Welcome Guest [Log In] [Register]
Welcome to the EBWF.

Board access is by Moderator Validation Only! Please fill out a join form to Join the EBWF Forum!


Join our community!


If you're already a member please log in to your account to access all of our features:

Username:   Password:
Add Reply
I Never Said I Was Deep
Topic Started: Sep 13 2009, 11:53 PM (28 Views)
Deleted User
Deleted User

Lance Storm was stood outside of a building in Columbus, Georgia. He looked up to see that the place was called 'Scruffy Murphy's Irish Pub'. He shrugged and entered. Going to a bar sure was a rarity for Lance. He hadn't drank in around 3 years. It was something that was easy to live without; enjoying life was simple enough without it. Seeing Kendrick force whisky down CM Punk's throat all those weeks back made Lance feel uncomfortable, a feeling which he of course had to swallow whilst in front of a camera. He understood CM Punk's life choice more than most, but today he was going for a drink. He needed to take a load off.

He was greeted at the bar by the bartender, who's name-badge read Richard. He looked anything but Irish, with immaculate brown hair and a slim figure. He did, however, speak in an Irish accent, and not a practised one.

Richard: 'Ow may oi 'elp yeh?

While Richard spoke those words, Lance had taken a quick glance around to see Irish flags galore. On the walls there were random pictures of Irish sports teams and even one of a potato farm. Lance couldn't resist the draw of sarcasm.

Lance Storm: So, this is a Scottish pub?

Richard looked like Lance had just came into his home on Christmas Eve and took a piss all over his children.

Richard: If oi wasn't on me last warnin', oi'd keck yer roi oyt av dis joint. But, in dis current finanshal climate, oi canny be takin' such risks. So naw, dis aint a Scottish boozer, uh, silly buns. Dis is an Oirish boozer. Fancy a pint o'black stuff?

Lance Storm: Given that it's all you've got on tap, I'll assume that a Guinness. Sure, go for it.

While Richard saw to his order, Lance's mind shot straight back to the subject it had been focused on all week; Warfare. Not just one, but two Warfare's. For the past week, Lance's thoughts drifted between revenge, retribution, embarassment, fury and sadness. He also felt very hard done-by. What had he done to deserve such mistreatment? Well, as he had anticipated; the boss got what he wanted.

Richard: Dare yer go.

Lance cracked a grin at the bartender's accent as he took the glass from him. He took a sip, and instantly remembered why he was not a fan of alcohol. This wasn't tasty. Sure, it was somewhat refreshing, but that was just a matter of temperature; it was a hot day, but he could get that sort of revitalisation from a soft drink. He knew Edge loved to drink. And that is why he'd came here today. to see what all the fuss was about, as it had left his memory. And this confirmed it he had nothing in common with Adam Copeland or Randy Orton, aside from their profession. So was this why he had came up short last week? He simply wasnt Rated RKO?

The longest reigning Tag Champions in EBWF History Chris Jericho and Lance Storm. The Thrillseekers. They are now and always will be the greatest tag team in the world of EBWF, and this was the one thing within this company that Lance was sure of. Rated RKO were now the champions, but it takes more than a couple of belts to be true champions. Lance and Chris were the true champions, and this was something that couldn't be taken away from them.

But in this EBWF world of which they were a part of, they were not treated as they deserved to be treated. It took a special guest referee in the form of Wes Ikeda, the chairman, who Lance knew liked the team of Edge and Orton. He knew that his boss preferred them as the top dogs over himself.

Lance Storm: And what Wesley wants, Wesley gets.

Voice: Wesley?

Lance turned to see that he had been joined at the bar by an attractive female. Her bright blue eyes looked up at him with great curiosity, almost hidden by her beautiful light brown hair. She looked like she was in her late 20s, and it puzzled Lance as to why she had chose to sit next to him.

Lance Storm: Well, I'm assuming that's not your name.

She laughed.

El: No, my name is El. Like, the Spanish word. Without the l and e.

Lance's puzzled feeling suddenly became noticeable in his facial expression. The words she'd spoken had fallen out of her mouth in a clumsy manner.

Lance Storm: You take great pride in the spelling of your name, I see.

El: Sorry. I'm nervous around new people.

Lance Storm: Yet you seem okay about randomely taking a seat next to one.

