Post by anthonyksavage on Oct 29, 2021 15:12:20 GMT -5
“Hey, why not have this shit happen? Whole week’s been a cluster-fuck anyways!”
To say their scheme to hijack the ship was an utter disaster was an understatement. Shouldn’t be a surprise to anybody; get a gang of whack job graps of cashers plotting some Ocean’s Eleven bullshit, this thing wasn’t going to go down like SEAL Team 6 taking out Bin Laden. What really disappointed Tony, though, was that he used to do shit like this for a living. Then again, as he looked at his copy of the ships’ blueprints…
“Fucking hell; my dumb ass always getting port and starboard backwards. Heh, guess that’s why I joined the Army instead of the Navy.”
10 minutes early, on the wrong side of the ship…
“Tony, don’t you think that’s a little TOO much C4 you’re planting?”Tony’s stalwart lens jockey, UGWC’s Action Camera Rick had to inquire because it seemed like Tony was getting nutty with shape charges, planting them like they were birthday candles.
“Rick, how many breaches into secure areas have you pulled off in your life, huh? I mean, for fuck’s sake, you used to work at Disney as the guy in the Goofy costume. You’re not exactly Spec Ops material.”
“Tony, dude, I’m trying to tell you, I used to work...”
But Tony brushed him off. Tony’s part of this “brilliant” scheme to hijack this tugboat Die Hard 2 style was to breach the engine room after Bert, aka, WORLD’S ANGRIEST STONER, got the engineering crew nice and smoked out. Bruce would hack the the Wi-Fi and radio feeds, cutting off communications from security and crew. Atara was going to seduce the captain because, well, it’s Atara. Pretty much all her plans involve sex and gold-digging (she really jumped into her role when she found out the captain had his own yacht!)Sebastian would…well…
Technically, Seb was supposed to secure the bridge after Atty gave El Capitain some Love Boat action. Mainly though, they had him on the milk run detail because Seb quote ”didn’t want to get his new boat shoes dirty!” (which is weird; now the motherfucker's dressed like the Captain Morgan bottle with his dodgy prop flintlock pistols.) Oh, he also nearly blew apart half the ship trying to text Tony on the burner phone he was using to set off the charges instead of his actual phone. Yeah, in the grand scheme of things, Seb was the Charlie in this muscle-bound episode of “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia!”
Which, I guess, makes Tony Dennis…eek...
Anyways Tony breaks out the Wal-Mart throwaway mobile phone used to text the phone serving as a detonator and punches in the numbers. Rick was still being a whiny butt, trying to distract him with his “concerns”!
“Man, y’all going overboard, especially you, Captain American-expat! You straight-up knocked out 7 guards and a busboy…”
“I thought he was packing heat in his bus cart; why you think I left an extra fat tip in his shirt pocket for that faux par?”
“You made us repel down to this deck despite several perfectly good elevators and stairwells being available, and forgive me, I’ve never blown up anything in my life besides bottle rockets, but I still think you’re using…”
But Tony drags him away from the blast zone and makes him take cover. Tony yells out with glee: “FIRE IN THE HOLE!” before he hits send and texts the signal to the detonator. The charges pop off in sequence one after the other, and the floor drops down into the lower deck, providing an opening into the “engine room.”
Tony had an orgasmic look on his face after blasting the floor, not unlike Michael Bay gets on set.
“Yeah Let’s go, buddy! MOVE, MOVE, MOVE!”
Turns out Rick was right; Tony DID put too many birthday candles on that cake and ruined the party. As the duo charged to the breach opening, more sections of the floor gave way, violently creaking under their feet before they plummeted 2 floors down….
Right into the spot we began this story; stuck in the kitchen’s walk-in cooler, and the staff was on their mandatory lunch break. So no-one was around to hear Rick pounding on the door screaming for help, or Tony screaming for another reason.
“*looking at his broken watch* I can deal with being singed and having a grade 2 concussion from falling down two floors. It’s pretty much standard operating procedure for me 8-14 days a month. BUT I BROKE MY FUCKING HUBLOT WATCH DOING THIS BULLSHIT!”
