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Discussion Starter #1 (Edited)


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





Arena: Laugardalsvöllur
Capacity: 15,000
City: Reykjavík, Iceland


***



Prometheus Flame
Barney Williams vs Sway Archer vs Tristan Kist vs ????



Contract Match
Lucas Hawthorne vs El Gigante Enmascarado



Singles Match
Remy Dieu vs Donald Hammerpunch



Television Championship Match
Jensen vs Austin Angel (c)




Legacy Championship Match
Jacob Bianchi vs Doctor Nero



World Championship Match - Hell in a Cell
Shadow vs King Crowley (c)

Card is subject to change.



****

Deadline for all RPs is 11:59 GMT on 13th September 2017 (Wednesday)


For each day of extension granted, the show will be extended for the same duration.



GFX Credit: CHAMPviaDQ



As always, feel free to leave your predictions in the thread. If an RP extension is needed, please let us know ASAP. No more than 24 hours will be granted
.



 

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Discussion Starter #2
Re: PWC Seasons Two: Ragnarök

Ladies and Gentleman.

Some of you may of heard the plan currently in place. Myself and NTRO are trialing the idea of pre-show's before PPV's. We'll post it a few days before the main show and get some feedback between pre show and main show. It's just to hype the main show and it has some rather cool vignettes in place as well as backstage interviews with some guys.

Thanks,
Ghost
 

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TEAM STORM
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313 Posts
Re: PWC Seasons Two: Ragnarök

Every please note that the deadline is actually Sept. 13 and not three weeks ago.
 

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Bring back Gary Oak!
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Re: PWC Seasons Two: Ragnarök

Prometheus Flame
Barney Williams vs Sway Archer vs Tristan Kist vs ????

One is a jobber, one is spooky secret, one is an unknown and the last one is Kist, who has RP'd. Not some in depth reasoning, but it's what you're getting.

Contract Match
Lucas Hawthorne vs El Gigante Enmascarado

Of the two, Hawthorne's have been the stronger RPs. Not overly impressed by the big lad yet, but there's potential there.

Singles Match
Remy Dieu vs Donald Hammerpunch

PPVs are Hammerpunch's home ground. While he has left a little to be desired as of late, this could be the match that forces Meekle to step it up.

Television Championship Match
Jensen vs Austin Angel (c)


HN has found second life with Angel as of late, but I don't think this will be enough to see off Jensen. The two have proven to be a great match for one another though, so this should be a good one.

Legacy Championship Match
Jacob Bianchi vs Doctor Nero

I really should stop doubting myself, as I've picked up a few big wins at PPVs in the past, but Lari is far beyond me as a writer. It'd be nice to win, but I'm not overly optimistic.

World Championship Match
Shadow vs King Crowley (c)

From what we've seen in their previous match ups, NTRO is good, but DH is better. I don't expect the title to change hands here, but I wouldn't be massively surprised if it did. As I said, NTRO is good.
 

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Exploring Planet Alpha
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Re: PWC Seasons Two: Ragnarök

I'm like a champ in WWE, lose on TV in nothing matches but win on PPV when the gold is on the line. Don't worry, I got this.
 

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Discussion Starter #6 (Edited)
Re: PWC Seasons Two: Ragnarök

I am hereby banning myself from posting cards.

I made less mistakes than I tend to make, but I still made them. You'll also notice I went back and added the situplation to the main event just so it's certain that it's a hell in a cell match.

Prometheus Flame
Barney Williams vs Sway Archer vs Tristan Kist vs ????

I'm not even RP'ing for Barney. Archer has yet to debut so we'll see if he impresses me and the unknown is either really incredible or really shit. Kist is the one one here who actually seems to stand a chance.



Contract Match
Lucas Hawthorne vs El Gigante Enmascarado

I have this one. I have my RP written and ready to go once I format it and it's probably one of the stronger RP's i've ever written. El Gigante has yet to cement himself, his matches so far have been with in house jobbers and so we have yet to see how he does against a real person. However, that person is me and I haven't written a Hawthorne RP in months, we'll see.


Singles Match
Remy Dieu vs Donald Hammerpunch

It's exactly like Daiko said. PPV matches are when Hammerpunch comes into his own. I hope to fucking god he does something big here because this match has every chance of being perfect.


Television Championship Match
Jensen vs Austin Angel (c)


Champ retains. Jensen hasn't overly impressed me recently because he's been limited by his RL priorities. I wouldn't be surprised if Jensen does something big and wins this one but HN has been known to impress before when he tries so.


Legacy Championship Match
Jacob Bianchi vs Doctor Nero

Sorry Bianchi. Nero is red hot after his return, Lari is one of the best writers the efed has ever seen and so I reckon Lari will eat Daiko like a midday snack.


World Championship Match - Hell in a Cell
Shadow vs King Crowley (c)

Time for the king to prove himself. Inside a cell, no-one can hear you scream. I might try and write this match so I can split these two men open and have it as a complete bloodbath of a match.​
 

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I am hereby banning myself from posting cards.



