Post by Andrew Barnes on Sept 27, 2020 11:22:55 GMT -5
part two
"Fuck you. Fuck you. Oh, you especially... FUCK YOU!"
Andrew Barnes, not quite himself lately. After his morning workout, he finds himself strolling down some kinda wealthy, kinda not type of suburbs. You know, the houses look nice, but somehow only trashy people live in them. Not caring about their fellow man, like Andrew Barnes. Who, while being a prick to them, still cares about their health, which is why he's wearing a mask; walks by a white couple in their Jimmy Buffett hats and white blessers, looks upon Andrew as he walks by each and every one of these houses, telling them to fuck off.
"Fucking Americans! Don't you know doom is around the corner.... DOOOM!" Andrew yells into the couples face.
The man almost has a heart attack as he puffs up his chest, trying to scare Andrew Barnes away with the only thing he has... False machismo. Andrew snickers, "Really? Look at you, man. You're all red. You're about to pop!"
Andrew points and laughs, holding his mask in place. "You guys don't even have masks!"
"We're in the open you jackass!" The lady spits out towards Andrew.
Andrew rolls his eyes, "Yeah..And you're fucking close to me with that stank breath of yours. I can smell the cunt through this mask."
Her husband, dripping sweat from the hot day and... Well.. These people seem to be sweat factories with all the low-grade meat they eat.
"Look. It's alright. Here." Andrew douses his hands in sanitizer and hands each of them a nice clean mask.
The couple look at one another, fuming about the fact that anyone cares about their health, or that their rights are being infringed upon. Either way, they toss the mask back at Andrew.
"FUCK OFF WITH THIS SHIT! NO ONE CARES!" The couple scream in unison.
Andrew, taken back by the sudden rage, replies with.. "Woah." He chuckles, "I was just helping you dingbats out. Everyone is being lax on this shit. ALL OF AMERICA! Including myself." Andrew lifts up his shirt and points to his abs for no reason.
"I'm just looking out for ya guys. We need people like you to remind us what rights we have, and how lucky we are compared to the rest of the world." Andrew lifts a finger up in the air, "Oh wait! Let me check something first." He pulls out a mirror and checks himself. A rush of calm washes over Andrew, "Oh thank God... I'm still white."
With a smirk, Andrew tosses the mirror aside.
"What does that suppose to mean?" The man says to Andrew Barnes.
"Oh, nothing. Hey, just a question. Who are you votin..." Andrew was about to say before one of the crew working for APW rushes out from behind the camera-crew.
His arms waving in the air as he runs towards Andrew Barnes, "WOAH! WOAH! WOAH!"
He stops in between the couple and Andrew.
"We can't do this. We gotta cut. CUT THE CAMERA!"
Andrew holds his hand up to the cameracrew, basically telling them to not listen to the guy.
"Calm down, buddy. These are only actors." Andrew points to the couple and they wave to the guy with a nervous smile.
"It's not that! We just can't have these type of discussions on this show!"
"Huh? About who is voting for what? I don't understand. I thought people have done this before?"
"This is a little too close for comfort. I don't need Ned yelling at me. You haven't seen him alone... No one has. No. This has to end. We'll write you up another promo to shoot. Something that doesn't cross the line for either side. Something safe.."
"Safe?"
"Safe."
The scene cuts away and back to Andrew Barnes sitting on top of a turnbuckle, with a single spotlight on him; dust floating around him as if he's above the clouds. He shakes his head.. "Safe..."
"AND ACTION!"
Andrew sighs, and looks up at the camera, wearing his black tights for the upcoming match against America Jackson.
"I joined Alpha Pro only a month or so ago. I can't quite remember as I never really was the one to list all my achievements from heart. I mean.." He nods, catching himself in a lie but still smiles. "I have defeated the likes of Oblivion, Soul Reaver, Jason Ryan, and all those names in the rumble. AND AGAIN! If Eli Beazley didn't cheat...I WOULD BE UNDEFEATED!" Andrew chuckles, "Whatever."
