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Post by Thunderkiss on Jan 2, 2015 18:52:07 GMT -5
“Dead City Radio And The New Gods Of Supertown” Credit: Thunderkiss [The sun begins to saunter below the horizon line and casts its muted glow upon the California coast. It is this time of night when those with any moral fabric retreat as the underdwellers of the city of San Andreas begin to rise from the filth and decay and reclaim the streets. Not far from the red light district, a man uncomfortably makes his way down a shadowy back alley to a metal door surrounded by nothing but concrete blocks and mortar. No lights bless any with their safety here. With a slight tremor he looks left, then right and cautiously knocks on the steel door ever so slight as to not awaken the night that could easily seize him and claim his very soul.] *Knock, Knock* [No response. Hesitantly the man knocks again, this time only louder. A trash can falls over down at the end of the alley and the man's survival instincts flick his eyeballs quickly in that direction. A sense of relief washes over his body as he sees a pair of feline eyes staring back at him.] *Knock, Knock* Go away, we're closed.Eddie Edison: Thunderkiss, please, I came a long way. [Loud foot steps begin to pound their way closer and closer to the door and Eddie Edison swallows the nervousness down his throat. A sound of grinding metal screeches off the sides of the buildings as the peep hole opens.] Thunderkiss: Well shit, I thought you were dead.Eddie Edison: May I please come in, because standing out here I probably will be in a few minutes. Thunderkiss: *sigh* Yeah, alright. Out there is no place for a tiny man like you. Just please excuse the mess and watch where you step.[The door slowly creeks his way open and Edison steps into another world. In this relm, the darkness is replaced by glowing stage lights, the scent of sex and sweat and colors straight out of a junkie's acid trip.] Thunderkiss: Don't tell me you are here for an audition.Eddie Edison: Interesting career choice, TK. [Edison finds himself smack dab in the middle of a pornographic movie set. A tacky neon sign straight out of the 80's hangs from above announcing to all who enter they are now standing within "Thunderbliss Inc."] Thunderkiss: Well, I was fucked so much back in my days with ACW, I figured I was an expert. However these days it is me doing the fucking for once and life is good. ??: Actually, it is his endless rolladex of girls with crack addictions that do the fucking. He just signs the paycheck. [From afar a women wearing a vintage 1940's Nazi outfit saunters here way into the picture. If you have to ask yourself why then this is obviously your first foray into this world.] Gestapo *shrugging*: Well, it's true. Eddie Edison: This is your new women, TK? Thunderkiss: This is my new sandwich maker, yes. Eddie Edison: Nice. Wonder how long this one will last before she ends up dead. Thunderkiss: What was that?Eddie Edison: Bread. How long will it take her to make a sandwich with bread? Thunderkiss: So Eddie, let's cut straight to the point. How can I make you money?Eddie Edison *looking puzzled*: Huh? Thunderkiss: Oh come on, what else would bring you all the way out here? I'm sure it is not because you missed little ol' me and wanted to reminisce about the "good old days."[Edison flashes TK a guilty look, only confirming TK's suspicions.] Eddie Edison: It has been almost four years since the company closed. There is a party who is interested in purchasing the rights to ACW in hopes of perhaps resurrecting it and giving it life once again. I am now employed by that said individual and am now in the process of traveling around this globe to catch up with the old talent and find out their interest - Thunderkiss *interrupting*: Don't waste another breath. I am way past that point in my life. Way past. Just thinking about it brings back memories I would rather have dead and buried. Eddie Edison: Please know that my boss understands that as I have told him this would likely happen. He is not wishing to have your abilities full time. Even today your name carries a lot of weight, perhaps one match. Maybe two. Even an appearance from time to time. Thunderkiss: I cannot believe Gingersnap finally decided to sell the damn thing. Did the well run dry from all that China-made shit and DVD's he was selling on that dinasour of a website of his?Eddie Edison: Nothing is final. My employer knows that ACW without the names who made it is basically worthless. If enough of you decide to grace us with your appearance, he is ready to write Gingerdude a quite substantial check. Thunderkiss: Well tell your boss good luck because he is going to have to do this all without me and you saw how well ACW did after I washed my hands of the place. I'm sure You'll get Jason Freeman, and maybe Votex too, and you'll have a roster that matches that of the last year. Maybe, just maybe, you'll beat reruns of COPS in the 3AM time slot.Eddie Edison: Anything I can say to change your mind? Thunderkiss: Let me make this perfectly clear. You can bring in a harem of Japanese schoolgirls with million dollars hanging out of each one of their snatches and I would still say no. Eddie Edison *raising an eyebrow*: You'd turn that down? Are you playing for the other team? There were always rumors, you know. Thunderkiss *brow sweating*: Huh? What rumors?Eddie Edison: I mean that whole Aiden Joseph thing was pretty gay stuff, no offense. Thunderkiss *annoyed*: G'Dammit, Edison, Shut the fuck up.Eddie Edison: Fine, Fine. Well ... here is my card. If you ever decide to change your mind. Give me a call, alright? I appreciate your hospitality. It is not every day that a man gets to tour a real porn studio, complete with Nazi women. Thunderkiss: Speaking of which, Gestapo will see you to the door. See you in another five years for the purposed 10 year anniversary. Save yourself a trip next time because the answer will be the same. Oh and Edison?Eddie Edison *turning back around*: Yes TK? Thunderkiss: Since you are business with Gingerdude, tell the old man that I hope his daughter gets raped by a pack of Zulus with Ebola.Eddie Edison: Still a sore subject with you, I see. Thunderkiss: If it wasn't for jobbing to the California divorce courts, we'd be having this conversation in a comfy mansion with nearly infinite square feet. Sore doesn't do how I feel justice.Eddie Edison: Well, I will be sure to pass that on. [With a hint of disappointment in his step, Edison makes his way back out into darkness. Be that as it may, deep down he knows that it is still in TK's blood; the desire and fire to compete and a chance to finish things on a much higher note. It is there, deep down, all he needs to do is to find the right trigger to bring it forth. And this world is not short of triggers for Thunderkiss as Edison is quickly reminded. There, as he raises his head upwards into the sky, he sees it, the smiling face of Steve Phillips next to the words PHILLIPS 2016. A smile comes across the face of Edison that rivals that of the Grinch when he stole Christmas.] [END]
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Post by Thunderkiss on Jan 2, 2015 18:52:43 GMT -5
Trailer Credit: Torak
The following PREVIEW has been approved for APPROPRIATE AUDIENCES by the segment broadcasting association of E-Federations, Inc.
The scene opens at an unspecified airport. A Boeing 777 prepares for take-off on the runway.
“I represent some people...”
A prison warden stands guard next to a sturdy doorway.
“She’s dead, man...nobody survives in this shitty world alone...” the deep voice cut.
The flames of the blaze rage through the building. The black billowing smoke engulfs the surrounding area.
“Doesn’t he know what happened?...” the gruff voice asked.
The rain soaked city flooded with darkness as the deep bass of music thundered through the night.
“I know him...” a soft female voice whispered.
A middle-aged man looked bleakly through the window of a taxi.
“I track down people...”
The flashing lights of the emergency vehicles slashed through the early-morning darkness. The breath of the emergency services crew is visible in the icy air. “He died about 6 years ago...” the male voice trembled.
The sinister grin of the man was unsettling.
“...he never really died.” The same voice anxiously declared.
A young woman danced seductively for her client in a private room.
“It’s you!...”
Two men fighting in the darkness.
“We need to talk...”
The bustling crowd dispersed from the London train station.
“Can you find her?”
He sprinted along the street, dodging the people in the contraflow.
“The guy you want me to look for...?”
He had his phone pressed against his ear.
“...I found him...”
He dived off the top rope, the crowd went crazy, he somersaulted onto the canvas, he glared into the mirror, she pulled the glasses from her face, he jerked the door from it’s frame, the hulking man stopped to turn without revealing his face. Finally, the fire blazed and consumed the interior of the building.
Black
THE REUNION COMING SOON
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Post by Thunderkiss on Jan 2, 2015 18:53:31 GMT -5
Old Wounds/New Scars Credit: Mark/XS3
(OOC: This is my catch-up promo. Keep in mind that I haven't done one of these in about four years, so I'm rusty as fuck. Feedback is greatly appreciated.)
Our scene opens in the evening of a blustery Canadian winter; in particular, the city of Medicine Hat, Alberta. Though there is not much activity in a time such as this due to the weather, there is still life within the community, be it with a friendly hello or a simple “how-you-do”. In one vehicle is a man unaccustomed to the environment, but yet all too familiar with it at the same time. This is Eddie Edison, former commentator for Alpha Championship Wrestling. His search for ACW talent has brought him here, although some of his attempts have been futile thus far. Nevertheless, he presses on in hopes of securing another familiar talent: Matthew Irvine, better known as XS3.
Edison soon pulls into the Irvine family’s front yard and brings his vehicle to a stop. He steps out and looks around at the scenery, remembering men such as Hatchet, AC Evans, and even Thunderkiss who have intruded on his tranquil surroundings back in Maple Creek, Saskatchewan. Hoping to not share the same fates as the former two (jail or obscurity), Edison maintains a calm demeanor as he ascends the stairs leading to the front door. With a quick knock, the sounds of footsteps are soon heard. As the door swings open, Edison is greeted with a familiar face he was not expecting: Christine Irvine.
Christine: Eddie Edison?! It’s so good to see you!
Christine greets Eddie with a warm hug.
Edison: Hello Christine, it’s good to see you again.
Christine: Come in, come in. Get out of the cold.
The announcer obliges her and quickly shuts the door behind him, escaping the chill for the time being. More footsteps can be heard, and the Irvine children, Corey and Kayla, come into Eddie’s view.
Christine: Corey, Kayla, this is Eddie Edison. He’s the man who would talk over daddy’s matches. Can you say hello?
Corey: Hello, Eddie!
Corey waves with a toothy grin, akin to his father’s. Kayla remains shy and actually turns and runs out of view. Corey soon follows her. As they run out of sight from the two, they brush past the man whom Edison was looking for all along: Matt Irvine himself. He looks down at his children with a small smile before turning up to see Edison with a look of surprise.
Matt: Damn! Eddie Edison. There’s a name I haven’t heard in years.
Matt approaches him and gives him a firm handshake.
Edison: Matthew, you’re looking well. It’s nice to know that you’re still a family man.
Matt: Heh, that part of me will never die. You want something to drink?
Edison: I’m fine with just water, please.
Matt obliges his guest with a nod before fetching two glasses of water for Edison and himself. Christine gives her husband a quick peck on the lips before going to look after the children. Matt and Edison soon find themselves seated in the living room.
Edison: So Matthew, what have you been up to since the last show? I see that you’re still with SWI.
Edison is referring to Soul Wrestling Incorporated, XS3’s main wrestling home for the better part of his career.
Matt: It’s going great, although I injured myself in June and just finished rehabbing it. I should be back sometime soon. But yeah, I love it. I still get to wrestle, but it’s only on weekends so it’s not as stressful as it used to be. In the meantime, I wound up getting an actual job.
Edison quizzically raises an eyebrow.
Edison: Death metal pays the bills?
Matt: Nah man, Demon Inc. is dead. I left last year, and they just broke up this year. I knew music was more or less a hobby than a career, but I’m still tight with the other guys. As far as a job goes, I actually deliver water for Icy Mountain Water Co. I basically get to lift heavy things for a hefty sum. And Christine does freelance graphic design for small companies around the city, so it’s not like we have trouble paying bills. It’s been so nice since we moved to Medicine Hat four months ago; there just seem to be more opportunities for us out here, and it’s closer to SWI headquarters.
Edison: That is excellent to hear.
Matt: Yessir, well what about you? What have you been doing since the last show?
Edison: Well, I’ve been doing okay. I’ve been keeping a low profile so far.
Matt lowers his glass as he went to take a sip and responds, a tinge of confusion in his voice.
Matt: “Low profile”?
Edison: Well, especially under the recent circumstances, yes.
Matt: Circumstances? …wait a minute…
It finally falls into place in Matt’s head.
Matt: You’re here to talk ACW, aren’t ya?
A small chuckle escapes Edison’s mouth; with his motives known, he knows that he has to act soon or else risk losing the interest of another talent.
Edison: Yes. I’ve been contacted by an anonymous investor who is interested in acquiring certain assets of ACW, but he wishes to see if there’s any interest. So he’s putting on a reunion show, and has placed me in charge of scouting any and all alumni to see if they’re interested in participating. And I was hoping to get in touch with you, Ben, and Hitman.
Matt: This isn’t going to lead to a full-time thing, is it? Christ, I had so many problems with the last world tour I was on with that company. To have to go back to that again would mean the end of my sanity.
Edison: There is no word yet on if it will lead to anything more, but what I do know is that there is a one-off reunion show. Like I said, you’re invited as are Ben and Hitman. It’s a shame Afternoon isn’t here to take part.
Matt solemnly nods, remembering his fallen friend Afternoon Drinkin, who passed away in April of last year.
Matt: Yeah… Don’t remind me.
Edison: Well…? What do you think? You have plenty of time to decide; I’ve already been shot down by one particular individual.
Matt: TK.
Edison: That obvious, huh?
Matt: It doesn’t surprise me… But regardless, it all depends on when the date is. If I ain’t working, I think I might come by and kick in a skull or two. I’ll pass along your message to Ben.