I made less mistakes than I tend to make, but I still made them. You'll also notice I went back and added the situplation to the main event just so it's certain that it's a steel cage match.





World Championship Match - Steel Cage

Shadow vs King Crowley (c)



Time for the king to prove himself. Inside a Steel Cage, no-one can hear you scream. I might try and write this match so I can split these two men open and have it as a complete bloodbath of a match.[/CENTER]
It's a Hell in a Cell not a steel cage x
 

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Discussion Starter #10
Australia - Sydney
Lucas Hawthorne - 15 years old

Lucas was always a weird child, hyperactive. He always knew he had a problem, he always knew he was different. He could never place it, he could never figure out why though. He was active, he hated concentrating and he got distracted by anything. He had no filter, he did things on impulse. He always had done, it wasn’t like he’d ever had a choice over it either, he just knew he needed to.

Even being sat in the lobby of his GP he was fidgeting. He was playing with a pen, he didn’t even notice. Pens, they were his crack cocaine. He felt relaxed when playing with a pen, tossing it or otherwise. He was rolling the pen between his fingers, slowly and methodically between every finger, feeling the gentle rub against each knuckle.

The room was bland, boring. White walls, brown carpet floors and a white ceiling. It offered no excitement, no colour. It was like hell, boring and bland. Lucas needed colour, life was boring without colour. It was bland, colour added excitement to things and it made those things actually interesting to look at and actually interesting to watch.

The elder Hawthorne brother reached over to Lucas, patting him on the shoulder. Elliot Hawthorne offered the usual cocky grin, the one that always relaxed the younger brother. Both brothers knew that it was going to be a hard day if the results came back positive. They both knew that it would end Lucas’ dream of going to the olympics, they wouldn’t ever let him compete.

The door swung open. Heavy, a fire door. In stepped a young woman, maybe early twenties. Dr Jenny McCole, her beautiful blonde hair flowing over her shoulder and trickling gently down her spine. Her deep blue eyes fluttered as her soft pale eyelids closed over them. Lucas shook his head, he was dreaming.

Dr McCole: Alright, Lucas. We’ve had a look at the results of the testing we ran a few days ago. We confirmed our fears.

The world could have stopped there and then. Elliot gripped his younger brother’s shoulder, Lucas didn’t even react. He was silent. The pen clattered to the floor, rolling off under some cabinet to join the bandaids and coins that people had dropped over the years. Lucas remained focused on a single point.

Dr McCole: I know you dreamed Lucas, but those dreams are over. You have to find something else you enjoy, something else you want to do. Gymnastics can lead to so many new things, especially at the level you competed at.

Lucas remained silent, focused on one point. Elliot stood up, leading the doctor from the room to talk to her in private. Lucas slumped back into the chair, breathing heavy and fast. He didn’t want to find other things, he wanted to go to the olympics and some stupid bloody doctor had just ruined that hope, that plan.

That dream.

Lucas slid into his chair further. He wanted the chair to eat him, to end him. He would have to find something else he wanted to do but he didn’t even know where to start, he didn’t want to do anything else, he wanted to be a gymnast and to compete and high levels like the olympics, he didn’t want to be a nobody that no-one cared about and that everyone thought was weird.

The door opened, it creaked when it did. Elliot walked in, taking his brother by the hand. Elliot was one who thanked the doctor as they left, who nodded to Elliot as they headed through the sliding door. They flagged a taxi down, Lucas saying nothing. Elliot didn’t expect him to, Elliot knew that his brothers future had just been crushed in front of him. Lucas didn’t say anything until they walked into the house.

Lucas turned the moment they were home. He glared right as his brother and began to speak, obviously upset and depressed.

Lucas Hawthorne: I don’t want to do this.
 

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PWC DESOLATION 2017
…or is it?


What happened?

Distraction? Ego? When one sits on a throne, they fail to notice the bugs crawling under the floorboards. Thousands of people chanting your name, something so alien to your ears. The energy, the euphoria. For years you didn’t care what they thought of you. This kept you focused on your mission. But what mission was the exactly?

From your side of the railing, it was being able to manipulate thousands to spend their hard-earned money to make you a God….

But was your mission nothing but a lie?

From their side of the railing, they were the manipulators, they made you dance for them. Bleed for them. Hurt for them. Hurt someone else. For. Them.

The sun sets over the city. A set of traffic lights turns from green to orange, to red.

What happened?

Distraction? Confusion? Thousands cheering for you. A blow to the back of the head. It made your vision blurry, and Ellie’s screams sound so distant. You couldn’t turn to see what precisely was happening. Another crack is so loud it possibly deafens you, but the sound doesn’t come from outside but more inside your skull. You staggered towards the giant aisle that leads to, depending what side of the railing you were on, an altar or a cage.

Everything started to merge - the sea of humanity, the aisle, the ring. Then it all went white, like a camera flash behind your eyes.

