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Post by The BombTrax on Aug 5, 2016 5:04:47 GMT
Tag Rules Apply:
Single Handler Tag Teams may post two (2) Roleplays.
Dual Handler Tag Teams may post one (1) A piece.
There are no Rules that say that Dual Handler's can't feature one another in their RP's, so go crazy.
Final Role Play Deadline: Wednesday August 17th, 2016 @ 10:59 PM CST
Segment Deadline: Tuesday, August 16th, 2016 @ 11:59 PM CST
Five Way Tag Team Turmoil Match
-PAW Tag Team Championships-
Ava & Sykes versus The French Mime Assassins versus Mikael & Adam Wolfe versus Mercy & Sin versus Plissken & Raike
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Post by AdamWolfe on Aug 13, 2016 21:42:48 GMT
A lone light hangs from the ceiling emitting enough light to brighten a single chair. In that chair, Wolfe can be seen sitting cross legged. A fidgets arounds, clearly uncomfortable with his surroundings. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out the Franchinger. Wolfe slides the Franchinger onto his hand and turns it to face away from him. Clearing his throat, he also turns and faces the same direction as the Franchinger.
Wolfe: “Ladies and gentlemen, Wolfe has big news for all of you. As you know, Wolfe has hosted a few Puppet Pals PlayPens now. Those were so good that Wolfe has been offered a deal. This was a deal that Wolfe couldn’t pass up. So for the first time tonight the Puppet Pals Play Pen debuts live on Youtube!”
As Wolfe says this, all of the lights above him turn on. An elaborate set can now be seen, decorated entirely with puppets. A large bookcase behind him with four shelves is lined end to end with various puppets Wolfe has made throughout the years. Across from him is a second chair with Wolfe’s face covering it in a very sporadic pattern. A table sits between them with a lone picture of all the former Puppet Pals; Cartwright, Benny Stevens and Bobby Franchise. To top the entire set off, there is a large picture of the Franchinger hanging above the bookcase. Wolfe looks at the Franchinger and nods.
Franchinger: “Tonight we see the return on the Puppet Pals. But who could be our first guest? Who could bring the entertainment and bring out the best in Wolfe? To answer that we decided to go an alternate route from usual. Why bring another guest who really brings the comedy? Why not bring out Wolfe’s polar opposite? To do that we had to look no further than Wolfe’s current tag partner. So without further ado, we bring you the leader of the Pedophile Patrol himself, Mikey!”
The typical sounds of clapping hands and positive chants confuse the Norwegian wrestler who slowly walks in the scene. Like the usual, the man’s clothing is as sophisticated as money can afford – the garb of an unorthodox individual that lives in 21st century, yet, dresses as if he lived in 1800s. Clothing that consists of a high-quality linen shirt under a dark brown suede vest, dark blue pinstripe slacks and black boots. Wolfe gets up, showing a big smile, and extends his hands toward Mikael’s direction. The latter, still rather confused, takes some seconds to observe the surroundings, and then he finally shakes his tag team partner’s hand. Following so, Wolfe points at the second chair that has his face printed on while he takes a seat in his own chair.
Mikael takes a deep breath as he approaches the guest chair; however, he does not take a seat yet.
Mikael: “First and foremost, allow me to correct your pronunciation of my Norwegian name. Understand that I have no intentions to disrespect your language or accent; however, I would like to request you to put an effort when it comes to…”
Wolfe is clearly not paying attention to Mikael. He looks to the Franchinger and whispers a few words between quick chuckles as Mikael slides his hands through his messy hair – clearly frustrated. One can tell that that will certainly be a torture for the man. Mikael clears his throat loudly, which catches the attention of the Puppet Pals’ host. He laughs once Mikael takes a seat, and so does the supposed public watching them… Mikael fell for a simple trick. The farting sound object planted on the chair’s seat. He shakes his head and takes another deep breath.
Mikael: “Listen, Wolfe. The name is Mikael. It’s NOT ‘Mikey’ or Michael. Do not even get me started on this whole… ‘Pedophile Patrol’ statement. Anyway, I do not intend to bash on your attempt to strengthen our team chemistry, as a matter of fact, not only do I respect the fact that you have chosen me as the first guest ever of your Youtube show, I appreciate your initiative as well. Now now, what is the theme of this episode? Shall we talk about the current situation of the global economy? The Olympic Games, perhaps? Or, how about the effects of the technology on the younger generation? I…”
Once again, Wolfe does not pay attention to Mikael’s speech. Furthermore, a loud sound of boos interrupt his long monologue – followed by a “boring!” chant. Mikael closes his eyes and places his left hand on his forehead, slowly descending it through his pale face as he opens his eyes. He shrugs before his next speech.
Mikael: “Straight to the point, I suppose. What do you seek, Wolfe?”
Bursting out with laughter, Wolfe starts to kick his legs wildly causing him to tumble backwards over his chair. A typical laugh track plays as Mikael just shakes his head. The Franchinger pops up from behind the chair and looks around the room. He turns back to Mikael and nods in his direction.
Franchinger: “It’s simple, Mikey. You’ve seen the other Puppet Pals, right? This is a show where you can talk about your dreams. Your aspirations. Your chance to tell the world exactly why you came to PAW. You can get some things off your chest. Maybe you can explain why you attacked Little Red after your match? And while you do that, Wolfe will…”
Interrupting the Franchinger, Wolfe suddenly tumbles back over the chair. He hits the floor in front of it before popping back to his feet. Quickly glancing around the room as if to check if anyone noticed, Wolfe exhales a sigh of relief. Bursting out in laughter again, he takes a seat and looks across to his tag partner.
Wolfe: “And Wolfe entertains the crowd. It’s simple chemistry, Mikey. It’s why we will win all on the onion rings! You bring the boredom and the planning, while Wolfe brings the chaos and the fun. You bring the obvious wrestling ability and Wolfe brings the unpredictability. It’s the perfect combo! As long as you don’t try to lure Wolfe into a white van with candy…”
The laugh track plays again as Wolfe’s legs flail wildly. Dropping to the floor, he tumbles all the way across the set and quickly pops back to his feet. He takes a seat on Mikael’s lap and starts running his fingers through Mikael’s messy hair.
Wolfe: “So? What do you think? How do you feel about Wolfe as your tag partner? How do you feel about our shot at the tag team onion rings? Are you happy your partner is the PAW World Champion?”
With no hesitation, Mikael taps Wolfe’s hand away of his hair, and then politely pushes the individual off his lap. Next, he gets up to his feet and adjusts his clothes as Wolfe laughs hysterically.
Mikael: “Wolfe… Lets not get too excited. You appear as a grown man, yet, you do not act like one. Please, do not touch me – especially my hair. Let us stick to sitting in our respective chairs while we have a serene conversation, shall we?”
Mikael finally takes a seat – as much as the man is trying to hide, his face expression tells us how he feels: frustrated, regretful and a bit angry. Still, he keeps his cool while Wolfe gathers himself in his chair. The Norwegian man rubs his chin as he thinks of a good answer, and after a rather awkward silence, he speaks as he motions with his hands.
Mikael: “Now, moving on to your questions. How do I feel about Wolfe as my tag partner? I… You know, back in the BFW days, I had never thought that we would ever share the ring as comrades. Oh, pardon me; I do not intend to bore the ones watching us for talking about the irrelevant that shall remain in the past. See, I think that behind your unconventional attitude lies a man that possesses remarkable in-ring qualities… To be fairly honest, to this day I still wonder who you really are. Of course, we are all aware of the whole puppet trickery and the mask but… Who are you really, Wolfe? Better yet, who is in charge?”
Wolfe looks at the Franchinger and Mikael back in forth – confused. Mikael notices so and lets out a quick chuckle. He observes his partner’s body language then resumes his speech.
Mikael: “You do not have to answer that – of course. After all, what is the point of life when the mysteries of such are inexistent, yes? Wolfe, you are a subject of study, MY study, per say. There is something in you that separate you from the rest… Just like myself. We are different, Wolfe. We are not like these shallow fools that seek glory, women, money and... ‘Respect’. No. We seek something else… We seek greater fortunes. YOU seek greater fortunes. Therefore, I do respect you as an ally for now. Whether we walk out as the first Pure Amusement Wrestling Tag Team Champions ever or not, I will keep my eyes on you as we move forward. Consider such thing a honor, my friend – not too many in this industry have impressed me. You have joined the ranks of individuals such as Tokyo Zombie, Jack Colter and Kimitsu Zombie… Do not disappoint me.”
A romantic soundtrack echoes around, which makes Wolfe cross his legs and look into Mikael’s eyes shyly – the man blinks his eyes as if he is a princess, and that certainly bothers the serious Norwegian wrestler. The latter appears to be mostly surprised, mainly due to the fact that he has no idea what is going on. The frustration is easy to notice. The song fades, so he is able to resume his speech. The man decides to no sell the silly situation.
Mikael: “As for the Tag Team ‘onion’ rings – wait. Sorry but… Onion rings? Is that another of those American slangs? Please, refrain from using such words unless you are going to explain them in advance. Anyway… Honestly? The Tag Team Championship match is the highlight of my short pro-wrestling career. Wolfe, we are going to face the very best that this business has to offer – and if we stand tall as the victors, our names will be carved on the walls of PAW’s history. Being the best matters not… The biggest objective that we must accomplish during our lifetime is making history. Even though history repeats itself, such is never forgotten. WE are here to make our names unforgettable, Wolfe. The Tag Team Championship title belts are but the first step of this long ladder to the pinnacle of the mundane mountain.”
Mikael is now relaxed in his chair, both elbows resting on their respective armrests. He looks at Wolfe and speaks in a calm manner.
Mikael: “The questions that I must ask you… As a matter of fact, I want you to ask and think to yourself the such. Are we in the same page, Wolfe? Do we possess the same desires? Are we going to this battle and walking out as one? Or are we condemned to fall as two?”
Wolfe: “We’re gonna be the very best, like no one ever was! To beat them all is our real test. The onion rings are our cause!”
Hopping to his feet, Wolfe runs over to a trunk that is off screen. After a few seconds of digging through it, Wolfe pulls out a Mikael and a Wolfe puppet. He runs back to the set and while standing in front of Mikael, reaches into his pocket and pulls out two onion rings. Placing an onion ring around each puppets waist, Wolfe starts to look back and forth between the puppets and his partner.
Wolfe: “See? Onion rings.”
Remember what Mikael said about his hair, Wolfe instantly starts to play with it again.
Wolfe: “But your hair is so fun, Mikey. It reminds Wolfe of the sheep that his grandparents used to have. Oh. Did Wolfe bring back flashbacks for you of walking in on Savannah...r and that sheep?”
While running his fingers through Mikael’s hair, Wolfe suddenly freezes in place. A dark look creeps across his face as he slowly paces off stage. Grabbing his old gym back, Wolfe digs inside and pulls out his Genocide mask. He slides it over his head and takes a moment to adjust his hair before walking back to the set. Genocide takes a seat in his chair as his cold eyes lock with Mikael’s.
Genocide: “Do we posses the same desires, you ask. What you see as desires, I see as cravings. I see it as a never ending thirst for the power that rightfully belongs to me. The only way to quench this thirst is to hold all the power that is humanly possible, and then some. Clearly, this is an impossible task but it is what drives me. It’s what keeps me going. So you ask, are we going to walk out of this battle united? That, is unimportant. You see, I will walk out to that ring at any given moment and fight to obtain the power that should already belong to me. While a comrade in battle would be beneficial, an extra enemy would only be a stepping stone in the path. So the real question is are you ready to stand beside me at the top of the mountain? Or are you going to be just another stone that crumbles on my rise to the top?”
This time, Mikael is the one who bursts out laughing. A rare scene, as the man is usually too busy thinking to himself – always focused on some serious matter. He grabs his knees while his head tilts down, his body shaking due to the laughter. Genocide just watches the scene, not even moving a muscle. Finally, after gathering himself, Mikael re-adjusts himself in his chair and points at Genocide, specifically the mask.
Mikael: “That is fascinating… You know, I had to witness such peculiarity with my own eyes. So, Genocide is the main one, right? Of course, you need the mask around if you want to… Turn – per say. Now I wonder, what would happen if your mask went missing out of sudden? Mayhem, I assume. Fascinating, indeed.”
Mikael takes another pause and chuckles. This time; however, he resumes his speech briefly.
Mikael: “I seek higher than a mere mountain, Genocide… Like I said earlier, I seek greater fortunes. The mountain is but the beginning of my path to said greatness. If you are assuming that I might be a hungry wolf wearing sheep's clothes, then you are not that smart after all. Oh, and if you are thinking that I am a stepping stone in your path to the top, then perhaps you are not ready to deal with the adversities of the upcoming match. Wolfe, the truth is – you need me… And I need you. We must go to this match as one because the opponents will hold nothing back, which is excellent if you ask me. I have been studying them for weeks and each one of them possesses exceptional abilities. A small elite list that goes from another classic of comedy that seems to be rarity nowadays – mimes, to the current PAW Titan of the Midway Champion, Raike. I beg you to do not take the French Mimes as a joke… Do NOT underestimate them. They remind me of Redrum to a certain extent. However, I can tell you that those mimes are different. They are another breed. They are extremely dangerous, and if you by any chance slip while being surrounded by them, then that shall be your last mistake.”
Mikael gets up to his feet and walks to one side and another as he speaks – slow pace. Genocide remains sitting still while he observes his guest.
Mikael: “Strick Plissken, a fierce competitor whose is deadly both in-ring and outside of such. The man possesses a military background – see, I did my best to find information regarding his military career, but I couldn’t find anything relevant to our campaign. Lots of classified Intel that common individuals like myself will never get their hands upon… Not even money could buy the information, Wolfe. We are dealing with the unknown, we do NOT know what this man is capable of; however, no man is perfect. Strick is definitely not perfect and his recent actions show so… I was watching his interaction with Tony Chu closely last show, I happened to be walking past that corridor so I decided to watch their little chat – Strick’s temper is quite short, and that might be his downfall in this match.”
Mikael stops walking when he’s on the edge of the stage, he looks up and rubs his chin. Next, he resumes his slow pace walk – still to one side and another. He motions with his hands as he speaks.
Mikael: “Mercy & Sin… Two female wrestlers that certainly belong in this business. They are not lightweight and, certainly, they will not have mercy upon us. We have witnessed them assaulting Annabel and Kelsey… Even though they are powerful, their attitude shows how insecure they are. They must scream and assault people to get what they want – this time, they are biting more than they can chew. A rather cliché American saying, I know… But you get what I mean. Are you even paying attention, Wolfe? Oh, pardon me, Genocide!”
Genocide: “Do NOT mistake me for that fool, Mikael.”
Genocide appears to be shaking with anger. Cracking his neck side to side, he pauses to run his fingers through his hair. This appears to calm him down as he looks back at his partner across from him.
Genocide: “Our opponents are unimportant. I don’t care to learn their history. I don’t care to learn their fighting style. I don’t even care to learn their names. Do you know why, Mikael? Do you know why our opponents are unimportant to me? Because I know that I will stop at nothing to destroy everyone in my path. Now, you said something before you started your usual rambling about your opponents. What would happen if my mask went missing.”
Rising from his chair, Genocide slowly paces over towards Mikael. Leaning forward so that he and Mikael stare eye to eye, Genocide pulls his mask off and drops it on the ground. The dark and evil look across his face tells more than words ever could.
Genocide: “You are correct. Mayhem would ensue. But not for me. I would slaughter everyone on the way to finding who took it. And when I found them, that person would face a fate worse than death. Do you understand, Mikael? Is that brain you constantly try to show off able to see what would happen?”
The two men stare at each other as a small smirk appears on Mikael’s face. Without warning, Genocide’s face becomes one of a much brighter disposition. Wolfe, clearly being back in control, runs his fingers through Mikael’s hair again. His eyes darting around the room, Wolfe spins around and begins to tear down the set. Flipping the furniture around the room, Wolfe runs back over to Mikael who appears to be stunned by what is happening. Wolfe reaches up and gently places his finger on Mikael’s nose.
Wolfe: “Tag, you’re it! Hide & Seek!”
Wolfe takes off running into Mikael’s castle leaving his tag partner behind, still sitting in his chair.
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Post by Double F C on Aug 15, 2016 19:39:38 GMT
MIMENTO
(OOC NOTE: This Role-play takes place in reverse. Events happen from the ending to the beginning. Please read it accordingly, and enjoy, hopefully! Good luck!)
DURING BAD MOON RISING
Through the locked glass main doors to the Pure Arena , the usher blatantly informed a soaking wet Rodney P as he stood there shivering and chattering his teeth,
“By order of the mimes, you are not allowed entry into tonight’s event.”
“Are you serious? How the hell did two MIMES even tell you that, huh?”
Inside, Rodney winces as he hears the pop of the crowd, quite possibly for the Tag Team Turmoil match Rodney is currently missing.
“They wrote it down.”
The usher shows a prepared printed picture of Rodney and Francis’ aloof faces with a NO ADMITTANCE scrawled across the paper. The camera drops to Rodney’s side out of neglect; we continue to pick up his voice.
“Of course. Forgot they were communicating now. Well, that’s just great.”
“Sorry.”
The Usher’s apology isn’t genuine, at least not to Rodney. Rodney glares as the usher stomps off to tend to whatever needs tending. Through the full-glass doors, Rodney searches inside, unable to see anything. He shakes his head in defeat and once more lifts the camera to focus on him.
“So there’s that. Done. Barred from entry. Isn’t the first time, and probably won’t be the last.”
Rodney glances around without a particular clue as to where to go from here, the cool night air making his soaked clothing that much more difficult to bear.
“Yeah… not going to lie, this chaps my ass. Basically, what this means is I’m not going to be present to watch the tag-team I HELPED BUILD take on the crème de la crème of PAW tag-teams. This title match is precisely what they’ve been working for, you know? This is what they’ve been training for; busting their asses for; putting up with all the shit Francis and I have put them through for. And here I thought we were a collective unit, that we’d made definitive progress together, and now I find out they weren’t bluffing, they ARE going into this match, gladly, without me.”
An exhausted exhale emanates from Rodney’s lips, a slight tear streaks down his cheek, the full example of his dashed passion and hopes. Another shake of his head.
“So, yeah, I’m right pissed that this is how the culmination of the past few days turn out: me and Francis on the outside looking in on two individuals whom I, personally, have devoted almost the entirety of 2016 to. This has been an entire year of preparation for the chance to bear the flagship tag-team strap of PAW. Now, I can’t speak for Francis, hell no one can, but I’m proud of them for doing what they’ve done, you know? It takes a lot of guts to go it alone like this. Just really, really, bummed I’m not going to be in there to watch them hopefully triumph.”
He bit his lip and hangs his head before looking into the cell phone camera confessedly.
“I really hope Francis made out getting inside better than I did.”
Another forlorn shake of his head.
“Fucking Mogwai. I can’t believe that shit, nor can I believe we drove through flood-soaked southern Louisiana looking for the mimes, and now we’re missing this event… sniffle So, yeah, that’s that, folks. Guess I’ll find out how Bad Moon Rising turns out on the internet… Oh yeah and Ava and Johnny Sykes are trash. I didn’t forget about you two, but by the end of the night everyone else will. I’m done.”
The Camera feed cuts.
20 MINUTES EARLIER
“I’ll start this off by saying good luck to the competitors of the PAW Tag Team Championship match.”
Rodney P moved with intensity, the back-facing camera of his cellular phone focused on his mussed and soaking hair, shaking and jostling as he purposed his way along the side of the Pure Arena and to warm himself up. Behind him many feet away was a herd of individuals clamoring around the back entrance to the arena seemingly roused and surrounding some commotion. Rodney glanced behind him knowingly; he stopped to shake his head with incredulity, and kept moving.
“That back there?”
He shook his head with newfound appreciating.
“I’m betting that’s the last I ever see of Francis Ford Cuppola. At least for tonight, and you wanna know something?”
Rodney stops and glares into the camera, his Cockney accent wavering with inexplicable heartfelt emotion.
“For the first time in my career working for that man I’ve actually developed a respect for him. It’s weird to say seeing as I’ve literally tried to destroy his empire, and subvert his machinations, and Lord knows I haven’t been the most loyal of assistants, but this episode here, all we’ve just gone through to get to this arena, all that bonding you just witnessed? I think I can freely admit I see my boss in a different light. I hope you do too.”
Rodney considered, glancing back at the maddening crowd presumably surrounding Francis near the back entrance to the Pure Arena.
“Maybe not. Hard to say what’ll happen next with that nut running around probably ruining everything.”
Rodney continued moving.
“So anyway, friends, this is it: The big one. Bad Moon Rising. Where titles are decided, others will change hands, or perhaps not at all, and a lot of people are sent back to the proverbial drawing board to wonder at what went wrong, or perhaps never to return again. Now, let me tell you something between us: I, for one, have already gone through a damn-near metric shit-tonne just to get to this point. And that was just todayI can only imagine what kind of shit you actual competitors have had to wade through. But you wanna know what?”
Rodney stopped once more and considered before looking resignedly into the camera with a glimpse of that same serenity still lurking in his expression.
“Isn’t that what it’s all about? Developing our character? Finding our strengths, pinpointing our weaknesses, and working through all of that to be better versions of ourselves? That’s what I’m doing this for, you know? I want to be the best damn Rodney P I can be, no matter what it costs me. And, I mean, here I am having just gone through floodwaters, thwarted a suicide attempt and lost the respect of two men I’ve sacrificed my life to help train and somehow Francis and I improved our relationship. That’s saying something, folks.
So let me break it down for you wrestlers who may be watching me pre-match, though, for the life of me, I don’t why you would, but here goes, regardless: Never mind what the Mimes might mime at you, or write about you, no matter how vitriolic or angry it may seem. Truthfully, it hurt me to read some of that anger knowing I’ve had a hand in developing it. Just like it seems to have woken Francis up to the true meaning of why we wrestlers and wrestling promoters, slash managers, are really doing this whole thing. The mimes just taught Francis and I a valuable lesson, one I’m grateful for. I’m just hoping that lesson doesn’t turn over-the-top deadly when they get into the ring with the rest of you.”
Rodney stopped and gripped his chin thoughtfully, a smirk steadily appearing on his mouth, the shivering momentarily abated.
“Who am I kidding, for the sake of their potential victory, and the chance of putting a feather in my proverbial cap if they succeed, I am hoping that lesson turns into one hell of a bad night for the rest of you tag-teams.”
The smile hangs as Rodney nods appreciatively at the thought of a mime victory before the smile fades, the shiver returns and Rodney resumes striding diligently.
“So, yeah, I can’t blame the mimes for going down this path. I mean, you read what they wrote, back at Francis’ house, right? And while I am concerned for what may happen in this match, and the lengths they’re prepared to go to to win this thing, I just want to say, from myself to each of you tag-teams...”
Rodney stops and looks seriously into the camera.
“You have my respect, for whatever it’s worth. It takes a lot of guts to go into that ring each show and compete at the level you all compete at.
Each of you.
