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Discussion Starter #1 (Edited)

Premier Wrestling Circuit (PWC)
... Presents ...




Arena: AT&T Center
Capacity: 18,500
Location: San Antonio, Texas

***

Singles Match:
Blaze vs. Jack Hayden

Singles Match:
Flex Mussel vs. Harvey Parker

Singles Match:
Microburst vs. Famine

Singles Match:
Daiko vs. Derek Jacobs

Triple Threat Match:
Darius Black vs. Bob McEfoy vs. Dr. Nero

Main Event:
Muhammad Islami vs. Kyle Elric

Deadline for RP's is 11:59pm GMT on January 17. You will be given a 24 hour warning before the deadline so don't worry.

This thread will be used for posting your RP's, if you want to feedback on someone's RP then go ahead, post the feedback in here. Once the show is posted, you can feedback on that, if you like. Everything else can be posted in the discussion thread.

GFX Credit: CHAMPviaDQ

Also, let's try something different. Use the match card as a predictions template and post your predictions here. ONLY PREDICTIONS. IF YOU POST ANYTHING ELSE OTHER THAN PREDICTIONS OR FEEDBACK FOR THE SHOW AND RP'S, YOU WILL BE BURIED. You can post your predictions without even seeing the RPs posted so yeah, it'll just be a guessing game. The winner/winners will get hmm...the joy of winning a predictions contest? Or if they really want something, you can PM me or one of the guys in creative and we can offer some direction for your character. Although, you guys can do this already, we're just waiting for you guys to PM us.​
 

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Singles Match:
Blaze vs. Jack Hayden

Going with Blaze coz it's Jam and I believe he's got his new character down pretty good. Maybe Hayden surprises me, can never know.

Singles Match:
Flex Mussel vs. Harvey Parker

No idea, impress me. Flex Mussel's got that Cesaro photo rep so don't let him down :cesaro

Singles Match:
Microburst vs. Famine

No idea again, but right from his application post, I've become a Famine mark. So original and intriguing, banking on ya mate.

Singles Match:
Daiko vs. Derek Jacobs

Dis gon' be good. Daiko has been accumulating a winning streak as of late and has improved vastly, though I think his character is slightly changing from what we are used to. Derek Jacobs was impressive in his outing too, so wouldn't surprise me if he beat Daiko. Gonna stick with the veteran though. And coz I want a spot in Creative.

Triple Threat Match:
Darius Black vs. Bob McEfoy vs. Dr. Nero

Seems a little random. Is there something at stake? Regardless, should be a brilliant match up. Too close to call. But Dr Nero is undefeated like me and C3K for a reason. Plus, he's the no.1 contender for the Legacy title. I say he remains unbeaten here though we all know what Darius is capable of and Bob McEfoy has produced strong RPs thus far too. Going with the Doctor here, but will be a close one.


And now, it's time for the...........

Main Event:

Muhammed Islami vs. Kyle Elric

:mark: :mark: :mark: :mark:

Islami is one of my favorites, as I've said many a time and I've been wanting to work with him for a while. A matchup deserving to main event a show- Legacy champ vs no.1 contender for the world title. Won't be going against myself but this will be one of my toughest challenges so far. Very excited.
 

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You know who I am, but you don't know why I'm here
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Singles Match:
Blaze vs. Jack Hayden

Singles Match:
Flex Mussel vs. Harvey Parker

Singles Match:
Microburst vs. Famine

Singles Match:
Daiko vs. Derek Jacobs

Triple Threat Match:
Darius Black vs. Bob McEfoy vs. Dr. Nero

Main Event:
Muhammed Islami vs. Kyle Elric
 

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Singles Match:
Blaze vs. Jack Hayden

I've seen many Jam RP's and the guy produces good stuff, never seen an RP from Jack Hayden so gotta go with the guy I've seen work from.

Singles Match:
Flex Mussel vs. Harvey Parker

Hard to predict, both guys have so much potential and both are good RP'ers. Not gonna throw a prediction out for this one.

Singles Match:
Microburst vs. Famine

Mircoburst has had more time to work on his first RP than Famine so I give the slight edge to him. Famine perks my interest so much though.

Singles Match:
Daiko vs. Derek Jacobs

If meeks is on his game, he wins this one but Daiko has been a roll for awhile now so I'm giving him the slight edge here.

Triple Threat Match:
Darius Black vs. Bob McEfoy vs. Dr. Nero

Nero has been so, so good since debuting and it's why I'm picking him here. McEfoy has been good thus far though and Darius Black's last RP for a match was awesome so time will tell.

Main Event:
Muhammed Islami vs. Kyle Elric

This is gonna be insane. I gotta pick the undefeated guy though, but there's a reason Islami is the Legacy Champ.

This card is awesome :mark:
 

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Discussion Starter #5
Singles Match:
Blaze vs. Jack Hayden
- Yeah, I'm not going against myself here. Looking forward to this one though.

Singles Match:
Flex Mussel vs. Harvey Parker
- This is pretty much a toss up. I've seen what both guys can do but I'm gonna go with Flex because his character is just really interesting to me. Parker isn't a bad character either though. Hell, I expect both guys to shoot up the card rather quickly.

Singles Match:
Microburst vs. Famine
- This would be a fun match to write. But as for who will win, I'll go with the more interesting character but again, this can go either way.

Singles Match:
Daiko vs. Derek Jacobs
- Believe in Daiko!

Triple Threat Match:
Darius Black vs. Bob McEfoy vs. Dr. Nero
- Nero's undefeated streak continues here. Simple as that.

Main Event:
Muhammad Islami vs. Kyle Elric
- This was a tough one. Both guys can RP really well and have a lot of momentum going for them right now. This is another toss up but I'll go with Elric. He's easily my favorite character in the fed and his description writing really brings you in. So I'm predicting that Elric's winning streak continues here.
 

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Dr Nero RP #5

15 months ago

The cell door opens and Nero looks up at the sun as he walks out into the yard with the rest of the in mates. He calmly walks towards the weight benches, squinting his eyes from the sunlight, motioning that he wants to use a particular bench. As he walks closer, the crowd of inmates parts like the red sea, as everyone avoids the 6 foot 4, 240 pound new king of the jail yard.

The huge bald headed monster lifting weights quickly stops his session, and brushes off the bench for Nero as the Doctor approaches. He greets Nero with a pretend smile and asks him how is today. Nero doesn’t answer, instead he adds more weights to the barbell as he looks out at his surroundings. The bald headed man backs away as Nero takes off his shirt and sets himself to lift some huge weights. But out of the corner of his eye he sees a group of men talking and amongst them is his former roommate that he sent to the infirmary.

There seems to be something being passed between them and the group sort of disperses. Nero cracks a smile in his stone face and proceeds to begin his workout. Just as he is about to finish his reps a huge man covered in Nazi tattoos grabs the barbell and pushes it down on Nero. A toothless grin accompanies it, when his former room mate the fat biker appears with a shank. He tells Nero if he has any last words. Nero looks up and sees the scars on the man’s face that he put there only two months prior.

Nero: I was wondering if you were going to be stupid enough to get retribution.

Biker: Retra wha?

Nero rolls his eyes before using his strength to bench press the weights and the guy off him with such force that the giant barbell takes out both the biker and his giant stooge. Nero is to his feet like a cat and moves slowly to the Biker kicking his elbow with such force that it not only makes him drop the shank but it makes his whole arm break with a loud snap! The whole yard “oooohs” as Nero turns his attention to the bigger guy who is bleeding like a tap from his forehead from the barbell striking him. Nero front kicks him in the chest and the man flies backwards onto his back and neck.
The Biker is on his knees, yelping in pain saying “my arm” over and over. Nero walks over to him as guards are running over to the commotion. Nero crouches down so he can look the Biker in the eye. His snake like eyes focus on the man’s tears. The Biker cries out and begs for Nero not to kill him.

Nero scoffs at his plead. “Stupid old man. I won’t kill you. I don’t have to. Because I do not fear you.” Nero stands up and looks around. “I DON’T FEAR ANY OF YOU!!” he yells out just as the guards arrive. And then under his breath he whispers, “why would I kill any of you... I’m having too much fun...”

They ask what happened here. Nero tells the guards this man needs help.” He seems to be very clumsy and has hurt himself again.” The guards tend to the men while a radio goes off. The lead guard answers it and complies with his order. “Grab your shirt Nero, the warden wants to see you.”


.........



Nero enters the Warden’s office. He gets a sense of déjà vu as he is asked to sit down. Nero says “Is this going to take long, I’m kind of busy.” He laughs to himself, a joke only he and maybe his former Hospital CEO, who is currently lying in one of his own intensive care beds, would understand.

Warden: Nero, no, my apologies Dr Nero, how are you? I see you are fitting in quite nicely around here.

Nero: I am thank you, and it looks like I’ll be having a cell to myself again for another two months.

Warden: Yes, well I just heard about that. Is that why you attacked your cell mate, just so you could have your own cell?

Nero doesn’t answer, his look says it all. He put his cellmate in the infirmary for two months not because he was defending himself against an aggressive convict, he did it because he wanted his own cell!

Nero: What can I do for you Warden? Do you want me to fix your damaged heart is that it?
The Warden stops his rocking back and forth on his chair. He stares right at Nero.

Warden: Wha? How did you...

Nero: Your eyes are all blood shot, your skin is a pale yellow tinge and you are bloated in places yet extremely thin in others. I was wondering how long it would take you to come to me. You want to save your life. I want out of here. What do you say, do we have a deal?

The Warden is shocked, the “diagnosis” is correct, this genius of a man is all he has said he is and more.

Warden: I will start making some calls, Doctor.

Nero gets up out of his chair. I’ll hear from you soon. In the meantime, I would like my dinner in my cell please, and you will get it from this little restaurant I like. They deliver. He takes a pen from the Warden’s top pocket and writes it down on one of his reports before leaving the room.

