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I bury hatchets, but I keep maps to where I put 'em.
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Post by Eden on Dec 20, 2020 23:50:00 GMT -5
LOCATION &a ARENATOKYO DOMETOKYO, JAPANROLEPLAY & SEGMENT DEADLINES Friday, January 1st, 2021 at 9 PM PST, Midnight EST, 11 PM CT (US) Saturday, January 2nd, 2021 at 5 AM (UK) Saturday, January 2nd, 2021 at 4 PM (AUS)
ROLEPLAY LIMIT ONE per competitor up to 1,500 words
SEGMENTS Reward: 1 bonus point added to your total rp score. Must be RSVPed by the RP deadline and submitted by Sunday Midnight CT (US) Open to Anyone! Match Four:Debut: David Morgan versus Hanari CarnesA veteran Brazen Bull. A young Perfect Storm in his prime. Both impressive as fuck on paper, to be sure. Will they capitalize on this opportunity at a huge stage to make their mark on the company?
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Post by Deleted on Dec 31, 2020 13:10:55 GMT -5
I still remember him. His name was William. A shy young chap, but smart. So smart. William came from a poor family, and growing up his goal was to get his family out of the slums of Santo Domingo and to a nice house in the serene and rolling hills of Las Terrenas. His parents both worked hard, but increasing taxes in the area, as well as a new governmental body who was even more brutal than the last regime, had taken over. Most of their money was taken from their checks to go to public health systems and urban development.
*More people died from illness in his neighbor than anywhere else on the island. The lines to the clinics were often a mile long and the doctors had quotas on the number of patients they were allowed to see per month. His neighborhood could only be described as "decay", with many of the houses sliding off their foundations and open holes in the siding where you could observe the family eating dinner by just driving by. So where was their money really going?*
William often fantasized about the mobsters he saw in the movies and on television, when he was fortunate enough to get a less fuzzy reception. One of his favorites was Scarface. Al Pacino. Sitting there, a designer suit in a house as large as his entire block, with a mountain of cocaine, a hot girl, and more than than he could spend in a lifetime. He had a Scarface poster in his room above his bed, and it was his most prized possession. He had won it at a carnival a few years back, before he had even seen the movie, and had been obsessed with it ever since. His life was pretty boring. Go to school, come back, do homework, chores, go to bed. Rinse and repeat. The Scarface fantasy was simply that, a fantasy. Honestly, it is what kept him going. Sometimes, on his walk home, he would talk in the Scarface accent and quote the movie.
It was on day when his life would all change. He was on his way home from school, backpack on, and lost in his thoughts. It was a warm spring day. As he turned the corner, to enter his neighborhood, he was almost knocked over by someone running full speed past him. He side stepped at the last moment. Before he could gather this thoughts and asses the situation, another figure came flying by him, and in the blur it looked as though he had a gun. Black, shiny in the bright Caribbean sun, and there was a faint smell of gunpowder.
It had recently been fired.
The second figure, however, was running with reckless abandon, and apparently wasn't watching where he was going.
Or perhaps didn't care.
He crashed into William, and they both went tumbling to the ground.
"Que carajo pendejo!" the man yelled, flipping to his feet and pointing the gun directly at the head of William. The boy scrambled to his feet, putting his hands up.
"¡No dispares! No quiero hacerte daño!" (Don't shoot! I mean you no harm!)
The man looked behind him at the emptiness of the street. He turned back and said that his target was gone, that he had made off with the money, and it was all William's fault. He pointed the gun again. William backed against the wall.
"¡Espero que hayas rezado, imbécil, porque este es tu último día en la Tierra!" (I hope you said your prayers, asshole, because this is your last day on Earth!)
William closed his eyes as he felt the gun pressed up against his head. His closed-eye vision was Scarface, sitting there at the table with all the money and the cocaine, and the suit. Oh, the suit. He always wondered what he would look like in a suit. Would they even bother to dress him in a suit for his funeral?
Just as he heard the hammer click, his mouth opened and he said words unconsciously. He didn't even mean to say them, but he did. It was his fantasy talking. His didn't even recognize his tone, it was cold, and flat.
"Puedo devolverte el dinero." (I can get you the money back.), he said, "Puedo devolverte el dinero."
The man un-cocked the gun, and William let out an audible sigh of relief. His eyes shot open, however, when the man asked him how.
William had to think fast, because he knew his life depended on it. In all honesty, he had no idea how he was going to help the armed thug get the money back. "¿Era hierba o cocaína?" (Was it weed or cocaine?")
The man looked at him, tilting his head like a dog trying to figure out the command.
After what felt like an eternity, the man spoke. "cocaína".
A smile crossed his lips.
It was a drug deal gone bad. The buyer had set this man up, taking off with both the drugs and the money he was supposed to pay for them.
"¿No recibiste el dinero primero?" ("You didn't get the money first?")
The man seemed annoyed that this skinny little boy was calling him out, questioning his practices. He re-cocked the gun. He told William that it didn't matter what happened, he was either going to help or die.
