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PostSubject: Combat Arts & Wrestling 1.4   Mon Jan 03, 2011 9:14 am

The scene opens to a small but well-furnished office. A smiling Scarlett is sat behind the desk.

Scarlett: Well, we have a couple new signings to CAW now. Jacoby Jackson has been signed to a full-time contract after his Pure Championship win. In the main event of this evening's show, he will tag team with his trainer Nathan Harter against the former champ Psycho Dragon and Trevor Andrews - who will no doubt be looking for revenge after being assaulted by his mentor at High Stakes.

Elsewhere, the Tag Team Champions have to put their gold on the line as Josh Bailey & Shelton McNeil take on The Bloodhounds with the winner facing N.M.E. later in the night. Can the young rookies go on to face the champs? Or will The Bloodhounds beat the newcomers a second time in two weeks? We'll find out.

Adam Fox makes his debut against the returning Kayla and Cesar Pineda gets a chance to build more momentum in a bout with The Boss. These two traded blows a few weeks back in a match won by Eric Logan. Pineda has a guaranteed Pure Championship shot and so a victory over him would be big for The Boss - who's been in decline lately.

Oh and after narrowly losing at High Stakes, Krash gets a shot at reclaiming his number one contender status when he takes on "Ice Cold" Chris Williams, who ironically hasbeen on fire lately. There's a third element though; Sonichu dons the black and white stripes as special guest referee.

Combat Arts & Wrestling 1.4 from the Blue Cross Arena, Rochester, New York

Tag Team Match
Winner faces N.M.E. later in the night
Josh Bailey & Shelton McNeil vs The Bloodhounds (Eric Logan & Horatio Gates)

Singles Match
Adam Fox vs Kayla

Singles Match
Cesar Pineda vs The Boss

Tag Team Championship Match
N.M.E. (Alyster Black & Steve Storme) (c) vs TBD

Ultraviolent Championship Number One Contender Match
Special guest referee: Sonichu
Chris Williams vs Krash

MAIN EVENT - Tag Team Match
Psycho Dragon & Trevor Andrews vs Jacoby Jackson & Nathan Harter


PM me if you want a match. Post your one RP in this thread, it is not for discussion or trash talking. The deadline is this Saturday at 9 PM UK time.

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PostSubject: Re: Combat Arts & Wrestling 1.4   Fri Jan 07, 2011 7:13 pm

truth's too hard to comprehend;

End of Days.

It lived up to all it's expectations, didn't it? It all ended. For everyone on CGS. Everything everyone had been working so hard for just came crashing down around us all. That's why I took a break. My feud with Rebecca didn't end as I had planned and there wasn't anything at CAW for me. A company ran by the monster that "destroyed" Steve Storme. I just didn't want to be apart of it. But, during my time away I realized that this is where I need to be.

As aforementioned Rebecca got the best of me. The one match that we were building upon, the match to end it all.. she got the upperhand. She had defeated me. But I've been thinking about it and I know why I lost. I can't win a match when my heart isn't it. I can't win a match when I'm worried about other things. Rebecca was the least of my priorities. I was only focused on one thing and that was earning the love of Steve Storme.

After Ends of Days I didn't know what to do. I was faced with an ultimatium and I had a decision to make. It was a very hard choice for me to make. But, I asked myself one question: 'What's more important to me; pro-wrestling or Steve Storme?' I thought about it long and hard. I worked my ass off to even be considered a decent athlete for CGS and in this one moment.. I could lose it all. And that's when I remembered my match with Rebecca. The match that I realized my heart was in another place. Steve Storme was and is far more important to me than anything else. And if it meant losing my whole career and hitting rock-bottom, working at a local market; just to get by.. then so be it.

And that's what I did. I worked everyday except on Sundays. I went into work at 9 am and left for home at 5 pm. I was making minimum wage and that was enough for me. I know I'm used to the usual bigger paychecks from my professional career but it's not of importance to me. It's only money. But during all this working and staying home at my apartment alone.. I became very depressed. I needed to see Storme. I was trying to wait and just give him some time to himself. But after so long I just couldn't take it anymore. I needed to make sure he was okay.

That's when I started "visiting" him. I went to the hospital everyday after work. I'd never actually go see him, though. But I've heard people talking. They said that everytime he heard the door open, he'd put that prosthetic mask on. So they couldn't see his face. As if he was some kind of monster. But he wasn't, he isn't. I wanted to tell him that. To be there to remind him everytime he thought otherwise.

I'd spend all night there, at the hospital. Of course, he didn't know that at the time. But, I'd sit in the lobby alone and silently weep.

I began to have an urge to see him more. Just being there just wasn't enough. But everyday by the time I'd work up the courage to go see him.. visiting hours would be over. One night, though, I just didn't care anymore. I wasn't going to let some stupid rule stop me from seeing Storme. I remember that night very clearly..


The night Kayla visited Storme

Kayla was very sly and slipped her way into Storme's room after hours. Storme was laying there sleeping, with his mask on. I guess he didn't want anyone to catch him off guard. Kayla walked silently up to Steve, intent on not waking him. At this moment something came over her. She just didn't know how to make him realize that his cuts and scars weren't going to change how beautiful he is. She worked up the courage. Kayla took the mask off of him. She placed the mask on the bedside table as a tear slowly trickled down her cheek. After a short period of gazing at his face, Kayla gently brought her lips to his cheek and kissed him softly. That's all she needed to do. She left his mask off and made her way to the door.

Little did Kayla know, something must have set Steve off. Maybe the kiss. Maybe the echoes of Kayla walking in the room. But something did. Steve's eyes opened and he realized that his mask had been removed. At that, Steve slowly looked toward the door to catch a glimpse of a woman with red hair exiting his room..


"Intense feeling too often obscures the truth."
--Harry Truman

That's just it isn't? Everyone here in CGS is blinded by something. Something holding them back from true meaning. Isn't that right, Scarlett? One bad night with Storme and he hits you and you turn around and do something like this to him. But what's the problem, Scarlett? You're in the wrestling business and can't take a hit? You were overwhelmed with a feeling of revenge so you sought it. And look where you are now, right? Owning a business, a successful one at that. You feel so empowered. And that.. that's what's blinding you. You think because you run the place and have little Ashburn to "protect" you that everything is fine. But the truth is, most of the roster doesn't like you and I'm sure no one would have a problem taking you and your collegue out.

What about you Eric Logan? Whining around backstage because you're not on Bloodsport. So, you break all the rules. You feel this need to walk around like you're the best thing that's happened to this company. You feel you deserve better. It's entertaining to people, of course. And you think it's getting you somwhere. But the truth is, if you didn't put on this act of being some macho man, that you're not.. you would be absolutely nothing.

Nathan Harter. So worried about defeating Steve Storme. That's all he has left. Get his groupies together and work up a plan to finally get to Storme. He has this intense feeling to beat him, at least once. He just can't accept his losing record. But the truth is, if he didn't have his gang to back him up, he'd be a washed up has-been. Harter will never be good enough to defeat Storme. Never.

Same with you, Aesha. You have so much anger inside of you towards Storme. You're overwhelmed with this "hatred." But the truth is, you care for him more than you let on.

My opponent tonight, Adam Fox. Sure, I've never met him before. I've never even seen him before. But, I've read things. I did my research on him before tonight. And I've already discovered something about you. You'll do anything to win. Who cares about morals? Who cares about what's wrong and what's right? But the truth is, if you didn't have to cheat your way through things.. you'd be in the same boat as Eric Logan.

But don't get me wrong, I've had my own issues in the past. But instead of standing around and waiting for something to change, like you all seem to be doing.. I did something about it. Now I have what I want, what I need. The only thing I've ever really wanted. I'm a success; while you all just continue to fail yourselves. Time and time again.

"Our ablitiy to manufacture fraud now exceeds our ability to detect it."
--Viktor Taransky

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PostSubject: Re: Combat Arts & Wrestling 1.4   Sat Jan 08, 2011 12:21 am

OOC:Couldn't think of shet.

R o c h e s t e r R a m p a g e
J a c o b y R o l e p l a y

The following is from Jacoby Jackson's blog.

A'ight I don't know if you saw High Stakes but damn I deserve an Oscar for that shit. The way that fool Trevor Andrews and you actually believed we were friends. The look in his eyes as if he actually believed he had a chance at winning anything. That was priceless to be honest. C'mon Trevor we gave you a simple task and you showed us you weren't capable. For real though, I had nothing but confidence in you when you first went in, but you just continued to fail Nathan and I. You are pathetic and you always remain pathetic to everyone. High Stakes was just part one in what we are going to do to you. There is so much more in store for you Trevor. I have a smile on my face while I am typing all this shit. You have no idea how much me and Nathan look forward to Saturday night in Rochester. We have a chance to beat the living fucking hell out of you for all the stupid shit you cost us. You fucked us over...we are you going to fuck you right back bitch. The point of the matter Trevor you will be lifeless in the ring while me and Nathan simply go on to the next task in our mission. Now were done talking about that piece or trash and onto the next piece of trash.

