ACW OVERDRIVE 06/05/2012 Zasalamel v Abram Vance

[Pete]

If you are not in this match, don't post in this thread. If you are in this match, don't spam it up with OOC talk.
TWO rp cap per person, with the deadline being May 6, 2012 at 11:59 PM Eastern Time. Good Luck!

 

[Slim]

The sounds of “Fur Elise†can be heard playing in the background as the camera pans around the warehouse that Zasalamel lives in. The music gets louder as the camera gets closer as he is finishing up on the musical number. As he strikes the final key he lowers the key cover over the keys and doesn’t turn around but just starts speaking.

Zasalamel: Last week I had a little skirmish with a little bitch named Col. Sanders. It seems he had his chicken suit on and stuck his little tail between his legs and ran away from a fight. So instead I brought the fight to the little bitch and showed him why he doesn’t belong here in ACW. So until you ready to grow a set of balls there Sanders and face off against a real threat… go take your little ball back to PWA. ACW is not a place for little bitches like you to come play and complain about your level of competition because it is that much better than you. This is for the real men and women to fight. And it is people like you that disgust me to no end. So be sure to watch your back cause you never know if I may feel like taking your ass out of ACW for good. It would be such a pleasure for each and every single person that even though I’m the psychotic one that nobody wants to see… I can assure you that for that moment in time I would become the most loved person in ACW.

Now speaking of ACW… I now have an actual threat. I actually have to deal with someone that has a set of balls that wouldn’t mind getting into a fight. Wouldn’t mind losing a tooth or two, wouldn’t mind bleeding a little, and would not mind having to stand face to face with the most sadistic mind in ACW. Abram… I watched you. I watched you and I awaited the time to come where it would be you and I having to deal with each other. Something I know you have been anticipating because you have been wanting something to do. I myself have been looking for a new victim to demoralize. And I would be very much pleased to strip you of any and all dignity that you may have. Because in the end… it won’t be about losing to a clown, it will be knowing the fact that no matter what it is… you just cannot win.

And the sooner, the quicker that is understood, the sooner you can return to your life of stagnant stale living. Because only then will the truth finally be revealed to you and only then will you finally have a pure understanding of what the truth is. And the old adage that the truth will set you free does not apply here. For instead the truth will spell out your untimely demise. But then in a sense that does mean it will set you free for you will no longer be stuck in your lie but instead your eyes will be open and you will see that it is not the image that is being portrayed that you should be concerned with but the content within that you should be. It is what you cannot see that you should concern with. Fill in those gaps in the mind of your opponent and understand what it is they are about and only then will you finally be able to grasp what it is that you will be encountering… but the problem there is your simplistic way of doing things will forbid you from achieving such a feat.

The reasoning which I will explain to you now is because of your lack of focus. You are worried about preserving your lost name. A name that is so lost and forgotten that even in the eyes of those here they see you and wonder… who in the hell is this guy. But then they see your arm candy and they think… not bad. I see her and I think… I can have a little fun with an ass like that. But then I wonder if that is what it will take to light a fire under you, to give you a real reason to fight because if so… consider it done. Consider that if you bring Beki out… women do seem to like clowns and I can be a very nice and funny clown. And I’m sure my magic trick of pulling a snake out of my pants will please her more than anything you could have ever done.

He turns around from the piano revealing a sadistic smile and a slight chuckle. But just as quickly as it began it ended.

Do not take my joke as a sign that I am taking you lightly. I plan on fully executing anything and everything necessary to ensure that you are proven to be a flash in the past, a person beyond their years and pretty much has nothing left to offer other than your hot ass woman and your name to ACW. You will be used like a condom. Pretty much used to your full extent and then tossed to the street. You are nothing more than a whore that will be fucked by ACW and then forgotten about only to be found by some random hobo and possibly used one last time before you are deemed completely and utterly useless. But for now you are useful. For now you are a fresh out of the pack condom ready to be used and abused. So be ready Abram… you are about to be fucked.

He starts with another chuckle before breaking out into a maniacal laughter before the scene fades to black.

