Conversation Piece, Ch. V

[Kevin Dahlia]

Conversation

iece

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C h a p t e r: V -- A Spiders Qualm When Lacking a Web .
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I've got a gallon of ink that I want to spill down the well of your throat.
And now, I'm writing a novel from your insides.
We're a spider with our limbs doing anything but walking.
A Conversation, with our mouths doing anything but talking.[/size][/font]

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Last Monday, after Meltdown
7:44 PM

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»» |Translucent particles of individualized sweat beads trample down the well of Cameron's face & neckline. A scarlet tint to his facial region, and a blistering mannerism of adherent lividness tells more than words could ever hope to convey. His outraged temperament blatantly obvious. With his right hand firmly clasped onto his locker-door, he thrust it shut, slamming with it a profoundly resounding echo.| ««


[C]ameron [W]olves: "Bullshit! Nothing more, nothing less."


»» |*knock knock*. Clamouring for predominance in the blockbusting soundscape, a knock is emitted at the locker-room door. Exhuming a rather well portioned breath of air, Cameron leisurely saunters towards it. His ill-mannered temperament is all too apparent, and he is fully aware of his present state. Clasping the fingers of his right hand around the circular perimeter of the door knob, Cameron is about to open the door, when he feels the rotational curve of it opening on its own. Whoever knocked was about to enter his vicinities without permission. Akin to a spark in a forest, his insidious lividness was rekindled.| ««


[C]ameron [W]olves: "Hey! Did I give you fucking permission to come into my roo-..."


»» |His utterances trail off like a smokecloud in the wind. Before he could finalize his outraged verbalization, the intruding individual entered the room. With a substantially lacking dismay, Cameron exhumed a sigh, be it of frustration or relief. Entering the room was one of his, perhaps only friends, Chase Washington. Decked out in the typical attire. Skinny, black suit pants with a slim fitted trim, a black suit jacket, white tie. The "works" as it were. His facial expression is weary, from the ill-mannered response to his arrival, both his arm outreached upwards. Blatantly caught off-guard by the notion of not being welcomed.| ««


[C][/color]hase [W][/color]ashington: "Wow wow wow! Down boy, Down. It's me, Chase, iight?"


»» | Instantaneously, Cameron drags his hands across the landscape of his face. Dual reasoning behind the action. The removal of the copious quantities of sweat, presently asserting dominance over the region; being initial. Secondary remains as a shield to the rather embarrassing course of action underwent in the aforementioned context. Cameron allows Chase into the rest of his small locker-room, shutting the door behind him. Chase hastily examines Wolves, taking note to the apparent infuriation that has possessed him, and the copious sweat.| ««


[C]ameron [W]olves: "Jesus, Chase."


[C][/color]hase [W][/color]ashington: "Well, that is what they call me."


[C]ameron [W]olves: "You startled me, just popping in like that. I wasn't sure whom it was."


»» |An inherent heir of deceit unintentionally lingers on Wolves' poised tongue. He had expectations as too whom it would be he encountered, uninvited, entering the confines of his private vicinities. Upon the realization, full process and comprehension of it simply being a dear friend of his own, he feels as ease. An awesome wave of relief washes over him. Peculiarly enough, a substantial chunk of his livid-emotional capacity from earlier had dissipated at the actions which transgressed.| ««


[C][/color]hase [W][/color]ashington: "Didn't mean to startle you princess."


[C]ameron [W]olves: "What do you want, Chase?"


[C][/color]hase [W][/color]ashington: "I came to discuss the business side of RoyalClouds Production. We have clientèle who seek to further our progression with a grand economic boost."


[C]cameron [W]olves: "What? That's fucking spectacular! Divulge a little more. Come on man. Fill me."


[C][/color]hase [W][/color]ashington: "Nu-uh little bro. Not until you fill me in on why you're throwing a hissy-fit."


[C]ameron [W]olves: "Chase, we're the same age, and we're not related... at all."


[C][/color]hase [W][/color]ashington: "Says who?"


[C]ameron [W]olves: "...Ethnicity?"


[C][/color]hase [W][/color]ashington: "Fuck off and explain, white boy!"


»» |Gradually exhuming, Cameron leisurely promenades from the entryway of his locker-room, back to a more centralized area within his closed-corridor vicinities. His hand, rummaging through his hair like a snake, sporadically fleeing a predator. As he begins to verbalize, it incites a minor hint of his aforementioned lividness, unintentionally.| ««


[C]ameron [W]olves: "Did you NOT see what the fuck happened out there? Horrowitz almost costed me a match, and against people as low-grade as.... Shadow, and Dita Morgan. I'm undefeated dammit! I can't afford imbecilic nonsense like that. And what happened after the match? Horrowitz crosses the motherfucking line, and attacks me. The guy that just put a win on his record. Him and his stupid ass Shotgun Kn-"


[C][/color]hase [W][/color]ashington: "...Actually, he likes to call it the, "White Light" now. And I can kind of understand him. I mean, don't get me wrong. He completely fucked you, but you were about to go after his girlfriend. Or, at least you were stalking her."


[C]ameron [W]olves: "Yeah, and a month ago he would have done the same damn thing."


[C][/color]hase [W][/color]ashington: "Jeez man. You and Horrowitz have really been after eachother this past month or so. I'm shocked they haven't let you muthafuckas duke out the last match yet. And look man, I get it. You're angry about Benny striking you from behind. It's coo'. It makes sense. But I think I know how you can make your record look even better, and make him hurt... even more."