Edison: And Hitman…?
Matt: I wouldn’t hold your breath. He’s been retired for years now, and I hear he’s enjoying the family life as much as I am. But maybe I can get Kayla to convince him to go or something.
Edison: It’d be nice.
Edison hands Matt the same card he gave to Thunderkiss, and soon stands up from his seat.
Edison: If you can get them to come, it’d be appreciated. Here is my contact info. Let me know as soon as possible. And again, it was very nice to see you and Christine again. I hope everything works out for you in the future.
Matt gives a smile and shakes Edison’s hand once more.
Matt: And to you as well. Good luck on your crusade.
Edison softly returns the smile and shows himself out the door. Matt returns to his couch and sighs, content to see that Edison has done well for himself. But as Matt ponders on Edison’s proposition, he sits back and wonders what would happen should he attend. Who would be there? Would anyone care? Would old wounds be reopened, or would new scars take their place? His unfocused gaze is soon broken upon the entrance of Christine and the kids, who go over to their father and receive gentle hugs.
Christine: Was he here to talk business?
Matt: Oh yeah. Just a one-off reunion show; he said he doesn’t know if it’ll lead to anything more, but I’m hoping it’s just a one-time thing.
Christine: And what did you say?
Matt: I said that if I found out the date was right, I’d be there with another history lesson.
Christine smiles, but soon looks down at the floor with a small sense of worry.
Christine: But what if… he’s there?
Matt sees his wife’s distress, reflecting on her past torment at the hands of Thunderkiss, and stands up from his spot, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing her tenderly on the forehead.
Matt: I haven’t had contact with him in years. You and I both know that he’s been mostly an afterthought after all this time. But if I have to come to blows with him, then he’s going to find out the hard way what a few good years can do to a man like me. Considering where we’re at in our lives, nothing anyone does is going to shake us now. There will be healing and closure that was somehow missing from the last time, and I’m looking forward to ending this chapter the right way.
Christine looks up at Matt and smiles, returning the kiss from before with one of her own. Corey and Kayla soon reach out to their parents, and they are soon picked up in the arms of their mother and father. The family soon heads down the hall, possibly to put the kids to bed and soon follow suit, knowing that they have quite a busy couple of months ahead of them between their current jobs, SWI, and ACW. Matt will soon have enough time to reflect on the decision he has made, but for now, he tends to his family and continues basking in the comfort and happiness that his new life has provided him with.
End.
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Post by Thunderkiss on Jan 2, 2015 18:54:44 GMT -5
Segment: One For The Road Credit: Thunder Train "Winter...
They say that without winter, summer would not seem as pleasant. That without things being dormant, they would not become as exciting when they returned. That winter allows you to change yourself for better days ahead. I guess that it is fitting, at least for the Northern Hemisphere, that the year ends in winter and you can start on a new chapter."
We open up to a simple two lane highway in the middle of what looks like nowhere. There are some trees, long since lost their leaves and a light snow that covers the once flourishing green grass. Pan over to a slightly broken down building with several beater cars parked out in front of it. A sign near the road says "Dave's Diner" with neon lights flashing on and off, while the sign on the building only reads "Dav 's D ner" and is extremely rusted with what is left of the neon paint chipping off and gathering on the ledge slightly below it. A red used Dodge Ram pulls into, what could be a parking lot.
Inside, you see the generic road stop style guests that would be sitting at a diner. There's the two old men sitting at the retro style bar with the neon border and matching stool covers. A family traveling down the road sits at a booth with the leather seats being an uncomfortable red color that clashes with the three other booths inside. Other patrons sit alone, reading newspapers, drinking coffee, watching the 10 inch television set barely hanging from the ceiling with the local news playing.
*Ring Ring*
Ah, the classic sound of another customer entering the diner. However, this man is unlike the usual guests that would attend such an establishment. In walks a man, nearly seven feet. A beanie sits on his head, revealing only a pair of sunglasses and a full beard that is an eloquent mix of grey and black. He is wearing a brown bomber jacket with a black T-shirt underneath that looks like it says "Thunder"...something. It has been washed too many times and the lettering is basically all peeled off. His dark blue jeans and beat up boots complete his outfit as he approaches the counter. By this point, the whole restaurant is staring, but he doesn't care. He has been getting this his entire life. He sits out and the stool makes the sound of a semi truck finally coming to a stop.
The waitress, a woman in her mid 40's, walks up to him. Her face looks older than it should due to her smoking habits and her voice is raspy.Waitress: Hey there, what can I get for you? The man smiles slightly and opens his mouth.Man: I'll just take a coffee please. Just black.The waitress nods and grabs a cup from below the counter and sets it up top. She goes over and grabs the coffee pot and pours his mug nearly to the brim. He takes a small sip then sets the mug down again. The two older men at the bar look over to him and begin conversation.Old Man 1: So what's your deal man? Man: What?Old Man 2: Yeah what is your deal? Man: What are you talking about?Old Man 2: What is your story bud? You gotta be a former football player or basketball player or something. No black man who is that tall has not done something like that before. The large man shoots him a glare through the sunglasses he is still wearing.Old Man 1: Uhh...what he means is, its usually really rare for ANYBODY your size to not have played a sport or something. Maybe we would recognize you if you took off those sunglasses. You're inside now. Man: I...have light sensitive eyes. I can't...Old Man 1: C'mon, stop being a queer and take 'em off. If you don't, at least tell us what you did. Man: I worked in advertising for a long time, still do.The two old men slap the counter and begin howling as they laugh.Old Man 2: Hahahaha, there is no way. Old Man 1: Oh man, oh man, he-he, if this guy only did advertising his whole laugh, he wasted all that physical potential. Man: Whatever...The old men shrug him off and continue conversation amongst themselves. The man continues to sip his coffee. A figure goes over to the jukebox and puts a quarter in. A hand flips around the pages of songs and selects one. A song starts playing.
"You never close your eyes anymore when I kiss your lips..."
The man at the counter looks around a bit, confused as to why such a song would play.
"There's no tenderness like before in your fingertips...
You're trying hard not to show it (baby)
BUT BABY, BELIEVE ME I KNOW IT
YOU'VE LOST THAT LOVING FEELING
WHOA THAT FEELING
YOU'VE LOST THAT LOVING FEELING NOW ITS GONE
GONE
GONE "Thunder Train" The man at the counter clenches his fist a little bit and turns around. He sees Thunder Lawyer standing there.Thunder Laywer: Long time no see champ. Thunder Train: I haven't been called that in many moons. Why did you pick that song man?Thunder Lawyer: I know how the Top Gun Soundtrack gets your attention Thunder Train: ...gay...Why are you here?Thunder Lawyer: You haven't heard about what is going on? Thunder Train: What are you talking about?Thunder Lawyer: ACW Thunder Train's smirk fades and he turns back around with a mean expression on his face.Thunder Train: What about that place?Thunder Lawyer: They're doing a reunion show. I've been told to summon you. Thunder Train: By who?Thunder Lawyer: Don't worry about the who, you just gotta come and be a part of it. You were a very important part of that place's history. Thunder Train: I don't know...it has been so long since I've seen any of them, or even heard the name ACW.Voice: I KNEW IT!!! Thunder Train and Thunder Lawyer turn around to see a guy in his early 20's approaching them.Guy: I thought it was you but I wasn't sure! Your t-shirt doesn't read that well but after I saw the outline of the letters I put it together. YOU ARE THUNDER TRAIN! I remember you. I was there when you lost to Dan White at Emperor of the Ring 2009 and then disappeared forever. My name is Mike. Thunder Train: Thanks...Mike: You were my favorite, until you blew it and lost. Thunder Lawyer: Have you heard about the reunion show? Mike: Oh of course! I don't blame Train though if he doesn't want to be a part of it? Thunder Train: Why do you say that?Mike: I mean, look at you. You're really washed up now. I wouldn't want to go back and tarnish my legacy by showing up like that. Train gets visibly angry at the man and stands up, towering over him.Thunder Train: What the fuck did you just say?Mike: You're washed up! I remember when you were always hungry and going around kicking people's asses. You ate everything, but you were still strong. Now you're just fat and sad. Train picks up a stool and throws it across the diner, shattering a window. The other customers cower down and scream.Thunder Train: WHAT? FUCK YOU MAN! THE TRAIN IS NOT WASHED UP!Thunder Lawyer: Train! Calm down! Thunder Train: FUCK YOU TOO MAN! That chapter of my life ended a long long time ago.Mike: See, like I sa- Thunder Train: YOU! SHUT THE FUCK UP RIGHT NOW OR I WILL SHOW YOU WHY I AM THE MOTHER FUCKING THUNDER TRAIN! ALWAYS HAVE BEEN AND ALWAYS WILL BE!Mike: No you- Thunder Train has heard enough of this guy. He picks him up by the throat and starts dragging him across the counter of the diner, knocking away plates and cups. He pulls him off the end and hold him by his throat above the ground.Thunder Train: WHO IS WASHED UP NOW?Mike shakes his head side to side, clearly in fear of Train. Good thing he was wearing dark pants because this guy has probably just shit himself. Thunder Train: That's what I thought.Thunder Train throws the guy through the window next to where he tossed the stool. Glass goes everywhere and the guy is outside, knocked out and bleeding. Thunder Train turns to Thunder Lawyer, the only person in the whole diner who is not afraid as he has seen this before.Thunder Train: You tell them...you tell them I'll fucking be there.Thunder Train finishes his coffee and begins to head towards the door.Thunder Lawyer: Where are you going? Thunder Train: I have to get into shape and brush up on my wrestling.Old Man 1 and 2: Ohhh a wrestler... Thunder Lawyer: What about all this? Thunder Train: You'll take care of it. You are my lawyer.Train gets into the red truck outside of the diner and starts it up. He backs up and looks back at the diner one more time before looking towards the road.Thunder Train: THE TRAIN IS ALWAYS HUNGRY!The truck speeds down the road, leaving the diner and everyone in a panic. Thunder Lawyer smirks as he turns to the waitress and puts down a $1.29 for the coffee that Thunder Train finished.
Fade out.
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echo
New Member
Posts: 4
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Post by echo on Jan 3, 2015 3:15:48 GMT -5
[bon chic / bon genre]
[7:30 in the evening. Eddie Edison sits on a patent leather chair in the living room of a penthouse in downtown Los Angeles and sips at a scalding hot mug of cardamom tea with cinnamon and wonders what in god's name he's gotten himself into.]
Edison: Uh, first of all, I want to thank you for taking the time to meet with me.
[Electroswing warbles softly in the background over a set of Apple speakers, an extended remix of Parov Stelar's "All Night". Edison swallows a sip of tea, and his nerves with it.]
Edison: I mean, I know you're probably busy these days. It's very kind of you.
[Across the room, reclining on the sofa, is Ayres LeBlanc. Older. Wiser, in theory. Casual for the winter in a Serrena sweater by Hugo Boss with matching ponte leggings, gloriously barefoot, sipping a matching mug of tea. The blinds are closed and a set of wall lights leaves the room dimly lit in a vague, washed-out red; if the reading glasses Echo's wearing were tinted any darker she'd be legally blind in here. An e-reader lies next to her on the sofa, open to a page in the middle of Solzhenitsyn's "The Gulag Archipelago".]
Echo: It's no problem.
[She takes a long sip of the tea. Savors it. Swallows deliberately, with intent. Says nothing further.]
Edison: So, uh, what are you doing these days?
Echo: I'm an archaeologist.
[He waits, fruitlessly, for her to make further small talk. None is forthcoming.]
Edison: Oh. Right, that must be, ah, very interesting. You probably got the pitch in the email I sent you. The ACW reunion thing. I realize you've moved on, you've got a career and all, but some of the alumni thought it'd be a fun little, you know, a nostalgia type thing that we could do. Just get together and do a one-time show that's kind of like in the old days. We've got some of the big names and everything. I don't think it'll actually lead into anything permanent so you don't have to worry about it taking too much of your time or anything, and...well, I know you're not exactly one of the big names in ACW history or anything - no offense - but of course you're still one of us I thought maybe you might like to be part of the event in some capacity. Just an appearance, you know, or maybe you could do an exhibition match or something, if you felt up to that.
Echo: Yeah.
[The silence between them is palpable. Eddie Edison squirms in his chair, fumbling the mug between his hands. More than anything right now, he would like some sort of conversational jackhammer, because none of the traditional icebreakers have made so much as a chip.]
Edison: So what are your thoughts...like, how do you feel about this whole thing? What's the general impression you're getting?
[Echo weighs the question for a moment.]
Echo: ...Pretty good.
[She shifts in place, stretching her legs. The eyeball tattoos on her insteps have, in the intervening years, become all-seeing eyes. Edison swallows an ill-advised Illuminati joke and that leaves him with absolutely nothing. He settles for drinking his tea in silence - essentially following Echo's lead. In the background, the music transitions. "Knock Knock", by Scattle.]
[After a long, contemplative moment, Echo speaks up.]
Echo: There are caveats.
Edison: Oh! So that was a...just now, that was a yes? I mean, sure, what kind of caveats are we talking about, Ms. LeBlanc...is it still 'Miss', or--
Echo: Still 'Miss'.
Edison: Right. What kind of caveats?
