Like a Bottle of Wine, Tommy

OOC: Before I get started with this "proper" tribute, remember that most of this is in good taste. I'm not writing a goodbye RP to TFI because I'm moving to CEW with what seems like eighty of you. This is for War/Tommy, because I've known him for...two years? Parting shots, if you will. I hope this warning works. Last time I did something near this I kind of got brutally assaulted by like ten members of the roster I was leaving...

OOC2: Screw formatting, you guys understand the idea. This isn't even in the RP section!

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The scene opens in front of a large hospital. A few of the letters on the hospital sign above the emergency room aren't working, making them difficult to read. It's not completely dark out, but it's in the late evening. The camera finds the man known as The Philadelphia Phighter sitting on the curb next to a hole in the ground for a sewer. He is dressed in a long, white hospital apron with green polka-dots.

The Philadelphia Phighter: I told the staff I went out to smoke...but I don't smoke. As a commodity that can be apparently traded and sold, I don't believe in damaging the product. An old enemy and friend taught me about damaging the product. He tore himself down after money became useless to him. A sad day. Anyway, the reason why I came out here is that I had my agent sneak me something...

Phighter reaches one of his hands into his apron before pulling a bottle of wine out of it. He hands it to his other hand from under his apron. Phighter pulls on the cork, as it is not tightly fit into the bottle, and the cork comes out in one piece. He holds the bottle in his right hands.

Phighter: I've always believed that you need three things to survive in the wrestling world. Ability, desire, and a body. The reason why you seek rookies burn out is that they don't have the desire. That was never the case when it came to an old enemy of mine, The War Machine. Yes, I know he calls himself Tommy Stone. He liked calling himself by his actual name. I've never believed in that, but that's not the point.

Phighter: I met him one day when the heavenly Father Lance booked us together. We were both diamonds in the rough, and I knew one day I'd probably battle him over some title. I made damn sure with all I could that I asserted myself as the better of the two. I screwed him over, I powerbombed him onto a sledgehammer, I sabotaged him, hell, anything you can name, I've done to him. I have singlehandedly tried to ruin him multiple times.

Phighter: Yet every time I tried, I just couldn't do it. He would frown, and you know, he'd always get a cup of coffee. I've heard from his friends that he's probably paid at least a year's worth of his salary to Starbucks. To each his own, I suppose.

Phighter's face twists sideways. His words are cold and lifeless.

Phighter: War, I heard you were taking a break. Breaks are cold things. I've been staring at you, trying to figure out which one of the three things you need that you've lost. Is it the ability? No. You're like this bottle of wine here when it comes to ability. You started out rough, and now I can't remember the last time I saw you lose a match. Was it the body? Nah. You may have lost a step, but if you quit because of your body, well, I'd think you were damn foolish because I'm rapidly approaching Evil Knivel.

Phighter: Does that mean you quit because you lost your desire? I don't know. I've been a case manager of sorts for years for you. I've seen you battle many problems. Granted, many of them have been problems I've thrown at you, but you've always battled them. Now? Now you decided to quit? I still see the lights in your eyes. What's eating you? I don't know. There are a lot of things I don't know about you. Are you worried you're going to become a broken old man? It's a legitimate fear...but you've been doing this for so long, and it's confusing to think that you decided to stop NOW.

Phighter stares at the bottle again before holding another hand near it, showcasing the bottle.

Phighter: But like I said, you're like this bottle of wine. You've got the ability, and you've got the endurance to keep going. You've matured with age and you've gotten better and better. Now is the time you stop? Psh. That's just stupid. Let me show you what you're doing with your golden years. Have a nice life outside of wrestling, Tommy.

Phighter tilts the bottle. The wine from the bottle slowly pours out, and it flows down into the sewer. Phighter stares at the contents as it leaves, watching the symbol of his enemy empty out. After a few more seconds of pouring, the bottle stops pouring out its contents. Phighter stands up and slams the bottle down, causing it to shatter, before walking back inside the hospital. The camera shows fragments of the bottle next to the sewer as the scene fades to black.

The last time you did something like this, you took a sh*t on the federation, and a lot of the guys didn't know you were talking in character, I personally don't understand why Buzzsaw got involved at all, I'll be back... sooner or later.

I don't understand if you like this or hate this, Tommy

Calls this topic to be locked for advanced 'ing

I like this, it kinda signifies the end of a big fued... for now.