A Friend in Need... - Printable Version +- X-treme Wrestling Federation (https://xwf99.com) +-- Forum:   (https://xwf99.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=113) +--- Forum: Archives (https://xwf99.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=13) +---- Forum: Snow Job 2021 RP Board (https://xwf99.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=157) +---- Thread: A Friend in Need... (/showthread.php?tid=39547)

A Friend in Need... - Corey Smith - 01-20-2021 OOC: Thad Duke's color will be green instead of his normal yellow in this RP Immediately After March Madness 2019 The atmosphere backstage was still abuzz, air electric such that the skin itched for the touch of it. But as things began to wind down, as the afterparties started to stray from the arena to the hotel suites dotting the city, Thaddeus Duke remained behind. Skirting the wall to avoid colliding with some quick moving XWF techs corralling lines of cable, Duke made his way to the locker room area, seeking one door in particular and finding it after a cursory search. Lux The door stood open about a foot, and after a quick mental calculation Duke decided that was open enough to make silent observation seem decidedly less pervy. And observe silently he did, taking a moment to stand in the doorway and simply observe the figure moving about inside. On the surface of it, the subject was a 17 year old boy, still in that awkward stage between being a man and not being able to grow consistent facial hair. And yet, the movements, the subtle grace, the air of assuredness….there was an elusive otherness to the human being in this room that was incongruent with what was on the cover. It was simultaneously intriguing and a bit unnerving. I charge for the peep show. Lux speaks without sparing a glance in Thad’s direction. He smiles a bit, placing a hand on the door to open it more. I was gonna say something, I swear. I believe you. Lux turns to him, moves towards him, and offers an outstretched hand. But everyone wants to peep the freak show. Her tone is ironic and self-deprecating, rather than malicious. Thad takes her hand firmly. Thaddeus Duke. It’s nice to finally meet you. Lux doesn’t break the handshake. I know you, Thaddeus Duke. Son of Sebastian. Soldier. Fighter Pilot. Inheritor of a nation state. Only then does she let go. I could’ve used you once. Thanks….I think? Duke responds, as he does a brief scan of the room. A well honed sword is mostly hidden in a sheath inside a broad gym bag, the steel thinly visible at the top. Nice blade. Lux zips the bag up in reply, concealing the sword from view. Thank you. Then, turning, with hands on hips. What can I do for you? Geez, you’re all business, eh? He pauses. You can’t do anything for me. I just wanted to say “hello”. I’ve been admiring your work from afar…. And sometimes from doorways. A gentle prod. And sometimes from doorways! He holds his arms out amiably. I just wanted to meet you. You looked good out there tonight, despite….you know. I was surprised honestly, I thought you were going all the way. Then, with a smirk. Don’t tell Dolly Waters I said that. Sarah Lacklan is much more than she appears to be. There was a fortitude there I’ve encountered only rarely. Though, in my defense, I’m still acclimating to the boy. And there was a bit of a…dust up....before the show. “Acclimating to the boy”. Thad rolled the phrase around in his head, tamping down on the myriad sub-inquiries that simple phrase could have generated. Your evening went about as well as mine. Sorry about that. Ehhhhh… Thad waved it away. It’s fine. Just not my night. There will be others. But hey, would YOU ever consider going after the TV Title? I think you could do a hell of a lot with it. Really make it mean something. Her posture relaxed, and she went back to gathering up her things, placing them in a smaller bag sitting on the bench. It’s not a bad idea. I’ll think about it. Then, after a pause. So what do you want to know first? Huh? Everybody always has a million questions. But before you go there, I’m not answering any questions about bodily functions or….urges. She says, dropping a pair of men’s underwear in the bag. Oh! He laughs. I’m not gonna poke and prod. I mean, yeah, it’s weird as hell! But I’m sure you’ve had more than your fill of stupid questions. It IS weird as hell. Lux agrees with a touch of mirth. It’s hard on Corey. A breath. It’s really hard on Corey. I can’t even imagine. Lux stands erect abruptly, and something inscrutable crosses her features like a shadow. Maybe it’s good that you’re here. Thad cocks his head, waiting for the follow up. Corey needs normalcy. The declarative is spoken with the same casualness inherent in “I need milk.” A simple matter of fact. Thad nods. I bet