12-22-2014, 12:25 AM
OOC: Continued from this RP: http://xwf99.com/showthread.php?pid=79325
Monday, December 15th
Monday Night Madness- Outside of the Mercedes- Benz Superdome
8:55 P.M.
So this was it. This is how I die. This is what spells the doom of the Avatar of Perfection.
My vision was turning to black as time zapped into slow motion as I was falling down I don't know how many flights from Un's kick. There was nothing I could do to prevent it. I was falling, shards of glass surely embedded in my back, and now, I will rest in peace, now not even having a chance to win at Tag Team Tenacity, now not even having a chance to save Miranda Tigris's career, and it was all because of the same man who ruined my career, the same man who impersonated me for over a month and a half.
The same man who costed me the Television title twice, the same man who costed me from a crack at the Universal title, the same man who made me look like a pussy on global television, the same man who has been a thorn in my side for countless weeks. Un.
No. Not here. Not now. Not while I haven't proved to the big boys I belong here. Not while I look like a disgrace in front of everyone in the locker room, not while people freely take pot shots at me in their promos. Over my dead body will Un finally defeat me.
I let out a primal roar, and I new desperate measures called for desperate times. I summoned all the hidden strength I could muster, the strength that was too humble to show itself while I was struggling to get out, struggling to engage Un. I used that hidden strength, and ripped myself from my bonds, the duct tape ripping off my flesh and the cold steel of the chair. My body weight had me going down faster than the chair.
Okay, I thought. You got out of the chair, but you're still falling down God knows how many flights from Un's attack. I gulped. Well, it's do or die time. I went into a spread- eagle position, and grabbed one of the many ledges for each floor. I thankfully sighed, wondering how my body didn't get destroyed from the immediate loss of speed as my mind calculated my next move.
Alright, now I suppose the next logical move would be-- what the hell?!
It was the chair my body had surpassed in speed, tumbling to the ground. My body had no time to react, as the chair was in perfect position to hit me.
CRACK!
........
"Jeez, how far did that guy fall?"
........
"Must have been around five flights. It's a God- given miracle this man didn't die."
........
"I need EMTs, stat! This man needs to be taken to a hospital, ASAP!"
And it was after hearing this, and being placed on that soft, pillowy gurney, that I lost consciousness.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Monday, December 23rd
Less than a day before Tag Team Tenacity- St. Vincent Medical Center- Los Angeles, CA
9:30 A.M.
I snapped to attention, alert and awake. It was as one of the voices I heard say. It was a God- given miracle that I wasn't dead. Frank was instinctively at my side, pulling me down, saying, "Easy there, boss. Don't over stress yourself, you've been through enough as it is."
I was reasonably confused, as I was blurting out, "Wh- what happened? I was at Madness, and Un kicked me out the window, and- and-"
Frank held up a hand and stopped me. "Relax, boss, you didn't miss much, except for the fact your opponents for Tag Team Tenacity went to fucking town on promos."
With Frank having solved the question of what the fuck I wanted to do right now, I said, "In that case, what the flying fuck are we waiting for? Fire up that laptop, I have some catch- up work to do."
"Uh, sir, I don't think that's wi-" I cut Frank off.
"I appreciate your concern, Frank, but I'd say this is going to outrank my health as of right now. Now fire up that laptop."
--------------------------
11:45 A.M.
--------------------------
I took a deep breath, massaging my temple. Now I understood why Frank didn't want me seeing their promos- it was mind-boggling how so many people could be so stupid. Luckily for me, Frank had set up the camera, so now there was no waiting. It was just me facing down my opponents.
"Come later on tonight, I will be facing four teams who have proved themselves to be the most
motherfuckers on this planet. I say four because now, it's no question I'm winning this thing. I honestly thought my illiterate fuck face of a partner would be dragging me down, but honestly? Some of the shit people have said has been flat- out . And for other people, they haven't even mentioned their opponents!
"Let's start with the small fry first. Adrian Storms and Bobby Zi. I'm going to start with the latter. Bobby goddamn Zi, two time X-treme Champion, and quite possibly the worst X-treme Champion known. Now, you see Bobby, you lost the X-treme Championship to me. Now normally, this wouldn't be so bad, only you dropped the belt to somebody who hasn't even wrestled a goddamn match. That is quite simply pathetic. I don't need to prove myself to you. I laid you out once, and if you and Storms are lucky to scrape a win over the likes of Azreal Erebus, Hunter Payne, etc., then I don't think they'll be any question about who will win.
