Post by "The Welsh Dragon" Dan White on Nov 25, 2012 11:34:41 GMT -4
There wasn’t much on Irver Famori’s mind as he made the travel between Salem and Albany, New York. He had met friends and discussed life, and was very much in a state of limbo as he sat in the back of a cab, peering out of the rain-splattered window into a dark evening. He is used to travelling. Born in Poland behind the Iron Curtain, he had spent his entire life hopping around, trying to make ends meet before Baraziah and the Reliquia Venatores took him under their wing. Yet in an ironic twist, the growth of the passion for professional wrestling set him on the road again. A new week, a new location. Or in this case, an entire new show, with the draft seeing Famori jump to APW’s flagship show, Overdrive.
The taxi begins to slow down, pulling into a layby just before some traffic lights. The neon lights of a modest looking gym glow through the raindrops, illuminating through the car window, as Famori pays his fee and exits the car, today wearing a full leather trenchcoat and taking a duffel bag, tossing it over his shoulder. His non-conforming look prompts the taxi driver to mutter “freak” under his breath before shifting into first and screeching away, but Famori chooses not to respond, despite quite clearly hearing the slur. He heads straight into the gym, blanking the receptionist save for slamming down twenty dollars on the table, and goes into the locker room. Tossing his bag to one side in a mix of frustration, he sits down, holding his head in his hands and pondering about the immediate future.
?: I know who you are.
Famori doesn’t respond with a reaction to the fellow Eastern European-sounding voice. This, though, is the voice of a soft-spoken female. After a few seconds, he decides to give an answer, through his hands.
Famori: You sound like you’re from South Europe. Albania, I presume.
There’s a giggle from the mysterious voice; Famori still shows no reaction, cradling his forehead as a million and one thoughts race through his head.
?: Then it’s true. You know.
Now, a reaction. He looks up and over at the location of the voice, and smirks at what he sees.
Famori: So, I suppose you’re not here for a fling like the rats wrestlers are used to taking back to their motel rooms, huh?
?: No, that is not my intention. Although to say I am interested in you may be somewhat close to the truth…
Famori raises his eyebrows in anticipation, while the camera pans over to the girl. She’s in a white blouse with black trousers, and short strawberry-blonde hair. An extremely pretty woman, she slowly walks over to Famori, who slowly stands, greeting this mysterious person. There’s a nervous laugh from the Albanian as they stand no more than a foot away from each other…
And WHAM! Famori is swift to block a chop to the face, and quickly locks up the mysterious woman into an armlock. But she proves to be a tough cookie, flipping over sideways onto her feet and dragging Famori to the ground with an Arm Drag. The momentum lifts the Pole to his feet and he quickly nails a Fireman’s Carry, pinning down the woman’s shoulders to the mat. His eyes truly narrow in on this stranger, breathing heavily as the rage fills within him.
Famori: Toll Dubh, right?
The mysterious woman however doesn’t flinch, and lifts her arm up to shove him off her, and he lands on his knees, quite confused. She nonchalantly picks herself up away from Famori, leaving herself completely exposed to attack as she dusts off her blouse. Famori remains kneeled, but rather confused at the entire greeting. He makes a second attempt at conversation, trying to make sense of the entire situation.
Famori: Excuse me, I asked you a question. Are you Toll Dubh?
The woman swiftly turns around, hands on hips. It’s as though she hasn’t laid a finger, let alone get into a scrap in the men’s locker room of an all-night gym.
?: No, I am not. But I know who you’re talking about.
Famori: So…a spy?
?: Don’t be daft. I am not a spy, but I did used to be a part of their group. But I am not here to cause harm. I’m here because I am interested in joining the Reliquia Venatores. I oppose the ethics of Toll Dubh, and I feel I have a lot to offer your group.
There’s a pause, as the woman sits down on one of the benches. Famori picks himself up off the ground and sits opposite and diagonally to her, clasping his hands together next to his knees.
Famori: What is your name, woman?
?: I am Ericka. From Elbasan.
Famori: So you got into the relic hunting business…how?
Ericka: Well, it’s similar to a few of our stories. Me, you, Cromwell. We all have a common bond, coming from behind the Iron Curtain. The stories, the corruption, the apparent mind control. If you were ever so slightly open minded you were clearly going to find the truth. And we found it. Some of us fell into separate groups, as you know, but none more famous as yours, and ours. Well, what used to be mine. But there were differences, and you guys ultimately got the advantage on everybody else.
