Post by Ace King on Oct 22, 2021 14:50:30 GMT -6
This is, quite obviously, a collab between myself and EPFTW!.
October 17, 2021
Port de Fontvieille
Fontvieille, Monaco
8:49 a.m.
On a tranquil morning overlooking the Ligurian Sea, the waves brush up gently against a mostly vacant marina, with next to no activity up and down the dock… That is, of course, with the notable exception of a modest by comparison speedboat located toward the end of the dock, which rather crudely and suspiciously has ‘Skittle Me Timbers’ spray-painted on the side.
Upon closer inspection, it becomes clear that the occupants of the vessel are the new Tag Team Champions, Ace King and El Pablo, with their newly-won gold sitting on a table between them; the two men still look somewhat banged up after their historic dethroning of the Southern Express less than 48 hours ago.
“You sure that was OK to do?” Ace asks with a pensive eyebrow. “Jesus, I can still smell the paint.”
"Look," EP shrugs, "if the boats weren't available for everyone to use, they wouldn't have kept them behind a chain-link fence that was basically open if you just pull real hard on the padlock for, like, twenty minutes; nor would they have equipped said boats with a feature that lets you fire them up without a key as long as you just jam a couple of wires together."
“Oh yeah, that reminds me,” ‘The Gambler’ says as he fishes his phone out of his pocket. “EWC Corporate got to me yesterday.”
"And I trust you told them, Je ne sais pas qui a donné un coup de pied à ce garde de sécurité dans la poitrine?"
Ace just stares blankly at his partner for a moment, the silence becoming increasingly awkward before Ace finally clears his throat.
“Anyway, after we won these…” Ace continues, gesturing to their Tag Team Championships in an almost game show host-like fashion. “...the folks in the office decided we needed... You know…”
“Of course - matching haircuts.”
“Yep, that’s totally a priority when one of us wears a mask…” Ace deadpans sarcastically, trying not to laugh.
“Good point...commemorative home workout video?”
“No… Wait, what?”
EP quickly shakes his head, leaving a dumbfounded Ace to just shrug his shoulders.
“No, they said we needed an actual name,” he continues, his shoulders drooping a bit. “Even though we both agreed that the Five-Star Gamblers ship has sailed…”
As he speaks, a random rimshot noise comes out from Ace’s phone; the Undisputed Champion simply shakes his head before continuing on.
“...Apparently our names alone didn’t bring them enough sales, and so we’ve gotta come up with something more official,” he says. “A bit of a shame, really, since it was kinda cool going into the tournament not having to be anything other than ourselves, you know?”
"Well yeah," EP nods, "and besides, it's not like having an official name did any favours for the Heavenly Treats or the FlapJack Correction."
“...Did you skip breakfast again?”
EP mulls the question over for a moment.
"I mean...does huevos rancheros with a side of sweet breads and coffee count as breakfast?"
"Of course."
"Then... yes, I did skip breakfast."
Ace just shrugs his shoulders as he carefully pours himself a pre-made Skitosa, taking a sip from the nearby flute.
“Anyway, we should probably come up with something,” he says resolutely. “What about Rainbow Chips?”
“Are we getting into the cookie business now too?” he says, gently tugging on his mask before snapping his fingers. “What about Poker Faces?”
“For royalty reasons alone, I don’t think they’d go gaga over that… Taggy McTagFace?
“Nah…”
“Baccarat Boys?”
“Baccarat’s Back, alright! Wonder if we can get Burt Bacharach to play us in…”
“...Yeah, on second thought, maybe that’s not what the world needs now,” Ace says, shaking his head. “Oh! What about Seven-Colour Studs?”
EP just blinks at his partner for an extended period of time, the awkward silence again consuming them as the waves continue to lap up around them.
"Seven-Colour St-"
"I know, I heard it as soon as I said it," Ace winces.
"Magic suggestion there, dude," EP smirks, "Way to Step Up with that one."
“Alright, alright…”
"What about...Oh! We both live in Vegas, right? And I can, like, taste and smell and hear colours and all that stuff? Sin City? SINesthesia?"[/i]
“Thought we were supposed to be coming up with something for ourselves, not planning the return of Silas Isaac Naberius,” Ace counters, taking another sip of his Skitosa.
