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Post by Yoko Satoshi on Oct 21, 2009 20:29:37 GMT -5
Match 3: The Red Panther vs. Jonny Spade
Red Panther wins with the Eraser Gun.
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Post by Yoko Satoshi on Oct 21, 2009 20:30:12 GMT -5
“EMINENT DOMAIN - PART 2” Credit: High Roller [The Fallout Gym doesn’t get many visitors these days but when it does bad news surely follows. Last week the High Roller paid a visit to Biff Taylor who had not been seen in the ACW Universe for quite some time. Informing Taylor of his desire to take the Fallout Gym off his hands and demolish it along with the arena to claim land for a new casino, Roller’s vision of a towering neon play land for ACW’s guests was met with great resistance. While surely such a proposal from a rookie would be looked upon with disbelief, it is the fact that the Fallout Arena’s owner, Jonathan Gingerdude, backed the plan that made it a credible threat. Hoping that after throwing Roller out on his ass he had brought an end to this ordeal, Biff is about to find out that the matter is anything but over. Much like last week another guest shows up uninvited, this one much less intimidating in appearance. However, as they say, looks can be deceiving.] Biff: What is a matter with people today?! Doesn’t anyone knock?! Official: I’m sorry Mr. Taylor, I did, but needless to say the place is so big and deserted I wasn’t sure if anyone heard me. I guess you could say I was correct in my assumption. Anyway, I was given permission by the owner of the property to enter and seek out the current occupant, which would be you. Biff: Oh?! Well did “Mr. Fancy Pants” tell you that while he owns 90% of the structure that surrounds you, he doesn’t own the 10 percent that you are now standing in? That property owner is one man and one man only and you are looking at him. Bah! Whatever! Let’s cut to the chase, shall we?! I don’t have all day. Official: Yes Mr. Taylor I am fully aware that you are the owner of the Fallout gym and that is exactly why I am here. I am here to inform you that isle’s government is currently seeking the rights for emanate domain for this property and I am here to invite you to a hearing in the near future to appeal the process. Biff: Eminent .. what? Official: Eminent Domain is the inherent power of the state to seize a citizen’s private property. In this situation you are that citizen, Mr. Taylor. Biff: So what you are saying is you and a bunch of pencil neck geeks are planning to take my own property away from me?! Property that was purchased and built with not just my blood, sweat and tears, but that of many men who walked through these doors?! Official: In terminology that differs from your own, yes. Biff: What country am I living in?! Isn’t this America?! Official: Technically, nobody seems to know what country we reside in ( >.> ), though the law is quite clear. I assure you that it is legal, Mr. Taylor. Biff *yelling*: Legal?! LEGAL?! I’LL TELL YOU WHAT IT IS, IT’S A CROCK OF SHIT, THAT’S WHAT IT IS! Official: Mr. Taylor, there is no need to get - Biff *interrupting/screaming*: OH YES THERE IS! WHAT HAPPENED TO THE DAYS WHEN A MAN’S HARD WORK THAT HE GAVE TO HIS COUNTRY WAS REWARDED WITH HIS RIGHT TO OWN ITS SOIL!? I MAY NOT BE RICH. I MAY NOT BE FAMOUS. BUT DAMMIT, I HAVE DONE A LOT FOR NOT ONLY THIS ISLAND, BUT THAT JERK ACROSS THE STREET! YOU KNOW DAMN WELL IF I WAS ONE OF THE SOCIAL ELITES YOU WOULDN’T BE STANDING IN FRONT OF ME RIGHT NOW. BUT IT’S OKAY TO STEP ON THE SMALL GUY, RIGHT? LET ME TELL YOU SOMETHING, PAL, I’M GOING TO SHOW UP AT YOUR LITTLE MEETING AND LETS SEE YOU TRY TO DO EXACTLY THAT! NOW YOU GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE AND GO TELL GINGER AND THAT MARBLED MOUTH CAJUN THAT IT WILL BE A COLD DAY IN HELL BEFORE MY GYM GETS BULLDOZED FOR SOME CASINO! [And with that, the gauntlet has been thrown down.] [FADE]
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Post by Yoko Satoshi on Oct 21, 2009 20:30:45 GMT -5
Title: A Closing Door Credit: Chris Phenomenal and Senator
Note: The following occured on Tuesday, October 20th.
--
The scene opens inside of the Senatorial Offices, now occupied again with Senator’s return to ACW Island. Sitting across the desk is as usual, Chris Phenomenal, as Senator rolls a pen between his fingers, the Beatles playing in the background.
Chris Phenoemnal: So what exactly are we doing here. I thought you wanted to train me, teach me new moves, strengthen me even more. Yet we’re now here and you’ve got those fuckin’ Beatles playin’ again.
Senator: There is more to wrestling then just physically brutalizing someone. My entire tenure here in ACW I have not been the strongest wrestler, but I have exuded tenacity, the ability to channel any emotions I may be facing into one eruption of rage leading me to victory. You however on the other hand, have not shown the ability to control your passion, you snap at the slightest hint of wrong doing upon you.
Chris Phenomenal: It’s served me well up into this point however. Reigning International Champion, former Entertainment Champion.
Senator: You bring up your reign as Entertainment Champion. Could one not say that you would still be the Entertainment Champion if it were not for your anger issues? If you had not erupted after Jake Steele turned Dan White’s attention away from the match at hand, you would have been able to shuffle away with victory, instead of laying down the gauntlet after you had already been through one vicious match. You would have prevented Andrew Black from stealing your title. You would be a double champion if it were not for it.
Chris looks up at Senator, blinking twice at him before shaking his head.
Senator: I know it is rich coming from me, telling you to control your anger, but it is the way to the top. It is like the Buddha, Siddhartha Guatama. The life of indulgence, of being fully controlled by a singular emotion does not lead you to the top, but neither does the life of asceticism, being serene and out of touch with one’s emotion. You must embrace the middle way, the dispersion of your anger in one controlled wave.
Chris Phenomenal: It’s just not going to happen Senator. I’m hardwired this way, it’s bred into my mentality. All the time growing up, someone stepped on you, even by accident you knocked there teeth in. Your anger hardens you to the world, it makes it so that you can’t be hurt by anything that life throws at you.
Senator: So then tell me, what has life thrown at you?
Chris looks at Senator, his eyes open a little wider, curiously studying Senator, wondering what all he knows about his history.
Senator: I talked to Alicia last Wednesday and…
Chris Phenomenal: That fuckin’ bitch.
Senator: That is not necessary Chris, in fact, she is quite a remarkable women. You abducted her, held her against her well, a felony charge that would lead you to imprisonment back home. Even worse yet, you taking her left her two little children all by themselves. Putting all that behind her though, she somehow came to me worried about you, as if you were one of her own.
Chris Phenomenal: Bullshit.
Senator ignores Chris musing and carries on.
Senator: She said that when you held her captive, you were pleading for help, talking about how you “lost her.” Now forgive me if I am wrong, but as long as I have known you, you have never mentioned any female in your life. No mother, no companion, not a sister.
Chris Phenomenal: And it’s going to stay that way Steve.
The use of his first name gives Phillips pause for a moment as Chris turns around and stares at him.
Senator: Why? I may not consider myself a modern day cupid but I am curious as to this. As Alicia pointed out, when you are in the ring or even sulking around backstage you seem to be the embodiment of focus.
Chris Phenomenal: Because I’m not one to bring my personal life to the arena. I’m not going to bandy about my problems with love. I’m not going to be Thunderkiss parading around his common whore, Dave Shadow obsessed about the state of his brother. I’ve spent my entire life by myself and that’s the way it’s going to be.
Senator: Then why, in your most pure moments, the façade dropped, the real Chris Phenomenal shining through do you bring her up. You have not been alone all your life, that I am sure of. You have had a companion and you have lost her. I believe in a way that the two problems may be connected Chris. Your anger and your loss. If we can cure one ailment, we can the other at the same time.
