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Apr 18, 13 at 5:48am ^re: Total Championship Wrestling: Roleplay Thread II
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The scene opens on a parking lot, way below the Arena-Auditorium in Laramie, where there's barely a sound in this private, fan-free area. The camera pans around in the darkness, and eventually we make out a door surrounded by some dim lights, and a couple of figures waiting beside it. As The camera gets a little bit closer to the people, we see that it's none other than the Bella Twins, undoubtedly awaiting the arrival of their white knight in a convertible that is sure to be arriving soon. Almost on cue, we hear the sound of screeching tires approaching the area, weaving in and out of various passages that lead down to the area in which we are currently standing. Eventually, headlights begin to light up the area, and as a white cadillac zooms into shot, the full beams almost burn the retinas of the poor Bella twins right off. They begin to smile, delighted at the appearence of their hero so soon, but the glee soon turns to distaste as the man himself, Alex Shelley, steps out from the drivers seat without offering them so much as a cursory glance, instead strolling around to the passenger seat and opening up the door, allowing famous former Diva, Maryse, to step out of the car. The Bella's exchange a quick glare of bemusement before sternly approaching the Sultan, who finally looks at them and nods in acknowledgement of their prescence.
Shelley looks on for a few moments, momentarily confused, before a look of recognition quickly flashes across his face. He looks at Maryse, before shrugging and taking a step closer to the Bellas.
With that, Shelley grabs Maryse by the arm and throws his gym bag across his opposite shoulder, before strolling off, leaving both of the Bella twins completely and utterly dumbstruck by what has just occured. They turn to look at Shelley walking off, and Maryse quickly turns her head, offering the Bellas a wink that makes the twins' blood boil, before both Maryse and her Sultan disappear out of view, opening the back entrance to the arena and stepping through the door. We cut inside the building to where we find ourselves in a long, blank corridor. Lots of cream and white colors, somewhat pristine in their lack of markings or dirt. Shelley briefly turns to look at Maryse, who looks back at him longingly. Luckily, Shelley is wearing his trademark RayBan shades, so she is completely unable to see him rolling his eyes, clearly not particularly smitten with the blonde beauty, who apparently can't see through his personality issues in spite of what she just witnessed with the Bella Twins. After what feels like a lifetime of walking, Shelley grinds to a halt, unbeknown to Maryse who continues walking before the strength of Shelley's arm pulls her back. She looks at him before turning her head to look at the same place he is, and she smirks as she notices what he is reading. He slowly lowers his shades, allowing us a glance at his eyes for the first time, and the camera pans around to show what he is looking at. A piece of white paper with the evenings card written down. Just below a typed Main Event section with his name beside one Antonio Cesaro's, written in black marker pen is 'MONEY IN THE BANK QUALIFIER'. The camera turns back to Shelley, who's mouth is very slowly transforming from something quite expressionless to a grin that stretches from ear to ear. He nods, smirking, before contiuing a few more steps and kicking open a door. He pulls Maryse inside and as the door slams shut we 'Sultan of Sleaze' written on a golden sign, clearly showing it's his locker room. The camera cuts to inside the room where we see his face has fallen, and as the camera pans around, we discover why.
Shelley looks across the room at Heyman, before lifting his sunglasses off of his face and breaking his link with Maryse for the first time. His eyebrow crinkles as he thinks for a few moments about what Heyman has just said, before he shakes his head and finally responds to his new boss.
Heyman's eyes widen in faux shock at Shelley's words, feigning disbelief that anybody could ever have any doubts of his intentions after a career such as his. He gets up to his feet and approaches Shelley cautiously, before narrowing his eyes and running his hand through his thick, greasy hair. He looks across at Maryse, almost leering, before turning his attention back to the Sultan of Sleaze, who looks on in with disdain.
Heyman by this point is right up in Shelley's face, and the Sultan is smirking right back at his General Manager. Heyman seems incensed by the lack of interest in what he is saying to the Sleazy one, and after a few moments he lets out some kind of frustrated growl before shoving past the duo and throwing open the door, slamming it shut hard behind him. Shelley turns to watch it all unfold, before smirking once again, not completely sure what it is Heyman has against him. Either way, there's not a whole lot Paul Heyman can do if he defeats Antonio Cesaro tonight, which is exactly what he plans on doing...
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Apr 18, 13 at 8:53am ^re: Total Championship Wrestling: Roleplay Thread II
Gimmick: The Super Beast
Recent Events/History: At King of the Ring, Brock Lesnar shocked the world with his return. He seemingly came from nowhere to interfere in the Main Event, and his actions directly had an impact on Dean Ambrose retaining his World Heavyweight Championship. At the ensuing War Zone, Brock revealed that Paul Heyman was used as a pawn in his elaborate plot to create a scenario in which he could bring a reign of terror down on the wrestling world the likes of which has never been seen.
As soon as the previous promo concludes, we find ourselves taken back to an absolutely pitch black room. Its chillingly quiet. There is no commentary, no crowd noise, not a single peep. This eerie, creepy silence is only further enhanced by the absolute lack of any other sensory detail. If not for the "TCW" logo at the bottom right of the screen, it would be impossible to tell if this was even part of the show.
Then we hear a feint sound. Then another quiet sound, but this time a little louder. The sounds begin to grow both in volume and number as the blackness begins to lift a little bit. Suddenly, a silhouette begins to appear in the middle of the screen, before revealing itself with a sudden flash of neon lights. There, smiling maniacally from ear to ear, is the unmistakable image of Brock Lesnar's head. The ghastly look on his face (being the only visible object) as its illuminated with the green, orange, and blue lighting is enough to give viewers the chills.
Lesnar: So it began. Last week, I told every one of you that I came back for one reason: to make life for everyone here in TCW a living, breathing hell. And when I say everyone, I do mean for everyone…every…single…one. When I smashed Zack Ryder’s face into the post with an F5 and left him in a pool of his own blood, I looked around as everyone watched me in horror. I saw it in your faces. I saw the fear…and I loved it!
Dispite his best efforts to stifle a chuckle, he begins chortling with an evil laugh. His deep blue eyes squint, his pale face wrinkles, and his veiny head tilts back, shaking with glee.
Lesnar: You all saw it. Saw what I was capable of. In that one moment, everyone was reminded of the fact that when you face Brock Lesnar, the stakes never get higher. When you stand in front of me, and I don’t care if you are a grown ass man or a tiny little girl, you are risking everything: your health, your future…even your very life. You risk it all when you come face to face with Brock Lesnar...And I don’t care who you are; It never gets old. Seeing that look that you people get in your eyes as I begin to rip you apart. Zack Ryder had that look when I left him in a pool of his own blood. You people had that look as I gazed around the ring, standing above his corpse. And most certainly Santino Marella had that look right before I powerbombed his ass not once, but three times through his fancy throne. I live off that look. I AM ADDICTED…to that look...the fear... Fear is the most powerful weapon in the history of human kind. And I gladly say that I am its master!
He looks down at the ground, pausing a briefly before continuing on. So far, all that we can tell is Lesnar is somewhere in a dark room, apparently by himself. Who knows where he is?
Lesnar: And I know what you’re thinking. "He didn't seriously enjoy crushing those two weaklings last week, did he?" Did I enjoy giving Zack Ryder a trip to the hospital and making that chicken *beep* Marella require medical attention? Heh...You’re damn right I did! I rellished every…single…second of it.
