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X-treme Wrestling Federation »   » Archives » "CCPE Cannabis Cup 2022" RP Board
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#1
06-16-2022, 10:06 AM

[Image: tumblr_pr13p0iKBR1tdmuiho1_500.gifv]

Sabin… Wraith… lost the IWF World Championship on May 29, 2022, at Night of the Immortals, to JC Keeton. This was a strike against the esteem of the nineteen-year-old that he had thought of what he could do to be able to rebound from the shame that he felt after such a defeat. To be at the top of the world, only to be thrust from the top of it on what he viewed as the grandest stage in the industry… He knew it was not the only grand stage in the industry. The XWF had Relentless; OWA had Final Destination; EAW had Pain For Pride; WrestleWorld had Arcadia, but Sabin and the IWF had Night of the Immortals.



Las Vegas, NV
May 29, 2022
Night of the Immortals

Confetti is raining down from the rafters while “I Am The One” by Vo Williams is playing throughout the PA and the crowd is still applauding for the spectacular show that they just witnessed. A defeated Sabin is leaning over the barricade with his hands folded at the back of his head; Ashley leans over him and is gently stroking back his bloodstained hair.

“It’s okay, baby…” Ashley whispers to him amongst the crowd that is starting to phase out, “You’re going to rebound. You’re going to be back at the top,” she says in a soothing tone.

Sabin fixes his posture and looks Ashley in the eyes while she caresses his cheek; he nods his head, and leans in to whisper something to her, “Let’s get out of here.” He says, and climbs over the barricade. Many of the fans flock around the former champion and extend their arms toward the couple; Sabin high fives many of the fans on his way, and many of them give him words of encouragement while walking by them…

“You did great!”
“Next time!”
“I thought for sure you had it…”
“Chin up!”

He wore his battle scars with pride while walking one step behind Ashley, and his hand on the small of her back to ensure the two were not separated throughout the crowd. Sabin could hear the fans still cheering, and could hear the chant bellowing out over even the crowd that had been cheering in favor of JC Keeton. The words rang out loud…

“You can’t kill him!” They say.
“You can’t kill him!” They repeat.
“You can’t kill him!” Like a wave on the ocean, the soundwave rang throughout the audience.

Sabin reaches the concourse to a sea of people still surrounding the former champion. He raises a single arm to the crowd as a gesture of respect for the respect they have given him. Following the incident, he walks through the doors right behind Ashley and on the other side of the doorway, security has already secured the vicinity for the former champion who becomes stunned when he lays eyes on one person standing on the other side of the door. Dean Harper, his stepbrother who had successfully won the IWF World Tag Team Titles alongside Warren Kane, Dean’s husband this evening.

Dean Harper was cleaned up after his match, a polar opposite of the battle scarred little brother, and Dean snickers while stepping forward.

“Hey, Ashley,” he says, and the two share a quick hug.

“Congrats, Dean! Wasn’t expecting you…” Ashley answers.

“I came to see my little brother,” Dean says with a smirk. Ashley nods and steps aside.

Dean and Sabin look at each other… The two brothers that have fought each other in the IWF, and again at the Denzel Porter Invitational. One round that saw Dean Harper take the victory, and the second round that saw Sabin take it. Both of them are now standing as former IWF World Champions, and the two youngest in the history of the business.

“Little brother…” Dean says, and raises his hand which in turn causes Sabin to instinctively look to step back, but he fights those instincts away. Dean rests his hand on Sabin’s shoulder in a comforting manner, “This is the luckiest night of his life,” Dean says with a chuckle, “He’s not going to be able to hold onto it for long.” Dean says, and puts his hand to the back of Sabin’s head before drawing him in and pressing their foreheads together. “Stay strong, little brother.”

Sabin nods.

“I have a plan for tonight, Sabin. I would love for you to be there.” Dean says.

Sabin nods again, and Ashley speaks up for both of them, “We’ll be there.” She answers.

The duo that now became a trio walk through the corridor as the scene comes to a close.



It was the most bitter defeat Sabin has had to taste in his young career. The boy did what he felt he needed to do to regain his bearings; he retreated to his property in Alaska that housed a number of private cabins, as well as a larger one that housed a larger company… Sabin brought his stepbrother, Dean Harper, Dean’s new husband, Warren Harper, and his maternal aunt Jennifer Docherty-Rodriguez, her husband, Ricky Rodriguez, and of course the future mother to Sabin’s unborn child, Ashley Miller, all to the cabin in the Alaskan wilderness. The Matanuska-Susitna (Mat-Su) Valley stretched 23,000 square miles from Anchorage to Denali National Park. The cabin was much closer to Denali, sitting between the small town of Talkeetna and Denali National Park.

Four of the six inhabitants sat outside around a fire pit that roared and crackled from the logs in place. Each one of them were dressed appropriately for the weather that, despite its summer months, would only reach into the mid-sixties on a sunny day; this was not a sunny day. Ricky sat with his arm around his wife; Dean Harper sat with a blunt in his hand, and Sabin sat in another deck chair with his arms crossed over his stomach. There was no hiding the defeated look written on Sabin’s face, and his focus remained fixated on the image in front of him: Denali, the great mountain that stood as a representation for what Sabin knew he had to do… He had to climb his way back to the top of his company, and he had to climb to the top of the industry.

