Post by The Predator on May 25, 2012 13:31:40 GMT -6
The Predator exits the plane, faithful manager by his side, to a cacophony of cheers and a deluge of flashing bulbs from cameras. He covers his eyes, clearly irritated, as John waives at the reporters and smiles, he leans over and whispers to his client,
"Come on man, take a few questions! Open up, get back into the swing of things!"
The Predator nods, and puts on a smile, along with a pair of sunglasses.
"Alright folks, come on then, ask what you want to ask."
The first reporter steps forward, clears his throat, and offers, "How does it feel to be back in Miami, champ?"
The Predator responds, "Of course, it feels great. Miami is a terrific city packed to the rafters with true fans. I'm sure I'm going to enjoy my weekend here immensely, and it will be a blast to perform in front of a Miami crowd again. Next."
Another reporter emerges from the crowd to shout out, "Have you been watching promos and spots released by your opponents for your match at Forsaken? Do you have any response?"
Predator appears embarassed. "Uh, no, can't say I've been paying too close attention. Seems pretty standard to me, honestly; We got a Jesus freak, a super ambitious guy, down and out hometown hero, etcetera. Can't really be bothered to take note of the letter of what it is they are saying, but I can divine the gist, using only the power of my years of experience in the industry; 'I'm going to win, I guarantee it, I'm the best, here is why.'"
The crowd erupts into laughter, and the Predator allows himself a smirk.
"But, honestly, I could care less what they say. I've seen the film of these guys in the ring, doing their thing, and each has plenty to offer an opponent in a match like this. Sure to be plenty of chaos, plenty of opportunities to stick in those big moves. All these guys have accomplished a little bit in this business; All of them clearly know how to wrestle when we look at past matches they've had. I'm going to have to be on my guard and bringing my best to beat these guys. In the end, I'm reasonably confident my superior ringcraft and physical ability will prevail, and if a fan of mine wants to put any money on it, I think the odds are still good. Vegas has me rising in the odds pretty rapidly, get down your money before I'm the favorite. One more."
Another reporter stumbles forward, appearing meek and uncomfortable.
"The Idol, Max Prophet, had some pretty strong things to say about you in his latest press offering. Do you have any response?"
Predator laughs.
The Idol has strong things to say about everybody in every press conference. He's a talker, its what he does, its who he is. I'll check the highlights when I have some free time, but to save you the wait, I'll respond to the part where he assuredly called me overrated and a traitor; I challenged him, the match was prevented from occurring thanks to the FCW folding, and this is, to date, the greatest disappointment in my career. If he wants to prove I'm overrated, I invite him to join me is pressing the management of USPW to make a match happen in the future. I think the fans would love it. As to the inevitable accusation of foul play, I probably didn't do it, he probably thinks I did and is liable to keep talking about. I'm not gonna take potshots at a guy over the media. If and when we meet in the ring, I'll beat him, and that will be that. I need to catch a cab, folks. Till next time.
----
The Predator and Johnny sit in a cab, talking casually as they are ferried to their destination. The Predator is looking out the window, grinning like a fool, and exclaims, "Man, last time I was in Miami, I was so obsessed about defending my title, I didn't pause to notice how cool this city is."
Johnny peers out the window nonchalantly. "Yeah, I remember. We had to face down Lowrie 'The Irish Tuba" Collins last time, remember?"
Predator snorts, "Yeah, how could I forget. The Irish Tuba. What kind of f****** name is that? Sounds like a ****** ****** **** *** ****."
John laughs, "Yeah, man, what an *******!"
They start laughing heartily, before pausing and looking at the camera.
The Predator pulls at his collar.
"Uh...We're not supposed to curse on national television, are we?"
A meek voice chimes in off camera. "No sir...But, it's okay...I'll censor it out."
Predator breaks into a grin. "Good man! I'll try to control myself a bit better from here on out."
Johnny hurriedly changes the subject. "You ready to win another Money in the Bank, champ? Served you well last time!"
The Predator's face loses all humor. "Yeah, it tends to make life easier, but these matches are a nightmare. Six way free-for-alls are impossible to control, and there is no way to emerge from one the victor and unscathed. At any rate, I've done it before, I can do it again."
