Survive and Conquer match RP thread

[Kurt]

I Am Done

January 27th, 2012
6:45 PM

“Get this man out of my press conference!!”

The press room lights up in a flurry of flashes as two men in suits obey President Jeff’s order and grab both of Kurt Noble’s arms, yanking him away from the stage podium he’s behind. Noble’s eyes are fixated on Jeff as he’s dragged past him. Amidst the feverish commotion of questions in the background, flung from the audience members, President Jeff grabs Noble by the shirt collar.

“Do you know what you’ve done to me? To the Survive and Conquer? To APW?”

Noble’s gaze in unwavering, almost lifeless as he leans inward towards Jeff.

“I’ve done worse.”

Jeff’s upper lip forms into a snarl as he points towards the back. He faces the crowd, blinded and deafened by the journalists seeking to answer to what they’ve just witnessed. Medea stares coldly at Noble, while Monkwood’s jaw stretches down his neck. Jeff stands alone at the podium, staring into the crowd. His mumble is drowned out.

“God help us.”

-
-
-

20 minute earlier.

“I hope you understand what’s at stake in this press conference Kurt.”

Noble smirks at Jeff’s words as Medea tightens his tie. Monkwood is staring behind the stage curtain, his eyes scanning over a lecture-hall sized room of journalists and wrestling representatives.

“Am I sensing some reluctant in your voice Mr. President?” asks Noble as Medea finishes his tie and begins to straighten his suit cuffs. “I’m in my best suit, got a clean shaved face…Hell, I even looked over the notes you gave me. I’d say you don’t have anything to worry about!”

“If you knew the kind of pressure I was under, you’d be biting your tongue off with that statement,” responds Jeff as he wipes his forehead between heavy breaths. “APW’s stocks are all over the place after this last Overdrive. PW’s invasions have taken a toll on us Kurt. People are worried. This press conference is our last chance to ease relations with PW, GIW, and every other promotion with a knife at our throat. If we can’t control this, we’re going to take a hit. We’re two days from Survive and Conquer, and I don’t know if we can contain this storm.”

“And you're trusting me to be your weatherman,” responds Noble with a smile. Monkwood pokes his head back from the curtain.

“Hot damn, those are some angry looking suits out there! Is this a conference or a roast?” asks Monkwood.

“86 wrestlers means a lot of agents. I can feel them breathing down my neck from here.“

Jeff sighs, but Noble places his hands on his boss’s shoulders, visibly annoying Medea with his unkempt suit cuffs.

“Jeff… let me take care of this. You sit back and watch me get all warm and cozy with these pencil pushers. APW will come out of this in one piece. I can handle it. Believe me.”

Jeff’s mouth contorts into a frown, but his uneasiness only increases as a stage hand pokes his head through the curtains.

“We’re back on in two minutes!”

"Don't let me down Kurt," responds Jeff with an uneasy look.

The backstage area becomes a frenzy as bodies begin moving like lightening. Noble gets patted down with some make-up, and Jeff steps out onto the stage to a round of applause. His muffled voice can be heard in the background, but Noble’s attention is elsewhere. He leans against the wall, breathing deeply as his two managers stand before him.

“Weight of the world kid!” remarks Monkwood with a pat on Noble’s back. “APW is trusting you to pull the olive branch out of your ass tonight!”

“More like throwing him into a sea of cutthroats,” grumbles Medea. “We should be training for the most rigorous match of your career, not pandering to journalists and has-been agents…”

“Jeff needs me,” interjects Noble as he faces the curtain. “That’s a desperate man out there. He’s gotta stroke 86 egos at this press conference…or else some of them might not play ball. This is my last chance to make a difference before Sunday, and APW’s last chance for peace…and Jeff knows I can do it. Any last words of advice?”

“So asks the deadman!” remarks Monkwood. Medea elbows him and faces her client.

“You have come a long way from the stumbling idiot of 2011. Whatever you do… survive this. Your future depends on it.”

Medea shares a nod with his two managers, and they walk through a side door, beyond the curtain. Noble steps to the curtain, and listens to Jeff’s introduction.

“I’d once again like to thank you all for being here in Miami, Florida for this historic event. Right now I’d like to turn the floor over to an APW wrestler that was hand-picked to speak at tonight’s conference. He is one of 86 men that will compete in the Survive and Conquer rumble in 48 hours’ time. Please welcome, APW’s own…Kurt Noble!”

Noble takes one last pause before stepping through the curtain into the press room, being met with a relaxed applause from the crowd. He stands on a wooden stage, and below him are at least two hundred people. He tries to squint to avoid the flashes of several dozens of cameras going off, but it’s a failed attempt. Noble limps to the podium, and fumbles through his navy suit jacket for some flash cards. He places them on the podium, and leans in on the microphone, staring out into the sea of blank faces and scribbling pens.

“Representatives from GIW, PW, WEW, NEW, UWL, SCW, CWC, and every other acronym under the sun…I’d like to welcome you to APW’s Survive and Conquer press conference. It’s a tremendous honor for each of you to be here just hours away from the 4th annual APW Survive and Conquer. I’d greet each and every one of you if I weren’t so afraid that your clients, my opponents, wanted me in a wheelchair instead of walking with a cane.”

Noble smiles…but his joke causes little more than mumbles in the crowd. Monkwood makes a cutthroat gesture while Jeff’s nostrils flare. Noble’s smile diminishes slightly as he glances down at his notecards.

“Yes…as mentioned, I myself will be wrestling in this historic match-up. Wrestling 85 other men and women in a tournament or monthly event is huge…but this event goes above and beyond what any of us have ever expected. I’d like to thank President Jeff for making such an opportunity possible.”

Noble starts a slight applause that barely expands beyond a golf clap. Jeff yanks at his suit collar and feigns a small as Noble fumbles through his cards on stage.

“This is the match of our lives. Rookies, veterans, unknowns, legends…all of us will converge in one match for the sake of becoming immortalized. APW is proud to host such an event, and I myself consider it a huge honor to…”

Suddenly, Noble stops as he looks into the crowd. Less than two minutes into his speech and the cell phones have already been whipped out by several crowd members. He stares at Jeff and his managers, and Monkwood gives him a thumbs up, before mouthing one word to him…

Nobledrive.

Noble stares at him for a moment…before dumping the notecards to the side. His smile vanishes as he leans in the microphone.

“This is bullshit.”

Three simple words snap the crowd’s attention right back to Noble. A wave of murmurs move through the crowd, and Jeff’s eyes widen. Noble, however, just shakes his head.

“This press conference, the lines I was force fed backstage, your rounds of applause for me…it’s bullshit.

“Me standing up here, putting on a show for you all, so you can run home to your clients and tell them how you watched me bumble through some half-assed press conference…it’s bullshit.

“But you know what’s bothering me the most? Me standing up here, feeding you lies… that’s what this match, Survive and Conquer, is about…and it’s bullshit.”

Jeff’s eyes widen in horror, but Noble doesn’t seem to notice as he faces his peers.

“In a match with 86 wrestlers, everyone’s got a voice. Everyone has something to say to make themselves different from the nameless, faceless, possibly even invisible opponents they’ll face on Sunday. The problem with that? Each and every wrestler that comes up here is going to spin the same shit.

“They’re going to tell you about their roster-mates that you don’t care about.

“They’re going to tell you about their titles that you’ve never heard of.

"They’re going to trash talk men and women that they don’t know, simply to put themselves over.

“They’re going to tell you that they, out of 86 men and women, can win the Survive and Conquer. Despite all the odds, there are going to be 86 individual winners of the Survive and Conquer match-up if you believe everything you hear. Kid Dynamo, Dan Quinn, Jacob Davis, Anthony Bailey, Johnny Rebel, BAD ASS, Sally Talfourd, Aspen, Jimmy, Jakes, John, Jesus, Hell maybe even *you* are going to win Survive and Conquer.

“They’re all survivors. They’ve made it through battle royals, cage matches, street fights, and every combination of a death match you can think of. They’ve survived injuries, backstabs, politics, and every shape of opponent.

“They’re all conquers. They’re all the best of the best, and despite the overwhelming odds, they’re going to emerge as the winner. They’re special, and the rest of us are nobodies. They are going to dominate and make it to the end.

“Who are they? They’re your clients. They’re your heroes. They’re your villains. They’re the good guys. They’re the bad guys. They’re wrestlers.

“They’re liars.

“And I am done being one of them.”

A gasp goes through the crowd as lights go off. Jeff squirms in his seat and mouths something to a technician as Noble goes on, his hands firmly gripped to the podium.

“There comes a point where we, as wrestlers, have to accept that we are not the end-all-be all of our promotions. As unique and special as men like Kid Dynamo, Seth Black, and Alex Black are… there’s only going to be one wrestler standing tall at the end of Survive and Conquer. You know what the funny thing about this whole situation is?

“It probably won’t be me.”

Noble chuckles to himself as Medea’s stern gaze seems to shoot fire at Noble. However, he is still oblivious as to how uncomfortable he’s made almost everyone in the room.

“Statically, I am 1/86th of this match. Last year, I walked into Survive and Conquer as the 29th entrant. It was my first appearance in Action Packed Wrestling. I was one of the faceless unknowns that wanted to be heard. I stood before my peers and told them that I was different. I told them that I was going to be the one walking out as the Survive and Conquer winner.

“I told them I was a survivor.

“I told them I was was a conqueror.

“I was wrong.

“There were only eleven men and women to enter after me, and I placed sixth in the match. Statistically, I ‘beat’ five wrestlers. I eliminated no one. I didn’t survive. Ryan Ruckus did, however, walk out as the winner.

“I am not Ryan Ruckus…and neither is any man or woman in this match, despite however hard they want to be.”

Noble stops and lets his statement sink in, before sighing and facing his managers.

“Before today, I didn’t know who I was supposed to be in the Survive and Conquer. Ever since I stepped into APW, I haven’t known the man I was supposed to be. I’ve tried to ‘survive’ APW, but in tryig so hard to adjust, I’ve lost sight of who I’m supposed to be. Am I the man that defends APW from attackers at its doorstep, like the pitbull I was on the last Ovedrive? Am I the man that climbs over the Sally Talfourds and Level-Ones to the top? Am I meant to be here? There’s so many answers…

“I could be Level-One and be the highlight of the night. I could expect you all to bow at my feet because I’ve been a Champion.

“I could be Terry Marvin and be the sharp-tongue sharpshooter. I would rip my opponents apart verbally and leave the remains in Miami, Florida.

“I could be Johnny Rebel and attack my enemies to try and get the advantage over them. I would make a whole slew of enemies, and drag them through Hell and back…just like he dragged me.

“I’ve tried to be all these men and more in the past six month…and I’ve realized that I can’t be them anymore.

“APW…I’m done being them.”

Noble nods as cameras begins to go off. He looks towards Jeff now.

“I am not going to win every match I step into. I am not always going to dominate my opponents. I’m not always going to out-talk them. I’m not always going to out-wrestle them. Hell, with the odds the way they are, and the level of talent before me, I don’t know that I can win Survive and Conquer. 85 wrestlers with walk out without the win.

“But I sure as Hell won’t be the loser of Survive and Conquer. Victory or loss, I am going to walk, not limp out of Survive and Conquer knowing that I was one thing, and one thing only.

“Me…the Defender of APW.”

Suddenly, Noble’s microphone goes out. He taps it with his right hand, but no use. Noble just smirks, and walk out to the front of the stage, facing the crowd as he begins to remove his tie.

“And I won't be silenced. Sorry Jeff, but this isn't peacetime...it's wartime.

If Survive and Conquer has taught us anything…it’s that APW needs someone to step forward and take the reins from the pits of Hell. We’ve watched Phoenix Wrestling destroy our roster. We’ve watched GIW mock us from afar. We’ve watched Terry Marvin use it as a crutch in which to sell himself. We’ve watched Azrael Goeren use us as highlights on his Greatest Moments DVD. We’ve watched the good men and women of APW be reactive, and not proactive.

“I am DONE watching.

“I was told backstage that a storm is coming…but the storm’s already here, and on Sunday, January 29th, we’re going to watch it destroy this company…unless someone takes a stand and holds these invaders, these bad guys, these Goddamn liars accountable. Your clients and representatives are going to use APW as their stomping ground in an attempt to win the Survive and Conquer. Some of them are going to stick around and jam themselves into our side, watching us bleed out while they reap the benefits. I’ve done the worst of all…I’ve let them do it.

“APW…believe that I am going to stop them.”

Noble tosses his tie down, and begins to roll up his sleeves as the crowd hangs on his next word.

“The night is darkest just before the dawn…and the dawn is coming. When the darkness reaches its blackest on January 29th, know that I’ll be here to defend APW. These invaders, I'm not trapped in the ring with them...they'll be trapped with me. Believe that.

“Believe that when BAD ASS led PW into APW, I was waiting for him. I met their first invasion on the first Overdrive of the year. I watched over APW as they were escorted into the arena this last Overdrive. I’ve made it known that their actions cannot go unpunished…so I’ve challenged BAD ASS at Rival Factions. All the Hell he’s unleashed on us…he’s going to get it right back. On Sunday, January 29th, BAD ASS and PW will see what happens when you disrespect APW. PW’s invasions and BAD ASS’s threats to APW will be done.

“Believe that when Azrael Goeren waltzed in and treated us like we were dirt, I kicked the dirt back on him. He slandered my friends, my peers, and our boss…and I let him know that I wasn’t just going to roll over for the Megastar. I took Azrael to the limit to CWC Destiny, and for the first time, showed that the God King could bleed. I didn’t take the CWC title from Azrael…but I will ascend to the challenge when it rises. On Sunday, January 29th, Azrael Goeren’s words are going to go up in flames when he and I get in the ring together, because it will happen. Azrael Goeren’s untouable, God-like attitude in APW will be done.

“Believe that when GIW mocked APW, and proceeded to interrupt Keaton Saint and I’d match, I didn’t forget. They may outnumber me at Survive and Conquer, but this time, the fight’s not from a Titantron… it’s in the ring. It’s time for GIW to come face to face with me. Alexis Terry and Aspen Chaud got my attention on Overdrive…and when Sunday, January 29th rolls around, they’re going keep it. I’ll drive them out of APW for good. GIW’s presence in APW will be done.

“Finally…believe that when Johnny Rebel and Blade struck down CJ Gates, I knew that my battles with those two weren’t over. We may be enemies, but we’re APW enemies…and striking down one of our own before Survive and Conquer is a declaration of war. I thought that after Johnny Rebel defeated me, we would both move in our careers…but I see now that Johnny Rebel and I are destined to fight to our ends…and we will. Johnny Rebel and I are not finished, and when we finally are…Johnny Rebel in APW will be done.

“I may not be the winner of APW’s Survive and Conquer…but I damn sure will be the one defending it.”

Noble rips off his suit jacket and tosses it away. A hushed whisper moves through the crowd. However, Noble’s eyes are fixated on Jeff, Medea, and Monkwood.

“The three of you have asked me to be a lot of things in APW…but I’m done being the man I’m not supposed to be. I’m done being what you want me to be… and instead, I’m going to be the man APW needs me to be. I made a promise to the three of you six months ago that I would be better than Sally Talfourd, Level-One, Terry Marvin, Johnny Rebel, and all the other wrestlers that didn’t fight for APW. In the end, I may not be a better wrestler than they are…but I will never be done defending APW, long after those names have passed. When Survive and Conquer is done, and the names and faces have piled out the door back to their promotions…

“I won’t be done…I’ll just be getting started…but I’m no longer on wrestling on Overdrive.”

Jeff snarls, but Noble finally removes his suit jacket. Underneath is a white shirt with one word on it that Noble emphasizes when he speaks…

“Now, I, and everyone else in APW, wrestle on Nobledrive.”

Noble’s eyes then turn towards the massive crowd. He smirks one more time. He points to them all.

“Phoenix Wrestling, Code Red Wrestling, Galveston Island Wrestling, Sin City Wrestling, WARPED Wrestling, Simcoe County Championship Wrestling, Universal Wrestling League, World Elite Wrestling, Helter Skelter Wrestling, New Era Wrestling, Universal Wrestling Federation, Totally Fictional Wrestling Federation, Total Wrestling Entertainment, Global Championship Wrestling, Rocky Mountain Pro, Viking Wrestling Federation, Pure Class Wrestling, Championship Wrestling Council…and even Action Packed Wrestling…

“I am done playing by your rules.

“I am done watching your wrestlers destroy my home.

“I am done taking a nonviolent approach to the way I handle you.

“I am done listening to the lies fed to me by your wrestlers.

“I am done lying to you that I am always going to be the best.

“I am done being a Rebel.

“I am done being a Saint.

“I am done being a BAD ASS.

“I am done being a survivor.

“I am done being a conqueror.

“On January 29th, 2012, in Miami Florida, live from the American Airlines Arena…during Survive and Conquer itself, when I come out from the back and defend APW, I want you to believe that I am done being any of these things. I want you to believe in me when you chant three words…

“I”

“Am”

“Done.”

Noble stops, and the room lights up with the flashes of cameras! A huge uproar of noise moves through the crowd, but Jeff’s yell nearly silence them.

“Get this man out of my press conference!!”

The press room lights up in a flurry of flashes as two men in suits obey President Jeff’s order and grab both of Kurt Noble’s arms, yanking him away from the podium he’s behind. Noble’s eyes are fixated on Jeff as he’s dragged past him. Amidst the feverish commotion of questions in the background, President Jeff grabs Noble by the shirt collar and shakes his head as he speaks.

“Do you know what you’ve done to me? To the Survive and Conquer? To APW?”

Noble’s gaze in unwavering, almost lifeless as he leans inward towards Jeff.

“I’ve done worse.”

Jeff says nothing as Noble is hauled to the back. A flurry of questions are yelled at Jeff, but he only mumbles to himself before following Noble to the back. The security slams Noble up against a wall as Jeff faces him.

“Release him.”

The two men do as they’re told. Noble rolls his shoulders as he stares down Jeff. The silence seems to last forever until Jeff speaks.

“That was perfect.”

Jeff’s frown turns into a smile as he extends his hand towards Noble. He looks down...and accepts the handshake!

