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Post by Eden on Jun 23, 2020 3:44:30 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!
Match One (Tournament): Chucky Ross vs Mara Soverna
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Post by Deleted on Jun 29, 2020 23:16:41 GMT -5
Tick tock.
Mara Soverna’s eyes open to the wide ocean ahead of her. The air from a world outside the chemical environment of the Sanatarium blows freely toward her, the sounds of seagulls echoing across the water as a salty scent fills her nose. She looks down at herself-dressed almost as a civilian, a pair of jeans and a tanktop, with a rather chunky tracking anklet above her left foot. She glances behind her, spotting a few of the Sanatarium guards who’ve been watching her since she was granted her day of freedom after her dominant victory over Krysis and Zach.
Soverna drops down over the ledge she was sitting on and walks out onto the soft sand of the beach. She goes down on her knees, despite her jeans, and lays her head in the sand for a moment, a soft smile on her face as she visualizes her last moments of freedom ticking down to nothing. There’s a flash of memory-something from far off that’s coming back for the moment, a burning smell, sirens, and a voice.
”Mara, what did you do?”
Care. Concern. Not rage. Mara focuses hard not to let the memory slip away, but she can just barely make out her response.
”I don’t know.”
Mara closes her eyes as her anklet buzzes, and the Sanatarium guards grab her by her shoulders and pull her back to the asylum van, restraining her as she sits down. Her eyes closed, she dozes off on her own will, for once, with a small smile on her face.
-
When we return to Mara Soverna, it’s clear this placid behavior hasn’t lasted long. She sits with her arms bound in a straightjacket, affixed to a chair in the center of a confinement room. Her left eye is bruised, and a slow trickle of blood comes from her left nostril. We can see, from the doorway, two bruised orderlies grunting to one another as they complain about her behavior, one marking something down on a notepad. They discuss the possibility of a sedative, but, judging from their condition and her restraint, decide against it.
Mara leans back in the chair, hanging her head over the wooden backing, and lets out a quiet chuckle.
“Freedom, it’s intoxicating, isn’t it? The idea that you can be free for a day, if you just follow the rules and drive someone else into the canvas, or damn near tear their arms off? I felt no remorse about giving the Crack Fiend what was coming to him, honestly. To tear his arms out of their sockets was a pleasure knowing what was coming, feeling the ocean air on my face. Sanitarium doesn’t limit what you can do on the outside, but what did I do?”
She lets out a small giggle.
“I enjoyed the world. Let the air wash over my face. Smiled. Put some thought into, y’know, why I was here-both on the face of this world and in the cells here. I think I got it figured out, y’know? Think I had a few ideas, a couple reflections as to why I came to this shithole-and what I’m gonna do while i’m here. I’m not crazy-not like some of the others here. The thing that keeps me sane is that hope, that dream that I’m gonna get those days outside these four walls, outside rooms like these. Hell-this tournament, being Asylum Champion? I bet that would get me all the fodder I could ever need, all the days outside I could ever want.”
She shrugs, although her arms are restrained. The blood trickling down her nose hits the collar of her straightjacket, and she swings her head back to swing it back up, before she continues.
“Chucky Ross. I don’t know much about you, save for the whispers I’ve heard through these walls. I’ve called your name out into the void when walking the hallways, when listening to the isolation cells, when the madmen’ve called for me, I’ve whispered your name back, and I’ve heard rumors. I’ve heard stories. I’ve heard the depraved and disenfranchised call out back to me, telling me about you. You’ve been around this place for a while, haven’t you? And what do you have to show for it? Your Order of the Soulless? Some wins that you’ve only achieved by playing with bent rules? For someone who’s been around the bend, Chucky, you don’t really impose fear into my heart.”
Soverna leans her head forward, and looks dead into the camera as she does so. The orderlies take a moment to pause and watch her, preparing another sedative if necessary, but she pulls back and they catch their breaths.
“You see, Chucky, I’m not fearless about everyone in this institution. I know there are men and women who’ve been here far longer than I have who’ve done far worse to people than I’ve done to people, but you, in particular? You don’t whiten my hair at all. You need a posse to run with? A gang to back you up in the ring?” Soverna snorts. “You’re a bitch, Chucky. You’re not hungry-hell, by the lacking of what you’ve done, you’ve probably never been hungry. You’re old news. Falling apart. Thirty-five and still between these four walls? A match against you won’t be a fair fight, it won’t be a balanced contest, when I get hold of your arms it’ll be a fucking mercy killing.” Soverna cackles and throws her head back again, before swinging forward.