it’s a rare commodity for him. It is. Lux blinks. You doing anything tomorrow night? Thad’s can feel his face flush ever so slightly. Is she asking me on a….? It’s not a date. A relieved chuckle reports. Well, that’s good. Because I was about to have to turn down an assassin with a sword within arm’s reach and I wasn’t planning on testing my CQC skills tonight. Lux turns to face Thad directly, the ghost of some quick mental operations dissipating from her features. I think you could be the kind of normalcy Corey needs. Thad grits his teeth together and winces. I hate to burst your bubble on the whole "me equals normal" thing …. I know, I know. Lux’s turn to be a touch dismissive. But, he needs a friend. He needs someone that exists outside his head. Someone roughly his age, but maybe a bit more wisened, a bit more seasoned in life and responsibility. Wait a tic….are you setting me up on a date with COREY, instead? A play date, perhaps. Lux flinches. He didn’t like that. Well…. He tosses his hands up…..sure! What the hell! How often does one get the chance to hang out with a kid sharing head space with a time traveling warrior from the future. Let’s do it. Can I talk to him tonight? You can talk to him right now. Hold my arm. She lifts her arm up. Uhhh….ok. Thad takes hold of Lux’s wrist tentatively, and she suddenly goes limp. Oh shit! Thad clamps on tighter as she starts to fall backwards, but almost as soon as the attack began, it ceased. Thad could feel a measure of control reasserting itself in the form before him, slack muscles suddenly tensing and becoming vital once more. The body blinks in rapid succession, and at first only the whites of the eyes are visible, but the irises soon roll into view and Thad catches his breath at the sight of it. Somehow, nothing about those eyes had changed….and EVERYTHING about them had changed. The transformation was nothing so dramatic as Jekyll becoming Hyde, but it was as though one soul had parted and another took up residence. The notion sent a jolt roiling up his arm and down his spine. Jesus, it’s real. The boy looks down at his captured wrist, and then back up at Thad. Why are you holding my hand, dude? May 7, 2019 Thaddeus Duke makes a drive down the basketball court, with Corey Smith just out ahead, backpedaling and trying to block the oncoming shot. Duke fakes left and then spins out and under Corey’s right. Corey tries to catch him, but overcorrects and ends up tripping over his own two feet, sending him splashing to the court’s glossy wooden floor. Thad sinks the ensuing layup with ease. Twenty one! He proclaims proudly, yet he quickly offers Corey a hand up to his feet, which he accepts. Boy was that as embarrassing as it felt?! It’s a good thing there weren’t any hot girls here to see that. Oh ho hoooo man, do not look to your left. Off to Corey’s left, a couple of attractive athletic young ladies have just entered the court, bearing subtle smiles because yep, they definitely saw that shit. I will choose to remain ignorant of my circumstances! Corey declares this with mock pride. Good plan. Thad motions for Corey to follow him over to the wall, where their water bottles await. Thad sinks down to the floor, popping the cap on his bottle and sprinkling a bit into his hair before taking a drink. Corey does the same, and stretches his legs out with a grunt. You didn’t break anything did you? Just my pride. He wipes his brow with his sleeve. How many did I have anyway? I lost count after 8 points. You stopped scoring at 8 points. Huh. Uttered with a sort of bemused acceptance. So…. Thad works a jovial expression onto his face to take the bite out of what he’s about to say. How is it that Lux is this absolute machine in the ring; speed, style, grace...the whole nine yards, and yet I am absolutely crushing you at one on one? It’s...not a bad question. The best answer I can give you is this. Lux’s abilities don’t necessarily fully translate to me. All of that skill and all that training are still her experiences, not mine. Although, it’s not like I’m experiencing zero benefits. He lifts up his shirt, exposing his belly, and starts to poke at his abdominals to count them off. One...two….three…. Thad gives him a good natured spritz from his water bottle and Corey laughs, dropping his shirt back in place. But seriously though, this is actually new ground for Lux. She’s never been in a surrogate body as long as she’s been in mine. But she thinks it’s possible that over time the muscle memory may start to write her skills into my consciousness. Until then...I’m stuck sucking at basketball. It’s okay, I still think you’re pretty cool. Thad pats Corey’s shoulder and Corey rolls his hand off with a chuckle. But then, the tenor shifts. Corey leans his head back against