El: Well, I'm okay about approaching people. Nervous about making a good impression. I've already messed up, haven't I?

Lance Storm: This isn't an audition. I'm Lance. Spelt like the word 'lance'.

She laughed again. Lance was still confused as to why she was sat there, but he thought it would be rude to enquire.

El: Who is Wesley then? You're not scizophrenic, are you?

Lance was taken aback by how reckless she was with her words. She seemed to be saying whatever she was thinking. He couldn't help but let out a laugh himself.

Lance Storm: He's my boss. And a typical boss in the sense that he's hardly my best friend.

El: He must like you, he hired you!

Lance Storm: You're very straight-to-the-point, aren't you?

El: Best way to be. What's your job?

If Lance were any other EBWF employee, he'd probably be a little bit offended that she had no idea who he was. Being who he was, however, he simply didn't mind.

Lance Storm: I'm a professional wrestler. I could be a perfect ass and berate you for not recognising me from television.

El: You're on television? No wonder you're a bit crazy.

Lance Storm: Wha-I'm not crazy!

El: Talking to yourself out loud? I don't do that.

And she innocently took a sip of her drink, which Lance reckoned to be a Sprite from it's appearance.

Lance Storm: What if you're the crazy one?

El: I don't wear spandex for a living!

Lance was once again taken back by her response. He had no comeback. To his relief, she spoke again.

El: So I guess this 'Wesley' is that Wes Ikeda guy that people always talk about. He's really famous. Why aren't you?

Lance didn't have the heart to be offended. She wasn't stupid, just clearly uninterested in the world of wrestling.

Lance Storm: Well, I'm not in it for fame; hence the crewcut. But if you were a wrestling fan, you'd probably know who I was.

El: That makes sense. Does it bug you that people like me don't know who you are?

Lance Storm: Are you Jonathan Coachman?

This would have gotten a laugh if any of Fed Ex were around, as it was as if she was interviewing him. However, she just looked at him with that same curious look she had used about five times already. Lance really was not used to being around people who weren't related to wrestling.

Lance Storm: Forget I said that. No, like I said, I'm not bothered about fame. I just really love wrestling.

El: That's really admirable, y'know? You must be good at it then.

Lance Storm: How can you tell?

El: Well, you clearly take it seriously, but you're not consumed by it. You're doing what you love for a living; your hobby. I do ballet 3 times a week, but I'm a school teacher. I'm better at my profession than my hobby. See where we differ?

She was intelligent, Lance now gathered. Not only was she a teacher, the words she spoke then proved that there was a good brain behind those glowing eyes.

Lance Storm: I'm sure you could do ballet professionally if you really worked at it.

El: You've never seen me dance, so how can you be sure?

Once again, he had no response. He was simply trying to be nice, but she was too down-to-Earth to take his words as Lance intended.

Lance Storm: I'm sorry.

El: Don't go all serious on me!

Lance suddenly laughed. Once again, if Jericho was here, he would have found that funny. She looked at him with that curious expression once more.

El: I think you really are crazy.

Lance Storm: No, no. Don't worry. Just back when I worked for another company, people used to dig at me for being so serious. But really, I'm easy-going.

El: I'm glad. You still haven't told me what your problem with Wesley is.

Lance Storm: I didn't say I had a problem with him.

El: But you do, don't you?

She was reading him like a book. Lance couldn't help but be impressed by her.

Lance Storm: Well, in a way. It's more about the problem he has with me.

El: And what is that problem?

Lance pondered for a moment, then it hit him once again.

Lance Storm: I have no idea.

It was true. Lance had absolutely no idea why Wes Ikeda disliked him so. Wes had said it himself the other day over on a part of the EBWF website. For the past month or so, Lance had tried to figure out what Ikeda's beef with him was, and he drew no conclusions. The next words he spoke came out of nowhere.

Lance Storm: Well, do you like me?

He didn't know why he said it. Was he hitting on this girl? Surely not. She smiled a smile that blew him away. Perhaps he should hit on her? Such a boyish way to put it.

El: I've only just met you. You don't talk to women much, do you?

Lance Storm: That wasn't really an answer to my question.

Finally, he was reaching her wavelength. She raised her eyebrows.

