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Post by Jana Rikar on Jul 26, 2017 16:21:55 GMT
1 RP / 1750 Words
Deadline is 8/1 Noon EDT
Thanks!
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Post by lacklan on Jul 27, 2017 1:12:08 GMT
~~The PrincessTwilightSexyFang podcast, as viewed on hotgoths.fuckyeah~~ Defiant.
You know what, Fang Gang? If I were some mediocre vlogger, I would define defiant or defiance using Webster or Wiktionary. Or perhaps I would break out my etymological skills and talk about where each part of the word comes from. Or perhaps I would show a slideshow of pics of defiant people set to the background of some Linkin Park song with a #LongLiveChester note at the end. But I am not some mediocre vlogger. I am not like anything or anyone you have ever seen.
Want a definition of defiance? Want the truth?
Here is the definition of defiance:*I* am defiance. I am the one who has, week in and out, defied the wrestling world around me.“You’re too young.”
“You’re too small.”
“All of your wins, including over veterans and for championships, are flukes.”Defiance, thy name IS Lacklan. I have spent my entire life defying what I am supposed to be. I have spent my entire life fighting a system which has wanted to put me in a little protective box. But I strike out against that gilded cage. I strike out against the self-proclaimed aristocracy of New England money. I am NOT a pretty little girl to settle down with some pedantic son of a Wall Streeter and shit out 2.5 children. I am NOT the trust fund baby who gets catty over a glass of wine as I talk about the day’s gossip.
Yes, I am rich. Yes, I had an education which could only be dreamed of, literally dreamed of, by most of the people I deal with in this business. Yes, I have social advantages and knowledge of edicate which make me on the level of Princess Kate, but I am far more than that. I defied what was expected of me. I defied the role I was groomed to play.
Instead, I chose to be the person I was BORN to be.
I am a second generation wrestler, damnit. Daughter of the Savior of Professional Wrestling himself, Jean-Paul Lacklan, and the protege of world champion Nikita Dolore, and I will NOT be held down by my detractors. I will NOT allow people to look at the little albino girl and scoff.
I AM SARAH GODDAMN LACKLAN.
*I* am the one who answered Jana’s call for a one-off in May. *I* am the one who dropped the promotional bomb that sent Synn running into the pit of obscurity that she so belonged. *I* am the one who decided to drive both I and Adalynn’s body to the outside and through a flaming table. And, let us be honest here, she has never been the same since.
*I* am the one who has told world champions and wannabe mother figures to take their life and career advice and shove it up their asses.
*I* am the one who not only fights the world across the world, but who challenges all and NEVER backs down from a fight. *I* am the one who wrenched Ashleigh Jericho out of retirement. *I* am the one who has their name on everyone’s lips. And *I* am the one who was not only the first to offer up their name for this match, but am also the one who is going to win it without worry or reservation of who else is in the match.
“But some dude named Darkn-”Doesn’t matter.
“But this old dude named Ra-”
Doesn’t matter.“But anyone could-”Doesn’t matter.“But Jenni Dr-”IT DOESN’T FUCKING MATTER!
My entire CAREER is about proving people wrong and fucking them up.
“Oh, but there are, like, a bunch of peop-”
I JUST beat down four other people in a week to win the UGWC WrestleStock Cup. I JUST won three tag matches over the last weekend. I JUST fucked up a person who, like so many others, thought that not only was I weak, but I was easy.
THEY. LOST.
You know what? Let’s make a list real quick. See, over the past couple of months, I have had opponens who have told me:
- They would extinguish my fire. Beat them.
- Rape me. Literally. Beat them.
- Kill me. Literally. Beat them.
- Knock the ugly out of me. Beat them.
- Told me I needed to get my head out from between Mackenzie’s legs. MOTHERFUCKING BEAT THEM.
Are you seeing a pattern? Are you seeing the reality of the situation? My job, the thing I was BORN to do, is beat people. My job, the thing I was BORN to do, is to stand above the muck and mire of the mediocrity that fills this business and drive any who would stand against me into the Abyss. And there isn’t a single person in this gauntlet match who can stand against who I am and what I have been doing. There isn’t a single person who can overcome my superior genetics, training, skills, aggression, or drive.
Ponder this:
In the last three months, I have had eighteen matches. Eighteen! And of those eighteen?
Fifteen victories.
Think about that. Fifteen times someone has stood up against me in the last few months and I have taken them down clean. And those other three? One man pinned me, and the other two were disqualifications.
Can a single person in this match boast that?
No.
This is why I have demanded that I be the first person in that ring. This is why I have demanded that I must go through each and every person who slowly added their name to the list. *I* am the face of defiance. *I* am the face of this business. *I* am the one who glitters like a diamond whereas everyone else wallows in that muck and mire. NO ONE in this match trains the way I do. NO ONE in this match prepare like I do. NO ONE in this match watches tape the way I do. NO ONE in this match travels across the world to hone their skills and incorporate all the styles this rich business has to offer the way I do.
And so I shall be both the first and last one standing, both the Alpha and Omega of the Titan championship. Because only I have the wherewithal to fight everyone and anyone in this match. Only I have the stamina to wrestle and defend this title at every show. Only I am the literal future of this business. And while I am looking forward to pinning or submitting all eight of my competitors, there are three in particular I am salivating over.
Miss Drew, I have endeavored over the last few months to make Ladies All-Star not only my home but something of which the entire industry can be proud. I have fought person after person, from legend to newcomer to one-timer, and challenged the current champions to give a fuck and fight me. The place is FULL of people who think that twitter matters and doing nothing but throwing up hashtags on Wednesdays is what is important in this business and I blame people like you. YOU had the opportunity to set a standard in that company. YOU had the ability to make LAW matter more than any other. Instead, you got your wins by getting perennial losers like Kate Steel to interfere for you and when you FINALLY did something that actually mattered? When you FINALLY captured the Breakout Championship?