The Warden sits back in his chair, looking rather relieved, his life very well could be saved. He has made a deal with the devil. All he has to do now, is get the devil out of prison.

Today

Nero sits outside by himself in a cafe. Wearing a light grey suit and white shirt he sips on his latte while reading the finance section of the newspaper. He nudges his sunglasses back onto his nose as he flips the paper onto the table. He gets out his smart phone to buy a stock option when he notices he has got an email from the PWC Championship Committee. It informs him he has a match this week on Vortex, and it will be a triple threat match. It tells him the rules of the match, how much the winners purse will be and how advanced up the rankings he will move if victorious. It only takes him seconds to read it before going back to his stock option page and quickly buying some stocks. He places the phone into his top pocket and drops some money on the table before getting into his Porsche parked nearby.

The sports car screams off flicking rocks and stones up as it speeds up the motor way. Nero drives silently, thinking to himself. A triple threat match. What does this achieve? Why has been placed in such a match? What probability does it have of injury. So many variables in such a match. Does this match benefit him in any way when he has a earned a shot at the prestigious Legacy Championship. What would be his strategy in this match? Does he refuse to do the match? Will this give him a disadvantage going into his title match? Will it give Islami an advantage going into the title match? Will it provide him with a more rounded wrestling game, therefore providing him with an advantage against Islami, providing he isn’t injured? Does this open the door for Islami to attack him as the match is held under a no disqualification banner?

Nero calculates these thousands of thoughts simultaneously as he turns off the motor way, weaving in between traffic. He has come up with a solution, a decision, one that PWC officials will probably not like. A decision that will show that he plays by his own rules, he is Dr Nero, and he is above every wrestler on the roster and therefore he operates under his own set of laws. He is above any of these rules they would put on him. Why would he compromise. With his skills, his genius, he operates above them, that is why he was set free from prison so quickly. The laws do not apply to him, and neither do those at PWC.

The sun starts to set as Nero’s Porsche pulls into his driveway. The garage door opens as the car flies into it, before squealing to a staggering halt. The door closes behind him as Nero makes his way into his apartment he turns on his TV with a remote and switches it to Skype where he selects to contact the PWC Championship Committee. He removes his jacket and places it neatly on a hook. Everything in his house has a place, even if it is there only temporary.

Nero: Good evening gentlemen, I’m calling in regard to my most recent Circuit match. This match is a triple threat. This match offers me more cons than pros, and seems to be built for the pitiful fans, not for me. Yes the winners purse is quite large, and moving in the rankings is substantial for a match where I will be defeating two men at once. But, the probability of injury is too high. I can be blindsided in such a match. I am a well oiled super focussed wrestling machine. The chaos of such a match does not benefit me when it comes to my scheduled Legacy Championship title opportunity at the PPV. II know how good Islami is and any disadvantage I take into that title match is unacceptable.

You will have to find someone else to amuse your precious fans in this parody of a match, where there is no title or reward other than a little more than a standard match would provide.

Championship Committee member: Oh, Doctor that is a shame. This match was to be the co-main event for Vortex, the #1 rated show on the network. The mass appeal, the huge merchandising, and sponsorship contracts, not only the bragging rights to the rest of the roster on how you bettered two men in the same match, increasing your already invincible aura, will all be lost. Such a shame, but I bet anyone else on the roster will be happy to take your place. There is a tonne of new talent breaking their way into PWC as we speak. All looking very hungry for those top spots. Don’t tell me the great Dr Nero is afraid of a triple threat match?

Nero: Don’t play me gentlemen. Your sarcasm is more than noted, and you should watch your tone when you speak to me. I fear no one. I fear no situation. Your argument has merit. I am incapable of losing. I am incapable of being injured by these two men. And I am incapable of being at any disadvantage against Islami. I have already calculated all the weaknesses of Black and McEfoy. They pose no threat to me and in the last few seconds speaking with you I have already formulated my strategy on defeating them.

Besides Islami has Elric to deal with. I am sure that both men will be for worse when they come out of that match to when they came in. Well played gentlemen, I will wrestle your match. But I will wrestle it my way. The Doctor is in.

Championship Committee: That’s all we ever wanted Doctor. And thank you for accepting the match. It will be an excellent contest and we wish you all the best.

Nero turns the Skype feed off without saying goodbye. The glow of the enormous TV screen is the only light on in the house as during the conversation the sun had set. Nero like a statue stares at the screen. A grin slowly appears on his face, as wrestling the match HIS way and by his rules has pleased him.

He starts removing his shirt and making his way to his bedroom to change for a workout. He is now to put his plan into action, and simulate what he knows will allow him to remove the chaos from the match and dissect both men so not only will he defeat two men, but sustain no injuries what so ever.. especially to his “beautiful” face. He walks past a mirror and stops to check himself out before smiling again.

“I fear no one. I am above the law” he thinks to himself again. “I am above it all”....
 

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Nobody's gay for Moleman.
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"WHY I DON'T LIKE MONDAYS" - A Bob McEfoy RP


Bob McEfoy lays on a bed, looking rather awkward, but a little relieved to have some time away from his manager. It’s strange seeing him without “BT” Brain Taylor around. The room has red walls, looking rather classy. Various certificates don the walls in the background. There’s a window, with the sun shining bright outside, it's a nice Monday afternoon. There's a child’s painting and a photo of a youngish family on a nearby table. Oddly, it adds somewhat of a sense of calmness to the room. A young and intelligent-looking man can be seen in a casual office chair, scribbling notes down. McEfoy speaks.

“I just don’t know, Doc. I’ve tried everything, but nothing works. He’s a great guy and all, but Brain being around me all of the time just isn’t great for my state of mind. I’m not a violent person, yet I agreed to join PWC, following his advice. I’m walking to the ring before matches, seeing my opponent, no matter how big a jackass they are, and thinking “oh man, I don’t want to hurt this bloke.”, yet I still manage to do so. I guess a part of not wanting to wrestle, is that I’m still upset about having to leave my football career behind, which I want to and do feel I should blame on Brain, but I just can’t. I still feel it’s my fault, as I listened to his advice and where did it get me? I was the laughing stock of my country. Arrgh.”

“I understand. We'll get to that wrestling part in a moment, but do you think there’s a reason that you feel the need to have Brain around? Has he become a part of you, I guess?”

“I don’t know. I just don’t understand. I mean, he’s been with me for as long as I can remember, literally. I don’t remember anything after the age of 12, after I suffered a severe football injury. I mean, I don’t even remember my parents, as I was taken out of their custody a year or two before that and I then lived with Brain. He never really wanted to speak about them though, and I feel like he might be hiding something, but it seems an emotional topic for him and I don’t want to bring it up. I guess after being with him for all that time, he should be a part of me. What kind of part though? I’m unsure, and it might be a good thing that I’m not.”


“Hmm, so you know absolutely nothing of your parents, other than them obviously not being capable of looking after you for some reason?”

“Yeah, I know absolutely nothing about them and have no memories of them.”

“Hmm. Well, that seems like it has to have something to do with the Brain situation, but with no more information it’s hard to understand why. Has anything odd occurred lately? Stuff not involving Brain?"

“Well, lately I’ve been having these dreams. They’ve been pretty intense and I always wake up in a horrible frame of mind. It’s crazy, I mean, I’ve woken up shaking a couple of times.”

“What occurred in these dreams?”

McEfoy is visibly anxious. He looks at the therapist, before looking down at the ground. He remains silent.

“Bob, please. I know it’s hard, but it may be important in regards to your issue with Brain. Please tell me.”

*sigh* Okay. Uhh, well they’re really strange. I’ll try to communicate with people in the dreams, but I’m always completely ignored. No matter what I do. Except for this one lovely, old lady. You see, in these dreams I don’t feel like a man in them either, I feel really vulnerable. This old lady will care for me though, I fell kind of save around her. This is where it gets intense though. Every dream, this one drunken scum-looking man just attacks her, right in front of me. I want to stop it, but my legs become jelly and I can’t move my arms. I have literally no emotional attachment to this lady, but yet, it feels hard to watch, as it would be in any situation, but it feels like I’ve been here before. Before the dreams started.”

“Hmm. Well… hmm.
---- *writing*
---- *writing*
---- *reading*
---- *writing*
Well, did you have a grandmother you were close to?”

"I was close to NONE of my relatives."

"Hmm...
---- *reading*
Tell me about how your football career ended again."

“No, please don’t make me speak of “the incident”. I can’t. He was always a little rascal, but he didn’t deserve that. I could have killed him."

Bob puts his face in his hands, obviously still distraught about this incident.

“You don’t have to talk about the incident, just why it occurred.”

Bob is still choking up a little from the horrible memories.

"Well, I was following some advice from Brain and “the incident” occurred.”

“Hmm…. Wait, perhaps these dreams are a metaphor!”

“A metaphor?”

“Well, you absolutely loved your football career, right?”

“It was the only thing I lived for.”

“MAYBE.. just, maybe. It’s a long shot, but perhaps that old lady is your football career and the guy who’s always beating her up is Brain.”

“Hmm… Okay, yeah. Maybe… yeah!”

“Uh-huh?”

The therapist seems pretty proud of himself, for some reason. He should be solving stuff like this all the time.

“Wait, no. What about my parents? How at all does this relate to them?”

“……………………………………………………. Well…………………………………………. Shit. You need professional help, Mr. McEfoy.”

“You ARE professional help.”

“Yeah, I have to run. You keep the change.”

The “therapist” leaves the office, leaving Bob there to think to himself.

“……………….FUCK!”