He knew that most people who bought coke did coke. Most of the time, they weren't in their right mind. He figured that whoever took the coke was probably doing the coke, and his cravings for the worlds most profitable party drug had gotten the best of him.
William asked the armed man about patience. How was his? Because this guy was going to need his fix again. If he could wait, one of his associates was could set up the deal. This dude got away with it once, he was gonna try it again. The man seemed hesitant, but William assured him that the plan would work. The man opened William's backpack and took one of his documents out. He had his name now, he could find him. The armed man folded the document and put it in his pocket. He told him to be down by the docks in 3 days, 11 am.
If it didn't work, surely William's entire family would be killed.
He didn't sleep well for 3 days. He was anxious. He had no idea if this plan would work. He was tempted to tell his family about his run-in with the gangster, to leave and move to another town, to get the police involved.
But as he stared at that Scarface poster, he got his confidence back. It would work. It had to work. It always worked in the movies.
All he could do was hope.
The day came. He skipped school to meet down by the docks. The old rickety docks were quiet, eerie. There were several boats parked, many of which were not usable.
There was nobody down by the docks, he was all alone. His mind raced that perhaps this was a set up. Perhaps the man had duped him, and his family was in danger right now. Why wasn't he here?
William sat down on the docks, his feet just above the water. All he could do was wait.
After what felt like a calendar year had passed, a car pulled up to the far end of the docks. A man got out. A different goon than the one he had mistakenly crashed into the other day. The man looked at the boy, and nodded. After another 10 or so minutes, a tweaked out looking man in a beater and gym shorts rolled up on a bicycle. He got off, propping the bike up on one of the doc pillars. He walked over to the man.
William pretended like he didn't know what was going on, like he was minding his own business.
But he heard every word.
He listened to the deal go done, and the man who got out of the car stay calm. Just then he heard a door shut, and looked over his shoulder. The man he had "met" the other day had gotten out of the back seat, holding that pistol again. He crept up behind the man. William looked straight ahead at the watery horizon.
He flinched when he heard the gunshot.
Then another.
Then another.
Then all was silent.
A single tear fell down William's face. His plan had worked, as far as he could tell. But a man was dead because of it. A man who may not have been a bad man, but was just a little messed up. A habit, an addiction that crippled his mind.
He opened his tear filled eyes again when he heard the splash. The man floated for a few seconds before sinking to the depths of the Atlantic. They had tied his own bike to his legs.
Footsteps behind him, and a hand on his shoulder. He flinched again. Turning around and standing up, he was face to face with the man from the alleyway.
"Buen trabajo niño" (Good job, kid) he said, handing William $100 US Dollars. That amount of money would feed his family for a month!
The man nodded before walking back to the car. William just stared at the bill in his hand.
As the car pulled away, all he could see was Scarface. Don't make deals with them either.
When they collect, they collect with interest.TO BE CONTINUEDI come here to make an impact. I come here to be successful. I come here to turn WWH upside down. When Angelica Ambrose reach out to me, she tell me she want Hanari to come to WWH and be the difference maker dey need.....be the X-Factor, bring a level of extreme to Dystopia.
I heard it in her voice, and I saw it in her eyes when we finally met at WWH offices.
She wants to fuck me. She wants Hanari Carnes. I do no blame her, there hasn't been a women I have ever come across who hasn't.
So she introduce me to de staff, get me all set up, signed up, and booked me for my first match here at de Pay Per View Shogun. Me, Hanari Carnes, de Dominican business man who came into XWF and in my second EVER match, broke Mastermind's 129 TV title streak to become de champ. De man who made it to de Tag Team Finals and took down Apex by myself. De man who has been an X-Treme champ numerous times. WWH knew what they were doing, and they are paying me lots of dollars Americana for it.
Dey have a David Morgan problem, and Hanari Carnes is here to solve it. Chu see, the WWH needed a shot in de arm. Dey needed a vaccine, a fixing to the sickness. There is a storm coming, and they don't have their shelters ready. Chu see, I get what I want. If I want to be a champion, I become it. If I want to be a staff member, I become it. If I want to hurt someone...well....chico....best believe I do it. The submission master, I break arms for the fun of it. When I lock David Morgan into Viva la Republic I am going to show de world exactly what Angelica Ambrose did. Exactly the problem she caused, de storm she brewed, de monster that she paid to hurt dat man.
De storm is coming, and I don't think anyone es ready.
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Post by David Morgan on Jan 1, 2021 21:09:25 GMT -5
The sound of cloth brushing a microphone and an abruptly moving image from a mounted came comes slowly into focus, the image it shows is a youthful looking David Morgan in a comically exaggerated Minotaur costume on Smiling awkwardly into the camera. The heavy black diamond shapes around his eyes intensifying the sugar charged expression of excitement he wore.