Chris Phenomenal: Look! You don’t want in my personal life Senator because quite honestly, you can’t handle it.
Senator: Now I may not have been raised in the slums of New York, but I do believe I could be of aid.
Chris Phenomenal: No you couldn’t. You’ve always been upper class, always focused on your job, on your studies, on whatever it may be. Nothing like this has ever come across your plate.
Senator: I think you are underestimating…
Chris raises his hand, halting Senator as he leans across the desk, shaking his head as he tone becomes utmost serious.
Chris Phenomenal: No, I’m not. Now I known that every man does not go without faults. I am sure that you’re holding something back, something that you would not want to expose me too.
Now it is Senators turn to hold up his hand, but not to speak. Instead, to think, wondering how much Chris knows and where he would have come across any information.
Chris Phenomenal: Now I would expect the same courtesy you would ask. Our original agreement was that we would aid each other. I would help you reach the top in order to gain experience under you. Now I know we have progressed beyond that agreement, but until you’re willing to share the depths of your existence, your deepest secrets and allow me to aid you with them, I would hope you would extend to me the same privilege.
Senator stares at Chris before leaning back in his chair. While the offer is enticing, his plans unknown to Chris hinging on his mental state, the thought of spilling everything to him is too much to ask. As Senator leans back in his chair, so does Chris, his muscles relaxing a bit.
Senator: Alright then, I will not bring it up. I do however still wish to work on harnessing your anger.
Chris cross his arms as Senator continues on but the words are not for us as the scene fades away.
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Post by Yoko Satoshi on Oct 21, 2009 20:31:16 GMT -5
Title: The Past Credit: Trent Wheeler
Wheeler is making his way to the ring for his match with Lilith Dormieux. Kevin Anderson is standing in the hallway with a microphone, waiting for Wheeler. When Wheeler sees him, an annoyed look creeps across his face.
Kevin Anderson: Ahh, Trent. Hope last week was good for you. Losing to VorteX. Tonight your against a girl, so you stand a small chance you might win.
Trent Wheeler: Kevin. Why do you annoy me? Are you always this much of an ass?
Kevin Anderson: Hey now. There is no need to call people names. I really do care about your match. Hahaha.
Trent Wheeler: Well Kevin, if you did, you would have been watching earlier. I said everything I needed to say in that video.
Kevin Anderson: I saw, but I have some questions that I wanted to ask. An interviewer, especially one as experienced as me, is important to help you get over with the fans.
Trent stared at Kevin. Was he serious? Is he just trying to get his head? Trent didn't know, but he was tired of hearing Kevin and pushed him aside. As he began walking away, Anderson called out to him.
Kevin Anderson: And just so you know, I've heard that old Blood is looking for you.
Wheeler stopped in his tracks. What? Kevin had to be lying. But how else would he know about Him? He must really have contacted him.
Trent Wheeler: What are you talking about? How do you know about Him?
Kevin Anderson: I got your attention now i see. Well Trent, you gotta remember, your on national television now. He saw you. Didn't really care at first. But, he's getting too much attention now...because of that.
Anderson points at Wheeler's trench coat. He turns around. The wolf. He can never get away from the Wolves. He thought that the peace would last forever. Turns out that He only wished to destroy Wheeler on a bigger stage.
Trent Wheeler: What did he say? What does he want?
Kevin Anderson: Oh so sorry Trent, but I can't reveal those details to you. You see, me and old-
Wheeler grabs Anderson by the throat and pins him against the wall. Anderson looked back at Trent with fear wide in his eyes.
Trent Wheeler: Listen Kevin! I'm been playing nice with you for a long time, but this is a very different situation! Tell me whatever that bastard said to you!
Kevin Anderson: H-he just said to watch out for him. Let me go!
Wheeler releases his clutch of Anderson. Anderson hurries away, while Wheeler wonders about what he has just learned. Suddenly, he punches the wall, as the camera fades.
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Post by Yoko Satoshi on Oct 21, 2009 20:31:57 GMT -5
FLOWER POWER PART II a revelation in retrospect[/b][/center][/color] credit: Ringleader & Yoko 2005Rena stood in her office, playing with the creases in her red silk kimono robe Ginger had given her as a gift just minutes before. Ginger had left, leaving her to her thoughts. She still wasn't sure why the conversation with Sarin had struck a nerve with her, but she wasn't impressed with these feelings. As she finished her glass of vodka and slammed it on her desk, Yoko stepped through the door without a knock. Before Yoko could even mutter a word, Rena grabbed the empty glass and threw it at the wall.YOKO: Well I see you haven't changed. Your temper tantrums are just as lethal. RENA:FLOWER POWER? REALLY? You think I would just forget about that? Oh, and good job on using MY EXACT WORDS. YOKO: It's only a name. Rena clenched her pearly-white teeth and wished she had another empty glass nearby to throw against the wall..RENA:I'm fucking furious, Yoko. That was MY name. YOKO: Your name? Rena, you didn't trademark it. I grew accustomed to the name, and since we are clearly not suited to be tag partners, much less civil to one another, I figured I'd use it with someone else. RENA:Well isn't the fucking fantastic! Rena had had enough. She moved slightly to her left and found another glass, throwing it against the wall just below the spot she hit moments ago.YOKO: Watch out, soon you're going to have to get Ginger to buy you a new set. Again. RENA:Well, I have had my eye on this gorgeous 16-piece set from Ikea- WAIT, SHUT UP! YOKO: Rena, you started the rift between us. Our friendship ended because you didn't trust me. RENA:Trust you? How could I have?! YOKO: The present situation is irrelevent; you were my only friend and when I needed you most, you turned your back on me. RENA: OH BOO FUCKING HOO! So I didn't believe you when you denied attacking someone! I had enough reason to suspect you, everyone did! I have apologized for that, and you just can't get over it, can you? YOKO: I got over it, clearly. You're the one breaking your things. RENA:You're a fucking liar! You're fucking Sponge Yoko Liar Pants! YOKO: Really? This is what you wanted to say? RENA:IT FITS! YOKO: You want the truth? Maybe a small part of me took pride in knowing that Sarin would tell you and you'd hit the roof. But that has nothing to do with it. You have nothing to do with it. Sarin has great potential and I really- RENA:OH MY GOD! YOKO: What? RENA:You DO have some fucking schoolgirl crush on her! Yoko decided not to pretend she hadn't entertained the odd thought of her and Sarin together romantically...