 

[The_King]

Scars of the Past

Roleplay #1 of 2

Abram Vance hides in the darkness of the Mayfield Community Center. Beneath the dense shadows, Vance sit propped against the bottom turnbuckle, sporting a ruffled, blue, denim jacket, baggy jeans, and a pair of Raybans. Due to the emptiness of the community center, a slightly detectable snoring sound stems from the ring. It only lasts momentarily as the sound of feet slapping against the wooden gym floor reverberates through the darkness. Clicking sounds follow, and dim light begins to shine down from the gym lights hanging overhead. As the lights slowly brighten, a deep moan of frustration and shuffling sounds emanate from the ring as a sleeping Vance tries to make his escape. A familiar voice with a slight Italian accent bursts out through the dim lighting.

???: “You’re fine Abe.”

Vance squints his eyes attempting to make out the voice’s owner. He rubs his eyes roughly with his clenched hands as the man slides into the ring awkwardly. A smile crosses Vance’s face as he recognizes his old friend from the Indy scene, Christopher Martello. Martello quickly crosses the ring and drops down next to Vance. He shoots a quick glance around as if searching for something.

Martello: “Where’s your babysitter?”

Vance lets out a slightly maniacal chuckle and shrugs apathetically. Chris nudges him playfully in order to lighten him up.

Vance: “Yeah, I locked her in the locker room.”

The two share a quick glance, trying to work out the other’s reaction and act appropriately. After a moment, they drop the charade and burst into laughter.

Martello: “How long?

Vance glances down at his wrist and examines his non-existent ‘watch’.

Vance: “Eh, about five hours now.”

A sick smile crosses Martello’s face, suggesting he relishes in Rayce’s suffering. Despite this, he jokingly continues on with his questions as Vance slips a bottle of Jack Daniels from behind his back.

Martello: “And you’re not worried she’s going to rat you out?”

Vance takes a quick swig and responds sarcastically while shaking his head ‘no’.

Vance: “She wants some of this.”

Vance grabs at his crotch as the two again descend into laughter.

Martello: “She wants another night with ‘The Python’, eh?”

Vance waves off Martello’s comment with his right and corrects him.

Vance: “Another? Nah, try another dozen.”

The two break into their final fit of laughter before an awkward silence passes between them. Vance slips a small bottle of prescription pills out of his pocket and tosses one in his mouth. He washes it down with a swig of Jack as Martello stares at the bottle labeled “Vicodin” and then shifts his gaze downward to the bolded, all caps sentence reading “Do not take with alcohol”. He rolls his eyes, clearly used to Vance’s reckless behavior, and starts to get to the business aspect of his trip.

Martello: “Anyways, I didn’t see you on the hotel list, so I thought you’d be camping out here.”

Vance gestures outwards, signaling Chris to continue.

Martello: “You do realize what she has store in for you?”

Vance: “Put over no namers, bury me, and release me after an injury?”

Martello shrugs his shoulders, clearly a bit frustrated, and responds nicely.

Martello: “Sounds about right.”

Martello adverts his gaze to Vance’s right knee. He notices an odd lump in the area and that his jeans are wet there. Vance notices his stare and slowly rolls up his jean leg, revealing an ice pack on a slightly bruised, swollen knee cap.

Vance: “Tweaked it during the Super Kick."

Martello: “Did you see the trainer?”

Vance breaks into a prideful smile and grabs the Vicodin bottle. He shakes it mockingly in Chris’ face.

Martello: “You goin’ to be ready for Overdrive?”

He nods, vanquishing Martello’s fears. Chris continues on in a quieter, more reserved tone.

Martello: “And the drug testing?”

Vance mockingly rolls his eyes.

Vance: “I’m not too worried about Tits McGee’s policy.”

Martello: “She’s booking you against Zasalamel. She’s been tryin’ to get him over as the hardcore guy. So, she figured she’d use your rep’, have you take a beating, and put her guy over.”

Second match back, and the bitch is already out for my blood, literally.​

​

Martello: “I’m supposed to remind you that you should follow orders and not try anything funny, and you've got your first interview the day of the show. Be prepared.”

Martello stands up and begins to exit the ring as he lets out a final statement.

Martello: “With that being said, can’t wait to see what you’re goin’ to pull.”

Martello scurries away from the ring towards the exit, leaving Vance alone in the empty community center. He uses the ropes to pull himself to his feet and places his weight on his left foot, allowing his right knee to rest.

