ACW Adrenaline 5/21/12 ACW INTERNATIONAL DIVISION: #1 CONTENDERS BRAWL

[BDC]

If you are not in this match, don't post in this thread. Check the match card to see if you are in this match. If you are in this match, don't spam it up with OOC talk.
Only TWO rp cap per person with the deadline being May 18, 2012 at 11:59 PM Eastern Time.
Show will be up by Sunday the 20th (no later than Monday the 21st morning) Good Luck!

 

[Lewb]

An inner district of Boston, outside the Hilton hotel right by the harbor and it's a biting cold morning, a slight amount of snow falling on what were already chilled surfaces, creating a tricky environment to move around in true flow. Outside the hotel, a makeshift stage with a microphone stand, and a badly drawn banner on top which reads "MEET TOP HOMEGROWN WRESTLING SUPERSTAR: AARON "A-STAR ASTERISK. 8:30AM". Well, four minutes away from the deadline and there's a little spur of interest, roughly twenty to thirty people with nothing to do with their Wednesday mornings than to listen to what a man, fresh of his first victory in his new promotion, has to say on his return back home after Pay-Per-View. As the time approaches a few more stragglers stick around to see what the fuss is about, when the PA set up outside start to play his theme music. Treating it as an entrance like he does in ACW, he comes up the escalator to the main doors wearing a lot warmer an attire, joggers instead of the trunks, and a sweater of his old gym on top of the flashy jacket. He has a bagel in his hand, but he takes a bite out of it and throws it on the ground before frantically chewing, and making his way onto the stage. He first looks into the crowd and looks at his watch thinking maybe he's too early, but sees he's right on time, and shrugs it off before his music stops and he addresses the sparse audience he has infront of him.

Aaron Asterisk: It's great to be back right here in Boston!

He waits for a home town pop that never comes. He clears his throat knowing this is a tougher crowd, as well as being a smaller crowd than what he first anticipated, before continuing to speak.

I appreciate the time you have all taken to come out here this morning and I will be doing autographs for anyone buying my t-shirt at the booth on the side. No as I'm guessing a lot of you saw, I picked up a victory against Jacqui M this Sunday in a show-stealing contest!

???: Yeah, your first victory, and it was to a girl!

A few of the crowd chuckle in reflection of the heckler's comment. And normally, someone undermining "A Star" would rile him up. But a somewhat humbled character contains his composure and responds with a different approach.

Granted, the wrestler was a female, but one, she's a female that has beaten a lot of opponents in the same company of a male gender, and two, you know, my match before that was a genuine good match where I could have picked up the victory had it not been for a stroke of bad luck, you know how multi-man matches can be, and three.... Well, all I can do is beat what is put in front of me. Put a woman in front of me and I'll do my best to be victorious. Same against a man. And same against nine opponents, with a mixture of both, in over the top battle royal I have coming up in a week or so's time. With a victory under my belt now, I feel I can really push on and challenge for a spot at the next Pay-Per-View, and go for the International Championship! Now, if there are no further questions or comments, then one of the guys on hand will point you to where to start the line and I'll be signing any merch you may have! I have been A Star Aaron Asterisk, thank-you very much!

A more the generous applause ripples through the crowd as Asterisk makes his way over to the table set up for signing. As the line is being set up properly Asterisk flicks his finger across the screen of his iPhone and checks his messages just to find there are none there. He then logs in to Twitter and tries to wade through the well done messages and the Twitter Trollers abuse tweets to see if there is anything of importance to read but finds nothing. After leaving a quick tweet. "Back in Asterisk Country. Love for the masses #AStarIsBorn" He slots his phone back in the pocket of his joggers and sits down waiting for the first person to come to him for an autograph. He makes some small talk as they pass by and then one guy has a bit more to say than any of the others.

???: Got lucky on Sunday man. You only one because of a distraction.

Asterisk looks up, but sees no-one he recognized. A genuine ACW fan who watched the show, calling A Star on the ending. But again, composure the main thing to note as he responds.

You wouldn't have taken advantage in the same situation. Yeah someone came out from the back and caught her eye. It's not my fault that professionalism let her down. I would have been just as unprofessional to let up and not take advantage. Whats your name?

Make it out to Josh, it's not for me. It's for my nephew in school. If I wanted any merchandise it'd be of Abram Vance, the man that already has a victory over you. And the man that's going to become the number one contender to that International Championship, you watch.

Security: Hey man, cut it out, you've had yo-

No no, leave it, it's okay. It's okay. Look, yeah, he beat me, because I let my cockiness get in the way of the victory I should have secured the last time we squared off at Overdrive. And maybe your right, maybe Vance will be the man to go to Riot Act, face Eric Snow. But maybe.... maybe your wrong. Maybe it will be me! Not letting my cockiness take over anymore. I know I can still be top of the class but I don't allude to the fact every time I talk no more. I'm on an eight to one record, a record that I'm surprised you haven't brought up here already. You seemed to want to bring all my other flaws up. I don't hide away from them, I use them to spur me on, and if it has taken eight losses to spur me to become the International Champion, then those one... two.. three's will have all been worth it.

If you win that battle royal, take pride in knowing that you have proven me wrong. But one thing I will say, this attitude of yours.... it's a lot better than your one when you first started. A lot better.

The man, never letting Asterisk know his name, walks away leaving Aaron more determined to show people the true him. The true Aaron Asterisk. Once described as a diamond in the rough by his peers. Is nine superstars enough to count as a "rough" he can be the diamond in? He ponders to this as the scene cuts.

 

[Pete]

It is a sunny afternoon in central New York City. Joggers run across Central Park with their dogs, couples hold hands, and executive types enjoy a late lunch and the welcome sting of an ice-cold beer.

In an outdoor eating area facing the Park, two blondes sit across from each other, empty plates of food in front of them. One, tall and well-toned and wearing all black with Matrix shades, sips from a tall glass of beer while smoking a cigarette; her friend, shorter and more fashionable, with a fresh, girlish face, and extremely pregnant, cradles an orange juice and looks at her companion's drink somewhat enviously.

After a moment of silent people-watching, the youngest of the two women finally speaks:

Woman: Jacqui, could you, like, not smoke around the baby?

Her counterpart - none other than female ACW superstar Jacqui M - guffaws dryly:

Jacqui M: Piss off, kid. He ain't even out of your belly yet. And besides, I'm smoking AWAY from him, ain't I?

Despite her protests, however, the butch blonde stubs out her nearly-finished cigarette, earning a shy, yet grateful grin from her friend. Then. after another moment of comfortable silence, she asks:

Jacqui M: What the hell did you come down here for, anyway? Thought you weren't supposed to travel...

The younger girl smiles again:

Woman: Nah, don't worry. The doctor says it's still fine. Besides, Winston drove me down here. It's not like I had to fly or anything!

