Post by Deleted on Jun 4, 2016 19:28:34 GMT
[Handler Information]
Age: 35
Years of Fed Experience: 17 (Off and On)
Contact Info: PM on the forums
[Character Personal Information]
Real Name: Strickland LeBoeufD.O.B.: 08/16/1973
Ethnicity: Caucasian
Hometown: Appomattox, Virginia
Pic Base: Jesse Hughes
Twitter: @fckingstrick
[Character In-Ring Information]
Ring Name: Strick PlisskenNicknames: None he’ll admit
Hails From:
Height: 6’2”
Weight: 205lbs.
Alignment: Neutral
Trained By: U.S. Military
Character Biography: There isn't a whole hell of a lot to tell. For all you know, Strick could have walked into this world yesterday. Imagine that, a black hole void opened up and spit him out, smack dab on the streets. Days later he stumbles into a gang of hoodlums working over a tiny Asian man named Tony Chu. Strick steps into the fight and wrecks a half dozen of these guys before running them off. In turn, this Tony Chu fella looked at Strick as if he's the second coming of Christ.
Here’s the rub, Tony Chu is a self-professed “Agent to the Stars” and already had a great career planned for Mr. Chu, moving forward. So, Chu forked over some dollar bills to get Strick cleaned up--all the while referring to him as the "missing Link."
Strick wasn’t fond of the nickname.
Now Strick has a fresh haircut, shave, a new set of clothes, a killer set of boots, and a plane ticket to Louisiana. Hell, this Chu fella even tossed in some spending money. The big question now, is whether or not Strick will even go to this Amusement park place. He might just take the money and enjoy a vacation in the Bayou. This Tony Chu doesn't seem too bright, after all. Then again, when he thinks about it, Strick isn't opposed to the idea of fighting people for a living.
To be deliberately trite, Strick's been fighting all of his life. Why not die doing the same?
Career History: Strick is what you’d call a “greenhorn” in the area of “Professional Wrestling.” Sure, he has a Military background (mostly redacted), but he’s never actually been in the ring. I suppose you could consider his relationship with his Lieutenant a “Feud” simply because it resulted in the Lieutenant pawing at where his front teeth use to be, but it wasn’t anything spectacular.
Gimmick: Strick isn’t gimmick. Hopefully, no one will tell him that these “personas” are “gimmicks” because he’ll likely set something on fire. Strick is anti establishment, anti human, anti bitching and moaning. He’s vulgar, violent, and churlish. He doesn’t like a whole lot and doesn’t care a whole lot, either. It’s unfortunate too, he’s a likeable guy, when he’s not going ape shit.
From one moment to the next, there’s no telling where Strick’s head will be. He can go from a sleeping kitten to a growling lion in moments. In fact, he’ll probably throw a shot into you while he’s feasting on your throat, while he’s at it--if he were the Lion in that case.
Don’t tell him I told you this, but he’s a dirt bag with a heart of gold. He’ll likely knock your teeth out if you divulge this information.
Entrance Music: None
Entrance Description:
The arena is silent as the lights dim. Suddenly, there’s the announcement of a motorcycle engine. The sound grows until finally a 1975 Norton Commando emerges from the entrance. Atop the bike is none other than Strick Plissken. He stops on the entrance ramp and lets the engine roar. Some audience members are forced to cover their ears due to the loud pops of the exhaust. Finally, Strick lets loose and the motorcycle roars down the ramp and he brings the bike to an abrupt sliding stop, parallel with the ring apron.
Announcer: Introducing, hailing from Virginia, he is Strick Plissken!
Strick kicks out the kick stand before stepping off of the motorbike. He takes his jacket off and drapes it over the seat. He takes off his rose colored sunglasses and sets them on the speedometer of the bike before walking to the ring steps. He wipes his boots on the ring apron before stepping into the ring. He’s ready to go and it looks like he’s eager to get things done as he waits.
[Moveset/Arsenal]
Fighting Style: Brawler /w Background in Martial ArtsIn-Ring Strengths: Striking and stategy.
In-Ring Weakness: At times he loses his temper and has been known to attack officials. Gets himself into trouble.
Favorite Match Type: He’s down for most, but usually enjoys the “No Disqualification” matches best.
Favorite Weapon: Anything he can swing, baseball bat, kendo stick, etc.
