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Apr 3, 13 at 8:19pm ^re: Total Championship Wrestling: Roleplay Thread II
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Damien Sandow with Percy Watson
"Ok, please take a seat, Mr..." begins Damien Sandow as he sits back in his chair, placed right in the middle of the living room of his apartment.
"Watson," finishes Percy Watson, dressed in a black and white suit.
He looks out of place in the rather humble apartment, which while it has a fire, two club chairs and a coffee table with a chess board on top, it lacks a coach, television or any sort of cabinets and as a result seemingly unorganised pages are lying widespread throughout the place.
Mrs Turner ushers Percy in the door gently while herself squeezing out the door, flashing Damien a warming smile as she leaves, which he replies to with an overly false one.
Sandow looks up at Watson, surprised to see him still standing.
"Take a seat," he says, gesturing towards the vacant of the two chairs, but then quickly corrects himself and holds up his hand "Actually, stand for a moment, please".
Percy looks confused as Sandow studies him up and down, squinting his eyes and nodding to himself.
"Yes, ok, now you may sit."
Percy slowly sits down, using his walking stick to aid him down onto the seat. Sandow continues to further study him, which seems to make the patient a little uncomfortable.
"You always were a bit of a weird dude, you know," he says, laughing nervously.
"Excuse me?" responds Sandow, clearly confused.
"You know, back in the day, you had these weird habits and ways of looking at people."
"I'm terribly sorry but I thought you were here for a therapy session?" asks Sandow, not rudely but curiously.
"Oh I am," Percy explains hastily, not wanting to get off on the wrong foot with the man he'll ultimately end up spending a lot of time with over the next few weeks, months, maybe years...
"This doesn't happen often but...I'm quite confused. You know me from somewhere?" enquires Sandow.
It is now Percy's turn to look confused, as he begins to explain, "Damien Sandow, the wrestler, the intellectual saviour of the masses, that stuff."
"Ah!" Sandow says with a click of his fingers, having clocked onto what Watson is talking about. "You recognise me from my days with the WWE..." he says, rolling his eyes as he remembers his past days with the company. Percy is, of course, entirely unaware that Sandow had an unsuccessful interview less than an hour ago with Vince McMahon himself about the possibility of joining TWC, which won't happen due to Sandow's refusal and or inability to kick his recreational (his words, not mine) use of cocaine and morphine. "Were you a fan?"
Percy looks entirely confused by the question. Obviously he understands what he means by 'Were you a fan?' but paradoxically he fails to understand what he means by 'Were you a fan?' Does Sandow not remember him?
'No, no,' Percy begins, "I mean...yeah, but no I'm not a fan, I'm a wrestler".
"Oh!" Sandow says, sitting forward, his eyes widening. "Work in the indy leagues, do you? Ring of Honor? New Japan? Or are you more the..." Sandow shudders as he thinks about what he's about to say, "hardcore type? CZW more your thing? Sandow puts his hand up in a 'Stop' motion and prevents Percy from replying. He leans forward, looking close into Percy's eyes. "No, not CZW. Definitely not."
Percy looks genuinely shocked that Sandow doesn't remember him.
"WWE, man! You don't remember me? Showtime Watson?"
Sandow's eyeballs glance upwards as he appears to be concentrating, mouthing the word 'Showtime' as he digs into his memory, but he slowly shakes his head.
"No. 'Fraid not."
TO BE CONTINUED
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Apr 4, 13 at 11:08am ^re: Total Championship Wrestling: Roleplay Thread II
Exclusively on TCW.com
"Oh, it has been a long time coming..."
In the basement of a building, surrounded by humming generators, sits a man in the shadows. No facial features, no tattoos, no scars, nothing suggests who this man's identity truly is. His deep voice is his only giveaway, but it does not most wrestling fans. As he stands up to continue his monologue, it becomes apparent the substandard quality of the room he is in, for the noise being made by the generator almost overpower his voice.
"And as you can see, I'm still being treated the same way I was before. Some things never change in this business. Junior, that Hall-of-Famer's kid, he gets his million dollar locker room and hotel suite. Even The Kid, the one who some higher up sees and takes a liking to, is given the key to a nice room. Me, The Backstage Wrestler, the no-name unknown, a room like this. Just try to hear what I say over the sounds of these machines. If that's not enough, then try to listen over the shoddy recording of this 90's camera. But really, you won't watch this. You'll just see some smark's comments on a message board. They'll probably stick this as some website exclusive so I have something from the past year on my biography page. Not even an TCW App exclusive. Think of that."
This mysterious man stands up off of a stool and walks between the machines, the lights in the room failing to unmask him. Surprisingly, the camera follows the man instead of staying stationary on a tripod. He tugs on his jacket, lifting it off his shoulders before setting it back down, and places a hand on the wall. The realization of exactly where his career is causes the man to lower his head, shaking it back and forth in disappointment.
"For years now I've been...actually, I haven't even gained the opportunity to be in rooms like these, cutting segments like these. I've been forced to be the third guy backstage, only performing if the two jobbers before me were both hurt or took a day off. I never did, yet I rarely found myself in the ring. Funny, ain't it. I almost never stepped inside that squared circle, yet I'm the one in the gym every day, at every show, on the road every night, on this TCW schedule 365 days every year. All that work and effort I put in, and for what? To have half a dozen matches a year? To be an extra in crowd scenes, to be the third man thrown out in a midcard battle royale? To be the guy on the roster that the fans say to dump? Like I'm deadweight? No. Not anymore. I am sick of it."
With that last line the man punches the wall. A large pound is heard, and the first bit of color, not black or white or gray, appears as blood drips from the man's knuckles. He brings it up to his face to suck the blood up, to clean the wound in the most savage of ways.
"This? This is nothing. This pain is nothing compared to what I've faced for so long. But now it is time. Time for a movement. For change. As a wise man once said, 'The oppressor never voluntarily gives freedom to the oppressed. You have to work for it. Privileged classes never give up their privileges without strong resistance.' For too long I have been oppressed. Forced to ride in the back of the bus 365 days of the year. For too long have I worked just to get by. Now, now is my time to obtain what I deserve. I am the resistance, the change, the movement. I am the force that will change TCW. And you'll see it. So, for the few of you who took the time to watch this: tell your friends, tell them on facebook, tell them on twitter. Let them know what will happen. They won't listen, I know this much. But they will learn soon enough. They will see the change occur before them."
Finishing his speech, he raises his hand, the one dripping with blood, in the air. He reaches around, finds the light switch, and pulls it down, shrouding himself in complete darkness.
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Apr 4, 13 at 12:01pm ^re: Total Championship Wrestling: Roleplay Thread II
King of the Ring Final
Santino Marella vs. Antonio Cesaro
Pacing back and forth, back and forth somewhere backstage is Antonio Cesaro. Antonio Cesaro is wearing a white hoodie with black leather pants while in his right hand is a mobile phone. Antonio Cesaro then switched it off and put it in one of the two pockets on his pants. After doing that Antonio Cesaro leaned against the wall, seemingly waiting patiently for a certain person to come. A couple minutes pasted and finally a person showed up, in the form of TCW interviewer Todd Grisham. Todd Grisham has a cameraman right behind him and once the duo got to Antonio Cesaro, Todd Grisham went to one side of Antonio Cesaro, with a microphone in his right hand. Meanwhile the cameraman got into position and signalled that they can begin the interview.
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Apr 4, 13 at 4:23pm ^re: Total Championship Wrestling: Roleplay Thread II
Finisher: Depths of Despair (Face First Reverse Powerbomb)
(1 DAY AFTER TCW WARZONE)
Lying curled up on a bare wooden floor in a basement somewhere The Boogeyman scrunches his eyes as the searing light of the sun pierces through one of the small glass window panes tucked away in the top left hand corner of the room. Fumbling around with his arm outstretched he manages to grab a blanket as he pulls it back over his head.