He was crestfallen over the damage to his timepiece:"Should’ve worn the Rolex for this job.” snorting and wiping dust off his tactical gear. Rick was freezing in this icebox and stared at him with an incredulous scowl. “Tried to tell you, I worked as Goofy on a DISNEY….CRUISE….SHIP…for 2 years! They pretty much FORCED me to memorize nautical terminology and procedure.”
“You didn’t bother to tell me this earlier?” Tony didn’t look up from his phone, trying to get reception in the cooler, eating olives out of a jar he cracked open. Rick was fuming….
“You fucking jackass! You know how much trouble we’re gonna be in?”
“Depends on how many of those favors I can call in. Ranges wildly from a laugh and a slap on the wrist fine, or a stretch in some fucked up Caribbean prison, the kind they do documentaries about on National Geographic that involve mass-murdering guards and getting punked out for cigarettes while they delay your appeal yet again.”
“Oh, God!” Rick squealed in fear, grabbing his asthma inhaler and giving himself a dose. “I don’t wanna get spit-roasted for knockoff Marlboro’s!”
“Relax, Morty!” Tony just scoffed, snarling because he couldn’t get any reception whatsoever. “It’s a wrestling event. Seems like when felony grade activities happen and there’s a PPV poster involved, shit seems to magically get swept under the rug,until it’s needed for somebody to trash you in a promo!”
Rick’s face went from slightly hypothermia induced purple to lava red, His eyes bulged and his teeth were grinding in rage.
“How the fuck are you so goddamn calm, man?! Seriously! You and those other dipshits just committed a gang of crimes. The company you used to help operate took a shit on itself and everybody that believed in them, left YOU holding the bag! You’ve got a championship match at UGWC involving a squad of Devil’s Rejects cosplaying psychopaths lurking around merc’ing people every week….”
The steam from Rick’s breath as he griped at Tony looked like cigarette smoke, and Rick was rubbing his frozen hands. “And right now, we’re out in the middle of the fucking sea on a Carnival Cruise from Hell doing a charity event that…”
“A. Isn’t paying you a FUCKING cent!
B.Means nothing in any championship rankings nor your actual career record, and…
C.Is completely pulling you from the real work you should be doing!
“So, why, Tony…what the FUCK is in it for you to be in this damn shit show? HUH?!”
That last boost of bass in Rick’s voice had Tony snarl at him. Rick, wisely realizing despite being a jackass, tony was also a straight-up trained killer and Rick’s martial training began and ended at playing Tekken, back up a bit. Tony didn’t say anything for a minute. Then, he offered Rick some olives and said…
“Like you said. I get nothing. Absolutely nothing out of this. And that was the whole point of me joining this cruise. Sometimes, you just gotta do shit because it’s the right thing to do.”
“Have a seat.” Tony directed Rick to cop a squat on a pickle bucket. Tony cut and lit a cigar he had stashed in one of his vest pockets. “Let’s face it; wrestling is shit, and the people that do it for a living can be shitty people. Take it from somebody that has his issues, we’re a fucked up breed.”
“A bunch of socially dysfunctional, violent, self-absorbed narcissists inflicting the worst kinds of physical, mental, and emotional trauma on each other for shiny belts and money, yet we get catty when somebody drops our name in a tweet we don’t like. Many of us a former or current addicts or just party too fucking much. We cause drama, detonate relationships, and do some of the most ignorant crap in front of a viewing audience…”
“Shit!” Tony chuckled grimly. “This week, I’m the guy that did the books for the biggest shitpile company arguably in pro wrestling history after it dropped a single god-awful YouTube video. I’m pretty much on Donkey of The Month status! Although seeing Raven get screwed out of a title shot he himself stole…heeeheeheee…that appeases my inner petty gods!”
“Worst part is…” Tony put himself back on track. “We all get paid pretty damn well to be like this as long as we can win matches and sell merch, who really gives a shit, right? We’re questionable people living a life some can argue is too good for us. So, every once in awhile, it’s not a bad idea to do something that DOESN’T involve us and what we want. ”
Tony offered Rick a puff, but he declined. The camera jockey’s mood softened, but his fingers felt like rocks he tucked under his armpits as he listened.