Lesnar smiles, gleefully giggling and then licking his lips. His sadism is so heavily present that it's almost as if its dripping off of him, oozing out of his pores with the perspiration.
Lesnar: I don’t even know if Santino can compete tonight, and honestly? I couldn't care less. Because, whether he competes, or he doesn’t compete against me tonight, the result will still be the same. I will still find someone to hurt, some innocent soul to toy with, because I’m invincible! There is no one that can stop me from making you people feel fear! There are so many things I could do; so many different possibilities as to the havoc I could wreak. Say Santino is cleared to compete tonight; you think what I did to him last week was brutal? *Beep*...I’m just getting started. Maybe I’ll F5 him into the ring post like I did to Zack Ryder. Maybe I’ll put him in the Brock Lock and break his back! Or maybe I’ll put the Kimura Lock on each of his arms and break them both! Or maybe...just maybe I’ll threaten to do all of that to him, and promise to make him regret being born if he doesn’t beg for mercy on his knees like the bitch that he is! And then go ahead and do it anyway…yeah…I think I’ll do that. That sounds like fun.
This inhuman monster takes a couple of steps towards the screen, with the upper half of his body becoming illuminated by the multi-colored lights.
Lesnar: And if by chance Santino is watching this, I would bet that he decides to do the smart thing and run for his life. And, in the event that he does...then I’ll just find someone else to amuse myself with. Let me make this as crystal clear as I can. Make no mistake about it…someone IS getting hurt tonight. It might be Santino, It might be Michael Cole, some unlucky worker in the back...hey...It might even be a lucky person sitting in the audience right now! So everyone sit tight…because here comes the pain! Hahaha…
He just laughs maniacally before slowly drifting off screen. What is not being shown is the hushed state of shock back at the arena. There are twenty thousand people in attendance for Warzone, and Brock Lesnar just threatened all of them. What kind of cold blooded monster is he? Has Lesnar gone too far with these latest threats? We’re left to ponder all this and more as Warzone heads to a commercial.
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Apr 20, 13 at 7:05am ^re: Total Championship Wrestling: Roleplay Thread II
Dolph Ziggler W/Layla
After WarZone returns from that commercial break, the announcers talk about the previous promo. After they finish everything in the arena is quite down and all of a sudden.
I'M HERE TO SHOW THE WORLD!
Dolph Zigglers theme song hits over the pa system and the crowd seems to have fixed reactions for Ziggler tonight unlike last week when they all seemed to hate him and be booing him. But tonight there are fans with Ziggler t-shirts and cheering him then the others booing him and saying that he sucks. Ziggler comes out with his usual attire on with a black sleeveless hoodie with the hood up. Behind him comes an old but familiar face Layla comes out in a stunning black and white dress. Some of the male fans in attendance are whistling at Layla, and Ziggler and Layla start to hug at the top of the ramp and then start to kiss at the top of the ramp. They continue there way down to the ring and Ziggler walks up the steel steps first and hold he ropes down for Layla to get in and him jumps over the top rope then grabs the microphone off of the side of the ring and holds it up.
Ziggler: Last week I returned to WarZone and said that tonight I would back my in ring return tonight. And who would've thought It would be in a four corners match. The other three opponents I am facing are all good and talented but nothing compared to me. I am the reason this show is going to take over the world of wrestling and change what wrestling is all about. Like I said last week, TCW and the world will never forget the name Dolph Ziggler!
The crowd boos Ziggler and Ziggler smirks and kisses Layla. And then gets ready to talk again.
Ziggler: One of my opponents are Kyle O'Reilly....who? exactly doesn't matter. My next opponent is a former World Champion just like me, Daniel Bryan. Sure Bryan has hundreds of ways to make someone tap out, but I myself have a few submission moves and can easily escape and get right back on top of the match. And finally, my last opponent, The Legend Killer....The Viper! Randy Orton.
The crowd boos very loudly at the name Randy Orton. Some fans are cheering of course. But Ziggler continues with his statement.
Ziggler: Randy Orton has been in the Wrestling business for a long time now, and has done alot to achieve what he has done. But he has one person to thank for helping him achieve all of the stuff he has and all of the titles he has one. And that person is his father! Cowboy Bob Orton. Without your dad Randy, you wouldn't be here. Unlike you Randy, I had to work my way here! I wasn't just handed it! I'm sick of second and third generation wrestlers coming in here and getting handed things! Not here Randy! I'll be damned if you are handed more things here because of your stupid dad! In our four corners match Randy, forget about Kyle and Daniel, when the bell rings I'm going straight after you until I pin you and am the winner! Like I keep saying! TCW, the world, and you Orton, will never forget the name.....DOLPH ZIGGLER!
With that said and done Ziggler drops the microphone and starts making out with Layla in the middle of the ring with his music playing in the background and the cameras cut to a commercial break.
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Apr 21, 13 at 8:12am ^re: Total Championship Wrestling: Roleplay Thread II
Record - 0/0/0
Finisher's: Ankle Lock, Brainbuster.
The cameras pan around the arena of the Warzone, the crowd are restless, bubbling with excitement for tonight's show, the screen of the titantron flickers from the TCW logo to the backstage area where Josh Matthews is stood outside one of the white locker room doors, he raises the microphone in his hand to his mouth ready to talk to the TCW universe in attendance and watching around the world tonight.
Josh Matthews: Hello everyone, I'm Josh Matthews and I'm here at this current time hoping to get an exclusive first interview with Total Championship Wrestling's newest acquisition, a man you may be aware who is making his in ring debut tonight, that man is Kyle O'Reilly!
Josh knocks on the door twice and patiently waits, just as he raises his hand to knock on it again it swings open as Kyle O'Reilly stands before him in a grey hooded top, the hood raised over his head.
Josh Matthews: Hi, Kyle I'm Josh Matthews, I was just hoping I could get a quick interview with you about your deb-
Kyle raises his hand and cuts Matthews off, grabbing his wrist he pulls the microphone to his mouth, not letting go of Matthews' wrist.
Kyle O'Reilly: You want an interview, Josh? Sure, I'll give you an interview, come on in.
Kyle waves to the cameraman to follow him into the locker room as he waves his finger at Josh Matthews' to do the same, in the locker room lays a battered and torn punchbag, sand seeping out one of the rips in the bag onto the floor, in the corner stands a a free standing training dummy with a human head and torso shape, Kyle picks it up and places it beside him, putting his arm round the high density foam head of the punch bag.
Kyle O'Reilly: Well, fire away with your questions, Josh. I'm waiting.
Kyle smirks as Matthew's turns to face the camera.
Josh Matthews: Well, Kyle I'd like to get your thoughts on your opponents for your debut match tonight, one of your three opponents tonight, Dolph Ziggler earlier came out to the crowd and made his own statements about the match, and made a rather degrading comment about you, by asking who you even were, and saying you don't matter, how do you respond?
Kyle rubs his chin with his thumb as he s*bleep*s at the floor before raising his head, pulling the hood of his top down.
Kyle O'Reilly: How do I respond to that comment? It's pure and simple, Dolph, if you don't know who I am yet, you will by the end of tonight, see, clearly, unlike Dolph, i have been watching tapes of my opponents, scouting their moves, learning their weak points, Dolph Ziggler, clearly hasn't done that, otherwise he'd not be taking me so lightly, but that's fine, I watched his little promo, and the most memorable point of the whole thing was him kissing his little girlfriend.