"Adrian Storms. I don't know much about you, other than the fact that you must be pretty damn pathetic. Sure, you beat James Shelby, but what exactly did James Shelby accomplish here?
...
...
That's what I thought. Now, you also got demolished by Aaron Underwood, the guy who seems to send out Asylum pamphlets at his local Wal- Mart to try and 'recruit' people to follow that bullshit 'leader.' And, let's not forget to mention that Aaron Underwood lost in that same week to Gator. Now, this may not be so bad, but it was in a handicap match. Underwood was with Ghost Tank. And it was under Last Man Standing Elimination Rules. Seriously. And you got your ass beat down by him. You're pathetic.
"Next up, we have Scotty Anderson and Tommy Wish, two guys who seem to be like brothers. Now that's cool. Friends are nice, like what Pryce said in his promo. Probably the only legible thing he ever said in there. Anyway, Scotty and Tommy don't seem to care about this tournament at all, since they haven't said anything! Seriously! These two illiterate twats think they'll be meaning something here, thinking they can win this tournament, yet they haven't said a word yet. Seriously. Fucking sad. You two dunces are probably going to be the first ones thrown out.
"Next on our list, we have Jet Frost and TJ Wallace. Jet Frost, I'm actually going to agree with Lane on this one. Probably the only time this will be happening, so you're gonna want to be writing this down. You seem to be the black hole of audience interest. I mean, what have you accomplished since arriving on the scene here? Beating Cameron Clay, a nobody scrub who hasn't even shown his face since submitting in his roster application? You lost to the same man you call a partner, you lost to Swann twice, and you lost to the Ariel Knight, who apparently knew this tournament was going to be filled with illiterate dumbasses from the start, being in good with MacClay. Me not knowing this, threw my name into the basket, got thrown in with these dumbasses, and now have to subject myself to playing around with these grade- school dunderheads.
"TJ Wallace, you've nearly had the same story as Frosty there. Let's see here, you only beat a Frenchie Maverick- wannabe, your partner, and the king of illiterate twats, Luke Kage. Since then, you've lost to Swagmire, Knight, Erebus, and Hysteria. I might have missed a match or two, though it's hard to point it out, since a large chunk of this tourney's participants' win/loss record being nearly nothing but losses. I mean, you have to subject yourself to the Underground, a team of fuckfaces who think they mean something but they aren't. That team consists of the delusionist who seems to think he's a knight, a Maverick- wannabe, and the guy who seems to think I begged him to be on my Shove- It, even though I pointed out the perfect timing Loverboy wanted his match with Frodo. Nice job, there. You seem to have excellent taste in partners. Oh sorry, did I say excellent? I mean abysmal.
"Stepping right up here, we have Azreal Erebus and Jaws. Azreal, I don't know much about you, only you threw away the Main Event of War Games, getting pinned by a rookie, Justin Sane. Your excuse? 'I let it happen.' Well now, I see the extent of this mentorship here. By refusing to cut a promo here, you are showing Jaws what it means to be a lazy has- been, and then cover up your losses with lazy, bullshit excuses. Real suave there, Spaceman.
"As for you, Jaws, you're a stupid goddamn idiot. Seriously. You're even more delusional than Knight, thinking you are a shark, even though you're wearing a shark costume. Nice job there. Nothing shows intimidation quite like a costume. Everyone, I think we should just take the example set by this delusional fuckface, and start wearing animal costumes. I'll be a Cocker Spaniel, and Duncan can be a Poodle! Seriously Jaws, just go hide over at your local mental asylum. Guarantee no one will miss you.
"Coming up to the final leg here with the last three teams. First off, Jessie Diaz and Iris Oppenheimer. Jessie Diaz, I'm not going to say much about you. You're more like a wild card to me. I know jack shit about you, you know jack shit about me, more than likely. All I'm going to say is that you should have stayed gone.
"Your partner is who I'm more interested in. Iris Oppenheimer. You think your trying to make things peaceful by saying what's the point about trash talk? It quite simply leaves your opponent in shreds right out of the starting gate. And if you have a problem with trash talk, then sorry to tell you, but you picked a boring career choice, since you're going to be forced to go against your opponent and rip away everything they stand for.
