ACW Adrenaline 14: Avalanche v. Multiplex

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The_King

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First Bout: Hardcore Rematch
Match Type: Hardcore
Stipulation: N/A
Time Limit: 20 Minutes (2 RP Cap)
Avalanche v. Multiplex

If you want feedback on your roleplay, please leave a visible message on your roleplay asking for it. If not, please do not spam this thread with unnecessary OOC talk.
TWO RP cap with all RPs due by Wednesday July 18, 2012 at 11:59 P.M. (Eastern). Good luck!​
 

Pete

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As soon as he enters the car, I realize something's very wrong. He barges into the back, slams the door, and doesn't even stop to say hello or in any way acknowledge my presence.

"I knew we should'a gone ta da fuckin' gym!", he rants, in his Andretti voice, flailing about the way he does when he's angry. He fidgets uneasily in his seat, yelling at one of the others:

"Would ya scoot over!"

The target is poor Stevie, who, to his credit, puts up a fight:

"Th-this is *my* seat! Y-you scoot over!"

This is met with an exasperated groan, as he throws his hands up and gives his hip a nudge which, had there actually been someone there, would no doubt have dislodged them.

"We couldn't have known", the voice of Gary, ever the peacemaker, pipes in. However, as usual, his serene demeanour blows up Andretti, who yells:

"Couldn't'a known?! It was a fuckin' pay-per-view! Ya don't slack off 'fore a pay-per-view! Bucciach!"

There is a moment of slience after the Italian curseword, and I can feel the tension emanating from the hulk of a man in my back seat, with his five personalities. Soon, however, the quiet is broken, as Andretti begins to rant again:

"If we'd'a been trainin', 'stead o' fiddlin' about with 'ead doctahs, we could'a been goin' for that damn belt right now! 'Stead, we're jobbin' to them two basket cases! Is tha' what we is now?! Jobbahs?!"

Gary comes in again:

"Andretti, calm down! Just because we're not fighting for the belt now, doesn't mean we can't go for it at the next pay-per-view..."

There is, however, no calming "Angry":

"Fuck da next pay-per-view! It should'a been tanite! We should'a been made guys by now! 'Stead, we're fetchin' sammiches f'r the hitmen!"

"Someone's been watching too many Mafia movies..." John's first contribution of the night. As always happens when he is being made fun of, Andretti bristles:

"Who said anythin' 'bout movies?!"

The argument which seems to be about to begin is, however, averted by a bout of crying by Stevie:

"Th-this is all my f-f-fault..I'm the one who's af-f-fraid of s-s-s-..."

Gary starts to say that it's not his fault, he doesn't need to beat himself up, but Andretti interrupts:

"Tha's right! It's all this fuckin' chooch's fault! I'm gonna kill ya, ya goddamn jamoke!"

Horrified, I witness, through my rear-view mirror, as the man in my back seat clasps one of his powerful hands around his own throat and begins to strangle himself. I know there and then that I need to intervene, before this situation gets out of hand. Before I can open my mouth, however, another voice comes in, chilling me to the bone:

"Please, Andretti..! Stop actin' like such a fuckin' baby. Who cares if we didn't win now? You know we're gonna get them sooner of later... Both of them. Dr. Doofenshmirtz AND the little blueberry!"

As soon as the slur is uttered, Gary comes in, in his best teacherly tone:

"Now, Big D, we don't use 'blueberry'. It's not a very nice wo..."

I watch a hand once again shoot to my passenger's throat, seemingly tighter this time around. When he speaks again, his tone is cold enough to freeze stone:

"I don't particularly care about 'nice', Mr. Goody Rowland. You should know that."

That's it. I have to stop this RIGHT NOW. I swivel back in my seat and put on my best Violet voice:

"Would ya babies shut the HELL up?!"

This has the desired effect, as the only sound to be heard afterwards is a meek "s-s-sorry, Violet". I glare at my passenger a moment longer, then turn back around on my seat and focus on the road once again; I don't want to cause an accident.

It doesn't take long for me to once again lose myself in the ebb and flow of night-time Manhattan traffic; and as I do so, I thank the powers that be for the fact that no one peeked into our car while the whole scene was going on. Had anyone done so, they would have been presented with the spectacle of two adults (one of which horribly disfigured) yelling at each other in funny voices. And God knows what impression that would have given them about us. Why, they might have even thought we were crazy.
 
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John McHenry

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Avalanche sits at a table next to the ring of his gym, a propane hibachi grill sitting in front of him as he fries something up. The front door opens and John walks in taking off his suit jacket shaking the rain from it as a flash of lightening strikes somewhere outside lighting up the door frame. John looks around the gym all the lights out except for a few connected to an extension cord laying a few feet away from Avalanche.

Avalanche: Electrics out from the storm.