I got back to wrestling and I see none other then Storme and Kayla back as well. Can't say I am surprised...can't say I am disapointed. I am actually thrilled to see them back. Makes everything go accoring to plan. Hell, we were just going to go and destroy Storme and get rid of his ass. Why not go after the crazy psycho bitch who wants his dick? I look back...and I think and say to myself, "what the fuck does this bitch see in him". A'ight everyone, it is story time. I once dated this girl in my teen years when I was just a young buck. I dated this girl...and I swear I loved her with all my heart. But then, I started finding out she loved someone else...and she reminds me of Kayla becase it seems she was obesessed with this guy and even when he rejected her, she kept coming back for more and pushing me aside. The guy she kept going to reminds me of Storme so much. Damn...the irony. It really just baffles me. So I read all this shit about what she says about Nathan and how I am his "groupie" and whatever. Bitch can't even bother to attack me more? I take that personally to be honest. She says all this shit about Nathan but can't even take time to call me out personally? Well bitch, I am calling you out right now. For the next few weeks you really need to watch your back because...well...I will just leave it at that. Don't want to reveal to much and ruin the surprise.

Number three on my list of topics is none other then my friend and right now my bitch, Psycho Dragon. Wassup homie? Where is your gold at? Oh wait, its right here sitting next to me. You know what Psycho you are lucky. If I was running this shit I would put you in dead last for shots at my title. There are plently of other people worthy of my title, people like Josh Bailey and Shelton McNeil and Corneilus Newman all deserve shots at my title before you ever do to be honest. Really though winning the Pure title to me means nothing...It is just something I can add to my accomplishments. I am here for one reason and one reason only and that is to finally...FINALLY...get rid of that Phantom of the Opera looking bitch Steve Storme. Final words for this blog are simple..All my enemies, suck my dick because I am back for good.

A scene begins with Jacoby Jackson at Rochester, New York in the Blue Cross Arena. Both Jacoby Jackson and Nathan Harter are shown out in the dark. Both of them have sunglasses on and are smoking a cigarette. They both stand against the wall silent until none other then Ella DeMarco comes walking up with a microphone in her right hand. She is dressed in a pink top. Nathan notices her first and throws his cigarette down and stomps on it to put it out. He slowly walks over to DeMarco and puts a wide grin on his face as he is happy to see her. Jackson then notices and slowly walks over with the cigarette in his hand. Harter and Ella are still flirting and Jacoby begins to grow impatient with them. He tries to begin the interview and stops the flirting between the two. Jacoby shakes his head and seems frustrated while Nathan lets out a laugh. Both stand against the wall waiting for the interview to begin Ella DeMarco walks over with a microphone. She slowly lifts it up to her face and the camera begins to shoot. Ella begins to speak to Jacoby Jackson and Nathan Harter about there match tonight, Jacoby's title win, and why exactly there was a betryal against Trevor Andrews at High Stakes. Ella lifts the microphone slowly to her face and then begins to speak into it with a smile and positive tone in her voice as she speaks.

E l l a: Welcome everyone this is Combat Arts and Wrestling and let me say what a night we have for all of you tonight in Rochester. With me now are the new signed talent here, Nathan Harter and Jacoby Jackson. At High Stakes they both turned on there own student, Trevor Andrews who had a Pure Title match. Jacoby Jackson would then go on to win the Pure Championship. Guys can you address everyone out as to why you turned on Trevor Andrews like that at High Stakes? It just has me and all of us confused.

J a c o b y: First of all let me correct you there Ella if you mind. We didn't "betray" Trevor we simply just got rid of him...just like taking out the trash. It was purely for business. He kept fucking us up and we finally just gave up and got rid of him. We had nothing but faith in the kid and look what he made us do. The only person to blame for what happened to Trevor Andrews was Trevor Andrews himself.

N a t h a n: Jacoby is one hundred percent correct on everything. Trevor, I took you in and I actually believed you could be like Jacoby. I actually believed that one day you could be like me. What do you do in return? Repeatedly fail week after fucking week. Now, tonight we are going to show you how much a fuck up you really are when we leave you bloody...and battered in that ring. Also your partner Psycho Dragon will be laying right next to you for company of course. What else do you need to know Ella?

After Nathan Harter spoke, Jacoby nods his head in approval after what is just said about Trevor Andrews and why they decided to betray him. Jackson flicks his cigarette over and takes his sunglasses off followed by Nathan Harter. They place there sunglasses in there pockets. They wait patiently for what Ella is going to ask next, they both assume it is going to be about the match tonight. Ella smiles and nods her head and slowly lifts her microphone and then slowly begins to ask another question about there match tonight in the main event.

E l l a: Well thanks for clearing that up for all the fans and I. The next question I have is about Psycho Dragon who lost his Pure Championship at High Stakes. Do you have any message for him tonight before walking into the match tonight. It is also been said by management that Psycho Dragon gets another title match against you Jacoby. Any thoughts at all about that Jacoby?

J a c o b y: Alright let me be the first to tell everyone this right now. I, Jacoby Jackson officially does not give a shit about the Pure Championship and Psycho Dragon. It is really the least of my worries right now. Psycho Dragon I really don't consider you a real threat to my championship so I guess I will be holding this title for awhile. Hell, I don't consider anyone on the roster a real valid threat to me or my championship. So fuck any rumors saying that I fear Psycho Dragon and I am scared to lose this championship. That is nothing but bullshit. Tonight, Psycho Dragon you will finally get your oppurtunity to get "revenge" on me after taking your title. It's a shame though, your "revenge" is going to end with you lifeless in the ring with that dumbass Trevor Andrews.

E l l a: What exactly is your biggest worry right now Jacoby? If you don't mind me asking.

Jacoby scratches his chin and then puts a smirk on his face as if he has something humorous to say. Nathan Harter then looks at Jacoby and smiles right back at him. They both slowly walk off leaving Ella confused as to why Jacoby Jackson did not decide to answer her question. She looks around and then slowly walks off leaving a lot of confusion. The scene slowly fades and the cameras go back into the ring.

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PostSubject: Re: Combat Arts & Wrestling 1.4   Sat Jan 08, 2011 12:37 am

Okay, so do to the song not being able to work on this forum (I tried like five or six different codes), I had a choice. Either get rid of the song, or make a forum, post my RPs on there, and post the links to the RPs from there on here like Kane did on CGS. The fact that's been done before leads me to believe their isn't a problem with me doing it. So...

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PostSubject: Re: Combat Arts & Wrestling 1.4   Sat Jan 08, 2011 3:44 am

1.4 - isnortcokeofyourmomschest.net!

Earlier today "The Drug Ballad" Eric Logan launched his official blog "isnortcokeofyourmomschest.net". There is no word as of yet with the reasoning behind the name of the site but "The Bloodhound" left the following message on his blog earlier this afternoon.


To all my fans, I would like to welcome you to the blog which is 100% Bloodhound, Anti-Olympian and 100% Logan. Welcome to I Snort Coke Of Your Mom's Chest.

Now the reasoning behind my new blog is simple. Alot of you geeky "net fans" who instead of having a Social Life yourselves want to be apart of my Social life. You demand me to update you all on my life so this is the reason behind my new blog. I will feed you all some bullshit each week which you Dweebs will soak up and spin it whichever way you want and it will keep you satisfied for the next 7 or so days.

Anyway, For this week I am going to talk about 1.4 and about how I have to Wrestle twice. Yes, I will be the CAW Tag Team Champion by the end of the night but two matches is definitely unfair. I have to face some unknown cunts first which I will do with ease but after that I have to face N.M.E. I am not going to lie, N.M.E are no easy team and when you are with Horatio Gates who has not been too helpful over the past few weeks, Well lets just say it is an uphill battle. Although, if anyone can pull it off it would be Eric Logan.

But I am not here to bitch about my opponents. Instead I am stating something. tonight at 1.4, The Bloodhound will be unleashed within CAW. Trust me when I see that shit is going down tonight and nobody can stop me.

OOC: I am sooo tired. Sorry Alex
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PostSubject: Re: Combat Arts & Wrestling 1.4   Sat Jan 08, 2011 6:26 am

Alyster Black Presents: Ch. V


italics = Alyster's thoughts
bold = actions/descriptions
red = Alyster's dialog

The scene opens backstage in Steve Storme’s locker room just hours after High Stakes has ended. The locker room isn’t that special considering what Steve used to have. Inside it is a black leather couch, a small TV and some storage space for Steve’s things. The new CAW Tag Team Champions are seated on said couch, their titles resting on their laps, Alyster is smoking a cigarette and Steve is sitting in an uncomfortable silence, his mask concealing his expression. The champions sit in silence for a few minutes until Alyster finishes his cigarette. As he puts it out he takes a second to look around the room.

