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Post by The BombTrax on Jun 28, 2016 6:35:26 GMT
One (1) Role Play Max
Final Role Play Deadline: Wednesday July 6th, 2016 @ 10:59 PM CST
Segment Deadline: Tuesday, July 5th, 2016 @ 11:59 PM CST
{Grudge Match}
Singles Match
Kelsey Spencer versus Jack Nomad
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Post by Kelsey Spencer on Jul 4, 2016 22:55:08 GMT
“It looks like you’re all clear, Ms Spencer. Your shoulder and your arm are functioning at a level where I’m happy to let you return to your regular work schedule.”
Finally, some good news for a change! It’s been a long, grueling month but at last, I’ve been medically cleared to return to professional wrestling! It’s been difficult having to sit on the sidelines, watching everyone else find themselves in opportune situations and capitalising on them; I can’t believe I missed Heat Stroke! So many new faces showed up on the scene and capitalised on opportunities within their grasp - opportunities that I could've made the most of, had I been healthy enough to compete…
No. Feeling sorry for myself isn't gonna accomplish anything; as a matter of fact, it’ll only depress me further. I had no control over what happened, and I can't go back and change it - I was injured, now I'm not. It's what's next for Kelsey Spencer that matters; and what's next is a return to a place I've missed for far too long...
“Knock knock!”
I’m startled from my daydream as I hear someone loudly announce their arrival at my front door. Forcing myself off the couch, I wriggle my left leg a little to shake the pins and needles before hobbling to answer; who’d be visiting me at this time?
I open the door, and what do you know… Austin Tejas is staring right back at me with a goofy grin. In a volume of voice that’s borderline-inappropriate for this time of night, he shouts, “Hey, buddy!!”
“Austin? It’s 9:30, what are you doing here?”
“I just heard the good news and came over to welcome you back to PAW! Can I come in?”
I glance at the watch strapped to my wrist to verify the time I just provided - it's actually 9:42! In the most polite voice I can manage, I respond: “I’d rather you didn't, actually… I was about to head off to bed, and--”
“I brought gummy worms!” he interrupts, shaking a bag of my favourite sugary treat. I feel my eyes widen like saucers as I watch the packet swing to and fro.
“Are those the sour kind?” I question, mesmerised by its motion.
“You betcha!”
Sold! A way to my heart is through the use of sour gummy worms. I push the front door wider to welcome him into my living room as I’m tossed the package; wasting little time, I fumble with the plastic for a second before it bursts open - practically salivating, I reach in and grab a single worm, placing it on my tongue.
I don't chew at first; I wait for the flavour to body slam my taste buds - it’s a rush that I crave more often than I’m comfortable admitting. I guess it’s similar to the feeling a chronic coffee drinker experiences.
“Kelsey?” He glances around my home, adjusting his leather jacket until his wondering eyes settle on me. A faint “Mmm?” is all I can mutter in response with a mouth full of gummy worms; I notice his posture change and his hands slip into the pockets of his denim jeans, his face flushing with a light shade of red as he clears his throat. “There’s actually something I wanted to ask you… Something that really shouldn’t be asked on the phone or by text...”
What’s he getting at? What’s something that could be so important that he has to come all the way over my house to ask about? Unless… Could he be about to ask me to be his girlfriend?!
Austin and I have known each other for many, many years - we go back to my earliest days of training for the ring. His dad - Trip Johnson - is the one who trained me, and back then, Austin was a pre-teen. We hit it off almost instantly with our shared love of comics and anime; we discussed our favourite Dragon Ball Z moments; the mess that was the One More Day Spider-Man story arc - which, at that time, had just been released. As time went on, we kept in contact over social media, and we offered each other support when his dad tragically passed away late last year. Swapping stories of his dad somehow brought us closer together, and recently, I’ve found myself having feelings about him that I’ve never experienced about anyone…
My palms are sweating and my knees feel weak - I’ve never had anything close to a real boyfriend in my 27-and-a-half years living on this planet! What do I say? How do I react if he really is asking me out? If I react wrong, will that freak him out and change his mind? I’ve seen this stuff in movies, but is that really anything to go by?