Fact is, I'm a wrestler, pure and to the point, see Dolph Ziggler can think that the crowd wont forget his name, and they wont, I'll make sure of that, because the crowd will always remember Dolph Ziggler's name one reason, and that reason is that Dolph Ziggler will be on his way to a hospital with broken bones, courtesy of Kyle O'Reilly.
Kyle grins at the camera as he pats his training dummy on the shoulder.
Josh Matthews: And do you have any words on your other opponents tonight? Randy Orton and Daniel Bryan?
Kyle O'Reilly: You know, I'll be honest, I have the up most respect for Daniel Bryan, he's a skilled wrestler, but the fact is, I have a never dying thirst to be the best, and while I respect his skills, I train day in, day out, to be better than my competition, and I will always work harder, push my limits and never stop to win, for me, there is no glass ceiling, and nobody will stop me, no matter how good their skills in the ring may be, I will always be the one just that bit better because I am willing to train harder, and put my body past it's limits to be the best wrestler in the universe.
As for Randy Orton, I know he's thought of as a viper, but the fact is, the largest predator to snakes is humans themselves, I don't need a nickname, I'm Kyle O'Reilly, and it doesn't matter to me if you're a viper, or king kong, you'll either tap out, or get knocked out. The only result that will always be the same is, and you can be sure of this, is that whoever my opponent is, they be standing by the time I'm finished.
Kyle pushes the microphone in to Josh Matthew's chest as he unzips his top and throws it on onto the bench beside him, he then spins around and delivers a spinning backfist to his training dummy, sending the head flying, rolling along the floor till it stops against the wall, Kyle then delivers a spin kick to the torso, sending the training dummy to the floor as Josh Matthew's stand back, worried for his own safety as Kyle approaches him and takes the microphone from his hands, calmly waving his hand for Matthews' to leave, which he does as he quickly exits the door.
Kyle O'Reilly: Tap out, or knock out, message sent.
Kyle smirks as he drops the microphone to the floor with a thud before the cameraman leaves the room shutting the door behind him.
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Apr 22, 13 at 10:05am ^re: Total Championship Wrestling: Roleplay Thread II
’King’ Santino Marella
Rolling Black Out (Rolling DDT Guillotine) | Death by Judo (Tazplex)
Total Championship Wrestling comes back from a commercial break and we are immediately sent to the back where Santino Marella is shown sitting on a doctors table, heavily bandaged up, with the doctor looking him over. Santino is shirtless with his ribs heavily taped and wearing his wrestling boots with his right leg almost completely taped up as well. He doesn’t seem to be in the best of moods and the disdain for the doctors poking and prodding at the ribs is easily expressed on his face.
”Will you stop poking me!” Santino exclaimed in pain as the doctor once again was feeling at his ribs. The doctor backed off a little, but only to grab a stethoscope.
”Ok Santino I’m going to need you to sit straight up and take three big breaths for me ok?” The doctor put the stethoscope to the back of Santino which caused him to jump slightly due to the coldness of the instrument. Santino did as he was told though and sat up as straight as he could before taking three big deep breaths. After the third one a small cough followed and then a wince of pain followed that as Santino grabbed at his ribs.
”Do you know anything yet?” Santino is becoming increasingly anxious to get out of the doctor’s office. The longer you stay in one the more problems they are going to find and that could jeopardize his match tonight against Brock Lesnar, the man who put him on this table. Santino wasn’t going to let a doctor hold him back from getting his revenge against that half-bred hick tonight and wants to get out of there as soon as possible.
”Santino I need you to just be patient for a few more minutes. I am going to do a couple more tests to see if you are able to compete tonight.” The doctor walks away from the table as he speaks. He sets the stethoscope down and picks up another device and returns to Santino. This device is made of a plastic box with a hose coming out of it. Inside the box is a tiny yellow ball that once you blow into it from the hose it will rise and show how strong your lungs are. The doctor hands the device to Santino and he just stares at it confused not knowing what to do with it. ”Put the hose in your mouth and blow for as long as you can without stopping.”
A sly smirk appears on the face of Santino as he whispers ”That’s what he said” before placing the hose in his mouth and doing what the doctor had asked him to do. Santino is only able to keep this up for a few moments before stopping and wincing in pain again. The doctor frowns and slightly shakes his head. Santino notices and doesn’t want the doctor to pull him from his match tonight and quickly inserts the hose again and continues to blow for several moments longer than he did before, in extreme pain the entire time.
”Ok that’s enough.” The doctor takes the device from Santino and while his back is turned Santino grabs at his ribs and lets out a silent scream of agony and then returning to normal before the doctor can realize. ”You are pretty banged up Santino. I can’t say it would be a good idea for you to step into the ring tonight, but you are healthy enough to be cleared….barely.”
A look of pure jubilation comes across the face of Marella. He can’t believe he is cleared to compete tonight, but he is and he is going to get into the ring with a monster tonight, the man that put him in this position in the first place. The doctor is packing up a few of his things when Santino tries to step down off of the bed and grabs at his leg when it hits the ground. Having his leg power bombed through the arm of the throne didn’t do it any favors. The doctor quickly turns around and notices the pain in Santino’s eyes before he can shield them. Santino is furious with himself for letting the doctor see his pain.
”Here take these.” The doctor reaches into a closet and hands Santino two steel crutches. Santino is amazed that the doctor didn’t revoke his ruling and bar him from competing tonight. Santino takes a hold of the crutches and they are heavier than any crutches he’s ever used before. He gives the doctor a quant stare that beckoned a response. ”Who knows, maybe they’ll save your life.”
Santino stares at the doctor for a few more seconds before it processes what they are really meant for. Santino smirks as he puts them under each arm respectively and strolls out of the doctor’s office, but not before thanking the doctor.
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Apr 22, 13 at 11:28am ^re: Total Championship Wrestling: Roleplay Thread II
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We are live inside the arena at TCW WarZone, and the crowed is amped to say the last. Nearly the entire arena is packed to the brim, ready to watch is sure to be an intense night of action. A few seconds pass then ‘Cult of Personality’ begins to play throughout the arena, causing the entire arena to erupt with boos. A couple of moments pass until finally CM Punk slowly makes his way out from backstage he stands at the top of the ramp looking out at the audience, who are baying for his blood. With a little smirk he heads towards the ring, tapping the ‘Best in the World’ patch on his hoodie which only antagonizes more. Finally Punk reaches the ring, and with a spring in his step hops up onto the apron before climbing through the ropes. Once he grabs a microphone from one of the stage hands he makes his way back to the middle of the ring where he begins to address the capacity crowd.
Punk trails off towards the end of his sentence as the overwhelming booing from the crowd begins to muffle him out. Punk doesn’t seem too bothered by it though. Instead he just shrugs and taps his wrist, shouting to the crowd that he has all night. With little other choice than to let Punk continue, the chanting from the crowd slowly pitters out allowing Punk to carry on.
Punk takes a moment to think through what he’s going to say, allowing time for the fans to get in a few more digs.
Punk is cut off again by the booing from the crowd, to which he just shrugs and drops the microphone. Punk then rolls out of the ring and makes his way back up the ramp. The cameras then take us back to the commentary team who are ready to continue with the show.