"GO AWAY, GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE"
It was one day removed from his encounter with the depraved Dean Ambrose. The Boogeyman had lost........again. His voice was rough and scratchy and in need of rest. He looked a shell of his recent self. We had recently become accustomed to seeing a more focused and determined beast than we had ever seen before but this time things were different. He looked dejected and once again appeared like a man who had nothing to live for. As he slowly creeps out from underneath the blanket he wipes the sleep from his eyes and stretches out fully before sitting with his legs crossed in the middle of the floor, the bruises all over his body the result of the brutal beating he received last night. Clearly he had some demons of his own to conquer. From the look in his eyeballs last night it was spirits, not ghostly apparitions but whisky and vodka and plenty of it, anything to banish the past couple of weeks from his memory. With his head in his hands he shakes his head in disgust.
"I HAVE LET MYSELF DOWN........I HAVE LET YOU DOWN!!!"
As he sits pondering life and what to do next a shadow figure of a man is standing in the far corner of the room, hidden from vision behind the staircase that leads down into the basement. The mysterious figure starts to slowly make his way over to The Boogeyman. Standing inches from him the figure crouches down, cups his hands and whispers into his ear as The Boogeyman listens intensively, hanging on to each word. As the final words are spoken the dark figure moves back under the staircase and fades into the darkness. That trademark evil smirk returns and beams all the way across the Soul Destroyers face, whatever was said had seemed to do the trick.
"IT IS CLEAR NOW WHAT I HAVE TO DO....... I WILL NOT WAIVER FROM MY RESPONSIBILITIES.........I WILL NOT STOP UNTIL WE CONQUER WHAT WE SET OUT TO DO.............I PROMISE YOU THAT"
It is hard to think about but this was no longer the "man" we seen in his WWE days. This was a guy who once appeared on the reality TV show Tough Enough desperately trying to prove himself and earn a shot at a contract on the way to becoming a professional wrestler. This was once a guy with a normal life known as Martin Wright to his family or "Marty" to his close friends. He had a real life but somewhere along the line he had been engulfed by evil which had taken over his very being. It is now the only thing that is keeping him going, the only reason he continues to breathe. He truly is the Soul Destroyer, not just some gimmick given to him by the creative team but a sadistic individual who would end your life without hesitation. Looking like his "normal" self, his mind was full of sick ideas for what he would do to the scum who dared show their face and step inside that ring with him on Sunday.
(Backstage at the night of the King of the Ring Pay-Per-View)
Sitting behind the curtain of the titantron away from all the lights and noise of the crowd The Boogeyman paces back and forth impatiently waiting for his music to hit. The anger and guilt etched all across his face. He places his hands together and cracks his knuckles. He clearly has a few things to get off his chest this evening following the past few weeks where things haven't exactly gone according to plan.
*I'M THE BOOGEYMAN AND I'M COMING TO GET YOU*
As his music hits The Boogeyman pulls his hooded cloak up over his head and marches towards the curtain with his red eyes the only thing visible from inside the darkness of the hood. As he pulls back the black velvet curtain he is met with boo's that almost deafen him. It doesn't affect him, but it never does. Strangely he does not antagonise or try to intimidate the crowd on his way down to the ring but some audience members can't contain there delight at his recent demise and hurl abuse at him from every angle, the venom in their words making it clear exactly what they thought of him. He walks past the announce table and brushes past the bell keepers desk and grabs a mic. He turns back round and proceeds to walk up the silver steel steps and climbs over the top rope into the ring. Taking a moment to contemplate what he is about to say and at the same time trying to compose himself he begins to speak.
"So i have now been defeated two weeks in a row and it appears i am suffering a slump in form. Two weeks ago it was Wade Barrett who eliminated me from the King of The Ring tournament, last week it was THE champion Dean Ambrose. When i came into this business my sole aim was to crash my way through and destroy as many opponents i could. This is not the way i had planned it. I was supposed to come in and dispose of anyone who HE deemed unworthy. Now i am not out here to make excuses but.............."
As the Soul Destroyer pauses for breathe the crowd start a "YOU SUCK" chant, with all the noise hurling towards the man in the middle of the ring. Unluckily for them it did not faze him, in fact he reveled in knowing people had paid their hard earned cash just to voice their dislike for him, it made him feel vindicated in his own choices. As the chants continued the crowd knew what was coming next. When The Boogeyman first suffered defeat at the hands of Roman Reigns he pinned the blame on an innocent referee, but who was he going to blame this time?
"AS I SAID.....................I am not out here to make excuses but that has NOT been me in that ring lately, especially not against Ambrose. The way i saw it was Ambrose is a monster in himself, he is like me in the sense that he has no fear and no regret, he does what he wants and will not stop in his pursuit of reaching his own personal goals. I was in that match with Ambrose in body only but my spirit and soul was elsewhere. Why would i be wasting my time on trying to strip a soul from a man who does not have one to begin with? I am here to collect pure souls, from the "good" men in society. The sort of men who do things in the "right" way. People who do what they are TOLD. The good thing about that is i have plenty of options to choose from at tonights King of The Ring Pay-Per-View where i will go toe to toe with not only one opponent but FOURTEEN other superstars for the chance to become the number one contender for the TV Championship...... NOW THAT'S ALOT OF SOULS"
Licking his lips and rubbing his hands together with glee and a glint in his eye The Boogeyman was excited at the prospect of what he could do to his opponents later on tonight. He could claim as many as 14 souls if he played his cards right, he planned on being the only person to walk away from that match without being physically or mentally affected for years to come. He knew there would be some stiff competition especially in the form of Wade Barrett and Roman Reigns whom he has tasted defeat to previously. On the other hand he knew there was guys in that ring who did not stand a chance, who were cannon fodder, ready to be torn apart at will. Most importantly though he had a message for every single one of those guys he was ready to demolish tonight.
"There is no point in constantly refusing the advances of evil, EVERYONE has evil lurking in them somewhere, either on the surface or underneath and i am the one to expose and bring out that evil from within. People are no saints as they try make out. Why do you constantly stay in line and do as is expected of you? Always walking that line, it's a son of a bitch of a line, straight and narrow, sharp as a razor and causing you to constantly bleed. It is never ending. Why do you do it to yourselves?"
Pointing out into the crowd the question was not only for the men he would face tonight but to the universe as a whole. Shrugging his shoulders and looking for a response but all he gets is boo's, just as expected. The crowd did not like what they were hearing but The Boogeyman thought he knew the real reason they were jeering him, they knew what he was saying was the TRUTH.
"Now don't you ever and be honest with yourself.......... just for one brief second of your life wonder why you don't step off that line and step over to the dark side?"
Trying to convince everyone in attendance to see things from his perspective he holds his hands out clasped together and drops to his knees pleading for the fans to agree with him. Any pleading he was doing was having no affect especially as he was laughing sarcastically whilst doing it. The crowd bellow out chants of "NO! NO! NO!". Everyone was making The Boogeyman know that they did not agree with anything he has just said.
"IF you ever did stray from the path and happen to join the dark side it will feel like walking on cool grass, you could do as you please and finally act out your wildest fantasies. You should heed this warning. You will only get ONE chance and after that you're on your own and make no mistake about you will live with that regret for the rest of your miserable existence"
Even though the crowd were vocal in their disapproval, at that moment he looked assured and satisfied. He had said everything he wanted to and he would now prepare for his match later in the evening. Just as he puts his left foot over the top rope he throws the mic out into the crowd and the thud of the impact as it bounces of a childs head brings a smug look of sickening pleasure to the face of the maniacal Soul Destroyer as his feet land on the concrete floor. The crowd are horrified and understandly visibly shaken by what has just transpired. Some male adults in the crowd immediately sprint towards and scale the barricades trying desperately to get their hands on The Boogeyman but his disciples appear from nowhere and see to every one of them.... or so they thought.
As one of the males races up the ramp The Boogeyman turns round just in time and delivers a vicious big boot to the face of the fearless and perhaps naive parent. His head bounces off the steel as he writhes about in agony clutching his head. Looking around the arena The Boogeyman basks in the torrent of abuse pouring down from the rafters, the security straining in their attempts to hold back the baying crowd. The Boogeyman has sent his message loud and clear, no-one is safe anymore, no-one in attendance in the crowd, no-one at the commentary booth and no-one backstage in the locker room. It was time, time to collect.