She remains silent.RENA:Well isn't this just fucking peachy! Yoko rubbed her temples.YOKO: Rena, are you done? It's late. I would like to go home and go to bed. RENA:NO! NO I AM NOT DONE! YOKO: What now? RENA:AI- I don't know ... I just didn't want to be like, 'Oh, okay Yoko, I'm done. You can go home to bed and dream about your little LESBIAN FANTASIES!' YOKO: Rena. It was a throwaway team name. RENA:How can you do this to me? YOKO: I'm not doing anything to you! I want to be her tag partner, and we're using Flower Power as a name. If that offends you, then I'm sorry. RENA:Well I don't accept your apology! YOKO: Then don't. I really don't care, Rena. RENA:I will never forget this. Yoko laughed in complete disbelief. She had not wanted to cause a scene or fight, but Rena was not giving up.YOKO: This is crazy, and I'm usually the crazy one. I'm not continuing this. RENA:Then why did you come? YOKO: Because Sarin told me that you wanted me to! RENA:Oh, did I? YOKO: Yes. RENA:Maybe Sarin told you to come here in some plot to get us together and reconcile our friendship. Very parent trap, except in this version we would be lesbian lovers where the one mother has sexual fantasies about her own daughter! YOKO: What? I wasn't even a lesbian then, and you never have been. Is this just how you are at three in the morning or have you gone mental? RENA:I've had three glasses of vodka. YOKO: This is never going to stop. Rena grabbed her bottle of vodka and poured another glass, downed it and threw the glass against the wall.RENA:That feels really good. You should try it. YOKO: Okay, Rena, are we fighting still or can I go home? RENA:WE ARE STILL FIGHTING! YOKO: I'm going home. RENA:TRY IT! YOKO: No. RENA:YOU BETTER FUCKING COME OVER HERE AND THROW A FUCKING GLASS AGAINST THE GODDAMNED WALL! YOKO: Rena, I'm not- Yoko had almost refused again, but she felt the smash of the vodka bottle on her head. A few streams of vodka poured into the cut that had immediately formed on her head, causing extreme pain.YOKO: JESUS CHRIST, RENA! RENA:OW OW OW OW I HAVE VODKA IN MY CUT!! YOKO: YOU'RE CRAZY! RENA:I tried to throw the vodka bottle at the wall, but it kinda dropped on your head! YOKO: I'M...I'm going to leave now, I've had enough. RENA:YOU'VE HAD ENOUGH?! YOKO: And some advice; Stop drinking. RENA:YOU STOP! YOKO: Are you twelve? RENA:Are YOU twelve? YOKO: Whatever. Goodbye. RENA:I WON'T FORGET! Yoko closed the door behind her and began to walk down the hallway when Rena's door flew open. Rena's head popped out and called towards Yoko.RENA:I WILL NEVER FORGET YOU KILLED MY AUNT BERU AND UNCLE OWEN! YOKO: That's LUKE SKYWALKER, Rena! RENA:DON'T TRY TO LIE YOUR WAY OUT OF IT, SPONGE YOKO LIE PANTS! YOKO: You can't use that twice! You shouldn't have even used it once! Rena wasn't even paying attention. She had slammed the door as Yoko had gotten to the middle of her sentence. Yoko shook her head in complete disbelief as she headed home back to her bed.[fade]
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Post by Yoko Satoshi on Oct 21, 2009 20:32:28 GMT -5
Segment with none of my characters, it's like WTFBBQsauce tastic (Credit: Panther) Our scene is in the ring. The ring is empty but the crowd are ecstatic, waiting for something too happen. Gingers Theme plays and Gingerdude appears, walking down too the ring. He climbs into the ring, microphone in hand.Gingerdude: I trust you are all enjoying the show? The crowd cheers.Gingerdude: Well, I have an announcement, an interactive one at that. As you all know, Jimmy Winner and The Red Panther have been at each others throats for over a month, and with the budget cuts, somebody needs too leave. And with how much these two dislike each other, what better way too settle this than in a match in which the loser leaves? Again the crowd cheers and Gingerdude walks around etc.Gingerdude: Now I could not decide what match type too put these two in, so decided too let you the fans choose between three options. So what do you want? Tables match? Crowd: WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Ladder match? Crowd: WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Steel chair match? Crowd: WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Gingerdude: So take those remotes from under your chair and vote: What will this match be at Samhain, for each it could be there last match, Jimmy Winner vs The Red Panther! Now vote! The lights dim and a countdown starts.Thirty seconds later and the lights come back up.Gingerdude: So, what won? Let's see! AT SAMHAIN JIMMY WINNER AND THE RED PANTHER WILL FIGHT IN A LOSER LEAVES ACW MATCH, WHAT WILL THE STIPULATION BE?
A: TABLES 33.3% B: LADDERS 33.3 C: CHAIRS ONLY 33.3% D: SLAMMED PALM REPEATEDLY AGAINST THE KEY PAD WHILE SHOUTING 0.1% Gingerdude: Well, it looks like we have an unlikely yet contrived tie. Well, I think we have just one option. At Samhain Jimmy Winner and The Red Panther will face off. In a loser leaves ACW TLC match! The crowd is obviously happy at this decision, cheering and applauding. Gingerdude smiles and leaves, allowing the crowd too talk about the match choice.</fade>
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Post by Yoko Satoshi on Oct 21, 2009 20:34:35 GMT -5
Match 4: VorteX vs. The Ringleader
Vortex wins with the Turkey Jerker.
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Post by Yoko Satoshi on Oct 21, 2009 20:35:16 GMT -5
The impatient purr of the waiting taxi hurried their breath. His arms coiled around her bare shoulders and squeezed affectionately. Her mouth was buried into his bicep and she clung tighly, closing her eyes to magnify the forgotten feeling of closeness. Locked in embrace, everything else around them seemed to whisper. Not even the obnoxious honk of the tarrying cab managed to unfurl them back to reality. Eventually, they separated but retained a bond through intense eye contact. His were friendly and warm, hers were tired and worried. “I’ll see you, babe. Take care, yeah?”He rubbed her shoulder tenderly and flashed her a smile. He could read the concern in her eyes, regardless of how much she tried to disguise it. “You too, sweetie.”She forced a thin smile that barely registered on her face. She continued to grasp his hips with a subconsciously desperate grip. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?”He lowered his head and peered closely into her eyes. She shot her glance away from him and pulled her hands from his body. “No. I’ll be fine. Honest. You go.”He reached his hand up to her face and controlled her, forcing her to face him. He delicately stroked her cheek and looked anxiously at her. She appeared absent as she looked up at him. He was in two minds about leaving, but knew how stubborn she could get. He softened his voice to soothe her. “Alright. I’ll see you soon, okay? Until then, look after yourself. And get some sleep.”She smiled – unforced this time. Her eyes were warm and groggy. She could not remember the last time she had slept for an entire night. She rested her hand on his and stroked it gently. “I will.”He lurched forward and kissed her on her plump, dry lips. A platonic kiss that caused neither heart to shudder, as if they had done so many times before with similar effect. He slowly slid his hand from her cheek and shot her a final smile before hunkering down into the cramped backseat of the taxi. He pulled the door towards him and spoke muted orders to the driver. As the cab slowly pulled away, he turned his head to catch the sorrowful expression on her face as she waved, timidly. The brisk October air ran it’s cold fingers over her body as she folded her arms across her torso. Her flowing black hair danced wildly in the wind and her squinted, exhausted eyes watched as the vanishing lights of the taxi were swallowed by the horizon. Vigorously rubbing her shoulders for warmth, she turned to the door behind her and began to shuffle towards it. As she crossed the threshold into the heated building, a chilling shudder surged through her entire body. The stiff door slammed tightly behind her as she found herself in a dimly lit room. She exited the room and proceeded into a long, brightly illuminated corridor. She ambled lethargically through the hallway, lost in the daze of precious memories. The clomp of her high-heel boots were rhythmic – almost trance inducing. She turned a corner and a draught that must have infiltrated the building caught up to her and caressed the back of her neck, bringing all of the hair on her body upright.The goose pimples spread over her entire body and she felt a cold feeling all the way down to her stomach.It was then that she realized the horrifying sensation that plagued her. She was being followed. She quickened her gait, hurrying through the seemingly never ending corridor. Rigidly keeping her focus ahead of herself, she daren’t look back for fear of what she may see behind her, preferring suspicion over confirmation. After turning another corner she swiftly raced towards a nearby door; it was the door to her personal room. Quickly, she entered through the door before slamming it firmly behind her and, without hesitation, clicked the lock securely closed. She backed against the door and released a reassured sigh. She waited for her heart to slow its manic pounding before she edged away from the door. She shuffled wearily over to the fireplace. The room was warm enough and so she decided not to ignite it. Instead, her eye was caught by the photoframes lined across the mantelpiece. She