SEGMENT 6.) Rob Chapman | "Untitled Promo"

**DUE: 11:59 PM Saturday the 30th of August** ____________________

DUE: 11:59 PM Saturday the 30th of August

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SEGMENT 6.) Rob Chapman | "Untitled Promo" MJFR42R

Subject: Re: SEGMENT 6.) Rob Chapman | "Untitled Promo" Tue Aug 26, 2014 7:05 pm

Rob Chapman
"Silence speaks."

Vendetta fades in from black, as the words of a vaguely familiar voice echo through a cement corridor. We see Rob Chapman with the Intercontinental Title draped across his shoulder. Dressed perhaps to fight, but not so much to wrestle, as he paces back and forth in well-worn jeans and his signature leather jacket. Shaking his head with a look of dead-eyed disbelief, and gnawing paranoia.

"This isn't how it's supposed to be," proclaims the ordinarily Silent Protagonist, using the wavering tone of a man on the verge of mental collapse.

"THIS ISN'T HOW THE FUCK IT'S SUPPOSED TO BE!"

Chapman's confused roar bounces off of the corridor walls, and out into the lifeless parking garage as he comes to a sudden halt and grinds on his heel, turning around. Gritting his teeth and clenching his fist- the one not keeping the Intercontinental Championship on his shoulder.

"Two fucking words, people: SILENT. PROTAGONIST."

Rob pauses as he reaches the opposite side of the hall and once again pivots around. Marching back with rapid, aimless steps.

"It's a REAL SIMPLE FUCKIN' CONCEPT! And yet NONE OF YOU seem to get it. You certainly don't get it. Neither does that fuckin' cult weirdo who decided he was going to call me out like I give a flying shit who he is. I THOUGHT Robert Hope actually got it. I thought he understood. He was the only man to offer me any sort of olive branch when I came back into this company, and beat the shit out of EVERY MAN XWA PUT IN FRONT OF ME. But no. He's just another fuckin' rambler. And God cut him down."

Rob stops, bracing against the wall for a moment with his fist. Lowering his head to the concrete wall and letting the feel of cold stone against his skin spread throughout his body. Instilling something of a sense of calm in him for a moment.

"And he said: 'Rob, go do my will!' And I thought about it. Very briefly. Because here is a man who has taken me to hell, and back again. More than once in my life," Chapman continues, backing away from the wall and raising his head. His voice begins to waver again; like the tone of a man who's just come off of downers, experiencing his first boom in serotonin.

"It was the only time I debated changing. And maybe I still do debate it. All I've wanted since I came back is to be my own man. To not stand in another's shadow. Not to let it eclipse me again, Danny..."

Chapman pauses for a moment, his voice tapering off as he lets his friend's name echo off of the backstage walls so that he knows that he's being addressed now. Being replied to.

"We've ridden through the fires of fucking HELL, my friend. Last time, we spent an hour in that damn fire. And I recall was YOU who got burned! And at the end, we were still brothers. So before you tell me to respect you just because you're the XWA Champion... YOU REMEMBER WHO THE FUCK I AM! YOU'RE ROB VAN DAM, AND I'M JERRY LYNN. I! FUCKING! MADE! YOU!"

The volume, waver, and gravel in Rob's voice increase alongside each other until the not-so-silent protagonist finally unleashes a furious scream and charges at the opposite wall, slamming his fist against the white concrete! He rests for a moment, his fist still pressed to the wall. Head down, eyes closed. It takes him a moment. The Intercontinental Champion grimaces as he opens his grief-stricken eyes and looks resentfully up at the wall.

"See... I coulda' just easily broken my hand... and it's all because of how sick of this feeling I am. As a matter of fact, this is how I fucked up my right hand back in high school. It's why I wore kickboxing gloves for the first half of my career. 'Cause I'm missing two fucking knuckles on my right hand and every time I hit someone without them on, it sent pain lancing up my arm. My hand would cramp and ache, and lock up. And I couldn't write... couldn't hold a cup... couldn't even fucking dial on my phone. My right hand is completely fucked, but I stopped feeling it about a year into my career. Kinda like how my neck was completely fucked, but I FUCKING BEAT THAT, DIDN'T I?! Just like I beat YOU at Cyberslam!"

Rob shouts again before easing back off of the wall and beginning to slowly pace back and forth again. His tone begins to waver, becoming more... emotional.

"Nobody actually knows that, though. Nobody cares that I broke my fucking neck doing a Shooting Star Press God knows when, and wrestled through pain like you wouldn't believe for FOUR AND A HALF YEARS. EVERY DAMN NIGHT. So finally, I left wrestling for a little while. I got better, and I came back. More or less fresh out of physical therapy. It's February, going into CyberSlam. You and I... we have the match of our lives, in a company that had fucking hated my guts since 2011, because I wouldn't stay here dressed like a weaboo Christmas tree after coming in from 2WWF, WHERE I HAD JUST BEEN FUCKING WORLD CHAMPION. Nobody here had ANY kind words to say to me. Sure... the fans thanked you, but me? I got nothing. You treated them like shit right up until your last match here, and they still chose you over me in the end. Why? They didn't even have to choose! They could have just thanked us both. How the fuck is that hard? But... they didn't. So... you left, and you went on, found yourself, or whatever the fuck, and I left, and went on and helped train wrestlers back home. Because I guess I wasn't worth more to this company than a few paycheques and a ratings boost," rambles the Intercontinental Champion, rather a rather vindictive and spiteful overtone. Pausing, he glances away from the camera for a moment, and then spits disrespectfully on the floor. Chapman resumes pacing, but continues to look at the ground. Not ignoring the camera, but not making 'eye contact', either.