“Some of the people signed on to this gig want or need to get their publicity up. Right now, for good or bad, I really don’t need any more press. I don’t have any beefs with anybody I’m facing on the card, or even much history with them. No money’s going into my pocket; in fact,” He looks up at the gaping, smoldering hole he left behind and grimaced. “This’ll probably cost me a grip. I get nothing out of this because…”
“Dur…it IS for charity! It is for people actually do need it. People who need assistance and treatment. Organizations that are doing something for others besides televising asinine behavior, violence, and bad wardrobes. Fighting diseases, disabilities, inequalities, human trafficking…”
“Yeah, sounds a bit corny, but it doesn’t always have to be about us every day in the sport. Not about settling beef or moving in rank or on a Denzel Porter list. Hell, kind of feels nice getting out of my own way on this one. Don’t get me wrong; we get on that deck to throw down on the 1st, motherfuckers are gonna be reminded why I’m one of the best pound for pound in the game, backed with a whole crew of killers with me. We’re going to take this contest, but…
”Doing something right now that doesn’t give me any benefit; it might as well be the thing I needed right now to keep my head on a swivel.”
Rick had only been working for Tony for a few months, but he had never seen him this, well, humble at any point during their tenure. The last coupe of weeks, despite his hot streak in the ring,, were brutal for him. It was obvious he was still digesting events transpiring around him. He didn’t leave his suite much, only to use the gym and eat. When Rick did see him, he was either on his phone dealing with yet another pissed off, bewildered survivor of that debacle, or on his laptop sifting through fie upon file of legal paperwork and composing emails recommending former talent to new employers.
He’d watched well-laid plans go to shit, and it irked him. His mind wasn’t quite aligned right. Maybe that’s why he agreed to partake in this dumbassed venture with a quartet that was just as unhinged as he was.Why not do something dumb and fun to blow off stress?
Wrestlers blowing off steam, as we all know, always seem to get themselves in a world of trouble.
Tony saw no way up the hole without a rope or ladder, but, the radios were starting to work again. Both Tony and Rick were giddy; they were both getting real cold, and Tony was starting to get heartburn from munching too many Greek olives. He check the channels for activity, and began to immediately regret it.
Bruce’s channel: “AHGAWD! FUCK! FUCK ME WITH THAT BIG DICK! FUUUUCK!!…*static* bloody fuck; sorry..still getting goddamned PornHub on here! Gimmie a moment…*crash* never mind, security’s here…*feed cuts off*
Bert’s Channel: “Get your goddamn hands off me! 3 pounds of NOT A DRUG you’re trying to throw a case at me for! I’ll have your jobs for this!! And you cabana boy motherfucking guards need to get some pants! Way too much thotting in those yacht club booty shorts…*static*
Atty: “Roughly translated” BEST SWIMMER IN HIGH SCHOOL, BISHES! *splash* *static*
Seb: “Y’AAAAR! Feel the wrath of Captain Sebastian Bloodbath! Trust Fund Scourge of the Seven Seas!! The Royal Navy Dogs will NEVER catch…oh, shit, gotta go, they’re about to catch me…*static*
Rick just shook his head after Tony turned off the radio. “Please tell me your lawyers are that good.”
The clicking of the lock on the outside of the freezer/cooler door let the squad know security was coming to escort them, and not back to their rooms. Tony just grinned and put out his cigar. “I do, too, Rick. Otherwise, I’m just dropping money on a real nice prison cell.”
Security came in, and both men were cuffed and pulled out of the cooler. Tony was grinning as they did the perp walk to the holding area. He hadn’t smiled in a while.
It didn’t matter. He’d find a way out of this.
Despite their combined silliness and apparent ineptitude of their mission planning,Tony knew he had a squad that could carry them to victory against any team in the sport. But, this match didn’t matter for reasons one thought.
For others, it was business as usual; boasting, airing out past misdeeds or accomplishments, making statements, getting noticed by a company or potential sponsor. That was fine by him; his focus was set on one thing and one thing only…
One of the best fighters in the sport was going out there to duke it out for something that meant more than trophies and clout. Didn’t matter against who; it was for the why. To help some folks who needed it more than himself. It was a solid reminder that right now, as bad as things were for him, there were plenty of others in way worse shape than him.
The crab legs the kitchen served up weren’t too bad either. Committing borderline acts of terrorism and piracy sure worked up an appetite on Savage. As they locked the cell door behind him, Tony and his growling stomach just had to ask…
“Hey, lemme get a plate of crab legs for dinner before lights out. Nah, make it two. With that cheese bread. And extra garlic butter.”
