| Zero Help; Showdown RP 2/2 | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jul 10 2008, 07:12 PM (65 Views) | |
| Talon | Jul 10 2008, 07:12 PM Post #1 |
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The Hero
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Talon blinked the sun out of his eyes before placing a new pair of sunglasses over them. It was a hot Thursday afternoon, even in the shade on the Las Vegas strip. He had set up a small booth on the busy street, right in front of the Goodfella's Casino. The booth stuck out well enough, as it was consisting of a table and a red drape in front of it that read in bold letters “TALON VEGAS STRIP FOUNDATION”. In smaller letters beneath it read “Have you done your part to support your local strippers today?” Talon bounced his head lightly off of the table and growled in frustration. He had set up shop hours ago and had not received a single donation. He looked at the large cash jar to his left and scowled. To his right was a large sign that read “Prostitutes need health care too!” Flanking the table on both sides, teams of scantily-clad women held banners and shouted to onlookers and walkers-by. Nothing. The only money in the jar had been his own. Hours ago he had declared it to be Lap Dance Day, wherein every donation received the best lap dance they could muster. Still nothing. “What's happening in the cyber-tubes, I wonder,” Talon said as he flipped open his laptop and opened up the internet to his webpage. Wyatt had sent him a memo with more questions about his latest opponent, Zero. What do you think is the biggest threat against you in this match against Zero Sunday? Talon thought for a moment, before typing “His boyfriends coming to take me out so he can get me flat on my back.” What other matches are you looking forward to this week? Talon looked up as a group of burly construction workers passed by, eyeballing his female companions, and emptied their wallets into the donation jar. “God bless you!” one of them exclaimed as he wrote a check of a rather large sum before dropping it in. “Nobody wants a blowjob from snaggleteeth, that's what I say!” another one said as he threw a shiny gold watch, presumably a family heirloom, into the jar. “Here, we have some pamphlets too, so that you can spread the joy and message of the Talon Vegas Strip Foundation to your friends, co-workers, and loved ones,” he said, sliding them forward to the horned-up construction workers. They walked off stiffly, their eyes satisfied but nothing else, hooting and hollering more as they continued on their merry way. “Nice guys,” Talon muttered to himself, before turning his head both ways and raising his voice, “Nice one ladies! Let's see if we can keep it up when the businessmen go on lunch break!” A high-pitched cheer rang out on both sides of him as he turned his attention back to the questions before him on the laptop. He stroked his chin, eyeballing the latest question about the other matches on the card, before finally typing “I'm going to be watching Williams vs Roman very closely (;)), and I'll also be interested to see Alex Ross kick Julian Fiasco's ass up and down Goodfella's.” Peter Gilmour is scheduled to take on UCW's Rayne Young, in the first sVo vs UCW match-up. What are your thoughts on this? “Who cares?” Talon typed without even thinking, "All I can hope is that he isn't going to embarrass the sVo this Sunday. He's long overdue for a win anyway... I mean it's been what, two months?” What do you have to say to your opponent on Sunday, Zero? Talon looked up into the sky again as more construction workers passed by for a repeat performance from earlier. “God bless your souls and your generosity,” he said as he slid more pamphlets across the table and watched as more checks, bills, coins, and gold accessories filled into the jar. Business had been booming the last fifteen minutes, to say the least. “Good job, ladies!” he shouted to them once more, “If we keep this up today we'll have no problem in getting all the hookers and strippers of Vegas health benefits!” Yet another cheer sounded on the Vegas Strip as Talon turned his attention back to the laptop. “What do I have to say to Zero?” he began typing furiously, “Well, something like 'Zero, you suck, you have no chance' doesn't quite sum it up completely, so I'll just go on. Zero has zero chance of defeating me at Showdown on Sunday. Bad Religion has zero chance of escaping me after they tainted my victory this last week. There is zero chance that I will spare any one of them the ass-reaming that my boot will graciously provide. I think that sums it up