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Post by The BombTrax on Aug 20, 2016 4:24:08 GMT
One (1) Role Play Max
Final Role Play Deadline: Thursday September 1st, 2016 @ 10:59 PM CST
Segment Deadline: Wednesday August 31st, 2016 @ 11:59 PM CST
Singles Match
Jack Nomad versus Aokigahara Zombie
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Post by zombie on Aug 30, 2016 22:21:42 GMT
Snake Skin The bar was nicely filled up for a rainy Monday afternoon. Aside from the bartender there were only men inside and Aokigahara Zombie was one of them. He sat across from two locals that were passed out in the booth. The dead soldiers and money on the table suggested a drinking contest. Aokigahara picked up the money and looked around the bar. Most people were just talking quietly or staring blankly at the television. He reaches over the table and tugs on the jacket of the one seated at the edge and pulls him down to the ground. He motions for the cameraman to take his seat. He lights a cigarette and leans down in the seat as the other man in front of him stirs and he chuckles. “Do you dreamers know where I’ve been all this time up here, in my head? I’ve just been thinking about the little things like how I come off to people or what effect my methods have been having on you guys. To start I want to tell you a little story. This whole business with the water and the rain reminded me of it. It takes place in the jungle over a wild stream. Monkey was caring for her monkey kids and it began raining hard. The kids, being dumbasses, went out to play instead of following Monkey to shelter and got washed into the raging waters of the stream. Monkey ran beside them as the current took them. She didn’t know what to do but looked around for any opportunity to help. Finally the two kids stopped as they hit a large rock protruding from the water and the older one was able to hold on and grab the smaller one. Monkey stopped and saw that there was a branch hovering over the stream almost above where the rock was.
“She scrambled up the tree and onto the branch but before she could reach the end of it she stopped as she saw Snake trying to hold on with the rain threatening to knock him off the newly slick wood. Monkey stopped in her tracks as Snake went back and forth on the branch until he caught sight of her.
‘Monkey, sister, please help me! Grab onto me. The rain has made this tree too slippery and I am about to fall,’ he said with his tongue slipping in and out.
‘I won’t help you. You are just going to bite me and eat me.’
‘I promise I won’t,’ Snake stripped some leaves off the branch as he tried to get some traction and noticed Monkey looking down at her children struggling to cling onto the rock. ‘Sister, we can help each other. Grab onto me and I will lower my tail to the young so that they may climb up. Then we can all find shelter under this tree together.’
“Monkey only considered it for a second and dashed out onto the branch and grabbed Snake. Then Snake lowered his body off the branch and over the rock. The monkey kids were able to climb up Snake and into the clutching arms of Monkey. She then felt pain from her arm and her children cried. Snake had bit them with his poisonous sting.. The wound burned and her vision became blurry. The youngest of her kids was already dead. She looked up and Snake was struggling to hold on to the branch again.
‘Why?,’ she asked with her last breath.
‘It is my nature,’ Snake replied. Four bodies fell from the tree and were washed away with the stream."He took a long puff from his cigarette for a dramatic, reflective pause. “So what is the lesson here? You can really take anything you want from it. Me? I see it as a proof that things with viciousness in their hearts will always be vicious. They will always act predictively no matter what so it is best to prepare for it and be wary. In this reality….
“All humans have this trait inside them. We are all Snake.
“I know I did. See, in the end, we always look out for ourselves. If this mean screwing over the next man then we do it. Hell, if it just means getting the slightest bit of an advantage for ourselves then we act wickedly. It is just human nature. So that’s where I come in.
“When I was saved and I was put to task to help people I was hesitant at first. I used to think that people weren’t really worth saving at all. I did all those jobs that I did because I hated people. I would beat ‘em, arrest ‘em and cheat ‘em. When I got into wrestling I really started to let my anger out. I would do things to flesh and bone that would cause people to have nightmares. Don’t really know where it came from either. I grew up and I set out to punish this world for not being as I wanted.
“Then I was saved and was put to the task to act as savior. I wondered how I could do this. How could I save one of the most evil things in the universe. That’s when I thought on my past and realized what I could do. I could use my experience to give the people what they wanted. They could take out all their anger on me and I could atone for my past sins. Every battle became holy. It was a fight for all our souls. Then I began to enjoy it again. I felt guilty.
“I was like a snake trying to slither back into the skin it just shed. I was new and improved but I was still a snake. Now I find myself here in PAW trying to do my job and not fall into the abyss that I barely climbed out of. CJ O’Donnell was an introduction. They put me up against Jack Nomad to try and have the man break me. Oh does that one have his anger. I saw what he did to Shadow and my goosebumps were out.