You jobbed out to Fisher in your first defense.
Pathetic.
I am cleaning up the mess people like you made. I am gathering people around me who are true warriors, true fighters, the LAW #ClassOf2017, and we are not only sweeping through LAW like locusts over a field but this entire business. This title is not for people like who you cannot get it done yourself. This title is not for people like you who must bind together in cute little stables in order to make in impact. This title is about people like me, people who get their victories on their own, people who stand tall at the end of battles and shut the mouths of their detractors.
Bring all of your weapons, dearie. Bring all of your little mind games and machinations and puppetry. You will need all of them. But unfortunately for you...
There are no strings on me.
Old Man Raven. You are not the first old man to hope to revitalize his career through a match with me. You are not the first elderly statesman to think that the silly little albino girl is an easy target. Both Drew Stevenson and Jericho Abgonlaor believed that they could push past me and revitalize their careers.
Both men failed.
You will NOT be able to find life for your dead career through my name. You will NOT be able to find the swan song's embrace of love and adoration from the fans by defeating me. No one believes it. No one believes in you. Hell, even the automated randomizer realized that your bones are too brittle to withstand much action and put you last! It will be an absolute pleasure to take you out to the proverbial pasture as I have the others.
Enjoy your retirement, old man.
Robbie.
The Knight.
The FIRST Knight.
The FIRST man in what is quickly becoming the biggest shit-fest dynasty in ALL of wrestling.
Jan van der Roost is a boring, ineffective wrestler how has done nothing but excel at midcard bullshit while racking up losses in 4CW dark matches and knocking up biggest joke in wrestling. Is that what he taught you in that dumpster fire of a school? How to be so boring and ineffectual that the only stand-up battle you have is against the drying of paint?
Come see the most competitive three-way dance of all time!
Roost Students vs. Paint Drying vs. Grass Growing!
NO HOLDS BARRED!
I am going to enjoy pinning you most of all, Rayder. This match and this title is about excitement and consistency, about bringing eyeballs every show. And all the Knights do is lose match after match. I JUST PINNED the most recent Knight in Magdalena and now I am going to pin you. And after that? I am thinking of adopting an new nickname:
The Knight Stalker.
I am the revolution, the red and black.
I am the picture of defiance. |
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Post by Rusty Fairchild on Aug 1, 2017 0:25:03 GMT
Um, HI.. Rusty Fairchild here... The front office received a video that may interest some of you. Ok.. Here it is....
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Post by Max Ironside on Aug 1, 2017 2:55:33 GMT
Courage is the discovery that you may not win,
and trying when you know you can lose.
— Tom Krause I was in the air when it happened, on my way to Las Vegas – three days early for a tournament that I hadn't really wanted to enter in the first place. I'd done it to prove I could. To prove, really, that someone out there might take me seriously. When my flight landed, it was all over the news: Chester Bennington had hung himself. I couldn't help but feel rocked by that, completely selfish ways. Those early Linkin Park albums had meant so much to me growing up. They'd felt like my songs, my anthems, as if blaring them over and over could make the pain stop. And for a while, it did. Or maybe I grew numb to it. The thing that rocked me, though, was the knowledge that twelve hours ago I'd been sitting behind the wheel of my car, holding a gun in my hand, contemplating that very thing. I'd spent a week playing Russian Roulette with myself. If she hadn't been there, if she hadn't come outside and found me – I hate to think what might've happened.
I came back from Vegas on autopilot. Flew out the morning after bound for New York. Don't remember much of it. I could still feel the weight of the gun in my hand. I didn't pull the trigger. I wanted to. I didn't want to. Was it a cry for help? I don't... I don't really want to think about it. The reasoning behind it, the reasoning in front of it – I didn't do it. But one of my heroes did.
I wish I could tell the world about what I'd almost done. I won't. I know I won't ever open up about this, about how close I came to the end of everything. Life goes on. The survivors remain.
