Post by Ricky on Jun 4, 2021 2:40:24 GMT -5
Within a small, two bedroom apartment, Ricky Rodriguez sat upon the edge of a black leather couch. His hands gripped the black Playstation controller while his eyes were focused on the game he was playing on the television in front of him. There was an intense look on his face as his fingers fluidly danced across the buttons in various combinations. Occasionally, his body would move to one side or the other, as if there was danger of Ricky himself being damaged.
Clearly dressed down, Ricky was rocking a pair of solid black basketball shorts and a near skin tight grey tank top. It appeared that his game finished when Ricky breathed a sigh of relief. He placed the controller down on that couch next to him only to recline backwards against the back of that couch. Those eyes of his closed for a moment as another sigh rolled free from between his lips.
The sound of the door leading to one of those bedrooms opened up. Stepping out was an older sharp dressed man. A smoky grey pair of slacks hung securely from his waist while a matching unbuttoned jacket covered the button down white and blue spotted shirt adorning his torso. Ricky's attention was caught once he saw the man walk out into the living room area of that apartment.
??: Hey Ricky, what's going on man?
That man walked across the floor with his polished black shoes. Stopping at a single seated chair, the color and material matching the couch Ricky sat on, he took a seat as well. He glanced at the television before turning his head back to look at Ricky who was offering up that controller.
Ricky Rodriguez: Trying to get a game in, Bobby?
The newcomer, now known as 'Bobby' shook his head, politely declining Ricky's offer. Ricky put the controller back down before scooting back in his seat. He brought his legs up and crossed them as he sat there, Indian style.
Bobby: Nah, I'm gonna go pick Melinda..
Ricky: Belinda.
Bobby: Right, Belinda..fuck.
The older of the two smacked himself in the forehead, shaking his head slowly shortly after. He breathed out, feeling a certain type of way about how he was going to be spending his night. An almost pleading tone was accompanied by a similar expression as Bobby presented his case.
Bobby: See man, you gotta come out with us. BElinda has a sister that'd be all over you dude. Plus, you can help me remember her name.
Once Ricky heard those words, he couldn't help but to tilt his head to the side. He shot an inquisitive look over at his roommate before speaking up.
Ricky: If you need help remembering her name, is she really worth going out with?
An audible gasp rolled free from behind the lips of Bobby. The expression that grew out across his face showed just how flabbergasted that Ricky would even suggest such a thing.
Bobby: Dude, have you seen her ass? That supersedes every damn thing else.
He nodded in full agreement with his own words causing Ricky to laugh out, his head falling back in the process. Bringing it back up, he shook it back and forth. Before he was able to respond to that, Bobby looked as if it all clicked at once. Wagging his finger at Ricky, Bobby chuckled as he spoke.
Bobby: Ohhh, that's why you don't wanna come out. How's all that working out for you?
He knew exactly what Bobby was talking about and the questioning nature of his tone caused Ricky to pause for a moment, really giving thought to the answer he was to give. Ricky gives a shrug of his shoulders, resting back against the back of that couch. He brought his hands up and laced his fingers together behind his head.
Ricky: I think it's going well. I mean, she's going through that whole thing now and I'm not trying to push too hard. Just enough to let her know where I'm coming from.
The look Bobby gave Ricky was unsure at best. Still, he decided it was best not to push the issue too much. Bobby pushed himself up before taking a few steps across that living room. Stopping in front of a full body mirror that was mounted to the wall. He checked his getup, making sure everything was in place and that he looked as good as he felt. Once satisfied with his inspection, he turned around to look at Ricky.
Bobby: Just make sure it doesn't distract you from what you're trying to do there. This is your big shot, don't let Ricky Jr. get you into something you can't get out of.
The reassuring words Bobby spoke were followed by that warning. A single name came into Ricky's mind, nodding as it does. Even still, he kept his mouth quiet, not entirely sure how to respond to that. Just when he parted his lips to speak, Bobby spoke up once again.
Bobby: I'm just looking out, like I promised to. As long as you're good then I'm good.
