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I bury hatchets, but I keep maps to where I put 'em.
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Post by Eden on Jul 11, 2020 22:15:44 GMT -5
Roleplay Deadlines: Friday, July 3rd, 2020 at 9 PM PST, 12 AM EST, 11 PM CT(US) Saturday, July 4th, 2020 at 1 AM(UK)
24 Hour Deadlines, 1 Post Deadlines Thursday, July 2nd, 2020 at 9 PM PST, 12 AM EST, 11 PM CT(US) Friday, July 3rd, 2020 at 1 AM(UK)
Roleplay Limit 2 RPs, up to 1000 words apiece OR A single RP, up to 2000 words
For tournament brackets updated as we progress, go here!
Main Event (Tournament) (Non-Title): Mara Soverna vs Sin
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Post by Deleted on Jul 23, 2020 21:57:43 GMT -5
We enter on the view of a security camera, which seems to regulate itself as the visual we have grows more and more clear. It’s a therapist’s office inside the Sanatorium, and the therapist has a notepad, scrawling text down as the patient across from her leans back in a reclining chair. Two orderlies hold the patient at arms’ length with restraints, and the patient herself is strapped in a straightjacket. She rolls her neck, and as the therapist watches her carefully, she raises a brow.
“Y’waiting for me to speak?” Mara Soverna asks. “Or are you just doing your whole, uhh…physical profile before we get into the meat n’ potatoes of all of this.” She leans in toward the therapist, and the therapist leans back, holding her notepad for a moment.
“Just a bit of profiling, Mara.” She smiles, but it’s not sincere. “I was...impressed by your effort against Chucky Ross last week. It appears others were, too-going into the main event against a champion this coming week? You have to know that this is going to be your roughest challenge yet, don’t you?”
“Does it matter?” Mara snorts. “No one expected me to make it this far. Probably expected that fucking clown in my first match to tear my arm off and beat me unconscious with it, but that didn’t happen. People probably expected Chucky Ross to cut my fucking head off, but that didn’t happen either. Now people expect Sin to beat me-champion or not-but I’m tryin’ to make a deal here out of beating the odds. Nothin’ personal against Sin or any of ‘em, honest, but they’re standing in my fucking way, and I’m not backing down from the run I’ve found myself on already. I don’t give a shit who’s standing in my way, it could be Sin, it could be Jacob Knight, it could be Nikki Caldwell...I don’t care.”
“Do you really think you have a chance against Sin? Woman’s got a title, and she’s one of the tops around here. I don’t mean to crush your dreams,” The therapist muses, somewhat sarcastically, “but you’d have a better chance against most of the rest of this roster. After all, you just barely beat Ross. What’s your game plan against Sin?” The therapist leans in, and Soverna laughs out loud, leaning forward and getting as close to the therapist as she possibly can without the orderlies pulling her back. Mara breathes hot on the therapist’s face as she gets close, and through gritted teeth and a wicked smile, snarls out.
“Game plan? I don’t need a fuckin’ game plan, I just need a goddamn goal, and I got one.” She grunts. “Goal’s to get as much time as I can outta this goddamn building, and to do that? Why, doctor, I’d kill every motherfucker in this goddamn asylum if I needed to.”
-
“So we’ve come to this, again.”
When we once again see Soverna, she’s sitting on the back gate of a transport vehicle from the Sanatorium. For all intents and purposes, she appears to be on the outside, a cigarette between her teeth. Her leg is still shackled with a rather large beacon that, of course, was fitted by the Sanatorium. She lets the cigarette burn down a bit as she inhales, before pulling it from between her lips and beginning to speak.
“Another win, another day on the outside, innit? Good on you, Chucky, but not good enough! Mara Soverna impresses the crowd, the wardens, every Dick and Sally back home watching this stream, so much so that she gets the opportunity to embarrass the Underground Champion and advance in the Asylum Championship tournament at the same fucking time! Why, I’m tickled pinker than the shit the orderlies shoot into my throat when I’m acting up, but can you blame me? So much time inside makes someone…wild.”
Mara chuckles, and she glances over her shoulder to where she can assume the Sanatorium orderlies and driver have situated themselves. She rolls her shoulders.
“Y’know, that’s really the hidden perk here, isn’t it? I get all my anger out in the ring, just like I did on Krysis and Chucky Ross, and then as long as I’m a good little girl in the leadup, I get to come outside and do whatever it is I fucking want to in the real world. Hell, orderlies let me buy a pack of cigarettes, and even though I’m sure they’ll snag ‘em from me when my outside-time’s up, I’ll still get to enjoy the feeling of menthol on my tongue for the first time in fuckin’ forever.” She takes another pull. “It’s kinda fucked up, if you think about it-they use our strength for capital, in a way, right? We’re providin’ entertainment, and if we win, we don’t see that coin, but we do see the benefit. We see the world, and we see the people who watch us. I catch their glances, I see ‘em seeing me, but I don’t talk to ‘em. It’s barbaric, in a way...even if I do enjoy myself.”