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Apr 4, 13 at 5:44pm ^re: Total Championship Wrestling: Roleplay Thread II
The following is a joint roleplay by MAXAKASINNER & Winter1
Josh Matthews: "Welcome to this TCW App exclusive interview with Sir William Regal and CM Punk. Thank you for being here. I want to start off by asking you two how do you feel about your victory last night on TCW?"
Punk: "Why thank you Josh, maybe you should ask Heath and Taiji how did it feel to get there asses kicked."
Regal: "Ahh Josh, how nice it is to not have to flog the help until they get my name right. It took Mr Striker 3 weeks. How do we feel about the win? what a reasonable yet predictable question that is... well I'm satisfied by the win, I stated last week that Sir Punk and myself have enough about ourselves to defeat a seemingly random tag team of people who can't even talk to one another efficiently. We met our target and met it well. It's a firm platform to build upon."
Punk: "Yeah what my fellow winner said. We met our target."
Josh: "At the upcoming King Of The Ring PPV how do you feel about both being in the ring at the same time against one another"
Punk: "Wow first time i'm hearing this, William you can take this first."
Regal: "Certainly Mr Punk, a battle royal is something that is unpredictable, wild, savage and no amount of planning can guarantee you a win. I do feel that Sir Punk and myself have an advantage over a lot of the others due to the fact we're a team and can watch each others back, get to the final 2 and let the best man win. I see the match as something that can help us as a team considerably regardless if we win or not."
Punk: " Yeah Battle Royales are savage! no technical moves no real wrestling we mays well have a match in mud!. Josh we need organization otherwise we descend into chaos. Anymore questions?"
Josh: "Yes erm...how do you both feel about losing out in the King Of The Ring?"
Punk: "To a sense if we hadn't lost our matches we wouldn't had our tag match and have defeated the asian and the other irrelevant guy. Looking back, Kurt Angle was only capable of doing a Ankle Lock that was it. Its a submission move and that's it. If i would have locked him into the Anaconda Vise he would have tapped. Like i did."
Josh: "Anything to add Sir?"
Regal: "I came a week or two too late to enter the KOTR so I haven't really thought about it if I'm being honest. I've won a similar tournament a few years ago so if I did enter this years event I would like to think I'd of went far. Is that all Josh?"
Josh: "Yes that will be all. Thank you Sir Regal and Mr Punk"
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Apr 4, 13 at 7:07pm ^re: Total Championship Wrestling: Roleplay Thread II
- PARENTAL DISCRECTION IS ADVISED -
Recent Events: Just as Warzone was drawing to a close, Ric Flair announced that Ryback has been added to The Brian Kendrick and Dean Ambrose's World Title match at King Of The Ring. He stormed the ring and the two competitors began to scale the titantron to escape his wrath. This proved to be fatal as Ryback extraordinarily tripped the tower over and caused both men to fall 40 feet into electrical equipment.
Chapter 9 - The Dean Ambrose Problem
With the latest edition of Warzone, the dust of Total Championship Wrestling has gone from stirring to entering hurricane mode as superstars and fans alike begin to get excited as we are on the straight and narrow road to King Of The Ring. Pay-Per-View week is always exciting, and this one particularly exciting with so many talking points: Drew McIntyre trying to cement himself as the long-term TV Title holder, the return of The Sultan of Sleaze Alex Shelley, the World Title being defended in a triple threat and, of course, the King Of The Ring final. Of course, Pay Per Views are also a big thing for creative writers, finance brokers and executives as the numbers crunch together and they see if the buyrates have made the month of build-up worth it. Fail to sale tickets and you can find yourself taking the brunt of the blame and on the welfare list.
King Of The Ring seems to be receiving extra special attention as backstage cameras catch several suited men all wearing sunglasses heading into a locker-room backstage. As the camera man follows them in, one quick jester of the lockeroom can be heard making a quip.
The camera makes past the other superstars who all packing up their boots and sipping on water and finds one of the men in suits staring right at Ryder.
His black sunglasses hide the look in his eyes but the tone in his voice is enough for Ryder to do as he's told, looking a little humbled and heading out the door. This dismissal attracts the attention of everybody who heard it, and with the power and authority this man spoke it is clear he and the others he is with are high up in TCW. A second man steps forward, overly slicked back grey hair with a bad dye job.
A few superstars decide not to sit around and follow Ryder out the door to get a bite to eat or some fresh air, while a few others tuck their heads down and bring their conversations to a temporary hold.
From out of shot, Scott squeaks nervously.
The camera pans around to reveal Scott sat in a corner, dressed in his suit typically. Scott of course usually has company when we see him in the form of a TCW superstar, yet despite being in a lockeroom full of them there are none of them near him. Instead, he is sat beside Josh Grisham and Matt Striker. The three of them look incredibly tense and apprehensive as the suits nod their head and march cohesively like a unit over towards them. Their backs are to the rest of the locker-room preventing the conversation from echoing around the room. Despite being out of eye-line the superstars stay well behaved and silent, knowing that in-ring performances will not matter much if they tick off any of these half a dozen men.
Seemingly the voice of the group, Scott Stanford replies with a shaky voice showing that he is not entirely at ease despite his experience.
There is a s*bleep* from Suit 2, with Suit 1 and the rest of the crew looking as solemn faced as before.
The man gestures with his hands for Scott Stanford to elaborate, but he looks very hesitant. He opens his mouth and seems to begin a sentence, but takes it back and looks at the ground, the sunglasses making it impossibly to meet them in the eye. After a few seconds, Matt Striker takes the initiative and speaks up.
The trio seem more like petrified victims retelling a murder scene than three interviewers with twenty years experience between them. The man who has been the primary speaker, Suit 2, slowly takes off his sunglasses and again passes them back for someone else to take, revealing ice cold grey eyes. He steps forward, as if trying to creating a warming friendly bond between everyone.
Josh Matthews, who has looked down at the ground the entire time while twiddling with his tumbs, plucks up the courage to make a suggestion which he just about squeaks out.
A falsely sympathetic shrug of the shoulders and a sigh is the response from Suit 2.
Incredibly white teeth are shown as Suit 2 flashes a grin to try to get the interviewers on his side. The patriotic rallying was seemingly in vain though, as Scott Stanford speaks on behalf of the trio in a calm manner.
With a quick step forward, Suit 1, who's only words thus far have been to dismiss Ryder, snaps of his sunglasses and his eyes are also grey but also piercing, his face old but scolding. He speaks quietly but harshly.
???: I'll do it?
The female voice pips in before Suit 1 even has a chance to catch his breath after reprimanding the three interviewers. Suit 1, Suit 2, infact every suit, along with the trio of interviewers and the camera itself all turn left to discover the source of the voice....
AJ. She stands with one foot up on the lockeroom bench, tying her shoe lace, but jumps forward and puts her hands behind her back, grinning wildly.
AJ nods her head enthusiastically as she replies.
Everyone seems to raise an eyebrow in unison, confused at her volunteering to do something three men have all just refused to do. She looks a little embarrassed by the looks so elaborates.
A little dumbfounded but not wanting this opportunity to pass, Suit 2 agrees.
He looks at those around him.
The executives all nod and just as they marched in they march out. Just as they reach the door, AJ shouts over enthusiastically.
Everyone else out of the door, Suit 2 is about to close it shut when he leans back in to give his answer.
The cameras show AJ with a wide grin on her face, for some reason delighted to have landed this position. She puts her other foot up on the bench, pulling her socks up to her knees and then turning to skip out the door with a sly grin on her face.
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Apr 5, 13 at 7:27am ^re: Total Championship Wrestling: Roleplay Thread II
Damien Sandow with Percy Watson
"WWE, man! You don't remember me? Showtime Watson?"
Sandow's eyeballs glance upwards as he appears to be concentrating, mouthing the word 'Showtime' as he digs into his memory, but he slowly shakes his head.
"No. 'Fraid not."
Sandow sits in his chair looking at Percy, who avoids eye contact at all costs.
Sandow deliberates and thinks to himself, and shrugs his shoulders. He leans back and sits in the seat, and looks to the sky.