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Apr 22, 13 at 12:23pm ^re: Total Championship Wrestling: Roleplay Thread II
TCW cameras appear backstage with Josh Matthews.
Josh Matthews: Ladies and gentlemen I am Josh Matthews and at this time, I am going to be interviewing the one of the newest TCW superstar, the Show-Off, Dolph Ziggler!
The crowds still has mix reactions for Ziggler but the boos are louder and override the cheers. Ziggler walks into the camera shot with his hair slicked back, his black sleeveless hoodie still on, and his wrist all taped up and his arm around the lovely and beautiful Layla, who is in a stunning baby blue dress.
Josh Matthews: Dolph, first off, I would like to be the first to welcome you back to TCW and hope everything turns out great for you in your second run here.
Josh moves the microphone over in front of Dolph's mouth.
Dolph Ziggler: Thanks Josh, and its great to be back here. This is a great company to be with. And I am so excited to be back here. And thrilled to be steeping into the ring tonight and facing two very talented and former World Champions like myself, Daniel Bryan and Randy Orton.
Josh Matthews: Dolph you forgot about O'Reilly.
Dolph looks at Matthews then at Layla and they both start laughing.
Dolph Ziggler: Are you kidding me Josh? Have you seen that kid lately? He looks like he could be a male cheerleader. Unlike myself, Bryan, and Randy he isn't a former World Champion, he hasn't won anything! This is were he gets his hopes up and then I will be there to crush them and send him home crying and back onto his couch watching me steal the show! I know I said earlier that when the match starts and the bell rings I am going straight after Orton, but Kyle, doesn't mean I won't have time to beat on you to. I'll see you all later on tonight, and I'll be ready to Steal the Show! SHOW OFF!
Dolph Ziggler flicks his blonde at the camera and walks away with Layla still around his arms. and Josh says goodbye to everyone watching and the camera fades.
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Apr 22, 13 at 12:40pm ^re: Total Championship Wrestling: Roleplay Thread II
- PARENTAL DISCRECTION IS ADVISED -
Recent Events: Defeated Antonio Cesaro on last week's Warzone. Engaged in a war of words with King Santino but for the second time in as many weeks Brock Lesnar took the side of Dean Ambrose and smashed Santino through his throne at the end of Warzone.
Chapter 12 - Burn It Down
It has nearly been a week since the legacy and prestige of professional wrestling's King Of The Ring was dismissed and destroyed. And as we prepare for another edition of Warzone and we watch the likes of Dolph Ziggler, Kyle O'Reilly and CM Punk cut their promos and say their words, there is just the slightest feeling amongst everyone that we are yet to here from the men responsible for laying out Santino Marella. But now it seems like we are going to get our answer, as the one man bold enough to ignore the King Of The Ring's reputation as on our screens, ready to be interviewed.
World Heavyweight Title slung over his shoulder, Dean Ambrose stands beside AJ Lee in front of a television monitor bearing the 'Warzone' logo. AJ looks strangely excited, certainly more than anyone else who stands alongside Ambrose ever does with a microphone in her hand and some ripped t-shirt showing off her figure as per usual. Ambrose, on the other hand, looks as if he fed up already as he rolls his eyes and checks a watch he does not have, constantly checking his World Title is still in place. With a wide grin, AJ begins.
Staring into the ground, Ambrose nods his head a few times, as if reminding himself that the statement in true.
Suddenly Ambrose looks up and stares at AJ, looking very confused. Unsure as to what's going on, AJ stops herself, and they stare at one another for a moment. After a few seconds of silence, Ambrose speaks for the first time.
Dean Ambrose: Josh, Josh Matthews, the guy who usually does this thing with me, where's he at?
AJ seems a little embarrassed that the situation had not yet been explained to Ambrose, and that it is her job to break it to him. Almost school-girl like, incredibly nervous, she answers.
AJ smiles as she speaks, but Ambrose ignores it and nods his head again, as if trying to make up his mind on the situation, and just nods again. There is a slight feeling of awkwardness as AJ cannot decide whether it's okay for her to speak or not, but decides to try it anyway.
Ambrose smirks and holds in a chuckle as he looks at AJ, but laughs when she puts the microphone to him.
Ambrose points to the shining World Heavyweight Championship that sits on his shoulder, and AJ nods eagerly, looking almost impressed by it.
AJ, well over a foot shorter than Dean Ambrose, looks up to him, edging him on to continue, and he obliges. Rather than look at the camera, Ambrose is looking down at her, as if telling a story.
Ambrose snaps his focus away from AJ and instead stares into the camera, his eyes wide and his voice snarling.
From behind Ambrose, AJ steps forward, and by the look of surprise on his face it seems in the few seconds he spoke he had gotten so worked up that he had forgotten she was there.
Abruptly, Dean Ambrose storms out of camera shout. The tone is his voice as he shouts suggests he is not angry, but rather upset by AJ's question.
The camera's turn to watch Ambrose who is pacing back and forth, his head on his head, seemingly beyond annoyed but also upset that AJ got it wrong. She looks a little upset to have caused so much frustration for the World Champion, who eventually storms back to where they were stood previously was and tries to explain himself more simply.
Ambrose stops himself and sighs slowly and loudly, and exhales slowly and loudly again, collecting his thoughts. His pace was so rabid before that he seems almost out of breath. He takes a step forward and is so close to the camera his whole face cannot even be seen. He says his next words so slowly and so deliberately that every syllable is clearly distinguished.
Ambrose shoves the camera away and abruptly storms off. The camera man is quick to his feet and captures the sight of Ambrose walking off down the corridor. It then turns to focus on AJ, who rather than being shaken or scared, simply stares in amazement at the sight of the World Champion, and then the cameras fade to black.
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Apr 22, 13 at 3:07pm ^re: Total Championship Wrestling: Roleplay Thread II
Header Coming Soon.
Randy Orton: Debut.
As the camera's return to a sell out crowd, a familiar song blasts through the P.A.
"I hear voices in my head.."
The fans give a mixed reaction to the surprise of Randy Orton finally making his debut in TCW. Orton slowly walks out from behind the curtain, as his cold blue eyes are staring straight towards the ring and almost like he is staring right through everyone beyond that. Orton continues his slow stroll down towards the ring with a cocky smirk on his face and as he reaches the bottom of the ramp he raises his arms and the smirk across his face soon becomes a big Cheshire grin.
Orton approaches the ring steps and slowly slivers his way in to the ring with that Viper like presence. He picks up a microphone which was already placed on the ring apron ready for his arrival. Orton places the microphone towards his mouth and begins to address the fans.
"For those who may not be familiar with myself, my name is Randy Orton. I plan on taking on whatever is thrown at me here in the TCW and continue my legacy as being the best, being the a slivering sneaky Viper as I have been called in the past and I also plan on punting the heads off of anyone who dares to step foot in my way."
A roar of boos with some cheers is heard among the fans. Orton just stands there smirking and decides to ignore it for the time being.