picked the one on her left up and examined it. The picture contained a man and a woman with similar features, cuddled together in what was remarkably a sibling embrace. Their warm smiles brought one to her face. She returned the photo to its place and plucked the second one from the mantel. It was her friend, Cyda. It was an action shot, from a time when he was at the peak of his wrestling career. Finding a photo of him posing for the camera would be a rare discovery. She returned the photo and took a third photo from her right. She held it for a long time with a blank expression. She closed her eyes and recalled some happy memories. She opened them and refocused on the photo, unsure of whether to smile or to cry. As she tilted the photo, it became clear as to its contents. It was Torak. Suddenly, there came an almighty thud on the door. Startled, she jumped and turned to face the door, which, for her, was thankfully still closed. She replaced the photo on the mantelpiece, untidily due to involuntary trembling. Another thud made her heart jump and adrenaline coarsing through her veins. She lurched towards her sofa, almost tumbling over from it as she reached it. Another thud, coming from the other side of the door, as if somebody was kicking it, followed. She couldn’t help but open the tear valves and the waterworks proceeded to pour from her eyes. She began bawling in a frightened hysteric. Conversely, on the other side of the door, an echoing laughter from two distinct different sources could be heard. Panicked, Cordelia rushed around to the other side of the sofa and put all of her weight behind it. With a heaving groan, she managed to budge the furniture half a meter before collapsing onto the hard wooden floor. The laughter stopped but the thudding resumed. This time, it was harder and louder and more consecutive. It was if the spirit of Edgar Allen Poe had embodied the room itself. Coredlia doubted that a mere raven loomed on the other side of the doorway, and she didn’t want to be proved right. She heaved again and managed to force the sofa closer to the door, but still far away enough to allow the door to open and allow any potential intruders with detrimental intentions in mind to enter. Another hard thud on the door caused one of the photo-frames on the opposite side of the room plummet from the mantelpiece to the floor, smashing the frame into bits. It was the one she had previously been holding. Cordelia was, understandably, less concerned with her decorations than she was her safety for the time being. Another grunt and another push finally eased the sofa into position in front of the door. For added measure, she sat up against the arm of the sofa to reinforce the barricade. She ran her hands through her hair as she sobbed. The thudding stopped. The laughter ceased. There was an uncomfortable silence. Then, black. The lights in her room cut out and she was plunged into a frightening darkness. Using the sofa as a support, she pulled herself to her fight. Blind, she navigated her way through the shadow with her arms outstretched. She managed to find the light switch, but flicking it on and off proved to be fruitless. She was alone and afraid in the dark with nobody to help her. Suddenly, a shining light of hope beamed into her thoughts as she remembered a torch that she had left in her bag. She moved slowly from the wall and shuffled tentatively through the darkness. Feeling the nothingness of the void in front of her, she attempted to plot a route to her bags last known location. She remembered it was somewhere near the dresser. She shifted forward slightly, thinking she had ample room ahead of her. However, the sofa jutted out further than she imagined and she painfully clipped her knee on the hard arm. She fell to the floor in a pathetic heap and whimpered. Clutching her knee, she began to snivel and blub. She called out to nobody in particular to help, but she knew nobody would be there to help her. She curled herself into the foetal position and weeped. A lonely tear drop fell from her cheek and landed on the wooden floor. A second one followed and joined it, accumulating her grief into a small pool. Or even, a small pond.
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Post by Yoko Satoshi on Oct 21, 2009 20:36:01 GMT -5
Aberfan (Credit: Torak & Dan)
His throat was dry and he had an anxiousness in his step. He felt guilty leaving Cordelia, even if only for a short while. But for the past five minutes he had found himself scrambling around the dizzying corridors of the ACW Arena, which were foreign to him. He felt as if he had walked in circles and passed the same locations time and time again. He twisted his head to peer behind him as he scanned the area. He was firmly lost in the depths of the building and didn’t know anybody to ask. He wasn’t even supposed to be there.
Turning the corner, his face lit up as if he had stumbled upon the holy grail itself. The drinks vending machine rested symmetrically in the corner and glowed with a vestige of quenching promise. He shuffled over to the appliance, rummaging through the pocket of his cobalt blue jeans. Times, like with most, including the ACW itself, had been hard on him, but he luckily managed to unearth the single coin required to satisfy his thirst.
He rolled the coin into the thin slot and watched as it was swallowed by the machine. He glanced through the plexi-glass to admire the contents. It was full to the brim with alluringly cold soft drinks and bottled water. He licked his arid lips and pondered his decision. In the glass he could make out the reflection of a figure behind him. He turned his head to inspect this mysterious presence and the first thing that he noticed was the glaring red t-shirt being worn by the figure. He glared at the dragon emblazoned on the chest and smiled proudly. He then noticed the plate of gold slung over the opposite shoulder, helping him to recognize his owner.
Cyda: It’s always nice to see a fellow Welshman doing well for himself.
The figure of Dan White, the ACW Champion is revealed in all his backstage glory. He turned to face the stranger and raised a quizzical eyebrow as he was approached by the gesture of a gentlemanly handshake. Dan accepts the handshake, but is still weary as he scans Cyda.
Dan White: Hey, thanks a lot.
The thud of a full, heavy bottle of water falling to the bottom of the machine prompts both men to adopt a fighting stance. Too many years of a backstabbing environment takes it’s toll on the mind. They soon ease off and share a light-hearted chortle.
Cyda: So, how’s Champion life treating you?
Dan White: Living fast and most likely about to die young. But it's good. What brings you to these shores?
Cyda shuffles nervously, biting his tongue and shifting his eyes, considering his answer.
Cyda: I’m here for C.…a friend. Just to see how they are doing.
Dan White: ...Ah. Don't have to play smokes and mirrors with me, mate. Seems a bit odd for you to come all the way to the arena, though.
Cyda: It was sort of a last minute decision. I was going to stay home with my Mother. She usually gets quite depressed around this time of year.
Dan White: Aberfan?
Cyda: Yeah. Her Aunt was living there when it happened. She was okay, but she remembers how shocked she was that day when she found out what had happened. It was terrible.
Both men pause for a second as the horrific memories sink in. Despite both being born years after the disaster, neither of them could forget the tragic feeling that has been passed down since that fateful October morning. Both, being avid football fans, had experienced their fair share of minute silences around this time of year.
Dan White: I can understand why she'd be upset, pal. It's a bloody shame what happened that day. And anything for the English to try and screw us over as well with the aftermath. It's absolutely shocking.
Cyda: It’s funny, how stringent and nitpicky health and safety laws don’t allow you to take a shit without warnings and advice nowadays. If they had been around then, maybe the whole thing would have been avoided.
He stopped and drew a deep breath, feeling a wave of sorrow and resentment to pass over him. His throat was becoming rough and he felt quite faint standing there, but he didn’t want to turn his back on Dan to retrieve his drink, not wanting to seem rude. Dan could probably sense that he was getting edgy and anxious to end their meeting.
Dan White: All right then, pal. I'll let you get on your way. In a bit.
Cyda turns to the machine and pulls his drink from the front pocket of the vendor. He wasted no time in unscrewing the cap and gulping back a mouthful of the refreshing liquid. He let out a satisfied gasp and nodded at his compatriot.
Cyda: See you around, Champ.
Both men parted ways as Dan continued on down the corridor and Cyda prepared to find his way back to Cordelia’s locker room. As he stood alone, in silence, he imagined the hectic scenes of that fateful day as children and adults alike screamed out for help in their moment of terror. As much as he tried, he doubted he could capture the true scale of the horror in images or in words. He stood silently with his head bowed. He turned his head to the vending machine and noticed a sign pasted near the top of the machine that read a Health and Safety warning to users of the machine not to attempt to tip the machine. He scowled before turning to the direction that he had come from and began to make his way back into the maze of the building.