"So how does it feel not being able to be a wrestler anymore?"
Percy immediately locks eyes with Sandow, that having got his attention.
He stutters on his words, "I..I...I never said that."
"Yes, you did," sighs Sandow, looking at his fingernails.
"No...I...I didn't. I didn't."
"The fact you're even seeing a therapist at all indicates unhappiness in your life so either you aren't having the best of luck in your chosen career path, in this case wrestling, or else you simply aren't enjoying it. The fact you have come to see me makes it clear you are not in TCW as they would send you to a world-reknown therapist who, while not better than me, has a much higher reputation and price tag. I ran through a list of other federations but you didn't say yes to any of them. The lack of scarring makes it obvious you aren't in CZW. TNA are based in Florida and we are here in California so you definitely aren't working for them either.
Sandow takes a deep breath and continues on with rapid pace.
"You come in hear with a suit, much too overdressed for a therapy session - meaning this is a big thing for you, you don't get out of the house much. As a former wrestler myself I know travelling is a daily thing. You're also wearing a black tie suit, a suit everybody owns, your 'funeral suit', if you will. The fact you'd wear that kind of suit suggests you only have one suit, so you aren't exactly wealthy. Your chest is about a 44 and I would say that suit is 46 so you haven't got the one suit you own tailor fitted, so you're either a slob or unemployed; your sharp haircut and polished shoes suggest you are not the former but the latter. In fact, when you take into account that you said that you're 'a wrestler', when we have already established that you're not currently wrestling, makes it quite clear that you are currently unemployed. So I ask again, how are you feel about not being wrestler?"
Sandow meets the eyes of Percy Watson, who looks absolutely amazed for a split second, but puts on a poker face and tries to play it cool.
"I...how...uh, fine I guess."
"Being here would suggest otherwise."
"Look, man," Percy says, sitting forward, his tone a little aggressive, "What you said, it sounds good, but I booked this appointment two days ago. That's more than enough time for you to put my name into Google and find out this stuff about me. You can play dumb and say you never heard of me, and then pretend you just worked out all of that to impress me, but I ain't buyin' it."
Sandow rolls his eyes condescendingly, ignores what was just said, and moves onto his next question.
"So why are you not involved in the wrestling anymore?"
"Isn't it obvious?" Percy states. "My leg, man. Can't get in the ring with this thing."
"Doubtful," Sandow mutters to himself, not in the way of a sly insult but of a man deep in thought, expressing what he says a loud.
"Whatchu say?" demands Watson, clearly having heard Sandow.
"I said doubtful. Your limp is pyschosomantic, meaning it is all in your head, so you are definitely fit to be part of a wrestling company physically, so..." Sandow trails off and then straightens himself up, having worked it out. "Entertaining. Or a lack thereof. That's your problem? You aren't considered good enough to be in main events, sell tickets or cut a promo... His eyes light up as if he has suddenly realised the answer to a riddle. And in some ways, he has. "Oh..."
He stops, as Percy stands up and tries to hobble away on his stick.
"Perry," Sandow says.
"Percy," he is corrected, as Watson continues to move.
"Percy," Sandow tries again, grabbing his patient and stopping him in his tracks, "I have a proposition. Be my assistant. You see, I am deemed capable, of course, to get back in the ring, to cut promos, to make a living out of wrestling once more. All I need is an...assistant. A 'manager'. A 'voice.' A 'bodyguard'. Whichever title you choose fit."
"Nah, man, I'd love to get back on the road again and all but you just charged me $40 to tell me things you just Googled. I ain't working with you, you're a fraud."
Percy brings out his phone and holds it to his ear.
"Hello, I'd like to book a cab for 22--"
Sandow takes the phone off of him and hangs up, and stares Percy right in the face. He holds the phone up to him.
"This phone, it's your brothers, correct?"
Watson turns to face him, "Huh?"
Sandow holds it up, "It's expensive - email enabled, MP3, touch screen, but you're unemployed. You wouldn't spend money on this when you can barely afford rent. It's a gift, then. There are scratches on it, not one but many, they've happened over time, it's been in the same pocket as keys and coins, only people who've got a bit of money and grow bored of an item would treat it like this so it's had a previous owner. Now, the next bit doesn't require a genius to point out - the inscription on the back: Harry Watson. Clearly a family member who has given you his old phone. Not your father because this a young man's gadget. Now, it could be a cousin but you're a depressed war hero who has to come to a therapist so it's unlikely you've got an extended family, not one you're close to anyway. So, brother it is."
Percy looks rightfully impressed, but before he can even speak, Sandow continues.
"Now the engraving also says 'Clara', ooh, who's Clara? Clearly a partner of Harry's, but the giving of a gift this expensive says wife, not girlfriend. She must have given it to him recently, because this model's only six months old. So, less than six months on and he's given the gift away? If she had left him he would have kept it, people do that, they like sentiment, but no, he wanted rid of it, he left her. He gave you the phone, that suggests he wants you to stay in touch, but here you are depressed coming to me instead of him. That suggests you have problems with him. Maybe, you liked his wife? Or maybe you didn't like his drinking."
Stunned, Percy questions: "How could you possibly know about the drinking?"
"Shot in the dark," grins Sandow. "Just kidding, I don't do shots in the dark. There are scuffs all around the area where the charger connects, that means that every night he tries to plug it in to charge his hands are shaking. You never see those marks on the phone of a sober man, but you never see a drunk's phone without them. There you go," and he hands the phone back.
"How do you do that?"
"The Science of Deduction, my friend."
"Does that prove I'm not a fraud?"
"Yeah, man. You ain't a fraud."
"Does that mean you'll be my assistant? Seeing the hesitation in Percy's eyes, Sandow continues, "On the road again, thousands of cheering fans, dot com exclusives, signing autographs," he tempts.
A big white grin appears, "Alright... I'll do it. "
"Excellent!" Sandow proclaims with a chuckle, and the two shake hands.
"So what do I have to do?" enquires Percy, now itching to get back into the game.
"Well, you see, I was kicked out because TCW didn't like my use of...ahem, narcotics. They won't rehire me despite my reassurance that I can control what I'm doing. But with you by my side, keeping an eye out for me and making sure I don't dabble into any substances I shouldn't, they'll rehire me quicker than they can say 'Damien Sandow - Master of Deduction and Future World Champion!'"
Percy nods his head, "Alright, I'm in! he declares, grinning. A thought enters his head though, and he enquires with a look of confusion. "Why do you wanna go back, though? Isn't this a nice place? You don't have to travel all the, using your deduction or whatever you call it to work as a therapist."
"Oh, my dear Watson..." laughs Sandow as he puts an arm around Percy's shoulder and with a look of enthusiasm answers the question, "Therapy is a little...boring. My mind is a race car engine and sitting here in one room all day talking to depressed beings like you do nothing for me. But TCW, flying around the country, a lockeroom full of superstars, road agents, crazed fans, technicians, executives, hotel staff, caterers...it's exciting. Plenty goes on. Plenty of detective work to be doing!"
"Detective work...huh? You're a detective? Thought you was a therapist?"
"Damien Sandow. Detective, Wrestler and Therapist. In that order."
Percy seems satisfied enough with that answer, nodding his head.
"Oh, one more thing," notes Sandow.
"Because you're posing as some sort of medical counsellor, I'll be calling you Dr Peter Watson."
"My name's Percy," he corrects.
"Hmm," thinks Sandow...
"I'll just call you Dr Watson."
