(O.O.C. this is modded from an old rp just to intro myself and isnt coded so apologies if its difficult to read)
It’s a cold grim day in Northampton. Johnny walks past the 9 a.m. drunks hanging outside on the square, their cans of Super T already nearly drained. The kids they should be looking after are running around in glass and dog$hit at a nearby park.
The roar of Brown’s faithful Triumph draws their attention for a minute, a few of the younger who still remember when they had dreams stare at the embodiment of Cool Britannia and nod, he exudes the coolness they wished they had before alcoholism took them.
A pigeon drops down to snag a dropped crumb and the moment is lost.
After picking up a local rag and national tabloid Johnny is back amid the Tennents Zombies. His size and demeanour stops anyone from blocking his path, even when he purposely walks through the middle of the horde. With the locals behind him the True Brit finds a isolated bench, he sits on the back of it, firmly planting his 18 holes; once made in this very town on the seat giving him a good vantage point and upper ground, just in case he needs it.
He scans through the Chron’ as the locals call it. It seems a death at the local club is big news, Brown has visited the club many times while in town to visit the traveller camps nearby, he didn’t like it. Full of posing idiots, much like every wrestling fed he’s been in, the similarities don’t end there as Johnny has beaten the crap out of people in both places.
If ya raise yer fists ta the True Brit blood will be shed, people get hurt..
Me?
I’ll live. I’m not one to ask for help, normally it’s a sign of weakness. Yet sometimes it’s the only option. In a land of cliques, backstage politics and gang attacks it wont hurt to have someone to watch my back. But who?
Should I rustle up my own army mindless drones to use as cannon fodder when the big dogs look my way? There’s a few over in the square that’ll do it for a six pack and a kebab, don’t think they’ll be much cop in the ring tho’.
My fellow Brit could be a possibility?! We’re like chalk an’ cheese tho..
Aw eff it, I’ve survive this long not having anyone ta hold me hand; I’ve fought me way outta the womb and aint stopped since.
Who knows where this crazy arse road called life is gonna take me. Who’da thought after the start I had in wrestling that I would be joining a place like Sin City Wrestling. I always though when I crossed the pond I’d walk inta a world class company, not some glorified strip club filled with so-so talent.
There I go again, more trash talk; I can’t help it, maybe I need ta go to rehab. Do they have a trash talkers anonymous? Ta be fair I don’t really know any of the talent here, I like surprises.
The former APW Tap-Out champ stands on the belt, he lifts his arms out horizontal to his body and bellows across the heath.
My name is Johnny and I’m a trash talker!
The Northamptonian drunkards look up in disbelief, they nudge each other, a couple braver (drunker?) ones “hard-man” step towards the Megastar, who simply motions bring it. Luckily the more sober of the clan hold there friends back. Lucky for them that is.
Ha ha; come on boys, I lost to the f*cking Seagulls you boys can take me. COME ON!!!
What are you lot in the crack flats looking at! Come down here DO SOMETHING!
*Whooop *
The all too familiar sound of sirens echo across the Medical centre’s car park just off the heath.
Aww f*** not again, hello officer.
Damn Officer Steve Jones… Well I’ll be damned you still working? I’d thought they’d retired you by now. How is your cholesterol these days?
Officer Steve Jones subconsciously taps his expanding mid-rift. It’s been a few years since he’s seen Johnny and he has to admit to himself he’s put on a few pounds. He chuckles he lets out as he catches himself rubbing his beer and burger belly shows it.
Well hello there bigshot, so finally you’ve come back to your roots. I never thought I’d see you back on the heath. It’s been so long people are calling you an urban myth.
Johnny pinches himself to prove he is real before answering.
I’m definitely here, don’t these guy watch SCW? I’m top dog there.
Top dog? Really Johnny? My kid watches the show on the internet, he told me you got signed, hardly shout it from the roof tops did they. So have ya come back to see Billy and Lyn or just to visit the boxing club, it’s still standing just about.
Brown bristles, with all the CCTV pointed at him there’s no way he can get away with smacking a cop in England. No lawyer is going to get charges dropped with video footage. Especially against a cop with whom he shares so much history.
Ya know me PC Jones, I might drop in the clubhouse to show everyone how to really box. I think ill give Billy a miss, I don’t have time for a three day drinking binge or the subsequent jail time. I’m surprised that you’re suggesting I do, aren’t you supposed to help prevent crime?
Smiles fade fast, PC Jones leans in looking to put a supportive arm around Johnny but gets shrugged off. Never one to accept hugs from anyone, not even his momma let alone an overweight cop who felt his collar too many times.
You haven’t heard? Billy’s in a bad way… he’s been diagnosed as bi-polar. He dropped a lot of weight, hasn’t left the house in month. People around here are counting the days… Johnny you need to visit him.
Uncharacteristically silent the True Brit just walks away.
Moments pass, Steve looks at his partner stood close to their patrol car, who just shrugs. Then Johnny turns around, his face in his hands. His whole body shaking…
… with laughter.
F*ck Billy, that fat fuck used his boys to run the estate.
I don’t like cliques, but ya know what they say, if ya can’t beat ‘em join them. SCW is gonna be put on notice.
The True Brit is gonna rip the place apart. I am going to amass an army, we will be a united force of like-minded individuals f*cked off with the bull$hit here.
If I hafta beat the living eff outta the whole damn fed I will.
S’pose I better not get ahead of meself…
Jones interrupts.
Like you have on Billy? He was like a father to you and you gonna leave him to rot when he needs you. I don’t know who the hell you’re ranting about but even if he ran over the Pope I’d still say he’s more of a man than you.
Squaring up to Officer Jones, like a rhino charging a jeep Johnny growls at the bane of his teenage years.
Don’t push ya f**king luck Pig, just cos ya know you’re on candid camera don’t mean I can’t find ya when I want. I’m sure Maddie and Chris don’t want their daddy to get hurt.
It takes a moment to sink it.
How the hell did you know my kids names?
Shocked Steve Jones returns to his car, in an instant he is gone. Home to treble lock his door no doubt.
Brown watches his rear lights fade into the night then turns and disappears into the night.