"Next up, Ethan Donovan and Hunter Payne. Ethan, this isn't a Twilight parody. You can hunt vampires all you like, but that and your three piece suits are going to mean jack shit when you step up against someone like me. You lost to Mastermind and Sane, you only beat Luke Gunnar who hasn't done anything since he debuted, yadda yadda. Y'know, I'm sensing a trend here. It seems as though 90% of the people who joined here are failed newcomers who are trying desperately to become relevant here. Donovan? Lost to Sane and Mastermind. Jaws? Picked a terrible choice for a mentor. Storms? Got wrecked by Underwood. Frost? Wallace? Got wrecked by Swann and Knight. Are you seeing where I'm going with here?
"However, Donovan, your partner is not a rookie, in no sense of the word. Hunter Payne. All you're doing by signing up for this match is ensuring you'll be tasting steel. You won't be in any shape to hang out with Joy, because you're such a fucking stupid imbecilic twat by signing up for this. I mean, Proxy would've given you enough trouble, and he hardly showed up for War Games!
"And I see the final team I have to rip apart. Hello, Theo. Hello, John. We finally meet again.
"You see, yes, my clone has been striking fast, he has been striking hard. And you are complete dumbasses for thinking this is some excuse card even though you see on camera that I nearly got killed by him. Way to be a couple of dumbasses. Samuels, I already beat you once. The fact you needed the Three Kings to beat Un for the Thanksgiving Madness- Un, the man who was hardly trying and was purposely having me lose matches, is so fucking pathetic I don't know where to begin. You're such a Jew you steal Lane's money, then keep it when you try to give it out. I mean, come on, I know Gilmour is Gilmour, but the fair thing that should have been done was do the drawing over, just exclude Gilmour from it unless he gives you the money. Boom, Jew move gone.
"Now, if you two are done chasing ghosts, then get ready to be put through wood.
"And finally, the last man I need to talk about is my own tag team partner, Duncan B. Deadly. Despite having such a terrible pun for a name it can make babies cry, Duncan, I'm going to deny the first impressions I got about you and give you a chance. Despite the fact your trash talk is incredibly corny, and you have another Higher Power- ripoff or whatever, I'm only in this for the gold. Be thankful that here, you're getting a free ride to the Tag Titles. And if you even consider betraying me, that will be the last mistake you will ever think to make."
Monday, December 15th
Monday Night Madness- Outside of the Mercedes- Benz Superdome
8:55 P.M.
So this was it. This is how I die. This is what spells the doom of the Avatar of Perfection.
My vision was turning to black as time zapped into slow motion as I was falling down I don't know how many flights from Un's kick. There was nothing I could do to prevent it. I was falling, shards of glass surely embedded in my back, and now, I will rest in peace, now not even having a chance to win at Tag Team Tenacity, now not even having a chance to save Miranda Tigris's career, and it was all because of the same man who ruined my career, the same man who impersonated me for over a month and a half.
The same man who costed me the Television title twice, the same man who costed me from a crack at the Universal title, the same man who made me look like a pussy on global television, the same man who has been a thorn in my side for countless weeks. Un.
No. Not here. Not now. Not while I haven't proved to the big boys I belong here. Not while I look like a disgrace in front of everyone in the locker room, not while people freely take pot shots at me in their promos. Over my dead body will Un finally defeat me.
I let out a primal roar, and I new desperate measures called for desperate times. I summoned all the hidden strength I could muster, the strength that was too humble to show itself while I was struggling to get out, struggling to engage Un. I used that hidden strength, and ripped myself from my bonds, the duct tape ripping off my flesh and the cold steel of the chair. My body weight had me going down faster than the chair.
Okay, I thought. You got out of the chair, but you're still falling down God knows how many flights from Un's attack. I gulped. Well, it's do or die time. I went into a spread- eagle position, and grabbed one of the many ledges for each floor. I thankfully sighed, wondering how my body didn't get destroyed from the immediate loss of speed as my mind calculated my next move.
Alright, now I suppose the next logical move would be-- what the hell?!
It was the chair my body had surpassed in speed, tumbling to the ground. My body had no time to react, as the chair was in perfect position to hit me.
CRACK!
........
"Jeez, how far did that guy fall?"
........
"Must have been around five flights. It's a God- given miracle this man didn't die."
........
"I need EMTs, stat! This man needs to be taken to a hospital, ASAP!"