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Apr 5, 13 at 10:26am ^re: Total Championship Wrestling: Roleplay Thread II
- - - - -
We are live at the Kohl Center in Madison Wisconsin, where we are part way through a so far fantastic King of the Ring pay-per-view. There isn’t an empty seat in the house, as the lively crowd are all buzzing in anticipation of seeing just who will be crowd this years King of the Ring. The finale of the King of the Ring tournament isn’t the only draw for the show tonight though, as we also have two titles that will be defended. In the first title match of the evening the TCW Television Champion, Drew McIntyre will defend his title against the winner of the battle royal which will take place a little earlier. In fact it is one of the competitors in the battle royal that the crowd are about to hear from. There is a momentary lull in the arena which is quickly followed by an eruption of boos, as the entrance music of CM Punk booms throughout the arena. The straight edge superstar comes out from the top of the curtain, and the fans quickly notice there’s a little something different about his attitude. His sly little smirk and the confident hop in his step appear to have returned as his stands boldly at the top of the entrance ramp, looking out at the jam packed arena. As he makes his way towards the ring, it’s almost like his undergone a complete personality transplant. He no longer looks subdued, and under the thumb of a ‘master’. Instead he looks like a man who has rediscovered his freedom. He hops up onto the ring apron and steps into the ring, quickly Punk jogs across the ring to grab a microphone from one of the ringside workers, and then begins addressing the crowd.
Surprisingly the crowd to seem onboard with Punk’s sudden change in personality, and begin cheering what he has to say. Punk, having regained his steeled composure doesn’t let it affect him though. He just waits for the crowd to settle down, before continuing.
The largely American crowd understandably identify with what Punk is saying and instantly start to chant his name louder and louder, mixed in with some ‘USA’ chants. Punk gives a little nod in recognition of this, before carrying on.
The new direction that Punk is taking seems to strike accord with the sold out crowd, and he appears to have gone from one of the most hated members on the roster to being a fan favourite.
The fans give a mixed reaction to Punk’s last statement, as he drops the microphone to the ground and makes his way backstage as his music booms throughout the arena once more.
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Apr 5, 13 at 2:40pm ^re: Total Championship Wrestling: Roleplay Thread II
TCW Television Champion
Finisher: Apocalypse Rising (Double Arm Underhook DDT)
Prologue: Enter The Darkness
It was time. Standing with his forehead leaning on the wall Drew McIntyre sensed it. Time to claim another victim. The next in a long line of body's he was going to maul. Brutalise beyond recognition. Did he care how many people he hurt? How many lives he'd shattered? How much pain he had caused? Of course he did! That's what made everything worthwhile. The long flights. The shit hotels. Public appearances. It was all made worthwhile when McIntyre got to go to the ring and inflict punishment on the flesh of another man. This is what he thrived on. He always said that his opponents have a different look in their eye. Just before they take their final breath before passing out. It's the look of fear, yes, but also the look of acceptance. Acceptance of the fact that The Darkness will ALWAYS eclipse the light. The acceptance of the fact that this was destiny. To lose to a better man. A warrior of the night. A foot solider of evil. McIntyre knew in his soul that no man could come close to knowing what he knows about pain and suffering. That's why no one would beat him. Growing up in Ayr he was picked on at school. Bullied for being different. Having long hair. Having different beliefs. He always knew he was special. He just didn't know how.
It was one day around the time McIntyre was seventeen. Walking home from school one autumn afternoon through the woods towards home. Leafs crunching beneath his feet. The sunlight beaming down, hot on his face. He was jumped from behind by three boys. They beat him unconscious with sticks, belts and metal poles. Lying cold, blooded and broken. He lay unable to move for several hours amongst the dirt. He accepted he was going to die as he lay there gasping for air. His ribs were broken. His jaw was fractured. As day turned to night and darkness took over from the sun, a voice whispered to McIntyre
Voice: Get up! This isn't your time...
Drew: Help me, please, whoever you are!
Voice: I'll help you on the condition that you never EVER let this happen again. From this day you rise up. You take what you want, when you want it. You take revenge on all those who have wronged you.
Drew: I will! Just show me how, I won't let you down.
1 hour later
Emerging from the woods into the nearby park we see a hooded, his left arm clutching across his torso holding onto his ribs. In his right hand, a brick. By now darkness had set in and the park was only lit by the orange glow of the street lights on the nearby street. The hooded male is now walking with his back straight, striding purposeful and with a brisk pace. 3 voices can be heard laughing.
Boy 1: Did you see how I smashed that fag in the face with that stick?!
Boy 2: Hahaha that was epic bro! I only managed to get a few kicks in because Davie here was going to town on the bastard with a pole
Davie: Wee guy deserved it. If I saw him again I'd do it over again. Maybe cut his throat this....
'Davie' was cut off mid sentence. As Drew smashed him on the back of the head with the brick. The loud crack of skull cracking echoed through the park. It embedded itself in McIntyres head. As he swung the brick for the second time all he could think about was revenge. How the sound of brick meeting skull was beautiful. How powerful he felt standing over one of his tormentors watching blood pour from his head. As he bludgeoned Davie's head for a third time he saw out the corner of his eye the other two boys run for the road. Just as he was about to take off after them he heard the voice from the woods again. A low whispering voice that was being carried by the wind
Voice: Leave them. I will show you the true power of The Darkness. You have proven yourself to me. Now I must prove to you the power I have.....
Drew looked towards the direction of where his other two attackers had ran in. His heart pounding so hard he though it was going to break through his chest. The boys had made it to the street. Just as they were half way across the road the suddenly came to an abrupt stop. They stood in the middle of the road. Bodies frozen in time. Their voices though, were very much still working. They screams were high pitched with fear. They were gasping for air, crying., unable to move. It was at that moment a bus flew round the corner, too fast to stop, it wouldn't of matter anyway. The bus plowed straight through both boys. The sound of flesh smacking off the front grill of the bus, the sound of bones being snapped like tooth picks was sickening, but Drew enjoyed it. He looked down at Davie, laying on the grass unconscious, blood pouring from him and he laughed. He enjoyed the fact that HE caused this chaos. This violent bloody scene was his down. His and the mystery voice. This was the night that Drew McIntyre was reborn from The Darkness. The police and newspapers were reporting that two boys lost their lives in a tragic accident from not looking both ways when crossing the road. Davie moved away shortly after that night. No one has saw him since....
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Apr 5, 13 at 4:32pm ^re: Total Championship Wrestling: Roleplay Thread II
"Sir" William Regal
Finishers: Power of the Punch, Regal Plex.
The camera cuts to the outside of the familiar "summer house" of "Sir" William Regal, next it cuts inside to a study. The study with classic paintings on the wall, book cases full of vintage books. The camera next goes to the grand table where "Sir" William Regal is sitting. His face thoughtful, almost unhappy with a slight speck of disappointment in his eye.
Taz: He must of seen Punks last interview, that can't have pleased the "British Blue Blood".
Booker T: Dawg, by the look on his face I can tell he's about to blow up.
Cole: Well now his days of trying to ride younger stars coat-tails are over, he's probably got no other choice but to quit now.
Booker T: How can you say that Cole, Regal's a survivor, he's been in too long now to just give up and quit.
Taz: Yea Cole, shut your mouth, lets see what he has to say first.
Regal takes a sip of his brandy, taking slightly too much and pulling a slight face before regaining his composure and addressing the camera.
Regal: What can I say?, Over the years you would expect "William Regal" to brush anything like this off his chest and continue on his "Royal Rampage" of winning at any costs, using any move, using anybody to get ahead and I believe that's what CM Punk had in his mind when he decided to team with me. and what may of aided his decision to leave our alliance.
A despondent Regal grabs his glass and takes a purposefully large gulp of brandy, before putting it down with a little bit of force causing a loud clinking sound.
Regal: Mr Punk, well what he said has bothered me, much more then anything anyone else has said to or about me in this business, much more than I thought it would. The fact of the matter is no one has ever given me the recognition my skills deserved and at times even I didn't believe fully in myself, that is what caused me to cheat to win. Punk needing my help? lets face it he's been higher in this business than I have ever been, if anything he was humoring an old veteran and trying to gain any advantage I could of brought him without actually ever thinking I'd pull my weight In the alliance. He actually believes I have the skills to not need any of the cheating, stealing, teaming and scheming. that's the thing, no one has ever given me the praise I needed but then again I've been up to my heelish ways for so long maybe a whole generation of fans and wrestlers are not even aware of what I'm capable of. Maybe all they see when they see me now is a washed up veteran hanging on and not actually the crafty, dangerous ring general I think I am or pretend to be. So many of my years have been wasted, so many chances at reaching the top have been squandered by drinking and drug taking. 3 instances in particular I was destined fora big chance at the top that got quashed due to drug taking and injury. No more, I will right those wrongs
Regal ponders for a few seconds, looks at his brandy decanter, anger builds in his face then suddenly he stands up and with seemingly blind rage throws the decanter against the wall. Standing but with hands on the desk and slightly bent addresses the camera.