Hardcore match?
I’m getting too old for this shit.​

​

​

He thrusts his hand down his white wifebeater and rubs it against his scar ridden chest. The feelings conjure up the memories of his barbed wire match with Sabu back in 04’ in Detroit. The little fucker delivered a rough dropkick that got him entangled deep in the wire. It took four minutes for the paramedics to cut him out and one hundred stitches to close the wound. Expense: two months of recovery and no pay check.

Vance looks at his right hand and stares at his crooked ring and pinky finger. He shakes his hand, almost as if in pain, as he recalls the incident. A sledgehammer match in CZW with some rookie. In the spot, the guy was supposed to bring the hammer down next to his hand, and Vance was supposed to sell it as if his hand had been shattered. Well, a bit of nerves caused the guy to catch his ring and pinky finger. Expense: A deformed right hand and numbness in his fingers to this day.

And finally, the worst of them all: the discolored, blood shot left eye. Death match gone wrong in CZW against Necro Butcher. He swung the light tube at Vance’s face, and Vance didn’t cover his eyes in time. That night was spent at a hospital fishing tiny shards of glass out of his eyes. Expense: Near blindness in his left eye and monthly check ups to ensure no infection.

Abe lets out a defeated sigh and slips out of the ring, heading towards the doorway. A female’s silhouette is visible in the dim light, and the high pitched, antagonizing voice sounds throughout the arena.

Beki Rayce: “Go back to Detroit, Abe. She’s going to destroy you if you let her.”

Vance doesn’t even give her a response and continues to limp towards her, showing the effects of his knee injury. As he nears, she notices the Jack Daniels in his left hand and Vicodin clenched in his right fist. Her face turns a shade of bright red, suggesting anger, but Vance ignores her completely. He opens the bottle of Vicodin, empties the few pills in the bottle into his palm, and tosses them into his mouth. He brings the bottle of Jack to his lips and quickly downs the remaining fourth. Vance shakes off the powerful taste and drops the bottle at Rayce’s feet causing it to shatter into thousands of shards. She stares at him, completely shocked, but Vance heads towards the locker room to make a bed for the remainder of the night. He patronizes her with one final demand, completely ignoring her concern.

Vance: “You better get cleaning, toots’.”

Going to destroy me?
Nah, that ain’t how it’s goin’ to work.
I’ll give her clown some scars.
That’ll get the fucker over.​

​

*~*~*~*~*~END OF SCENE~*~*~*~*~*​

 

[Slim]

We are in the locker room of Zasalamel. He is sitting with his back to the camera. His mask on the floor next to him as he has his painting tools in front of him as he is painting his makeup on. Keeping his back to the camera so that his face remains unseen he seems to be at complete ease. Music can be heard softly flowing through the room, the sounds of Fur Elise which is known to be a soft soothing sound as opposed to his actual theme of Moonlight Sonata which is what he listens to before each match he is to be in.

He appears to have all of his make up on as he reaches down to his side and picks up his mask. He holds it in front of his face first and stares at it looking to really engage to what it is he becomes once he wears it. He takes a deep breath before putting the mask on over his head. Still keeping his back to the camera he starts to chuckle to himself. The chuckling stops as he begins to speak.

Zasalamel: Some call me crazy, some call me sadistic, come even call me straight loony. But there is one that calls me just a clown looking to get over. To all I am merely just a clown… the psychotic clown that is not to be messed with. The psychotic clown not to be messed with. But I urge you… I plead with you to not be disturbed, not to be troubled, not to be the least bit worried about anything. Because in the end… all I am doing is giving you what you want. Giving you exactly what it is that you desire. For anybody that is set to endure any amount of time in the ring against me is only looking for pain. Only looking for suffering… only looking to find a way to legally look to be euthanized without the feds or anybody saying anything because it would be purely accidental when I go too far. Or is that allowed? But I would say that whether it was allowed or not… would not matter to me in the least bit because in the end… all that will matter is whether I feel like allowing you to breathe enough to beg for mercy or just leave you lying there gasping and grasping at another chance at life.

But since it is my choice… since it is being left in my very capable hands… I’m electing to say that… depending on how well you can take abuse I’ll let you stick around. Merely for the joy of being able to abuse you another time…

He freezes as Moonlight Sonata begins to play. And then he begins again.