Common Moves:
[1] Various Strikes
[2] Various clotheslines
[3] Snap suplex
[4] Belly to belly suplex
[5] Body slam
[6] Clinch /w Dirty Boxing
[7] Running knee lift
[8] Side russian leg sweep
[9] Backbreaker
[10] DDT
[11] Reverse DDT
[12] Reverse neckbreaker
[13] Back cracker
[14] Three repeated elbow drops
[15] Leg drop
[16] Knee drop
[17] Boston Crab
[18] Kneebar
[19] Rear naked choke
[20] Piledriver
[21]
[22]
[23]
[24]
[25]
{TEN MINIMUM, TWENTY FIVE MAXIMUM}
Signature Moves:
1. Move Name Wham, Bam, Thankya Ma’am(Three chained snap suplexes)
2. Move Name Death from Above(Heavy elbow drop from top rope)
3. Move Name (Move description and/or YouTube link.)
4. Move Name (Move description and/or YouTube link.)
5. Move Name (Move description and/or YouTube link.)
{FIVE MAXIMUM}
Finisher(s):
1. Move Name The Puscifer(High Impact Gore)
2. Move Name The Puscifer II(Head first high impact Gore)
{TWO MAXIMUM}
In-Ring Attire: Black wife beater tank top, blue jeans, a black belt /w varied belt buckles, fingerless black striking gloves, and engineer boots.
- (He’s a dirty bag and dresses to that point)
Sample Roleplay:
[This is an rp introducing the character, I was told someone would “vouch” for my abilities. Still, here’s something to let you know that I at least know how to spell. LoL]
“Introducing: Strick the Prick”
So this happened.
I never lie to you, audience. Sure, when I’m dealing with everyone else, I’ll tell a nice little fib here and there, just to make a point. My audience, though, will always get the truth. Truth, the whole truth, and nothing, but the truth. That’s what they say, right? Oh and then they add: So help me (insert name of whomever you worship.)
There’s a point to made here.
I will be the greatest manager of all time. It’s really easy to explain. There was a time, when I was quite young when I thought, “Well Tony, you’ll never be big enough to actually wrestle, but you can be that annoying guy outside of the ring who distracts the ref or the wrestler or anyone who gets in the way of his client.” It would be so. It would be so great. Easy peasy too.
A little later on in life, I had managed to lose my parents, job, and home. I still thought, “I’d be a great wrestling manager, especially considering I’m not big enough to wrestle.” while I curled up on a park bench using my jacket as a blanket.
Oh, didn’t you know?
The same people I associate with--I was once just like them. That’s right. Tony Chu was, at one time, homeless.
Pick your terminology:
Vagabond
Vagrant
Hobo
Pick a word that best eases your feelings of guilt. Tony likes to give you a million different options, but for now, settle on one out of the three.
Like my first client, Sonny Lee, I digress.
I will never lie to you and I tell you the truth when I say I’m going to be the greatest manager of all time. I’m serious when I say, “All time.” This seems like a big boast, am I wrong? You bet it does. So big, you’d say, “Hey Tony, that’s too big a boast for such a tiny man. Get over yourself, like, immediately.” That’s fine.
Say that and I’ll tell you that I’ve seen the future.
The future of this industry? Maybe not. The future of the world? Eh, probably not that, either. The future of “right now?” That’s more like what I’m talking about. The future that Tony Chu will bring to you.
Don’t believe me?
Hey, it’s ok if you don’t want to believe me. Fall in line with Richie Rich, Eric Whateverhisname, The Bomb, Kaden Kessler, and all those other people who thought I would be the first and rather abrupt elimination from the Battle Royal. Fall in line with them and cop that same “zomg” face people flashed when I held up the Club Championship at the end of the night.
That was me. Club Champion, at your service.
I might not be the “face” of vWc because our “champion” is so insecure, but I am definitely the dick and the balls.
Cup them, every so lightly.
“Why was that Battle Royal so important to you, Tony?”
This answer is so simple. It’s also key to why I’m “to be the greatest manager of all time.”
Sonny Lee told me that I would have to win this Battle Royal if I were to become his manager, remember that? Well, where the “greatest” part comes into play is, that Tony managed to beat everyone in that match. He won and kept up his side of the bargain. Why did Tony Chu try so hard to win? I won’t lie to you and say, “oh it’s because I wanted to win that nice shiny title that isn’t actually tin foil wrapped chocolate.”
Like I said, I will never lie to you, Audience.
All Keenan Hunt needs to know is the lie: “Oh I wanted that title so bad, it hurt.”
No. I wanted Sonny Lee to be the first member of my stable of talent. The next step isn’t to just ride Sonny’s coattails into the sunset, either. The extended goal, is to grow my little group of clients and expand my influence…
I’ve done just that.
Two nights ago, while I was preparing for the vWc garage sale, something extraordinary occurred. You’ll never believe it, but this is why I keep telling you that I will never lie to you.
Note: I am capable of lies, but as I explained, these are not lies I offer to my audience.
Anyway, I was preparing for the vWc garage sale when a group of African American males approached me.