This place is nothing compared to what he had in CGS...

Alyster: So why do you get your own locker room?

Storme: It’s in my contract.

Alyster: Ok...why isn’t this locker room as good as the one’s you used to get in CGS?

Storme: Cause Scarlett hates my guts. This is the minimum requirement for my locker room according to the contract.

Alyster: Fair enough... I have to share a locker room with the rest of the chumps in this company, but whatever.

With nothing more to say the champions sit in silence again.

Fuck this is awkward. I should say something...we both can’t hate each other for the rest of this union.

Alyster: You know we can’t hate each other like we do now and accomplish what we want to.

Storme: Yes we can.

Alyster: Remember how it used to be between us?

Storme: Vaguely.

Alyster: When we would support each other in our crazy shenanigans, help each other win gold. We almost took over Takedown.

And he’s not responding...

Alyster: Until you quit of course.

Storme: Takedown is a worthless crud hole and anything we accomplished there was meaningless. Especially your world title victory. How many times did you defend that title? Not even once.

Alyster: At least they didn’t burn your sense of humour...

Steve shoots a look at Alyster who quickly turns his head away to avoid looking eyes with Storme.

Alyster: You know you could come hang out with me tonight and celebrate our title victory.

Storme: Not interested.

Alyster: Remember that night when you, me and Dash Blade went out and got hammered?

Storme: I don’t care Alyster.

Alyster: And I got into a fight with that big dude over his girlfriend, and Dash hooked up by telling that chick he was Steve Storme.

Alyster looks at Steve and notices a slight change in the positioning of Steve’s mask that could indicate that he was smiling. The expression quickly disappears however and Steve turns to look at Alyster.

Storme: Look I understand what you’re trying to do and in some small way I appreciate it but it’s not going to happen Alyster. We’re not going to be friends again like we used to back when we were the Gang Stars. We’re not going to hang out in bars and have the time of your life anymore. We’re not going to hang out, go out or do anything together outside of anything CAW related. I see what you’re trying to do and frankly I don’t care about our friendship anymore.

Alyster: Hmmm...Rip my heart out and light it on fire why don’t you.

The two members of N.M.E sit in uncomfortable silence again. Alyster takes the opportunity to light another cigarette. After a while Kayla walks into the room, Steve gets up to greet her. They embrace in a graphic nature that involves Storme’s mask slipping above his nose; Alyster tries his best to look away.

Storme: Well Alyster...we’re going to go celebrate the title win. You’re welcome to stay here so long as you lock up when you’re done. There’s a box of tissues in my bag just encase.

As soon as Steve finishes his sentence he leaves with Kayla. Alyster sits in silence while smoking his cigarette.

He might not be the same Storme he was before but he’s still pretty funny in a sarcastic hurtful way. And hey, at least we got the tag team belts. Hoorah.


The scene opens backstage at CAW 1.4. Alyster Black is standing by in the interview area (you know, big CAW banner hanging across the wall and shit. The place where he does his promo every week). Alyster is wearing a Parkway Drive t-shirt, dark blue jeans, an open leather jacket, black Vans and his signature mask. His CAW Tag Team title is strapped around his waist.

Alyster: Earlier this week a faithful CAW fan sent me a message over Facebook which said, “Dear Mr. Black. What happened at High Stakes? I can’t afford PPVs so I was hoping you could tell me the results.” I messaged this person back, I told him that since he has time to bug me on Facebook that maybe he could go 2 minutes out of his way to look up Lords of Pain or the CAW website. Seriously I think some of you fans are too stupid to live, this is the fifth time this year that some dumbass fan has managed to annoy me due to their own stupidity. But you know who else annoys me with their stupidity to the point where it hurts? The Bloodhounds and the thrown together team of Josh Bailey and Shelton McNeil, or as I like to call them “The guys who got their asses kicked and then pinned by the Bloodhounds right before N.M.E did almost the same thing to them.” Catchy name isn’t it? I don’t get why these guys are getting a potential title shot again at 1.4. Or why they want one. You’d think that they would have learnt their lesson at High Stakes when all four of these chumps ended up as the first two teams to get eliminated in the tag team gauntlet. But like I said, these guys are stupid. So they’ll go at it in a tag team match, Bloodhounds will win, and then N.M.E will give the Bloodhounds another ass kicking. Two weeks in a row boys, you must have pissed off someone pretty important to get that. So yeah N.M.E don’t plan to lose these belts to the likes of you. So I’m going to sign off with a small fuck you.

Alyster flips off the camera.

Alyster: But have a nice day.

End RP

Note: Promos a little short but I'm tired and wanted to post this ASAP. Goodnight,
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PostSubject: Re: Combat Arts & Wrestling 1.4   Sat Jan 08, 2011 6:44 am


Krash’s eyes snapped open as his DHARMA-brand alarm clock wailed, it’s siren growing more urgent with each passing second. He fumbled around for the snooze button, knocking over a bedside lamp before locating the putting and pressing it, silencing the clock for the time being. He stayed in bed for a few seconds, staring up at the ceiling, before glancing at the time.



With a tired yawn, Krash threw the thick blankets off him, and sat up. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, resisting the urge to lie back down and return to his dreams. He swung his legs over the side, and steadily got to his feet, stretching. Another yawn, and he exited his bedroom, entering the kitchen/lounge room, switching on the stereo as he passed it.

“Good morning, New York! It’s a wonderful winter’s day here in wonderful New York, and things couldn’t get anymore wonderful, in New York!”

“Shut up, you overly-cheerful asshole.” Krash snapped irritably at the radio. “I hope you get struck by lightning.” He then switched the stereo to CD_Play mode, immediately grinning when the sound of Red Jumpsuit Apparatus’s Your Guardian Angel began to play. He nodded at his awesome choice of music, walking into the kitchen and tossing two pieces of bread in the toaster. While his breakfast was cooking, Krash got out the vegemite and the butter and a glass of strawberry milk. Screw chocolate milk. Strawberry’s where it’s at.

“Morning, Twitchy.”

“JESUS FUCK!” Krash cried, throwing his glass of milk up in the air in surprise. The glass shattered upon impacting the ceiling, showing Krash with strawberry milk and bits of glass. Annoyed at this minor inconvenience, Krash wiped the milk from his eyes and shook the glass out of his hair. “Morning, Sylvester.” He sourly said to the man sitting on the couch.

For those of you who don’t know, Sylvester Ford is one of Krash’s friends. Standing at 6ft 3 (estimate), originally from San Antonio, Texas, they met several years ago, when they both were part of UCW. Krash took an instant liking to the older man, whereas Sylvester took an instant annoyance to the younger man. It was a strange relationship, yes, but it worked out perfectly. Just take my word on this, would you?

“Today’s going to be fucking awesome.” Sylvester said, grinning, as Krash grabbed a tea towel and dried his face with it. “I mean, it’s only been two minutes, and already I’ve made you smash a glass of milk over yourself.”

“Yeah, thanks, Sylvester. Really. You just made my day.” Krash sarcastically replied, noticing a small shard of glass embedded in his left forearm, and he casually flicked it off as if it were a fly. A small trail of blood flowed from the now open wound in response. “Oh, wonderful. I’m bleeding. You happy, Syl?”

Sylvester simply pointed to his temple in response.

“What?” Krash questioned, bringing a hand to his own temple, instantly feeling the fresh blood from another small cut. “Oh, this is fucking wonderful. Just fucking brilliant. Abso-fucking-lutley fantastic.”

“Your sarcasm amuses me.” Sylvester said, hands clasped in a mockingly way. “I now wish to subscribe to your newsletter. Do you accept cheques?”

“Fuck off. I’m gonna go spend the next half hour in the shower, picking bits of glass out of my skin.”

“Have fun.”
Sylvester waved as Krash exited to the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Two seconds later, the toast popped up, burnt black. “Your toast’s done. I think it may be a bit hot.”

As if to confirm this, the smoke from the toast reached the fire alarm, which began wailing in the loudest, annoyingest way possible.

“Yeah, just a bit.”

“OH, FOR FUCK’S SAKE!” Krash shouted from the bathroom. “TURN THAT PIECE OF ELECTRICAL SHIT OFF!”

“Will do!” Sylvester yelled back, before grabbing a hammer and smashing the shit out of the smoke alarm, effectively stopping the noise.


