- - - - - - -
Friday February 10 2017 – Roode Holiday Home – Unknown Location
The cameras opened with Michael Cole’s face looking as red as a tomato, and as the camera zoomed out, it was clear why. He was in his suit, sat on a deck chair as the sun was shining down on him in the sweltering heat. Eventually, the camera caught Bobby Roode laying on the bed beside him, topping up on his tan as he chose to leave his sunglasses on the side table, and for some reason, put two large pieces of cucumber on his eyes, clearly looking relaxed. Cole, on the other hand, looked anything but. Cole continued to force a smile for the camera, as he continuously wiped away the sweat, looking as if he may pass out at any second, and continued to look over at Roode in the hope that he’d wake up and answer questions he had for him. But there was no luck for a while, as Cole continued to pull on his tie to try and stay cool. Eventually, he had a breakthrough as Roode yawned and took off the cucumbers from his eyes, sitting up on his chair and looking back and forth at both Cole and the camera, before nodding his head and laying back down on his chair.
Michael Cole: Ladies and gentlemen, I’m honoured to be here alongside Bobby Roode at his holiday home, fresh off the Royal Rumble pay-per-view. Bobby, thank you for allowing us into your home, I just wanted to hopefully start talking about your Royal Rumble performance….sometime soon…maybe?
Roode stayed relaxed, wriggling around in his bed as he exhaled, trying his best not to allow Cole to distract him.
Bobby Roode: What is it you want to know?
Michael Cole: Well, your overall performance, how it all played out, how it ended…
Bobby Roode: You know something, Michael? I might not have won the whole thing instead of that fat, constantly sweating lump they call Samoa Joe. But I feel like the real winner here. I mean think about it. I get paid…A LOT. I’m laying here, soaking in the sun, relaxing with not a worry on my mind when the rest of the roster is either worried about making ends meet, or begging to get on the next Warfare card, but not me. Not only am I on Warfare next week, but I know I’m guaranteed a WrestleMania match, because…I’m…well…me. So, I’m the real winner from the Royal Rumble, not anybody else.
Michael Cole: How about your actual performance in the match? You managed a couple of eliminations before PJ Black eliminated you, but you did make it to the final five in your first year, something you’re pleased about?
Bobby Roode:I told you, Michael. I am the real winner whichever angle you look at it. I’m the guy they’re still talking about, whether they want to talk about me or not. My performance…I’m happy with it, I mean, I lasted longer than half of the nobodies involved, and I feel like I made a big enough slash to put those on notice that didn’t already know what I am. It was enough to get me on the Warfare show, and now every Warfare is important heading into Fallout and WrestleMania and I’m going to personally make sure that each show I’m involved in, or whether I’m backstage or if I even look in the direction of the arena from the outside…I’ll make it glorious. What I did happen to enjoy, though, is throw that little weasel out of the ring, whatever his name is, always dancing around like an energetic little buffon.
Michael Cole: You mean Sami Zayn?
Bobby Roode:If he’s the one that decided to run his mouth before the show, then yeah, him. But he’s in the past, and now I’m ready to take on The Miz, who I actually like by the way but I’m sure he understands where I’m coming from when I say that it’ unfortunate that I have to put him in his place, because it’s my mission to make the EBWF glorious, and I won’t fail.
Michael Cole: Uh…The Miz? You, you’re facing Al…
Bobby Roode:You know what? I take that back. I like The Miz, I like what he stands for. I actually think that when I’m not around, the rest of the roster can learn a thing or two from him. He knows what it takes to be the best around, when I’m not around, He knows how to be a leader, he’s a top class competitor and he and I are going to steal the show in the most glorious of matches, mark my words.
Michael Cole: That’s…great…but you’re not…
Bobby Roode: And I can’t help but feel that he respects me a little too, whether he wants to admit it or not. But that’s okay, I’ll be the bigger person on this occasion and admit I like The Miz. The people wanted another challenge after my incredible open challenge was cut short, I feel like there is nobody better on the roster than The Miz to step up to the plate and test his skills against me, the glorious Bobby Roode.
Michael Cole: STOP!
Roode suddenly shut his mouth. Cole then looked terrified after a second of looking furious, as Roode slowly took off the cucumbers from his eyes and placed the, next to him before slowly sitting up, turning his head to Cole and opening his eyes.
Michael Cole: I…uh…I apologise, what I meant to say was…your opponent is not The Miz…
Roode looked confused, scratching his head as he thought Cole was playing with him.
Bobby Roode: What the hell are you talking about?
Michael Cole: It’s true…you’re not facing The Miz, in fact, nobody is. Your opponent is the Intercontinental Champion, Alex Riley.
Roode was silent, nodding his head as he took it in, but it was clear he had absolutely no idea.
Michael Cole: You don’t know who he is, do you?
Bobby Roode: Yes I do. You said he’s the Intercontinental Champion…he’s the one with the…hair and the…funny walk. Give me a second.