“That was the message that all those invading sons of bitches need to hear before Survive and Conquer!” exclaims Jeff with a broad smile on his face.

“Well, it was your plan after all,” says Noble with a smirk as well. “Now, you get reprimand me and take the heat off of APW’s stocks. It’s my battle now, and regardless of whether or not CJ Gates, Keaton Saint, and Chris Hart are in it with me…it’s time to defend APW. I know it, and now so do 85 others. I told you to believe in me Jeff.”

Noble pats Jeff on the back, and begins to walk away…but Jeff’s voice stops him.

“You really meant everything you said out there. You really don’t think you can win Survive and Conquer?” asks Jeff with hesitation.

Noble pauses, and turns to his boss one last time.

“Crazier things have happened…just depends on whether you believe or not. Whether I can or can’t…

“APW will believe in me at Survive and Conquer.”

[Non Compos Mentis]

Trashcan Hotdogs and Half a Million Dollars

January 22nd 2003
New York City, New York
An Alley Deep and Dark

Smash!

An empty beer bottle hits the alley floor, tumbling from the stuffed trashcan in unwanted misery. If it had been half full I would have drank it just for the moisture. Nights this cold dry your skin to the point of cracking like ill-prepared plaster. Digging my hand further into the trashcan I feel the crumpled edges of newspaper and pizza boxes, too light for any crusty remnants of cooked dough… greedy bastards.

“Come on, give me something…” I mumble as I feel garbage-juice ooze onto my arm. I’d cringe if I wasn’t already used to it. Further into the aluminium cylinder I go until I’m shoulder deep and touching the bottom. My hand searches for anything of value but its experienced touch finds nothing but another empty bottle.

“Bah!” comes a grunt from my spleen as I pull my hand from the filth and throw the bottle into the nearest wall with an ear-splintering smash. Drunks… drunks and well fed opulent scum, all of them!

“You can’t spare one goddamn slice of pizza?!” I shout at the top of my lungs and listen as it echoes between the two residential buildings and then into the open streets of New York City. Maybe I hope they’ll all hear it and leave out free pizza every night. Maybe I’m going more insane than I already know I am.

“Get the hell out of here you bum!” calls a voice in the New York accent I’ve become so used to since being shipped her from Texas. It bounces off the walls, surrounding me until it finally penetrates my ears. I take a moment to decide if it’s real or not, it’s so hard to tell now. Every voice is on a knife edge, it’s fifty-fifty if I’m imagining it or not. This time I glare up and there’s a burly, hairy man in a vest leaning out of his window, glaring black with his burly, hairy eyes… oh it’s definitely real.

“Come down here and say that, you ugly bag of maggots!” I suspect he didn’t like my retort.

What gives that impression? The beer can making its way at express speed toward my head. At the last moment I sidestep the incoming alcoholic projectile, watching as it hits the ground and begins to pour sweet intoxicating nectar. Quickly I dive on the gushing tin and stop the flood of beer on the cold ground. On my knees, without hesitation, I down the remaining liquid with the exclamation of “Disgusting!” above me. The moisture is a glorious respite from the parching air, never mind the warming glow it will provide shortly. “You pig! Do you have any idea what I’d do for a whole can?!”

The answer was a great deal, I’d pet the man’s back hair for a sip. With a grumble the repulsive man disappears back into his lair. I, on the other hand, decide this alley has lost its allure and leave, moving on to find buried stinking treasure. The search doesn’t take long as I head toward downtown Manhattan; a source of success in previous forages. I move toward the heart of the commercial district, toward Midtown and, if need be, as far south as can earn me a decent meal. This is my life; walking until I eat.

Soon I’m in the heartland of New York, perhaps all of America and the pickings on this night are still meagre. Every trashcan empty, neglected entirely or their contents already pilfered by some other mucky vagrant. Further I go until I see the burning lights of the inner city, moving into the back alleys in search of a morsel to eat; an undercooked burger or a charcoal hotdog that some downtown shmuck couldn’t stomach.

How many fellow homeless scroungers are here, looking intently for their next meal and a chance to make it to tomorrow? I know I’ll make tomorrow; I’ve been through too much to let hunger be the bastard that brings me down. A bite to eat would be a pleasant bonus though.

As I say this I’m in an alley that would be repeated hundreds of time over across the city, only at the end of this one is a businessman. It’s a late finish for this one, too late for dinner even as he holds a fresh, meaty hotdog in his right hand and his cell phone in the other. He mutters something inane to the other person, unaware he’s being stalked from the darkness.

“One second, I’m starving…” the businessman buys a moment to devour a bite of his dog, craving some late night sausage. There isn’t much traffic on the sidewalks, perhaps I could get away with swiping it from his hand, but would I have enough energy to outrun the suited capitalist? It’s an answer I’m about to find out when a soured expression leaks onto his face. “Goddamnit! It isn’t even cooked through, I can’t eat this shit!”

Without looking he throws it in my direction and I watch the ice cold dog bounced out of the bun and roll over the muck covered ground. The hungry businessman moves on, and this hungry hobo is about to lurch from the shadows when…

Smack!

Something hits my shoulder from behind then moves out in front of me, a man shaped object… no, an actual man! He doesn’t stop to apologise, that rude wretch, instead moving straight for the hotdog in his shabby tattered clothes. That sleaze, he’s stealing MY hotdog!

“Hey!” I shout, and listen as it echoes around the alley for dramatic effect. Stopping with his greasy teeth mere centimetres from that gorgeous uncooked pork-matter, the unshaven man turns his head and finally sees me exit the shadows. “Get your mitts off my damn hotdog!”

“I’m sorry friend, I didn’t see you there.” Polite swine, he thinks he can take my meal and smile at me while he eats.

“Get… your hands… off my dog.” I repeat in slow, deliberate words as my large form looms over his. He’s older, perhaps fifty, and much less muscular than myself but I know better than to push a hobo into a corner; even the old, skinny ones can turn into clawing animals.

He stares back with puppy dog eyes, as if I’m the horrid man taking a child’s sweets away, but I know he’s also sizing me up. Can he take me, he wonders? Can he defend his prize? “We can share it, right?” he asks, clearly deciding he can’t win a traditional back-alley hobo fight. But do I hear it?

No. Like I said, every sentence is fifty-fifty whether I hear the reality or the confused verbal poison of my own mind. This time all I heard was “It’s all mine, you piece of excrement.”

“What did you say to me?!” I holler at the poor frightened man who backs off slightly. I can’t control myself anymore, the hunger is too great and the deep, dark instinct of my sick mind kicks in. “Share… we can share it.” He begs as a last attempt to keep his supper but I’m beyond the point of sanity now and what reaches my ears is “I said you deserve to starve to death, you sick fu…”

Before I can take in the rest I lash out, slamming my already scarred knuckles into the side of his brittle face. He falls to the ground, dog still in hand, and stuck in rabbit-in-the-headlights mode when a second brutish fist lands on his left eyebrow. Reaching out, his free hand pushes at my face as mine goes for that glorious hunk of meat. Pushing turns to raking, then to clawing at my face and eyes like a rabid koala. They always fight… every single one.

I drive through the pain as a rogue punch aimed for his temple actually hits him in the teeth, shattering two straight into my knuckles. I bleed, right into his mouth… I’ll definitely need that hotdog now. Through the raging adrenaline I hear muffled cries of “Please…stop!” that my sickened mind mistakes for vile insults and silences with a fourth strike, this time knocking the old man unconscious.

It was over in seconds but the damage is proof it had been violent enough. I can’t see them, but I feel the nail marks running down my face, the burning of my knuckles too as remnants of teeth fall from the wound. The old man’s mouth is busted open like a piñata full of ketchup… ah ketchup, the perfect accompaniment to a hotdog.

I stare down at my prize, the thick sausage I fought so bitterly for, and I tear open the man’s lifeless fingers with reckless abandon. One by one his grip is reduced to nothing and I hold my supper aloft. Bloody, dirty, sweet tepid pork… you are mine!


January 22nd 2012
Buffalo, New York
Sean Rhodes’ apartment… deep and dark.

“Nine years, the prize changes… the fight remains the same.” I stand in the middle of my apartment in the dead wastes of Buffalo, the asshole of America. In my hand, like nine years earlier, I hold my prize or rather the promise of it. The flyer for APW Survive and Conquer states the magnitude of the situation; eighty six competitors… half a million dollars.

Life has moved on in almost every way since the days when I fought for hotdogs against aged homeless men. Now I fight for an even bigger change in my life but it’s against the same old mix of maniacs, arrogant and ignorant morons and a few good men caught in a bad situation. Which one am I? I can say I’ve never been arrogant, but that is all.

At some point of the last decade I have been the good man, forced to fight against incredible odds merely to survive until the next day. I have been the ignorant man, thrust into a place where I have no knowledge and no hope. And I have been the maniac, more often than I’d care to admit or remember. I have been many things but never have I been a happy man.

At least, until now.

My thumb rubs over the paper and the promised half million as my eyes drift around the small apartment I now call home. Much better than a squalid back alley in the middle of Manhattan, I’d say, yet still with its own difficulties. Out there I didn’t have to worry about having a social life; I was a lonesome hobo with no friends and no need to be civil. Now, I may not have many but the one I have is precious. She is the one person giving me hope that someday I can be a normal man once again.

When all that time ago I was sick in so many ways, now I am recovering. I am trying to be a different man to the psycho that PCW fans have come to know and hate. I have been trying to do this, but I’m falling short. I’m still the psycho deep down and I’m still born to be in a fight. I isolated that part of myself, forced it into the ring until it left my life alone… now I’m about to unleash it on a psychopaths playground.

“Half a million dollars and all I have to do to win it is put my faith in an animal and beat eighty five other competitors. Sounds straight forward….” I speak with a sarcastic tongue, but one with hope nonetheless. After everything I’d gone through would anyone really be surprised to see the once homeless schizoid defeat the odds once again?

Perhaps LoKi would have something to say, being the current PCW World Champion and a newly discovered villain. It was, after all, he who spurred my recent recovery into action and his new dark side would serve him well. Those who know Pure Class Wrestling will most likely put the Fallen Angel ahead of me as a favourite, but it suits my style more than his recently acquired mean streak. There is no need for technique in a match where attack could arrive from any angle, only the need for brutality.

Then other names I know from my home ground; High Tide and Andy D… wildcards both of them, each with a unique style that will not be easy to adjust to for those without experience. I have ample amounts of that and more confidence that I will at least outlast them two. Their luck is in small amounts, drawing them early in the match while I have been placed at seventy six. I have a mere ten men to best… ten men against one, one man with the madness of ten.

Of course that doesn’t count the men already in the ring, fighting through the numbers until they get to meet the Born Psycho. Men with big reputations would both precede and follow my small name; people like MDK, Level-One, Kurt Noble, Bryan Laughlin. Champions, legends and phenomenal athletes all, but none are tougher than me… none!

I can change everything about myself, as I attempt to do at this very moment, but still that part of me will remain.

I AM a tough son of a bitch to beat, I ALWAYS survive.

But do I conquer? I’m the most dominant North American Champion in PCW’s storied history, one of the most feared competitors the company has ever had and the best wrestler never to win its World Title. But as my life has always been, I have moments of success and failure. Whether it has been alley upon alley of meagre returns, or being a second away from winning a World Championship Belt, failure has never been tolerable.

So when I set myself to even a small task, I give it my all. Imagine what I will do for a chance at global recognition and riches beyond my wildest dreams, the chance to prove my worth amongst the best competitors earth has to offer. For that I will endure the pain of releasing my dark companion upon the masses, I will leave blood and guts in the ring so that people will call my name. For while redemption of my sins is my goal, further reformation can be made with the help of the rewards.

With five hundred thousand dollars I can become more than a homeless man, more than a jabbering maniac, more than a wrestler. I could be a normal man, a sane man, a man known and revered the world over.

Half a million dollars turns my walls from brown to modern white, my tv set from a cantankerous lump of crap to a glorious piece of technology I would have no knowledge of how to use. It would turn my whole apartment in the rats asshole called Buffalo into a desirable pad in New York City. To conquer the mass of competition would grant me a life of which I can only dream.

From my hand falls the poster for my greatest opportunity, my greatest victory in the making. I need not look at it any longer for the vision of triumph is cemented in my mind. I will give my all, I will be a tough son of a bitch to beat and I will be the psycho in the ring that this match deserves… hopefully for the last time.

[ALPHA STARLET >> Giselle]

Drip drop drip drop

Sounds of water drops falling onto a marble shower floor, evaporation was present as it made a fog, covering the silhouette of a female, slim yet muscular with hair of gold all wet and shiny. That woman is Giselle Stratten.

Giselle was taking a warm shower relaxing her mind, soul and body as for this week she has to face an opponent so intimidating that all focus needs to be put on her body so that she has strength to face such a strong, frighting, and wily opponent. Opponents (which is plural) for that matter. Giselle will be a participant in a battle royal...with 85 other wrestlers of different companies, representing their turf.

SAY WHAT?!?! TIME THE HELL OUT!!!

85 people? Giselle is only a little concerned about this actually. Out of the 86 people in it, only 14, one being Giselle obviously, are women. This just makes things as twice as interesting, because in her past, Giselle did face Men most of the time. It was pretty easy for her, but of course, that was then, she face women now in WEW, which pissed her off as she strives for more competition. As she pumps her muscles up, Giselle will think of the damage she will cause to the people, in the battle royal, daring anyone that tries to stop her (most likely not, if they got the BALLS to do it)


Scene One -- Clan Strattens Dilemma

Giselle is seen brushing her hair in front of the mirror, which in the Pink Friday Pretty Up room (as named by the sweet Kayla) of the Stratten household, this particular room is for prettying up the sisters as it has everything from makeup kits to powders all the way from France. Each sister has their own mirror (not like it matters since everything in the room is pink so obviously each sister would use either mirror) Anyways, Giselle is fixing her damp hair with a blow dryer until she saw Janelle, the middle sister come up to her with a puzzled look on her face.

Janelle Stratten
Giselle, do you have any idea how Kayla passed her two part knowledge exam at the DMV?

Giselle Stratten
What do you mean?

Janelle Stratten
Well knowing Kayla, she's as dimwitted as a door knob, surely she couldn't have done it by herself, what I want to know is how? As I remember how tight security is at thc DMV testing area and you know how they get when you cheat....

Giselle Stratten
-eyeroll- oh Janny, you are not giving her credit when it's due, lighten up sis! As I recall, I saw her studying in the dining room with the Manuel, should praise her for doing so as we know she hates to...

Janelle Stratten
That is, if she really did....

Giselle Stratten
Come on Janelle, be nice!

Ahh, the sisterhood sure is feeling it in the Stratten household. Obviously, Janelle talks down Kayla with every chance she gets, the reason is unknown, but people belive its personal jealousy between the two. It predates back to their elementry years, but of course flashbacking all the way there would defeat the purpose of this little show.

Kayla Stratten, that sweet little ditz, opened the door all excitedly because she is proudly holding her Learners Permit (she got it last week, 4 weeks after taking her exam).

Kayla Stratten
SISTERS!!! I am like home!!!

Janette Stratten
Oh Brother.....

Giselle Stratten
JANELLE!

Kayla Stratten
Ok like, I need a favor from either of you who happen to be the BEST SISTERS a girl could like ask! Like seriously!

Giselle and Janelle look at Kayla supiciously, but Janelle already knows what she is going to ask so....

Janelle Stratten
Oh, look at the time! I am late for a meeting, have fun Giselle!

And Janelle was out of the house like Sonic The Hedgehog. Kayla looked on with so much confusion (as if she was confused enough...oy vey)

Kayla Stratten
Like what the hell?!?!

Giselle Stratten
Ignore her hun, what do you want?

Kayla Stratten
Ok like you know that I passed my DMV tests back at the DMV right? Well, I kinda need some practice for the road skills test so I was wondering if you could help me!!

Giselle Stratten
(I will kill Janelle) Of course Kayla! (I will seriously Kill her!)

Giselle knows her sister all too well, as Janelle puts it, dimwitted. She knows how much of a hassle it will be to actually teach her how to drive and stuff right? Oy Vey, Giselle is hoping that she will survive this little classroom session with Kayla. "Dear god, what have I gotten myself into" Says Giselle in her mind.

Well, after teaching her most favorite sister how to drive, least actually show her how to use the wheel and make the car go VROOM! Giselle will worry about the upcoming APW Battle Royal, later, because quite frankly, she forsees people from WEW winning this and taking over the wrestling world as a whole, in this particular match. She sees the others as nothing more than insignificant insects, roaming around their little hive, waiting for their fat asses to get a push...like Really? Is there more to even say about them? Yeah, didn't think so either.

Speaking about Non factors, Giselle points out most of them on the list? Who are they anyways? Rhonda? Sounds like some fat chicks name. Jim Black? He looks computer generated. Jason Kash? Is he related to that whiny little crybaby that lost a championship to Sophie Olivera? Ugh, freaking ridculous is what Giselle thinks. She does not want any of these washed up has been men, touching her, IN ANY WAY. Otherwise, they will have to settle for a fucking broken body part...one that is permanent. Think, putting a firecracker on someones mouth and their face blows up. Something of that caliber. Whatever happens though, Giselle will make sure that either her or anyone from WEW win, the battle royal, she made that a promise and if anyone has a problem with it. TOUGH!


Scene 2 -- On The Road with Bodacious Beauties (and a Death wish)

Giselle and Kayla were at one of Giselles old cars (oh please, shes not stupid to teach her in the new maserati that Sayge gave to her present) Right now, Giselle is check listing Kayla on all the stuff she needs to do before starting the ignition of the car....or whatever.

Giselle Stratten
Seat Belt is on?

Kayla Stratten
Yes

Giselle Stratten
How about your hand postion? It should always be on the 8 o' clock and 4 o' clock positions and don't grip it with your palms

Kayla Stratten
got it

Giselle Stratten
Checked the Mirrors?

Kayla Stratten
Yup -she checks and adjusts the top mirror-

Giselle Stratten
Alright sis, now all you have to do is start the car.