Understand me and understand this very clearly Vance. I could careless about getting over. For me it has never been about getting over. And being that I never knew of your name and even now I could careless about who you are or what your past stands for… you can remove the delusional thought that this is all an attempt to get me over by destroying you in this fight that we will be encountering. But instead this will be more about seeing what is your pain threshold. This is about seeing how long I can beat on someone before I decide that enough is enough and I can tell you that there is never enough. NEVER is there enough that can be done. But instead all there is is that there can always be more done. Always more pain. Always more blood. Because as far as I’m concerned… you don’t have a rep. You are just another body being cast into the lake of fire known as Hell… and clowns like me deserve to burn there as I’ve been told more than a few times… and I cannot say that I disagree.

I’ve left more bodies scarred but the problem there is that… those always heal. That is why I wear this mask. That is why I paint my face. Because then it is no longer just the physical memories but instead it is the mental image of that clown that just had that… smile on his face as he made sure you remembered how he looked as he made sure you were grimacing in pain with each and every single move that you would make. With each breath that you would take… just make it so painful that you would pray to your god that he would prevent you from breathing, that he could just pluck your eyes out, that he could erase the images of this face from your memory so that you no longer have those nightmares of the evil clown as he tortures you beyond anything that you’ve ever experienced in your life. And the bad thing about it… whenever you think about it… you will always see a smile.

He slowly turns around to show his face, half of it smiling and happy, the other half upset and sad.

But for you Abram… for you I decided to do things differently. Because I can see the remorse, I can hear it as you are not looking forward to this encounter. But instead you wish for it to pass you over. You are wishing that this does not have to happen but I an very pleased to inform you that this must happen. That this will happen. If anything it is to show you where you are coming up short. Where it is that you must improve. Where it is that you must dig deep down inside of you and pull out all the stops. Because remember all your pains, all your scars on your body… only temporary. It is the ones that are embedded deep in your memory, deep in your mind will be the life changing ones. Those are the ones that will torment you and turn you into something as evil as me.

Scars are nothing to me. I have plenty and I look forward each and every day to new ones that will one day grace me. Whether it be you or whoever that decides to inflict them upon me. Because when you look at life there is only one constant before you die and that is pain. So I’ve learned already to embrace that pain. I’ve learned to love it and long for it. So I want you to try… I want you to dream about it, I want you to envision it. I WANT YOU to give it to me. I want you to make me bleed. Make me bleed profusely. Make me spit blood on the canvas… knock a tooth out if you so desire. Allow me to be able to spit blood in your face as we continue to fight inside of that ring and paint the canvas red. And understand… that there is nobody in your past as sick as the one that you are about to face.

He turns back around in his chair and looks up towards the ceiling.

I’ve heard all the claims before and I’ve seen these people and they do not understand what it is. They do not understand what it is that they speak of. They don’t understand what this lifestyle is truly all about. All they see is garbage. They see a trickle of blood fall and believe that is hardcore. They see someone pull out a random weapon and swing it and believe he is hardcore. They see a body covered in scars and they believe he is hardcore. Everything that is out of ordinary is hardcore but I implore you to think otherwise. The ones with the scars are the normal ones for they do not know how to escape the trap that they have been in all this time. They are the truly hardcore ones as the ones that have the scars, the ones that bleed…

We know what it is like to let go and truly live and soon… we will truly live. Soon we will truly embrace life. Abram… the time is coming where we will… live.

He lets out a long breath and says nothing more as the scene fades to black.

 

[The_King]

Securing the Smarks

OOC: Before I get into the RP, just want to point out that my first RP was supposed to be a real life interaction between Vance and Martello (IE: unfilmed). So, Zasalamel wouldn’t know about the scar line unless he was both watching the interaction and able to read Vance’s personal thoughts haha. Nbd but I just thought I’d point it out! I’ll try to make that more clear in the future!

Roleplay #2 of 2

Vance limps towards a doorway labeled ‘press room’. Rayce can be seen chasing after him appearing rather agitated. As Vance continues at his slow pace, Beki easily surpasses him and reaches the doorway. She turns to face him and places one hand on each hinge, attempting to block Vance from entering. Beki looks him in the eyes and addresses him in an admonishing tone.