Roode quickly rushed off of his chair as Cole was confused where he was trying to escape to. The camera saw him quickly waddling into the distance, entering his home and leaving the duo outside. They continued to wait as Cole stared into the camera awkwardly for a shot while. Moments later, Roode emerged again from the doors of his home, this time, he had a tablet in his hands as he walked back. This time, it was a confident walk as he sat down next to Cole, and he was just eager for Cole to ask him the questions on Riley.
Michael Cole: So…you take on Alex Riley…
Bobby Roode: Yes I do, Michael. Alex Riley. Intercontinental Champion. Breakout Champion. Say it to my Face. 249 pounds. Tampa, Florida.
Michael Cole: …What?
Bobby Roode: Exactly, Michael. What? I had no idea who that buffoon is, in fact, I went inside to search who the hell you’re talking about and after 10 minutes of trying to find something out, I still don’t know who he is. So clearly, this irrelevant, untalented jackass has no importance to me. What I did find, though, is what he had to say about me entering the Royal Rumble. I couldn’t care less about whether he gives one, two, seven or 19 shits about me being in this company, but the fact is, people are talking about me, but YOU had to remind me that he’s the Intercontinental Champion of this company. Let that sink in.
Michael Cole: So…you’ve never seen Alex Riley?
Bobby Roode: Well, I’m going to be honest. Right now, I had no idea. In the Royal Rumble, I had even less of an idea. What I initially thought was that the company was short in numbers, so we had to book some of those disgusting independent stars to take up a spot, so when I saw him I just assumed he was one of them because he clearly didn’t know what he was doing in MY ring. But now that you mention it, his ugly, disformed face does ring a bell when I watched Warfare over the last couple of years.
Michael Cole: So back to my original question I tried asking a while ago, your thoughts on this match?
Bobby Roode: All it took was a quick search to find out that he’s a worthless waste of space. That’s my thought, singular, that’s all he’s worth. You came all the way out here to talk about somebody I didn’t even know existed. But as I said, it rings a bell. I used to watch Warfare and now I know exactly who he is…the bag handler. He carries the bags, right? The guy carrying The Miz’s bags and desperately trying to get his face on the TV? I can’t believe I never realised HE was the one that is now competing in the ring. It makes absolutely no different to me though, none whatsoever. He has a belt, so what? I’ve had more championship titles in my career than he’s had days in the wrestling business. He’s a paper champion and he needs to be counting his lucky stars. First, that he gets to share the ring with somebody so glorious. Secondly, fans are going to be talking about him that he was in the ring with the glorious Bobby Roode. And three, he needs to be thankful that the championship isn’t on the line because the second I take it, he’s more irrelevant than he already is, and that’s dangerous territory, my friend.
Michael Cole: It sounds like you’re a little offended by his comments?
Bobby Roode: Not at all. To offend me, I’d actually have to care about him or his opinion. Everybody claims that this Warfare is the biggest test for me, so I’ll go out there and make sure that I put on the most glorious showing, and give this punk a glorious beatdown in the middle of the ring. It’ll be so glorious that the rest of his year inside of the ring will go into turmoil then it’s back to serving The Miz, which is clearly what he’s best at. I mean, it’s probably the first sentence on his mediocre resume, that he’s the greatest ass-wiper in the history of The Miz’s career. Not that he’s a champion, or that he wrestles, or tries to anyway, the juiced-up junkie. He’s the greatest bag handled, appointment-maker, coffee-bringer, clothes-ironer the EBWF has ever seen. That’s his status, and that’s where he’ll remain.
Michael Cole: Well he did beat The Miz in a huge win, and he has been on a roll lately, so perhaps he’s not the pushover you think he is.
Bobby Roode: That’s the only notable win he has had in his lousy, pathetic so-called career. You want me to be worried about THAT? He’s a talker, and not a very good one. He just oozes boredom, like a typical failed football player that took too many knock to the heads. Actually, not a football player, at least they have something going for them. I mean, let’s say I’m football…this kid is….lacrosse. He’s that thing that only his family care about, and nobody else does. But, maybe when he realises after the glorious beating that he’s guaranteed, maybe I’ll let him experience the glorious lifestyle by giving him a trial as my new driver. You never know, maybe one day he’ll graduate to a level where I let him pick up my expensive robes from the dry cleaners, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves. There’s a big difference in bringing the toilet paper to The Miz and bringing my robes to my room. On Monday, he’ll realise that he’s not on my level, and he’s in for a rude awakening when I finally announce my arrival the way it should have been announced.
Michael Cole: Any final message for Alex ahead of the match?
Bobby Roode: You just don’t stop, do you? What else is there to say to him? He knows what I am by now, and what I bring. And I’m sure his friend is telling him that he can do it, but the reality is…you’ve lost before you even stepped into the ring. There’s just thing I want to know, you’re the champ, but how does it feel to know that my damn entrance music is more relevant than you…and your entire career? I’m making you relevant on Monday, I’m putting you on the map, and people will forever say you’re THE Alex Riley…that lost to Bobby Roode. And it’s going to be…glorious.
Roode stared into the camera before looking over at Michael Cole, and signalling him to finally get out, before he lay down on his bed again and put the cucumbers back on his eyes and his arms behind his head. His message was clear, the world was finally going to see the real Bobby Roode on Warfare, and Alex Riley was the unlucky first victim.