“Y’see, Chucky, you, much like a lotta the other old guard here, you’re all fuckin’ ravenous. Freedom don’t appeal too much to you, because you’ve lost so much here that in your head, you’re already free in these walls. Nothin’ left for you on the outside, is there? Your compound, maybe, but your Order of the Soulless is still within these walls. Abby Evans still remains inside these walls. I have somethin’ out there. I have somethin’ to aspire to, I have freedom to go where I want to go, Chucky, I want to breathe the air out there more often, because it’s a hell of a lot less stale out there than it is in here.
But you know why else I’m glad I got this match against you, ‘side from you bein’ a gang-bangin’ bitch who needs his goons to fight a fight for him?”
Mara lets her words hang for a moment before she continues.
“Prison logic. They say when you come into a new place, when you walk into a cage, you gotta swing for one of the biggest motherfuckers there. And even though I don’t like you, you’ve got tenure. You’ve got longevity. I hate that, honestly-it bothers me that you can be here for as long as you are, havin’ goobers fight your fights for ya, and still come out on top. That you can still do what you wanna do. So, I’m gonna knock your fuckin’ lights out, Chucky. I’m gonna leave you layin’ when I dremel my boot into the side of your head, and leave a size seven indent in that fucked up skull of yours. An’, hell, if that won’t keep you down on account of the brain cells-or lack thereof-buzzin’ around in your noggin, I’ll grab your arms and rip and tear until they come the fuck free.”
Mara seems to get more ravenous as she leans forward in her chair, the orderlies taking notice as she swings her body forward.
“Because I was hungry in my cell, but the minute I found out we could get outside, that victory meant freedom, albeit temporary? I felt famished. I nearly killed the Crack Fiend last week, and that got me a few hours. Killin’ you will get me a few hours more, and so on and so forth, until I’ve got as many days on the outside as I could possibly need. I’ll need to drill through you either way to get to that fuckin’ Asylum Championship, too, and in addition to claimin’ the tenured rep you’ve got, that belt is gonna let people know I’m the top fuckin’ dog in here.
I know you ain’t the only dog in the tournament-I’d be stupid to think beatin’ you meant I was victorious-but it’d be a hell of a confidence boost when I have to go tangle with real heavy hitters like V, like Jacob Knight, like any of those motherfuckers who’ve been linin’ the posters of this joint for years. If I can kill one lifer, who’s to say I can’t kill another?”
Mara chuckles, and the orderlies prepare a sedative, but she goes calm for a moment, leaning back in her chair.
“Chucky, Chucky, Chucky...you better bring your A-Game, doll, and all your little Order buddies too...because if you slip up, I’ll make sure the next slip you take is into a fuckin’ coma.”
Mara laughs into the air as the orderlies push into the room, pushing the plunger of the needle down and sending her into a deep sleep…
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When Mara emerges from her deep slumber, she's sat in front of a therapist. The therapist looks her over as orderlies scan her eyes with a flashlight, searching for any sign of life therein. It's a few moments before the Girl from Nowhere begins to come to, and she does so with a hell of a grunt.
"Leave her be," The therapist muses. "It's nice to see you again, Mara."
Mara says nothing in response, merely glancing up from the confines of her jacket.
"Do you understand why the orderlies had to sedate you?"
Mara says nothing in response once again, but a mischievous smile crosses her face. The therapist takes a moment to judge her actions, before speaking up.
"This will work much easier for the two of us if you interact, Mara. I promise you that."
Mara lets out a sigh, and finally speaks.
"I apologize, doctor. I was just waxing poetic about how I'm going to cave Chucky Ross's stupid fucking skull in, and I assume I got a bit too excited about it. Wriggled around too much in that fancy chair." The therapist can't meet the glint in Mara's eyes. "I promise I'll be a good girl for the next time we meet-but I don't understand why what I said was so wrong. I don't get it."
"Mara," The doctor notes, "You can't just...y'know, go overboard with threats like that. You need to be respectful of those you're going toe to toe with."
Mara gives a nod, and seems to understand.
"Then, respectfully, I'm going to end Chucky Ross' life when I see him, and respectfully, I'm gonna tear his throat out with my teeth." Mara flutters her eyebrows. "Maybe I'll bring it to you as a gift when I see you next, too."
The doctor gives a nod, not really acknowledging the comment, and clears her throat. She looks over her paperwork.
"So...with this childish behavior out of the way, do you want to talk about why you're here in this facility?"
A silence. The rebellious aura in Mara's eyes is gone. There's a momentary hesitation-a fear?-before Mara manages a choked out, quiet response.