“We’ve been hanging out for a while now, and been friends for a very long time…” His words have me trembling inside - these nerves have rocked me so badly that I’d rather wrestle a match naked in front of 50,000 people right about now!
But, even as sick as I feel… I don’t want him to stop talking…
“Kelsey, I was wondering… If you’d be cool with it…”
Here it cooommmesss…
“Will you...let me be your manager?!”
Uhh… Okay, certainly not what I was expecting…
“My...manager..?” I ask, dumbfounded.
“Yeah!” He’s back to being his usual, enthusiastic self. “You’re back in PAW, I’m not doing anything… You could use someone to help you adjust to the new atmosphere around the park and the promotion!”
“What do you actually know about managing..?” I question, stuffing more gummy worms in my mouth. My personal disappointment has turned to professional curiosity. “Do you actually have any experience with it?”
“Not exactly… But my step mother’s one of the greatest managers in the business! I’ve learned a lot from watching her.”
I’m adamant. I can’t see what kind of benefits there are in having a manager. In my experiences, they do nothing but interfere in matches by causing distractions or throwing in a sucker punch when the referee’s back is turned. All that does is provide an unfair advantage, and I’d never want that.
“I really don’t know, AJ…” I express my concerns. “I mean, if I agree to let you manage me - IF I agree - I don’t want you cheating on my behalf. That’s wrong, I don’t wanna win that way.”
“You have my word,” he tells me, throwing up his hand with a reassuring smile. I glance over at the desk lamp in the corner of the room, then back to Austin - his hand is extended towards me, with that cute, warm, hopeful smile on his face. I reciprocate with a small smirk of my own, grasping his hand lightly.
“Alright, let’s do this,” I announce. His face lights up, his grin getting wider as he flashes those pearly white teeth that never fail to give me butterflies; I can’t quite explain it, but something about making him happy makes me...almost euphoric…
“I’ll give you a call and we can work on some stuff, sound cool?” he questions with a thumbs up, as he begins to make his exit.
“Uhh, yeah, that should be fine.”
He goes to show himself out, but stops and turns in place. “Oh, wait! You’ve still gotta film that promotional piece for Wicked #14, right?”
Oh, crap! I got so wrapped up in the excitement of my return that I forgot to shoot the video the office asked for! “It completely slipped my mind…” I confess, embarrassed beyond belief.
“Don’t worry; I’ve got it covered,” Austin announces. How can he already have a solution to a problem he just discovered? Is he that witty? “Meet me by the House of Fun tomorrow morning… Say, around 10?”
“I’ll be there!”
As I shut the door behind him, I have a few moments to decompress. What just happened..?
The Next Day…
The shot begins with a view of the House of Fun’s exterior, the highest point of the Rock-N-Roller Coaster just visible in the background. As it pans south, I come into frame, gazing up at the building with awe.
“You know, it’s kinda funny…” I start, turning my attention to the camera. “A place that’s branded as an adult playground makes me feel like a kid again, every time I step through those front gates.”
I start to pace, and the camera follows me; Austin told me he’s studying film, and offered to work the camera for me today. It’s a welcome change; I get to focus solely on what I want to say, and it helps him get experience in the process. It’s a win-win!
“I really missed this place - and not just because of all the cotton candy. The competition in PAW is unlike any I’ve seen before - and I’ve wrestled all over the world!” I ball my fist with excitement, raising it in front of the camera. “All I want more than anything is to mix it up with the best competitors in the entire world! And in my opinion, you’ll find them right here in Purity!”
