Post by B.A. Styles on Apr 14, 2013 16:09:01 GMT -4
Man, I procrastinate way too much, lol.
So what do you think?
So what do you think?
“Am I an ‘off the wall’ crazy person?”
Those were the words spoken as the cameras began to record the scene in front of it. The setting of this act is a police office of some kind. Upon the walls to the left and right were pictures criminal after criminal. Whatever their offence was, from burglary to downright rape, their mug shots were all over hose two sides of the room. The back of the room was covered by a gigantic, as well as heavily detailed, map of a city called Lima. In the centre of the room was desk, with a computer on the furthest right, while next to this desk is a bin half full of paperwork. Next to the computer are a pair of wrestling boots, which leads all the way down a feminine pair of legs, all the way to a green tunic. Who is wearing this tunic? None other than the one of a kind diva Robina Hood, who happens to have a slightly bemused look on her face has she asked her question.
“Last week Sienna gave me the privilege of the opening segment. I felt nervous, like any other person who have never shot a promo in front of an audience before, but I still came out and delivered…little did I know how well-received it was backstage. I guess that, due to my only other solo promo being a short message, no one expected me to shoot a full segment by myself. I almost stole the show with that one segment but something let me down…well, by something I meant someone…and that someone is called Yarmouth. I got utterly dominated by him but, then again, I guess I kind of deserve it for underestimating that pile of shit while playing mind games with him. But I refuse to let that fiasco turn into another blooming rot yet, rather amusingly, I get the opportunity to correct this injustice against Yanzel Holmes…a guy who is suppose to be all about justice.”
Never once did the female move as she spoke her words, allowing the camera to moved up close to the desk so it isn’t as far from the young woman’s face as it was earlier, even though now the soles of her boots were now taking up the entire right side of the camera’s view. After finishing her words Robina’s right hand reached out and pulled one of the draws open before taking out a pair of handcuffs.
“Kinky.”
Was all that left her lips as she placed the cuffs on her lap before looking back towards the camera with a slight grin on her face.
“You’re a man of just aren’t you? A guy that wants to save everybody without any casualties, right? Well here is a statistic that will interest you. Three…if I’m correct, that is the amount years you’ve spent working for the LAPD. But did you know about the Tennessee Three situation. In Tennessee there were three boys who like to wear dark clothing but when three separate boys died…they were labelled for the crime that they never did, with everyone claiming that they butchered those children for a Satanic ritual. What did the police, the so called men of justice, did? They ruthlessly interrogated them, ignoring their own laws, until they successfully pressured one of them into faking their guilt. So the three boys were imprisoned for a crime that they never did, with evidence that never existed…that is injustice. You can say that you’re department is of Los Angeles not Tennessee…but that doesn’t make a damn difference since the truth of the matter is that the line between cop and criminal is so thin that you can never tell who is the hero and who is the villain. Luckily for these brain-dead Peruvians I have made it pretty damn clear that I’m the antagonist while you’re the protagonist…yet unlike all the lying fairytales, with their fictional morals, reality is raining down and hard I won’t be slain by your hand but instead you’ll be burnt down to a rice krispie. Don’t worry about Michael and Cameron, Yanzel, I’ll make sure the beating I give you is as slow and diabolical as needed to burn the image of their dear daddy, their dear hero being Executed by yours truly, into their deepest and darkest nightmare.”
A slightly evil chuckle left Miss Hood’s lips moments after finishing her latest batch of words. A little sickening to talk about a man’s children perhaps but clearly the purple haired dynamo cares very little about them as a smile appeared on the mentally disturbing female’s face.