A storm wind blasts a tree. Its branches thrash and flail at the invisible torrent, scratching at the sky like talons. Lightning strikes and the wind suddenly ends. There is no sound of thunder.

When the white light faded, you found yourself on the other side of the railing. Bianchi had put you there. As you turn back to shield yourself from him, he isn’t there. The railing, however, grows – now too tall to climb back over. There is no way over it, or around it. Then comes the laughing, the pointing. The people have surrounded you, proud of themselves at how they had made you fight for them, entertain them.

And in the middle of them all, was Clement. He has seemingly grown obese from his gluttony. He is eating something as he watches on. He licks his fingers and wipes his mouth with the money your blood and sweat has earned him…

What happened?

A room. You’re alone. The railing is gone. So are the people. Blue light illuminates many sheet covered slabs lining each wall. What is this place? Is it the morgue deep in the bowels of the hospital you practiced in years ago?

No.

Your breath forms small clouds in front of your face. But you aren’t cold. The sheets form shapes of somethings or someone’s underneath. Are there bodies under the sheets? Reaching out to see what is underneath the closest table, you pull the sheet back.

A familiar face. One you thought you’d never see again. Dr Manfree, your mentor. His eyes suddenly open. They stare at you, but he utters no words. He then looks over at the slab next to his. You don’t want to see anymore, but your hand is no longer controlled by you. It pulls back the sheet anyway.

His daughter. Your former lover.

Her eyes open, and tears fall as she looks up at you. You turn away, but behind you is more slabs. Or are they the same ones? Where’s the exit? WHERE’S THE EXIT!!!???

The last slab at the back of the room, or is it the front, moves.
Someone sits up… it’s Ellie… You stagger backward, asking yourself why is she here. She smiles and walks over to the adjacent slab. Like a game show hostess, she pulls back another sheet. You don’t want to see, but your eyes don’t close.…

It’s you… is it? It looks exactly like you. But you are here. Or are you there? Is Ellie next to you or across the room? The blue light flickers. You step back. The figure sits up and smirks at you. He walks towards you. Or are you walking towards him? You look at your feet to see who is walking to who. The blue light flickers.

“Ciao Nero”, Bianchi says.

DR. NERO
What side of the railing are you on?



BACKSTAGE
Immediately after Vortex…


He walks with a purpose, making his way towards the parking garage which is well within his sight. Crew members and other personnel part the way for him like the red sea. Moving away in awe from the returning former Champion of the World. The last of them shift revealing a black Lamborghini, with its door open upwards, framing his gorgeous right-hand woman, Nurse Ellie. She stands by, ready to shuttle him away from the arena. Her long legs and wry smile welcome him when the ever so brazen Danny Eriksen intercepts his getaway.

Eriksen: Nero! Dr. Nero!!! You’re back!?! <huff, huff, huff> You’re back!!! <huff> You just laid out Jacob Bianchi, the man who attacked you and… and…


Nero: …. And that is that.

Nero looks to move past Eriksen, but the PWC stooge won’t let the scoop of the year get away so easily.

Eriksen: You came back to wrestle Bianchi… right!?

Nero: <Sigh> As always Eriksen, you’re wrong. The reports of my demise have been greatly exaggerated. I’m not here to “wrestle” Jacob Bianchi and I’m not here for the Legacy title. I’m here tonight to remind the world who Is the greatest fighter that ever lived. Me. Now get out of the way.

Nero pushes Eriksen to the side. A single shove by the six foot six behemoth sends Eriksen off his feet and onto his backside. Nero is about to walk off, but decides he has something to add and looks dead centre into the lens. He peers into his own distorted reflection, but in doing so directly into the soul of anyone who dares to watch.

Nero: The return of the God Complex has now been televised. Who did Bianchi actually think he was picking a fight with all those months ago? The poor excuse for a man is nothing more than a pretender. My self-imposed exile is over, that’s right self-imposed, and I’ve returned to change everything. And the first move on the chessboard is to take everything from Bianchi.

Bianchi tried to make a name off of me. Now, he’ll be a footnote in this company’s history books. I’ve been told over and over that Bianchi is saying he beat Nero, he ended Nero’s career, and he is now the best because Nero is gone. It seems that all he ever talks about is me. I am truly the basis of who he is. I’m the reason his career exists. Nothing more. I am the Sun and Bianchi is the moon. He can’t shine on his own. His light, all that it is, is a dull reflection of my own.

The Heavyweight Championship of the World is what I crave. It symbolises who is the best. But I’ll take the Legacy Championship from Bianchi, simply because I can. Simply because I want to leave him with nothing. Not even something I haven’t any use for. The Legacy Championship match contract has my signature on it now, so I guess I’ll be the next Legacy Champion. And Bianchi will no longer be what he has tried so hard to be - the next Nero, the next God Complex. He’ll simply be the latest fool who thought they could best me. Ragnarok comes for you Bianchi. And you’ll be left with nothing. You’ll be… nothing.

PWC, the Doctor, is once again… in.