(the present: New York)
July 26, 2017 Sarah Lacklan's video had gone live two hours ago. He'd already watched it four times and was on the fifth when the cheap tablet dropped the WiFi signal, forcing the video to freeze-frame on her face. Max's eyes drifted closed. A sigh escaped his lips, turning into a soft snore. He was on the verge of dreaming when the video auto-resumed, stuttering slightly. "...t-the one who g-g-glitters like a diamond whereas everyone else wallows in that muck and mire. NO ONE in this match t-t-t-trains the way I d-d-d-do. NO ONE in this match-" The signal faltered again, this time crashing the entire app. Max's eyes shot open, the urge to hurl the thing into the wall overwhelming. Beyond frustrated, he held his breath, counting to ten, waiting for his nerve endings to stop screaming bloody murder. He hadn't told her about the match, about how badly he'd been mangled. He couldn't remember any of it and had no desire to go back and watch it over again. Getting out of Vegas was more important – getting away from the lights and the tourists and the thousands of eyes that were likely to look at him and see his sins like scarlet letter tattooed on his forehead. His right side was asleep, pins and needles from holding the tablet with his bad hand and now his traps were locked so tight they felt like they were carved out of marble. He groaned, the answering click of a tongue from the doorway making him look up. Florence stood there, taking in the scene before her. "Max, what are you doing?" She asked this as she raised an eyebrow and stared at him. "Just watching this thing online. No big deal." The lie was out before he could stop it. She might have bought it if the video hadn't chosen that moment to start playing again, looping that same line of dialogue all over: "I am the one who glitters like a diamond whereas everyone else wallows in that muck and mire. NO ONE in this match trains the way I do. NO ONE in this match prepares like I do. NO ONE in this match watches tape the way I do..." He fumbled with it, finally mashing the power button in frustration and then sliding his thumb across the screen to shut it down. He counted to ten. Didn't look up again. Didn't want to know what she thought of this latest obsession – she'd probably heard him replaying it repeatedly for the last hour. Sarah Lacklan hadn't even mentioned his name. He saw himself as the first to express interest even though it was a joke of a quote on social media that he'd had to clarify weeks later. She'd name-dropped Raven and Rayder – had skipped over Riddle. He knew deep down that it shouldn't be a surprise. The girl was known for her unrelenting ego. It still bothered him. After everything he'd done in Defiant, after coming so close against Aidan Carlisle, he'd expected something more. That measure of respect should have been earned by now. "Say something," he finally muttered, letting out a sigh. "Tell me I'm being stupid for fixating on this. It's okay. I can take the criticism. I'm not going to..." he trailed off, biting his tongue because he'd almost made light of what had happened. That dark humor of his needed to be contained. It hadn't even been a week. She stayed in the doorway with those big, blue eyes fixed on him. No matter how serious she looked, there was always softness for him. "Do you really know me so little, Max?" Finally, Florence pushed herself off, moving closer. Gently, she took the tablet out of his hand, resting it on the nearby table before sliding on his lap. "You're not stupid. You are focused and determined. I don't know too much about this business, but I know you. If you want something, you go and get it." There was a small pause, "ever consider that she left your name out on purpose? To push your buttons? To make you feel less important?" Max sighed as she continued, patiently pushing aside his frustration, "it's common. Denial, that is. When you are up against someone or something that could be dangerous for you?" She scoffed, "so it's neither stupid nor has anything to do with your ego. You are a competitor; you wanna be recognized. And if someone is too ignorant to do so?" Florence smiled, "force her to." The smile on her face grew even wider when she reached out for his bad hand. He was hesitant like always, but her touch was gentle, massaging his tense joints. "You question everything. And while I find that an admirable personality trait, sometimes it'll drive you insane. Remember who you are, Max, and why you joined this circus in the first place. And then you will realize how little their opinion means." "For someone who claims ignorance, you know more than most," Max's smile was sad, "than me, really. Sometimes I miss the most obvious. It just burns me that she said she works the hardest of anyone. As if I didn't have to overcome all those trainers and critics-" "But that's the thing, love – you did. But isn't it common that every competitor claims to be the hardest worker? Like you say it about yourself and hundreds of others do too." She kissed the side of his head. "But words will only bring you so far. You can call yourself a unicorn and still be missing the horn. People can see the truth so let her claim to be the hardest worker. The toughest. The best. And then just prove her wrong." Max nodded, a smirk crossing his lips. "Words don't matter. You're right. Absolutely right. She can say whatever she wants. She can piss all over the careers of the legends who've signed on for this. She didn't just omit my name... she skipped over Cyrus Riddle and Darkness too. Legends who paved the way in this business – she had to make it into some personal attack against Jan Van Der Roost's wrestling school like any of that matters." Max closed his eyes, resting his head against Florence's with a sigh. "I don't get it. I truly don't care where anyone trained – skills are skills – they're here and treating that like it's a joke just undercuts everything. If she loses to any of us, what does that make her now? You can't..." he trailed off, "if I say they're all nobodies and garbage...and I lose to them, I've just completely trashed my own reputation. I've never understood the people who do that." "But isn't that what all the cool kids do? Trying to elevate themselves at the expense of others?" "Some," he thought of Aidan then, of the way she'd talked down to him, the way she'd lumped him in with Kasey the coward. "Look at it like this, Max," she lifted her index finger, "if all the other people are trash, what can she gain from winning? If everyone says the same thing, you're going in circles and accomplishing what?" "Nothing." "Exactly! So all she seems to be is a loudmouth with zero sense of reality. You'll go out there and you do your best. Fuck what everyone else has to say or thinks or feels because at the end of the day, you know better – we know better." He glanced over at the tablet on the table before meeting her earnest gaze. "I wanted so badly to beat Aidan. To take the top title away and I had all these fantasies of how great it would be to finally hold a championship. Almost doesn't count for anything. Close but no cigar... and I... Flossy, I can't drop the ball again. I know I'm being silly. I know I should be grateful that I'm still here, that I've got a company willing to pay me for doing the thing I love most but..." he shook his head slowly. "You probably understand more than anyone else why this is so important to me." "Honey, I've been disappointed so many times in my life. Giving up was never an option." She smiled softly, patting his cheek. "You will climb whatever mountain is in your way. You will overcome any obstacle." "I..." she cut him off, finger to his lips. "Do you know how I know?" He shook his head, "because you are Max Ironside, the hammer of Thor." |
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Post by Rusty Fairchild on Aug 1, 2017 4:07:31 GMT
Weird night here.. Not one.. but two vids came in. Enjoy.
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Post by Coral Rose/ Quinn Rivers on Aug 1, 2017 7:46:39 GMT
Sometimes things happen for a reason, an injury, a vacation, or even a break up. Sometimes wins happen, loses happen. New places to sign with, places to leave, or close. It all happens for a reason. Maybe at the time we don't know what the reason can be, but eventually we do know, we do find out the reasons why. I trained hard, worked hard every day to make my dream, to achieve my dream to wrestle. I did everything I could so I could train with one of the bests, which I did. I'm glad I had, I worked hard to finally sign somewhere. I signed, and won my way all the way to the finals of the Ladies Tournament. Sad part about it, in that match I ended up getting an injury, and the place closed not long after it. After it did I did what I could so I could get back into the ring again. I went through a lot so I could again step into the ring. I'm getting that chance as I have signed with EIW, and signed up yo be in Defiant's Titan Title gauntlet Match.