“You Jack Nomad will be my proof. I want to enjoy our match but I want you to get something out of it even more. I don’t want to be your torturer or you to be mine. I want us to work on our problems together and in the end we will be better men. Saved. You breathe fire and spit out salt. This beastly image you have drawn up for yourself doesn’t scare me. It makes me want to experience it, and tame it. Deep down you are just a man and a man can be changed.”Zombie finishes the cigarette and leans in closer. “So on our very first live Wicked you people can see all manner of spectacle. For one you can watch me change the world starting one man at a time. Jack Nomad is a monster and I will survive him. I also think that I can quell his fire. This match will be my message to all of your. You are vile, evil and scummy creatures but you can use that. Fight against nature and fight for good. Deflect instead of defend. That is the only way to make a difference in this world. Watch me fight fire with fire and we’ll see who’ll get burned.”He then closes his eyes and joins the other dreamers as we fade. |
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The Hard Core Society
PAW Camper
Equal Opportunity Hatred is so much easier than focused racial bullshit.
Posts: 53 
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Post by The Hard Core Society on Aug 31, 2016 1:55:57 GMT
================================= OFF CAMERA Carving My Reality A Poem by Jack Nomad ================================= We ask ourselves without knowing, Is this reality that we are showing?
Life and Death at it's finest, Or just a reprieve from life's test?
Are we dreams in Digital, Created on mental film?
Are we real or fictional, Thoughts of divine whim?
Do the dreamers sew our seam? Thoughts of others that we feel
Or are they the dream, and we are what's true and real?
The blood and mental strain, Feelings pure and tender.
Filled with anger and pain, Imaginings of a brutal keeper.
My thoughts are my own, so I say, Real or not, I'm here to stay.
Reality is subjective, Real or not it's up to you.
Reality is destructive, Again that's all you too.
Reality is what we make it, Excuse, excuses, Sad but true.
Take life in your hand, Mold it to fit your view.
If you cannot take control, You'll be adrift, view askew.
Eventually, life will run it's course, Could have, Would have, Should have, Don't have.
Take it by choice, Take it by force.
For if you do not, Some one else will.
I will not be the pawn, Fuck you and your command.
I will be the leader, I will build my house by hand.
Brick by Brick, Stacked tall and high.
If you don't like it, Just fucking die.
This is my life, My Rules, My Stand, My Time.
Second Fiddle sucks dick, I'm done with the back of the boat.
Why follow and swallow, someone's pride down your throat?
The strong do not follow the weak. The Gazelle does not command the Lion. The Powerful do not answer to the meek.
Real or not, Figment or Flesh,
You will be nothing... Nothing but a thought.
Ideas can die, We can too... ================================= OFF CAMERA - PURITY ARENA LOCKER ROOM Bad Moon Rising - Post Match AUGUST 19th ================================= I sit in the back, fingers steeped and leaned forward with my elbows on my knees. What a fucking joke. Another one tries and another one bites the dust. A pretentious poser with more money than brain cells. Nobody knew his name or even had a good idea what he looked like and to be fair, I doubt they cared much more than I did.
I brought down The Shadow and yet, I feel empty. It was a pointless endeavor with a man who really had no fucking chance in hell of beating me. You'd think I'd have some sense of satisfaction, breaking his neck and his spine, but It all just rang hollow for me. There was no prize dangling before me like a carrot, just the small solace of peace of mind. Fuck, I don't even have peace in my own mind, so small fucking consolation that is.
On the monitor I watch as my “partners” each fail in their perspective endeavors. Cross Recoba has his ass handed to him on a platter by Flaming Youth and deservedly so. Our “Fearless Leader” turns out to be a grand standing twat who can't fucking deliver. Calvin Harris only fared slightly better by at least giving Press a real fight. Yet he still came up short. So I've pledged myself to a fucking moron and a choke artist? Great. Fucking fantastic.
Then I see something that has me genuinely concerned. Press is the measuring stick for PAW by which all are compared. He's the guy that, while others talk about fucking you up, he's the guy that will actually do the fucking job. I have a certain level of real respect for motherfuckers who can back up their words and to see this Deus motherfucker come in and flat out demolish Press? Well that certainly was impressive.================================ CAMERA ON - NOMAD'S APARTMENT ALETHIOLOGY The Jack Nomad Take on it. AUGUST 21st ================================ So I sit there, watching this dark, metal masked fucker deliver a poem and a speech, my curiosity piqued. I can't help myself. I have to push this dark God. Being an Atheist certainly helps in this case. I get the camera rolling and I'm in just a tank top and shorts, I don't care if you can see my burn scarred legs or how shitty I look at O'dark thirty in the morning, but I have to speak and I have to do it now while the iron is hot. “ Deus,” I start, “ You impressed me by how far you went in battering and beating Press's ass to a bloody, rotten pulp. He never saw you coming and quite frankly, nobody else did. Now with that said, what I'm not impressed with is how you're a man living in the past. You talk about the bones of a world you built that has long since been buried and left behind in the dust where it belongs. You proclaim dominion over us.”