the wall and goes quiet. You good? Yeah….yeah. He smiles that big bright toothy Corey smile that verifies the honesty of his response. It means a lot, you know. What does? You. Being here. Treating me like I’m almost a normal dude. His gaze cants down towards the floor, almost dreamily. It’s funny. The whole thing. It’s funny. I mean, sometimes I just sit still and let it all wash over me. How crazy it is. And how if it wasn’t for all this crazy, I’d still be a flesh popsicle buried away and forgotten in the back of a lab in some hellish future. Then, Corey abruptly slaps Thad’s knee. I’m thinking of using that as the opening line on my Tindr profile. Oh, I think you got a winner! Really?! Pfffft...absolutely! Except the site you’re looking for is actually called Grindr. Oh word?! He shrugs. You’d know. Thad’s rebuttal is him tackling Corey and spritzing him with his water bottle. Corey’s laughter echoes throughout the gym as he tries to fight him off. The shot pans up towards the ceiling of the gym, and the twinkling of all that laughter almost seems to rise with it. But it’s closing in on one of the massive incandescent lights, closer and closer until your view is nearly agonizing and…. April 27, 2020 That radiance is still there, but mercifully the shot starts to pull away from the overhead light until we find ourselves in a hospital room. It’s spartan and devoid of life. The degree of technical equipment standing ready about the patient’s bed would suggest long term care, and yet there is no sign of any recent visitation. No flowers, no cards, no balloons. Nothing to indicate that this person was cared for, or missed, or loved. But on this day, there WAS a visitor. Thaddeus Duke paces at the foot of the bed as he considers the frail form under the blankets that bore a passing resemblance to the vivacious young man he once knew. Duke’s features are hard, and there is a nervous energy to his step. It occurs to you that the scene is akin to an animal handler looking for an opening to approach a deadly but wounded beast. Duke’s expression is awash in suspicion, with a white hot anger bordering at the periphery, hemming all the dark thoughts in. He’s waiting. The young man’s eyes finally start to flutter open. He’s groggy and unawares. Thad stops pacing, and just waits and watches. There’s a sense of deja vu there, this isn’t the first time he’s dropped back and taken the measure of this young man as though he were something alien and potentially menacing. Who’s in there? Duke asks simply. He tries to restrain the rancor, but it just comes out cold and distant. The young man’s expression perks up. Or half of it does anyway, the other half remains slack, testament to the awesome neurological damage the stroke had inflicted. An arm finally makes it’s way out from under the covers, and the hand finds the bed’s control so he can raise himself to a sitting position. Duke patiently waits for this too. He turns his hard eyes towards that face he used to know. Something in him threatens to break, but he steels himself. He doesn’t know who’s wearing that face yet. But the face recognizes him instantly. The unparalyzed half of his lips start to shudder, and one eye brightens while the other remains half lidded and impassive. Who’s in there? Thad goes to the well again, angrier this time. His face twitches, he opens his mouth, and then shuts it, but the hurt is too raw and ragged and yearning to break free. The Engineer? Are you in there? The one who stole my friend from me?! He sucks his teeth. Because if it is, I hope you fucking rot in there! I hope every day is a fresh hell that…. But he stops short because something in the body’s nonverbals asked for it. The functional arm lifts, but even that seems plodding and drowsy. He points to something on the table. It’s the first Thad’s noticed it, a pad of paper and a pen. The young man turns to Thad again, he opens his mouth but it’s just a throaty croak. Thad goes to the pen and paper and places it within the body’s reach, before unconsciously taking a couple steps back, outside the swiping radius of the bloodied animal. He watches intently as the young man sets in on the paper with a looping uncertain scrawl, remaining solemn and quiet until the work is finished. Finally, that frail arm turns the notebook about so that Thad can read it more easily. its corey engineer gone Thad’s heart hammers, but he swallows any visible show of emotion. He wanted to believe. He wanted so badly to believe. How do I know you’re not lying? A tear fell out of that half lidded eye, and then another from the bright and vibrant one. And even with the face’s range of expression so limited, the anguish was undeniable. Something pleading and desperate set in there, and the young man opened his