And that's when it happened. The front door of that apartment swung open, without a knock or ring of the doorbell or any sort of warning whatsoever. Just like that, Miss Michelle walked into that apartment. A solid black dress hung from her shoulders, stopping a couple inches above her knees. The eyes of Ricky and Bobby both grew large. Michelle looked towards Ricky for just a moment before turning her head to look at Bobby.
Michelle: Out.
To say Bobby was stunned by the rather demanding tone she used when uttering that single word would be an understatement. Clearly taken aback by this, he shook his head in an attempt to recompose himself. As soon as he opened his mouth to speak, Michelle cut him off without hesitation.
Michelle: Now.
Not even trying to speak another word, Bobby held his hands up in a defensive manner, shaking his head. After making sure he had his keys and phone, Bobby carefully walked around Michelle, as if worried she was going to hit him, before making his exit from the apartment, closing the door behind him. Ricky laughed out at the exit of his roommate only for Michelle to turn her head, those eyes locked onto Ricky.
Without speaking a single word, she intently walked up to him, backing him into the wall behind him. She brought a single hand up, wrapping it tightly around his throat. The moment she felt him swallow against her palm, a look of pure amusement grew out across her features. When she felt him relax against her grip, that amused look only grew.
Her free hand slowly raised up, patting firmly against the side of Ricky's face. Using that same hand, she grabbed a tight grip on that unstyled hair of Ricky's. She jerked his head back before leaning in, her eyes never once looking away from him. She began to push him downwards to his knees as Ricky showed absolutely no resistance. Michelle spoke but one simple phrase as she pushed him the rest of the way onto his knees.
Michelle: Find out for yourself.
Without a moment of hesitation, Ricky reached up and grabbed hold of the bottom of that dress. Slowly, he raised it up just enough to see underneath it. Ricky stayed quiet, almost lost in the sight before him. That is, until Michelle cleared her throat, shaking him back to reality.
Ricky: ..what?
Michelle: Were you right?
At this point, Ricky's head was flooded with thoughts of every kind. Her question did little to center him but it surely proved louder than anything else wandering through his mind. In response to her question, he just nodded his head a couple times, his eyes fixated upwards on her.
Michelle: Good.
As she did before, Michelle forcefully patted her hand against the side of Ricky's cheek. A grin grew across her features as she let go of his hair. Not saying another single word, Michelle turned away from him, approaching the door she entered through. Opening the door, she simply walked out, closing the door behind her. Poor Ricky was left there, on his knees, a look of the utmost confusion plastered to his face. His brow lowered as he was clearly unsure of just how to process just what had gone down, besides himself of course.
Slowly, Ricky shook his shoulders as that confused look shifted into one of disbelief. Picking himself back up, he walked back over to that couch, falling down onto it in a lying position. Both of his hands moved up to rub his face vigorously as a sigh of frustration rolled free from between his lips.
Ricky: Totally worth it.
____________________________________________
It was a brand new day, the sun shining, a light breeze blew through the surrounding area. The stream picks up, focusing in on a small, rather unassuming looking gym. Within those walls, the sound of clanging metal and grunts of the utmost intensity filled the air, drowning out whatever random music was being pumped into the interior of that gym. There was a variety of men and women, all of which were trying to physically better themselves. Each individual possessed a reason that differed from the others when it came to their regimen.
But we weren't there for them, oh no. That honor was reserved for one young man in particular: The self-proclaimed hottest rookie to ever step foot in Outlaw Pro Wrestling, Ricky Rodriguez. Thanks to the near expertly timed cameraman, Ricky is shown at the very moment he finished up a workout. His hands firmly gripped two metal bars, keeping himself elevated off of the ground. Legs bent at the knee, Ricky truly tested the limits of his upper body strength as he was in the middle of keeping himself elevated.
As soon as he caught sight of that man holding his camera, Ricky halted that test, unfolding his legs and releasing those bars. Landing onto that mat with bare feet, his landing provided an audible thud. Despite the droplets of perspiration littering his bare upper half, Ricky produced a bright, welcoming smile. While his upper half was bare, a pair of white shorts were secured to his waist with an actually tied drawstring.
