Post by Lord Blake on Jul 11, 2016 21:57:06 GMT
The sound fades in and we hear the voices of hundreds of partiers and “Famous” by Charli XCX blasting out of unseen speakers. As he bounces in and out of the picture we can tell he's wearing a grey Auburn Tigers hoodie, unzipped to show an orange Abercrombie tee. He's holding a red Solo cup obviously and while some of the rum and coke sloshes out occasionally, it seems to stay in the cup for the most part. Impressive. He's having a time when a voice cuts through the party with a scolding tone. Lord looks down confused, cupping a hand behind his ear trying to hear.
“No, you come up here!”
There is grumbling, a clambering and, opposite Lord's bounces, a bald head begins to enter the frame as well.
“I said, ‘shouldn't you be studying right now?’ I understand it's another Monday night for you but your girlfriend lost her match this past weekend and you've got one coming up!”
“I'm finished.” Lord looks annoyed and drinks from his cup.
“You're finished?” Driver is unconvinced.
“All done. That's why I'm up here. Zero, he's a Lucha-whatever, right? A Mexican in a mask? So like you said in your report, he's good at like, dives and jumping n’shit.”
“My repor… what? I didn't say any of that. You didn't read it, did you? If you had you'd know that Zero is a submission specialist, the best one in RSW, he's no better than you at this jumping stuff. Hell, you're probably better at it than he is! You at least have that stomp you can do off the top. I think Zero has trouble getting off his feet to go to bed at night!”
Lord's eyes shift as he looks for an excuse.
“Oh, uh, I meant Wally. I'm training this for Wally Hobbs.”
Driver is incredulous. “Walter Hob… nooo, Walter Hobbs has no experience jumping without a brick wall front of him! This is ridiculous!”
By now Lord and Driver have synced their trampoline bounces, appearing on and off screen in opposite intervals, sometimes staying airborne for an impossibly long time in order to get out a sentence before gravity takes over again.
“You haven’t read a word of it, have you? Lord, this is a huge opportunity for you. You have the chance to end the show with your arms raised in victory and not passed out in your girlfriend’s blood! Do you know how you’re going to do that yet?”
Lord shrugs, the reference to last week’s final image still a sore spot for him. “Same way I won my first match: Superkick, bam!”
“You mean stumbling around like a trainwreck before getting lucky against an ex-con? Sure, you recover quicker than almost anyone I’ve ever seen - that helped you last week. Won’t help you if one of the other guys is getting pinned though.”
Lord nods thoughtfully as he sips from his drink mid-air.
“You won with a kick because it seems like you’ve got goddamn lead in your boots. You’ve got the heaviest hands this side of MMA.”
One bounce and Lord is looking for the lead in his shoe. The next and he's admiring his fist.
“For what it's worth, you've shown you can use the ring to your advantage. Keep doing that. Keep your composure, don't let double the opponents confuse you and for the love of God, DO NOT find yourself in a submission hold. If this happens you WILL tap out and you WILL lose.”
Lord is startled at how emphatically his Driver stresses this point.
“So what are you going to do on Thursday?”
“Stay smart. Hit hard. Keep em grounded. Keep it together. Avoid submissions.”
“You've almost got it!”
“Stay smart!”
Bounce.
“Hit hard!”
Bounce.
“Keep em grounded!”
Bounce.
“Keep it together!”
Bounce.
“Avoid submissions!”
Driver claps his hand on Lord's shoulder on his way by, a big smile on his face.
“Now beer me!”
A can of America flies through the air into Lord's hand midair to get cracked in celebration.
