Dilly Dilly

Roleplay Roleplay by SYNDICATE
On Wed, Mar28, 2018 12:42pm America/Phoenix
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Dilly Dilly


*The image of rippling static crosses the screen before transitioning to the inside of a familiar-looking apartment in what appears to be Los Angeles, California.  To the left of the camera sits a tan couch lit in a soft glow from above.  Across the room, a flat-screen TV hangs on the wall over a small buffet table.  In the middle of the floor, there is a brown wooden coffee table.*



*An aluminum can is opened, and soon after, the profile of Syndicate steps out from behind the camera and lays down on the couch.  Holding a can of Bud Light and wearing a black tank top, blue jeans, a smaller version of his knee brace, and white socks, Syndicate picks the remote up off the coffee table and turns the television on.  After a few moments of flipping through the channels, Syndicate settles on ESPN, which is showing an episode of SportsCenter with Scott Van Pelt.  The Outlaw takes a sip of his beer and sets it down on the coffee table before speaking.*

Syndicate: Dilly dilly.

*He chuckles.*

Syndicate: Ya know, Tommy - and yes, this time, I'll actually talk to you directly, "Mr. WWX" - I can respect what you've done in this industry.  I can respect that you've ruled over this company with an iron fist for the past number of years.  I can respect that you've beaten such LEGENDS of this company, something that no man may ever be able to accomplish again.  I can respect how many titles you've won or how everyone in the locker room feared you when you were in your prime.  It's all very commendable, really.  But I'm afraid nothing ever lasts forever, Tommy...and it's about time that you realized that.

*Syndicate takes another sip of his Bud Light before continuing.*

Syndicate: You made a very interesting point in your interview with Chris, and it's one that I think is worth repeating.  Throughout all of our encounters, you have not ONCE earned a victory over me.  EVER.  It's been five years of us butting heads...and you've ended up on your back each and every time.  It's quite an interesting pattern if you ask me.  The MAN, "Mr. WWX" himself...can't seem to get his shit together and beat a plucky 25-year-old that's lucky to even be here.  And do you know why that is, Tommy?  It's because throughout our complicated history...I've always been one step ahead of you.

Syndicate: Whenever you meddle in my affairs - for example, when Big Time Agency was DOMINATING this company - I foil your plans.  When you tried to challenge for a World title that I held, I shoved you back down the ladder by any means necessary.  You try to hit me with that stupid Lipton Slam or CIB, and I pin your ass five seconds later.  EVERY TIME you try and get ahead of me, I take you right back down to the..."pit of misery", if you will.  And yet, you think that this week is going to be any different?  Come on, Tommy.  According to you, you bring your A-game each and every week, but if that was really the case...then why have I beaten you all those times?  At Ravage, I want you to put everything on the table, because I'm gonna take so much pleasure in kicking your ass one more time.  More importantly, I'm gonna savor ending your little pipe dream that you're still on the elite level that you used to be.

*Syndicate sits up on the couch in order to face the camera more directly.*

Syndicate: You know, early on in my career, I earned a reputation of being a dangerous man that will do whatever it takes to get ahead.  I beat down people with ruthless efficiency.  I take advantage of situations.  I will win at all costs.  A lot of men underestimated my ability to win...and they all fell at my feet.  But you, you know what's coming, Tommy.  You know what I can do.  You know my history.  But none of that will save you.  None of that will protect you from getting embarrassed at Ravage.  None of that will save your precious "World Champion Tour", which, according to my calculations, is going to make its final stop in Seattle...just in time to get your ass beat.

Syndicate: This ain't your match to win, buddy...this is your match to lose.  Because when - not if, but WHEN - you lose to me for the umpteenth time, you will truly have nothing left to hold onto.  You won't have your title, you won't have your pride, and your fans will see how far you've truly fallen.  I don't care if this is the "Era of Syndicate", I don't care if this is the "Era of Lipton" - hell, I don't care if this is the "Era of Absolute Bullshit" - I'm still gonna take my championship back.  For the sixth time, I'm going to become World Heavyweight Championship, and quite frankly, I don't give a damn what you have to say about that.  I'm ruthless, I'm deadly...and I'm coming for your title, Tommy.

*He reaches down and violently raises his can of Bud Light, slightly crushing it in his fist out of pure passion.*

Syndicate: So dilly |BLEEP|in' dilly, Tommy Lipton...and welcome to the Syndicate.

*Syndicate guzzles down the rest of the beer and throws the empty can against the wall before walking off to attempt to calm down.  The camera pans to the television, where Scott Van Pelt is still discussing sports, as the camera goes to static.*



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