I would lie if I didn't say I wasn't nervous, but I'm not going to lie, I am nervous, I am scared, but I know I need to get back into the ring, and try my best. I know I have Damien's support which will help me. I have overcome odds before in the past, and I know I can do it again. Others may doubt me, may think I am not a threat, but I know I am, and will do all I can do win, to get that title. I can not, will not let them stop me. I maybe scared, and nervous, but this is my chance to show I can win a title, I can come out on top. It is my chance to go out there, and prove I belong in the ring, and can be one of the best. This is my time to wake up, and prove myself. I don't are if I have to face one of the legends like Chris Comet, and Darkness, or one of the newcomers to Defiant in James Raven, and Jemm Drew, or even Max Ironside who has been on the roster. It doesn't matter if I face one of the one timers like myself in Sarah Lacklan, Robbie Rayder, or Cy Riddle. I will get past any, and all I go up against until I am the last one standing at the end.
Off Camera:
The scene opens up inside of Quinn's apartment that she shares with her boyfriend Damien. Damien was sound asleep, as Quinn was watching him. She smiles, as she felt she was lucky to of met him, more so at a time when she needed someone. They may of only known each other a short time, but something about him just made her feel complete, made her feel the best she has ever felt. Earlier that day, he had given her a tour of Seattle, something she wanted for her birthday, more so as meant spending time with him. The way he made sure she felt on her birthday had really meant something to her. She had never had a boyfriend do that, as normally she would just look at her birthday as just another day. Yet the day was pretty amazing.
Damien moves a bit, shifts in his sleep, as Quinn smiles seeing him move. She still sat there watching him. She sees him go to reach for her, knowing he wouldn't get her since she wasn't next to him. He wakes up, as he looks around, before laying his eyes on her. The way he eyes looked every time she seen him, it was the best thing ever. She didn't want the feeling to end.
"Babe what are you doing up?"
"I couldn't sleep, just thinking about my upcoming match."
This was a common thing, as she had mentioned few times about being nervous, and stuff.
"Come back to bed. You will do fine in your match, just stay focused like we talked about. I will be there to support you as well."
Quinn nods her head, as she goes to move back towards the bed.
"I know, you are right. Alright I'm coming back to bed."
She lightly smiles, as she laughs softly. Once she was on the bed, and next to him, she lays down, placing her head on his chest, as his arm goes around her. He kisses her forehead, as they close their eyes, and drift to sleep, as the scene fades out.
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Post by Jenn Drew on Aug 1, 2017 14:46:43 GMT
Jenn is seen sitting at a desk with her feet propped up on it with eight pictures in frames at the front of it facing out.
“Two weeks ago, I debuted in Defiant Wrestling and I did exactly what I said I was going to do. I showed up, kicked some ass, and won. Not that any of that is really that much of a surprise, but still. I had two overconfident people that saw me as an afterthought in that match and I took advantage of it. This time around, people know what to expect from me. This time, I have a Golden opportunity when I step into the ring and compete in a gauntlet match for the new Titan Championship. I have a chance, something I’m not usually given to prove myself. The last time around, I had to take my chance when I competed in LAW. Management there didn’t want to give me a chance despite what my record showed. They were afraid I was going to put their champions to shame and you know what, when I made my own opportunity, I did just that. I took a championship that I should have been given when it was first introduced, but then the person who I took it from beat me in my first defense, but that was only because I was injured during the course of the match and forced to take time away. I know Sarah said I dropped the ball on an opportunity, but even with broken ribs, I came ever so close to beating Keira Johnson for a second time. Enough about that though, the past is in the past for a reason.
When I walk into this match, it is my opportunity, my time. I don’t care if you’re a Defiant Legend, a multiple time hall of famer, someone coming into MY company at a chance for glory, or the woman who claims to love fighting the world, the Titan Championship is mine and all of you just don’t realize it yet. You see, when I’m given opportunities, I take advantage of them. My first match back after spending time in rehab was in UWF and I was given an opportunity to win the Hardcore Championship, and you know what I did with that opportunity? I took advantage of it and beat five other world class competitors and walked out with the title. See, it doesn’t matter if I am given the chance or find a way to give myself an opportunity, I always come out on top.”
Jenn grins as she stands up and walks around the room to a picture of Sarah Lackland sitting on the desk and picks it up to look at it.
”I do admire the confidence of one Sarah Lackland though. Reminds me of myself really. Brash, a little cocky, and not afraid to speak her mind. She’s a little firecracker that one. I know she likes to think her entering at number one is being some sort of martyr or thinking she needs to prove a point to someone, but entering into a match like this is the dumbest decision anyone could ever make. The chances of winning this match decrease the earlier you enter this thing, but kudos on being brave enough to think you have any sort of chance to run the gauntlet and survive until the end when I’m waiting for someone just like you near the end of this match. If you somehow manage to make it through six other people, the seventh will be the biggest challenge to you. Entrant number seven will be the one to show you that you do in fact have strings attached to you and your puppet master is pride. You see, your pride controls you to do things like enter number one because you feel like you have a point to prove. Well, I’m here to show you pride isn’t everything it’s cut out to be.
