Mirror

Roleplay Roleplay by SYNDICATE
On Fri, Jan05, 2018 11:05pm America/Phoenix
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Mirror
{{wwximage=https://i.imgur.com/FCkaFGV.png}}

***TSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH***

*After a burst of static covers the screen, a shot from inside a hotel bathroom comes through.  The camera is pointed towards the mirror, which hangs above a countertop and sink, from the side.  In front of the mirror stands Syndicate, the Undisputed World Heavyweight Champion, who is wearing only a pair of black sweatpants.  Below him, a tube of toothpaste sits next to the sink along with a blue toothbrush.  Syndicate is leaning over the sink, staring straight at his reflection in the mirror.  He shakes his head after examining himself for a moment.*

Syndicate: Who the hell are you...

*Syndicate reaches over and turns on the sink's cold water.  As H2O spills from the faucet, he grabs a handful and splashes it into his face.  He then turns the water off and looks back into his reflection.*

Syndicate: One day you say you're invincible, the next you call yourself vulnerable...

*After looking for another second, Syndicate steps away from the mirror and exits the bathroom.  The camera follows to reveal a room with a single queen-size bed with a black Adidas duffel bag sitting next to it.  The Undisputed World Heavyweight Championship can be seen propped up on the bedside table.  Syndicate grabs the belt and sits down on the edge of the bed, staring into the faceplate.*

Syndicate: This title means everything to me...every...single...thing.  I've done so much to get here.  I've jumped through all the hoops.  I've paid my dues.  And now, I stand as the alpha of this company, the man at the top that everyone wants to shove back down.  I've become the same kind of person I myself fought against early in my career.  I once rebelled against the establishment; now, I AM the establishment.  I guess that's why I've been conflicted about myself the past couple of weeks.

*Syndicate slowly begins to shake his head once more.*

Syndicate: That confliction stops now.  I have no doubt in my mind that I can defeat Kurtis Ray, Darkness, and Rayne at Holiday Hell.  It's my JOB to do just that...and no one's better at that job than Sydney Maxwell Irvine.

*Finally smiling, Syndicate sets the title back down onto the coffee table and looks back up at the camera.*

Syndicate: You know, Kurtis Ray reminds me a lot of...well, myself.  We've both overcome a lot of bad shit in our lives.  We've both made careers out of outperforming expectations.  Kurtis and I have both completely silenced our critics.  Now...we get to meet once again in that ring with the World title on the line.  Just like God himself intended.

*He pauses, remembering something.*

Syndicate: But I just can't forget something.  It's something that's stuck with me ever since the last time you faced me one-on-one for the title at Outrage.  You had me on the ropes, just like you said you would.  You hit me with the Death Ray, and the ref was counting the pin.  But then...you let go.  You let go of the World Championship, you let go of beating your greatest rival, and instead, you looked at me and whispered five words that I'll never forget.  "Imma break your |BLEEP|in' neck."  Those words have stuck with me ever since because it's the first time that I've ever encountered someone that truly wanted to end my career and possibly my life.

Syndicate: But then...you took a break.  You went home and watched as I continued my run at the top, and as you yourself said, Kurtis...you couldn't help but root for the Los Angeles Outlaw.  You know why that is?  It's because my story is relatable.  It's captivating.  I have spent years going against authority, breaking through barriers, and cementing my place as one of the all-time greats.  I have gone toe-to-toe with legends and then, I became one.  The story of Syndicate, the great underdog, can be traced back all the way to the Bible, with David and Goliath.  That fighting spirit...it rests inside all of us, and luckily for me, I got the opportunity to express it within the confines of a wrestling ring with a television audience watching my every move.  For a short time, Kurtis...you were one of those viewers.  Now, you stand before me as one of my strongest challengers to date.

*Looking at the camera, he smiles.*

Syndicate: But if there's one thing I won't do, Kurtis...it's that I won't surrender.  I won't give up, I won't go away, I WON'T DIE.  Because that spirit that you observed during your tenure as Chief Couch Warmer...yeah, that's definitely still here, but this time, it'll be used against YOU, regardless of which Kurtis Ray is standing across the ring from me.  I don't give a shit about how determined you are to destroy me.  It doesn't matter how much you hate my guts, and more importantly, it doesn't matter how much you want my championship.  I'll always want it just a bit more than you will, I'll always dig just a bit deeper than you can, and, on the big stage, in front of the millions watching from home...I'll do my job, and I'll do it to PERFECTION.  You want destruction, Kurtis?  You want to tear me limb from limb?  Fine.  I'm game.  I'm ready to go.  And who knows?  Maybe one of us will get destroyed in the process.  Maybe we'll never wrestle again - you never know with Hell in a Cell.  But just like you, my eyes will be focused on one thing and one thing only: the prize.  The most important thing in my life.  The Undisputed World Heavyweight Championship.  I will keep this belt in my hands by any...means...necessary, and I mean that.  No matter what, this championship is sticking with me for another day, and if it means that Kurtis Ray has to fall in order to keep my championship around...well, so be it.