"My first match here happens to be a four corners match against three very, okay opponents and I plan on taking each and everyone down. My goal here is to show that I still have what it takes to get the job done and rise to the top and claim the ultimate prize. But before I get ahead of myself, I have to start from the bottom of the barrel. Even so, due to the fact I am in the very first match which is kind of insulting, especially since I have done so much in a wrestling ring. I have killed legends, hasbeens, never was and never will Be's, and even though I said my three opponents are okay, in fact, I lied. They are nothing to me but three heads with no brain cells in which I will have the ultimate pleasure of either kicking off, or delivering a swift RKO too,"
Has Orton rubs his hand across his mouth and chin, the fans really start to lay in to the booing and a "Randy Sucks" chant starts off. Orton just laughs and this time decides to give in and get the crowd worked up even more,
"You people can boo the hell out of me all you want and chant that I suck. But I will be the one to make all of your children, weep in tears as I end their precious heroes and put them out on the shelf. You people are nothing more than brain washed. And tonight, the Randy Orton era will begin to take over the TCW for the foreseeable future."
Ortons face becomes more serious as he drops the microphone. His entrance theme is blasting through the P.A once again and the fans are booing Orton out of the building. Orton begins to smirk as he drops to the mat and rolls out the ring and proceeds up the ramp with fans hurling several words of abuse at him. Orton then leaves the stage area and goes backstage to his locker room.
|posts in thread|
Apr 22, 13 at 5:52pm ^re: Total Championship Wrestling: Roleplay Thread II
We go backstage where Matt Striker is waiting to interview Sir William Regal ahead of his Tag Team match where he will team with “Dashing” Cody Rhodes to take on The Brothers of Destruction.
As Regal insults “The Dashing One", Cody Rhodes himself saunters into view of the camera. He has a smug smile on his flawless face, as he seems to try intimidating Regal with his eyes. The British Blue Blood will have none of it, as the veteran keeps his footing and doesn’t bat an eyelash.
After the return fire of Rhodes, Striker spins to Regal with the microphone, performing his journalistic duty of getting both sides.
Regal lets out a smile and a hearty chuckle, shakes his head before regaining his composure.
Cody Rhodes turns away and leaves Striker and Regal. Can these two coexist when they face the Brothers of Destruction?
|posts in thread|
|Smell The Chiken||
Apr 22, 13 at 6:11pm ^re: Total Championship Wrestling: Roleplay Thread II
Jayson Anthony Paul
Finshers: Black Panther (fall forward diving facebuster) | Renegade Neckbreak (spinning sitout sleeper slam)
It should never be like this. It kind of goes against what I have been saying.
Jayson Anthony Paul sits on a mat in a storage room somewhere backstage, deep in meditation. Disliking the noise caused by other wrestlers in the men's locker room and not being given a private dressing, Jayson Anthony is forced to find another room to meditate. He likes this storage room mainly because of the silence; no hum of machines, walls made of brick, nothing disturbing his thoughts. It is the spiritual connection Jayson Anthony favors about this activity the most, for meditating allows him to feel at peace and, therefore, to contemplate his actions. Eyes closed, he allows himself to drift away from this arena into a calmer state of mind.
Why have I been given this opportunity over others? I've only been here a few weeks and I already get a Television Title shot? This is the kind of moment one must work for, at the bare minimum a few months. Why do I deserve it after two weeks? I appreciate it, but there has to be others like me who deserve this chance. Daniel Bryan has been the low man on the totem pole for quite some time now. Although, he had a few title matches. That was a bad example. What about...Cody Rhodes? He has been in this company for quite some time and has never received one title shot. He is the son of Dusty Rhodes, though, and those suits would never let Dusty's kid be anything less than a star. He must have something up his sleeve. Then...wow. Everyone else has either just arrived or is off the roster. Am I really deserving of this? Could I be? It just does not seem right.
"Jayson Anthony Paul. You are on in ten minutes. Jayson Anthony Paul, you are live in ten minutes."
The PA backstage blasts this announcement, taking Jayson Anthony out of his deep thinking. Irate but understanding, Jayson Anthony stands up, grabs his mat, and exits the room. He plans on visiting the locker room before he goes out to the ring; he has to put his mat somewhere. He also plans on scanning everyone preparing themselves for tonight's show to see if he really is deserving of this Television Title Match.
The moment Revolution hits, those in the crowd turn their attention to the ramp. They know that the wrestler formerly known as JTG is about to come out. Some generally like him and his appeal to the working, unappreciated man. Others are just happy to see one of their favorite midcard wrestlers from the mid-2000s on television. As Jayson Anthony comes out from behind the curtain, the cheers are generally positive. Evidently the smarks are not tired of him yet, and he hopes to keep it that way. Entering the ring in front of the Wyoming crowd, Jayson Anthony smiles at the warm reception. He quickly returns to his serious demeanor, however.
"My brothers and my sisters, last week when I addressed the crowd in Las Vegas, I talked about how, in my years as a professional wrestler, I had not been given the opportunities that others had. I talked about how some men in this industry have been handed chances and title shots from day one, and I discussed how some men are forced to stay backstage as extras and are told to be grateful for the little they have. I said all this before I knew what tonight's matches were because that is what I had believed for years, and that night I was able to finally let it all out. I knew which of those two men, the one who is given everything and the one who is given nothing, I was and had been for nearly a decade. Let's fast forward one week, just seven days, and now I am not sure. I honestly do not know which man I am. I have only been part of TCW for two weeks, two matches, and suddenly they tell me that I will fight for the Television Title. While I do appreciate it, because great men, including the King of the Ring Santino, have worn the TV Title around their waists, I just do not know. If it were anyone else, I would explain how it is wrong that they should be given a title shot so early in their time with the company. In fact, I am disgusted with it."
Jayson Anthony struts around the ring, knowing he will have to explain himself, as the awestruck fans in the crowd look at each other in amazement, whispering, "Did he just say that?"
"I have figured out the reason for my match tonight, why it is against Damien Sandow. You see, my brothers and my sisters, those in the back that run the show and book the matches like to personally deal with their employees, us wrestlers, as little as possible. They do not like what I said last week because they know it is true. They know everything thing I mention and reference is fact because, if anyone would know the seedy secrets concerning the wrestling underworld, it would be the man they have shut up for years. They presume that, by giving me a chance at the Television Title, I will hush up about the travesties they have created and the obvious favoritism they show. Rest assured, I will continue to speak out for those stuck behind the curtain, those given one match a year, and those like you who are refused your opportunities for whatever made-up reason while someone who is much less qualified is handed what you deserve. If I find, and I say if because in life there really are not any guarantees, so if I find the Television Title in my position come next week, I assure you that nothing will change. I will still outline everything those execs in the back have done wrong logically and morally, and I will still fight for you, my brothers and my sisters."
Those packed in their seats rejoice upon hearing this reconfirmation of the mission statement Jayson Anthony Paul gave last week. They not only consider themselves fans, but they trust Paul's word. The wrestler humbly smiles at this realization before continuing.
"While some of you might be shocked to hear this, I honestly say that I fully respect my opponent tonight. Damien Sandow is one of the men whom I mentioned when talking about wrestlers who were forced to stay backstage. For years he was kept off television, kept from travelling, forced to stay in the development territory when he obviously had the talent to be on the main roster. Despite all this, the refusal from the suits backstage to get any backing, to wrestle with the likes of other stars, he finally caught a break and never let go. When given the opportunity to partake in an open challenge for a Television Title Match, he won. I would not say he won it cleanly, but he did beat the likes of CM Punk, Daniel Bryan, Wade Barrett, and myself. He then won the title the same night, quite an accomplishment. Anyone who knows the wrestling business can tell you that fighting in two matches in one night is requires stamina and the performer to be in top shape. To win both matches is something that happens once in a blue moon. You may not like the man, or how he treats his clients, but you must respect him. Damien Sandow, I respect you. But, I am still going to destroy you tonight. I predict a good match, and I hope you bring it. These men, women, and children in the crowd, my brothers and my sisters, deserve a good match for the TV Title. Whichever one of us wins should know they faced a man deserving of the title. So Damien, I respect you, and expect you to bring it, but I will pummel you tonight. I want that TV Title, so you better expect a tough opponent. If I have my hand raised at the end of our match, assure yourself that you lost to a man who deserves the title, and that you better give more if you ever want to earn it back."