Jacqui nods, taking another sip of beer.

Jacqui M: When's he due, anyway?

Woman: Oh, Dr. Pritchard said sometime in July...

The blonde female wrestler nods again, taking another second to enjoy her beer before speaking again:

Jacqui M: So...what do you know 'bout your husband? What's he doing?

The younger woman shrugs apologetically:

Woman: I dunno, Jacqui... You know Pookie... He doesn't tell me *anything!* He's all Claressa this and Claressa that, but then when I ask him, he's all like "oh, don't worry, darling!"

Her friend's accurate approximation of her husband's British accent makes Jacqui laugh, even as she mutters:

Jacqui M: Yeah...Claressa...

Her bubbly friend frowns:

Woman: What about her? I like 'Ressa!

Jacqui grunts, removing her glasses to look her friend in the eye as she warns her:

Jacqui M: 'Course you do, kid. That's why you need me around, to tell you what's what. And I'm telling you now...she's up to no good. If I were you, I'd watch my husband REALLY closely, in case I might end up losing him...

The younger woman gasps:

Woman: He WOULDN'T! Not Pookie!

Jacqui shrugs, standing up:

Jacqui M: Not the man I knew, no...but the man I knew would never attack my friend Raiden with a cane, for no reason!

The smaller blonde's eyes grow wider:

Woman: He did that?!

Once again, Jacqui responds with no more than a dry chuckle:

Jacqui M: Oh, kid, there's so much you don't know...! I'm almost sorry that I have to break it to ya. But then, that's what friends do, isn't it?

Then, the blonde reaches in her pocket and produces two tickets, handing them across the table to her friend:

Jacqui M: And if you don't wanna take my word for it...see for yourself. Show starts at eight.

Then, she turns to leave, for once not thinking about the pregnant woman still at the table. As she begins to walk, however, her friend's youthful voice brings her head back around:

Woman: Jacqui?

Jacqui M: Yeah...?

The future mom smiles:

Woman: Good luck for tonight.

 

[Rated R Superstar]

Nicky pulled up his car beside the gym his father owned. The gym that helped him get his start. He was fighting a losing battle against his subconscious, which was desperately telling him not to go in. He knew his brother was going to be in there, and he didn’t quite know how to face up to the man who attempted to have sex with his drunken wife. He still couldn’t believe how Donnie would think he could do it. They were celebrating just buying a house, and it was a great party, Nicky unfortunately had to be the most sober of the married couple. His wife had already gotten drunk, and he couldn’t do much about it. But his brother, constantly trying to get into her pants, metaphorically and physically. Nicky just sat there, in his car that he had just turned off. He took a couple deep breaths and looked around. He was in a part of Dallas that wasn’t as well kept as downtown, or the richer part of the city. It almost reminded him of Rocky Balboa’s neighbourhood in the movies. His father’s gym however had been well taken care of, although he wasn’t truly surprised. His father took great pride in this establishment. Aside from a busted light on the sign, and a couple cracks in the building, it was a decent looking place. He noticed a couple kids play wrestling across the street, it reminded him of the good old days when he and his brother were just their age. They’d play wrestle like that, and pretend to be their favorite wrestlers. He was Ricky Steamboat of course, he always liked the more agile, and faster wrestlers. They always did the coolest stuff. He caught himself before he started to have a premature midlife crisis. He was still far too young for that! Besides, he was living a great life now.

He looked at the note his father gave to Sierra, to give to Nicky. It was a written invitation to train for his future matches, and to stick around for a show. His father always enjoyed putting on little shows for the local fans, who couldn’t afford basic cable, or any means of watching wrestling really. Nicky truly respected his father for that, and it was always a good turnout. He remember being just a teenager and helping out, making the popcorn or other little snacks and preparing drinks for the fans, while some pretty amazing matches went on in the ring. But those days were passed him, and he needed to move on. He couldn’t afford to think of the past, but he also couldn’t afford to forget it, it was what makes him who he is today. He was so happy where he was at in his life right now; it would be wonderful to have his wife here with him, to help him get through some of the struggles he faces. But he knew he couldn’t dwell on that thought, it would be the end of him. It would probably cause him to go to a dark place, and he just couldn’t do that, especially not in front of his kids. He took the keys out of the ignition of his car and popped the trunk. Opening his door he stepped out of the car slowly, sunglasses on, as it was pretty sunny out. He looked around, still kind of squinting, more or less because of a gust of wind that blew for only a few seconds. He remembered this neighbourhood. He grew up here. Made many friends, lost a few. He took in a long deep breath; it felt nice to be back home. He went to the back of his trunk and grabbed his gym clothes. Every minute that passed by almost seemed like an hour, he hadn’t been in this gym in years. He had been so focused on his wrestling career that he forgot about his roots, well almost. As he made his way to the door, a man stepped out and nearly ran into him. The man went to apologize, but cut himself off. He was much taller than Nicky, and darker skinned. The man looked in near disbelief. Nicky only looked up at the man, not knowing what to really say. The man did though.

Man: “Nicky, it’s been a long time man.â€

Nicky smiled, and replied in kind.

Nicky Trix: “It’s been far too long Dwayne, how have you been?â€

Dwayne: “Been good man, I got a nice little job on an indy show, it’s not big, but it’s something. A man’s gotta start somewhere right?â€

Nicky could appreciate that, especially considering he had basically started as a manager for a big time wrestling show. Most of his wrestling career started in the indy circuit. But after his knee surgery, he couldn’t do much for a long time. It was rather bad timing. He had just been signed to XWE, and was ready to prove himself to a much larger crowd. But they knew how good he was on the mic, and they knew he knew the business enough, so when their GM at the time had quit, they hired Nicky. He looked up at Dwayne, who had to be like two feet taller than him.

Nicky Trix: “I hear ya man, I just started wrestling again.â€

Dwayne: “Oh, I know dude, and I’m proud of ya dog, we all are. Your dad hasn’t stopped smiling since you won that pay-per-view match. Hell, he put it on the big screen for all of us to watch. That Calvash dude doesn’t know who he’s messin’ with does he? And that Billy Young punk. What a tool.â€

Nicky couldn’t help but smile, rather largely actually, and let out a short laugh.