"...no."
Cut to black.
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Worker Bee
16 POSTS & 0 LIKES
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Post by Chucky Ross on Jun 30, 2020 7:59:14 GMT -5
"He just had the rotten luck of being born in the wrong century. He'd be right at home on some ancient battlefield swinging an ax into somebody's face. Or in a Roman arena, taking his sword to other gladiators like him."
- Dwight, Sin City
As the scene opens and the words fade away into the ether, we see "The Soulless Jester" Chucky Ross sitting in the "craft room" of the Sanatorium. He can be seen painting something. He eventually turns around to see that he is being observed.
"The Soulless Jester" Chucky Ross
Why hello there?
I guess I must speak to you all about the upcoming ass-kicking that I am about to give Mara Soverna.
Then he gets up to show what he was working on. It shows him hurting someone who looks like Mara Soverna very badly and having her locked in The Joke's On You and looking on with a look of agony and despair in her eyes. Then he looks up to see the camera in the room.
"The Soulless Jester" Chucky Ross
Some people say we are defined by our successes. I'm more of someone who believes that we're truly defined by our failures. How we respond to them, how we adjust, how we move on.
Then he walks away from the painting he was working on and starts walking around the "craft room" until he stops right in front of the camera.
"The Soulless Jester" Chucky Ross
It causes me a great deal of pain to say that I have faced people like you before Mara Soverna. And honestly, I'll give credit where it's due, people like you Mara Soverna have shocked me in the past. And because of that, I'll never take people like you lightly ever again, no matter how badly that will turn out for you and even me.
Sure, I have beat people like you in the past. I have more fun here in the Sanatorium then I have ever had in any of my other activities. I’ve fought for titles and have just been one step away from attaining the shiny piece of gold that everyone seems to be fawning over. For anyone else, that might be enough to crow about. I've seen wrestlers ride the momentum of far less.
But that's not me.
Then he looks down at one of the tables to see someone was trying to make an effigy or something like it to represent their opposition. He looks at it for a moment before he grabs it and breaks it. Then he throws it onto the ground and then stomps on it once or twice before he lifts his head up once more and continues talking.
"The Soulless Jester" Chucky Ross
I'm absolutely intrigued that you get to be my first. I'm better than that. I'm better than dismissing someone like you, Mara where winning means you advance to fight against another. I didn't get to the spot I'm at today by just approaching these things casually. I have in the past let myself get in my own head and believe my own hype, when I should have been staying focused.
So ultimately, in spite of the loss, I consider this tourney to be a positive. Not for what I am about to do, but for what I don’t get to do. It will be a humbling experience for everyone involved, to have all your dreams go up in smoke and proceed to leave people like you at square motherfucking one. Once I have wiped the ring with you Mara, I will not overlook my next opposition. Which is our current reigning and defending Underground Champion, Sin. So Sin, be prepared for the Magical Mystery that is I, “The Soulless Jester” Chucky Ross.
Then he starts to chuckle maniacally. Then after a few moments of this, he then puts a serious face back onto his face. Then he starts humming a song of some kind.
“The Soulless Jester” Chucky Ross
Now, I do what I always do. I adjust. I refocus. I get better. I take out my frustrations on my next opponent.
Yes, Mara Soverna, this song is definitely about you.
I know exactly who someone like you is. Your psychosis makes you think that people are out to get you and that you don;t think you belong in “normal society.” You've earned the right to be that fucking vain and stupid. But vanity has a price and my past encounters against people like you have proved that. Also, your stupidity will be your downfall. DO NOT FUCK WITH A MAD SOULLESS JESTER! THE JOKE WILL BE ON YOU STUPID FUCKING ASS!
Then he starts to maniacally laugh once more. Then his face turns slightly happy but still has a glint of “I will kill the next person who looks at me wrong.”
“The Soulless Jester” Chucky Ross
Who made who go mad and wind up in this place like this?
Oh, that's right. People like me are probably the reason you're having to be in the Sanatorium and fight people like me. You're welcome.
Make no mistake about it, I may have been humbled by people like in the past, but I am still damn confident in my abilities. I meant it when I said I'm looking forward to this match. A real test of my skills against a competitor such as yourself.
I may be better than what happened in previous encounters against people like you, but you know what else I'm better than?
Fighting someone in some random ass fucking locale such as a coffee shop.
Then he takes a few more steps before he turns to not face the camera and starts to head back towards his "painting." He stops and turns back around once he is next to it.