“Straike”, Johnny Raike and Strick Plissken? The least plausible tag-team in a field of cartoon characters, the proverbial two kids left in a pick-up game of softball left to make your own team, you two guys have my deepest respect, man. Wearing those skirts and shit? That takes guts, dudes. I couldn’t do it. And, in all honesty, I had no idea the Mimes were gay, so I guess that makes this a little more personal, at least for you, Johnny. I can’t wait to see you trailblazers take the stage tonight, if I manage to get inside the arena. It would be sad to miss out on the Mimes following through on their plan for the both of you and watch them work.”
Rodney rounds a corner and walks in a hurry for the main entrance.
“And Mercy ‘n Sin? The fact that you two take yourselves even remotely seriously is definitely something I admire and respect, you know? The letter the Mimes wrote definitely helped me see you two in a different light. And, hey, what the Bombtraxx said to you two at Wicked? Forget those two, mamas, cause what do they know, right? If they were paying any attention to you two they’d realize that Mercy and Sin are NOTHING like the Bombtraxx. You two got tits. How could Press and Youth be so blind, you know? So, Girl Power… and I will definitely be there to congratulate you both if you manage to win this thing after successfully copping the Bombtraxx’s tag-team finishing maneuver, and hoping someone says your names three times.”
Rodney makes it to the main doors and attempts to gain entry, but instead finds them locked. Rodney peeks in through the full glass to see an usher notice him from down the hallway and approaches.
“Yeah, here we go. He sees me.
Oh yeah, before I forget. Mikael and Wolfe? You two are impressive. I honestly can’t wait to see if the guy who needs to wear a mask to be a dangerous wrestler and the guy that’s so obviously not sinister or menacing in anyway won’t get stomped under a stampede of actual talent. But, seriously? No joke, you two BFW alum are strong competitors that I’d be honored to stand behind and promote if I wasn’t convinced you were both hiding important information during your medical screenings, thanks now to the Mimes’ letter.
For making it this far, each of you, all of you tag-team competitors, no matter what happens next: you all deserve a kudos. Hope I didn't forget anyone...”
The cell phone camera turns around to see the usher inspecting Rodney through the glass.
“Yo, let me in. I’m the manager for the mimes.”
The smug shake of the usher’s head brings the camera back around to focus on Rodney’s disappointed expression.
“Are you fucking kidding me?! Why not?”
40 MINUTES EARLIER
Francis Ford Cuppola: Hello my children.
Francis gracefully opened his arms wide invitingly to the large crowd waiting at the back entrance guarded by two surly security guards. Rodney slammed the back door of the “Francis-Mobile” and shook his head at the sheer difficulty he was having believing all of what had already went down. He wrung out his soaked jacket and watched the swarm of people envelope Francis.
Francis Ford Cuppola: Hey, you folks wanna see a real live Mogwai?
The enchanted crowd all gave a resounding ‘yes’, in response to which Francis reached into the front passenger seat, unbuckled the seatbelt, and carefully balanced his beloved pet Mogwai out on his forearm and pleasantly allowed the little creature to delight the onlookers with a hip new dance.
Francis Ford Cuppola: So this is… uhhh… his name is… uhhh. Damn. Forgot the little buggers name. Cool, huh?
“Francis!”
Francis Ford Cuppola: No, no that’s not it. It’s, uhhh..
“I NEED TO FIND A WAY INSIDE TO GET TO THE MIMES!”
Francis poked his head above the crowd to see Rodney, once more, shaking his head at him.
Francis Ford Cuppola: I know! I’m distracting everyone so you have a clean break for the main entrance, partner.
‘Partner’. Rodney couldn’t believe it’d come to this. He smiled with pride at their newly redeveloping friendship.
“Thanks, Francis.”
With his free arm, Francis extended an encouraging thumb up.
Francis Ford Cuppola: Now go! I got this! Only the mimes matter.
Rodney nodded even if Francis had been swallowed up by the crowd of PAW faithful, and promptly took off walking, pulling out his cell phone preparing to make yet another video blog entry.
Inside the crowd, Francis smirked conspiratorially to everyone gathered around him.
Francis Ford Cuppola: Truth be told, I’m not actually here for the mimes. If all of you are willing to help, I’ve actually got a foolproof plan to give Sergio Lione a taste of his own medicine, once and for all. You guys want to help?
The crowd was easily enthused. Even security looked willing. Francis’ grin widened.
Francis Ford Cuppola: Excellent. For Sergio must die for making me want to die. Now, it’s imperative you don’t tell Rodney, all right? And if any of are afraid of spiders, tell me now because this plan MAY involve a giant spider…
The crowd gathered in tighter to hear Francis’ new diabolical plan.
TWO HOURS EARLIER
The convertible sped along through torrential rain. Francis wore his blast goggles as the wind blew through his hair. He shouted back to Rodney in the backseat as the car’s motor roared.
Francis Ford Cuppola: I’m really sorry for losing sight of what mattered, Rodney. All on account of that POINTLESS grudge with Sergio. I guess it all just compounded, you know? Trust me. I’m over it. This ridiculous two-day trek through deluged Louisiana has helped me recognize the value of my life, especially since common sense dictated we just check at the Pure Arena for the Mimes in the first place. I guess that's what happens when you're drunk on Canadian maple syrup...
A beat.
Francis Ford Cuppola: Come to think of it, this whole experience has hit me like I were Ebenezer Scrooge in Charles Bukowski's famous Victorian era novel The Hunger Games, Rodney...
As Francis looked skyward philosophically, in the backseat, Rodney gripped his arms tightly and shivered, his teeth chattering. He was soaked. Francis looked past his shoulder at him.
Francis Ford Cuppola: You okay back there?
Rodney nodded with an intense shiver.
“Francis,” Rodney shouted. “Why am I in the backseat?”
Francis guffawed.
Francis Ford Cuppola: It’s like I told you, guy, I needed the front seat for my Mogwai.
Rodney’s teeth continued to chatter.
“Okay… so, that said, tell me again why there’s a Mogwai in the front seat of the.. erm..”
Francis Ford Cuppola: Just say it.
Francis grinned as Rodney rolled his eyes.
“Why is there a Mogwai in the front seat of the Francis-Mobile?”
Francis’ grin grew.
Francis Ford Cuppola: We’ve been over this, remember? I collect Mogwai, and riding in the front seat of the Francis-Mobile is one of the rules. You always follow the rules with Mogwai, Rodney.
The Francis-Mobile sped along.
“Okay, and—“
Francis Ford Cuppola: Yes, same with the convertible top. Little… uhhh… damn, forget this one’s name… either way, my little friend here looooooves the wind in his fur, don’t you little buddy?
Francis petted his Mogwai lovingly before looking back sincerely to Rodney.
Francis Ford Cuppola: Rodney, you have to believe I had no idea the Mimes were so disgruntled due to my negligence. I’m actually really scared for what they might do to their opponents tonight.
“So am I. I’m really glad you’re head’s finally focused on the important stuff.”
Francis Ford Cuppola: I know. I feel horrible I’ve been so distracted with Sergio.
His teeth, unseen by Rodney in the backseat, gritted angrily at the mere mention of Sergio’s name.
“It’s all good, Francis. Just promise me it’ll never happen again, okay?”
Francis Ford Cuppola: I promise. I’ve made a lot of mistakes lately, Rodney. I’ve let a lot fall by the wayside. I started pre-production for that Muppet Burlesque Remake of the Passion of the Christ so that took a lot of my time, and Sergio’s reemergence really knocked me on my ass. Did you realize he stole my Mail-Order Bride??? That asshole. But that’s all in the past. I’m keeping my head on what matters, like you said.
Rodney looked at Francis with shades of disbelief, changing into burgeoning appreciation in spite of the cold air and stinging rain.
Francis Ford Cuppola: In fact, this whole debacle has really made me recognize the need to do right by everyone, including you. I think that little exercise earlier with Mister Mississaugi and the grave-digging finally put me in a position to spot my true friends, Rodney. You and Mister Mississaugi. I think I’m finally ready to start calling you both my partners.
Rodney was speechless.
“I—I’m honoured, Francis…”
Francis Ford Cuppola: Think nothing of it, big guy. We’re partners now. I only expect you, from now on, to stop me from doing stupid things, okay? Like, seriously? Next time I attempt to kill myself you should try suggesting funeral pyre, or something more dramatic, and potentially faster, okay?
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Francis Ford Cuppola: I can’t wait.
Francis looked to the clock and grew concerned.
Francis Ford Cuppola: Damn, Bad Moon Rising is starting any minute! We better hurry!
Without further discussion, Francis floored it on the Francis-Mobile and they raced into the night for the Pure Arena.
TWO DAYS EARLIER
The shovel scooped into the mound of dirt and lay it in heaps on top of the semi-unbuttoned Armani dress shirt worn by one Francis Ford Cuppola.
“Francis, why are you doing this?”
Rodney P stood off to the side watching Francis’ freshly appointed head trainer and maple syrup creator, Mister Mississaugi, bury the wallowing elderly man in a gaping hole in the dirt with bemused solemnity. In Rodney’s hands, clutched in front of him at the waist, was a letter he’d yet to find the opportunity to relate to Francis.
Francis Ford Cuppola: Auuuuuuuuuugh.
Francis had starfished into the hole like he’d been spit there and looked used up and demolished. His clothes were in disarray, his beard disheveled, and his mouth gaped open languidly as he stared into the sky as if asking the eternal “why”. In one he hole gripped a near empty jug of Mississaugi’s maple syrup, some of the last remnants of which coated Francis’ beard.
Francis Ford Cuppola: I don’t deserve to live any longer.
More dirt fell as the tall native man fulfilled his duty with stoic dignity. Rodney remained passively interested.
“Is this about the mimes? Cause--”
Francis Ford Cuppola: The who?! Rodney, get a hold of yourself! This is about my loss to Sergio! Now for God’s sakes help Mr. Mississaugi bury me!
Francis angrily chucked a handful of dirt at Rodney who let it spray harmlessly across his pant legs and the back of the letter. Francis adjusted his position in his hole like he were tossing and turning in bed.
“…What loss?”
Francis Ford Cuppola: You were there!! None of my plans work. NONE! Those wasps were USELESS! My giant spider experiments have failed and you told me my super catapult isn’t even a catapult!!!
“That’s right, it’s just a giant mace designed to look like a catapult.”
Francis groaned loudly.
Francis Ford Cuppola: OOOOOOOOOOOOOH. It’s over. Game over. He won. He beat me, Rodney. I can go no further. I have fallen.
Francis lifted the jug of syrup above his mouth and let what was left ooze onto the lower half of his face.
“Does this have something to do with the fact that there’s already been two reports of authorities finding paralyzed humans with unhatched wasp eggs inside of their skulls?”
Francis Ford Cuppola: Casualties of war, Rodney! My misery shall be spread through yet another of my failed attempts at success! I cannot go on! Losing power.
The dirt continued to be heaped onto him even as Francis rolled onto his back. A soft drizzle of rain set in. Rodney looked skywards at it, frowned and looked back at Francis.
“Okay, so I’m going inside now, Francis.”
Francis Ford Cuppola: NO! Stay for my funeral, you ingrate.
“What, stay here and watch Mr. Mississaugi bury you alive? That’s going to take a really long time, Francis.”
Francis groaned in defeat as Rodney turned to leave. Like gripping the lip of a bathtub, Francis shifted and called innocently to Rodney.
Francis Ford Cuppola: Rodney, Rodney… I wish to be buried with my most prized and valuable possessions. Would you bring them to me? Bring me the syrup?
Rodney glanced back at him with a roll of his eyes.
“Sure, why not. There’s only one jug left.”
Francis cried in agony, gripping his hands to his chest, heartbroken, as Rodney continued toward the stately plantation house that would soon enough house Francis’ grave. Rodney couldn’t help but be hopeful that this, of all his schemes, would be successful.
Francis Ford Cuppola: Rodney! Rodney!
Rodney sighed loudly, stopped and turned to glare at him.
“WHAT?!”
Francis rested his chin on his hand, and peeked out over the lip of the dirt hole to eye Rodney with depressed longing.
Francis Ford Cuppola: Would you bring me my Mogwai collection?
As one does when one hears ridiculous information, Rodney stuttered and blinked rapidly trying to process.
“Your what collection?”
Francis Ford Cuppola: My Mogwai collection. I collect Mogwai.
Rodney still hadn’t, evidently, prepared himself for every surprise Francis was capable of. Francis continued.
Francis Ford Cuppola: I got a whole family during my travels through Kathmandu’s Wu Tang region. Let’s see, there’s Gizmo, GZA, RZA, Raekwon, Ol’ Dirty, Inspectah Deck, Ghostface Killah, and a few more, but I forget their names. I call them my Wu Tang Clan. They’re awesome. Sing real nice, too. Will you bring them to me? I wish to be buried with them as well as the syrup.
Francis nodded approvingly at Mister Missassaugi as he continued to fill Francis in to his proposed grave.
“Okay…”
Rodney could feel his eyelid twitching unwittingly as he gripped the letter a little tighter in his hand, gritted his teeth and let it out in a torrent as the rain remained a drizzle.
“FRANCIS, WHAT. ABOUT. THE MIMES?!”
Francis Ford Cuppola: The who?
“The tag team you brought over from France to wrestle for you?”
Francis rolled onto his back, upsetting Mississaugi’s dirt pile. The large man continued without fuss. Francis considered.
Francis Ford Cuppola: Oh yeah. My other, other most prized possession. Bring them to me, as well. I wish to be buried like the pharaohs of old. Today, Sergio gets his wish.
“You bloody idiot, the mimes are gone!”
Francis sat up and looked incredulously at Rodney, causing Mr. Mississaugi to stop shoveling.
Francis Ford Cuppola: What?
“Yeah. This letter you’ve been too busy being buried alive to let me show you says it all.”
Francis roused himself from the dirt with a frown and rushed over to Rodney to pluck the letter from his hands.
Francis Ford Cuppola: Let me see that!
Francis read:
To the Overly Self-Important,
Too long have we stood in your shadow. In that lack of depth, you have stolen our sunlight; our freedom; our reason for being. A contract was signed without our express consent, and this alone has bound us to you. You know yourselves as Francis Ford Cuppola, and Rodney P.
We know you as dueling morons.
You have consistently put your own interests ahead of our own.
You have used us as pawns in your feuds against one another as well as others.
You have taken credit for our hard work.
You have directed us against your enemies in battles we have not chosen.
You have put your name above ours.
You are not us, you do not represent us, you know nothing about us.
It is we who wrestle, who compete, who put our bodies on the line.
Not you.
Your consistent assumptions about our silence and inability to speak for ourselves has encouraged all others to hold the same assumption.
This will change.
At Bad Moon Rising, it is our hard work, our talent, our goals, and desires that will be showcased.
You will not be present.
As the fat maw of Double F C jabbers on absent of any thought or logic, the mouthpiece of Rodney P has never asked us for our opinions, or our perspectives on anything.
This match at Bad Moon Rising is ours to own.
The success or failure that comes out of this night will also be ours.
You spout opinions of our opponents we do not share.
How well do you know the French Mime Assassins?
You come from a position that lacks humility. It will not do to assume our insight as though it were your own.
No one speaks for us but us.
And each moment, there have been many, when we have attempted to speak, no one has listened or granted us agency to enact what we will.
All this time spent with you we’ve been called clowns, comedic relief, and made to seem like anything other than the legitimate competitors we truly are.
This is the presumed plight of so many in this match, and yet ours more than any other.
We stand ready to assume our rightful place as kings atop a mountain of abused, misunderstood, and overlooked competitors not sitting in their rightful place.
Had anyone realized that we two mimes stand as openly homosexual competitors, forced to, once more, listen to Johnny Raike presume to speak for, and represent the likes of us?
Do you notice a trend here?
This attention grabbing “fuckboi” does not speak for us. He was not duly elected to represent a specific strata of a deviant community of which we are a part, and he has claimed his accolades and representation without true qualification or merit. Whereas we, the freaks, “fuckbois” and fairies formerly claimed he was ‘good enough’ to represent us, he is now no longer good enough.
There are those in the stands and watching at home who shout and cheer for him.
We do not.
Johnny Raike?
Think: Thin-skin. Punch hard. Make bleed. Block kicks.
Bring the suffering he so appreciates until it comes in a manner he doesn’t welcome.
This is what those of us he claims to empower have decided.
For too long, we’ve been held back. Chained and misused and overlooked and misunderstood.
The very items Johnny Raike lists and assumes about himself are true of us as well, only we are capable of holding our tongue when necessary and not playing our theme music meaninglessly whenever the camera hits record.
Up till now our fists have done the talking.
It is high time we pull out this “hellcat’s” tongue to forbid him from using it needlessly any further.
His partner is a tougher customer.
Strick Plissken.
As we stood silent and stoic, we watched with interest as a homeless beggar was plucked from the gutter and brought into the light by a man who is, also, underappreciated.
The theme continues, while at the same time opening up a conversation about the treatment of veterans of war in your United States.
That said, we don’t care for Tony Chu. And we care even less for this man who bases his fight on scars left hidden and an overreliance on his opponent’s misunderstandings and superficial attacks.
Here is a man who’s gripe is with his perceived rightful place in this federation, a place currently held by those lucky enough to not be in the ensuing bloodbath we’re about to create out of Tag Team Turmoil. Like the rest of us this man believes that he is not where he should be.
We, the overlooked, have no sympathy for this man’s consistent complaints.
While he whines about taking Nova Wonder’s place in facing Johnny Raike for his singles title, Strick teams with this man in a presumed mutual cause.
One that is our specialty, and our strength.
All of the reasons these men have for being in this match are ours as well.
Only we do it better.
We, the overlooked, as always are overlooked in favor of others, like these two, deemed the favorites by sheer force of volume and opinion.
Not even our own manager wants to bet on us in our matches.
We, the overlooked, and undervalued, when they see us they see clowns, and mock Mime as though it weren’t one of the foundational practices of all performance art. At best they realize our French heritage, but no one emphasizes the third word in our title:
Assassins.
We have watched, and we have waited. Precision and planning are our allies.
And now, at Bad Moon Rising, we will strike.
Whatever they call themselves, Strick and Raike, this tag-team is taped together and weak at the seams. A man whose wounds are exploitable can find himself easily steered in the opposite direction than where he was originally intending.
For proof refer to his life up till this point.
Perhaps Strick could be coaxed into eschewing loyalty and right into fighting his own partner if the right carrot were dangled before him?
We have no intention of overlooking our place in this battle, but we will utilize the knowledge that the wisest fight is the one you don’t need to fight until it is absolutely necessary.
Unlike “Mercy” and “Sin”, who have entered this wrestling federation with guns blazing, as if their ship were sinking, and they needed to make a quick splash.
They have failed, and they will continue to fail.
The fat one’s slow, and the thin one’s stupid.
And that’s just touching the surface.
A more perfect combination couldn’t be brought to bear in a match of individuals all resembling one another as though looking through a funhouse mirror, staring in the wrong direction, and finding the wrong people to point at.
We, alone, stand out.
Why attack Kelsey Spencer and Annabel Lee?
Of all the tag teams these two could have attacked, they chose the most innocent, naïve, and least likely to retaliate competitors on the entire roster.
There was no message sent other than the most superficial of warnings, and therefore the message received was one of due notice of these mindlessly wasteful wrestlers who leave too many tracks to follow right to where they are weakest.
These two wish to be seen as wolves amongst sheep. Instead they resemble carrion birds picking at defenseless scraps.
This is not a case of being overlooked with these two, but rather a constant, and highly annoying, cry for attention.
S & M need to be noticed?
Pity, for their egos won’t be Spared, and they’ll receive no more Mention once the dust settles and two French Mime Assassins stand tall over them.
The time of restraint is over.
Unless your name is Wolfe who is not only contending with Dissociative Identity Disorder which has gone, apparently, overlooked by all medical testing since he began in BFW, but also Mikael, who has yet to illustrate even so much as an inkling of being “the Devil”, let alone legitimately intelligent aside from the most oft-used epithets of war: “don’t underestimate your enemy”, he claims.
How clever of him.
We, the overlooked, officially dare you both to prove everything you claim about yourselves at Bad Moon Rising.
For we see you for what you are.
The faults are many with two men who believe themselves to have a chance, whose sleeves bear every story they have to tell, and whose every appearance in any capacity leaves nothing to the imagination.
Are we two, whose team is a complete unification of thought, body and mind, to be afraid of two men relying on one another to make up for each other’s shortcomings?
The memo that has consistently failed to send from our pointless handlers will now be sent loud and clear to these two and everyone else.
With the French Mime Assassins:
There are no shortcomings.
We are both technical wrestlers with the same flexibility and strength.
We are both High-Flying impresarios.
We are both studied in various martial arts and hard-hitting striking techniques.
When you fight one of us, you fight both of us.
Rodney, you have failed to make this clear. And we have chosen to expect very little from your employer, so he receives an exemption from judgment only due to incessant failure and idiocy.
Like Ava and Johnny Sykes.
Never before has innovation been so easily disguised as luck.
Here lies a tag-team whose skill is, similarly, overlooked in favor of their antics.
Finally, the true comedic relief rears its ugly head now that you and Francis will not be allowed at ringside.
The only problem is: these two aren’t funny.
Misreading of an opponent’s name for some competitive edge is not only ignorant but illustrates a resigned lack of competence?
We know this well.
Hence this letter, hence our rage.
To be lumped in with the likes of these two, more mouths that never stop opening needlessly only confirms our purpose in this match.
We will shut them all up.
Perhaps, in fairness, to you both, placing us in the shadows while you prattle on relentlessly and Francis invents something useless has done us a service in providing the perfect level of anger and frustration with which to enter this match ready to claim our rightful place among the upper echelons of Pure Amusement Wrestling, and decimate our competition.
The only ounce of credit you and Francis will receive is that together, you drove us to the point beyond caring, to the point of absolute freedom.
This letter is your one reward.
The carnage that comes next is on us.
From the Chronically Overlooked,
Francis frowned as he rubbed his sticky, syrup laden beard.
Francis Ford Cuppola: All this time who knew those mimes had such incredible penmanship?
Rodney rolled his eyes once more.
“Yeah. Well, I’ve checked the entire house and they’re no where to be found.”
Rodney eyed Francis with an inkling of surprise at the sudden sense of urgency and serious understanding of the magnitude of this development.
Francis Ford Cuppola: I can’t believe my beloved French Mimes flew the coop like this.
“Well, believe it. I haven’t even had a chance to work with them on some training drills.”
Francis nodded.
Francis Ford Cuppola: You’re right. We need to find them.
“But how, they could be anywhere by now?”
Francis considered.
Francis Ford Cuppola: I’m not sure. We'll traipse all over Louisiana if we have to.
"Francis, isn't there severe flooding in parts of Louisiana, right now?"
Francis Ford Cuppola: We have to try. We’ll take the Francismobile. It's the fastest car in my fleet. Come on.
“The what-mobile? …Know what? Never mind. I’m just glad you’re finally focusing on something other than this Lione guy.”
Francis glared at him as he straightened his shirt collar.
Francis Ford Cuppola: Rodney, I may be a lot of things, but one thing I am not is a quitter. Mister Missassugi?
Francis called to the large man leaning on the end of the shovel.
Francis Ford Cuppola: Fill in that hole.
