CEO
USER IS OFFLINE
Years Old
I bury hatchets, but I keep maps to where I put 'em.
601 POSTS & 58 LIKES
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Post by Eden on Jun 23, 2020 3:48:51 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): V vs Abby Evans
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Ascender
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Years Old
Female
49 POSTS & 6 LIKES
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Post by myalilabby on Jul 3, 2020 21:16:06 GMT -5
Camera fades to a gym that is in the Sanatorium and the only person in there is currently hanging upside down and doing sit-ups with her legs hanging over a push up bar. Her blue hair pulled back as the camera knows who exactly it is. It is Abby Evans as the camera gets closer as you see a small grin on her face.
Abby Evans- Hello again, welcome to the Sanatorium gym and to my home away from the cell. I tend to spend a lot of time here, centering my mind. Getting myself in the right mind set, I guess you can say. This is the main event. This is a tournament. This is for the Asylum Championship and while I may not be high ranked in this tournament, I am still going to come out and fight. That is what I do. It is who I am.
I guess we meet again V. Not often that I meet a man that uses a single letter or Roman Numeral as a name. Should I just call you 5?
Abby grabs the bar and sit on it as she looks into the camera.
So 5, what exactly do you have in that Oliver Twist mind of yours? What are you going to do to me? Are you going to steal to survive this match? I do hope that you end up putting up a fight because I could use one. You see I grow quite bored here. I need something to wake me up. I need that adrenaline. I need to have blood dripping off my face. I need to taste it. I need to move on and 5, I will do anything to get what I want.
Come on 5, *laughs* Sorry everytime I call you 5 I think of the robot from Short Circuit. But hey it’s your own dam fault for calling yourself V. I mean you could have always called yourself X but then again that does mean 10 in Roman Numerals so I guess that is out. How do you feel about calling yourself Q? Wait Wait, sorry I just went into James Bond and Star Trak territory.
Well dam I guess there is nothing we can call you 5. How about I just call you the loser of this match? Like I said earlier, one way or another I am moving on and I am going to win that belt. I want and love chaos. The more crazy, the more I love it. This is my domain and I plan on living it up as much as I can. Welcome to hell, 5, thanks for coming.
Abby jumps down from the bar before giving the camera the finger, which of course is blurred out, as she walk off towards the exit and back to her cell as the camera slowly fades out.
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Former Champion
USER IS OFFLINE
Years Old
Male
Warning: Passive Aggressive
6 POSTS & 1 LIKE
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Post by V on Jul 3, 2020 22:53:13 GMT -5
It wasn't the fights that were hard anymore for him.
It was the aftermath that was fucking horrible.
Oh, the hours and couple days after had always been rough. Felt like going through a car wreck. And just like a car wreck, when you were 25 you could bounce back one hell of a lot better than when you were a badly-preserved 38. His reconstructed shins screamed, his rebuilt shoulder groaned, and every time he moved his left arm everything from his pinkie and ring finger to his armpit lit up in an aching pain-- if it moved wrong, on a broken-bone level.
The fatigue felt like wearing a lead suit. Even sitting up on the couch took too much effort. He'd found himself slid to his side, head leaned on the armrest, eyes shut, not even sleeping just... existing one breath at a time. Off in his own head, because the intake of TV or podcasts was just too much, but so was shutting off his mental monologue altogether. Finally he caved and flipped on the TV anyway as at least some kind of background noise to shut out what was lurking in the dark corners of his mind.
Of course, it was on an ad to buy the replay of DreamState. A flicker of his face after he'd pinned Knight, out of context naturally, but... that smile on the screen made him wince as much as the physical pain had.
That's what they all wanted, that him. The vicious man, the one that got off on it all. Who could, momentarily, glory in destruction without thinking about the fact that violence was his whole mark on the world. Even his girlfriend wanted that him. He'd gotten angry about it, relented and fucking gave it to them all one more time. It'd probably been the first time he'd thrown himself into it since what had been meant to be his retirement match. But at least that match had been against a friend who was helping him say goodbye, not...
Not the first time he'd sold out since '08. Twelve fucking years of sticking to his own convictions, of always being honest in his own way even if he didn't like the match, of not feeling afterwards like he'd not only lied to everyone else but to himself as well. Even during the traumatic horror that'd put the demons in his head that Eden had exploited to get him in that position, he'd stayed true to himself. Waited for his opportunity, bided his time, sacrificed parts of himself to try to chisel an escape tunnel out... not this, not sacrificing someone else.
He had the finality of getting his little sister out of Sanatorium, at least. But something that seemed overlooked by everyone else was the statement during it that there was no out for him. He couldn't compete for his own freedom, just some leniency. Attempted murder was too much, circumstances didn't matter. They'd continue using him till he couldn't get the fuck back up again. He'd become that pit dog from twenty years ago all over again. Talk about going out the same way you came in.
And the dead truth of it was, the only thing stopping him from producing his own exit, in the most permanent and loudest way, was that he wouldn't let that match be the last thing he fucking did. Nikki and Sin would've hurt, but they'd've healed. As much as he'd sacrifice pieces of himself for the people who mattered, there reached a point where you had to ask if the constant hellish burning of existence to prevent something that'd happen for them eventually anyway was being any kind of fair to yourself. And if they knew, if they REALLY fucking knew what you felt like, and how there was zero way to make it better, if they wouldn't understand too.
Tell me something. What's easier to beat than someone who doesn't know what's happening, where they are, or what they're doing? I think the real question is: how do you beat anyone else when you're in that state?
You didn't, last time we faced. You were ill prepared then, and I have little reason to believe you won't be ill prepared this time too. You don't seem to take this whole thing very seriously. Maybe that wouldn't totally be your Achilles heel most weeks, but this week?
I've got a purpose here. See, I'm not done with what I started at DreamState. It's easily known by now that my deal with Eden was that I'd face Jacob Knight in exchange for my sister being moved to Dystopia. Thing is, she's the Asylum Champion right now, and that makes it hard to cut all ties binding her here. Of course, being Eden's favorite right now, she'd make sure I wasn't missing from a whole-roster tournament for the title. That just gives me the opportunity to finish this. To sever those remaining ties. Cut her clear, clean. Once she's lost the strap, she'll have no reason to come back here, especially if I happen to be the one to seal that fate. The kind of life that awaits on Dystopia, I know it. I've lived it. Soon as she's forced to let go of the strap, it'll swallow her alive. No coming back. And it'll be wholly, entirely better than any life she could've lived here.
Anyone who wants to face my little sister for her title? They're going to have to go through me to do it, because nobody who can't beat me in my current shape is fit to take it off her. And I can't risk failure.
Fail elsewhere, Abby. This is your last stop.
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