Roleplay Roleplay by SYNDICATE
On Fri, Apr06, 2018 9:22pm America/Phoenix
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*Static crackles on-screen before slowly fading away into a shot from the inside of what appears to be the London Eye in downtown London, England.  From inside the capsule, the camera looks over the bustling city as the sun sets behind it, shrouding the megalopolis in darkness.*


*As the wheel rotates, the capsule moves upward at a low velocity so that the Eye's passengers can fully enjoy the view.  However, this particular pod seems to be completely empty - odd for a Friday evening in one of the world's most populous cities.*

???: Welcome.

*The camera pans to the left to reveal the profile of a familiar man looking down through the capsule's window.  Dressed in a blood-red leather jacket, gray undershirt, black denim jeans, and Nike sneakers, the Los Angeles Outlaw, Syndicate, holds a glass of what appears to be champagne in his right hand.  He takes a sip before raising it towards the camera.*

Syndicate: Care for a drink?  There's plenty to go around.

*He chuckles, turning his attention back to the city.*

Syndicate: Last week, I proclaimed that the "poison" of the WWX was to be eradicated, once and for all.  I posted video after video on, making sure that my warning was heard.  I said I would fight for the future at the expense of the past and that I would make sure that this company would be able to sustain itself for many, many years to come.  I said that I was going to defeat Tommy Lipton, take back my spot at the top, and win my sixth World Heavyweight Championship.  But, alas, I was ignored.  Insulted, even.  I was told that, with my knee injury, it just wasn't the right time.  I was told that Tommy Lipton would be champion for a very, very long time.  I was told...that I was wrong.

*With a slight smirk on his face, Syndicate reaches down to the floor of the capsule, sets down the glass of champagne, and pulls up the World Tag Team Championship that he has shared with Darkness for a number of weeks now.  He places the said belt on his right shoulder.*

Syndicate: But was I really?

*He reaches down again, this time bringing up the World Wrestling Championship.  He sets this championship on his left shoulder, and after taking a moment to admire both belts, he speaks.*

Syndicate: Even though Jake Devine got involved, even though my knee was being torn to shreds by Tommy, and even though every single person in the arena was betting against me, it was I, Syndicate, that came away with the hardware.  And now, here in London,'s my job to make sure that I don't lose this championship faster than a foreign traveler loses his way in Heathrow.

*Syndicate chuckles once more.*

Syndicate: At Ravage, I ridded the WWX of its deadly poison that had been affecting it for far too long...but for some reason, a portion of that poison still lingers.  You see, Tommy Lipton is getting his rematch this weekend at the 02 Arena, as he rightfully should - unlike some other people in the WWX, I actually honor rematch clauses in a timely manner.  However, that just means that my job is not done.  That just means...that at Wreckage, I need to finish the job.

Syndicate: Tommy's been noticeably silent since Ravage.  Why is that?  Is it because he's finally realized what I've been telling him all this time, that his days in the WWX are numbered?  Have we witnessed the fullest extent of what Tommy Lipton can accomplish in 2018?  It's certainly plausible that we have.  Look at him: a former legend in his own right, having to watch as his career comes to a close, once and for all.  It's sad, really.

*Smirking, Syndicate continues.*

Syndicate: But I don't care.  All I care about is doing what's best for the future of this company, NOT for Tommy Lipton's ego.  You see, ladies and gentlemen, Tommy Lipton STILL has not beaten me inside the squared circle.  Does that alone indicate that his career is over?  I'd say not.  But look at everything else.  The man FINALLY poked his head up and became World Champion for the first time since his return, but he couldn't keep that going for long enough to be meaningful.  Tommy couldn't get the job done...and unfortunately for him, he won't be able to get the job done either here in London.

*He pauses, considering something as the pod continues to move.*

Syndicate: You know, Tommy really liked that whole "champion world tour" thing, didn't he?  Well...then I guess we should consider this the first, and certainly not last, stop on MY "world tour".  It's quite fitting, actually.  Throughout my career, I've been very successful here.  There's the Hardest Man in London tournament that culminated in these streets - remember that, James? - and numerous other championship matches and legendary moments.  Hell, behind Atlanta and Los Angeles, this might be my third-favorite city to wrestle in.  Of course, the same cannot be sad for another one of my opponents this week: Rex McAllister.