El: My first impression is that you are a nice person, yes. I would say I have no idea why Wes doesn't like you, but it's probably more true that he knows you a lot better than I do. Am I right?

For the first time in this conversation, perhaps she wasn't.

Lance Storm: He doesn't really know me at all. He has never made any effort to get to know me on a personal level. He underrates me. Fair enough, after all I'm just not Randy Orton am I?

He was on the verge of a rant. Chris had always told him not to rant when he wasn't around, as Chris wouldn't be there to stop him before he got carried away. However, this time, he had someone else to cut him off.

El: See, I know who he is. I feel bad now.

Lance smiled.

Lance Storm: Don't worry. Of course you know him; Wes puts him over. Him and his partner Edge.

El: Are they gay?

It was almost a DX joke. Lance laughed. This was the most he'd laughed in a while.

Lance Storm: I have my suspicions, but no. Edge, Adam, is quite promiscuous. And who knows what's going on in Randy's life. If he was with a girl, only Edge would know about it I presume. He's messed up. It'll be his downfall.

El: Somebody isn't fond of Randy!

Lance's dislike for Randy was clearly noticeable due to his facial expression, he presumed.

Lance Storm: That obvious?

El: Just beat him up in the ring! I'm sure you can. Like I said, you're clearly good at what you do.

Lance Storm: I'd go into why it's not as easy as that, but that'd make for some boring conversation.

El: Tell me!

She seemed to really want to know. Her eyes remained bright through all of this; she wasn't bored at all. Lance was being made to feel appreciated for once.

Lance Storm: Well, Wes would rather Randy come out on top over me. The same with Edge. I have a partner called Chris-

El: Jericho?

So she did know the names of wrestlers. But she still clearly wasn't a fan of wrestling. Perhaps a fan of Fozzy? Nah.

Lance Storm: Yes, Jericho. Well, we were the Tag Team Champions up until last week. And you can guess who beat us?

El: Yep. And that was Wes's fault?

Lance Storm: He was the referee!

El: Where's the fairness in that? You really should suck up to that guy! I bet they do. I'd pick you over them any day.

Lance Storm: But you know who they are?

El: So? Like you said, fame isn't everything. I know who they are, but I already know you more than I know them. Are you following me? You look lost.

Lance was lost, indeed. But not in her words.

Lance Storm: Blue eyes, eh?

El: Ah, hah. Don't lose focus! I wan't to talk about this with you. I can already tell you're better than Randy Orton. Do you know why?

Lance Storm: Go on...

El: Can you beat Randy Orton in a wrestling match?

Lance Storm: Well, yes.

El: That's why. You're honest. And I may not know you well, at all. But as you were drifting off looking at mine; as I look into your eyes I can tell you're genuine when you speak. You look like you always mean what you say. I really admire that.

Lance was blown away once more. Why was she being so nice? Did she like him? No. This didn't concern Lance. Friendship was much more desirable than a relationship.

Lance Storm: How come you're so nice? You're already possibly the nicest person I've ever met.

She giggled and quite unexpectadly, she blushed.

El: I get that a lot. I don't know why people aren't just nice from the kick-off. If you're good to people, they'll be good to you in return.

Lance agreed silently. He was good to people too. He was good to his boss in the sense that he had worked his ass off for him over the past two years. Where was that getting him?

El: You're also clearly frustrated. You're a good person, but that's not getting you where you want to be, is it?

Lance Storm: No. No it isn't. I'm facing Randy this week. I've just got to beat him... I just have to.

El: And you can.

Lance Storm: Why is that so?

El: Because I believe in you.

She didn't need to say anymore. She smiled that smile again, and Lance felt a friendly warmth from her. El stood up, slipped him a piece of paper which Lance noticed she had been playing with throughout the conversation, and left the bar.
Lance was left speechless. It was asif he'd just woke up and what had just happened was a dream. This person he'd just met, it was asif he'd known her for a lifetime. Lance was indifferent when it came to most people except those closest to him, but her glance and her smile had an affect on him. In fact, her mere presence had an affect on him. From the moment he had turned round and looked at her, he felt twice the man he was when he had walked in to the bar. He also felt a new surge of confidence within him, one which made him feel like he not only had to beat Randy Orton for himself, but for someone else too. He had entered the bar in the hope of finding some similarity between himself and either Edge or Orton. He came out knowing that he was a completely different person to either of them and this was a good thing. He was the better man, and come Warfare, he would prove this to himself, to Wes, and to the world.

