You Will Respect Me

Roleplay Roleplay by SYNDICATE
On Fri, May19, 2017 11:18am America/Phoenix
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You Will Respect Me

*The familiar sound of static ripples across the screen as the feed shifts to the lobby of an upscale hotel.  The camera is facing towards the receptionist desk, where various travelers are checking into their rooms.  Behind the desk hangs a white sign labeled "InterContinental Buckhead Hotel - Atlanta".  There are three hotel workers at the desks, each assisting hotel guests.  After a few moments, the guest at the first check-in station leaves, leaving an empty spot at the desk.  This spot is taken up by Syndicate, who walks up from behind the camera.  He is dressed in his white leather jacket, black t-shirt, and worn-down blue jeans.  The World Champion drags a black suitcase behind him.*

Receptionist: Good evening, sir.  Welcome to the InterContinental.  Name, please?

Syndicate: Sydney Irvine.

*The employee types Syndicate's real name into his computer.  Once the name is found in the InterContinental's database, the receptionist looks back up.*

Receptionist: ID, please?

*Syndicate digs into his right jean pocket and pulls out a Tennessee drivers license.  He hands it to the receptionist, who looks it over for a moment before giving it back.*

Syndicate: You need my credit card, too?

*The receptionist smiles.*

Receptionist: No, sir, your company has taken care of the payment.

*Syndicate chuckles at this remark.*

Syndicate: Treating champions with respect, huh?  That's a first.

*The employee reaches into a drawer, types some information into the computer, and hands Syndicate a room key.*

Receptionist: Here you go, sir.  You will be in room 913 on the 9th floor.

Syndicate: Thank you.

*Syndicate grabs the room key off the desk, swivels around, and walks towards the nearest elevator, located across the lobby.  When he gets there, he jams the "Up" button with his thumb.  He waits for about five seconds before an elevator to his left opens up.  Syndicate walks over, enters the elevator, and hits the button labeled "9".  The doors close, and static immediately interrupts the shot.*


*Soon after, the camera is positioned in a hotel room of the InterContinental.  Here, Syndicate is lying down on the bed, watching ESPN on the room's TV.  He has taken off his leather jacket, leaving him in his t-shirt and blue jeans.  While watching the TV, he seems to be thinking about something.*

Syndicate: ...9 months ago, I sat in this very hotel, preparing myself for World Series the next day.  Back then, I was the leader of Big Time Agency, one of the most dominant factions in WWX history.  I was the "Hardest Man in London", which automatically put me into the World Series match's final ring.  I was, bar none, the favorite to win the match and wrestle in the main event of Hall of Pain.

*He pauses.*

Syndicate: And yet...not one man or woman in the WWX, not one wrestler or employee or general manager, gave me one single ounce of respect.  Now, I know that around here, respect is not earned, it's given.  But my accolades at that point spoke for themselves.  Understandably, I got pissed beyond belief, and if you don't believe that...well, listen to this.


*The feed flashes back to September 2016, where Syndicate is standing on the upper deck of the Georgia Dome a few days prior to World Series.  He is in the middle of a frustration-filled tirade.*

Syndicate: I have never seen a congregation of idiots so adamant about making bold claims without being able to back them up!  I GO TO WORK EVERY DAMN DAY FOR THIS COMPANY, and EVERY DAMN DAY I come out as a WINNER.  WHERE IS THE RESPECT?  WHERE ARE THE COMPLIMENTS?  Back when Sugarman Shazam was still ALIVE, everyone was singing his |BLEEP|ing praises when he was the World champ.  WHERE'S THE PRAISE FOR THE WRESTLING GOD?


*The scene shifts back to the Atlanta hotel room.*

Syndicate: Needless to say, I ended up winning that match.  I ended up main-eventing Hall of Pain.  I did everything I promised to do at World Series.  But...did the respect ever come?

*He shakes his head.*

Syndicate: Nope.

*Syndicate leans back, resting his head on one of the bed's pillows.*

Syndicate: And now, here we are back in Atlanta.  I'm the Undisputed World Heavyweight Champion - I've won it three times since World Series.  I'm the biggest merch seller, the best wrestler in the company, and the man that anyone can have a 5-star match with.  I have better credentials than nearly anyone around here.  And yet - and YET - I go on the Heatbox, I go on, and all I see is complete and utter disrespect.

*Syndicate sighs.*

Syndicate: @KurtisRay writes, "No Syndicate videos? I must have done something right. #blessed".  @GloriousGaijin says, "@Syndicate Thanks for sparing us the misery."  I saw Kurtis Ray watch internet videos for damn near 6 minutes just to avoid responding to me.  All over the internet, I find hate against me and what I stand for.

*Syndicate shifts his attention away from ESPN and focuses right on the camera.*

Syndicate: Let me remind you all of something: I didn't win this World title four times by being lucky.  I didn't defeat the entire WWX locker room at World Series just because I was in the right place at the right time.  I wasn't gifted a single title opportunity.  No, no, no, I did that all myself - I do EVERYTHING by myself.  Every week, I go out into that ring, put on a damn show, WIN, and make the WWX tons and tons of money and fame.  What more can I do?

*The Los Angeles Outlaw, in a moment of frustration, begins to chuckle a bit.*

Syndicate: And you know what really gets me?  Almost four years ago, when I joined the WWX, all I got told, over and over again, was that I had to pay my dues and EARN my spot.  I got disrespected left and right, but back then, that was normal for a newbie like myself.  The problem is, that was four years ago...and I'm STILL being disrespected by virtually everyone in that locker room.  Everyone thinks they're hot shit after being here for a year or less.  Everyone thinks they deserve that top spot, that top rung.  That MINE.  And let me tell you, I'm getting pissed the |BLEEP| off that people don't realize that.  

*Syndicate sits up and sits on the edge of the bed.*

Syndicate: Kurtis, let me tell you something directly, which you seem incapable of doing.  I hate you.  I hate your clothes, I hate your personality, I hate every single |BLEEP|ing thing about you.  If you do not respect me, if you do not have the balls to look into a camera and talk to me, Kurtis...then I'm going to make you.  I will kick your teeth into concrete.  I will slam your ass into chairs.  I will break your |BLEEP|ing neck five times over.  Hell, just because he's involved and he's the hometown kid, I'll do the same damn thing to Cameron, because he isn't much better than you.  Both of you need to be taught a lesson, one that can't just be learned through words.  At Mayhem, LX and I, no matter how dysfunctional we may be, will destroy you two beyond belief.  If I have my way, Kurtis, you won't even make it to your title rematch.

*Syndicate takes a moment to calm himself before laying back down on the bed.*

Syndicate: Now that may not happen.  You and Cameron may win due to my partner's ineptitude or other factors.  And I'm sure you're both cooking up a great response to this, shoving everything I just said back into the dirt.

*He smiles.*

Syndicate: At least you're showing me some shred of respect that way.  Welcome to the Syndicate.

*Syndicate turns back to the TV as the feed dissolves into static.*


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