She leans back against the van doors, and beats on it with her hand for a moment. The orderlies peek around, and Soverna gives a nod, and they slink back into their hiding spot.
“But this week ain’t just about what I can do at the stage I’ve been at. Nah, this week’s about far more than that. It’s about seeing if the impression’s substance, or flash. People’ve been impressed-stealing a win over Chucky Ross, double-arm breaking that stupid crack fiend, and now I come face to face with you, Sin. Underground champion, and a challenger if there’s ever been one. I know you want this win. I know you want to win, I know you want your fuckin’ boyfriend to win, so you can go fuck in the ring leadin’ into the tournament final like this shit doesn’t matter to you because you’ve already got your belt. If we could all be so lucky to wrestle our fuck-pouch...but we ain’t, and things gotta be what they gotta be.”
Soverna chuckles.
“Y’see, that’s where I’m lucky, Sin, because I don’t have anything riding on this match. I’m not tryin’ to earn your respect, because I could give a rat’s asshair about it. I’m not tryin’ to earn a shot at your championship, because I’ve got my sights set on the big belt. I’m not tryin’ to make it to the next round for a live sex celebration, because, guess what, I don’t got one of those waitin’. I’m tryin’ to make it to the next round for me, because I made a bet on myself. I’m guilty of what I’ve done-ain’t a doubt about that-but I’m not nearly as fucked up as some of the inmates running this asylum. I can feel myself slippin’ sometimes, and that’s why I fight. That’s why I break the noses of orderlies, that’s why I spit in the faces of doctors, and that’s why they got a special jacket made just for me.” Soverna chuckles. “But fighting for this? All this time on the outside, the fresh air in my lungs, even if it is a little tobacco-coated? That’s why I fight. Because I’m not losing my mind without a fuckin’ war to wrench it out of me, be it against you, God, or the Warden herself.
You and so many others, you’ve been here for so long that it starts to feel like home, doesn’t it? You learned to stop dreamin’ about the outside and start dreamin’ about what the lunatics do, the names they whisper back when you talk to ‘em in the halls. I dreamed like that last week, reachin’ out to try an’ connect so I could feel out Chucky Ross, an’ when I woke up without my senses it was the most terrifying thing I’d ever felt. I don’t...nah, I won’t feel that shit again. I don’t care what I have to do, lettin’ my mind sink down to that was worse than any terror I could’ve felt out here. No matter who’s swingin’ on me, I know, at the very fuckin’ least, that they ain’t that.”
Soverna finishes her cigarette, and crushes it against the back door of the van. It leaves a black ashen mark, and she glances to the camera.
“So if you want to put me down, Sin, if you wanna make it past me, you better be ready to kill me, because I’m damn ready to rip your arms off an’ beat you half to death. I’m ready to strangle you in the middle of that ring with your own fuckin’ sinew an’ flesh if it keeps me comin’ back here. I’m ready to do whatever it takes, throw myself to the fuckin’ wolves, break every bone in both of our bodies an’ still drag myself to a pin if it means I get more days out. This fight might not just be about you, it might not just be about the Asylum Championship, but on this day of all goddamn days, it sure as fuck is. Just because I don’t give a half-inch fuck about that belt you got ‘round your waist don’t mean I’m not gonna cave your goddamn head in to prove a point and keep this run goin’.
Don’t underestimate me. Don’t overlook me, and by God, if you ain’t tryin, don’t fuckin’ show up, or I’ll make you regret ever stepping foot in this goddamn ring.”
There’s an audible click from Soverna’s anklet, and she shakes her head. The van doors open, and two orderlies pull her in, settling her in…
-
When we pick up again, Mara’s back in the darkness of her cell. She stares at the ceiling, alone, unrestrained for once. Stars dance through the cell window, painting points of light around the cold, hard stone. She rolls over, trying to get some sleep, but suddenly, a voice whispers through the darkness.
Mara…
She glances up. There’s no one around. No orderlies at the cell door.
I know you hear me, Mara.
“Fuck off.” She grunts.
The voice pauses for a moment, and Mara lays her head down, rolling over and facing the wall.
You won’t avoid it forever, Mara. Sooner or later, you’ll be just like the rest of us.
Mara turns over in bed, and finds her cell empty. A quiet whimper exits her throat as she forces her eyes shut, and lets the night take her...