And it was after hearing this, and being placed on that soft, pillowy gurney, that I lost consciousness.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Monday, December 23rd
Less than a day before Tag Team Tenacity- St. Vincent Medical Center- Los Angeles, CA
9:30 A.M.
I snapped to attention, alert and awake. It was as one of the voices I heard say. It was a God- given miracle that I wasn't dead. Frank was instinctively at my side, pulling me down, saying, "Easy there, boss. Don't over stress yourself, you've been through enough as it is."
I was reasonably confused, as I was blurting out, "Wh- what happened? I was at Madness, and Un kicked me out the window, and- and-"
Frank held up a hand and stopped me. "Relax, boss, you didn't miss much, except for the fact your opponents for Tag Team Tenacity went to fucking town on promos."
With Frank having solved the question of what the fuck I wanted to do right now, I said, "In that case, what the flying fuck are we waiting for? Fire up that laptop, I have some catch- up work to do."
"Uh, sir, I don't think that's wi-" I cut Frank off.
"I appreciate your concern, Frank, but I'd say this is going to outrank my health as of right now. Now fire up that laptop."
--------------------------
11:45 A.M.
--------------------------
I took a deep breath, massaging my temple. Now I understood why Frank didn't want me seeing their promos- it was mind-boggling how so many people could be so stupid. Luckily for me, Frank had set up the camera, so now there was no waiting. It was just me facing down my opponents.
"Come later on tonight, I will be facing four teams who have proved themselves to be the most
motherfuckers on this planet. I say four because now, it's no question I'm winning this thing. I honestly thought my illiterate fuck face of a partner would be dragging me down, but honestly? Some of the shit people have said has been flat- out . And for other people, they haven't even mentioned their opponents!"Let's start with the small fry first. Adrian Storms and Bobby Zi. I'm going to start with the latter. Bobby goddamn Zi, two time X-treme Champion, and quite possibly the worst X-treme Champion known. Now, you see Bobby, you lost the X-treme Championship to me. Now normally, this wouldn't be so bad, only you dropped the belt to somebody who hasn't even wrestled a goddamn match. That is quite simply pathetic. I don't need to prove myself to you. I laid you out once, and if you and Storms are lucky to scrape a win over the likes of Azreal Erebus, Hunter Payne, etc., then I don't think they'll be any question about who will win.
"Adrian Storms. I don't know much about you, other than the fact that you must be pretty damn pathetic. Sure, you beat James Shelby, but what exactly did James Shelby accomplish here?
...
...
That's what I thought. Now, you also got demolished by Aaron Underwood, the guy who seems to send out Asylum pamphlets at his local Wal- Mart to try and 'recruit' people to follow that bullshit 'leader.' And, let's not forget to mention that Aaron Underwood lost in that same week to Gator. Now, this may not be so bad, but it was in a handicap match. Underwood was with Ghost Tank. And it was under Last Man Standing Elimination Rules. Seriously. And you got your ass beat down by him. You're pathetic.
"Next up, we have Scotty Anderson and Tommy Wish, two guys who seem to be like brothers. Now that's cool. Friends are nice, like what Pryce said in his promo. Probably the only legible thing he ever said in there. Anyway, Scotty and Tommy don't seem to care about this tournament at all, since they haven't said anything! Seriously! These two illiterate twats think they'll be meaning something here, thinking they can win this tournament, yet they haven't said a word yet. Seriously. Fucking sad. You two dunces are probably going to be the first ones thrown out.
"Next on our list, we have Jet Frost and TJ Wallace. Jet Frost, I'm actually going to agree with Lane on this one. Probably the only time this will be happening, so you're gonna want to be writing this down. You seem to be the black hole of audience interest. I mean, what have you accomplished since arriving on the scene here? Beating Cameron Clay, a nobody scrub who hasn't even shown his face since submitting in his roster application? You lost to the same man you call a partner, you lost to Swann twice, and you lost to the Ariel Knight, who apparently knew this tournament was going to be filled with illiterate dumbasses from the start, being in good with MacClay. Me not knowing this, threw my name into the basket, got thrown in with these dumbasses, and now have to subject myself to playing around with these grade- school dunderheads.