About 20 minutes later, Krash had apparently decided that he had gotten all the glass out of his body, and exited the shower with some casual clothes on, consisting of black jeans and a light blue & white shirt. Thankfully, most of the glass made little to zero marks on him, with the exception of the cut on his left forearm and above his temple. The addition of a small black armband on his forearm concealed the forearm cut nicely, and as long as he didn’t cut his hair no-one would notice the cut above his temple either.

“You’re an asshole.” Krash said immediately, grabbing his burnt toast (which for the last 20 minutes had been laying contently in the toaster) and tossing it out an open window.

“I’m an opportunist. I saw an opportunity to surprise the shit out of you, and it worked. All too well.” Sylvester mused, proud of how the day was turning out.

“You’re an asshole.” Krash repeated, glaring daggers at his friend.

“Let’s compromise and say I’m an opportunistic asshole. Now can the moodiness, my friend. I am going to help you kick Chris William’s ass.”


About, say, ten minutes later, Krash’s white van sped down the roads, Krash himself sitting moodily in the passenger seat as Sylvester drove.

“It’s MY van, I should drive it!” Krash exclaimed. Sylvester waved away this outburst as if it were a rampant fly, and turned a corner.

“I’d gladly let your drive this hunk of junk, Rufus, but for several reasons: One, you don’t have a drivers license-”

“Yes I do!” Krash interrupted indignantly. “In fact, I have several!”

“Let me rephrase that. You don’t have a REAL driver’s license. Two: This thing you call a ‘car’ has a frightening absence of seatbelts-”

“Pfft. They kill more lives than they save.”

“Airbags, mate. You’re thinking of airbags.”

“And I’ve got duct tape here!”
To illustrate the point, Krash help up a large bundle of duct tape. Without even looking, Sylvester slapped the duct tape to the floor.

“No matter how many times you say it, duct tape is not a seatbelt.” He proclaimed.

“Now whose being naïve?” Krash asked, raising an eyebrow. Sylvester ignored this remark and continued his list.

“Three: I’M in the car. You are never to drive when I’m around.”

“Statistically speaking, you’re much safer inside the van with me than outside it.”

“You have a point, but I’m still not giving you the wheel.”

“Fuck.” Krash sat back in his seat, arms crossed, pouting.

“Besides, we’re here.” Sylvester declared, parked the van outside what looked like a run-down, abandoned building.

Krash glanced at the building in horror. “Surely you don’t mean that… Pitiful excuse of a building with the hobo puking in front of it?”

“Beautiful, ain’t it?”

“I think ‘eye-sore’ is a more accurate word. Failing that, ‘horrible’, ‘terrible’, ‘disgusting’, or ‘trash-hole’ could suffice.”

“Suits Chris Williams to a T.”

“… Rrright. And what are we doing here, exactly?” Krash asked ass he and Sylvester exited the van.

“See that hobo over there?” Sylvester said, pointing over to the hobo who had finished vomiting on the building’s doorstep.

“Uh… Yeah.”

“Think of him as Chris Williams.” Sylvester whispered, then shouted in the hobo’s direction. “Oi, Stinky! Your mother smells of rottenberries and your father was a rat!” Pause. “And you look and smell like the two of them!” Another pause. “And I know someone who says you used to be a woman!”

“WHAT?!?” The hobo shouted back at them, obviously outraged. “Who?!?”

“This guy!” Sylvester pointed at Krash. Krash raised his eyebrows in shock, but before he could say anything the hobo had charged and tried to attack.

“I’ll teach you who used to be a woman!” The hobo shouted as he swung wildly, Krash ducking and blocking every punch. “Stay still, damnit!” The hobo ordered, and of course, Krash did the opposite, and instead struck the hobo with a quick punch to the kidneys. The hobo fell backwards, gasping for breath, and Krash rounded on Sylvester.

“What. The. FUCK?!?”

“Show’s not over yet, buddy.” Sylvester said, pointing back at the hobo, who had unsheathed a bowie knife and risen to his feet.

“I’ll kill you!” The hobo exclaimed, before Krash promptly roundhouse kicked him in the face. Instant K.O.

“What was the point in all that?!?” Krash demanded. Sylvester calmed sipped a can of beer and checked his watch.

“Twenty-seven seconds. I think that’s good enough.” He said, and patted Krash on the shoulder. “Nice work. Now, when you face Chrissy on CAW, you just visualize him as that hobo. It won’t be that hard, trust me. And you’ll slaughter him in no time.”

“You are an asshole.”

“Opportunistic asshole. We’ve been over this.”

“Oh, I don’t care anymore!” Krash threw his arms up in exasperation. “Can we go home?”

“Alright, fine…”

“And I’m driving this time.”
Krash snatched the keys from Sylvester’s hand, diving towards the driver’s seat of the van. It took several seconds for Sylvester to configure the horror of what he just unleashed.

“No no no! Not a good idea if we want to live! Give me those keys!”

Fade to black.


Interested in RPing? Apex Pro Wrestling is always on the lookout for new members. Anyone and everyone is welcome to try their hand in Apex. Sounds good? Join and find out.

Last edited by Punk'r on Sat Jan 08, 2011 8:37 am; edited 1 time in total
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PostSubject: Re: Combat Arts & Wrestling 1.4   Sat Jan 08, 2011 8:00 am

It is a bitterly cold night out. Not much can be seen except for a figure who is looking down at the ground, which is covered in snow. A few graves can be seen in the background and one tree that has no leaves at all. The moon can be seen overhead with a few scattered clouds, which adds to the whole eerie feeling of this graveyard. The camera gets closer to the figure and it become clear that it is Chris Williams. He's wearing a Utah Jazz jersey and blue jeans. He slowly gets on one knee near a flat gravestone that is covered in snow. He wipes it off and the name "Howard Shaw" is there. Chris Williams moves over to the next grave and he kicks the snow to the side to show the name "Krash" written on the grave. Chris Williams takes one more step over and with the last grave he kicks off the snow more violently and it says "Sonichu" on it. Chris Williams spits on the grave stone. Chris takes out a cigar and lights it up. He then begins to slowly walk away from the graves, as Chris Williams is seen walking away the scene fades to black.


Chris Williams is then seen standing in a parking lot. Chris Williams is wearing the same Utah Jazz jersey, as the previous night in the graveyard, and it's now clear that he's wearing a Gordon Hayward jersey. Standing next to Chris Williams is a shorter man, standing about 5 foot 8. He's wearing a Mets jersey with the name DJ RipZ on the back. He's wearing the number 6. There's still snow on the ground.

Chris Williams
I decided to introduce everyone to my DJ Jazzy Jeff. The Dre to my Eminem. This guy is always behind the turntables when I'm rapping. His name is DJ RipZ.

Thanks Ice Cold. I'm here to promote my new mixtape coming out. We got the dopest MC's from all over on this mixtape. From your boy Mac Miller to Evidence. We even got Wale and Rick Ross to spit some lines on it. And of course no DJ RipZ mixtape would be complete without my main man Chris 'Ice Cold' Williams. So look for that on your favorite mixtape website, or on the website that will be dropping that shit first get right music dot com. The name of the mixtape is Global Takeover Part 8.

Chris Williams then takes out a couple of cigars. Chris and RipZ each take one. Chris lights up his first and then passes the lighter to DJ RipZ. RipZ lights up his cigar and then hands it back and they begin to smoke and lean against the car they are standing next to.

Chris Williams
So I got this match with Krash coming up.

The pussy who had a match at the PPV?

Chris Williams
Exactly. The guy who beat me because of the faggot Howard Shaw.

I didn't even catch that match, did he win?

Chris Williams
No, can you believe that?

Well he didn't seem like he had the ability to when he was facing you anyway.

Chris Williams
Yeah, but he was facing the disgrace to our division Sonichu.

The fuck is that?

Chris Williams
It's the reason why Bloodsport isn't taken seriously. I want to bring some legitimacy back to hardcore wrestling. I want the name Bloodsport to be something feared. So my match with Krash is for the number one contender spot and fucking Sonichu is the guest referee. I'm not even sure if this dumb fuck can count to three. I have a feeling he's gonna screw me over so he doesn't have to face me. Why would he want to? I mean he know he's gonna lose his title to a wrestler of my caliber.

I see what you mean there, well this is still your shot.

Chris Williams take a long drag of the cigar.

Chris Williams
Yeah, I just wish it was a shot at a recording deal. If I have to use violence though to succeed in life then I guess it's just destiny.

I once fucked a bitch named Destiny.

Chris Williams
Really? How was it?

Not sure, I woke up in the morning after blacking out the night before and this girl named Destiny left her phone number in my apartment. Not sure what she looked like so I never called.

Chris Williams
Smooth man, smooth.

So, you are supposed to be a good guy right?

Chris Williams
Well people like me. I consider myself good. So yes, I'd say I'm supposed to be a good guy. Why do you ask?

