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Discussion Starter #1 (Edited)


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




Arena: Vikingskipet
Capacity: 10,500
City: Hamar, Norway


***



Prometheus Flame Qualifier
Ryan Barron vs Tristan Kist



Singles Match
Flexx Palumbo vs El Gigante Enmascarado



Prometheus Flame Qualifier
Damien Dawson vs Barney Williams



Singles Match
King Crowley vs Mr Jalapeno




Singles Match
Donald Hammerpunch vs Austin Angel

Card is subject to change.



****

Deadline for all RPs is 11:59 GMT on 22nd August 2017 (Monday)


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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¡Hala Madrid ⛧ Tricampeones!
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"Deadline for all RPs is 11:59 GMT on 15th August 2017 (Monday)"



This new deadline is really confusing. :walphtf
 

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Oh shit, I have to rush this rp with a deadline like that.

o, what is the Prometheus Flame Qualifier?
 

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Oh shit, I have to rush this rp with a deadline like that.

o, what is the Prometheus Flame Qualifier?

Prometheus flame is kinda our MITB. It's a multi man match and the winner holds a Prometheus torch which they can "cash in" on the Legacy Champion with at least 1 show's notice.


Sent from Verticalsports.com Free App
 

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Discussion Starter #6 (Edited)
"Deadline for all RPs is 11:59 GMT on 15th August 2017 (Monday)"



This new deadline is really confusing. :walphtf
Absolutely nothing happened! I can count! Best bit is that I counted to the 22nd and for some reason still put the 15th. Can I blame it on this being my first time and leave it there?

22nd, I fixed it. Christ I'm an idiota sometimes.
 

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Well, I'm in action this week... Guess El Gigante Enmascarado has someone else to destroy...
 

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Discussion Starter #9 (Edited)
Well, I'm in action this week... Guess El Gigante Enmascarado has someone else to destroy...
He is one of the most fun characters to write because I can just mutilate with him. I'm seriously looking forward to writing the PPV match because I'm not sure yet my plan with it. All I'm gonna say is that we have some big plans for him this show and I'm really interested in them.

Swing me a PM if you want to discuss how I write the big guy. Not sure if what I'm doing is what you wanted so I'm interested in hearing what you have to say.
 

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He is one of the most fun characters to write because I can just mutilate with him. I'm seriously looking forward to writing the PPV match because I'm not sure yet my plan with it. All I'm gonna say is that we have some big plans for him this show and I'm really interested in them.

Swing me a PM if you want to discuss how I write the big guy. Not sure if what I'm doing is what you wanted so I'm interested in hearing what you have to say.
You got a discord? It'd be easier to talk there for me
 

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Glaciers, two great glaciers and an amber ocean, flowed from left to right as if a storm were brewing. The grand ice would even clink together in a satisfying way. The waves of the liquid swayed as if a grandfather clock moved side to side.

Time passed, but not much had changed...he was still the...

CLINK

The ocean became still and all was calm again, the whiskey glass had found a home on a cedar desk. The desk lay still on a hardwood cherry floor...and of course the hardwood floor lay quite still overlooking Central Park in the GM building.

Maybe something...DID...change.

The windows overlooking this New York landmark bathed the rest of the room in quite a large amount of light, painting its strokes onto the canvas. They revealed a bright and large space with crimson walls and enough antique fixtures that it would certainly cause a collector to lose themselves in a place like this...

As the man who occupies this very room continues to do.

The only thing that was not in place or tidy about the office was a glass case that lay in the corner of the room that had its own artificial light bathing it and showing itself to every visitor that happened to pass through. Except now...there was nothing in the case to display because the items had found their way to the cedar desk and into the hands of a man...

A man in a dark suit and white shirt and dark tie, the contrast and irony of the light and dark reflected not only in his style but his demeanor. But it didn't stop there, it found its way to his salt and pepper hair and beard.

Surprising to see those green eyes in there gazing upon something...somethings...all over his desk there were wrestling championship belts. One read EPW Ultimate Edge, one EPW Tag Championship, and one reading...

BUZZZZZZZZZZZ

"Mr. Kist, Mrs. Candice Roberts is here to see you."