*smirking* “Can’t have crab legs without that butter!”
To say their scheme to hijack the ship was an utter disaster was an understatement. Shouldn’t be a surprise to anybody; get a gang of whack job graps of cashers plotting some Ocean’s Eleven bullshit, this thing wasn’t going to go down like SEAL Team 6 taking out Bin Laden. What really disappointed Tony, though, was that he used to do shit like this for a living. Then again, as he looked at his copy of the ships’ blueprints…
“Fucking hell; my dumb ass always getting port and starboard backwards. Heh, guess that’s why I joined the Army instead of the Navy.”
10 minutes early, on the wrong side of the ship…
“Tony, don’t you think that’s a little TOO much C4 you’re planting?”Tony’s stalwart lens jockey, UGWC’s Action Camera Rick had to inquire because it seemed like Tony was getting nutty with shape charges, planting them like they were birthday candles.
“Rick, how many breaches into secure areas have you pulled off in your life, huh? I mean, for fuck’s sake, you used to work at Disney as the guy in the Goofy costume. You’re not exactly Spec Ops material.”
“Tony, dude, I’m trying to tell you, I used to work...”
But Tony brushed him off. Tony’s part of this “brilliant” scheme to hijack this tugboat Die Hard 2 style was to breach the engine room after Bert, aka, WORLD’S ANGRIEST STONER, got the engineering crew nice and smoked out. Bruce would hack the the Wi-Fi and radio feeds, cutting off communications from security and crew. Atara was going to seduce the captain because, well, it’s Atara. Pretty much all her plans involve sex and gold-digging (she really jumped into her role when she found out the captain had his own yacht!)Sebastian would…well…
Technically, Seb was supposed to secure the bridge after Atty gave El Capitain some Love Boat action. Mainly though, they had him on the milk run detail because Seb quote ”didn’t want to get his new boat shoes dirty!” (which is weird; now the motherfucker's dressed like the Captain Morgan bottle with his dodgy prop flintlock pistols.) Oh, he also nearly blew apart half the ship trying to text Tony on the burner phone he was using to set off the charges instead of his actual phone. Yeah, in the grand scheme of things, Seb was the Charlie in this muscle-bound episode of “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia!”
Which, I guess, makes Tony Dennis…eek...
Anyways Tony breaks out the Wal-Mart throwaway mobile phone used to text the phone serving as a detonator and punches in the numbers. Rick was still being a whiny butt, trying to distract him with his “concerns”!
“Man, y’all going overboard, especially you, Captain American-expat! You straight-up knocked out 7 guards and a busboy…”
“I thought he was packing heat in his bus cart; why you think I left an extra fat tip in his shirt pocket for that faux par?”
“You made us repel down to this deck despite several perfectly good elevators and stairwells being available, and forgive me, I’ve never blown up anything in my life besides bottle rockets, but I still think you’re using…”
But Tony drags him away from the blast zone and makes him take cover. Tony yells out with glee: “FIRE IN THE HOLE!” before he hits send and texts the signal to the detonator. The charges pop off in sequence one after the other, and the floor drops down into the lower deck, providing an opening into the “engine room.”
Tony had an orgasmic look on his face after blasting the floor, not unlike Michael Bay gets on set.
“Yeah Let’s go, buddy! MOVE, MOVE, MOVE!”
Turns out Rick was right; Tony DID put too many birthday candles on that cake and ruined the party. As the duo charged to the breach opening, more sections of the floor gave way, violently creaking under their feet before they plummeted 2 floors down….
Right into the spot we began this story; stuck in the kitchen’s walk-in cooler, and the staff was on their mandatory lunch break. So no-one was around to hear Rick pounding on the door screaming for help, or Tony screaming for another reason.
“*looking at his broken watch* I can deal with being singed and having a grade 2 concussion from falling down two floors. It’s pretty much standard operating procedure for me 8-14 days a month. BUT I BROKE MY FUCKING HUBLOT WATCH DOING THIS BULLSHIT!”
He was crestfallen over the damage to his timepiece:"Should’ve worn the Rolex for this job.” snorting and wiping dust off his tactical gear. Rick was freezing in this icebox and stared at him with an incredulous scowl. “Tried to tell you, I worked as Goofy on a DISNEY….CRUISE….SHIP…for 2 years! They pretty much FORCED me to memorize nautical terminology and procedure.”