“Maybe I am an off the wall crazy person…I’ve done things that sane people wouldn’t do in the name of making others suffer yet do I hold any form of regret for these simple things? No, I don’t regret anything that I’ve done to others. I never regretted the time I marked my debut by not only cracking a steel chair across Niobe’s face but also sitting on her to score the pin…I never regretted knocking Warren peace out with a pair of brass knuckles…. I never regretted swinging a crowbar against Amy Zing’s skull…and I never regretted what I said about Yarmouth and his corpse of a father…so why would I hold any regret for what I’m going to do against you Holmes. Last week you made a decent performance by pinning the once impressive Evan McDonald but tomorrow night Yanzel, I’m going to do to you what Robin Hood should have done against the no-good Sheriff of Nottingham…put you out of your misery. I don’t care if your old man is upset that the demise of your career came before his death, hell nobody will ever miss that waste of space. I don’t care if dear Nana cries about not having a celebrity for a husband, hell all I care she can suck a dildo. And I definitely don’t care about your hideous children since I care about, this Monday on Meltdown, is obliterating you in front of all those idiotic Peruvians…you can call in all your former colleagues and even ring the local police department but all that’ll do is increase the witnesses to your unquestionable destruction. Am I upset about losing to Mister Fella? Perhaps I am, which is probably why I am not just aiming for a win but aiming for complete annihilation…because I need someone to release all this frustration upon and, unfortunately for you Yanzel, you’re the unlucky victim of this crime I’m going to commit tomorrow night.”
Once her final few words departed from her lips the young female moved her feet across the desk, ignoring both the fact that the computer got knocked off the desk by her feet but also the loud crashing sound it made as the electronic equipment banged against the floor as she did so, and got them off the desk. Without wasting too much time, with the handcuffs now in the grip of her right hand, the forest-dweller got off the swivel chair. She easily made her way around the desk and sat down on it, not caring if the camera spotted her purple panties that were hidden underneath the skirt compartment of her tunic or not, before leaning back slightly.
“Being a member of the Los Angeles Police Department I can perfectly guess that you’re quite use to running, tackling and even holding down crooks in the concrete jungle. Hell, that is probably how you’ve become a somewhat gifted submission artist…but how can one possibly hope upon their submission warfare to survive a night in the lawless domain known as Sherwood Forest? Perhaps in the city the line is ‘survival of the fittest’ but in my forest it’s ‘survival of the sickest’ and I don’t mean in having a cold. To survive a simple night within the woods you have to show no weakness…you have to be utterly merciless even to the most helpless of creatures…you have to know the precise moment to strike and make the sudden blow without a shred of hesitation. Do you have what it takes to survive in Sherwood Forest? No? I didn’t think so. I lived, raised and thrived in that forest so not only have I been the most brutal competitor APW has ever seen since the start of this year, but I am also the most deadliest woman you’ll ever be unlucky enough to cross paths with in your entire life. I am still searching for perfection this week’s step is called injustice…I plan on undoing all the injustice that I’ve been through, from Niobe costing me a North American Title shot to Guv’Nor burying me in my first main event, with your blood all over that ring. A little sadistic perhaps but that is my step and you won’t be about to stop me dear officer for what is coming your isn’t Robina Hood, some archer Sherwood Forest…what is coming your way this Monday is Robina Hood, the future of Action packed Wrestling. You can fight for every single law you believe in but I’ve already broken quite a few laws and guess what happened? Nothing? Ding-dong, give this Muppet a star. Laws can’t protect people from the future and tomorrow night I will fight, I will batter you into a bloody pulp and to finish it all off…”
While her eyes looked menacing, Robina’s smiled looked innocent as she spoke out her words. It was only when ‘survival of the sickest’ left her lips that the young Englishwoman began to sound darker and darker with every two lines that departed from her mouth. However instead of finishing her last line the Iron Maiden got off the desk, into a perfect standing position, and plucked the camera out of the cameraman’s hands before placing it on the very edge of the best. She knelt down slightly, making sure the camera could see directly into her eyes, and a cheerful smile appeared on her face as suddenly a knife got pulled out into view.
“…This sweet, little, criminal right here will break your face into so many pieces that even Michael and Cameron will never recognise their daddy’s face ever again.”
A sweet giggle departed from Robina’s lips after she uttered her final few words before the palm of her left hand smacked the camera lens. This caused the camera to fall off the desk but, unlike the computer, it landed on the pile of paperwork in the bin, thus preventing it from breaking, as the bloodthirsty Brit made her departure from this police office.