Avalanche holds up some meat on the end of his fork.

Avalanche: Hungry? There’s plenty.

John McHenry: Sure. So we’re good?

Avalanche: We’re better. You brought in a belt that says something. But I’m still facing Multiplex this week. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you John the guy is dangerous he’ll end up hurting someone. He’s a career killer.

John takes some of the meat off the grill putting it onto a plate.

John McHenry: I know that’s why you’ve been facing him.

Avalanches jaw drops a bit of meat falling onto the floor.

Avalanche: What?

John McHenry: Now calm down. You’ve been facing him because you can take it. You’ve been in the ring with guys like him before. If I unleashed him on some of the other guys before he was ready they’d never recover. They need to see he’s beatable. You’ve shown them that and now you’ll show them one last time.

Avalanche: Thanks.

John McHenry: This is really good, what’d you do to it?

John holds up the meat on his fork.

Avalanche: I found it at Riverside Collesium it’s snake.

John spits it across the gym.

John McHenry: It’s not Bruce you can’t just… Well it’s not like the Doctor wanted the snake one of our writers forced him to use it. I didn’t know snake taste so good. Kinda like chicken.

Avalanche puts down his plate.

Avalanche: John we’ve been having…issues lately and I want to put them all to rest. I’m jealous. You’ve always been the bigger earner then me, always been in the main event.

John starts laughing.

John McHenry: We really are two sides of the same coin. You’ve always been over with the fans always the fans have always loved you clung to your every word. Sure I can get them on the edge of their seats but it’s not out of respect it’s because I use the shock factor. You know if this whole predator division doesn’t go your way I think I may have an idea.
Avalanche steps back motioning for John to slow down.

Avalanche: Slow down, bro. Out of the three guys in the Predator Title match I’m the one with the most experience. Chelios he’s comic foley I expect him to be down on the sidelines crying after the bell rings. The Doctor, well I’ll show him what a pain clinic really is.

Both men stare into the darkness the silence deafening until John turns to Avalanche.

John McHenry: Really? I felt like we were having a serious discussion and then you make the pain clinic comment.

Avalanche: Just being me. So whats with you and jumping back in the ring?

John McHenry: Sorry playing that one a little close to the chest right now.

Avalanche: Oh I see. Got an ace up your sleeve or something.

Avalanche stares at John waiting for a response as it become all too obvious he’s not going to get any more information from him.

Avalanche: So…more snake?
 

Pete

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On the ride home, everyone is acting like a bunch of babies, so I zone out. Out of the corner of my mind, I hear Andretti rant about how we lost because we went to visit Christine's dad's friend, instead of going to the gym. What he doesn't realize is that our loss did have to do with that, but not for the reasons he thinks. We didn't lose because of anything physical; we lost because of something mental. The visit to the doctor messed with our minds; it rattled us. And unfortunately, it looks like it's going to take a while before we can totally recover from it.

As I look out the window and try to drown out the quibbling of my four friends, I can't help but think back to last Wednesday, and how it affected us all.


------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the beginning, it doesn't seem so bad. The doctor has a nice little house in the suburbs, with flowerbeds in the garden and a gravel driveway; ritzier than anything the likes of us has ever seen. But then Stevie points out how much the house looks like the one they've been showing in those ACW segments with Dr. Uhrwhich, and that freaks us all out a bit. Because the fact is, he's right: this does look like Dr. Uhrwhich's house. We can only hope the doctor inside isn't quite as crazy.

"L-let's j-just g-g-go b-b-back", Stevie whispers to me at this point, shivering from head to toe. However, as always, it is Gary to the rescue:

"We promised Christine, Steve. Plus, it'll be fine. There's nothing to be worried about. You'll see."

I see Wimpy is not totally convinced yet, but eventually we end up going in. And as soon as we meet Dr. Horowitz, our discomfort grows once again.

Now, at first sight, this guy looks perfectly harmless. He's about a foot shorter than me, and about a third as wide, with a round, nearly completely bald head and rimless glasses. He is wearing a white shirt, dress trousers and shiny loafers, and greets us in a thin, nasally voice.


"Yeesh, this fella's a god damn nerd!", Andretti says, and he's right. He looks like a scientist, or a pharmacist or something. And yet...

...and yet there is something disturbing about him, something all of us feel and none of us can explain.
"Let's torch 'im", Daemonic hisses malevolently, but Gary stops him, pointing out - correctly - that it's against our best interest to do anything of the sort. Big D takes a bit of convincing, but eventually stops ranting and devotes his attention to the doctor.

Mind you, in all this time,
Dr. Horowitz hasn't said anything; he's just stood there, looking at us, as if he was studying us, or something. When we eventually stop fighting, he steps forward and introduces himself to each of us in turn. Gary and myself shake his hand instantly, but the other three are harder to convince. Stevie reluctantly holds out a hand, but Andretti seems to think a handshake with this guy is beneath him, and Daemonic...well, Daemonic's just being himself.