Tristan Kist looks up from his championships in a daze, almost dropping the title in startlement, Kist shakes his head and begins to speak.

"Let her in Nolan."

Candice Roberts, the vice president of this very company, began to push through the doors wearing a face of anger and an accessory of a sheet of the latest fashion...if a piece of paper was a fashion accessory.

She whips the paper down in a crack while focusing on Tristan's eyes, and he was taken aback at her fury.

Candice was usually a level headed person, which is unusual for being so young, the craziest she had ever got was wearing leggings on casual Friday. Not today, she was in her usual business suit and tight black bun that clung to her scalp for dear life. Her voice came out in a quiet, steady tone that would have scared Jake "The Snake" Roberts.

"Tristan...what in the fuck is this?"

Kist didn't have to look down...he knew...but his eyes couldn't help but look away anyway.

It was an office memo for a meeting that was held earlier that same day. He could barely mumble out a reply.

"...Do you know?"

Tristan clenched his championships even tighter in his grip as he prepared for a meltdown. Candice stared at him, unbreaking and stronger than he could ever hope to be.

"Of course I know...I will never not know something that goes on in this company because I am the only one in this room that cares about this place."

She wasn't wrong...and that was perhaps what hurt the most in this whole scenario. Kist had cared about the company that he founded...at one time. At one time, it was an escape from his past, it was financial security, and it was something that he was truly passionate about.

When you take on Twitter and pull ahead of them in a social media company rat race...it wasn't something to scoff at.

Zenith was a company that had nowhere to go but up and with that came more distractions and more people's jobs that you had to care about and more...

Candice just stared into the blank face of Tristan and shook her head in disappointment.

"You truly don't care about anything..."

Her eyes moved to the championship that Tristan had a grip on...with his face unmoving she grabbed the title from his grip and threw it on the ground. And she looked furious.

"Zenith is the only thing that gave a damn about you...Edge Pro Wrestling is fucking dead. Your old boss is fucking dead...you haven't talked to any of those people in years and they haven't reached out...or supported you...or even cared if you were doing okay. Why the fuck does it matter now?"

Candice was fuming with rage but couldn't contain her verbal assault and it just kept coming...
Nice.


"What happens to us Tristan, do you sell us to Twitter when we have finally got the leg up? You are throwing this all away to go play wrestling again? I suppose it doesn't matter if I get fired now...so Tristan Kist...fuck you."

Candice turns to walk out the door when...something finally escapes the mouth of the man who received a good verbal fucking.

Tristan was steady and his face gave away none of his secrets or emotions...the man of stone didn't break...but there may have been a chip missing.

"Candice...I'm not selling Zenith...I am only stepping away from...you couldn't understand why I must go back...why I have to do this...but you won't have to worry..."

Tristan gets up and moves towards the door...staring at the championship on the floor...contemplating picking it up...but it isn't his hands that move to it, only his foot as it steps on the belt on the way to the door.

"The only thing I want you to worry about is this company...I'll be leaving your office now."

Tristan quietly closes the door as Candice looks on in shock.
 

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The scene opens up in a local bar, looking pretty full of patrons. The camera pans over to the door, and in walks El Gigante Enmascarado. He had just left the locker room after the last show, and looked tired. He glares at someone sitting in a booth, and the man stands up. He motions for what seems is his girlfriend to stand up, but Xavier stops him.

“No. she can stay. I show her real man.”

The presumably drunken man, suddenly filled with confidence, walks up to Xavier, Xavier standing a full foot, at least, taller than him.

“H-Hey, you want to throw down, freak? How ab-about I show you who the bigger man is. Me, you, drinking contest, right now!”

At this point, the entire bar was staring at the drunken fool and Xavier, awaiting the decision. Xavier sits down in the patron’s former seat, and does a “bring it on” taunt to him. The bartender runs over with about 20 shot glasses, but Xavier stops him.

“Not enough. Bring entire bottles.”

