Post by SoCal Society on Jul 10, 2012 21:30:33 GMT
The two boys of SoCal Society sit alone in their locker rooms. Moments ago, Darkside had challenged them to a match that was definitely in the favor of the two monsters. Neither Dallas Sampson or Jordan Sherill had spent any of their time researching weapons for wrestling and how to properly use them in their favor without inflicting any damage on themselves. All the time studying and training was spent on proper maneuvers and holds for wrestling. Now they were in a totally different world.
Big Dallas Sampson paced the room, a towel draped over his shoulders. His massive arms were crossed in front of his chest. A slight look of concern was painted on his face. Jordan Sherill on the other hand was completely at ease. He relaxed on the couch with his feet up on the arm rest and a bottle of water resting on his chest. He had a confident smile formed on his face. A quiet hummed tune escaped through his closed lips, which almost resembled the funeral song
"Hmm Hmm HmmHmm Hmm HmmHmm HmmHmm HmmHmmmmmmm". This broke Sampson's worried and reserved state. He looks to Jordy and blurts out.Big Dallas Sampson paced the room, a towel draped over his shoulders. His massive arms were crossed in front of his chest. A slight look of concern was painted on his face. Jordan Sherill on the other hand was completely at ease. He relaxed on the couch with his feet up on the arm rest and a bottle of water resting on his chest. He had a confident smile formed on his face. A quiet hummed tune escaped through his closed lips, which almost resembled the funeral song
Jordan! Bro! What the hell, why are you so calm!? And why the hell do you think THAT tune out of any possible song is appropriate?[/i]
Jordan shrugs his one shoulder and looks over to Sampson, the smile still on his face.
Cuz we're going to murder them in their own environment? It's a relief, bud. We beat them at their game, they can't do anything about ours.
Murder them? Jordan...[/i]
Sampson reaches out to his left hand and grabs a folding metal chair. He raises it up for his partner in crime to see.
Lemme ask you quick, man... How many times have you swung one of these? Never? Maybe once? They probably do this shit for fun in their locker rooms! I can totally picture Death and Nightmare getting chuckles out of tossing each other on thumb tacs, they're not right in the head![/i]
Doubt it.
Doubt it?[/i]
Yeah, I doubt it. It's all a game. We can beat 'em, and it'll be rad when we do. We're not nobodies. We might be new to I-dubz, but we're sure as hell not new to tag team action. Together we can beat 'em.
Sampson shakes his head and folds the chair into its seated form. He places it down and sits on it backwards. The back of the chair was pressed against his chest, one leg to each side. He looks at Sherill through narrow eyes.
Did you not catch the part where they said our "human brains"? Did you not fuckin' catch that! They're not human, Jordy! They're not fucking human![/i]
Gimmick?
Doubt it![/i]
Now it was Jordan's turn to question..
Doubt it?
Dallas Sampson brings a hand up to his chin. He takes a deep breath as he strokes the stubble on his jawline.
I mean, think about it. I laid him out with my best move. I got the pin. We celebrate for maybe 30 to 45 seconds and there they stand, completely back to normal. Not hurt and surely not impressed. That's not right. Any normal man would be too winded and out of breath having my weight land on them after that move. It's just not...possible.[/i]
Maybe that might be the case, but... regardless of the situation, we need to stick to being calm and confident. Confidence is key, and a nervous man is far from confident. So I say fuck it, let's chill, train, and then rap battle.
Out of nowhere Sampson stands up, tosses the chair to the side and approaches Jordan Sherill. He leans down over top of the little man. Eyes locked and roughly a foot away from his face.
No. No. No. N-O NO. We're not rap battling. We're grown men now, not teens at the beach having fun after a quick surf session...[/i] ...well technically it was me surfing and you eating ice cream, but who's to judge.. ...I'M TOO BIG TO SURF, I'M SORRY. I CAN'T HELP HOW TALL AND MUSCULAR I AM. GENETICS WERE NICE TO ME![/I] ...again, technically you're wrong... you've been going to the gym since you were like 12. Your muscular mass IS your fault.
Sampson shakes his head at being wrong. He steps back and retrieves his chair and sits on it again, this time the normal way to sit in a chair. As he does this Jordan Sherill sits up normally himself and begins head bobbing.
K, so beat box me an epic beat.
No.[/i]
Do it. Fast or slow, you know I'm a baller.
I'm not beat boxing. They can probably hear us right now or something.[/i]
Jordan shrugs.
Well then...
A CAPELLA!
He reaches out and grabs a Los Angeles Lakers snap back and places it on his head backwards. As he does this Sampson shakes his head and mouths "NOOO", but it was too late.
Yo, check it, check. Let's go.
Pin 'em for the one, two, three with their shoulders to the floor,
SoCal Society, we're the new kids at the door,
Rookies in the game, Vets don't know what we got in store,
The fans won't be the same after we got 'em to a roar,
Look at Darkside, oblivious to our ability,
Gunna always wanna fight us cuz their moves result in futility,
Sampson's got the power, Sherill complements with agility,
Teach those demonic fucks an open book lesson on humility,
They want a cheap advantage, they call for hardcore matches,
Weapons are involved? Cut 'em down with sharpened hatchets,
Then I'll cook them my signature move and serve it out in batches,
They've gone and fucked themselves over, they better watch out for dick rashes,
Speaking of dick rashes they've got a wanker addiction,
Bunch of circle jerkers, they're hit is self made friction,
These goonies gunna beat us? Darkside's read too much fiction,
They're only beating themselves, unwanted, rape conviction.
GET SOME!
Dallas looks on wide eyed. While it was all made up of clever little one liners and such, he was totally mortified. If Sherill even made it to Showdown then Sampson would be impressed. If Darkside was as powerful as they said they were, the two men were in trouble and all because Jordan Sherill couldn't keep his mouth closed.[/center]