Johnny nods. "Great way to knock off the ring rust, anyway."
The Predator sighs. "Hopefully I did that in training, John. It doesn't help a guy at all to get powerbombed. Just hurts like hell. Just have to make sure its me doing the power bombing. I was the best wrestler alive six years ago. I don't feel like I've lost a step, and if I haven't, I should win in the end. It'll be fine."
----
We see Johnny pulling suitcases out of the trunk of the cab, talking excitedly with several men in fine attire as the Predator is gazing into the distance at the city. He suddenly looks surprised, and looks down. We follow his gaze, to see a small child tugging his sleeve. The boy speaks nervously.
"Uh, mister? My brother says you're the heavyweight champion of the world. Are you?"
The Predator breaks out into a huge grin, and gets on his knees.
"Not currently, buddy, but I hope to be the man again soon."
The little boy stammers excitedly.
"I want to be the champ one day so I can have suit guys carry my stuff too!"
The Predator chuckles, and puts on a face of mock severity.
"You think you got what it takes to be the champ, eh? Let's see. Make a muscle."
The child excitedly flexes his arms in a standard Hulk Hogan poses. The Predator laughs.
"Look at you, buddy. I bet you are gonna grow up to be a real bruiser one day. Remind me to retire again before you get into the ring!"
He stands up to leave, but the boy stammers out again, "Uh, mister, can I have an autograph please?"
The Predator stops, and looks embarrassed. His face lights up, and he rushes over to his suitcase. Johnny gets out a "Hey champ..." but Predator brushes him off, digs through one of the pockets, and returns to the boy with a shirt. It's a classic Young Lions T-shirt. He hands it to the boy, whose face lights up like a Christmas tree.
"Here, kid. This is the shirt I wore the night I beat Matt Hawk and formed the Young Lions. Its kind of a special memento, so I'm gonna need you to take care of it for me, okay?"
The boy is so overwhelmed, he can hardly speak. "Sure mister! I'll keep it safe! Thank you!"
The Predator smiles, and turns to follow Johnny and his men into the hotel. The boy calls out, one last time.
"Gooooo champ! Win and be champ again!"
With that he starts running off. Predator smiles, and calls out after him.
"It's a promise!"
With that, he turns, and vanishes behind the tinted windows of the revolving hotel doors.
"Come on man, take a few questions! Open up, get back into the swing of things!"
The Predator nods, and puts on a smile, along with a pair of sunglasses.
"Alright folks, come on then, ask what you want to ask."
The first reporter steps forward, clears his throat, and offers, "How does it feel to be back in Miami, champ?"
The Predator responds, "Of course, it feels great. Miami is a terrific city packed to the rafters with true fans. I'm sure I'm going to enjoy my weekend here immensely, and it will be a blast to perform in front of a Miami crowd again. Next."
Another reporter emerges from the crowd to shout out, "Have you been watching promos and spots released by your opponents for your match at Forsaken? Do you have any response?"
Predator appears embarassed. "Uh, no, can't say I've been paying too close attention. Seems pretty standard to me, honestly; We got a Jesus freak, a super ambitious guy, down and out hometown hero, etcetera. Can't really be bothered to take note of the letter of what it is they are saying, but I can divine the gist, using only the power of my years of experience in the industry; 'I'm going to win, I guarantee it, I'm the best, here is why.'"
The crowd erupts into laughter, and the Predator allows himself a smirk.
"But, honestly, I could care less what they say. I've seen the film of these guys in the ring, doing their thing, and each has plenty to offer an opponent in a match like this. Sure to be plenty of chaos, plenty of opportunities to stick in those big moves. All these guys have accomplished a little bit in this business; All of them clearly know how to wrestle when we look at past matches they've had. I'm going to have to be on my guard and bringing my best to beat these guys. In the end, I'm reasonably confident my superior ringcraft and physical ability will prevail, and if a fan of mine wants to put any money on it, I think the odds are still good. Vegas has me rising in the odds pretty rapidly, get down your money before I'm the favorite. One more."
Another reporter stumbles forward, appearing meek and uncomfortable.
"The Idol, Max Prophet, had some pretty strong things to say about you in his latest press offering. Do you have any response?"
Predator laughs.
