AMA Monstruo del Circo vs. Blake Justice - Under Pressure

[Kross Rhodes]

Grueling Tryouts
No Disqualifications Match
Monstruo del Circo vs. "Bruiser" Blake Justice

VS.
#CircoVsJustice

Deadlines
❂ Remember that role-plays are to be received no later than 11:59 PM EST on Sunday, Apr. 25th, 2021.

 

[CakeWalker]

Monstruo Del Circo | Looking Into The Mirror | Roleplay One

“The streets I walked as a child were hard and they were rough. But I want to make it clear that I am not talking about having to contend with a handful of bullies or a lack of facilities in the local playground. This isn’t a desperate attempt at some sort of PR campaign, like so many fake celebrities do in order to build a rapport with the everyday man in order to seem more like one of the people. And the reason I say that - is for starters I’m not even famous. I’m not relevant. I’m not a face. And I certainly am not someone that you would recognise. And I say that with complete certainty, because no one has ever seen me present myself in this fashion ever. If I felt the need to lie about myself and create a new persona, then I most certainly wouldn’t use a clown as that character. I’d come off with some cliche over the top, rope-a-dope nonsense in order to put myself over. This front that I am presenting though - this is all about me. My truth if you would.”

The voice of the man had a strong Spanish tinge to the accent, although it was certainly hard to place. It was perhaps more likely to be South American at times, but every now and again it almost sounded Mexican. The figure was standing in front of a mirror, although because of how badly shattered it was, it was impossible to see any sort of reflection in the glass and with the figure facing the mirror, his back was to the camera making it impossible for anyone to identify him.

“I travelled a very long distance to get where I am today, but don’t get me confused about some illegal alien that travelled through central America and pushed through Mexico in order to hope to claim asylum in the United States. I entered this country by legal means, because without being legit I wouldn’t be able to get that guaranteed bank money being paid straight into my pocket. I impressed the big wigs with the skills that I presented, and they know for a fact that I’m not some little boy that needs to be taught a lesson. Nor am I flannel carrying young boy living some sort of homoerotic fantasy training in some archaic dojo. I didn’t get signed on the hopes of holding someone’s hand or riding on their shoulders and calling them Daddy in order to be carried to the top of this industry. I came here - in order to by myself. Or better put, the best possible version of myself that I can imagine.”

The lights in the scene dim slightly making the room slightly darker, and yet the broken mirror that was very much the focus of the background was just as well illuminated as it had been from the very start of the promo. The broken glass would shine and glimmer in a way that would be expected of a diamond rather than that of a mirror.

“The mirror in front of me isn’t meant to show my rage or my desire to destroy my opponents in the ring. This broken mirror is very much my own reflection, a depiction of what I see every time I look at myself in the mirror. Each crack and each shattered piece of glass in front of me represents a part of my broken past and most likely my broken future. I value my history and I feel that the pains of my life are very important to me and have every intention of sharing my history. But today isn’t about my past. My focus today though is to introduce myself. So for the time being we can forget about the mirror.”

The light in the room is suddenly turned to an extremely bright level that it is almost blinding for a second, before the light balance would return to normal with the mirror that had previously been broken nowhere to be seen. The man that had been speaking had lowered his hood and turned to face the camera revealing himself for the very first time. Standing in front of the camera was what could only be described as the face of a clown in simple terms, if you were to just look at the man on face value. Looking at him in more detail you would notice a dark blood red mohawk on the top of the head, very much confirming that whoever this individual was underneath his makeup was most certainly someone who felt the need to fit in. This was someone that had no problem being the odd one out. And with face paint that was somewhere between being the Joker and a member of the Rock Band Kiss - this was someone that very clearly wanted everyone’s full attention. Or at least it could be interpreted in that way, because this is someone that would be incredibly hard to miss.