I lean forward in my seat, elbows resting on the arms of my chair. I clasp one hand over the other and stare into the camera lens with a smirk on my face. “ Pretentious much? Listen here fuck stain, I bow to no one. My knee does not bend. I do not yield. You did not build my house, my Personal Amusement Wrestling. This house? This house was built on our combined blood, congealing and twisted until it resembled an amusement park centered around a wrestling ring and it is a beautiful thing where both nightmares and dreams can be crushed or made true. I've never been in a place that motivated me to be something......more.” My neck cracks as I tilt my head to the left and right. I air my thoughts as they come to me, not holding anything back and knowing full well this Deus could pay me a visit at any time. Would it be my first ass kicking? No, but... “ You see, Deus, I'm loyal to PAW. I've planted my stake in this place and I've made it mine. The grave it rests over has no baring to me. The past is something I have to look over my shoulder to see and while it could be said that if Preston looked over his shoulder just one time on the night of the Rising Bad Moon, he could have stood a chance against the power of history coming at him. You needed the advantage of surprise that night to take him out. I need no such thing. I look at Press and have said numerous times, I don't hide. I'm always right there if he wants a piece of me and he shall have that piece one day.”
I rub my palms together and it feels so strange to actual find myself caring about this fucking place. I never cared about any other wrestling promotion before. Nobody ever made me care. I came close with that shithole in Baltimore, but thankfully I came to my senses in that instance. One of the few grudges I've maintained in my life, but I choose to keep on track. No one gives a fuck about that shit. “ But Deus, you're not behind me like you were Press. You're in front of me and one day, your godhood will be placed on the chopping block and believe me when I say this; You're not the first cock I've cut off and fed to it's owner.” I tilt my head, letting my hands drop as I glare into that camera. If it's one thing I hate, it's pretentious fucks who call themselves god. “ I don't believe in God, Gods, Goddesses, or any of that bullshit. The Bible is a fine piece of literature written by man under his own guided delusions that he himself had gained divine inspiration. Gods are an invention, not a phenomenon and are a work of fiction from overactive imaginations, drug induced hallucinations, or some form of dementia. Ancient Egyptians used to believe in living Gods and for no reason other than bloodline and birthright, would follow the command of their Pharaoh regardless as to whether or not he was worthy of the station given. Worst of all were common men who became so deluded that they granted themselves a place upon their own Pantheon. Sad, pathetic wretches who have attained a special sort of psychological brain damage that allows them to think that they are Godlings amongst men.” I shake my head, scoffing with disgusted contempt. “ Deus, come at me, I don't give a fuck, but whatever you do, you better do it well because this example sitting before you on camera? If I'm not in a grave when you're done, I promise that your reign as the PAW God will be the shortest on record.”
I swipe the screen to end the recording and lean back knowing full well I could have just sealed my own fate. Fuck, maybe he's the one that'll finish me once and for all, but then again, I cast my gaze at those PAW posters on the wall and find myself suddenly not so eager to die. Can it be that at long last, I've found my home....?================================ CAMERA ON – PAW STUDIO Everything is not A-O-K... AUGUST 30th ================================ Days later I'm standing in the PAW Studio and this time it's an official shoot. Behind me is a more custom red banner with splattered black letters that read “HARDCORE JACK NOMAD” across it's length. I guess if nobody has the fucking memo, a big stain on a red canvas banner ought to do the trick, right? I don't dress the set, somebody else fucking does it for me. I just stand here and preach like the motherfucker that I am. In my taped hand is my trust companion, the barbwire wrapped mop handle, my tattooed chest bare as I stand there wearing black cargo pants and combat boots. I'm ready for war motherfuckers. “ The Aokigahara Zombie. You have an impressive pain threshold as CJ O'Donnell learned first hand at Bad Moon Rising. Most would be screaming and begging for it to stop, little tears in their eyes as they cried like little fucking bitches. Instead, with a rebel yell, you cried more... more... more.” I chuckle at the thought of going up against a masochist, considering how I'm a bit more of the dominant sadist type. I twirl the barbwire mop handle at my side idly as I start to pace back and forth.“ Everyone has their limits, however. Even great sex can turn from pleasure into pain if you keep fucking hour upon hour. Even with lube, skin chaffs and burns, the brain overloads from too much stimulation, your heart beats painfully in your chest. Every muscle in your body starts to quiver and ache with strain. Your lungs start to hurt from all the constant, heavy animalistic breathing. Even the act of orgasm becomes a torturous, painful experience and is no longer a reward.” That's how every night was between me and The Pixie; Trying to break each other every hour on the hour until we both passed out...