Pride can be a very dangerous thing for people, Sarah. Pride makes people do foolish things and not even pride can carry you through everything. Everyone has something that controls them, whether it be a physical thing, or something that’s only an idea and I will never claim to be any different. I am controlled by the desire to prove everyone who ever said I wouldn’t survive, who never thought I’d be alive today. I use it to fuel the fire inside of me, I don’t allow it to consume me though, simply still being here to talk is enough to prove all of those people wrong. Sarah, you just think everyone is out to get you and you need to prove you are better than everyone. You pride yourself in fighting everywhere, but eventually that will take its toll on you and you will fizzle out and simply become an afterthought. For now though, keep doing what you’re doing because you’re proving yourself to people and you are very good in the ring, but this will be where you see that the one versus all mentality will be your downfall when you eventually see your chance to become Titan Champion slip from your grasp.”
Jenn takes the picture, frame and all and tosses it to the ground where we hear the glass shatter before she walks over to the picture of James Raven and picks it up.
”There’s also another huge name in this match that I can’t look past in the form of the one and only James Raven. Multiple time hall of famer, holder of countless championships, and all around badass. If there’s one person in this match I’ve been looking forward to facing, it’s this man. What better final hurdle to jump over than to beat the living legend himself when he enters dead last into this match? I get it though, he’s the favorite in this match by default from the position he drew. He’s last, so no matter who he faces, he’ll be fresh, unscathed and ready to go forever. James, I have respect for every single thing you’ve ever done in this business, but coming here and entering the match I am ultimately going to win isn’t exactly the best way to start your time here in Defiant. Imagine the legend himself losing to a pint-sized girl who has way too many things that always stack the deck against her. Can you imagine what that would be like? I doubt you can because from what I know, you’ve always seen yourself as better than everyone.
I do know that stepping into the ring and defeating someone like you will do wonders for my career and people all over the wrestling world will be buzzing about how the legend, James Raven, lost to Jennifer Drew in her quest to become Titan Champion. I love that headline James, and I don’t see any different outcome coming out of this match. Other people would be nervous to step into the ring with you, but I welcome the challenge and the opportunity and by now, I’ve said what I do with opportunities, so I won’t repeat myself. But James, just know that I will ruin your debut here in Defiant Wrestling by giving you your Curtain Call.”
Jenn takes the picture of James and throws it on the ground and just like the picture of Sarah, the glass is heard shattering. She then looks at the rest of the pictures and doesn’t pick one up, but just glances at the rest of them.
“The rest of the field though, I’m not sure exactly what they’re doing in this match, although we do have a couple of people that have a bit of name value here like Robbie Ryder and Cy Riddle. Cy probably being the biggest name out of the rest of the field. The guy is a great competitor, but there’s no way if he somehow makes it through six others, I’m letting him get past me. He can try his hardest, but I refuse to allow anyone to defeat me for the Titan Title. Robbie, the same goes for you. I don’t care what you’ve done in the past, because none it means anything when you step into the ring with me. You can’t and won’t survive me. Then there’s the two, washed up, old Defiant legends. Seriously, why are you guys even in this match? Do you want one last shot at glory by trying to step back into a Defiant ring and recapture the magic that once made you something worth remembering? If so, you will only fail and fall like all the rest. This isn’t the old Defiant, this is the new and improved Defiant Wrestling where I dominate the Titan Division.
When I step into the ring for this gauntlet match, five foes will have already fallen by the wayside. When my music hits, I only have to make it through two other competitors and if it goes the way I’m predicting, she will have already gone through those five other people and will be tired, and prone to mistakes, so my job should be easy to make it to the final man where I will have to prove to myself and everyone that I can hang with the very best this industry has ever seen. Come TNT, I will will run the gauntlet and I will walk out as the Titan Champion and I will hold the title with pride and I will show what it means to be a Titan when I take on everyone and make the title prestigious.”
Jenn grins as she takes the rest of the pictures and unceremoniously tips them off the desk and to the ground one by one with the glass shattering.
”See you all soon.”
Jenn waves as she leaves the room and the camera pans down to all the shattered pictures. |
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Post by James Raven on Aug 1, 2017 15:19:28 GMT
 Fear not, Defiant Wrestling. Your final entrant and future champion has arrived.
"What are we doing here, James?"
His question fills the void, shattering the long silence. His voice drips confusion and concern on the cheap hotel carpeting. I don't answer him; I barely heard him if we're being honest.
I stand in the corner of the room, my palms placed firmly against the polished top of a cherry dresser as I white knuckle the corners. My eyes are focused firmly on the mirror hanging from the wall behind it, and the man staring back at me.
I remember him; he was great once. Now he's a faded memory; a whisper on the breaths of parents that tuck their children into bed and tell tales of a hero that laid waste to giants and brought cheers to the throats of a generation. I lift my hand from it's anchor on the dresser and lift a half glass of whiskey to my lips, dumping the amber liquid across parched lips and down my throat with the fury of a flaming river. My hand shakes as I lower the glass, almost spilling it off the countertop.
I don't care.
I can't take my eyes off the man in the mirror.
He's not old, but he's aged. He's a relic of a bygone era; gray hairs sprouting from a mane that was once a thick chestnut brown, creases that run around his deep blue eyes and across his forehead, battle scars... several battle scars.
Yeah, he was great once, but he looks like a legend now. "James? Are you listening to me? What are we doing here?"
I snap out of my trance for the first time, lifting a hand to rub my eyes with a thumb and forefinger. I turn away from the mirror and let go of the dresser, almost stumbling to the floor. I recover, and take another deep slug of Crown Royal.
"Jesus, James... relax. You've had enough for tonight."
I stare at him, my eyes taking several seconds to refocus and chase the blurriness that distorts his face. His name is Jeremy Silver, and he's been my agent and manager for the past six years. When you retire, a lot of the faces that you thought you were friends start to fade away. When the title belt and late night talk show appearances dry up, sponsors don't see you in the same light. You force yourself to pivot, to adjust, to find out who you can trust and what your next move it. Jeremy never left my side, from my darkest days to my laziest, he was there when I needed him.