Echo: I took an oath. Nonviolence.
[With this preposterous fact dropped, she returns to the mug, finishing her last few sips of tea. A chime from the kitchen draws her out of the room for a moment, and when she comes padding back in Echo bears a tray of mini brioche with lemon crème fraiche. She waits until Edison has accepted a proffered brioche and garnished it to his liking before returning to her seat. By the time he's swallowed the first bite, she's started munching, unhurried and content to let the conversation play out in however much time it needs.]
Edison: ...So when you say 'nonviolence'. Uh. I feel like there might be some conflict there, being as this is...a pro wrestling show...
Echo: Well...
[She has started to answer with her mouth full. Echo pauses, finishes chewing the brioche, and then continues.]
Echo: I can wrestle just fine. I've kept up on my BJJ and I've got a solid judo base. I can't raise a hand against anyone, though. So no strikes from me.
[Edison contemplates this revelation. Her precise striking was a large part of Echo's appeal during her career - more importantly, this would surely have an effect on how fair her match will be.]
Edison: You...realize we can't hold whoever your opponent might be to the same standard, right? I mean unless we find the Senator, he'd probably do it...
Echo: So?
Edison: So...you'd be putting yourself at a disadvantage.
[Echo watches, unblinking, seemingly measuring him. Time seems to stretch, melting and warping, and it feels like an eternity before she finally shrugs.]
Echo: Okay.
Edison: You're all right with that?
Echo: What's on the line?
[He blinks.]
Edison: ...Nothing? It's just an exhibition.
Echo: Well, there you go, then.
[She says it as if it's the simplest thing in the world. Eddie Edison, who has seen many strange things in his time, is just a tiny bit nonplussed, and he sizes up the woman before him - so unrecognizably different from what he remembered - with barely-contained curiosity. 'What happened to you?' he almost blurts, and his brain races to find a way to wrap it in a polite veneer. Palatable. Inoffensive.]
[It finds none, and at last, he settles on really the only thing one can say in such a situation.]
Edison: This is delicious, by the way. Just the right amount of zest.
[For the first time since he's seen her, Echo smiles just a little.]
Echo: Thanks.
[end]
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Torak
poster
Imagination and fantasy are two components of delusion
Posts: 713
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Post by Torak on Jan 3, 2015 6:09:28 GMT -5
The Reunion I - Rock Bottom
“I hit rock bottom, but thank God my bottom wasn’t Death.” - Stevie Ray Vaughan
Harewood Row, London, England Saturday 3rd January, 10.04am GMT
It is easy to tell two worlds apart. Anybody can tell the difference between the banker and the beggar. The penthouse suite and the pavement are further apart than just the stories between them. But the ones who can tell you just how far apart those two worlds really are happen to be those that have resided on both. The journey from one to the other can be a long, arduous trek, but usually - more frequently - it is a swift and unpredictable hurtle.
There were no big rig lights shining on this wrestling ring. In fact, there were no artificial lighting at all. The all-natural light of the fresh blue London sky shone scantily through the skylight directly above the ring. It much rathered that it didn’t, for this ring did not have any redeeming features at all; The mat was stained with blood and sweat (amongst other things); The turnbuckle pads were worn and tatty and were abused by the application of cheap stickers; The four ring posts were scarred with scratches; Not even the six sweating men inside the ring were a particularly alluring sight. To top it off, the two loose ring ropes that circumvented them were frayed and worn while the missing third rope was slumped in the corner, snapped and abandoned like a murder victim.
“Okay, good. Now let’s try some mat work. You four, I want you to work on some upper body holds, you two, work the lower body. Switch roles in two minutes.”
The six men obediently followed the instructions of their trainer, all dropping to the canvas to tangle their limbs around each other. It was like a badly directed pornographic movie. Still, he couldn’t complain. Their money was a God-send and at least they hadn’t defected to the MMA bandwagon like the rest of the steroid-heads.
The trainer watched on, stroking the short spiky stubble that shaped his goatee. His wavy blonde hair was tied into a ponytail to reveal what appeared to be an equal amount of wrinkles and scars on his forehead. The protruding veins indicated that he was just a little bit stressed. He had a black woolly sweater and tracksuit trousers on to resist the cold air within the dojo. He folded his arms as he supervised the mess of testosterone clumsily writhing and wriggling on the yellow canvas. He grimaced as one pair obliviously rolled over into the dubious blemish on the mat. He was still unsure of it’s origin.
It wasn’t only the ring that was run-down here. The pipes leaked, the floor creaked and the windows were so cracked it looked as if the place had been invaded by spiders. Even the exterior of the building was decaying at an equal rate. With its crumbling mortar and unnecessarily large arched door orange with rust, the place looked like a post-apocalyptic Ghostbuster HQ. However, its only ghosts haunting in residence were darkness, unforgiving cold and the bitter taste of failure.
The door groaned as it closed behind the man as he entered while the rotten floorboards growled with each footstep. There was no way you would Solid Snake your way into this place without anybody noticing. The trainer didn’t even turn to acknowledge the arrival.
“Sign up deposit is a score then it’s fifteen quid a week, no pay, no play.” the trainer boredly affirmed.
“I can see that the money is well spent., Mr. White” There was no attempt to hide the sarcasm in the remark.
Cyda White turned, his arms still folded. “Edison...I thought I recognized the voice. What brings you here? I’m afraid I don’t have any color commentary for my events.” He smiled. Probably for the first time in a couple of days. He neglected to offer a handshake.
“You’re more of a Play by Play kind of guy, huh?” Edison shrugged. “Though, I’m here with an offer...an opportunity, really.”
“An opportunity, eh? As a washed-up, beat-up and non-serviceable has-been like me, those don’t come around too often. What is it? Squash job for a fresh faced rookie. Show he can beat the vintage star?”
Edison shook his head and thought about removing his hat, but it was freezing in here so he left it where it was. “No, nothing like that. I’m here to represent some people...interested in buying out ACW...”
He seemed to lose interest immediately and turned his attention back to the “wrestling” going on inside the ring. He wished he hadn’t. “I said switch after two! What are you, deaf?” he grunted.
Cyda only half-listened as Edison explained the details and the reason for his visit. He shook his head in disgruntled disbelief, though it wasn’t clear whether it was at Edison’s story or the world’s sloppiest armbar being applied in the ring. Finally, he turned to Edison.
“So, let me get this straight...to cut a long story short: ACW is putting together a little reunion to put on a spectacle for a potential buyer...and you want me to be a part of the sales team?”
Edison shuffled quickly towards him with a hand outstretched. “Not just you, the rest of the gang. I tried to track them down but there’s no record anywhere. You were the only one I could find...”
Cyda dropped his head and laughed. Wow, that’s a first in a while. He turned back to the ring and barked another order for his students to half-follow before turning back to Edison with a glint in his eye. “The gang. That’s a good one. Shall I give you the brief history of Diverse Morality since the death of ACW, Ed?”
Edison fumbled. He pulled his hat down from his head and toyed with it. Not because his head had become acclimatized to the chill in the building, but he didn’t know what else to do with his hands.
“First, there’s me, with this dump of a dojo that I got stuck with after it all went to shit. My pride and joy are these six roiders who couldn’t tell the difference between a suplex and a superkick...” He turned to the guys in the ring and bellowed out a “That’s great guys, keep going.” before turning back to Edison.
“Then there’s Chris, who has spent the best part of the last five years in a wheelchair because this shitty business never prepares you for what comes after the highlights and the main events. Veracious...well, he’s behind bars right now for beating a promoter to death after a disagreement over his pay following one of the most unsuccessful wrestling events I’d ever heard of. Jack...well, we all know what happened there.” He stopped to draw a sigh.
“As for Cordelia...nobody knows what happened to her. She just...disappeared. I’m not surprised you couldn’t find her. None of us ever could."
Edison offered a sympathetic grimace before patting Cyda on the shoulder. “Look, the offer still stands just for you if you’re interested. We’d still love to have you there. A chance to settle old scores and perhaps put your name back out there.”
Cyda, suitably patronized, started edging towards the doorway, hoping Edison would pick up on the cue. “Look, I’m flattered that you’d come here to offer me...to get in touch with my old wrestling clique...but I think I’ll pass. As you can see, I’m attempting to tap into the potential future of professional wrestling here and I don’t think these guys could afford to waste any time away from my coaching...trust me.”
Edison conceded that he faced a losing battle , probably not his first - or last - in recent weeks. He pulled out a card and passed it to Cyda. “Here’s my number. Call me any time if you change your mind.”
Cyda took the card and gave Edison a mordant nod. “I’ll do just that.”
Edison took his leave and Cyda closed the door firmly behind him before hurling the card into the trash receptacle near the doorway. He ambled back towards the ring and stopped near a desk that held the gym bags of the future stars of never. Cyda picked up a phone that sat on the corner of the table. It was a Samsung Galaxy Ace. While snazzy and sleak looking, it was a pretty awful phone with barely any signal due to the cheap network provider that he chose. The only one he could afford. He selected his contact list and slid his thumb through the very meager directory of his close-friends and family. There were barely any names on it at all. Six of them were the men who paid him for an hour of his time every Saturday morning for the privilege of squirming around half-naked with other sweaty half-naked men. He scrolled down to ‘Traci Nelson’ and jabbed the screen to dial. It rang and rang before eventually cutting into a voice message prompt. He pulled the phone from his ear and dabbed his finger on the red disconnect button.
“Bitch!” he snarled.
Returning to the home screen, he noticed he had a new message. A rare occurrence on this phone. He prodded the message icon and rolled his eyes as he realized it was from his network provider offering services. He held his thumb down on the message before deleting it. As the messages already on his phone shifted up, he noticed another conversation pop into the screen. Below a message from a Jake Foxx regarding a refund for ‘unsuccessful service’ he noticed an old message from Chris LaBlanc. It must have been at least 6 weeks old. It read: ‘We’ll definitely have to catch up soon.” He always did insist on typing out text messages grammatically correct.
He stood, staring at the phone for a moment before pressing to dial then turning on speaker phone. He held the phone beneath his chin as it dialed twice before being answered.
“Hey, Cliffy. How are you doing?” the voice buzzed.
“Good thanks, Chris. How are you feeling?” He paused, suspending himself and turning his ear to the phone.
“Not bad...having one of my good days. I even managed to scratch my own arse earlier.” Chris coughed down the line.
“Nice one. A bit more rehab and you’ll be masturbating again in no time.” He smirked.
“Nah, I’ll just get your mother to do it, as usual.” Chris snorted.
Cyda laughed through his nose. “You bastard. Hey, you never guess who just dropped in here.” He quickly rerouted the subject. Family was a...tricky place. Chris didn’t respond. He just waited for Cyda to continue.
“You remember that highly strung announcer from ACW? Eddie Edison?”
“Mmm-hmmm....” Chris appeared distracted.
“Sorry, is this a good time?” Cyda gritted.
“Sorry, mate. It’s just the kids are restless and want to wrestle, you know how it is...uhhh, what you doing tomorrow night?” The sound of kids roaring some impact sound effects as their Dad frantically tried to hold them off came through loud and clear.
“A whole lot of naff all, mate. Fancy a drink?” Cyda perked up. It had been a while since he had any company, the half-dozen shaved gorillas he was supposedly training not-withstanding.
“Sure, mate. I’ll meet you at O’Neill’s about 9. Steph can look after these little buggers....rawrrrr!” The last sound was obviously for the benefit of the children nagging him for his attention, unless he had developed a new pirate-themed lexicon with which he ended all of his phone calls.
“I’ll see you there, fella!” Cyda blurted.
Cyda looked at his phone. Chris had hung up before he even managed to locate the disconnect button. He dropped the phone on the table and turned back to the ring. The students weren’t even wrestling any more. They looked more like schoolkids who had eaten way too much cake at a birthday party. They were playing a violent version of ‘touch, you’re it.’ with the person who was ‘it’ receiving a full barrage of right hands to the arm by the rest of the guys.
“Okay guys, that’s enough for today. Same time next week. Remember to bring your wallets. Remember, no cash, no frog splash!”
They all peeled away from each other and began to exit the ring through the hanging ropes. Good luck getting a 619 out of those floppy things. One of the students cockily erupted “What about the pep talk, guv? Any words of wisdom?”
Without looking up Cyda snarled “Yeah, get a real job.”
They all laughed as they started to pull on their clothes and stuff their elbow, wrist and knee pads into their bags.
“You definitely need to get a shower in here, guv.” One remarked as they exited.
“I’ve already got a shower in here, it’s you lot.” He snapped back. They laughed again as they stepped out through the door and into the cold London air. Cyda followed them out and looked up and down the street. Cars bustled by endlessly and noisily. He took a deep breath of air. It was the same temperature as inside the building. Cyda turned and walked back inside and locked the door behind him. He didn’t have to switch off the lights. There weren’t any. Just like there was no heating.
It was lucky that he had bought the building outright during his heyday. Back then, he imagined that this would be a successful and thriving wrestling dojo after he retired. In reality, it was a run-down open hall with a second-hand ring and no other equipment. He couldn’t afford to switch on any electricity or heating. It was just pure luck that the skylight was a feature of the building or his guys would be wrestling in the dark.
