pollaski: “Uh yeah. We probably should. Shame he ran his mouth like that. I did end up answering his question.”
Small pause, then Pollaski raises a large stone mug sitting next to him, grinning savagely.
Pollaski: “Gentlemen! Let us feast upon the spoils of our victory here today, and revel like it’s 1999!!!!”
That draws a roar of approval from his audience, and the Warrior sits back down in his seat, beaming, as the serving wenches return with plates and plates of food. Fade out.
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