Post by Mikey Svarro on Jun 16, 2017 22:34:54 GMT -5
“Put some back into it, Rumble, I want that whole stack of flyers put up by the end of the day.”
“This isn’t quite what I had in mind when I agreed to be your bodyguard again, Mikey.”
We begin on the paved sidewalk of who the hell knows where and who the hell cares anyway. Any question that may have been brought up is instantly replaced with awe, looking at the giant man known as “Rumble” Reyes. He’s got to be around 6’7”-6’8” and roughly 350lbs. His mass barely makes it into the camera shot, holding a stapler and a mound of papers. The behemoth of a man is wearing a black shirt with green writing that reads “SoCal Ultraviolent”, and he’s absolutely towering over a much shorter man standing next to him. In fact, you almost miss him because the giant easily steals the scene. The shorter guy is much better dressed, a fancy button-down shirt, slacks and designer shades. His signature, designer shades to be precise. His hair is messy, and he puffs on a cigarette in between speaking.
“Well I didn’t quite expect you to give me any LIP when you agreed to be my bodyguard again, so I guess we’re both shocked.”
The mountain of a man glared at Mikey, but said nothing.
““That’s better.” He retorted, throwing his cigarette on the ground and stomping it out. “Where’s that friend of yours anyway - Rager?”
“It’s Reigner, and I’m sure he’s got better things to do than hang these flyers.”
Mikey shot Rumble a look, grabbing his pack from his shirt pocket and lighting up another. In response, Rumble simply went back to stapling flyers to the telephone posts lining the sidewalk as Mikey followed close behind, doing nothing. As he took his first drag, he turned to the camera for the first time and blew a large cloud of smoke on it.
“I guess I should go about introducing myself. I’m the best fuck your girl ever had, Mikey Svarro, and Union Battleground - you’re welcome. I was semi-retired, enjoying myself on the beaches of Mexico, drinking in every Mexican woman I could get a tall glass of, and any alcohol they’d serve me. Living the life. The kind of life that Mikey Svarro is used to. But sooner or later, that life gets a little boring. I have to say, I missed the ring. I missed making fools out of everyone, I missed getting exactly what I wanted, I missed being a champion, and most of all I missed being in the spotlight. It’s been what, a little over a year since I’ve been in the ring competitively? That’s plenty of time to rest up and come back into this business with a renewed strength. Mikey Svarro always works hard for what he wants…”
In the background, you could clearly see Reyes rolling his eyes, as he walked over to the next telephone pole.
“Don’t believe me? Do some research, go back and look at the places that have had the pleasure of having Mikey Svarro upon their roster. I bring the money in, I put the people in the seats. The competitors around the circuit are so focused on putting on a ‘good match’ that they’ve completely forgotten that this business...is well, a damn BUSINESS. We’re here to turn a profit, and Mikey Svarro always rolls in the dough because I’m much more focused on the entertainment aspect than trying to one up my opponents with actual skill. Screw skill, don’t need it. I’ve gotten by in this industry mighty fine without it, and why you ask? Because I’m fucking smart, that’s why. All you have to do is outsmart your opponent, you don’t need to beat them into oblivion to get the pin on them. I’m not about trying to outwrestle anyone, I’m about winning the match and making you people have a reaction, a good time...especially you ladies out there.”
Svarro lowered his shades, just for a few seconds, for the camera to see him raise his eyebrows seductively at the camera, before grabbing his crotch and sticking out his tongue. He took another drag of his cigarette, sliding his shades back on.
“Anyone out there that doesn’t like it? You can write a letter to my future championship belt, and then stick it straight up your ass. I could give two shits about what anyone else thinks of me, because I’ve got it made no matter what. One thing you won’t get with Mikey Svarro, is bullshit. I’m not here to lie to your face, I’m here to cause a scene with my brash attitude and my ridiculous antics. With me, what you see is what you get. I’m straightforward, not some freak with facepaint that speaks in riddles. Don’t be mad because you don’t have a high enough IQ to outsmart me, just take your seat in the back and watch Mikey Svarro play in his playground. That’s what Union Battleground is now, my playground. I’m walking into this place with a chip on my shoulder and I’m telling you right now I’m going to own this place. I know we’re pretty damn used to hearing that from new people, right? Some guy walks into a place and thinks he’s going to be the biggest thing since sliced bread. The difference? Mikey Svarro actually is. I talk the talk, sure, but I can walk the walk, too, unlike these other idiots.”
He paused, turning to Rumble, “You still have my flask in that ginormous pocket of yours there, big man?”
Rumble looked down, patting his pockets, and shaking his head. “Must have left it in the car when we got out.”