Nicky Trix: “Listen man, I’d love to talk to you forever, but my dad wanted me to come and see him. Grab a coffee or something sometime?â€

Dwayne: “That sounds good man, you staying for the show tonight?â€

Nicky Trix: “I might, why? Are you in it?â€

Dwayne: “The main event son.â€

Nicky Trix: “Wouldn’t miss it man.â€

Dwayne smiled, both men exchanged a friendly embrace, and Dwayne left. Nicky was still smiling as he ascended the stairs to the gym. He could barely himself think, as the hustle and bustle in the gym was just crazy, some guys were getting ready for the big show tonight, others were training. It was quite refreshing to see that people still took wrestling to heart. He found his father, watching over his brother who was in the ring with another trainer. Nicky walked over to them and clasped his father on the shoulder as he watched his brother train in the ring. His father looked at him and smiled. Both men remained quiet through the duration of Donnie’s training. Nicky would shout out a couple of things for Donnie to try, and they usually worked. The trainer was doing more hands on training, as in wrestling his brother. It was quite entertaining actually. His brother was doing quite well too; he had the same build as Calvash. When he got thinking about it, a lot of the guys here sort of resembled some of the people in the battle royal. He couldn’t really hide his curiosity, and of course his father knew exactly what he was thinking.

Toby Trix: “All planned out boy. We need to get you ready. This match is huge, and it’s only your third match! That’s pretty impressive. It took me nearly twenty years to get where I was, before I retired that is. Now, with this training, you could easily win this match. I want you to get in the ring with your brother.â€

Suddenly Donnie stopped in his tracks and turned around to look at his brother and father. Donnie had a look of almost fearful curiosity. The last time Nicky and Donnie really talked to each other was at that party where Nicky told his brother he would kill him. Told him he would never talk to him again, that he wasn’t needed. Now Nicky truly needed his older brother. He needed Donnie to help him. Nicky looked at his father curiously, Toby shrugged it off and told him to get in the ring.

Nicky Trix: “I haven’t changed yet.â€

Toby gave him an uncaring look and urged him with some motions of his eyes and head to get in the ring. Nicky did as his father asked and got in the ring, in his street clothes and looked at his brother. Both men just stood there in disbelief, the whole gym had stopped whatever they were all doing. They wanted to see what would happen in the ring. Suddenly Donnie started towards Nicky, and Nicky got into a defensive position, only to be shocked when his brother hugged him. Nicky didn’t know what to think at first, but after a moment or two finally embraced his brother. Both men stayed in the ring and hugged for about five minutes, it had been nearly six years since they had really spoken. Toby was only smiling as he watched his two boys finally putting the past behind them. Nicky knew then and there that this is what his father wanted when he told him to get in the ring. Nicky and Donnie finally let go of each other after an exchange of some heartfelt words and both looked over at their father, but also looked around to see everybody looking at them. This was a big moment. Nicky looked intently at his father.

Nicky Trix: “So, what now?â€

Toby only smiled and told him to get changed. Nicky was more than eager to get started on this training. It was by no means easy either. His father played some tapes he had acquired from some independent wrestling shows that showcased the wrestlers Nicky had to face in that ten man battle royal. Toby went over their every movement, showed Nicky what to watch out for. Showed Nicky where to strike. Nicky was quite impressed with how much work his father had put into this. So for nearly three hours, Nicky was constantly in the ring, hardly taking any breaks, knowing full well he’d get none in the ten man battle royal. Each person his father had handpicked did their job exactly how they should have. It was just a little under an hour before the show his father was going to put on. Nicky decided to go shower and get dressed. He figured the training his father had just given him might get him a little bit more prepared for his match. He knew his father was going to be busy so he made sure to get him before the show started. He thanked his father and hugged him. Toby smiled, and told his son how proud he was of him. And as Nicky was going to throw his stuff in his car and come back, his father stopped him, knowing they wouldn’t see each other again tonight. Nicky turned around and looked at his father.

Toby Trix: “Watch that Jaqui chick, she’s a real bitch.â€

Nicky let out a huge laugh, as if his father had just said that. Nicky returned to the gym after putting all of his gym clothes in his car, and helped around a little. He always enjoyed this place, always enjoyed helping with the shows. Heck, some of the greats came through this gym from time to time. Ric Flair came into say hello to his father once. That was big for Nicky, as Ric was one of his favorite wrestlers at the time, and he was just coming off a big match against Ricky Steamboat. Another one of his personal favorite wrestlers. The show was set to go; people had piled into watch it. He was manning the snacks while an old friend of his took care of the drinks. It was just like the good old days, but this time he had people telling him he was awesome, and it wasn’t for the free snacks. The whole show was amazing; some pretty amazing matches were taking place this night. Nicky was so glad his sister-in-law agreed to watch his children for a little bit. He was in his own world, this was his domain. And as much as he loved his children, this wasn’t the place for them. There was a couple of drunks here, and they probably would have upset his children very much. Finally, the match he had been looking most forward to, his friend Dwayne’s match. Dwayne was so tall, and he was facing a guy of about Nicky’s size. Nicky actually found this rather peculiar. These types of matches were rarely the main event. The crowd loved it though.

Suddenly he caught a glimpse of what the smaller man was wearing; it was one of Nicky’s T-shirts. He couldn’t believe it! He didn’t think he was that popular. He didn’t think he was making that big of an impact on the wrestling world that other wrestlers would be wearing his merchandise. It was the most amazing feeling. He suddenly caught a glimpse of his father looking directly at him. The man was smiling, and winked. It wasn’t just any kind of wink though; it was an almost knowing wink. Suddenly Nicky understood what that wink meant. With enough courage, determination and heart, he could win this battle royal, and really get his foot in the door. The rest of the night was amazing. The match between Dwayne and the smaller guy was purely brilliant wrestling on both parts. Dwayne won, and rightfully so. But the smaller man just got a bonus point for being so charismatic about the loss. Nicky wished he could have stayed longer, but he knew he needed to go get his kids, and go home and sleep. The next couple days, he really needed to think.

OOC: This RP may drag on a bit, but it's part of something I plan on working with. Plus I did it in my free time. So it was done in chunks. I'm happy with the outcome.

 

[Chris Dresdon]

The scene opens in the graveyard that Heath Venomous has regularly spoken from in the previous weeks of ACW programming, but this time his location in the yard is different. As the camera zooms from a full shot of the establishment to a mere section inside of the gates, Heath is seen, sitting on top of a headstone with his hands together. Heath looks down at the ground as the camera pans to a side shot of him. He begins speaking.

Heath Venomous: Time, a duration regarded as belonging to the present life as distinct from the life to come or from eternity. A finite interval, something that is both wastefully taken for granted and cherished because of its limitedness. It is a comical institution from which I extract great enjoyment, watching all of you stress over the realization that you are a prisoner to your own mortality, that you are all slaves and time is your master, I see your hearts race with fear as you realize there is nothing that you can do to stop the expiration of your lives and I laugh out of bliss, knowing that I am not restricted by this concept and that the same fear and feeling of helplessness it stirs in you is now being stirred in you by me as well, just as I set out to do. With each passing week, I am bestowed the pleasant clarity that seeing my mission through to accomplishment will be much simpler than I originally thought. For those of you that disagree, I point you to the events that have transpired since I arrived in these quarters. Two weeks ago, I was injected into the bloodstream of this industry, and already the body is shutting is down. Zasalamel tried to punish me for ignoring his warning, but when I got up from his attack and he realized that he was doomed to fail, he truly became the psycho he claims to be as he was driven to mental breakdown and fled the ring. On that night, Andrew Sanders to refused to fight, but those pulling the strings from above refused to let things transpire in that fashion, and the following week he was once again placed on a collision course with myself, along with Alex Styles. That evening, Alex Styles was laid to rest before he even had the chance to walk through the curtain, and the man that boasts himself a legend of the hardcore style was humbled and exposed for what he is, an overly confident human that had not yet realized his true strength before that encounter.