Kayla turns the key to engine (or on) and the car turns on, she gets a little nervous but cools down knowing her big sister is right beside her.

Giselle Stratten
Ok, now all you have to do is put the car in reverse, then once you reversed the car into the road, you put the shift on Drive

Kayla does so with ease, though a little slow, she does it with ease. She eventually gets on the road and drives off to the road.
Kayla has since been driving the road at 25 mph and with readiness for any signs, traffic lights and construction workers that may change the rules of driving. Giselle spots a sharp right and Left turn sign on her right.

Giselle Stratten
Heads up Kayla, you need to make a sharp right and left turn

Kayla does so, a bit of skidding happening here and there but no problems, with a little practice she will get used to the turns, without skidding. A stop sign is present.

Kayla Stratten
Time to stop, look all ways and let pedestrians and cars pass by to clear the way.

Giselle Stratten
good.

A few hours later, Kayla is doing supiciously excellent in the on the road practice drive. Giselle is getting impressed so far with her sister, but a danger is admist. Right next to them, a red chevorlet, a 2008 model, is coming up next to the girls, the driver is a guy and OF COURSE he has is shirt off -eyeroll- He looks over to Kayla, who winks at her. She looks as well and blushed, he raises his eyesbrows up and down, probably giving her a dare to street race. Giselle takes notice on her being distracted....oh boy.

Giselle Stratten
What are you doing?

Kayla Stratten
but hes soooo cute!!

Giselle Stratten
-facepalms- Kayla focus....FOCUS!! Don't be a failure girl, just do what you learned in the class and just shine like a Stratten should!

Kayla was confused as to what the hell that meant, but she didn't care because as the light turns green, he turns left and Kayla, aggresively follows suit making a wide left turn...uh oh.

Giselle Stratten
KAYLA WHAT ARE YOU DOING....AHHH!!!

Kayla is suddenly speeding up, and her hands are getting shaky, which means shes starting to lose control, yet she was fine just a few hours ago. Giselle was confused, the guy turned another left and Kayla follows suit, with Giselle clinging to her seat.

Giselle Stratten
KAYLA!!! you were just driving good....NOW YOU ARE DRIVING LIKE HOW THESE 86 WANNABES NOT FROM WEW WRESTLES....NOT THAT GOOD, WHAT THE HELL!?!?!

Kayla Stratten
I AM LIKE TOTALLY DISTRACTED BY THAT HOT GUY!!! I must get to him!!!

"Are you kidding me?" Giselle says on the inside...Kayla was just good, now shes driving like Tarja Wrestles....bad, which means an easy win for Giselle, but only if she can get to her match uninjured...

Giselle Stratten
KAYLA!!!!!

The car was making four uncontrollable turns and was crashing into something, but because of time restraints we are going to cut the time back to Janelle, who is in the Stratten household.

Janelle was reading a classic, Pride and Prejudice....and Zombies, when she heard the house door open forcibly loud. Giselle, looking burnt up but the messy kind not the deadly kind and Kayla, whose only feature ruined is het hair came in with Giselle marching towards her sister Janelle

Janelle Stratten
What happened to you -laughs-

Giselle Stratten
A lot, after our court meeting you...YOU will teach Kayla how to drive....no ifs ands or buts!

Janelle Stratten
What? I will do no such thing! Out of the question.....sorry!

Giselle Stratten
Tough, I'm the elder sister and what I say goes, ya dig?!?!

Janelle Stratten
Is that So?

The Strattens were arguing over who will be in charge of Kaylas practice driving, you can still hear Janelle refusing with Giselle threatening and telling her to....ahh, the sisterhood sure is present....Kayla on the other hand went to her room unnoticed, waiting till the girls stop fighting....but Giselle has something important this friday, and that's the APW Battle Royal. Will Giselle Survive and Conquer 86 wrestlers in the ring? One thing is for sure, Giselle is determined to make it into the top 20 so she can have the title shot that WEW is offering, just for winning this bitch and representing a much respected company.


Scene Three -- Visiting the APW Arena

Giselle Stratten
"So this is where Survive and Conquer will be held -smirks- that's what's up!"

Giselle walks around the ring, little did she notice that a camera is recording what she is doing right now. She looks at how huge the place is and is pretty impressed. She wonders how a lot of the people will fit in the ring, she finds this puzzling, but nah, she can handle it. Giselle sits upon one of the turnbuckles and looks around, thinking out loud.

Giselle Stratten
"86 wrestlers, shit, I feel like I might be in the war of my life, I'm not worried though, I don't even really care about who will come out and what and all that bull crap. Nah, I've had me against the world happen to me once, and I'm ok with that believe it or not, because I've had fucking experience, that's that, plain and simple. You sometimes have to experience pain in order to learn. -she jumps down from the turnbuckles- if you punks think that you are going to overthrow one of the top companies in this war, you got another thing coming, hear me? You see, we in WEW, we do not give up, at all, until we get what satisfies us the most, quite frankly, if anything, it should not surprise anyone here that someone representing THE ELITE, will win this. If not me, then the others like SM Raye, Sayge Jemson, Eliza Gray and even Broken Saint can win this. Oh, I'll make sure that happens too, BECAUSE WHAT WE ARE, what we are, is just more than a bunch of top shelf athletes, we are elite status and if any moron don't stand for us, then I'm afraid that you got some problems my dear, no one is going to care if a guy like Jim Black will win this, they will just brush it off and continue onto watching WEW. The people know who we are and all you cowards from the other dumps that you work for, will get acquainted with us VERY soon, THE HARD WAY! Hey, in this world, it's just how things is, take it or leave it!"


The following roleplay is tagged for Survive and Conquer. It is Around 2k words, and I would like them to know, LET'S DO THIS!!!. This layout is an exclusive of PRYNCESEMAJ2.0 @ Caution 2.0, All Rights Reserved.

[/blockquote][/font]

[aligheri]

“Battle is the most magnificent competition in which a human being can indulge. It brings out all that is best; it removes all that is base. All men are afraid in battle. The coward is the one who lets his fear overcome his sense of duty. Duty is the essence of manhood.”
[/i]

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Whenever people would tell him about the tournament matches that different companies hold, Gabriel's eyes would always grow wide and a look of excitement and anticipation would always come across his face. With every detail spoken to him, his imagination would take that and expand on it and expand on it until it could not get any bigger. If someone were to tell him that the fans had more energy than any of the month's weekly shows, Gabriel would see it as the fans absolutely losing their minds and all of their voices by the end of the night from all the cheering and celebrating for him. If a co-worker of his were to tell him that some fans would stop him and get autographs while he was walking towards the arena, Gabe would imagine himself getting swamped by an endless sea of people all wanting his autograph and the chance to talk with him, if only for a few short seconds. There was almost no end to how far his imagination would take those types of things and twist them so that he could possibly get a feel for what it might be like. Now, he does not have to wait much longer, only a couple more days. 

He has his first ever tournament match at Survive and Conquer and it definitely could not come any faster. Every day felt like two eternities of waiting and it was killing him. He knew when he signed the contract that he would be excited for his first match of this scale, but, not even he thought he would get this excited for the big day. Maybe it is because he gets to do what he does best in front of way more people than just the normal amount for Adrenaline. He is a natural born performer, so just the thoughts of the huge arena with all the seats get his blood flowing. It could even be thought that he was ready to make the much needed impact on the company he has been trying for weeks to do. Yes, he is one of the more "veteran"ish Superstars on the roster, but to him, that is not enough of an excuse. Yes, holding onto a single title for nearly half a year and successfully defending it a multitude of time is great, but, that is not enough either. Yes, being able to say that he has beaten former Universal Champions is a great accomplishment, yet even with that, it can not satiate Gabee's appetite. To him, he needs to do something big and spectacular that people will be talking about all the way until the end of the year. Something that will capture the minds of the entire audience and everybody watching at home. He does not know exactly what he wants to do, but, he knows it has to he done at Survive and Conquer.

------------------

Main Scene – Excited?
Date - January 27, 2012
Location – Gabriel's Locker Room

Gabriel has so much energy he really does not know what to do with himself right now. He is acting is like a little puppy would by just exploring and getting into absolutely everything just to find something to do. He was just about to leave the apartment and go for a jog to calm himself down, when an idea struck him in the back of the head. He decided to call the people in the UWF production crew to send some a camera or two over so he can shoot a promo for the upcoming tournament. He knew that there was already some hype around the match, so why not add some more to it? What could possibly go wrong? He also knew that the more face time he got, the more people would recognize him and cheer for him during the match. It always gave him an extra pump of adrenaline whenever he would hear everybody start to cheer for him to win. Besides, it never hurt to let the masses know what he was thinking or how his brain works for a little while.

Now, it is just a matter of waiting for the cameraman to knock on his door. He made the trip all the way from his house to his locker room just to be here for the interview. He could have just had the worker come to him at his house, but, Gabe needed the extra exercise to help him for his upcoming match. Sitting on one of the metal chairs in his locker room, he is doing some single-arm bicep curls while he waits. In the back of his head, he hopes he does not have a repeat performance of the first time he tried to do an interview when he was still on the Indy scene. Whether it was intentional or not, he got stood up and he had to shoot his first official promo just from whatever came to the top of his head. Even though he thought he did a fairly good job, he would rather not go through it again. But, it does not look like he will have to. Just as he is starting his 26th curl, he hears a knock at the door, which takes him off the chair and opening the door.

It is, in fact, the cameraman and he looks ready to work, so he quickly sets up everything that he needs to, while the One Winged Angel gets all of his thoughts together for the final time. The cameraman taps him on the shoulder and gives him the signal that he is ready to start, so, Gabe takes a deep breath. He calms himself down and looks directly into the camera lens and starts.

GABRIEL ALIGHERI:[/b] To say that my match at Survive and Conquer is important would definitely be in contention for 'Most Underrated Thing Said This Year'. My match is not just important to and my supporters, it is pretty much vital to my career as an UWF Superstar. Not only would a win against everybody in the match prove my worth to the company, it would prove my true ability in the ring, and it would put me on the fast track to a championship match against one of my company's top champions in the future, something that I know some of my opponents seem to have in her back pocket. However, if I were to lose at this enormous event, then it would be another fatal blow to my career. It wouldn't get me any more respect backstage than I have now and I would have to go that much more down the line of Superstars and Stunners waiting for a shot at the top spot. That right there is something that I just can NOT let happen to me. After almost God knows how long of being on the negative end of things, it is about time that I get myself back on the right track to the spot that I know that I deserve! Whether anybody likes it or not!

GABRIEL ALIGHERI:[/b] I know that there are people that will say that I'm too "inexperienced" in the ring to be entered into this or that I "can't compare" myself to some of the other participants in terms of in-ring ability. To those people, I suggest that they make sure to tune in on show night and prepare to be shocked. I'm sure that they will be pleasantly surprised at what I can do when I have the opportunities to. Even through the huge clusterfuck of competition that is going to go down, I will try my hardest to shine brighter and stronger than all the rest. When I have this much on the line, these many people starting to believe in me again. and so many counting on me to come out victorious, I'm not about to let them down. Not only are all those people counting on me, I'm counting on myself, so to speak. I know that I have what it takes to be the holder of the Universal Championship for the second time, I know I have the ability and moveset to win all of my future matches, and I definitely know I have the intestinal fortitude to come out the winner on Sunday!

GABRIEL ALIGHERI:[/b] I am not going to try and put up a front and say that this will be easy to beat. That would just be idiotic and asinine. I know that the challenge I have ahead of me won't be easy. I know that I'm going to give the match my absolute best, as I know everybody will try her absolute hardest to try and put me away. We all are going to give 100% and we should blow the roof off the arena! Although, I have been defeated by a fair amount of people before now, I'm not contemplating on adding another person's name to that list any time soon. I think Marcus Moretti, one of my colleagues, said it best when he said that 'all you can think about is a match five seconds down the line'. I think that has been pretty much the truth ever since I lost the Lord of the Rings match. Since then, I have been on my journey back to the gates of championship gold. This will be yet another way of improving the standing within my own company.

GABRIEL ALIGHERI:[/b] You guys, this is truly one of the greatest opportunities I have had ever. Possibly even in my entire 23 years on our planet Earth. There is not many people who can say that they have faced the calibre of opponents that I have for all the glory and prestige that the UWF has to offer. Not many men or women can say that they have had the good fortune of showing off their wrestling ability against some of the extremely stiff competition in this sport. But, I get to be one of those people. My fingers feel like electricity is surging through them each and every time I think about it. Not only do I get to face former champions and, possibly, rising up-and-comers, but, I get to face some people who I consider as my allies in this. Even before I had "allies" in the UWF, I had to do everything by myself. There was never really that one person who actually "showed me the ropes", so I would not seriously hurt myself. Looking back on it now, I was the one that really pushed myself to get out of my own way and enter the ring at all. Without that motivational push, who knows where I'd be right now. Buried knee deep in a sea of paperwork? Watching all the action unfold backstage only? Always stressing about time management and schedules? I. Do. Not. Think. So. That is definitely not how I wanted the rest of my career to be spent.

GABRIEL ALIGHERI:[/b] While me and my "allies" may be enemies come Sunday, we do share a common respect. If we did not have that, the cat claws would've been out a long, long time ago. We all can appreciate what we bring to the table and, believe it or not, we all can learn at least a little something from each other. Even though it could be said that I can always improve with the actual in-ring work, I am only going to get better and better with each passing week. I have my whole life ahead of me to hone skills, while some of the other competitors I noticed have only a few more years in the tank. There is more than enough time for me to get the "perfect formula" and put it to use and rise my way all the way to the very top. Until then, I will continuously work to beat the respect and maybe not so much respected people in this tournament.

GABRIEL ALIGHERI:[/b] Unfortunately, respect or not, there is always that nagging question in the back of my brain that keeps sneaking forward every now and again. No matter how hard I train or how much time I spend practicing and learning new moves, that one question just will not go away. It is the question that almost everybody asks me when I walk down the street. 'What If?' What if I lose Survive and Conquer? What if I am not good enough to come out victorious? What if I never get a shot at the title again? All those questions keep coming back and coming back like they are flies swarming around a lightbulb. There has always been some kind of doubt in my head. Even back when I was just starting to think about signing up for the tournament in the first place. That doubt, if anything, was the reason that I waited so long, instead of just going for it right away. What if I get injured the week before and have to withdraw my name? What if I get told by upper management that I should hold back and keep training first? If anything, this could be considered a test for me to see how far I have left to go. If I lose, then I lose and I know how much harder I have to work before I get another chance. If I can actually win, then it would be a meter to see how hard I have to work to actually retain the conditions I bad when the time comes for me to do so. But, honestly, what's the worst that could happen if I lose at Survive and Conquer? Worst case scenario is that I just head back to the locker room and continue on with the rest of the night. I'll just take it as a learning experience and use that to motivate myself to keep going and fighting.

GABRIEL ALIGHERI:[/b] Nevertheless, I asked for this. I wanted to test myself against the standard here. I wanted the chance at seeing where I stand in the wrestling world. I was the one who made the decision to go ahead and take the chance. Whether people want to call me a fool, an opportunist, or just a downright idiot, it does not really matter all that much in the grand scheme of things. Not matter what anyone says, wants to say, thinks about saying, or even writes down in a letter that gets put in a bottle and sent down the Milwaukee River, this match is going to happen. This battle will wage on and somebody will have to come out as the winner. Everybody knows the stats, percentages, odds, ratios, or whatever you want to call them. It is common knowledge who has the more experience between the lot of us. But, that is not going to stop me from giving absolutely two hundred percent. No matter what the outcome is, I will still continue to compete at my highest level all the way until the very end. They say that even the strongest wall can he broken down with a single stick of dynamite. Hopefully, we will get to test that theory a multitude of times.

GABRIEL ALIGHERI:[/b] In the long run, it really does not matter to me whether my opponents have or will take a liking to me or not. If they do happen to like me, then that is great! If they want to rip my guts out and stomp them into the dust, then that will be even better!! I did not decide to come to this wrestling company to make friends. If I wanted to make friends, I would just hang out at the clubs and drink my head off every night of the week. I decided to come to this specific tournament, out of all the others, because I wanted to show what I can do and, finally, be known for as the guy who will do absolutely anything to get the opportunities I know that I deserve. My opponents can underestimate me and think that Sunday against me will be a breeze, but when I make my grand entrance, everybody will see the unexpected, they will be shocked at what I do inside of the ring, and they will see why I am the one....the only...Gabriel Aligheril!!!

GABRIEL ALIGHERI:[/b] Once we are both in the ring and the starting bell has rung, are we not all equal in opportunity and chance? Does not luck play just as big a part as actual skill? Survive and Conquer is almost upon us and that means that the moment in which we find ourselves embroiled in a tough struggle in order to determine which of us is right...which of us is "better". If you let your cockiness and overconfidence guide you and cloud your vision, then it will be your, as well as countless others', irrevocable and inescapable downfall. Though one thing I will say before I go, is this...you can speak of your own intentions and goals, but, passion is what drives me. Passion for this business is what gets me through life itself. This can be a physical battle as well as a battle to see who wants it more...

Gabriel signals to the cameraman that he has said all that he feels he needs to say and the worker moves the camera away from his face and begins the packing up process. Gabriel knows the type of challenge he is in for and he is prepared all the way for it, even if the outcome does not go in his favor. The important thing to him is that he just compete to the best of his ability and see how far he can last. Winning would be one hell of a reward, but, just being able to compete in such an enormous match is sufficient enough for now.

[Level-Two]

Level Won

He found himself in a large room surrounded by several dozen super computers displaying numbers and code configurations he could not compute.

''So are you just going to stand there like an idiot or what? You don't have time to appreciate the lifeless beauty of this facility nor time to observe every little intricate detail surrounding you!'' Kenzie the computer nerd raged over the elaborate PA system.

On her security cam she watched Level-One obey her request like an obedient dog.

''Hey, Kenzie?'' Level-One greeted when Kenzie began to put her hands all over him. ''I didn't know you were into me like that...''

''Shut up!'' Kenzie hissed. ''I'm making sure you're not bugged or carrying any weapons!''