He didn’t feel like apologizing so he didn’t. “God damn it!” Mikey placed his head in his hands, scrunching up his face for a second. He took one last puff of his second cigarette, being tossing that one on the ground, as well.
“So, being Mikey Svarro and signing my contract with Union Battleground, I wondered what the best way was to make an impact. I don’t just walk into anywhere, I throw open the damn door and whack the people on the other end in the goddamn face. So my boy here, “Rumble” Reyes brought along a friend, and together they’re going to blow away that Battalion tournament. Me? I’ve got a match on the first Lights Out after Guerrilla Warfare…”
Mikey paused again, staring at the camera for a few seconds, before shrugging.
“Never in my life have I been the waiting type. I don’t even like waiting around for this slow oaf to post these flyers around. No way in hell am I going to wait for Lights Out. All you people in the Guerrilla Warfare match get to deal with Mikey Svarro, the Voice of Wrestling, the King of All Media. Plus, No Disqualification? This match was me for me to win! Really, what better way to show you fools how serious I am than to waltz into that match and beat out all you other fools. Union Battleground didn’t want me there, but guess what, Mikey Svarro is showing up anyway. I don’t care who ends up in this thing, and I’m not going to do my homework. I’ve already seen the kind of shmucks and children you employee here. I’m not going to waste my time studying up on kids and the toys they play with. Nemesis, The Society, whichever other group of rejects you’ve got here, I’ll see you all out there in the ring. Mikey Svarro doesn’t back down. Again, I take what I want, and I WANT to win Guerrilla Warfare.”
He flashed a mile at the camera, winking. Slowly, he turned towards Rumble who had stopped paying attention to Mikey’s dribble. He was far too used to hearing Svarro talk.
“Alright Rumble, I’m sick of being sober, let’s hit up a bar somewhere. Where’s a decent place to get a drink around here?”
In one motion, Rumble tossed the flyers up in the air, and they all flew away in the breeze. Together they walked off down the street, Mikey googling a bar on his phone, until all you could see was one dark figure standing next to a smaller one. The camera moved off the figures, stopping on one of the flyers before the wind picked it up and it flew away.
CATCH MIKEY SVARRO
BACK AND BETTER THAN EVER
JUNE 18TH, 2017 IN NASHVILLE WITH UNION BATTLEGROUND
GUERRILLA WARFARE WINNER
“This isn’t quite what I had in mind when I agreed to be your bodyguard again, Mikey.”
We begin on the paved sidewalk of who the hell knows where and who the hell cares anyway. Any question that may have been brought up is instantly replaced with awe, looking at the giant man known as “Rumble” Reyes. He’s got to be around 6’7”-6’8” and roughly 350lbs. His mass barely makes it into the camera shot, holding a stapler and a mound of papers. The behemoth of a man is wearing a black shirt with green writing that reads “SoCal Ultraviolent”, and he’s absolutely towering over a much shorter man standing next to him. In fact, you almost miss him because the giant easily steals the scene. The shorter guy is much better dressed, a fancy button-down shirt, slacks and designer shades. His signature, designer shades to be precise. His hair is messy, and he puffs on a cigarette in between speaking.
“Well I didn’t quite expect you to give me any LIP when you agreed to be my bodyguard again, so I guess we’re both shocked.”
The mountain of a man glared at Mikey, but said nothing.
““That’s better.” He retorted, throwing his cigarette on the ground and stomping it out. “Where’s that friend of yours anyway - Rager?”
“It’s Reigner, and I’m sure he’s got better things to do than hang these flyers.”
Mikey shot Rumble a look, grabbing his pack from his shirt pocket and lighting up another. In response, Rumble simply went back to stapling flyers to the telephone posts lining the sidewalk as Mikey followed close behind, doing nothing. As he took his first drag, he turned to the camera for the first time and blew a large cloud of smoke on it.
“I guess I should go about introducing myself. I’m the best fuck your girl ever had, Mikey Svarro, and Union Battleground - you’re welcome. I was semi-retired, enjoying myself on the beaches of Mexico, drinking in every Mexican woman I could get a tall glass of, and any alcohol they’d serve me. Living the life. The kind of life that Mikey Svarro is used to. But sooner or later, that life gets a little boring. I have to say, I missed the ring. I missed making fools out of everyone, I missed getting exactly what I wanted, I missed being a champion, and most of all I missed being in the spotlight. It’s been what, a little over a year since I’ve been in the ring competitively? That’s plenty of time to rest up and come back into this business with a renewed strength. Mikey Svarro always works hard for what he wants…”
In the background, you could clearly see Reyes rolling his eyes, as he walked over to the next telephone pole.