nicely.” Smiling to himself, Talon copied and pasted his responses into an email to Wyatt, leaving a note saying “Can I please get some better questions next week? PLEASE???” before sending it through cyberspace to his website administrator in Toronto, Ontario, Canada. As he closed the laptop, he shook his head as he thought about his partner, sometimes in crime, Alex Ross. He had been blatantly avoiding him the last few days, and something seemed up. Even when Ross normally tried avoiding him, it wasn't to the extent that he was now. He almost seemed unwilling to even try to hang out, which was certainly a step back. “Maybe Travis Williams got under his skin...” Talon mumbled as he placed the laptop back in its case, “But he shouldn't have. I mean, I beat him, certainly Ross can beat him. No problem. But then... what is it he's bothered about...” He looked up, and some guy in a white polo shirt was waving a sign around in front of his female companions for the day. Squinting his eyes, Talon made out the words “SUCK FOR A BUCK IS WRONG!” and the other side cleverly read “G-STRINGS WERE MADE FOR GUITARS!” As he rose to confront this man, Talon felt a vibration in his pocket. Fishing it out, he read the name “Brian” on the front screen. “Talk to me,” he said as the man got some friends around him, all carrying similar signs. The strippers and hookers around him were shouting back the best they could without getting physical, but the tide of idiots was growing on both sides of him. “I see you on T.V.,” Brian said, an amused tone to his voice, “Looks like your charity thing is catching quite the attention.” Talon looked around him as police vehicles drove right by, ignoring the scene. Clearly they were too good to get involved to help a charitable organization. Donuts somewhere must have been in clear violation of the Uneaten Laws: any donut must be eaten, preferably by a law enforcement officer. “So then you see that I'm going to have to get reckless here in a moment,” he growled into the phone, “Because this is about to get ugly. Any more Bible-thumpers in here and we'll have our own Parent-Teacher Association.” There was a pause on the other end as Brian contemplated his response. “Am I going to have to pull out your 'public apology speeches' folder?” he finally asked with a hint of regret. “Yeah,” Talon said as he folded the chair that he was sitting on. The crowd of protesters was growing increasingly loud, numerous, and pushy. “August 2004 would work the best, if I remember correctly.” “That one was about the hookers too,” Brian remarked, approval in his voice, “Just... please try not to get in too much trouble.” “Only as much trouble as these fuckers want,” came the inevitable answer, and the answer Brian was dreading. “Oh, by the way, did anyone page you about heading up this charity?” he asked as he prepared the chair, inspecting it closely, “I mean, I'll still want my name on it, but I can't run all this by myself. I need someone else who answers to me to run it.” “Yeah, there were a couple, I told them to report to your office next week though,” Brian said, exhaustion showing with every word. “You need to go to bed, I'm not paying you to work yourself until you're dead,” Talon said, before pausing and grinning at the rhyme. He was always a fan of his own poetic abilities. “Alright... you got it. I'll sleep until noon tomorrow, so like twenty hours of sleep... that good with you?” “Yeah, that's good with me. Uh huh. Take care, Brian. I have to save the whores.” Flipping his phone shut, Talon quickly stuffed it into his pocket and swung the steel chair wildly. It connected with the first protester, the man with the clever dual-sided sign. He crumpled like a sack of bean bag chair and the rest of the protesters looked right at him, rage in their eyes and their signs ready to go to war. “Why did you do that?” several voices turned to one and shouted at him. “Why do you protect these harlots? These... strippers? These... WHORES?!?!” His sunglasses gleaming in the sunlight, Talon grinned like a bonafide badass and tilted the chair back on his shoulder. “Someone has to,” he said as he braced himself for a flood of angry mob about to charge him. “Now then, which one of you book-burning motherfuckers wants to go first?” Talon shouted as he swung his chair wildly again. Before long, he had disappeared into a mass of human bodies in an encounter that, while overall pointless, would certainly make the six o'clock news entertaining. |
![]() Talon 48-16-6 Carrying the Banner for the Industrial Revolution! | |
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12:56 AM Jul 11