Those were the words spoken as the cameras began to record the scene in front of it. The setting of this act is a police office of some kind. Upon the walls to the left and right were pictures criminal after criminal. Whatever their offence was, from burglary to downright rape, their mug shots were all over hose two sides of the room. The back of the room was covered by a gigantic, as well as heavily detailed, map of a city called Lima. In the centre of the room was desk, with a computer on the furthest right, while next to this desk is a bin half full of paperwork. Next to the computer are a pair of wrestling boots, which leads all the way down a feminine pair of legs, all the way to a green tunic. Who is wearing this tunic? None other than the one of a kind diva Robina Hood, who happens to have a slightly bemused look on her face has she asked her question.
“Last week Sienna gave me the privilege of the opening segment. I felt nervous, like any other person who have never shot a promo in front of an audience before, but I still came out and delivered…little did I know how well-received it was backstage. I guess that, due to my only other solo promo being a short message, no one expected me to shoot a full segment by myself. I almost stole the show with that one segment but something let me down…well, by something I meant someone…and that someone is called Yarmouth. I got utterly dominated by him but, then again, I guess I kind of deserve it for underestimating that pile of shit while playing mind games with him. But I refuse to let that fiasco turn into another blooming rot yet, rather amusingly, I get the opportunity to correct this injustice against Yanzel Holmes…a guy who is suppose to be all about justice.”
Never once did the female move as she spoke her words, allowing the camera to moved up close to the desk so it isn’t as far from the young woman’s face as it was earlier, even though now the soles of her boots were now taking up the entire right side of the camera’s view. After finishing her words Robina’s right hand reached out and pulled one of the draws open before taking out a pair of handcuffs.
“Kinky.”
Was all that left her lips as she placed the cuffs on her lap before looking back towards the camera with a slight grin on her face.
“You’re a man of just aren’t you? A guy that wants to save everybody without any casualties, right? Well here is a statistic that will interest you. Three…if I’m correct, that is the amount years you’ve spent working for the LAPD. But did you know about the Tennessee Three situation. In Tennessee there were three boys who like to wear dark clothing but when three separate boys died…they were labelled for the crime that they never did, with everyone claiming that they butchered those children for a Satanic ritual. What did the police, the so called men of justice, did? They ruthlessly interrogated them, ignoring their own laws, until they successfully pressured one of them into faking their guilt. So the three boys were imprisoned for a crime that they never did, with evidence that never existed…that is injustice. You can say that you’re department is of Los Angeles not Tennessee…but that doesn’t make a damn difference since the truth of the matter is that the line between cop and criminal is so thin that you can never tell who is the hero and who is the villain. Luckily for these brain-dead Peruvians I have made it pretty damn clear that I’m the antagonist while you’re the protagonist…yet unlike all the lying fairytales, with their fictional morals, reality is raining down and hard I won’t be slain by your hand but instead you’ll be burnt down to a rice krispie. Don’t worry about Michael and Cameron, Yanzel, I’ll make sure the beating I give you is as slow and diabolical as needed to burn the image of their dear daddy, their dear hero being Executed by yours truly, into their deepest and darkest nightmare.”
A slightly evil chuckle left Miss Hood’s lips moments after finishing her latest batch of words. A little sickening to talk about a man’s children perhaps but clearly the purple haired dynamo cares very little about them as a smile appeared on the mentally disturbing female’s face.