Rather than dropping the microphone or throwing it on the ground, Jayson Anthony Paul slides out of the ring to hand it to a TCW staff member. While some of the fans in the arena and watching at home are surprised with this last comment, others understand where Paul is coming from. Sandow experienced everything Jayson Anthony did, and this is what he respects. However, they still worry if this is the right mindset to go into a title match with.
|posts in thread|
Apr 23, 13 at 7:19am ^re: Total Championship Wrestling: Roleplay Thread II
1 - 1 - 0
So King of the Ring didn't exactly go off as planned for TCW's one and only Mexican aristocrat, Alberto Del Rio, but it has just been under seven days since he had surgically dismantled one Daniel Bryan in a Bull Rope match and in a few hours time he would have the chance to topple the odds and defeat the World Heavyweight Champion, Dean Ambrose, in a non-title match up. Things, as many people would have said, weren't looking too bad.
So why did the TCW cameras find Alberto backstage in such a worried and dishevelled state? Pacing back and forth, with the three bare cream walls and warm up bench of the locker room in his backdrop, Alberto looked a shade of his former confidence. His hair was not as slick per usual image standard, his latest black Armani suit was missing it's completing blazer and where the hell is Ricardo Rodriquez? Oh, wait, here he was now.
“Boss,” he called off frame just before the camera could re-angle itself to bring him into the scene, “your match starts soon. Shouldn't you be getting yourself ready?”
That snapped him back to reality. Alberto stopped where he was and rounded on Ricardo, his forlorn face looked as if he had been studying a lost cause in progress, and only now realised the real problem at hand.
“How the hell do you suppose I do that, hm?” he took a step closer, as if trying to impress the point, “the man has Brock Lesnar, former World Heavyweight Mixed Martial Arts Champion, for an attack dog! I go out there and I risk injury, career or, even worse, my reputation! So tell me, Ricardo, how do I get ready for that?”
Ricardo looked wounded, and couldn't find the words to bring himself any sort of courage or his boss any sort of peace of mind. Dean Ambrose was a dangerous and unpredictable man, but he wasn't invulnerable and he had limitations.
“I can take Dean Ambrose, that cabrón I know I can handle!” Alberto said, raising his finger as if to highlight the importance of what he had just said, “But Brock Lesnar is another problem; how do I win, and how do I get out of that arena before the attack dog shows up?”
Ricardo looked as lost as ever and remained silent as Alberto crossed his arms and assumed a thinker's mantle. The concentration on his face was obvious, in face it looked almost painful. However given the ugly as sin conundrum he found himself trying to crack nobody could blame him. A moment of silence later and there was a burst of jeers from the crowd, get on with already they said. That was when inspiration stroke him like a lightning bolt.
“Eureka!” he had to say, “I've got it Ricardo! Haha, it's brillante!”
“A deterrent, Ricardo!”
That might as well had fallen on deaf ears for all the enlighten it shed on Ricardo's puzzled little brown face. Alberto waited, as if hoping he would catch up, then sighed as he began to elaborate.
“Years ago when the Russians were at the door and every 'Ivan' and his buddy had a missile pointed to Western soil what stopped the world from pushing the button?”
Another educated, well put sentence put to waste as Ricardo's twitching eye brows and sagged expression showed no sign of understanding. Alberto carried on regardless, maybe he pride from relaying his history lesson even if his proximal audience wouldn't understand it.
“And do you recall what our worthy and esteemed,” if that wasn't sarcasm, god knows what is, “World Heavywight Champion said earlier this evening?”
Ricardo shook his head as if trying to communicate without having to risk raising his voice.
“Brock Lesnar, is a nuclear weapon! And do you know how America stopped Ivan from using his?”
There were a few more sequenced unconvincing nods from Ricardo and a break for the crowd to get a jeer in before Alberto went on to answer in the fashion of an enthusiastic but maybe over dressed history teacher.
“A deterrent, Ricardo! One of the few moments in American history where they had the cahonas and the back bone to do something remarkable. Ivan stuck their missiles at them, so American stuck more of them back. In the end nobody did anything and the world got to keep spinning, something gave birth to Brock Lesnar and somehow along the way to today TCW allowed Dean Ambrose to become World Heavyweight Champion. A tragic pair events that lead to today's problem.”
“So,” Ricardo delayed on every word as if he were trying to feel for the right words to say next, “you're going to use a deterrent to stop Brock Lesnar from interfering in your match tonight?”
Alberto looked down on his man with proud delight, finally it seemed like something had gotten through.
“Yes Ricardo, I'm going to fight fire with fire. In my case that means getting someone else to deal with Brock Lesnar while I deal with Dean Ambrose!”
Finger raised and smiling, Alberto's impish little face almost looked assured that this freshly cooked plan of his would work before he had even shared the key detail of his plan; who the hell did he think was going to be able to stop Brock Lesnar? Ricardo finally nodded, looking convincingly up-to-speed at long last.
“But Boss,” Ricardo stuttered, “who do you think can stop Brock?”
“I don't know Ricardo, but give me time and a phone call and Alberto Del Rio could have an army standing guard at ringside if I so willed it.”
That actually didn't seem like a bad idea. Sure maybe it wasn't going to last, but a ringside littered with bodies would have to be better than nothing. Even the crowd, for a moment, sounded interested as the camera unsteadily shifting focus from Alberto to Ricardo then back again on the Mexican Aristocrat.
“We could always give Cain Valesquez a call?”
Ricardo smiled ruefully. Cain Valesqez was the man who had ended Brock Lesnar's MMA title reign and any chance the man had of leaving UFC with proud legacy behind him back in 2010. The fact the man was Mexican just happened to make it all the more ironic. Maybe he said it in jest, or maybe he meant it, but either way Alberto didn't look like he appreciated it. Scowling, he gripped Ricardo by the shoulders and pulled him closer.
“Now is not the time for joking Ricardo, I have a deterrent to find and I have,” he looked as his watch and grimaced, “not got enough time to do it in if I stand here listening to you make stupid jokes. Now get the hell out of here and find me my nuclear deterrent! Vamos!”
With a shove, Ricardo was out of the picture and scrambling for the door. Alberto watched him go, his hard expression following him as he closed the door behind him. When he was alone, he absently scratched the side of his jaw turned away from the door. The camera orbited, angling at him from the front as he pulled out a sleek black smart phone from his trouser pocket and gave it some consideration.
“Cain Valesquez, eh?”