“You didn’t bother to tell me this earlier?” Tony didn’t look up from his phone, trying to get reception in the cooler, eating olives out of a jar he cracked open. Rick was fuming….
“You fucking jackass! You know how much trouble we’re gonna be in?”
“Depends on how many of those favors I can call in. Ranges wildly from a laugh and a slap on the wrist fine, or a stretch in some fucked up Caribbean prison, the kind they do documentaries about on National Geographic that involve mass-murdering guards and getting punked out for cigarettes while they delay your appeal yet again.”
“Oh, God!” Rick squealed in fear, grabbing his asthma inhaler and giving himself a dose. “I don’t wanna get spit-roasted for knockoff Marlboro’s!”
“Relax, Morty!” Tony just scoffed, snarling because he couldn’t get any reception whatsoever. “It’s a wrestling event. Seems like when felony grade activities happen and there’s a PPV poster involved, shit seems to magically get swept under the rug,until it’s needed for somebody to trash you in a promo!”
Rick’s face went from slightly hypothermia induced purple to lava red, His eyes bulged and his teeth were grinding in rage.
“How the fuck are you so goddamn calm, man?! Seriously! You and those other dipshits just committed a gang of crimes. The company you used to help operate took a shit on itself and everybody that believed in them, left YOU holding the bag! You’ve got a championship match at UGWC involving a squad of Devil’s Rejects cosplaying psychopaths lurking around merc’ing people every week….”
The steam from Rick’s breath as he griped at Tony looked like cigarette smoke, and Rick was rubbing his frozen hands. “And right now, we’re out in the middle of the fucking sea on a Carnival Cruise from Hell doing a charity event that…”
“A. Isn’t paying you a FUCKING cent!
B.Means nothing in any championship rankings nor your actual career record, and…
C.Is completely pulling you from the real work you should be doing!
“So, why, Tony…what the FUCK is in it for you to be in this damn shit show? HUH?!”
That last boost of bass in Rick’s voice had Tony snarl at him. Rick, wisely realizing despite being a jackass, tony was also a straight-up trained killer and Rick’s martial training began and ended at playing Tekken, back up a bit. Tony didn’t say anything for a minute. Then, he offered Rick some olives and said…
“Like you said. I get nothing. Absolutely nothing out of this. And that was the whole point of me joining this cruise. Sometimes, you just gotta do shit because it’s the right thing to do.”
“Have a seat.” Tony directed Rick to cop a squat on a pickle bucket. Tony cut and lit a cigar he had stashed in one of his vest pockets. “Let’s face it; wrestling is shit, and the people that do it for a living can be shitty people. Take it from somebody that has his issues, we’re a fucked up breed.”
“A bunch of socially dysfunctional, violent, self-absorbed narcissists inflicting the worst kinds of physical, mental, and emotional trauma on each other for shiny belts and money, yet we get catty when somebody drops our name in a tweet we don’t like. Many of us a former or current addicts or just party too fucking much. We cause drama, detonate relationships, and do some of the most ignorant crap in front of a viewing audience…”
“Shit!” Tony chuckled grimly. “This week, I’m the guy that did the books for the biggest shitpile company arguably in pro wrestling history after it dropped a single god-awful YouTube video. I’m pretty much on Donkey of The Month status! Although seeing Raven get screwed out of a title shot he himself stole…heeeheeheee…that appeases my inner petty gods!”
“Worst part is…” Tony put himself back on track. “We all get paid pretty damn well to be like this as long as we can win matches and sell merch, who really gives a shit, right? We’re questionable people living a life some can argue is too good for us. So, every once in awhile, it’s not a bad idea to do something that DOESN’T involve us and what we want. ”
Tony offered Rick a puff, but he declined. The camera jockey’s mood softened, but his fingers felt like rocks he tucked under his armpits as he listened.