OOC Note:
[Early on the morning of 21st October, 1966, 144 people in the sleepy village of Aberfan were killed by a colliery tip that had collapsed onto the local school. 116 of the victims were children aged between 7 and 10. The tip had been accumulated on the Merthyr Mountain for over 50 years by the National Coal Board despite numerous calls for concern by the villagers. Due to the incompetence and general disregard for public safety, the NCB continued to put the residents of Aberfan’s lives at risk by depositing millions of cubic metres of excavated mining debris directly above the village. Every year in Wales we are reminded of this incident and remember those who were affected by the tragedy.
Please join us in a moment to think about those who lost their lives in this terrible disaster, particularly those 116 children who were stolen their rightful privilege of life.]
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Post by Yoko Satoshi on Oct 21, 2009 20:38:24 GMT -5
Match 5: High Roller & Michael Smart Vs. The Drinkin Boyz
High Roller & Michael Smart win with the Double Sunday.
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Post by Yoko Satoshi on Oct 21, 2009 20:39:36 GMT -5
Main Event Jack Jefferson vs Dave Shadow (Credit: Torak)
Repetition is rarely considered a good thing. A lack of variety and novelty can leave one bored and unenthused. That is, unless you enjoyed the original. Then a repeat of that incident can be a welcome, mouth-watering experience. As the rematch of the Emperor of the Ring final approaches, many who enjoyed their epic encounter at the climax of the tournament have relished seeing the two men go at it again with nothing on the line. With the circumstances since that match changing drastically, many will be interested to see what motivates both men.
Phillip: The following is the main event, scheduled for one fall.
“Paint It Black” by The Rolling Stones hits the speakers and Jack Jefferson emerges through the curtain to a wall of boos from the fans. This doesn’t seem to faze Jefferson as a big smirk grows on his face whilst he looks out across the sea of fans in attendance. He then takes his time as he cockily struts to the ring, apparently oblivious to the booing he receives. As Jack reaches the ring he quickens his pace so that he is able to slide straight in.
Phillip: Introducing first, from Manchester, England. Weighing in at Two hundred and nineteen pounds, Jack Jefferson!
He climbs onto the turnbuckle to his right, placing his right foot on the top rope whilst leaving his left on the middle rope and smirks at the audience below. He slaps his hands on his pectoral muscles and holds his arms out wide, forming a ‘gun’ with his index fingers and thumbs. He then hops down, dropping his jacket over the ropes and stretches, awaiting his opponent’s entrance.
"Voodoo Child" hits the speakers, as the lights in the arena go out. As the music builds, several blinding lights illuminate at the top of the entrance ramp. A shadow emerges, the silouette dancing along with the music. As the shadow walks out of the light, we see it's Dave Shadow, with a perverted smile plastered accross his face.
Phillip: And his opponent, from Drogheda, Ireland, weighing in at Two hundred and thirteen pounds, Dave Shadow!
He makes his way down the ramp and hops up onto the apron, climbing to the second rope at one of the corners and posing for all his fans. The camera spins round him, as he hops down to the canvas to confront his opponent.
Neither man wastes time with the pre-match formality of a staredown and immediately close each other down, throwing barrages of right hands - both men venting their frustration on one another. Shadow gains the upper hand by blocking a right hook from Jefferson and backs him into the corner. He follows up with a few more right hands to the jaw before attempting to whip him to the opposite corner. Jefferson reverses and sends Shadow pacing into the turnbuckle instead, but Shadow bounces off the pads and rushes at Jefferson with a clothesline, almost taking his head off in the process. Jefferson hits the canvas but promptly returns to his feet for more. Shadow delivers a few more right hands to maintain control of the early proceedings. He attempts another whip, this time into the ropes. Jefferson rebounds off the ropes and aim a clothesline of his own at the sternum of Shadow. The former International Champions’ reflexes are swift, however, and he manages to duck the outstretched arm. Jefferson continues on his sprint and rebounds again off the opposite set of ropes. As he charges at Shadow, the Irishman improvises and executes an astonishing dropsault, sending Jefferson down to the canvas with a whiplashing effect.
Nursing the back of his head, Jefferson pushes himself to his feet as a determined Dave Shadow relentlessly hammers some boots into his midsection. He pulls him to his feet and hurls him into the corner. As he hustles towards him, Jefferson throws a rogue elbow outwards and catches Shadow in the cheekbone, sending him reeling backwards. As Shadow regains his composure, Jefferson launches himself from the corner and takes his opponent down with a running lariat. Shadow gets dazedly to his feet as he his shepherd into the corner. Jefferson winds back and delivers a cutting knife edge chop to the bare chest of Dave. A second follows, causing Shadow to grimace in agony. A third subdues Shadow as he attempts to catch his breath. Jefferson leads him from the corner and whips him across the rope, hitting a leg lariat to the face of his opponent on the return. Jefferson scrambles into a cover and the referee makes the count. One! Two! Shadow has the awareness to kick out.
Jefferson pulls Shadow to his feet, hitting a European Uppercut to keep him in a daze. He forces him backwards to generate the momentum required to whip him across the ring. Jefferson hunches down then use his legs to spring high into the air with a dropkick. But Shadow reads his opponent well and clings onto the ropes. Jefferson crashes to the canvas, allowing Shadow to capitalize and land a standing senton right across the torso of Jefferson.
Shadow pulls Jefferson up to his feet this time and firmly grasps the head of his rival before aiming a tough headbutt right to the bridge of his nose. The strike causes Shadow to teeter backwards slightly as Jefferson’s nose beguns to run a claret liquid. Shadow wraps his hands around the neck of Jefferson and pulls him down to the canvas with a snapmare takedown. He backs off and rebounds off the ropes to return with a low dropkick, typically applied to the knee, but Shadow manages to adapt his arsenal and instead strikes the lower back of the seated Jefferson. Shadow quicky coils his arms around his opponent again, placing Jefferson into a chinlock. He blood from Jefferson’s nose drips copiously onto the hands of Shadow, but the warm trickle of fluid does not deter the resolute Dave Shadow.
Jefferson growls in his struggle as Shadow wrenches his grip. Jefferson reaches his hands out for nothing in particular as he begins to consider his escape. Working your way from your backside to your feet is a difficult task, but one which Jefferson is willing to undertake, for the sake of the match. He begins to lever his body so that he can roll onto his knee and use it as a pivot to raise his body. Shadow, uncomprimising, delivers a knee to the midsection of the belligerent Jefferson, but it is only a short-term measure of control. Jefferson eventually manages to push himself to his feet, his thighs burn as he heaves his body weight up off the mat. Still finding himself gripped in a headlock, he still has some work to do. Not even a few reserved elbows to the midsection of Shadow manage to loosen his grip. But Jefferson has one last trick up his sleeve. Taking a deep breath, he reaches down with a free arm and lifts Shadow up between his legs. He balances his body weight and before you know it, Dave Shadow is sprawled across the shoulders of Jefferson and very quickly dropped to the canvas in a rib crushing Samoan Drop.
Instead of attempting a cover, Jefferson utilizes the opportunity to catch his breath. He sits himself up, breathing heavily. When he notices Shadow beginning to stir, he hops to his feet and delivers a couple of stiff shots to the ascending Shadow. He locks in a front facelock and delivers a swift snap suplex, landing Shadow on his back in the middle of the ring. Jefferson climbs to his feet and staggers over to the corner. He pulls himself up onto the turnbuckle and steadie himself at the top before launching himself off with a moonsault leg drop, landing right across the sternum of Shadow. Jefferson makes the cover. One! Two! Shadow just about manages to kick out before the three. Jefferson slowly rises to his feet, the impact of the landing drained a serious amount of energy from his system. He pulls Shadow up to his feet again and leads him to the corner. With his back to the pads, Jefferson perches himself up onto the top rope and applies a front facelock as he appears to be looking for a Tornado DDT. But Shadow, desperate to avoid the move, battles back with some frantic right hands. He right hand to the jaw almost sends Jefferson backwards and down to the floor at ringside, but he manages to remain seated on the top of the turnbuckle. Shadow follows him up and continues to lay some hard right hands to suppress him. Before Jefferson can retaliate, Shadow leaps up and wraps his legs around the neck of Jefferson, hauling him down from the top with a hurricanrana. Jefferson slides across the canvas after impact and holds his neck in pain. Shadow is like a chess player, attempting to consider his actions five moves before his opponent, as he positions himself on the apron by rolling underneath the nearby bottom rope. He pulls himself to his feet and steadies himself, waiting for Jefferson to rise. As Jefferson turns, he sees an airbourne Dave Shadow, launching himself from the top rope into a crossbody, which connects, bringing both men down onto the canvas, with Shadow across the torso of Jefferson. The referee drops to his knees to administer the count. One! Two! Jefferson kicks out for a near fall.