''Right...'' He sarcastically responded with a perverted grin across his face while she preformed a rather enhanced patdown. Kenzie blushed as she quickly spun around and led him into her office. ''So, what are we doing again?''

''Seriously?'' Kenzie sighed as she began to boot up a system on her computer. ''The sindicate, they're living in a virtual reality...''

''I'm not following...'' he admitted as Kenzie rolled her eyes.

''Felipe DeLoren is living life through a video game. His father spent the last years of his life developing the game; unfortunately, he died before he could release it. In short, your the main-character...''

''What!? Why me!?'' He whined.

''He was a big fan, I guess...'' Kenzie shrugged shoulders. ''Point is; Felipe DeLoren has been trying to make his fathers in-game storyline play out in real life by manipulating you and it's quite scary on how accurate it's all been.''

''Well we can't just let him win!'' He countered.

''And we won't...'' Kenzie cracked an evil grin as she led Level-One to a large vault door. ''I created a super computer that will allow you to control an avatar in his game. Last night, I broke into Felipe's mansion and got a copy of Seints Row 3! All you need to do now is play it. This will alter the storyline in a way that benefits us both, greatly...''

Kenzie opened up the reinforced steel door revealing her prized possession. A large metal chair with a metal helmet hooked up to several super computer systems. It was something he had never seen before.

''Go!'' Kenzie urged him on.

Reluctantly he took a seat in the chair. ''This is safe right?''

''Absolutely!'' Kenzie promised putting him to ease. Level-One rested back in his chair as Kenzie slapped the brainwave helmet on and had him fully locked into the chair. ''You're 100% safe... as long as you don't die in the game that is!''

''WHAT!?'' He screeched at the top of his lungs. ''Are you fucking crazy women!?''

''To be honest, yes.'' Kenzie proudly acknowledged with a psychopathic grin. ''Although entirely unnecessary it was perfectly unreasonable not to up the stakes on something like this. I really enjoy the feeling of living on the edge; especially when it isn't my life hanging over a 500 feet drop off a cliff!''

''You stupid twit!'' He roared.

''Good luck, Level One!'' Kenzie said clapping her hands like a giddy cheerleader. ''You can do this!''

That's about time when she hit the switch.

---

OBJECTIVE: Meet Kinzie @ Freckle Bitch's

Press B to SMASH car window...

CRASH!

The car alarm to a new sovereign rang off alerting the neighbors; who merely attributed the disturbance as a broken car alarm. He hopped into his stolen new ride and took off down the road; cutting people off at will like a roid raging mad man. As usual, Lester Only fiddled with the radio station...

''Shit nothings good on... the soundtrack of my life'' he complained to himself.

BREAKING NEWS!

''Hello miserable citizens of steelport, I'm Jane Valderama with your breaking news! Earlier today, I spoke with future Monster Brawl President and owner; KillBane! KillBane who will be meeting President Jeff at Monster Brawl V in a winner takes all fight to the death match!. I asked KillBane what he thought about President Jeff's epic 86 survive and conquer festival to take place later that night...''

''Ridicolous!'' Killbane roared. ''President Jeff is far too selfless for Monster Brawl. Our match is a match for the ages and everyone should have the pleasure of watching me destroy President Jeff in the main-event!''

''Nonetheless...'' KillBane continued. ''It is a pretty fucking epic idea; imagine the bloodshed from 86 warriors under one roof!''

''When asked who he thought had the best chance of winning, KillBane said it was between CJ Gates; the legendary country bumpkin and son of Mayor Bert Reynolds. Terry Marvin a man best known for sponsoring horrible drinks such as new coke and the weird concoction that is donkey punch. Lastly, beauty queen Sally Talfourd best known for legalizing prostitution in steelport!'' Jane paused. ''He also mumbled something about Lester ''Level-One'' Only being the greatest wrestler to have ever lived but at the age of 27 is too ''old'' and ''washed up'' and should do something old people do, like run for president.''

''MONSTERBRAWL IV this year will be sponsored by Professors Genki's Super Ethical Reality Climax!''

YAY, SUPER FUN TIME!

''I'm Jane Valderama with the only news you'll ever care about; entertainment!''

He shut off the radio and parked the car into the lot of the local Freckle Bitch's establishment. Inside Kinzie was hard to find. Hiding under a table with a portable PC in her lap, he bent down one knee beside her.

''What the hell are you doing under here, Kinzie?'' He startled the computer hacker.

''Didn't you hear about the Freckle Bitch's spy on your costumers program launched by the government?''

''Uh, no...'' Lester admitted. ''So about this Monster Brawl...''

''The biggest spectacle in all of steel port? Yeah, monster brawl. Eighty five other competitors fighting to near death to be the last one standing. It's something you'd expect in a video game...''

''Right...'' Lester conveniently added. ''Is there anything else I should know about it?''

''What besides the fact you'll be competing?'' Kinzie asked before shrugging her shoulders. ''Well, you're pretty fucked since you're slated to enter the match number one making it entirely impossible to survive...''

''Wow, Kinzie. Way to get my hopes up!'' Lester sarcastically jabbed.

''Don't worry, I got you covered.'' Kinzie promised. ''I already hacked Monster Brawl's system. They're publicly releasing the entry order today. All I need to do is delete the records of the old entry order undermining the whole thing thus forcing them to draw again.''

''You're awesome, Kinzie!'' Level-One said wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

''You know, it's been a while since I've been so close to a guy...'' She nervously joked. ''You know this is going to come with a price, right?''

---

Side mission: Insurance Fraud

Objective: Throw yourself in front of moving vehicles to earn yourself cash

''I can't believe I'm out here doing this shit!'' Level-One whined as he stood in the middle of moving traffic.

HOLD RIGHT AND LEFT TRIGGERS TO BRACE THE IMPACT!

He closed his eyes and mustered up the balls to step out in-front of a car which had it's breaks slammed like a teen girl at a college party. At the last moment he jumped and rolled over the hood of the vehicle flying off the back end and slamming against the pavement hard. He groaned as he rolled over onto his back and looked up into the sky and groaned. ''This shit better be worth it!''

Respect +1
Cash earned: 50, 000
Bonus: Save 5% on hospital bills!

Kinzie chilled in her crib counting the cash Level-One earned through his insurance scam. While Lester laid out on her couch with an earthquake of an headache shaking his cranium she began to do her work in cracking the computer system.

''I got it!'' Kinzie proudly announced. ''Your new entry number is lucky number 33!''

''33?'' Level-One echoed. ''Seriously? You couldn't hook me up with a better spot than that after all this bullshit?''

Kenzie slammed her lap top shut and crossed her arms feeling slighted.

''Well I can always do it again but it's going to cost you another 50 grand!'' She added with a grin across her face as Level-One groaned in pain. ''Reality check here! You need every advantage you can get and I know the perfect television show to get you over with the crowd... hell, you'll be a legend not only in Steelport but world wide.''

''So, what crazy ass idea do you have for me now?''

---

Side mission: SUPER FUN TIME!

Objective: Survive Professors Genki Super Ethical Reality Climax round and reach the end of the maze alive!

''Welcome to Genikibowl I! Today, we have quite the show for you as Monster Brawl star Lester ''Level-One'' Only puts his life on the line to entertain all our blood thirsty viewers at home!'' Zach the announcer announced.

Behind the scenes Lester Only is behind a large metal door with the face of a big pink cat staring back at him. He's crouched down low with a cellular device held to his ear.

''You have the worst fucking ideas, Kinzie!'' Level-One declared in a rage. ''This is crazy, my survival in this game isn't even a realistic possibility!''

''Game?'' Kinzie asked. ''This isn't a game it's the product of a degenerate society, Lester. Think old school, think roman coliseums.''

''Save me the history lesson!''

''Look just stay calm and keep cool. I know the in and outs of this map. Just listen to what I say and I'll lead you through this alive, okay?'' Kinzie said calmly.

''Here goes everything...''

THREE!
TWO!
ONE!
GO!

Right out of the gate he takes off through the maze. He's first approached by two mascots one dressed as a seints row energy can takes the first shot but misses!

CLICK RS!

Suddenly, Level-One knees the mascot in the stomach and grabs him by his bottle top holding him hostage. The second mascot sponsored by it's rival donkey punch raises the pistol and fires a single shot piercing through the skull of the seints row mascot. Level-One tosses the dead mascot onto the other sending them both to the floor as he continues through the maze...

''Okay, you're coming up on a locked door. You'll need to answer this question right to progress!'' Kinzie warned as a loud voice came over the speakers.

SUPER UNETHICAL QUESTION TIME!

You're in the survive and conquer match and an angry eliminated competitor begins to flood the arena with weapons (chain saws, flaming torches and battery acid); what do you do?

A) Use that shit to your advantage! There's nothing like pouring some battery acid into some poor son of a bitches eye socket!

B) Kindly take the referee aside and tell him about the in-ring hazardous conditions and request that the match be momentarily paused to deal with the situation first.

USER SELECTS A!

CORRECT!

''Well, I think SOMEONE just went heel!'' Kinzie added as she took a deep breath. ''Okay, now you'll have to deal with a few snipers up ahead.''

PRESS B TO DUCK!

Level-One ducks behind a safety block. He peeks his head up and spots the snipers up on a large display hiding in the pink cat mascots eyes.

''Hold tight...'' Kinzie pleaded. ''Okay, okay... I got it!''

That's about time the lights off in the arena. Red lazers attached to the sniper rifles hunt him down in the dark.

''Kinzie, I can't see anything!'' Level-One whined. ''You expect me to navigate a fucking death trap maze in the dark!?''

''Oh shut up!'' Kinzie teased before restoring the lights; blind the snipers. ''High powered lazer pointers never work well with the lights turned on... noobs!''

Level-One got up and approached the second door.

SUPER ETHICAL QUESTION TIME!

Will you win survive and conquer?

A) Hell yes! I'm the best there is!
B) Hell no; Terry Muffin will eat me alive!

USER SELECTS A!

BONUS ROUND!

''You cocky son of a bitch....'' Kinzie said her voice shaking with fear. Seconds later, a large brute like figure stands over Lester Only roaring at the top of his lungs. ''Meet Oleg...''

''Oh, shit!''

A large first comes flying in Level-One's face but before it connects with his face; everything turns to black!

... slowly, his eyes begin to open and he finds himself laying on his back; staring up at a large poster in the arena reading MONSTERBAWL IV PRESENTS: SURVIVE AND CONQUER! He glances at the clock and realizes he's only half way through the match; the crowd cheering him on.

He smiled.

That's when the plug was pulled!

...

Lester Only breathed heavily as he ripped the gaming helmet off of his head and looked up at Kenzie who was observing him closely. Although he was looking for answers all he received was a game changing question in return.

''So, did you win?''

---

Who the HELL do you think YOU are?

Yeah; I'm talking to all you nameless, good for nothing, ignorant, ungrateful, disrespectful fucks who aren't fit to be the shit I flick off my shoe! Ignoramus's who stumbled upon these sign up sheets and decided to scribble their name along the dotted line as if the ink they spilt was even worth it. Fools who have decided to venture out of the safety nets provided by their own playgrounds only to be devoured in the shark pool once they've jumped into the deep end. As if they even know what survival is...

You want to be part of history, you no name chuckleheads? Congratulations, take your fucking number and take your goddamned seat at the back of the bus! As far as I can see there's eighty six competitors in this match but only about twenty of them actually deserve to be here! So, that brings me to the realization that your entire purpose in this match is to help reach the quota.. The selling point of future survive and conquer spectacles of having eighty six wrestlers in one match under one roof.

Are you proud of yourselves? Have you finally realized that the entire sum of your career is going to amount to you being tossed over the rope well before you THOUGHT was your time? Will you finally realize all the little trinkets, all the main-events you've stared in and all high school level drama you call ''epic'' feuds never will amount to shit once you fall flat on your face and realize your existence has been entirely useless?

How many of you no-name-brand clowns have decided to throw your name into the grab bag because you thought this would be fun? You thought that this would be a great chance to hang with some of APW's best? Or maybe your all about a little extra publicity you can take back to your shitty promotions; to your ware house sized venues where each person who subjects themselves to such garbage leaves their dignity outside the fucking door? If you fall under any of these categories.. you're a loser!

I'm in it to win it. I'm not here to wave my hand back and forth like some pre-Madonna beauty queen aiming for a ''good'' performance or the Terry Marvin award for second place, runner up. I'm here to WIN and anyone without that mindset can stay the fuck home cause' trust me... there ISN'T enough room in this ring for all of us!

Unlike EVERYONE in this match; I've already proved everything I needed to. I already and survived and conquered. However, unlike the rest of you I will never settle for greatness; rather, I'm looking to set a new standard and definition for such a word in stone and becoming a two time winner of the survive and conquer match will help make that a reality.

You lowlifes can spit my name all you'd like. Hell, I'd even encourage you continue to parrot the ridiculous talking points of me being a wash; as to show how thoughtless you generic carbon copies really are with your childish insults and grade school humor! For while you may utter my name with great contempt for my success; yours fail to roll off the tip of my tongue. I know deep down in the pit of your stomach admiration has it rolling like Colorado mountains and like teenage girls you hope that I will specifically look your way and acknowledge your pathetic existence... but you can continue to hold your baited breath for as long as your lungs will allow you too; I will NOT mention your names.

As for these so called ''invaders'' who simply couldn't keep their mouths shut and leave their juvenile tactics at home; well, fuck you guys too. You morons turned a professional wrestling company, into a hardcore trash festival where anything goes.

There's a reason why you don't see me parading on ''Phoenix Wrestling'' television, G-2 or any other second tier promotion putting out second tier events—because I am above it. I'm above it all! APW has set the standard that if you want to face the best; you're going to have to step in our backyard to do it! And here you all are... standing in line that reaches well beyond the fucking gates! The fact that you all feel like you have something worth ''invading'' is merely the biggest compliment you can give any of us who call APW our home.

Many of you so called invaders will soon find yourself on this very roster once you realize that this is the premier wrestling organization world wide... so while you run around like a chicken with it's head cut off flopping your wings trying to gain some extra attention for lacklustersture career; President Jeff is having a big old laugh at all of you as you shuffle money into his pocket by the millions while you fight to near death over 500, 000 in access chicken scraps and pretend to be a bunch of BAD ASS rebels!

Seriously though...what exactly is guys like Azrael think their even invading? The only thing you accomplished is boring the living fuck out of viewers at home and taking up actual APW mega stars camera time. Last time I checked... you clowns were invited here by our President. You were granted access to our facilities like an immigrant with a green card. Your invasion is equivalent to stealing ketchup packages and straws out of a fast restaurant in a desperate attempt to be ''cool'' and a ''hard ass'' when in reality, you're cowards far too desperate for attention.

I have more respect for Brad Jackson than I do all of you. Unlike you ''invaders'' he obviously didn't need to attention whore to get my attention... he already has it! He didn't need to shoot a bunch of in-ring promos to help his cause. No, he shut the fuck up and is going to do his bidding into the ring like REAL warriors do! While I will prove once again that Superior to Brad Jackson and put yet another stake in the heart of his cult like supporters at survive and conquer you can damn well guarantee I am going to have the time of my life doing it... while the prospect of throwing pieces of trash over the top rope hardly even tickles me interested!

Most importantly however is the men and women taking part of this match already under the APW banner where the real talent pool resides!

Terry Marvin is a poor excuse for a human being, nevermind wrestler. The fact that his promotional videos are held in such high regard are laugh worthy. His mouth is a glorified septic tank that spews nothing but feces and trash at will. He has zero lasting power as a mega star, proven last year. He's made a career off of winning big matches here and there and then expecting to ride to the top of the mountain off of it. While Terry Marvin can talk a big game; this match is a match solely based of skill rather then outside interruptions and distractions that he so desperately depends on!

Keaton Saint would be the perfect example of what Terry Marvin, isn't. A natural talent; relying on his in-ring ability to earn his wins and place amongst the best in business. Unlike Terry, Keaton Saint has actually prospered beyond the confines of APW which is the only TRUE test of skill. Keaton Saint is the definition of a warrior; a man who you can never count out even after he's been knocked down. In 2008, I submitted Keaton Saint in the first round of the experts extreme tournament; a year later he would be the ONLY man to do the same to me! So, on the behalf of my great career... thank you Keaton Saint for helping me be the legend I am today!

You see, unlike CJ Gates I never shy away from facing the best of the world. I would love nothing more to battle with the Keaton Saints, the Kurt Nobles and the MDK's of business day in and day out... rather then pussyfooting around REAL talent! I mean seriously, Johnny Rebel!? Sure, he's somewhat talented but he is far from main-event brass! My absence opened the doors for lesser men to fill my position and that's exactly what we have gotten with Johnny Rebel. As things are going... he's going to end up main-eventing Rasslemania merely because of his ''tenure'' and his intent on tussling with CJ Gates NOT because he is actually the BEST man that can actually beat CJ Gates!

Well, this is the type of match that shuffles the deck chairs on the titanic! This is the type of match where someone who actually DESERVES it can rise up and steal the spotlight from the President Jeff's little angels and anointed ones... and guess who's going to be the one who does exactly that?

ME!

While guys like Kurt arguably had a bigger and better year then me; even talented stand outs like Kurt Noble come with many flaws! Imagine Kurt Noble in a Rasslemania main-event!? Although, he could very well earn a spot there and it would be justified FACTS provedroven that he's allergic to the spotlight! How many times must you LOSE to Benevolence before you get it right, Noble!? How many times do you NEED to be on the cusp of greatness before you actually achieve it!? Many men in this world only ever get ONE opportunity, you've had ONE TWO MANY and they've ALL already been wasted! Glorified choke artists are NOT allowed to main-event Rasslemania per the John Green ''fails in five minutes'' clause, sorry Noble!

Lastly, CJ Gates! Seriously, CJ? What kind of champion are you anyways!? Here you are in the SURVIVE AND CONQUER MATCH trying to win yourself 500, 000 grand; rather then actually DEFENDING your world title! What the HELL is wrong with you? Do you not remember me specifically DEFENDING my title in one of the greatest matches in APW history against Slade Craven BEFORE I competed minutes later in the survive and conquer match where I was teamed up on in the final three!? How about the time when I PICKED to enter FIRST and WON the entire damn thing!?

