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X-treme Wrestling Federation »   » Archives » "Anarchy Special" RP Board
Black Water Rising
Author Message
IAmHollywood Offline
Registered but either hasn't added self to a roster yet or doesn't RP



XWF FanBase:
Men, some teens

(booed by casual fans; opportunistic; often plays dirty)


#1
01-03-2015, 03:08 AM

As irony would have it, he was at it again with himself. Somewhere, blurring the lines of what is practiced and what came natural, Hollywood knew his task at hand. Oddly enough, it wasn't making his worldwide debut against two other men of which he has never met. That in particular was not what C.C. had noticed immediately. It was in fact the exact moment when the card was announced and Hollywood realized that he was teaming with Jesus Christ against two strangers in the Aerial Knight and TJ Wallace. In all honesty, the forced feeling or having to coexist with who Hollywood knew was the father of all hypocritical holiness was the challenge. Beggars can't be choosers. C.C. knew what he signed up for, just not with who he signed up for.

"Blessed are the meek, right? I got what I asked for, but I just should have expected that it would be in ways that I wasn't exactly prepared for. Who would've thought that the whole 'atheist in a foxhole' mentality would hit home so early. Here's to a New Year's resolution: read, react, and adapt."

Let's understand who exactly C.C. is. Now, the casual fan will read the card and think that a guy by the name of C.C. Hollywood is just here to act out as a superstar or this 'holier than thou' individual. A casual fan also will never see the full illusion, what is up the other sleeve or behind the other curtain if you will. Hollywood is not a claim to fame. Hollywood is not bright lights, big cities, and fake tits. C.C. Hollywood is a man who calls his shots. Since the immediate arrival to Monday nights, there has been a thought prodding in the back of the better minds in the business today. The question should be less of "who is C.C. Hollywood," but more of the omens that are dancing before doomsday. Who would really be that sharp to pay attention to every word? Hollywood has just arrived. It would be different if one were exiting the building.

"Of all places to show my face, it would have to be Los Angeles, right? 'The City of Angels,' yet those 'angels' all sell their wings for blow. Heh, is it just not cool to smoke a little spacegrass anymore? Hold on, let me put on the brakes. I wouldn't want the substance abuse policy of X-Treme Wrestling Federation to slam it's gavel down on my case. After all, I wouldn't want to let Jesus Christ, our lord and savior, down. He died for our sins, right? Then he rose again on a day that lasted somewhere between when mankind decided on the fixation of time or whenever the fuck. Right? Or, I could be wrong. I keep a Hustler by the shitter and I rewrite the Bible on Wikipedia. I have the cease and desist to prove it."

Oh yes, and not to forget the previously mentioned vices that are of C.C. Hollywood. The porno magazines by the toilet, the stench of burning papers filled with marijuana, and the off the rails psyche of a man that gets by with his own kind of 'normal.' In fact, what C.C. would have in common with the location of Monday Night Madness would be that both are one of a kind. Los Angeles: a city known for the red carpet, limousine riding, hit and quit kind of ways. Then you have C.C: a working man who would rather be hated for who he is than loved for something that he is not. Clearly, both one of a kind on the opposite side of the spectrum.

"Lemme ask, who does Jesus Christ pray to? Everyone has that moment when their backs are against the ropes and when they are knee deep in it that you find sometimes the strongest of men and women kneeling to a 'higher power.' Why is that? Everything that makes me who I am today, from my failures to, more importantly, my successes, have come from me. We can stop playing this 'save or be saved' act right away. See, what three other people who will be standing in that right with me on Monday have no idea about is the man that they've never seen. That can be said about me towards those three other men too, I get that. However, people fear what they don't understand. You are all afraid of everything."

A moment of clarity strikes the thought process as C.C. is still speaking.

"I took a moment to really understand exactly who I will have to rely on before I looked over to who I have to conquer. That is the battle. Before battle, birds were singing and the fish were swimming, so is the natural occurrence of life. At the stroke of midnight, when Sunday transitions to Monday, those fish will be floating on the sea with bells heard in harmony. The circle of life always meets its maker. Aerial Knight talks about not believing hard enough in the power of Jesus Christ if my arm isn't raised. Aerial, this isn't about believing, but it is about knowing. Bury your treasure and burn your crops, Mr. Heartsford. The black water is rising and it ain't gonna' stop."

Fiction is a flattering art discovered first hand by Hollywood. Just at the moment where it seems that he doesn't have a grip or handle on life, C.C. finds a way back to solid ground. This is all too silly, however. There we have it, an atheist teaming up with Jesus Christ. What is the joke, a Christian, an atheist, and a rabbi walk into a bar? The rabbi orders the drink, the Christian pays for it, and the atheist drinks it to feel like he doesn't have to just put on an act for the other two stooges. Yeah, this is like that bar, except Jesus ordered the drink, Hollywood is people watching, and staring across the bar are the Aerial Knight and TJ Wallace, eyeing up C.C. like he just went in on a threesome with women they know. What do they know? It could of been Jesus Christ.