Bob then also leaves clearly pissed off. He was so close to finding the root of his problems and maybe finally being able to deal with Brain. It seemed that without those 12 year old memories, unless he could convince BT to tell him of his parents, the problem would remain, so that’s exactly what he’d do…

:homer2 :homer2 :homer2 :homer2

Brain “BT” Tyler is sitting on the couch, watching golf. It’s a quiet, yet sunny day. He almost seems normal for once. However, his face doesn’t have a look of normality. More that of concern. “Big Boy” Ben McEfoy, the one person in this world that “BT” cared for in this world was out, “dealing with business. It seems a sunny day, but Brain has all the curtains closed, so only small glimmers of light can be seen. Brain sighs as he watches the golf, obviously concerned about what this “business” may be, when suddenly a small ring comes from the computer.

Brain, curious, walks over to it, and gives the mouse a small shake, removing the screensaver. It goes to the desktop, however an open window can be seen at the bottom. Brain clicks on it, it’s “Big Boy”’s email! Logged in and everything. Tyler shakes his head and slowly gets up out the seat and backs away.

“WOWEE… No! BIG BOY.. WOWEE deserves some priv.. WOWEE!”

He runs back and slowly scrolls through the messages, until something odd appears. “Monday therapy session confirmed.”

“Oh, no.. WO.. no. Big Boy, oh no. WOWEE, no.”

Despite his usual random outbursts of the word “WOWEE”, some fear and concern is heard in Tyler’s voice. It’s unusual, and also a little eerier. He’s visibly shaken, as if he’d been hiding something that would be found out.

“No, Big Bo… Bob… No.”

:homer2 :homer2 :homer2 :homer2

McEfoy opens the door to the house, ready to find some answers. He walks through the front entrance and into the office room, which leads to the lounge room.

“Alright, BT, no running from this anymore. You will answer my questions…..
……
……
BT?”


McEfoy notices his emails opened. He punches the desk before heading towards the lounge room.

“DAMN IT, BT! Why would you? Get out here, BT. BT? No….”

McEfoy sees BT face down on the couch. He’s breathing, but not just sleeping.

“BT!”

---TO BE CONTINUED---

:homer2 :homer2 :homer2 :homer2
 

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The RP's coming on OK.

Singles Match:
Blaze vs. Jack Hayden

Can't go against JAM.

Singles Match:
Flex Mussel vs. Harvey Parker

Don't like predicting my own matches, but Dynamite uses Flex in another fed, so he has experience with the character, something I lack.

Singles Match:
Microburst vs. Famine

For being a badass character.

Singles Match:
Daiko vs. Derek Jacobs

Depends if Meeks can get something excellent here. He's capable of doing so, but he's hit or miss, so I'll go with the more consistent Daiko.

Triple Threat Match:
Darius Black vs. Bob McEfoy vs. Dr. Nero

I've heard good things about Darius Black. I remember being jobbed to Nero when I left the first time, so I'm not sure what he can do.

Main Event:
Muhammed Islami vs. Kyle Elric

Like the Islami gimmick, but I'd argue Elric has the most momentum here.
 

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It wasn't supposed to be this easy.

Derek Jacobs had thought that since Vortex 9 a couple of weeks ago. Since he took Lane Walker and turned him into a bag of flesh and a pile of bones. He broke that poor kid's spirit, and he hasn't been seen since. Derek didn't have time to celebrate, though. He didn't have time to revel in one victory, he knows what happens when you take your eyes off the prize.

The prize gets that much further away.

Instead, Derek is back in the expansive gym that his mentor and best friend, James Parker owns in downtown Chicago. This gym has become almost a second home to Derek, he's spent almost every waking moment here ever since he decided to return to wrestling. He decided that the mistakes he made in the past wouldn't happen again. He would be bigger, faster, stronger.

Even more dangerous than ever before.

As Derek focuses on his workout, James and Derek's PWC Liaison observe from James' office on the second floor of the massive building. Even though James knows the man's identity, he has worn somewhat of a disguise to keep himself hidden from the public's view, as James' gym isn't private. After watching Derek punish the weights on the various machines, he turns and begins to speak to James.

I must say James, you were right about Derek. His power is unmatched in PWC, and on top of that, he's as agile as someone half his size. With the right motivation and training, he could become the most dangerous man the company has ever seen. I'm almost tempted to reveal our little plan to the public sooner rather than later.

I agree completely. Derek has become more motivated in recent weeks than I've ever seen him. He's really put his faith into your plan for him. I have to say though, the last time he put his faith in someone, he got burned real bad.

I know, James. I'm really quite aware of Derek's relationship with the preacher, and the aftermath of it. Sad really, if he would've seen the passion that is in Derek, he would've stayed on his good side.

James looks out the window again, and this time he sees Derek tossing around the heavy bag that he uses to practice his takedowns. As he registers what the man in the room with him is saying, a look of concern crosses his face. The man notices and puts his hand on James' shoulder.

James, I promise you that I have Derek's best interests in heart. With me at his side, he can turn into the monster he was meant to be, but I will need help. Nothing can be known at this time about my hand in Derek's molding, so I ask that you be his manager at ringside. Derek is like a bull in a china shop, and when he loses focus he's more dangerous to himself than he is his opponents. Go to the ring with him, help him keep his focus. If anyone can help me mold him into the animal he needs to become it's you.

James considers the offer for a moment. He's right, Derek is an uncontrollable animal, but if someone could help him keep his focus, he would be unstoppable. James extends his and and the man shakes it.

Deal. You're right, if anyone can help control our beast, it's me. I'll do it.

Just then, Derek enters the office. After sitting down and taking a bottle of water out of James' fridge, Derek acknowledges the men that just shook hands.

I assume by the handshake you two came to terms on something. What is the next step now?

I was just leaving, James. You can inform Derek of our agreement. I'll be in touch over the next couple of days with information on your next opponent, Derek. Stay sharp.

James turns to address Derek as the man leaves the room.

It's simple, Derek. We've come to the conclusion that you need someone at ringside to keep you focused on the task at hand. You did amazing at Vortex, but you could have very well gotten yourself disqualified by keeping Walker in that submission for as long as you did after the bell rang. Those kind of mistakes can't be tolerated.

Derek nods his head in agreement with James.

I know man, I'm sorry about that. I don't know what came over me. Maybe it was just the rush of competing again after 4 months off. I don't know, but when I got him in that hold, I could've kept him there until he choked to death. Knowing that his life was in my hands was a feeling I've never felt before. It was almost euphoric. Who did you guys decide was going to manage me anyway?

A wide grin envelops James' face as he says one word in response.

Me.

Three days later, Derek is back in the gym. This time, instead of working out, he sits in front of the same camera he used to address the PWC audience before his debut match. In his hand is a card with one word; the name of his opponent.

Daiko

Derek holds the car up with the name facing the camera.

A couple of weeks ago, at Vortex 9, I made my PWC debut, and reintroduced myself to wrestling fans who knew me before. In eight minutes and forty-two seconds, I established myself as the number one can't miss rookie in PWC, and put the entire locker room on notice. I sent a message that no matter who you are, if you're in my way I will take you out.

I'll hurt you.

Also last week, a man that has been universally hated in this company heard something for the first time that I don't think he was all that used to. He heard you people cheering for him.

That man was Daiko.

Daiko is also my opponent this week, which puts me in a compromising position, honestly. See Daiko, I like you. Your ruthlessness is something to be admired, and ever since you've been here you haven't given a damn about what people thought about you. But last week, I saw something in your eyes that made me want to throw up.

You respected those people cheering you.

Allow me to let you in on a little secret. Those people who cheered you? They don't give a damn about you. You're just a puppet to them. Night in and night out, you try to prove that you're the best this world has to offer and they boo you for it, and then one night they decide they like you?

I call bullshit.

They're using you, Daiko. They're using you just like they've used countless other puppets. And when your body gives out and you have nothing left, they'll abandon you just like they did all the others.

You see, Daiko, these people used me once. They used me and I fed off of their energy, their passion I was on top of the world. And then when I was driven from my home and lost everything that I had?

They forgot about me.

They're going to forget about you too, Daiko. They'll forget about you after Vortex 10 because I won't let them use you like they used me. I'll put you out of your misery before that happens.

Consider it a mercy killing.

With that Derek takes a lighter and lights the card on fire before throwing it to the ground. He then walks out of the room.

OOC: Feedback appreciated again guys! Thanks!
 

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Five Years Ago:
Meeting Dom Part 1:
Mental Institution - Cafeteria

*Darius is sat alone in the cafeteria of a Mental Institution. A man suddenly sits opposite from him, looking Darius straight in the eyes.

Man: Hey man, hey, I'm talking to you. You gonna' eat that?

Darius: Yeah I am, what the fuck do you want? I don't talk to people 'round here.

Man: I see you sitting here by your lonesome all the time. What are you in here for anyway?

Darius: I'll ask again, what the fuck are you after?

The man is struggling trying to utter his next sentence, as Darius is looking off in to the distance eating bread.

Man: Don't be like that man. I'm like you, we both think we shouldn't be in here, right? We're both ordinary, and being branded insane is an insult.

Darius: Listen, I don't want to hurt your feelings, but I'm fucking nothing like you or any of these scumbags in here. They're all pathetic, look at them, it only takes a few minutes before a fight breaks out. They simply can't be trusted to act justified and just fucking eat their food. I mean look at this shit we're eating with, fucking plastic forks and knives. I'm not a little kid anymore, and I wouldn't be stupid enough to stab someone with some god damn cutlery. Difference between you and me is that I'll be out of here soon enough. Mark my words.

Man: Truth is, I just want someone normal to talk with. I can't remember the last time I had an actual conversation in here, this is one of the first. At least tell me what your name is, I'm Dom, short for Dominic.

Dom holds his hand out for a handshake, as Darius looks at him with a disgusted stare.

Darius: Ugh, my so called friends used to call me Darius. It caught on. I fucking hate my given name and refuse to be called by it. Stupidest thing I did in here was attack a guard for using my real name. He deserved it though.

Dom: So, why are you in here again?

Darius: It's a long story, and not one I share with some douchebag who just interrupted my lunch. Now if you will excuse me, DOM. I'm finished..