Alberto smiled, as if dispelling the idea before putting his phone away and walking off camera. The cameraman gave the locker room a few more seconds of attention, then finally faded to black...
|posts in thread|
Apr 23, 13 at 1:26pm ^Won't be free to post it later so sorry for double post
1 - 1 - 0
Any sporting facility worth it's salt wouldn't be worth touting about if it did not come complete with the very latest and up-to-week equipped private gymnasium. Of course, all attending TCW superstars were given free reign in the build up to and during this week's Warzone but not everyone feels that a mixed and open training ground is the place best suited for gearing up for a competitive night. Not Dave Bautista, however. Oh no, if it works, it works. So what if someone walked in on your personal best dead-lift? Let them watch, let them marvel, let them fear.
Funny then, as that was exactly what was happening as the TCW cameraman stepped out from behind a treadmill to find Batista, burdened by what was probably the weight of a small cow, hard at work in the gym. As if oblivious to the camera he finished his sweep released the weight. The bar came down like a thunder clap and Batista let it roll away from him, reaching instead for a bottle of water and a slate grey hoodie. He pulled it up, zipped it up, took a sip and looked ready to go when he paused to look over his shoulder. The mirror behind him gave a great view of the entrance, and the man who had just come through it. He still hadn't found his blazer, but he looked a lot happier than when we'd last seen him.
“Did you have a good work out?” Alberto beamed, lifting one of the smaller dumb bells from a rack as he walked and turning it over in his hand. “There's something, therapeutic about weights isn't there?”
He was smiling even as he sauntered into the picture, but Batista's face may as well had been sculpted from solid rock. Alberto sneered.
“I see you're not one for small talk, I like that in an associate.”
Batista watched as Alberto set the weight on the floor, his face never twitching a muscle until he took another sip from his water bottle. Alberto held out his hands in mock surrender.
“Alright I concede; I need a favour. A matter of business between two professionals in this, ah,” Alberto struggled for a moment, long enough for Batista to turn his back and pick up his sports bag, “dog eat dog industry. That's how you say it right? Dog eat dog, every man for himself, no honour among thieves and scoundrels and the like. You know what I mean? Just nod if any of this has made sense to you so I know I'm on the right level for you.”
It felt like the temperature just dropped when Batista turned on Alberto and there a new, more hazardous look in his eye that spoke volumes for the Animal's state of mind.
“Good,” Alberto smiled impishly, “I'm getting through okay then. I have problem, and you're my solution. Give me two minutes of your, precious time, and I'll give you a compelling argument as to why you should help me.”
When at last Batista decided to talk, it didn't sound like a man ready to make conversation. More like an executioner waiting on the kill switch.
“You've got a minute, at best,” he scowled, “so make it quick.”
“Delightful. Now, as you probably know I'm scheduled to face one Dean Ambrose in tonight's show. I'll skip the details but I doubt he has something we both want, and beating him tonight would go a long way in helping me take it from him. The problem should be obvious. It's over six feet tall and must weight at least three-hundred pounds of steroid by now.”
Now it was Batista's turn to sneer, “Oh Alberto, it breaks my heart to hear you're in such a predicament. But unfortunately I can't help you, you know; since I don't a shit what happens to you or Dean Ambrose tonight. Brock Lesnar is your problem, why should I care?”
There was a moment of hesitation, maybe it was a falter of confidence or a chance to process his next move but for a moment Alberto did nothing but smile. Then he shrugged, as if something important had just been left out of the conversation. Something that should have been apparent.
“Isn't it obvious? For self preservation of course!”
Batista raised an eyebrow, “Come what now?”
Interest had at long last crossed over into attention, and now that he had it Alberto was slow to use it. He crossed the gym floor to where the weight Batista had just been using had come to rest and stood over it, as if admiring it. It was a straight bar, and the weights clicked onto each side could have easily weighed more than two hundred pounds.
“If I don't defeat Dean Ambrose, he's going to keep winning and he's going to keep sending Brock Lesnar after anyone who tries to take his title from him. Meaning one day you're going to find yourself in position similar to the one I find myself in now. Qué se vaya, as you would say: between a rock and a hard place?”
As if illustrating his point Alberto held out each of his hands in front of him: on one hand he had to face down not only the conniving World Heavyweight Champion, but on the other he had to do it with the threat of Brock Lesnar breathing down his neck. Batista smiled and shook his head.
“Well I'll be damned, you actually make a good point.” Batista took a step closer, forcing to camera to move with him to compensate and keep both men in a good light, “But it doesn’t tell me what I possibly gain from watching your back. Say you beat Ambrose - ”
“I'd take him apart!” Alberto injected, but Batista didn't appreciate the interruption and just spoke over him.
“If you somehow, beat Ambrose. If you one day become World Heavyweight Champion and if you somehow manage to avoid crossing paths with Brock along the way then what do I get of all this? What's stopping from sitting back and watching Brock and Ambrose rip you apart huh?”
“My charming personality?”
Maybe someone in the arena, in the midst of the live audience watching this from the auditorium, found that funny but Batista's patience was wearing strand thin, and it was starting to show in the scowl now appearing on the lower half of his face. Sensing the danger, Alberto started talking a little more urgently.
“If I win the title then Ambrose is open season. Not even Brock will be able to keep him safe and you know as well as I do that he's likely to just, up sticks and stomp away like he always does. None of us will have to worry about him ever again, you'll be the hero of hour!”
But Batista wasn't buying it, “Please, you're testing my patience and I'm damn sure your one minute is already up.”
Alberto wiped a hand over his face and breathed out slowly. He racked his brain for a better incentive but deliberately trying to avoid offering the one thing he was sure would probably work. Conversation paused and Batista took this as a sign to leave. He shifted the strap of his bag and turned for the door.
“Alright fine if I win then you get the first shot at the belt, okay?”
Batista stopped just a step shy of vanishing off camera, but he didn't stay there for very long. Without turning back, and with a strong hint of passive aggression, he said.
“Time's up Alberto: no deal, but good luck tonight,” the next part sounded like as if he were smiling, “you're sure as hell going to need it.”
Then he was gone and the camera sifted to focus solely on the disheartened Alberto, and the mirror behind him which gave the viewer's a final glimpse of the Animal as he rounded the corner and disappeared for good. Now alone, and looking a lot less confident that he did when he arrived, Alberto took a seat on one of the many work out benches scattered around the gym floor. Then he sighed, loudly, and started rubbing his face with both hands.
“Así que no van bien.”
It was more for his own benefit than the audience's as he worked his eyebrows. Then he sighed once again and sluggishly pulled out the same smart phone he had been holding earlier, only it sure as hell wasn't to call in Cain Valesquez for backup. He flicked through his contacts, hit dial and then held up the receiver to his ear. It rang once before it answered.
“Things didn't go so well Ricardo so we're going to plan B. Oh, and ah, good luck buddy. I'm counting on you!”
Then he hung up and put his phone away. Looking slightly more pleased than he did seconds before...
* * *
While back in the locker rooms, the camera's smash cut to catch one Ricardo Rodriquez was still holding the phone to his ear after that last phone call. His face was crash between panic and shock, and he didn't even notice the phone slipping from his hand and falling to the floor as the camera slowly faded to black. Yet not before we got to hear one line of Spanish from Ricardo.
“Aye Yai Yai, yo estoy tan jodido.”
