Post by Arcadia on Dec 5, 2010 19:43:04 GMT -4
IWC's live 24 hour video feed switches cameras as “The Paragon of Hardcore” Trevor Blackwell walks into view, opening the steel door to the stairwell that leads down to the main floor of the IWC building in Lake Grove, NY. His back is to the camera and he is whistling a nameless tune, running his brand new Singapore Cane across the bars of the railing, making a “clink, clink,” noise that reverberates through the empty concrete stairwell. He seems pleased with himself, content with the havoc he has reaped on this day. Out of the corner of the camera, a shadow emerges from out of view and sprints towards Trevor as he reaches the second step heading down. The rhythmic clatter of his cane on the rail masks the sound of booted feet running towards him as he is deliberately Dropkicked in the backs of his knees. His legs buckle and he trips, tumbling with and echo of thuds down two flights of stairs, end over end, sliding to a stop at the bottom of the ground floor.
The Career Killer stands and shakes it off easily, wiping a small smear of blood off of his forehead with a leather-covered forearm. He looks back up the stairwell, a sick smile slowly spreading across his face. He shrugs his Sons of Carthage biker jacket back into place and grips the Singapore Cane in his hand, climbing back up the stairs, anticipation and excitement building at the prospect of a dolling out yet another Blackwell beating. As he runs up the first flight of stairs and turns the corner for the second, a pair of legs come flying at him accompanied by a loud battle cry. Trevor brings up his Singapore Cane to bat the thing out of the air, but doesn't have enough time to swing as Katrina “Arcadia” Olivetti Mushroom Stomps him in the face and back down the stairs again. He stumbles back against the wall and slides down almost to the bottom, grabbing the railing and hoisting himself back up before he gets to the ground floor.
That sick grin stuck firmly in place, he nods once at his attacker, “Katrina. Good to see you aren't wasting time with niceties. Maybe you are learning something after-” He is cut off on a gurgle by Arcadia's fist in his throat as she Superman Dives onto him from a half of a flight above him. He monkey flips her off and she lands hard on her back, the stairs sharp points of impact on her already marked flesh. He dusts himself off and turns around to make his way towards her, startled to find her standing right in front of him.
“A little different when your cohorts aren't here to keep me down while you monologue, isn't it?” The Hardcora Luchadora asks quietly, a glint of steel running through her voice.
She jumps up for an Elephant Knee to the Hardcore Icon's face, but he swiftly switches his grip on the cane and swings for the fences, knocking Katrina out of the air and down the stairs herself. He doesn't take his eyes off of her this time as he leans against the railing and smiles.
“Nope, just giving myself higher ground advantage.”
Arcadia kips up and goes for him, lunging at his legs, but he easily blocks her and raps her in the head with the cane, right on her sutures from the fracture. They go back and forth, Trevor quickly becoming bored with the exchange as Player One gains no ground in her assault, only repeated swipes across her face and head with the Singapore Cane.
“Come on, Katrina, is that the best you got? You're supposed to be this Lucha Ninja. And to think I was actually looking forward to this?!” He scoffs at her and raises a big boot, connecting with her face and sending her sprawling down the stairs and tumbling to a halt and the fire door.
She sits up, past the point of recognizing new pain, just aware that everything hurts, and will continue to do so, but kicking the shit out of this asshole would go a long way towards making her feel better.
He hunkers down on the stairs to look at her, showing his teeth at her bloody nose and black eye that has begun to develop under her mask. “This is why you aren't ready. I'm teaching you a valuable lesson right now. Don't be an idiot and fail the test.”
Arcadia stands up and spits blood, her eyes charged with electricity as she listens to the words he is saying. Her sneer goes head to head with his grin. Suddenly, her face blanks. She has completely wiped herself of all emotion as she backs up against the door. Trevor looks at her quizzically, his visage twisting in disgust as he believes that she has given up. He opens his mouth to scorn her when in a flash Arcadia launches herself off of the door and runs at the staircase. Trevor rises and backs up a step, swinging for her again. Arcadia grunts as she takes the hit and keeps coming, absorbing the impact to her thigh and smiling as The Paragon of Hardcore is pulled up short on his return swing, his Singapore Cane lodged between the railing and the banister. Before he has a chance to yank it out, The Hardcora Luchadora becomes a blur, Mule Kicking the just christened cane, splintering it across the stairs in pieces as Trevor tugs. His burden decimated, Blackwell stumbles back a step and Arcadia gives him a Johnny Cage Ball Buster and grips the railing as he crumples to sitting, cycloning herself over it and aiming both feet at his head, through the outside barricade to the stairwell. Her small frame easily slides through the wide spacing between the rails and she connects with another Dropkick to his temple, sending him face first into the wall with an smack. He gets up and turns around to find her waiting for him, having shifted her grip and spun while he was still taking the brunt of the wall. Katrina “Arcadia” Olivetti wraps her legs around the Career Killer's neck and tosses him with a Hurricanrana over the railing and off the the stairs, dropping him almost a story down to the concrete below.
