Feedback + Actual RP for Evo 33

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reggietrascal
Posts: 4
Joined: Fri Oct 12, 2018 10:39 pm

Feedback + Actual RP for Evo 33

Post by reggietrascal » Wed Oct 24, 2018 10:14 pm

REN
“REGGIE!”

Reggie was slow to stir from his bedroom, having peeled off his clothes, jumped into a pair of boxers and flopped onto his bed, snoring weakly. He was still recovering from the dance party and the tryout; he was pooped.

REN
“Hey Party Boy, wake up already!”

A frigid dousing with water similar to an Ice Bucket Challenge made Reggie leap out of bed, taking a swing at his brother, who caught the fist with the bucket. Reggie yelped and danced a bit, shaking out his hand.

RR
“Why would you use a metal bucket?”

REN
“Why did you dent the gardener’s metal bucket?”

The bottom was distended slightly, pushing outwards.

RR
“He’ll carry some more now. Ow, by the way. And good morning.”

REN
“Afternoon, actually: haven’t you heard your phone? It was blowing up a bit.”

RR
“Blowing up?”

REN
“You know, constantly going off until someone came in here and put it on Silent?”

Reggie checks his phone and sees a few missed phone calls, a voice mail and a couple texts. All of them essentially said the same thing, and Reggie dropped his phone after listening to the voice mail.

RR
“Bro...”

REN
“What have I told you about that?”

RR
“I’m in. I’m actually in. They have me scheduled to be in a match. I’m in, yo! YO!”

Reggie starts dancing and shadow boxing, and René just steps back, holding his hands up.

REN
“Oooh, look at you, Mr. Professional Wrestler. You know you made more money in the cage, right?”

RR
“But I can’t have fun in the cage, can I? I was always so serious. If it wasn’t for the decision reversal and payout, I wouldn’t have been able to procure the trainer I got. And he wasn’t too expensive either. By the time he gave me my shot, I only burned through a third of the winnings.”

REN
“A third? Reginald!”

RR
“It’s REGGIE, bro.”

They both take a deep breath.

REN
“That is about what? 67 grand? You paid him 67 grand?”

RR
“Over a 5-year training period?”

REN
“Um, still a little rich, Reg.”

RR
“Right now, that doesn’t matter. The contract has been approved and I have myself a match to dance my way into. It’s time for the Groove Train to #WOOWOO his way into CWF and lay the track!”

René reacts the only way he knows: a facepalm.

REN
“Whatever, guy. You just be careful out there.”

RR
“You kidding? I make CM Punk look like an alcoholic. The strongest medicine I’ve ever had...”

REN
“Since your last birthday?”

Reggie freezes, sighs deeply and looks at René, shaking his head.

RR
“You are so disparaging, man...”

REN
“Older brother complex: gotta remind you that I’m doing better.”

[The two men embrace quickly before René leaves the room; Reggie starts packing his things into a travel case; he had to get to Winnipeg, Manitoba!

A couple days later, getting off the plane in Winnipeg, Reggie was cramped but excited all the same. Getting back into the terminal, Reggie had his music in his ears, his entrance theme blasting against his eardrums. He was Party Rocking, oblivious to everything around him, even as he hands over his passport. It didn’t matter what was going on, and even some of the Canadian Border guards were cracking grins at this guy randomly dancing through the terminal, to the point where he danced while out of his shoes, merely holding them as he walks past the luggage carousel; he catches a glimpse of it and stops, putting his shoes on and waiting for his last bag.

Dancing and prancing and feeling fancy-free: that was Reggie’s whole M.O. since getting off the plane. Even getting to the hotel, Reggie danced his way out of the cab and into the hotel lobby. Checking in was his only moment of calm, and he was back to dancing and shuffling as he gets into the elevator. Being alone on the elevator was its own peace, as he starts to shadow box, bobbing and weaving and living out a Rocky Balboa daydream.

However, in no time, as soon as his head hits the pillow in his room, his consciousness drops, and he falls asleep.
--------------------------------
PARTY ROCK!

“Party Rock Anthem” by LMFAO starts to play over the scene as the image fades in with a cavalcade of multiple colors, almost making it look like a kaleidoscopic scene behind the silhouette of one Reggie T. Rascal. Of course, the guy was dancing in front of the screen that continued the kaleidoscopic collection of spinning colors, wearing black short tights with a white stripe on either leg, his long vest jacket bearing sequins in the same pattern as the tights.

Reggie turns to face the camera as he pats his chest in an act of aggressive defiance.

RR
“Hell yeah, CWF. It’s time to party hearty and roll and rock and roll some more, because the Groooooove Train is coming to the station!”

Reggie holds his fist up and starts pulling an imaginary string, reminiscent of a train whistle.

RR
“WOO WOO! Yeah, boy! That’s what it’s going to be and it’s going to be a sweet thing to see me debut, I’ll tell you that.”

Reggie’s hands move to his hips as his breathing begins to quicken; the adrenaline was starting to flow.

RR
“But this Maestro guy... Whoever he is, he gets to taste the fumes first. He gets to feel the fear of being chased down those train tracks by a speeding engine that has no interest in braking for stupid people trying to jaywalk down the tracks; no, sir. And I’ve looked up his info on the website; I mean his roster information and whatnot.”

Reggie takes a moment to pause, sucking in a deep breath, sighing.

RR
“I might as well be facing a mannequin, because his attempts to stop me will be like an NFL linebacker plowing through a row of lifeless, emotionless, hopeless mannequins. I’m a former MMA fighter, trained by a man who goes by the name Anon Ymous, and he showed me a hell of a lot for someone using the most gimmicky wrestling name. Striking, grappling, submissions: his pedigree is one of the uppermost tiers. And then his professional wrestling acumen...”

Reggie laughs and places his right hand over his sternum, breathing heavily.

RR
“The man is an animal. For someone weighing over 250 pounds, he knew how to move on the ropes, over the ropes... The guy was a cruiserweight at some point, I think, but I have no idea. He is the one who showed me the Rock and Roll, and I merely picked it up from him.”

Starting to pace, he also starts to shuffle, trying to get his thoughts together.

RR
“Oh man, I’m so HYPED UP for this match! Just because it’s a qualifier to make a new tag team to face the Smokin Aces, CWF, that doesn’t mean I won’t make a statement in my first match as a singles competitor. HELL NO! Ha HA! I’m eying one Jarvis King. Well, hold on. I’m also eying Kemsey Ramsey. It won’t matter until the pinfall is counted, right? Because whoever holds that Paramount Championship, they will be next to get tied to the train tracks, next to be diced up by the wheels of the GROOOOOOOOOOVE TRAIN!”

Reggie retakes his mark in the middle of the floor, bouncing and clapping his hands.

RR
“That’s right, let’s make it trending, CWF! #WOOWOO for that Groove Train! First victim, first spike to lay the track will be the one called the Maestro, and then will be the Paramount champion, and then maybe the tag team champions, whether it’s the Smokin Aces or whatever other team can take the titles from them.”

Reggie just stops, the music playing softly in the background, letting the silence of his smile speak volumes for him, and he shrugs.

RR
“Enough talking. Maestro, I’m going to play your swansong, and I’m going to conduct it using a baton made out of your fingers, and then ALL ABOARD THE GROOVE TRAIN, BABY! #WOOWOO! Let’s get this tournament rolling!

Reggie fades into the color as he laughs and toots like a train whistle.

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