BACKSTAGE
Almost immediately after Vortex…


Nero pushes past the cameraman. He is done talking, done answering questions. Nurse Ellie saunters to the other door of the Lamborghini, allowing Nero clear passage way to the driver’s side. Nero steps one foot into the sports car and looks back to survey the backstage area. The internal organs of the PWC. The Surgeon has a new procedure he has to perform. And it will… wait… over his shoulder a familiar face emerges.

Staring silently at the God Complex, emotionless, almost lifeless, it’s the PWC Owner and Chairman Ernesto Clement.

Nero, Clement’s greatest critic, stares back.

Clement’s face cracks, and the right side of his face lifts. Only slightly, but just enough so that only Nero can see his grin. Nero nods and breaks the gaze.

The Lamborghini door shuts and the roar of the engine and the squeal of tyres echoes though the bowels of the building. Dually signifying that Nero has left the building, but has returned to the PWC.



SEATTLE
9:15pm


You’re probably wondering why I left? Did Bianchi hurt me that badly that I was laid up in some hospital bed somewhere? Hidden away from the world, hooked up to drips and breathing apparatuses?

The rain pours down the face of the former Champion of the World as he races along the shoreline. His tracksuit drenched, but he powers on running at almost a sprint pace, deep in thought…

No. That’s what I’m sure the narrative Bianchi has been running with all this time. But the reality is a lot more boring. I’d had enough. Enough of the politics. Enough of the lack of competition and enough of being kept away from what was mine. A hunk of gold and leather that is worth not really much in actual physical value, but means more to me than the lives of those I know, was purposely kept from my grasp. That title symbolises that the person holding it IS the best in the world. Now, I know I am, I also know Ernesto Clement knows it. And even Jacob Bianchi knows it. But without the symbol, without that hunk of metal and leather. The statement can be refuted.

The rain lashes down so hard, that earlier on it had turned day into night. Nero fights against the wall of water. Smashing through it like a rock through a glass window. He pushes on, wiping his eyes so that he can see what is in front of him. His heart rate steady. It’s the best he has felt in a long time. His sabbatical has helped him heal bumps and bruises and muscle knots and tweaks. He is in complete control of his body as he makes the next turn, pushing faster now. His destination becomes closer. Only a few more miles to go. Time to push beyond what his body has told him it can do. Time to improve, become even better. Evolve.

Clement’s politics kept me from the title, and Bianchi’s jealous attack and those like him distracted me from this fact. Clement has had “his” Champion defending the title against pretenders. Why would Clement prevent himself from making the most lucrative deal of all? Does he hate money? Does he not want to be the richest man on the planet by promoting me, Dr. Nero, in title fights? It’s stupidity like this that made me walk away.

It most definitely wasn’t Jacob Bianchi.

Are you lying to yourself now?

Nero’s stride has now broken out into an explosive dash as he can see his apartment. Like a castle atop a mountain, the light in the tower is on and he can see the shapely silhouette of his princess. His training and being out in this accursed rainfall is almost at an end for this evening.

There’s no time for truths.

There’s only the winning mindset.
Nothing can keep me from my goal, not even the truth.
I walked away for my own reasons.
Not because of fear, or pain, or low-confidence. None of those things crossed my mind. Or created a world where the only decision I could make was to flee. Was to run. Run towards the darkness. Run from a world that I created.

Stop lying.

There’s no time for truths.
Only projections, plans, goals.
There’s only time for me to step back into the light and take back what was taken from me. Who took it from me is of no consequence.

Even if that person is younger? Has fooled you, a self-confessed super genius. Tricked you, beat you at your own game?

It’s only about being on top of the mountain once again and looking down on everyone. Jacob Bianchi is in my rear view, he’s not atop that mountain. He’s a speed bump.

But Bianchi is connected with the office. Gain favour with those who control the game. He has been able to do something you didn’t want to do, yet it has enabled him to take a higher position, become untouchable.

I have no time for truths…

Yes, it seems you do have no time for truths.

Nero sprints up the hill disappearing into the darkness, heading towards the light in his castle. Heading towards a future he looks to create. A future he will make truth. At least in his own mind.

Beware all those who truthfully are in his sights. Beware, Jacob Bianchi. Because even if Jason won’t admit it, he’s coming for you and I’ll be right beside him to watch.
 

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Bring back Gary Oak!
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30 minutes after PWC Vortex Episode #15
Hamar, Norway



The slamming of a door echoes throughout the hallways of the Vikingskipet and soon after, a furious Jacob Bianchi strides into his locker room with a terrified Brittany Page in tow.

Jacob, please!

Bianchi rounds on her and Page recoils as she looks up at his face which has rage etched in every line. His eyes almost burn a hole through Brittany as he glares at her.

PLEASE NOTHING, PAGE! HE KNEW!

Bianchi grabs a folder from his bag, which is then thrown across the room, smacking off of the opposite wall with a resounding thud. He then turns to walk out of the door, only to find Page stood in the doorway, trying to block as much of it as her minuscule frame will allow.