He lands with a resounding thud onto his back. She starts to walk down the stairs, but Trevor gets up to his hands and knees.
“You fucking bitch!” He says in a menacing voice, almost standing now.
Katrina, still consistently surprised by what this man can take, sighs and grits her teeth, sling-shotting herself over the railing and right onto his just straightened shoulders. The Hardcora Lucahdora finishes off her signature “Dragoon” by giving Trevor a devastating Dragonrana into the janitor's alcove, which, unfortunately for him, is currently being used to house broken ladders from matches. He lands inside with a crash and a groan, and tries to extract himself, hell-bent on coming for Arcadia, but he is trapped in the pile of splintered wood and bent aluminum, his fall having bent a ladder around his size 16 shit-kicker and immobilizing him, leaving him reclining in a pile of debris.
With the very same cat-like grace that she uses to walk the ring ropes, Katrina “Arcadia” Olivetti steps across the top of the pile of mangled “ring gear” and onto a ladder that lay across The Paragon of Hardcore's torso. She crouches down, getting obscenely close to his face when he tries to take a swing at her. She jumps up, Trevor's punch just grazing her jaw and causing Trevor to groan in discomfort as she shifts her weight and the ladder across his solar plexus. She grabs an industrial-sized fire extinguisher from the wall and hefts the large silver cylinder across her shoulders. With a tilt of her pretty, masked, blonde head, she bounces a few times on the ladder, knocking the wind out of The Career Killer.
Her amusement fades as The Hardcore Icon grabs a hold of her ankle and tries to rip it out from under her. She quickly swings the unwieldy fire extinguisher and brings it, bottom side down, onto Trevor's forearm with all her might. He screams and lets go of her leg, and Arcadia crouches down again, resting her arm on the large canister next to her.
“You must be feeling quite happy right now that you have your wrists taped. I myself am slightly disappointed that I didn't hear the crunch of a bone or two breaking, but I will take what I can get.”
Trevor laughs up at Arcadia, and she gets angry again, making a fist and jabbing him in the face. A small trickle of blood runs out of one nostril and Blackwell licks his lips, tasting it. "Psycho."
“No, Trevor. I'm not your little girlfriend, and I'm not your sister. Crazy has nothing to do with this. I'm just taking it upon myself to give you what's been coming to you all these years.”
He can't seem to wipe the grin off of his face as he responds, “Aw, I didn't know you cared. But do you really think that you are up for the job?” He laughs in her face again, blood flecked spittle landing on her cheeks and chin.
The Hardcora Luchadora wipes her palm across her face and looks at it, seeing the pink hue of blood in the tiny smears. “Oh, no, Trevor, you're bleeding!” Her face turns menacing and purposeful as she continues, “Here...Let me get that for you.” Katrina “Arcadia” Olivetti proceeds to raise the cylinder like a battering ram and bring it down on Trevor's face, twice, HARD. The second thud ends in a sickening squish and crunch as Trevor suddenly screams out in pain, blood and snot gushing from his face now.
“You broke my nose!” He screams, holding his face and sounding as if he is talking through a mouthful of marbles and water. “You stupid fucking whore!”
Katrina doesn't even take the time to feel bad or pretend to pity him. “Listen to me well, Trevor. I am not you child, I am not your student, and I am not one of your underlings. I am Katrina “Arcadia” Olivetti and I don't need your lessons. You think you are tough and I will give you that, Trevor, but that ring isn't your world any longer. It's mine now. You can try and hold on because this is the only place where you are worth anything to anyone, but all you are doing is tarnishing an already battered career with your addiction to your glory days. What you don't understand Trevor, is that I am not the one who needs to step my game up. Yours has fallen flat with your inability to evolve beyond what you know and are comfortable with. Look what happens to you. You are driven by anger, rage, and violence. You have a pack mentality. You are a fucking animal, Trevor Blackwell. And the only way an animal can truly learn their place is through Complete. Utter. Domination.” She punctuates each word with another slam of the canister, raining blows down on his head.
