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I bury hatchets, but I keep maps to where I put 'em.
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Post by Eden on Sept 21, 2020 14:07:22 GMT -5
Broadcasting through FXX and Netflix from The Sanatorium Arena in Serenity, CaliforniaRoleplay Deadlines: Friday, September 25th, 2020 at 9 PM PST, 12 AM EST, 11 PM CT(US) Saturday, September 26th, 2020 at 1 AM(UK)Roleplay Limit2 RPs, up to 1000 words apiece OR A single RP, up to 2000 words Match Three:Mike Lavicle versus Jonathan Edwards
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Post by skullandbones on Sept 25, 2020 3:22:09 GMT -5
The scent of wet concrete permeates the steam filled washroom of the Sanatorium. The sounds of running water dispensed from showerhead slapping against the hard flooring and draining into the sewers down below drowned out most other sound that could be had. In front of a craicked mirror, is Mike Lavicle, who just finished putting on his lucha libre like Halloween mask fashioned to look cartoonishly like a human skull. We just barely glimpse a few strands of black hair as it’s covered by the costume, with the foggy reflection of the steam covered mirror preventing us from capturing any discernible facial features. The rest of his body was already fully dressed by the skeletal disguise. Mike took a gloved hand and turned off the running faucet water from the porcelain sink before him, and placed a hand at the rims of both ends. Leaning forward, he stares blankly at the broken mirror, heavy breathing is blocked by the mask to prevent further fogging of the mirror. Almost like...Lavicle was in distress? Anxiety perhaps? Like he was...afraid to leave this room. Despite his bathroom business being clearly finished...he didn’t wish to go back to his cell. He didn’t share the blissful ignorance of his...humorous tag team partner. He hated this place. He hated being locked up. He hated the sterile, medical trappings that reminded him far too much of the same silent, lifeless specialty clinics he worked for as an otolaryngologist. A life that seemed...so far away from him now. Would there ever be a return to a normal life? Did he WANT a normal life? No...he hated that just as much as he hated this insane asylum. But still...this place was barbaric. The constant torture of The Necrosis at the hands of Dr. Sly and his orderlies, simply because she refused to wrestle...he would rescue her someday. Together they might escape...Hugh could stay if he truly enjoyed himself here that much...but somehow...someway, Mike would find a way out of this hellscape. If only he could pretend for just a little longer...he just had to play the part...keep winning matches...But that. That was the crux wasn’t it?
Mike Lavicle: The nefarious...Jonathan Edwards. A man who shunned a former life of luxury and has found solace...happiness...even enjoyment, out of your stay at the World Wrestling Headquarters Sanatorium. Admit it, you relish your losses as much as your wins. They’d call you a sadomasochist. Deriving pleasure from your beatings as much as the pain you inflict on your opponents...It wasn’t enough for Merus and I to win matches. Was it? We were never meant to “win” anything. It just so happened...that we are really good at this game in our own right. So the higher ups. They look at us like jokes...and because we wouldn’t lose like jokes...they’ve split us up. Separated us away from supporting one another all week as we are pitted against two of the most sadistic...meanest...nastiest brawlers this wretched place has twisted in it’s own image. We can’t possibly win on our own, right? Not against Chucky Ross. Not against Jonathan Edwards. Dr. Sly will finally get his hands not just on the Necrosis...but will finally find a home for his blades, needles and shock therapy for his two favorite “Skellie Bois”.
If one could see the sneer across his face, trust when it is said he has one. If his eyes weren’t blockaded by cloth they would burn with a surprising hatred not before seen by the normally happy go lucky, goof troop “shooter” of the Spooky Scary Skeletons. The gutterul malice in Lavicle’s voice is profound.
Mike Lavicle: I...Reject...You.
Mike slams his fist against the brick wall to the left of the mirror. A padded and ineffectual “thud” responds to his hand in kind. He wouldn’t be so cliche as to smash the mirror. No. He would have to be less predictable than that if he were going to survive this encounter. Mike coughs and clears his throat of the phlegm that built up in his near growling proclamation. He continues.
Mike Lavicle: My dear brother Hugh may enjoy himself here. He may ingratiate himself with the toys provided for his success while eagerly waiting for his chance to “play” with more of you psychopaths. But I reject this entire premise. I don’t have “fun” listening to these inmates get tortured. If I could, I would liberate them from their suffering. But it is all I can do to survive on my own...I...I can’t even protect my Necrosis. They are allowed to do what they want with her...whenever they want with her...and if I move a muscle to stop them, I get the tranq, I get the club, I get the strangler. So Jonathan Edwards...this week, it’s your turn. On behalf of my lost brothers and sisters. To those I cannot protect...I TRANQUILIZE YOU. I GET TO CLUB YOU TO DEATH. I WILL STRANGLE...THE LIFE...OUT OF YOU…
Lavicle’s hand dips below it’s raised position. His gloved finger nails grasp to no avail to scratch the walls of his imprisonment. In some ways Mike wishes he was facing Chucky Ross. Because for all the violence and fervor he espouses from behind his mask... he still looks for all the world like nothing more than a clown. A jester. A fool.
Mike Lavicle: But I promise you one thing Jonathan...I won’t enjoy this nearly as much as you will...as you lay there in your own ejaculate from the auto erotic asphyxiation I’m going to gift to you...I will find no pleasure in doing what I have to do...to win. To win, and come step closer...to finding freedom for my family...and I.
