Post by Lord Blake on Jun 26, 2016 16:57:03 GMT
The night before:
As a playlist consisting solely of Prince music blares and the party swirls around him, Lord Blake stares down at his phone, checking to see if his message has been replied to yet. Ping pong balls fly overhead as they make their way to cups on the other side of the table - it's what he'd rather be doing too. His expression slowly turns sour as he realizes King isn't going to show up tonight. He crushes the rest of his vodka-Red Bull and throws his red Solo cup onto the floor.
The next morning:
Lord is careful not to wake Raven after he wakes up at the end of his bed with her. He tiptoes through the bodies scattered through the hallways and on the stairs as he makes his way to the kitchen. As usual, Cook has gotten up before anyone and is busy preparing breakfast while Driver is finishing off his second or third stack of chocolate pancakes. Lord sits at the breakfast bar beside him and downs the glass of orange juice that's been set out for him before laying his head down the counter and beginning the day's complaining.
“I've just never been so disrespected, Driver. When someone throws a party to remember your dead son you attend it! We celebrated every second of Prince's life and King wasn't there for any of it. All I wanted was to show some compassion to my future opponent, is that so bad of me?”
Driver shakes his head while he finishes chewing his flapjack and lays his fork down on the counter.
“You do know that RSW’s King is not actually Prince's…”
Lord looks up at him with huge eyes.
“You know what, never mind that. But Lord, RSW’s King is an ex-convict. He was locked up for a long time. That kind of thing changes a man. He's dangerous. I know you've mostly been shielded from places like Chino, but they do exist. We’re talking a place where at some points in your life you literally have to fight on the street every single day just to make it to the next.
“So one of two things: he's either still got the attitude problem that put him behind bars in the first place, or he's out to prove that he's got a relevant place in the outside world. He's looking to make an example of you one way or the other.”
Lord looks at him matter-of-factly and shovels a spoonful of the yogurt and granola that Cook slides him.
“Oh, no, he won't do that. I'm Adam Blake's son. Things like that don't happen to us.”
Driver is incredulous. “Things like that don't…?! Lord, you're about to become a professional wrestler! This isn't like the time you were a runway model! This is more like the time you tried to become a police officer in the Bronx!”
Lord's jaw drops and the spoon falls from his hand, clanging on the countertop.
“So here’s what needs to happen, Lord. Because I believe you can do this. I've been doing some research into this guy. He's brand-frickin-new like you, but luckily there's enough in availabile to the public - you know, criminal record and all that.
“Let’s assume nothing changed while he was imprisoned - the things he was good at remained good and the things he was bad at, he didn't work to improve. Don't even try to chase this guy around. He's outrun the cops more times than they can keep track. Let him come to you. For as fast as he is, he’s been taken down very easily when they spring a trap and have him run right into it - they grapple him to the ground in no time. But be careful once you're down there. His submission game is absolutely deadly. Do everything you can to defend against this. The main thing you've got on him is your mind. You've been around this business since birth. You've seen your father and countless others use the ring to their advantage. Between that and your striking, THAT is how you beat King on Thursday.”
Lord Blake stares out his back window thoughtfully...
The following day:
Inside a dimly lit boxing gym, Driver, still wearing his driver's uniform, holds up hand pads while Lord Blake throws combinations at them. The sweat has soaked through his his clothes but he shows no signs of stopping.
“PUNCHPUNCHKNEE! PUNCHPUNCHKNEE! ONETWOTHREE! ONETWOTHREE!”
As a playlist consisting solely of Prince music blares and the party swirls around him, Lord Blake stares down at his phone, checking to see if his message has been replied to yet. Ping pong balls fly overhead as they make their way to cups on the other side of the table - it's what he'd rather be doing too. His expression slowly turns sour as he realizes King isn't going to show up tonight. He crushes the rest of his vodka-Red Bull and throws his red Solo cup onto the floor.
The next morning:
Lord is careful not to wake Raven after he wakes up at the end of his bed with her. He tiptoes through the bodies scattered through the hallways and on the stairs as he makes his way to the kitchen. As usual, Cook has gotten up before anyone and is busy preparing breakfast while Driver is finishing off his second or third stack of chocolate pancakes. Lord sits at the breakfast bar beside him and downs the glass of orange juice that's been set out for him before laying his head down the counter and beginning the day's complaining.
“I've just never been so disrespected, Driver. When someone throws a party to remember your dead son you attend it! We celebrated every second of Prince's life and King wasn't there for any of it. All I wanted was to show some compassion to my future opponent, is that so bad of me?”
Driver shakes his head while he finishes chewing his flapjack and lays his fork down on the counter.
“You do know that RSW’s King is not actually Prince's…”
Lord looks up at him with huge eyes.
“You know what, never mind that. But Lord, RSW’s King is an ex-convict. He was locked up for a long time. That kind of thing changes a man. He's dangerous. I know you've mostly been shielded from places like Chino, but they do exist. We’re talking a place where at some points in your life you literally have to fight on the street every single day just to make it to the next.
“So one of two things: he's either still got the attitude problem that put him behind bars in the first place, or he's out to prove that he's got a relevant place in the outside world. He's looking to make an example of you one way or the other.”
Lord looks at him matter-of-factly and shovels a spoonful of the yogurt and granola that Cook slides him.
“Oh, no, he won't do that. I'm Adam Blake's son. Things like that don't happen to us.”
Driver is incredulous. “Things like that don't…?! Lord, you're about to become a professional wrestler! This isn't like the time you were a runway model! This is more like the time you tried to become a police officer in the Bronx!”
Lord's jaw drops and the spoon falls from his hand, clanging on the countertop.
“So here’s what needs to happen, Lord. Because I believe you can do this. I've been doing some research into this guy. He's brand-frickin-new like you, but luckily there's enough in availabile to the public - you know, criminal record and all that.
“Let’s assume nothing changed while he was imprisoned - the things he was good at remained good and the things he was bad at, he didn't work to improve. Don't even try to chase this guy around. He's outrun the cops more times than they can keep track. Let him come to you. For as fast as he is, he’s been taken down very easily when they spring a trap and have him run right into it - they grapple him to the ground in no time. But be careful once you're down there. His submission game is absolutely deadly. Do everything you can to defend against this. The main thing you've got on him is your mind. You've been around this business since birth. You've seen your father and countless others use the ring to their advantage. Between that and your striking, THAT is how you beat King on Thursday.”
Lord Blake stares out his back window thoughtfully...
The following day:
Inside a dimly lit boxing gym, Driver, still wearing his driver's uniform, holds up hand pads while Lord Blake throws combinations at them. The sweat has soaked through his his clothes but he shows no signs of stopping.
“PUNCHPUNCHKNEE! PUNCHPUNCHKNEE! ONETWOTHREE! ONETWOTHREE!”