Regal: The old Regal is no more, the brandy drinking, lie'ing, cheating, scheming William is a thing of the past now. I intend on training hard and proving myself all over again. No more drinking and certainly no more drugs and other mind bending substances. TCW superstars beware, William Regal has a fresh start, fresh motivation and will prove to each and everyone of you that this old dog still has plenty of years left in him. This won't be an over night transition, anything permanent takes a while to achieve and I have no doubt the road will be hard but in the end I will reap the rewards.
Regal quickly walks out the room and the camera cuts to the outside of the manor house before fading to black.
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Apr 6, 13 at 7:36am ^re: Total Championship Wrestling: Roleplay Thread II
King of the Ring is finally upon us and we have already heard from several people here tonight about what they expect to happen. Our cameras have returned to ringside where our commentators are sitting and enjoying the night thus far.
Cole: If you are just now joining us thank you for ordering King of the Ring on pay per view.
Booker T: Oh man do we have a great show here tonight dawg!
Taz: You ain’t kidding Booker. The World Title match is what I’m most looking forward to. I can’t wait to see the carnage that those three men bring.
Booker T: I can’t wait to see the conclusion to the tournament. That’s what this whole night is about!
Cole: I’m not sure who is going to walk away as King, but whoever it is will surely be praying that Ryback doesn’t walk away with the title tonight.
Taz: No doubt! That man’s a monster.
Booker T: No more a monster than Dean or Brian man. Those two are crazy and will do anything to win.
Just then cutting off the idle conversation of the commentators “Undead Anthem” explodes throughout the arena sending the fans into a booing frenzy and the commentators all sigh as they know that Santino is about to come out and address the masses.
Cole: Santino’s match isn’t until later so I can only imagine that we are about to be forced into listening to another tirade about disrespect and how he has been cheated.
Taz: I really don’t like this guy. Not only has he ripped me off with my own moves and lines, but he has been ducking me ever since I came after him last month in the back.
Santino doesn’t immediately make his way through the curtain, he lets the crowd die down and then he bursts through to the stage. The crowd is louder now than when they first heard his music and it sends a smile across the face of Santino who is just soaking in all of the negativity. The Italian one is dressed up for the evening, an all-white suit, white shoes, but a contrastingly black pair of sunglasses covering his eyes. Santino makes his way down the aisle way and into the ring while being bombarded by jeers from the sea of people in the arena. With a microphone pulled to his lips Santino’s music dies down leaving nothing, but the disapproving sounds of the audience.
Santino: Oh good people you do me wrong by hissing and booing me.
This only incites more boos from the people. Santino however just smirks that stupid kind of smirk as if he’s part of some hidden jest and is the only one that knows of it.
Santino: Boo me all you want, but it’s not going to change who I am or what I am going to do. I am no longer a slave to you people and am better for it. Tonight I am in the finals of the King of the Ring tournament. A few short months ago I was nothing, a nobody, a mere peasant. I was pandering for your cheers and well wishes. I was a fool for all of you to mock, a jester to bring you a laugh and make your spoiled children smile. No more. Tonight I am going to be crowned a king, something all of you wish you could be. All of you boo me because you see the success I am having without you. You boo me because I do not need you and do not want you. You are mad at me and wish to hold me down because I am successful where all of you are failures.
Cole: Don’t count your chickens before they hatch. You still have to get through Cesaro.
The boos are still coming in, but not as loudly as before. Their pride has been hurt and booing him will not do anyone any justice. They all want to leap the barricade and storm the ring and show their “soon to be king” just how much fealty they are willing to swear him.
Santino: Speaking of failures tonight before I can take my crown I must do battle with Antonio Cesaro.
Santino chuckles to himself thinking that he just came up with the funniest thing of the night.
Santino: Tonight I will walk out of this ring with blood on my fists and a crown on my head….
Just then….There would be no theme music as Antonio Cesaro walks out on to the stage. Antonio Cesaro holds a microphone in his hand as he stares down at the man in the ring, the man that he will later face and defeat to be crowned king of the ring. Antonio Cesaro face contorts to express his feelings of anger at this man. He looks down, at his taped fists as he takes a deep breath. He raises his head back up, and his demeanour has changed once more. Now he has a smirk on his face, as he continues to speak.
Antonio Cesaro: The fact that you of all people are to face me is nothing more than a sick twisted joke. I'm tired of this disrespect from the management, the lockeroom, and all of you people! However everything changes for me tonight when I make an example out of you. I have injured and possibly ended the careers of many superstars just like you! I've done more than you Santino by a long shot. All you have done is be at the right place, at the right time to be where you are today. The fact that you Santino are considered above me here in management's eyes, makes me bloody sick! Talk about bad decisions…then again this place is full of them. It agitates me down to my core, that some as pathetic as you can be a superstar. Let's be honest how much longer can you entertain people? Huh? You can't possibly expect that failure to ever be the face of this company. You will never be king Santino, I will not allow it. You may have changed since last time we crossed paths, but I will defeat you just as easily.
Antonio Cesaro lowers the microphone to the sound of boos as he then walks down to the ring. He reaches the ring steps and walks up them and then slides in through the middle ropes and walks across the ring to stand face-to-face with his enemy. Antonio Cesaro would merely smirk at this as he speaks back down into the microphone.
Antonio Cesaro: I have honestly forgotten your name a few times. You have not accomplished or achieved a bloody thing here or anywhere you have been. I am not going anywhere; I am here to stay, but you Santino your time is almost up. It's time I start doing things on my own terms, starting tonight. I will pummel you just so all of these people here tonight have something interesting to watch. I don't care about the bloody rules; I will break your face like I have done to everyone else that has stood before me. No one's got what it takes to stop me and you Santino will not change my destiny and my destiny is to become the king of the ring and move onto bigger and better things. I hope you have enjoyed your ride so far, I really do, because tonight it ends once and for all. You have been lucky enough to get this far, but now your luck ends and you go back down to the bottom where you belong. Only men like Antonio Cesaro deserve to be on the top, only men like Antonio Cesaro deserve to be a king, Santino you have and always shall be nothing more than a mere peasant to me, nothing more than dirt under my boot.
Antonio Cesaro keeps the microphone up at his mouth as he stares into the eyes of Santino. The anger can be seen in Antonio Cesaro eyes as he holds back hitting this joke of a man.
Antonio Cesaro: Do me a favour and get the smirk of your face and while you do that you can always take yourself out of my ring, because this ring is for men, not jokes.
Antonio Cesaro would back away and then push down the ring ropes and point out of the ring. He wants this man to leave the ring, he wants him to stop disrespecting it and leave it as soon as possible. Several seconds pass and nothing happens as Antonio Cesaro keeps his boot pressed down hard on the ring ropes.
Antonio Cesaro: I always knew you were a little bit stupid; I will give you one more chance to do as I command of you. This ring is no place for you. For months now you have disrespected it. You are not a real wrestler. No matter what you say or do. No matter how many times you change, you will always be the goofball, always be the clown and my ring has no need of clowns nor comedy performers, so get out and don’t bother yourself showing up for our match, you will be saving yourself a beaten of a live time by not appearing.
Santino smirks and pulls his microphone to his lips not really sure where Antonio Cesaro is getting his information.
Santino: I’ve never accomplished anything anywhere I have been? WWE Tag Team Champion, Intercontinental Champion, United States Champion, all in the WWE. Here in TCW I am a former Television Champion and I have challenged for the World Title. What have you done? You are the joke and the ‘goofball’. You are the one that’s accomplished nothing and I’ll be damned if I let your pompous ass become anything more than a stepping stone for me. Winter is coming for you Antonio and I am going to be the driving force behind it!