I feel the muscles in my shoulders and forearms relax, and my raised fist lowers when I remember everything I wasn’t able to participate in. “I missed Heat Stroke, which would’ve been my first Super Show. I was booked in a Sixteen Man Battle Royal, with the opportunity to show all of PAW and its fan base what I can do… But I couldn’t take it, because my body gave out on me…”
It was a soul-crushing moment, knowing I had the chance to showcase my skills in front of such a braud audience that I physically couldn’t take. Maybe I didn’t have what it would’ve taken to win the match, that’ll never be known… But I could’ve turned heads and displayed what I’m capable of; make everyone take notice that Kelsey Spencer had finally arrived in PAW. But instead, I found myself watching the show from my couch in Baltimore.
“But that’s neither here nor there,” I continue speaking, lifting my chin and forcing a smile. “I’m dusting myself off, because there’s only one way for me to go from here, and that’s up! Yeah, I missed a very important night in PAW’s history, but I’m not about to stay down and feel sorry for myself!”
It’s almost surreal - I have next to no self-esteem to speak of, and yet, my own words are actually encouraging me. My spirit’s lifted knowing that even though one door’s shut to me, another will always be open. I would’ve loved to have a crazy moment or two in that Battle Royal - heck, I would’ve loved even more to have my hand raised and be in line for a title match - but Nova Wonder deserves that shot. I’ll earn my way there one day.
I take a step towards the camera to be in a better view; the little screen - I don’t know what else you’d call it - is aimed towards me to show me exactly what’s being filmed. The vlogger in me is obsessed with getting the shot just right.
“Even though I wasn’t physically here to be a part of PAW for several weeks, I didn’t miss a show. I even attended Wicked #13 with a close friend of mine, because I missed the live atmosphere that much.” I clear my throat quickly, turning my eye to something off in the distance - nothing in particular, I just can’t stare at the camera for too long - it’s kind of like maintaining eye contact with someone; I can’t do it and be comfortable. “The show was amazing top to bottom, but the main event caught my attention the most, as it tends to do.”
I look down at my shoes, raising my right hand like I’m holding an invisible cup. “You had Jack Nomad in one corner…” I make the same motion, but with my left hand. “...and Johnny Raike, the Titans of the Midway Champion, in the other… Two amazing athletes taking centre stage… You get a show worth writing home about!”
I can feel a smile on my face; I’m getting goosebumps just thinking about such a high-profile, exciting match! I gaze into the camera lens once more.
“That’s right where I wanna be in PAW! That feeling I got when I watched that match?” I raise my forearm to the camera, running my fingers across it to show the raised hairs before placing it by my side again. I gaze up at the sun, bright grin still visible. “I wanna instill that same feeling into audiences with my performances! It’s my number one goal in this profession; to inspire people the same way I was inspired as a kid!”
My focus returns to the camera in front of me. My expression intensifies. “I got the call last week that I would be facing Jack Nomad in a one-on-one match at Wicked #14. You know, the guy who tried to kill me in my debut after I scored the win? The guy whose girlfriend knocked me out several weeks later?
I’m sure you’re harbouring a lotta resentment towards me, Jack. I messed up your plans to force your way to the top when I showed up on the scene, which clearly ticked you off pretty bad - you went ballistic after that match! I’m sure you’ve been pondering on that loss, because it wasn’t at your expense… I’m sure it’s been something you’ve wanted to rectify ever since, by ripping my head off. You’d think I’d be scared out of my mind, but…”
I shake my head slightly and smirk.
“...I’m not. I’m more pumped than I would’ve been otherwise, because I know you’re gonna come at me with everything you’ve got! It’s gonna be the biggest challenge of my career, I can’t wait!
You’ve got unfinished business with me, and I’ve got a score to settle with your girlfriend. Now that the two of you have formed an alliance with Calvin Harris, this dynamic is even more exciting than ever! The opportunities that stem from that to have amazing matches with all three of you is just…”
I snap from my daydream fantasies of five star matches.
“Jack, I know you’re probably feeling a little discouraged after your loss to Johnny, but don’t be. From my experiences, losses can be just as beneficial to your growth as wins are; you can adapt your style to suit your opponent’s! That being said, you should probably take that into account; brute strength alone doesn’t work on me, as you’ve probably seen. I’ve dealt with wrestling bigger opponents my whole career, as you’re probably already aware - I’ve made my career on overcoming the odds against me.”