Shadow, recharged by the switch of momentum, pulls Jefferson to his feet and positions him in the corner. He delivers a few stiff right kicks to send Jefferson down onto his backside, resting against the turnbuckle. Shadow backs off, and everyone can anticipate what’s coming. Bouncing from the ropes, Shadow races towards his opponent and leaps like a missile through the air for a double foot facewash. But Jefferson also manages to anticipate the move and shows off his impressive agility to pull himself up and away using the ropes, avoiding the impact. Shadow, instead, connects with the steel post of the turnbuckle. Jefferson scampers away from the scene as Shadow holds his lower leg in pain.
Both men struggle to respond to the count being administered by the referee, and he reaches five before Jefferson gets to his feet. Shadow only manages to get to one knee and precariously faces inwards. Jefferson does not waste the chance and rushed at his opponent, using his knee as a stepping stone before delivering the Shining Wizard. The shot reverberates around the arena before Jefferson makes the cover. The referee counts.
One!
Two!
Three!
But wait, before Jefferson can celebrate his victory, the referee informs him that the fall did not count. Dave Shadow, wily in his ways, had managed to grasp the bottom rope that lingered nearby.
Understandably aggrieved, Jefferson confronted the referee and contested the decision, feeling that he should be announced as the winner of this match. The referee remained stern and insisted that the match was not yet over. A grateful Shadow lurked, lining up his opponent. As Jefferson turned from his distraction, Shadow approaches and attempts the Blink! But Jefferson blocks the devastating move by standing his ground. Retaining contact with his opponent, Jefferson clutches the waist of Shadow, and with every drop of energy left in him he delivers his Exploder Suplex, known as the Blizzard Suplex. Jefferson slowly crawls into the cover and the referee drops to his knees.
One!
Two!
Three!
This time the bell is rung and Jefferson withdraws from his opponent. With very little wind left in his sails, he rolls out of the ring and draws breath at ringside as a stunned Dave Shadow begins to stir in the ring.
Phillip: Here is your winner, Jack Jefferson!
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Post by Yoko Satoshi on Oct 21, 2009 20:43:57 GMT -5
Is That Enough?! Jack Jefferson / Dan White
With a shot at the ACW World title in his sights and a win over Dave Shadow finally under his belt, Jack Jefferson is certainly raising a few eyebrows amongst the fan base of the long-serving company. And he walks through the backstage with boos and jeers echoing throughout the arena, with several crew workers turning their heads and whispering behind his back. But Jefferson is in no mood to stop and back chat. He has far more important things to deal with, such as getting another answer out of the Welsh Dragon, Dan White. And he walks around the corner, only to quickly stop and turn back around, snarling at a crew member. Looks like he can back chat, after all.
Jefferson: Hey! What the hell were you just saying about me?
The two crew members look at each other, getting rather embarrassed and nervous.
Crew Member 1: Erm...who are you, you talking to?
Jefferson: Don’t get cocky with me you little fucker! I know exactly what you said but I want to see if you’ve got the stones to repeat it.
There's silence as both crew members are stunned, which leaves the Englishman irate. He's ready to knock seven bells out of the pair of them, until the other crew member pipes up.
Crew Member 2: Err, I err...I said that I didn't think you'd have a chance against Dan White, even if he did accept your challenge for Samhain.
Jack looks down to the ground, placing his hands on his hips and smiling. He even lets out a little chuckle, leaving the crew members looking around, making sure that nobody has noticed the wet patches forming in their crotch areas. But whatever is round the front is no match for the mess in the back of their underwear as Jefferson suddenly looks up, grabbing the pair of them by the scruff of their neck.
Jefferson: You two really are the most retarded little fuckwits I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting. Do you really think you can get away with talking to me like that?! No! I’m going to make sure you regret that comment, I’m going to--
But Jack can't finish his sentence, as he's suddenly taken by surprise, by none other than both of the Royles! Jack is left kicking and screaming as they drag him backwards, throwing him into a darkened room and shutting the door. We then cut to another camera, showing inside of the room. It's still rather dark, but with a flick of a switch, the lights turn on, and we witness a pretty shocking site.
Dan, or rather, Black & White, has got Jefferson against the wall, and is holding a shard of glass close to the EOTR runner up's neck. Jefferson is breathing heavily, as B&W smirks.
Black & White: So Mr. Jefferson, you thought you could force your way into a World Title match? Without even showing your true worth? To oneself, you are nothing short of a pathetic little worm. A maggot. And to me, that is exactly the challenge that I can happily see to. So on behalf of Dan, one shall accept the challenge you have brought upon the champion.
The heavy breathing continues, but B&W then drops the glass, and it falls to the ground, smashing into a million pieces. Well, a good few anyways. He then opens the door with his free hand, the other still clutched around Jack's neck. B&W then tosses him out the door, where both Royles still stand guard.
Black & White: And at Samhain, you can trust oneself to give you more of the same.
Jefferson attempts to leap to his feet and go after Black & White but he’s still exhausted from his match and his movements are a little sluggish. Before he can even successfully get back to a vertical base the door has been slammed shut and The Royles have pounced on Jefferson. As their feet turn into blurs from the speed and ferocity of their kicks an evil cackle can be heard coming from Black & White, just inside the door. So near but yet so far for Jefferson, who is near helpless to defend himself and slowly slips into unconsciousness as we...
Fade to Black
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Post by Yoko Satoshi on Oct 21, 2009 20:44:36 GMT -5
”Papa Don’t Preach” Draven Rook Elegant as always, Charlotte King stands in front of an ACW back-drop with a microphone clasped in both hands and a forced smile the size of The Grand Canyon on her face like a Cheshire cat. It’s quite obvious she doesn’t want to be here, a motion she hides with that almost psychotic grin on her face. Normally, she’s quite happy with whatever as she’s interviewed and seen everything. She’s had to deal with Thunderkiss’ abuse, VorteX talking in lyrics, Fallen Souls just being down right insane and Jonny Hughes trying not to pounce on her like a crazed sex criminal. However, she’d never quite met someone like Draven Rook. The mysterious, enchanting, yet demonic gentleman that nobody really knew anything about and his wild sex tigress Lilith Dormieux. They were yet to arrive, or so it seemed but in actuality they were just off-camera waiting for the moment to strike.