This week, it is apparent to me that he who sows the threads of time together to weave this blanket of pre-determined events has decided it is time for my abilities to truly be tested, as nine of the premier talent of Alternative Championship Wrestling find themselves destined to take on the "Last Vampire" Heath Venomous in a battle royal, a brawl that will determine who it is that will go on to the next pay-per-view exclusive, Riot Act, and challenge for the ACW International Championship. Among these nine is Andrew Sanders, a man that, in his own words, is a victim of pirated identity. Whether this man chooses to continue being known as Andrew Sanders or begins going by this new alias he supposedly intends to soon reveal, to me it matters not. For the third time I find this shameful being before me, a repeated occurrence that I cannot afford to ignore. It is for a purpose that this waste continues to appear in the same events as myself, and that purpose is his demise. Whether it is Zasalamel, who is also one of the nine and also possesses an axe to grind with Andrew, is the one to compromise him to an irreversible end or it is I, again it matters not, as long as his fate is brought about. For the promotion of this match-up, an inquiry is posed regarding which of the ten competitors wants the title shot the most. While I would not mind winning the opportunity, it is not my number one priority. Instead my intention will be what it has been going into the triple threat last week and the triple threat the week before that, inflicting pain on everyone. Whether they're trying to run, trying to attack, or end up in my line of sight by chance or unfortunate circumstance, I will hurt them and I will hurt them badly. While you all ponder which of you most desires an attempt at greatness, I ponder if this is the moment I will actually have to put forth effort. Because while I am satisfied with my mission becoming ever easier to accomplish, I also enjoy having to fight for what it is I intend to set out to do. Your struggles will be in vain, understand, but it is more fun to kill an animal that puts up a fight or attempts to keep their life than it is to slaughter one that doesn't.

Regardless of how much strength I actually have to exert, it will come to pass that I will mortally wound each of you, whether it is I that is crowned victor at the end of the night or not, it is inevitable. Not because I am superior, but because you are inferior. You are held in place by your humanity, by the non-consensual commitment you made to abide by the laws of time on the date of your birth, and because of these, at some point in the match you will tire. Your strength will fade, your energy will dissolve, and you will succumb to the sting that only the "Last Vampire" can administer, total exsanguination.

Heath looks at the camera and bears his fangs, turning and spraying a red mist at the screen, covering it entirely.​

 

[Pete]

The Five Stages

Denial​

It’s fine. It really is. It’s nothing. Just a temporary setback. I let Snow get to me. I became too smart-ass for my own good. I was too involved with other things. Saving the kid’s marriage with Lord Viagra . Trying to keep that bitch Claressa from going through with her little plan. Adjusting to the fact that I’m actually fighting valid opponents again. It gets to you, you know? Throws you off your game.

It’s fine now, though. I’m fine. My head’s back in it, and I’m gonna be back on top in no time. Just you watch me. It’s fine. It really is.

Just fine.

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Anger​

​

​

It’s not fair!

*Left*

It’s not fair!

*Right*

It’s not fucking FAIR!

*Leftrightleftrightleftright*

How could this happen to me? WHY ME? All I ever wanted was to prove myself. To prove a chick can be just as good at a man’s job as a dude. Them? They’ve got nothing to prove. They’re already dicks – literally and figuratively. So why not hand THEM the bad patch? Why not give THEM the losing streak? Why is the ONE PERSON who needs it the least the one that gets it? It’s not fair, I’m telling you!

Oh, sure, guys get grief when they lose. But what’s the worst thing that happens? They get called “losers”. Big whoop. But me? Every time I lose, I have to hear the old “oh, of COURSE she lost, what did you expect? She’s a GIRL..”

IT DRIVES!

*Left*

ME!

*Right*

FUCKING!

*Left*

CRAZY!

*Leftrightleftrightleft*

Oh, GREAT. I tore through the bag. Perfect. Just what I fucking needed to make this fucking day even fucking better.

Fuck my life.

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Bargaining​

​

​

Hey, God?

Yeah, this is Jacqui M. Hey. How you doin’?

Listen, I know you know I don’t believe in you and all that shit, but dude…can we talk? Have a little heart to heart? Drinks are on me…

Oh, that’s right. You don’t drink. Blood of Christ and all that. I get it. It’s fine. We’ll just have orange juice or something. The point is, I really need to talk to you.

So you know how I just started at ACW, right? And I’m SURE you know starting a new job is like starting at a new school – you gotta fit in. And being a loser is NOT the way to fit in. I’m sure you’ll agree.

So here’s the deal – you get me off of this losing streak, give me just ONE WIN, and I’ll…I’ll…

…I’ll try not to kick anybody in the nuts too hard when they piss me off. How’s that sound, do we have a deal?

Well…you don’t seem to be answering, so I’ll leave you alone. I know you’re a busy guy, and you’ve probably got better things to do than listen to some dumb broad who doesn’t even believe in you try to save her ass. But still…it WOULD be good if we could strike a deal of some sort. So get back to me on that one, ‘k?

Good talking!

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Depression​

​

​

What the fuck was I thinking? That I’m a good wrestler? That this would be a breeze? WHAT?

I should have known better. This isn’t like the PWA. I’m not fighting halfwits with modelling contracts. This is the real deal. And I’m not ready for the real deal anymore. I’ve grown too cushy, too smug. I’ve had it easy for too many years. So what’s the point in even trying?

You know, I’m seriously beginning to think I’m full of it. I’m not THAT good. I never was THAT good. And all the crap I said all this time was just a defence mechanism. To make myself feel good, y’know? To…what’s that word those self-help jerks like to use?...oh yeah, ‘validate’. To ‘validate’ myself.

Tonight, I fight nine men. I’m the only Y chromosome in there. The token chick. The one with the boobs. And that’s all I’ll ever be. A novelty. A joke. And you know what? Fuck that. It’s not worth the bother. I’m going to go to Phoenix right now and throw in the towel. Terminate my contract. Go out there one last time, do the job, and be done with all this shit. ‘Cause I’m tired, and it’s pointless, and I suck.

Trust me. We’ll all be better off.