I inch closer to the camera, speaking a little quieter to account for the reduced distance.
“If I beat you, maybe I can earn myself a match with Johnny Raike… Or Calvin Harris, even!”
I look over my shoulder at the roller coaster car speeding down from the highest point, the screams of terror and excitement ringing through the air. I turn back to the camera with a warm smile.
“It’s good to be home.”
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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 Jul 5, 2016 5:12:09 GMT
====================================== ||Moving on – CAMERA OFF|| ====================================== I gathered my things from the apartment we shared, leaving only personal mementos of times spent together. I had no personal attachment to this home or anything in it, the last vestiges of my heart emptied as I continue to see her out and about with other men. She's never home. She's always away, always doing her own fucking thing. I load my clothes into the pack and saddle bags, along with a few provisions.
I put the key in the ignition and turn it. With a rumble of the engine beneath me, I roll out, pondering the reasons for what I should have seen as an inevitability. It was never about love, but lust. I wanted her for her body, she wanted me as a project. She was an athletic, flexible sex toy who bit and clawed at my flesh and was absolutely perfect for her purpose. I made one mistake, however. I let my heart bleed through. I started to care about her desires and what she wanted. Even fucking killed her no good, rapist brother, cut him into several little pieces and fed his ass to the Missouri swamp when I learned about the things he did to her.
Yet here I am feeling... empty... inside. I'm drained and tired because she and I started spending more time fighting than fucking and she keeps trying to change me. She keeps trying to make me into something I'm not. Perhaps she was grooming me to be a father or husband material? Like I deserve anything that good in my life. I'm no good... no fucking good at all. Sad fucking thing is, I'll have to see her ass at work and I know it won't be pretty, not with the simple note on her night stand. It only says two words, 'I'm done' and that's it.
I cannot spend the rest of my life contending with her issues and problems when I have far too many of my own to deal with. I was meant to be alone and unloved. I'm a monster and monsters are not supposed to have hearts or souls. Monsters are only good for one thing, inflicting pain. When she gets home and sees that note, I know that she will feel that pain and hurt, but what she feels is only a fraction of what I'm fighting through right now.
The voices in my head all scream at me, wanting her. Naturally they were all weak and sentimental. They were all attached to her far more than I and often they came out when we fucked. Stiletto would choke her sometimes... I would have my way with her naturally. We all laughed as we made weak Adrian sit back and watch, impotent and alone in a corner. Good times...
In the end, sometimes the person you're fucking isn't the person you want. You may trick yourself into thinking that in a moment of rare weakness, but eventually your eyes will open and you'll realize you made an error in judgment and there's only one way to correct it. Leave.====================================== ||Answers – CAMERA OFF|| ====================================== The next day I show up at the recording studio to do my due part to increase interest in my Personal Amusement Wrestling product and lookie who it is standing outside next to a shiny black Lincoln town car, but my old FBI buddy, Agent Prichard. He looks a bit haggard and dare I say, even more constipated than usual. I give him a cheeky smile and a wave of my hand. “ Sup fucknuts?” I say with the utmost disrespect directed at him. “ Nothing much, dick for brains,” he fired back at me. Fuck, I almost feel like I'm talking with my dead father all over again. “ So what do you want, old man?” I ask him straight up, deciding to cut the bullshit. He seems a bit different, almost defeated as he regards me for a moment. “ I know you killed David Kelly. I feel it in my gut, but I'm being pulled from the case. Signs of a crime but no body and nothing to link you without your word of confession... at least for now.” “ Good, why don't you go fuck off then or is there something else?” “ I'm going to remove my jacket and shirt to show you that I am not wearing a wire,” He says as he sheds that coat and places it on the hood of his car. “ Why are you doing this?” I ask with genuine curiosity. He casually strips his red tie off and starts to