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Former Champion
9 POSTS & 1 LIKE
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Post by sin on Jul 24, 2020 21:28:58 GMT -5
It had been a very long day. Her brother’s birthday always was. It started at nine in the morning, breakfast with the people that lived in the house and their closest friends. Later in the afternoon, the party had begun. Bigger events were usually themed and this was no exception. Their backyard had been full of people in video game character cosplay eating, drinking, dancing, and the like. She’d hung in for the majority of it all for her brother’s sake but she hadn’t been in any sort of mood lately that even closely resembled party mode. Around seven Sin had slipped away into the house and drug Dez with her.
That had been a few hours ago. Now bits of black and blue were in separate piles on her bedroom floor, pieces of their Squall and Rinoa costumes that were superfluous for just sitting around in. Both sets of eyes focused on the television screen, controllers in hand. While certain things still had yet to be discussed, they had settled back into friendship just fine.
“Blitzing, heads up.”
The boss went down from that final move and they shared a small celebratory cry, despite the fact they’d both beaten this game a few times. “All right. Break time because I gotta piss.” Sin sat her controller down and stood up.
“Throw me my cigarettes?” She nodded and headed for her bathroom, pausing by her dresser to toss his pack to him. She’d just finished up and was washing her hands when …
“Yes!” A scream came from another room.
“More like hell no.” She mumbled to herself.
“Oh my god, yes!”
She turned the water off and hurried to go muffle the noises for her own benefit. “Dez, can you get-”
“Already on it, Sinister.” He replied, mid-search for the stereo remote.
Sin spotted it on the edge of a nightstand and snagged it. Just then, Emma burst through her bedroom door. Her eyes landed on a very surprised Sin and Dez. “Shit I forgot to knock. I’m sorry.” Emma looked all sorts of … something. Her face was wet with tears but she was grinning like an idiot. She was slightly shaking but she clearly wasn’t pissed off or afraid.
“What’s going on?” Sin sat the stereo remote back down.
Emma grinned even wider. “I said yes!”
“Yeah, the whole neighborhood heard that. But to what? To anal? To bank robbery? To a cookie?”
Sin’s brother appeared in the doorway. “I proposed, cunt.” Dom was grinning wide too.
Dez waved the two closer to see the ring. Sin stood there awkwardly for a moment while the other three talked amongst themselves. She had thoughts but most had already been spoken before and right now there was no reason to piss on Emma’s parade when she’d always been good to Sin. Ugh, she’d developed a soft spot for the little stoner though the extent wasn’t fully clear until now.
The others had spiraled into Dez’s own proposal to Cali years back and were breaching the topic of when they knew someone was the one. Sin wasn’t joining in on this sappy bullshit and it really needed to stop.
She went to her closet and pulled out a laptop and the neatly wrapped power cord that went with it. She carried it over to the group sitting on the bed and held it out to Emma. “Here. It’s for you for … uh … yeah.”
Emma’s eyes widened. “Are you sure? This is one of those fancy gaming laptops. I know they’re not cheap.”
Sin nodded. “I’m sure. Usually, I give them to Dom as an extra present but I think this year you should have it. Can’t have our soon-to-be-second-healer running on that laggy thing you currently have.”
A small laugh. “I’ll pretend that’s the only reason. Thank you. You really get a new one every year?”
“Like fucking clockwork. Her birthday rolls around and one is delivered right to the door. Sometimes she also gets a new desktop setup.” Dom replied with a roll of his eyes. “Two months later, I get whatever was replaced.”
“Wait, he’s still sending them?” Dez shook his head with a laugh.
“Who is it and where do I get one?” Emma joked.
Sin sighed. “Trust me, you don’t want one. I don’t even want one.”
“Ooh, is it storytime?”
“Short version. A guy I know has been into me for over ten years now. Used to make a lot of passes and got shut down. After something that happened he doesn’t outright try anymore but-”
“What happened?”
“Yeah, Sin. What was it that made him stop? Was it you telling his wife at the time to basically come get her trash or was it after Liam wanted to kick his ass and he tucked tail?” Dom smirked.
“I said short version. Story’s over.” She glared at her brother.
“Okay, then why are you still his friend?” The others seemed to bristle a bit at that question but didn’t respond. The silence stretched on for a solid two minutes. Now it was Emma who felt awkward. “I’m gonna, umm, laptop?” She hopped up from the bed and damn near ran out of the room with Dom following slowly behind.
“You okay?”
“I don’t care if he tells her.”
“Not what I meant.” He nudged her. “There was a party at your own house and you left early. Pretty sure I saw you only have two drinks. You’ve also thrown the wrong spell about three times tonight.”
“I’m fine.”
Ah, something big enough she’d rather gloss over than talk about, despite it bothering her. Not happening when she was this off. “Nope, but you will be.” He flashed an impish grin and dug into his pocket, producing a circular, pink pill. “Tell me what’s on your mind and I’ll make it not matter.”