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Acceptance​

*’We will riiiise/riiiiise/aboooove’..*

Shut up, you god damn phone! Where the fuck are you? Oh, there you are. Who’s this? Oh, it’s the kid. What does SHE want?

“Hello?”

[color=#7DO53F]“Hi Jacqui!”[/color]

“What’s up, kid?”

[color=#7DO53F] “Nothing. Just wanted to say good luck for tonight! I know you can beat all those boys!”[/color]

God DAMN it. I wish I didn’t have to break her heart. But it’s for the best.

“Uh, thanks, kid. But y’know, I don’t think I…”

[color=#7DO53F] “DON’T, Jacqui. Of course you can! You always could! ‘Cause you’re awesome!”[/color]

Yeah, right. I wish.

“Listen, kid…I appreciate it, but…you gotta go deal with your husband now, OK? I’ll be fine.”

Fortunately for me, she bites:

[color=#7DO53F] “OK, Jacqui! Love you! Xoxo!”[/color]

Seriously?! Who actually says “xoxo” out loud?! I swear, that kid is SUCH a ditz…

..and why the fuck am I smiling?! There’s nothing to smile about! This is serious! I…

“HEY! Jacqui!”

Oh, what NOW?!

Oh, it’s just some bimbos in ACW t-shirts. What the fuck do THEY want?!

“Oh my GOD, it really IS you! We’re, like, your BIGGEST fans!”

“Yeah…I used to think wrestling was lame, I just watched it ‘cause my boyfriend likes it, y’know? But now you’re here, and oh my God you’re so freakin’ AWESOME!”

OK. Toooo much airheadedness going on here. Time to pull the brakes.

“Uh, thanks, I guess, but…”

“Oh my God, will you sign our banner?!”

Holy SHIT. They have a banner. A fucking BANNER. With my name on it. “We HEART Jacqui M”. I don’t know whether to be flattered or throw up.

“Uh…sure…I guess…”

They start fucking squealing again, while I get a pen and put my scrawl on their rag. Then they thank me five thousand times and leave, still squealing. GOOD. Maybe NOW I can FINALLY…

…oh, who am I kidding? I’m not going anywhere apart from in that ring to kick some ass. I just realised that. The kid is counting on me. Those airheads are counting on me. The boss is counting on me. The fucking ACW is counting on me. I can’t let them down. I’m not that kind of girl.

So I’ve lost a few. So what?! My head wasn’t in the game to begin with. I wasn’t concentrating hard enough. Wasn’t WORKING hard enough. But now? Now I’m ready. Win or lose, I’m going to give the best of me out there tonight. And I will walk out with my head held high one way or another.

You know why? ‘Cause I’m fine.

Just fine.

 

[Lewb]

A bustling hallway is revealed slowly. The camera angle is zooming far down the hall and starting to focus on a make-shift sign on the back wall, next to a pair of old double doors. A sign made of just A4 paper enforced onto the wall by blu-tack, looking like it could fall off at any moment has the full running order of the next episode of Adrenaline listed on it. A double door swings open. The shadow grows bigger as it gets closer, and it's moving at a rushed pace. The black of the shadow gets mixed in with the shade of the boots as Aaron Asterisk tries to scurry through the corridor as people working getting the show in running order peer in, some in disconcern, some with a more relieved look. The twists and turns through the winding aisles to find his locker room are stopped by one of the backstage runners, assigned to the task of ensuring talent are settled well before their time to wrestle.

Stage Runner: There you are! Finally.Do you actually realise how late you are Sir.

Aaron Asterisk: Yes, I apol-

Herb said you probably will be late, tat's your kinda thing, isn't it? Fashionably late because you really just don't care.

As if it was needed or wanted, as the running leads Asterisk to his locker room he continues with the lecture.

My father always used to tell me, "punctuality is the key to personality." When you think about it, it's spot on. I never used to buy into it, I thought it was just a line he thought up to make me get out of bed in the mornings. but, sure enough, as I grown up it's one hundred percent spot on. You can tell everything by how a man makes sure he's on time or not.

So you can tell I've been in a four hour traffic jam because of a lorry jack-knifing on the freeway?

Excuses are exclusive to losers, my-

I suppose that's another one of your old mans nuggets too. What does he do, your father?

They both stop walking as they arrived outside Asterisk's dressing room. Only enough time for the stage-hand to answer.

He's been serving the community for thirty-five years, making sure the roads you drive on are as safe and smooth as possible!

Stopping for a moment to stare at the boy with the most philosophical road-digger in the USA, he shifts his eyes, before opening his locker room door and shutting it behind him while muttering to himself...

Only in Yonkers.

Only had his bags touched the floor a mere moment, and his phone sounds off. Rummaging in both pockets not remembering what side he had slotted his mobile in from last us, he finds it and looks at the screen, before sliding his finger across and answering.

Hey, what's going on?................................................
Yeah, yeah, I just got into work so I can't speak for long.......................
I........
I.......
I told you what I do last night didn't I, I'm a wrestler...........
Yeah, I'm fighting tonight..............
No, I wasn't joking, Christ............
Yonkers.............
Ah, a little place in NYC, not the greatest but the arenas not too bad..........
I left it with you................
Umm, I'll have a look but I'm pretty sure I left it there with you.......
You better not have..........
You....
You better not have. I entrusted you with that and after six hours you.........
Let me know if you find it, I'll let you know if I got it.........
Well if I don't ring you then I obviously don't have it...............
Right, okay....
Thanks, see ya later,..........
Okay.

And with that he puts the phone down knowing the other end will hang up, and hoists his gym bag up onto the bench. He starts with the smaller pockets on the sides, emptying everything out of the bag, assumably looking for whatever he was talking about on the phone. Not finding it he looks in the main middle section. He hauls out his wrestling attire, his wrestling boots, his protein shake and other bits and bobs, and at the bottom of the bag he looks and in one of the corners he grabs something and his eyes glisten and light up. He keeps whatever is in his hand grasped tight, the camera never gaining a look at what all the fuss is about. He goes to leave the locker room whilst getting his phone out to let whoever he was speaking to know that all is well. As the door shuts behind him, silence sets in and the camera fades away.

 

[Slim]

The scene opens up to Zasalamel sitting in a chair in the warehouse. He doesn’t have his mask on and his back is to the camera. He doesn’t have the top part of his costume on so some of his scars can be seen. He appears to have a razor in his hand and starts going over his hair.

Zasalamel: Pain is something that isn’t understood. Only thought that the only to live with it is to be intolerant to it. To be able to absorb it and ignore it. But I implore you that is not the only way. Looking at Vance Abram and his scars… now that I’ve seen him in person, is nothing special to behold. But instead is just another guy that believes that he is tough and believes he is a star. Someone that has believed in his own hype for far too long and it is because of that he feels that everyone should take notice whenever he says something or steps foot in the ring. That the only reason that someone would want to be in the ring with him is to get over and experience the popularity of being in the ring with someone like him. So much so that he decided to take it upon himself and say flat out that I was an idiot for not looking to get into this to get over. But I reiterate my statement… I’m not in this business to get over. I could not careless about any of that shit. I have all that I want and all that I need in order to survive. The only thing that I want is to inflict pain.