I was wondering how come you have no friends in CAW?

Chris Williams
I would if I could take any of these competitors seriously, but they are all just jokes. Every single one of them just depresses the shit out of me. No one takes wrestling seriously anymore because of these retards. There three problems with this division it's Howard Shaw, Krash, and Sonichu. Howard Shaw because he just screws around. He has no drive in him. He's never gonna make it far unless he actually ever applies himself. I just don't see that ever happening. Krash is mistaken for a competitor repeatedly. The fact that I have to face him to get to the champion is just sad. He's not worth my time. For him to be considered competition by the people who are calling shots just goes to show a new level of their complete ignorance. Then there is the champion. If I was ever running a wrestling business I would keep a wrestler like Sonichu away from every title. I wouldn't even give him a chance at a champion just in case he gets a fluke win. Now this guy has been holding the title for way too long. I feel like I'm the only one with enough ability and skill to take it off him.

DJ RipZ and Chris Williams are finished smoking their cigars by the time Chris is finished speaking. They toss them into the snow in the ground. Then look at each other.

I completely agree with you bro. So I got a question. What are we gonna do now?

Chris Williams looks at his gold watch.

Chris Williams
I got an idea. Get in the car, we are going for a ride.

Chris Williams and DJ RipZ get in the car. DJ RipZ takes over the radio as soon as they get in the car and Chris Williams rolls down the windows as they pull out. They drive away listening to 2 of Amerikaz Most Wanted by 2pac.


DJ RipZ and Chris Williams pull up to a club and park the car. The two get out and the bouncer at the door sees them and opens up the rope holding the line back right away to allow them access. DJ RipZ nods at the bouncer before entering. No one even bothers to check their ID's as they are guided to the VIP section. Before they can even sit down they are being served drinks. DJ RipZ and Chris Williams grab their drinks and sit back and start to relax.

The treatment that I get for working here is great.

Chris Williams
That and the fact that I'm a professional wrestler might add to it.

Nah, they've been doing this stuff for us since I was the DJ here a month ago and you were spitting freestyles over every song I played.

A woman who is clearly drunk comes over to the couch that Chris Williams is sitting on. She is wearing a black dress with black high heels. She tries to say something but just collapses on the couch. Chris Williams puts his arm around her as she basically falls asleep right next to him.

That was the easiest pick up I've ever seen.

Chris Williams and him laugh as the woman is out cold on the couch.

Chris Williams
I guess I'll let her sleep it off here for a bit before I let the bouncer know that they need to get her a cab.

So Chris have you been training for your match any differently? I mean it is kind of important.

Chris Williams
Not at all. I beat Howard Shaw and I was really close to putting Krash away before being screwed out of it. The only way I'm not going home the number one contender after that show is if I'm screwed out of it again. Either way I can't really prepare for it, since the ref probably isn't a fan of me.

Maybe if you stop cursing out the people who control the show. I'm sure they don't appreciate it.

Chris Williams
To be honest, I don't even really know who's in control of the matches and stuff. I met this one guy who signed me to the show right away, then I usually check the internet for my matches. Plus they direct deposit the money I make into my bank account.

So you honestly don't even know who your boss is?

Chris Williams
Not really.


DJ RipZ and Chris Williams down the drinks that they were served and call over a woman to bring them more. The woman takes their empty glasses and hands them new ones instantly. Chris Williams lights up a cigar in the club. Chris Williams offers one to DJ RipZ but RipZ shakes his head no. The girl who passed out on Chris Williams starts to come to her senses. She backs up a bit and then she realizes who she is with. She begins to speak but she is severely slurring her words as she does.

Uhm hi guys, my name is Sandra. I just recognizered you and want to say hello. I'm such a big fan of you DJ RipZ and 'Ice Cold' Chris Williams! You are the reason I've been watchin wresslin.

Chris Williams
That's great, you want an autograph or something like that?

Well I wass kinda of hopin for a little more than thaaa.

The girl Sandra starts to move herself over closer to Chris Williams. She is obviously extremely drunk by the way that she sloppily leans on Chris.

Chris Williams
I'll think about that. Hey, I'm just curious, have you heard of my upcoming match.

DJ RipZ rolls his eyes as Chris Williams puts his arm back around the girl and she smiles at him.

Well I know you are going to win. Cuz you're the bestest at wresslin. Tha otha guy Krash you are facin is sucha looser! He even loss to that weird freak Sonichu. You are so going to win Chris.

Chris Williams
See DJ RipZ, my fans agree with me. I'm the reason people are even tuning into CAW television programs. I should just be handed the title belt to save this company from going straight into the gutter.

Yeah Chris, just what you needed. Another random girl to inflate your ego.

Chris Williams
She's not random, she's... what's your name again?

Chris Williams takes another drag of the cigar and looks at the girl.

My name's Sandra.

Chris Williams
See, she's Sandra. Don't hate her because she has a good taste in men.

Three other women come into the VIP section and walk up to Sandra.

Random Bitch #1 With No Name
Come on Sandra, we have to go home.

Random Bitch #2 With No Name
Yeah we promised that we'd all go home together.

Random Bitch #3 With No Name
Yeah let's go home now.

Sandra kisses Chris Williams on the cheek as she stands up and then stumbles over to her friends who help her stand up straight.

Sorry I have to go. Nice meeting you.

She waves and then walks away with the group of random bitches. Chris Williams looks a little disappointed but shrugs it off and looks over at DJ RipZ.

Chris Williams
Well I wasn't aware that the cockblock brigade was on duty tonight.

Chris Williams downs his drink and puts it down on the table in front of him.

Chris Williams
You know what I want to do?


Chris Williams
No, well yeah, or your mom, but not right now. I want to rap.

DJ RipZ immediately gets out of his chair and downs the rest of his drink.

I'll go take over the turntables.

Chris Williams and DJ RipZ walk up to the table where DJ Simply Nice is working tonight. DJ Simply Nice is friends with both of them and gives them both a pound. DJ Simply Nice hands over the headphones to DJ RipZ and DJ RipZ starts scratching the record. Chris Williams is handed a microphone and he steps in front of the DJ booth. DJ RipZ speaks into his own microphone.

Yo, everyone how are you doing tonight?

The crowd starts to cheer as the local crowd here seems to be familiar with DJ RipZ and Chris 'Ice Cold' Williams

Alright we got a real treat tonight. My man 'Ice Cold' is going to spit some lines. You all probably known him as me and him frequent this club a lot. I'll be working here next Thursday, for the college party. Anyway my man Ice Cold is not only an amazing wrestler, but a brilliant rapper. So any aspiring MC's at the club tonight, get a pen and a notebook ready, because Chris is gonna take ya to school. Get your mother fucken hands in the air right now.

DJ RipZ then takes a beat and starts to scratch it. Chris Williams smiles and stands in front of the dance floor. He looks down at the floor for a second and takes a deep breath as he listens to the beat. Then he raises his head and begins to rap.

Chris Williams
Yo, check this shit out.
The name is still Ice Cold.
Nothing will ever make my heart melt again.
Don't ride with a tough crew no more, I got one friend.
That's all a dude like me, need to roll deep.
I fell off a cliff so steep I prayed to hit the bottom.
None of y'all can fathom the shit I've been through.
But now I'm ready to pursue greatness.
The crimes of my past are heinous.
Over that time there's an eternal grayness.
I'm back on my feet now.
Back to runnin the street now.
Roll with my boy DJ RipZ now.
We party all night drinken that good shit.
Rememberin nights when we was runnin hood shit.
Living our lives like a couple bandits.
Everywhere we went complete misfits.
Now I'm runnin this underground rap game.
Making for myself a better name.
While kicking ass in and out the ring.
No more causing a scene.
No more selling to a fiend.
Nothing in this world can hold me down.
Chances are good I've been to your hometown.
Don't give a damn what your name is.
Even Krash using me to try and get famous.
I'm still the most vicious.
Cops still look at me like I'm suspicious.
Krash I'm reason your mom was able to get crack.
So when I fucken warn you get back.
Back the fuck up before I start the attack.
I'm bring this company to its knees.
Like I'm a cop, and they a whore with multiple felonies.
Don't even thinking about lookin in my direction.
Viewers at home don't change the fucken station.
I'm the one bringing truth to this entire nation.
So if I you look at me wrong and I catch you.
You're gonna be lookin more fucked up then Sonichu.
Krash, I don't one piece of you, give me the entire thing.
Saturday I won't be in the ring to sing.
I'll be there to put your arm in a sling.

The crowd starts to applaud Chris Williams. Chris is handed a drink and so is DJ RipZ. DJ RipZ comes down from the booth and gives Chris Williams a hug. They down their drinks and leave them on a tray a girl is carrying. They both then walk out of the club. Chris Williams pulls out a couple more cigars. DJ RipZ takes one as Chris Williams lights his up. DJ RipZ takes the lighter from him and lights up his cigar. The two friends sit down on a bench outside the club. It begins to snow as they take a few drags of their cigars.