Santino drops his microphone and the two are standing face to face with one another running their mouths when Antonio slaps Santino so hard that it sends him stumbling several feet backwards. Santino holds his face and as quick as a hiccup Santino charges at Antonio and takes him to the ground. The two men start pummeling at each other and rolling around the ring until they both fall out of the ring and hit the ground with a thud. The two men were separated for just a moment when they hit the ground, but then they went right back at it with Cesaro shoving Santino into the commentators table. After a few moments of the two beating on one another several agents come running down the ramp to try and separate the two. Ron Simmons, Billy Gunn and a couple of other unknown men wearing TCW shirts come over and grab the two and separate them. Santino is bleeding from the mouth, but Cesaro is no worse than when he entered into the ring. Both men are being held back, but that’s not stopping either of them from screaming at each other and Santino even spit in the direction of Cesaro narrowly missing him. The cameras fade to black and play a promo video for next months PPV.
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Apr 6, 13 at 9:46am ^re: Total Championship Wrestling: Roleplay Thread II
- - - - -
The cameras are backstage in the locker room of CM Punk, where the man himself is sat getting his ring gear ready for his match later tonight. As Punk pulls various pieces of clothing out of his gym bag we catch a glimpse of the television that’s on behind him. The screen is paused on the BBC America channel, and more interestingly in the middle of what appears to be a Sherlock episode. It’s not that surprising that Punk would be fan of this type of thought provoking show, it is however a little curious that he’d indulge in such a carefree past time ahead of potentially two big matches. A few minutes pass then the silence is broken by the sound of knocking on Punk’s locker room door, Punk lets out a small sigh before looking up.
The door opens up just enough for Josh Matthews to pop his head around the side of it, a head that Punk isn’t all to happy to see by the looks of things.
Punk now found himself in a slight predicament; on one hand he loved being given the opportunity to address the crowd, especially if it also meant him being able to run down another superstar. On the other hand however, it meant talking to Josh Matthews. Punk weighed up the choices in his head, and eventually decided to take one for the team as he motioned for Matthews to join him. Matthews quickly scrambled inside the locker room, and positioned himself next to the straight edge superstar.
Punk could only laugh at the suggestion that William Regal was now somehow a threat to him, a response which didn’t seem to be one Josh Matthews had quite expected as shown by the somewhat bewildered look on his face.
There were a few cheers from the crowd who seem to have taken a liking to Punk since his switch in attitude, not that Punk seemed to be that concerned with their reaction to him though.
The straight edge superstar looked a little impressed with Josh’s last question. After all, that type of progressive thought isn’t something that you’d usually associate with him.
Once again the fans appear to be on board with Punk’s plans as they begin to chant his name. Punk just smiles for the camera, as Matthews awaits for the chanting to finish before continuing.
Punk doesn’t even acknowledge this question with a verbal answer, instead he just laughs and shakes his head.
Again the response from Punk isn’t exactly one that Josh was expecting, as he lets out a rather over theatrical laugh at the suggestion. He keeps the laugh going for few moments before stopping, and instantly the look on his face becomes a whole lot more serious.
Punk turns everyone’s attention towards the television in his locker room, picks up the remote and hits the play button. We pick up midway through a scene of Sherlock, where Holmes and Watson are talking inside of a taxi.
John Watson: The engraving?
Sherlock Holmes: Harry Watson — clearly a family member who's given you his old phone. Not your father — this is a young man's gadget. Could be a cousin, but you're a war hero who can't find a place to live. Unlikely you've got an extended family, certainly not one you're close to, so brother it is. Now, Clara — who's Clara? Three kisses says a romantic attachment. Expensive phone says wife, not girlfriend. Must've given it to him recently — this model's only six months old. Marriage in trouble, then — six months on, and already he's giving it away? If she'd left him, he would've kept it. People do, sentiment. But no, he wanted rid of it — he left her. He gave the phone to you, that says he wants you to stay in touch. You're looking for cheap accommodation and you're not going to your brother for help? That says you've got problems with him. Maybe you liked his wife, maybe you don't like his drinking.
John Watson: How can you possibly know about the drinking?
Sherlock Holmes: Shot in the dark. Good one, though. Power connection — tiny little scuff marks around the edge. Every night he goes to plug it in and charge but his hands are shaky. You never see those marks on a sober man's phone, never see a drunk's without them. There you go, you see? You were right.
After the brief bit of dialect Punk hits the pause button on the television remote, as a few ‘ohhhs’ can be heard coming from the crowd. Josh Matthews also looks quite shocked, as it appears despite a rather convincing act earlier that CM Punk was right, and Damien Sandow was nothing more than a fraud.
Josh doesn’t waste a second, and quickly exits the locker room. Punk then returns to getting ready for tonight’s matches, as he leaves the arena in a stunned silence after completely exposing Damien Sandow for what he really is, a no good charlatan. The cameras slowly fade to black as the cameras return to ring side with the crowd just having one phrase on their mind; Pipe bomb.
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Apr 6, 13 at 10:32am ^re: Total Championship Wrestling: Roleplay Thread II
"Sir" William Regal
Finishers: Power of the Punch, Regal Plex.
The TCW cameras are inside the kitchen of the manor house of William Regal, Regal is currently finishing blending some vegetables in a juicer when he notices the cameras.
Regal: Ah, there you are, it's so nice to be able to address you all again.
The British Blue Blood has a broad smile across his face and a spring in his step, the exact opposite of his mood and mannerisms last night.
Regal: I must apologize for last night, it was necessary in starting my transformation of my lifestyle. I'm still the same old Regal and will scorn anyone not paying the right respects to me but for the first time in 20 years I'm sober, I'm looking positively to the future and I intend to be fitter and sharper than ever before.
The Regal Royal pours the contents of the juicer into a large cup and necks it in one. From his facial expressions it certainly doesn't seem to be very tasty.
Regal: Yea.. not the tastiest of drink I've ever consumed and not of the moreish nature of cocaine but nothing that's good for you is tasty.
William Regal turns away from the camera to put the juicer and cup in the dishwasher before addressing the camera once more.
Regal: I was at the gym this morning and noticed Mr Punk had released an interview. Typical Punk, taking on the world, saying what he pleases which is to be admired, he can back up his words but I feel he needs to think about what he's saying a little more in future. Singling out one competitor as no threat is all well and good but to target the entire Battle Royal participants is a little short sighted. As good as Punk is he can't hope to take on everyone at the same time and expect to come out victorious. As a student of the game Punk should know better than to downplay my skills and threat in a match as unpredictable as a Battle Royal. Make no mistake about it sunshine, even with my addictions there's a reason why I've lasted so long in this business and although this upcoming event maybe too soon to test out my change in lifestyle you can bet your life on the fact I'll be gunning for you and every other participant in that battle royal that gets in my way, god help those who underestimate William Regal. Now if you don't mind I'm going for my rub down before the footy starts, feel free to pop back round another time.
The Camera pans to the outside of the manor house before cutting to black.
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Apr 6, 13 at 1:57pm ^re: Total Championship Wrestling: Roleplay Thread II
THE FOLLOWING IS A JOINT ROLEPLAY BY OXYGEN AND DISENCHANTED
Chapter 10 - Hide and Seek
The camera’s cut away from William Regal and the manor he was in to some other dark location. The camera is shaky as it pans around the dark, desolate area and the camera man can be heard to be quite breathy as he quickly makes his way through what must be some sort of boiler room or parking lot. The camera is not a standard TCW one, handheld and filming in even less than standard definition. The camera is spun around 180 degrees to show the camera man, but is much too zoomed in for him to be recognisable. After a few clicks and clatters it is zoomed out and the angles readjusted to reveal the frustrated face of the man wielding it - Dean Ambrose.
The TCW World Heavyweight Champion’s hair is greasy and hangs across his face a his eyes burn a hole through the lens, such is the severity of his stare. Seconds tick by with Ambrose’s mouth firmly shut, an uncomfortable atmosphere between viewer and champion as he stares right at them through the camera. He breathes deeply through his nose before snorting and smirking in a slightly menacing manner as he moves his head from side to side, looking around as he continues to move forwards through whichever area it is that he’s residing at this time. After a few more moments, he slowly grinds to a halt, seemingly quite happy with the area he’s chosen, and he slumps down to the ground resting on the floor and grimacing as he comes into contact with the cold concrete. He looks back down the lens, his face contorted in his usual way, before he moves his tongue around inside of his mouth before speaking.