And with that, Mike reluctantly slips away from the mirror. He saunters through the short walkway back into the arms of awaiting orderlies, as his brother in arms Hugh Merus was eagerly awaiting his turn to take a shower.
Hugh Merus: Wowza! You took a long time in there bro. Must be psyching yourself up for your fight against what’s his name, Jonathan Edwards? HAH. More like, GONE-ATHAN DEADWARDS. Right champ? Right?
Yeah...something like that.
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Worker Bee
25 POSTS & 2 LIKES
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Post by 𝘑𝘖𝘕𝘈𝘛𝘏𝘈𝘕 𝘌𝘋𝘞𝘈𝘙𝘋 on Sept 25, 2020 16:32:43 GMT -5
I'M BEYOND THE ARCHETYPE!
NO MATTER HOW YOU SHAKE MY CORE!
Jonathan Edwards has been proving to himself that he can handle anything that comes his way. Two weeks ago, he had to team up with Christy Winters in a tag team match, which saw his team winning by pinning Hunter. But it was time to get serious as Edwards takes on half of the tag team of Spooky Scary Skeletons, Mike Lavicle. Jonathan Edwards is going to enjoy this match because he gets to beat up someone who thinks Halloween all year round. When Sanatorium arrives, Edwards needs to send a message to both Ross and Tora. He plans on humiliating Lavicle and proving to be the dominant gene that he says he is. Will he go through, Mike? Who knows, honestly. But Edwards is more than willing to find out. Since being in the ring, he wants to enjoy himself by humiliating his opponents. People who get in the ring with him know that. Soon, Mike will find that out when he steps in the ring with Edwards. The scene finally comes up at a car graveyard, and we see a series of cars that have been broken down and discarded for whatever reason. The sky is dark and raining down. We see Edward arriving on the scene wearing a no shirt, a denim sleeve jacket, loose-fitting denim jeans, and black sneakers on his feet. Edwards looks around and picks up an old rusted bumper and then throws it to the side. The camera comes close as Edwards sits down an old ford mustang car and looks at the camera in front of him. Since wrestling here, I've been showing what I can do in the ring. Nobody can defy what I can do in this ring. But there are a few people who dare talk down to me, and that is Mike Lavicle. This guy thinks he's so spooky -- yet I don't see it. This guy thinks that it's Halloween all year long, and that isn't true. Do you want to know something, Mike? You and your partner are a FUCKING joke, and you know it. How you guys are winning is beyond me. But your little victories are about to come to an end thanks to me. What happens between Ross and your partner doesn't concern me and never will. You know what I'm going to do, Mike? I'm going to hurt you and make you wish you would've stuck to something else. Inside and outside of that ring, I'm nobodies' friend. Why would I need friends when I can stick with myself? That ring is my battleground, and I will destroy all that dares steps foot in it. Mike, what you've done here so far is somewhat impressive -- but when we think about it, it won't be so great for you when you step in the ring and fight someone who knows how to fight. You have won, that we both can agree on -- but what's going to happen to the little momentum that you have going for you? Your world that you know is going to so FUCKED up that you don't know what's going to happen. He stands up from the ford mustang and drops off of it. He didn't even take his eyes off of the camera. He clutches his fist and looks at them. He brought his fist up and continued. You're going to see what I'm all about, Mike. Do you think you can handle that? I honestly don't think you can, and you know it, and you know that your world is going to destroy. I'm Jonathan Edwards, and I don't need to explain myself to a joker like you. He lowered his hands and looks at the camera in what could be a look of the truth. Edwards knows deep down that Mike is going to get hurt, and he knows that he doesn't care. He walks forward as the rain continued to pour. He kicks a couple of cans that are lying on the floor. He stops as puts his hands on his head and screams loud. He closed his eyes tightly. He lowered his hands and llooks at the camera.
Have you danced with the devil, Mike? Tell me, how far are you willing to go in order to achieve that said victory? Cause I can tell you right now that I’m will go to the depths of hells to win and send a clear message to anyone that fights me. Mike, when the time comes, I’m going to enjoy hurting you. You will understand what I’m about and more. Mike, I hoped you watched last week’s match because it was there where I proved to be the dominant gene that this place needs. They need me to continue my winning ways in order to show that there are some kind of decency inside of this pit. The sanatorium will be the place where Jonathan Edwards shall show his dominance.
Do you want to know why you’re here, Mike? You’re here to be the laughing stock of the company. I mean, look at you. You’re a FUCKING skeleton and I can’t wait to beat you down and hurt you. YOU WALKJNG INTO MY BACKGROUNDS, MIKE! YOU’RE A FUCKING DEADMAN WALKING. I FUCKING SPILLED BLOOD AGAINST MY ENEMIES.
He picks up a fuel can and throws it to the side. It hits a window hard enough and heard the window shattered. He turned back towards the camera and crossed his arms over his chest. He tilts his head a bit. He wanted to make sure that Mike understands what Edwards is talking about.
When this match happens, you know deep down that you’re fucked. Everyone knows just how tough I am. When you see that, you see a man that will brutalized anyone that dares step in the ring with him. As a tag team, you’re alright – but as a single competitor, you’re nothing. You want to know the difference between tag team and me? In a tag team, you have someone relying on help…but singles – it’s just you and me. When we get in that ring, it’s over for you.
He lifts up his hand and shows his fist toward the camera and smiles. His tattoo on his fist says STAY DOWN.
Sanatorium, you’re going to learn to STAY DOWN!
His eyes continue to look at the camera as the scene fades to black.
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