He halfheartedly blocks her attack with his arms, but he is growing weaker, trapped under a pile of ladders and repeatedly taking a forty pound metal object to the face. Katrina “Arcadia” Olivetti stands up and tosses the now bloodstained extinguisher aside. Staring down at the bloody mess she has made of the Career Killer, she shakes her head in disgust. “Where's your pack now, Trevor?” She spins on her heel and jumps down off the debris. The scene fades as she walks off, leaving Trevor Blackwell lolling in and out of consciousness.
The Career Killer stands and shakes it off easily, wiping a small smear of blood off of his forehead with a leather-covered forearm. He looks back up the stairwell, a sick smile slowly spreading across his face. He shrugs his Sons of Carthage biker jacket back into place and grips the Singapore Cane in his hand, climbing back up the stairs, anticipation and excitement building at the prospect of a dolling out yet another Blackwell beating. As he runs up the first flight of stairs and turns the corner for the second, a pair of legs come flying at him accompanied by a loud battle cry. Trevor brings up his Singapore Cane to bat the thing out of the air, but doesn't have enough time to swing as Katrina “Arcadia” Olivetti Mushroom Stomps him in the face and back down the stairs again. He stumbles back against the wall and slides down almost to the bottom, grabbing the railing and hoisting himself back up before he gets to the ground floor.
That sick grin stuck firmly in place, he nods once at his attacker, “Katrina. Good to see you aren't wasting time with niceties. Maybe you are learning something after-” He is cut off on a gurgle by Arcadia's fist in his throat as she Superman Dives onto him from a half of a flight above him. He monkey flips her off and she lands hard on her back, the stairs sharp points of impact on her already marked flesh. He dusts himself off and turns around to make his way towards her, startled to find her standing right in front of him.
“A little different when your cohorts aren't here to keep me down while you monologue, isn't it?” The Hardcora Luchadora asks quietly, a glint of steel running through her voice.
She jumps up for an Elephant Knee to the Hardcore Icon's face, but he swiftly switches his grip on the cane and swings for the fences, knocking Katrina out of the air and down the stairs herself. He doesn't take his eyes off of her this time as he leans against the railing and smiles.
“Nope, just giving myself higher ground advantage.”
Arcadia kips up and goes for him, lunging at his legs, but he easily blocks her and raps her in the head with the cane, right on her sutures from the fracture. They go back and forth, Trevor quickly becoming bored with the exchange as Player One gains no ground in her assault, only repeated swipes across her face and head with the Singapore Cane.
“Come on, Katrina, is that the best you got? You're supposed to be this Lucha Ninja. And to think I was actually looking forward to this?!” He scoffs at her and raises a big boot, connecting with her face and sending her sprawling down the stairs and tumbling to a halt and the fire door.
She sits up, past the point of recognizing new pain, just aware that everything hurts, and will continue to do so, but kicking the shit out of this asshole would go a long way towards making her feel better.
He hunkers down on the stairs to look at her, showing his teeth at her bloody nose and black eye that has begun to develop under her mask. “This is why you aren't ready. I'm teaching you a valuable lesson right now. Don't be an idiot and fail the test.”
Arcadia stands up and spits blood, her eyes charged with electricity as she listens to the words he is saying. Her sneer goes head to head with his grin. Suddenly, her face blanks. She has completely wiped herself of all emotion as she backs up against the door. Trevor looks at her quizzically, his visage twisting in disgust as he believes that she has given up. He opens his mouth to scorn her when in a flash Arcadia launches herself off of the door and runs at the staircase. Trevor rises and backs up a step, swinging for her again. Arcadia grunts as she takes the hit and keeps coming, absorbing the impact to her thigh and smiling as The Paragon of Hardcore is pulled up short on his return swing, his Singapore Cane lodged between the railing and the banister. Before he has a chance to yank it out, The Hardcora Luchadora becomes a blur, Mule Kicking the just christened cane, splintering it across the stairs in pieces as Trevor tugs. His burden decimated, Blackwell stumbles back a step and Arcadia gives him a Johnny Cage Ball Buster and grips the railing as he crumples to sitting, cycloning herself over it and aiming both feet at his head, through the outside barricade to the stairwell. Her small frame easily slides through the wide spacing between the rails and she connects with another Dropkick to his temple, sending him face first into the wall with an smack. He gets up and turns around to find her waiting for him, having shifted her grip and spun while he was still taking the brunt of the wall. Katrina “Arcadia” Olivetti wraps her legs around the Career Killer's neck and tosses him with a Hurricanrana over the railing and off the the stairs, dropping him almost a story down to the concrete below.