You are no champion CJ Gates, you are a COWARD.

Although, I have one of the greatest competitors in the entire sport by my side in Sally Talfourd; I'm aware that she too is an enemy in disguise. However, if there is any justice in this corrupt cruel world you and me Sally will be in the final TWO where we can settle our differences once and for all!

Sally, you will SURVIVE but I will CONQUER!

[/b][/center]

[Loki]

New Challenges Among Old Memories

Brandon leaned over the toiles and retched. And retched. And retched again. Confident that nothing was going to come up, he slumped forward. The cold porcelain was a soothing balm to his fevered brow. His stomach gave another might lurch and Brandon shifted his weight, just in time for his stomach to purge itself yet again.

With his insides now on the outside, Brandon collapsed onto the floor, writhing and twisting as flames danced over his stressed muscles and licked across his overwrought nerves. Brandon wanted to cry out, to shriek in pain. But even the mere act of thinking caused him pain. The flames gradually subsided and his muscles unclenched, allowing him to curl into a ball on the floor.

This story had been playing out since shortly before Brandon faced one of the greatest challenges of his career, if not his life. It had been playing out ever since he’d thrown his pills away. The effects had started slow, an aching muscle here, a slight fever there. Brandon had been able to cope up to a point with a generous helping of aspirin. He was now far beyond the point where something as paltry as Tylenol would help.

Fever burned in his eyes, had been burning in his eyes for several days now. The cool tile of the floor grew warm and slick as Brandon lay in a pool of his own perspiration. He knew he should move out of the growing puddle, but moving would just bring more pain. Eventually though, the discomfort of lying in a pool in his own sweat outweighed the discomfort that moving caused. Brandon reached up, using the toilet seat to steady himself as he pulled himself to his feet.

Half walking, half dragging himself along the wall, Brandon slowly made his way to the bedroom to change out of his sweat soaked clothes. Every step was like stepping on brimstone, every little twitch and shake was like driving needles into his flesh. Every so often, unable to withstand the pain, Brandon would collapse to the floor. Eventually he made it to his bed. The sweat drenched t-shirt clung to his back, prickling over his skin as dragged it over the many scars that crossed his back. With his torso bare, Brandon caught a glimpse of his back in the mirror. Scars from a lifetime ago stood red and inflamed against his sallow skin.

As Brandon studied the patchwork of skin and scars on his back, his stomach began to heave and cramp. He retched as his stomach resumed its vicious roiling. The brutal stresses of the retching caused his body to ignite into fresh waves of agony. Forced to his knees from the pain, Brandon finally screamed, only to retch midway through. Crawling to the bathroom, he prayed for it to end, one way or the other. Spasms rippled across his back, contorting his entire body and setting him writhing as though he’d touched a live wire. Brandon closed his eyes, trying to block out the pain. But flashes of white hot light coursed over the inside of his eyelids, forcing him to keep them open.

When the pain of the moment finally passed, Brandon was left in a heap on the floor, completely drained and unable to move. He closed his eyes again, still praying for the bliss of unconsciousness. His eyes snapped back open and he pulled himself up to the rim of the toilet as quickly as he could. There was no retching this time, just an explosion of pain as he vomited again.

Brandon curled back into a ball and sobbed. This was too much, how could anyone be expected to make it through this, or even survive it for that matter. Rising to hands and knees, Brandon scrambled for the medicine cabinet above the sink. He pulled himself up inch by agonizing inch, coming ever closer to the mirrored door. His fingers brushed the edges of it, and with a final lurch he stood before the medicine cabinet.

Throwing the door open, he managed to nearly rip the cabinet off the wall. There, buried in the back, was the last bottle of Vicodin. Reaching for it with trembling hands, a sense of relief flooded his body. Salvation was only a pill away. His trembling hands betrayed his. Fumbling with the cap, the bottle slipped from his grasp. Like rain drops on a tin roof, the pills clamored around the old sink, sliding down the drain.

All except for one, it had landed on the floor. His knees grew weak and Brandon collapsed to the floor. With new spasms wracking his body, he crawled towards salvation. Pain threatened to overwhelm him, threatening to swallow him whole. His field of vision became a narrow tunnel, going first read and then black along the edges. The world around him slipped out of focus and a dull roar replaced whatever sounds might slip in from the world around him.

Brandon continued to crawl, continued to reach. His fingertips brushed the blessed deliverance, only to be cast in shadow. A hand, soft and slender, reached down and gently took ahold of his.

“You don’t need it, Brandon.”

Brandon fell into nothingness.

************

Opening his eyes and looking around, it all came rushing back to Brandon Noble. He was on a plane to Miami, preparing to compete in one of the biggest matches of his career. Over the course of his career, Brandon had been involved in hardcore matches, cage matches, battle royals, and a match of his own creation, the pain of glass match. But Survive and Conquer was unlike anything he’d ever experienced or was likely to ever experience again.

Eighty five other men were set to compete. Brandon held no doubts that each of them wanted to win as badly as he did. With so many set to compete, the notion of favorites and underdogs seemed to have flown out of the window. It truly was anyone’s match. And that suited Brandon just fine. As Loki, he’d overcome some of the toughest competitors he’d ever seen. But where Pure Class Wrestling was concerned, most of the challenges had already been overcome.

In the seat beside him, Whisper stirred. “This plane needs to go faster,” she jokingly complained as she stretched out.

Brandon chuckled to himself and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. She snuggled into him but didn’t close her eyes.

“Why are we doing this again, Brandon? It’s not as though we don’t have enough to do back in South Carolina.” She asked after a time.

A cold smile crept across Brandon’s face. Whisper had made it clear from the start that wasn’t happy with the decision to compete in this match. In fact, she’d given several reasons why he shouldn’t compete in the match. Chief amongst them was the high possibility of injury. Anything that happened here would be a huge detriment in the coming weeks, and with his title on the line at the coming Pay per View, Brandon would need every advantage he could get.

Despite every opposition that she’d brought up, Brandon went through with it anyway. “Do I really need to explain it again, Whisp?” he asked.

She pulled away from him, the annoyance evident on her face, “Yes, Brandon. You do. After everything that we’ve worked for, everything that we’ve accomplished, I still feel like you’re about to throw it all away for a match that honestly has no bearing on your career unless you win. So explain it again, why are we doing this?”

“Tell me what’s left in PCW, Whisper. Who’s left that I haven’t already faced down. I’ve already beaten everyone they’ve thrown at me. I’m no fool, I know that’s not going to last, I know that someday someone is going to come along and beat me for the title. But it hasn’t happened yet and I don’t see it happening anytime soon. I need this, Whisper. I need to know how good I really am. How I stack up, not only against the best PCW can offer, but the best the world can offer.”

“Delusions of grandeur,” she muttered.

“Maybe they are,” Brandon agreed, “but I won’t know unless I try.”

“You’re at least going to try to win, right?” Whisper asked with a raised brow.

“Of course I’m going to try. But against eighty five other people, I really doubt I’m going too,” Brandon replied in earnest.

“But eight five other people aren’t the Pure Class Wrestling Heavyweight Champion,” Whisper intoned. The sarcasm in her voice was unmistakable.

Brandon sighed, he’d known from the beginning there would be no convincing her. “One title among eighty five other potential title holders doesn’t mean shit. There are men and women I’ve never heard of from federations I’ve never heard of, I know that in this grand mess there’s going to be someone better than me. To expect any different wouldn’t just be unreasonable, it would be stupid.”

“There are going to be people bigger, stronger, faster, and smarter than me. Maybe all four at once. “

“There are going to be people who hold more titles than you and I combined ever have.”

“There are going to be people who have been through matches that make my most brutal match look like a sunny day at the beach.”

Whisper made a disapproving noise and shook her head, “So I’ll ask again, why are we doing this?”

A lupine grin split Brandon’s features, “Because it’s fun.”

************

Brandon continued to stare in horror at the open bottle of Vicodin as he found his way to his feed. Wiping his eyes and shaking his head to clear it, he tried to will the open bottle out of existence. Opening his eyes, Brandon’s heart sank. The bottle was still there, still open. He tried again, same result. The bottle was still there. With muddled thoughts, it was all Brandon could do to put the cap back on the bottle.

He threw it away and recoiled violently, pushing himself across the floor as though he’d seen hell itself at the bottom of the waste bin. With his knees drawn to his chest and his back against the wall, Brandon’s shoulders rise and fell with silent sobs. Unwilling or perhaps unable to get up, he sat against the wall until a hand fell gently on his shoulder.

Brandon looked up into the eyes of his wife. The anger had left her eyes, but the hurt and sadness remained. “Whisper,” he choked out, “I’m so sorry.”

Whisper knelt down beside Brandon and held him close, “I know, Brandon, but there’s someone else here who needs you right now.”

“Daddy?”

A little girl stepped out of the shadows of the darkened hallway and Brandon was instantly without breath. Her skin held the same olive complexion and her hair was the same dark ebony of her mothers. But her eyes, her eyes were the same frozen shade of blue as her fathers. Without a sound, the child hurled herself at Brandon, wrapping her tiny arms around his neck. For the first time in two years, Brandon Noble held his daughter.

************

The plane had landed and Brandon, with Whisper still grumbling, took his next step towards Survive and Conquer. Keeping an eye on the crowd of Miami International Airport, Brandon realized that he didn’t recognize anyone. That didn’t mean that potential threats weren’t hiding in the crowd, it just meant if one struck, it wouldn't be anyone he knew.

Picking up their bags, Brandon continued to be wary. Whisper watched with undisguised amusement as her husband scanned the crowd, “Brandon, a word of advice. You’re here as an envoy to PCW, try to act like it.”

“And what exactly do you think I’m doing?” Brandon asked.

“Scanning the crowd like a paranoid schizophrenic expecting the nice young men with their white coats to swoop down and take you back to the asylum with the other inmates,” she said with a laugh, “You need to relax, with as many people involved in this as there are, any attacks, and I’m sure there will be some, will come inside the ring.”

Brandon chose to answer with a noncommittal grunt. On a logical level, he knew Whisper was right. But Brandon had a tendency to run on a more instinctual level, and his instinct warned him to keep an eye on everything and everyone as much as was possible. Still he tried to force himself to relax. Or at least not be so obvious in his nervousness.

They’d called ahead and arranged for a limousine to pick them up from the airport, it was waiting for them as they stepped outside into the balmy Miami night. Brandon put their bags in the trunk and crawled into the backseat next to Whisper. The driver, in his nice white coat, took them to the arena.

************

“No,” Brandon grabbed the lamp off the table and hurled it across the room. It shattered as it hit the far wall, “She’s not taking her, I won’t allow it.”

Whisper stood as still as a statue, not even flinching as the lamp hit the wall. The warmth and compassion in her eyes fled and was replaced by a cold fury, “It’s already done, Brandon. She’ll be leaving with Angelica tonight. Now you can either continue to act like a petulant child or you can suck it up and act like an adult. Do you honestly think this is any easier for your daughter than it is for you? You at least have the wherewithal to understand why she has to go. Do you know what the first thing she said to me when I told her was, Brandon? “Why can’t Daddy come?””

A knife slid between Brandon’s ribs and settled into his heart. All of his battles, private and personal, had never hurt this much. With all of his rage and fury burned out, Brandon sank to the floor, unsure of how to proceed or what to even say. Whisper knelt beside him and held him. The warmth and compassion in her eyes had returned. Brandon looked into those eyes and knew what had to be done. Not trusting his words, he stood and followed Whisper to his daughter’s room.

She stood in the doorway, but with all the blood thundering in his ears, Brandon could not hear what was being said. Whisper walked back into the hall, hand in hand with their daughter. Brandon could see the redness the ringed daughter’s eyes. He could see the quiver of her lip as she tried not to cry. But most of all, Brandon could see the brave face that his six year old daughter was attempting to put on for her father. The knife in his heart began to twist.

************

Brandon sat in the locker room that had been provided. It wasn’t a private room, but with so many competing tonight, that was hardly a surprise. Brandon laced up his boots and pulled his elbow pads into place. Eighty five other survivors were similarly preparing. Eighty five other conquerors all trusted equally in their chances of victory. Brandon still held no illusions of winning.

Whisper watched him as he stood and began to stretch. “Are you ready,” she asked.

Brandon smiled and shrugged, “It’s too late to back out now, what other choice do I have but to be ready?”

[Calvin Ingram]

The Following is a Christian York RP

Lights, Camera and Action it’s all about the shine isn’t it Action Packed Wrestling with this interesting inquiry. You pit one man against 85 other men for a chance at bragging rights. Is this a joke? It looks like it but in fact it’s neither. It’s not some popularity contest where everyone has an equal chance of winning. You can ask James Stall his chances in this match up and he’ll lie to you. Why lie? In my eyes this world’s filled with two kinds of people which include Losers & Winners. I consider my name in the Winning breed like my incoherent friend Charlie Sheen. I was trying to be humble in my approach here as it’s a new place to unwind. But with this Knuckles running around with Donkey Punch™ it’s hard not to laugh. I wanted the world like Tony Montana, but somewhere along the line I was trapped in a barren corner. Sitting in my own selfish ways before, I started embracing the hate inside my heart. No longer shall people consider me a Celebrity with a streak of luck. I want to wait and see the looks on the faces of all the doubters. They simply cannot fathom me winning Survive & Conquer Two Thousand & Twelve. Well, fathom no longer as the ultimate reality will soon come into fruition. I will enter this matchup in which everyone’s dream is to win. And I’ll take their dreams like a vicious animal and brutally kill it. You will truly see why I’m New Era Wrestling’s Top Draw. I’m familiar with a few of you guys especially “Captain Boring” James Stall. But it’s very clear that you are merely irrelevant. I’m no longer going to be subjected to the strenuous tests. I’m completely going to unravel every obstacle in my god damn way. I feel like Reverend Run aka Joseph Simmons going through a new sermon. But the message will always be the same at the base of it. I’m the only mother fucker in professional wrestler that’s repping New Jersey to the fullest. I’m also the #Mega Heel making all these other so called “Bad Guys” jealous. They won’t see me coming, until it’s too damn late. Only the strong can survive. Only the intelligent can truly conquer.





There are no exceptions or possible scape goats. You either stick on a certain path or fall at a way side. I’ve been brought up on a common lifestyle. I was bred to make people see what truly is wrong with this world. I stand before these men and women telling them to give up. This Miami Hotel is twisting in my head as I go over my thoughts. Not going to waste my time speaking as the time for talking has been over. But I will recount some key moments possibly in my recent encounters. Maybe or I won’t. I’m subjected on no constant path as I’m popping a bottle of Ciroc™. Downing the alcoholic beverage head on, without even coming up to breathe. There’s nothing wrong with you all as far as the outlook of President Jeff. All you come to serve a common job description of beating next to 7 dozen eggs out of the golden basket. Why is it this way? As in all factuality there is nothing easy in the world of wrestling. There’s always a case of brief awakening in order to see clarity. It’s that kind of clarity where everyone can see their mistakes and what’s about to happen. Nothing will ever feel the same again once the dream is buried. Don’t question the end as it’s never going to come if you do. Just lay back, embrace the fact I’m going to take over and accept it. No longer shall we all live in the clouds of mindless dreams. No longer shall we lead our youth into a winless war. It’s completely one sided, which side are you on? They say God is seven and Lucifer is three sixes then what am I. Can you guess my number? My age is twenty six years young and I have two sons. They are growing in a cold world filled with so much animosity and hate. Most of that hate is in my lungs due to being frost bitten by insults and people criticizing my livelihood. What happens when everything truly ends? Inside my mind there’s gears thinking about the future. There lies like a blueprint a barren future that contains peacefulness, love and cheerfulness. I see James Stall in that vision getting his head knocked in by The Syndicate. The Syndicate which I’m apart of with my leader Doc Holiday, Tre Crawford & DJP which is ushering in a new generation. There’s a way out of this match by lying down in your own misery. The type of misery that’s much worse than being hobbled by the Kathy Bates.




Hell it’s even more horrifying than her topless scene in her film with Jack Nicholson entitled: About Schmidt. It’s nothing like the holocaust but prepare for the march towards the concentration camps. A camp when you need to concentrate truly on your opponent without giving up for personal gain. I’m not focused on a singular individual in fact I’m eying everyone. Lion making his motions going forward at pace in for the ultimate kill. Let the crimson blood flow like the ancient rivers of Babylon itself. We as people look for a God who’s never on time or if at all isn’t there. Nobody said blasphemy brings about flattery but what else can I do. My life before being a rap sensation and wrestling messiah was filled with death, pain and illegal activities. If my proposal seems a little bit modest don’t take it as a form of satire. You know like Jonathan Swift’s a modest proposal which suggested the eating of babies as a way to get rid of poverty. The same piece of satire that brings up the suggestion that children eleven to sixteen years of age, should be bred amongst one another. Where on earth would you deem this acceptable? Nowhere that’s the answer as today we are plagued with teenage pregnancy and cannibalistic cults. Maybe his intentions were good but something so outrageous and heartfelt turns into tragedy. It’s like my life at a downward spiral entering a permanent purgatory. I will enthrall the masses to revamp their style and become like me. Be something new and clearly original at all costs. Be that breathe of fresh air that gives wrestling a new fiery smell. A scent that’s neither overbearing nor less than the best. Well that’s true as I’m what professional wrestling needs to survive the long haul as I’m the living “It” factor. I embody it every fucking day of the week but they don’t bother to watch for it. They rather have their heads stuck up their asses so far enough they are blinded by the bull shit. I want to make the entire world witness a true moment of revitalization in the world of Professional Wrestling. A revitalization that will change each and every aspect of the business people love so much. In order to survive the weaker, less cunning and manipulative must be exterminated. And sadly the extermination will commence once again by me standing supreme in my ring. I left my heart in my music, my soul with the devil and no longer will I be a part of your society. I am on the outside looking in perhaps for the better. No one will understand me anyway these days as the world reaches Armageddon. I swore I had the drop on them while they came forward to strike. But they put a dent into my armor and I’m just dangling off a high ledge. People having problems sleeping as they recoil troubled memories. Consider me the man in the mirror trying to reach superstardom with a weapon in my hand. You see the trigger’s cocked back but the question is will I shoot myself in the floor or will I rise above the suffering. Many people intend to be one thing in one life and put it aside. I put wrestling aside for far too long on ends. I already proved my worth at being an athletic gift to that squared circle. People shout obscenities trying to get me to stop on my ascension pun intended to that CWC tournament.