There’s another pause; Famori is clearly uncomfortable with listening to all of this, particularly with a stranger. He isn’t sure what to make of the arrival, seeing as he only came to Albany to wrestle his final Meltdown match.
Famori: I am sorry, but I’m not willing to speak about the Reliquia Venatores, not today. I have no idea who you are, what powers you may have, or what your purpose even is to interrupt me like this. To be honest I think it’s quite rude that you have interrupted me like so, but I guess I’m not the one to decide who wants to talk to me.
He looks up at Ericka, who has a resigned look on her face that suggests she expected this to occur. Not one to usually be compassion, particularly towards strangers, Famori sighs and offers a compromise.
Famori: If you want to talk business, I can talk business. But I need proof that you’re in this game. I need a bargaining object. If you can give me something by Tuesday, I’m willing to talk. I’ll be in Providence, Rhode Island with the APW, and you won’t have a problem finding me.
He slyly hands over a scrap of paper with what is presumably a telephone number.
Famori: And if you want this badly enough, I’ll find you there. Yeah?
Ericka sighs before checking her watch and silently agreeing to the proposal. She gives a small smile, nodding briefly before quickly exiting the gym without a word. Famori sits back, perplexed and his brain swelling with a million and one thoughts, which haven’t exactly eased with the sudden arrival of this woman potentially in his life. He ponders for a moment, before chuckling to himself.
Famori: It’s funny how many dice life can roll you sometimes. I joined APW little over a month ago and next thing I know I’ve been promoted to the top show. It’s a nice feeling, I’m not going to lie. I struggle to understand their point considering I’ve only won one in three but that’s not my prerogative. The Finnish Phenom played the game well. I didn’t give him enough credit, and then he forced me to tap out. That’s fine, I can deal with losing. There’s no shame in tapping out if your body is at breaking point. What the fuck is the point in refusing to tap when you come out of it with a severed limb? Some people are ridiculous when it comes to pride, and end up injured with nothing left. It’s hilarious.
And in my final bow to the Meltdown chapter of my life, I face a man called Mr. William D. Williams Junior. I’m not one for cheap wisecracks, but you must have terrible genealogy if your family decide to name not one, but two generations with the same first name as the last. That’s just a bit ridiculous. At least my name is cool. And speaking of your family, it seems you have a strange relationship with your father. It all appears all fun and lovey, but there are definitely some issues there. I saw your journal entry, and it intrigued me. You seem to be desperate to follow in his footsteps, no matter what the role or, perhaps, the consequences. He did acting, so you went into that, instead of making your name elsewhere. Okay, you might have become famous there and brought that into what is a somewhat successful start to your wrestling career but I take many similarities to Mr. Casper Grey, the whippet I slaughtered in my first match here. It isn’t as fun as you think, having your life planned out for you. I am an orphan, and I had to make my own way. It may not have been more successful or anything, but it certainly makes for more interesting stories.
You also mentioned that you are an educated man. That’s reasonable, and I at least admire your efforts to go out and actually do a degree that is important and beneficial, as opposed to those Mickey Mouse degrees like Sociology or Media Studies, designed as government ploys to keep young adults in order until they’re about 22 years of age. But speaking three languages isn’t particularly a big achievement. I knew three languages by the age of ten, and knew seven before the Alteration. Unlike those that were born with a silver spoon in their mouths, even those like Mr. Williams who has made attempts to further himself, sometimes being street smart hands you more important life skills than being book smart. I knew several languages. My native tongue, English, Russian, Hebrew, Arabic, and more. Could never get my head around Hungarian though, wicked sorcery of a language. But the point is that I don’t speak bullshit like you claim. I am well-educated, but I had to look for it. When you yearn for knowledge you prosper, as opposed to getting bored and deciding to learn something new because your baseball team you bought isn’t interesting you anymore or you’ve exhausted the slopes on the ski resort your parents gave you. We are both intellects and it will be interesting to see how you use your brain in the ring. I look forward to our farewell fight.
