Adrenaline 4/22/2012 Abram Vance vs Aaron Asterisk vs Cory Allen

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BDC

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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.
Only TWO rp cap with the deadline being April 22, 2012 at 11:59 PM Eastern Time. Good Luck!
 

Lewb

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.: Expulsion :.

We open up into a run down gym. Rain hammering against the high, wide a dingy single panes looking out to the drab backdrop of Salem, Mass. The sound of a lock slamming shut, followed by the footsteps getting louder, getting closer to the camera. When a shadow can finally be seen, the camera spins around to see just a silhouette due to the low light cast behind him. As he gets closer to the camera you can see it's none other than Aaron Asterisk and he doesn't look his cocky self. He looks more sombre, more serious. In ring gear he comes towards the camera further more before he stops and looks around him.

Welcome to where it all began. This... was my classroom. This was the one place where all of my emotions, all my problems and troubles were left at the door, and I could fully concentrate on truly becoming Top of the Class. This on my back door was where Aaron Aarnhold became A Star, Aaron Asterisk. I'm not any different now, than when I was making every single classmate look feeble to my efforts. I am still that very same guy. The talent is still there, as is the passion and the drive to succeed. But, there is something missing.

I haven't been on a good run as it stands in the ACW recently. I've had two runs on the main roster, and I have yet to pick up a win. There is a reason for this though. Every single superstar I have been put up against, I know how I can get past them, and show them that I am top of the class. My predicament, is that I can't get my mind set the way that it is when I walk through that door.... compared to my mind set when I walk through this door.

Asterisk points to the main door of the gym. As the camera points over there, the notice board by the door is put in focus, and indeed, most accolades were met with Aarons name plaque next to them. A sign that maybe all of his confidence he once showed isn't all bravado, and that his unfortunate run isn't a judgement of his ability.

When I go through that door, my confidence is justified. When I go through that door, my expectancy to do well in whatever I do is met with past experience of excelling and raising the bar to higher than anyone can raise it. When I go through the ACW curtain, my confidence is mocked by loss after loss, and my expectancy to do well is taking knock after knock. It's high time that I get my head in the game and change my fortunes. That's why I have come back here. I had a phone call after my last match and I was told, I was told, You performed under par against McHenry, you performed under par against Starr, and that they were getting sick and tired of handing me bones that I weren't interested in chewing their arm off for. So I have been given one final chance. This is not a pink slip match, I'm not fighting for my career here in ACW, but I have got to show an improvement in effort. If not, then I could be looking at expulsion from the ACW. And that's why I'm back here, because it is why I was brought here in the first place.

My first training school, they told me I had the talent to take me all the way. I had the skills to become a champion, but my report card had one flunking subject on it.... my effort. I used to feel it all came so easy for someone with the talent. But I got kicked out, my bursary stopped paying for me once they got ears of my lack of effort and I couldn't afford to keep the payments up. I was out, gone, not honing my skills to a professional level, a sixteen year old rookie that's only half finished, but with a heart set on nothing else. I needed a new break, but it wasn't coming. Weeks were turning into months and close to a year I was given one chance. An hour train from Boston to Salem every day and that same damn train back after a ten hour training session that I was paying myself. I done that for a full year. My report card was looking a lot better these days. Talent, Drive, Determination, Effort, Submission work, stamina.... all A Star. It's where I got my ring name from! This building, what it done for me, what the trainers, Marley, Jefferson, Hawkins, what they all done for me has made me who I am today. And during this hard time in my career, I have come back here, the same team, the same building, the same winning formula that has already got me so far.

Cory Allen, I watched your match last week, your quite the high-flyer and from what I could see, your quite the competitor, despite your loss last week. Abram Vance, I'll be one hundred percent honest.... I have no clue as to who you are. There's not a thing on our website about you, I have e-mailed talent relations and no reply, I can't find out who you are. But you know what, I don't think it matters. I have beaten your brawlers, your high flyers, your technical wrestlers, and your brute powerhouses in my time. I have a plan for whatever type of fighter you are. You don't get to Top of the Class without knowing how to take on all comers. It's your debut and a good start I can understand you want one. But I am fighting to stay in this company Abram, and I'm not going to let anyone take this away from me. Anyone.

I'm more than a superstar, contrary to what you have seen from me before. I'm more than A Superstar... I'm "A Star".
Asterisk turns away and starts to stretch as the camera fades away.
 