Beki Rayce: “Abe, please just read your lines and don’t try anything…”

As she speaks, Vance slips a cigarette out of the inner pocket of his jean jacket and thrusts it into his mouth. He cuts her off, clearly intending to annoy her.

Vance: “Got a light?”

Rayce’s jaw drops open in shock at Vance’s audacity, but he stands seriously, waiting for response. Beki catches him off guard and rips the cig’ from his mouth, turning her back to him and heading towards the nearest trash can. When she turns back around, Vance already has another cig’ in his mouth and is in the process of lighting it. He begins to walk towards the door, but she once again thrusts her arm in his path, blocking him. She breaks into a threatening tone with a subtle hint of desperation.

Beki Rayce: “Just remember, I’m getting paid for this. There might be bad blood between us, but I really need…”

Vance cups his hand over her mouth and lightly shoves her aside. He turns the door knob and slips into the small, dark room. Rayce shakes her head in disbelief but stomps after him. The room has three ‘Hollywood director’ style chairs, two on one side and one directly across from it. In the corner are two crew members, one operating a large camera and the other with a boom stick. A woman, seemingly in her early 30s, is talking with the cameraman. When she notices the commotion stemming from the doorway, she turns to greet Vance and Rayce.

Lisa Courier: “Big fan of yours, Abe!”

She extends a hand towards him, attempting to be professional. Vance takes a quick glance at it and leaves her hanging. Courier pivots her head to the left, clearly not expecting Vance’s rudeness.

Lisa Courier: “Nevertheless, I’m going to have to ask you to put out the cigarette. You can’t smoke in here.”

Vance feigns inattentiveness and inhales smoke from the cig’. He shoots Courier a seemingly friendly smile and surprises her by blowing a cloud of smoke into her face. As Lisa covers up her face and breaks into a coughing fit, Vance responds in an innocent, mocking tone.

Vance: “What was that?”

Courier ignores Vance and gestures towards the seats. Rayce nudges him in the back, and he leads the two to their seats across from Courier. The earlier friendliness in her tone disappears as she transitions into a more professional, serious tone.

Lisa Courier: “I talked with Beki earlier…”

Vance cuts her off and blurts out:

Vance: “Sorry to hear that.”

Courier can’t help but to laugh. Rayce doesn’t find it as humorous and shoots Vance a quick glare.

Lisa Courier: “Anyways, I’m guessing she didn’t fill you in on the details.”

Vance shakes his head ‘no’, confirming her suspicions.

Lisa Courier: “Well, basically, all’s you have to do is read off the teleprompter. You can improvise if you feel comfortable. The fans tend to like a bit of humor so feel free to do as you please, within reason.”

The words “within reason” mark a shift in tone to a more threatening one.

Lisa Courier: “Keep in mind, that this is a LIVE streaming interview. If I have to cut because you try something, there will be repercussions.”

Vance nods in acceptance, and Courier signals the cameraman. He begins to count down from five as a red recording light turns on next to the lens. Courier repositions herself to face the camera and allows a professional, enthusiastic smile to cross her face.

Lisa Courier: “Welcome to ACW’s exclusive online interview with Indy star and long-time fan favorite, Abram Vance! How are you today Abram?”

When she turns to thrust the microphone nears his face, she notices that Vance has slouched in his chair and a flask is visibly sticking out of his jacket pocket. Her face drops in horror as Vance breaks into his first answer.

Vance: “Hungry. A little drunk. Ya’ know, the usual.”

Lisa Courier: “Sorry to hear that…”

Vance bluntly cuts her off.

Vance: “Don’t be.”

Lisa Courier: “Well, anyways, it surfaced online that you’ll be in a Street Fight against Zasalamel later tonight at Overload. Your thoughts on this?”

Courier once again presses the microphone against his face, eagerly waiting for a response. Vance stares dumbfounded, clearly attempting to agitate her. She tosses a glance back behind her shoulder at the teleprompter extending outwards from the top of the camera. Vance shakes his head, refusing to say his ‘lines’. She removes the microphone and gestures to wrap it up, but surprisingly, Rayce shoots her a challenging glance. Lisa sighs in regret before moving the microphone back towards Vance’s mouth.

Vance: “For the fans watchin’ this, Barbie over here wants to me read off a teleprompter, but that’s not how I do."

Vance pauses briefly as Rayce rolls her eyes over his attitude.