Dominic stays sat at the table and reaches over and grabs the last piece of bread from Darius' plate before smirking and uttering the words: "I like that guy."

Five Years Ago:
Dr. Peterson
Mental Instituation - Psychiatrist

Darius reluctantly knocks on the door, as his Psychiatrist answers and welcomes him in.

Dr. Peterson: Ah Darius, you finally made it. Take a seat please, we have a lot to talk about.

Darius sits down on the chair, and looks out of the barred rainy window. Dr. Peterson can be seen sitting opposite to him.

Dr. Peterson (con't): First things first, what happened to our meeting last week?

Darius: Sorry Doc, I wasn't feeling it, and quite frankly being stuck in that padded cell constantly isn't exactly making me want to do anything.

Dr. Peterson: That's understandable I guess. I received a report from one of the guards yesterday about your shouting in your cell, would you like to explain that to me?

Darius: Well, unlike most of those out there that constantly beat eachother up and are a general nuisance. I take my aggression out on my cell, it's padded and it's the best way for me to clear the head. Unless you want me to pursue other methods?

Dr. Peterson: No no, of course not. I have no problems with that as long as you're not hurting yourself or anybody else. So, how have you been getting on in general?

Darius: I'm getting by. I finally made conversation the other day. I wasn't the one to start it, but this guy called Dom started talking to me. Crazy thing is, I actually thought he was okay, but I don't want to become friends with anyone in here. I just want to do my time and get out.

Dr. Peterson: Ah, Mr. Roberts. Yes, he's been a patient of ours for quite some time. He used to be a real nuisance at first but he's really settled down lately. It's good you're making progress, there's a select few in this place that I feel have the potential to be a respecful person when they leave here. You are one of them Darius, don't screw that up.

Darius: You know, you're alright Doc. It's good to have someone normal to talk to every once in a while..

Dr. Peterson: Keep it up Darius. You're free to go now if you want too, see you again next week.

Darius walks out of the office, and breathes a sigh of relief.

Darius: Thank fuck that's over...

Current Day:
Backstage
Hammerstein Ballroom - PWC

Darius is stood at the wall with a hood on looking down and muttering to himself.

Darius: They finally give me a match, and who it is against? Two fucking jobbers. Who the fuck gives a shit about surgeon Nero or that goofy idiot McEfoy? I've had a enough of this shit, a man of my caliber deserves better than this. I should be headlining every show, and no one is going to deny that as no one around here has any balls, they're all just a bunch of pussies. Put me in a handicap match against them all, I don't care. What I do care about is my fucking dignity, I DO NOT want to be seen in the same ring as two clowns and I'll make sure the match finishes quickly and efficiently and with the least effort possible displayed by me.

And one last thing, Angels don't belong in heaven, they belong in hell. And that motherfucker Austin Angel is in for a death wish. We don't play with fairies in my playground.
 

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Discussion Starter #11
The scene opens a regular sized room with gray, boring walls. A good-sized bed with white sheets and a lamp on the desk near the bed. To anyone, this would be a pretty good place to live in, especially if they had no choice. But to Manny Gomez, this was yet another journey in his young life that he had to take on by himself…yet again.

Manny: Why is there no TV in my room?

Female Orphanage Worker: The TV is in the play room Manny so everyone can watch TV together.

The lady lets go of Manny’s hand and sets down his stuff. She begins putting them away in the drawers as Manny just looks around the room, not pleased that there is no TV in his room. While the female orphanage worker puts his stuff away, Manny takes a step out to explore his new home, his new orphanage home.

Manny seen a lot of the other kids running around seemingly playing tag with one another but he wasn’t interested in that. Manny passed by a lot of the other orphanage workers but no one really paid attention to him despite being a chubby, chunky kid. Finally, Manny entered an area that looked bigger than the others. Here, he saw the other kids playing with toys and many orphanage workers giving their attention to these kids. He looks around and finally spots what he’s being looking for, the TV.

Manny: There it is.

Manny inches closer to the television as he tries to maneuver his way around the much taller orphanage workers and other kids. Despite only being eight years old, Manny has had an in luchador wrestling and it shows as Manny has a blue shirt on with a random luchador on the front. Manny is now near the television and sees the remote next to it. However, a bunch of other kids are watching a cartoon and seem to be enjoying it. Paying no mind to this, young Manny takes the remote and changes the channel which angers the other kids.

A commotion starts to begin and Manny becomes scared at all the yelling. Before long, another orphanage worker comes to stop the situation and turns to Manny, who has the remote control in his hands.

Male Orphanage Worker: Hey, you must be Manny right?

Manny simply nods his head.

Male Orphanage Worker: Well Manny, I know you’re new around here. But here, we decide what you guys can watch so that it’s fair for everyone okay? No big deal. Just don’t do it again alright?

Manny nods his head and hands the man the remote. He looks at the other kids who are still angry at him which is evident on their faces. Manny then takes this time to go back to his room and sees that all his stuff is put away nicely. He closes the door and hops on his bed. He reaches under his pillow before his eyes go wide. Looking rattled, Manny hurriedly jumps off his bed and begins looking underneath his bed and all around his room. What could he possibly be looking for? He waddles over to his bag and digs through it but no cigar, he still keeps looking. The woman who put away his stuff comes into his room hearing Manny tear apart his room looking for something.

Female Orphanage Worker: Manny, what’s wrong?

Manny: Where’s my luchador mask? I had it right under my pillow. Did you see it? Please tell me you saw it.

Female Orphanage Worker: Oh Manny, I’m sorry. I saw it under your pillow and it was dirty so I decided to give it a wash and give it back to you.

Manny: You washed it? No no no. Give it back. Give it back please!

The female orphanage worker is shocked at Manny’s behavior. What she thought was a good gesture actually angered Manny. She leaves the room to get the mask and before long, she’s back with the mask. It’s a blue and red luchador mask. He snatches it away from her and looks at it. He whimpers but there’s nothing he can do now. He holds it in his hands checking every part. He’s still looking down but begins to talk.

Manny: I’d like to be alone now please.

Female Orphanage Worker: Manny, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you’d be upset. I thought I was doing something good for you.

Manny: It’s fine. Please, I just want to be alone right now.

And with that, she leaves Manny in his room. Tears begin failing down Manny’s face. You can hear him whimper as his shoulders shake. Before long, Manny takes the luchador mask and puts it over his face whether to hide his face from crying or to remember his roots in Mexico, we don’t know.

--

Leo: Kid? Kid? Kid!

Manny snaps back into reality as we’re now in an office-looking place. The person calling his name is Leo, who is Manny’s trainer now. As the cameras zoom out, we see that Manny has that same mask in his hands that he had in his childhood back at that orphanage.

Leo: Kid, you alright?

Manny: Yeah, yeah I’m alright. Sorry Leo. I’ll get back out there.

Leo: You sure kid? You don’t look too good. And you’re holding that again?

Manny: Oh this? You know what this is?

Manny had the mask behind him trying to hide his mask but he brings it out in front of Leo because Leo knew what was up.

Leo: Of course I do. You told me about it. This was your first luchador mask. It’s special kid, that’s for sure.

Manny: Yeah, a lot of memories with this one. Good memories, bad memories. But that one memory that I can’t forget –

Leo: Yeah well. You’re in a better place now kid. Don’t dwell on the past. Just keep looking forward to the future. Speaking of which, you’re making your debut on PWC. You need to get ready.

Manny: I am ready Leo. I’ve trained twice as hard since PWC signed me to a contract. I want to make you proud, I want to make this gym proud, but more importantly, I want to make myself proud.

Leo: No doubt you will kid. You’re probably the hardest working person in this gym if I’m honest and that’s saying something. You know anything about your opponent though?

Manny ponders this a bit, rubbing on his chin, contemplating how to answer this question from Leo.

Manny: Yeah, I do. I’m up against another guy who’s making his debut, Jack Hayden. Honestly, this guy seems like someone I’d get along with just fine but the thing is, we’re opponents come Vortex 10. I know you taught me to always focus and that’s what I’m doing Leo. I’m focused. I’m focusing on what the future will hold for Manny Gomez. Hell, they signed me as Blaze, my luchador name. You don’t know how excited I am for this.

Leo: I get you kid. I’ve been where you’ve been. But don’t get too excited. It’s a whole ‘nother ballpark out there in the big leagues kid. You gotta be ready because you don’t know what your opponent will throw at you. Have you read the scouting report on your opponent by the way? He seems just as hard a worker as you are.

Manny nods his head taking in the words of his trainer. He takes another look at the mask he’s had since he was a kid before addressing his trainer.

Manny: Oh I know it’s a whole different game out there Leo. I mean, everyone who makes it in PWC is good. PWC doesn’t accept just anyone to wrestle in their company. They only accept the best of the best and well, that’s why I’m here. I believe I’m one of the best. I gotta have this mindset if I want to be successful in this business.

With confidence reigning in Manny’s tone, Leo begins nodding his head, impressed with his young protégé’s attitude.

Manny: You say that Jack Hayden is hard a worker as I am? Thanks for telling me that Leo. It’s good to know that there are people like that but you see, that just motivates me a whole lot. It motivates me to work twice as hard, thrice as hard, hell, 4 times as hard as I have. So as far as Jack Hayden is concerned, I admire his work ethic, I really do. And hey, maybe he and I can become buddies after our match. But it just so happens that we’re opponents first and foremost and I have to beat him. He’s my first test and I have to prove to myself that I can prove my doubters wrong. All those people who thought I wouldn’t amount to anything because of what I was like as a kid, I need to prove them wrong.

Manny takes another look at Leo before looking at his first luchador mask. He puts it over his face, a little small now but it still fits, sort of.

Manny: So if you’re wondering if I’m ready Leo…Hell yes, I’m ready. Let’s continue training!

With that, Manny exits the office and goes back to his training. Leo can do nothing but smile to himself as he’s happy for his young protégé. Only time will tell if Manny Gomez aka Blaze is a success.
 

