Roleplay Roleplay by GIMMICK JONES
On Wed, Jun13, 2018 12:41am America/Phoenix
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[We fade in to a wide screen shot of the thousands of screaming fans in Las Vegas Nevada as WWX24/7 rolls through it's west coast tour. The arena lights dim as "One for the Money" by Escape the Fate hits and the video wall lights up with the name Gimmick Jones in front of a chain link backdrop then quickly replaced with the moniker Overdog appearing on the screen.]

(Everybody in the world are you with me?
It's too late to try to run, we run the city
It's my time, it's your time,
Held me down, now it's don't give a f*ck time
It's go time, it's show time
Sing it with me everybody let's go)

[The crowd noise grows louder as Gimmick Jones cruises out onto the stage wearing a blue denims with biker chaps, a black lonestar leather jacket and fingerless gloves while riding on a blacked out 2016 Iron 883 Harley Davidson Motorcycle.]

('Cause it's one, it's one, one for the money
Two, it's two gots too much for the show
Three, it's three, three get ready,
Are you ready m*therf*ckers? Are you ready? Let's go!)

[Gimmick Jones circles around the ring before parking the two wheeled beast facing in the direction of the stage entrance.]

'Cause it's one, it's one, one for the money
Two, it's two gots too much for the show
Three, it's three, three get ready,
Are you ready m*therf*ckers? Are you ready? Let's go!

[Climbing off the bike, Jones kicks out the kick stand then removes the thick metal chain from around his neck as he steps up the steel staircase and into the ring. The Overdog climbs the nearest turnbuckle and holds the thick metal chain in a clinched fist while shouting out "This is MY yard!"]

(Let me see you start a war, start a riot
When there's nothing left to burn, hear the silence
Hate me, you can't escape me and you ain't ever gonna change me
I can't stand it, I've |BLEEP|ing had it, I'm about to blow)

[The music fades out as Gimmick Jones steps down from the turnbuckle. He gestures for a microphone and is quickly given one by a faceless stagehand. "Thump-thump-thump." The sound carries throughout the Arena sound system after Jones taps his fingers on the top of the microphone, before lifting it to his lips to speak.]

 "Is this thing on?" 

("thump-thump-thump-thump" is heard as he taps on the microphone again)

 "Are we still allowed to talk into this things? Or do we have to kiss the GM's ass just to get the opportunity to tell you so called fans how we really feel? Because if that's the case you might as well cut off my mic right now..."

("thump-thump-thump-thump-thump." His hand repeatedly slaps the microphone head.)

CLOUT: "Testing. Testing. one-two, one-two. Hey! freedom of speech still exists in the wrestling world after all. Gotta love that first amendment right but shouldn't we all be surprised? Coming from a company that wants all there employees to be simple yes men who fall in line and follow their marching orders into a winless battle like good little mindless drones. So that they can all fall prey and victim to the corporate puppet regime that chews up, spits out and replaces 'WWX Superstars' like worn out cogs in the wheel. After all, isn't that what keeps this place going? Feeding the so called 'veterans' egos off the hard work of newer, better talent from motivated men like me." 

[Gimmick Jones lowers the microphone as he casually leans both forearms across the top rope while peering into the main camera with an unblinking staring gaze of quiet determination. After a few seconds of silence, The Over Dog lifts the microphone once again to speak his mind.]

"Yeah-well, that doesn't work for me. That's not how Gimmick Jones operates because i'm not a spineless sell out to the Corporate machine like the Pendragons and Syndicates of the World. Korath? At least he's a man with real honor and genuine integrity. Win, lose or draw. You know exactly what you get with the Nordic Nightmare. Rex Master and Willie Steen? They have earned that spot through the work put in for their own success. The rest of you scumbag lowlife losers? Those of you who can't win a match on your own if your life depended on it? Ya don't deserve a damned thing and you certainly haven't earned it. Not from me. Not from the fans. And not from the boys in the locker room. Same goes double for you office geeks in your suits and ties. Xavier I am going to give you the chance of a lifetime and if you don't make the most of it? If you show up soft and limp like I hear you do in the bedroom then don't even bother showing up because I'll be putting you up on that injured shelve quicker than you can say 'complete labrum tear.'" 

[He chuckled a wicked, ominous sound that could send chills up the spine of death itself. The crowd was still vehemently booing him, but they were silenced by the tone of his voice.]

"I'm done p*ssyfooting around and I am not wasting any more of my time shining up these uncharismatic parasitic losers. Tired of the ego entitlement of the world and sick of getting a backache from carrying these pathetic little leaches on my back to give these ingrates their money's worth while scratching, clawing and climbing my way from the bottom to the top. Absolutely nothing will keep me down or hold me back from reaching to the level where the Over Dog deserves to be. 

On Top."

[The Over Dog laughed with more than his usual chuckle, this was a full bodied laugh. The tone of it was villainous, and the expression on his face as the laughter ended was murderous.]

"Jeffrey Pendragon. I don't want you to just make an appearance and go through the motions. Nah I want you to bring it. Because if you don't. I WILL hurt you. There is no may or might or if about it and that's not a threat it's a predetermined fact. You're in MY yard now and you either earn your keep or become MY BITCH!"

[Gimmick Jones drops the microphone and exits the ring. He climbs on top of his Harley Davidson and the engine rumbles to life as it fires up and rides to the back with a loud roar as we fade to black.]

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