Vance: "So, my thoughts on Ronald McDonald?”

Courier nods as an amused expression creeps onto her face. Vance pauses for a moment, attempting to collect his thoughts. He leans forward and begins to rant.

Vance: “First off, the gimmick is fuckin’ stupid. Clearly, Tits McGee’s doing. I get they need the “extreme monster” gimmick, but a clown ain’t goin’ to cut it. You’d think Tits woulda’ noticed how Doink flopped back in da’ WWF.”

Vance: “I haven’t met the guy who plays him yet, but I can only imagine how desperate the fucker is. He was probably a lower level no namer that wanted a shot at the big time, so he took on the stupid gimmick. Huge mistake.”

Courier drops the microphone to her side and leans in to Vance whispering:

Lisa Courier: “You do realize this is kayfabe, right?”

Vance nods, and Courier continues with the questions, taking on a more relaxed approach.

Lisa Courier: “What do you think about his promos?”

Vance: “I think they’re a crock of shit. Generic monster crap.”

Lisa Courier: “Care to explain more?”

Vance: “Well, it’s cut and dry. Talking about suffering and hell isn’t scary. Dragging a guy out into the center of the ring and curb stomping him into the steel steps is scary, but eh, that’s what you get when you put a vadge’ in the head office.”

Lisa chuckles at the “vadge” comment, suggesting some hostility between the boss and her. She presses on with the questions.

Lisa Courier: “On that note, any fear about being in the ring with the hardcore clown?”

Vance breaks out into hysterical laughter and leans forward as he gets more ‘in’ to the interview.

Vance: “”Lisa, ya’ gotta’ realize that this isn’t hardcore. ACW markets itself as “extreme” and “adult-oriented”, but it’s not. Phoenix’s definition of ‘hardcore’ is a few spots with chairs and a table, and that’s it. Zasalamel hasn’t done his dues in the Indies. I’ve been hit with light tubes, chairs, barbed wire, fire, staples. Ya’ fucking name it, and someone has beat the shit out of me with it."

Vance throws his arms up in frustration as he gets himself worked up. He gestures aggressively and continues his rant.

Vance: "Ya' know what the clown's been doing?"

Lisa shrugs her shoulders, clueless.

Vance: "Playin’ with face paint and blood capsules, so (Sarcastically) yeah, TERRIFIED.”

The two women bounce back in their seats as Vance blurts out terrified while simultaneously tossing his hair. He wipes his chin, removing the few droplets of drool that escaped during his rant.

Lisa Courier: “Moving on, on the subject of how ACW is run, what do you think of Phoenix or as you call her, Tits McGee?”

Everyone in the room breaks into a chuckle at the sight of the professional interviewer referring to her boss as “Tits McGee”. Vance responds sarcastically.

Vance: “She’s Dixie Carter with a whole lotta’ extra silicone and half the brain cells.”

Rayce break for the first time and bursts into laughter. She lifts a hand, gesturing a quick, silent apology.

Lisa Courier: “And are the stories concerning her plans for you true?”

Vance: “If you mean her plan to put over guys, bury me, and get me injured to eventually cut me loose, yeah, that’s true.”

The light hearted feeling in the room dies almost instantly after the comment. As Lisa tries to recover, Vance continues onwards with his assault on the owner of ACW.

Vance: “The bitch is a moron. She gets a big name and instead of starting a feud to get the clown over, she decides to throw us into a random street fight with no backstory. I’m here to build deserving stars, not get injured at the hands of Bozo.”

As Vance says the last line, there is a notable shift in tone. The genuineness that was present in his previous answers seems to be lacking.

Lisa Courier: “Any words on Zasalamel’s statement that he doesn’t want to “get over”?”

Vance: “Complete bullshit. If he doesn’t want to get over, he wouldn’t be in a company with a national TV deal. Just the result of illogical promo writing for a stupid gimmick.”

Lisa Courier: “How about his threats against Beki?”

Vance: “Oh, you mean the threat that he’d rape her?”

Courier nods uncomfortably, playing into Vance’s hands.

Vance: “Yeah, I’d say go for it. She worked the pole for years before I got to her. What’d you start at, age thirteen or so right?”

Rayce shakes her head, denying it, and bites down on her tongue in frustration.