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Hayden: “Wait What?”

Mickey: “You heard me, here I’ll show you if I can get this stupid machine to work”


Mickey starts hitting the computer, which basically looks a box and could still very well still be running Windows 98.

Hayden: “Move out the way, here let me have a look. I swear to god if you are bullshitting me…”

Hayden stops speaking and starts staring at the screen. There it was, an email from Ernesto Clement. An email address, as well as telephone number and personal mobile phone number were left at the bottom of the email asking Hayden to get in contact with the Owner of PWC as soon as possible.

Mickey: “Well what are you waiting for kid? Call him”

Hayden pressed the mobile number into his phone, read the number out loud three times before finally pressing call, before sighing and listening to the dial tone. Just as Hayden is about to hang up there is an answer

Hayden: “Hello, ahh this is Jack Hayden. You said you wanted me to get in contact with you sir.”

***

Three men as well as two women are standing at the airport all talking, with the tallest man looking like he is the one departing. The loudspeaker sounds out again, no one knows what the muffled loud voice says exactly, other than that it is time to board. The large man is Hayden, with a plain backpack on his back and boarding pass in hand. One of the other men is his father, a shorter man than he is, at about 5’9” with a beard and black cap over his long hair which funnels into a pony tail. The other is Mickey, his trainer. Its uncharacteristic of him to do something like this, the old man has gone through the wars in his life. His children are overseas and his wife passed away a few years ago, and his years of running his gym and training wrestlers are coming to an end. He and Hayden had bonded over the years, with Hayden spending more time at his gym training than anything else. Through all of this Mickey saw Hayden more as a son than a wrestler he had trained. The two women were his mother, a woman with brown short hair who is quite visibly holding back tears, upset about the fact that her son is leaving to live in a different country; and Hayden’s sister who despite being 10 years older than Hayden looks about the same age due to her short stature at about 5’3”.

Hayden: “Well I better go board now I guess, umm I’ll call you guys when I land to let you know everything went well okay.”

Hayden walked over and hugs his father

Hayden’s Father: “Good Luck son and stay safe, take care of yourself and don’t do anything stupid you hear.”


Hayden: “Thanks dad”

Hayden Sister then comes up to him and squeezes him as she starts to cry before giving him a kiss on the cheek and saying goodbye. His Mother was next in line to say goodbye, and a tear started to develop in Hayden’s right eye as he kisses his mother on the forehead.

Hayden’s Mother: “Go get them son, go out there and show them what you are made of. Just remember when you do stupid things you get hurt.”

Hayden: “Mum, my job is to fight people, getting hurt is part of the job” Hayden replies jokingly as he hugs his mother again.

Hayden’s Mother: “I love you, please be safe.”

Hayden: “I love you too mum.”


Last was Mickey. The two men looked at each other, the teacher and student just shared in a solemn hand shake before saying thank you to his mentor. Before taking a few steps back from the group.

Hayden: “I guess I’ll see you when I see you, hopefully next time I’m here I get stopped by security for carrying a nice piece of gold around my weight. I love all you guys, I’ll make you proud.”

Hayden then turned and headed towards the boarding area with the flock of other passengers making the same trip to the US. He turned around once smiling at the group as both his mother and sister waved to him, before he headed down the ramp and headed towards the plane that would take him towards the biggest step in his life. Only as he entered the plane he started to think to himself. ‘What have I gotten myself into?’

***

Loud Speaker: “Welcome to Texas ladies and gentleman, we hope you enjoyed the flight and we hope that you enjoy your stay.”


Hayden wearily gets out his chair and heads for the door, he is by no means a bad traveller the only problem is he can’t sleep on his flight, so the first thing he wanted to do was to find a cab and get to his hotel room. So he collected his baggage as quick as possible and headed outside. He managed to signal a cab pretty quickly and as he through his suitcase in the back he noticed a quite attractive brunette signalling for a cab aswell.

Hayden: “Hey Miss, where are you headed?”

Brunette: “Umm my Hotel, the San Antonio Marriott Rivercenter”

Hayden: “I’m staying there as well, jump in, we can split the fee”


The brunette hesitated before finally smiling and heading over to the cab, as Hayden helped her put her back in the back before they both jumped in.

Hayden: “Marriott Rivercentre my good man” directed at the driver.

Brunette: “Hey thanks for letting me ride with you, appreciate it”


Hayden looked at the woman, she was even more attractive than he expected. He bright smile complimented her cute nose and light brown eyes.

Hayden: “Yeah no problem,”

Brunette: “My name is Dominique by the way, but my friends just call me Dom.” She extended her hand out.

Hayden: “Pleasure to meet you, I’m Jack.” As he shook her hand.

Dom: “You’re not from here are you?”

Hayden: “Nah, I’m from Adelaide, South Australia. I’m guessing your from around here then?”
Dom: “Nah. I’m actually from Washington. Why are you here of all places then?”

Hayden: “Work, yourself”

Dom: “Well long story short my life fell to pieces back home, my boyfriend cheated on me, my work closed down and everything basically turned to shit. So I decided to travel across America for a bit of a holiday, just going from place to place staying where I can until I find somewhere that I feel happy. Enough about me, what do you do then? Are you are model or something?”

Hayden: “Bahh I wish, nah I’m not.”

Dom: “Well what do you do then?”

Hayden: “Actually, believe it or not I’m a professional wrestler.”

Dom: “So you beat people up for a living then?”

Hayden: “Not exactly, I just try to beat them in a match…. So yeah basically I beat people up for a living.”


The two continued to chat until they reached their hotel. Hayden paid the whole feel refusing to let Dom go halves, as the two walked into the lobby together to sign in.

Dom: “Hey, well I don’t know anyone over here and have no plans for tonight or anything, and seeing as you paid the fee, I was wondering if I could take you out for some drinks or something?”

Hayden: “Yeah that sounds great”


Hayden looked at his phone, his debut was not tomorrow but the day after. And to Hayden’s disbelief it was only 10am in the morning.

Hayden: “To be honest with you I’m exhausted, so how about I met you tonight down here at 7.”

Dom: “That sounds perfect to me, see you then.”


Hayden watched as she caught the elevator up, before heading up to his hotel room to ring home and get some well needed rest.

***

Hayden awoke the next morning with Dom next to him in his bed. They hadn’t had sex the night before, but both still enjoyed the night together. Hayden had to leave the bed though and head out to train. Before going out the night before he had met Ernesto Clement and signed his contract as well as finding out his first opponent, Blaze, another debutant. He left a note explaining the situation to Dom on why he had to leave to train as well as that he enjoyed the night and left her his number to ring him if she would like to catch up again.

He headed down to the gym and did the basic cardio and weights stuff before heading back to his hotel to do research on his opponent Blaze. There wasn’t a whole lot about him, he is American and a luchador who is known to finish his matches with a variation of a cutter and a double jump moonsault. Just as he started to work on a plan to combat this the phone rang.

Hayden: “Hello, this is Jack Hayden Speaking.”

Mickey: “When have you ever answered the phone like that in your life?”

Hayden: “Still can’t leave me alone can you old man?”

Mickey: “Look well listen up, Ive been doing some research on this Blaze fella you are fighting. And I know you only look at the obvious stuff because you are a bit slow and all but I’ve found out some extra stuff that you wouldn’t have found. For example, did you know he was well versed in kickboxing and striking other than just high flying moves?”

Hayden: “Ahhh…”

Mickey: “Exactly, anyway as I was saying…”


The two talked and developed a game plan against the opponent. Hayden would have to rely on his power as Blaze looks to be far quicker, and their striking game looks to be equal. The slower the match becomes the more it will favour Hayden as well as protecting himself from kicks whilst targeting his arms, as they have been broken in Blaze’s younger years. And basically Hayden just needed to keep his composure fighting in front of the large crowd as well as TV cameras.

Mickey: “That’s it kid, that’s all I can help you with. Go get them, and remember once you hit someone with the Mickey Driver, they aren’t getting up.”

Hayden: “Thanks and I know. How did you find out all this stuff anyway?”

Mickey: “I have my ways.”


Mickey had hung up after that.

Hayden headed back to the gym to focus on this game plan. Practicing catching kicks and working over opponents arms. As well as how to avoid or counter high flying moves. By the time he let the gym it was 6 at night and he grabbed something to eat before returning to his hotel for the night.

He went to bed knowing that the next day would be the biggest day of his life.​
 

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Well since I can't think of anything good for my RP yet, I'll do the next best thing and provide feedback for all RPs posted shortly.
 

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No Kings
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Seven Years Ago
New York City, New York​

As a smog-laden breeze of an overcast day segued into damp mists of a full-moon night, the lowly entity known only as Famine sensed he was being followed through his own labyrinth of poverty. As dusk’s last breath expired and gave way to the depths of night, the silhouette of his burlap shawl, flapping akin to a cape as he ran parallel to the streets, became darker than the grime beneath his toe and fingernails. His left hand - his only hand - gripped a brown rat by the tail that limped around in the artificial wind as city traffic whipped past him. He was down to his last rat, and thus his last meal - at least until the sewers would flood and bring about a new colony. Whether the people pursuing him were simply fellow vagabonds or criminals looking to score valuables (of which he clearly did not have), he had to protect his feast - and his life - at all costs.

As Famine ducked into a barren alleyway, he found himself budding up against a brick wall topped with barbed wire. Distant scrapes of footsteps became nearer as he turned to see the pursuers, two men, standing before a backdrop of steam from a sewer hole. Famine, appropriate to his namesake, had not the strength to fight back. His back literally against the wall, he slithered down.

“Well, well, well.” one of the pursuers exclaimed. “The Diaz Brothers finally meet the Ratboy.”

“We've been watching you,” the other said, brandishing a handgun from his coat pocket. “You may not have money, but I’m sure gonna enjoy ripping that other arm off, freak!”