Jacob, you're going to listen to me now.

Bianchi snorts with derision and pushes through Page with ease before moving off down the hallway.

Don't do this! If you do this now, everything we've built towards since you joined has been for nothing. Clement is gone, yes, but nothing about this is right. They won't accept me and then they'll fight back. We can't stop that.

I don't care. I'm ending this.

He keeps walking, but he's stopped as Page raises her voice.

Jacob Bianchi, you're going to stop right now and listen to me.

Bianchi is almost stunned into laughter by the attempt at authority from Page, who still looks shaken. He turns to face her and raises two fingers.

You have two minutes to convince me. Make them count.

Page takes a few of her allotted seconds to compose herself before talking.

You have been working for almost a year now to undermine Ernesto, and as a result of that, you uncovered evidence that paints our Saint of an Owner in a light that would destroy both him and his family. This was our deal. We worked, we fought, we scraped and we clawed just to get to this moment.

I fully understand why you're angry, but to throw all of that away now solely because we lost face on a show is nothing more than bullheaded foolishness, and I expect much better from you.

Nero beat us. Hell, maybe Ernesto planned this, and he got one over us too. I can't believe I'm the one telling you this, but you need to look at the bigger picture here. No matter what damage they do, they can't erase what you hold in your hand right now. Remember that every move they take from here on is just a wasted attempt to fight back against us. We've won already, Jacob. Now it's just a case of us taking as much as we can when we eventually decide to cut Ernesto out of the picture.


Bianchi closes his eyes for a minute, breathing deeply as he does. Page watches intently, barely daring to move a muscle, fearing that even the smallest action will set him off again. He opens his eyes once more, his face much more relaxed than before, but there's a new rage burning behind his eyes. His voice comes out strained as he talks to Page once more.

You're right.

You don't like that?

I don't care about you being right. I'm just not looking forward to what comes next.

Next? What's next is we move on and get you prepared for Ragnarok.

No. Not yet at least.

Page looks confused, and worry creeps into her face.

I'm not doing something stupid.

Bianchi thinks on that for a moment.

Okay, I'm doing something incredibly stupid, but that's my problem to deal with.

He walks over to Page and hands her the folder before walking off, his phone already in hand.

Jacob, what are you doing?

Thinking about the bigger picture.

He raises the phone to his ear and walks off down the hallway, leaving Page stood, folder in hand. She begins to head off to her office, muttering as she goes.

Would it be too much for him to just give me a simple explanation every once in awhile?




* * *




Bianchi continues to walk down the hallway, phone in hand.

Gareth, set up a meeting with Sirius.

Before Gareth Walker even gets a chance to respond, Bianchi has hung up and is already texting another number.

I need you to bring me the Lane folders.

As Bianchi walks outside he spots a black car sat waiting for him. Bianchi walks forward and sees Lane's driver stood holding the back door open.

Thanks for coming all this way.

She rolls her eyes and slams the door behind Bianchi after he gets in.

Bianchi settles into his seat, a smile on his face. Lane knew what was coming. Always one step ahead.




* * *




4 hours after Vortex #15
London, England



The car powers down a City street, drawing Jacob ever closer to his showdown with Sirius Lane, but within the car, Bianchi is a shell, his mind having drifted back to the Vikingskipet.

Page was wrong. She might think they'd already won, but she wasn't playing the same game as the rest of them anymore. Nero's return had changed everything, and she remained none the wiser. And why would she have known? She was getting what she wanted, but beyond that, she remained in the dark, blinded by her lust for control. Her desire to rule her own little kingdom.

But she'd never get control. Not while men like Nero and Bianchi remained. Not the types to remain chained up waiting for a chance, they'd rather break the chains and demand that the world change to fit their desires. And the world would change. They'd bend and twist every rule beyond recognition just to gain some ground. They'd rip apart anything that stood in their paths, and that's what Clement needed.

All he'd had to do was push the two into one another's paths, and from there, fireworks. Bianchi, for all of his supposed wisdom, knew that he hadn't even put up a fight against Clement's manipulations. No matter how much he detested being used, he knew that this was what he wanted. His pride wouldn't allow him to hide from Nero. He'd found a challenge. Someone whose very core was repulsed by Bianchi and his games. Nero was driven by his ego, but no amount of posturing and promises would turn his head.

It took action. It took a battle, and Nero was about to get one.





* * *




Bianchi burst through the door to Lane's office, courtesy long gone from his mind. This meeting was long overdue, and with his last 24 hours, Bianchi was in no mood for mincing words. He didn't blink at the sight of Walker standing beside Lane, he didn’t even react to the sight of the folder containing everything on Lane as it sat open on his desk. Lane knowing about his plan wouldn’t be enough. It couldn’t be enough.

At the desk, Lane sat with a smile on his face, as calm as ever. Nothing ever fazed him.


Has it really come to this, Jacob? All of these years and you not only turn down my offer to work together, but you plot to remove me from power. You haven't even given me the time to put together a farewell speech.