“The One Man Box Office’ will no doubt have the American Airlines Center packed to a Capital T. They all want to see me not the CJ Gates, Kurt Nobles, James Stalls and Keaton Saints of the world. What they want to witness is a brand new miracle in this profession to exit center stage. Yes, it’ll exit center stage with its hands raised and in that holy or unholy light stands I. No longer to be shackled on a leash of authority giving it my all for myself. Keeping my eyes on the $$$ and for the ultimate victory of redemption. I remember my father Lando reaching out to me one night in a faint whistle. The whistle was small at first but onward it grew louder and louder before halting. I can’t explain the phenomenon but do recall him saying to me. “Be not a cursed soul any longer, but enter the world with a level head. Take it to all who stand in the way of your life’s rewards. Have you earned every opportunity? Of course there’s no question you have the “it” factor. But why doesn’t anyone else see it. Why don’t they see you were born into this world twenty six years ago with a purpose. I want you my son to reach beyond the highest mountain tops and give them some hell. I want the entire world to echo, while you do the utterly impossible and that’s winning Survive & Conquer. Eat away at all the hassles you go through as if you were made from Sulfuric Acid. You know it was you who coined that you sweat money because the bank is your shower. Of course Lil’ Wayne used that line due to your permission in his song “Shoot Me Down”.



Let the world break upon the weight of your hatred for disowning you. I’ll never disown you my son and that’s never. Trust in yourself and your abilities at a very high level. They call you the image of The Antichrist in his human form. Do they know the truth that until recently you and God had a pretty close relationship? I talk to him every day and we pray for you to one day kick away the sin and find these pearly gates. But until then I guess it’s more than right to spiral out of control. Will you crash and burn my son? If you do then raise my son like the phoenix devouring everything in your volcanic ashes left and right. My recollection of you growing up idolizing all of the greats going to Madison Square Garden for the events from Jersey City still remains like a festering sore. I never want you to stop at your current pacing for the tip of the iceberg. When it’s time you’ll crash the wrestling business like the Titanic™ watching it sink into a watery grave. People come and go but you know that memories will always remain. So I wonder son what will the people be doing? What will they be doing when you win this Survive & Conquer event?



Will they be watching the pay per view live and in person, on TV (via illegal streaming) or will they skip out on history? The possibilities are endless like most possibilities. But the only way you can go at this point my son is up. President Jeff doesn’t know the extent of your abilities but soon he will. Soon everyone will see you establish you inscribe your name in the Hall Of Fame. The man who was doubted all his life and labeled as a drug kingpin and worthless piece of roster space, some people called you a trashy artist. Has the world gone mad? You gave them hit after hit before going into seclusion. I hear you will be writing new material soon for this new album: The Syndicate Wars™. Whatever you do in the near future son just think of me supporting you. When you lose everything just envision me as your number one fan. No amount of men will bring you down as you are strong like an ox, vicious like a lion and bred to exterminate the weak. So let the world be cast into the shadows of hatred and revelation as you stand before it. If any shall survive then offer them a place by your side. In a world where nothing like nuclear warfare or such things are constantly flashed in front of us like subliminal messages in Television commercials. You are the only Ace in this matchup out of an 86 deck of cards.



Close your eyes and envision them as not up to their true potential. We can call them the David Spades of the group. You had a promise to be profitable but you simply fell into a land of obscurity and barren wastelands. Remember this son. When all of them collapse under the weight of pure justified hatred.” I fall instantly hearing faint sounds of my fiancée’ Eve Sinclair and I will wake up in time to compete. Thinking would make some tired but it makes me adhere to being me. Just an all knowing force that’s all about one thing and that’s Extermination. The question that remains is this Can you survive the extermination?

~FIN~

[Kaji Fireson]

January 19th, 2012
Catering Area
Bank Atlantic Center
Sunrise, Florida

Isamu Suzuki
There are so many people...

Isamu Suzuki and David Fireson are in attendence before the biggest Survive and Conquer match in history, and as befits that moniker, the backstage area is filled to bursting with wrestlers of all shapes, sizes, ethnicities, and affiliations. Given that the main event of Overdrive, a handicap match between former tag team partners that are currently at odds and the CWC Champion, is just minutes away, you can cut the tension with a knife.

Or a spoon.

Truthfully, the tension is so thick you probably can't cut it at all, but any bludgeoning weapons would be sure to put some serious dents in it. It is this tension that makes Isamu nervous as he picks at the scant offering that remains on the sandwich platter.

David Fireson
If you think this is a lot, then you don't even want to think about what it's going to be like when you get in the ring for the actual match.

"Shooting Star" can be heard faintly in the backstage area, and the tension gets so thick that not even the bludgeons could dent it. Isamu takes a deep breath to steel himself.

Isamu Suzuki
And you're sure this is going to work?

David Fireson
Positive. You don't have to pick someone that's way bigger than you, or even very hated. Just go out there and get your face on TV again.

Isamu Suzuki
But if you're right and tonight's show is going to end in chaos, wouldn't it be smarter to just let everyone else fight?

David Fireson
If you were Alyssa, you wouldn't even be here tonight. That girls needs to keep her head down and not make any enemies that will delight in sending her over the top rope early. But you're coming in late enough that you can afford to turn some heads.

Besides, this is the next step.

Isamu raises an eyebrow.

Isamu Suzuki
The next step in what?

David Fireson
Getting your face out there so your siblings can find you.

Isamu Suzuki
Oh. I see.

Isamu nibbles on the sandwich wedge he found. They wait a few minutes, Isamu continuing to peck away at the sandwich until he finishes it as David furrows his brow, as though he's trying to recall something. About thirty seconds after Isamu downs the rest of the wedge, David turns his gaze to his Oriental charge.

David Fireson
That reminds me. Have you been using your twitter account like I told you?

Isamu casts his gaze to the ground.

Isamu Suzuki
No...

David shakes his head.

David Fireson
You need to get your name out there, for your career and also so they can see that you're on your own now. You need to use it. Even if it is just to post the same pedantic tripe that everyone else posts, get your name in the twitterverse.

Isamu nods.

Isamu Suzuki
Yes, Sensei--

Suddenly the crowd erupts in boos. Everyone lingering in catering looks up from their own thoughts and try to figure out what's going on.

David Fireson
Okay, it's almost time. Remember. Pair off with somebody, anybody, and give 'em a good licking, but if it looks like they're going for a kill, get the hell out of there, got it?

Isamu can only nod before a great din erupts and wrestlers all start charging through the backstage area, headed for the arena.

David Fireson
Alright, get in there! Remember!

Isamu ducks into the crowd and joins the herd rushing for the ring.



January 25th, 2012
Break Room
American Branch
Golden Phoenix Institute
San Antonio, Texas

The scene opens with Isamu taking a big gulp from a water bottle while standing in front of an open fridge. David is sitting at a long table, looking at his phone. Isamu takes several deep breaths once he's done with the water, putting the bottle back after screwing the lid back on. David looks up once the fridge closes.

David Fireson
Have you checked your twitter lately?

Isamu Suzuki
(timidly)
Not since I posted that message a couple days ago.

David Fireson
(grinning)
Well you should come over and look at this then.

Isamu raises an eyebrow and walks over to look at David's phone. He navigates to twitter where he's gotten several new follows in the last couple of days.

David Fireson
See? More people are talking about you already.

Isamu Suzuki
(smiling)
Well you were right about that, then.

David Fireson
Of course I was, but that's not what I wanted you to look at.

Isamu Suzuki
(eyebrow raised)
Oh?

David nods, then navigates to the e-mail account he keeps for Isamu, since he knows it would all go unread otherwise. He immediately pulls up a message that looks like it was sent yesterday, the twenty-fourth.

E-Mail Text
It took you long enough. I've been wondering for years when you'd wake up and realize what Mom's been doing to you, what she's done to all of us. She had her hooks in extra deep for you, though, so I guess that's understandable.

Anyway, the point is that I want to meet and talk to you now that you've escaped her clutches. I can see that you're wrestling now, just like you always wanted, and you're finally allowed online, but your profile doesn't say where you will be until your next show. Please get back to me; there's a lot I want to talk to you about.

Suzuki Kimiko

Isamu is stunned by this revelation, and it's hard to tell whether he's happy or sad through the wall of unresponsiveness. David just waits a few moments, letting this sink in. Isamu looks no less staggered, but his eyes light up. Before he can start crying or laughing or cheering, however, he furrows his brow, pointing the screen back at David.

Isamu Suzuki
What does this 2 mean?

David looks, then grins.

David Fireson
Oh, that. That means there's more than one e-mail in what they call a "conversation."

When Isamu blinks, looking confused, David elaborates.

David Fireson
I already replied and told her we'd be here in Texas until Friday. She never responded, but I imagine she's already booked a flight and will be here to visit before too long.



January 27th, 2012
Training Ring
American Branch
Golden Phoenix Institute
San Antonio, Texas

David and Isamu are hard at work in the ring. They have abandoned the ruse of pitting Isamu against three trainees and making him fight to stay in the ring, instead returning to honing his wrestling skills in general for the 50% of the match where he'll be fighting instead of fighting to stay in the ring, and also in case he makes it to the final four of the match. By the look of Isamu (sagged shoulders, layer of sweat, heaving chest), they've been going at it quite a while.

David Fireson
You've been working hard for a good long while, and by my estimation, it's about lunch time. I'd say we'd probably better take a break for right now.

Isamu Suzuki
Are you sure? I have to prepare for the biggest match in my life, and I feel there is still more I could improve on.

David Fireson
Well that's nice and all, but years of experience couldn't prepare you completely for what you're about to do, and all the preparation in the world is useless if you blow out a knee or break your arm.

Isamu Suzuki
I see.

David Fireson
So go hit the showers.

Isamu nods, but before he can make it out of the ring, the double doors leading into the gym from the hallway opens unannounced. David grins as Isamu turns to face the newcomer.

At first glance, the newcomer is unremarkable, dressed in a black skirt suit with a basic white dress blouse beneath the blazer and black heels adorning her feet. Nothing stands out, as her brown eyes are muted and her long hair, also black, is pulled back into a ponytail, but her eyes light up when she sees Isamu in the ring.

Kimiko Suzuki
You look just like I imagined you would.

Isamu looks flustered as Kimiko strides toward the ring, heels clacking on the tile floor with every step. Isamu rolls out of the ring, still partially fulfilling his previous instruction to clean up, but before he gets far, the upstanding business woman throws herself around her brother, paying no mind to his sweat or her suit. Isamu seems more confused than anything else, but when his brain processes that this is Kimiko, he hugs her back timidly.

Kimiko Suzuki
(muffled)
Come on is that the best you've got?

David Fireson
(laughing)
Oh give him a break, Kimiko. He hasn't seen you for eight years, and Noriko probably spent that whole time convincing him you were a treacherous whore. He's gonna' take a minute.

Kimiko lets Isamu go and stands up straight, revealing that she is the same height. She uses this height to look Isamu dead in the eyes.

Kimiko Suzuki
Is this true?

Isamu Suzuki
Well...I was pretty young, and I'm not sure about anything right now...

Kimiko's eyes darken, but she doesn't turn her anger on Isamu. She takes a deep breath to recompose herself.

Kimiko Suzuki
That's fine. I didn't want to talk about her here anyway. We're going out.

Isamu Suzuki
Wait what?

Kimiko Suzuki
I haven't seen you in eight years. Did you really think I was going to fly over from Osaka, barge in, peek at you, and leave again?

Isamu Suzuki
Well, I, um...



January 27th, 2012
Dining Room
Tokyo Steak House
San Antonio, Texas

Our scene cuts to the dining room of a large, fancy hibachi restaurant. All the patrons are dressed up for the occasion, the chefs are in prime form, the fires are raging hot, and the sushi rice is sticking just as it should. Everything in this restaurant is running and working just as it should.

But Isamu, David, and Kimiko are nowhere to be found.



January 27th, 2012
Dining Room
Fujiya Japanese Garden
San Antonio, Texas

The dining room, and truthfully, the entire restuarant here is much smaller than the Tokyo Steak House chain, but it is packed to the gills with customers, and not just Isamu (who has showered and dressed in a short-sleeved polo and khakis to match his sister) and Kimiko are of oriental descent.

Kimiko Suzuki
I read this place has authentic Japanese food, which I haven't even had much of back home. I'm glad the reviews were right.

Isamu can only nod down at the empty obento box sitting on the table in front of him. David brings a piece of sushi to his mouth and shoves it in, dragging the chopsticks against the edges of his mouth on the way out so no errant rice escapes, and seems as satisfied as the brother and sister pair. He just sits back and lets the siblings speak amongst themselves.

Kimiko Suzuki
So...Mom.

And just like that, Isamu is sitting up straight, wrenched out of any nostalgia trip or reverie by the mention of the one woman he has spoken to in the last ten years, before a couple of months ago.

Kimiko Suzuki
Did she really call me all sorts of horrible names, as David says?

Isamu Suzuki
Um...I don't think so. Her policy once one of her children left was to treat them as they treated her. Since nobody ever kept in touch with her, she just stopped talking about you.

Kimiko Suzuki
(smiling wryly)
I see.
(chuckles)
Well it's fair. We stopped talking about her, too.

Kimiko takes a sip of her water.

Kimiko Suzuki
Maybe it wasn't the most mature or proper thing to do, but we were all young and really upset when we found out she'd been lying to us our whole lives. Nobody really blamed us.

Isamu's eyes widen as he leans forward.

Isamu Suzuki
Really?

Kimiko Suzuki
Not really. Yeah, there's the familial piety thing they sometimes brandished at us, but that goes both ways, and when they heard about how dishonest Mom's been with all of us, they usually leave us alone.

Isamu Suzuki
So...you're...

Kimiko raises an eyebrow.

Kimiko Suzuki
I'm not...what?

David laughs.

David Fireson
See? I told you he wouldn't believe it.

Kimiko Suzuki
I know you did, but I didn't believe you.

Isamu looks from Kimiko to David.

Isamu Suzuki
Wouldn't believe what?

Kimiko leans toward Isamu, a gentle smile on her face.

Kimiko Suzuki
Isamu, the world is not always the way Mom described it. Even in those ways she was right, the world is always changing. Things that were taboo when Mom was our age are being done all the time now.

Isamu Suzuki
(whispered)
...really?

Kimiko Suzuki
Well, maybe not as widespread as that in some cases, but things are getting better. Take how Mom was always grooming me to find a husband and just live to dote on some lazy bastard?

Isamu Suzuki
Well...I was pretty young...mostly I was just watching anime.

Kimiko Suzuki
(chuckling)
Fair enough. Well, just trust me, she was. Teaching me how to talk, how to walk, how to dress to attract a good, wholesome man to make a living for me.

Kimiko rolls her eyes so hard that Isamu leans forward, as though to catch them when they fall out.

Kimiko Suzuki
Well I have to work harder than anyone else in the office to earn the same respect as the men, but I'll be damned if I let some stuffed suit son-of-a-bitch run around all day and then come home and expect me to just stay put like a good little girl.

Isamu seems staggered by this outburst, but Kimiko is not deterred. If anything, it plays into her point more than anything else.

Kimiko Suzuki
And do you know what the best part is? I'm not the only one. I'm definitely in the minority, but there are more and more women in Japan that are thinking the same thing, and the men can't just ignore it anymore.

David Fireson
Which means that Noriko can't ignore it anymore, either.

Isamu furrows his brow, trying to wrap his head around it.

Kimiko Suzuki
Tell you what.

Isamu starts, looking up from his furious concentration when Kimiko speaks again.

Kimiko Suzuki
After you take part in this huge match, if you manage to survive and conquer something, I'll show you what I mean.

Isamu's eyes light up, much the same as Kimiko's when she first entered the gymnaseum.

Isamu Suzuki
Really?

Kimiko Suzuki
Yes, really. Do you really think I'm going to be able to do all the catching up I wanted to do in just a few hours?

Isamu Suzuki
I guess not...

Kimiko Suzuki
So yeah. Keep in touch.

Isamu Suzuki
(smiling)
Only if you promise to do the same.

Kimiko Suzuki
Hey, I flew almost 7,000 miles to meet you for one afternoon. I think I've shown commitment.

Isamu Suzuki
Fair enough.



January 27th, 2012
Front Doors
American Branch
Golden Phoenix Institute
San Antonio, Texas

Kimiko Suzuki
I know you're new to technology and everything, so here's a bit of advice.

Kimiko holds up the Blackberry David had been playing on earlier in the week. Isamu looks sheepish, casting his gaze at the sidewalk beneath his feet.

Kimiko Suzuki
It's considered rude to update your twitter while having lunch with a sister you've not spoken to in a long time. I know you're a celebrity of sorts, and David's trying to break you out of your shell, but some etiquette should still be observed, okay?

Isamu nods, still sheepish. Kimiko chuckles.

Kimiko Suzuki
Here.

Isamu looks up just in time to see his sister tossing him a very expensive cell phone. He fumbles it a bit, but catches it, immediately stashing it in his shirt pocket.

Kimiko Suzuki
Now I'd better not see an update from you until I'm almost to the airport, got it?

Isamu Suzuki
Yes ma'am.

Kimiko smiles, then nods as she turns to walk away. That prompts David and Isamu to go through the doors into the front lobby of this training school. When they do, they see a young woman with neon pink hair leaning against the wall across from the door, her arms crossed over the Ramones t-shirt she has on. Dressed otherwise in a pair of black bondage pants, she doesn't so much as wave before she speaks.

Alyssa Casteele
Sushi. Now.

Isamu raises an eyebrow, starting to stammer, but before he can get much done, David reaches into his coat pocket, pulling out a long, cylindrical to-go container.