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The_King

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You're Just A Name Now

Abram Vance: Roleplay #1 of 2

The scene opens, focusing in on a name plate labeled ‘Phoenix’. The door violently swings open, and a man with long, dirty blond hair barges into the office. Ignoring basic courtesy, Vance drops his worn athletic bag on the ground and plops sloppily into the chair nearest him. He crosses his arms over his chest and clenches his fist, as if preparing to enter battle. Vance slowly raises his head, reluctant to make eye contact. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices the woman motion towards his bag and nod her head towards the corner. Footsteps sound from the corner of the room as a large, burly man in an arena security outfit closes in on Vance’s bag. Instinctively, Vance tightens his grip on it and shoots the guy a warning glance.

Phoenix: “If you want the contract, give it to him.”

Vance loosens his grip as the cold demand slips from Phoenix’s mouth. The man immediately collects it and slips out the door. Her cold demeanor fades as she attempts to socialize with her seemingly unfriendly, hostile counterpart.

Phoenix: “How long ‘s it been?”

He shoots her a quick glance and subtly squints his eyes, sizing her up. It appears that the years have taken a minimal toll on her with a just a few noticeable wrinkles. Discontent, he responds bluntly:

Vance: “Not long enough.”

Phoenix cracks a smile and chuckles lightly, expecting the crass reply.

Phoenix: “I see you haven’t changed.”

Vance shrugs, expressing his disinterest for the pleasantries.

Vance: “My bag?”

Phoenix: “My people are going through it. They’ll dump all your supplies, and I’d suggest you get used to it.”

Vance: “So, you haven’t forgotten?”

Phoenix’s jaw drops for an instant, but she recovers quickly. A certain redness creeps onto her face as she clenches her fists tightly, launching into an angry rant.

Phoenix: “Forgot?”

She lets out a mocking, almost demeaning giggle.

Phoenix: “No, I haven’t forgot that you showed up drunk after I promoted the hell out of you for months! Biggest crowd I ever had on the Indy scene, and your ass shows up drunk. You really fucked me over that night, and as long as I’m in charge, I can guarantee that won’t be forgotten…”

A silence passes over the room as Phoenix regains her composure.

Phoenix: “So, I’m having you tested every two weeks. When you fail or if I see you with ANY alcohol, your ass is gone. Got it?”

Vance nods and motions towards the newly sweat stained contract lying beneath Phoenix’s clenched fists.

Vance: “Why?”

She shoots a quick glance towards the contract as she attempts to sort out his vague question. In a more pleasant tone, she responds:

Phoenix: “J.R. went to bat for you when I was buying out PWA contracts, and your old buddy Martello begged me.”

Phoenix shoves the contract towards Vance, and it stops dead as it hits his chest. He reaches for the pen clipped to the top of it and prepares to sign. As he begins to ink his signature, he asks:

Vance: “So who do I start with, and how long before you stick the belt on me?”

He drops the pen on the contract as the ink begins to dry. Phoenix snatches it from him and looks it over, searching for errors. She smiles contently before letting out a mocking giggle.

Phoenix: “You don’t think I heard about what you pulled there, do ya’?”

Vance scrunches his face, attempting to feign ignorance.

Phoenix: “You breaking kayfabe and knocking out the guy you were supposed to be putting over with a cheap haymaker to the head for the win? Yeah, that’s not going to happen here.”

Vance smiles mischievously, as if being caught reaching into the cookie jar as a kid. Phoenix leans forward, ensuring his full attention, and responds in a threatening whisper.

Phoenix: “Don’t forget that you need this money to survive. I don’t need you, Abe.”

Vance flinches, seemingly in physical pain, as Phoenix’s words demean his deluded sense of self-worth.

Phoenix: “Are you useful to me? No, but your name is!

He cocks his head to the side as a sense of curiosity creeps into his visage.

Phoenix: “Are you really confused? I mean, c’mon. You were popular in the WWF and TNA before you, uh’, went off the deep end and are a legend on the Indy scene. But now, you’re old, broken down, a shadow of your former self. The only reason to keep you around is to put MY guys over.”

You’re just a name now, and I’m going to milk that name for every penny I can before dumping you back onto the streets.

A triumphant, cocky smile dominates Phoenix’s face as she celebrates her verbal victory over the man who screwed her so long ago. She motions towards the door, and Vance quickly responds.

Phoenix: “O, and Abe…”

Vance throws a glance over his shoulder as she drops a bomb on him.

Phoenix: “Take a right and it’s the last door at the end of the hall. I left you a surprise…”

~*~*~*~*~*END OF SCENE~*~*~*~*~*​
OOC: Permission to use Phoenix.
 