mouth again to speak but once more could only manage an unintelligible croak. This just caused his tears to flow more bountifully. His free hand leapt out and pulled the paper back in towards him, and with pen strokes now so fervent they threatened to tear the page, he wrote again. When he was done, the notepad was pushed to the edge of the bed. Duke took it in hand, and whispered the words to himself. LOOK AT ME Look at me. So he did. And he saw. And he remembered. The eyes had it. The soul he knew and loved was still in there, but it was worn and tired and scared. The galleon that was Corey Smith's mind had been battered and broken open on the rocks, precariously close to slipping into those dark depths never to be seen again. Not unless somebody stepped in to help put those pieces together. Duke's countenance softened and his throat suddenly felt tight and constricted. He fought back the tears though. He had to be strong for him. It's ok. I believe you, Corey. I know it's you. Corey slumped in relief. No words were produced, but the sentiment was clear. Thank you. Thaddeus went to him, sitting on the edge of his bed. He took Corey's hand, and Corey responded by giving a weak little squeeze in return as if to say "I'm still here". We are gonna do this, okay? We're going to get you walking. We're going to get you moving. He smiles. And we're going to get you talking, even if I may regret it five minutes later. That brought out as much of a smile as Corey could muster. Thad's heart shattered. He leaned in over Corey's willowed frame and pulled him into a hug. Corey's face nestled in Thad's shoulder, and Duke could feel the warm glut of tears beginning to saturate the fabric of his shirt. Corey's crying was more like intermittent hitched sobs, punctuated by full body quakes that Duke could feel shaking down into his own bones. I love you, man. We're gonna make this better. They stayed like that, intertwined and silent for some time, like a beautiful Renaissance sculpture that passed the test of time, insisting on itself for centuries so that it may convey the purity and grace of this laden moment for future generations. Now We see a Corey Smith that is a far cry from what we had just seen. His body is rejuvenated, his soul replenished, his fire stoked once more into a brilliant controlled burn waiting for an opportunity to embrace irresponsibility. He's in the private gym on the estate. The hour is late, and most everyone had already gone to bed. This was his design. He wanted these quiet moments to prepare his mind and body. And most importantly, to afford himself enough ample introspection so that he might settle on just what brought him to this place. Not this physical place, mind. No, what had brought him to ally with the precise breed of malevolence Lux had fought her entire life. The notion felt like a foul film on his skin. It almost stunk of betrayal, and Corey shuddered to think of what Lux would have to say seeing him now. And yet, with all of that aligned against his choice, why did it still persist in feeling like the right thing to do? With an exhausted grunt, Corey pries himself off the exercise bike he was using and snaps his towel off the handlebars to give his hair a quick tussle. He drops the towel across his shoulders before turning to address you, our intrepid viewer. This team is gonna be a clusterfuck. Uh, what? I am, of course, talking about my team, at Snow Job. ….? Allow me to provide you with some visual aids. Oh man. He chuckles. Total classics. Point is, on paper, in reality, in that ring, in the dirt sheets, wherever you may roam, the alliance of Corey Smith and Doctor Louis DeVille seems about as stable and likely to succeed as your drunken aunt’s fifth marriage. I do not like or trust the Doc. And the Doc’s opinion of me is, well, not quite so clear, but I’m gonna take a gamble and say he sees me as a cross between an ant to be stepped upon and a passing excuse to engage in psychological torture. In short, SOLID TEAM! Corey flashes a sardonic thumbs up. Oh come on, I know you’re all gonna go there. I’m just beating you to the punch. Here’s another one: Corey doesn’t really care about defending this title because he didn’t earn it. It was a literal “title out of a briefcase” scenario. Except mine had even LESS aplomb because it amounted to Thad dumping the tag strap in my lap, subtly beaning me in the nads in the process, and shouting “Freebird!” like that one obnoxious guy at the concert trying on that joke for the 37th time in the same show and still thinking it’s fresh. Sometimes I am ALMOST tempted to think some homicides are justified! Errr..the “Freebird Guy’s” not Thad’s…. Corey slumps down onto a weight bench, his cheeks puffed out in a whoosh of exasperation. How did