Scars and Stripes RP - Coldstone

[Deleted]

WFWF Press Conference, One Month Ago

Bobby Abadi: You’re a WFWF legend and you should be recognized as such!

A chiseled man along with an elderly butler stand there with their mouths agape. A bombshell was just dropped in their vicinity.

Bobby Abadi: We can even rebrand you as “The French Tickler”

He holds his hands up and shoulder length apart. Apparently summoning a marquee?

Bobby Abadi: And…and…you could have a bunch of hot girls accompany you to the ring! Think of it! Gabrielle, Juliette, Belle, and Vivienne! You could wrestle in long, pinstripe pants and dress shoes. A big, gold chain and sunglasses.

The two men give each other a look before looking at the madman in front of them.

Bobby Abadi: Wrestling fans are like toddlers! You jiggle something really cool and shiny in front of them and they’ll go ape for it!

Go ape? Is that even an expression?

Bobby Abadi: What’cha think, Napoleon??

The several time world champion can’t believe it.

The company is investing money into him.

For the first time in what feels like an eternity, Napoleon’s presentation is serious, a representation of his true self: a French ladies’ man with great muscles. It is said that in wrestling, the most memorable wrestlers are themselves amplified to 10.

Napoleon, for many years has been himself at a 4.

But now…the WFWF will see the true Napoleon.

Napoleon Weisgarber: I LOVE IT!

Bobby Abadi: Yay! That’s great! Let me pitch this idea to the marketing team as we already have plans for your big entrance. It involves a louvre model. It’s all around great!

The new WFWF owner abruptly flees from the room leaving the two royal descendants to their alone before turning  around.

Bobby Abadi: Oh! I almost forgot! You – Napoleon, are in the Rumble! You’re welcome!

Napoleon and Sanford stand there with their mouths agape again. They give each other a look before turning to face the door that’s just been closed.

Napoleon then passes out.

Sanford Quarternickel: Sir? Are you alright?

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Local Starbucks, Two Weeks Ago

Random Starbucks Patron: Excuse me.

The patron with his vente passion tea bumps shoulders with an elder man, dressed in a tuxedo on a hot summer day as he exits the establishment. The nerve of him!

Sanford Quarternickel: Good day sir, I would like to order two grande mocha chocolate frappuccinos.

Starbucks employee, Mike: Anything else with that?

Sanford Quarternickel: Hold the mocha, please.

As It Was by Harry Styles starts playing. A chiseled man takes a seat in an empty booth by a window. His purple plaid shirt is buttoned up except for the top one which shows off his bulging neck muscles. His white shorts blind everyone in his general vicinity and his white dockers only complements the outfit. This man is Napoleon Weisgarber and he is still relieving that fateful meeting with Bobby Abadi what seems like forever ago now.

Napoleon Weisgarber will be participating in the Rumble, for the first time in his career.

That is a big deal.

This calls for a celebration.

Sanford Quarternickel: Here you go, sir.

Sanford says, placing the two grande cups on the table. One has Sanford’s name beautifully written on it while the other is for a “Napleon”. The several time world champion takes a snip of the cold beverage, causing him to smile like a kid on Christmas.

Napoleon Weisgarber: You know what, San? Life is good. I'm going to be in the rumble. Management is finally investing in me....

Another sip as the sun glistens off Napoleon’s fair skin.

Sanford Quarternickel: I told you, sir. Things always have a way of working out.

Napoleon Weisgarber: I know. You’re a lot of things to me, San. A father figure. A mentor. A trainer. A sage.

The comment makes the old man smile.

Napoleon Weisgarber: I know I haven’t always listened to your advice but you’re always right. I’m confident that in due time, we will be able to save the estate from foreclosure.

Sanford Quarternickel: We will, sir. Use the development with Sir Abadi today to get back on the right course. The Rumble will be a great spotlight for you, sir.

Napoleon Weisgarber: That’s right.

Sanford Quarternickel: You looked good in defeat, sir and that is what impressed Sir Abadi.

Napoleon Weisgarber: Now everyone will see the real Napoleon. The gold glover boxer. The several time world champion.

Sanford Quarternickel: That’s right, sir.

The two men of royalty take a sip of the chocolate frappuccinos in unison then suddenly, a mob of people storm the building, wearing matching black shirts and camo pants. The leader of the mob, a heavy-set man with brown swept back hair, a gentleman’s mustache and Clark Kent glasses raises the megaphone above his head before bringing it to his mouth.

Vegan mob leader: Hello, my name is Willie Fig Rufus and I will be supergluing my hand to this counter as an act of protest towards Starbucks charging extra for plant-based dairy!”