Remember them? I met them at the sexaholics anonymous meeting. They wanted to make Tony into a rotisserie chicken in the sexual way a couple weeks ago. Well, silly me, the fact that I was on television teamed with the fact that vWc doesn’t tour, resulted in these guys finding me, rather easily.
I was in the back alley, behind the arena when they approached me. The leader told me that he had, “big plans for my little Asian ass” and I wasn’t much fond of the idea. I tried to tell them that there was, “nothing sexy about Tony Chu’s ass.” and “It won’t end well for any of you, I promise.”
They didn’t believe me. Like, super didn’t believe me. I clinched.
Also, do you remember the “vagabonds” who had been cheering Tony on after the event? Well, one of these same “vagabonds” came out from behind the nearby dumpster, while this group of ‘would-be suitors’ were getting ready for another stab at gang rape.
Oh, it gives me the shudders, using the word “stab” because they weren’t going to stab poor Tony with knives. It was going to be something much worse and likely gigantic. That’s not racist, is it? At the very least a stereotype, but I think they could take it as a compliment.
I caught the “vagabond” out of the corner of my eye and realized that he was the same one who told me to, “get fucked” the last time we crossed paths. I had attempted to offer him some advice as to how he could remove himself from the streets and he said he would, “strangle me to death.”
I immediately assumed that he was going to just watch and even potentially join in, or at least have a quick yank at my expense. Needless to say, my back was against the wall and it was literally the only thing saving me from being “stabbed” in a deeply sexual way.
Finally, the leader of the group took me by the throat and suggested that my mouth was the “prettiest part of my body” and I’ll admit it, I cried a little bit.
No, like I said I don’t lie to my audience. Tony cried a lot.
I pleaded with him to reconsider. I told him that I had a couple posters featuring Kaden Kessler that might substitute for Tony, because Kaden is so very pretty with his “just enough scruff” beard. I reminded them that Kaden Kessler also liked to wrestle in only his underwear and that he “must do squats, like, all day long.”
They said they didn’t like “white meat.”
One licked his lips and said, “Moo shu pork, little piggie.”
Eh, I’m Korean. Nevermind.
I kept glancing at the “vagabond” and couldn’t help, but notice how absolutely hairy and dirty he was. He looked very much like you’d expect the missing Link to look, if say, he was lost in New York and had made some poor life decisions. It didn’t matter though, his face was without emotion and I worried that when they began to do the rape they had planned, that he would merely flash his inevitably yellowed teeth and have a happy yank.
Tony expected the worst, cataclysmic type stuff.
“Let’s get this little fucker.” One said, as they deemed it necessary to recreate the events from our previous meeting. They pulled down my pants and one held my front half while the other got ready to do whatever he was going to do.
This was how Tony found himself. Again, so sad and close to rape.
The “vagabond” stepped out from behind the dumpster completely and shouted, “Hey! The fuck is going on? You cocksmokes better let him go.”
The leader let go of my hips and I thanked whatever god there is above for once again staving off the potential of my anal virginity being stolen. Like I said, I won’t lie to you, Audience: I cried. Like, slobbery kind of crying.
The leader of the group approached the “vagabond” and extended his arm and stuck his finger right in his face. He laughed and said, “What do you plan on doing about it, bum?”
I then saw the whole scene play out. It was amazing. That “greatest manager of all time” kind of amazing. I told you, I’d get to it.
The “vagabond” showed what turned out to be fairly white teeth and he reached forward with his mouth and bit the tip of the leader’s index finger clean off. The leader screamed like a scared little cheerleader in a horror movie as the “vagabond” took a step forward and spit the finger tip into his face. He then planted his feet and threw a punch so fast that it barely looked like anything had happened. The impact was all throat--the leader grabbed at his throat with one bloody fingerless hand and fell on his ass. The “vagabond” then kicked the leader square in the face like he was kicking off for a New York Giants football game.
The other three men removed their rapey mits from me and approached the “vagabond” when something even more extraordinary happened.
This is all true. Believe Tony Chu.
The “vagabond” knelt down and picked up a discarded soda can and rose back up to face the three men.
It gave me chills when he said, “Ok, I’m going to give you assholes a chance. What do you say we play a little Bangkok Rules? When this can hits the ground, we draw.”
The three men looked at each other and then back at the “vagabond” and nodded their heads.
The “vagabond” then threw the can up in the air and leapt forward. From what I could see, he drove a stiff thumb into the eye of one of the guys, then definitely broke the nose of the next with a stiff elbow and then the third went down when the “vagabond” hyperextended his knee with one kick and then crushed his teeth with a knee.
As the three men all fell lifelessly to the ground, the can finally went “clang” against the ground.
I fell in love with the “vagabond” when he coolly said, “Draw.”