Initially, I think they're being kind of childish about it all. However, as soon as the doctor speaks his next few words, I realize just why the guys are so unsure about him. He looks at me and his eyes pierce me, almost as if he was looking through me. And they're cold. As cold as his smile. It is then that I know that there's no turning back. We got ourselves into this, and now, there's no getting out. For all intents and purposes, we're trapped.

The doctor smiles at us again, with that disturbingly evil smile, and gestures towards a chair:


"Please...take a seat..."

Trapped.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I snap out of my daydream as the car comes to a screeching halt. I see Christine slam her palm down on the horn, then slump back on her seat, looking haggard and breathing heavily. And that's when I realize that we were almost in an accident. We almost potentially died.

Everyone has stopped talking. Even
Andretti. Even Daemonic. The silence that has settled into our car is eerie, and in sharp contrast with the din from before.

Nobody else talks for the remainder of the trip home.
 
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John McHenry

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Avalanche looks out over the room. Beads of sweat beginning to dot his forehead, he pulls at the top of his singlet trying to dull the nerves. Looking up at the woman in the back smiling glad that he’d worn shorts over the bottom of his singlet.

Avalanche: Now whose next?

A hand shoots up in front of him as the seeming army of seven and eight year olds sit in front of him.

Avalanche: What’s your name?

Jimmy: Jimmy. Avalanche what made you choose your ring name?

Avalanche smiles in somewhat disbelief.

Avalanche: Some of you in the back may not have heard what lil Jimmy up here asked, he wanted to now why I chose my name. It’s simple I was thinking of destructive forces and of course you have tornados, hurricanes, tsunami’s and the list goes on but I wanted one that was unique on that isn’t too common to everyone. Also people plan against hurricanes all the time, they hide in cellars from tornados but an Avalanche can happen at any minute and while you might be able to survive it. It’ll change your life forever.

Jimmy who’d be standing the entire length of the question seemed satsifed with the answer and sat back down. Another hand shot up instantly from the middle of the room a female this time.

Maria: Hi I’m Maria. My dad says that wrestling isn’t real that you guys just dance out there and try and make people believe its real. Why would you do that isn’t that lying?

Avalanche takes a minute trying to phrase his answer in his head. He looks over at the parents.

Avalanche: Is your dad in the room.

The girl points over to her father who seems a little embarrassed. Avalanche motions for the man to get up. Avalanche stands folding his chair as he does he hands it to the girls father.

Avalanche: Now hit me with it. As hard as you can.

The guy looks hesitant.

Avalanche: Come on hit me.

Avalanche looks over at the camera.

Avalanche: I give up my rights to retaliate in anyway after this man hits me. Also kids you shouldn’t try this at home. Better throw that in while we’re getting the legalities out of the way. Now hit me.

The man swings with all his might hitting Avalanche in the forehead, he goes down to the floor. The man sets down the chair backing away as all the children stand up looking at Avalanche. Avalanche jumps to his feet with a hip-up smiling.

Avalanche: Now does anyone know how I did that?

A few hands shoot up
Avalanche: Good don’t tell anyone. Maria your dads right it is an act but it’s still dangerous I could have injured myself six different ways when he hit me with the chair. He didn’t because I’m very well trained. Now to the second half of your question, wrestlers are just like actors we tell stories.

Another kid jumps up this time not raising his hand.

Pete: So if all you’re doing is telling stories how’s come they all end in the ring with one man beating up another man. Why don’t you ever talk it out?

Avalanche begins to answer the question of another kid.

Pete: Answer my question!

Avalanche: Because talking is boring. When was the last time you saw a tv show or a movie where two people just sat on opposite sides of the same table and talked? I bet it was pretty boring wasn’t it? But if you’re trying to imply we never work our differences out with words, well that’s just wrong my brother and I did that on air just a few days ago.

Pete: Yeah but that’s cause you and your brother are boring.

Avalanche: Kid. It wasn’t even your turn and I don’t care what you think about me or my brother whose your favorite guy?

Pete: I really like Doctor …

Avalanche: It doesn’t matter who you like! You know why? Cause I’m the guy in the room I’m the guy that came down to your school, instead of training for my match against Multiplex or getting ready for my pay per view match against your beloved Doctor Shools. I came down here with free stuff and goodies to hang out with you and your class.

Pete: Good answer. He’s not my favorite anyway.

Avalanche gets a look on his face like he’s about to pull his hair out.

Pete: You are I was just testing you. Actually I hope you kick Multiplex’s ass and when the belt at…

The teacher grabs the kid by the arm dragging him out the door. Avalanche gives a little chuckle.