"TJ Wallace, you've nearly had the same story as Frosty there. Let's see here, you only beat a Frenchie Maverick- wannabe, your partner, and the king of illiterate twats, Luke Kage. Since then, you've lost to Swagmire, Knight, Erebus, and Hysteria. I might have missed a match or two, though it's hard to point it out, since a large chunk of this tourney's participants' win/loss record being nearly nothing but losses. I mean, you have to subject yourself to the Underground, a team of fuckfaces who think they mean something but they aren't. That team consists of the
delusionist who seems to think he's a knight, a Maverick- wannabe, and the guy who seems to think I begged him to be on my Shove- It, even though I pointed out the perfect timing Loverboy wanted his match with Frodo. Nice job, there. You seem to have excellent taste in partners. Oh sorry, did I say excellent? I mean abysmal."Stepping right up here, we have Azreal Erebus and Jaws. Azreal, I don't know much about you, only you threw away the Main Event of War Games, getting pinned by a rookie, Justin Sane. Your excuse? 'I let it happen.' Well now, I see the extent of this mentorship here. By refusing to cut a promo here, you are showing Jaws what it means to be a lazy has- been, and then cover up your losses with lazy, bullshit excuses. Real suave there, Spaceman.
"As for you, Jaws, you're a stupid goddamn idiot. Seriously. You're even more delusional than Knight, thinking you are a shark, even though you're wearing a shark costume. Nice job there. Nothing shows intimidation quite like a costume. Everyone, I think we should just take the example set by this delusional fuckface, and start wearing animal costumes. I'll be a Cocker Spaniel, and Duncan can be a Poodle! Seriously Jaws, just go hide over at your local mental asylum. Guarantee no one will miss you.
"Coming up to the final leg here with the last three teams. First off, Jessie Diaz and Iris Oppenheimer. Jessie Diaz, I'm not going to say much about you. You're more like a wild card to me. I know jack shit about you, you know jack shit about me, more than likely. All I'm going to say is that you should have stayed gone.
"Your partner is who I'm more interested in. Iris Oppenheimer. You think your trying to make things peaceful by saying what's the point about trash talk? It quite simply leaves your opponent in shreds right out of the starting gate. And if you have a problem with trash talk, then sorry to tell you, but you picked a boring career choice, since you're going to be forced to go against your opponent and rip away everything they stand for.
"Next up, Ethan Donovan and Hunter Payne. Ethan, this isn't a Twilight parody. You can hunt vampires all you like, but that and your three piece suits are going to mean jack shit when you step up against someone like me. You lost to Mastermind and Sane, you only beat Luke Gunnar who hasn't done anything since he debuted, yadda yadda. Y'know, I'm sensing a trend here. It seems as though 90% of the people who joined here are failed newcomers who are trying desperately to become relevant here. Donovan? Lost to Sane and Mastermind. Jaws? Picked a terrible choice for a mentor. Storms? Got wrecked by Underwood. Frost? Wallace? Got wrecked by Swann and Knight. Are you seeing where I'm going with here?
"However, Donovan, your partner is not a rookie, in no sense of the word. Hunter Payne. All you're doing by signing up for this match is ensuring you'll be tasting steel. You won't be in any shape to hang out with Joy, because you're such a fucking stupid imbecilic twat by signing up for this. I mean, Proxy would've given you enough trouble, and he hardly showed up for War Games!
"And I see the final team I have to rip apart. Hello, Theo. Hello, John. We finally meet again.
"You see, yes, my clone has been striking fast, he has been striking hard. And you are complete dumbasses for thinking this is some excuse card even though you see on camera that I nearly got killed by him. Way to be a couple of dumbasses. Samuels, I already beat you once. The fact you needed the Three Kings to beat Un for the Thanksgiving Madness- Un, the man who was hardly trying and was purposely having me lose matches, is so fucking pathetic I don't know where to begin. You're such a Jew you steal Lane's money, then keep it when you try to give it out. I mean, come on, I know Gilmour is Gilmour, but the fair thing that should have been done was do the drawing over, just exclude Gilmour from it unless he gives you the money. Boom, Jew move gone.
"Now, if you two are done chasing ghosts, then get ready to be put through wood.
"And finally, the last man I need to talk about is my own tag team partner, Duncan B. Deadly. Despite having such a terrible pun for a name it can make babies cry, Duncan, I'm going to deny the first impressions I got about you and give you a chance. Despite the fact your trash talk is incredibly corny, and you have another Higher Power- ripoff or whatever, I'm only in this for the gold. Be thankful that here, you're getting a free ride to the Tag Titles. And if you even consider betraying me, that will be the last mistake you will ever think to make."