I've not got the patience for games, Sirius. You know what I want, and you know how I intend to get it. Make your play and let us be done with this.

Lane nods and gets to his feet, sweeping past Jacob as he walks over to a safe sat by the door. He enters a combination and removes a single sheet of paper before returning to the desk. He grabs a pen and quickly scribble on the paper before turning it and pushing both the pen and paper towards Bianchi. To Lane's side, Walker glances at the paper, a shocked expression on his face.

Bianchi strides forward and grabs the sheet, reading it over. His eyes get wider with every passing line. Immediately after finishing, he grabs the pen and adds his signature next to Lane's before passing the paper back over to him, his hands shaking slightly.

From his chair Lane nods in approval before picking up the paper. He looks at Bianchi's signature for a moment before quickly flicking a lighter on underneath it. The flame catches on the paper and several heartbeats later, the whole sheet is engulfed in the fire's embrace.

Bianchi barely flinches as it burns, his eyes focused intently on Lane who is looking right back at him, the two men locked in their own silent battle.

They don't break each other's gaze until the fire dies out, at which point Lane sighs, his shoulders slumping momentarily. Bianchi is taken aback at the sudden change in his former mentor's demeanour. Lane doesn't look defeated, instead he looks like 10 years had just been lifted from his shoulders. When Bianchi next looks up at his face, he's met with a beaming smile as Lane looks upon his pupil with all of the pride of a doting father.


Fear not, Jacob. I may have set it alight, but I still consider this contract binding. I'm not one for leaving a paper trail.

From his side, Walker pipes up.

You're done then?

Lane laughs.

Yes, Mr. Walker. I'm done. As far as I'm concerned, there's nothing more I can teach Jacob, and even if there was, it's nothing that he won't learn in due time. As of this moment, I'm no longer your boss.

Lane tilts his head towards Bianchi.

Jacob is.

Bianchi glances towards Walker who looks unsure.

If I wasn't ready for this, he wouldn't have stepped aside. And no, I had no idea he wanted this.

Then why were you here?

Because if I had to, I was ready to rip all of this from him.

Lane gets to his feet, an already packed briefcase in his hands.

If you don't mind me, I'd quite like to get home. Today has been an eventful day, and while I'd like to make sure you settle in properly, I don't think now is the time. You have work to do, Jacob.

Bianchi nods and steps aside, allowing Lane to walk shuffle past him. Before leaving the room, he takes a look around, his eyes falling upon Jacob.

If you'll allow an old man to offer some advice, Jacob.

Of course.

You need to pick your fights more carefully. You've been giving people a common enemy. A threat that can't be dealt with on one's own. This is going to band unlikely people together with their sole purpose being to eliminate you entirely.

You're going to stretch yourself thing fighting all of this, and eventually, you will lose more than just another match.

Be careful. Plan for all outcomes. Only then can you truly remain one step ahead of everyone.


Bianchi nods at Lane, and Lane responds in kind before taking another quick look around.

Gareth, you've done me a service that can't be repaid over these last few years. Thank you.

And to you, Jacob. We may not have ended this partnership like we both hoped originally, but this has been a wonderful arrangement. I couldn't have hoped for a better successor.

For now though, I best be off. You've got a busy few days ahead of yourself. Make the most of the time available.


Lane takes one last look into the eyes of Jacob Bianchi, scanning him just as he did during their first meeting. Seemingly satisfied after a moment of watching his pupil, Lane turns and leaves the room, closing the door behind him.

Bianchi immediately settles down into his mentor's old seat. Walker walks around the desk and faces him.


So what now?

Bianchi thinks about that question for a moment, Lane's parting advice still floating in his mind.

Now? Now we bring down a God.
 

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Exploring Planet Alpha
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284 Posts
Can I possibly get an extension? I've had another RP for my other fed to write and my partner for the week there has really held me up. If not I get it.
 

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Discussion Starter #15 (Edited)
Can I possibly get an extension? I've had another RP for my other fed to write and my partner for the week there has really held me up. If not I get it.
That match was getting one anyway.

Jensen vs Austin Angel
Shadow vs King Crowley

Both matches have been granted 48 hours due to really serious circumstances surrounding one of the writers. One of the others is just overworked. I'm pretty sure we're not mass granting 24 hours this round. If you don't turn something in within the next seven hours you'll be marked as a no-show unless you ASK for an extention.

Thanks,
Ghost and Creative
 

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Discussion Starter #17
Aight, cool.

Change of plan. Everyone can have an extra 48 hours mostly because the lack of RP's is appauling. Those who don't submit RP's within the next 50 hours (if my math is right) will be jobbed out as a no show.
 