He starts shaving more and more of his hair as half of his head is shaved.

In this business we have the ability to inflict unimaginable pain on others and that is something I take extreme joy in. That is one thing that I enjoy nearly as much as my Beethoven. Is seeing the pain escape the eyes of those that I punish. Seeing them writhing in agony. Seeing them begging for it all to stop, to just relieve them of any and all pain and harm that they are receiving. There are those that believe that they have what it takes in order to do it. There are those that believe that they can absorb so much pain but they do not know what to do with it. Instead they just think that being able to take the pain makes them tough. But any idiot out there can learn how to take a punch and keep punching. Instead what they need to understand is the psychological process behind it and how to channel that into something more. That is the aspect that is missing from most minds as they feel that if you can just have the physical advantage then you have more than enough to make it. Physicality is only part of the equation and until that is understood… those people will not ever be what they can fully be until they let go. But that is something that most refuse to do… is let go.

He has his head fully shaved as he reaches down for his full mask and puts it on. He then turns the chair around and we see his scarred body with scars all over his chest, his arms.

They refuse to let go of their grasp of humanity and that is the thing that keeps most from achieving what they are truly capable of because they want to still be accepted. They want to be loved, appreciated. They want to be “over” in the business which is why Vance Abram will ALWAYS be a bitch. He is not true, he is not legit, he is nothing more than an imposter in what is really hardcore. He wants to be the poster child for hardcore with his scars that he got over time but he will never be the definition for what it truly stands for. He will always just be the one that is all talk. And the others are nothing more than mere fodder, mere sheep being lead to the slaughter. And that final look in their eyes before they meet their demise makes everything that leads up to the point matter. And then the execution of those pathetic people, those pathetic sheep allows me to sleep easier.

So seeing these people like Nicky Trix, Jacqui, Heath, Aaron, all mean nothing to me. They are all nothing more than guilty people that will be accounted for their wrong doings. They will meet their fate for being guilty of wanting punishment inflicted on them. They will not wind up like me with all of my scars but they will feel my wrath, they will finally understand what true pain is really all about. And in the end… they will be left groveling at my feet. But this fight ends when they are tossed out over the top rope and so what I plan on doing is hurting each and every single one of you for as long as I can and once beating on your poor defenseless body becomes a bore… you will be properly disposed of. The time is coming near. And then… all will be understood.

There is nothing that will be able to prepare you for what is to come… but instead all you can do is brace yourself for the worst. For in that… will be your best chance for survival.

At that Zasalamel turns his back to the camera and doesn’t utter another word and the scene fades to black.

 

[Derrick]

Thinking and Overthinking.

It's fucking 4am, I just came home from the wildest party ever, and because I'm the insomniac I am, I can't fucking sleep. That kinda pisses me off. And I just found out how harsh my inner self is. One would think I'm the jerk if my thoughts were public.

Goddammit, it's cold like never before and it's freaking May. I need an extra blanket. There. Now this surely feels better. My life is weird. One day I'm the kid wearing CM Punk and MCMG t-shirts watching WWE on TV, the kid that's completely dominating the backyard fed he's in, but still a total no-name. And the other day.. look who I am. The guy that played a key role in an ACW PPV, the guy that his fans adore, the guy whose name gets chanted all the time, the guy people count on and believe in, just because he's a nice and a normal person. But is this all really worth it? .... Of course it is. What am I even thinking of. This all is one million percent worth every single drop of blood I'll lose in my life. I mean, this is my dream. This is what dad predicted when I was a kid too, this was the topic of our little talks, when he kept telling me that I'll be the star of the future. But it sucks he can't see me now. My life is a mess lately. My freaking mother wants to send me to the asylum for ABSOLUTELY no reason, the same goes for a few childhood friends of mine. Looks like the ones I counted on cold-heartedly want to erase me from their lives, like I'm nothing, like I don't matter to them a single bit. Sometimes I don't understand all of this, sometimes I really don't. On the other hand, I'm getting new friends, that's the way I should approach all of this. The ACW crew is an awesome one. I found friends in the cameramen, hell I found friends in the executives, mostly I found a colleague and a friend at the same time, I found Jacqui. But I need to repeat to myself, SHE IS JUST A FRIEND man. JUST. A. FRIEND. Most of all, she helps me all the time. She chats to me when I'm lonely, she's a good pal that will go with you to have some beer, she's the cool person that will help you out in any situation. Like she helped me with the PWA invasion. God, how annoying the PWA guys are. This is just impossible. Where the fuck did Lady Luck go from my life? 'Cause when I didn't even think of luck, I was full of it, and now what? A bunch of no-names from some other fed that I never heard of invaded my fed where I feel home, I mean, at least I can somehow help. I know, I know. I'll fuck myself up, I might even get killed if I wrestle a million matches per week, I know that's impossible to beat them all at once. But the way I'm planning it, everything should be just alright. If I beat Vycious at the beginning of their "invasion", maybe they would somehow get scared of. If I take care of one of the Revolution co-leaders, they will get the fuck out of our lives, especially if my other ACW friends take care of the PWA jobbers. And Claressa? She's just an egotistic bitch, she just thinks of herself and of getting Vycious' cock deep in her fuckhole. Damn I want to un-think that. This all is shitty and I'm basically talking to myself at almost 5am, who the hell does that anyways. Just the psychos like me, I guess. I should go to sleep.

--30 minutes later--

For the fucking sake of Jesus Christ, just sleep already Raiden. I can't stop thinking of all the shit I have to deal with in my life, my brain really hates me I guess. It's all ok though. Maybe if I start thinking of the huge match I'll wrestle on Adrenaline, maybe I'll get tired and fall asleep, yeah. That should work. This all is really weird. I'll face like 10 guys or something, just to get a title shot. And that's what I always wanted, right? Yeah. It's simple.. I'll do what I always used to do, I'll just ignite the crowd, they will cheer me and help me with that all. Just a pinfall and nothing more. Just like that. And the shot will be mine. Some no-name whose name I don't even know has that title so winning should be simple..