As he got up to leave the bar, he heard his message tone. He got his phone out of his pocket to see he had a text message from Chris.

"Hey buddy. Where are you? x"

Lance had been travelling by bus all day, having arrived in Columbus earlier that day. He and Chris hadn't seen each other in a few days and had agreed to meet before Warfare. But he had forgotten that he was to text Chris with his whereabouts so that he could pick Lance up and head to the arena. He sent his response.

"Scruffy Murphy's Irish Pub. Key it into the SatNav. Don't ask questions. x

And Lance continued to exit the pub. Richard the bartender called after him.

Richard: Yer d'enny drank up! That's sacriledge wha oi'm from! Sacriledge!

In truth, Lance had no idea what any of that meant. Crazy Irish bastard. Lance proceeded to find a bench near to the car park and sat down, waiting for Chris. More thoughts ran through his head about Randy. Never had he encountered Randy outside of the ring, nor did he ever wish to. He just had an unpleasant nature about him. Sure, people close to him may claim to know the 'real' Randy, but Lance had no desire to join that elusive inner circle. And what did Wes think of him? He surely had some reason for putting him and Edge over so much. Lance had sure worked harder than both of them combined lately; and Summerslam was the proof of that. But they were given another chance to ensure that the titles were away from The Thrillseekers and in the unworthy hands of Rated RKO. Lance wanted retribution.

His mind then wandered back to El. Their conversation drifted from point to point, and never seemed to draw on anything imparticular; but that didn't matter. It has enlightened Lance, and made him feel a lot better about himself. He had met someone unnatached from the wrestling world, who's opinions were not influenced by Wes Ikeda and his EBWF machine. Lance's eyes were opened by her genuine nature and honesty; her kindness and warmth; her breathtaking appearance and those eyes. He rummaged inside his pocket and pulled out the piece of paper she had given him. Written on it was her phone number and the words 'Everybody needs a friend.' Lance couldn't help but smile. He was snapped out of his deep thought by the sound of a cars engine and the call of a familiar voice.

?: Is that a girl's number I see in your hand? What happened to your vow of abstinence?

Lance looked up to see Chris Jericho, dressed sharply as always. He had a cheeky grin on his face.

Lance Storm: When I said 'don't ask questions', I didn't just mean concerning my odd whereabouts. You got here fast.

Lance got up and walked towards Chris's rental car, a typically lavish Range Rover. Noticing that Lance was looking over at the car, Chris gave a half-smile.

Chris Jericho: What do you think? I'd have preferred a Jaguar or something, but this was the nicest car they had available. It's alright I guess... fast apparently.

Lance reached the car and got inside. He turned left to give Chris an encouraging look.

Lance Storm: Why don't we put it to the test?

Chris Jericho: Sounds good to me. I've always wondered what a Range Rover's top speed is.

Jericho laughed to himself, then drove out of the parking lot.

Lance Storm: So, uh, what have you been doing?

Chris Jericho: Not a lot... Since Wes gave me Warfare off, I went home for a few days. Nothing too exciting, but it was nice. How about you? You'll have been working hard for your big match, I take it?

Lance Storm: How are the kids?

Jericho's facial expression changed to a mixture of concern and suspicion.

Chris Jericho: They're good... Ash seems to be really enjoying being back at school which is encouraging. What about you? Tell me what you've been doing with yourself.

Lance Storm: That's great! I've just been to that bar you picked me up from. Nothing else.

Jericho looked over at Lance and frowned. He then looked back at the road, and noticed a turnout (lay-by) not far ahead. He pulled into the turnout, then addressed Lance again.

Chris Jericho: Remember you're talking to me, and tell me what you've been doing with yourself.

Lance Storm: Woah! It's nothing to stop that car about. I'm not pregnant or anything.

Chris Jericho: I've just picked you up from a bar, when you hardly drink. I asked you what you'd been up to, and you changed the subject, acting like I was a stranger asking something personal, rather than your best friend making small talk. I'm probably the one person on this planet you can't bullshit, Lance; so why don't you tell me what's up. If you don't, we can stay here in this pullout and have people think we're gay or something. Jericho smiled at his attempt at humour, but it was clear that he was worried about Lance.