Looking back on it, it was Tony who should have had a happy yank. My pants were down, after all.
The “vagabond” knelt down and pulled the leader’s head up by his high top fade (In twenty sixteen, I know, right?) and growled in a tough guy voice, “You four fucks want an ass to fuck? Fuck each other’s. If I ever see any of you go near Mr. Chu, you’re going to fucking die. Do you fucking understand?”
The leader cried and nodded his head a bit. I had already lost count of how many times the “vagabond” had said, “fuck.”
“Now, how about you collect your fellow fucktards and fuck right off before I change my fucking mind?”
Two of the men had to help the one with the broken leg, but all four managed to hobble out of the alley way. I pulled my pants up and approached the “vagabond.” He glared at me and said, “What’s with you and this alley way shit? You’ve got money, fame, all that other shit. Can’t you just fuck off and leave us alone?”
“Whoa,” I said, “What you just did, right there, was amazing.”
He rolled his eyes, “Yeah I saw your little chubby. You, like them, need to stay the fuck out of here. I’m sick of seeing your phony compassion and the next time I see one of your pretty little wrestler boys around here, I’ll feed him his own cock. Clear enough for you?”
“Oh my god.” I sighed, “You are amazing.”
He furrowed his brow, “I’m not-fucking-here for a fucking fuck party. Get that-the fuck-out of your imagination right now.”
“No. I mean. You fight like it’s a post apocalypse movie and…”
I looked into his eyes. Beyond the wild hair, beard, and grime, I saw the eyes of an angel. I knew right then and there that I had a star on my hands. A star who would make his name and with it, prove that Tony Chu is the greatest Agent/Manager of all time. I’d be well dressed while I did it, too.
“We need to get you cleaned up.”
He shook his head and said, “Excuse me?”
“We need to get you cleaned up.”
“I got that, but what the fuck are you talking about?”
“You are my client, now. No ifs, ands, or buts.”
“The fuck?”
“Yeah! This is so perfect! We’re getting you cleaned up and we’re putting you to work.”
He scoffed, “Doing what?”
“Fighting.”
This seemed to pique his interest. His eyes were brazen and full of fire as he considered what I said. If I were a lesser man, I would have jumped for joy right then. I won’t lie to you, Audience, I found a gold mine that night in that alleyway where I was nearly assraped. Again. Damn.
“Fighting?”
I calmed my senses, “Ok. First things first. What’s your name?”
“Strickland.”
I snapped my fingers, “Strick… We need a last name.”
“Leboeuf.”
“No offense, but that’s terrible. We need something better.”
He grabbed me by the throat and pushed me against the wall. He said, “I’ve got something better, how about I fucking throttle you right now and I just take the money you’ve got and leave you here for the inevitable chalk outline?!”
I choked, grappling for something to snap him out of it, “Bangkok Rules…” I choked.
“What?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.
“The Bangkok Rules thing, it was incredible.”
He dropped me and let out a croony laugh, “Oh that. That’s from a movie.”
“What movie?”
“Escape from LA.”
“Oh yeah, right. That’s with that Snake guy.”
“Yeah. Snake Plissken. Fucking love that guy.” He laughed.
“Plissken. Oh my god. That’s it!”
“It’s what?”
“Your last name.”
“The fuck?”
I stood up and he helped me. He brushed me off.
He said, “I should be beating the shit out of you right now. There's… Something,” he took me in a firm headlock, “You’re not playing? You’ll help me? Why?”
I choked, “You’re a star. Man. Let’s get you noticed. I’ll help.”
He laughed, loosening his grip a bit, “Well, maybe I’ll give you a chance. You fuck me, though, and I will kill you.”
“I would so never. I will only help you. Make you a big star. Glitz. Glamour. Great stuff.”
He let me go and held me by my lapels, “Fine. I’ll bite,” he smiled, reminding me that he had recently bit someone’s finger off, “But I hate the name.”
“Strick Plissken sounds so bad ass. Trust me. Tony knows this stuff.”
“So phony.” He rolled his eyes, “But you’re the boss.”
“Just gotta get you looking less like the Missing Link and we’ll be rolling.”
He laughed a good laugh as we walked out of the alley way together.
He noted, “I’m serious though, you fuck me over, and I will break your neck.”
I nodded, “Tony never lies to his clients or his audience. Just everyone else. Don’t worry.”
Tony Chu’s little stable of talent had just gotten a bit bigger. I was so excited for what was going to come. I just needed to get him cleaned up. He smelled like something ejected from a dying old woman. It was pretty terrible.
Soon, we would find our way to something infinitely more amusing...
See, I wouldn’t lie to you, Audience.
Welcome, Strick the Prick.