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¡Hala Madrid ⛧ Tricampeones!
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1,007 Posts
Absolution

Per aspera ad astra


****

1 day after

Katherine blue eyes flew open with fear in them. She was shaking uncontrollably and her face was wet from her tears. She quickly sat up and glanced around. The nightmares that had plagued her, and stopped for a while returned again. The pain she had been carrying around locked inside her head for all these years, triggered again. She took her phone from the bedside table and tried to call him but her fingers didn’t seem to work. She tried again but then she thought to herself that she didn’t want to worry him, and certainly not before a match. But she didn’t know that Crowley was aware of the man she dreamt of was back again.


1 day ago

Before going to his bed, Crowley stopped at the door to his daughter’s room. He wanted to see her again before heading to Denmark to face Bruce Thorn Jr. He pushed the door open carefully and peered in. He stood and bent to kiss his daughter tenderly on the top of her head. He closed the door and as he walked down the corridor, he closed his eyes and tried to focus his mind in an attempt to clarify his thoughts, so he could think of a way out of his dilemma. Who is the traitor, should he tell his wife that man is back again? But he didn’t want to worry her. And certainly didn’t want to relive her pain.

So they kept it to themselves and was their personal secret even though they knew it was a mistake.

****


After Vortex 13


I glanced into the rearview mirror and watched as the car rolled to a stop behind me. Then I stamped on the gas pedal, jerking the wheel left. The car squealed across two traffic lanes of Denmark to make a left turn through the red light. Paranoia and confusing overtook my mind. The rain drizzled on the cold wet pavement. The silence in the air was broken by the occasional buzzing of the neon lights advertising the bar. I stood at the entrance for a moment, a Pantera tribute band was performing but an unsettling feeling gripped me.

I cannot see him, yet I know he’s there watching with intent, watching with ravenous thoughts. Building in anticipation to make the first attack.

But instead I turned around and retraced my steps, and walked away down the street until my silhouette disappeared in the darkness.

How good are your eyes in the darkness?



Flashback


The echoes of Stephen’s footsteps and his increased and forced breathing seemed to resound in the hollow emptiness of the almost dark streets. He saw his reflection in a car window, he was wearing a black jacket and had the hood up and a small camera in one of his pockets. Lights flashed in the darkness by police cars, searching. He took a deep breath. He could feel the straining muscles of his back legs growing tired he had been running from the police for a crime he did not commit. He was being hunted.

“I know who you are, might as well give up.”

The officer stopped his gun hand swinging toward Stephen. Stephen ducked as the officer squeezed the trigger. Orange flame belched from the barrel of the pistol. The glass behind Stephen shattered. He took off running dodging cars coming left and right under a rain of bullets.

And soon found myself running aimlessly through the darkness. And as I went deeper the blackness engulfed every corner, even my name was forgotten. But not you, you’re creeping quiet as the wind, until you can finally lock me again.


****


Before Vortex 14 – Sweden



The elevator stopped humming, and the doors slowly hissed open. I began walking through the elegant corridor. On the walls hung gold burnished frames flattering the oil paintings contained within, stretching all the way to the wood door at the end. My door was partially ajar. The partial outline of a face peered through the ajar door, our familiar eyes met for a brief moment. My hand strangely trembled as I brushed my fingers against the wood, pushing it open.

I saw a flash of something in the dimness. The shadow moved across my line of sight. His clenched teeth distorted his face, making him look sinister. Then lurched up, ran to the window and jumped out. Behind, against the backdrop of purple sky, the city lights of Stockholm blazed.

Your words are cheap, you're selling for war while you're praying for peace.

Don't you see the irony?

You are a prisoner of your own doing. And he knows it.




Flashback



The heavy door is slammed shut and the ring of metal rods jamming into place echoes down the corridor. The cell is three meters square in the light is dim and at the far end is Bobby reading its bible. Two guards roughed me up and threw me back into my cell. Bandages covered my aching ribs. I sat on the tainted mattress lying against the cinder-block walls. There, Bobby finally told me the name of the man who put him in jail. Its name was Paul.

“I heard the other inmates that you’re a wrestler who messed up with Paul’s business. Whatever you have seen or done it’s none of my business, but Paul he’s an overlord. He controls the whole police department and supply the streets with drugs. He’s untouchable. Stop looking for troubles boy, behave and you might get out of this hole sooner.”

“How do you know this? I asked.”

“Because I worked as a cop. But when I ran an investigation against him… I found myself running like a criminal. See this letter? My son follow my steps, I know he’ll do what I couldn’t do myself.”



1 year and a half later…


“Prepare yourself, you’ll feel like a stranger when you get back there.” He warned himself. He hadn’t been exaggerating. Since walking through the front doors five minutes ago Detective Corgan struggled to spot a single familiar face.

Wandering out of the lifts onto level three he cast his gaze around the floor allocated to criminal investigations. Detectives and support staff were scattered throughout the open plan office space, tapping at computers, discussing cases over workstations partitions, planning investigations within glass-walled meeting rooms. A few looked up, acknowledged him with a nod. Their blank faces made it clear though: they looked oddly threatening. Shoving his hands into his trouser pockets he walked along the corridor leading to Detective Inspector Severson’s office. From Corgan he’d be sure to receive a warm welcome although how long that warmth would last once they found out about – “him.”