The burly tall man silently nodded and went about his work. Francis shook his head with a smile as he ushered Rodney towards the garage.
Francis Ford Cuppola: What was I thinking? Digging a hole. But I love it when they don’t talk, though. And, hey, since when could the mimes talk, huh? Did you know about this? I seriously need to change from here on out...
Thus galvanized, they were off to, hopefully, stand at the Mimes side a complete, and utter unified whole….
Francis Ford Cuppola: I'm telling you Rodney, this experience has definitely changed me. From now on things are going to be different. I'm a whole new man.
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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 15, 2016 22:07:40 GMT
OFF CAMERA – Becky's Diary – July 19th 2016
================================================Dear Diary,
That miserable bastard, Lenny Osmonde, ended me and Tracy's contracts today. We weren't even given a chance to face MuirniePoo or Sheevie for the tag belts in a rematch. His reasons? Because we worked for Sebastian DeBlanc. I miss Sebby, he was fun and got it. Lenny just wants to make the Pitt into another Neon paradise for pretty wrestlers. It's not fair! We were the champions! Legs & Arse got their rematch, but we don't?
We'll show Lenny! We'll show them all! PAW put out the call for a big tag tournament and the winner gets to be the first PAW Tag Team Champions! Nobody could beat us in The Pitt except Legs & Arse. Challengers to the throne would come, but they were all so full of hot air and hype. Me and Tracykins would show them the truth about themselves and beat them so badly that they were sent screaming in terror. Maybe we were too good at our work? It's hard to say, but I thought the point of competition was that the best of the best rose to the top while the worst were sent to the bottom or packing.
When we get there, we need to send a message, picking some targets to announce our arrival. They are having a show on the twenty first... why not pay them a visit? Until then, me and Tracy are going to watch some videos. Already saw a couple with these guys called The Bombtrax. They look awesome! I so totes want to meet them!
================================================
CAMERA ON – JULY 21st 2016 – WICKED #15 – UNAIRED FOOTAGE
================================================Becky bounded through the curtains with Tracy not too far behind her, fresh from battering Kelsey Spencer and Annabell Lee. Becky had a rush of adrenaline and was beyond ecstatic. Noticing the camera, she brings it right up to her face. Becky: YOU SEE THAT?! YOU SEE THAT?! THAT IS HOW YOU MAKE AN INTRODUCTION?! You don't just say hi, hello, I'm going to be the best by beating the best, YOU JUST BEAT SOMEBODY INTO A PULP!!!!She was beyond pumped, amped beyond reason or rhyme. Becky: TELL THEM TRACYKINS!!!Tracy Sin stepped in close as Becky nearly shoved the lens in her scowling face. Tracy: We're coming for the PAW Tag Team Titles and no one is going to stop us. NO ONE!!!Becky pulls both camera and Camera man along, throwing her arm up around Tracy's shoulder. Becky: Your future Tag Team Champs are standing right here, PAW! RIGHT HERE!!!The two then shove the camera man back and Becky skips away, humming a happy tune as Tracy follows behind her. ================================================
OFF CAMERA – Becky's Diary – AUGUST 3rd 2016 – PRE – WICKED #16
================================================Dear Diary,
I can hardly wait! We've been working out and training hard for this! We face Lost Boys in a qualifier for the PAW Tag Team Rumble at Bad Moon Rising! I can't wait! I can't wait! I CAN'T WAIT!!!
OMG, this is our chance to be taken serious and show the PAW world what we can do! I'm so excited that I'm having a hard time sleeping, but these sleeping pills I just took ought to do the job pretty soon. Tracy seems to be getting agitated. She thinks something is up, but I tell her not to worry about it. We'll get in that ring and dominate Pan & Rufio. They won't know what hit 'em and we haven't heard a peep out of them.
Tracy thinks they are scared of us. Good. They should be, as should everyone else. They don't know what we've been through. They don't know who we've faced and beaten. They think I'm just some pretty girl with a big mouth and that Tracy is just a big dumb animal. Oh will they be in for a shock! It'll be so awesome to see all the looks on their faces when we totally dismantle those Peter Pan impersonators!
Oh but why did they have to imitate Peter Pan? Why does fate have to be cruel enough to remind me of a childhood I want to forget, but can't forget?
The pills are kicking in. Night night.================================================
OFF CAMERA – AUGUST 4th 2016 – WICKED #16
================================================Becky Mercy was more than angry, she was violently pissed. She stormed into their private locker room, QUIVERING with rage. Upon entering she sent a folded chair flying across the room, the metal clacking and clanging loudly as bounced off of the far wall and fell to the floor. Her breaths came in ragged, heaving gasps, her hands more like bladed talons at her side. She then lifted up one of the benches and hurled it to the side with a roar, adrenaline surging through her body in such great quantities that she was shivering and shuddering. Tracy Sin on the other hand, felt more of an icy rage to her as she followed behind her team mate and sister in arms. Her fists were clenched tightly, knuckles white. It was an odd juxtaposition that Tracy found herself actually the calmer of the two, but even then her own rage and fury was boiling in her blood. She too quivered a bit with adrenaline, but not to the extent of her hyperactive counterpart. “ Those...fucking... FUCKS!!!” Becky shouted furiously, “ They come out there... embarrass us... Make stupid little jokes! Oh you stole our move, waah waah waah!! FFFFFUUUUUCCCCKKKK THEM!!!” Becky dug her fingernails into the wooden shelf behind the bench and threw it to the floor, the cheap particle board splitting and cracking on impact. Tracy walked up behind her and took her by the arms with great strength, lifting her off the floor effortlessly. “ PUT ME DOWN! PUT ME DOWN GODDAMNIT TRACYKINS!!!! RRRRAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!” She kicked and thrashed violently, but Tracy just calmly held her out at arms length until she finally started to tire our, panting and gasping for air. She was normally much more controlled and calm, but her fury sapped much of her energy and when she hung limp, Tracy finally spoke. “ Calm... the fuck... down,” Tracy said with a surprisingly even tone before setting Becky down. Ms. Mercy turned and sat down on the cracked shelving she tossed upon the floor, elbows on her knees and chin on her clenched fists, pouting and brooding. “ Fine...,” Becky said at last, “But they've gotta' pay. They need to pay.” “ They will pay, sister. They will pay the price with their blood. I... do not... CARE what size this Press Fuck is. I do not CARE how fast that little shit with him is. I DO NOT CARE HOW GOOD THEY ARE, BECKLYNN... We will make them pay.” Becky smiled with cheery maniacal glee up at her larger psychotic friend. “ When we first met, Becky, we were nothing.... I was a joke and nobody knew who you were, but together we're almost unstoppable. NO ONE CAN STOP US!!!” With a nod, Becky stroked some of that dark hair from her face and leaned back with a sigh. “ You know what's sad, Tracykins?” She said, “ The Bombtrax have a lot in common with us. We watched all the PAW shows and I really kinda' liked them. I thought they could be our friends... Why is it everyone we want to be friends with always end up hating us or attacking us? That's what hurts more than anything... They seemed like our kind of people, you know?” Tracy growled a bit and walked over to the cooler nearby. With a flip of the lid, she reached into the iced contents and picked up a piece of bloodied meat in a zip lock bag. She ripped it open, yanking the contents within out. With her teeth she tore off a chunk and started chewing it, savoring that oh so familiar texture that wasn't beef, chicken, or lamb.... “ They are not the first to cross us and know not what they were dealing with. Nor were they the first to hurt us,” Tracy said with menace in her tone, “ They don't want to be our friends? Fine. We don't need friends, we need... VICTIMS, Becky.” Becky shot a smile towards her sister in arms, “ Tracykins, let the bodies hit tha' floor....” Tracy smiled back at her with evil intentions before taking another bite of that mystery meat. Becky kicked giggled a bit as the gears started to turn inside of her head. =================================
OFF CAMERA – Becky's Diary – AUGUST 6th 2016
=================================
Dear Diary,
I'm still mad about what happened on Wicked 16. We did some research and realized that The Bombtrax are not what we thought they were at all. Anybody who says their name, even if it's just one time, gets attacked. I don't know why, so I'm going to guess that they are either really insecure or they really hate their name, but if they hated their name so much, then why use it? I mean seriously, It's like Totally your team and if you don't like what you're called, change it!
Like seriously, why keep a name that only makes you mad enough to attack people like idiots when you hear it? I remember Sebastian DeBlanc once saying to us in a meeting that if someone says your name on camera, that's free advertising for better or worse. I liked Sebby and wish he wasn't gone. He was good to us, unlike Angel Kash and Ursula Von Bitchface. He didn't use us, he treated us like we were friends, but he's gone now. Out of our lives.
PAW is our home now and we've been threatened in our new home. Tracy says focus on the tag titles now, get revenge later. For all of her screaming and yelling, sometimes she really does have a good head on her shoulders. I will wait for now, but eventually the Bombtrax will have to pay for what they did to us. The humiliation can not and will not stand.
Tomorrow I will be taking a trip with Tracykins to get everything in perspective and help me focus more. I need to go back to the place that made me... I need to go home...=================================
OFF CAMERA – AUGUST 7th 2016
=================================Becky was alone as she walked through the charred wreckage of her home, burned long ago. She hated this place, but seeing it's charred wreckage always brought a sense of satisfaction to her face. It still amazed her that much of the frame was still intact and that nobody had demolished this place of nightmares yet. Stepping through the hallway, she entered her old bedroom, the source of the fire. With a smile on her face, she walked to the blackest corner of the room, the scorched brick and old blackened steel frame exposed. This was the source of the fire. This was where it all began... Becky's mind drifted as she knelt down over that spot, her fingers stroking the black floor, collecting some old soot on her finger tips. Her childhood raced through her brain, a hateful scowl writing itself on her face. She could remember his touch on her skin, teeth on her ear and neck, and feeling nothing but hurt as she was pinned to the floor while he violated her. She had done what she always did, cry and beg him to stop, but he would not stop, choosing to make her suffer until he was done with her.
“I'm sorry, but you're so pretty, Becky,” He'd always said before kissing her on her forehead and leaving her alone in her room every night on the floor as a quivering mess.
“Was this love? Was this how someone showed affection?” She always wondered in silence each time he did this to her.
It was the reason why she always did what she could to keep from going home. She was an honor student at Malibu High, which gained her access to several extracurricular activities such as cheer leading, editing for the high school newspaper, Art courses, college studies, and even participating in an after school photo journalism club, though cheer leading was always her favorite. It took up the most time and she found it a lot of fun. In public, all they saw was an eager overachiever who wanted to excel at everything she did.
She couldn't tell them the ugly and humiliating truth. What would her friends say if they knew what was happening to her? Not only would they point and laugh, but then she'd have to answer to him and if this was his affection, she could only imagine what terrible price his punishment would exact from her. Fear kept her silent. How much her present self chided the child that came before her, wishing she wasn't such a scared little bitch.
What was the point of her being here, in this burned out husk of a home? The reason was that this was also the very spot where she finally released herself from the shackles that bound her. This very spot was where she ended him. This very spot was where he sat, covered in gasoline and tied in twine. This was the final resting place of Benjamin Mergott. Becky smiled as tears of joy running down her face as she remembered the look of terror in his eyes as she threw a burning match on his body. The smell of burning flesh filled her nostrils once again and his screams of pure agony were like choir music. Even years later, when she was down, this place would always make her remember how much worse things could be and how much better it could get. “ I hope you're still roasting in hell, Daddy and that the devil is raping your soul as you raped both mine and my body. You know what they say... it's all fun and games until someone's burned alive. Then it's an absolute gas. See you in a few years, Daddy. Maybe the horned guy will let me have some fun too. I mean you are responsible for everything I do and all because you wouldn't do the right thing. You wouldn't grant me mercy from this life and kill me when I found my way out of mother's womb.” She rose to her feet, then spat on the floor where he sat burning all those years ago. Wiping at her face, she turned and walked out of the destroyed bedroom. ================================= OFF CAMERA – Meanwhile.... ================================= Behind the wheel of a white panel van, Tracy Sin waited outside for Becky Mercy. Much like her demented sister in arms, she too was having a moment of reflection. It was always before a big fight that she found herself ruminating on her past and the horrible moments that made up her teenage years. Though her story wasn't as horrific as Becky's, something she secretly pitied, it was an experience that would be scarring for many.
She remembered how the other kids mercilessly picked on her, the shy, quiet girl who was morbidly obese. It wasn't her fault that she was that way, but a condition called hypothyroidism that had been onset ever since she was eight years of age. It wouldn't be learned until many years later, but that combined with her taking after her father's Norse genetics that lent itself to her being a giant among most children and being even taller than some of her teachers in her teenage years didn't help matters either.
Fat Ass Tracy was their favorite insult, the effect doubled when the acronym was taken into account. The cruelty of the other kids knew no bounds and she'd retreat away, wanting to just be left alone. She spent nights crying herself to sleep. Her mother often did what she could to comfort her, while her father more or less demanded she toughen up and fight back.
“You're bigger than every kid there! Knock the shit out of them!” was what he always told her, but in those days, she was a pacifist and didn't believe in violence. It always disgusted Tracy when she thought of how soft she was back then.
Legacy High school often forced it's way into her thoughts whenever her mind wandered into the past. It was during her senior year that she took the first steps towards becoming the beast that terrorizes wrestling rings alongside Ms. Mercy
She thought back to Senior prom, a moment that most teenagers either remember with great fondness or total apathy. In her case, it would be neither. Tricked into coming by a cheerleader named Lisa, Tracy actually found herself warmly received for the first time in her life by her peers. She didn't smell the trouble brewing. Deep down, she just wanted to be accepted as anyone else. Then came the last dance.
Unbeknownst to her, two pranksters stood in the rafters of the high school gym with two buckets in their hands. Below them Tracy danced with one of the football players at Lisa's prodding. Even though her every nerve was screaming that something was wrong, she ignored it. This was everything she had ever wanted. She was no fool, but it was a fantasy of hers coming true. It was only when the crowd gathered around and that her football player had backed away that she knew something bad was coming.
Lisa pointed up with a big smile and a nod and Tracy looked up. Two buckets of Pig's blood fell upon her face like a waterfall of deep crimson, the other students backing up with wicked laughter. She could taste the blood, feel it burning in her eyes and clogging her nostrils. She'd rub her eyes furiously to get the blood out of them, but the blood was warm and it felt good on her skin....
Their laughter would hit her seconds later as her fists clenched. Rage would be the result, combined with hunger... Lisa walked up, pointing at her.
“HA HA! Look at you, Fat Ass Tracy! We covered you with your sister's blood! Miss Piggy looks good on you! Oink Oink!” She said with mocking laughter.
“FAT ASS TRACY! FAT ASS TRACY!!! FAT ASS TRACY!!!” They would chant in unison. The other teachers would move in, stunned and shocked by what had happened, but their movements weren't fast enough. Tracy dove upon Lisa and began biting and tearing at the woman's face with her teeth, her then three hundred and fifty pound body practically crushing the poor girl screaming and wailing as the flesh on her face was torn away by Tracy's teeth.
It took four teachers and most of the football team to pull Tracy off of the girl. She was still chewing on a piece of her cheek as they pulled her away. Lisa never recovered, her face permanently scarred and horribly mutilated.
Yet the price Tracy's family paid was even higher. Lisa's mother not only pressed charges for criminal assault, but sued her parents for the damage to their daughter's face and psyche. While Tracy spent her first year in the Nevada State Asylum, her mother and father lost everything in the lawsuit and her father turned to alcoholism. It was only after she had finally been released that she'd find out her parents divorced and separated.
She spent two years in the Asylum and it was on that second year that Tracy met Becky. Though friends in the present, at first, Becky reminded her of the cheerleaders who tormented and tricked her. Immediately Tracy targeted the young waif of a girl, waiting for the shift change when the orderlies and guards would often miss things. They were always so lax with patients, especially in the commons area. Tracy often thought they must have gotten their thrills off of letting the crazies go at each other from time to time.
She rushed in and grabbed Becky by the throat, slamming her against the wall. She was intent on chewing her flesh between her teeth, but the words that managed to choke their way past Becky's lips would actually halt Tracy from following through with that imperative.
“Do it... kill me... whatcha' waitin' for? DO IT!!” the young girl said to her. Tracy stared at her in shock, never having someone so willingly give up their life without a fight. The pause was long enough for the guards to beat her down with batons, forcing her to drop Becky.
She'd spend a few days in solitary under observation, naturally, and get a couple more months tacked on to her sentence. Tracy knew the drill, given her history of attacking other patients. It wouldn't be until a week later she was even allowed access to the Asylum's common room and cafeteria again. It was there that she saw Becky a second time, all cheerful and smiling, another thing that would have her utterly perplexed.
“So I heard your name was Tracy! Hey Tracy! I'm Becky!” She said in a perky manner that irritated Tracy almost as much as the bland, tasteless meal she was forced to eat.
“Hi...” Tracy said back, shuffling a bit with discomfort in her seat. She abhorred interaction with others. Talking with people always made her nervous and was an affliction she suffered with her entire life. It was one of the key reasons she always roared at the camera as it took every ounce of effort for her to speak knowing that so many were watching her.
“So whatcha' in for?” The girl asked her.
“Trying to eat someone's face....” Tracy replied.
For a few seconds, the young Becklynn thought of how to reply, then smiled unnervingly at Tracy, “Why? Are people tasty?”
The question caught Tracy off guard. There were plenty of crazies within the Nevada State Asylum, but none ever asked her if people were tasty. She looked at Becky with a mixture of confusion and curiosity.
“Yes....” she finally answered back.
Becky poked at the lump of meat on her plate with her plastic spork, her brow quirked as she tried to figure out if it was chicken or pork or some combination of the two.
“I don't like this place. It's kinda' depressing and they won't let me do what I want.”
Tracy, genuinely curious about another patient for the first time ever, asked, “What are you in for?”
With a smile and a gleeful giggle, Becky answered, “I burned my murdering, lying, rapist Daddy to death in a fire.”
The answer didn't horrify Tracy in the slightest. She instead ripped a piece of her odd lump of meat and began chewing it. It disgusted her, but she had to eat or go hungry.
“Let's be friends,” Becky said suddenly, “I tried to be friends with some of the other people here, but one guy just mumbles and scratches himself a lot and the other threw water on me and tried to cleanse the devil's from my body. I kicked him in his balls when nobody was looking.”She giggled and Tracy actually smiled legitimately for the first time in years. The two had been inseparable ever since. Whenever Tracy felt depressed, Becky cheered her up. Whenever Becky was accosted by some other inmate, Tracy would stalk them until they were alone and show them why that was a bad idea. Tracy's sentence in the asylum was up before Becky's however and it wouldn't be until years later that they'd meet up again in the place that put the Pitt in Pittsburgh.... A knock on the door window would actually startle Tracy out of her moment of revere. “ OK ALL DONE! Let's go Tracykins,” Becky said with a big smile on her face. Tracy started the van up as Becky slid open the back door and climbed through to the passenger seat. Settling down and buckling up, (She's crazy, not an idiot folks) Becky giggled a bit and said to her large counterpart, “We can catch some lunch along the way.” With a smirk, Tracy threw the van into gear and the two were on the road again, heading straight for a little place called Purity. =================================
OFF CAMERA – Becky's Diary – AUGUST 14th 2016
=================================Dear Diary,
We've watched footage of our competition and they are all really good. Me and Tracy will have an uphill battle if we're to get back what The Bombtrax stole from us. So far, as each of our competitors address us they hammer home what I already kind of knew.
They see us as jokes. They laugh and mock us and even the one compliment from Mikael was backhanded. They toy with us, but don't realize that we're playful monsters. We aren't loud and noisy for the sake of it. We're just girls who want to have fun! What's wrong with having some fucking fun?! Are they all just boring fuddy duddies who just want to talk on and on about the seriousness of life and be all dramatic all the time? Seriously! Like W.T.F?!
I wish they could understand, but they take themselves so seriously that the joke is almost a reflection. They want us to conform. They want us to be just like them. To me that is the joke. Because we're not polished and perfect, because we're not like they are. Why should we be like everybody else, all sad and depressing? I had enough of sad and depressing when I was a little girl being molested by Daddy. I don't need that in my life and if they think for one second that they are going to get me to be like them, all moody and brooding, they all have another thing coming. I'm the optimistic killer, smiling through my pain.
Tracy is the raging demon, roaring with both laughter and anger as she destroys our enemies alongside me. Together, we can't be stopped. Let the petty Bombtrax be petty and sad. Let them all wallow in their misery as we smile and compound their problems manifest.