Syndicate: You see, Rex has a very bad memory of this place, as he was quick to remind everyone of yesterday morning.  That damn Inferno Asylum match was supposed to be Rex's "moment", the point where Rex McAllister rose into the spotlight as one of the greats.  But it didn't really work out that way for poor ol' Rex, now did it?  I mean, I didn't win the match either, but at least I kept my momentum going and won the title a few weeks later.  Rex just...gave up.  No, that's not the right term.  Rex, for all intents and purposes, took his ball and went home until he started teaming up with Tommy.

*As the London Eye capsule reaches the top of the wheel, Syndicate looks back down at the city, admiring the view.*

Syndicate: You know, this would normally be where I crucify Rex for seemingly disappearing over the past month or so.  I could go on and on about how I'm better than him because I "survive" and I just "don't go away".  I could even start calling out some catchphrases if I felt like it.  But...I don't feel like it.  Why?  Because Rex McAllister deserves MORE than that.  You see, Rex seems to see himself as the |BLEEP|ing know-it-all of the WWX.  He comes in, spells doom and gloom, talking the talk...and then, yeah, he usually does alright in the ring, I'll give him that.  But "alright" doesn't get you shit in this industry, and certainly not here in the WWX.

Syndicate: I know just how dangerous Rex is.  I know what he can do, and I know what he's capable of.  I only have two eyes, but I can guarantee you that one of them will be firmly focused on him for the entirety of the match.  But if he wants to make it to Armada as champion...well, he's gonna have to, for once his life, |BLEEP|ing pay attention to what I have to say.  Rex has consistently underestimated what I bring to the table throughout his career, and EVERY |BLEEP|ING TIME, I prove him wrong.  Inferno Asylum?  Lasted to the final two and have been able to keep the momentum going since then.  Triple-threat match for the title last summer?  Nope.  House of Horrors?  Ooh, so close...but not quite.  You see?  Rex paints himself as the |BLEEP|in' "Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse", saying that he's going to tear down my world once again.  In response, I say this: if Rex wants a war here in London, he's going to get one.  I am sick of being discounted, I am sick of being thrown to the side, and I am sick of being disrespected in the face of all that I've accomplished.  Rex...he should have never come back after Aftershock...and I'm gonna show him why.

*The sun finally disappears behind the skyline as London falls to darkness.*

Syndicate: And then...there's Jake Devine.  A man that rightfully won the Crusade Cup and earned himself a title shot at Armada.  Apparently, it's December 25th here in London already, because Christmas has sure come early for Jake.  Not only is he still guaranteed a one-on-one match for the World Championship at Armada, but he gets to try for the title this week as well!  He truly has nothing to lose at Wreckage.

*A twinkle shines in Syndicate's eye.*

Syndicate: But that's the dangerous part, isn't it?  You see, I'm not thinking about Armada like Rex is.  I'm not thinking about my future like Tommy.  I'm focused on the here and the now, and right now, I see Jake Devine standing across from me, waiting for his time at the top of the ladder with the title that I currently possess.  It's admirable, truly.  But there's a reason why I always rise back up, there's a reason why I am holding this beautiful, beautiful championship.  It's because, right |BLEEP|ing now, I'm the best in the world at what I do, and that's not about to change, regardless of what Jake Devine has to say about it.

Syndicate: He'll never say this outright, but Jake is still finding his footing here.  He's still figuring out what he needs to do to be a true main-eventer, a man that can carry his company on his back.  But unlike Jake...I've been doing that for years now.  I know what needs to be done to be World Champion, and I've done it like nobody else for the past number of years.  So while Jake Devine may have nothing to lose...I'm going to make sure that he loses anyway.

*Smiling, Syndicate steps back from the window of the capsule.*

Syndicate: Three challengers.  Three men that desperately want what I have.  The odds are seemingly stacked against me, as they always are.  As a now six-time World Champion, I'm still being underestimated by my peers.

*He shakes his head.*

Syndicate: They'll never learn, will they?  They'll never learn that I AM "the Constant", that I AM "the Measuring Stick", and that I AM YOUR MOTHER|BLEEP|ING WORLD WRESTLING CHAMPION!  At Wreckage, a trainwreck of a match will be followed by one man standing tall with the gold in his grasp: ME.  I've been doing it better than anyone for years...and I'm gonna do it again.  I'll see you all in a few days.  Until then...welcome to London, and the Syndicate.

*Syndicate walks to the other side of the pod, but the camera doesn't follow, instead choosing to focus in on the city of London below.  Slowly, the feed is overtaken once again by static.*



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