This is a boy, a man, that has proclaimed himself as the heir; the future king of the industry, and you could say or question a great many things about him, but no one could question his heart, no one could question his determination, and no one could question his legacy. The son of the great Tara Fenix. Trained by her. He knew his destiny was forged for him to be something great.

Sabin sat lost within the confines of his own mind which had become a haze while the four of them took turns taking a hit off from the appropriately named Alaskan Thunder Fuck, or Matanuska Tundra... His mind raced back and forth on his next steps within the IWF, and his march toward conquering the PWE, as well as ensuring that the world would know his name after the Cannabis Cup.

A sudden cough interrupts the silence, and Dean holds the blunt out toward Sabin. Dean inhales heavily while his eyes are stuck on his brother, and he notices that Sabin’s eyes in turn are still fixed upon Denali.

“Maaan, are you still pouting over that loss?” Dean asks.

The question triggers Sabin back to reality, but he was at a loss for words since he had zoned out; the look of his eyes questioned Dean, and Dean was able to easily read the look on his face so repeated himself.

“Listen, you’re not going to win them all… That is life, little brother. The sooner you accept it, the sooner you can move on,” Dean says while still holding the blunt out toward him.

“Listen to Dean! Dean is smart,” Jennie chimes in before sitting up and taking the blunt away from Dean, and taking a hit for herself, “Y-y-you fought really hard, Sabie, and you really… REALLY… have nothing to be ashamed of. Like… you kicked out of TWO of his finishers, Sabie!” Jennie said and mouths the word “two” as a repeat.

Ricky takes the blunt from Jennie, “Nah, nah, nah! Y’all’re givin’ him some bad advice, y’hear?” Ricky takes a large hit off the blunt and leans forward while exhaling; he and his brother-in-law lock eyes… These two were going to meet in the first round of the Cannabis Cup, and only one of them would be able to move on…they were going to be enemies at the Cannabis Cup, but right here and right now, these two were family; Ricky was part of the Docherty family just as well, and he wanted to share in giving his brother-in-law some friendly advice, “You were robbed, a’ight? There ain’t no way, no how, no bloody–”

“Oi!” Jennie interrupts, “When did you go bloo’y Bri’ish on me?”

Ricky blinks several times, but resumes, “No way that that guy should’ve walked out with that win! Man, you’re gonna bounce back…you’re gonna get angry! You’re gonna take back that title, and damn it, you’re gonna start turnin’ some more heads!”

Jennie frantically taps Ricky, “Babe– bae– baby…”

“Yes?” Ricky asks.

“You’re fighting him in the first round… Do you think you really should be tryin’ to inspire him?” Jennie asks with the lingering question.

Silence.

“On second thought, you should just give up…” Ricky says while nodding and leaning back in his seat. He takes another hit off the blunt, and nods heavily.



The imagery fades in to unveil a field of overgrown grass. The sky is completely overcast, but the wind howls while encircling a small clearing in the field, and a figure sits cross-legged…the camera gets closer, and closer, and there is no mistaking this individual: Wraith. His face and body is painted as if he were already being unleashed. As if he were already prepared to enter the ring to stand opposite of his Cannabis Cup opponent, his brother-in-law, Ricky Rodriguez. His eyes are closed.

Stand up…


A voice says to him. He opens his eyes as the camera centers on the bright blue eyes that are fixated with the audience; he cocks his head to the side, and gains the traditional Docherty smirk that his family has been known to have. He simultaneously stands up with no delay, and draws in a deep breath before finally breaking the silence that once had been a shelter for him.

“Welcome,” Sabin says in a tone suggesting that he is somewhere in the midst of sane and insane; somewhere between Sabin and Wraith, and the smirk is still on full display; he spreads his arms out in a welcoming fashion, “It is an interesting concept when I think about you, Ricky… who I am stepping into the ring with… You–” he taps his finger against his chin while taking a stride forward, “–are someone that I am quite familiar with, and I hope that you are familiar with me. I hope that you understand what it is that I am capable of doing inside of the ring, because there are people who have doubted me… There are people who have said that my age is my weakness; there are people that have said I am not mature enough, nor strong enough to be where I am in this industry… But where was I standing at the beginning of this year? The youngest World Champion in the history of the Imperial Wrestling Federation, and possibly even the youngest to ever hold a World Title in the history of the entire industry! Do you know why that is?” He asks, and cocks his head to the side.

“Because I am damn good at what I do, Ricky. I am one of the best to do what we do. I trained for this, Ricky… Before I could ever walk, I wanted nothing else than to step inside of the ring and be recognized– be respected– be known…around the world. To have the world chanting my name! I have accomplished a lot in my first year in this business, but now… Now I have a chance to do something that no one else in this industry would be able to say that they did: I have the chance to say that I am the first official winner of the Cannabis Cup. I have a chance to ensure that I do not only have the attention of the audience, but the attention of each and every person that laces up their boots to step into our realm…” He says and spreads his arms out, “I am the real deal. I am the future. I am who is going to lead the charge of the next generation!” His voice lifts with pride as he considers his future.