Take the snow as a sign?

Chris Williams

The two sit their silently as they stare out at the street. Chris Williams is lost watching the snow fall to the ground. DJ RipZ is listening to the music from inside the club and watching cars pass by. A girl walks by and both men look at her. Chris Williams quickly gets to his feet.

Chris Williams
I can't help but notice that you aren't in love with me, and I have to fix that.

The woman keeps walking ignoring him, as she wants to get out of the cold. Chris Williams sits back down on the bench.

Chris Williams
You know I think she was a lesbian.

I'm pretty sure bro, she had a playboy magazine in her bag.

Chris Williams
That's the difference between you and me, you are looking at her bag, while I'm looking at her ass.

You can miss a world of information by only looking at girl's asses.

Chris Williams
Like what?

Like their boobs.

Chris Williams
Amen brother.

DJ RipZ and Chris Williams continue to smoke their cigars.
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PostSubject: Re: Combat Arts & Wrestling 1.4   Sat Jan 08, 2011 9:28 am

Cesar Pineda walks to the back towards his locker room at High Stakes after winning the High Stakes match. He has a sense of accomplishment as he is on the right track towards gaining back his respect and dignity. He enters the locker room and sits down on a bench before grabbing a towel and whipping the sweat off of his face and chest. He starts to undress and grabs a towel before going into his bag and pulling out his Cell Phone. He sees that he has 2 new Messages. One from "Mi Esposa" Carmen, and one from Marcos. He checks the messages:

From: "Mi Esposa" Carmen

Me and Chris saw your match and I think he knew that it was his daddy who was wrestling because he smiled and laughed every time you were shown on TV. Can't wait to see you because we'll have to "celebrate" this win. Te Amo mucho papi chulo.

From: Marcos

Ey bro I talked to Ivan about it and he said that now that I'm old enough I can join the Latin Kings. I'm gona join as soon as you get home so that all of us can celebrate. All three of the Pineda boys will finally be in the Latin Kings just like our dad. Hit me up when you get this because I aint joining until you get home.

Pineda sits down on the bench again and puts his hands over his head thinking about his younger brother joining the Latin Kings. He knows the dangers and the hardships that comes with joining the Kings and doesn't want his brother joining. He knows that his brother is only joining because of the good stories about the Latin Kings that him and his brother Ivan told him. He's a good kid and shouldn't be trying to get into something like the Latin Kings. He hits reply to Marcos's message.

To: Marcos

Don't do shit until I get home aight? Me and you need to talk fuck what Ivan said about you joining, your not ready for all of what comes with being a Latin King. I'll explain why when I get back to Chicago but until then don't do anything.

Pineda puts his phone away and gets up and heads to the showers.

Fade O
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Black Dagger
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PostSubject: Re: Combat Arts & Wrestling 1.4   Sat Jan 08, 2011 12:20 pm

Horatio Gates is seen alone talking to himself and holding a huge wad of bread in his right hand and a drink of Oasis orange drink in his right hand, he is humming to himself and opens a large gate which says the "local park" on a sign in bold writing, he goes up to a rather large pond and puts his drink on the wall next to him before rips up some of his bread and actually takes a bite out of it himself... he then proceeds to process his thoughts like his therapist told him many times and tears more bread up this time throwing it forcefully into the pond. He chuckles to himself and has a large smile on his face what with him being an animal lover and all. At this point a duck appears out of nowhere and takes a chunk out of a pair of Horatio's favourite trousers, Horatio is extremely pissed of with the event that just happened. A few seconds later Horatio has one of his red mist moments and kicks the duck with might... He later regrets this and adresses the camera that is following his actions "with him being a fantastic pro wrestler and loving,caring and content human being"

Horatio Gates

What you just noticed there was not the real Horatio Gates, I just happened to have one of my awful moments, they seem to be happening more frequently these days so my therapist told me to visit my favourite places to try and be calm and focused. But tonight I will be focused and me and Logan will win the tag titles.

If I can I will edit.
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Mr. Cool Smark
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PostSubject: Re: Combat Arts & Wrestling 1.4   Sat Jan 08, 2011 12:43 pm

The Ballad of Psycho Dragon

Oh, Originality, Where Art Thou?

Guest Starring: Ryan Ashburn

"Beware when the great God lets loose a thinker on this planet."
- Ralph Waldo Emerson


o·rig·i·nal [ə ríjjən'l]
1. first: existing first, from the beginning, or before other people or things The original plan was to turn the site into a shopping mall.
2. new: completely new and not copied or derived from something else She doesn't have a single original idea in her head.
3. creative: possessing or demonstrating the ability to think creatively blessed with an original mind
4. not traditional: representing a departure from traditional or previous practice a refreshingly original interpretation of the classics
5. source for copies: relating to or being something from which a copy or alternative version has been made the original document

n (plural o·rig·i·nals)
1. first version: the first or unique item from which copies or alternative versions are made The meaning of the original has been lost in translation.
2. authentic piece of art: a genuine work of art that is not a copy or forgery verified as an original
3. eccentric person: an unusual or eccentric person
4. creative person: a person of outstanding creativity or revolutionary thinking

cre·a·tiv·i·ty [kr ay tívvətee]
1. being creative: the quality of being creative
2. imaginative ability: the ability to use the imagination to develop new and original ideas or things, especially in an artistic context

i·mag·i·na·tion [i màjjə náysh'n](plural i·mag·i·na·tions)
1. ability to visualize: the ability to form images and ideas in the mind, especially of things never seen or experienced directly
2. creative part of mind: the part of the mind where ideas, thoughts, and images are formed
3. resourcefulness: the ability to think of ways of dealing with difficulties or problems used real imagination in designing the experiment
4. creative act: an act of creating a semblance of reality, especially in literature

Imagination is a beautiful thing….However, sometimes it gets a scar across it’s face, and it’s simply not as beautiful as it once was.

Lights. Camera. Action.

*The scene opens to show PsyDrag sitting on a steel chair in his locker room. He wears his usual mask and wrestling gear, and has on a solid-grey hoodie. The mask is pulled up a bit, revealing his stubble-ridden jaw and mouth. He lifts up a lit cigarette and presses it into his mouth, letting him inhale it, before pulling it out and exhaling as a long billowing smoke escapes from it. He then looks up at the camera and cracks a faint grin*


Greetings, kiddies…This is your friendly neighborhood Hero of the Year, Psycho Dragon…You’re probably wondering as to why to why I‘m just sitting here and not out and about causing accidental-and or-deliberate chaos….You know guys, since losing my Pure Title to that spineless, prancing, limp-dick fairy by the name of Jacoby Jackson, I’ve done me some thinking….And I’ve come to some conclusions.

*PsyDrag pauses as he takes another puff of the cigarette*


Vincent van Gogh was an innovator. You see, Vinny G was a paranoid little man. Very paranoid. Always hard on himself and was never truly appreciated until after his death…..However, Vinny G was also very creative….Many consider him to be one of the greatest Post-Impressionist painters, and painters in general, off all-time. Vinny G is responsible of some beautiful and deep works of art. He was ahead of his time.

*PsyDrag takes another puff of the cancer-stick and proceeds to blow out a couple smoke-rings, watching them twirl in the air before they dissipate*


The same argument can be made for Sega’s last console, the Dreamcast…..It was the console that made utilizing the internet a reality. Built-in modems, it’s own service, downloadable content…..And some damn-good games to boot. It folded in a couple years, though, at least in the US of A….The fact is though, it was original and innovate….And it’s innovation was absolutely gang-raped by the competitors. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery…..Sony, Microsoft, Nintendo…..They’re rip-offs as far as technology goes….And speaking of rip-offs….

*As he takes one final puff as his cigarette, PsyDrag lets it fall from his fingertips and watches it land on the cold tile of the floor. Pulling his mask completely, he then practically smears the cigarette into the ground with the heel of his boot before


Sometimes….Just sometimes…The common man-slash-woman-slash-child-slash-pet-slash-transgender creep upset me so. It seems that lately, wherever I look, there’s nothing that’s truly new or imaginative. The majority of wrestlers in CAW are no different. It seems like most, if not all, of them are one big walking cliché. We have people who claim to have come from broken homes and were despised by their drunken, abusive fathers…I mean, it ALWAYS has to be the father for some reason - why not the evil grandmother who never spoils anyone, huh? Why not the gang of psychotically persistent Girl Scouts that keep following you, begging you to buy their stale-ass cookies? *chuckles*….Then you have the socially awkward underdogs with a heart of gold. Then there’s the obligatory egocentric bungholes and the antisocial nut jobs, and so on and so forth. For every one creative and original guy like me, there will be about twenty others waiting to jump in line for a helping of the innovation while it’s still hot. It seems that almost everyone but me has fallen victim to formula, whether it be by accident or by choice. This lack of uniqueness is spreading like wildfire and now someone has to put it out. ..