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The_King

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My Something

Abram Vance: Roleplay #2 of 2

A shadow of my former self?
Just a name?
That woman was always deluded.
Promoters these days are just flat out incompetent. When a legend falls in your lap, you’d think they coddle me and give me the spotlight. Keep me happy, ya’ know?
But nope, the bitch isn’t over a stupid incident that happened six or something years ago.
I’m gonna’ need something to black mail her with to get out of her stupid ass drug tests and get some main event exposure…


Vance turns the knob of the door Phoenix directed him to and stumbles into the locker room. He brushes his thick, oily hair from his face and looks upwards in search of his “surprise”. In an uncharacteristic move, Vance stops dead in his tracks as his eyes lock with the middle-aged woman standing in front of him. She has short brown hair and thick, black bags under her eye. Her teeth are a light yellow, possibly pointing to her being a smoker, and she crosses her arms on her chest in a defiant pose. An expression of pure panic shoots onto Vance’s face suggesting the unidentified woman is some sort of enemy.

A brief silence passes between the two as they stare coldly at each other, expressing their disdain solely through glances. Surprisingly, a smile creeps onto Vance’s face suggesting that the woman may be a companion instead of an enemy. Before he can even in open his mouth, she cuts him off.


Beki: “Wipe the smile off your face, I’m here for revenge, NOT to help you. Especially, not after the TNA incident.”

The smile fades from Vance’s face as his hope for Beki to be that “something” fades.

Vance: “So?”

Beki: “Yeah, I got a call about two weeks back. She was lookin’ for someone to keep you clean, in line, and hates you so much that they would never help you.”

Vance smiles mockingly, clearly disagreeing with the last part of her statement. Beki continues with her explanation, adopting a regretful tone, as Vance’s eyes lock on his emptied bag sitting behind her feet.

Beki: “So., now I’m your babysitter…”

He literally shoves her out of the way, forcing her to grab a locker to keep her footing. He pulls the bag towards him and stares down at, dejected. Slowly, Vance raises his head staring into Beki Rayce’s eyes, beaming with excitement. In a defeated whisper, he asks:

Vance: “All of it?”

Beki: “Everything. I destroyed it all, personally.”

Beki smiles, relishing Vance’s dejected expression as she emphasizes “personally”. The guy drops his head into his open hands either in an attempt to hide his grief or to plot his next move. Rayce allows a moment to pass before continuing on with the conversation.

Beki: “On the subject, I attend ALL of your drug tests with you, and I’ve been order to literally watch you pee in that cup to make sure you don’t try your usual crap.”

He removes his head from his hands and shakes his head in disgust.

Vance: “That ain’t happening.”

Beki laughs briefly and responds:

Beki: “Like I haven’t seen it”

The two both break into an awkward shared laugh. As Rayce regains her composure, a visible change occurs in Vance’s facial expression occurs as that grief disappears. He pushes on the conversation.

Vance: “What else?”

Beki: “As long as you travel and lodge on ACW’s dime, I’ll be with you. Same flights. Same buses. Same hotel rooms. I’ve gotta’ check your bags sporadically and report back if you’ve got anything. Basically, I’m your shadow until you win her trust.”

Almost as if on cue, Vance’s face sinks in disappointment, but he continues with the questions to keep conversation flowing.

Vance: “Any word on how she’s bookin’ me?

Beki: “Yeah, she’s going to use to get her guys over basically. You’ll climb the ranks but never be more than a glorified jobber.”

That’s not going to fly.


Vance: “How long is she giving me?”

Beki: “If you get injured, she’s terminating you. If you get sloppy, she’s terminating you. If you lose favor with the crowd, she’s terminating you. So, I’d say not long.”

Rayce breaks into a mocking laugh, but Vance shrugs it off, intentionally letting her have her fun.

Vance: “Will ya’ be ring-side?”

Beki: “She’d prefer to keep me off national television after the TNA fallout, but if you try anything, I’ll be out there.”

A disgruntled Vance approaches Rayce until the two are nearly touching. Despite his height and size advantage, Beki is not intimidated at all. He quickly drops the dominance act and allows a soft, unusually kind smile to pop onto his face.

Vance: “Well, if you’re going to shadow me, we might as well go back to the good ol’ days.”

As Beki attempts to sort out his statement, Vance sweeps towards her and breaks into a quick kiss, just giving her a taste. Despite being caught off guard, Rayce doesn’t resist and embraces the quick embrace. Vance quickly breaks it off and brushes past her with a teasing smile.

Found my something.


~*~*~*~*~*END OF SCENE~*~*~*~*~*​