Mercy & Sin will be the happiest two woman Apocalypse anyone has ever met!=================================
CAMERA ON – AUGUST 15th 2016
=================================A light suddenly shined down upon her from high above, dispelling the pitch black darkness around herself and her sister in arms. Becky Mercy stood alongside Tracy Sin, both in their full ring attire. Becky had her hands on her hips while Tracy stood with her arms crossed and head tilted forward. She was like an imposing wall next to a mischievous and beautiful imp of a woman. The scowl on her face was hard and threatening, while Becky gave a coy smile to the camera before she began the festivities. “ At first,” she started, “ I was mad as hell. I wanted to tear anything and everything apart with my own bare hands. I wanted to find those miserable fucks, the Boob Trax and I wanted to rip their throats out and feed the meat on their bones to Tracykins. Then I calmed down and took a minute to really think about what had happened.” Miss Mercy clasped her hands behind her back, her head tilting ever so slightly while Tracy stared on like a silent and angry monolith. “ So what you got mad about was us saying your name one time. Not a bunch of times, just once and because we didn't 'know' you. You got mad because we used a move similar to yours, nevermind that we came up with that on our own and until we watched some old Pure Amusement videos, never would have known about you either. Are you really that egotistical that you think that you are the only idiots who can come up with a move?” Becky snickered and shook her head. “ You little boys are so insecure. You get mentioned just one time by two girls and what do you do? You ambush them. Tracykins is a big girl, but Press is like 7 bejillion feet tall and I'm like five and a half and I look small even next to Flaming Youth and yet you still had to come out there and humiliate us.” Tracy growled, low and rumbling as Becky continued on. “ So what is it boys? Are you packing socks under your cod pieces? Are your dicks so tiny that you're threatened by a couple ass kicking vaginas? Are you upset that we mentioned you, two totally well known guys who are practically household names to most of the people in Louisiana? Who lives in this state that hasn't heard of you two?” Becky shot a withering stare and shouted at the camera, “ OF COURSE YOUR NAME'S WILL COME UP, MORONS! Like seriously... WHO HASN'T HEARD OF YOU !!!” Her breaths came hot and heavy, her temper flared as she brought her emotions to full bore. “ So nobody can say Bomb Trax? The DJ at the local club can't say 'drop the bomb tracks!' and not get his ass beaten by Press and Flamer? Like seriously, what a fucking joke! You come at us trying to be intimidating and all scary. We just got through beating on Kelsey Spinster and Little Orphan Annie Bell. We were celebrating and tired, so naturally you totes got the jump on us.” There was a dangerous gleam to her appearance as an unhinged, crooked smile split those black painted lips. “ The way I see it, you're both a pair of insecure dickless pieces of trash that went out of your way to make us look like jokes, Boob Trax and for no reason other than to compensate for your small penises and stroke your massive egos.” Tracy finally spoke up, her voice icy and chilled at first, “ Bomb Trax, You cocked your leg up and pissed on us like a tree. What happens to the dog who doesn't look up to see that the tree he pissed on is falling down?” There was a momentary pause, as if Tracy were waiting for the answer. When it didn't come, she roared that answer. “ HE GET'S CRUSHED BY IT!” Becky smiled approvingly. “ That's right. Pay close attention to Bad Mood Rising... because me and Tracykins? You put us in a really Bad mood that is far more dangerous than any stupid old moon in the sky. We're going to assassinate the Mimes, Put a couple Wolves out of their misery, give the Snake and Raike a couple Mercy Killings, psyche out Johnny Sykes, and drop Da Bomb Dot Com right on Ava Miller's stupid ugly face!” Her bold proclamation was not the end, however as she clapped her hands together. “ You may look at me and Tracykins and think, 'O.M.G. What a couple of cocky cunts!' and yeah, I can see that. The thing you don't see is that we know and compliment each other so well! Tracykins is a tank and I'm the girl with the cannons for legs. We both hit harder than you can possibly imagine and our moves? They can totally change the fight to something a whole hell of a lot less favorable for any of you.” She scoffs as she thinks of the highest rated tag team in the entire match... “ The Mime Assassins and the two of us have a lot in common. They are slippery, sneaky, and willing to pull any dirty trick they possibly can, but are they as deranged as I am? Are they as hungry and violent as Tracykins? Something tells me that for all their finesse and smarts, they've never met the savage combination of beauty and beast...” Tracy looked down at Becky with an arched brow and Becky looked back over one shoulder with a wry smile. “ You are beautiful, don't gimme' that look!” Becky let out a small giggle and turned her gaze back to the camera. Tracy shrugged her shoulders and resumed her angry scowl. Ms. Mercy placed her hands on her hips, cocking them slightly to one side. “... but seriously children, what I find funny is that they, like so many others, are talking about us like we're a pair of jokes. Keep smiling, Francie pants. Keep mocking us. The last bitch who ever mocked us is buried somewhere quiet, never to be heard from again and she would have destroyed your precious Mimes all by herself.” She smirked a bit as Tracy added to that sentiment, “ I.... HATE Mimes. At least clowns are funny, but mimes irritate me and you, Francis Cuppola, are the only reason they even have a job. Without you, they have no voice and would be exposed as the witless FUCK STAINS that they are. You are the sails on their ship and without that thin fabric holding them together, they would be listless and without direction. It's sad that instead of canvas, the wind pushes against bed sheets on balsa wood posts. When the storm of Mercy & Sin hits your sails, you will tear like the cheap fabric you are and your team.... WILL BE SMASHED AGAINST THE ROCKS INTO A THOUSAND PIECES OF MEAT AND SINEW!!” Becky looked over her shoulder at Tracy with an approving nod, “ Nnnnniiiiiiiiicccceee!” Tracy continued on “ and the wolves... Adam Wolfe and some guy who wants to look like a big skunk in a suit, Mikael...” Ms. Mercy tilted her head a bit, looking up towards the light above while she tapped a finger to her chin, interrupting Tracy for a moment, “ Actually, Mikael, me and Tracykins kind of like you and your look,” She looked back at the camera and let her right arm drop down to her side, the other hand still on her cocked hip. “ You look so cool and mysterious, but ya' ever heard of the notion of style over substance? We've heard about you calling yourself God and Paragon of this and that and you know why people like to call themselves names like that? Because they need to sound more impressive than they actually are. I mean a guy named Mike isn't that impressive, but if you call him Mike The totally awesome Killer or Godly Mike, he suddenly seems like he's more than just plain old Mike don't he?” She snickered and shook her head. Tracy tilted her head slightly to the right, taking her turn now, “ Even a God can fall, Mikael and fall you will... SCREAMING AS WE TEAR YOUR BODY AND SOUL APART!” “ ...and Adam Wolfe?” Becky tilted her head back at bit, “ Ok, so I will admit I totes don't get you man. You play with puppets and talk to yourself a lot. Ssssoooooooo, we'll just wing it with you. We're all kindred crazies here and honestly, I like your puppets. They are so awesome! Maybe we'll take one home as a souvenier after me or Tracykins knock your ass out, mmkay?” “ Adam Wolfe... YOU WILL BE THE FIRST HEAD MOUNTED FLESH PUPPET AS WE SHOVE MIKAEL'S HEAD UP YOUR ASS!” Tracy bellowed in response. “... and then there's team Snake. Plissykins and Rakey Raike. Like, O....M...G... I totes love your mustache Plissykins!,” Becky paused to draw a make believe mustache over her ruby red lips, “ You keep rocking that 'stache grease because you are toooootally killing it! So you're some old soldier guy partnering up with like the one guy in this whole thing that me and Tracykins see as a real threat.” Becky stepped forward, pressing her palms together as she smiled wickedly upon the camera. “ Johnny Raike, you're not only a hot piece of man meat, but you're a champion and you've beaten so many toughies into paste that we would be like, total idiots if me and Tracykins ignored you. Johnny, it's a shame you only like boys, because I definitely think you're beyond sexy, but then that's what throws everyone off that faces you isn't it?” “ I want to destroy someone beautiful....” “ Yes Tracykins, we will because we have to... but not because we want to,” Becky licked her lips in a seductive fashion and gave her eyeblashess a little flutter, “ Johnny, Mercy & Sin are going to give you and everyone else a night you certainly will not forget. All you men surrounding us.... your testosterone filling the air and threatening to overpower us....” Becky took in a deep inhale through her nostrils. “ How lucky Ava really is that she won't be alone with all these big strong men, but the scene we paint will not be as erotic as the scenario sounds.... no...” “ We will maim... hurt... tenderize... chew... and SLAUGHTER EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOU!!!!” “... and the only fluids we will be wearing and swallowing, will be the blood of nearly the entire PAW Tag Team Division. Just as we did in the Pitt, we will do here. If we are not the Tag Team Champions, then we will make sure nobody else will be! Do you want to know why the Tag titles rarely changed hands in the Pitt? Why their tag team division became so thin? Because me and Tracykins destroyed each and every one that ever faced us. So please, keep underestimating us like everyone else does. Keep talking about how we're sad little girls who can't do anything. Keep the joke alive until we reflect it back upon you and Tracy has your face flesh between her teeth...” Becky slowly drew her thumbnail across her neck, drawing her skin tight by tilting her head back and straining her jaw. This made the veins pop, adding dramatic effect to her thumb slice motion. “ Only then you'll realize the truth and it'll be far.... too.... late.” “ and you're whole world WILL BE PAINTED BLACK!!!” Tracy added with finality. The light above them immediately cut out and in the darkness Becky began humming that most infamous riff of Paint it Black....
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869
PAW Cub
Posts: 13
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Post by 869 on Aug 16, 2016 2:52:37 GMT
Off-camera
Date: Undisclosed
Location: Mikael's castle - Sogn Og Fjordane, Norway
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The scene is a mess – it’s the afterwards of Adam Wolfe’s actions during the ending of Puppet Pals which was recorded in a room within Mikael’s castle. The set is fallen alongside a few personal objects that belong to the Norwegian wrestler. The chairs and tables were also turned upside down. Mikael is left standing, perplexed, in the middle of room as he looks around. Certainly, the sight of a disorder that he is not accustomed with. He closes his eyes while his index & middle fingers press his eyebrows, he takes a couple of deep breathes in an attempt to calm himself down.
“Björn!?”
It doesn’t take too long until the old man shows up in sight – he’s wearing his usual tuxedo. The loyal butler takes a quick bow; next, shakes his head once he notices the messy room. He looks up to Mikael while the latter has his eyes glued on a broken vase which multiple pieces lie next to Wolfe’s bag.
“Wolfe?”
Mikael nods. There is no need to answer that question after all. They know each other for a long period of time, Björn is fully aware that no individual living in that castle would ever do that disorder… Unless we are talking about Svanr, because he is a whole new level of insanity. Perhaps that is what worries Mikael the most, a unknown man wandering in his castle could turn out to be a bad day – for the said man, of course.
“Do me a favor, Björn… Find Wolfe and bring him back here. I have neither the desire nor the free time to play his childish games. Kveldulv is not aware of his presence in the castle; therefore, if for some unfortunate reason Wolfe’s found by him… Then I will not have a partner for our Bad Moon Rising contest. Björn… Find him. Now.”
“I shall do as you command, master.”
So he says before a quick bow. He leaves the room. Mikael, once again left in the room by himself, walks toward the broken vase. He kneels and attempts to put some of the pieces together. The vase itself doesn’t look that expensive, the memories that it represents are relevant to the kneeled man, though. He slides his left hand on his hair while his right fingers hit the right thumb – back and forth one by one. Mikael is most likely contemplating his thoughts. A brief silence is interrupted by Björn’s voice.
“Sir?”
Mikael doesn’t turn around to look at him – a lazy response follows so.
“Have you found him yet, Björn?”
“I am afraid not, sir… However, you have another guest.”
Mikael slowly turns his head to the door… The guest is none other than Madam Genocide. The man smiles and gets back to his feet. He adjusts his jacket’s lapel and walks toward Wolfe’s manager. Once they are face to face, Mikael extends his arm, palm of the hands up as if he is requesting Madame’s hands for a handshake. And so they do, Mikael politely shakes her hand.
“It is an honor to have you here, misses… Oh, pardon me, what is your name? Firstly, let us take a seat, shall we?”
Mikael says as he points at two chairs that Björn had just placed on the corner of the room. They find themselves comfortable in their chairs – the butler stands in front of them.
“Would you like anything to satiate your thirst or hunger, master?”
“Just… Find Wolfe. And do not fall for his little games, this is not hide-and-seek – the man certainly has a death wish for doing that within these walls.”
“Certainly. As you wish, master!”
Björn bows once again then leaves the room. Mikael puts his hands together, fingers embracing each other as he looks at Madame Genocide.
“Pardon my lack of manners and the mess of the room… I… was not expecting that at all. Anyway, I believe you already know this, but I am repeating myself in case I feel like it is necessary. You may call me Mikael. Nice to meet you – your name? Oh, better yet, what brings you to this fine place in such distant lands such as Norway?”
Looking at the mess that surrounds her, Jessica can’t help but shake her head. She scratches her head as she knows the mess could only have been made by Wolfe. Crossing her legs, she stares at the man before her.
“You can call me Madame Genocide. I see you met my friend Wolfe. Or was it Genocide that caused this mess? We’re at a time now where I’m not even sure who is who.”
Jessica’s gaze drops to the floor as she shifts uncomfortably in her seat. She had been trying for months to help Wolfe take full control of his body but with each passing day the line between his alter ego and himself seems to become thinner. As she is about to speak, rushed footsteps appear to run above them as screams echo down to the room she sits in. Letting out a loud sigh she returns her gaze to the man before her.
“Listen, Mikael. I have a problem. Normally, I don’t want people to help me with my problems as I tend to be able to fix them on my own. The problem now is, I can’t. For over a year now the personalities of both Adam Wolfe and Genocide have been fighting for control of a single body. In case you haven’t noticed, neither seems to be able to beat the other. With each passing day the two personalities merge causing each to become more crazy and more unstable. It’s causing Genocide to start speaking as if he is Wolfe and causing Wolfe to be more destructive.”
Jessica pauses to look at the room that appears to be flipped upside down by Wolfe. She shakes her head again and looks back at Mikael.
“Now my problem has slowly became yours. Thankfully, a mutual friend of ours recommended you. She advised me that you may be the person that can help fix his problem. So that is why I came here today. To ask for…”
Without an explanation, Wolfe bolts into the room. He looks around for a hiding spot before noticing Madame Genocide sitting across from Mikael. A loud scream bursts out of him as he rushes over to the pair.
“Hi Starr! Hi Mikey! Wolfe ran into that Kebelbum guy from the Pedophile Patrol. He seemed really confused so Wolfe tossed a blanket over his head. Wolfe figured Kebelbum was it for hide & seek so Wolfe ran down here looking for a better hiding spot. Don’t tell him Wolfe is here. Bye guys! Let’s go Franchinger.”
Nodding down at the puppet on his finger, Wolfe takes off running down the hallway. Both Madame and Mikael look extremely confused with what they witnessed.
Out of sudden, Mikael gets back to his feet and quickly paces toward Wolfe’s direction – it is too late, though. He’s gone somewhere else. His laugh can be heard fading away as Mikael has his head lowered, certainly frustrated and worried. Right after he turns his back to the entrance, an angry voice catches his attention.
“Mikael!”
He turns around. A massive individual approaches him, carrying a white blanket in hands – clenched fists. He breathes heavily and his teeth are showing, not as a smile. The man is definitely furious.
“Det er en inntrenger vandrende rundt, fikk du ikke høre? Komme! Jeg skal kose seg med liket!!!” (Translation: There is an intruder wandering around, did you not hear? Come! I shall feast on his corpse!!!)
Mikael grabs his shoulders and pushes him on the wall. The impact shakes a light bulb hanging above their heads.
“Nei! Ro deg ned, Kveldulv ... Mannen er ikke en inntrenger .” (Translation: No! Calm yourself, Kveldulv... The man is not an intruder.)
“Tull! Han snakket til meg på engelsk! det er en av disse jævla amerikanere! Jeg vil vikle halsen hans med hans egne innvoller og henge ham opp som min nye skyting målet! La meg gå! Nå!” (Translation: Bullshit! He spoke to me in English! He is one of those fucking Americans! I will wrap his neck with his own intestines and hang him up as my new shooting target! Let me go! Now!)
Kveldulv replied right away – still angered. One can notice that the man is pretty much allowing Mikael to hold him back. He could certainly lift the PAW’s wrestler with ease and get him out of his way. Mikael; however, possesses vast control upon his actions. He looks right into his eyes while saying the following.
“The man is a guest!!!”
Kveldulv stares back to Mikael in silence – he hates when English is spoken in the surroundings.
“Du tar amerikanerne til vårt hjem nå? Uh? Du bringe fienden til vårt hjemland, Mikael. Du kommer til myk. Kanskje det er min tur til å ta over ... Det er min tid til å overskride!” (You bring Americans to our home now? Uh? You bring the enemy to our homeland, Mikael. You're going soft. Maybe it's my turn to take over ... It's my time to transcend.)
“He is Canadian… Kveldulv, it has been a while since the last time that I brought a guest to our home. The last one was Yoyo. You remember her, do you not? You said it yourself that she belonged to us!”
Kveldulv grunts. He finally glares in the room and realizes that Madam Genocide was watching them. He lifts his hands up and signals as if he is squeezing her neck. Mikael moves slightly to the side in order to stay in front of Kveldulv’s eye stare. They are once again eye-to-eye.
“Finn Wolfe ... Bringe ham tilbake hit. I live. Ingen fysiske skader overhodet . Forstår du?” (Translation: Find Wolfe... Bring him back here. Alive. No physical damage whatsoever. Do you understand?)
Kveldulv ignores the last words. He still has his fists clenched tightly as he looks into Mikael’s eyes with deadly intentions.
“FORSTÅR DU!?” (Translation: DO YOU UNDERSTAND!?)
Mikael screams. The eye-to-eye battle keeps going for a minute – the awkward silence is interrupted by Wolfe’s laughter far away from them. Kveldulv reluctantly nods and walks toward the direction of the sound. Mikael takes a deep breath and gets back to the room.
“As you were able to notice, Madame… Your problem is but a daily routine for me. Unfortunately, that man is not even my biggest challenge. I am glad that Wolfe found him instead of the other one… Because the other one would not attempt to have words – or play his little game, per say. Anyway, I do not intend to pass an aura of morbidity and depression.”
Mikael finally takes a seat. He scratches the back of his head and takes some time to speak. This time; however, he speaks in a calm and confident manner.
“Listen, I assure you that if you attempt to suppress Wolfe’s… Transformation, not only will you be sealing your own demise, but you will also put the others surrounding him in danger. I know that because I have lived that situation before. It is a delicate matter which I do not feel like getting into. Long story short, Wolfe needs to find himself… He needs to take control of his own actions. I wonder – do you remember when Wolfe started to portray multiple personalities? Oh, I am just curious. Because such might be associated to a traumatic experience. What do you think about that?”
“I’m not sure really. Things went downhill for him during his time in Wrestle or Die!. Maybe he took one too many bumps. He stood toe to toe with a giant that most people feared at one point. The problem with a man that feels no fear is they all end up hurt eventually. May something broke him.”
A flashback freezes Jessica in her tracks. Memories of Wolfe wrestling in many other promotions under many other names. She shudders at the thought as she looks back at Mikael.
“There was a time when Wolfe was like many other wrestlers. On screen he acted much different than he did off. This allowed him to wrestle under other names, one of which being Genocide. At some point, Wolfe’s in ring persona became is out of ring one as well. What if the other personas had their own personalities and they try to take over like Genocide is? What could happen to Wolfe?”
As if on cue, Wolfe came bolting around the corner. Stopping between the two, Wolfe raises his hands up. In his palms is a handful of something black. After looking closer, Jessica realised the something was a handful of hair.
“Wolfe found the last member of the Pedophile Patrol! Wolfe grabbed him and got a handful of his hair. Look!”
As Wolfe tries to show Mikael, Svanr also comes rushing from around the corner. Wolfe hops behind Jessica as Mikael steps in front of Svanr. Wolfe starts to growl at the other man as Jessica is forced to hold him back.
“Grr! Wolfe wanted to play but Sammy woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Wolfe managed to pull out some hair so that he could escape. Bad Sammy. Wolfe is the Big Bad Wolfe here!”
Unlike the previous individual, Svanr doesn’t look angry at all. In fact, the man has a big smile across the face. His head is slightly tilted to the left as he looks to Wolfe in a maniacal manner. Mikael lifts his hands up as if he is trying to catch Svanr’s attention, the latter; however, does not fall for it. He pulls a butcher knife out of his apron’s pocket.
“Hee-HEE-HEEEEEE! LETS PLAAAAAAAAAAAAAY! C’mon c’mon c’mon c’mon C’MON C’MON C’MON C’MON C’MON! AREN’T YOU….. A WOLF? LETS PLAAAAAAAAAAY! Oh-yes, I will make sure to SLICE your skin perfectly – YES! And then… Just then. I will… Craft myself A NEW COAT HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”
Svanr smacks his own head a couple of times as his laugh echoes all over the place. Mikael appears to be very worried. He actually embraces the insane guy and pulls him away of Wolfe’s sight. Next, he goes to one of his knees and speaks calmly as if he is talking to a child.
“Listen, Svanr… Listen to me. No. Okay? I need you to stay focused for now. Please.”
Svanr finally drops the butcher knife and his face expression quickly switches to a sad one.
“But… But. But why!? Whyyyyyyyyyyyy hee-hee-HAAAA HAHAAAAHAA! I like to play games, Mikael! The big bad wolf wants to play games… And I… I want a new skin mask for my collection! Please please please? I promise he will be… The LAST ONE HAHAHA OH-YES!”
“No no no no, listen… There is no time for games, Svanr. Not now.”
“Aaaaaaaaah… No fun. NO. FUN! Your command, my actions, God… But know that I will be watching tee-hee-haaa! And if he tries anything funny, I will have to…”
“… Yes, I understand.”
Mikael interrupts him right away. He certainly does not want the others to listen to Svanr’s words. Next, Mikael softly places his hand upon Svanr’s head as if he is blessing him then he walks towards Madame and Wolfe. The man lets out a long sigh. As he speaks the following, Svanr sits on the floor, arms crossed, playing with his own hair.
“Wolfe… Enough. ENOUGH! You have caused a great amount of trouble today. I do hope that you are planning to use the same energy in our upcoming battle – because that will certainly aid us. Nevertheless, you are here and so is your friend. We need to talk… We need to make plans. I know, it does sound boring but, have in mind that a commander that sends his army to a war with no plans is but sending them to death. You had better…”
His speech is interrupted by Kveldulv, whom walks in sight to stand besides Mikael. He crosses his arms and looks at Wolfe – the latter waves his hand, which certainly annoys the beast of a man staring at him.
“Så her er han ... Hva er det du planlegger, Mikael? Hvorfor er disse ubrukelige amerikanere her?” (Translation: So here he is... What are you planning, Mikael? Why are these useless Americans here?)
“Hey hey Kebelbum! English only!”
So says Wolfe before a sarcastic laugh, which makes Svanr laugh along as if he is mirroring Wolfe’s body language. Madame shakes her head as she scolds Wolfe with a slap to the back of the head.
“Kveldulv… Please. Let us show some manners. Even though they are in our homeland, they do not comprehend our mother language. We shall speak in English as long as they are here. Bear with me.”
The big man stays silent – a quick nod follows up.
“Fine… So, gentlemen and lady. Now that we have gathered in the same room, I would like to propose a conversation regarding our future strategies. Any objection?”
Awkward silence. Wolfe certainly had an idea for another joke; however, the serious look that Madame Genocide gave him change his mind.
“Excellent. So, Wolfe… Erm… Wolfe? Are you feeling well?”
Pacing forward, Wolfe bends down and grabs his mask. Sliding it over his head, he paces up to the large man in front of him. Genocide lets out a dark laugh as he clearly is not phased by Kveldulv’s glare. Moving over to Svanr, Genocide just shakes his head at the fool who is talking to himself. Finally moving back to Mikael, Genocide looks him in the eye.
“Always with the plans. Do you not understand who I am? What, I am? Two people inhabiting the same body. Our strength comes from chaos. From making last minute decisions. Not from your silly little plans. We are not an army. You have an oaf and a mutt who follow you like the mindless hounds they are. Rambling on in your language and not willing to accept the outside world. That’s not an army. That’s a farce.”
“That’s enough Genocide. We didn’t come here to argue with your partner.”
“You’re right. We came here for Wolfe to put on his stupid little show. Now he’s gone and pissed off the overgrown jackass and the giggling tool. And here we stand. Only one of us should have this body. And it certainly shouldn’t be that fool.”
Jessica turns aways as she clearly doesn’t agree with what Genocide has been saying. Afterall, she won’t rest until Wolfe is the one in control. But she can’t help but feel like something more is coming.
“Now that Genocide is done making a fool of himself, is there something you wanted to say, Mikael?”
Mikael and Genocide have another intense stare down. Just like earlier when recording Puppet Pals, the Norwegian wrestler shows a smirk as Genocide looks into his eyes in a cold manner. They are certainly not holding back their emotions – or the lack of such, perhaps. Kveldulv walks forward as if he is going to deal with Genocide physically; however, the latter doesn’t even flinch. Mikael holds Kveldulv back.
“Don’t, Kveldulv… Mr. Genocide has just gotten a bit excited… That’s all. Here is what is going to happen. We are going to sit down, gather ourselves, perhaps drink some fine wine and then… Just then, we shall have a serious conversation regarding strategies. Do NOT forget your place, Wolfe. This place is sacred, it is my territory and you will follow my rules. Are we clear?”