He walked off of those mats, making his way towards a plain black gym bag. Gripping the zipper, he unzipped the bag before digging his hand into it. After a moment of rummaging through the contents of that bag, he pulled out a plastic bottle of water. He rubbed that cold object across his forehead before twisting the lid and cracking the seal that kept the bottle closed.
Ricky: I totally figured you'd be a few minutes late. That's why I wasn't ready.
An almost nervous chuckle slipped free from behind the lips of Ricky. He pulled the lid off of that bottle before bringing it up to his lips and drinking down about half of it's contents before the cameraman spoke up.
Cameraman: If you're not early, you're late.
Another laugh slipped free, this one noticeably more comfortable sounding than the last one. He gave the man a nod of agreement before downing the rest of that water. Twisting the lid back onto the bottle, he placed it back into his bag before returning it to his bag.
Ricky: Alright, I scheduled this time so I can talk about my big OPW in ring debut. For years now, I've traveled all across this country of ours. I honed my skills, improved myself at every turn. But in that environment? There's only so much improvement you can make. After all, week in and week out, the same buildings, the same opponents can only do so much for bettering yourself. My goal is simple: To be the best. And in order to do that? I had to branch out. I had to dive into these treacherous waters. I got two options here: sink or swim. And I damn sure don't plan on sinking.
There was a look of confidence that seemingly grew more and more as Ricky spoke. It was as if you could visibly see him falling into a more comfortable stance with every word he spoke.
Ricky: Now, people are going to tell you, failure is always an option. Well, let me be the first to tell you that those people are almost as full of shit as Brandon Moore is. Failure is not an option, not after how much I've hyped myself up. Not after all the waves I've made. You think I could keep my head up after a loss? With everything people would have to say? Fuck no. I have to win here if I want to back up everything I've had to say so far. Can't really be the HOTTEST rookie to have ever stepped into OPW if I take the L in my first outing, now can I? Nah, I couldn't. I'd be a laughingstock.
His smile faded slowly and was soon replaced by a much more serious expression. Those features tightened as Ricky shook his head adamantly.
Ricky: With as much of a risk as OPW is taking on me, I'm taking just as big of one myself. I could've stayed where I was at. I was successful. I was known. I was important. Now, here I am in OPW. Fresh out the gate. Unknown. Disregardable. There's only been maybe a handful of people I've been exposed to and that's as far as it goes. But after this match with Korrupt? That all changes. After y'all see the stuff I'm going to do against that man? You'll never forget who the fuck Ricky Rodriguez is. But don't get me wrong. Do I think this is going to be a cakewalk? No, I don't. See, Korrupt is just as unknown as I am. And that's where the similarities come to a screeching halt.
Moving his hands to either side of himself, he pressed his palms into the wooden bench he sat upon. Having come down enough from that workout, Ricky pushed himself back up into a standing position. Reaching back into the depths of that bag, he pulled out a white cotton towel and slung it over to drape across his shoulders.
Ricky: When I first burst onto the scene, what did I do? I stepped up to the self-titled God himself of OPW, Brandon Moore. I showed that punk ass that Ricky Rodriguez backs down from nobody, He wants to run his mouth and talk down to like that? Step the fuck up and make me bow, bitch. I fucking swear to you that it won't be anywhere near as easily as you thinking it'll be. But I digress, really strayed off topic there but goddamn, that man bothers me.
Despite managing to stop himself from continuing on in his rant, Ricky still gave off a shake of his head.
Ricky: That's how I stepped in. Speaking up for and doing things myself. Korrupt, how did you do with your first appearance?
The head of Ricky tilted to the side ever so slightly as every word of that last question dripped with interrogation.