Ambrose tries to smirk, but it seems to be far more of a frown as he moves the camera away from himself just a little bit in order to show the Championship title of which he speaks. He looks down and polishes it a little bit with the sleeve of his jacket, before looking back into the camera and getting up close to it once again.
Ambrose lets out a half laugh and looks at the ground, seemingly in thought, before rapidly exploding and yelling into the camera.
Ambrose laughs again, before bringing the camera even closer to his face and eliminating any traces of laughter and he stares blank faced.
Ambrose stops himself mid-sentence because of a crash somewhere off in the distance. Ambrose turns his head and looks back to try to identify the source of the sound, but he shrugs it off and continues.
Again there is a bang and a rattle of something metal in the distance and Ambrose stops again. This time he turns around completely, and the camera is held down at his side, so that the audience only get a view of the side of his leg for a few seconds. Ambrose can be heard audibly exhaling breath as he takes a few steps forwards, but after another few moments we find silence has taken over again, and Ambrose clears his throat, before once again lifting the camera up to his face, his nose and mouth crinkling up as he tries to steady his thoughts, which isn’t easy at the best of times. Again, he breathes out loudly before staring down the camera.
This time Ambrose is stopped by something that isn’t audible to the viewers, but clearly something has stopped him. He completely stops speaking, and his eyes widen slightly. After a few moments it becomes clear what exactly it is that has made him stop. Slowly but surely, footsteps can be clearly heard, first very quietly, but slowly getting louder and louder as time goes on and Ambrose gulps, but continues to look very very determined. Clearly he isn’t scared, but he is a little bit concerned, what is coming his way is completely unknown and he doesn’t like it. The camera is very suddenly pointed to the floor and on the move again as Ambrose is on the move again. The velocity of which the camera shakes is an indicator of just how rapidly the World Champion is pacing through this desolate room. His breathing becomes more and more audible as he storms around the place, out of camera shot. Eventually he comes to the halt and re-directs the camera to his face for a split second, but that is long enough to show a look of perplexity and a hint of fear. He places the camera on something, a table or ledge of some sort as he examines a set of broken remains - wooden pallets and boxes all smashed.
Ambrose looks on edge, even more so than usual, as he wonders what has happened. He picks up a splintered piece of wooden but freezes as the sound of breathing can be heard, so close than even the camera's microphones can detect it. The breaths and heavy and pantful, and there is another smash. Ambrose takes a step in the direction of it, but halts when he hears a voice.
Ambrose is frozen solid as it becomes clear that the man making all the noise was Ryback! Ambrose slowly and with such precision as to remain silent takes backwards steps and leans against a wall. The sound of pipes crashing together can be heard.
Ambrose slowly sinks down in a seat position in a dark corner of this destroyed room. The lack of lighting means that he is practically invisible in the shadows, his black armoured vest and combat trousers blending in.
Ryback isn't so much talk as rather growling, the sound of him smashing metal pipes off of the concrete walls can be heard every few seconds. Seconds tick by, Ambrose ummoving, and eventually Ryback can be passing by the camera, his eyes wide up like a hunter. If he got his hands on Ambrose there is no telling what he would do to him. He doesn't notice the camera, however, and walks on past, a metal pipe in each hand.
Ambrose sees this at the perfect time and leaps to his feet and makes a break for it, grabbing the camera in one hand and sprinting towards the exit. He has alerted Ryback to his presence, though!
Ryback is a man possessed as his footsteps can be hurt chasing Ambrose. Suddenly day light enters the room as Ambrose reaches the door. The camera is turned upside down and spins and spins as Ambrose turns around and cracks Ryback over the skull with it! The camera crashes to the ground and lands lens up, showing that Ryback swings a metal pole at Ambrose's head! But he ducks just in time! That would have killed him! The pipe crashes off of the wall and the split second it takes Ryback to readjust gives Ambrose enough time to launch himself out the door he opened and slams it shut. Ryback tries to go through it but cannot, evid evidently Ambrose has has jammed the door with an object of some sort. Ryback yells in frustration and smashes the pole off the wall once more as the feed cuts off.
Dean Ambrose has managed to escape his clutches for the mean time, but how will things go down when they meet on Sunday night inside the ring, along with The Brian Kendrick?
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Apr 6, 13 at 9:26pm ^re: Total Championship Wrestling: Roleplay Thread II
Nothing but the buzz and murmur of the thousands of fans in attendance. He looks down at the microphone in his hands. It’s not on yet, luckily, or they’d hear him sigh aloud a sigh of discontent. He didn’t want to go out there. Didn’t want to be surrounded by the repugnant mugs, shoving their face with the over-priced arena nachos. If only wrestling fans were respectable. Couldn’t they be educated? If there could be just one fan that knew Cody Rhodes was the future of this business, the whole ordeal would be worth it. These disgusting slobs don’t *bleep*ing appreciate that they get to see the best damn thing about this business! Cody Rhodes wasn’t the midcard performer they’d boo for a few weeks and get over! He wouldn’t grow a stupid moustache to be the silly villain ever again. This Cody Rhodes would make a name for himself. He would climb to the top of the world and mold a throne out of the blood, sweat and tears he had collected along the way.
He slightly shifts his weight, which slides the zipper along the welts left across his formerly perfect chest by Ric Flair’s chops last week. He winces in utter pain, and – god damn, that decrepit sack of repugnant waste. You want a fight? You got it.
As if his own thoughts will it, the sound that fills the arena blasts through the curtain – The recorded “Woah”, so heavily distorted, it skips once twice a third time, sounding like a broken record playing – the blast of “Radioactive” picking up just after. That’s his cue, as he slides the microphone into his sleeve as far as it will go, and heads out through the curtain. He tosses the hood down, and bypasses his quota of taunts and looks of disdain to the audience. No, he doesn’t even have time to think about how ugly they are, not tonight. There is a greater task at hand. Tonight is King of the Ring, and he has a message to rock the cosmos. He steps into the ring, and Lillian Garcia goes to exit. Not this time. You’re a massive part of my plan tonight. He takes two huge steps across the ring and catches her – only able to catch her hair – and pulls her harshly between the ropes to the gasp of the thousands in attendance. Shut the hell up you hideous bottom-feeders. I know you do the same thing to women in your life. Lillian lets out an ear piercing scream, not of fear, but of pain. He puts the microphone to his mouth as he has her gripped by the hair.
The crowd gasp at this claim by Rhodes – He really wants to put both of their careers on the line for the sake of getting his hands on Ric Flair? And will he really risk Lillian Garcia’s body for the sake of getting his hands on Flair as well? The crowd are all booing, many of the men in the front row contemplate jumping the barricade to save Lillian, but there’s a high level of fear deep within, as if Rhodes could hurt them on a whole different level. Just like he might do to Lillian now. Rhodes lets out a primal scream, and twists her into position for the Cross Rhodes! He then pulls the microphone to his mouth, Lillian is left dangling under his arm.
Ric Flair limps out onto the stage, moving far faster than we’ve seen the old man move since being attacked by Rhodes. He has a microphone in hand, and he immediately yells into it.
Cody Rhodes: “Really Ric? I beat you, you leave this company! Never to return?”
Ric Flair: “ Yes Cody! Just… Please… Put her down!”
Ric Flair is getting encroaching on the ring, ready to enter if need be. Rhodes seems to be giving slack on Lillian, and Flair lets out a sigh of relief… But Rhodes suddenly twists his body and falls to the ground, slinging Lillian’s head into the ground with the Cross Rhodes! Flair’s eyes go wide with shock, and he slides into the ring, while Rhodes slides out, smirking. Flair debates whether to chase him or… no. He drops to his knees and attends to the fallen ring announcer, tears going to his eyes as he yells “RHODES! THIS ISN’T OVER!” Cody Rhodes simply smiles.
That was the plan.
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