"The Soulless Jester" Chucky Ross
I'm also better than you.
That seems bold, brash, and possibly infringing on your lifestyle to say, but I believe it. I have to believe it, because if I don't push myself to be the best single competitor every single fucking time I go out there, then I don't deserve to be out there to begin with.
So yeah, I know exactly who people like you are. I know you're more than your nickname or even your wrestling style. I know you think you are accomplished and proud of everything that has come your way. But, and this is very important, I don't fucking care about any of that or who the fuck you think you are. To me, you are just another victim for The Joke’s On You. In the end, the accomplishments of 'The Girl from Nowhere’ Mara Soverna are just useless and meaningless words to me. They're footnotes on a career and life that only has a bearing on mine on this one night.
It's like I keep telling people. We are all just bodies for the sick and twisted entertainment for the masses that are going crazy right now with everything else going on right now around the world.
Then he looks up at the camera one more time and just grins devilishly. Then he continues to speak after a few moments of pausing.
"The Soulless Jester" Chucky Ross
That doesn't mean I'm taking people like you lightly, because I'll never do that again. But I don't give a fuck who you are or where you came from. I didn't come here looking for allies or friends. I came here to be champion. As a fellow veteran, I think you understand that. If you're as passionate as you say you are, you feel the same about me.
I give you the respect that you're owed and no more. Trust me, when you're headed to the back feeling every single blow your body took in this match, you and everyone else on the roster will know just how much I "respected" you by dealing out so much punishment to people like you. Know that the fact you're getting "The Soulless Jester" that dropped so many people on their heads with the Demonic Desensitization. That move alone shows exactly how much I'm taking this tournament seriously.
You are probably going to be right in some things you say. You're not Sin. You're not V. But that's bad news for you, because that means I'm not taking any chances.
I'm better than you. I believe it and I know it to be the motherfucking truth. When you wake up Monday morning in the fucking Medical Wing, you'll believe it too. Unfortunately, this educational process is going to really, really hurt a shit ton.
If 'The Answer' to the best wrestler in the Sanatorium is you, then it's time to change the question.
Then he looks into the camera one last time as he smiles demonically as the scene fades onto his painting showing the definitive outcome for Mara Soverna come Sanatorium and then violently goes black.
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Then we come upon Chucky leaving the “craft room” as two orderlies see him leaving there.
Orderly #1
Hey, what are you doing out of your cell Ross?
“The Soulless Jester” Chucky Ross
Oh hello Steven, I was starting to wonder when you knuckleheads would try to find me. I’ve been here for hours working on a masterpiece showing what I will do to Mara Soverna.
Orderly #2
We don’t care. We need you back into your cell now!
“The Soulless Jester” Chucky Ross
What no chase?
No fun!
Then he starts chuckling maniacally as he runs the opposite direction of where the orderlies are coming from. Then after a few moments of running, he leaps into an open closest and shuts the door.
“The Soulless Jester” Chucky Ross
Wow that was close. I struggle to recall a time when I was as low as I find myself presently.
This tourney will be my restoration. What more appropriate chain of events could there be than for me to win the top shiny prize?
Alas, it will not be your night Mara Soverna. Doubtless some will interpret the moment as symbolic of her own accomplishments and dethroning someone who is clearly her superior. I readily admit that losing to people like Mara did not sit well as I returned backstage, and so when I was offered a subsequent opportunity, the chance to participate in yet another dismantling of the dreams of another, I accepted the other to take from another that which once again was taken from me.
We must all at some point be forced to face the truth, to face the dark reflection of ourselves. It feels like a lifetime ago that people like Mara showed to try and stop my fun. Now as others attempt to regroup after coming up short once again, I rest assured that everyone will be kept awake the night of a crazed “clown” showing the Sanatorium that he means fucking business.
I must turn my own attention to the rest of the field of the tourney. Sin, our current reigning and defending Underground Championship dispatched my “brother in arms” in Phantom. Kiki, you dispatched my cousin-in-law in Gary Black. It will make for an unpredictable environment, and so I can think of no more fitting way to prepare for such encounters than one with a serpent with dubious certifications. Mara, you see your chances are slim to none in advancing. You see, when my family falls, something gets awakened inside of me and it wants to rip you limb from limb.
I have little doubt that Mara will not be the last snake I face on my journey to the Asylum Championship. That is the journey that lays before me, a path that takes me to people like Sin and eventually Nikki Caldwell and that which will be mine, that which none of these pretenders are deserved enough to hold.
Soon it shall be.
Then he maniacally smiles once more as he clicks the light off to end it.
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