He'll be there when I get back to the top again too.
"Come on, put down the whiskey and have a seat. Please."
I stare at him for a long moment, then glance down at the glass in my hand. I take an uneasy step back towards the dresser, and lift the glass to finish my drink. It burns. My body almost pushes it back up but I power through. I drop the glass to the dresser top casually, watching it clatter loudly across the surface. Jeremy jumps off the bed and rushes over to me, grabbing the glass to stop it from rolling and then snatching me up by the shoulders and pushing me against the wall. There's fury in his eyes, and it blazes a hole through me.
"HEY! What the hell is your problem?! You're acting like a damned child! Now I still don't know why I'm here, but if it's to be your babysitter tell me now so I can pack up and get the hell out of Dodge!"
We stare at each other for several seconds, a tense silence overtaking the room. I blink several times, and swallow deeply. I need to recalibrate. I nod my head slowly.
"You're right. I'm sorry."
He studies me intently, but is eventually satisfied and lets go of my shoulders. He adjusts the French cuffs of his shirt and slowly makes his way back to the bed, resting himself gently atop the comforter. He grabs his cigar and cutter from the side table and goes back to removing the tip, still eyeing me every few seconds. I glance around the hotel room, scanning the half finished Chinese take out scattered across the top of a television set that's muted while an old episode of Cops plays in the background. There's a chair at the far end of the space, but my legs are weak and the walls are spinning around me, I don't think I can make it. "You going to have a seat?""I'm good here, thanks."
I lean my back flat against the wall, and drop my weight to the floor with a thud that nearly shakes the pictures off the walls. Jeremy shakes his head in disgust, sticking the uncut end of his cigar into his mouth and lighting it meticulously. I watch his process, and watch as a shroud of smoke billows up around him. He slowly smiles to himself as he inhales, puffing out thicker and thicker clouds and savors the aroma. He slowly leans against the beds headrest and casts me a sideways glance.
"I'm serious, James. You need to fill me in, or I'm on the first flight out in the morning. I'll follow you anywhere when I'm a part of the big picture but once you go rogue, and start flying me out to flea bag motels in the middle of North Carolina, and acting like someone I don't recognize? I draw the line there."
"I know. I'm sorry."
"I need more than that, James. Don't throw thin apologies my way, start listing reasons."
"Do you... do you remember Titan Wrestling?"
I see a faint spark of recognition in his eyes, but he doesn't have enough pieces to put the puzzle together. He just nods."TWC, of course I remember them."
He takes another deep drag from his cigar, and shrugs his shoulders.
"When I was 21 years old I signed with TWC, and it shaped my career. I won my first world title, became a general manager, went into a Hall of Famer, and all for the first time. I miss it, Jeremy. I miss being the kid that partied all night but couldn't be beat, I miss the fans screaming my name, but more than anything, I miss the hunt. I miss chasing glory, and climbing the mountain."
"You're drunk, and babbling. I don't know what you're talking about, James."
"I wouldn't expect you to. You've never walked into a company and had every star on the roster know your name. You've never tried a casual one off after a five years on the couch and had every top dog come for your throat. I'm sick of it, Jeremy, I am. I don't want to be forced into a World title spot because of something I did a half decade ago, I don't want to be the old man that people respect but stopped fearing. I want to be a part of the hunt again, I want to earn something, and climb the ladder."
"So you're a character actor? Drinking a bottle of whiskey is going to bring back the skills you had in 2011?""No, of course not, this is a one night thing; a reminder of who we were back then. If there was a sorority girl here I'd have 'reminisced' all over her too. This is what I did in the glory days, Jeremy, but I want to prove I can be someone better now."He studies me, clearly not a fan of my reasoning but coming to accept it regardless. He takes another deep drag from his cigar and ashes it on his bedside coaster."Alright, so that explains why you wanted to come out of retirement, and why you're drinking like a frat boy... but why here? Why Fayetteville, and why Defiant? Don't get me wrong, it seems like an okay place, but are you telling me we couldn't have found you a better offer? More money, more exposure, more diverse talent?"
"Did we ever talk about this tattoo?"
I lift my right hand, and fumble to pull my sleeve up to my elbow. I twist my arm to show Jeremy a small cannon on the inside of my wrist, the words "TITANS NEVER DIE" emblazoned boldly on the side. I got it when the TWC closed in 2012, and it's been a daily reminder ever since. He blinks, but doesn't say anything. "I don't need the money, Jeremy, and if I felt I needed exposure the XWF or WGWF could have handled that, but I'm not ready to be a special attraction. I'm not ready to be a marketing tool. I want to prove that I can still hang with the likes of Lacklan and Max Ironside.""The podcaster and the hammer of Thor? I think you'll be fine, Raven.""So do I. The rest of the world isn't sure, though. The rest of the world is writing me off as an old man before I'm even 28, or lumping me in with the rookies so fresh to the development territories that the ink on the contract hasn't dried yet. I need to remind them what a real Titan looks like, I need to remind myself what I can do when I'm hungry. It starts with those two; and Jenn Drew, Chris Comet, Darkness, Robbie Rayder, Quinn Rivers, and Cy Riddle... whichever unlucky bastard survives the gauntlet until I come out, then it's game over for everyone. That belt is mine. I'm sure they're all great, but when they wake up that morning and put their feet on the ground, and ask themselves why they're getting in the ring... their why isn't as strong as mine."
He nods his head slowly, thoughtfully. He takes another puff of his cigar and disappears in a cloud of smoke.