“ You derive pleasure from your own agony and while some see that as a disadvantage against me, honestly, Zombie, I have no fucking problem giving you pain in droves. I'll have you laughing and smiling with delight as you bleed on the canvas and beg for more. The experiment for me against your kind is finding your breaking point. That's when the real fun begins. When you've reached your absolute tolerance for pain and stop enjoying the suffering. It's at that point when pleasure is replaced by lamentation and regret for one's actions.” I sport a crooked smile as my thoughts drift of Aoki's shoot on me. The old parable of the lying snake and the foolishly good natured. It always amused me when people went back to those old children's tales... “ You know, Zombie, I expected better from you than a folk tale that we have heard time and again. I kind of favor the one involving the Turtle giving the Scorpion a ride across the river. He promises the turtle he won't sting him and what's the fucker do halfway across? Stings the living shit out of that fucking Turtle.” “ The Turtle then says to the Scorpion, 'Why did you do that? Now we'll both die,' and you know what that fucker says? Same thing as the snake in your little story, 'Because it's in my nature.' Truth be told, we're both scorpions and snakes. Poisonous to the point of self destruction, but here's the catch. You want to save me but I think deep down, you want to be saved.” I point the mop handle at the camera. I could feel my brow furling and I squinted my eyes a bit. I wasn't hiding any hint of disdain or loathing at the notion of someone thinking that they can “save” me. Instead I sneer at the camera and through that high definition lens right at the Aoki Zombie. “ I don't need or want a savior. I just want to watch the whole world burn. I want to see every superficial, meaningless thing that the pleebs of this broken society hold near and dear to their hearts crumble into ash in their finger tips as they are consumed in fire. You want to save someone? Save yourself, Zombie.” I lower the stick, propping the tip of the mop handle on the floor while resting my hands upon the top of it.“ You assume so much about me, like everyone else and you know nothing beyond what's on the surface. Meanwhile, you're an open book. The guilt of your past is so tangible that it hangs in the air and flavors both it's scent and taste whenever you are near. You're not out to save anyone, you're out to punish yourself as much as possible and brother, I'm more than happy to oblige you.” Leaning forward, I prop my chin on my tattooed knuckles. It doesn't take me long for the words to come forth. I'm on a roll so far. “ Do you want to know why you felt so guilty for enjoying what comes so naturally, Zombie? It's not because you have a conscience but because nobody else is as free as you were at that one moment. For some, it takes much longer to get over this feeling than others out there. When we fight, you'll feel those urges to do horrible, wicked shit to me, but you'll find yourself holding back. I know that CJ has nothing on your potential, Zombie. If you didn't hold back during that match, you'd have completely and utterly decimated the motherfucker where he stood.” “He would not have stood five seconds against the monster that is the Aokigahara Zombie if you didn't hold back. You step into that ring against me like you did CJ and It'll be the biggest fucking mistake of your life. O'Donnell is nothing compared to me. I won't hesitate or think twice about taking your fucking head off if I get the chance, so do me a favor and be the monster. Don't you fucking half-ass this shit like you did with CJ O'Donnell, Zombie. Bring me every fucking thing you've got on Friday at the Purity Arena, because if you don't, well.... just be grateful that pain is something you enjoy.” I hear the camera man zooming the telephoto lens in on my face, but oh well, probably looks better on print. I don't give a fuck one way or the other how far the zoom is. “ Rules? No rules? Weapons? Bare fists? I'm dangerous no matter what I have and have not coming in that ring. Bring on that Strong Style motherfucker and I promise you that I'll more than match you in the ring. The only edge I've got in this match is right here...” The camera tracks my movement as I stand up straight, taking my weight off the mop handle. I then tap a finger to my left temple. Yep, that fucked up brain of mine is the answer to what my real edge is.“ While you're suffering with all that guilt, you're dealing with a remorseless son of a bitch who just doesn't give a fuck if you live or die by the end of the match. On the second day of September, it's survival of the sickest, motherfucker. Until then, conquer that guilt if you want to live.” On that note, I turn and step out of frame. They set the transition up for a fade to black or whatever the fuck it is those guys do. I'm not video editing whiz. I barely make phone videos look passably good. |
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