“The name of the man underneath this mask is of no value to you and of no importance to me going forwards. I am a man who has spent years fighting on the streets, fighting in bars and fighting in illegal venues in order to get by. I would be lying if I said that I had ever worked an honest day’s work in my life. Although it is important to understand that this isn’t because I didn’t want to, but rather that I wasn’t able to. The AMA has changed my life already and yet I haven’t ever stood in the square circle for one singular second in my entire life. I am a professional wrestler that has a record of 0-0. My training is next to nothing and I would by lying to myself and to any wrestling fans if anyone actually cares about anything I have to say if I believed I was going to become the greatest wrestler of all time. I am a nobody and a no one. I am nothing but a freak of nature - I am Monstruo del Circo! In English that would be translated as the Circus Monster. I am the embodiment of why children look underneath their beds at night, because monsters are real and monsters do come out at night.”

With a name to a face - Monstruo del Circo would have a sinister smile on his face, but at the same time his eyes were those of a man with a lot of sadness in their life.

“Do I expect to win on my very first try? Absolutely not, in fact I have full expectation that this white privilege neckbeard private school boy, pretending to be some sort of rough and tumble street thug, but no doubt has enough money in his pocket to pay for wrestling school, is going to kick my ass and leave me battered and bruised and struggling to stand on my feet after the bell is rung. And I welcome it, in fact I am relishing the opportunity to take a beating and be put in my place. A rite of passage for any rookies entering into any area of work that is unknown to them. On this basis I can promise that, There...Will…Be...Blood!”

The scene immediately fades to black, with a hashtag in red writing #therewillbeblood in the bottom right hand corner of the screen.​

 

[Marty McFourth]

I don't know how I feel about this at all, but it's a start. I'll try to do more backstory in the future, but at the moment I just want to focus on trying to do a good promo. I wanted to really make it as sadistic as possible.

Blake Justice | Promo 1

The fumbling of a camera can be heard as it is being placed in to position. The walls and flooring indicate this to be some sort of backstage wrestling area. A hooded figure hunches down slightly and looks in to the camera making sure it's all set, a menacing stare piercing through the lens. He slowly removes his hood to reveal a scruffy unkempt beard, wild eyes and sinister grin.
The voice of a man begins to speak, with a gruff New York accent. His voice doesn't waiver, it's consistent and to the point.​

"The easiest way to find out how weak someone is?"

He chuckles to himself slightly, moving his head in an unsettling way as his eyes beam all around. Rubbing his hands together.​

"How easy they bleed. How easy they whimper, how easy it for me to break down their every bone and body part. As I enjoy stomping and crunching away them, and seeing them writhe in agony."

He smiles sadistically as he closes his eyes and we get the sense he is imagining all of this as he speaks. Licking his lips. Getting a sadistic pleasure from it all.​

"This clown I'm facing, this luchador paint wearing freak? I'm going to enjoy bringing him in to my own little funhouse. I'm going to enjoy doing what I want with all these tools at my disposal as the ref watches on helplessly. No DQ, no rules, no way for you to run. Nowhere for you to hide."

He reaches around to something out of view of the camera, and pulls back in to view with a set of pliers in hand. He looks down on them, smiles immensely.​

"Oh, I can't wait to see your teeth all over the ring mat. I'll even help you as you pick them up one by one. Dragging your lifeless bloodied body across the mat. I'm gonna enjoy this."

He drops the pliers, they hit the ground with a thud, he edges closer to the camera. Staring in to the soul to whoever is watching.​

"You guys think I'm here to wrestle? That's just the bonus. I get money to hurt people, hell, I get rewarded for it. I get pats on the back for it. Whoever you are, whoever I face. I don't care. You're gonna walk out of this match a changed man, you're going to wish you never showed up that night. When you sleep at night, all you're going to see is my face for the rest of your life. For the rest of your career, or what's left of it."

He edges back away, putting his hood back up and leaning back slightly so his face is no longer visible under the darkness. He just laughs maniacally, sickly.

The camera begins to glitch and shuts to black.​