“Maybe I am an off the wall crazy person…I’ve done things that sane people wouldn’t do in the name of making others suffer yet do I hold any form of regret for these simple things? No, I don’t regret anything that I’ve done to others. I never regretted the time I marked my debut by not only cracking a steel chair across Niobe’s face but also sitting on her to score the pin…I never regretted knocking Warren peace out with a pair of brass knuckles…. I never regretted swinging a crowbar against Amy Zing’s skull…and I never regretted what I said about Yarmouth and his corpse of a father…so why would I hold any regret for what I’m going to do against you Holmes. Last week you made a decent performance by pinning the once impressive Evan McDonald but tomorrow night Yanzel, I’m going to do to you what Robin Hood should have done against the no-good Sheriff of Nottingham…put you out of your misery. I don’t care if your old man is upset that the demise of your career came before his death, hell nobody will ever miss that waste of space. I don’t care if dear Nana cries about not having a celebrity for a husband, hell all I care she can suck a dildo. And I definitely don’t care about your hideous children since I care about, this Monday on Meltdown, is obliterating you in front of all those idiotic Peruvians…you can call in all your former colleagues and even ring the local police department but all that’ll do is increase the witnesses to your unquestionable destruction. Am I upset about losing to Mister Fella? Perhaps I am, which is probably why I am not just aiming for a win but aiming for complete annihilation…because I need someone to release all this frustration upon and, unfortunately for you Yanzel, you’re the unlucky victim of this crime I’m going to commit tomorrow night.”
Once her final few words departed from her lips the young female moved her feet across the desk, ignoring both the fact that the computer got knocked off the desk by her feet but also the loud crashing sound it made as the electronic equipment banged against the floor as she did so, and got them off the desk. Without wasting too much time, with the handcuffs now in the grip of her right hand, the forest-dweller got off the swivel chair. She easily made her way around the desk and sat down on it, not caring if the camera spotted her purple panties that were hidden underneath the skirt compartment of her tunic or not, before leaning back slightly.
“Being a member of the Los Angeles Police Department I can perfectly guess that you’re quite use to running, tackling and even holding down crooks in the concrete jungle. Hell, that is probably how you’ve become a somewhat gifted submission artist…but how can one possibly hope upon their submission warfare to survive a night in the lawless domain known as Sherwood Forest? Perhaps in the city the line is ‘survival of the fittest’ but in my forest it’s ‘survival of the sickest’ and I don’t mean in having a cold. To survive a simple night within the woods you have to show no weakness…you have to be utterly merciless even to the most helpless of creatures…you have to know the precise moment to strike and make the sudden blow without a shred of hesitation. Do you have what it takes to survive in Sherwood Forest? No? I didn’t think so. I lived, raised and thrived in that forest so not only have I been the most brutal competitor APW has ever seen since the start of this year, but I am also the most deadliest woman you’ll ever be unlucky enough to cross paths with in your entire life. I am still searching for perfection this week’s step is called injustice…I plan on undoing all the injustice that I’ve been through, from Niobe costing me a North American Title shot to Guv’Nor burying me in my first main event, with your blood all over that ring. A little sadistic perhaps but that is my step and you won’t be about to stop me dear officer for what is coming your isn’t Robina Hood, some archer Sherwood Forest…what is coming your way this Monday is Robina Hood, the future of Action packed Wrestling. You can fight for every single law you believe in but I’ve already broken quite a few laws and guess what happened? Nothing? Ding-dong, give this Muppet a star. Laws can’t protect people from the future and tomorrow night I will fight, I will batter you into a bloody pulp and to finish it all off…”
While her eyes looked menacing, Robina’s smiled looked innocent as she spoke out her words. It was only when ‘survival of the sickest’ left her lips that the young Englishwoman began to sound darker and darker with every two lines that departed from her mouth. However instead of finishing her last line the Iron Maiden got off the desk, into a perfect standing position, and plucked the camera out of the cameraman’s hands before placing it on the very edge of the best. She knelt down slightly, making sure the camera could see directly into her eyes, and a cheerful smile appeared on her face as suddenly a knife got pulled out into view.
“…This sweet, little, criminal right here will break your face into so many pieces that even Michael and Cameron will never recognise their daddy’s face ever again.”
A sweet giggle departed from Robina’s lips after she uttered her final few words before the palm of her left hand smacked the camera lens. This caused the camera to fall off the desk but, unlike the computer, it landed on the pile of paperwork in the bin, thus preventing it from breaking, as the bloodthirsty Brit made her departure from this police office.