Sabin takes a brief pause and casually paces back and forth; his gaze falters away from the camera and he crosses his arms across his chin, and raises one to tap his finger against his chin, “I did not expect this to happen this early. I did not consider facing you in the first round, but I remember the day that it was announced… I remember the excitement I felt, but I remember seeing how torn Tláak’w became when she thought of us stepping into the ring to compete against each other. But why was I excited? Why was I excited to step into the ring with you in the first place?”

He stops pacing and turns his attention back toward the camera.

“Because this is your official welcoming to the family!” He says with the Docherty smirk still on full display, “This is something that you can count as a wedding present… This is something that you can view as an actual test– a test whether you should be able to call yourself part of this family. I do not know if Tláak’w was clear with you when she told you what our family is, and what our family is, but let me go ahead and make it crystal clear for you…” He steps toward the camera and wraps a hand around the lens to ensure it is focused on him while kneeling down and bringing the camera with him as he does.

“We are royalty,” he says and cocks his head to the side, “We are what everyone aspires to be. We get into the ring, and we do what everybody else dreams of doing… but better. That is why when Tláa takes you under her wing, you become something in this industry! Whether you are blood…” He presses his hand to his chest, “Like me. Like Tláak’w. Look at all of the people that have surrounded me my entire life– my entire life! I am honored to be able to stand beside them; I am honored to have been able to carry on the family legacy, and shape my own… You have married into the family that…no matter where we go…we are royalty. We are royalty because everybody knows that if there is a Docherty attached to the last name, that we are going to deliver. If you are attached to Tláa, you are going to deliver. And you, Ricky, would not be welcome into the family if you did not adhere to one trait above all else…” He says while holding his index finger up, and pauses momentarily for dramatic effect.

“It is a trait instilled in me– in us– ever since Tláa first began to teach us to step into the ring…” He says aloud, but then goes silent to let those words linger for several seconds. The camera continues to encircle the former IWF World Champion, and he follows with his eyes.

“Pride.” The word escapes his lips, and the very sentiment of the word can be heard in his tone when he goes silent afterward letting that singular word linger for the audience, “Pride in what we do! Pride in knowing that we are the best at what we do! The way that we are trained– the way that we are built– is inhuman compared to what a lot of people are trained for… Make no mistake about it, Ricky: we…are…built…differently. We earn everything that we have; we are not given a damn thing! Just like you, Ricky: you clawed your way from the bottom of the barrel… You were once that person that people saw standing across from them, and they laughed. They laughed because they did not believe that you deserved to be in the same ring as them; they did not think that you deserved to breathe the same air as them! But you–” Sabin says while wagging his finger, “–changed that. You made everybody pay attention to you. You made everybody see you for more than what they believed… You became a champion. A double champion. A triple champion! You were someone that nobody believed would ever hold a title to someone that carried three… You earned everything. There was nothing that was given to you.”

“I may not have expected to face you this early, but I am glad that we are getting this opportunity… Both of us are young. Both of us are hungry. Both of us are vying to proclaim ourselves as the one that will lead this industry into the future! But there is something that I need you to do for me, though… Ricky… when we step into that ring, I need you to bring everything you have. I need you to be determined to walk out as the winner. I need you to bring that heart–” Sabin says, and pounds his hand over his heart several times, “–that these people know you have, that heart that turned everybody into a believer! Because I am bringing everything that I have.”

He gives a subtle nod and licks his lips, “Everything that I have in my arsenal… When I manage to get you into a hold, I am telling you now that I am not letting go until you tap out! My vice is competition: I only ever want to face people at their best. My vice, Ricky… inside of the ring… I feel a need to make people tap out. I feel a need to ensure my opponent fully knows and understands that they were not going to defeat me on their best day. They are not going to defeat me on their best day. I do not want you to insult me– yourself– or Tláak’w by bringing anything less than your best. Do not insult us, Ricky. Do not insult me.” Sabin pauses again, and snickers this time in the short pause.

“There are plenty of people in this industry that are going to step in front of the camera, and their only goal is going to be to break you down, Ricky… They are only going to be telling you that you are out of your league. They are going to tell you that the night is not yours! This is something that I have heard all too many times. I have heard from everybody saying that I am too young to be at the top. I have had people tell me that there are just some things that I will not learn until I have had the experience! That is why that is not what I am trying to say to you, Ricky. We have both had veterans attempt to show us the ropes without failing to realize that we are not looking to follow in the same footsteps. We are looking to innovate. Let this be the stage where we innovate, Ricky… But much like you: I do not plan on losing. I am going to walk out of this match with my arm raised in victory, and then I am going to go on to win the whole thing. Yan tután!”

END.

[Image: RKR2hJ0.png]
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