“Some of the people signed on to this gig want or need to get their publicity up. Right now, for good or bad, I really don’t need any more press. I don’t have any beefs with anybody I’m facing on the card, or even much history with them. No money’s going into my pocket; in fact,” He looks up at the gaping, smoldering hole he left behind and grimaced. “This’ll probably cost me a grip. I get nothing out of this because…”
“Dur…it IS for charity! It is for people actually do need it. People who need assistance and treatment. Organizations that are doing something for others besides televising asinine behavior, violence, and bad wardrobes. Fighting diseases, disabilities, inequalities, human trafficking…”
“Yeah, sounds a bit corny, but it doesn’t always have to be about us every day in the sport. Not about settling beef or moving in rank or on a Denzel Porter list. Hell, kind of feels nice getting out of my own way on this one. Don’t get me wrong; we get on that deck to throw down on the 1st, motherfuckers are gonna be reminded why I’m one of the best pound for pound in the game, backed with a whole crew of killers with me. We’re going to take this contest, but…
”Doing something right now that doesn’t give me any benefit; it might as well be the thing I needed right now to keep my head on a swivel.”
Rick had only been working for Tony for a few months, but he had never seen him this, well, humble at any point during their tenure. The last coupe of weeks, despite his hot streak in the ring,, were brutal for him. It was obvious he was still digesting events transpiring around him. He didn’t leave his suite much, only to use the gym and eat. When Rick did see him, he was either on his phone dealing with yet another pissed off, bewildered survivor of that debacle, or on his laptop sifting through fie upon file of legal paperwork and composing emails recommending former talent to new employers.
He’d watched well-laid plans go to shit, and it irked him. His mind wasn’t quite aligned right. Maybe that’s why he agreed to partake in this dumbassed venture with a quartet that was just as unhinged as he was.Why not do something dumb and fun to blow off stress?
Wrestlers blowing off steam, as we all know, always seem to get themselves in a world of trouble.
Tony saw no way up the hole without a rope or ladder, but, the radios were starting to work again. Both Tony and Rick were giddy; they were both getting real cold, and Tony was starting to get heartburn from munching too many Greek olives. He check the channels for activity, and began to immediately regret it.
Bruce’s channel: “AHGAWD! FUCK! FUCK ME WITH THAT BIG DICK! FUUUUCK!!…*static* bloody fuck; sorry..still getting goddamned PornHub on here! Gimmie a moment…*crash* never mind, security’s here…*feed cuts off*
Bert’s Channel: “Get your goddamn hands off me! 3 pounds of NOT A DRUG you’re trying to throw a case at me for! I’ll have your jobs for this!! And you cabana boy motherfucking guards need to get some pants! Way too much thotting in those yacht club booty shorts…*static*
Atty: “Roughly translated” BEST SWIMMER IN HIGH SCHOOL, BISHES! *splash* *static*
Seb: “Y’AAAAR! Feel the wrath of Captain Sebastian Bloodbath! Trust Fund Scourge of the Seven Seas!! The Royal Navy Dogs will NEVER catch…oh, shit, gotta go, they’re about to catch me…*static*
Rick just shook his head after Tony turned off the radio. “Please tell me your lawyers are that good.”
The clicking of the lock on the outside of the freezer/cooler door let the squad know security was coming to escort them, and not back to their rooms. Tony just grinned and put out his cigar. “I do, too, Rick. Otherwise, I’m just dropping money on a real nice prison cell.”
Security came in, and both men were cuffed and pulled out of the cooler. Tony was grinning as they did the perp walk to the holding area. He hadn’t smiled in a while.
It didn’t matter. He’d find a way out of this.
Despite their combined silliness and apparent ineptitude of their mission planning,Tony knew he had a squad that could carry them to victory against any team in the sport. But, this match didn’t matter for reasons one thought.
For others, it was business as usual; boasting, airing out past misdeeds or accomplishments, making statements, getting noticed by a company or potential sponsor. That was fine by him; his focus was set on one thing and one thing only…
One of the best fighters in the sport was going out there to duke it out for something that meant more than trophies and clout. Didn’t matter against who; it was for the why. To help some folks who needed it more than himself. It was a solid reminder that right now, as bad as things were for him, there were plenty of others in way worse shape than him.
The crab legs the kitchen served up weren’t too bad either. Committing borderline acts of terrorism and piracy sure worked up an appetite on Savage. As they locked the cell door behind him, Tony and his growling stomach just had to ask…
“Hey, lemme get a plate of crab legs for dinner before lights out. Nah, make it two. With that cheese bread. And extra garlic butter.”
*smirking* “Can’t have crab legs without that butter!”