And that brings me onto the next point. Our farewell. You will be going to Asylum, and myself on Overdrive. I’m not sure who I figuratively sucked off to get that post, but I’m okay with it. Money and quality of living arrangements are no problem to me but it would be nice to get some nice conditions and some more money. Isolation is sometimes something money cannot buy, and that would be just perfect for me. My time on Meltdown has been brief and has seen me go from a positive first demolition to two defeats in a row in two separate tournament matches. And that hurt. I have always said there’s no shame in losing to somebody that is better trained, or more experienced than yourself, but losing those matches hurt. And the one shame about leaving for Overdrive is that I won’t be able to have access to Knuckles, my brief tag team partner.
Famori spits on the floor in anger at speaking the name of his former tag partner.
Famori: Perhaps it was best for the powers that be that I didn’t end up on Asylum, as that no good cocksucker would have ended up dead or broken, at the very least. I do not believe that you have to give your opponents or indeed your tag team partners any respect, but don’t disrespect them. Knuckles has absolutely no idea of my past, he has no inkling if what I may or may not be capable of. If there’s one thing this civilisation demands it’s to know who you might be pissing off. It could be like merely swatting a fly away, or it could end up with body parts splattered across a cellar. Lucky for Knuckles, I haven’t been posted to his show. I suppose that was the intention, although we’ll have to see. But I do respect Mr. Williams’ comments, and I look forward to fighting him. I intend to win, and leave Meltdown on a high. I want a good match, expect a win but will be respectful of any result, and I hope Mr. Williams can soften Knuckles for me so when I finally get my hands on him it’ll be child’s play.
Speaking of Overdrive, it is rather interesting to look at who I may be fighting in the future. Overdrive, that’s where the stars are. Terry Marvin, Level One, Chris Hart, Kurt Noble. I’ll be looking forward to the challenges the transfer will give me. I’m not interested in championships as I’ve mentioned before, but the outlet of a division almost dedicated to Hardcore style wrestling suits me fine. It just depends on the demographic, whether or not APW are willing to let things get as hardcore as it suits me. I relish the change, hell I already received a message saying that my first opponent on Overdrive will be a man called Shadow. I will have to do research, but that’s for another day. Today’s sermon is about my final bow to Meltdown.
Famori stands up, and begins to ratch inside his duffel bag.
Famori: I’ll be looking forward to going to some proper places, anyway. Sick and tired of these middle of the road towns that you could find anywhere in this hellhole of a country. Give me somewhere with a bit of culture any day. I heard Overdrive will be going to the United Kingdom in the New Year. That would be nice…
He pauses from his ratching, and looks around, checking nobody is in the locker room.
Famori: That Ericka was an interesting character. I wonder if she will make and appearance in Rhode Island on Tuesday….
Fade out.
The taxi begins to slow down, pulling into a layby just before some traffic lights. The neon lights of a modest looking gym glow through the raindrops, illuminating through the car window, as Famori pays his fee and exits the car, today wearing a full leather trenchcoat and taking a duffel bag, tossing it over his shoulder. His non-conforming look prompts the taxi driver to mutter “freak” under his breath before shifting into first and screeching away, but Famori chooses not to respond, despite quite clearly hearing the slur. He heads straight into the gym, blanking the receptionist save for slamming down twenty dollars on the table, and goes into the locker room. Tossing his bag to one side in a mix of frustration, he sits down, holding his head in his hands and pondering about the immediate future.
?: I know who you are.
Famori doesn’t respond with a reaction to the fellow Eastern European-sounding voice. This, though, is the voice of a soft-spoken female. After a few seconds, he decides to give an answer, through his hands.
Famori: You sound like you’re from South Europe. Albania, I presume.
There’s a giggle from the mysterious voice; Famori still shows no reaction, cradling his forehead as a million and one thoughts race through his head.
?: Then it’s true. You know.
Now, a reaction. He looks up and over at the location of the voice, and smirks at what he sees.
Famori: So, I suppose you’re not here for a fling like the rats wrestlers are used to taking back to their motel rooms, huh?
?: No, that is not my intention. Although to say I am interested in you may be somewhat close to the truth…
Famori raises his eyebrows in anticipation, while the camera pans over to the girl. She’s in a white blouse with black trousers, and short strawberry-blonde hair. An extremely pretty woman, she slowly walks over to Famori, who slowly stands, greeting this mysterious person. There’s a nervous laugh from the Albanian as they stand no more than a foot away from each other…
And WHAM! Famori is swift to block a chop to the face, and quickly locks up the mysterious woman into an armlock. But she proves to be a tough cookie, flipping over sideways onto her feet and dragging Famori to the ground with an Arm Drag. The momentum lifts the Pole to his feet and he quickly nails a Fireman’s Carry, pinning down the woman’s shoulders to the mat. His eyes truly narrow in on this stranger, breathing heavily as the rage fills within him.