Many of the patrons enjoying their overpriced beverages either take out their phones and start recording the incident, pay no attention to the noise or watch on with confusion.

Napoleon and Sanford do the latter.

Willie Fig Rufus: Starbucks is contributing to the exploitation of animals and the corroding of our environment!

Vegan mob: End the vegan upcharge! End the vegan upcharge!

They surround their leader as they hoist signs that read the mantra. The staff behind the counter don’t know what to do as they exchange verbalities with the group of protesters.

Willie Fig Rufus: I am lactose intolerant! Why must I be charged an extra dollar for something that is a condition?

Vegan mob: End the vegan upcharge! End the vegan upcharge!

Willie Fig Rufus: When will animals and the environment mean more than turning a profit?

Vegan choir: ALL MUST BE PREVENTED OR DESTROYED FOR THE WILD LANDS TO SUSTAIN! FIGHTING TO SAVE THE ANIMALS. THEIR FREEDOM IS OUR PEACE FOR THEIR HABITATS! PRESERVATION, FOR THE VIOLENCE AGAINST THEM TO CEASE! EARTH LIBERATION THROUGH ECODEFENSE. TO HALT THE INSANITY OF THE YELLOW DEATH MACHINES ADVANCE!

The harsh singing of the mob causes some of the patrons to make their exit.

Something within Napoleon causes his body to winch. His head shakes and his hands start to tremble. Sanford notices.

Sanford Quarternickel: Sir?

The music is suddenly muted. All that Napoleon hears is a faint ringing noise. The chanting of the protestors is dulled, their lips are moving but nothing is heard. A shiver is sent down Napoleon’s spine which causes his body to jolt.

Then, the music is heard again. The protestors are still chanting.

Sanford Quarternickel: Sir?

Napoleon Weisgarber: Yeah…sorry about that. Brain freeze.

By now, the shift manger has come out from behind the counter, attempting to deescalate the protest but Willie Fig Rufus is still glued onto the counter.

Napoleon Weisgarber: Let’s get out of here, San.

The men of exquisite taste grabs their grandes and head out the back door.

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Asteroid.

The dictionary defines it as performance enhancing drugs that causes abnormal muscle growth when used in moderation.

Wait.

That’s not right.

I mean, an ASTEROID.

Asteroids are small, rocky objects that orbit the Sun, per its literal definition. Asteroids are usually made of rocks and metals, two of the hardest elements in all of the periodic table.

Asteroids are also reportedly very small.

Some would equate my career to one of an asteroid: this big mass of man made of hard rock abs and metal plates in his legs and upon impact, nothing but specks of dust were the result.

A bloodline that goes back to The French Revolution and all that came of that was dust.

That is unacceptable.

I come from royalty. I am 56.4% related to the great Napoleon Bonaparte. That should mean something!

Once upon a time, there was a Don. This Don rose to the top of his kingdom and ruled said kingdom with an iron fist. Or in this case, a Gold Glove. And after a period of time, this Don used the fame and fortune that he had acquired over the years to live a lavish yet reckless life. So reckless that the home that has been passed down from generation to generation to generation to generation was foreclosed on, losing everything near and dear to him in the process.

Plagued with guilt and a severe case of inferiority complex, Don went into hiding, sheltering himself from the world that had turned its back on him while his legacy and image was run into the muddied ground. Most men would’ve given up.

But I am no mere man.

I am the Don from the Hexagon.

I am The Frenchy Fuqua.

I am the Count of the industry.

I am The French Tickler.

I am Napoleon Weisgarber.

[Swarm]

I think this RP really touched at one of the more serious issues of our time; How absurdly high Starbucks prices are getting. Interesting the intrusion caused him to have something of an episode; I can only surmise this is leading to the reveal that Napoleon is living in a reality, the very reality the whole of WFWF exists within, that is a fabrication like in Total Recall. In that sense, metaphorically, Napoleon Weisgarber becomes analogous to Quaid aka Arnold Schwarzenegger's character. How interesting that Napoleon is presented an offer to escape what Napoleon deems a false state of being IE not being focused on despite his noble heritage, much in the way Quaid is offered the same chance to escape what he is told is a false reality. In the film, Quaid rejects this and instead kills Dr. Edgemere, determining him to be lying about the effects of the red pill. I wonder if, subtextually, we are to see Bobby Abadi as an analog to Dr. Edgemere and if this newfound focus on the "French Tickler" is, instead, a facade, much like the facade of the Louvre that Napoleon has been so enamored with. In it, he sees himself but it is not truly him, is it? Only an inverted reflection, a recollection of his visage. A total recall.

[sonstuds]

lol I see what you did there.