The Idol has strong things to say about everybody in every press conference. He's a talker, its what he does, its who he is. I'll check the highlights when I have some free time, but to save you the wait, I'll respond to the part where he assuredly called me overrated and a traitor; I challenged him, the match was prevented from occurring thanks to the FCW folding, and this is, to date, the greatest disappointment in my career. If he wants to prove I'm overrated, I invite him to join me is pressing the management of USPW to make a match happen in the future. I think the fans would love it. As to the inevitable accusation of foul play, I probably didn't do it, he probably thinks I did and is liable to keep talking about. I'm not gonna take potshots at a guy over the media. If and when we meet in the ring, I'll beat him, and that will be that. I need to catch a cab, folks. Till next time.
----
The Predator and Johnny sit in a cab, talking casually as they are ferried to their destination. The Predator is looking out the window, grinning like a fool, and exclaims, "Man, last time I was in Miami, I was so obsessed about defending my title, I didn't pause to notice how cool this city is."
Johnny peers out the window nonchalantly. "Yeah, I remember. We had to face down Lowrie 'The Irish Tuba" Collins last time, remember?"
Predator snorts, "Yeah, how could I forget. The Irish Tuba. What kind of f****** name is that? Sounds like a ****** ****** **** *** ****."
John laughs, "Yeah, man, what an *******!"
They start laughing heartily, before pausing and looking at the camera.
The Predator pulls at his collar.
"Uh...We're not supposed to curse on national television, are we?"
A meek voice chimes in off camera. "No sir...But, it's okay...I'll censor it out."
Predator breaks into a grin. "Good man! I'll try to control myself a bit better from here on out."
Johnny hurriedly changes the subject. "You ready to win another Money in the Bank, champ? Served you well last time!"
The Predator's face loses all humor. "Yeah, it tends to make life easier, but these matches are a nightmare. Six way free-for-alls are impossible to control, and there is no way to emerge from one the victor and unscathed. At any rate, I've done it before, I can do it again."
Johnny nods. "Great way to knock off the ring rust, anyway."
The Predator sighs. "Hopefully I did that in training, John. It doesn't help a guy at all to get powerbombed. Just hurts like hell. Just have to make sure its me doing the power bombing. I was the best wrestler alive six years ago. I don't feel like I've lost a step, and if I haven't, I should win in the end. It'll be fine."
----
We see Johnny pulling suitcases out of the trunk of the cab, talking excitedly with several men in fine attire as the Predator is gazing into the distance at the city. He suddenly looks surprised, and looks down. We follow his gaze, to see a small child tugging his sleeve. The boy speaks nervously.
"Uh, mister? My brother says you're the heavyweight champion of the world. Are you?"
The Predator breaks out into a huge grin, and gets on his knees.
"Not currently, buddy, but I hope to be the man again soon."
The little boy stammers excitedly.
"I want to be the champ one day so I can have suit guys carry my stuff too!"
The Predator chuckles, and puts on a face of mock severity.
"You think you got what it takes to be the champ, eh? Let's see. Make a muscle."
The child excitedly flexes his arms in a standard Hulk Hogan poses. The Predator laughs.
"Look at you, buddy. I bet you are gonna grow up to be a real bruiser one day. Remind me to retire again before you get into the ring!"
He stands up to leave, but the boy stammers out again, "Uh, mister, can I have an autograph please?"
The Predator stops, and looks embarrassed. His face lights up, and he rushes over to his suitcase. Johnny gets out a "Hey champ..." but Predator brushes him off, digs through one of the pockets, and returns to the boy with a shirt. It's a classic Young Lions T-shirt. He hands it to the boy, whose face lights up like a Christmas tree.
"Here, kid. This is the shirt I wore the night I beat Matt Hawk and formed the Young Lions. Its kind of a special memento, so I'm gonna need you to take care of it for me, okay?"
The boy is so overwhelmed, he can hardly speak. "Sure mister! I'll keep it safe! Thank you!"
The Predator smiles, and turns to follow Johnny and his men into the hotel. The boy calls out, one last time.
"Gooooo champ! Win and be champ again!"
With that he starts running off. Predator smiles, and calls out after him.
"It's a promise!"
With that, he turns, and vanishes behind the tinted windows of the revolving hotel doors.