Famori: Toll Dubh, right?
The mysterious woman however doesn’t flinch, and lifts her arm up to shove him off her, and he lands on his knees, quite confused. She nonchalantly picks herself up away from Famori, leaving herself completely exposed to attack as she dusts off her blouse. Famori remains kneeled, but rather confused at the entire greeting. He makes a second attempt at conversation, trying to make sense of the entire situation.
Famori: Excuse me, I asked you a question. Are you Toll Dubh?
The woman swiftly turns around, hands on hips. It’s as though she hasn’t laid a finger, let alone get into a scrap in the men’s locker room of an all-night gym.
?: No, I am not. But I know who you’re talking about.
Famori: So…a spy?
?: Don’t be daft. I am not a spy, but I did used to be a part of their group. But I am not here to cause harm. I’m here because I am interested in joining the Reliquia Venatores. I oppose the ethics of Toll Dubh, and I feel I have a lot to offer your group.
There’s a pause, as the woman sits down on one of the benches. Famori picks himself up off the ground and sits opposite and diagonally to her, clasping his hands together next to his knees.
Famori: What is your name, woman?
?: I am Ericka. From Elbasan.
Famori: So you got into the relic hunting business…how?
Ericka: Well, it’s similar to a few of our stories. Me, you, Cromwell. We all have a common bond, coming from behind the Iron Curtain. The stories, the corruption, the apparent mind control. If you were ever so slightly open minded you were clearly going to find the truth. And we found it. Some of us fell into separate groups, as you know, but none more famous as yours, and ours. Well, what used to be mine. But there were differences, and you guys ultimately got the advantage on everybody else.
There’s another pause; Famori is clearly uncomfortable with listening to all of this, particularly with a stranger. He isn’t sure what to make of the arrival, seeing as he only came to Albany to wrestle his final Meltdown match.
Famori: I am sorry, but I’m not willing to speak about the Reliquia Venatores, not today. I have no idea who you are, what powers you may have, or what your purpose even is to interrupt me like this. To be honest I think it’s quite rude that you have interrupted me like so, but I guess I’m not the one to decide who wants to talk to me.
He looks up at Ericka, who has a resigned look on her face that suggests she expected this to occur. Not one to usually be compassion, particularly towards strangers, Famori sighs and offers a compromise.
Famori: If you want to talk business, I can talk business. But I need proof that you’re in this game. I need a bargaining object. If you can give me something by Tuesday, I’m willing to talk. I’ll be in Providence, Rhode Island with the APW, and you won’t have a problem finding me.
He slyly hands over a scrap of paper with what is presumably a telephone number.
Famori: And if you want this badly enough, I’ll find you there. Yeah?
Ericka sighs before checking her watch and silently agreeing to the proposal. She gives a small smile, nodding briefly before quickly exiting the gym without a word. Famori sits back, perplexed and his brain swelling with a million and one thoughts, which haven’t exactly eased with the sudden arrival of this woman potentially in his life. He ponders for a moment, before chuckling to himself.
Famori: It’s funny how many dice life can roll you sometimes. I joined APW little over a month ago and next thing I know I’ve been promoted to the top show. It’s a nice feeling, I’m not going to lie. I struggle to understand their point considering I’ve only won one in three but that’s not my prerogative. The Finnish Phenom played the game well. I didn’t give him enough credit, and then he forced me to tap out. That’s fine, I can deal with losing. There’s no shame in tapping out if your body is at breaking point. What the fuck is the point in refusing to tap when you come out of it with a severed limb? Some people are ridiculous when it comes to pride, and end up injured with nothing left. It’s hilarious.