"I get it. I'm with ya. What happens if you win the Titan title? What's the next step?"
"WHEN I win? We ask Aidan Carlisle to dance. From there, who knows? We remind everyone in Defiant that true Titans Never Die, and we do what we did in the old days, Jeremy."
"Try and take over the world?"
"Maybe, but we make them all Fear the Raven... Forevermore."
"Have another drink, kid. You've earned it."
FADE TO BLACK
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Post by impalerriddle on Aug 1, 2017 15:22:36 GMT
“Come on, mate, we have no time to spare.”
In a normal setting, those words would roll off of anyone's back, possibly even nodded to and joked with given the right situation. However, as dead leaves and fallen sticks crunch and break respectively under the soles of one’s shoes in the dead of the night whilst the moon serves as the only light to guide the way, it's a bit unsettling.
“Wh-what exactly are we doing, Mr. Riddle? And wh-why are we so pressed for time?” The younger man asked with a noticeable fear in his shaky tone and stuttering beginnings. Cyrus forged on, keeping his eyes fixed ahead for their destination.
“Mm- Mister Riddle… Mr. Riddle?”
One more speak of his name was enough for Cyrus to stop, pivot, and gaze intensely. “I thought I said ‘no questions.’ You were paid, as promised, to keep quiet and go along. That's exactly why the sum was substantial.” With a long, deep breath, he returned his gaze to the even heavier wooded section of the forest. “Now, it's just ahead… either come along and take care of your family, or give me the money and navigate out of here alone.”
Silence fell between them. The distance “hoo” of an owl sliced through the still environment, even in its subtlety. “Sorry… just feel like I'm being watched.” The younger man easily displayed a feeling of embarrassment by his head hanging and morose demeanor. He had clearly forgotten his own ends in this venture, and being reminded of it made him feel like a lackluster provider.
“Of course you are, mate, there are animals around us and above us. It's the movements you hear that don't accompany a glowing set of eyes that should worry you.” The tag-along couldn't see Cyrus’ smirk, but beyond the heavily wooded section where the moonlight broke the trees directly above, he could see the approving nod and ocular survey of the house before them. “Here.”
Cyrus marvel was his company’s trepidation. The overall unkempt appearance and shoddy stability of the house failed to aid in relieving stress. Mr. Riddle, on the other hand, was very much about the progression as he ascended the the 10 steps that led to a wrap around porch, with the front door off its hinges. As he motioned, the fear set in well.
“I don't think so. You haven't even told me what we are doing here.” His fervent head shakes only emphasized an unwillingness, but Cyrus was having none of it.
“I'm searching for something, it's hard to explain fully. You're here because if I'm unsuccessful, you can still save yourself.”
“You're leading then.”
“I've been leading the whole time, you frightened little wanker.” Cyrus scoffed, standing in the door way, waiting to be joined so the pair could enter. Once inside, the unnamed man glanced around, but Cyrus eye was caught by a mysterious glow from an upstairs room. “Up there… come on.”
Just then, the floor creaked upstairs, causing an echo which startled the man again. “No, you go, I'll keep lookout.” His arms crossed and he backstepped. “Okay.” Cyrus walked to him slowly and held his hand out. “Knife… I need it.”
The shaky hand retrieved the knife from a back pocket and placed it into Cyrus’. The switchblade became a toy for a few seconds as the Englishman’s proficiency shown via his maneuvering, only stopping once the blade was between them. “Be ready.”
Not three seconds later, Riddle threw his head forward and into the man's face with such impact the man became unconscious on the floor and Cyrus began to bleed from the forehead. Little did the company know he was to be the victim. Elaborately set, Cyrus lured him. From upstairs, a monstrously sized man walked down, wearing a bloody face mask, complete with a few strands of hair. Cyrus nodded as the masked man picked up the prey and went into the room the light emanated from.
“This is called sacrifice, Dave.”
The man stirred on the floor from the sound of Cyrus’ voice. He was flat on his back, legs and arms strapped to the floor with metal, in the center of a pentagram decorated with candles. Now gagged, Dave, could do nothing but mumble.
“I'm sure you're wondering why, and that's fine, I'm prepared to tell you. See, it's been rough for me lately… my practices, or lack thereof, have left me feeling quite empty. I need some power back, Dave. I need to control the world, as opposed to the world controlling me. Money, such easy bait, yeah? Threw you a number and you jumped. Truth is, I need something from you. I need your sacrifice… for my career mainly.”
Cyrus brandished an even bigger knife than the one Dave had given him. He took the point of it and placed it on Dave's chest, slowly turning it, but not pushing into the flesh enough to harm, illiciting a panic.
“Best not to move, Dave, else tragedy will befall. I don't want you to get a negative impression of me, I've been this unhinged only for a good few years outwardly. I used to suppress it, keep it tucked away. It wasn't until the slow process of reveal that I embraced what I would become. I don't need to make empty threats, or be some snotty, barely legal goth who's only other fan than herself is her cunt munching girlfriend who looks incredibly malnourished. I'm not some fraudulent, vampire cosplayer, or a mimic from your telly. I'm genuinely The Impaler, reborn from the loss to a Butcher, now seeking redemption in all which is evil to a much darker power than anyone cares to claim.”
Riddle chuckled to himself as he dripped some candlewax onto Dave, causing him to scream. As he did, Cyrus closed his eyes and waved his hands as a conductor would do.