It was a very tempting offer. Fuck it. He was still her best friend; if she was going to tell anyone at all it would be him anyway. Her eyes trailed down to the ashtray and she uttered only a single word. “Teenager.” He dropped the pill in her hand and she quickly chewed and swallowed it.
“This again.” He crushed his cigarette in the ashtray. “I’m gonna call my wife. We’ll keep poppin’ these and just do a whole playthrough in one go. Maybe when you get back-”
“If. Gotta win and shit.”
“When you get back, maybe you’ll feel better because you got your hands on someone.”
“Didn’t feel any better after last show.”
“Well. Weren’t you two friends before that?”
“She wants what’s mine, Dez. She can’t have it. It’s MINE!” That anger was back and brimming under the surface of her eyes.
“I know. She’s not going to take it. She can come for it fifty times and you know as well as I do that she’d still never get it from you.”
“That’s not the point! The point is she’s fucking trying! Every fucking female I try to give a shit about always wants what’s mine! The last one aimed for my husband. And now this one? Is aiming for something more important than he ever could have been. I worked my ass off for that belt and to Kiki it’s just something shiny. It doesn’t mean anything to her so why does she want it? What I have never really means anything to them in the end, they just want to take it away. And I am done losing things to people whose hands I have shaken when I should have spat in their faces instead. I’ll paint the sanatorium scarlet with the blood of every single person unfortunate enough to be there before it happens again.”
Things started clicking into place in his brain and he could see where all the wires had started crossing in hers. Past betrayals were overlapping what she had convinced herself were current ones. The way she was acting about the teenager comment said plenty about something else. Her being generally territorial was more sprinkles on this emotional storm cake than the base of it. Sin was hurting and everyone else was going to pay for it until her pain stopped. This was far from his first rodeo with that aspect of things. “Just remember that this time it’s not Kiki.”
“No, but she still threatens something of mine. My ‘freedom.’ She means nothing to me. Being able to come and go does. Aww, Dezzy, look at you worrying for a stranger. How adorable.”
That smartass nickname, that tone … it was clear that it didn’t matter who the crosshairs were aimed at as long as there was a target. “Everything’s a nail, is it, Miss Hammerhead?”
“My Wonderland is shattered. It’s dead to me.”
“Are you quoting back for the hell of it or is there seriousness in it?”
“You shouldn’t ask questions you know the answer to; it’s not polite.”
“I’m just gonna give that pill thirty minutes before I start untangling your brain knots. Let’s play.”
🔪🌹🔪🌹🔪🌹🔪🌹🔪🌹🔪🌹🔪🌹🔪🌹🔪🌹🔪🌹🔪🌹🔪🌹 I see you, Mara, all stubborn and determined like that alone will get you through this match. It might with plenty of others but, when it comes to those two areas, I’m the one they used to write the definitions in the book. I was once told I’d survive the apocalypse simply because I’d decided to. Last I checked, that’s a much bigger deal than some redheaded little bitch who seems a bit too curious about whether or not she’ll get free porn in her future.
I could sit here and say that I have absolutely nothing invested in this match, that it means nothing on the grander scheme of things … but then I’d look as pathetic as you did after you followed up with all of the reasons why it does. When you talk so much you out yourself, that’s long past time to shut the fuck up, my dear. Make a note for next time.
Yes, there’s a bigger title here. Sure, plenty of bragging rights to the eventual victor. But we both know what’s really on the line right this second - sweet, sweet, albeit fake freedom. Something I’ve been enjoying for quite some time now and I don’t plan on stopping. I’d apologize at putting a halt on your own after this match but, as I said before, I won’t reduce myself to being a liar. I won’t be sorry for a damn thing I do to you in that ring. I’ll gladly keep you trapped inside longer to be able to stroll right back out through those doors at the end of the night. Hell, I’d sit in a room and watch them crank up the voltage on some electroshock therapy for you a tad too high while passing out popcorn to the staff if it led to me not being thrown back in a cell again.
Bet that causes some clamor. Sanatorium bad, injustice, hashtag overthrow. At one point I echoed that sentiment. Then I realized I’ve wasted too much time worrying about other people just for them to prove why I never should have to begin with. So now? Now I’d sacrifice every goddamn one of you without batting an eye if it was to benefit me even a tiny fraction of a degree. I’d have loved to start with Kiki but I suppose you’ll just have to suffice. I wonder how it will feel for her to watch me destroy you with the knowledge in the back of her mind that what she has coming is even worse still.
I know you wanna hurt me too, Mara, that you wanna bend and break this little beauty queen, send me back bruised and battered. There’s plenty of people who would enjoy that, more than enough to start a fan club. But haven’t you heard? Pretty girls make graves.
So, tell me, babe, how deep do you want yours?
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