And Raiden fell asleep.​

 

[The_King]

Mind Games (Part 1)

Abram Vance Roleplay: #1 of 2
Mind Games (Part 1) [Untelevised]

Vance storms up the ramp with the trainer at his heels. Blood pours from a deep gash, probably caused by the chain shot to the head. Shards of glass, from his very own bottle of Jack’, visibly protrude from Vance’s arms. The trainer continues to plead with Vance to take a look, but the pleading stops after Vance shoots him a threatening look. He breaks through the curtains and is greeted by Rayce. Her arms are crossed tightly on her chest. An odd red tint flushes her face as she shakes her head in frustration. Beki begins to step towards Vance, and he extends his hand towards her chest to brush her off. Rayce surprisingly grabs his arm and pulls him towards a door. She flings it open with her free hand and bursts into a hallway. Rayce quickly surveys the area, ensuring the two are alone. She nods, clearly content, and releases his arm. Despite Vance towering over her, Rayce approaches him, nearly standing chest to chest. She stares directly into his eyes, waiting for him to dignify her with a response. A long minute passes between the two, but neither breaks their stares. Out of frustration and maybe even fear, Vance steps back and asks quietly.

Vance: “What?â€

Rayce almost allows a smile to creep on her face but quickly forces it back, maintaining the furious visage. She extends her finger towards Vance in an accusatory gesture and breaks the silence with her shrill tone, somewhat dissatisfied with Vance’s response.

Rayce: “WHAT?â€

Rayce’s hands fall to her hip as she shifts her weight to one leg. She cocks her head to the side and raises her eyebrow, conveying her anger in a simple gesture. Vance smiles, clearly intensifying the situation, and shrugs, refusing to give her the apology she wants. In response, Rayce throws her arms up in the air out of frustration and lunges towards him, shoving him backwards. As he stumbles still in bad condition from his match, she once again addresses him, but a clear sense of desperation creeps into her tone.

Rayce: “Are you kidding me? YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO ME.â€

Her face becomes more flushed as she throws her hands to her side like a pouting child.

Rayce: “First, you DERAIL the interview. And now…â€

Beki seems to be at a loss for words for a brief moment, but she recovers, gesturing to where the ring would be.

Rayce: “THAT! Completely ignoring the booking!â€

Vance just nods proudly causing Rayce to stomp her foot into the cold pavement below. She drops her head and leans forward onto him, expecting an embrace. A clear whimpering stems from her concealed mouth. She leans back still clutching his chest and looks upward into his eyes, attempting to score sympathy. A few tears begin to stream from the corner of her eyes as she pleads with him.

Rayce: “You know how much I need…â€

Vance steps backwards causing Rayce to lose her balance and stumble forwards. The short lived sense of comfort she derived from him dissipates as his eyes ‘bug out’ in shock. He clenches his fists at his side.

Vance: “Need?â€

Rayce’s mouth falls slightly open as she stares at him confused at his questioning, revealing her delusional sense of self-entitlement. In the background, a chubby, Italian man slips out of a door on the opposite end of the hallway. He goes unnoticed as Vance lunges towards her so that they’re face to face. He barks:

Vance: “You DESTROYED my career. I owe you NOTHING.â€

The word nothing seems to echo in the hallway, and Rayce’s head just drops, suggesting a previously unseen sense of guilt. As she just stands there, seemingly defeated, Vance grabs her by the chin and moves her head gently upwards. He looks directly at her and waits until she meets his piercing gaze, clearly just playing with her. She flicks her head to the side, freeing herself of his grasp, and looks at the ground with her arms clenched tightly on her chest. He lets out a quick chuckle and begins to turn back towards the door. As his hand comes into contact with the door knob, she says calmly.

Rayce: “You’re pathetic.â€

A smirk immediately bursts onto Vance’s face as he gets his desired reaction, allowing him to further his attack. As he turns towards her, she surprises him by continuing in the calm tone, questioning him.

Rayce: “How old are you?â€

Vance doesn’t answer immediately, and Rayce responds by screaming.

Rayce: “HOW OLD ARE YOU?â€

He responds quietly, seemingly ashamed.

Vance: “Forty four…â€

Rayce nods her head while biting her tongue. She lashes out at him and pins him against the door. Despite the height difference, she looks directly up at him and returns to her calm tone.

Rayce: “Forty four years old, Abe… Forty four.â€

She repeats it to emphasize the age. Vance shakes his head, attempting to ignore his shame, but Rayce continues breaking into a more intense tone. She extends her hand outwards so that he can see it and raises one finger.

Rayce: “You’re sabotaging the first job you’ve had in three years.â€

She raises a second finger.

Rayce: “You sleep in the locker room of a community center because you’re dirt poor.â€

As her tone becomes more vicious and her hatred becomes more apparent, Vance begins to clench his fist at his sides and bite his lower lip. She raises a third finger and continues.

Rayce: “You’re family has abandoned you, and you have no friends because you’re a fucking asshole.â€

A fourth finger extends from her hand.

Rayce: “You haven’t been sober a SINGLE DAY in the last five years.â€

Vance’s head slowly droops downwards as Rayce continues to assault him with brutal facts. She raises a fifth finger and uses her free hand to push his head upwards, forcing him to look into her face. She hisses coldly.

Rayce: “You’re a FUCKING LOW LIFE whose going to die alone…â€

Vance seems to lose all control and begins to raise his right hand, blocking out the cold last words of Rayce’s sentence. He draws it viciously towards her face and opens his palm. Before she can react, his hand makes contact with the side of her face, and she is knocked brutally off her feet. Rayce crashes into the cold cement at her feet as Vance stands over, casting his looming shadow on her unconscious body.

???: “ABE!â€

Rough footsteps echo throughout the hallway as the aforementioned man charges towards, but Vance doesn’t seem to recognize him.

Instead, his eyes almost seem to burn with hatred as he runs his hand over the gash on his forehead and then through his long, blond mane. The blood from the gash stains his hair making him seem savage, almost beastly. He stares at her body, and surprisingly, no cold, evil smile creeps onto his face. Instead, an empty expression that conceals his deep rooted hatred lingers.​

He turns the knob and slips out of the door, leaving Rayce.

~*~*~*~*~*END OF SCENE*~*~*~*~*~​

 

[The_King]

Mind Games (Part 2)

Abram Vance Roleplay #2 of 2
Mind Games (Part 2) [Untelevised]

Vance sits on a raised platform. He winces in pain as a needle weaves in and out of his upper arm. A young woman in a nurses’ uniform, most likely the trainer, wields the needle, casting her shadow over him. The woman builds up the courage to make eye contact with him, but he just shakes his head, denying her advance. He shifts his position and groans in pain as she continues to stich up his arm. The silent, awkward environment is quickly shattered as the door of the office thrusts inward. A chubby, Italian man stumbles in. His tuxedo is disheveled. His face is bright red in frustration and dripping with sweat. Before the woman can even protest, he slams the door close and stomps towards the bloodied Vance. He begins to pace back and forth, attempting to plan out his words, but eventually stops dead in his tracks in front of Vance. He throws his arms down in frustration and asks angrily.