Vance: “Well, anyways, she’s definitely fucked worse than him, so he might as well go for it.”

Vance turns to Rayce and flashes her a cold, mocking smile. The uncomfortable mood intensifies in the room as Vance grows more frustrated while answering the questions.

Lisa Courier: “Shifting gears, what do you think of Bronko and his PWA invasion of ACW?”

Vance: “Had you asked me last week, I would’ve said anyone is better than Tits McGee, but this guy shows up and takes out two new tag teams, BURIES THEM. Talk about an oversized ego.”

Vance breaks into a mocking golfer's clap as Courier pushes on with the interview.

Vance: "Clap it up for yourself, Zacky!"

Lisa allows Vance a moment to mock Bronko before continuing.

Lisa Courier: “Do you plan to involve yourself in the invasion?”

Vance: “I had two matches in that shit hole. I got offered a spot in it, but I’m not here to rip off failed WWF storylines from decades ago.”

Courier seems visibly uncomfortable with the serious, harsh tone of the conversation and attempts to shift to what she believes is a more positive topic.

Lisa Courier: “Why don’t we end on a more positive note? How has it been working together with Beki considering you haven’t been on-screen together in over ten years?”

Beki jumps into to prevent more sarcastic answers and delves into a falsely optimistic spiel.

Beki Rayce: “It’s been great…”

As Beki continues to ramble on, a frustrated Vance begins to stare directly at Courier’s rack. At first, Lisa just ignores it, but Vance seems determined to get a reaction as he cracks a creepy smile. Courier cuts off Rayce and yells in an angry tone.

Lisa Courier: “Are you staring at my breasts?”

Vance looks up but keeps the smile on his face. He responds sarcastically.

Vance: “No, just admiring your blouse… It’s lovely.”

In what seems to be an attempt to get back at him for the comment, Courier thrusts the microphone towards Vance and asks a controversial question.

Lisa Courier: “Can I get your unfiltered opinion on Beki?”

Both Vance and Courier seem to be relishing the moment, but Rayce look terrified, as if she has something to hide. Vance's smile widens, and he leans in and begins to tear apart Rayce.

Vance: “Well, she’s a cunt. HUGE CUNT. Still haven’t forgiven her for what went down in the WWF…”

Before he can continue, Rayce grabs his arm and jumps out of her seat. She looks into the camera and screams.

Beki Rayce: “We’re done here.”

Courier bolts out of her seat, ready to protest, but Rayce gets into her face and yells.

Beki Rayce: “NO, WE’RE FUCKING DONE.”

As Rayce aggressively begins to drag Vance out of the ring, he quickly reaches around Lisa and squeezes her ass with a creepy smile on his face.

Lisa Courier: “You’re an ass.”

He looks over shoulder and flashes the camera a cheeky grin, as if he was trying to send a message to the smarks watching.

Vance: “You loved it, Barbie.”

Rayce pulls him from the room, leaving behind a seething Courier in the room. She stomps down the hallway, clearly furious, and gestures angrily for Vance to follow.

Beki Rayce: “I can’t believe that bitch had the audacity to ask that. She KNEW it was off limits!”

Rayce lets out a frustrated shriek, and Vance smiles excitedly, knowing this is the opportune moment to mess with her.

Vance: “Eh, I liked her.”

Beki stops dead in her tracks and stares directly at Vance. The look on her face suggests that she is about ready to kill him where he stands, but he quickly clarifies his statement.

Vance: “Well, I liked her body…”

The statement doesn’t seem to sooth Rayce at all, but she becomes a bright shade of red, clearly jealous.

Vance: “How much ya' think she paid for it?”

An irate Rayce storms off leaving Vance alone, laughing to himself.

She’s just too easy haha.
Anyways, glad that panned out. Gotta’ piss off everyone, definitely gained some main event enemies to get me where I belong in the spotlight, and most importantly, won over the smarks.
Tits McGee will back off once she finds out I’m over with them.
Stupid bitch forgot she’s dealing with Abram Vance.​

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~*~*~*~*~*END OF SCENE*~*~*~*~*~​

OOC: Any feedback on either roleplay is greatly appreciated!

 

[Slim]

OOC: Well the scar line was rather vague and broad and didn't really point to his scar on his chest or anything... just analogies as he likes to speak of but... yeah I see what you are trying to say.