He made his way to the back of the hall and unlocked a door leading to what appeared to be a laundry room. Some shirts and jeans were hung up on a clotheshorse and an old mattress with just a thin blanket spread out on the floor. It was the warmest room in the building. He closed the door to stop the cold from infiltrating and collapsed down onto the mattress. He rolled over onto his back and stared up into space, losing himself in his thoughts. After a few moments he chuckled to himself and snorted...
“Reunion...”
He pulled a book out from behind his pillow and began reading. The book was Michael Shilling’s ‘Rock Bottom’ - The story of a once famous rock n’ roll band who once had it all, washed up and playing one more gig despite the depths that their lives had plunged them into.
To be Continued...
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Post by The Mainerishi on Jan 3, 2015 13:51:09 GMT -5
The Passion of The Wrestler Credit: Danny Mainer For the last few weeks, Eddie Edison had been on a tour of the worst parts of the nicest cities in the world as he tried to touch base with some of the forgotten faces of ACW. In LA, he'd seen both change and the status quo as blood thirsty Echo took a pacifists vow while Thunderkiss the Pornographer tunnelled further in his quest to reach the bottom of human depravity. In Medicine Hat, Matt Irvine grew bitter in the winter winds over TK's legacy of damage. Now, Eddie was flipping the formula in the stunning suburbs of Sin City searching for 'The King of Vegas' Danny Mainer, hoping he might be swayed to lace his boots up one last time for his subjects. At quarter past four in the afternoon, Edison's cab pulled up outside the gates of Mainer's last known address. Edison threw the driver a fifty, told him to keep the change and stepped into the desert heat to take his first look at 'The King's' ominous palace. “Jesus Christ,” murmured Eddie. The house was taller than wide, a high-stacked four story compound built with sand white walls and a brown clay roof that wouldn't look out of place in Renaissance Italy. Black iron railings lined high arch balconies and every so often, a square Mayan mask tile broke up the monotony of support pillars. It was simple, classic, understated, but in a calculated way. Eddie hit the buzzer on the gate and waited to see if anyone was home. Finding Danny hadn't been a part of Eddie's instructions but he'd taken it upon himself to do it anyway. Although Danny's career officially ended in 2010 when he put his career on the line against Jason Freeman; retirements in this industry were notoriously fickle and Danny Mainer was a huge draw who bled ACW. What would a one night stand be without the company's underdog fighting for glory? Eddie had also heard vague internet rumblings of Danny being involved in some start-up Vegas promotion which if true meant he still had at least some heart for the business. The buzzer replying interrupted his thoughts. “Hello?” a woman's voice called. Eddie grinned and leaned in. He'd only heard Danny's girlfriend Caitlynn's voice a few times but he knew it well enough to recognise it as the one speaking to him. “Hi Caitlynn! It's 'Fast' Eddie Edison here, the color commentator from Alpha Championship Wrestling. Have you got a minute?” “Sure,” she said. “I'll buzz you in.” She didn't sound too happy about it but she did as she said. The gates slid open just long enough for Eddie to step through before they slammed shut behind him. He walked up the cobbled path to the porch where Caitlynn clutched today's paper and grimaced at him. Apparently Eddie wasn't very good at reading body language. “Caitlynn Dufraisne! Or is that Masterson? It's wonderful to see you! You're looking so well. How're you? How's the baby? Probably not a baby any more right? How's the retired life treating you?” When Eddie crossed over an invisible line in her head which deemed him close enough to approach, she marched to him brandishing her newspaper like a samurai would a katana. Eddie realised as she got closer that being thirty two wasn't as kind to a woman as it was to a man no matter how beautiful you were. “You wrestlers are the cancer of entertainment. You know that?” Caitlynn snapped. “You always breed the most sickening problems in people. I can understand being delusional when you've won an Oscar or gone triple platinum but winning a belt in some fight club? What the fuck? Why does wrestling make people so destructively insane?” Eddie raised an arm to protect himself from an attack that never came. “I'm sorry but what?” Caitlynn stopped about two feet away from him. “Your industry ruined the boy I loved, Eddie. David was a wonderful, adoring, caring man until Aiden got him into your stupid freak show. After that, the only thing that mattered was putting asses in seats to put food on our table. I went from being the centre of his world to being the rock he fell back on when things went bad. Do you know how that feels Eddie, to know that you're just not that important to the person you love?” “Being a rock for somebody is the most important thing you can do for them. Is he here now?” asked Eddie, looking around. Caitlynn physically flinched. “Oh please. Don't tell me you haven't heard.” “Heard what?” A smile and laughter cracked her dour mood. “Oh boy. Ahaha. Ahahahahahaha. Ahahahahahahaha.” “What? He's not dead, is he?” Caitlynn sighed and placed a hand on Eddie's shoulder. “Oh no. To me he is sure but no, he's fine. He's just had an existential crisis. That's all. 'Danny Mainer' as you knew him doesn't exist any more. Now he's 'The Mainerishi', a poor man's David Koresh with silk shirts and LSD. I got tired of him moping around the house being miserable all the time so I filed for divorce and he reacted the way he always does when he gets depressed, taking drugs and grow his hair long. Only this time he went to India and came back with a bible and a messiah complex.” Eddie scoffed, having less than fond memories of his encounters with 'Psycho Butcher' Danny Mainer terrorizing ACW staff with a meat cleaver. “Someone needs to tell him that's not the answer to every problem in his life. I just hope this time he left the guy-liner and throwing knives at home. Is he on heroin again?” asked Eddie. Caitlynn shook her head. “Nono. Just hallucinogenics. He says he sees visions from a goddess who he said off the record was me in his subconscious voice. It was the kind of bullshit The Beatles would've been into. He's got a commune out in the Mojave but his weird Heaven's Gate thing, The Ultra Passion Movement has spread out all across the west coast. I don't know why but California takes to new age religions pretty well apparently.” “Jesus. So he's too busy then. Unlikely to mount a comeback for an ACW one night stand?” “Probably. He wrestled again a while back so he could get some conversional TV time but once the ball started rolling on his cult, he split again. You'd only get him back if I told him “Kill that guy and I'd get back with you.”.” “Would you be willing do that?” Eddie asked with a hopeful smile. Caitlynn shook her head. “God no.” Eddie ticked the situation over in his head. There had to be a way of getting Mainer back into a ring. No matter how many ambition changes, girlfriends or lifestyles he went through, wrestling was the only constant. If Caitlynn was right and he had been competing even to springboard his new religion then that hadn't changed. “Can you tell me how I get to his commune?” asked Eddie. Caitlynn cocked an eyebrow as she folded her arms across her chest. “Are you serious?” Eddie's smirking silence was all the answer she needed. “Alright. Apparently you are. I don't know where the commune itself is but he's got a temple slash community centre in Old Town where all the new recruits go. You can try and get in touch through those guys there but don't get your hopes up.” From the doorway, a little voice piped up. “Mom? Who's that?” Eddie peered past Caitlynn and saw a little girl with flame red hair clutching a Danny Mainer action figure by the leg. Alyssa didn't look all that different from the pictures her proud father passed around when she was born except now she had long hair and could walk. Maybe one day she'd wrestle. Caitlynn turned and tried to shoo her inside, blocking her view of Eddie. “It's nobody dear,” she said, then looked over her shoulder at Eddie. “Just a man who's about to leave.” She snatched the action figure from her and shooed her inside. “I thought I told you not to play with that.” Eddie took the hint, giving her a curt wave as he backed towards the gate. “Thank you so much for your time, Ms. Dufraisne.” Caitlynn pulled the door over just enough so it wouldn't lock shut then walked over to Eddie. “No problem. Just don't be stupid, Ed. No matter how much money you're going to make doing this reunion show, it's not worth risking your life chasing up Dave. I'm not going to be dramatic and say he's not the same man because he is but when we knew him, he'd only partially disappeared up his butthole. Now he's all the way gone and he's got a bunch of lunatics backing up his delusions. Be smart. Let it go. Go find Dan White or Jay Zero instead.” Eddie gave her a nod and some words that didn't match his thoughts. “Understood. Well thank you Caitlynn. If there's anything I can do for you.” He reached into his pocket and produced a pen and pad. “Take my number.” Caitlynn pushed the pad into Eddie's chest, shaking her head. “What you can do for me is keep your number and advise everyone you know in the industry to never darken my doorstep again. Understood? It's too late for David but I'm not letting you and your circus fuck up my daughter's life. You got that?” “Okay. Got it.” Caitlynn disappeared inside and slammed the door as Eddie went to make his exit. He was about to go back and say something about the locked gate when it screeched open again. Eddie hopped out, content with the way the conversation went and set out for his next mission. Find The Mainerishi.
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Post by Kim Jong CP on Jan 3, 2015 16:39:25 GMT -5
A New Chapter: Credit: CP Four Years Ago Today Goodbye GameThe roar of the crowd lingers in the distance, Senator Steve Phillips still in the ring celebrating with the ACW World Heavyweight Championship as the crowd on ACW Island applaud for one last time, the final curtain coming down on Alpha Championship Wrestling. Ducking past the gorilla position, Chris Phenomenal heads towards the back as he looks around at the members of the roster mulling about, all seeming to be at a loss for words, the finality of the moment sinking in amongst them. Brushing past Laron Xavier, Chris heads towards his locker room with his head held high. Reaching his destination, Chris pushes the locker room door open before falling onto the chesterfield, exhausted from the match as he looks around at the memorabilia adorning the walls; the Mega Star Alliance T-Shirt’s, Senatorial Stable posters, and, most importantly, the ACW World Heavyweight Championship he won at Ragnarok. Paige: You’re going to miss it, aren’t you?Paige Phenomenal strides in the door, her petite stature in stark juxtaposition to the rounded midsection. Chris turns his head and smiles at his girlfriend before shrugging his shoulders passively as he gets to his feet. Chris: Not really, one door closes as another one opens.He wraps his right arm around her, placing his left on the pregnant orb and leaves it there for a moment as if waiting for a sign from inside. Paige: Senator deserved to win.Chris: I’m not upset at losin’. I owe Steve a significant debt of gratitude for everything that happened here in ACW. I wouldn’t be in this position right now if it wasn’t for him.Chris lets go of Paige as he goes into the corner of the locker room and begins rooting through his duffel bag. Chris: I’m just goin’ to grab a shower then we can get out of here and beat the rush. I ‘magine everyone is goin’ to pick this place clean afterwards.Paige: What, there’s nothing you want?Chris: Nothin’ I ain’t already got.Chris smiles back at her with a sheepish grin on his face, causing Paige to blush slightly as Chris grabs the towel and wrapping it around his waist heads towards the “en-suite”. Paige looks around the locker room herself as she places her hand on her stomach. Paige: It’s too bad you’ll never get to see Daddy compete, he’s something special Wendy.Paige smiles at the feel of a slight kick on her stomach but that smile dissipates rather quickly as she immediately goes flush. Pausing for a moment, she gathers herself but another shot of pain racks her body as she sits down on the chesterfield, her breathing becoming slightly shallower. Paige: Just breathe … there’s nothing to be worried about just a little after …Her self-talk is cut short by another stabbing contraction as she gasps slightly. Paige: Umm … Chris!Chris: Just give me …Paige: CHRIS!!!There’s a brief pause and a clatter from inside of the bathroom as Paige tries to calm her breathing as the door rattles before popping open with Chris dressed in nothing but a towel. Paige: WEGOTTOGO!!!Paige’s words string together, indecipherable as Chris gives her a quick glance before finally clueing in as to her state. Chris: Son of a bitch!Despite the weariness from the match a renewed vigor enters Chris body as he helps Paige to her feet and drags her towards the door, oblivious to his state of dress. Paige: Umm … Chris?Chris: What?Paige: You might want to put some pants on!Chris looks down and clues in to the towel struggling to stay bound to his waste and protecting his modesty. Going a couple more shades of crimson, he sheepishly smiles as he turns around and rushes towards the duffel bag. Paige: I’ll meet you at the car.Chris: Ok.Paige leaves the locker room as Chris tires to quickly step into a pair of blue jeans but struggles to co-ordinate himself in his haste. Finally grabbing them, he takes the title from the wall and pulling a shirt of the bag replaces it, quickly fastening it shut and grabbing it with one hand. Looking around with a quick sigh, he turns around and rushes towards the door, duffel bag in one hand and trying to throw his shirt on with the other. Getting it up over his head he is blinded for a moment by the fabric at the same time as Trace Birmingham steps around the corner and is absolutely demolished by the charging Chris. Finally getting his shirt over his head he looks down at Trace splayed out on the floor, and then at Paige in the distance. Chris: Are you ever not in the way? Absolute …Paige: CHRIS!!!His focus renewed on the task at hand as he looks up at Paige glaring at him from the parking lot. Chasing after her he reaches her a few steps away from the McLaren sports car as he automatically pops open the trunk. Tossing the duffel bag in from five feet, he opens the door for Paige helping her in and then slamming the door shut. Running around the rear and slamming the boot, he jumps in and in three seconds flat has the car roaring out of the parking lot, tires squeeling on the pavement of the parking garage, before narrowly avoiding one of the Drinkin’ Boyz as he gets out of dodge for the final time.