And in my final bow to the Meltdown chapter of my life, I face a man called Mr. William D. Williams Junior. I’m not one for cheap wisecracks, but you must have terrible genealogy if your family decide to name not one, but two generations with the same first name as the last. That’s just a bit ridiculous. At least my name is cool. And speaking of your family, it seems you have a strange relationship with your father. It all appears all fun and lovey, but there are definitely some issues there. I saw your journal entry, and it intrigued me. You seem to be desperate to follow in his footsteps, no matter what the role or, perhaps, the consequences. He did acting, so you went into that, instead of making your name elsewhere. Okay, you might have become famous there and brought that into what is a somewhat successful start to your wrestling career but I take many similarities to Mr. Casper Grey, the whippet I slaughtered in my first match here. It isn’t as fun as you think, having your life planned out for you. I am an orphan, and I had to make my own way. It may not have been more successful or anything, but it certainly makes for more interesting stories.
You also mentioned that you are an educated man. That’s reasonable, and I at least admire your efforts to go out and actually do a degree that is important and beneficial, as opposed to those Mickey Mouse degrees like Sociology or Media Studies, designed as government ploys to keep young adults in order until they’re about 22 years of age. But speaking three languages isn’t particularly a big achievement. I knew three languages by the age of ten, and knew seven before the Alteration. Unlike those that were born with a silver spoon in their mouths, even those like Mr. Williams who has made attempts to further himself, sometimes being street smart hands you more important life skills than being book smart. I knew several languages. My native tongue, English, Russian, Hebrew, Arabic, and more. Could never get my head around Hungarian though, wicked sorcery of a language. But the point is that I don’t speak bullshit like you claim. I am well-educated, but I had to look for it. When you yearn for knowledge you prosper, as opposed to getting bored and deciding to learn something new because your baseball team you bought isn’t interesting you anymore or you’ve exhausted the slopes on the ski resort your parents gave you. We are both intellects and it will be interesting to see how you use your brain in the ring. I look forward to our farewell fight.
And that brings me onto the next point. Our farewell. You will be going to Asylum, and myself on Overdrive. I’m not sure who I figuratively sucked off to get that post, but I’m okay with it. Money and quality of living arrangements are no problem to me but it would be nice to get some nice conditions and some more money. Isolation is sometimes something money cannot buy, and that would be just perfect for me. My time on Meltdown has been brief and has seen me go from a positive first demolition to two defeats in a row in two separate tournament matches. And that hurt. I have always said there’s no shame in losing to somebody that is better trained, or more experienced than yourself, but losing those matches hurt. And the one shame about leaving for Overdrive is that I won’t be able to have access to Knuckles, my brief tag team partner.
Famori spits on the floor in anger at speaking the name of his former tag partner.
Famori: Perhaps it was best for the powers that be that I didn’t end up on Asylum, as that no good cocksucker would have ended up dead or broken, at the very least. I do not believe that you have to give your opponents or indeed your tag team partners any respect, but don’t disrespect them. Knuckles has absolutely no idea of my past, he has no inkling if what I may or may not be capable of. If there’s one thing this civilisation demands it’s to know who you might be pissing off. It could be like merely swatting a fly away, or it could end up with body parts splattered across a cellar. Lucky for Knuckles, I haven’t been posted to his show. I suppose that was the intention, although we’ll have to see. But I do respect Mr. Williams’ comments, and I look forward to fighting him. I intend to win, and leave Meltdown on a high. I want a good match, expect a win but will be respectful of any result, and I hope Mr. Williams can soften Knuckles for me so when I finally get my hands on him it’ll be child’s play.
Speaking of Overdrive, it is rather interesting to look at who I may be fighting in the future. Overdrive, that’s where the stars are. Terry Marvin, Level One, Chris Hart, Kurt Noble. I’ll be looking forward to the challenges the transfer will give me. I’m not interested in championships as I’ve mentioned before, but the outlet of a division almost dedicated to Hardcore style wrestling suits me fine. It just depends on the demographic, whether or not APW are willing to let things get as hardcore as it suits me. I relish the change, hell I already received a message saying that my first opponent on Overdrive will be a man called Shadow. I will have to do research, but that’s for another day. Today’s sermon is about my final bow to Meltdown.
Famori stands up, and begins to ratch inside his duffel bag.
Famori: I’ll be looking forward to going to some proper places, anyway. Sick and tired of these middle of the road towns that you could find anywhere in this hellhole of a country. Give me somewhere with a bit of culture any day. I heard Overdrive will be going to the United Kingdom in the New Year. That would be nice…
He pauses from his ratching, and looks around, checking nobody is in the locker room.
Famori: That Ericka was an interesting character. I wonder if she will make and appearance in Rhode Island on Tuesday….
Fade out.