”O..Oh…. Okay, Is alright, is this on? Alright everyone. You can, uhm… You can call me Bull or David. David Morgan. And I’m recording this in a hotel room somewhere in the northeast, and it is the morning after Halloween. If you’re seeing this. That means I got on the roster and I am lined up for my first match. Well let me tell you all a bit about me. I will go through the questions most commonly already asked of me. To keep this as simple as I can make it.”
David reached a leather bracer clad arm up to swipe his hair out of his line of sight, also absently grabbing a drink from a cup off camera. With a deep breath he smiles and continues speaking.
”Alright. Sorry, warheads dried my mouth out there. Now, from the top. I am a loyal family man, and I repay those who take it upon themselves to help me when I need it, to the best of my ability. I am billed yes from Macedonia, but I’ll admit I don’t know alot about the area, as I spent almost all my time in my later youth athletically training up. One of my biggest inspirations in those days were well, the heroes of Greek myth, and the living legend himself Alexander. Well I guess I should say The Once Living Legend…. But the point remains, in the ring. I want to emulate that legendary conqueror and dominate the ring against my poor opponent. The belt is just a symbol of that in the end, it’s knowing that I can achieve it…. That’s what’s driving me here as I join this growing roster of fellow athletes.”
David coughs at this point and abruptly breaks the pace he had slowly been building as he talked, reaching once more to drink from the cup still remaining off camera. Clearing his throat after drinking from it he covers his mouth and smiles at the camera through his fingers. After staring at the camera seemingly lost in thought David suddenly snaps his head to either direction. Blinking repeatedly, before dropping the camera with a start.
”Damnit, oh. Well sorry, dropped the stick. Ummm, well I don’t know who would be watching this, or who I should be addressing here, I guess I hope it can make it out to my hopeful fans somehow, but maybe its just reviewed by the people in charge…. I really, hmm. Either way. I thank you both. Hopeful or possible fans, and the ladies and gentlemen who hired me onto the roster. For my possible opponent, I’m not bolstering. Let this match be evidence of our skills on their own and respect the traditions of good sportsmanship, at least to begin with. Hahahahaha
As he continued speaking to the camera David adjusted the apparent stick the camera had been attached to show walls that bore symbols of past successes and failures. A plaque holding a photograph baring the words “EMW 3K Middleweight Champion”, another nearby with a white shirt riddled with scrawled signatures and showing what may be blood stains, The Shirts own frame plaque simple stated “Remembering PWE” David finally took notice of his weaving camera skills and twisted the view of the camera to once more focus on himself.
“Sorry about that, dealing with a bit of a sugar headache from last night. Like I said it’s the morning following Halloween. I’m a little bit excited, maybe hyped a bit from all that sugar… But it doesn't change. I want the number one spot, that’s my goal, my finish line, my bullseye. And only a madman… Or a mad woman, stands in the path of a charging bull. You risk your life doing something like that. I mean you don’t have to wonder why they don’t do that ‘Running of the Bulls more than that once every year, do you?”
Just as The painted excitedly rambling man proposed his question the sound of a default cell phone ringtone chimed from the direction of David’s drink. AS he quickly snapped his hand out to answer it he shifted the camera between his steady right hand and far shakier left hand. As he did he still was sure to keep his actual phone screen out of view of the camera. Muttering.
”Fool me once V, shame on you, But fool me Eleven times….Nuh-uh.”
The sugar high man absentmindedly said, the sound of a text message having successfully sent could be heard before David’s eyes trailed from the off screen phone back, up to return to focusing on the camera once more. He smiled broadly, his unshaven face angling as if he were posing for paparazzi even while recording this explanatory if rambling video. Given a much better view of the painted paper mache bull’s longhorns DIY Strapped to the sides of his blonde haired face.
”If this find’s the bosses upstairs somehow, and you use this as a basis of whether you hire me or not. Just know I bring my best into the ring and into my public appearances, my father raised me sirs or madams that when I am on the clock and I am appearing away from my place of employment, I represent that business even still, and so, as my nephew is prone to say “It’s time for Maximum Effort.” I thank you for the opportunity to show a new audience what I can do.Again, I Thank you.”
At this point the video cuts out abruptly, With a hastily pieced together digital overlay reads out.
“One Week Before Debut”
David A. Morgan
The camera’s view is very close to David’s face and the room around him is very dark apart from the camera’s own lacking built-in light.
“This is just a little update as we’re approaching my debut match officially. I’ve only seen my opponent’s picture.. I don’t know anything about them, and I already feel sorry for them… This is gonna be great. As my friend Al says “That guy looks like the sort of knob you’d pay to see get clocked in the face.” Sorry, If I’m a little graphic I’m a little holiday sauced. I just had to say it though and get it out of my system, still no idea who it is that is going to be seeing this. But either way. Yeah my opponent’s not giving me too much reason to be afraid, Just being honest with you. Okay, I…. Yeah I’m gonna go pray at my porcelain throne. And I will see you all come, match time…Bug Bye!”
At that point the video feed cuts out flat once again. A Crowd Style Sign quickly filling the Screen stating. “Seasons Greetings Everyone, From The Brazen Bull.”
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