The men drew closer. The rat Famine held had slid out of his hand as he had seemingly given up hope. Suddenly, a shadowy figure began to emerge from behind the attackers. Was he an ally of theirs? All sound was suddenly clear to Famine as he heard the shadowy figure’s boots coming to a stop, scraping the concrete below them.

"Funny thing." the figure said in a gravelly, muffled voice. "I've been watching him too." He reached into his long coat and pulled what appeared to be a brightly glowing orb. "But perhaps you should try watching this instead."

“What the hell is that?” one of the brothers inquired, shielding their faces from the light. "You know this guy, Baz?"

“Hell no I don't, Nacho, but that's a nice coat he's wearing." Baz, said taking note of the suave coat illuminated by the glow, "Come on, holmes, we can fuck with hombre rata any time we want. But first, let's shoot this rich bastard and take him for his shit!"

“This is a mixture of Hydrogen Peroxide, Trichlorophenyl, Ethyl Acetate, Sodium Acetate, and Mercury.” the mysterious man said. “Go ahead and shoot, cretin."

"Fuck you, old man!" Baz exclaimed.

The object’s illumination produced a luster upon the shadowy man’s hand and arm as if they were made of metal. As the glow further approached the hoodlums, their demeanor became one of slight panic mixed with an air of opportunity to come away with actual wealth.

The mysterious man continued to draw nearer. Famine, Baz and Nacho could suddenly see the reflection of their respective visages in the mirror-like eyes of the gas mask the mysterious man appeared to be wearing. In an instant, an ear-piercing, apparent desperation shot rang out from one of the brothers, striking the orb - a glass vial in actuality. An explosion of colored gases ensued, dazing the men and making them writhe in agony.

He grabbed both blinded men and performed a DDT onto the cold concrete, splitting their heads open as they further choked into a state of unconsciousness.

The light was extinguished and darkness reigned again, save for the distant flames of street lights all but secluded from the depths of the alleyway. The murmur of sirens intermingled with work-a-night world traffic in the distance, much too far away from being able to save the likes of the ragged Famine.

It was down to the gas-masked man and the armless man. The gases had reached Famine as his head softly met the cold concrete below.

***​

Famine woke in an unknown room before a roaring fire. He lay on a spring mattress, his ear pressed to it, able to hear the rhythm of his heartbeat. From the other ear, sounds of metal clinking seemed to protrude from a slightly cracked door that lead down-a-ways. Famine mustered the strength to stand up, clenching his concave stomach. As he made his way down the stairs, careful to grip the handrail, he found himself staring at the back of the gas-masked savior, who was tinkering at a workbench littered with assorted tools and chemicals. An electric lamp swung above him. The man often twisted the fine edges of his graying mustache as he used various small tools.

As Famine turned away from the man, in conjunction with the lamp’s swing, he briefly saw the illumination of what appeared to be several animal cages.

“Synchronicity,” the man said in a gravelly voice without turning around. “I emphasized that so much, the song by the Police was once my theme."

“Theme?” Famine replied.

“In the circuit.”

“The circus?”

The man turned around to reveal his weathered, mustachioed face, “The wrestling circuit. That move I used back there was a wrestling move - a DDT.”

With the mention of wrestling, Famine suddenly was inundated with distorted visions and reverberated sounds of American wrestling he once watched with his father on bootleg channels in a laboratory setting.

“I had been following you for some time because of your arm there," the man said, his metallic arm now revealed and glistening in the faint light. "As you can see, I once suffered from the same affliction."

“What do you want from me?" Famine inquired.

"I want you to become my apprentice." the man replied.

Famine sensed that the man was a scientist. "I don't know anything about," Famine started but paused. Again, more images and sounds of his past inundated his mind. A laboratory, screaming, and constant alarms among them.

"Science?" the man replied. "Science can be any number of things. The synchronicity between the typical sciences and, say, wrestling, for instance, is boundless; the structures, the reactions. 'Tis all one.”

"You know those men who attacked you earlier? Let's just say it's a good thing I was there. They were very dangerous." The man picked up a small metal rod and slowly crept across room toward the cages, obscured yet by the shadows. He walked slowly before them, rattling the rod across them like a xylophone. And with that, several menacing growls, like those from wild animals, seemed to protrude from the cages. Slight human groans seemed to emanated from one of them, though it was shrouded in darkness.

“What are you going to do with them?” inquired Famine.

“We’ll worry about that later.” replied the man. “But for now, how about a true meal? You can tell me your story over it. I’m sure it’s fascinating.”

Famine obliged, only to ask one more question. “What is your name?”

“By birth, my name is Gary Dennis,” he paused, “But to my associates, I am known exclusively by one moniker,” he paused again.

“Pestilence.”

2014
AT&T Center, San Antonio, Texas

The camera pans down a silvery metal arm. The fingers wiggle about before settling into a tight grip. It is revealed that Gary and Famine (the owner of the aforementioned arm) are standing in a balcony of the AT&T center, watching stoically over the entire area - especially the empty ring below.

Gary: The trouble with fate... is that it eventually comes knocking at the door. You, to some, may appear as one who would inspire nightmares; but on the contrary it is actually you who has always been enveloped by them. But, I know, for every horror of the past, there is a hope for the future - if only a faint shard. Fate is knocking...

Gary: But enough of my diatribes. I want to show you something.

The two make their way slowly down to the ring. A chill seems to fill the arena as Gary removes the canvas from the ring to reveal strange markings scrawled on the boards.

Famine: What is this? That's not a...

Gary: Just a little transmutation circle.

Famine: We agreed to only attempt to use these in the lab!

Gary: The ring is the laboratory, remember? Our new laboratory, where the dream will eventually come true. But, sadly, I think you misunderstand, we're certainly not going to use this circle...

Famine: Good, now get rid of that. We're not here to cheat, and we're certainly not here to hurt people. Remember synchronicity? Remember your words? If we weren't going to follow structure, I'd be fighting on the street right now instead.

Gary: Yes, yes of course.

Gary sees Famine off to the back as he re-covers the ring with the canvas using his left arm - his only arm.

Gary: After all these years together he still has much to learn. Was giving him my arm not enough to earn his trust? Of course we're not going to use this circle. Yet.
 

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The following is an infomercial brought to you and paid for by Flex Mussél

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Flex: Hi, I’m Flex Mussél, and I used to be just like you. I was Overweight, unattractive, and generally lacking in physical strength and confidence. But then I decided I was sick of being the scum of the Earth, and I was sick of needing to buy plus sized clothes so I took personal responsibility and used what little determination I had to get healthier. It wasn’t easy, and it took me awhile but eventually I came to achieve the physical perfection you see today.

Mussél then flexes his biceps toward the camera to emphasize his muscles.

Flex: But it’s not about getting to the top of the mountain, it’s about staying there. I’m in the gym everyday keeping my body lean and mean and in the best of shape. Meanwhile what do you do? Play on the computer and TV watching infomercials? Do you even lift? The point is there’s only one person to blame if you’re unhealthy and that’s you. You want to change that? Then come on down to Flex Fitness today, it’ll change your life.
 

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As he impulsively hurried through the vibrant Chicago streets to his destination in a smart and luminously maroon suit, Ernesto Clement had a vast array of protruding inquiries prepared for the interview with PWC’s newest acquisition. Having deeply analysed his application, and whilst questioning the morality at hand, he could not help feeling a sense of intrigue as thoughts of the fascinating man engaged in combat with other employees filled his head. Despite this, he also felt vulnerable in meeting such a serpentine, hazardous individual. Utmost caution would be a requirement for the conference, especially whilst inside Harvey Parker’s ubiquitary jurisdiction.

When Clement arrived at Harvey Parker’s sanctuary, he was astonished to discover a desolate, decrepit cellar, with no sign of human life present. The common Chicago gust from the Atlantic inhaled the litter scattered at Clement’s feet and dragged it down the fathomless stairs, beckoning him to catenate. Determined to negotiate an obligation, Ernesto Clement pursued the rubbish down the stairs. As he strode down the stairs, he thought that for a man that claimed to have as much competency as he had, Clement felt that Harvey’s hideaway didn’t quite live up to his expectations.

Ernesto Clement eventually found himself at the foot of the stairs with an extensive, imposing wooden door standing before him. A sharp knock on the door provoked no response from any inhabitants. After lingering for approximately a minute without any acknowledgement, Ernesto began to promptly retreat when a cogent, precise burst of wind eased the steadfast entry open, granting him access to the cellar. Hesitating, he began to contemplate the danger of entering the vault unattended, but after some reverie, he pursued with his directive to finalize Harvey Parker’s PWC contract. He had not come all the way to Chicago to deteriorate.

Entering the tranquil den, he found it to be more defaced than he had anticipated. As he cautiously passed through the door, a net of cobwebs engulfed his hair and formed a layer around his crown. As he focused on removing the annoyance, the door behind him slammed shut, leaving him alone in the caliginous room, lacking the foresight of what was attendant in the alcove.

As the door shut, an unnerving click from the other side of the room could be heard. Bewildered, he identified the noise promptly: Guns. Before he could begin to panic, a harsh voice broke the silence.

“Password.” it demanded.

“Sycorax.” Clement stuttered in return.

A vividly lustrous light emerged from the darkness as a match was quickly struck in the obscurity. The match then illuminated two nearby candles, before being swiftly disposed of. The enthusiastic flames incised the crepuscule to reveal a smartly dressed Harvey Parker sitting in a grand chair with his feet rested on a small wooden table, delivering a capacious grin to Ernesto Clement. Flanking him were two armed Mafia goons, armed with loaded Thompson guns with a neutral expression on their face. Despite a nonchalant appearance, Clement understood the potency of the coterie.

“One must be so careful these days.” Harvey chirped, still in possession of the unsettling grin. “Audacious vigilantes have been popping up at an alarming rate, and it would be foolish of me to allow you to freely roam without…necessary precautions. Covertness is also essential, which is why we are located in this desolate ruin.”