"So when I finally convinced these fuckers to LET ME come BACK to wrestling... I decided... that was it. I wasn't going to let people control me anymore. I decided I wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of seeing me pissed off anymore. Or seeing me happy to be here, because they let me come back after I got treated like corporate shit. I decided I wasn't going to so much as speak. At all. After all, nobody was willing to say anything TO me after I gave them my fucking soul. Why the fuck should I bother pouring my heart out to them anymore? They just want a body to cheer or boo. So that's what I fucking am. A body. A war machine. And now, here you go, making me spill my fucking guts. Congrats."

Rob finally comes to a halt in the center of the camera. The looks to the camera, then over his shoulder. Glancing down at the Intercontinental Title, he affixes his eyes on the gold for a moment before raising the title up by the strap.

"But guess what, Danny? I BECAME A CHAMPION IN THIS COMPANY WITHOUT HAVING TO SAY A SINGLE FUCKING WORD TO ANYONE! And you've gone and FUCKED THAT UP. You had to go and fuck up the ONE THING... the ONE PERSON who fucking understood what I came here to do, and offered a chance to help me do EXACTLY that. The one person who just wanted me to do my thing, and do it as only I can. To destroy."

Rob stops and lowers the title back onto his shoulder. Once again, the Haligonian begins to pace as his demeanor becomes less and less stable. His tone becomes more embittered. His breathing, ragged. His stance, uneven.

"In case you didn't notice, the only person who's actually been able to pin me in this company is D.C. Hennig- a fucking legend- and even then, I guaran-fucking-TEE you he wasn't walking as soon as he stepped back through the curtain, and came down from his little adrenaline high. I've kicked the shit out of pretty much everyone else XWA has thrown at me. You came back and had your little battle with Hope, and beat a few people. Lost to a few, too. And yet, somehow... right now, you're the World Heavyweight Champion, and I'm just the Intercontinental Champion. Maybe... just maybe, that's because XWA wouldn't let me anywhere near Maddox Paine, Hitman Alex, or David Michaels? Ironically, none of them are relevant anymore. Or, Maybe it's because you're real good at coming back and winning management over. Considering the attitude you came back with, I wouldn't be surprised if you got a big fat pay raise for the amount of rectum that you had to suck to be allowed back here after calling this company 'unworthy of you' and 'worthless' a few months before the fact. Or, hell, maybe it's just the luck of the draw. That you got handed a random title shot after beating Robert Hope at the same Pay-Per-View that I won this title at. Where I fought for something, and you fought over nothing."

Rob pauses, taking a deep breath in, and then slowly exhaling. Closing his eyes.

His eyes shut tighter, and his face begins to contort in a mixture of pain and anger.

"FUCK!" Chapman roars, ripping the Intercontinental Title from his shoulder and hurling it at the floor! Rob then rips his jacket off and tosses it to the floor over his jacket. Reaching up, he rakes both hands through his motley hair and then growls as he clutches at his head. Throwing his hands down at his sides, he glares at the half-covered title and then straightens his posture. He takes another deep breath, and then cracks his neck from one side to the other.

"As far as I'm concerned, these titles don't matter when it comes to you and me. Last week... for the first time in a long time... I felt... conflicted, again. I felt human. I felt like, maybe, the Short Change Heroes could do what they couldn't accomplish in the past. Maybe. But that's not what I'm here to do. I'm tired of standing in the shadows. I refuse to fight you, or anyone else like that, so long as things stay the same as they are now. So long as the level of disrespect from everyone... to the people that pay me... to the people in the crowd... and even my friends, stays where it is. Tonight, Danny... my body will be out there to fight you. It won't run tonight. And you will learn exactly why I didn't want to fight you last week. You will learn exactly why I am a fucking War Machine. We're going to leave it all in the ring, and I'm going to deposit these demons back in the festering fucking hole they came from."

Rob stops and lowers his head for a moment. Stretching his neck, and raising it back up to crack it again. The lunatic fringe replaced with a lunatic calm.

"Consider the good man gone, Danny. They finally killed him." Chapman utters weakly. Though his voice is that of a man near tears, his expression is most certainly not. Nothing more than the stone cold gaze of death that he's given since May.

The scene fades.

Subject: Re: SEGMENT 6.) Rob Chapman | "Untitled Promo" Tue Aug 26, 2014 7:48 pm

Rob's pissed.

I loved this, I loved everything about it, you delivered a very intense piece of work here. I didn't realise Chapman speaks now, which threw me off at the beginning (I wanted to watch a SIGH-LENT PRO-TAGENIZT video) but I had to read on and realise what was happening to get it. Boom!

Subject: Re: SEGMENT 6.) Rob Chapman | "Untitled Promo" Tue Aug 26, 2014 7:56 pm

This is actually the first time Rob's spoken since he came back. It's not going to be a regular thing.

Thank you for the kind comment <3

Subject: Re: SEGMENT 6.) Rob Chapman | "Untitled Promo" Wed Aug 27, 2014 3:13 am

Holy fuck.

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TeamMoose Posts : 2881 Join date : 2014-04-02 Age : 29

Danny gonna get fuuuucked up.

Subject: Re: SEGMENT 6.) Rob Chapman | "Untitled Promo" Wed Aug 27, 2014 6:07 am

Shit o.o

Subject: Re: SEGMENT 6.) Rob Chapman | "Untitled Promo" Wed Aug 27, 2014 9:00 am

I suddenly have this sudden urge to want to feud with Rob, in which the end-point is an I Quit match Funny

SEGMENT 6.) Rob Chapman | "Untitled Promo"

SEGMENT 6.) Rob Chapman | "Untitled Promo"

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