Genocide was definitely going to answer negatively; however, Madame Genocide stands in front of him and embraces him, slowly pushing him away as he coldly stares at Mikael. A large wood table is placed in the center of the room by Kveldulv and Svanr. Finally, Björn shows up to bringing the respective chairs for the people to take their seats – And so they do. Whether Genocide likes it or not, it is time to plan their war against the enemies. After all, if they really seek to take those titles to their respective homes, then they must be on the same page in the ring – an obvious fact, indeed.
End.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  On-camera Date: Undisclosed Location: Sogn Og Fjordane, Norway ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The scene fades in a vast dark green flat land which limit can be seen fading into the distant horizon. Tall stone mountains surround the area – they are mostly covered by snow. By observing the surroundings, one could guess that the surroundings do not belong to the United States of America. It is Mikael’s homeland: Sogn og fjordane, Norway. The sky is surprisingly clear, no clouds and no birds either.
Silence prevails.
However, not for long… We hear the strong wind whispering through tree leaves and the small vegetation. Finally, the man that is fighting alongside Adam Wolfe shows up in sight. It is the self-entitled Paragon of Knowledge, Mikael. No need to describe his clothing due to the fact that, as usual, he is dressing as fine as a man is able to, even though it is not a 21st century fashion.
The man has his hands hidden into his jacket’s pockets – he slightly contracts his upper body. It is definitely a cold day in Norway, which is common after all.
“Salutations, PAW enthusiasts & fellow wrestlers.
I go by the name of Mikael – but I am sure that most of you already knew that. I am not the kind of individual that lives off of braggadocio and such idiocy, but for a professional wrestler that has next to nine months of in-ring experience – I have come a long way. I went from being the pale ‘tall freak’ whose nobody believed that would stand as a threat…
… To one half of a team which stand a great chance to be crowned the first ever PAW Tag Team Champions. So far, I have not had too many challenges or happenings that truly had me feeling nervous or, perhaps, even unprepared. For instance, Tokyo Zombie is the only one besides the Bad Moon Rising tag team turmoil match.
This match is certainly another climax in my career. An opportunity that I shall do my best to take advantage of… Oh! An interesting fact for the avid students of the business, even though Wolfe and myself lost our debut match to the talented ones known as Annabel Lee and Kelsey Spencer – we are the ones standing a chance to grab those titles after all.
Not them.
A lesson has been learned, ladies and gentlemen… A painful lesson, indeed. Yet, a lesson that shall NOT be forgotten. It does not matter how many battles you have won during your life time. Because the most important one is… the final one! I know, sounds like a cliché and obvious to a certain extent.
I have told everybody that both of those charming ladies were not ready to deal with Wolfe and myself… Well, destiny speaks for myself when it comes to such matter. Anyway, enough about them, yes? I do not intend to come out as the one who lives in the past… That is definitely not my style. This is but an attempt to emphasize a simple point.
Lose your battles… However, win the war.
That is, obviously, what Wolfe and myself are planning to do. For your information, plans that I am involved never fail. No matter how long it takes for them to be put into motion – I will get them working when it is time. The question I ask myself and I have no problem in sharing such is… Is it time? Are Wolfe and I supposed to be the Tag Champions? Oh, if only I knew… That is why I am extremely excited for this upcoming match. We get to measure our campaign against the best tag teams in the federation.
With no further ado, I’d like to talk to each of them – I promise that I will not take too long. I certainly do not want to bore you people with my intricate thoughts on subjects that matters not for the current moment… Plus, it’s past the time to talk – words do not win your wars, hard planning and serious work do.
I’d like to start on The French Mime Assassins… Why – you ask? Well, simply because I like them! Indeed, you did hear that correctly – I like my opponents. It is an uncommon situation in our current days in my humble opinion. I, for instance, have watched many promotional videos that consist of wrestlers attempting to tear each other’s’ throat apart… They do their best to take an opponent down by insulting them – and their parents, their parents’ parents, their sons, their economic situation, their physical appearances, the way they talk, the way they wrestle, their losses, the way they the way they walk… Hell, the way they breathe.
Pathetic, if you ask me.
The Mimes are incredible – a fine art that has become rarity nowadays. Long gone are the days that the media used to praise real artists such as mimes, clowns, et cetera. For those who are too young to understand my words, I’d like to suggest you to do some research on Charles Chaplin. See, my family really hated foreign movies – foreign television in general. They were extreme nationalists… Fools. A bunch of fools! I possess a vast collection of Charles Chaplin’s movies to this day. They failed to understand something that I have the utmost respect for… It takes a smart individual to convince others with words; however…
… It takes a genius to convince the others, including enemies, using nothing but your own body language.
The French Mime Assassins are, indeed, geniuses. And it is for that reason that I shall not underestimate or even overlook both of them… Even though Wolfe and I have not come to an agreement on this matter, I have decided to go into this match having in mind that those folks will be the most dangerous ones.
Simply because… I like them! I want them to entertain me. Give us everything you’ve got… Entertain the public as well! Earn your victory, or lose with pride.
I just… Wonder… Are you both true assassins? Have you gentlemen ever stuck a knife into a man’s heart and looked into one’s eyes in order to witness one’s life vanishing as the seconds passed by?”
Mikael looks up to the sky for a moment, then, he lets out a quick laugh. The camera moves around to display the environment – the vision is beautiful to our eyes. Mikael motions with his hands as he speaks the following.
“Ava and Sykes.
Apparently, both of you like to have fun… Life is marvelous, is it not? Why not enjoy every single second of it while we are still breathing? Let us laugh, let us joke around with our lovely friends! Certainly, an interesting view of life, yet, such that is not entirely beneficial for your mind if you seek to survive… I am sorry to break it for you, folks.
The reality is upon your eyes… Wolfe and Mikael.
We are not here to laugh – well, Wolfe has his share of silliness, so I beg your pardon for contradicting myself. We are not here to make friends; we are not here to distract you with a funny chit-chat while my other friend bends over behind your legs before I push you… Classic prank, am I right?
No.
We are here to make you realize that most of you have been living a lie. While Wolfe will make sure to prove you that you are NOT ready to transcend physically-wise, I will be breaking your poor arguments down and showing you how wrong you are… I will prove you that you are lying to yourself and the others watching you.
Lying to yourself is, in my opinion, the biggest mistake that you’ll ever make. A mistake that, for some God-like reason, I plan to correct. That is why I am looking forward to meeting you both in the ring, Ava and Sykes.
I want to show you both that life is not about having fun all the times… I wonder – are you two ready to keep your heads up and remain cheerful when the Tag Team titles are taken off your grasp? I guess we will find out. As the Americans like to say – I am sorry for being a party pooper; however, I can tell you both in advance that you will be joining the ranks of Kelsey and Annabel when the dust settles. I do hope that you have your drawing boards prepared for the aftermath of Bad Moon Rising… Re-do your plans.
Embrace the reality...
… Or perish.”
Mikael chuckles after taking a pause. He rubs his hands in order to warm them as he slowly paces toward a small lake. Once he gets there, he crouches and observes the serene water which is definitely too cold to be touched.
“You see this? Peace, tranquility, serenity… Words that Mercy and Sin are certainly not accustomed with. To be fairly honest, I am not really a fan of them. They are too loud. People that scream in an attempt to make their points valid are lacking confidence in their own words. Furthermore, people that feel the need to assault others in order to make their dominance valid are lacking true courage. Your words tell us something, yet, your attitudes show us otherwise, ladies… For your information, whatever happened in The Pitts stays in The Pitts. This is a new territory for you both; therefore, let me be the first that tells you this…
… It matters not what you both have accomplished over there.
I do want you both to try and tear my body apart… People lose respect for those who cannot do what they claim that they will do – did you know that? Are you both willing to destroy Wolfe and myself in that ring? Oh no no no, I really mean it. I want you two to do what you claim… Go for the kill. Destroy us both in that ring.
But if you fail to do so… If you fail to bring total carnage upon ourselves in that ring, then you will be proving yourselves to be just like these shallow individuals that do nothing but loud bark. That is what makes me feel excited about facing you two at Bad Moon Rising… I want to measure your characters. And I want everyone to see you two the way you are – liars.”
Mikael gets back to his feet. He’s been talking for a while so he takes a moment to stretch his legs and wait for the blood to flow properly again – it is definitely cold.
“Last but not least, Strick Plissken and Johnny Raike.
If you want to listen to my opinion on Plissken, then tune in on Youtube and look for Adam Wolfe’s Puppet Pals episode one. The man is very dangerous and I certainly look forward to sharing the ring with a competitor of his caliber.
Same goes to Raike… After all, he is a Champion! That is a noble title which separates him from the commoners in the backstage, right? The Champion. An exceptional one, if you ask me.
Smart? Not really.
The man is doing double duty at Bad Moon Rising…
… In my humble opinion, that is either the apex of toughness or your own demise. You are putting your title on the line while trying to take another one with your partner. I want you to look into the mirror and think to yourself the following… Is that a wise decision? You, Raike, represent the common human being in our ambitious society. The common individual that is never happy with what they have… They want to possess more. Always more, never seek for less or the enough. You seek to hold two titles; however, you might end up not holding a single one of them. Have those thoughts crossed your mind, Raike?
That’s why I seek to wrestle you at Bad Moon Rising. I want you to realize that sometimes you already have the necessary to feel happy… I guarantee that you will feel empty when, or if, you lose your title AND the tag team turmoil match. That would be a bitter ending for the so-called TITAN of the Midway, right? Here is a Norwegian proverb for your ‘humble’ cause, Raike.
D'er lettast aa laera av annan manns skade.
Which roughly translates to – ‘wise men learn by other men's mistakes, fools by their own.’
Raike… I want you to learn by your own mistakes. I want you to prove yourself a fool to the public watching us. I do wish you best of luck, because as your title says, you will have to show the power of a true titan. We shall find out whether you are parading yourself as one or not.
Either way, honor us with your presence…..................... Champion!”
Mikael lets out a sarcastic laugh right away. Next, he shakes his head and shrugs.
“This is it… Bad Moon Rising – a night that marks a new era in PAW’s existence. The era of carnage and knowledge!
The era of Adam Wolfe and Mikael.
Oh, and it matters not whether we walk out as the Champions or not… This IS the beginning of our era. A victorious beginning? We shall find out. Soon.
Sooner than ever.
Have a good day, ladies and gentlemen."
Mikael looks up to the sun as the camera man backs way – we see his pale skin shining along with his confident smile before the scene fades to black. |
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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 16, 2016 9:45:10 GMT
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OFF CAMERA – Becky's Diary Supplemental – AUGUST 15th 2016
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Dear Diary,
Talk, talk, talk, blah, blah, blah. He's like a broken record, this Mikael. We're too loud he says, well he hasn't heard us be loud yet. Tracykins wants to do a serious talk tomorrow morning in front of a camera and I'm like, who am I to disagree with her? Ok so I might have talked her into it a little bit, but I've been working so hard on her issues with talking in front of people and cameras and if it works this time, maybe we can finally kill that thing holding her back.
I never understood why she's always had such a hard time talking to people. Tracy's so big and strong and tough, but it's like she has to force the words out of her mouth or something, like it's some kind of struggle going on in her brain. It's not like she's stupid or mentally handicapped or anything. I just don't get it!
I've never had problems talking to people, but it can't be all me now, can it? I know there's a lot in there waiting to come out of her and if she can just let it out, overtime she'll become a much happier person on the inside and isn't that what we want most for those we call family? To be free and happy in life?
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OFF CAMERA – A little pre-tape chat – AUGUST 16th 2016
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Tracy Sin was anxiously rubbing her wrists as she paced back and forth in the PAW Recording booth's studio. She didn't know what to say, what to do. She always relied on Becky for direction and it was one of the things that hurt her when she worked all those years ago in Atlantic City Entertainment. It took her a long time to get over the freeze up before the crowds that would cost her dearly in her matches.
Becky watched her with a little smirk on her face.
“Nervous?”
“Fuck yes... The last time you talked me into something like this, everybody hated it! They thought I was stupid and a joke! Why do you want me to do this Becklynn? Why don't you talk instead?”
Rising from her seat, Becky threw an arm around Tracy's neck and eased her down to her level, looking eye to eye with her violent best friend.
“I've talked enough for the both of us, Tracykins. It's us, not just me, not just you. You have to do this. Mikael thinks your loud and obnoxious, but there's more to you than that and we both know it.”
Tracy's jaw clenched a bit, “I don't like talking in front of Camera's Becky.... I think it's stupid and a waste of time! We could be doing more than this!”
Becky nodded with acceptance, “Yeah I know, it's kind of a dumb thing to have to do, but this our chance to psych them out. If we beat them and shatter their confidence and beliefs before they ever get into the ring we win. Some will be long winded, some will be short, but it's about the power of the words we use and the conviction behind them that grant us the keys to this kingdom-slash-amusement park. You want to rule this place, Tracykins? Do you want them to keep thinking of us as a joke?”
Tracy slowly shook her head, “...no...”
“Good, then get in that studio and show them how loud you really can be! Show them that Tracy Sin ain't a fucking joke and that they are all chew toys next to you!”
Becky pulled back from Tracy with a look of intensity burning across her face, her jaw set with the tendons in her neck strained. She pointed with authority towards that recording studio door.
Tracy rose to her full height, gave a nod, and turned away. With a deep breath, she walked to the door, gripped the knob firmly, and twisted. The soft click of it's internal mechanisms acquiescing to the physical command of her hand put a lump in her throat. This was her moment and she had to make it work. It all rested on her shoulders.
As soon as she was gone, Becky flopped down in a chair and picked up a magazine, humming her favorite song, Paint it Black as she flipped through a few pages.
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CAMERA ON – AUGUST 16th 2016
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Tracy Sin stood before the Bad Moon Rising banner, dressed in her black ring gear, taped fists clenched at her sides. Her head was lowered, strands of black hair hanging in her face as she fought the nerves flooding through her senses. She didn't want to be here, alone, in this studio, but here she was, braving the cascade of emotions with every fiber of her being. Slowly she lifted her head and gave the camera the most intense, burning stare she had ever given. Her brown eyes almost threatened to explode from her skull.
The stare would go on for a few seconds, unblinking and unnerving, before finally she spoke.
“All my life, I've been the outcast... the freak... the fat bitch who was always picked on... mistreated... abused. I was the very definition of a word that makes me sick when I hear it and that word is victim. When I was young, I never raised a hand in anger, never hurt anyone. All I wanted was to be left alone, but do you know what happens to those who want peace?”
The seconds passed by as she struggled to maintain her control. She grit her teeth, her face reddening with anger each and every second she spent in front of the camera until finally she roared the answer.
“THEY BECOME VICTIMS!!!”
She trembled and quivered with that rage burning within her.
“One day, I got tired of being a victim, beaten by those who think they are better than me because they can hit really hard. As a child, I lost fights because I didn't fight back. I refused. My beliefs wouldn't allow for it and I'd go home to be chastised by my father while praised by my mother. He'd see a black eye or bruises on me and all he could say is, 'Did you make them sorry?' and all I could say back was, 'No Dad, I didn't' and he'd scoff and walk away, disgusted in his weakling daughter.”
She looked down at her hands and forced them open slowly but surely.
“Then came the day that I fought back and you would have thought my father would have been proud, but no...”
Tracy slowly shook her head, staring into tape wrapped palms.
“...For that day I became a consumer of flesh and blood... a monster... and I revel in being the monster. I FUCKING LOVE IT!!”
Her head snaps back to look at the camera.
“LOOK WHAT LIFE DID TO ME?!!! LOOK AT THIS HIDEOUS BEAST!!! THIS DEVOURER OF MEN AND WOMEN!!! DRINKER OF BLOOD!!! I dine on fingers LIKE THEY WERE FUCKING HOT WINGS!!!”
Tracy's breaths came ragged and fast as the adrenaline surged through her body, but she fought that urge to become a wild beast. She ran her fingers through her spiky black hair and turned away from the camera.
“I tried so hard to be good once... I did, really. When I started wrestling, I was trying hard to fight the urges and be something more than a monster. I tried to turn the clock back and be more like the normals who sit at ringside watching us and do you want to know what I got for it?”
She turned back to face the camera and lifted part of her hair back to reveal a jagged and nasty scar that ran from behind her ear down to her jawline.
“A little bitch tried to cut my face off... SHE TRIED TO CUT MY FUCKING FACE OFF?!!! In the end, I knew I couldn't go back because being good means being a victim and I WILL NEVER BE A VICTIM AGAIN AS LONG AS I LIVE!!!! NNNNNEEEEEVVVVVVEEEEERRRRRR!!!!”
Tracy let the hair drop back into place and slowly lowered her head, fighting to calm herself down and clearly failing giving how much she was trembling and yet the next words that came from her mouth came with such a chill that anyone else in the room would have thought the temperature had dropped.
“You say I'm loud, Mikael... too loud. You think I do this because I'm some loud obnoxious cunt looking for attention? I DO THIS BECAUSE I AM AAANNNNGGGGRRRYYYY!!! Inside of me is a well of RAGE AND FURY... and I fight... I constantly fight to keep it inside of me and it hurts me... it HURTS... ME... to hold it in!”
Indeed, there were tears on Tracy's face, her knuckles turning white as she dug her nails into palms from the intensity with which her fists were clenched.
“I'm not too loud... IIII'MMMM NNNNOOOOTTTT LLLLLOOOOUUUUDDDDD EEENNNNOOOOOUUUUGGGGHHH!!! You sit pretentiously in your throne of condescension, passing judgment upon me and Becky because you think of us as less than you, less than anyone else. I may hate Mimes, but you will be my victim. YOU... Mikael, will scream for me until your voice box breaks and your lungs are burning for air! I will bend you and break your body and when you're lying on your back with tears in your eyes and blood in your mouth, you will look up at Tracy Sin as your God, for only a God... CAN KILL A GOD!!!”
Her lip twitched like a feral creature as she glowered at the camera lens.
“I will be as loud... AS I FUCKING PLEASE, YOU WORM!!! You don't like it? RIP YOUR FUCKING EARS OFF AND STAB THE DRUMS WITH A FILLET KNIFE!!! If you're lucky maybe you'll stab through to your brain SO YOU WON'T BE EMBARASSED BY A COUPLE BITCHES RIPPING YOUR MONKEY ASS A NEW HHHHOOOOLLLLLEEEE!!!”
Tracy looked like a hulking, savage beast ready to jump through the camera and attack the person watching on the other side.
“and no, Mikael will not be my only focus. The Mimes, Wolfe, Sykes, Ava, Raike, Plisskin, they will each become very intimate with the depths of human depravity as Becky and I brutally strip them of their pride and dignity. We will be Vulgar, heartless, and Mercy will only be there in name because we don't have any to spare.”
It was at that moment that Becky Mercy strolled into the scene alongside Tracy with a vicious smile on her face.
“Just a little bit of Mercy....”
“AND A WHOLE LOTTA' SSSSSIIIIIIINNNNNN!!!!”
Becky threw her hand up behind Tracy's back and gave her a reassuring pat.
“August eighteenth,” Becky added, “There ain't no rest for the Wicked when the Bad Moon Rises and there's trouble on the way at the PAW Park in Purity, Louisiana. Come one, COME ALL! SEE THE HUBRIS IN AAAALLLLLL IT'S SPLENDOR!”
She smiled brightly and then added, “Oh and Mikael, if it's too loud... THEN YOU'RE TOO OLD!”
The two exited to the left together, the camera giving a fade to black transition before cutting.
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OFF CAMERA – AUGUST 16th
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The two stepped out into the lobby and Becky threw her arm up around Tracy's shoulder and shouted, “YOU WERE AWESOME!”
Tracy arched her brow a bit, “I thought you were going to stay in the lobby?”
Becky rolled her eyes at Tracy, “You think I'd miss seeing you come out of your shell, Tracykins? Hell no! I wanna' see you succeed and do better! I knew you could do it, you just needed a push.”
Tracy wiped at her eyes for a moment, moisture building in them.
“Oh why are you cryin' Tracykins?”
“I'm not, just something in my eye is all.”
“It's ok... Though you will have to tell me the story about that scar now. I just thought you got it in a fight or something.”
Tracy's hand rubbed against that thick, jagged scar behind her ear, “Later. Right now I could go for someone to eat...”
The two then exited the lobby, Becky waving to the receptionist as they pass them by.
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OFF CAMERA – Becky's Diary Early Entry – AUGUST 16th
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Dear Diary,
I'm so proud of Tracykins. She did well in her second outing. The first time was in the Pitt and while that wasn't so great, I think what helped us in this case was Mikael. Tracykins may hate Mimes, but one thing she hates more is being told she's too loud, especially by a condescending prick. I don't care how cool he looks with that skunk hair and Victorian style suit.
We both suffered cruelty growing up, each of us violated in different ways with our souls broken and shattered. It's what binds us together, makes us stronger than anyone because we won't let life take advantage of us anymore. Life is hard, life is unforgiving, and life will take everything from you if you let it. Not anymore and never again. Me and Tracykins will not accept anything less than absolute destruction and chaos when we hit the ring on the eighteenth of August in front of that Purity Crowd.
I want to be a champion again, need to be a champion again. I'll burn in hell before I let the Mikael's of the world beat me and Tracykins. As it has been since the day we were born, the world is against us and wants to see us fail. I'm not going to let the world win, not this time.