"America Jackson is next up. I can taste it. After I destroy America. I will invite Eli with open arms and welcome him to a challenge for MY title. Since he failed so hard trying to get that North American one. I mean, this is the land of second chances? Right? So why not up that to giving this loser a chance at the biggest title here? What? What was that? He's gone? Where's Eli? Oh well, if he returns then that offer still stands."
Andrew smacks himself.
"Stay focus! I haven't defeated America, yet."
"I also shouldn't being saying yet."
Andrew shrugs, "It's a shit flaw to have, America. Having an ego like mine. Chalk it up to shitty parents, or whatever. Praise from my fans fill these veins with enough energy to choke out the likes of you, America." Andrew stands up on the second turnbuckle and flexes.
"I NEED IT!" He jumps off and lands on his feet in front of the camera.
"Every win sends a rush of fandom towards the Barnes camp. Every victory flashes this face across... Well.. Across whatever network picks up this shit federation."
"No worries, though. After World War Wrestling... This place will be surging with newcomers! Wrestlers wishing to be in the same ring with yours truly. With the likes of Renaissance Taylor, Adelaide Ainsworth, that huMAN Travis, DEATHMACHINE and..." Andrew sighs, "Hopefully Eli Beazley. If he returns and all. I don't know if that fucker ran out of town after losing to America, or to piss me off because he has one over me. Either way, I'll keep bringing him up in hopes of luring him back. THEN! Then I can finally get my revenge."
Andrew smirks.
"Any names missing from there? Oh yeah, no one cares about Daniel "The Mindless DUMBSHIT" Christopher and Jason Ryan. Let's drop Shane Clemmens with them. That guy looks like a prick."
Andrew raises his hand and raises a finger per name, "Aaron Blaze, Lex Collins, Apokalypse, Johnny Legend... Yes. You fucks are with Johnny Legend in the shit list. Alex Scott and.. " He raises his other hand, ".. Alexander Hayes."
"I'm sorry if I'm missing anyone. At least take that as a compliment for not being on any of the shit list. Well.. Except you, Derrick Vayden. You belong with them, as well. You fucking tool." Andrew gives the camera a middle finger. "And fuck Action Wrestling."
"That place may have talent. It's just too bad that said talent are all emo douche-bags. It's like I'm watching some teen drama on Disney where all the actors are actually sad and pathetic thirty year-olds."
"Not what Alpha Pro Wrestling will become once I take control of the throne."
Andrew smiles, "I may sound like a broken record with all the ""RESTORE TO GREATNESS"" jargon, but it has to be said. In fact, it MUST be said. This place has the foundation. It just needs a sturdy champion to hold it steady. America Jackson is over getting his ass kicked at Action Wrestling. Yet, he holds two titles here? Now, I wouldn't build upon sand like a dingus. America Jackson being the sand. No. Instead, you want hard-ass concrete mixed with steel to keep that fucking building from collapsing. And collapse he will when I'm done applying the Error on him."
"God damn. I really need to find a better name for my finisher. You know what? That'll be a nice change when I become World champion. I could name it something catchy? Like... Like... Uh..America Has Fallen? Nah. That's fucking dumb."
Andrew rubs his mighty chin for a moment and snaps his fingers once it comes to him.
"I GOT IT!"
"How about.." He waves his hands across the screen, he does enjoy doing that. "Mortuus est?"
"That's Latin for dead, America. Because after this match. You're fucking career is over. Dead. Now run off to Action Wrestling where you can shine their shoes. I'll buy you a nice shine box so you can do it up reeeaalll nice, you pussy."
Andrew flexes once more as the camera cuts away and back to Andrew sitting in his car. The promo shoot over. He sits in his black mercedes, the windows down due to a sudden surge of heat hitting Detroit, Michigan.
He shakes his head, trying to forget the words he said in the promo. "I gotta control this shit. I'm suppose to be the good guy here."
"I mean, what kind of wrestler says that shit and calls himself a face? What kind of message am I sending out to my fans? Be a dick because you're successful?" He sighs and starts up the car, "God help me if I win that belt." Andrew mentions to himself and drives off, the scene fades to black with him driving away.