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Post by Thunderkiss on Jan 3, 2015 22:33:56 GMT -5
[It's another day, another dollar for the starlets of Thunderbliss Incorporated. Filming has come to a close and the sexy post production party is in full swing. From afar, it is easy to understand how easy it was for Thunderkiss to move on from the realm of sports entertainment as women of all shapes and sizes surround him, listening to him spin a tale from his glory days. It is a virtual vaginal-buffet and Thunderkiss has his plate out ready to start piling. Loud guffawing followed by screeching "tee-hee'ing" fills the studio repeatedly, a procession that is akin to the mating calls of the animal kingdom. Before one lucky lady can get "a head" in the business, Thunderkiss' newest leading lady Gestapo makes her way through this human pile of silicone with haste. Reluctantly she seizes his head and turns it, causing TK's eyes to avert on only her. Quite an accomplishment, considering the circumstances.] Gestapo: Kiss, you have a visitor. Thunderkiss: Tell them to get lost. You know betterGestapo: I did at first, but this one is quite persistent. Thunderkiss *looking upset*: Excuse me for a moment, ladies.[You don't spit in the wind or tug on Superman's cape, but you sure as hell don't get persistent with Thunderkiss - especially in his own home. Irritated and ready take it out on someone, Thunderkiss pardons himself from his curvy suitors and makes his way to whomever has come calling so he can do just that. His mind already on overdrive with anger, he has not the capacity to multitask and solve mysteries so it is lucky for him that tonight's guest saves TK the trouble and reveals himself.] The Mainerishi: It's been a long time since we last spoke, Aiden. It's strange that our paths haven't crossed sooner but here we are once again. How've you been?[That voice is unmistakeable. Though his features have changed drastically over the years, there is no confusing that it belongs to his old childhood friend, Danny Mainer. Thunderkiss' anger quickly transforms into reluctance and hesitancy. Though these two men have shared good memories together, their last few years of interaction was filled with 500% nightmare fuel. Life took them in two completely different directions then and has only continued the journey over these past four years. Though one would imagine TK does not keep abreast of world events, he has watched enough local news to know that Mainer, or the Mainerishi as he now calls himself, has fallen off the cliff of sanity and the fact that he now stands smack dab in the middle of Thunderkiss' life at the moment makes even Thunderkiss' skin crawl - And brothers and sisters, Thunderkiss has seen A LOT, it takes something special for him to feel this way.] Thunderkiss: And it is a shame we couldn't keep it that way. Did Edison send you? That fucker just can't take no for an answer, can he? The Mainerishi: No, though I do sympathize and understand your assumption. Recently, my advisers murmured about a man who came to one of our outreach centers seeking my audience but as I'm sure you're well aware, I have no time for ruminating over the past. No, tonight I have come with my people to speak of our interests. Not of Edward's or anyone else's. Just that of my church, my people... and you.Thunderkiss: Oh yeah, your people, huh? I guess that is what I am looking at here, your coven, right?[From behind Mainer scurries two members of his "Ultra Passion Movement," looking estranged from a bar of soap and a shave as you'd imagine. Like good sheeple, they stand on each side of Mainer as if they were forming a human shield around his body, their eyes void of any independence thought. Noticing this, Thunderkiss begins to actually develop a sense of appreciation for Mainer's power of persuasion. Certainly, he learned a few tricks from himself.] The Mainerishi: Yes. These are two of my most trusted acolytes. They are due to be anointed as high priests in the summer. Perhaps you might enjoy our company sometime. Though our hearts bleed different colours, the pleasures we share are very much the same.Thunderkiss: Interesting information to wipe my ass with. If your friends are looking for a job I am afraid we have reached our quota on hippy chicks with hairy armpits already - at zero. I can only assume that is why you are here, so now that is out of the way, good luck in your future endeavors and have a good rest of your life. The Mainerishi: I haven't come here to just extend an olive branch, Aiden. I've come here to speak my mind. My friends in Los Angeles; some mutual, some not so mutual, say your new life has you making films that are damaging to the greater good. My sect don't approve of this. We think exploiting themes like Nazism to make masturbatory aides capitalises on the negative energies of human history rather than harnessing them to understand why they happen so we can prevent them. Our organisation is setting up an initiative in Torrance to counteract this. We're producing 'documentaries of human sexuality' as a counter-movement to your dreadful product. We'd like you to cease production immediately, join us and take the time to talk with me about how you can put your endless talents and passion into something that can better the world for everyone.Thunderkiss: So let me get this straight. Tonight you decided it would be a totally good idea to come and see me, you know, the guy that you almost killed once and vice-versa, to tell me you expect me to just throw away everything I've built over the last five years because it offends you? You're shitting me, right? I can't believe this. Just can't believe it. You know, when it rains, it pours. I had been free of YOU PEOPLE for four years and I swear, one of you shows up at my door and the next thing you know its 2008 again with all of its same ol' shit problems. If you think I am tucking my dick between my legs and closing up shop all that pot you smoke has obviously killed more than a few braincells. Take your peace and your love and shove it. The Mainerishi: I understand, Aiden. This was a mistake. I should've known better, better than anyone else in fact, that you would not be swayed. Have you considered that your endless stream of damaged thoughts may be the reason you live in such misery now? If you learned to love freely without expectation and without thrusting your selfish, territorial nature onto everyone and everything around you, you might not have gained what you had but you definitely wouldn't have lost it either. Your career, getting held back in what should've been a straight run to a championship, your sponsorships, your energy drink, your wife, your son... JOYTOY, all gone because you pushed someone too far trying to get what you wanted.[That's it. There is no fucking around now. What has happened here tonight is an act that has crossed the line and Thunderkiss will have none of it. If these were the old days, he would already be at Mainer's neck but luckily for the Mainerishi, Thunderkiss has mellowed and instead pulls a revolver from a nearby desk and points the barrel at Mainer's head.] Thunderkiss: You son of a bitch. To come into my house and do what you did ..... Out, now or I am putting one in your head. The Mainerishi: I spent fourteen years listening to you make threats of violence and just as long watching you carry them out but never in all that time did you ever have to resort to tools for the job your hands could've done. You really are a shadow of your former self.[Mainer turns to his acolytes and as he steps backwards, he beckons them follow.] The Mainerishi: Come now. We will let this sapling thrive in his manure. One day he may open his heart and mind long enough to realize the error of his ways but for now, we only serve to aggravate the situation.[Mainer and his followers take their sweet time exiting whence they came, each accumulating second rubbing into TK's already fragile ego like salt in a bloody wound. A room that was festive and boisterous just minutes ago now is filled with complete silence and shock. Uncertain on how to handle his emotions and afraid to expose his rattle nerves to his staff, Thunderkiss turns around to the girls who are now huddled together in a corner of the room and grumbles - ] Thunderkiss: Leave, girls. Go home. I ... I need to be alone for a while. I'll see you tomorrow. Gestapo: I'll walk them to their cars. Thunderkiss *nodding*: Thank you.[Alone he stands and with no one to bear witness to the following, his emotions burst like a thermometer in hell.] Thunderkiss: FUCK![Large desks, chairs and anything not bolted down go flying through the air. From outside Gestapo stops in her tracks as the unbearable noise from inside sounds as if a construction crew was literally demolishing the building, putting her in a state of fear. Relatively new to Thunderkiss' life, she has never seen him like this - ever. Joytoy and Anna Sommers would certainly consider her to be fortunate to have been shielded from this side of Thunderkiss as even today one lives in fear of his temper (and the other, dead). To Thunderkiss' credit, he had kept these outburst under control for many years but it is that wretched past, a past that will not die, that will forever bring out what many would consider his true nature. Confronted with the fact that he will never truly be able to hide from it, his next course of action is to determine how to deal with the coming storm. Mainer will not back down, he knows this all too well. Minutes pass and all is quiet, a sign for Gestapo that it is safe to reenter the building. Thunderkiss' head turns in her direction and is relieved that she remained outside and allowed him to have his moment alone without interjecting herself into it like the others would have done. His appreciation for her grows by the minute.] Gestapo: Are you going to be okay? Thunderkiss: Yeah ... yeah. I just need some fresh air. Gestapo: I understand. Go. I will clean this place up. Thunderkiss: But - Gestapo *interrupting*: I have it. Trust me me as I trust in you. Go clear your head, the night calls for you. Don't disappoint. [Thunderkiss rises and embraces his Nazi love. He then turns to the door and walks up to it. His handle on the knob, he is hesitant to turn it. The thoughts that will now cross his mind will be unpleasant, thoughts he long ago buried and they will be released upon his conscience the moment he opens the door. A small voice in the back of his head tells him to stop, to not open the door, but a much louder one tells him to kick it off his hinges. With a devious smile, turns the doorknob and mutters to himself - ] Thunderkiss *smiling*: You can come out now. It's time to play. [END]
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Torak
poster
Imagination and fantasy are two components of delusion
Posts: 713
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Post by Torak on Jan 4, 2015 6:26:05 GMT -5
The Reunion II - The Man in Japan
“The only limit to your impact is your imagination and commitment” - Tony Robbins
Nippon Budokan, Tokyo, Japan Sunday 4th January, 8.26pm JST
He was jaded. Less than 24 hours ago he had been in London and now here he was in the Land of the Rising Sun. He shuffled uncomfortably in his seat, agitated by the frenzy erupting all around him. There was one thing you could always guarantee about those crazy Japs: they sure loved their wrestling. He watched on silently while a deranged teenager reverberated with excitement next to him. He could understand why they were so enthusiastic. The young star in the ring was mesmerizing all with his performance. He was suitably impressed by the corkscrew moonsault dropkick that the young Canadian used to take out both of his opponents. This three way dance wasn’t the main event, but the three guys in the ring, particularly the Canadian blue chipper, were on the cusp of being huge in Japan. This match was obviously booked to evaluate which of the three garnered the most fandom. The Maple Leaf masochist was undoubtedly the hero of this matchup.
Edison looked around at the response of the crowd and felt a wave of nostalgia wash over him. This was one of the biggest promotions touring in Japan right now and the arena was sold out to the rafters. He spotted a sign held up by a passionate fan that read “Bring back Yoko” and chuckled. These fans were rabid, passionate and vocal…but not a patch on the ACW followers back in the day. He knew that this promotion, like many others that often started up, would go to the wall eventually. He thought to himself as he looked at the sea of support: “Enjoy it, while it lasts.” Of course, the lifespan of a wrestling promotion was very rarely indefinite. Once the novelty factor wore off and the money started to dry up due to the unrealistic ambitions of their promoters, it all crumbled and decayed away, paving the way for a new upstart promotion to take its place in the journey of inevitability. It has to work that way. One dies off so that another can be born. The wrestling industry was the ouroboros of wasted talent.
The Canadian brought it home, finishing with a clean brain-buster to seal the victory. Victoriously, he perched himself on one of the turnbuckles to celebrate and thanked the fans for their support, feeding their hysteria. It was testament to his in-ring ability to how over he was. He was a bland looking guy, the kind of guy you couldn’t put a gimmick on. His charisma was in his in-ring ability, able to draw the crowd in and gasp for breath with every move. He dismounted from the corner and made his exit. The main rivalry was between his two opponents who reignited their battle after the match so the Canadian was no longer needed on the scene.
Edison had no interest in the progressing storyline between the two mortal enemies and so pushed himself up from his seat and waded through the insanity of the fans. He pulled out a backstage pass that he had been generously sent by the promoter – Mr. Fuji and Edison went way back – and presented it to some burly security guards. He quickly shuffled through the corridors and saw the worker making his way to the locker room.
“Justin!” Edison hollered.
The Canadian turned and caught Edison’s stumble as he approached. He smiled.
“Eddie Edison! Good to see you, man!” he extended his hand and shook Edison’s firmly. “What the hell brings you here?”
Edison looked Justin up and down with an amazed glaze in his face. “Justin Jehst…wow, look at you. Last time I saw you, you were a shivering bag of nerves…wow.”
Justin shifted awkwardly and wiped some sweat from his brow.
“Look, can you talk?” Edison poured.
Jehst looked around and turned. “Yeah, sure. In here.”
He lead Edison into the locker room. There were a handful of wrestlers partially – and sometimes, not at all – clothed. It was a real carnival. He noticed some wrestlers he hadn’t seen in years. Some he had never seen or heard of before and at one point he could have sworn he saw Ridley make his way into the shower. “Can’t be.” He thought.
Jehst started to dab himself down with a wet cloth near a mirror. “What can I do for you, Ed?”
Jehst listened intently as Edison explained the purpose of his long journey to see him. As he took it all in, a lot of thoughts – and memories – rushed to the forefront.
“I don’t know...that’s pretty heavy for me.” Justin stressed. “As amazing as I think ACW was and I’m grateful that they gave me my first opportunity, it wasn’t a great time for me. I’m still paying for it to this day.” He frowned and glared into the mirror.
Edison stood solemnly as Jehst rambled.
“Six years I bounced from one therapist to another. None of them had seen any case like mine. They gave me pills, told me to get plenty of exercise and rest. Hell, one even tried to get me committed. Thought I was a lost cause. ACW left....HE left a huge scar on my life.”
Edison placed a reassuring hand on Justin’s shoulder and squeezed gently. “Listen son, I know it was tough. It should never have happened. It certainly wasn’t what ACW wanted. He...Torak...Torak was a loose cannon. We couldn’t control him. It’s why we let him go the first time. His return - when he attacked you - that wasn’t authorized. He wasn’t contracted. He caused us a lot of grief as well. Hell, he even kidnapped and tortured two fans for weeks. The lawsuit that ACW faced after that damn near crippled the company. In fact, we never truly recovered from it. You could say that was the first domino in the long line of dominoes to fall within ACW. Trust me, we all knew what you had been through.”