He lands with a resounding thud onto his back. She starts to walk down the stairs, but Trevor gets up to his hands and knees.
“You fucking bitch!” He says in a menacing voice, almost standing now.
Katrina, still consistently surprised by what this man can take, sighs and grits her teeth, sling-shotting herself over the railing and right onto his just straightened shoulders. The Hardcora Lucahdora finishes off her signature “Dragoon” by giving Trevor a devastating Dragonrana into the janitor's alcove, which, unfortunately for him, is currently being used to house broken ladders from matches. He lands inside with a crash and a groan, and tries to extract himself, hell-bent on coming for Arcadia, but he is trapped in the pile of splintered wood and bent aluminum, his fall having bent a ladder around his size 16 shit-kicker and immobilizing him, leaving him reclining in a pile of debris.
With the very same cat-like grace that she uses to walk the ring ropes, Katrina “Arcadia” Olivetti steps across the top of the pile of mangled “ring gear” and onto a ladder that lay across The Paragon of Hardcore's torso. She crouches down, getting obscenely close to his face when he tries to take a swing at her. She jumps up, Trevor's punch just grazing her jaw and causing Trevor to groan in discomfort as she shifts her weight and the ladder across his solar plexus. She grabs an industrial-sized fire extinguisher from the wall and hefts the large silver cylinder across her shoulders. With a tilt of her pretty, masked, blonde head, she bounces a few times on the ladder, knocking the wind out of The Career Killer.
Her amusement fades as The Hardcore Icon grabs a hold of her ankle and tries to rip it out from under her. She quickly swings the unwieldy fire extinguisher and brings it, bottom side down, onto Trevor's forearm with all her might. He screams and lets go of her leg, and Arcadia crouches down again, resting her arm on the large canister next to her.
“You must be feeling quite happy right now that you have your wrists taped. I myself am slightly disappointed that I didn't hear the crunch of a bone or two breaking, but I will take what I can get.”
Trevor laughs up at Arcadia, and she gets angry again, making a fist and jabbing him in the face. A small trickle of blood runs out of one nostril and Blackwell licks his lips, tasting it. "Psycho."
“No, Trevor. I'm not your little girlfriend, and I'm not your sister. Crazy has nothing to do with this. I'm just taking it upon myself to give you what's been coming to you all these years.”
He can't seem to wipe the grin off of his face as he responds, “Aw, I didn't know you cared. But do you really think that you are up for the job?” He laughs in her face again, blood flecked spittle landing on her cheeks and chin.
The Hardcora Luchadora wipes her palm across her face and looks at it, seeing the pink hue of blood in the tiny smears. “Oh, no, Trevor, you're bleeding!” Her face turns menacing and purposeful as she continues, “Here...Let me get that for you.” Katrina “Arcadia” Olivetti proceeds to raise the cylinder like a battering ram and bring it down on Trevor's face, twice, HARD. The second thud ends in a sickening squish and crunch as Trevor suddenly screams out in pain, blood and snot gushing from his face now.
“You broke my nose!” He screams, holding his face and sounding as if he is talking through a mouthful of marbles and water. “You stupid fucking whore!”
Katrina doesn't even take the time to feel bad or pretend to pity him. “Listen to me well, Trevor. I am not you child, I am not your student, and I am not one of your underlings. I am Katrina “Arcadia” Olivetti and I don't need your lessons. You think you are tough and I will give you that, Trevor, but that ring isn't your world any longer. It's mine now. You can try and hold on because this is the only place where you are worth anything to anyone, but all you are doing is tarnishing an already battered career with your addiction to your glory days. What you don't understand Trevor, is that I am not the one who needs to step my game up. Yours has fallen flat with your inability to evolve beyond what you know and are comfortable with. Look what happens to you. You are driven by anger, rage, and violence. You have a pack mentality. You are a fucking animal, Trevor Blackwell. And the only way an animal can truly learn their place is through Complete. Utter. Domination.” She punctuates each word with another slam of the canister, raining blows down on his head.
He halfheartedly blocks her attack with his arms, but he is growing weaker, trapped under a pile of ladders and repeatedly taking a forty pound metal object to the face. Katrina “Arcadia” Olivetti stands up and tosses the now bloodstained extinguisher aside. Staring down at the bloody mess she has made of the Career Killer, she shakes her head in disgust. “Where's your pack now, Trevor?” She spins on her heel and jumps down off the debris. The scene fades as she walks off, leaving Trevor Blackwell lolling in and out of consciousness.