David Fireson
Here.

Alyssa takes the to-go roll briskly, opening it along one long side, seeing a sushi roll with a large clump of wrapped wasabi and a couple soy sauce packets inside. Alyssa ponders the roll a bit before cracking a slight smile, only one side of her mouth moving as she smirks up at David.

Alyssa Casteele
This is satisfactory.

And with no further ado, Alyssa turns on her heels and walks off down the hall toward the lunch room, leaving Isamu and David by themselves in the lobby.

David Fireson
So how did that feel?

Isamu doesn't answer at first, walking over to the receptionist's desk, currently unoccupied as she has gone home, and sits on the desk, arms steadying himself. Isamu stares off into space for a bit to compose himself, and his thoughts, before answering.

Isamu Suzuki
It's hard to describe. I didn't know what would happen when I finally talked to one of my siblings on this side of my fight with Mom, but it's good to know that after all these years, Kimiko still feels the same as she did when she initially left.
(laughs awkwardly)
Well...not good, but...it reassures me that I'm not the only one that sees it, you know?

David seems more subdued than usual as he leans on the desk next to Isamu.

David Fireson
I think I know all too well. But that's something you can worry about later. Right now, you have to get back in the mindset to tackle Survive and Conquer.

Isamu Suzuki
(nodding)
Right...but, to be honest, I've rather been dreading this part.

David Fireson
What part?

Isamu Suzuki
Addressing the fans directly, and my opponents. Lunch with Kimiko has made me feel a little bit better about how I have handled my personal affairs, but I am still wary about this facet of my job.

David nods a bit, standing up to stand in front of Isamu.

David Fireson
Then don't worry about your opponents. I mean, I wouldn't.

Isamu Suzuki
What?

David Fireson
Yeah. I mean, come on, there are EIGHTY-FIVE of them. I could give you all night and you'd never get done addressing everything all of them have said. So don't worry about them.

David pauses, then narrows his eyes slightly, leaning in closer to Isamu to make sure he's listening.

David Fireson
But the fans deserve something. They deserve your attention, if only so you can assure them that you are back for the long haul.
(sternly)
You are in this for the long haul, right?

Isamu hops off the desk, standing at attention for his trainer.

Isamu Suzuki
Yes sir.

David tilts his head toward the room behind the receptionist's desk. We can see a green screen and some lighting equipment.

David Fireson
Then tell 'em so.

Isamu Suzuki
Um...ah...



January 27th, 2012
Promo Studio
American Branch
Golden Phoenix Institute
San Antonio, Texas

Isamu sits on a stool in front of a basic blue gradient backdrop, looking sheepishly into the camera. He is still dressed as before, in a neutral polo and khakis, and the outline of his phone is still visible in his chest pocket. He ignores both, however, as he considers the thing he's dreaded the most out of this whole process.

Isamu Suzuki
I have dreaded this the most out of anything I have done in the last several months. Training to get back in shape was simple, and even my confrontation with my overly controlling mother was easy in comparison to what I am doing right now. I betrayed my mother, after a manner of speaking, and no matter how much Kimiko says I was justified, I will feel bad, but not nearly as bad as I do for betraying everyone watching this.

I abandoned all of you, without a second thought, when it seemed that my mother was in trouble. I won't go into details, but I fled from APW, never looking back, never thinking about the loyal fans that supported me in my professional wrestling debut, supporting me even after I flung myself from the top of the Jumbo screen in vain, supporting me as I upset Rico Casteel to become Suicidal Champion mere months after debuting in APW. Those fans supported a new wrestler when they could just as easily have tuned me out, turned away when I came down to the ring, forced me to pay dues as every other wrestler has had to do, but instead they were intrigued by me and allowed me to shine on this stage.

And I abandoned them.

Isamu's lips tremble, but he presses on.

Isamu Suzuki
I have never forgotten you. I never forgot your unbridled support and enthusiasm, and I never forgot my atrocious abuse of this loyalty. I only hope that you allow me into your lives once again, allowing me to flourish in this profession, in this passion as I did once before.

Isamu looks like he wants to say more, but no words come, so he simply bows to the camera. This scene persists until the scene fades, a voice heard after the scene is all black.

Isamu Suzuki
(voiceover)
Domo Arigato Gozaimasu

[Megan Andrews]

Any text that has to do with the RP Layout along with the out of character stuff isn't supposed to count towards the word limit since it's just a layout to make the RP look nice and a little more organized.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
CAN WE PRETEND THAT AIRPLANES IN THE
_{NIGHT SKY ARE LIKE SHOOTING STARS CAUSE I COULD REALLY USE A WISH RIGHT NOW}
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~Scene 1~A Hopefully Helpful Visit~

Angelica had set out to do what she said she would at Winter Warzone, the pay-per-view of the month that had taken place in WEW. She had beaten Eliza Gray in the woman's specialty match to win WEW's Starlet Title...her first title ever. She had celebrated twice already...the night of her win and the night after the win, and now she was spending time with her friend Lluvia, having even gone down to Texas to do so. She was sitting on the porch with her early in the morning, their off screen friend Eliza was still asleep as they sipped on some coffee to help themselves wake up. The California native looked over at the younger woman with a worried gaze...things seemed dimmed down for the other woman, and it could be seen her light brown eyes.

"You know me, Eliza, and a few others are worried about you Via. I know a lot's going on, but you don't seem anything like yourself."

"It's hard to be myself when I've got to wonder what's happening...I know I need to focus on my match Monday night to finally end Miss WEW, but it's hard for me to do so with Lya and Sebastian on my mind."

Angelica gave a little sigh and nodded in understanding. If she had the problems that Lluvia had going on with their very close friend and the other woman's fiance then she wouldn't be like herself either. She took a small sip form her coffee and watched the other woman for a few moments. The Starlet Champion was surprised at how calm the woman sitting next to her seemed...she knew that the woman had her fit...the weather had told her that much, but she was surprised that it wasn't at least drizzling at the time. Angelica figured that Lluvia was keeping her emotions in check for the sake of everyone and their plans for the day.

"I don't blame you for coming home...it's beautiful out here...and the horses are gorgeous as well...plus the colt is absolutely adorable."

[/color]

Angelica glanced over to her friend who gave her a very small, weak smile as a thank you which caused the woman a small frown. She was trying to get her friend's mind off of her situation and onto better things like her horses and the small farm type of set up she had with her home. Lluvia looked down towards her cup of coffee, her brown eyes staring deeply into the light brown liquid as if trying to see into someone's soul almost. Angie sighed softly again before she looked out towards Lluvia's land, watching the horses graze before she looked over at her friend once more, hearing the young woman's voice.

"I thank y'all for trying...I really do, but nothing's going to help me right now. If we could talk, I think I'd be alright for now...but all I've gotten is little Twitter tweets like hi, how are you, and then the one I got the day it all happened....him telling me that he was going to get some of his stuff and go to a different hotel for a little while for space."[/b]

"You two haven't even talked since this happened? What's he getting at by you two not talking? That's not going to help anyone at all."[/b]

Lluvia shrugged softly and sighed a little as she did so. Angie's heart went out for the young woman...she had gone through a lot, and the Starlet's Champion could sympathize with her in having gone through her father's death just years ago. She looked down into her coffee and sighed a little before draining her cup and setting it down next to her, looking at her friend and speaking in a soft voice while getting out of her chair as well.

"Llu, I hate doing this, but I've got to head out...I've got the Survive and Conquer battle royal match for Action Packed Wrestling. Text me and give me updates on things as they happen...I want to be kept in the loop sweetie."[/b]

Lluvia nodded and gave her friend a hug. Angie waved to her as she got in her car before driving off. She was headed to the airport to catch her flight for Survive and Conquer for APW. She needed to get there a day or two early in order to get ready and prepare for it after all, but she had one thing she needed to do in California first. The scene faded as she left her friend's driveway and pulled out onto the main road.

~Scene ~The Year of Angie~

Angelica was dressed in some ring gear of hers, the Starlet Title with her. She had just come from some in ring practice for Survive and Conquer, and then she got the inkling to visit her father's grave. She sighed softly to herself, brushing her hair out of face as she dropped down to her knees in the soft ground in front of her father's grave, running her hand over his tombstone softly.

"Here lies Derrick Monroe, beloved husband and father, dedicated Marine.

March 22nd 1972 - February 10th 2007"

"I miss you dad...you'd be proud of me right now. I'm in WEW with Zye and Felicia and some other family...the Burkes' actually own it. Felicia's helped me get to a title reign...I'm actually in the ring now."[/b]

Angelica smiled softly as she spoke to her father's grave in a gentle voice. The young woman's dad had always wanted her to follow her dreams, not be behind the scenes of it like she started out with. She swiped a few tears from her cheeks that had fallen from her eyes before she spoke again.

"I'm going into a multi-company, multi-talent battle royal this week. It's through Action Packed Wrestling, but it's called Survive and Conquer. Quite a few WEW members are going to be there, including some of the other champions. I'm hoping one of us win it...I really hope I win it, but if I can't then I want one of the others to do so."[/b]

Angelica sighed softly, lowering her head and closing her eyes softly as well. She didn't get out to visit her dad's grave as often as she liked, but she was glad that she was able to now. It gave her a sense of peace and a confidence boost as well because her dad had always been her biggest fan. She looked at his gravestone once more and smiled weakly, letting the tears fall now.

"I wish you hadn't taken my opinion to heart so much...you might still be here today if you didn't. Your widow needs you....your daughters need you too. We're not the same as we used to be...mom and I are still close, but your little girls have lose their bond. She blames me for your death...and I blame myself too."[/b]

Angelica swallowed shakily, pushing loose strands of hair out of her face. She looked down at the title that was in her hands, and she smiled as she laid it on the ground, leaning it against her father's headstone ever so slightly. She was vowing to herself to keep trying and to keep doing her best for her dad. The young woman had always wanted to impress him and make him proud; she felt like she was doing just that now by following her dreams and being successful with them. The WEW Starlet leaned forward on her knees and kissed her dad's headstone lightly.

"I love you dad...I'm going to keep making you proud. And I'm going to keep doing it by doing my absolute best in the APW, Survive and Conquer battle royal. I'll have my hands full though, it's going to be 85 other people...but I'll try my absolute hardest just for you dad."[/b]

The scene showed the woman picking her title up gently before standing back up. She looked at the grave site one more time before turning her back to it, starting to walk off. The scene faded as she got near her car, opening the back driver's side door to put the title in it. The last thing that could be seen was the woman driving out of the cemetery and off onto the main road to her next location, APW.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
_{STATUS: Complete
TAGGED: Everyone in this match
Picture: Angelica Scene 1 & Lluvia Luna Scene 1
Scene 2
WORDS: 1472 according to the word counter we use on WEW
LYRICS: B.O.B. & Hayley Williams
NOTES: Good luck to everyone...sorry for the bad RP, my husband is deployed to Afghanistan and got injured, so I've been running on little sleep the last few days and haven't been able to do much of anything that requires creativity.
CREDITS: Thanks to BUNNYA! at Caution 2.0}

[/center]

[sayge]

● ● ● The bright lights were being adjusted while the crowd sat still, waiting for the return of what they had come to see. A big sign that read "Chelsea Lately," overlooked the crowd as if God looking over all his children. The familiar stage that Chelsea Handler, the obvious host of the show, was empty, and everyone was setting up to return from commercial.

Meanwhile, backstage, the Cinematic Starlet herself, Sayge Jemson, sat erect in a chair as two women circled her - one working on her makeup, the other working on her hair. Sayge went out to lunch with Chelsea the day before, and after Chelsea pleaded and just about begged for Sayge to come onto her show, being the first that a professional wrestler would appear, Sayge finally accepted - wanting to get more exposure for herself. It was her goal in 2012 to make herself even more widely known, if that was even possible, so she decided to go ahead and make a guest appearance on the hit-late night show. Not only that, Sayge wanted to get more exposure for this APW Battle Royal. Without a doubt in her mind at all Sayge was going to be the most talked about woman in this entire battle royal, and her entry was going to take everyone by surprise the moment she won. There's been times, and Sayge is more than sure there will be more times, when people will doubt her, but that's why she proved them wrong over and over again.

Sayge sat in the chair in deep thought as her personal stylists were finishing up for her to be introduced - she knew Chelsea Handler might have been a "good" friend when the show was on commercial, but when the time came to entertain, she was just like Sayge - a bitch. She had heard personally and from rumors that Chelsea did like to crack a lot of jokes on her guests, which could be seen as rude and disrespectful by some, but to Sayge, it would only be an increasingly witty battle between two Bitches in Entertainment. Sayge heard the instrumental theme of the show begin to play and shortly afterward Chelsea's voice..knowing it was showtime.

showhost » ⌊ CHELSEA HANDLER ⌉ “Alright, ladies and gentlemen my guest tonight has been dominating the women's wrestling scene for over three years, but most recently in mid-2011 she began kicking major ass in the company World Elite Wrestling. While she's been busy beating major booty, she has also managed to capture women's championships, even a male King of the Ring crown, and now she's about to compete in a huge intergender battle royal. She is a true triple threat, dropping a rap single, her booming perfume line, and not to mention her kicking ass in the wrestling ring. Now, she has made her return to what she calls her passion in wrestling, so let's bring her out. Everyone, Miss Sayge Jemson!”

Sayge heard Chelsea hype her up, although it wasn't that hard to do, she just basically read HALF of Sayge's resume, so of course it was going to sound picture perfect and flawless. Sayge walked from the backstage area onto the set, wearing a button-down white top, revealing her pink bra, and blue jeans with her hair straightened out and her pink highlights were refreshed and a little more noticeable. Smiling as she made her way to sit down, Chelsea had a skeptical look almost painted on her face as the instrumental of Sayge's entrance music "Vanity" by Christina Aguilera began to fade, Chelsea spoke.

showhost » ⌊ CHELSEA HANDLER ⌉ “Whoa girl, if you get enough money from wrestling to get that kind of boob job, sign me up!”

The crowd was already laughing as if Chelsea was just the funniest person on Earth. Yes, a funny little bitch. Straightening out her hair using her hands, even though it was undoubtedly straight enough, Sayge used it as a defense mechanism not to jump across the room and beat Chelsea within an inch of her life like she was accustomed to. Merely giggling it off, Sayge gave a slick retort.

cinematicstarlet » ⌊ SAYGE JEMSON ⌉ “That's funny, darlin' that you didn't seem to say that when you begged me to come on this B-List show.”

Sayge smirked and gave a smile herself while Chelsea gave a fake half-smile, not letting the insult show how it got to her, but Sayge knew it did. Soon, Chelsea had to laugh a bit, as if a signal to give Sayge props on her comeback. Shrugging it off, Chelsea continued.

showhost » ⌊ CHELSEA HANDLER ⌉ “Oh you bitch. But no really, let's jump right in. You used to be a model, then you found this passion for wrestling, got discovered. Then you did some acting while you were on a sort of hiatus, and you got better known, then you decided to return to wrestling. And now you're the bitch we all love to hate, am I right?”

As if the crowd had been asked the question they began to cheer loudly at the fact that Sayge was without a doubt the 'bitch everyone loved to hate.' Sayge could not help but laugh, and she nodded because Chelsea wasn't the slightest bit off in her analysis.

cinematicstarlet » ⌊ SAYGE JEMSON ⌉ “Absolutely correct. But hey, if there's gonna be a bitch to hate, why not be me? And if it's not me, then who? What bitch can measure up to me?”

Laughing, Chelsea arched her eyebrow before slipping out an insult, this time, not to Sayge.

showhost » ⌊ CHELSEA HANDLER ⌉ “Let me give you Kate Gosslin's number. -the crowd bursts with laughter- But so now you're back in wrestling you've pretty much been dominating at this World Elite Wrestling federation. 3 times Women's Champion, you won that King of the Ring crown from a man, and you won 6 WEW Awards.....you're kicking ass and taking names girl. What I want to know is is about what Sayge has planned in the future. You've done the rap single, you've done the perfume and you're still doing it, you've acted, you've modeled...what are you doing next?”

Sayge took a second to think. She didn't really know where or when to reveal some of her projects, because she loved the surprises, and she didn't want to give anyone a chance to try and be what they all wanted to be - her. Sayge straightened up in the chair before answering the late night talk show hosts question.

cinematicstarlet » ⌊ SAYGE JEMSON ⌉ “At the moment, I'm going to be appearing in this huge interpromotional intergender battle royal in this place called Action Packed Wrestling. Within the wrestling world it's a really big and very infamous match for the best of the best around the world, and I'm going to be one of them this year, and I'm pretty positive I'm going to be the one to beat. It's as simple as it is, I'm the one to beat, and I don't think it's a goal anyone in this battle royal will achieve. I'm a woman used to firsts, a woman of history, a woman of strength, a woman of fame, and a woman of power. Simple as that. This first will be a breeze for me. Along with that I have some other projects brewing, but you guys will just have to check into my official website and follow me on Twitter to get some more updates.”

Chelsea nodded attentively and responded.

showhost » ⌊ CHELSEA HANDLER ⌉ “Go ahead with your bad self. No really though, I think it's amazing what you're doing, and you seem to be a great inspiration to little girls everywhere - well the bitchy ones I mean, but nonetheless you are a role model. Chuy, what do you think about Sayge?”

The camera panned over to Chelsea Handler's personal assistant and certified midget, Chuy, who was sitting down in his mini moped-like mode of transportation with a smile on his face before speaking with his heavy accent.

theassistant » ⌊ CHUY ⌉ “She has big boobs.”