Lance Storm: I'm just... Still pissed off about losing the tag straps. And... I had a sip of alcohol! That's all!

Jericho laughed and shook his head in disbelief.

Chris Jericho: Yeah, losing the Tag belts sucked. Between you and me, I'm a little annoyed that Wes "screwed" us for the sake of advancing my feud with him. But we both know we'll get a rematch, and we both know when we do, we'll be three time EBWF Tag Team Champions. We also both know that there's more to these problems of yours than you're making out.

Lance laughed nervously.

Lance Storm: Hey, you know me. Strictly business. Nothing interesting happens to Lance!

Jericho paused for a moment, thinking how best to get Lance to break his silence. He weighed up the options in his head, and as he came to a decision he looked Lance in the eyes. There was no hint of a smile in his face - only care and concern.

Chris Jericho: Lance, I was serious about staying here you know... if that's what it takes to get you to talk to me, that's what I'll do. You're about to be given a chance to win a singles belt for the first time in almost two years. You should be excited, and clearly you're anything but.

Lance Storm: Well, uh, it's just not the same, is it? It's as if this title shot is a consolation prize for being robbed of the tag titles. And I loved being tag champion. We're the best team since The A-Team.

Jericho laughed for a moment, then went serious again.

Chris Jericho: Whatever the reason for your title shot, you've got it. And it's against a man that we both know you can beat - Randy's good, there's no denying it, but on your best day you can top him. And it's not like you're being given a chance to win a jobber belt, is it? A good reign as Intercontinental Champion could be just what you need to convince Wes that you're still World Title material.

Lance Storm: I don't want to convince Wes of anything! I don't need the World Title. I'm happier with you as World Champion. But I suppose I can take pleasure in destroying Randy Orton. Yeah, really take a load off. Right, yes, I'm fine now. Can we get driving again?

Jericho considered this for a moment, then shook his head.

Chris Jericho: Not just yet... I don't think you've quite told me everything. For starters, you can't seriously tell me that you harbour no ambitions to be World Champion again? Secondly, you still haven't explained why you're avoiding a simple question about what you've been up to since Warfare last week.

Lance Storm: No, no ambition what-so-ever. There is no point in me ever scaling that mountain again. And honestly, I haven't done a thing since Warfare but sit in my home and bitch to myself. Are you surprised? Well, that is, until today of course.

Chris Jericho: Why did you bitch to yourself? You could've called me you know.

Lance Storm: I knew you'd be with your family. I didn't want to get in the way. You don't get to spend nearly as much time as you'd like with them.

Chris looked saddened by Lances comment.

Chris Jericho: Lance... haven't you learned yet that you're as good as family to me? You and Wes, you're like the brothers I never had. Everything you and I have seen in our wrestling careers, we've seen together. And do you know what I want to see right now? I want to see you as Intercontinental Champion, en route to a second EBWF World Title reign.

Lance Storm: I know, I know. Listen, something did happen today... But I don't feel like talking about it just yet. I've got to focus on Randy. I've got to beat him, y'know? I want to. For me, and for you. And for everyone who believes in me, everyone who believes in Fed Ex. Those who know that we're the real entertainment in EBWF. The real show-stoppers, money-makers, ratings-grabbers. The top dogs. But as much as you say Wes is like a brother to you, he's not to me. And while we're associated; as a group, Fed Ex will never come out on top. But yes, Warfare... Randy is mine. Time to extinguish that nagging fire, and replace it with a Storm!

Lance smiled, looking a little more confident in himself. Jericho smiled back and began driving again. Lance looked out the window, and daydreamed about beating Randy Orton. It felt good.
Quote Post Goto Top
 
Deleted User
Deleted User

Some messed up coding towards the end. I'm going to quickly edit that, but I'm noting it just in case it takes me past deadline. Thankyou for your patience.
Quote Post Goto Top
 
1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous)
ZetaBoards - Free Forum Hosting
Enjoy forums? Start your own community for free.
Learn More · Sign-up for Free
« Previous Topic · Roleplaying Board · Next Topic »
Add Reply

Kylirium created by Sarah & Delirium of G-Force