Justin looked up and gazed forlornly into Edison’s eyes. Edison continued.
“But hey, that’s not going to happen this time. You’ll be put in a match, pick up your generous fee and jet straight back out here to Japan to continue your commitment to Mr. Fuji-san.” Edison shot him a wink.
“I don’t know how well that would go over with him. He’s been great to me and I don’t want to betray his loyalty.” Justin bit his lip.
“Don’t worry, me and Fuji-san go back a long way. He would be thrilled to see you promote yourself elsewhere and bring back that reputation here. Look, you’ve got raw talent, kid. There aren’t many out there like you. We saw that the moment you first appeared in ACW. You were being prepped for a big push before...what happened. Don’t let your psychological demons get the better of you. You don’t deserve that.” Edison put his hand over his heart and leaned in towards Justin. “He doesn’t deserve that...”
Justin turned away and stared at his reflection. “I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it. Can I let you know?”
“Of course!” Edison enthused as he pulled out his card and handed it to Jehst. “I’ll be in Tokyo until Tuesday, then London for a week before I fly back home. Anytime you need to talk, don’t hesitate...”
“Thanks.” He gawped at the number on the card as his thoughts weighed on his mind.
Edison said his goodbyes and made his exit, leaving Jehst to contemplate his decision. He fixed his glare onto the mirror again, maintaining eye contact with his reflection. This certainly wasn’t the first lucrative offer he had received. A couple of years ago the WWE made contact, but he turned them down because he didn’t like the gimmick they wanted him to carry. TNA were on the phone just a few months ago, but he had only just started with Mr. Fuji-san’s promotion and didn’t want to appear disloyal to his new employer. Who knows when they may cross paths again. Plus he heard about that incident in which a wrestler beat a promoter to death at an event. Who knows how crazy anybody can be in this game.
So why was this such a hard decision to make? He had to admit, there was something just a little bit special about ACW. Something that nagged at him. Something that was untapped to him. Something that he had to overcome, like a fear. He dropped the card into his bag before leaving the locker room, making his way to the office of Mr. Fuji-san.
To be continued....
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Torak
poster
Imagination and fantasy are two components of delusion
Posts: 713
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Post by Torak on Jan 4, 2015 11:58:55 GMT -5
The Reunion III - Men Behind Bars
“In every conceivable manner, the family is link to our past, bridge to our future.” - Alex Haley
O’Neill’s Irish Pub, Wardour Street, London, England Sunday 4th January, 9.45pm GMT
He sat at the bar alone. The 80’s cover band had promised to return in ten minutes...twenty minutes ago. The sticker peelings from the bottles that he had pulled off began to accumulate in a pile on the bar. There were seldom customers in on this Sunday evening, few Londoners wanting to arrive at work stinking of booze the next morning. That was not going to be a problem for Cyda White. His next-day routine consisted of waking up late-morning, working off his hangover by jogging through Regent’s Park, picking up a cheap lunch from Greggs, returning to the dojo for a shadow-wrestling exercise before taking a cold shower then finally picking up a case of carling from the Tesco Express around the corner and drinking himself to sleep before the cycle was reset.
He slurped from his fourth bottle of Budweiser - it was the cheapest drink they had - before plonking the glass down on the bar. He hoped Chris would be there soon, as he was starting to run low on change. Just as he started to wonder if Chris had forgotten all about their drink, he appeared just behind him. Out of breath and straining to hold himself upright on his crutches, he leaned against the bar. Cyda quickly relinquished his seat for him and grabbed another stool that stood lazily nearby.
“Sorry, thought you were bringing your own.” quipped Cyda.
“What? No, I’ve been on the crutches all day. Not been too bad. Same again?” He motioned towards the empty beer bottles with his head.
“I’ll have a pint, cheers.” Cyda relieved.
Chris ordered a pint of lager and a diet coke before struggling to clamber upon the tall stool. He grimaced with pain as he perched himself on top and held the crutches across his lap.
“Sorry I’m late. Kids wouldn’t settle.” He made that face that all parents made when reporting on their children’s behaviour. A sort of ‘why me?’ look.
“That’s okay. I thought you were running a marathon or something.” Cyda smirked.
“Feels like it.” Chris huffed as he brushed his hand through his matted hair. “How’d you get here? Same?” Chris was investigating
“Yep. Bakerloo. My personal doorstep carriage. You?” Cyda licked his lips. What was the barman doing exactly? Brewing the damn hops?
“District from Fulham Broadway, then Piccadilly from Earl’s Court.” Of course, he could have just said ‘tube’, but when you live where Chris lives, you mention it every opportunity you get.
The drinks arrived and Chris quickly dipped his hand into his pocket to pay. He was never one to be thrifty when it came to buying drinks. Of course, he always was good with money elsewhere. That’s why he lived in Kensington (or just outside it, at least). Still, all that frugality throughout his career to bolster his long-term financial security couldn’t prevent him from living with searing pain 24/7 and he could hardly walk ten paces without pulling up in agony. Cyda wasn’t sure whose predicament was worse.
“Not drinking?” he enquired.
“Nope. Not with these painkillers. Not unless you fancied carrying me home.”
He didn’t. Cyda gave up about 40lbs to Chris and would receive no support from him if he did carry him. Still, passed out on the floor of O’Neill’s...wouldn’t be the first time for Chris.
“So, what were you talking about on the phone yesterday? Somebody came to visit you? Sorry, I was only half-listening with the kids... It wasn’t Traci, was it?” Chris’ eyebrows raised.
“Christ, no. She’s probably in the Bahamas or Mexico or somewhere right now with Mr. Money Bags. Slag.” He cut, before drinking a mouthful of frothy lager. “No, it was Eddie Edison. Remember that frantic color-commentator from ACW?”
Chris sat in disbelief as Cyda recounted Edison’s visit. He chuckled to himself as Cyda tossed in a number of unnecessary choice words to color the story from his point of view. He took a sip of his coke and considered. “Doesn’t he know what happened to everybody?”
“I gave him the brief summary of Diverse Morality’s controversies and conspiracies.”
“What did you tell him about V?”
“The truth. That he’s in the nick. For totally going stiff on a promoter.” Cyda took another gulp of lager.
“Well, the guy did try to stiff him...out of about 30 dollars if I remember rightly.”
“That’s about fifteen quid ain’t it?”
“I think it’s closer to about twenty, but that was far from the point. They found out that the guy was paying everybody in dollars because most guys were too dumb to realize it was less when it was converted. Why the hell would a British promoter pay in dollars anyway?”
“Still, I think it was more the principle for V. He never did negotiate so well.” Cyda mused. “When does he get out?”
“Not for a long time. I’m visiting him next week. You want to come along?” Chris perked.
“Nah, I’ll give it a miss. V and I weren’t that close. He always thought I was trying to muscle in on Cordelia, get between her and Jack.”
“Hey, it’s a Brother thing. You got to look out for your own family. Trust me, I know...” Chris sighed and scowled.
“Still nothing?”
“Nope. To be honest, I’m not even looking any more. I thought I had found her once, but then my body went to bits and I lost all energy...” Chris said with dejection.
“Hey, look, Cordelia is the strongest woman I know. She’s fine. If she can’t be found, it means she doesn’t want to be, so you haven’t failed. That girl is like superhuman, or something.” soothed Cyda.
“You were so hung up on her...” Chris japed.
“Leave it out, mate.” Cyda blushed as he took a sip from his pint.
“Come on, man. You’re my best friend. You don’t have to hide it. I saw your face the day she met Jack.”.He began to mimic Cyda in a pathetic and child-like manner. “Oh, Cordelia, this is Torak...I’m going back to the locker room to have a big cry...”
“You’re such an arse. All things considered, it would be a shame to have to smash your head in with this glass.”
“You wouldn’t waste a drop, though, would you.”
“Now that would be the shame.”
They laughed before a silence fell between them. The band started setting up for the second half of their set. Suddenly a time-limit was imposed on their conversation. Chris quickly piped in, raising his voice over the sound of the tune up.
“I do miss having her around though. Little Sis. As bossy as she could be, she held us together. Look at us without her. One Dead. One in Prison. One paralyzed. And you, uh...drunk, I guess?” Chris avoided the obviously delicate subject of Cyda’s living arrangements.
“You know what you need?” Cyda blurted, attempting to derail the subject.
“A new spine?” Chris retorted as he nonchalantly took a sip of his drink.
“A private dick!”
Chris voluntarily spat out his coke for effect before chuckling. “Now, all those rumours were unsubstantiated. That tour of Thailand was strictly business.”
Cyda grinned. “No, seriously. Have you ever thought about using a Private Detective? I used one once. He was really good. Well, he didn’t exactly find what I wanted but his record was pretty sound judging by his case history.”
Chris squinted as he thought for a second. “You used a detective? Oh, right....your Father?” it dawned on him.
“Yeah. No sign. A real mystery, even to him. He said he’d never had so much difficulty tracking somebody down. Not even a trace. It was weird. He described it as a real John Doe scenario.”
“Cliff, have you ever considered that your father might be...D.B. Cooper?”
“I wish.” Cyda snorted. He pulled his phone out of his jeans pocket and navigated his way to the contact details. “Here, let me give you his number. Tell him all that you know. I bet he’ll be able to find her.”
Cyda took Chris’ phone and input the details for him. He handed the phone back to him and gave him a nod. The band had tuned up and were ready to play. The singer blurted over the distortion in the microphone.
“Welcome back everyone, sorry we were away so long. We’re going to play one by Erasure... This one is called Stop!”
...
#WE’LL BE TOGETHER AGAIN I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR A LONG TIME...#
To be continued...