“Don’t believe me? Do some research, go back and look at the places that have had the pleasure of having Mikey Svarro upon their roster. I bring the money in, I put the people in the seats. The competitors around the circuit are so focused on putting on a ‘good match’ that they’ve completely forgotten that this business...is well, a damn BUSINESS. We’re here to turn a profit, and Mikey Svarro always rolls in the dough because I’m much more focused on the entertainment aspect than trying to one up my opponents with actual skill. Screw skill, don’t need it. I’ve gotten by in this industry mighty fine without it, and why you ask? Because I’m fucking smart, that’s why. All you have to do is outsmart your opponent, you don’t need to beat them into oblivion to get the pin on them. I’m not about trying to outwrestle anyone, I’m about winning the match and making you people have a reaction, a good time...especially you ladies out there.”
Svarro lowered his shades, just for a few seconds, for the camera to see him raise his eyebrows seductively at the camera, before grabbing his crotch and sticking out his tongue. He took another drag of his cigarette, sliding his shades back on.
“Anyone out there that doesn’t like it? You can write a letter to my future championship belt, and then stick it straight up your ass. I could give two shits about what anyone else thinks of me, because I’ve got it made no matter what. One thing you won’t get with Mikey Svarro, is bullshit. I’m not here to lie to your face, I’m here to cause a scene with my brash attitude and my ridiculous antics. With me, what you see is what you get. I’m straightforward, not some freak with facepaint that speaks in riddles. Don’t be mad because you don’t have a high enough IQ to outsmart me, just take your seat in the back and watch Mikey Svarro play in his playground. That’s what Union Battleground is now, my playground. I’m walking into this place with a chip on my shoulder and I’m telling you right now I’m going to own this place. I know we’re pretty damn used to hearing that from new people, right? Some guy walks into a place and thinks he’s going to be the biggest thing since sliced bread. The difference? Mikey Svarro actually is. I talk the talk, sure, but I can walk the walk, too, unlike these other idiots.”
He paused, turning to Rumble, “You still have my flask in that ginormous pocket of yours there, big man?”
Rumble looked down, patting his pockets, and shaking his head. “Must have left it in the car when we got out.”
He didn’t feel like apologizing so he didn’t. “God damn it!” Mikey placed his head in his hands, scrunching up his face for a second. He took one last puff of his second cigarette, being tossing that one on the ground, as well.
“So, being Mikey Svarro and signing my contract with Union Battleground, I wondered what the best way was to make an impact. I don’t just walk into anywhere, I throw open the damn door and whack the people on the other end in the goddamn face. So my boy here, “Rumble” Reyes brought along a friend, and together they’re going to blow away that Battalion tournament. Me? I’ve got a match on the first Lights Out after Guerrilla Warfare…”
Mikey paused again, staring at the camera for a few seconds, before shrugging.
“Never in my life have I been the waiting type. I don’t even like waiting around for this slow oaf to post these flyers around. No way in hell am I going to wait for Lights Out. All you people in the Guerrilla Warfare match get to deal with Mikey Svarro, the Voice of Wrestling, the King of All Media. Plus, No Disqualification? This match was me for me to win! Really, what better way to show you fools how serious I am than to waltz into that match and beat out all you other fools. Union Battleground didn’t want me there, but guess what, Mikey Svarro is showing up anyway. I don’t care who ends up in this thing, and I’m not going to do my homework. I’ve already seen the kind of shmucks and children you employee here. I’m not going to waste my time studying up on kids and the toys they play with. Nemesis, The Society, whichever other group of rejects you’ve got here, I’ll see you all out there in the ring. Mikey Svarro doesn’t back down. Again, I take what I want, and I WANT to win Guerrilla Warfare.”
He flashed a mile at the camera, winking. Slowly, he turned towards Rumble who had stopped paying attention to Mikey’s dribble. He was far too used to hearing Svarro talk.
“Alright Rumble, I’m sick of being sober, let’s hit up a bar somewhere. Where’s a decent place to get a drink around here?”
In one motion, Rumble tossed the flyers up in the air, and they all flew away in the breeze. Together they walked off down the street, Mikey googling a bar on his phone, until all you could see was one dark figure standing next to a smaller one. The camera moved off the figures, stopping on one of the flyers before the wind picked it up and it flew away.
CATCH MIKEY SVARRO
BACK AND BETTER THAN EVER
JUNE 18TH, 2017 IN NASHVILLE WITH UNION BATTLEGROUND
GUERRILLA WARFARE WINNER