Ricky: Oh, that's RIGHT! You did the total opposite. You came in as someone's bitch. You handled someone else's dirty work. It couldn't be me. Look at you, Korrupt. You got a hell of a look. You looked like a beast out there. A leashed up beast, but a beast nonetheless. But now, just picture if you had the balls to debut on your own. Instead of people talking about how strong y'all are, they'd be talking about how much of a primal force you are. But nah, I don't know why, but you chose to be someone's lackey. Maybe it's a self esteem thing? It makes sense, especially since people who wear masks have something to hide.
His head straightened up as his face took on a look of blatant accusation.
Ricky: Maybe that's what that mask is for, eh? To hide that obvious lack of self esteem? Or maybe your face is just really jacked up? You got some of those 'extra in a Wrong Turn movie' faces hiding under that mask, Korrupt? See, I consider myself lucky. I don't have a damn thing to hide period. Not my oh so rideable face. My body, chiseled from stone. Or my addictive personality. I'm not hiding any of that. And see, there's one more thing I don't have to hide. My skill.
The expression Ricky wore fell into that look of seriousness as that last word was uttered.
Ricky: I'm going to take every advantage I have over you and use it to the fullest extent. I'm going to run circles around you, Korrupt. And on the off chance you even get close enough to touch me? I'll kick your head off of your shoulders, mask and all.
It was about time to start winding down as the cameraman followed Ricky, gym bag in hand, as he approached the locker room area. Before going through those double doors, he stopped dead in his tracks. Turning his head to look over his shoulder at the man holding the camera, Ricky spoke his final piece.
Ricky: I've got something to prove in this match, Korrupt. I got weight on my shoulders that you couldn't bear on your best day. But that's what happens when you let yourself be used by a group like they are. No matter what you'll do, Korrupt, you'll never be more than a lapdog. But that's okay. What do you do when a dog crosses that line between domestication and unruly? You put it in its place. That's exactly what I'm going to do to you. I'm going to put you in your place and I'm going to show everyone just where my place is. And I do mean everyone. I know you're watching Brandon. After I'm done with Korrupt? You have all the opportunity in the world to prove everything you say about yourself. Don't fuck it up. Now, if y'all don't mind.
Without even waiting for an answer, Ricky threw his free hand up in a wave before disappearing behind those doors leading to the locker room. And with that, screens fade to black signaling the end of this promotional video.
Clearly dressed down, Ricky was rocking a pair of solid black basketball shorts and a near skin tight grey tank top. It appeared that his game finished when Ricky breathed a sigh of relief. He placed the controller down on that couch next to him only to recline backwards against the back of that couch. Those eyes of his closed for a moment as another sigh rolled free from between his lips.
The sound of the door leading to one of those bedrooms opened up. Stepping out was an older sharp dressed man. A smoky grey pair of slacks hung securely from his waist while a matching unbuttoned jacket covered the button down white and blue spotted shirt adorning his torso. Ricky's attention was caught once he saw the man walk out into the living room area of that apartment.
??: Hey Ricky, what's going on man?
That man walked across the floor with his polished black shoes. Stopping at a single seated chair, the color and material matching the couch Ricky sat on, he took a seat as well. He glanced at the television before turning his head back to look at Ricky who was offering up that controller.
Ricky Rodriguez: Trying to get a game in, Bobby?
The newcomer, now known as 'Bobby' shook his head, politely declining Ricky's offer. Ricky put the controller back down before scooting back in his seat. He brought his legs up and crossed them as he sat there, Indian style.
Bobby: Nah, I'm gonna go pick Melinda..
Ricky: Belinda.
Bobby: Right, Belinda..fuck.
The older of the two smacked himself in the forehead, shaking his head slowly shortly after. He breathed out, feeling a certain type of way about how he was going to be spending his night. An almost pleading tone was accompanied by a similar expression as Bobby presented his case.
Bobby: See man, you gotta come out with us. BElinda has a sister that'd be all over you dude. Plus, you can help me remember her name.
Once Ricky heard those words, he couldn't help but to tilt his head to the side. He shot an inquisitive look over at his roommate before speaking up.
Ricky: If you need help remembering her name, is she really worth going out with?