Charlotte coughed, forcing the confidence up somewhat as she started. But as she went to start, the loving embrace of Lilith Dormieux was wrapped around her neck as she nuzzled her neck softly distracting, but not putting off Charlotte entirely.Charlotte King: “Hello ACW... this is Charlotte King... erm... as you can see I’m with none other then Lilith Dormieux and... wait, where’s Draven?” (off-camera) Draven Rook: “Over here child, I’m waiting for my formal introduction that you were so adequately performing until you interrupted yourself, continue dear. I have little time this eve!”Lilith drags her lips on Charlotte’s neck teasingly, trying to work her way into her composure as her arms wrap around the waist of the microphone toting blonde. Draven can’t be seen, but can be heard.Charlotte King: “Right... ughhh.. umm... Tonight, we have the one and only religious warrior Draven Rook who has been making waves with his partner and associate LI-LITH DORMIEUX-aaggghhh!!! –ragged- Draven would you... like... to come out in front of the camera?” Charlotte’s exaggerated speech comes from Lilith having sunk her teeth deep into the neck of Charlotte. Charlotte is too intimidated by what would happen if she threw them off to actually do anything. Draven swaggers onto camera, his cloak swishing behind him as he raises his cane into visibility with a blank expression on his face.Charlotte King: “Welcome... arghhh...” Draven Rook: ”Hello child, is Lilith distracting you?”Lilith’s ears perk up and she looks like a deer in the headlights at Draven, she maiows and purrs, licking Charlotte’s ear playfully as Charlotte realizes she’ll probably get hurt if she says no.Charlotte King: “Uhmm... no...” Draven Rook: ”Excellent. Now, you may begin.”Charlotte King: “Okay... umm... so, uhhh-aiii... you made a ground-breaking impact at the pay-per-view just gone yet your match with Jeff James last week was mysteriously cancelled... care to shed any light on why that happened?” Draven Rook: ”My absence was a necessary one, regrettably. As joyous as it would’ve been to myself, Lilith AND my congregation in The Sacred Church of ACW to break apart that heathen rockstar Jeff James it was mandatory that I slip away on business of The Church. A man of my stature regrettably has to take a brief leave of absence in order to contend with other issues in my life which simply supersedes any plan this company may have for me or Lilith on the broadcast. Regrettably, this is something I simply cannot avoid. Next Question.”Charlotte King: “What’re your plans here in ACW for the future?” Draven Rook: ”Some would say that a magician should never reveal his tricks but as a messenger and VOICE of the people I feel it is my duty to allow you all insight into my enlightened mind. My plan for the future with Lilith by my side is to take each division and reconstruct it in my own image. I intend to strip away all of the foul, disgusting creatures that roam these halls and replace them with professional fighters and wrestlers, not with the foul knaves that prowl the streets at night fighting for a pittance that barely covers the cost of a small bowl of soup. This is a large and powerful organization and with Draven Rook at the helm and Lilith by his side we can make Alpha Championship Wrestling a place of PROFESSIONAL competition, once again a viewing pleasure fit for The Lord himself! Hallelujah!”Charlotte King: “Just as a question for my own piece of mind... does your vision for the future include me still as an interviewer?” Draven Rook: ”That’s a matter that only Lilith can resolve, what do you think child?”Lilith Dormieux: “Maiow... I like this one, she’s cuddly. Can I keep her Father?” Draven chuckles in a rather intimidating manner in response to Lilith, who’s hands are starting to move upwards along Charlotte’s body as her tongue leaves a hot trail of saliva on her neck.Draven Rook: ”Haha, I’m afraid not my child. That in fact is a decision for HER to make as to whether she wants to keep her sinful and bizarre sexual tryst with Mr. Daniel White going. Should she denounce him then by all means she may become one with the church, walking side by side with our Lord but I think this wretched creature craves her master Daniel much too much to give him up now. Isn’t that right Charlotte?”Lilith is full-on with the love-bites now, leaving Charlotte trying vaguely to resist knowing that things will turn ugly for her if she tries. She barely understood a word that Draven was saying during that entire monologue.Charlotte King: “Ahhh.... yessss... owww...” Draven Rook: ”WRETCHED TROLL! I beseech thee to bring this interview to a close RIGHT now! I shan’t converse with ANYONE committed to the path of Hell! Wretched HARLOT! Lilith, let her go. She is not worth your time!”Lilith’s expression drops while Charlotte’s body locks up freezing solid expecting a beatdown not unlike what Alex Trixer and Gary received. Lilith pushes Charlotte to one side and goes to follow Draven but just when she’s about to go completely off-camera she stops, twits, takes Charlotte’s face in both her hands and kisses her softly on the lips, an action which drains ALL of the colour straight out of Charlotte’s face leaving her jaw-dropped, eyes wide open as Lilith walks off swaying her hips as she goes. The camera finishes on a shot of Charlotte’s face as we draw to black.FADE
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Post by Yoko Satoshi on Oct 21, 2009 20:45:12 GMT -5
“SONS OF ANARCHY” Credit: Jonny Spade, High Roller [Never kick a man when he’s down. Surely you have heard that saying before, right? I can only imagine that you have, unless you are like the front man of the former G-Unit, Jonny Spade. Oh no, he has never heard it alright or perhaps just wishes to ignore it for tonight he plans to do exactly that. Last week he did something no man has ever had the intestinal fortitude to do and that was deface the Roller’s famed purple Harley Davidson. Countless hours have passed since that incident but yet it lingers freshly in both men’s minds. It motivates the Roller to seek revenge and Spade to rub more salt in his opponent’s wounds. Taking into account these two factors, it should come at no one’s surprise that both men meet up face to face in the same place where this all transpired to begin with - the parking garage. Fans watching in the arena and across the world take one gasp of air into their lungs and hold it as they await for the fireworks to begin exploding.] Jonny Spade: Good to see you again Mr. Roller, how is that perddy new bike of your doin? High Roller: Hey, shut up! Yoo are one stupid coo-yon, you know dat? First yoo go ain cheat at ah game of cards and den you mess wit my bike?! It’s like yoo doin all the thangs a man should nev’ah do! Thangs dat as youngin’s our daddies taught us bett’ah! Mais, misure Spade, I ain’t be your daddy but I sure as heck gunna take you over my knee and whoop you a gud one! Jonny Spade: Right. Sure. Blah…blah…blah, that’s all you do, just talk and bullshit nonsense. I like to keep things short and sweet and to the point but you just, yack and yack as if people care about what you have to say. High Roller: Once again dem lips of yours “talk da talk” but I yet to see yoo “walk da walk.” I tell you what, like me, yoo may fancy yourself as a bettin man. Well, “Ace of Spades,” tell me what yoo tink of dese odds?! [Reeking of confidence, the Roller puts his fingers into his mouth and sends out a mayday in the form of a whistle. A blink of an eye later, the doors of several vans parked nearby open, nearly causing Jonny Spade’s heart to nearly leap out of his chest. Several black leather clad warriors of the road spring forth and take formation around the “Ace of Spades.” Has there ever been an incidence of confidence turning into terror so quickly? I think not.] Jonny Spade: Wh-What’s going on?! High Roller: As I was sayin, der be some thangs in life dat you never do. One of dem is mess wit another man’s bike. Dese here be the hells Angels and dey not take kindly to the dis’repek of such a fine tool of da road. When I told dem ‘bout what happened to my beloved Harley, well, lets just say dat dey were more dan happy to take ah coo-yun like yourself to school.Jonny Spade: Hey, now. Wait a minute! I am not looking for any trouble, alright? High Roller: Oh, it be a bit late for dat, mon ami. hell’s Angel: You should have thought of that before you messed with our brother’s bike! High Roller: Make sure you boys save ah little bit for me! [The Angels “roll up their sleeves” and begin to converge upon their target. While situations such as these are not a common occurrence in his life, Spade is far from a rookie and his seasoned veteran instincts kick in. Some quick jukes, jives and ducking helps him scamper free from the clutches of his assailants, much to their chagrin.] hell’s Angel: He is getting away! GET HIM! [While they may be one of the fastest things on the road, the Angels are no match for Spade in this foot race. Almost effortsly he puts distance between he and the bikers and has smooth sailing all the way to his method of escape tonight, his car. Showing that he, himself, is not a stranger to luck, he left his 2009 Ford Mustang unlocked making his entry as quick as it could possibly be. While these Angels have stood up to some of the roughest and toughest men around, they stand no chance against the back up lights reflecting off the pupils of their eyes. Like bugs they scatter and now Spade’s retreat is academic. Almost.] Jonny Spade: Now let’s see who is the tough guy. [With revenge surging through his veins like a bar tap on a Friday night, Spade drops the clutch and tosses his Mustang into high gear. Without remorse or hesitation he takes aim at the Roller and pushes his foot all the way to the floor. Jack Rillieux is a man known for his luck. Tonight he proves it once again as he is able to survive the next few seconds intact. Unscathed? That’s a different story entirely.] VRRRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMM! ~!~THUD~!~ High Roller: ARGH!
hell’s Angel: Get him in the van now! We gotta take him to the hospital!