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Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
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Post by Deleted on Aug 17, 2016 5:58:03 GMT
CHAPTER 01 | CELEBRATE GOOD TIMES “Wooooohoooooo!”The loud and over the top excitement came from behind a locker room door. Even with the door shut whomever was on the other side was so loud and so full of excitement it ranged through the concrete door without any issues. The man that was holding the camera found himself moving forward with the camera. His hand was seen briefly as he twisted the door knob of the locker room door and then pushed it open. At that point it provided an inside look of the locker room just so one could see where all the commotion was coming from. Inside the locker room celebrating. Now by celebrating we mean running around the locker room with his hands above his head like he had just won the Gold Medal in the Summer Olympics and shouting at the top of his lungs in excitement was none other than the man they referred to as “The Original Pranksta”. Sykes was clearly amped up with his partner Ava Miller sitting there in a chair watching him run himself in circles. She was biting her lip a little bit and appeared to be confused with what was going on in front of her. All of the sudden Sykes came to a complete stop and looking over at her. JOHNNY [ the original pranksta ] SYKES: Ava! Why aren’t you celebrating?AVA [ da bomb dot com ] MILLER: Celebrate? Why would I celebrate?JOHNNY [ the original pranksta ] SYKES: Are you ribbing me? Is this a joke? Am I on PUNK’D with Aston Kutcher?!AVA [ da bomb dot com ] MILLER: I don’t even think that’s a show anymore.JOHNNY [ the original pranksta ] SYKES: Oh... well whatevs! Point being we have all the reason in the world to celebrate. We’re in the PAW Tag Team Championship at Bad Moon Rising! We beat the Bombtrax tonight. Do you know how huge that is?! It’s huge enough to find some Mountain Dew. Crack it open and drink it out of a fancy glass!Every single movement he made showed that there was so much excitement in him that he couldn’t contain himself. Ava still had that confused expression on her face as she sat there looking at him. It was at that moment Sykes’ attention was forced to focus on Ava a little more with her speaking up and being the voice of reason. AVA [ da bomb dot com ] MILLER: Johnny, you do realize we didn’t really win right?JOHNNY [ the original pranksta ] SYKES: We didn’t? But they raised our hands after the match! They indicates that we won, right?!AVA [ da bomb dot com ] MILLER: Well technically we did win.JOHNNY [ the original pranksta ] SYKES: Then all the reason to celebrate!AVA [ da bomb dot com ] MILLER: Not exactly. Tonight’s victory doesn’t really do much for us. In fact Johnny, we’re going to go into Bad Moon Rising looking like a couple of jokes. Our victory was essentially given to us because of the Power Trio getting involved in our match. We didn’t beat The Bombtrax on our own.JOHNNY [ the original pranksta ] SYKES: A win's a win right?!AVA [ da bomb dot com ] MILLER: No... well at least not in my book. That isn’t how I like to go about things. I like to truly earn my victories. I like to feel like I have truly accomplished something. I like to feel as if I have proven something in that ring and feel like I have proven I belong. Tonight, I don’t feel we have done that as a team.She shook her head from side to side to back up her statement. From the way she spoke it sounded as if she was truly disappointed in the matter at hand. Sykes stood there looking at her. He himself continued to look as confused as ever. Not that it was much of a surprise considering it was Sykes after all. JOHNNY [ the original pranksta ] SYKES: So we don’t get a title shot?AVA [ da bomb dot com ] MILLER: We do. We still get to move on to Bad Moon Rising and we still get to compete for the PAW Tag Team Championships. However the tag teams in that match aren’t going to look at us as a threat. The French Mime Assassins aren’t going to be worried about us. Mercy and Sin aren’t going to see us as competition. Mikal and Adam Wolfe will simply overlook us. Strick and Raike probably don’t even know we’re in the match. We’re going into this match with no credit. We’re going into this match as the weakest links. We’re going into this match as the underdogs.JOHNNY [ the original pranksta ] SYKES: And the problem is?AVA [ da bomb dot com ] MILLER: What do you mean Johnny? The problem is right there in plain sight. We’ve got no credit to our name going into this match. We’re going to be overlooked and laughed at. Heck, there is even the possibility that people are going to say that we don’t deserve to be in this position.JOHNNY [ the original pranksta ] SYKES: Oh... well... uhm... uh... still not seeing the problem here?Sykes offered that rather confused expression on his face. On the other hand Ava looked like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing come out of his mouth. She had broken it down and it was going way over his head. AVA [ da bomb dot com ] MILLER: Johnny...JOHNNY [ the original pranksta ] SYKES: Shhhhh Ava! You are someone that worries too much and think waaaaaaaay too much. Tonight we won. Tonight we advanced. Tonight we got ourselves a shot at Tag Team Championships. And at Bad Moon Rising we’re going to bring those titles home. But for now... for now... we celebrate good times!AVA [ da bomb dot com ] MILLER: But we don’t...JOHNNY [ the original pranksta ] SYKES: No! I said tonight we celebrate good times! I shall get us the Dew and Fancy glasses!Not another word escaped the man’s mouth before he went rushing out of the locker room door forcing the cameraman to step back for that brief moment. Sykes’ excitement could be heard with a loud “FUTURE TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS” escaping his lips. Cameras remained focused on Ava who still remained seated in the chair there in the locker room. Her facial expression said it all. She was not too sure how this was going to all turn out for them in the end. She was the reasonable one. Also the one that tried to look at things with a realistic light. Sykes on the other hand, well Sykes has always been himself. There was just no getting through him. Bad Moon Rising was truly going to be a true testament of their team work. CHAPTER 02 | A LESSON IN TEAM CHEMISTRY It was bright and early in New York City. The sunlight had barely even started to peek out from the clouds. Most people weren’t even out of bed yet. Especially on a weekend. Something that Johnny Sykes hadn’t taken into consideration when he was carrying himself up the steps of an apartment complex. As a matter of fact he was carrying himself up those steps with quickness. Almost like he was in a hurry or in a panic of some kind. Two flights of steps later Sykes found himself marching right up to a door with a specific apartment number on it. #257 Balling his hand up into a fist before knocking on the door. It wasn’t just any general knock. No, it was like Sykes took it upon himself to knock as hard as he possibly could. He found himself waiting for a response, but the only problem was he didn’t even give anyone on the other side the proper time to answer the door. It was like expecting them to answer right away. When the door didn’t open up he brought his hand forward and knocked on the door a second time. This time the knock was louder than the previous. He was truly aiming to gain not only the person that lived in the apartment’s attention but the whole apartment complex. This time out the history repeated itself. He waited for a split second or two. Only for there to not be anyone to answer the door in time. Bringing his balled fist forward and began knocking a third time. Once again making the knock louder than before. That’s when he could hear someone shouting from the other side “Hold your fucking horses, Jesus fucking Christ!” Sykes stepped back in that moment. He could hear the door starting to unlock before it was pulled open very aggressively. Standing on the other side of that door was Sykes’ mentor and best friend: David Xavier Christensen. David looked at him squinting his eyes. DAVID [ xavier ] CHRISTENSEN: Johnny? What in the hell?JOHNNY [ the original pranksta ] SYKES: Miss me Davey?!DAVID [ xavier ] CHRISTENSEN: At before seven in the morning? Not even in the slightest, what are you doing here at this hour? What are you doing in New York in general?!JOHNNY [ the original pranksta ] SYKES: Clowns and Monsters David, freaking clowns and monsters! They’re coming after me!DAVID [ xavier ] CHRISTENSEN: Clowns and Monsters? What are you even talking about?JOHNNY [ the original pranksta ] SYKES: Open your ears and listen to me! Clowns and Monsters are coming after me David. They’re going to get me and they’re going to get me bad. I need your help!Before David even had a chance to say anything more. Sykes took it upon himself to push past his friend and make himself available to the apartment. David just looked back at him for a brief second before pushing the door shut. His hands proceeded to run over his tired expressed face as if it were some attempt to wake himself up. Taking a steps over before flopping down on the couch. Looking back up at Sykes. DAVID [ xavier ] CHRISTENSEN: It’s too early for all this shit. What’s the problem?JOHNNY [ the original pranksta ] SYKES: I told you! I have clowns and monsters after me!DAVID [ xavier ] CHRISTENSEN: Not understanding even in the least bit.JOHNNY [ the original pranksta ] SYKES: Have you not got the DVDs I have been sending you of my PAW matches?!DAVID [ xavier ] CHRISTENSEN: I love how you just think that I’ve got all the time in the world to just sit here and watch your matches.JOHNNY [ the original pranksta ] SYKES: You don’t wrestle anymore, what the heck else could you be doing?!DAVID [ xavier ] CHRISTENSEN: Just because I’m not wrestling anymore doesn’t mean I’m not doing anything. I do have a life to live, kid. But to answer your damn question... No, I haven’t had a chance to watch anything you’ve sent me!Nearly right away Sykes glared a little bit in his friend’s direction. Kind of like he was a little let down by the statement that he had just received. David looking back at him. DAVID [ xavier ] CHRISTENSEN: Are you going to explain it or are you just going to stand there and look at me?JOHNNY [ the original pranksta ] SYKES: You’re not the mentor you used to be man! Gosh, you’re supposed to have my back at all times!He sighed a little bit as he reached into the baggy cargo pants that he had on. In a matter of seconds he pulled out his cell phone and moved quickly to unlocked the screen. A couple taps on his screen before Sykes turned the phone over to David. Reaching out with his right hand David took the phone studying whatever it was Sykes was trying to show him. It didn’t take long for his attention to swing back to Sykes. DAVID [ xavier ] CHRISTENSEN: Johnny.JOHNNY [ the original pranksta ] SYKES: Yes?DAVID [ xavier ] CHRISTENSEN: You realize that these aren’t clowns right?JOHNNY [ the original pranksta ] SYKES: Yes they are. They’re covered in paint. Look at their faces David and their goofy looking little outfits they have on. You know clowns scare me!DAVID [ xavier ] CHRISTENSEN: Yes, I am aware that you’ve got an irrational fear of clowns. However these men are not clowns. They’re mimes. There’s a difference.JOHNNY [ the original pranksta ] SYKES: A mime? What the heck is a mime?!DAVID [ xavier ] CHRISTENSEN: Well generally mimes are a man or woman dressed up like that but they don’t speak. Instead they do all their actions and talking through gestures, expression, and movement. It’s kind of a form of art.JOHNNY [ the original pranksta ] SYKES: So they’re a mute clown?! That’s even scarier. I’d never hear them coming for me. What am I going to do David? What the frick do I do?! I have to face them on Thursday!DAVID [ xavier ] CHRISTENSEN: Mimes that wrestle? Hmmm that’s a first for me and I’ve been doing this for over fifteen years.JOHNNY [ the original pranksta ] SYKES: I need you to freaking focus dude! I am on the verge of having a melt down here!Sykes’ wasn’t one to usually raise his voice, but that wasn’t the case at the moment. He was rather worked up and not in a good way with the situation at hand. David just looked at him shaking his head some. DAVID [ xavier ] CHRISTENSEN: You need to calm your ass down for one. Take a chill pill or something. Secondly, there’s nothing to be having a cow over. Especially when regardless of them being mimes or not. They’re still wrestlers. You’re still a wrestler. One of the best. You just have to use that to your advantage.JOHNNY [ the original pranksta ] SYKES: That requires me to get close to a clown in the first place. I don’t know if I can do that. I don’t want them to try and strangle me with a freaking balloon animal or something!DAVID [ xavier ] CHRISTENSEN: They’re mimes Johnny. Mimes... Mimes... Mimes. Not clowns. It’s something completely different and honestly brother? It’s about time you grew some balls and faced your fears for crying out loud!JOHNNY [ the original pranksta ] SYKES: Fine! You want me to face my fears I will! I’ll face the freaking clowns, but what about the monsters? I have to also get in the ring with a Vampire and some big-big gorilla looking creature!Leaning over he pressed his finger against the screen of his phone and quickly swiped his finger against the screen. Whatever Sykes had brought up on that screen got quite a response from David. His eyes bulging wide some. DAVID [ xavier ] CHRISTENSEN: Goddamn! That’s a huge bitch!He was quick to put the phone down on the couch not wanting to look at the screen anymore. DAVID [ xavier ] CHRISTENSEN: Jesus Christ man what have they been feeding that beast of a woman?!JOHNNY [ the original pranksta ] SYKES: Probably babies after her vampire partner sucks the blood out of them!DAVID [ xavier ] CHRISTENSEN: Well you’re about the size of a child Johnny, guess it was nice knowing you these last ten years!JOHNNY [ the original pranksta ] SYKES: That’s not even funny. She could legitimately eat me. My legs, thighs, and breasts don’t taste like chicken! Nor does my blood taste like Fruit Punch!That statement sent David into a loud chuckle. Sykes had a rather unamused expression on his face hearing his friend laugh at what he considered to be a dilemma of sorts. JOHNNY [ the original pranksta ] SYKES: You’re my tag partner. My mentor. My friend. You’re supposed to be helping me and having my back, not laughing at me. You totally freaking suck bruh!DAVID [ xavier ] CHRISTENSEN: Oh calm yourself down. No sense in getting your panties all twisted in a bunch. If you’re going to take me up this early and start ranting before I have my cup of coffee. You’re going to have to deal with a couple of ribs in your direction.JOHNNY [ the original pranksta ] SYKES: But it is no laughing matter!DAVID [ xavier ] CHRISTENSEN: Much like I am NO LONGER your tag team partner.JOHNNY [ the original pranksta ] SYKES: Huh? What? We’re always going to be tag team partners?DAVID [ xavier ] CHRISTENSEN: No, that’s not the case. Johnny, I retired long ago and you decided to go back to wrestling. You’re were on your own and you’ve always done well on your own. Much like we’ve always done well when we were a tag team. It didn’t matter who we were against. We always found a way to come out on top.JOHNNY [ the original pranksta ] SYKES: Exactly! That’s why I want your advice. I want you to help me, give me advice, and help me accomplish this goal of becoming the first ever PAW Tag Team Champions!DAVID [ xavier ] CHRISTENSEN: And that’s where the problem lies ahead of us Johnny. I can’t help you. Not in this situation. Not this time around.Again that puzzled look overcame Sykes’ face with his eyes locked on his friend. DAVID [ xavier ] CHRISTENSEN: Johnny, you’re good in the ring. You’re capable of doing great things. You always have been. However in this case it isn’t about you. It’s about your team and I’m not your partner. However Ava Miller is your partner. That’s the person you need to be talking to. That’s the person you need to be strategizing with. That’s the person you should be waking up before the ass crack of dawn.JOHNNY [ the original pranksta ] SYKES: Ava and I are cool... We do talk and stuff... but I don’t know if we vibe the way the two of us did as a team.DAVID [ xavier ] CHRISTENSEN: And you likely never will. We are the best of friends. We’ve got a different type of chemistry. I helped train you become everything you are. We know each other well inside and outside of the ring. We always vibed well off each other. Therefore we were bound to do well. But this is a different situation. You and Ava have to figure it out for yourselves. Only the two of you can do well. There’s nothing I can do to help the matter at hand.JOHNNY [ the original pranksta ] SYKES: Well, how can we be taught team chemistry Davey?! We’re running out of days here.DAVID [ xavier ] CHRISTENSEN: You would ask that.A sigh escaped David’s lips as well as a small shake of his head. David proceeded to push himself up from the couch and placed one hand on Sykes’ shoulders looking him in the eyes. DAVID [ xavier ] CHRISTENSEN: That’s the thing about tag teams Johnny. You either have the chemistry or you don’t have it. There’s no in between and it certainly isn’t something that you can be taught. If you and Ava got it, you’ll leave with the Tag Team Championships... If you don’t have it. Then well... you know... You won’t leave with them. Wish you nothing but the best brother.He simply patted Sykes on the shoulder before proceeding to walk on past him heading for the kitchen area of his apartment. Sykes looked over his shoulder at his friend for that brief moment. Everything starting to set in on that mind of hers. Over the last few weeks of teaming with Ava. The two had managed to get by a few times. At the same time they really didn’t come off as a team. They weren’t truly united. They were oddballs compared to everyone else in that match come Bad Moon Rising. And if the two of them wanted those titles. The two of them had to find a way to come together. All the sudden Sykes’ concentration was broken hearing David call out to him. DAVID [ xavier ] CHRISTENSEN: Since you woke me up and shit. Do you want breakfast?JOHNNY [ the original pranksta ] SYKES: As much as I love Pancakes. I am going to have to say no this time around.DAVID [ xavier ] CHRISTENSEN: You’re going to turn down free food? That’s a first.JOHNNY [ the original pranksta ] SYKES: Yeah, it is a first... but I’ve got somewhere I need to be.Not another word was exchanged between them. Inside they locked eyes with each other before nodding their heads a little bit in one another’s direction. Resulting in Sykes turning and taking a couple steps towards the front door, pulling it open, and out he went. A word not have been shared between them but David knew what it was all about. Sykes was going to be on the quickest route to Minneapolis with the goal of doing whatever he possibly could to see to it that he and Ava had team chemistry. After all it was pretty cut and dry with it, They’d be champions but, without it they would not. CHAPTER 03 | WRONG ABOUT US Over the last week the man that was known as the Original Pranksta, Johnny Sykes had been all over the place. It started with a trip all the way to New York City to have a conversation with his mentor and best friend. A conversation in which lead to Sykes finding out there was nothing that D.X.C could really do for Sykes. Not this time around, but at the same time that advice opened Sykes’ eyes up to what was important. That eventually lead to him going all the way to Minneapolis, Minnesota to meet up with his partner about what was going to be their biggest match to date since coming to PAW. A conversation that was going to be centered around Team Chemistry and a conversation that was held in private. It was on this particular day that Sykes found himself traveling to the city where Bad Moon Rising would be held. In him being on this trip it provided him with an opportunity to be able to reach out to his fans. Thankfully to the technology that existed now days. He was able to reach set himself up a stream that recorded live. Holding his iPhone in hand with a smile on his lips as he could see the amount of fans that were tuning in for this stream. Wasn’t long before he found himself breaking the silence. “Bad Moon Rising...
Sounds like it’s going to be a bad night for everyone involved with the show. No one should ever compete under a bad moon, considering you know bad things can happen to people. Yet every single person involved with the show has decided that competing under a bad moon is worth it. For people like Press and the little rat looking dude he’s facing, it’s worth it because of the PAW Heavyweight Championship. For people like PAW’s poor version of Sailor Moon and a man that wrestles as a rake. It’s worth it all because of the Titan’s of the Midway Championship. For others it is worth it due to a variety of reasons.
Therefore it is no different for people like Myself and Ava as well as every single person that we’re facing in the Tag Team Championship match. Competing under a Bad Moon and getting a lifetime of bad karma is all worth it because we’re all going to be fighting for the right to call ourselves the first ever PAW Tag Team Champions. That’s something that would be an honor. Something that would mean the world to Ava and myself. It is also something that would be a personal accomplishment of mine. After being in Japan for all those years hunting Godzilla then to come back after all that time to win gold.
It would truly be prove just how good that I can be. At the same time though Ava and I have come to understand, that’s not something that is going to be easy. Not that we’re people that like it easy. Heck, we love competition. We love it when we’re forced to showcase our talents and forced to prove we can be the best wrestlers in the ring. See because that’s the thing right there. People don’t look at us as good wrestlers. I’ve heard people call me all kinds of names. I’ve heard people say I’m clueless. I’ve heard people say I’m special. Stuff that I’ve heard for years, but yet I’ve continued to prove that I belong.
And then there’s people that think that Ava isn’t good, because she’s a girl. They think she isn’t good because she hasn’t been around for very long. They think she isn’t very good because she chose me as a partner. People don’t think she’s good because she’s shy or because she isn’t someone that speaks up for herself very much. All of these things that are not only untrue but stuff that makes zero sense. Course as my friend David once told me. Opinions are like butt-holes and everyone has one. One isn’t more special or stinkier than the other. And this goes for the for the four other teams we’re going to be in the ring with Thursday Night.”Briefly he let a small silence overcome him. Letting everything register to the fans turning into this live feed of his. Not to mention giving his opponents a chance to take those few words in. After all they were going to turn out to be important. “Prick & Raike...
You’re the two men I’m going to start with. First and foremost, I feel sorry for you guys. I’ve expressed this once before with you, Raike. I do not know why your parents would have named you after a gardening tool. To me it sounds cruel and uncalled for. At the same time my momma always raised me not to judge people. For all I know your mother might have fornciated with a rake and she named you after your daddy. Honestly, I don’t know and at the same time it isn’t really any of my business. Much like it isn’t my business that Prick’s parents are clearly in favor of child abuse. Because her honestly names their child prick? That’s so rude!
I couldn’t imagine naming my baby boy Jax anything other than a name that people would have loved and respected. You two on the other hand just had parents that seemingly had no love for you. No way for a child to live in this world. Had you had parents, I am sure Rake, you wouldn’t be going around dressing like a woman. And Prick, you wouldn’t come off as someone that’s just an old creepy it puts the lotion on it’s skin kind of guy. That’s a what if situation. Not what reality is. When it comes to reality, you are who you are and that’s something I have to prepare myself to deal with come this Tag Team Championship match.
Speaking of that match, I’ve got a pretty good gut feeling that you two don’t think too highly of myself and my partner. Something just tells me that the two of you don’t see us as much of a threat. Like we’re the weakest link or something. Based off Prick’s streak of being undefeated. I guess in a way I can see why you would carry himself in such a manner. I guess in a way I’d understand why he would think of things in such a manner. Course at the same time Prick, you’ve been undefeated in singles action. You’ve also been up against talent that isn’t quite on that level just yet. You’re only competition was Nova Wonder.
And she almost had you. She almost gave you your first loss, in your first match. We all get a little lucky sometimes. On that night, you got lucky and since then you’ve been fortunate enough to face people that aren’t on that level just yet. Something that will come to an end this Thursday because you’re going to be in the ring with some of PAW’s top talent. After all each and every single team that has made it into this match truly deserves to be in the spot we’re in. We’ve all proven ourselves. Now Prick, you’re going to have to really step up and prove what you’re capable of.
Again, I do not want to judge or speak ill of anyone, but something tells me that you’re going to fold under the pressure of everything that comes with this match, Prick. Especially when you’ve got someone like Raike on your back. See Raike, I might not be the smartest human being on the earth. However I do know arrogance and cowardism when I see it. The first encounter we ever had with each other. You dressed yourself like a woman. Something that confused me. That night you managed to pull one over my eyes because it was common knowledge I am a gentlemen that refuses to hit women.
When you did that just to have the upperhand. That told me that you were a coward. That told me that you were scared of being in the ring with me. It told me that you feared what I was capable of. Course, you’ll never admit that. Anyhow though on that night being a coward and confusing me worked in your favor. It was never a matter of where you never beat me fairly and since then our paths hadn’t crossed. At least not until now which you can bet your dress covered behind that I won’t be making the same mistake twice. Much like you can bet on me getting a little bit of revenge.
But like I said I also see arrogance out of a man that claims he’s all about the people and all about the fans. You went and found yourself a tag team partner - part of me thinks that you’re leeching on to someone that’s red hot to keep your relevance - but the point being is you’ve got yourself a partner. In deciding to compete for the Tag Team Championships when you’re holding that Titan’s of the Midway Championship. That told me just how arrogant you were. It told me that you didn’t really consider Nova Wonder a threat to you. As well as you didn’t consider anyone in this Tag Team Championship match to be a threat to you.
And to that I have to ask what gives you the right to consider yourself that good? What gives you the right to carry yourself with such arrogance? Is it because you’ve been on nearly every show since PAW was born? Or is it because you’ve only lost four matches total in the time that PAW has existed? Maybe it has something to do with you holding that Titan’s of the Midway Championship not only once but twice. Or maybe it has to do with you being the first man to win the championship ever? Sounds like I could keep going and going and going when it comes to where this arrogance of yours could come from.
But I know that it would be nothing more than a waste of my time. I am someone that doesn’t like wasting my time especially when it could be spent better playing Pokemon Go. If I were you Raike, I learned to drop that ego and let go of that arrogant mentality because if you don’t you’re going to find yourself in a bad way as soon as Bad Moon Rising arrives. By a bad way, I mean you’re going to find yourself not only losing the Titan’s of the Midway Championship to Nova Wonder, but you’ll find yourself not leaving with the PAW Tag Team Championships. Course you’ll do what you want, but at least I was nice and gave you a warning.”Sykes had a bit of an intense look in his eyes. Something that really didn’t come from him too often considering that he was someone that just took things lightly in life. He was someone that took things lightly in wrestling. This was something that he loved. He wasn’t like the others who took everything so seriously to the point that it made him bitter. Maybe that was why everyone had such a problem with him because that wasn’t how he carried himself. Yet in this moment the amount of seriousness coming out of Sykes was enough to make people really look in his direction. “Mikael and Adam Wolfe...
The truth is I don’t know much about either one of you. Only thing that I do know and the only thing that I could truly speak on is the fact that Adam Wolfe came from the now defunct BFW. A company that I knew next to nothing about, but also a company that I heard people ranting and raving over about how good it was. How entertaining the wrestlers and the product itself was. I never got a chance to see it, but of course I am someone that likes to put my attention on my Xbox One for hours on in. I don’t exactly check into things that do not involve me.