we get here? Huh? What brought us to this? Well hold your horses buckaroos, because I got an answer for that. But first, a word for our illustrious opponents. First off, The Dissentients. And before I get ahead of myself, even I have to give Lycana props for casting off that useless boil Ash Quinn and trading up to tall, dark, and demonic. Seriously, the girl wasn’t so much a leaving breathing competitor so much as she was a cosplay of the big chunk of meat Rocky Balboa practiced on. I mean, if you guys are going to be picking up where Baphomet left off, you may want to add a line on the application asking prospective Handies if they’re just “kinda useless” or “MOSTLY useless”. And because tonight seems to be a night of admissions for me, I’m gonna admit I had no idea what your team name meant. The Dissentients, eh? Now I’m gonna bet you guys just picked it because it sounded vaguely mysterious and menacing AKA the profundity of thought you put into pretty much ALL your decisions, but in turns out it’s a REAL word! Yeah, it means “a person who opposes a majority or official opinion”. Now, see, that actually works out for you guys, because in this case the majority opinion is that The Left Hand is a tedious retread bore that’s nowhere near as intimidating as they think they are, whereas your opinion is “why is reading so hard?”. Seriously, you’re telling me the mighty Lord of the Flies won’t even spring for an editor? Jesus those hype videos are embarrassing. And speaking of ILL DOUCHE himself, it done looks like he got hisself arrested by the Keystone Cops branch of the CIA. Corey takes on a dumb yokel accent as he speaks those words. Folks, this shoots one of two ways, either Baphomet got collared by the biggest idiot in the CIA, or this is some poorly conceived swerve with an endgame of debuting an illiterate horse. Neither of those things are a flower in The Left Hand’s cap. Now, if any of the rest of you had a lick of sense, you’d pull a Tula and flush this floater of a group once and for all. It was DOA folks, and now you’re just flogging a corpse. Now that might do something for Lycana, but the rest of us are just standing there in various degrees of perplexity and boredom wondering when you guys are gonna catch a clue. Well, I’m here to tell you, it’s not too late. Really, it isn’t! Plenty of people have recovered from earlier, awkward stages of development to blossom into greatness. You guys are like the pimply teen virgin who insisted on wearing a Naruto headband for his senior pictures. Eventually, that kid grew up, started watching DECENT anime, got some face cream and a good IT job and made something of himself. What’s your excuse? Corey looks side to side, and then leans into the camera, talking in a hushed tone. Marf, come on man! What are you doin’?! I know “crazy sex” is pretty sweet and all, but are you honestly gonna let Vampira, Mistress of the Dork lead you down this path? You seem like a fairly normal guy, all things considered. Nice build, got that rough and tumble ruggedly good looking thing going on. And most of all, you manage to not talk in quite so many awful cliches. Scope your girl’s last promo man. “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust”...”hell hath no fury”...:They want a fight, we will bring a war”....”are you all bark and no bite?”...Shit, that was just in the first few minutes! She’s like a Chatty Kathy doll that only speaks in empty headed slogans. Christ, no wonder her record’s so mediocre. Corey runs his hands up and down his gym shorts as though he’s releasing some internal tension. He cracks his neck and smiles for the camera. But now we move on to the real Meat and Potatoes. And this one….this one I got real mixed feelings about. Robbie Bourbon. On one hand, you’re kind of a perennial self serving dick. On the other...you were in the right the last time you met this body in the ring. Back then, you stood for the things I stood for now. Well, some of them anyway, minus the history of blatant corporate profiteering and that whole squicky hanging out with a pedophile thing. You just wanted to have fun. To bring joy. To have a good time! Hell man, what I wouldn’t give to get a do-over on all that. I woulda joined you, man. And you know what, I could take that bitch route and say that The Engineer was not me. That I wasn’t in control during that match, or any of those other times he acted like a total abominable psychopath. But the fact is, I WAS in control when I fucked up and shot that bastard right into my arm because I was too weak to resist the pull of a cheap high. So, yeah, I do consider everything he did on me. And Robbie, you may scoff and try to twist my words, but I’m trying to make it right. I’m trying to do right by all those people I