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echo
New Member
Posts: 4
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Post by echo on Jan 6, 2015 21:50:03 GMT -5
[incipit satanas][8:00 in the evening. Eddie Edison has finished his brioche and is now alternating between wondering what happened to his host over the past ten years and wondering where in the hell she got Swiss absinthe this good. A glass of Duplais Verte, louched with sugar, rests in his hand. He takes a tentative sip, samples the sickly-sweet velvet of the anise wrapped around the bite of the wormwood. Across the room, his host is content to sip at her tea.] Edison: I'm sorry I couldn't tell you more. This is really more of an interest check that I'm doing, basically. [Echo watches him from the couch, impassive and unblinking.] Edison: So we don't know who you'd be facing yet, or...or anything like that, really. Echo: That's fine. [They drink in silence, with a certain progressive comfort. Edison smiles a little to himself, beginning to appreciate the space Echo's giving him, and takes another drink. He savors it this time, all the way down.] Edison: Cool. You appreciate forthrightness, so let me ask this. What exactly happened to you? Echo: You mean the nature of this conversation we're having? Edison: Yes. No. ...Kind of. The nature of the people perpetuating it, more like. Echo: Well said, I think. [In the kitchen, the music cuts off and abruptly switches - a cover of a Lorde song by some vaguely jazzy-sounding outfit. Echo stiffens, almost imperceptibly. Her eyes flicker toward the door for just a moment; noticing, Edison opens his mouth to ask a question, and--] ?: Ayres? The Keurig's not working... [ A shock of scarlet hair pops through the doorway, followed by its owner: a woman, coffee-colored skin and a pair of snakebites on her lower lip. Her hair's unbrushed atop a black pullover and a pair of sweatpants, punctuated by heavy lids over deep brown eyes...which, of course, immediately land on Edison.] ?: Oh! I didn't realize you had company, sorry. Echo: It's okay. Just pick up the reservoir and put it back in, the magnet's probably out of place-- Edison: Yeah, it's quite alright. Just catching up over here. Uh, Ms. LeBlanc...? [Echo lets out a tiny sigh through her nose.] Echo: Safiya, this is Eddie Edison. Old coworker of mine. Safiya: Pleasure to meet you. Are you from the Institute? Echo: No, he's not. [It's quiet for a half second. Echo, who is sitting up very straight now, takes a breath.] Echo: Mr. Edison, this, ah. This is my girlfriend. Safiya Boumedienne. Edison: Uh...huh. Nice to meet you too. [He extends a hand, which Safiya accepts with a certain sleepy cheerfulness. There's something vaguely familiar about her facial structure, something that smacks of familiarity even though he's certain he'd recognize someone so distinct.] Edison: Heck of a name you've got, ma'am. Safiya: A few generations of French colonialism will do that, I think. Echo: We met in Algiers. I was on a dig, she was visiting family. Safiya: Mmhmm! Edison: Well, I can think of worse places to meet. Sorry, did we wake you up? Safiya: Nah, alarm. I work nights. Speaking of which, I should get the coffee going... [ A moment later she disappears back through the curtain of beads leading to the kitchen, and Edison is once again alone with the Ravaged. He clears his throat, glancing from the doorway back to Echo back to the doorway and finally back to Echo and this entire process has just been stalling to figure out what to say until finally:] Edison: I, uh, didn't know you were... Echo: I'm not. Edison: What? Echo: Whatever you were about to label me with, I'm not. It's...complicated. [The faintest hint of agitation is betrayed in the way her fingertips play atop the tea mug's rim, the occasional one-two rapid blink.] Edison: I didn't mean it like that. I mean...she's lovely. Echo: Mm. You're supposed to date opposites. She's...very happy. In general, I mean. Edison: You're not? Echo: No. [He's about to inquire further along that line, and then it hits him. Almost in mid-sentence, like a drop of water falling into a puddle, the recognition comes together.] Edison: ...Oh my god. I just realized - it was on the tip of my tongue the whole time but I never quite seized it until just now - if you lightened her up a bit she'd look pretty much exactly like Alicia Kits-- [Echo sits bolt upright; it's the first abrupt motion she's made all night and the suddenness, the violence of it freezes Edison in his chair. In the thirty seconds that follow wordlessly between them, he's transfixed by her staring eyes, by the flickering of something vaguely primal and smoldering in them. For the longest half-minute of his year, Eddie Edison feels like a mouse before the cobra's gaze.] [At last:] Edison: I...think I'd rather not go down that road, actually. Echo: Please don't. [The silence resumes, and Echo takes a long swig from the tea. At last, her shoulders lower a little, and her back seems to rest more against the couch.] Echo: Zen, to answer your question. [Edison blinks.] Edison: ...I'm sorry? Echo: You asked what happened to me. I converted. Edison: You're a Buddhist now? [Her eyes wander downwards, studying the wood panel flooring.] Echo: Not a very good one. Edison: Any particular reason? [The longest stretch yet of...well, 'nothing' passes. Echo's downcast eyes never rise to meet Edison's, and it almost seems at last like she's fallen into some kind of trance. But Edison waits patiently, having learned how the game is played by now, and at last he's rewarded - ironically enough, by the strains of Dire Straits' 1985 hit 'Money For Nothing' blasting out of the kitchen. Safiya's voice rises in the background, singing gleefully along with it. She's about a half-step too sharp, and puts on way too much vibrato.] [Echo casts a pained eye towards the kitchen, and something about it, about this entire conflagration of circumstances, brings a confession bursting out of her.] Echo: I've done...questionable things, Mr. Edison. Edison: I think everybody who was in ACW has, at some point. [ She clenches her teeth for a split second, then almost forcefully relaxes.] Echo: I'm serious. There's a monster inside me. Edison: ...Again, I don't really know how that stacks up against-- Echo: No, I mean there is a literal monster inside me. I don't know how much more straightforward I can get about this. If I go back there, I don't know if I can keep things under control. I don't want...whatever happens...on my hands. Edison: That's fine. It's just an offer. You don't have to go, there's no pressure. But for what it's worth? I know you're a capable woman, and even in the areas where you aren't...well, I've found over the years it's easier to face something head on. Like jumping in the pool all at once instead of trying to wade in, you know? I'm just saying, better to go out on your shield if you're gonna go out at all. [Realizing what he's saying, he adds a coda to the end, rather lamely:] Edison: ...not 'go out' in that sense. Okay, this metaphor got away from me-- Echo: No, it's okay. You're right. Edison: ...Uh huh? [Echo considers the events of the evening, and then at last, she nods. Slow and deliberate as the grave.] Echo: Yeah. I'll be there. [end]
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Post by Thunderkiss on Jan 8, 2015 23:11:49 GMT -5
Credit: [There was a time in his life that the streets were his home. He never found any comfort from them then, and he certainly does not now and that is exactly the point of tonight's venture. Over the last few years he has grown soft, comfortable, exactly the opposite of what it will take to defeat the Manierishi. A practitioner of peace, no doubt Mainer is in a state of silence mediating for the war to come. A much different setting surrounds Thunderkiss reflecting just how opposite the men have become from each other. The pavement below his feet and the filth that surrounds him at all sides calls to his primal nature, his hate, and brings them all back simmering to the surface. With each step Thunderkiss finds himself more and more in the zone, memories of all his past exploits running on fast forward in his mind. The pain, sorrow and hate of each one sends his heart in overdrive putting him into his own warped and twisted state of zen. And then it all collapses like a house of cards on a windy day.] Pardon me sir, can I interest you in a Steve Phillips 2016 button? Or perhaps a bumper sticker for your car?
[This is a sign, it has to be. All these names and faces from years ago being catapulted back into his life cannot be random any longer. The universe, God, is sending him a message and he best listen at this point. Floating back down from his cloud, or perhaps better said rising up from the 10th level of hell, Thunderkiss attention falls on a dapper, outgoing man who stands bravely in front of him.] Thunderkiss: Wh.. what did you say?Campaign Volunteer: Steve Phillips for president, sir! Can we count on your support? Thunderkiss *raising an eyebrow*: Do you know who I am?Campaign Volunteer: Can't say that I do, but you do look like a registered voter who wants clean cities, less government waste, transparency and accountability, all the things that Steve Phillips stands for! [Thunderkiss begins to laugh uncontrollably causing a perplexed look to fall across this gentleman's face.] Campaign Volunteer: May I ask what is so funny? Thunderkiss: Well, let's just say that I am very, very familiar with Stevie-boy and when it comes to all those things I would rather put my faith in a mentally handicapped chimp. Look, I have had a pretty bad day already and I know I should probably pick you up and and shove you in a trash can or give you a wedgie but it already looks like life dealt you a bad enough hand so just scram, alright? Let me leave you with this protip, though, Steve Phillips is a liar and an opportunist and cares only for himself, not for any of these people out see out here. We're all collateral damage to him and those of his ilk. If I were you, I would rethink things and damn, go to the gym, fattyCampaign Volunteer: So I take it you don't want a sticker or button? Thunderkiss: Blow me.Campaign Volunteer: Uh.. well. have a good day, then. [Thunderkiss' blood pressure goes through the roof as he huffs away from the Phillips supporter. How could anyone in the right mind cast a vote for such a fraud? For years millions of people watched this man and it as if over they have forgotten every publicized transgression he committed against humanity. The visions of battles in BLUE steel cages, partnerships and betrayal that flicker in his eyes are quickly interrupted by a growling stomach. Lost in all of the chaos that is this evening is the fact he has not eaten a proper meal all day long. Scanning his surroundings, it looks like that trend will only continue as only a lonely Burger Shot resides on this block. With a hint of disappointment Thunderkiss enters with the intent of fulling this basic human need. Hoping nobody recognizes him, he lowers his head and makes his way to the front counter as inconspicuously as possible.] Sever: Welcome to Burger Shot. What can I get for you today? Thunderkiss: Yeah, I'd like a one Bleeder with ... YOU!Server: YOU![If there was any doubt about all these ACW occurrences in his life being fate or destiny, there is none now. Standing before him is a man he his quite familiar with, the "The Chef" Leon Chase. Without any filtering of proper decorum, TK immediately casts his eyes upon the Chef's hand, or rather the space where a normal human hand should reside.] "The Chef" Leon Chase: Yeah, ha ha, it's still gone! Thunderkiss: Yeah, well ... you know, sorry about that and all."The Chef" Leon Chase: No you're not. After you know, cut off my hand in that Hells Kitchen match, I could never wrestle again. I lost my only opportunity in life to make ample income for my family and I! I lost my job, my wife left me and took the kids, hit with with alimony, lost my house, had to live out on the streets for a while. You know, the typical stuff that happens when a FUCKING MANIAC CUTS OFF YOUR HAND! Thunderkiss *backing up*: Whoa, whoa. Settle down there sport. It's all water under the bridge?"The Chef" Leon Chase: Well I know all about under bridges, because I've had to live under one myself thanks to you! You and Ginger threw me a few bones in trade for my culinary skills, but now that you both folded on me, this is my new life. WELCOME TO FUCKING BURGER SHOT, THUNDERKISS, YOU WANT A BLEEDER? HERE IS YOUR G'DAMN BLEEDER! [Thunderkiss' adrenaline takes over and he quickly backtracks to the door as he watches Leon grab a cutting knife off a nearby counter and heave it hard at his head. Thunderkiss side steps, his ear taking the full force of the metallic clang that resonates throughout the restaurant.] Thunderkiss: I hope your order taking is more accurate than your throw or you're going to lose this job, too. "The Chef" Leon Chase: You mother - [Thunderkiss slams the door shut behind him and does one glance over his shoulder to see if Leon lives up to his last name and peruses. Two steps into his escape, TK's body freezes up. Completely paralyzed, he commands his legs to move but they refuse. Suddenly and without reason, they come alive and take a life of their own. Instead of running away from the building, they escort him back into the restaurant and stop just inches from a seething Leon Chase.] "The Chef" Leon Chase: You gotta be completely insane coming back in - *GAK* [Thunderkiss reaches out with one hand and clamps it down across the neck of the Chef. Try as he might, the one handed Chef doesn't stand a chance against TK's anaconda like grip.] Thunderkiss: You expect me to feel pity for you? I feel no pity. Fuck your life, fuck your kids and fuck your wife - and while we're at it, fuck you. They only thing I see in front of me is a cripple, a cripple that has a severe case of asymmetry. You see Suck'R'Dee, I have this strange OCD; it just bothers me when I see things in life that don't match. I look over here, and I see Captain Hook. Then I look over here and I still see flesh and bone. How about we finally set the universe right and have a matching pair? WHAT DO YOU SAY, ARMY?[Thunderkiss turns to all those who bear witness to this horror. His eyes see thousands rising in unison, approving of all this antics and screaming for more. The reality of the situation paints a much different picture: parents clutch their crying children and thrust them behind them, mouths agape loose their food as it spills unto the floor, workers behind the counter frantically dial 911.] Thunderkiss: Better yet, how about I drag this sorry crackerjack down to the ring on Warfare and embarrass him so bad that every saggy tit bitch in his family tree will cut out their ovaries in fear of ever giving birth to such a no-good, gutless CUCK. *ARGH*[Thunderkiss lets go of the visibly shaken Chef and clutches his head as if it is going to explode. The pain overcomes him as a war erupts in his subconscious that puts to shame any of his previous Earthy contests. Someone wants out; wants out BAD.] Thunderkiss: Whu ... What did I just say? What's wrong with me?"The Chef" Leon Chase: You're nuts. Someone get this filth out of here right now! [Thunderkiss staggers out of the Burger-Shot in a drunken like state and collapses onto the group. There he vomits several times, his body rejecting any sense of peace and comfort he has build for himself over these five years. Slowly, he rises and examines his surroundings. He does not see Pizza Hut across the street, he sees Buffet Trains. Across from him is not AMC, it is Macho's Movies. In the horizon a radio tower displays the call letters "WFSX." Though his body resides in San Andreas, his mind is back home, back on ACW Isle.] Thunderkiss: Stupid motherfucker, did you think you would ever have ANY peace? Did you think you were just going to go tuck yourself away from me and become a family man? YOU TRIED THAT BEFORE, IT DIDN'T WORK THEN, IT DIDN'T WORK NOW. It will NEVER work. We exist for one reason and one reason only, to watch this world burn! Now come on Mainer. Do it. I know you well enough, go for the KILL SHOT. THREE .... TWO..... ONE......[10 blocks away .... ] ~*~KABOOM!~*~
[END]
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Post by Mark on Jan 9, 2015 4:59:00 GMT -5
Segment: The gods weep (Credit: Hitmark)
The frantic, and often restless, search for more talent for ACW: Overtime has now led Eddie Edison to Calgary, Alberta, Canada, the new home for Soul Wrestling Incorporated. Weeks removed after getting XS3 to come along for the ride, Edison now hopes to track down two more names for his quest: Ben Drinkin and Hitman of the Gods. The scene opens with Edison pulling into a parking lot and stepping out of his vehicle. Edison soon shuts the door behind him and looks on at a newly renovated warehouse dubbed “The House of Soul”, which houses SWI events and offices. He makes his way to the back door and makes a relatively low-key entrance. Edison looks on at the various talent and crew admiring their new wrestling home and helping put the last minute touches in place. As Edison continues to wander, a voice cuts him off.
Voice: Eddie!
Edison turns around and finds himself on the receiving end of a hug from Hitman’s little sister, Kayla Stevens.
Edison: Ah Kayla! Not the Stevens sibling I was expecting to see, but I’m still very happy to see you as well.
Kayla: It’s good to see you too. Tyler’s around here somewhere; he came down for a visit. I’ll see if I can grab him for you. Oh, and Ben’s here too if you want to talk to him.
Edison: That’d be great.
Kayla smiles and soon runs off to find her figurative and literal bigger brother. Edison leans against the apron of the SWI ring, looking around for any sign of Hitman. He soon sees the other man he was looking for, Ben Drinkin. The two acknowledge each other and Ben comes over with a handshake in tow.
Ben: Hey Eddie, Matt told me all about the show. Look, I know I wasn’t a big part of ACW history, but I’d be honored to take part in the show, if you’ll have me, that is.
Edison smiles at Ben’s enthusiasm.
Edison: I think we can put you down for something. And like I told Matt, it’s a shame Afternoon couldn’t be here.
Akin to Matt’s brief moment of reflection, Ben solemnly nods, remembering his cousin. Ben has a faint smile on his face.
Ben: I know he’s in a better place. And I know he’s gonna be watching the show and smiling at seeing everyone back together again.
Edison: That’s comforting to know.
Ben: Well, I’m off to get some training done for tomorrow. See you at the arena, Eddie.