"Let's just say that I find myself trapped on your side, Jesus. Are you gonna' pull off a miracle? Are we going to turn Jonathan Heartsford into a burning bush or TJ Wallace to a talking snake? These are just some concerns I have for your career, because that would be gold. If you want to get over with the wrestling world, turn water into wine. Don't fuck with my water. I'll piss in your chowder."

C.C. doesn't drink. That doesn't mean that he wasn't a drinker in the past. It simply means that he doesn't drink anymore. A lifestyle change of sorts, but not enough to be considered straightedge, especially since Hollywood rarely turns down an opportunity to vaporize marijuana. In his opinion, it's the healthiest of ways to 'medicate,' as he so calls it to ease into the conservative society that is the United States of America.

"Can you hear the fife and the drums? The madness is already formatting its display for all of Los Angeles to see. No use in your Psalms or any other chapters for that matter. Ain't no chance, don't you try, everyone has got to die."

-----------------------------------

In the basement of his small, city townhouse in Manyuk, C.C. Hollywood is with a local friend of his, Joey Bagadonuts. Joey is exactly everything you would think he would be. Average height, not in good shape, gets tons of words and sayings mixed up, and has a hankering for Krispy Kremes. Why does Hollywood keep Joey around? Quite frankly, it's entertaining. When the cable goes out, there's Joey. The guy is his own show. In some ways, Joey is like when you see someone about to slip on black ice, but they might catch themselves. But, on the times where that person does slip on black ice, it is a wreck that you secretly hoped would happen because it was your moment of depravity invested in an action of another. Yet, Joey has been an ace wingman when needed for years; an ode to him being absolutely shameless.

"Bro, you got God on your side. That means you could literally do anything and come out the winner."

"So what? I also had a goldfish."

"Bro, you should be praising Jeebus. He got nailed to a tree!"

"I didn't drive the nail. Kinda' like how I should feel this post-slavery guilt thing, but I wasn't whipping. I had nothing to do with any of it, so, I don't care. History is a dead scene."

Of course, Hollywood knew in the forefront of everything that in professional wrestling, everything old becomes new again, so in fact what he said about history being a dead scene wasn't entirely true. C.C. is a person who really only feels on a personal level, not so much for the things that he has no control over. In more specifics, he is the kind of guy to come home and watch Adult Swim or ESPN, yet never spending a single, solitary second watching a news brief. The lost art of the simple man. A mind cleared, focused, and ready to move forward by all means.

"Don't get all psychosphical on me, C. You know I never understand that kinda' shit

"Okay, just a few things there. You can't just go combining psychology and philosophy together, that is just crazy talk. Secondly, I'm just talking about how everything around me is just a matter of perception. I am the only thing that is real.

"Atodaso, I fucking atodaso. Ya should be more interested in who is meaning to beat you up. You just ain't normal, kid."

Joey gets up and leaves Hollywood alone to gather a few thoughts about his opponents. Just like how his name coincidentally suggests, Hollywood is known for the fashionably late arrival. The grand entrance. It is all about appeal and shine to these figureheads. The common man, ironically the role that fits C.C, is the type of role of which is the most reliable, perfectionist of their craft. In a way, Hollywood is a complete and blatant troll on what the American Dream really means.

"I ought to feel that I am put into my place when I first show my face on Monday Night Madness, but because of the simple disrespect that Heartsford has for any new challenge that's dares. I don't feel the least bit humble. It isn't me who needs to be humbled. It's the Aerial Knight. Trust me, Mr. Hartsford, my tardiness was not in a missing vote of confidence, but In my approach to put my most opportunistic foot forward with Jesus Christ at the wheel. Passing me over is never something that is smart to do, Jonathan. You caved when you spoke up, because I devised a scheme. Then, your counterpart spoke up. Hell, you may as well consider that TJ Wallace snitched. I've never been the praying type, however, so I don't need the blessing of my own tag team partner to know that my own fists are going to disrupt any plan that you have in mind. Everyone has a plan until they are punched in the mouth."

C.C. stops and grins to himself as he visualizes a punch to the mouth of the Aerial Knight. The smirk then fades away as Hollywood shifts his attention over to TJ Wallace."

"That hooker that arrived on shore, TJ Wallace. You want to talk about dick? There isn't an original thought in the mind you are burdened with. Here is the horse, be sure you beat it to death. Don't speak until it is suspenseful. The Jesus Christ subject is touchy, if this was before Mel Gibson did it worse."

-fin-
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