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Sunday
7:44 PM

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»» |Profoundly dissimulating particles of obscured colourization colonize themselves in a hastily articulate manner. Previously scattered patterns of blurred vision exponentially increase in clarity. A disambiguation. Like a man divulging information, with moments fleeing, full vision is fully obtained by means of the camera. As has become almost a blatantly generic trademark of one, Cameron Wolves, after a duration surpassing that of a month; his vicinities are fully enclosed within the cameras captured sight. His mind like a devils orchard, Cameron's face is smeared with a childish smile, containing inherit traces of megalomania in its very fibres.| ««


[C]ameron [W]olves: "Well, if it isn't my always expanding group of adoring fans. Notice anything peculiar? I'll let you know what's peculiar. The fact that I have been on camera for more then 10 seconds, and I have yet to insult you, my loyal viewers. Would you like to know why I have re-framed from doing so? Of course you would. Every word I sprout from the roots of my mouth blossoms into an ever branching tree of everlasting wisdom. Irrefutable.


You see my darlings... I've done some pondering, and in depth contemplation. From it, I've come to the definitive conclusion that I have no real qualms with you guys. Be you fans or haters, your judgement and opinion of me is exponentially irrelevant to my performance. So why should I bother insulting you? As far as I'm concerned, my feelings of you are neutral. So feel thankful to be spared from the verbal wrath I so eloquently spur.


Now Dita Morgan, you on the other-hand aren't to be granted such a blessing. I don't particularly hold any qualms with you, besides your utterly blatant and evident illogicality. That, combined with your unearned status on Meltdown. For reasons that are substantially obscured to my thought, people constantly hail you as some form of "elite" competitor on this brand. It's mind boggeling for me. I mean, on one hand I can half-comprehend it. Meltdown, whilst currently boosting some rising and deserved-to-be-called talent, akin to Evan Envi, Michael Lively, Carmen Rivera, and of course, yours truly; also host an abundance of evidently hacked level performers. I am of course referencing the likes of Steve Stryker, Shadow, Shane Borderland... boy, that's a lot of names that start with the letter S. Oh, and, you of course.


Hahaha! Wow, in the midst of listing people whom blatantly lack an heir of talent, specifically to demean YOU, Dita, I almost forgot to name you. Count it as a blessing if you wish, but all that truly brings substantial focus to is your inherit ability to suck. I am a mean one. But then again, when the words "Wolves" is involved, when does the outcome of that particular statement ever lead to something of gentle-hearted tendencies? If the concluding answer to that enquiry is anything besides that of 'never', it isn't all too often. I do apologize Dita. And no, it's not because I was about to beat further-senseless after I almost knocked you out with my Cave Allegories last week... though, I am torn that I never got to finish my job before your fake-im-a-good-guy-now, boyfriend, Horrowitz, hit me from a blindside. No, I'm sorry if I seem a tad upset, perhaps even livid. It's not your fault. It really really isn't darling.


See, I hold an abundance of qualms with our General Manager, Mr.Diamond. It would seem that while he was busy cleaning out the deadest of our brands dead-beats, he got lost and dazzed in the midst of booking the show this week. Because, aha, I find it quite peculiar that I have YET to be defeated within the APW as a whole, and defeated the returning "star", Shane Borderland, and yet I still have yet to hear anything of gaining a title match... or even a shot to do so, while last week, a match consisting of even newer talents, and people whom have lost on numerous occasions were given that very liberty. It's spiteful, but not enough to truly incite any anger, or better put, lividness within me.


No, what incited that was the booking for this week. I fully comprehend that I asked to face Dita. Heheh. What can I say Horrowitz? You wanted to hurt me on a blindside, so I just figured I'd decimate the stick-figure of a "wrestler" you so dearly beloved. Fair is fair. But the residing error here is that I by no means requested this to happen this particular week. I made ease of her demise the prior Meltdown, so being booked against here in this constant manner is tiring and monotonous. But even THAT doesn't hold the weary qualms that are presently taking up residence within this uncrowned kings domain.


The main event this week is what really irks me. A man apparently noted as my own Jesus, Michael Lively... alright, he is only just returning so a main event this quick might be a bit farfetched, but, he is fairly in the Hall of Fame. So it's not absurd. But his opposition, Shane Borderland. Now let me enquire one thing simply; What the actual fuck? I eradicated this simian two weeks ago, and he only picked up himself by defeating a nobody. Thus, he gets propelled above me? THIS is absurd, and I shant sit quietly around whilst such backwards politics take place. If I'm to waste my time on such irrelevance as someone who will take a permanent residence on Meltdown, i.e Dita Morgan, you better damn well have a shot at that precious North American championship belt lined up for me.


I comprehend exactly why though. It's that thug. That bitch ass thug, Horrowitz. You can claim to be a changed man, but people simply don't change Benben. They evolve and progress, from where they stemmed off. Your act might have others fooled, but not me you suicidal peasant. Take caution and warning when approaching me. Because those rumours backstage, of how I have it out for you, are a glaring truth. You almost cost me my career that I so desperately worked to get. And now, because of your indeterminacy, I have blemishes on an otherwise perfect record sheet. That shit just doesn't sit well in my cranium sir. So let the utter demise of your precious girlfriend, Dita, be a word of warning for you within the future's grasp. My victory shall be swift and painful. But it will be nothing compared to what wrath I shall unleash upon you."

-- the following roleplay was a, RoyalClouds Production .

Word Count

[/b] 1,941 RP#[/b] 6 Vs Dita MorganNotes I've concluded that with the over-abundance of heels currently in APW, I'm going to start working towards a face turn. This is just the first step in that process. BEST of luck to Dita .[/font][/center]

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