Scavenging in his breast pocket as he said this, Harvey withdrew a large Cuban cigar and held it over one of the flickering candles.

“Be seated.” He commanded, positioning the cigar between his lips. Clement strode forward to find a neglected bar stool lying in front of the table and hastily sat down to confabulate employment matters.

“I’m very glad that we finally get to meet Ernie.” Harvey said politely, as the fumes from the cigar teemed Clement’s lungs, causing him to splutter vigorously as Harvey continued. “I’d rather not be thought as a contingency to save this company, but rather a well-timed benefactor.”

“What are you talking about?” Ernesto challenged, recovering from his coughing fit. “PWC is as popular as ever, and week by week, it’s been seeing a substantial increase.”

Harvey scoffed obstreperously at this comment “I see you are satisfied by mediocre, Ernie. Make no mistake though Ernie; I am not." As he said this, he quickly spat his cigar out of his mouth and onto the floor, where upon contact with the wooden floor it extinguished instantaneously. "I am here at PWC to vitalize this middling company. For example, your champion is a schizophrenic Satanist. That’s an utter insult and a pestilence that must be cured.”

“So if you’re disappointed with PWC’s performance, why are you so keen to join?” Clement interrogated, unable to wrap his mind around Harvey’s statement. Once again, Harvey let out an impertinent sneer.

“Because PWC ..." He replied, talking down to Clement. "PWC appeals to me, Ernie. It's a baseplate. And the foundations are fully prepared to witness a man of my calibre rise up to be the champion. Unlike Glass Joe, who I'm facing this week."

"How did you-" Clement inquired, but before he could finish his sentence, Harvey explained it to him.

"Behold the power of the all-seeing eye that I wield, Ernie." Harvey said with utmost confidence, with a large grin coating his face once again. "I know of Flex Mussel's gyms and aspirations, but behind all of that is nothing more than insecurity. People try to repair themselves from when they reach the climax of their descent, but the groundwork still remains. I realised that when I was released from prison, and I'm going to prove to Flex that his endeavour is futile. He believes that the strength in his arms and the advancement of his gyms are enough, but he does not realise that he is merely constructing, and on the defence, which is hopeless without offence. I am the destruction, and not solely in the wrestling ring. The influence and advantages that I possess are not to preserve, but to annihilate. At my command, I can do the impossible, and it is all possible due to my decadence. This is not fiction, where altruism equals true accomplishment. Instead, shortcuts and deceit must be employed in order to ensure prosperity. Flex Mussel is nothing more than a fraud, and I intend to expose him to all that watch PWC for what he truly is: A coward taking refuge in a muscled shell."

Ernesto Clement had clearly had enough at this point, and wanted to wrap things up.

"OK then, if you would be as kind as to sign this." he said as he forced a pen and paper to Harvey impatiently.

Harvey promptly snatched the pen and scribed his name quickly onto his current PWC contract.

"Welcome to PWC, the finest wrestling promotion on the earth today." Clement forcefully stated as he took the contract and pen back, smiling as he picked himself up from the stool and walked away.

"Allow me to adjudicate that, Ernie." Harvey retorted callously, prepared to unleash a full onslaught on Flex Mussel, and begin his ascension.
 

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December 2011



Twas the night before Christmas, when all in my mind
Not a shit was given, not that I could find.
I'm all by myself with no one to care,
In hopes that my fire will soon burn and flare.


Muhammad: Hmmm, too much self pity.

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the state
Arabs are persecuted through racists and hate.
The nation is crawling with rapists and killers,
Yet we're the ones to feel like outcast Godzillas.


Muhammad sighs.

Muhammad: Okaaayy, do not give up the day job.

He walks over to the phone and dials a number, on the other end an elderly lady from Dubai answers.

Muhammad: Asalamualaikum, I'd like to talk to the Islami siblings.

Lady: Mr Islami, you know you're not allowed to speak to your siblings. I'm going to have to hang up now.

Muhammad: How the hell?!

He slams the phone down in a fit of rage.

After a few moments, he slips on his winter jacket and leaves his apartment. The bright Christmas decorations light up what would otherwise be a very dim street, Islami grunts in disgust.
He walks for a while before coming up to a cemetery, moving towards The Silver Sheikh’s grave with purpose, he suddenly stops in his tracks. Islami notices a hooded man knelt at the foot of the grave.

Muhammad: HEY! HEY WHO ARE YOU?!

No answer, the man doesn’t move an inch. Islami moves cautiously closer before eventually coming within touching distance of the man.

Muhammad: Look at me…

The man’s head slowly rotates upwards, revealing himself to Muhammad.

Muhammad:…Tarek?

Muhammad slumps down beside his former best friend.

Tarek: I’m a sight to behold huh.

Muhammad: You could say that.

Tarek: You know, despite both of you abandoning me, I still feel like I belong to the cause.


Muhammad: Ahhh the cause is dead and buried Tarek, it died with The Silver Shiekh.

Tarek: No, no, no, no, where is the passion Mu, you used to be the fire that flamed our cause.

Muhammad: That fire burnt out when my siblings were taken from me, when my mother died, when I suddenly realised I had absolutely no one to care about.


Tarek: What about your wrestling Mu?


Muhammad: I still do it, how else do I pay the bills right? I wrestle on the Washington independent circuit, I’ll take any pay check I can.

Tarek shirks.

Tarek: I used to look up to you Mu, I thought you were going places with the cause, that’s the only reason I’m still sane after you stabbed me in the back.

Muhammad: Yeahhh, about that, sorry?


Tarek: You’re a sorry excuse for a man. I come home from my 9-5 job every day to a lonely apartment, sit on my fat ass in front of the TV and fall asleep. Rinse and repeat. But the thought that you had a purpose in your life, to spread the Silver Sheikh’s word going, kept me going. I know I’ll never be part of the cause again, but that was okay, knowing my best friend, my brother, was doing it for me. But now, I see you’re worse off than I am.

Tarek gets up. His eyes watering, perhaps from the cold, more likely due to emotions.

Tarek: You’re not the Muhammad I left behind.

And with that, he makes his way out of the cemetery. Muhammad, still slumped against the gravestone, ponders his old friends words for a while, coming to the eventual conclusion that there is still a fire in him that’s waiting to be flamed. He rises, whips off his jacket, and starts running around the ends of the cemetery.

Muhammad: This is it, day one of the resurgence of Muhammad ‘The Silver Sheikh’ Islami.

Tarek watches on from a distance, smiling at the sight of an old friend becoming a man with a purpose once more.

Present Day

Islami is sat in a chair, in an empty room with the camera focused solely on his upper body and face.

Muhammad: Ladies and gentlemen, recently I have delved into the fine arts of Kung Fu, turns out I’m no Shaolin Master but hey, who is? No, the reason I have embraced Kung Fu is that I’m attempting to fulfill my childhood dream of becoming a movie star, that’s right, a movie star. Along with a good friend of mine, I have filmed a brilliant scene where I portray one Kyle Elric in the role of the action hero, in the hopes that directors see the potential in both my skill and storytelling as an actor, as well as an accurate portrayal of real life stories. Enjoy.

**Based on a true story**

A cinematic scene emerges in what appears to be a dojo. Having lain a number of ‘bad guys’ out , Islami dressed in the famous Bruce Lee yellow jumpsuit, sweeps back his dyed beach blonde hair before moving into the center of the dojo. Out steps an old man in a white robe.

Kyle: Miyamoto Sensei?! You’re alive?!


The words don’t match Islami’s lip movement, in typical kung fu movie dubbed fashion.

Sensei: Yes Kyle-san.

Kyle: Wha—Why?

Sensei: You dishonored my family Kyle-san, you are not the son I wanted. If only Muhammad was my son hahahahaha.

Kyle (In an almost childish manner): Oh yeah, well you’re not the father figure I always wanted, The Silver Sheikh was a wayyy cooler father figure than you ever were. He gave Muhammad piggy back rides and ice cream whenever he wanted.

Sensei whips off his robe to reveal a steroid juiced body. Kyle attacks but is dealt with a swift counter.

Sensei: Ahhh, old man can still move huh.

They tangle once more in a frantic exchange, Sensei clearly getting the better of Kyle, a flurry of kicks nearly finishes Kyle off before he counters quickly into a spinning heel kick of his own, busting Sensei’s lip.

Sensei: So you still remember wax on huh, how about wax off?

Sensei pokes Kyle in the eye before chopping him in the neck. Blood streams out of Kyle’s mouth as he falls motionless on the floor. Sensei glares at the camera.

Sensei: This time, the bad guy wins.

Unbeknownst to Sensei, Kyle rises behind him, Samurai Sword in hand.

Kyle: You’re right Sensei, the bad guy does win.

He raises the weapon before slashing at the neck of his Sensei.
The screen cuts to black before the final blow is shown. The camera then focuses back on Islami in his chair.

Muhammad: The following scene was too graphic for PWC television, viewers may purchase the rest of the scene at angryarab.com for a minimal fee of JUST $9.99. The proceeds go to the foundation created to support Kyle’s lovely little girl. ‘Save Kyle’s Little Girl’, because that’s who this is all about. Thank you.
 

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Kyle “The Gaijin” Elric RP

(Brooklyn, NY, 3 days before Vortex 10)

The streets looked cleaner, the air felt fresher, the breeze was more pleasant than he had remembered in a while. The graffiti on some of the walls didn’t seem ugly any more. The honking of the cabs didn’t distract him anymore. Infact, it almost seemed like music. The clouds in the sky didn’t dampen his spirits today, on the contrary, Kyle thought they only accentuated the beauty of the entire scenery he now found himself in. For once, he blended seamlessly with the sea of pedestrians all around him.

And for no reason, Kyle had a smile on his face.

