Midnight Workout

Roleplay Roleplay by SYNDICATE
On Tue, Jul25, 2017 10:23pm America/Phoenix
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Midnight Workout

*The image of static ripples across the screen before giving way to a completely black image.  It is quiet for a few moments.*


*An electronic alarm sounds in the room.  The camera pans towards the alarm to reveal the time, lit up in red numbers, to be 11:40 PM.  After a few moments of beeping, a hand reaches out from the right side of the clock and hits the top of it, shutting off the alarm.*

???: God damn it...

*The hand reaches upward and turns on a lamp.  The light from the lamp reveals the scene to be a hotel room.  The room has two twin-size beds with a coffee table in the middle carrying the clock and the lamp.  The left bed is empty, but the right bed is occupied by Syndicate.  Freshly awake, he only appears to be wearing black sweatpants.  He stretches his arms and yawns before looking at the camera.*

Syndicate: You know, there was a time that I would wait all day and night for my midnight hotel workout.  But let me tell ya, it gets a lot harder to wake up after spending all day doing the "champion's duties".  Those magazine covers and advertisements don't sell themselves.

*He chuckles as he gets out from underneath the covers, stands up next to his bed, and does some more stretching.  This time, Syndicate focuses on his lower body.*

Syndicate: Jake, Jake, Jake, where do I even begin?  You said all the stuff I knew you were gonna say.  "You screwed me last year and almost killed my career, Syndicate!".  "I'm the best pure fighter in the WWX, Syndicate!".  "I'm gonna get my revenge for your betrayal of BTA, Syndicate!".  Blah, blah, blah.  It's all talk, Jake.  That's all that is.  But you and I both know the truth.

*Syndicate seems to contemplate whether or not to put on a shirt and go down to the workout room, but he sits back down on the bed, deciding to continue his train of thought.*

Syndicate: I didn't "betray" BTA just to get to you, Jake.  I didn't single-handedly "destroy" your career for the next year or so.  That wasn't my doing.  That was never MY doing.  No...it was you, Jake.  It was you that took things too personally like I was out to get you or something.  I didn't have a problem with you back then, Jake.  I had a problem with Tommy Lipton, and it was unfortunate that you got caught up in the drama.

*He shakes his head.*

Syndicate: But I didn't lose the Television Championship in my first match after World Series.  I didn't let my morale sink to new lows.  Again, that was all you, Jake.  That was all you.  But yet...here you are, trying to blame me for everything when all I did was look out for myself for once in my life.  But I'm sure the past year of grueling, tedious training has really made you into a better wrestler and a true contender, right?

*Syndicate chuckles.*

Syndicate: Wrong.  So, so wrong.  I know you, Jake.  I know that you can't beat me.  I might be your motivator, I might be the reason why you're still here today...but I'm not a god - not anymore, anyway.  I can't grant you a miracle.  I don't care that you've been around here for three years, just looking for an opportunity at this title.  Look over at Xavier Pendragon: he's been doing the same thing for much longer and STILL hasn't captured "the big one".  I think it's safe to say that, as long as I'm around, the same thing will inevitably happen to you.

*Syndicate lies down on the bed, stretching his back.*

Syndicate: You know what's funny, Jake?  I don't hate you.  I don't even dislike you.  Hell, if BTA had broken up a bit more peacefully, I would still consider you a friend and an ally.  But you seem to have a different mindset.  You want to blame all of your problems on me, don't you?  As if you haven't done a single thing wrong over the past year.  Let me tell ya something, Jake: ever since BTA, I haven't given a rat's ass about you or your career.  Hell, I've been too busy winning World titles like a REAL champion would be.  That's the difference between you and me, Jake: you wait in the shadows, waiting for the opportunity to come to you, while I actively search out opportunities like World Championship matches.  That's what got me in that Inferno Asylum at Hall of Pain.  That's what earned me that World title match against David Gideon Smith inside a steel cage.  That's what made me into a once-in-a-lifetime talent, something that I think few would consider you.

*He sits back up.*

Syndicate: So yeah, if you think that I'm responsible for messing up your career, I'm sorry.  If you think I'm the reason why you're here today, challenging for the World title, you're welcome.  But if you think you're gonna walk out of Fury - Night of Champions with MY Undisputed World Heavyweight Championship...well, I'm afraid to say that you've got another thing coming.  Because you might consider yourself the "best fighter" or the "king of the WWX"...but I'm the champion, plain and simple, and I'm here to kick your ass all over the Garden.  This Friday, your childhood dream will finally become a reality...until I crush it with a swift No Signal or two.  Welcome to the Syndicate.

*Syndicate stands up, reaches next to his bed, and pulls up a black Nike duffel bag.  He walks towards the hotel room door as he speaks.*

Syndicate: Now if you'll excuse me, it's just about midnight, and I've got a workout to finish.

*He opens the door and exits the room as the scene is covered with static.*


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