….Everyone all saw what happened at High Stakes. I can say that I was robbed. I was screwed over. I was cheated out of MY beloved Pure Title. But, the fact of the matter is…..I was robbed. I was screwed over…..I WAS cheated out of MY beloved Pure Title….MY Pure Title was stolen from me by that one dollar and ninety-nine cent dick-slash-twat combo meal with a side of fries and a medium Coke, Nathan Harter and Jacoby Jacobbeboo or whatever the holy technicolor hell that little midget-blowing jackass’ name that his drunk-ass parents so unceremoniously bestowed upon his wretched, pathetic excuse of a soul is! It was supposed to be a Triple-Threat match between me and Seth Skyfart and that one other guy, who you blindsided backstage in an oh so original attack whom the culprits, which would be you Jacobybyby, who even the blindest of the blind could see coming from a mile away; who else could Nathan Harter have been talking about? Who else would’ve been desperate enough to face your friendly neighborhood Hero of the Year as to whip on some platinum-blonde wig, put a little lipstick on, drop on his knees and let himself get cock-a-doodle-doo’d over and over and over and over by some pale-skinned, sickly-looking, malnourished little munchkin? I’ll give you a big fat hint: Scrawny little nerd with no talent nor charisma with two first names. If you still can’t come up with anything, please pay a visit to your nearest available mirror!

And now, I have to face you and Nathan Harter, a man I have already whipped from pillar to post twice before? In a Tag-Team match, one of said instances where I whipped said man from said pillar to post? Hey, King Nathan Harter of La-La-Land, didn’t Steve Storme force your ass into retirement because of that sort of thing? And yeah, my tag partner of the evening is…..*sighs* Trevor Andrews…..Yippie….Oh well, either way, I have to do all the work…..

*PsyDrag then gets out of his chair and proceeds to hold his finger up into the air*


From this point on, all uninventive scum, and ripper-offers, and uninventive scummy ripper-offers of CAW….I, Psycho Dragon, hereby declare war on all things clichéd and unoriginal! Suck on that!

*As PsyDrag then turns to take his leave, he then bumps into something….or someone, causing him to fall back. PsyDrag lands on his butt and immediately looks up to see two generic-looking, muscle-bound security guards*


Are you guys, like, the Strip-A-Gram cops I ordered? I ordered for lady cops, though….Oh well, go to Storme’s locker-room, down the hall and to the left!

~GOON #1~

The boss sent us, Psycho Dragon.

*PsyDrag then tilts his head in confusion*


Oh? You mean the boss of the Strip-A-Gram company? You guys taking me to see the ladies to make sure the order’s right? Oh, such a nice boss you have!

~GOON #1~

Not THAT boss……


*rubs chin*……Oh, The Boss? That one guy who copies everyone? What does he want with moi?

~GOON #1~

….Not that boss…..

*PsyDrag thinks for a bit, then a light goes off in his head*


Oh that boss…..

* “Goon #1” then smirks and nods his head*


That one, whiney boss from that supermarket down the block?

*The security guard’s jaw drops and his eyes widen*


I swear that what happened was accidental and I’ll be more than willing to pay for the damages!

*Just then, the annoyed security guard grabs PsyDrag by his shirt and yanks him up off the floor like a rag-doll*

~GOON #1~

NO!! THE boss, you idiot! THE boss! The one who signs your paychecks!



~GOON #1~



…………*shrugs* Derek Levy?

*PsyDrag then gets cracked in the mouth by “Goon #1” and gets sent tumbling to the ground. The security guards then go to jump PsyDrag until a voice rings out*


That’s enough, fellas.

*The two guards turn to see the GM of the Bloodsport Division, Ryan Ashburn, standing in the doorway with a grim expression on his face.*


Scarlett thought you gets couldn’t get the job done, so she sent me here instead…..Go back to the office and wait for me there…

*PsyDrag slowly rubs his jaw as the guards follow Ashburn’s instructions and take their leave. Ashburn then closes the door and locks it as PsyDrag sits up with his back against the wall. Ryan gets a hold of PsyDrag’s chair and turns it as to where it faces him and Ashburn sits down on it. Leaning over, Ashburn clasps his hands together*


You know, Psycho Dragon, you’ve been causing my girl a great deal of grief here in CAW….


You mean like how you’ve been causing said girl a great deal of grief in the sack?

*Upon hearing the remark, Ashburn’s face contorts into an angry frown as PsyDrag begins snickering*


You always must be a smartass, don’t you?


*tilts head* Well, it’s as my father always says--


No more wisecracks, Psycho Dragon. Aesha may let you get away with that childish nonsense, but Scarlett will not. We will not allow you to make us look bad any longer. No more…

*Ashburn then sticks his hand into the right pocket of his black dress-slacks and pulls out a switchblade, which he opens*


Do you wanna know what will happen if you even think of trying to embarrass us one more time?


Chances are I already know.


*smirks* Say it.


….If I make you two look bad……




…..*smiles goofily* Then Alex would go ballistic and give Doomed a stern talking-to.

*His face suddenly screwing into confusion, Ashburn just blinks at Psycho Dragon as the latter gives the camera a cheesy thumbs-up*


…What…Ugh….Who…What are you….HUH?--*shakes head violently*--No, no, no, wait….WAIT. I…I see what you’re trying to do here….You just going to keep reeling off sarcastic comments just to anger me….There’s no getting an intelligent remark outta you…What is REALLY going to happen is if you embarrass me or my girl ever again, I’m going to take this knife and--


And do what? Shave me? Is that your big plan, Sweeney Todd? Give me a shave and a cruddy crew-cut whilst serenading me with some dementedly awesome musical number?

*Face reddening and teeth grinding against each other, Ryan Ashburn gets up and drills PsyDrag in the gut with a kick that knocks the wind out of him. PsyDrag doubles over and begins coughing as Ryan begins storming out of the locker room. He unlocks and swings the door before twisting his body around and pointing at PsyDrag*




*weakly points back* Tell you why….Mrs. Lovett….tell you why….

*Even in the position he’s in, PsyDrag begins to laugh as Ashburn jumps over to him and begins kicking and stomping away at him, screaming various obscenities as PsyDrag continues to laugh and cough at the same time before Ryan regains his composure, running his finger through his hair as he then proceeds to leave the rocker room, letting the masked loon writhe around on the hard floor. Several moments pass, and a still hysterical PsyDrag slowly rolls over on his back, taking deep breaths.


*giggles*…….Dude hits like a freaking girl…*coughs*


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PostSubject: Re: Combat Arts & Wrestling 1.4   Sat Jan 08, 2011 12:47 pm

They had found a pub/restaurant near the arena, Theodore B. Osswald was messing with a fancy mixed drink his buddies had bought for him. "what's the opposite of a roll?" He looked down to the bald man with the goatee next to him, who had one of those grins that would've looked cruel if you didn't know the man. "a slump." Boss gave a half-hearted laugh. "what do you call it when you're in a slump since day one?" The man with the round shades and bitching ponytail spoke up. "that, my good sir, is a bad career choice." He had a cup of peppermint schnapps. Nobody knew how the hell he got peppermint schnapps wherever he went, but they had seen him get it at an honest to dog McDonalds at one point. He was "The Guy" Guy McGuy, the man who had trained both The Boss and his chrome headed companion Blake Davidson, better known as Blake Lioncash, a wrestling personality that had never truly caught on. "when the going gets tough..." "the tough get some folding chairs and go Sabu on this mother." McGuy laughed.

Theo took the piece of paper out of his pocket and unfolded it, it was a copy of the match card. "Cesar Pineda" "Cesar Panda?" McGuy shrugged. "think I heard of that guy, one of the acquisitions when CAW gutted that old CGS fed I heard about." Boss shrugged. "sounds like an acquisition from a Tijuana taco buffet." McGuy sighed, he was doing it again. Underestimating an opponent gives them an advantage. "hehehe, what do you call a dead luchadore?" Boss and McGuy hated this joke. "c'mon! what do you call a-""how is this even relevant? Cesar doesn't even wear a mask!" "On top of that this joke is in such bad taste it's at the bottom of the compost heap I got at home!" Blake didn't seem to be listening. "a Has-Bean! HAHAHAHAA!"