The crowd erupts in laughter at the shenanigans of the small Mexican. The scene goes back to Chelsea and Sayge.

showhost » ⌊ CHELSEA HANDLER ⌉ “Well do you have a message to send to anyone in this big battle royal of yours? The spotlight is yours for a few minutes because my cue guy is telling me we need to go to commercial, so when we come back you can expect that there's going to be a new cue guy. ”

The crowd laughs while Sayge takes a deep breath, knowing this was her last statement to be made, Sayge wanted to make sure it was good.

cinematicstarlet » ⌊ SAYGE JEMSON ⌉ “It's just as simple as this, I know I'm going to win for the sheer fact that I know I'm better than the majority of the people in this match. To the federation that's hosting this match, also known as the Action Packed Wrestling federation, I know you have a lot of people that are going to be in this match from APW, and I know you're probably expecting someone from APW to win, but I guess you can tell now that I'm in this match that that is not going to be happening. Now the one name that I noticed that isn't from WEW is this Alexis Terry girl. It's pretty funny because she's someone that we ran out of WEW in the first few weeks of it being open. She was annoying, she was boring, she was useless, and we ran her out. And then the federation where she's considered a legend she is not even representing. It's pathetic, it really is. There's a lot of other federations in here, and their numbers are strong with their members that are participating, but they're not WEW, therefore they're not of my worries. I'm going to survive to the end because I'm a survivor.. They thought they were ready for this, but they had no idea just how bad I'm going to dominate bitches.”

[S e i f e r]

ACTION PACKED WRESTLING PRESENTS:
SURVIVE AND CONQUER 2012
86 Entrants, Only ONE Winner

LIVE January 29th, at the American Airlines Arena, in MIAMI, FLORIDA.

That’s how the banner reads, everyone driving down Biscayne Blvd US 1 see the banner hoisted over the arena, in the backdrop of all the ING Miami Marathon adverts that also are taking place that morning. Suddenly, the banner catches fire. In fact, all of the banners begin to catch fire. People are starting to notice, they’re stopping and pointing, a bit taken by surprise. That’s when it happens.

KABOOM!

WHOOSH! The sounds of bomber jets zoom out across Biscayne Bay, leaving a trail of destruction in their path. A bomb had just been dropped on the arena, now leaving it a nice sized hole from which all the world could look in. And look in we do, zooming all the way in we see a trail of bodies, littered all over the arena. Upon close inspection, they happen to be participants from this year’s Survive and Conquer match. The stentch begins to fill the air as the paramedics, fire fighters, and the police rush onto the scene. They’re checking for any sign of life, any signs of a pulse.

Nothing.

Every single person competing in the match was dead, it was a tragedy.

They begin the toll count, 1.. 10.. 23.. 50.. 62.. 78.. 84.. 85.. that’s it, 85 bodies accounted for.

Fireman: Wasn’t there 86? What happened? You don’t think this was the doings of the other participant NOT involved in the accident do you?

Officer: It could be, it very well could fucking be.

Fireman: Any idea who that is?

Officer: You kidding? With 86 people there are so many nameless names, I don’t think it’s about that. Let’s just see who’s still alive.

As if their conversation was being recorded and could be heard by the one member not involved, we zoom out. Zoom way out from the hole in the roof, all the way across the street to the Freedom Tower. Way up on the balcony there sits a man, calmly watching the insanity that now had the entire US 1 blocked off in both directions. It was chaos, and here was this man, having a drink and watching it all unfold with a smile on his face.

“Look at them, running around like chickens with their heads cut off, wondering just who dropped the bomb onto the arena, who would be capable of such heinous crimes of killing 85 participants in this epic match up.”

He grins, removing a pair of sunglasses as he picks up a golden crown encrusted with unique teal diamonds. He places it on his head.

“It is I, of course, Seifer, King of Miami and Demigod of Professional Wrestling. Pleased to meet you, APW, world. I do believe this is the first time you’ve probably seen my face... although it shouldn’t. It really shouldn’t.”

He rises from his throne, persae, and walks over to the edge of the balcony, peering over as he continues.

“In that burning arena there are 85 men and women that are left lying, nameless competitors who thought that this would be their chance at a shining glory. A glory that means oh so much to the world of APW. And rightfully so, it should. Survive and Conquer appears to be a huge hit, a big entity of a PPV. In addition to the other matches, this is the one people will be talking about for months to come, the winner will no doubt receive high levels of praise and acclamation from those who know his work. Then the following year will show up and another outpouring of support will be seen, men and women from all walks of federationhood will descend into the APW like I have this year and enter, and the cycle will continue again.

“It’s a touching story, really. Yet as great as a match this massive appears to be, one has to wonder, just how accurate can it all be? You’ll have fans there from Miami cheering on a man like myself, going crazy for a Miami native who has, in his illustrious career, been the flag bearer for this city, while the lot of you are trying to figure out ‘who the fuck is Seifer’? And that’s a shame. Not because I’m hurt you don’t know me or what I’ve done, but because of the flaw in this system. There is a reason why the 85 down there will remain nameless, and it is the same reason why I refuse to name anyone in this promotion. Honestly because other than one single person who has no idea I’m even back wrestling I don’t think, I don’t know any of you. I’ve never heard of any of you in my life.”

Seifer is about to continue when there is more chatter on the radio. By now there were dozens upon dozens of people in there getting everything straightened out. A detective who happens to be a wrestling fan comes to the stunning conclusion.

Detective: I’m surprised no one saw this coming... it’s Seifer, it’s fucking Seifer who isn’t here! I mean it makes sense now, he always talked about being immortal, so either he just survived it or he’s the one behind it!

The others just kind of look at him, yes it was a huge event but there were millions of people in the city, not everyone was a fan. The dick isn’t phased and he continues to those around him listening.

Detective: Think about it a moment will you? Here this huge federation of Action Packed Wrestling comes down to Florida, down to Wade County, MIAMI, and is prepped to put on one HELL of a PPV match up featuring an insane match that’s open to anyone. Now, I know you guys DON’T know Seifer, but I do, I’ve watched the man throughout the years. This right here, as he’d call it, is part of the ‘Forum Circuit’, a circuit that has grown exponentially since he last wrestled on it. They’ve got connections like The Experts, and other cross federational promotional events to keep everyone interested and on top of their games, he always did like that. But by then he had already established his name, winning multi world titles, creating his own Battle for Immortality tournaments, insane stuff really, he innovated far before most of the people here did. But he moved on to the ‘HTML Circuit’, and proceeded to do the same. Then it was the ‘MSN Circuit’, where he arguably flourished the most. Capturing over a dozen heavyweight championships, winning multiple tournaments and is looked upon as the best of all time. Then the ‘Aimoo Circuit’ came about and Seifer flocked there, always looking for new challenges, for new places to conquer. He did that too, having reigned as fighting heavyweight champion in a place for a damn YEAR! No slouching on the competition either, any one of those challengers could give APW’s top talent runs for their money.

Random Officer: Then what happened?

The detective smiles, he liked that his story was intriguing to those who didn’t know.

Detective: Then one day, he upped and disappeared. Just... vanished, gone from professional wrestling. No one knew why, no one knew where he had gone. Which is why I was so surprised to hear that he had entered into this match, but now it makes sense. APW is coming into SEIFER’s backyard, his, kingdom if you will. A bunch of unknowns in Seifer’s eyes are coming to play, and when the invitation was open, it was a no brainer that Seifer would come strolling in, without so much as telling anyone because if there’s one thing we know about Seifer, it’s...

The detective finished his thought, but from up above Seifer cut the com off and finished it himself for the APW cameras.

“I do what I want, when I want, how I want, Seifer style. That’s what he was going to say. I must say I’m impressed to have heard that, did I mention I’ve been on a seication for 23 months?”

He pauses and grins.

“Yes, I said SEIcation, it’s what I like to call a Seiferism, one of many. See that detective was spot on about a lot of things, all of what he said I did... I really fucking did. I’ve never been one to run around and spout off about ’40 World Championships liek omgz’ because those who do are usually exposed as frauds or have won most of them in two month fly by night federations. Don’t get me wrong, in my early years I did my fair share of fed whoring too, but as I gained experience in this business, I realized the important victories, the important title wins, are ones that’ll be remembered by others. They’re the ones that were housed in federations that have lasted five plus years and beyond, some of them pushing ten years and beyond. It is THOSE federations where you really can go out and test your mantle against some of the best. Those are the places that have rich hall of fames and title histories, so that even if some of their legends are gone, you can still compete in your era and then see how you faired compared to what others have done before you.

“What’s amusing about all of that, is that’s what I did. I’ve always gone by the Caesar slogan, “Vini Vidi Vici”. Not because it was cool to say, but because it rang true every day of my career. I come into a federation. I see what they have to offer. And then I conquered it. Winning most their titles, but especially the heavyweight and most importantly leaving an impact for years to come. I’m still talked about in places I haven’t been to in years, because of the impact I made. The amount of wrestler of the year awards I’ve won, the matches of the year awards I’ve won... the list goes on and on.”

Seifer turns around and sits back down on his throne, right here in miami. He sighs a elated sigh.

“I know, if you’re listening to this you must be thinking “hot damn this man is full of himself, is that all he intends on doing is talk about how great he is?” The answer is no, but I do enjoy it. You’ve got to realize something APW, both fans and of course my other fellow 85 competitors.”

He pauses, realizing we were still playing in his world and that his opponents were all ‘dead’.

“Ghosts of the 85, I should say.”

Seifer snickers.

“It has been nearly two years since I’ve knocked off the dust of a proverbial microphone as Seifer. Nearly two years since I’ve stepped into the ring to face anyone, let alone 85 others! So to say that it doesn’t feel good hearing myself being talked about in such light would be a lie. I enjoy it, because I busted my ass off day in and day out to ensure that I leave one hell of a legacy when I’m finished. Do note I’m talking in the present tense because I’m far from finished. In fact.. as I look around APW...”

He fake looks around, since clearly he wasn’t in anything that APW owned at the moment, but the gesture was understood.

“I see a place that has the rich history I love, and plenty of potential for the future. It might even be a place I see myself wrestling in in the future. Of course winning this Survive and Conquer competition certainly would speed up the process. But I don’t think any of you really want that. Because then you’d have to deal with me. And if you think that I’m arrogant talking about what I’ve done, you haven’t heard anything. See I don’t believe in boasting about past accomplishments on the daily, or even at all. It’s all about pushing forward for the future and making an impact NOW. I don’t rest on the laurels of my success, today was simply an introduction onto who Seifer is exactly.

“And who I am, is a man you really don’t want to see in APW. Because if I did come here, I would stop at nothing to get to the top. I take it back, I know the fans would want to see me. Because they’ll be the ones watching on Sunday in Miami and they already know me. The ones who don’t will be watching over the airwaves and will be unable to contain themselves when they see how good I am, just how little rust I actually have. I am immortal after all, a Demigod of this business... and perhaps even more important when it comes to the APW, you’re going to see why I am the KING of Miami, and this is MY battlegrounds.”

He rises, peers out at his kingdom and with a megaphone in hand announces to everyone below.

“HOLA CITIZENS OF ME-AH-MEE, it is I your KING, SEIFER.”

In a surprising twist for APW viewers, everyone begins to cheer.

“Do not be alarmed after what you’ve just witnessed, your King will ensure that order is restored not only in time for the PPV this Sunday night, but for the Heat Knicks game tonight! Alas, as the Demigod of Professional Wrestling, MY WILL BE DONE!”

He waves a hand, as the cheers continue, and everything is restored. The area sits nice and pretty over looking the water in Bayside as the banners continue to wave. Seifer looks over at the camera.

“See, this is my fucking city, APW participants, so when I want a little theatrical demonstration about the hell you’re all about to experience when I’m in that ring, well, I can damn well do whatever I please. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a match to prep for... but don’t worry, you’ll see me before you know it, I’m hardly finished. I still have more to cover before I lace up those boots.”

Seifer flicks his fingers and just like that we fade. Seifer pats the guys on their backs and makes his way down through the tower and out onto the city streets. That’s where he himself is taken by surprise because word got out that Seifer was returning to the ring and the people begun flocking to the streets. Seifer takes the time to greet as many people as he can, acknowledging that he was indeed back, at least for a limited time, and that he too was looking forward to it. Then he gets in his Hummer limo and it peels off, up and over the MacArthur Causeway and heading right towards The Beach. Its neon lights that the city is so famous for becoming a blur in the background.

Time Lapse: Three Hours.

The cameras fade back in on this exciting day, for now we finally get to see Seifer the way we’re used to seeing him, shirtless with sweat dripping off his body. He’s in a gym, with a lot of supporters behind him as he dries himself off and takes a long swig of coconut water, very hydrating. Seifer puts on a #10 Tim Hardaway throwback Miami Heat jersey and heads for the door but not before getting a handshake from none other than Muhammad Ali. The two exchange words and Seifer’s out the door, onto 5th Street and looking right at Ocean Drive.

“No, your eyes are not deceiving you, that was The Greatest, Mr. Ali himself. In fact this gym is one I’ve been too for many years before, back in the day and again once it re-opened. It’s the world famous 5th Street Gym that Muhammad spent many hours working up a sweat as he prepared to jaunt and jive, taunt and bash his opponents in the ring. See they say that The U invented swagger, and that’s where I get mine from. It only extends from there the way I carry myself in that ring. Earlier it was noted that I’ve wrestled on four different wrestling circuits, if you will, and dominated in each of them. One thing I never did though, was stay complacent in any one place too long. It is what has enabled me to continually progress and transcend in my career. It’s why “The Transcendent” happens to be another one of my many nicknames. I love a challenge, and THAT is simply why I am here. I don’t feel threatened APW is on my turf, I feel honored. Because as I said prior, this company has a rich history, so to be having one of their biggest PPVs in my backyard is a lot of fun for me. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed the atmosphere this entire three weeks and when I say I’m ready for this match... you bet your ass I am.”

He makes his way to Ocean Drive, peering off to the left where all the action is before heading straight once more, right towards the beach.

“See this jersey? The Heat have it hanging up in the rafters at the AAA as you’ll see on Sunday. I’m not just giving him a shout out though, it’s a message. A message to 76 other people that I’ll see after I’m out there and the 9 or less that I’ll see when I get to that ring. When the order was announced, I was giddy with excitement. I come into this hellacious match at #10. TEN! Do you realize how unlucky that is knowing that 76 others come in AFTER me?”

He grins as he takes a seat on the seawall, now looking at the city lights.

“But you don’t know Seifer. That kind of shit inspires me. That kind of stuff makes me even more psyched for this match. It means I’ve got the chance to really show what I can do for more than an hour. It means that nearly everyone of you will have to deal with Seifer and will experience first hand just what the hell I bring to the table. And you want to know the best part about it all? Though I come in so early, I don’t necessarily have to stay until the end. See, I know all about the four people advancing to the end and it isn’t just the last four in the ring. It’s separated into your specific quadrants. Which means that I just became that much luckier. I’m going to harness the power of the #10 much like legends Pele and Zidane did. Since I’m not affiliated with the APW, CWC and not The Experts, it means that I’m in the minority. That my friends means that my chances of getting to the Final Four just increased ten fold. So as much fun as we’ll have in the battle royal, you can pretty much stamp my ticket for the end, because I’ll be one of the four when that steel cage comes down.”

And now is when we see a different side of Seifer, one in which Seifmadness fans hadn’t seen for two years.

“That’s when the REAL match begins, when the REAL fun begins. Steel cages just happens to be my specialty matches. Well, any steel environment really, not just the cage. That’s when my other three opponents will begin to feel the squeeze. The chaos is over, it’s now us three and those four walls won’t keep the sound of a deafening Miami crowd having my back, pushing me to heights that you all simply will not see. Needless to say, *I’LL* be escaping from that cage and then it becomes a three way.

“Street fight time. To my two opponents who make it that far with me, kudos to you, but for one of you that’s all Miami’s own Gloria Estefan wrote. For if anyone knows that arena better than me in a wrestling venue, I’ve yet to meet them. I’m not saying it’s going to be easy, but by the time this rolls around we’ll all have been out there for hours no doubt and when I can see the home stretch around the corner, that’s when my iconic killer instincts kick in. I’ve been involved with a group that used to fucking slaughter superstars and federations alike in my past, and all of that still dwells within me, just waiting to be unleashed. So onto the one on one... Hell in a Cell ladder match.”

Seifer pauses, letting time for all of this to sink right on in. His face is now a sinister looking one.

“This is when you’ll truly see the real Seifer. When I take my opponent and together the two of us put on an epic match that could sell the main event by itself. I’ll bash his or her skull into every part of that cell, I know my way in and around a Hell in a Cell so if you thought my demo earlier about blowing up the arena was something to be seen, then you haven’t seen the kind of Demigod I become when I’m inside of a cell. BUT... even though all this, my eyes have and will always be on that prize. We’ll ascend to the top, but by then, everything will be a blur for you, my victim, my dear last opponent. The crowd is going to be absolutely INSANE at this point. Shhhh, can you hear it yet?”

As if right on cue all those fans who had flocked to the streets now came out and yelled in unison, it was more of a party on Ocean Drive than when the Super Bowl is in town.

“SIGH FUR! SIGH FUR! SIGH FUR! SIGH FUR! SIGH FUR! SIGH FUR!”

He holds up a hand, and they are silenced.

“There is absolutely no way that at this point my opponent will stand any chance. I’ll send a Blood Spiller right through your fucking skull and send you cascading down the cell, leaving only I to ascend to the top of the APW mountain. Climbing that ladder and achieving the ultimate goal of being the 2012, Survive and Conquer CHAMPION.”

He grins.

“Hmm, I like the sound of that. SAY IT WITH ME MIAMI!”

Everyone chants in unison.

THE 2012 APW SURVIVE AND CONQUER CHAMPION... SEIFER!!!

[/i]
“Yep, that sounds damn good. Buckle up APW, because the Seifmadness is now ready to turn this place upside down. Seifer’s coming for ya, he’s coming for all of you. From #10 to VICTORY... there’s only one thing left for me to do now.”

As is classic Seifer when he wants to put an emphasis on something, *BLOOD SPILLER* to the camera. And here comes another classic Seiferism.

The scene seizzles out.
[/center]

OOC: Damn site failure, lol.

[President Jeff]

DEADLINE IS NOW!! All RP's posted after this post will not count as I am locking this thread

HUGE thanks to everyone who RPed. Over 60 RP's posted, which I am extremly happy with. I'm gonna try my hardest to have everything posted on time. Look for results to the PPV to start being posted at 6pm EST on Sunday. I want to get this show posted before the Royal Rumble PPV.

Again, thanks to everyone who RPed and good luck