Actually, there was a little reason for that. He was going to meet Dani at a small restaurant three blocks away. A meeting he actually looked forward to. That was something of a rare occurrence for Kyle these days, but he had a feeling this would become something a lot more frequent now and he couldn’t be happier. Life was good.

Humming an old tune he remembered from his time in Japan, he took the final few steps to his destination, tossing a few coins the way of a beggar. Kyle couldn’t help but notice how all the pain he suffered last Vortex was mysteriously absent since he woke up this morning. He would have called her and arranged this date a lot sooner had he known it could be so therapeutic.

He spotted Dani waiting for him near the entrance. She was waving at him, trying to get his attention. Not that she needed to. She looked breathtakingly beautiful today and Kyle couldn’t keep his eyes off her.


“No flowers I see. You’ll need more work on making a good impression on ladies honestly. You’re lucky I’m an easy girl to please”.

“Ah.....Apologies! I was in such a hurry, I overlooked these fine details. On our next date, I promise”.

It was true. He had been so looking forward to meeting her, he hadn’t paid these things any mind. Plus the fact that he hadn’t pegged Dani Price as one keen on such things anyway.

“Loosen up chief! I was joking. Come let’s go inside.”

Kyle led the way in, before suddenly realizing something and holding the door open for her, bowing as she made her way in. She had a smirk on her face. Kyle could sense she was wondering whether to act pleased or come back with a smart quip. Good. He had her surprised there. From what he had heard, women liked being surprised.

“A fast learner I see. Such an honor, kind sir”, she mockingly bowed before winking at him.

“I am nothing, if not courteous my lady”.

A waiter led them to their table. Once seated (not before Kyle stopped the waiter and pulled out Dani’s chair himself), conversation resumed.

“So, I happened to check out Vortex last week. I didn’t know you’re somewhat of a big deal there”.

“Yeah well, it’s my job. I try doing the best I can”.

“And unbeaten as well. I must be lucky”.

Kyle let out a small laugh. He was genuinely enjoying her company and around her, he could afford to not think of his past mistakes and actually hope for the future.

“Won’t last forever, Dani. I try not to think too much about it. Someone someday will beat me.”

“Not so fast now, I still haven’t bragged to all my friends about how I’m dating this unbeaten fighter yet”.

Kyle just shook his head in mild amusement. Between wanting to see his daughter, and wanting to win the championship, he wasn’t sure how he’d find time to fit in Dani as well, but somehow he had. And truth be told, making the effort to make time for her was as rewarding as one of his victories inside the ring.

“Speaking of jobs, you never told me what you do for a living”.

And just like that, something had changed. Dani’s smile disappeared in a second as she tried avoiding his eyes, the air didn’t smell so fresh anymore, the sounds of the customers around them, muted until now, seemed to be getting much louder. Kyle knew he had chanced upon a touchy topic.

She stayed silent for a while before she replied. She looked much more sombre now and spoke in a low voice, a farcry from the Dani he met last week and who was with him until a minute ago.

“I don’t want to lie to you Kyle. But I don’t wanna tell you right now either. Maybe if we meet again, if you’d still want to meet me again”.

“Dani, what’s the matter? I’m sorry I didn’t think much of it before asking. You don’t have to tell me really.”

“You have a daughter right?”

“Umm yes I do. She lives with her mother”.

“Well let’s just say I’m not very proud of what I do. So I’m probably not the sort of person you’d want your daughter to meet. I should have thought of this before leading you on Kyle, I’m sorry. I should leave now”.

She got up and started walking towards the door. By the time Kyle had time to register what just happened, she was already out on the street. Hurriedly leaving a few bills on the table, he rushed after her.

“Dani- Dani wait!! Look, it’s not what you’re thinking ok? Whatever you do, I’m sure you have your reasons and I’m not going to question you. Just, don’t think I’d be ashamed to introduce you to anyone. You’re a good person- I can see that. I was a small time crook once. Before I went to Japan, before all this happened. I understand how it feels to be different- not being able to fit in. But I don’t care about that.”

“But I do Kyle. I didn’t think this would happen you know. I just wanted to hang out and have fun. You just had to be so fucking nice that I couldn’t lie to you. Just, lemme go please!!”

“Listen Dani! You don’t have to do it you know- whatever it is. If you don’t like it, don’t do it!”

“Do you like beating people up Elric san?”, Kyle could see how she used the Japanese honorific to purposely distance herself from him, “Yet you do it, don’t you? I don’t like what I do either, but apparently I’m very good at it”.

And she was off.

Kyle tried stopping her, but the girl was stubborn. And soon enough, there he was, standing still in the middle of a moving crowd. And suddenly he was an outsider again, looking on at something he wished so desperately to be a part of- but unable to. The air felt heavier, the bright colors of the graffiti hurt his eyes, the honking of the cabs hurt his head and the clouds overhead painted a picture of gloom Kyle could really identify with.

Damn, he really thought he was doing good. But it was probably true what Ryu once told him- Once a gaijin, always a gaijin. Everything was going so fine, but he had managed to screw up again.

“Old habits die hard I guess.”

He took a cab to the airport right away. He had decided he would fly to Texas for the next show early.

---------------------------------------------

(Present Day, AT&T Center backstage)

We can see Danny Eriksen making his way along with a camera crew to Kyle Elric’s locker room. He stops outside the closed door.

Danny: Ladies and gentlemen, I’m here in front of “The Gaijin” Kyle Elric’s locker room to get his thoughts on his upcoming match against the PWC Legacy Champion, Muhammad Islami. We’ve been told he’s doing his traditional pre match meditation routine and we’ll be back with more updates later.

Crashing and breaking can be heard from inside the locker room. Danny looks puzzled for a second and tries opening the door, but before his hand can reach the knob, the door swings open with a loud bang, as a chair comes flying from inside- narrowly missing Danny Eriksen’s head.

The camera gets a look inside and we see a destroyed locker room- where once we would see Kyle doing splits or meditating, we now see him punching and kicking the furniture furiously. He seems not to notice the pain or the people around him as he continues doing so, each strike harder than the last.

Danny: Um, excuse me, Mr Elric! Mr Elric!

Kyle suddenly stops, aware of their presence. Taking a few deep breaths, he stands still, back to the camera as he slowly seems to take in the state of his room and realize what he’s been doing. Very slowly, he turns around to face Danny and takes a moment to compose himself.

Kyle: I’m sorry you had to see that Danny san. Give me a moment will you?

He gulps down some water before inhaling deeply again and motions Danny to continue.

Danny: Mr Elric, is something wrong? We are not used to seeing you like this.

Kyle: You’re not going to be used to this. This won’t happen again, I promise you.

Danny: Well if that’s the case, I’d like to get your thoughts on your upcoming match with Muhammad Islami.

Kyle: It’s funny Danny san. You see, when I got to know I’m facing Islami san tonight, I was thinking how we’re so different- how there could not have been an opponent more different than me in every way- our way of living, our thought process, our attitude, our goals in life, just about anything you can think of. But then, some things have happened, and as I reflect upon it a bit differently, I find that we have more in common than I’d like to admit.

Danny: Can you be more specific Mr Elric?

Kyle: It’s real simple Danny san. He feels he’s an outcast. I’m the Gaijin. We both defy conventions. We both want to win, not just to have a better resume’ but to prove a point- to carry on our mission entrusted to us by someone we respect. We’re both outsiders Danny san, only difference is he rejects everyone coz he thinks that’s his revenge for everyone rejecting him, while I do make an effort to fit in, but I’m too different to succeed.

Kyle seems to be thinking about something as he pauses momentarily.

Kyle: Muhammad Islami had a mentor once, just like I did. He broke The Silver Sheikh’s back, and I crippled my best friend. We bear the scars of those wounds for life Danny san, but atleast Islami has the comfort of knowing that he was forgiven. I wasn’t. With every mistake I’ve made in my life, I’ve pushed myself further and further from everyone that matters to me. What I won’t let get away from me though, is the World title that Xander Black currently has, because with that, I can once again be successful in becoming someone acceptable by all.

Danny: Speaking of the champ Xander Black, he’s not in action this week, but it’s almost certain he’ll be here and will be watching you closely.

Kyle: Of course he will Danny san. But I don’t mind it. I want him to know that I’ll fight everyday to win the championship, and I will win that championship to be a better representative for this company and it’s fans. I keep talking about wanting to be a rolemodel for my daughter and set an example for everyone. I want them to believe that when you’re dedicated on walking the right path, no matter how arduous the journey may be, it’s all worth it. But people won’t just start looking up to people like me or Muhammad Islami. We’ll have to win them over. And while I don’t think Islami cares about it or it makes any difference to him, but it does to me. That is why I work every show, that is why I want to fight hard to be the champion- one the people can be proud of. Coz let’s face it, if I’m not champion, what reason do these people have to follow me?

Kyle now looks straight at the camera and speaks slowly, his face not betraying any emotion and all traces of his former fury long gone.

Kyle: Muhammad Islami, I know you have suffered, as have I. You beat up innocent Americans, you mock our fellow competitors, you go into battle carrying a vendetta based on misplaced anger and you think doing all this will make it any better? It won’t. I tried taking my anger out on everyone I could for a long time and the only person I hurt was myself. Every week with your actions, you harm yourself more than others and you don’t even see it. And that’s why I must beat you, no I will beat you tonight because after I pin you clean in the middle of that ring- for once, you’ll have nobody to blame but yourself. And as you lay there wondering what went wrong, maybe you’ll realize that despite the many similarities we might share, our choices make all the difference.

Danny: So you’re confident you’ll prevail over Muhammad Islami tonight?

Kyle: I’ve lost many things Danny san. But I won’t lose sight of the reason I’m here. And for that, I need to win every match and the World Title. And yes I am pretty confident. Coz I might not like beating people up, but I’m very good at it.

Kyle walks away, before suddenly remembering something. Turning around, he gives a small bow to the camera and walks off.


END.
 
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