wronged. That can include you too, if you want that. But I reckon you don’t. Because in that same amount of time I walked through hell and came out other side the man you see before you today, you shifted gears once again and joined the Brotherhood of Baddies. Ayup, Robbie turned heel again. Corey snickers and claps his hands. Give it up, for the many faces of Robbie Bourbon folks. “Where’s he coming from? Where’s he goin?!” Honestly, I don’t even think he knows, do ya Bob-o? And it’s a shame really. It’s a damn shame. Because with your charisma, with your intensity, with your clout, you truly COULD be that man of the people again. But that’s not actually want you want, is it? It never was. And last, but certainly not least, we come to Thunder Knuckles. A face that I’m not the least bit surprised to see amongst the ranks of B.O.B. Ah sure, good ol’ TK is good for a laugh. He’s got jokes! He’s got the absurd situations to keep the fans with their asses firmly planted and a twinkle in their eye. Maybe not as funny as “my absurd situations”, but the thought’s there. Just one problem with good ol’ TK. He looks dead at the camera. I’ll pay you to take a fall in this match. Corey takes on a look of mock surprise. You know I’m good for it! Me and all that Nazi bullion Madison so kindly left me. And hey! You remember, Madison right? She paid you once to lay down for her. Yeah….you remember…. Not sure you wanna do it? Not sure you can do that to B.O.B.? Maybe it’s the real cash that’s a problem? I mean, I don’t know what the conversion rate is from American Dollars to XBux, but I’m sure I can get it sorted and we can work something out. Or maybe we already did. He waggles a finger at the camera. And that’s just the problem with people who will do anything for a buck. You never can tell where their real loyalties lie. Robbie, this guy had so little shame he volunteered to lose to MADISON DYSON, one of the biggest scum suckers in XWF history, for some XWF funny money. Where’s the line, huh? And how do you know he didn’t already cross it again? Robbie, how you gonna feel with that guy at your back? How are you really gonna feel? He’s done it before. He’s swallowed what little pride he had left for some petty shinies. Did he do it again? Are you sure? Corey suddenly tosses his arms up in the air with a flippant smile. The towel falls off his shoulders and lands on the floor. Ayyyyyy, I’m just askin’ questions! He chuckles. But the laughter soon draws down, and Corey again becomes more solemn. At the start of this thing, I made things seem not so hot for Team CorVille. He sneers as an aside. God, I even hate THAT. But, recovering his composure, he soldiers on. And it’s true. Things don’t seem so hot. So what the hell am I even doing here? What’s motivating me to defend a title that’s technically not even mine with a guy I can’t stand? Answer: Love. The Platonic idea of love that is the very essence of my relationship with one Thaddeus Duke. I know Duke has his detractors. I know he has his faults. And honestly, I don’t give a fuck. But when a man helps you change your shit bag because you’re too weak to do it yourself, that’s love. When a man stays by your bedside all night without complaint because you’re irrationally terrified you’ll have another stroke while you sleep, that’s love. When a man is willing to toss aside all conventional notions of masculinity itself to hold you and let you have a good cry, that’s love. I love the shit out of Thaddeus Duke. He was there for me during my darkest days. He came back for me after I turned into a fucking monster. He put up with all my self indulgent pissing and moaning, all my weakness and bullshit, all the days I was just gonna give up on myself because I was too cowardly to go on, he put up with all of that and said NO. He wouldn’t let me fail. And I am back in that ring because of him. So if Thaddeus Duke wants me to pinch hit for him in a tag match, with a devil for a partner, it never even occurred to me to say no. Because I love that man. I’d do damn near anything for him. And that’s not something I’d expect ANY of you to understand. Certainly not The Left Hand, who are the antithesis of love. Certainly not Robbie Bourbon, who has no idea what he even is, and certainly not Thunder Knuckles, who would gladly sell his soul for a buck. The thing that will be this team’s saving grace, is the love I hold for Thaddeus Duke. Because nothing scares me more than the prospect of walking backstage at Snow Job to face him, knowing I lost the match he entrusted me with. Quite frankly, I’d rather die. Corey bows his head, and then rises to his feet. He has one more fierce look for the camera. This is all for my good friend Thad Duke. And that should scare the rest of you, very, very much.