[Will October 21st, 2009 be known as “bets off” for Jack Rillieux? Tune in next week, same Bat-Train time, same Bat-Train station.]
[FADE]
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Post by Yoko Satoshi on Oct 21, 2009 20:45:41 GMT -5
”SNAPSHOT BABY” [/U] Credit: Draven Rook[/right] In the dark empty black hole of an abandoned warehouse, a single spotlight shines down revealing the rendezvous spot of the unlikely trio of first, Lilith Dormieux who is stood to one side with her hands on her hip and a smile on her face looking a little more dolled-up in make-up than usual. To the side of Lilith is Draven, cloak and cane as is usual with for the first time an uneasy look on his face and dark thoughts running through his mind as he stares at the person in front of him. The man across is a new face in the world of Draven Rook, but one which will soon be commonplace. Fairly short with shoulder-length jet black hair and a stubble, Manny Sykes was a handsomeish looking gentleman in a black silk shirt and a pair of Levi jeans with an American bullrider belt buckle and a pair of cowboy boots but no hat. The man was obviously of Latin descent with his dark mango-like complexion and his thick, black hair.
Manny Sykes was a cameraman, a photographer for some rather risqué publications. His two main focuses were in a BDSM and gothic clothing catalogue which was in pretty popular demand around the world and was the lesser of his two evils in his main hire companies. Inside the catalogue you’d find Gothic Alchemy ornaments, canes, Celtic cutlery as well as fine dark clothings just perfect for that Satanic style your grandkids will be aiming for. His other publication was nothing short of full on pornography, depicting scenes and photographs of girls in depraved fantasies the like we’d hope never to see and never to hear of. The bondage and sex without consent, the twisted thoughts of the many but far in between readers that this had. It was a twisted life Manny lead, but he made good money from it and none of his “models” were ever actually hurt and now it seemed that this man who was nothing short of a sleazy pornographer was eyeing up Lilith Dormieux with a smile ten miles wide.Manny Sykes: “So, this your girl holmes?” Draven Rook: “I’d appreciate it if you took a more formal tone when speaking to a member of the church, Mr. Sykes but yes this is the girl you are after.”Manny Sykes: “God-damn, just as sexy in person! I LOVE IT! Give us a twirl Lil?” Lilith looks to Draven like a child asking for permission to play in the street, Draven scoffed and turned away from her display. Lilith twirled to show off her body as Manny wolf-whistled in approval.Manny Sykes: “Damnnnn vato, this girl has a first-class ass! You’re tellin’ me you ain’t never tapped it before?! Shit’s fucked up man!” Draven Rook: “Manuel, I’m a priest! It’d be against everything I stand for if I were to sleep with Lilith or anyone for that matter and I’d appreciate it you expressed your tastes to Lilith and not to me. I care little for your raging desires for my followers.”Draven frowns while Manny just goes socially awkward, trying to hide his shame.Manny Sykes: “Sorry bro, is just that she’s got it goin’ on y’know! Her bootie would look good enough to eat! I’d love to get a stripper pole out and see her shake her shit!” Draven Rook: “We already agreed that she’d be modelling only for the catalogue. Not your... other publication.”Manny Sykes: “I’m sorry maine, I just git a little carried away. I’m just shocked that when you gota’ fine-ass girl like this hangin’ off your cane that you ain’t never taken advantage! I would!” Draven Rook: “And that is why you are not on the life of priesthood. Lilith is strictly off-limits, Manny and so if I hear of you desecrating her body then I shall see to it that your tools of reproduction are removed from your use... permanently. I do not like you drooling over my daughter like she’s a piece of meat roasting in an open fire but frankly I need the money for the good of the church and she shows interest in this type of work. I think it would work for both of us. I have laid out my instructions and failure to comply will result in swift retribution handed out by The Lord himself!”Manny Sykes: “I ain’t fuckin’ wit’ God esse, it’s just a brother gets horny as fuck lookin’ at a girl like this. Mind if I have a feel?” Draven Rook: “If you insist, but should you exceed your limits I would be a damn sight more scared of what Lilith will do to you then what I will. The waist upwards and nothing more if you value the fact that your genitals are not a fine dust.”Manny Sykes: “Alright vato, I know mah place though it’s a shame I can’t get a good cop of that ass.” Manny, the photographer starts to cop a feel starting at the hips. Lilith rests her hands behind her head, giving complete control to Manny who takes advantage of this caressing her hips. Draven watches anxiously not for the sexual thrill but in case the horny, hot-blooded photographer does anything out of line. Draven’s grip tightens around his weapon of choice as he prepares for the slightest suggestion resulting in a wicked knockout shot and a large tumor-like bruise in the forehead should Manny try anything. Manny’s hands run up across Lilith’s flat stomach causing her to giggle.Lilith Dormieux: “You’ve done this before... haven’t you honey?”Manny Sykes: “You bet your fine ass I have... back in Santiago money’s tight and so fine-ass Latina bitches cue-up for me to take photographs of them. They sweeten the deal by doing ANYTHIN’ I want. The downside with girls like you is that you’re paid good money to do this and it’s a damn-sight hotter when you do, but of course you know you’ve got other alternatives so I don’t get to explore my models like I do normally... It’s a damn shame that a puta like yourself is wasted. Are you a total virgin?” Lilith Dormieux: “Mhmm... always have been and always will be so long as Master Draven says so! You can look and you can touch a little baby... but no more. I belong to my father... not to you.”Draven Rook: “Damn straight child. Are you done clawing your filthy paws on Lilith or do you need a few more moments?”Manny Sykes: “Just gimme a second hombre, examining the goods!” As his hands trail up to clasp her breasts, one in each hand Lilith sighs a little as she relaxes her body. Manny takes the opportunity to get a good feel, as if he’s weighing them.Manny Sykes: “It’s disgusting... this lady has a perfect body and she never gets to use it! You should be ashamed of yourself Draven!” Lilith Dormieux: “Thanks sweetness but... I really don’t think you wanna piss off my master like that... hehe.”Draven Rook: “Lilith speaks the truth, be careful of what you see to me Manuel unless you wish to lose those hands. If you wish to test my patience then I suggest you carry on with your out of line comments. You are lucky to be in the aura of the beauty of Lilith, never mind getting pleasures I would otherwise cast as blatant acts of a heathen. Now, are you done? Is she what you want?”Manny Sykes: “Is she Hell! She makes me ready to fuck when I’m watching TV! Imagine what the sales are gonna’ be like on the handcuffs when they see this sexy bitch wearin’ ‘em! We’ll sell more catalogues then ever with all the drool that’s wastin’ ‘em!” Draven Rook: “Ugh, you sicken me. You truly do make my stomach turn you depraved cretin. Now, can we leave? We have church matters to attend to.”Manny Sykes: “Right on gringo! Need some help in ACW? I could do with a few celebrity shots and... if you let me tag along I might be willing to pay you moooooore...” Draven Rook: “Alright, come hither then and we shall see you get whatever shots you desire. Cursed cameraman! Let us leave this place, its’ rot is off-putting to thine stomach!”And with that, the three leave the warehouse together as the screen starts to fade.FADE End Of Show
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