*Syndicate gets up from the bed and walks over to the Adidas duffel bag.  Reaching inside, he pulls out a black tank top.  He slips it on as he continues to speak.*

Syndicate: And then there's Rayne.  Rayne talked a big game coming into this week.  He was going around, making himself out to be the second coming of Jesus Christ.  The man supposedly has it all: the look, the work ethic, the speaking ability.  Hell, he's writing his own god-damn manifesto out for all of us to pore over.  But yet, through all this...Rayne still hasn't shown anything important.  He hasn't shown that he can beat me.  He hasn't shown that he's a viable #1 contender for the championship at all, really.  He's just been on a hot streak as of late and was in the right place at the right time.  That's it.  And I, as champion, STILL have to take him seriously because that's my |BLEEP|ing job.

*Instead of sitting back down on the bed, he walks around to the desk and sits in the room's office chair.  Syndicate props his feet up onto the desk itself and continues talking.*

Syndicate: You know what else is my |BLEEP|ing job?  Putting fools like him to sleep.  Rayne, I hope you realize the rude awakening that you're about to experience at Holiday Hell.  This World title scene...I'm sorry, but like I and everyone else has already said, you just don't belong here.  Not yet, anyway.  A hot streak like yours doesn't guarantee any sort of future success, and I think your overconfidence in your own abilities will be your unfortunate downfall.  And, if that doesn't get you, a swift knee to the head from yours truly will definitely do the trick.  You're stepping into my world - my AGE - and, like all other challengers, you will fall.

*A faint buzzing can be heard in the background.  Syndicate looks over at the bedside table, where his LG G4 can be seen with the screen lit up with an incoming call.  Syndicate chooses to ignore it, and sure enough, a few moments later the call goes to voicemail.*

Syndicate: Whatever.  Now, to my final opponent: Darkness.  Buddy, I can respect you for changing your attitude back to the killer mindset that you've had previously in your career.  I would wholeheartedly agree that, for the past few months, you've done a lot of coasting.  Now you're finally turning it back on and coming into Holiday Hell ready to do battle.  That's great...but it's not great enough.  Not quite.  In fact, I would call it too little, too late.  You can talk all you want about a changed attitude, but until you show that attitude in the ring...well, it's meaningless.

Syndicate: I know who I'm really facing at Holiday Hell.  I'm facing a man that's given all he has to give to this business.  I'm looking at someone that's done it all and has had a nice, long, illustrious career.  But I also see a man that, try as he might, doesn't have enough left for another run at the top.  Attitude is one thing; wear and tear on the body is another.  I am faster than Darkness.  I am also fitter, slimmer, smarter, and younger.  I am what a modern-day champion SHOULD be.  Darkness...doesn't fit into the mold anymore.  He's the wrestling version of the Rolling Stones: a classic act for sure, but one that doesn't really fit into today's world anymore.  And considering this is still MY world and MY Age...I can say with certainty that Darkness isn't going to last much longer, much less be able to beat me for the World title at Holiday Hell.

*Smiling, Syndicate puts his hands behind his head.*

Syndicate: I've spoken my case, gentlemen.  Darkness, Kurtis, Rayne, I've said all there is to be said.  Now, the ball is in your court.  Will you be able to do enough to dethrone the Los Angeles Outlaw?  Will you find that last bit of energy to win?  Will any of you become World Heavyweight Champion?  Wait, wait, don't answer, I've got the correct response to both of those questions: no.  Hell no.  I am a man that THRIVES on this sort of match.  I have my back pressed against the wall, the odds are stacked against me...and I don't care, because I believe in myself.  I know I can and will win this match.  And then, after my hand has been raised...you'll all finally see who the TRUE champion is and ALWAYS will be.  Welcome...to the Syndicate.

*Syndicate gets up and walks over to the lightswitch.  He's about to shut the lights off in the room, but before he does, he looks back to the camera one last time.*

Syndicate: See you all in hell.

*He flips the switch, and as he does, the shot is immediately overtaken by static.*

***TSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH***

{{wwximage=https://i.imgur.com/FCkaFGV.png}}

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