Like I said I don’t know much about either one of you. That alone could be something that’s a bit of a down fall for myself when this match actually happens. That’s the last thing I want, but it is a very real possibility of happening. You guys have the upperhand. You’re kind of like the underdogs. Similar to Ava and myself, but you’re more mysterious. You’ve got more of an edge to you. You’re kind of in the shadows a bit. You’re pretty much like the greatest superhero ever aka Batman. You’re the Batman of the Tag Team division. Kind of cool if you ask me, but at the same time. You take away that mysteriousness and that edge.
Then you just become regular ol’ Bruce Wayne. Sure Bruce is cool in his own right with the amount of money and stuff, but at the same time Bruce isn’t as cool as Batman. To put it simply gentlemen. I’m out to expose you as Bruce Wayne. Don’t care what it takes. Even if it means that I’ve got to tap into the Joker side of me. If that’s what it takes then I’m going to do it. I just kind of have to apologize in advance. Cause if that’s where it takes. Then there’s a good chance that Mikael’s little hair do is going to end up getting messed up beyond repair and I might end up taking Adam’s puppets then shoving them where the sun don’t shine.”There was that boyish grin of his that he could only give while he winked directly at the camera that was on his phone. Surely to get a reaction out of the female fans watching at that moment. “The French Mime Assassins...
You two are freaks. That’s right I am going to say it. You’re a bunch of freaks. I hate clowns with a freaking passion and the fact that I have to face a pair of clowns. Worst of all you two are silent clowns. You don’t speak. Then to top it all off. You’ve got a creepy old pedophile following you around from place to place. He’s the one barking out orders. He’s the one telling you what to do. He’s the one telling you how to act. He’s the one that is flat out dedicating everything. So not only are you clowns that move in silence, not only do you have a pedophile telling you what to do, but you’re also clowns that do not think for yourselves.
That sounds pretty freaking dangerous if you ask me. Like more dangerous than walking down the street and discovering that Pennyworth is hanging out in the sewer. From what I have gathered the two of you do manage to find a way through your matches. I haven’t actually watched any of your matches. I’d rather watch Michael Myers movies in the middle of the night by myself than watch anything involving a clown of any type. Not to mention I am pretty sure if I saw a clown wrestling. I’d develop a fear of being in the wrestling ring. I can’t have that. Being in the wrestling ring brings me so much joy.
Even if though I do have to be in the ring with you at Bad Moon Rising. I am going to do the best that I can possibly can to not run away in fear. Yet at the same time it’s going to be hard for me to want to even punch a clown. There is a chance their nose could follow off or their make up could end up all over the place. That’s like forty seven years of bad luck. Way much worse than going under a ladder or breaking a mirror. I simply cannot have that on my conscious by any means. Now if only the pedophile you guys keep company with actually had a conscious. Or maybe if you two of you’d actually grow a brain over night to distance yourself.
Pretty sure that clowns don’t know how to work the twitter machine. Because of that you guys don’t understand the amount of HEAT your pedophile manager is getting you. He’s constantly running his mouth to the people that are way better than the two of you are as a team. I am talking people like The Bombtrax, Calvin Harris, Nova Wonder, and so forth. It never fails. It’s like the sixty something year old dude aint got nothing better to do than talk trash in a hundred and forty characters or less. Then when people want to take his head off. He goes running behind the two of you and forces you to protect him.
Which is why I’d imagine the two of you get smacked around quite a bit. Maybe one day the two of you will smarten up, see that old man for what he is, and wipe off the clown paint to become something useful to the wrestling community, but it doesn’t seem like that’s going to be the case anytime soon. That being said the two of you better not even be banking on leaving with the PAW Tag Team Championships. As a matter of fact, the two of you likely don’t even understand that you’re competing for gold. However the two of you are going to know what it feels like to have feel my foot against the side of your head with the sickest Enzugri ever!”Sykes’ expression on his face was more than enough. He truly had a fear of clowns. Everything about them made him feel uncomfortable. Having that fear is something that could easily have people mocking him for it and playing it against him. That was the price he was going to have to pay. Unless he was a man of his word and ended up taking them down. “Mercy & Sin...
You are the biggest competition that Ava and I have in this match. I do mean that in the literal sense too. Jeebus Christ, has Sin been eating the leftover victims of her partner Mercy? I mean I’d imagine human flesh wouldn’t taste very good at all. Especially when you’ve got a vampire sucking all the blood out of the person before handing over the leftovers. Then again maybe I don’t know how it all works out. I’m not into cannibalism and I don’t see that ever being the case at all. I saw Silence of the Lambs alright? That’s just too much for me!
But on a more serious note, for no other reason that I don’t want to be the next one on the meal course. You two are the biggest competition Ava and I have, which is saying alot considering you’ve been around in less time than anyone else in this tournament. Course, when you’re good and when you know how to make an impact then you’re going to get that type of hype. On your first night here you wasted no time going for the throat of things. You wasted no time mentioning the name Bombtrax. Something that everyone has been earned not to do. It’s kind of like the name Beetlejuice. You just don’t mention, but that’s only if you buy their hype.
None the less you mentioned their name and you had quite a few choice words in the process. That quickly lead to the Bombtrax making you pay for it. After all it’s clear their ego is so fragile. It can’t handle even the slightest bruise of someone speaking out against them. They smacked you around a little bit and put you down, but you didn’t stay down. If anything you used that as motivation which forced you to lay waste to those that you climbed into the ring with. After all there’s a reason why you’re competing in the PAW Tag Team Championship match at Bad Moon Rising.
As a matter of fact the two of you being in the ring has quite a few people scared. Fans are worried that you’re going to just brutally beat down everyone. People in the match are afraid that you’re going to take their souls. Many people think that it’s a given that you’re going to be the ones that leave with the PAW Tag Team Championships at the end of the night. Well, everyone else might be willing to give up so easily because you’re big and you’re scary. Everyone else might be willing to call it quits just because you seem like you’ve got all the talent in the world. However myself and Ava are not going to give up.
Matter of fact we’re willing to stand on one another’s shoulders just to look at least one of you in the eye and show we’re not going to back down. Course at the same time Ava and I already know, that you have made the mistake in counting us out. You’ve already made the mistake in assuming that we’re not going to be competition to you. You’ve already made the decision that we’re just another team that doesn’t have a lick of talent. You’re carrying yourselves like all the other teams in this match. And because of that. You’re going to fall on your faces just like all the other teams. It’s truly going to blow up in your faces.”That serious tone of Sykes starting to suddenly consume him once again. Once again it was going to be enough to make the fans perk up with their interest. “We get it... We get it... We get it...
Ava and I might not be the biggest. Ava and I might not be the smartest. Ava and I might not be the fastest or the strongest or even the most agile or flexible We get that we haven’t been teaming for very long. We get that Ava isn’t the most experienced person in this business. We also get that it has been quite sometime since I have been in my true form. Every single little negative thing you could say about us is something that we have already seen, already understood, and are working on taking the proper measures in order to turn those weaknesses into strengths.
But what amuses me just a little bit is that all of you have taken this time to pick apart our weaknesses and then were so quick to write us off. Not a single team has bothered to actually look at what fuels Ava and myself. You have not looked at the size of the hearts that we have. You haven’t looked at the fight that we have inside of us. More importantly you haven’t bothered to look at the amount of passion that we have. Because it is that passion that drives us. It is that passion that has continue to get in the ring. It is that passion that is going to make us appear as the hungrier, the more determined, and the more successful team.”Sykes tone hadn’t changed one bit. If anything he sounded more and more serious with each word that he spoke. That side of him being shown was going to keep the attention of those fans right where it was at. Peering into the tiny lens of his phone that continued to record that live feed of his. Sykes spoke up in what would turn out to be his final words. “And it is that exact same passion that somehow someway it’ll lead to us taking home the PAW Tag Team Championships!”That statement alone was going to be the single statement that the fans from this live stream would remember. That statement was going to make its way around the internet due to the fans. It would be all over Facebook, all over twitter, and all over Instagram. As well as any other social media platform. It was sure going to make it’s way all around the dirt sheets for professional wrestling. That statement was also bound to be taken out of context at some point and spun into a negative light. More importantly than all of that though that statement was going to reach every single tag team that was in that match. When it reached out to them it was going to force them to think about the things they had done and the things that they had said. However at that point it would be too late. At that point Bad Moon Rising would have arrived and they would have all had to climb into the ring with Sykes and Ava. That’s when Sykes hit the end record button on his phone forcing the live feed to fade out. At that point the Original Pranksta was provided with a little bit of time to relax and ride out the rest of the plane ride. For the moment he touched down it was going to be on the go until the historic night of Bad Moon Rising. |
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Post by Double F C on Aug 18, 2016 1:01:16 GMT
The Myth of the Talking FrogThe thump and roar of the crowd practically pulsed through the Pure Arena walls like lifeblood. There, in the French Mime Assassins locker room like a little cul-de-sac of silence, Comme Çi and Comme Ça awaited their summons to the ring. There was no Rodney P there to act like an overprotective father. Nor a Francis ford Cuppola present to pace a line on the floor, barking semi-discouraging Vince Lombardi-inspired epithets at them. “ Win that match or you’re not really mimes!”, “ You face-painted sissies better win, or my name isn’t Francis Ford Carpola— I mean Cuppola”, “ I crap bigger than the two of you, somebody needs to help me, I’ve blown out my o-ring”. To the mimes, it was sweet relief to have them gone, the blathering idiot, and the unwelcome mouthpiece had been successfully ditched and safely barred from entering the event in favor of the comfort of their much accustomed silence. Sweet, serene silence. In front of separate dressing room mirrors, each mime applied the trademark face paint, their eyes occasionally meeting through the reflections, followed by a knowing smirk of recognition: they’d made it, they were free, and now all that was left for them was the hard part: The actual match. A stagehand with a nametag that reads “Steve” barges in. Stagehand Steve: Ten minutes you two. He glanced at them both, as the identical mimes stared back at him as their only acknowledgement. Stagehand Steve: There’s a camera crew outside if you… uhhh… you know… if you two have anything left to… er… uhh.. “say” to your opponents before you go on.Blank mime stares greeted Steve the Stagehand who looked confusedly to them both. Immediately Steve recognized the inherent stupidity in what he’d just asked. A brief, creep-filled moment passed until Steve shivered out those creeps, nodded sheepishly to the mimes, and exited the dressing room, closing the door behind him. The mimes looked to one another with a silent, mutual entreaty to meet in the middle of the dressing room and discuss the merits of one last promo. Here, we must pause momentarily, for it should be readily apparent to you, kind reader, that mimes don’t discuss, nor have they ever cut a first promo to make this their last. You’re about to witness, friends, what may be your first exposure to an authentic mime conversation. I, your narrator, shall do the difficult task of giving you the translation first of each of the mimes complicated gestures and movements so that you understand what you’re seeing when it follows. Comme Çi’s English Translation: Hey, hip cat. I don’t know if we should risk saying anything to our impending kills. The less they know the better our chances. And, as far as I’m concerned, Stagehand Steve has a really nice ass, but he can kiss mine if I’m going to cooperate with this promo cutting business he’s on about.(Comme Ci points to Comme Ça, shrugs with a broad, exaggerated wave of his hands as if emphasizing the world, and then blows a kiss onto his gloved hand, elevates it towards the heavens, exaggeratedly, then pats his gloved palm onto his behind.)
That wasn’t so difficult was it? Mime speak is a beautiful language. Comme Ça’s English Translation: You’re so right, homeslice. I could just eat Stagehand Steve up, he’s so deelish. But let’s face it, so long as our opponents are grasping at straws as to how to understand us, let alone fight us, they’ll stay on the sinking ship they’re on, and we’ll win this match! Then those tag belts will be ours!(Comme Ça nods in an overly exaggerated fashion and poses like Run DMC a moment before he rubs his tummy then is trapped inside of an invisible box before smashing himself free and starts to pull on some invisible rope as he pretends to hold his breath, then laughs heartily.)
Behold the grace of such an evocative communicative art form. Comme Çi English Translation: You’re so right, my Mimelover. Our opponents have thus far failed to articulate even so much as an accurate assessment of us that hasn’t been in keeping with our own assessments of them. Have you seen it? They’ve walked right into every single mental mine we’ve placed for them, all by saying nothing! And now, they will die regardless of our cutting a promo! By the way, have I mentioned how absolutely fucking demented these opponents are? Johnny Sykes can talk for hours and never say a thing. And Mercy and Sin think that by focusing their energies off camera they can trick us into lending them undue credibility! (Comme Çi gives a big old thumbs up to Comme Ça with a wide grin.)
Okay, so sue me, my Mime to English translation box on google is on the fritz, so some of this I’m improvising, but believe me it’s totally legit! Comme Ça’s English Translation: Yes, my sexy mime friend, this is truly a chance for us to break out of our invisible boxes and finally be as remorseless as we both know we can be in order to show the PAW Universe that we, and we alone, are the dominant tag team! This entire journey has been like salmon swimming upstream, my brother and lover! But soon, it will all be over, and we shall be victorious!
(Comme Ça places his arms behind his back and emulates the fluid motion of a sperm swimming up the uterus towards the egg. )
Just then, Steve the Stagehand barges in and stops dead in his tracks. Comme Ça eyes him with a look of surprise. Stagehand Steve: Uhhhhh… okay. 5 minutes, you two. Did you want that camera crew, or not?
A moment as Comme Çi and Comme Ça look to one another. Comme Ça begins to shake his head only to be interrupted by his partner Comme Çi, who motions for them.
Stagehand Steve: All right. This should be good for a few laughs. Steve snickers and steps outside, returning moments later with Camera Man Dan. Stagehand Steve steps back and watches the mimes stand silently before the camera with his hand covering his mouth to conceal his snickers. Camera Man Dan: Okay, Action Mimes! Camera Man Dan waves his hand to signal the mimes. And they stand there. Silence. The roar of the crowd pumps through the walls. Steve the Stagehand snickers till he’s red in the face. Camera Man Dan: I said ACTION MIMES! Dan speaks up, sounding nervous he’s wasting his time. The mimes remain standing side by side, perfectly identical. Camera Man Dan gulps loud enough for the camera audio to pick it up. He glances back to Stagehand Steve for some guidance, but Steve snickers and guffaws silently. Dan drops the camera in a huff of annoyance and turns to glare at Steve. Camera Man Dan: Okay, seriously, this is some kind of joke isn’t it? Stagehand Steve cracks up laughing, unable to contain himself. Camera Man Dan is not impressed. “Ahem.”
The voice cracks through the white noise of a cheeky stagehand, and incredulous camera man like the white hot blast of a laser beam. Steve’s wide eyes train to where the sound came from. Dan turns slowly to see Comme Çi’s hand lifted, one finger raised as if to silence them both. His finger points authoritatively to Dan, then gestures for him to focus the camera on him once more. It’s a silencing moment. Dan nods and trains the camera back on the mimes. Comme Çi lifts a glass of water to his dark painted lips, sips gingerly, sets the glass back down and eyes the camera all while his partner, Comme Ça tries to stop him. Comme Çi waves him off. Comme Çi: And here we are, Johnny Sykes, doing the thing you claim us incapable of doing: thinking, and speaking, for ourselves. Folks, I, your humble narrator, did not see that coming. Neither did Stagehand Steve whose jaw nearly hits the floor. Camera Man Dan focuses the camera lens nervously. Comme Çi: What do you have to say for yourself, you small-minded, judgmental little man? Next time, if you're capable, think more and speak less. It would save you a lot of trouble.His voice is sweet, with an obvious Parisian accent. It’s not unpleasant, just strange to see the mime’s lips moving and sound coming out. Comme Ça looks appalled that his partner is speaking, and for moment the two exchange argumentative looks before Comme Çi pleads with his partner to allow it, then continues. Comme Çi: My partner and I don’t speak not because we can’t, more often because we’ve allowed our handlers to do so for us, we have had nothing to prove.
That all ends tonight.
I don’t care who you think you are, Sykes, or what possible motivation you might have for speaking in Shatner-esque sentences. I don’t care for your assessment of myself, my partner, and I especially don’t like you mocking Francis Ford Cuppola.
He’s a lot of things. A moron, a fool, a liar, and potentially an exploiter of lovable movie creatures, but he’s not a child-rapist. A false accusation such as that, in fact, since I’ve studied your American laws, is slander, and defamation. You deserve a fine, a punishment, at the very least a slap on the wrist.
You will not be brought to court, however, you dimwit.
You will face us in 5 minutes for tag belts we shall die trying to obtain, and we shall slaughter you mercilessly in the process for all of your insults to us, and to the English language you use so pathetically.
We don’t care that your partner’s a woman.
You neglected to notice the other two women in this match when you articulated only their physical attributes and how they related to you, you typical sexist pig.
You paid very little attention to the threat Mercy and Sin pose to you.
You’ve already lost. Comme Ça beside him is shaking his head nervously. He chimes in. Comme Ça: Brother, you’re breaking the Mime Code! Comme Çi nods with a lowered head. Comme Çi: I know, brother. It is necessary. For tonight is no ordinary Pure Amusement event. Tonight all bets are off, tonight we fight for everything we’ve ever held dear in this business, tonight a Bad Moon Rises.
Mercy.
Sin.
I don’t expect you two to understand what hard work truly means.
Everything you’ve shown us on camera implies you don’t know what it means to truly suffer for your craft.
Unless you’re hiding something, that is.
Since you claim yourselves so very strong and powerful, you should have nothing to hide.
Let me show you how it's done.
Let me tell you a story about my Mime brother and I.
When we were selected by Mr. Cuppola to be his tag-team, we were shipped overseas chained together in a cargo hold no larger than your body, Sin.
3 days like that. Pure darkness. No food, and no water. Sleeping in a pool of our own fecal matter and urine.
We were brought to a land we’d only heard of, to fight for a man we never knew, and still truly don’t.
I don’t care what hell any of you think you crawled out of, we’ve been treated as sub human since we’ve arrived here, misunderstood, negated humans up till and including 2 days ago when we finally broke free of our keepers’ shackles.
They don’t treat everyone like this, Mikael.
This is something out of a nightmare.
We thought your admiration warranted a dose of further understanding.
Murderers like us aren’t given quality accommodations, nor are killers of our calibre allowed to roam loose without a very short leash.
Don't believe us? We don't care.
Are you, any of you, perhaps, starting to fathom what you’re dealing with in my brother and I?
If not, and if by the end of the match you still don't, then rest assured you'll have plenty of time to continue to grasp at straws as you start back down at the bottom of the ladder, right where we began.
And this sad tale, my friends, is the first, last, and only time you will ever damn well hear a single peep from us about.
Why?
Because my brother and I have chosen to look forward, ahead of where we’ve been in the past to where we’re going in 5 minutes.
Down to a ring to face 4 of the very best tag-teams PAW has to offer.
Does it really matter what story I have to sell you about my origin, or my motivation, or the simple fact that for the first time in the history of the French Mime Assassins, I have chosen to address you, not each and every single one of you for that would be wasteful, but in a general sense to help you understand that my brother and I would like very much to help you all realize our purpose here tonight.
We’re here to win.
And we will stop at nothing to do that, even break a petty Mime Code, or make up some utterly ridiculous narrative about ourselves, which may or may not be true.
It doesn’t matter.
Only the championships matter tonight.
And we, The French Mime Assassins, will stop at nothing to claim them. Instinctively, Camera Man Dan cuts and looks with shock and awe and the mimes who stand silently in front of him with a ‘did that just happen’ expression mirrored by Stagehand Steve who still hasn’t picked his jaw up from off the floor. Stagehand Mike: Yo, Steve! Where you at, man?
Stagehand Mike barges in and all eyes turn to him. Mike glares at Steve. Stagehand Mike: Dude, you’re supposed to get the Mimes down to the ring. Let's go! They’re up.
Stagehand Steve stutters. Stagehand Steve: Dude… the mimes… they just talked…! Stagehand Mike looks equally surprised before eyeing the mimes a moment. Comme Çi and Comme Ça stand as stoic and silent as ever. Stagehand Mike scoffs. Stagehand Mike: Riiiiiight. Nice try, guys! Camera Man Dan: No! It’s true! I even got it on—Camera Man Dan looks to his camera and is angered to discover he forgot to push record. Camera Man Dan: SON OF A BITCH, I DIDN’T RECORD THAT!!?!? Stagehand Mike: Nice try, you two. “Talking Mimes”. Right. Camera Man Dan looks to Comme Çi who shrugs subtly to him with a half smirk. Camera Man Dan: Say something, dude! Everyone looks to the mimes who stand side by side, silent as always. Stagehand Mike shakes his head. Stagehand Mike: Right. Enough fun, guys, we gotta get these clowns down to the ring for their match! Stagehand Steve: But they really did talk!
Stagehand Mike: Enough, guys. Those two talked like I'm Lady Munin. It’s not funny anymore. Now come on. Slowly, Stagehand Steve files out with an angry glare at the mimes who have returned to wordlessness. Camera Man Dan seems more angered by his inability to hit record on the camera. He shakes his head as he exits. Slowly, the mimes file out after them, looking to one another with sinister, knowing smirks. |
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Post by johnnyraike on Aug 18, 2016 1:17:45 GMT
"I mean, it's all gimmicks, yeah? None of it is real."
One of the other queens had said that to Johnny tonight, without even a trace of irony. The 'are you fucking serious' stare the American Wet Dream leveled passed over her like a gentle wind, but the thought had been going through his head all night, even while lip syncing "Runs in the Family" by Amanda Palmer. Did everyone assume he was a fake? A pretty boy trying to stave off the crushing weight of anonymity, doing whatever he can to stay relevant, just dressing up because it's different? Did the people who cheered his name and bought his shirt believe that the man they saw on camera was just an actor, a player who went home, took off skirt, and did...well, anything. Just what he was supposed to be doing when he was off being the real him, what all of them were supposed to be doing he couldn't say, but the idea that all the standing up, all the efforts to live as a beacon were going nowhere, doing nothing, just seen as naught more than an entertaining diversion...
Johnny pulls his long blonde wig off, natural hair bunched up under a nylon cap. He runs his hands over his hair, attending to the little itches that always crop up while in costume, careful not to scratch. Makeup wipes begin the task of removing eye liner, shadow, foundation. Easy going on the tastefully done right side, much slower on the left half that appears to have been applied by a drunken four year old.
Not for the first time, Johnny finds himself wondering if professional wrestling is the place for what he's trying to do. Deep inside he still believes that this is where he can do the most good, reach the people who need to be reached. Even in todays society there were plenty of people who had never met anyone outside of the tiny bubble of heteronormitivity. Pro Wrestling crowds were worse for it than the norm, as was frankly to be expected in a male dominated world of literally solving problems with violence. Anyone seen as weak, as most gay or bi men were seen (and not just in pro wrestling), would be a target. The amount of lesbians finding acceptance was a heartening sign, though Johnny fears that the allure of girl on girl has more to do with it than true acceptance. Hard to say. But one thing he knew for sure; he had to stay. Had to get through even most of the world thought he was a fraud. And, the thought constantly lurking just beneath the altruistic reasons, there was the winning. The addiction of the crowd and the need to show off, be better. The need for gold.