"Fine; how about the Jackpot Finding Skittle-eaters?"
“I AM… Not going with that,” Ace says with a hint of defiance. “Man, this is turning out to be a lot harder than I thought it would be… I don’t know if I could do this with a gun to my head…”
"I know... it's a good job we're not playing Russian Roulette."
Suddenly, the two get a matching expression that screams 'eureka.'
"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Ace asks.
"If you fall asleep on a bodyboard, is it still called wakeboarding?"
Again, Ace is dumbfounded at his friend’s logic, immediately downing the rest of his Skitosa, then pouring himself another flute and immediately downing that, too.
"The thing you literally just said."
"Russian Roulette?"
"Rushin' Roulette."
"Oh!" EP beams, much to Ace's evident relief as the Tecnico finally jumps aboard the Gambler's train of thought.
“I’d say we’ve found our way out of yet another sticky situation,” Ace says, holding up his Skitosa flute, which he’s filled once again. “Heads keep spinning, and we’ll keep winning.”
"I'll drink to that," EP smirks, raising a Skitosa flute of his own. "Here's to a future every bit as bright as those blue and red lights in the distance!"
“The what?” Ace asks, not having caught on just yet.
"Right there," EP confirms, gesturing over Ace's shoulder, "the flashing ones? Must be some kind of early-morning disco. Or the best kind of late-night one, amiright?"
“What are you-” Ace asks before finally seeing the unmistakable police lights, making his eyes go wide in horror.
“OH SH-COME ON!” he blurts out, grabbing his two championships and diving off the side of the boat into the marina. Despite his partner's obvious panic, however, EP remains surprisingly calm as he pulls a pen and paper out of his pocket and begins to write, the camera closing in to reveal the words Tommy Love's Ex-SEED-ingly Brilliant Super Secret Plan to Frame El Pablo and Ace King for Boatyard Breaking and Entering. Step One: This.
His fool-proof plan complete, EP grabs his own championship belts and swan-dives off the side of the boat in pursuit of Ace as the screen fades to black.
October 17, 2021
Port de Fontvieille
Fontvieille, Monaco
8:49 a.m.
On a tranquil morning overlooking the Ligurian Sea, the waves brush up gently against a mostly vacant marina, with next to no activity up and down the dock… That is, of course, with the notable exception of a modest by comparison speedboat located toward the end of the dock, which rather crudely and suspiciously has ‘Skittle Me Timbers’ spray-painted on the side.
Upon closer inspection, it becomes clear that the occupants of the vessel are the new Tag Team Champions, Ace King and El Pablo, with their newly-won gold sitting on a table between them; the two men still look somewhat banged up after their historic dethroning of the Southern Express less than 48 hours ago.
“You sure that was OK to do?” Ace asks with a pensive eyebrow. “Jesus, I can still smell the paint.”
"Look," EP shrugs, "if the boats weren't available for everyone to use, they wouldn't have kept them behind a chain-link fence that was basically open if you just pull real hard on the padlock for, like, twenty minutes; nor would they have equipped said boats with a feature that lets you fire them up without a key as long as you just jam a couple of wires together."
“Oh yeah, that reminds me,” ‘The Gambler’ says as he fishes his phone out of his pocket. “EWC Corporate got to me yesterday.”
"And I trust you told them, Je ne sais pas qui a donné un coup de pied à ce garde de sécurité dans la poitrine?"
Ace just stares blankly at his partner for a moment, the silence becoming increasingly awkward before Ace finally clears his throat.
“Anyway, after we won these…” Ace continues, gesturing to their Tag Team Championships in an almost game show host-like fashion. “...the folks in the office decided we needed... You know…”
“Of course - matching haircuts.”
“Yep, that’s totally a priority when one of us wears a mask…” Ace deadpans sarcastically, trying not to laugh.
“Good point...commemorative home workout video?”
“No… Wait, what?”
EP quickly shakes his head, leaving a dumbfounded Ace to just shrug his shoulders.