An audible gasp rolled free from behind the lips of Bobby. The expression that grew out across his face showed just how flabbergasted that Ricky would even suggest such a thing.
Bobby: Dude, have you seen her ass? That supersedes every damn thing else.
He nodded in full agreement with his own words causing Ricky to laugh out, his head falling back in the process. Bringing it back up, he shook it back and forth. Before he was able to respond to that, Bobby looked as if it all clicked at once. Wagging his finger at Ricky, Bobby chuckled as he spoke.
Bobby: Ohhh, that's why you don't wanna come out. How's all that working out for you?
He knew exactly what Bobby was talking about and the questioning nature of his tone caused Ricky to pause for a moment, really giving thought to the answer he was to give. Ricky gives a shrug of his shoulders, resting back against the back of that couch. He brought his hands up and laced his fingers together behind his head.
Ricky: I think it's going well. I mean, she's going through that whole thing now and I'm not trying to push too hard. Just enough to let her know where I'm coming from.
The look Bobby gave Ricky was unsure at best. Still, he decided it was best not to push the issue too much. Bobby pushed himself up before taking a few steps across that living room. Stopping in front of a full body mirror that was mounted to the wall. He checked his getup, making sure everything was in place and that he looked as good as he felt. Once satisfied with his inspection, he turned around to look at Ricky.
Bobby: Just make sure it doesn't distract you from what you're trying to do there. This is your big shot, don't let Ricky Jr. get you into something you can't get out of.
The reassuring words Bobby spoke were followed by that warning. A single name came into Ricky's mind, nodding as it does. Even still, he kept his mouth quiet, not entirely sure how to respond to that. Just when he parted his lips to speak, Bobby spoke up once again.
Bobby: I'm just looking out, like I promised to. As long as you're good then I'm good.
And that's when it happened. The front door of that apartment swung open, without a knock or ring of the doorbell or any sort of warning whatsoever. Just like that, Miss Michelle walked into that apartment. A solid black dress hung from her shoulders, stopping a couple inches above her knees. The eyes of Ricky and Bobby both grew large. Michelle looked towards Ricky for just a moment before turning her head to look at Bobby.
Michelle: Out.
To say Bobby was stunned by the rather demanding tone she used when uttering that single word would be an understatement. Clearly taken aback by this, he shook his head in an attempt to recompose himself. As soon as he opened his mouth to speak, Michelle cut him off without hesitation.
Michelle: Now.
Not even trying to speak another word, Bobby held his hands up in a defensive manner, shaking his head. After making sure he had his keys and phone, Bobby carefully walked around Michelle, as if worried she was going to hit him, before making his exit from the apartment, closing the door behind him. Ricky laughed out at the exit of his roommate only for Michelle to turn her head, those eyes locked onto Ricky.
Without speaking a single word, she intently walked up to him, backing him into the wall behind him. She brought a single hand up, wrapping it tightly around his throat. The moment she felt him swallow against her palm, a look of pure amusement grew out across her features. When she felt him relax against her grip, that amused look only grew.
Her free hand slowly raised up, patting firmly against the side of Ricky's face. Using that same hand, she grabbed a tight grip on that unstyled hair of Ricky's. She jerked his head back before leaning in, her eyes never once looking away from him. She began to push him downwards to his knees as Ricky showed absolutely no resistance. Michelle spoke but one simple phrase as she pushed him the rest of the way onto his knees.
Michelle: Find out for yourself.
Without a moment of hesitation, Ricky reached up and grabbed hold of the bottom of that dress. Slowly, he raised it up just enough to see underneath it. Ricky stayed quiet, almost lost in the sight before him. That is, until Michelle cleared her throat, shaking him back to reality.
Ricky: ..what?
Michelle: Were you right?
At this point, Ricky's head was flooded with thoughts of every kind. Her question did little to center him but it surely proved louder than anything else wandering through his mind. In response to her question, he just nodded his head a couple times, his eyes fixated upwards on her.
Michelle: Good.