Winning despite the hate, winning in the face of people who took figurative shits on him always felt good. Losing, well, of course that didn't feel good, but he'd down a jay, take a shot and go dancing. He had a system.
Dancing these days was almost always in high heels. In fact, a lot of Johnny's time was spent in skirts and heels. More and more he found himself wondering if it was the mens wear that was the clothing he had no claim to. Sure, he looked great in a sharp suit, but he always felt like he was playing dress up, pretending to be Don Draper. Jeans and a t-shirt would always be a backup outfit, and the fully unbuttoned dress shirt was sex but... Skirts just felt right. Spaghetti straps and lace, to not even touch on the shoes... So many better options.
Raike has always said he never had any problems having the body he has. That's still true. Breasts are heavy and eventually sag, and not having child bearing hips actually made it easier to fit a lot of dresses. He's also never wavered on his gender identity as a man, but that was before Ruby entered the ring. Now...well... he wasn't so sure. But he was sticking with he; he just liked it and the pronoun game got tricky. Let that be one last head ache.
Johnny felt pretty lucky that Strick, former military man, had accepted him as readily as he had. The skirt resizing had been a sort of test. Better to get hit in the face with the knowledge of Johnny before go time than have Strick figure out mid-match that they couldn't co-exist. Johnny gives the mirror a little hard-edged smile. He felt good about their chances. No one saw them as the team to beat at the start; most didn't see them as the team to beat now. Johnny didn't blame them, on paper it didn't look like the most natural of pairings. But they'd worked well against a team that seemed to read each others minds. They'd watched each others backs. And they had won.
So, even if it is all just sound and fury, signifying nothing, Johnny allows himself to dream of being the tag team champion. Even if his life in wrestling is no deeper than the camp and glamour of a drag club dressing room, and all he's doing is distracting the masses with glitz and glam, Johnny Raike will not abandon it. His life didn't fit neatly into a box, didn't lend itself to blending in or following a well worn path. For fucks sake, he'd lost his virginity to his first boyfriend at thirteen, used his looks and fluid nature just to keep alive, eventually thrive in hedonistic debauchery, and only call a second person boyfriend about three months ago. And even that was proving hard to label. What could hold him back, if all the past hadn't already? Why not team Straike as champions?
Johnny finishes removing his makeup, loads his dress and wig into a rolling suitcase, kills the lights as he leaves, heading into the still muggy Louisiana night. He hails an uber as it pulls up, climbing into the back seat and nodding a hello. Johnny stares at the club as it shrinks away, thoughts a thousand miles away. Thoughts of gold.
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Lemon yellow and "Pure Morning" usher us to the Astoria, Queens, New York based garage of Johnny Raike. Raike is in his new gear and not much else, likely baking in the heat of a city summer. Definitely baking in another sense, to judge by the bong currently occupying his stool. Johnny is all smiles as he starts talking in his usual animated voice.
Johnny: Hey hey friends, loved ones, and curious haters! Welcome back to my little patch of the world, where you know you are always so very, very welcome. It's time to talk a little bit about my greatest up coming challenge. No, not beating up Wondergirl, I mean great as in one that actually makes me want to come to work. I've grown tired of having to tangle with people who can't see past their own nose, a match based on actual competition, where no one has a real reason to love or hate me, and I get someone watching my back? Oh, Bowie. If you guys thought I did well solo, wait til you see me pair up. It's a thing of beauty, truly it is. Because I'm a generous partner. Giving, thoughtful, willing to learn. I really do play well with others."
Johnny gives a suggestive leer to the camera, putting a finger to his lip ring.
Johnny: "And look who they gave me to play with; and by they I mean Munin and Papa Nurvy. The suggested us to the other as needs be for the team to connect. And at least for step one, they got it right. Straike is in this. I'm kinda torn between Straike and Team Straike. 'Cause Team Straike rolls off the toungue nice, but having team in the team name just comes across as...cutesy. Not that I'm inherently anti-cutesy, but... well, we'll figure it out I'm sure. See, I like this pairing. Not because when Strick and Raike first teamed it was like they read eachothers minds. We didn't; we're just both talent wrestlers who can think on their feet. And that's precisely why it worked."
Johnny reclines on the stool and takes a pull, exhaling slowly.
Johnny: "Won't claim to be an expert on the military; we didn't see eye to eye for most of my life so it wasn't a priority to bone up on. I'll skip the obvious jokes, and just say that I know enough to know that was Plissken did had to have been some shit. Like, stuff that would make me say barf. And that don't happen much. Not just because of my perfect gag reflex control. Now, no disrespect when I say that military hand-to-hand has a huge learning curve in getting into professional wrestling. Lots of things happen in a fight to the death that don't happen in the ring and vice versa. So imagine how fucking stoked I am. Look what Strick has already got done in Pure Amusement. And the more he learns this world, the better he'll get. And I can help him learn so much about this game, this dance we do called wrestling careers. Potential, as far as the eye can see, that's Straike, baby!
A big, confident smile spreads across the Beautiful Nightmare's face, his eyes actually soft for once. It's a more relaxed Johnny Raike.
Johnny: Of course, Strick and I are but twenty percent of the Tag Team Turmoil we will soon bear witness to. Hell, given the sheer number of bodies in this match, we might not ever see Strick and I at the same time. And make no mistake, this match will be all about making waves in a sea of bodies. Sailing those waters into glory and fame is merely the end result, the journey will be much more chaotic. I like those, they're fun. Also, something I've slowly gone and got a bunch of experience doing. Yay half decade of violence.
A lightning bug flash of a smile from Raike.
Johnny: "I'll need every year of it, I'm sure. The veil lifted and everyone wants a piece of my ass. Well, that and there's a line to get to Press, but hey, people are talking. Thank you. Compliment accepted. You'll excuse me if I don't take it all directly to heart, the venom and the posturing. One, I've only caught snippets, two I'd rather not sit here and run through the various grievances I have been made aware of. I think more than a few of you don't really mean it. Only one of you I will actually address. Yes, Mikael. I have thought of that scenario, and it scares me shitless. Good motivation to not let it happen. Plus, if I didn't go big I'd have to go home, and that is not me."
Johnny: "Not to say I won't talk about the rest of you, just that as of yet, I don't really know you. Sykes I've done the dance with, but Bowie knows I won't claim to understand that mind that quickly. I know he and Ava are my personal pick for team to beat. I know, there are those would say Ava and Sykes got lucky, but to my eyes they created their own luck. That's a skill you don't want to be looking down the barrel at; a lot of my failed foes can tell you the same. Combine that with real talent and the aforementioned hard to fathom mind of the team muscle and well...I know where I want to keep an out."
Johnny opens his mouth to talk, but pauses. He takes a moment, almost considering.
Johnny: "See, the professional issue with a match like this is you feel honor bound to have a good reason to fight each person on an individual level. Perhaps just team by team this time. But for all that I understand the mental weaponry that can lend you, I don't have that in me. Well, okay, Ido, but I don't feel the need. I don't want to sit and poke and Mercy and Sin by telling them they can't run roughshod, I don't want to have to make fun of Mikaels haircut, I actually kinda like the Mimes for all that the love is not returned. We'll talk; I fear you've misconstrued me."
Raike takes a quick hit, comtemplating what he wants to say.
Johnny: "Look, guys, this is huge. It's for the inaugural belts. Can't that be enough? Do I need to have a list of reasons why I'm better? I have one, it's good for keeping my spirits up, but just havnig to throw it all out there... Yes, our job is to entertain, but is it so much to ask that I can do me and not get chained to the same old shuffle? Probably. But you know what? Trying!"
Johnny gives a vigorous set of jazz hands to the camera, big cheesy open-mouthed grin.
Johnny: "I want to beat you all. Because I want to be champion. Last I checked with my partner, he wanted the same damn thing. That's all we need to come in and get it done. Don't need to prove that we didn't write a check our asses couldn't cash, we're not...I really, really don't know how to describe the Mimes, they are an enigma to me. Point is, glory and fame are their own rewards. And more than enough motivation. If you're mad I didn't talk about you, send me a DM. Get to know me. But for now? Let's get down to shaking out this tag division. I intend to be on top. It's where I tend to end up, given enough time. So, ladies and germs, best of luck. I do mean that, I enjoy competing. And I hate when my wins don't seem huge. Perhaps that's why I was more than up to dance twice. Or, maybe I'm just an idiot. Let's find out together. Bye-bye."
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Aug 18, 2016 3:32:09 GMT
❥ BELIEVE IN YOURSELF
-- flashback
“CASSIDY!”
As soon as I had arrived at school I couldn’t wait to tell my best friend the good news I had got the night before. I had a little bit of trouble finding her before class, but luck would have it that just five minutes before the bell was set to ring. Shouting her name out as loud as I could and watched her turn in my direction. A full on sprint came from me at that particular moment. I rushed across the concrete sidewalk and right up to my best friend. For that brief second it took me a moment to catch my breath from breaking out into the sprint. I could feel Cassidy’s eyes on me as I started to look up. “Everything okay Ava? Rushing across the pavement like someone from our football team!”
“Everything is fine, but I have to tell you something!” I batted my eyes with a big smile across my face. There was so much excitement running through every last vein in my body that I could barely contain myself. “You know how I was afraid to talk to my parents about becoming a wrestler?” I questioned while watching the slightest of head nods come from Cassidy. It was a story that she had heard over a thousand times in the last three months. It better have been something that she remembered. That’s what best friends do they remember important things. “Well it took a lot of courage from me, but I talked to mom and dad last night about it... They agreed to let me start training this summer!”
That bright smile crossed my seventeen year old lips. Getting the okay to go after a dream of mine brought me so much joy that I couldn’t even put it into words. In seeing my friends eyes light up in excitement for me. That made me feel even better. “That’s awesome Ava! I can’t believe they agreed!” Cassidy reached out and threw her arms around me pulling me in for a rather tight embrace. It was a nice feeling knowing that I had a best friend who cared about my dreams and my goals just as much as I did. Being a rather emotional person, it was hard not to let tears flow. As soon as I felt Cassidy pulling back from our embrace controlling the emotion became a little more manageable.
“Where are you going to go train to wrestle?” Cassidy asked me with an intriguing look on her expression. I couldn’t wait to share that I was going to be spending my entire summer in California learning to craft of wrestling. I was just on the verge of spilling the beans when someone from behind the both of us spoke up seemingly voicing their opinion. “You’re going to be a wrestler? You don’t have the skills for that!” In hearing that voice I turned myself around to see one of a boy about my age. He had a football jersey on that represented our school. He had this judgmental look on his face while he glared at me. I kind of just lowered my head down to the ground. “You’ll go out there and break a nail or something. Stick to more girly things!”
His tone of voice was rather mocking and discouraging. I kept my eyes shifted to the ground not saying a word. I was someone that avoided confrontation at all costs. That was the exact reason it took me so long to even speak to my parents about wrestling. I had no intentions of saying anything at all. Thing was Cassidy was a girl that didn’t take kindly to bullying and she had a mouth on her. Sometimes it was needed, other times it wasn’t. This was one of those times where it was not needed. “Break a nail? Stick to more girly things? Just who the heck do you think you are?!” She stated in a bold manner looking right at the boy. He went to speak up but Cassidy quickly cut him off. “I bet she could out wrestle you and she doesn’t even have the proper training!”
I felt like my heart just dropped when those words came out of Cassidy’s mouth. She was essentially signing me up to get my butt kicked. My eyes quickly shot up to the both of them as I started to shake my head in a negative manner. “No... that’s not true. Don’t pay any attention to her!” My eyes focused on the boy when I made that statement. I couldn’t stop shaking my head. The last thing I wanted was to get into any physical confrontation. I watched as that boy’s zeroed in on me. This smirk crossing his lips. A smirk that told me this wasn’t just going to go away. “No, it sounded like she made a challenge. Luckily enough for you I am willing to accept that challenge.”
I felt the knot forming in the back of my throat. This was the last thing that I wanted. In that moment I could see him starting to approach me with the intentions of things getting out of hand. At that very second the familiar BUZZZZZZ sound that was the first bell of the day went off. I was quick to turn myself around in an attempt to head off to class. This was my chance to get out of dodge and put an end to this confrontation. As soon as I went to walk away I felt my back pack being tugged on and forcing me to lose my balance bringing me down to the ground. I looked up to see the boy standing over me.
“I don’t think so. You’re not getting out of this. Get up and show me what you got!” I laid there for a brief moment just looking at him. This was too much. This had gone too far. This was already making me regret the decision to be a wrestler. Slowly I rolled to my hands and knees to push myself up. No sooner than I stood up I felt his hand press against my chest pushing me back some. “Come on. Ava the wrestler, let’s see what you’re capable of!” Again I felt his hand press against my chest and cause me to stumble backwards again. From behind me I could hear Cassidy speaking up trying to be the encouragement I needed. “Don’t take that from him, Ava!”
I was confused on what to do. I didn’t want to do anything I would regret. I didn’t want to get myself in any kind of trouble. At the same time I found myself in a situation that didn’t have an easy escape. Looking right at the boy I tried one last time to be the voice of reason. “We’re going to be late for class and we’re all going to get in trouble.” There was a bit of shakiness in my voice. No sooner than I said that it became clear the boy was fed up with talking. He rushed in my direction with cruel intentions. Reacting maybe just on instinct I threw my foot out and landed a STIFF kick right up under the chin of the boy knocking him off his feet. I stood there with my jaw dropped completely shocked by what I had done.
“Way to go Ava!” Shouted Cassidy at the top of her lungs. I turned to her with that shocked expression on my face before looking back over at the boy holding his jaw and starting to get up. Screaming at the top of my lungs. “RUNNNNN!” I had just a brief image flash before my eyes of what would happen when that boy managed to get to his feet. Things were going to be so much more out of hand than what they were now. I had believed in myself for a brief moment and it worked to my favor but now was the right time to get out of dodge. Letting my feet carry me as fast as they could and Cassidy right behind me. We darted inside the school leaving the boy to pick himself up and register what had just happened.
❥ CHASING DREAMS N’ CHAMPIONSHIPS
-- scene one
Bad Moon Rising had been the only thing on my mind over the last week. Rightfully so considering that the date in which it would take place was getting closer and closer. Ever since Johnny had surprised me by coming to my apartment. I had really started to think about things. The two of us talked about team chemistry. We had talked about how we had to learn each other inside and outside the ring. We talked about how as a team we had to be prepared for anything that came out way. Stuff that I wasn’t too sure we’d be able to accomplish. It was something that was going to be a little difficult but at the same time if those PAW Tag Team Championships were something we wanted. Then we had to find a way to make it all happen.
It wasn’t until the discussion was brought up about how we were the underdogs. That was something that I had told him in the first place. I told him that we were going to be the underdogs. I told him that we were going to be considered the weak link. I told him that going into the match that we didn’t have much credit to our names considering how our victory came about. Stuff I already knew but in describing how no one was mentioning us. How no one was bothering to drop our name. How nearly everyone in the match simply pretended as if we didn’t exist. That’s when it really hit me which in turn motivated me in a way I have never been motivated before.
Now here I sat in my hotel room just twenty hours before the big show. Finding myself thinking about all of this put me in a position where I needed to get it off my chest. Somehow someway I had to speak my mind. I pulled my laptop out from the bag that contained it and sat it on the bed where I was seated. Opening it up and bringing the built in camera up. My finger double clicked on the front of my laptop to begin the recording. I waved briefly waved at the camera before opening my mouth and beginning to address the matter at hand. I knew right away that I wasn’t going to hold back. I had to let a different side of me be shown that’s never been seen before.
“I’ll be the first to admit that I haven’t been around as long as many of my opponents that I’ll be facing at Bad Moon Rising. In fact I don’t really have a name for myself. I don’t have any hype to me. I don’t have anything about me that would make me stand out as a threat to anyone else in this match.” Briefly I paused letting my words sink into the mind of those paying attention. Not that I was expecting too many people to actually care what I had to say. “Matter of fact when you listen to the appearances, the interviews, and the comments from everyone in this match leading up to Bad Moon Rising. Most of them have written Johnny and Myself off. Most of them don’t seem to care about us, don’t see us as a threat, or a challenge. Then there are some that ignore us.”
The expression on my face at that moment kind of told the story that needed to be told. It was more than a little discouraging to know how hard that I had worked to be a professional wrestler. It was a little heart breaking to know that I have given it everything I got. Only to find out that not a single person considers me to be a threat and that no one considers me to be competition. “I could stand here and have a fit on camera over everything that’s been said about me. I could stand here and really show that my feelings have been hurt. I could stand here and give everyone want they want in knowing they’ve managed to get under my skin. I could do a lot of things, but I won’t give in. I won’t let those people have that satisfaction.”
I shook my head just a tad bit to the side. Surely that statement would get under the skin of a few teams who were hoping I’d break down and prove to be weak. However it was a statement they’d have to deal with. “I was seventeen years old when I started training to be a professional wrestler. Most of my childhood that was the only dream and the only goal that I had for myself. A dream that I had decided to chase when I was fourteen, but it took me three years to gain the courage to bring that up to my parents.” I had always been a person that was fearful of expressing themselves. That was one of my biggest downfalls in life, but I generally stayed to myself because I didn’t want to upset anyone. Course with my parents they meant the world to me.
“When they agreed that they’d let me go chase that dream of mine. I spent an entire Summer out in California learning the craft of professional wrestling. Learning how to take bumps, learning the holds, learning different moves, and learning different styles to be able to achieve success in this crazy business. It was not easy by any means. At times I was confused. At times I didn’t catch things the way I wanted. I can’t tell you how many bumps, bruises, scrapes, and cuts I had on my body from all those training sessions. Yet every last single one of them was worth it to me. For I knew that one day I would be in the wrestling ring. One day I’d be a wrestler that people would want to see and a wrestler that people would look up to.”
I had never decided to be a wrestler because of the fame. I had never decided to become a wrestler because of the pay. I had decided to become a wrestler because it was something that I loved. More importantly than that I decided to be a wrestler because I knew what it was like to become emotionally invested in wrestling and to have it let a smile cross my lips. I wanted to be able to do that for little girls and little boys. “And for anyone in this match at Bad Moon Rising that thinks I’m not touch. Let me just say this. I got my ass handed to me by two men that were my cousins whom did not pull back. They were brought up in the “strong style” or “snug” era of wrestling. They laid it on thick and heavy, but I always got back up because I’m not a quitter.”
Another small shake of my head became visible. “By the end of that summer, I was good enough to be put on certain shows. Shows where promoters would have me come in just to get squashed. Shows where I didn’t get paid. At most I got a handshake and maybe a bottle of water if I was lucky.” Those days were not something that I cared too much for. They were the dark times of my wrestling career, but I understood that’s how the business worked. “Honestly, I didn’t go through anything different than any of you when it came to coming up in this business. Yet for some reason you all forget about those hard times. You all forget where you come from. And because I might be a little bit behind the curb in experience, you all choose to judge me.”
From what I had gathered with what Johnny had told me. Not to mention what I had picked up on my own. Nearly every single tag team I was set to square off against had put themselves up on a pedestal. “Not just that, but a lot of you are misjudging Johnny and myself. Acting like this is our first rodeo when it comes to competing in a championship match. Had you done your research, you’d know Johnny has won championships all over the world. And you’d know that at one point I was the longest reigning OWF Women’s Champion.” A small amount of boldness escaped my vocal cords when peering at the camera to my laptop. “Sure that might not mean much to you this time around, but then again from what I understand. Most of you have never been a champion.”
In speaking I realized that I was coming off a little more cutthroat. By no means was I trying to downgrade anyone, but I was going to speak from the heart. “To my knowledge the only person that’s held a championship is Johnny Raike and there’s a chance that by the end of the night at Bad Moon Rising. He’ll have lost a shot at becoming the PAW Tag Team Champion and then lose his Titan of the Midway Championship to Nova Wonder. Doesn’t sound like it could be a very good night for him at all.” Those words were likely to land me with a little bit of heat. “Point I am making here is that most of you are acting like you’re the greatest tag team to ever exist. Looking down on people and acting better than everyone, but in reality all it would have taken is one loss.”
Holding up my finger to the camera to signal the number one. “It would have simply taken one loss and you wouldn’t even be competing for a chance to make history by becoming the first ever PAW Tag Team Champions.” More of that boldness was coming out of me with every word that I spoke. People were going to start to see I wasn’t just as quiet and shy girl. I did have a voice and when I felt it needed to be voice. There was no slowing me down. “Was Johnny and I’s win over the Bombtrax the most defining? No, not at all. Was Johnny and I’s win over the Bombtrax a little tainted? Sure it was. Do Johnny and I have a right to even be in this match? You dang right we do. Regardless of how we won. We still had the task of taking on PAW’s biggest threat. You all did not!”
By no means was I complaining about the task that Johnny and I had that night. It was a learning experience and it did kind of work out in our favor. However Johnny and I had it a little harder than everyone else did. Therefore as far as I was concerned those teams had no right to question our abilities or question us being even in the match. A small wrinkled in my nose was visible with emotion pouring out of me. “I could be like all of you. I could discredit the tag team of the French Mime Assassins. I could talk about the comedy act that is Mikael and Adam Wolfe. I could easily make fun of Mercy and Sin for a lot of things. I could talk about the large egos that Strick and Raike carry themselves. I could do all of that...” A small pause overcame for that brief second.
“But I wouldn’t do that. Because I won’t lower myself to those standards. I will not allow myself to become similar to any of you. I will never allow myself to become disrespectful. That’s not how I was raised and that’s not how I live my life. It might not be a big deal for you people to act that way, but it’s a very big deal for me.” I kept my eyes locked on the built in camera on my laptop. With more emotion pouring out of me by the second. “On top of that I will not sit here and claim that it’s a guarantee Johnny and I will become the first ever PAW Tag Team Champions. For nothing is ever a guarantee in professional wrestling or in life in general. Instead I’ll say this... You’re all going to be in for an awakening. You’re all going to see the type of challenge Johnny and I do bring!”
One of the many lessons I was taught in wrestling is if you didn’t believe in yourself and believe in what you brought to the table. Then no one else would believe it either. I believed in myself. Johnny believed in himself. We believed in this team and it was time to showcase that. “Johnny and I will fight as long as our bodies will hold up. Not once will we quit. Not once will we give up. Not once will we take our eye off the prize. We know what is at stake. Therefore we plan to keep chasing dreams and chasing championships. Sadly for everyone else in this match. They’re going to be hit in the face with reality when they find out they were wrong about us all along. And for that folks? You’ve got no one to blame but yourselves!”
Turns out those words were going to be my final words. There was nothing else that I felt I needed to get off my chest. At that particular moment I truly felt relieved of it all. In a roundabout way this had been a long time coming and something that everyone in PAW had to see come out of me. It might have been last minute and it might not have changed too many mindsets going into the match. However I knew it would change mindsets coming out of the match. My finger tapped the mouse to end the recording as it saved to my laptop. I’d have that emailed in the morning but now that I had that off my chest. I was going to relax for the rest of the night. Quickly bringing netflix up on my laptop while I settled myself back into the hotel bed to get cozy. |
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!!!”