“No, they said we needed an actual name,” he continues, his shoulders drooping a bit. “Even though we both agreed that the Five-Star Gamblers ship has sailed…”
As he speaks, a random rimshot noise comes out from Ace’s phone; the Undisputed Champion simply shakes his head before continuing on.
“...Apparently our names alone didn’t bring them enough sales, and so we’ve gotta come up with something more official,” he says. “A bit of a shame, really, since it was kinda cool going into the tournament not having to be anything other than ourselves, you know?”
"Well yeah," EP nods, "and besides, it's not like having an official name did any favours for the Heavenly Treats or the FlapJack Correction."
“...Did you skip breakfast again?”
EP mulls the question over for a moment.
"I mean...does huevos rancheros with a side of sweet breads and coffee count as breakfast?"
"Of course."
"Then... yes, I did skip breakfast."
Ace just shrugs his shoulders as he carefully pours himself a pre-made Skitosa, taking a sip from the nearby flute.
“Anyway, we should probably come up with something,” he says resolutely. “What about Rainbow Chips?”
“Are we getting into the cookie business now too?” he says, gently tugging on his mask before snapping his fingers. “What about Poker Faces?”
“For royalty reasons alone, I don’t think they’d go gaga over that… Taggy McTagFace?
“Nah…”
“Baccarat Boys?”
“Baccarat’s Back, alright! Wonder if we can get Burt Bacharach to play us in…”
“...Yeah, on second thought, maybe that’s not what the world needs now,” Ace says, shaking his head. “Oh! What about Seven-Colour Studs?”
EP just blinks at his partner for an extended period of time, the awkward silence again consuming them as the waves continue to lap up around them.
"Seven-Colour St-"
"I know, I heard it as soon as I said it," Ace winces.
"Magic suggestion there, dude," EP smirks, "Way to Step Up with that one."
“Alright, alright…”
"What about...Oh! We both live in Vegas, right? And I can, like, taste and smell and hear colours and all that stuff? Sin City? SINesthesia?"[/i]
“Thought we were supposed to be coming up with something for ourselves, not planning the return of Silas Isaac Naberius,” Ace counters, taking another sip of his Skitosa.
"Fine; how about the Jackpot Finding Skittle-eaters?"
“I AM… Not going with that,” Ace says with a hint of defiance. “Man, this is turning out to be a lot harder than I thought it would be… I don’t know if I could do this with a gun to my head…”
"I know... it's a good job we're not playing Russian Roulette."
Suddenly, the two get a matching expression that screams 'eureka.'
"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Ace asks.
"If you fall asleep on a bodyboard, is it still called wakeboarding?"
Again, Ace is dumbfounded at his friend’s logic, immediately downing the rest of his Skitosa, then pouring himself another flute and immediately downing that, too.
"The thing you literally just said."
"Russian Roulette?"
"Rushin' Roulette."
"Oh!" EP beams, much to Ace's evident relief as the Tecnico finally jumps aboard the Gambler's train of thought.
“I’d say we’ve found our way out of yet another sticky situation,” Ace says, holding up his Skitosa flute, which he’s filled once again. “Heads keep spinning, and we’ll keep winning.”
"I'll drink to that," EP smirks, raising a Skitosa flute of his own. "Here's to a future every bit as bright as those blue and red lights in the distance!"
“The what?” Ace asks, not having caught on just yet.
"Right there," EP confirms, gesturing over Ace's shoulder, "the flashing ones? Must be some kind of early-morning disco. Or the best kind of late-night one, amiright?"
“What are you-” Ace asks before finally seeing the unmistakable police lights, making his eyes go wide in horror.
“OH SH-COME ON!” he blurts out, grabbing his two championships and diving off the side of the boat into the marina. Despite his partner's obvious panic, however, EP remains surprisingly calm as he pulls a pen and paper out of his pocket and begins to write, the camera closing in to reveal the words Tommy Love's Ex-SEED-ingly Brilliant Super Secret Plan to Frame El Pablo and Ace King for Boatyard Breaking and Entering. Step One: This.
His fool-proof plan complete, EP grabs his own championship belts and swan-dives off the side of the boat in pursuit of Ace as the screen fades to black.