As she did before, Michelle forcefully patted her hand against the side of Ricky's cheek. A grin grew across her features as she let go of his hair. Not saying another single word, Michelle turned away from him, approaching the door she entered through. Opening the door, she simply walked out, closing the door behind her. Poor Ricky was left there, on his knees, a look of the utmost confusion plastered to his face. His brow lowered as he was clearly unsure of just how to process just what had gone down, besides himself of course.
Slowly, Ricky shook his shoulders as that confused look shifted into one of disbelief. Picking himself back up, he walked back over to that couch, falling down onto it in a lying position. Both of his hands moved up to rub his face vigorously as a sigh of frustration rolled free from between his lips.
Ricky: Totally worth it.
____________________________________________
I will chart my own territory. My own course. I will walk on that path that has never been walked before because I am not afraid of the unknown.
It was a brand new day, the sun shining, a light breeze blew through the surrounding area. The stream picks up, focusing in on a small, rather unassuming looking gym. Within those walls, the sound of clanging metal and grunts of the utmost intensity filled the air, drowning out whatever random music was being pumped into the interior of that gym. There was a variety of men and women, all of which were trying to physically better themselves. Each individual possessed a reason that differed from the others when it came to their regimen.
But we weren't there for them, oh no. That honor was reserved for one young man in particular: The self-proclaimed hottest rookie to ever step foot in Outlaw Pro Wrestling, Ricky Rodriguez. Thanks to the near expertly timed cameraman, Ricky is shown at the very moment he finished up a workout. His hands firmly gripped two metal bars, keeping himself elevated off of the ground. Legs bent at the knee, Ricky truly tested the limits of his upper body strength as he was in the middle of keeping himself elevated.
As soon as he caught sight of that man holding his camera, Ricky halted that test, unfolding his legs and releasing those bars. Landing onto that mat with bare feet, his landing provided an audible thud. Despite the droplets of perspiration littering his bare upper half, Ricky produced a bright, welcoming smile. While his upper half was bare, a pair of white shorts were secured to his waist with an actually tied drawstring.
He walked off of those mats, making his way towards a plain black gym bag. Gripping the zipper, he unzipped the bag before digging his hand into it. After a moment of rummaging through the contents of that bag, he pulled out a plastic bottle of water. He rubbed that cold object across his forehead before twisting the lid and cracking the seal that kept the bottle closed.
Ricky: I totally figured you'd be a few minutes late. That's why I wasn't ready.
An almost nervous chuckle slipped free from behind the lips of Ricky. He pulled the lid off of that bottle before bringing it up to his lips and drinking down about half of it's contents before the cameraman spoke up.
Cameraman: If you're not early, you're late.
Another laugh slipped free, this one noticeably more comfortable sounding than the last one. He gave the man a nod of agreement before downing the rest of that water. Twisting the lid back onto the bottle, he placed it back into his bag before returning it to his bag.
Ricky: Alright, I scheduled this time so I can talk about my big OPW in ring debut. For years now, I've traveled all across this country of ours. I honed my skills, improved myself at every turn. But in that environment? There's only so much improvement you can make. After all, week in and week out, the same buildings, the same opponents can only do so much for bettering yourself. My goal is simple: To be the best. And in order to do that? I had to branch out. I had to dive into these treacherous waters. I got two options here: sink or swim. And I damn sure don't plan on sinking.
There was a look of confidence that seemingly grew more and more as Ricky spoke. It was as if you could visibly see him falling into a more comfortable stance with every word he spoke.
Ricky: Now, people are going to tell you, failure is always an option. Well, let me be the first to tell you that those people are almost as full of shit as Brandon Moore is. Failure is not an option, not after how much I've hyped myself up. Not after all the waves I've made. You think I could keep my head up after a loss? With everything people would have to say? Fuck no. I have to win here if I want to back up everything I've had to say so far. Can't really be the HOTTEST rookie to have ever stepped into OPW if I take the L in my first outing, now can I? Nah, I couldn't. I'd be a laughingstock.
His smile faded slowly and was soon replaced by a much more serious expression. Those features tightened as Ricky shook his head adamantly.