unbutton his shirt, “ I'll tell you why. David Kelly raped my daughter and left her for dead in a ditch back in Washington D.C. He is a pedophile, a serial rapist, and a murderer, and my daughter, barely fourteen, hasn't spoken since he did those things to her. He was thorough in cleaning the evidence, but left enough DNA for a fifty percent match. It wasn't enough to link him to the crime. I decided to take the case in secret and go after him. I've been tracking him while taking care of other cases on the side for nearly three years now. I was close to nailing him and then we found his rental car, burned out at the edge of a swamp.” Agent Prichard pulls off his shirt to reveal a surprisingly fit physique. He's no Tapioca Joe, but the fucker's pretty goddamned fit. His white wife beater tank top left little to the imagination and indeed, there was no visible microphone. He then unbuckles his belt and drops trow. Fuck, I thought Walter White looked sad in a pair of briefs, but Jesus. After a quick spin around to show that he did, in fact have no wire on him, He quickly pulls his pants back up. “ Like I needed to see that shit, but thanks for the show, you wrinkly old fuck,” I say to him. “ This parking lot is closed off and I made sure that any surveillance was shut off. No microphones, no bugs, nothing. Tell me, Adrian, did you kill David Kelly?” He looks me right in the eye with such a startling level of intensity. “ I think you know the answer, but with other motherfuckers lurking about, potentially recording shit, I'm not going to give you a straight yes or no. There is a Shadow in this place who is out to get me and I'm not about to let that fucker get any ammunition on me, comprende'?” He stares back at me with a grim look and then gives me a nod, “ I hope you cut his balls off and fed them to him before he died.” I almost give it up. How the fuck did he even know to ask that? I just smile back at him and turn to head into the studio. Well, all's well that ends well, so they say. I waltz into the studio and start getting ready for the shoot.... ====================================== ||Heroes and Shadows – CAMERA ON|| ====================================== “F rustrations boil... Blood burning within...,” I tell the camera in the darkness, “ my skull burns with hate... my soul filled with sin. I'm besieged by a Shadow, a man who if married with luck, will soon make a widow of that which he never once fucked.” I stepped underneath a single light shining down from the darkness, intent on looking villainous for this pathetic Shadow puppeteer. I'm not smiling, those muscles on my face tight as a brooding scowl gave my eyes strength with their piercing gaze. “ The Shadow has disrupted my thoughts and cost me the one thing that gives me and edge in any fight and that is my ability to concentrate. This motherfucker, hiding in shadows, dogging me with threats of righteous justice and retribution. He let some random fuck off wearing his duds take an ass beating in his name. I said it once, I'll say it again, that's your fucking hero?” My lips vibrate with a lengthy scoff as I blew air past them and wave my hand dismissively. “ It's because of him that I wasn't focused going into my match against Johnny Raike. If I had been on my game and not distracted by this fucker called The Shadow, I'd be a lot better off. Instead, I got my face bounced off the fucking canvas like a skipping stone. What the fuck?” I crack my knuckles and neck joints loudly, my lip twitching with anger. “ Raike, there will be a part two and motherfucker, I promise you the story will go a whole hell of a lot differently than the one we painted in the ring at Wicked thirteen. Let's just say, you knocked my ass out of the main event scene, where I fucking belong. Now I'm stuck with little miss Kelsey Goodie Two-shoes Bitch, firmly at the middle of the card.” Oh yes, I am pissed, my nostrils flaring and brow furrowing even further. “ Enjoy your rain check, motherfucker, but I will cash in on that shit. Now about Kelsey fucking Spencer. Last time you and I were in the wrestling ring, I won the battle but wound up giving you the win. Perhaps I didn't give the little Angel her due, but that seems to be a mistake I'm making a lot lately. I've gotten fucking sloppy because of all the distractions around me and I need to focus.” I adjust the patchwork leather vest on my shoulders and tilt my head slightly to the right. “ As for some things you brought up recently, I don't actually remember any attack on you, but then lately, my memory has been a funny thing. I've had people tell me that I was out partying with Fuck Knux... like that'd ever happen, yet