Boss groaned and rested his face in his palm, McGuy swatted Blake upside his bald head. "man, never should've left that DXX gig, or CWF. The competition was on fire and I had a name there, I had the spirit back then." McGuy chuckled and looked over to Boss, pointing to his drink. "you got your 'spirit' right there in your hand. Drink up, man up, mask up, and shut the fuck up." Theodore laughed, knowing that he was going to have to do that later, that he was stepping into the ring with Cesar Pineda, a man who called himself "The Mexican Nightmare" "hey chrome dome!" Blake's eyes lit up. "yes, o truly tremendous one!" He knocked back a beer and grinned to Boss. "Cesar Pineda calls himself "The Mexican Nightmare." Help me come up with fun nicknames without getting me kicked off TV for racism." Lioncash nodded slowly, still grinning ear to ear. "I love a good challenge." He took out a notepad and Boss moved closer to it, the three men drank and joked long through the night, then got a cab back to the hotel. Theodore sat down on his bed and pulled his mask out of his bag. staring at the fabric, gazing into the eye-holes he so often gazes out of. "just a slouch... a slump... a passing phase."


Boss was standing in a specific portion of the arena hallway, transformed by posters and paraphernalia. He wore his mask and an intricately patterned cape, his usual entrance attire. He had a single finger pointed to the camera, cutting the carefully recited promo he had prepared for Cesar.

The Boss
Cesar... Cesar Pineda! The Mexican Nightmare! You think you have a chance against me? The Hawaiian Storm!? Let me tell you something, Montezuma's Revenge, you think that you can act tough and listen to your angry music, that you can claim you're pulling some kinda Latino Heat, that you can twirl your Bandito Mustache and complain about how you don't need no stinking badges? That won't work on the masked master of the squared circle!

He dramatically pumped his arm, flexing and preening as he spoke, getting into the character and letting it show in his voice.

The Boss
You think I'd just be an easy victory for you? You think that you can go and play cops and robbers with your little friends like you mattered? You got no heart for this business, and after this match I'll show you that you don't belong in a ring, but outside a highschool with some wrap-around shades and a sleazy black coat. I'll show you that you're a very small man in a very big world, that you're a very stupid tuna thinking he can swim with the sharks.

Boss got his face right in the camera, really hamming it up at this point, trying his best not to laugh at just how ridiculous he was getting.

The Boss
I'll show you, Cesar, Who the Boss is!

The Boss pulled back from the camera, his message sent, and the scene quickly cuts out. Boss headed back to his locker room to get the rest of his ring gear and the hood that went with his cape. He knew this Cesar Pineda wouldn't have his head in it, wouldn't have his heart in the match. Something told him, a gut instinct told him, that he had this won.

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PostSubject: Re: Combat Arts & Wrestling 1.4   Sat Jan 08, 2011 12:51 pm

Glass Ceilings

Fade in. With one half of the CAW Tag Team Championships slung over his shoulder, Alyster Black slips through the black curtain into what’s commonly referred to as the gorilla position. He pulls his mask off to feel the cool air on his face but his eyes narrow when he spots Steve Storme and Kayla sat together on an old sofa up against the wall. Kayla’s sat on his lap, one arm round his neck and the other’s hand on his chest. Black approaches with a sigh, shaking his head back and forth to show his disapproval.

Storme: Hey partner.

Black: You know, I’m REALLY starting to get sick of this shit.

Storme: Hold up. I just got you that shiny new toy so you can feel like a man and THIS is how you repay me? Goddamn, Alyster, a little gratitude would be nice.

Black: Fuck you. I earned this belt.

Storme: Sure you did, “champ”.

Kayla chuckles in response to Steve, earning a glare from Alyster.

Black: You’re messed up, you know that? I don’t really know what you see in this prick but don’t be surprised when he leaves you broken hearted. It happens to any chick that’s fucking stupid enough to put up with him.

Kayla: Aw, you jealous? Its okay, lots of people are.

Black: Jealous of what exactly?

Kayla: Steve, of course. You’re jealous of the way he scores with girls WAY out of your league, despite having suffered serious burns to the face. I could also mention how much more successful, talented and respected he is but I figured even you couldn’t deny that.

Black: Shouldn’t you be strapped down in an asylum somewhere? I don’t have to hear this from a fucking psycho.

Storme: Simmer down.

Black grunts in annoyance, turning his attention back to Storme.

Black: Look, Steve. You’re pissed off about what happened to your face – I get it – but this is REALLY what N.M.E.’s about? I’m not here to be treated like a piece of shit by you and your latest girlfriend. I agreed to this team because I share your disdain for Ryan Ashburn and his furry puppet, and I know you’re one of the best. But I’m starting to question that decision.

Storme: Go on.

Black: Sure, we can fight in the ring but tag teams need more than that to survive. They need a foundation – a bond. We don’t even like each other; we’ve got nothing in common.

Storme: What about Breakfast At Tiffany’s?

Black: I think I remember the film. And as I recall, I think we both kinda loathed it.

Storme: Well that’s one thing we got.

Alyster rolls his eyes and takes a few paces towards the corridor.

Storme: Hey Black?

Alyster turns his head round to face his masked partner.

Storme: You did good out there.

Black: Thanks, I-

Storme: But get involved in my business again and I swear I’ll knock you the fuck out. Those miscreants DESERVE the pain I’ve been put through. You’re not a hero – don’t try and act like one.

Black: Whatever, Steve.

Black walks off down the corridor and Storme watches him go. The mask-clad champion gently pushes Kayla up and hands her his belt. She slings it over her shoulder and they follow Black down the corridor to a general lounge area. Black is filling up a plastic cup with water while some other wrestlers are sat on the sofas in discussion. They don’t see Storme and Kayla stood not far away.

Adonis: You know, I really hope someone takes those belts from N.M.E. soon.

Bailey: I hear ya, man. It’s like the Steve Storme push never ends. When is he going to finally step aside and let some of us have a chance to shine? It’s too hard to break through the glass ceiling.

Adonis: No doubt. We’ve proved our worth; surely we deserve a bit of-

Storme: Let me get this straight...

The group instantly turn towards the couple – all going silent upon confirmation that the voice belongs to who they thought. Fallen Adonis and Josh Bailey trade an anxious glance. Meanwhile Black watches from the water cooler with a small smile.

Storme: I’m holding you down, am I? I’m not giving you a chance to shine, huh? See, that’s where your mentality is wrong. That’s why I’m stood here with yet another championship belt and nobody above curtain-jerker status knows your damn names. I could be giving this speech to any of the punks in that gauntlet or hell, any of the punks on the damn roster – you’re all the same.

Whatever happened to EARNING your shot? Neither of you earned your place in that gauntlet, you were just handed the opportunity. I spent months on the undercard of CGS, desperately looking for a way up the ladder while Dash Blade – the paper champion – enjoyed the only main event run of his career. I had to damn near kill myself just to get a push in CGS. When I was finally gifted with a major title shot, I made sure I didn’t let it slip through my fingers. You can whinge and moan like a bitch on her period to get the shot but when it comes to match time, you either have “it” or you don’t.

You lot don’t. How do I know? I was the one that was kicking your thick skulls in. What’s sad is that you punks think that I should just step aside and LET you become successful. You don’t want to WIN a championship; you just want to hold one – like Sonichu. What’s a belt worth if the holder didn’t earn it? Only the cost of its own production. To be true champions, you must defeat the best. You’re looking at him.

The only glass ceiling is your own lack of motivation, resilience and ability. Throughout my time in CGS, I came across countless rookies who felt they deserved some of MY success just for turning up to the arena. But when the spotlight was shining, these kids choked. They couldn’t back up their big claims and instead faded quickly into obscurity. It’s the same thing here in CAW. The torch will burn out before it gets passed.

There’s more to my success than just my in-ring talent. There are many wrestlers, who have the skills and the potential to be great, but don’t have the mentality; they’re lazy or uninspired. Me? I never stop pushing myself. I never stop upping my game. I’ve been voted Wrestler of the Year in 2008, 2009 and 2010 for a reason: I rise to the occasion each and every time. When it matters, I excel, whereas lesser men crumble under the pressure.

It will be the same story next week – whoever N.M.E. are facing. I don’t care who we’re lined up against because I KNOW that none of the teams in CAW have the passion to match us, let alone defeat us. So talk shit amongst yourselves, lie to each other, and claim the only reason for your miserable career is that Steve Storme isn’t giving you a chance. But when the bell rings, you and everybody else will see just how out of my league you truly are.

With that, Storme turns to leave. Kayla smirks at the other wrestlers’ awkward silence and joins Steve by the arm. They walk off down another corridor while Black chuckles to himself. Fade out.


Last edited by Storme on Tue Jan 11, 2011 8:47 am; edited 1 time in total
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PostSubject: Re: Combat Arts & Wrestling 1.4   Sat Jan 08, 2011 1:20 pm

Thanks to all who RPed.

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