Ben gives one last wave and returns to his company that he was visiting before. Edison smiles, but soon finds something catching his eye. He turns and finds a large man trudging towards him. Sure enough, it’s Hitman of the Gods himself. There is no smile on Hitman’s face, however.
Hitman: Well. Here I am.
It’s a stark contrast from Ben’s previous enthusiasm. Hitman looks tired and disinterested, his hands firmly entrenched in the pockets of his jacket, custom made to suit his frame. Edison awkwardly glances up at Hitman and reaches out for a handshake.
Edison: Hitman. Or Tyler?
Hitman: Hitman’s fine, I guess.
Hitman accepts the gesture, but not with the positive vigor as before.
Edison: You seem rather distant. I’d even say cold. Erm, no offense that is.
Hitman: It’s all good. I don’t hate you, it’s actually nice to see you again after all these years. I’m just… annoyed...
Edison looks on in confusion.
Edison: Annoyed?
Hitman sighs, clearly showing the annoyance in his voice.
Hitman: I left ACW on a bad note during my last run. There was nothing for me to do there, other than lose almost every match I was in. I don’t know why people would expect me to put on a smile just to go out and hurt myself again just so you all can feel good about having nostalgia goggles on.
The last few words have a trace of venom attached to them. This is definitely not the Hitman from years past.
Hitman: It’s so frustrating to see people blab to me about ACW when that was years ago. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad that I did what I did with that company. But I’m not about that life anymore. I’ve got a wife and kids. I’ve moved on. Why can’t everyone else?
Edison is almost dumbfounded at what he’s hearing. He doesn’t remember Hitman this way. Have the years really been so cruel to him? What can Edison say to persuade the giant otherwise? Knowing that time is of the essence, Edison regards Hitman’s statement with a cool sigh.
Edison: Well… The way I see it, it’s a chance for you to properly say goodbye. I know that you weren’t too enthused with speech at the last show we did, but nobody got to see the Hitman of old that night. Maybe you need a Franchi$e to devour, or a Gooner to beat into submission. Hell, maybe we can find you another nobody to have you chokeslam through the ring. I don’t know what it would take. All I know is that there’s still one more great moment deep down inside of you. You just need a stage to let it out, that’s all. You deserve closure, Hitman. You had it taken away from you when you were in Norway, and you never got it back. Let it come to you on March 1.
Edison, almost surprised at what just escaped from his lips, looks up at Hitman to see if his words truly resonate with the big man. Judging from Hitman's changing expression, they do. Hitman takes Edison’s words with serious consideration, placing a massive hand on his chin and stroking his beard.
Hitman: Guess I never thought about it like that.
A few seconds pass by as Hitman contemplates Edison’s words. He then looks up and off in the distance. Edison is right. The last run Hitman had was tainted with the stigma of being captured and taken to Norway. He knew that he was a wrecking machine in the past, and he never had the chance to relive it in 2009. Hitman looks down at Edison and extends his hand.
Hitman: You know what? Fuck it. I’m in.
Edison: Great!
Edison takes Hitman’s gesture, and is almost ecstatic that this handshake is more firm. Hitman releases and begins getting himself psyched up.
Hitman: Looks like I’m gonna be busting some ass to get ready for this night. I don’t have any time to lose. Thanks for the pep talk, Eddie. I’ll see you at the show.
Edison: I’ll be there with bells on.
Hitman chuckles and soon turns on his heels, heading towards a group of talent with a smile on his face. Edison’s smile mirrors the big man’s; with two more names added to his list, Edison can now sleep just a little bit easier. Lord knows he hasn’t had much of a chance to lately. Edison begins making his way towards the exit. As he leaves, he turns and glances to Kayla, who gives him a thumbs up gesture with a look that asks if he got Hitman on board. Edison returns the gesture with a wide smile on his face, causing Kayla to jump up and scream briefly with excitement. Edison turns to the door and exits The House of Soul. As he heads back to his vehicle, he looks towards his quest and the possibility of acquiring more talent for the show. But after today’s events, it’s safe to say that Eddie Edison has a pretty large feather in his cap.
End.
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Torak
poster
Imagination and fantasy are two components of delusion
Posts: 713
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Post by Torak on Jan 9, 2015 19:40:02 GMT -5
The Reunion IV – Flight Plan
“The first duty of man is to conquer fear; he must get rid of it, he cannot act until then.” – Thomas Carlyle
British Airways flight BA008 Haneda International Airport, Tokyo, Japan Saturday, 10th January, 9.40am JST
He stood in the queue of the jetbridge with a building anxiety. He hadn’t felt like this since his match with Tiger Mask IV in Yokohama. The line shuffled slowly in front of him as the stewardess directed the passengers towards their seats, as if locating a numbered seat were rocket science. He held his gym-bag in front of him, clutching the handles near his waist. The woman directly in front of him nattered loudly on the phone in a high pitched Japanese lingo. He had been in Japan for almost three years now but still couldn’t make out at least 50% of what she was saying. She was next in line and boarded the plane with her phone still pressed against her ear, a handbag draped over her arm and her ticket displayed in her free hand. She didn’t acknowledge the flight attendant as she passed and made her way to her seat, still chattering away. Jehst took a deep breath before stepping over the threshold onto the plane. The attendant wore a forced smile and welcomed him to the flight in a posh British accent. She pointed to the back of the plane and directed him to his seat. He thanked her before slowly heading down the gangway, stopping every so often as Japanese businessmen attempted to stuff their briefcases into the overhead compartment. Eventually, he reached row 27. His ticket was for seat B. The middle seat. There was already a passenger in seat C – the aisle seat – studiously rifling through some notes. He hadn’t noticed Justin lurking next to him. Justin forced his bag into the overhead compartment and leaned down towards the man.
“Excuse me.”
The man - caucasian with a weathered face and a full head of dark brown hair - was snatched away from his concentration and looked confused for a brief moment until he fathomed the situation. He shuffled his papers into a neat pile and stood up.
“Sorry.”
Justin wedged himself between the man and the seat in front to get into his seat and he immediately regretted not taking Mr. Fuji-san’s up on his offer of paying for a 1st class seat. He was incredible supportive about his sabbatical away from Japan. Mr. Fuji thought it was a great way for Justin to develop himself. He had plans to return him in a months time as a heel by building up the fact that he had “abandoned” his fans in Japan but came crawling back when work in the US dried up. That made him more nervous. He had never played a heel before. It was one of many things weighing on his mind right now and helped churn the contents in his stomach.
He dropped into his seat and quickly clasped the seat-belt together across his waist. He pulled a stick of chewing gum out of his pocket and forced it into his mouth, masticating it vigorously. He sneaked a peak at the paperwork that the man next to him was shuffling through. He attempted to make out what was written. It was definitely English, but the handwriting was so scrawled and messy, he couldn’t make any sense of the sentences. The only phrase he could decipher was in large black block letters and read: ‘LAST KNOWN LOCATION?’ Justin was intrigued.
The man felt the attention of Justin next to him and shifted uncomfortably in his seat and subtlety tilted his papers away from Jehst, who took the hint and stared forward, looking for something else to suitably distract him. He clutched the in-flight magazine from the seat-pocket in front of him and flipped through the pages in the vain hope of finding something interesting. Fat chance. There was an article on London that may have served some interest for him but it simply described what he already knew. Suddenly, the jet engines whirred loudly into life and Justin dropped his magazine and gripped the arm-rests tightly. The man looked up with a puzzled look and caught Justin’s eye.
“Nervous flyer?” the man asked.
Justin merely exhaled deeply and closed his eyes. “No, I’ll be fine.”
The man wore a sympathetic expression as he tidied his papers. “You need something to take your mind off of it. Something that distracts you better than that sterile stuff.” he alluded to the magazine.
Justin opened his eyes and turned to the man. “It’s not just flying. I get kind of anxious any time I’m out of my comfort zone. Right now I’m thinking, did I lock everything up? Did I turn everything off? I can’t shake the feeling that I’ll get home and realize I left the oven on and the apartment has burnt down.”
“Agoraphobia? I think my Sister used to get that. I’m sure you’ll be fine.” the man assured.
“Thanks.” He stretched his arm over his chest and offered his hand. “Justin...Justin Jarrett.” He wondered if he would recognize him, but the guy didn’t look like a wrestling fan.
“Jake Foxx.”
Justin glanced down at the papers in Jake’s hand and made sure the man saw him motioning with his eyes. “Work?”.
“Yes... Well, I wouldn’t really call it work, per se. More of a hobby that I turned into work.” he smiled. “What do you do?” his interest was piqued. “I’m a hired professional. I investigate and track down people for clients.”
Justin bit his tongue for a second as he thought about it. He couldn’t let it linger. “So, what are you...an assassin or something?”
Jake blurted out a chortle. “No. Nothing like that. I’m a private detective. I usually track down lost family members, runaways, people who owe others money, sometimes ex-lovers who were lost to each other.”
Justin’s eyebrows were raised, absorbed in Jake’s career choice. “So, what have you been tracking down somebody in Tokyo?”
Jake shook his head as he prepared to reel off his backstory. A flight attendant drifted by and kindly requested that Jake fastened his seat-belt. He submissively obliged.
“No. I am actually retired. There’s not a lot of call for my line of work anymore. Most people and people they know are on Facebook or twitter now, so it’s really not too difficult to locate somebody, even with very little to go on. Anybody with a degree of patience and persistence can do it now.”
Justin nodded. “Like those guys on Catfish?”
“Exactly. I’ve been living in Japan for about six months now. I’ve taken some jobs here and there locally, really easy work. I usually only go for the most intriguing cases. But you don’t get so many of those outside of a Hollywood script. Anyway, I got a call on Monday from London. A friend of an ex-client of mine whom I owe a favour, sort of. His sister has been missing for a few years now. Disappeared off the face of the earth. He’s convinced that she’s alive and well but in hiding, but nobody knows where or why. I thought it was an interesting case so I thought I’d take it. So, here I am, on my way to London to meet up with him to find out some information and hopefully find her.”
“Are you good at your job?” Justin probed.
“I’d like to think so. I’ve taken over 200 cases in my time and only once I failed to find the target. It was for the guy I owe a favour to...that’s why I feel I owe him, anyway. The guy he was looking for was a ghost. It was literally as if he never existed.”
Justin pouted and nodded as a silence descended between them. The chatter of agitated passengers and the bawling of one baby somewhere behind them echoed through the cabin. Justin decided to answer the question that wasn’t asked. “I’m on my way to London to meet somebody too. A job opportunity. I already have work in Japan but my boss thinks this may be a good avenue of development for me.” he set up. “What do you think about making two different commitments? Do you think it’s good to work for two different people at the same time?”
Jake scrunched up his mature face as he considered. “I think if it’s right for you and you aren’t spreading yourself thin, go for it. Your boss supports you, so there’ll be no bridges burnt there. As long as you’re up for the challenge.”
“What about you?” Justin quizzed.
“What do you mean?” Jake was taken aback by the question.
“How do you feel about juggling two commitments at once. Could you do it?” Justin started to press Jake.
“I have done it, in special circumstances. If the conditions are right and the clients are happy to wait longer for results, why not. I can do no more or less than I already do.” He peered suspiciously at Jehst. “Is there anything I can help you with?”
Justin grinned, glad that he asked. “There’s this guy. He’s been on my mind for years. Really tormented me and tortured me for some time...”
“High school bully?...” he attempted to deduce.
“No, more of a work colleague...although he was far from a colleague. More of an enemy. Anyway, he really screwed me up. Almost ended my career. Everybody said I’d move on and get over it, but what he did really set in. I still feel anxious about it every day. He’s on my mind 24/7. Well, he died about 6 years ago...”
“I see. I’m not sure if I can help you there. Maybe a psychiatrist may be more qualified...” Jake interceded but was cut off by Jehst again.
“No, no. I’ve seen plenty of them since. They’ve all pretty much accepted that I’m a lost cause and that I’d never fully get over the trauma of it. They’d never seen anything like it in all of their years. The thing that worries me, though, is the death. It was all a bit too convenient for his fiance. Plus, nobody ever saw the body or attended a funeral. It all seemed to be rushed and over with as soon as it happened. I’m convinced that he never really died and it was all a cover up for something...” he was beginning to ramble.
“No offence, I’m not a professional in this field but I think you could be suffering from paranoid delusions.” Jake was calm and composed in his assessment. He didn’t feel uncomfortable telling him at all.
“I know that. I may be damaged, but I’m not stupid. All I know is, somebody...something like that, doesn’t just die like that. It was all too sketchy for my liking and I’d feel a hell of lot easier if I knew for certain.” He stared into Jake’s eyes with a despairing gaze. “Can you help?”
Jake inhaled deeply. “Well, it’s certainly an intriguing case. One of my specialties.” He weight up his options and decisions in his mind, counter-balancing his work-load, financial situation, pressure, challenge and reward for taking Justin’s case on. “Okay, I’ll do it. But it’ll be at a higher fee to cover my extra travel costs. Plus you’ll have to accept to be second fiddle to my other case.”
Justin beamed. “Of course, take your time. I just need confirmation.”
“I will require some more information about this guy. Have you got some free time to tell me what you know about him?”
Justin smiled and leaned in towards Jake. “I know I’m free for the next 12 hours.”
To be continued...
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