As Corgan passed the corridor’s halfway mark a door swung open on his right. He cracked the door a little wider as his left foot followed his right into the room cautiously. The room was dark, cold and silent as a tomb. Suddenly, a bulky shadow drew close. The detective fingers swiftly clasped around his handgun that still was held at hip-level. The shadow tossed a folder on a near desk. The shadow’s teeth, startlingly white in his dark face, flashed in a grin one that suggested the folder had something very interesting. The detective opened the folder as his eyes widened slightly, he then lifted his eyes from the paper but before the detective could see him again, the shadow lingered there an instant, and was gone.

“This is… but this means the whole department is…”



****


After Vortex 15



Pantera’s ringtone of Crowley’s phone made him sit straight up in bed. The first hints of daylight peeked around the edge of the blinds as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He picked up the phone –DC - He tapped the screen on his phone to take the call.

Crowley, we found him. Paul was telling the truth.

His heart was beating faster and faster.


Several week earlier


The detective took off his jacket and threw it over the back of his chair. His gun holster was empty. The detective walked over to the machine coffee and poured two cups. Then carried them over the table. “Hey, do you want coffee?” And placed the cup behind Crowley and sat down.

Crowley stood and stared at the photos and the blank expanse of the wall to the right of them. “He leaves no traces. No trail.” The desk were overrun with files and newspapers. The walls were covered in photos of criminals and statics. Crowley slammed his fist down onto the table. “Damn it all.” He swore. His frustration was intense. “What am I missing?” Names, addresses, phone numbers everything led to a dead end.

But now he finally found him.

He’s name is Jugram. He was a priest but was threw out in a hurry by the church for un-disclosed reasons.

I don’t care about his past life. I want to know where I can find him.

But you should. Listen this: He was married with Mary McAllon. Do you know who she is?

His throat slammed closed, the words trapped inside his lungs. He knew who she was, she was Katherine’s mother.


****


1 day before Ragnarok


With a glass of water in his hand, he came out and stood in the balcony. Cold breeze caressed him. He lifted his neck as if allowing the air to take droplets from there. He sipped the water. The sky had already gone dark, and the city lights were gleaming like it’s own sparkling decoration for his match tomorrow night. His face was slowly flushing by the cold. He thought to himself. He hasn’t seen his family in several weeks. Why is still there rather than protecting his family and the streets? He doesn’t own anything to PWC. No loyalty whatsoever. But why is he still attached?

Then he heard on TV how the tickets were sold out for Ragnarok one week earlier. The big expectations for the main event and how this was by far the biggest event in Iceland’s history. The memories didn’t fit together quite right, it must have been more than once, but somehow he seemed to remember. Feeling the warming glow of rapidly consumed alcohol running through his veins, and how he struggled to lead an authentic life after prison.
Everything seemed to be normal. The clink of glasses, the murmur of conversations, the occasional fight. But something stood up. A roar. Beers spilled out soaking the tables, the crowd popped at the sight of Xander Black on TV. It was like something awoke inside him. Something buried deep within him. PWC was about to become the messenger. To let his wife know he was still alive. To let known his enemies that he rose from the ashes to become in a King.


Suddenly he looked across the building and watched a silhouette moving over the walls. At first he thought was nothing, then eventually glimpsed a large shadow moving low and slow among the buildings. Shapes peering through apertures in the black clouds.

The glass of water fell from his hand and splattered on the floor. Soon the he was face to face with the Shadow.

Isn’t your crown evidence of your mighty power then why are you scared?

Are you scared of yourself or are you scared of him?




Some time ago…


There was an outer perimeter of yellow police tape surrounding the crime scene. He glanced back and saw the police car stop at the other end of the alley. He didn’t notice Crowley’s fleeting shadow as it passed by him in the darkness of the alley. It’s been a long since Crowley became in an avenging spirit at night, emerging to pursue criminals. His name was feared amongst rats and snakes in the streets. He was trying to change this world and that night only ensure it even more.

But you know you cannot change, and I’ll be there to remind you. Who you truly are… Stephen.

“What was he’s name?” Crowley asked. The detective shook and turned back. Blue lights flashed in Crowley’s eyes as the sirens ripped through the thick air.

“Gee, Crowley, we should stop meeting this way.” He handed Crowley a notepad with the victim’s name in it. Crowley’s eyes widened as he seemed to recognize the name.

“He’s father was a cop too just like him. It’s a shame, he was one of the good guys.”

So in that moment I knew this is not what I wanted for Lilith. This is not the world I want for my daughter to live.


Back to that the Icelandcold night.


He closed his eyes for a moment and opened it them till the Shadow faded.

I was already locked in a cell with monsters and lived a hell for years. But I won’t let another one stop me now. I want to get stronger, and it seems I’ve finally found a worthy opponent in you. Everyone else will fade into nothingness. But not you and me… For every memory there is a Shadow that

I need to beat.​
 
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