“Ah, music to my ears, mate. Screams… agony… pain… bloodletting… this is what we live for. What are we but harbingers of pain? Think about it, whether you hate or love, there's always a measure of pain involved. Doing what I do, that's all I seek out is pain, both in a sadist and masochistic sense. I surely don't wrestle for money, it's for the thrill. Most would call it a passion, but it's more than that. It's an obsession, to be great, to fulfill your purpose. Just like in life, there are predators and prey. You're the man on the floor to be sacrificed, or the one standing over with knife, procuring a life force. Guess we know what role I play.”
The knife digs in just slightly, but enough to fill the wound left behind with crimson.
“That's why I enter the gauntlet, Dave. I need to send a strong message for my subsequent Titan Championship victory. What better way than to lay waste to multiple people in succession. First match of the night, showing that pale cunt that she's nothing more than a waste of matter that speaks more than she can walk. I'm indiscriminate when it comes to victim. The best pattern is no pattern, but I have a special place for those who paint themselves a victim of society or circumstance. The first in also becomes the first casualty, and by their own choice… it's poetic.”
“Defiant needs someone like me. The experience, the decoration, the killer instinct. Why do you think Aidan Carlisle is champion? Because she possesses all of those, same as I, and that's a reason her and I have been such extraordinary friends and goes. Just as she, I go for the throat, and if I cannot slice the jugular, I settle for the carotid. I'm going to run this hell.”
Cyrus falls silent, thinking for a moment before turning his attention back to Dave.
“It’s similar to Dante's Inferno. Nine competitors, all represent a circle. The modification is that I possess them all, and while some consider that damming, I see it as the sign of ultimate power. It inside, River, Rayder, Rose, Lacklan, Comet, Darkness, Drew, Raven… just a run sheet of toe tags that will be needed, of body and of soul. Who knows, maybe they'll see you on the other side, Dave. I find that to be a portrait moment.”
“You don't drown by falling in the water, but by staying in it. I'm the hand that keeps the head submerged, one by one, until the seas of chaos churn into red. Because once you decide to navigate the waters with I, you quickly learn that everyone floats in my river of hell. Status is irrelevant in a business where we are placed against one another at random moments. No matter how fleeting they are, though, they do hold significance. Every moment is another moment to create a legacy. I've travelled the world, wrestled the greatest, won multiple world championships. If we were based on greatness, I would always lead the pack. But, that was before. No, I'd much rather mingle in the fray… adapt to destroy.”
“TNT, Titan Championship gauntlet, it's where my next moment becomes part of my legacy. It's a rebirth, a fresh step forward, and a fresh blade in the body. It will bring you to life, only to annihilate you're very existence. Dave… it's a shame you won't witness it. But I'll dedicate it you.”
Cyrus looks down at Dave and smirks, the knife pressing against Dave's throat. A singular thud is heard, as if a head bounced off of the hardwood floor. Cyrus, euphoric as he looks upon his handiwork, utters one last sentence.
“The monster within can be examined through thine eyes, but be rest assured, man or beast… everything dies.”
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Post by Robbie 'Aire' Rayder on Aug 1, 2017 15:40:55 GMT
Key West - Tuesday
‘Don’t think… You’ll only hurt the ball club’
In shorts and with his hair pulled back into a pony tail, Robbie Rayder stands on Smathers Beach, just outside of the condo that he and Candice Turner still reside in Key West. He is tossing a tennis ball slightly in the air with his right hand as he looks out at the waves softly rolling onto the beach on the sunny day. Rebel, their dog is at his feet, looking up at him, watching the ball being tossed up.
I knew which movie that line was from but I never understood what Coach Roost kept saying it the first time. But I figured it out.
Robbie tosses the tennis ball down the beach and Rebel runs after it.
What he meant was, don’t get all wrapped up into your head over things. The more you think about things, the more you can complicate things, and the more you get in your own head that ya can’t win.
Rebel runs up to Robbie and drops the tennis ball, then barks at Robbie.
Okay, okay. We’ll throw it again.
Robbie picks up the ball and throws it down the beach again. Rebel chases after it again.
Sometimes you just have to let things go and just be. Let instinct run its course and push you to your prize. In this case, it's the Titan Title. I've taken a few weeks off to get re-energized and now, it's time to go full throttle.
Rebel runs back up with the ball and drops it at Robbie’s feet. Robbie picks up the ball and holds it in front of Rebel.
Alright, ya ready?
The dog barks at Robbie and looks at the ball. Robbie makes the motion to throw the ball but doesn’t let it go. Rebel turns and looks but doesn’t see the ball. He looks again as Robbie holds the ball at his side. Rebel turns back around and barks at Robbie, who chuckles.
Still Smarter than me, aren’t ya, Reb?
Robbie tosses the ball down the beach and Rebel runs back after the ball.
See, Rebel has the right idea. He goes on instinct. He knew I didn’t throw the ball but he didn’t over think it. He went right back to who had the ball and called me on it. There's eight opponents in this match and I may not face them all, but I don't know who I'm gonna face either. So I just have to the best I can against whoever is in front of me. I'm in the middle of the pack, so three will be gone before I even get to the ring. But that leaves four behind me as well.
Rebel runs back up and drops the ball then sits on Robbie’s feet, laying his head down.
Ok, Rebel, we’ll just relax for a few, then go see Momma.
Robbie stands on the beach, looking out at the low rolling waves coming up upon shore.
I got a lot to gain here. Lots of experience to gain as well. But more importantly, there's a Titan Title on the line.
Robbie tosses the tennis ball back along the beach towards a lounging Candice Turner. Rebel takes a run after the ball, picking up and drops it beside of her. She pets his head and hands him a treat. Robbie walks up and laughs as Rebel chews on the treat.
Just like his momma, gotta have that treat. Thursday Night, I'll have Sweet Treats too. Gold around my waist and Candy by my side. Rayder ---- Out.
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