Ricky: With as much of a risk as OPW is taking on me, I'm taking just as big of one myself. I could've stayed where I was at. I was successful. I was known. I was important. Now, here I am in OPW. Fresh out the gate. Unknown. Disregardable. There's only been maybe a handful of people I've been exposed to and that's as far as it goes. But after this match with Korrupt? That all changes. After y'all see the stuff I'm going to do against that man? You'll never forget who the fuck Ricky Rodriguez is. But don't get me wrong. Do I think this is going to be a cakewalk? No, I don't. See, Korrupt is just as unknown as I am. And that's where the similarities come to a screeching halt.
Moving his hands to either side of himself, he pressed his palms into the wooden bench he sat upon. Having come down enough from that workout, Ricky pushed himself back up into a standing position. Reaching back into the depths of that bag, he pulled out a white cotton towel and slung it over to drape across his shoulders.
Ricky: When I first burst onto the scene, what did I do? I stepped up to the self-titled God himself of OPW, Brandon Moore. I showed that punk ass that Ricky Rodriguez backs down from nobody, He wants to run his mouth and talk down to like that? Step the fuck up and make me bow, bitch. I fucking swear to you that it won't be anywhere near as easily as you thinking it'll be. But I digress, really strayed off topic there but goddamn, that man bothers me.
Despite managing to stop himself from continuing on in his rant, Ricky still gave off a shake of his head.
Ricky: That's how I stepped in. Speaking up for and doing things myself. Korrupt, how did you do with your first appearance?
The head of Ricky tilted to the side ever so slightly as every word of that last question dripped with interrogation.
Ricky: Oh, that's RIGHT! You did the total opposite. You came in as someone's bitch. You handled someone else's dirty work. It couldn't be me. Look at you, Korrupt. You got a hell of a look. You looked like a beast out there. A leashed up beast, but a beast nonetheless. But now, just picture if you had the balls to debut on your own. Instead of people talking about how strong y'all are, they'd be talking about how much of a primal force you are. But nah, I don't know why, but you chose to be someone's lackey. Maybe it's a self esteem thing? It makes sense, especially since people who wear masks have something to hide.
His head straightened up as his face took on a look of blatant accusation.
Ricky: Maybe that's what that mask is for, eh? To hide that obvious lack of self esteem? Or maybe your face is just really jacked up? You got some of those 'extra in a Wrong Turn movie' faces hiding under that mask, Korrupt? See, I consider myself lucky. I don't have a damn thing to hide period. Not my oh so rideable face. My body, chiseled from stone. Or my addictive personality. I'm not hiding any of that. And see, there's one more thing I don't have to hide. My skill.
The expression Ricky wore fell into that look of seriousness as that last word was uttered.
Ricky: I'm going to take every advantage I have over you and use it to the fullest extent. I'm going to run circles around you, Korrupt. And on the off chance you even get close enough to touch me? I'll kick your head off of your shoulders, mask and all.
It was about time to start winding down as the cameraman followed Ricky, gym bag in hand, as he approached the locker room area. Before going through those double doors, he stopped dead in his tracks. Turning his head to look over his shoulder at the man holding the camera, Ricky spoke his final piece.
Ricky: I've got something to prove in this match, Korrupt. I got weight on my shoulders that you couldn't bear on your best day. But that's what happens when you let yourself be used by a group like they are. No matter what you'll do, Korrupt, you'll never be more than a lapdog. But that's okay. What do you do when a dog crosses that line between domestication and unruly? You put it in its place. That's exactly what I'm going to do to you. I'm going to put you in your place and I'm going to show everyone just where my place is. And I do mean everyone. I know you're watching Brandon. After I'm done with Korrupt? You have all the opportunity in the world to prove everything you say about yourself. Don't fuck it up. Now, if y'all don't mind.
Without even waiting for an answer, Ricky threw his free hand up in a wave before disappearing behind those doors leading to the locker room. And with that, screens fade to black signaling the end of this promotional video.