Written with permission from Lone Wolf nWo
|posts in thread|
Apr 23, 13 at 3:00pm ^re: Total Championship Wrestling: Roleplay Thread II
The Brothers of Destruction
- - - - - -
The scene opens on the sight of fifteen thousand rabid TCW fans awaiting the appearance of another of their favourites here on WarZone. It could be anybody, and the excitement is beginning to reach fever pitch as fans all stand on their feet, speculating amongst themselves as to who it could possibly be having already seen so many of the top level superstars that call TCW their home. Just as the anticipation begins to die down having been made to wait for a few moments more than they desire, the entire arena is jolted into paying attention by the sight of a huge explosion erupting from within the stage, fire shooting high up into the air before the sound of an organ playing begins to boom out through the speaker-system. After a few moments more, the fans erupt into a colossal cheer as the one and only Big Red Machine, Kane, steps out from behind the set, slowly walking towards the ring down the ramp, looking from side to side at the fans in attendance who chant his name, carry signs with it on, and wear replica masks. He pulls himself up onto the ring apron before stepping over the top rope before walking into the middle of the ring and slowly raising his arms up into the air, before bringing them down fiercely and causing flames to erupt from within each of the four corner posts, again shooting fire high up into the air above the fans on the floor. The red lighting slowly begins to return to normal, and Kane stands in the middle of the ring for a few moments, looking out at the crowd and showing no emotion whatsoever. The fans chant his name, before Kane smirks for the briefest of moments, before the audience have a reason to erupt into even further celebrations...
. . .
DEAD MAN WALKING
The fans of course are delighted at the appearance of the living legend of the ring, the Phenom, the Deadman, The Undertaker. The fans quickly get up to their feet once again, staring up at the stage in the hope that he makes himself known sooner rather than later, and they don’t have to wait long at all. After a few moments of his theme song playing throughout the auditorium, ‘Taker steps out from behind the stage-set, walking with some purpose out onto the stage and stopping in the middle of it, just before the ramp. He looks around at the enthusiasm being thrown his way from the audience, and adjusts his B-O-D beanie hat before beginning to storm down the ramp, looking towards his Brother in the ring who looks back with a slightly disturbing grin. The Deadman moves around the ring upon reaching ringside, walking around a couple of times to get a full gauge of the people in front of him before making his way up the steps and stepping between the ropes. He and Kane briefly share a half-handshake, before he walks across to the ring announcer and takes the microphone from him. As the music dies down, the Brothers of Destruction stand in the ring together, unified, looking out at the audience together as they chant their names in unison. Undertaker smirks, before walking across the ring and leaning on the ropes as he lifts the microphone up to his mouth, staring right down the camera before speaking to the millions of people watching the show live at home.
Undertaker moves away from the ropes and looks around as the fans begin to cheer the Brothers once again, and begins to walk away from the situation, however Kane places his hand on Undertaker’s back, causing the Deadman to turn back around. He holds out his hand, and the fans cheer slightly that Kane has got something to say as well, and before long ‘Taker obliges, handing the microphone to his younger Brother, who looks out at the fans with something of a scowl on his face, not that anybody cares as they continue chanting his name. The Big Red Machine slowly raises the microphone up to his mouth as the fans quieten down just a little bit.
The fans burst into cheers again, clearly pleased with the fact the Brothers of Destruction are back in business. Taker nods along in agreement with what Kane was saying, before reaching out and taking the microphone back from him.
I’M THE ONE MAN BAAAANNNNDDDD!
Heath slater makes his way out from backstage, being stared down by a furious Undertaker who cannot believe the audacity of the young superstar. Slater stands at the top of the ramp microphone in hand, ready to deliver his message to the Brothers of Destruction.
Slater drops the microphone onto the ground as the Brothers of Destruction look on in bemusement at the One Man Band, who continues to look on with a huge grin on his face, laughing at the brothers from atop the ramp, at a safe distance. Before long, the audience are booing as a selection of ‘enhancement talents’ begin jumping over the barricade, surrounding the ring and glaring inside at the two gargantuan superstars, look exchange a brief glance before standing back to back and looking out at the five men who surround the ring, Zack Ryder, Curt Hawkins, Jinder Mahal, Evan Bourne and Chavo Guerrero. Slater continues to look on, enjoying what is unfolding before him, and finally the five men outside the ring slide in under the bottom rope and attempt to assault the Brothers of Destruction. As soon as they are inside the ring and throwing punches, Slater charges down to the ring, clearly only wanting to get involved once the odds were in his favour. Three men take to each Brother, throwing strong punches at their much larger targets, but before long ‘Taker and Kane are able to start fighting back, and both groups of men begin being forced away from them. Undertaker throws strong punches towards Mahal and Chavo which sends them stumbling backwards, and as Chavo approaches once again Undertaker throws his leg into the air and hits a huge big boot that sends him to the mat and to the outside of the ring. Kane on the other side of the ring does the exact same thing to Zack Ryder who falls out of the ring on the other side, and we’re down to six men in the ring as Taker and Kane alternate punches towards their opponents, before eventually forcing Hawkins and Mahal out of the ring and glaring down at a terrified Evan Bourne and Heath Slater. The Brothers of Destruction drag them up to their feet and each grab ahold of one of them men by the throat, before lifting them up and slamming them down with a tandem chokeslam! Both of them roll out of the ring, and Taker and Kane are once again left standing tall in the ring, looking around them at the bodies of their fallen assailants. Taker quickly picks up the microphone that he dropped earlier on in the fray, before lifting it up to his mouth for one final sentiment to be sent around the world.
With that, ‘Taker drops his microphone on the floor and his music begins playing once again as the Brothers of Destruction stand strong in the middle of the squared circle, and the camera fades sharply to black.
|posts in thread|
Apr 23, 13 at 3:36pm ^re: Total Championship Wrestling: Roleplay Thread II
1 x TCW Television Champion
Finisher: Apocalypse Rising (Double Arm Underhook DDT)
Standing alone outside the arena the cameras spot Drew McIntyre. He sits alone with his back against the brick wall of the arena. His eyes are bloodshot and his hair is tangled and messy. He drops his head forward and rests it in his hands. He looks on edge. He had every reason to be. He had lost his last three matches in a row. The usual smirk of confidence replace by a look of fear and determination. A trickle of blood spills from his right knuckle and McIntyre wipes it on his jacket. His knuckles are battered and still cut from last weeks cage match. He had a medium sized gash running the length of his eyebrow. The doctor had recommended stitches but McIntyre declined to keep it as a reminder that once again he failed to beat Damien Sandow, and once again failed to recapture the Television title. Everytime he caught his reflection in a puddle, a mirror or a window he was reminded of his short comings.
Drew McIntyre: This cannot continue, I will not allow it. Tonight I will take all my build up rage and frustration out on CM Punk. However with ever blow of my fist smashing his face I will be picturing Sandow. Every drop of blood spilled I will be thinking of Sandow and when I pin his shoulders for the three count. I will know my message has been sent loud and clear! This is not over! Not by a long shot. I'm coming for my belt! I will not rest, I will not sleep until that Championship is back round the waist of The Sinister Scotsman. I worked to damn hard for to long to lose it that soon. The Darkness is my shepherd and it will guide me in my hour of need. It will show me the one true path in life to achieve my destiny. You cannot stop me. You can only roll over and die
Running his hands through his hair and once more over his face McIntyre stood to his feet, turned and rested his head against the cold brick wall. He took a few deep breaths in and out before punching the wall several times. With every blow he felt the flesh peel off his knuckles. The blood oozed from his hands and dropped to the floor. Wiping the blood over his face McIntyre turned and walked into the arena for his match.
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