some asshole in a bar showed me footage on Youtube of me partying down with the guy, so I put that fucker through a table for his troubles. I'll shoot me a fucking messenger and the message. All I remember was coming after your ass and you running for the hills, security and the fans protecting you from me.” My tongue dances in my mouth as I lick my teeth and chuckle. I can still remember the squeaked yelp she made as I ran at her, covered in Trixie's blood... “ There will be no protection for you, no distractions from other competitors, just me and you baby and you better be perky as fuck when you step into my ring, because I'm going to slap the happy right out of you and make you pay for the win you stole from me, Kelsey. I've got no love in my heart, no capacity for remorse or regret, just evil intentions and the will to make those intentions go from a thought in my head to a reality that will become a reoccurring nightmare for you.” I imagine for a moment, Kelsey's blood on my skin, the warm running down my face and from my finger tips. In my head, I recreate the screams of agony as I violently degrade her flesh before those fans. My eyes are closed as I focus on the snuff film playing across those inner eyelids. “ It'll be a work of art, Blue Thunder. You'll taste the iron and copper flavor of blood in your mouth as I force it from your body with each and every blow you take. It will mingle and mix with the salt of your tears and the snot pouring from your nose as I reduce you to a quivering, crying little lump of meat in the ring.” Those eyelids snap open and I smile with evil intentions. “ Oh you'll fight me, you'll have to. I don't care about the bone dry cunt between your legs or how nice your tits might look in the moonlight, when you step into the Pure Arena on the 7th of July, Kelsey, my perky, happy, little bouncing Betty of a bitch, you are going to live for the rest of your life not only traumatized by the experience, but marked as a victim of Jack Nomad. I am not about to let The Shadow, Johnny Raike, or anyone else fucking derail my ascension to the top. I'm nobody's bitch and the world of PAW is about to learn that first hand.” I start to walk off, but stop as I remembered something else, a question that certainly will be asked of me at Wicked number fourteen. “ One last little detail. Why the fuck am I with Calvin Harris? Why did I attack Press, a guy that some people would claim I have more in common with than the majority of this fucking roster? Two answers... One, it's how I say hello to an equal and Two, mutual benefit for myself and Calvin. He doesn't want to become The Bombtrax's bitch and This Shadow motherfucker is so fucking slippery that maybe I should get help from someone who can think like that and maybe catch the squirrely fuck stain. So if there's any confusion, that should answer any stupid ass questions.” One more little reminder... “ Kelsey, I hope you ate well and enjoyed the fireworks on the Fourth of July, because in three days, your will no longer be "The Blue Thunder" Kelsey Spencer. Victim will be your name in my vicious wasteland.... See you on the 7th and smile for me now, because you'll scream for me soon enough.” With that, I finally turn and step into the darkness from wince I came, the light turning off with the pop of a circuit breaker switch. The feed dies shortly afterwards. I already think ahead to my game plan for the match. I will not be beaten again and this will not be the start of a fucking losing streak. Fuck... that... shit. ====================================== ||As I leave... – CAMERA OFF|| ====================================== Out in the parking lot, I reach into my pocket to pull out my keys when suddenly something flutters out of my pocket and onto the ground. It's a picture of me and Alexandra, side by side. I bend forward to pick it up and see myself smiling back at me alongside her. For a very brief second, I felt a lump in my throat and a hint of sadness. Then I remember the fights and arguments and wondered how the hell we were even capable of such happiness for even a second. I pull the cheap red Bic lighter from my vest and after a few flicks of the flint, I got a fire going and lit the corner of the picture on fire. I drop it to the ground and then hop on my bike. I rolled off, letting the little momento burn on the gravel parking lot of the PAW recording studio. No need to look back, only move forward. I'd rather have a real fight over absolutely nothing than another fucking argument about petty bullshit. There's plenty of ass in the ocean should I desire to partake in it. |
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