Christopher Martello: “Are you insane?â€

Vance, clearly recovered from his altercation with Rayce, responds in usual sarcastic manner.

Vance: “Eh, probably.â€

Martello shakes his head in disbelief at Vance’s lack of seriousness. He begins to pace again out of frustration and breaks into a rant.

Martello: “You break kayfabe in an interview? Fine, we’ll chalk it up to your gimmick.â€

Vance nods along despite his inattentiveness.

Martello: “You refuse to put over a clown gimmick? I could take the blame for it, no biggie.

Vance purses his lips, mocking Martello, as he breaks into an angrier tone.

Martello: “But BEATING your ex-girlfriend… what the hell are you thinking?â€

As he asks that last question, his hands jut outwards in a questioning gesture, clearly baffled by Vance’s actions. Abe winces in pain as the trainer fishes a shard of glass out of one of his wounds. She keeps her head down, attempting to ignore the odd argument unfolding before her. Vance responds calmly, mocking the serious atmosphere in the room.

Vance: “The bitch wouldn’t shut her mouth, so I shut it for her.â€

Martello stares at Vance, completely stunned by his remark and how badly his attempt at guilt tripping him is failing.

Martello: “You do realize that she’s going to sell you out to Phoenix?â€

Vance shrugs his shoulders and begins to shake his head. He responds confidently.

Vance: “She won’t.â€

Martello squints his eyes and thrusts his head forwards, looking at Vance like he’s insane. He shrugs his shoulders in confusion and waits for an explanation. Vance growls in response as the trainer begins to work on his forehead wound, obstructing his view of Martello.

Vance: “Cut the crap, you already talked her down.â€

Martello can’t help but to smile as Vance calls his bluff.

Martello: “She’s in the locker room.â€

Vance hops off the table and signals to the trainer to cut the remaining string stemming from his stich. She shakes her head in refusal and says politely.

Trainer: “I’m not done yet. Can you take a seat?â€

Vance shakes his head, denying her request, and responds coldly.

Vance: “Cut it, toots.

She quickly snips the remaining string, and Vance slips out the door.

Rayce leans back on a steel chair, propped against the wall. Her legs are outstretched and rest on a nearby bench. Her hands are folded behind her head, and a large smile creeps onto her face as Vance walks in. No visible bruises or marks can be seen. She gestures for him to sit on the bench, and he extends his one leg over it so that the bench is between his legs as he sits. He places his right hand into the pockets of his jeans, obviously changing before confronting her, and stares directly at her. The prior fury and hatred seems long forgotten, being replaced by an odd sense of competition. Rayce drops her legs from the bench and allows the chair to land on all four legs. She leans forward and asks Vance playfully.

Rayce: “When did ya’ figure it out?â€

Vance smiles as Rayce breaks the charade and reveals her ‘hand’. He responds playfully.

Vance: “When I gave you that love slap, and you sold it like you got hit by a Semi.â€

Rayce flips her head to the side like an actress gushing over winning an award. As she basks in the glory of her performance, Vance attempts to appease his curiosity.

Vance: “And Martello?â€

Rayce nods and responds cockily.

Rayce: “It was simple. Checked the interview schedule. Noticed Martello had an online chat with fans during the show. It ended a few minutes after your match, so I brought you to the hallway with the interview room and delayed you until I heard the door open behind us. From there…â€

Vance waves his hand in her face, signaling her to stop. She smiles gleefully as Vance realizes how badly she manipulated him. He pushes onwards with the conversation, adopting a less confident, almost questioning tone.

Vance: “Lemme’ guess, law suit against ACW hoping for a settlement that you can float on for a few years?â€

Rayce cocks her head to the side and flashes Vance a mocking smile. He just nods, feigning defeat, as Beki continues on with her oblivious gloating.

Rayce: “Any last words before I ‘DESTROY your career’, again?â€

As she says “destroy your careerâ€, she uses air quotes to mock Vance’s earlier overdramatic statement in the hallway. She begins to stand from her seat, preparing for her glorious exit, but Vance cuts her off.

Vance: “I gotta’ proposition.â€

She raises her eyebrows and stares at Vance, clearly interested in his remark. She moves her hand in circle, gesturing him to continue.

Vance: “The settlement is temporary, Wouldn’t last ya’ long. But you saw the figures on the champion’s salaries?â€

Rayce nods and her smile grows as she begins to predict Vance’s plan.

Vance: “The trainer let it slip that they booked me in a contendership match next show. You give me some distractions, and I’ll get the win. When I get the belt, we split the bonus seventy, thirty. The seventy t’ ya’.â€

Rayce shrugs her shoulders, unimpressed by the basic description, and begins firing off questions.

Rayce: “How are ya’ going to get the belt?â€

Vance smiles and responds, the cockiness returning to his tone.

Vance: “If I win the contendership, Imma’ cut a deal with Bronko and offer to bring the belt to the PWA if his guys interfere in the title match for me. And, I’m goin’ to cut a deal with Snow, ya’ know, ‘take him under my wings’.â€

As Vance says “take him under my wingsâ€, a sense of sarcasm rises in his voice which is only emphasized by the air quotes he uses while saying it. Both Rayce and Vance break into a quick fit of laughter before Vance continues.

Vance: “Get him to trust me. That way, if I lose to him, I can just blame the PWA attack on the ACW/PWA battle so that he stills trusts me and I can get shots in the future. If I win, I screw him over, jump to the PWA alliance, and use their clout to keep US employed.â€

Rayce nods her head in approval, clearly liking the plan. She asks one final question.

Rayce: “And the shit storm that’ll happen after you win the contendership match?â€

Vance waves his hand, brushing off the comment, and responds confidently.

Vance: “Martello will cover us.â€

Rayce nods in agreement and says with a cocky smile on her face.

Rayce: “I’m in.â€

Vance responds playfully.

Vance: “Good. Now, fuck off. Gotta’ jump in the shower.â€

Rayce giggles, clearly still somewhat enamored by Vance, and slips out of the locker room. After a moment, Vance sits quietly and listens for any noises, ensuring Rayce’s exit. He nods his head as he confirms her exit and slips a phone from his right pocket. The screen is visible for just a second, and the words ‘Voice Recorder’ are just noticeable. He runs his finger across the screen and smiles approvingly.

The bitch wants to blackmail me? Hah.
Let the mind games begin, Rayce.​

​

~*~*~*~*~*END OF SCENE*~*~*~*~*~​

 

[BDC]

So far it's Aaron Asterisk, Jacqui M and Abram Vance down the stretch. Surely you other guys aren't just gonna sit idlely by, eh? TILL MIDNIGHT! LET'S DO IT!!!

 

[Pete]

RRS, don't throw your shot away bro

 

[Derrick]

Expect a 2nd one from Raiden, and an epic one, just so you know.

 

[Pete]

Good! That's what I like to hear