The bartender, taken aback, rushes behind the bar and grabs 10 bottles of what was poured in the shot glasses. He then runs back and places the bottles on the table. The bartender asks both men “Are you ready?”, and both men nod their heads. He turns the timer on, and the “contest” begins. Contest being the keyword here, as it’s not much of one. Within 2 minutes, Xavier had downed 2 whole bottles, whereas the drunkard only got through ½ of a single bottle. 4 minutes in, Xavier had 4 and ½ bottles downed, the drunkard finishing the 2nd half of his 2nd bottle. 1 minute later, and it was over. Xavier finished his 6th bottle, and the whistle was blown. The crowd was silent, shocked at the result. The loser’s girlfriend stood up, walked over to Xavier, and sat down next to him before wrapping her right arm around Xavier.

“Well, he was right. He just showed me what a real man looks like.”

Xavier stands up, and looks around the bar. He then walks out, the girl flanking him.

“This only average day in life of Xavier… And yet still have 6 days of this. Once 6 days up though, Flexx. You go down like tiny man you are.”
 

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¡Hala Madrid ⛧ Tricampeones!
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Note: This RP was to connect some dots of my storyline that I did not planned to include in future RP's. But just for the sake of context, I did, so yeah.



The Path


****

2 months ago.

The figure of a thin man in his mid 60’s with the complexion of a heavy drinker is dragged through the narrow halls by fiendish-looking figures. The door at the end of the hall swing inwards revealing in the center of the doorway a guard.

Two large metal eye bolts protruded from the ceiling, with steel chains looped through each, and shackles appended to the end of each hanging chain. They shackled his wrists and adjusted the chains so that the tip of his brown leather shoes, almost, but not quite, reached the floor.

For some time longer, he was in and out of consciousness. Finally, a splash of cold water in his face woke him up. The fiendish-looking figures unshackled him and stretched him out on the floor. One figure lifted his head up and poured water into his mouth. He swallowed the water greedily. He turned his head aside when he was done. Except the figure continued to poor water down his throat. He choked and tried to turn his head. The second figure knelt down to hold his head steady, while the first continued to pour water in his mouth.

Breathing hard, the aging man felt his stomach near to bursting with the water. Finally they stopped and the man could feel his heart pumping in panic. He lay on the floor, spread-eagled, wondering how much more he could endure.

A shadow came from the darkness and began to pace the room.


“Look at you Paul, after all the alcohol in your body I thought you would need some water.”

He burst out with evil laughter.

As Paul tried to assess the condition of his body. A familiar face was standing over him.

The man in black pulled him up. Paul stood blinking in the light shed by a single bulb in the room.


“It’s time for you to spill the beans, and tell me what you know.”

“What are you telling me?” His smile broadened.

“I’m telling you that we have unfinished business. I intend to close out that brief chaotic period in our lives. But this time, we will have a more satisfying end. And we will do it in my terms.”

The man grabbed a photo from his pocket and showed it in Paul’s face. Paul looked up and stared at the photo. His eyes widened.

“Tell me where you got all that money to bribe judges, police and other public officials across the city that made you untouchable for so many years?”

Paul’s face turned utterly cold. “You’ll get nothing out of me.”

The man turned around and paced the room, letting the adrenaline to take over. He wore all black—black jeans, a black shirt, and a black leather jacket. His pitiless black eyes stared him, and his hands clenched as he marched over to Paul.

“Your silence, of course, comes with a price.” He said as he took his jacket off. He punched him hard in the stomach the old man grunted, his features pained as his head fell forward as he gasped for breath.

“You… -gasp- "I knew this is how things were going to end between us. I was in total control. Power and intimidation. Everything that anyone else made in the city was mine until you appeared. For when the night came, fear and dread ruled the streets. Everyone feared with their hearts and souls the monster from the darkness.

One by one you took them all down from corrupt police officers to gang members until there was no violence in the streets.”

His chest expanded, and his eyes filled with rage.

“Not only, did I lose money but many men because of…

“Unfortunately, your greediness blinds you to the truth that this could be your path to a hell on earth. It is time that I should fulfill my promise, and begin your punishment. So let me show you that those who walk among the dead soon they become real.”

As he snapped his fingers the fiendish-looking figures took their masks off. Paul’s face changed it’s expression from one of anger and indignation to one of fear.

“Their faces, I can’t barely…”

His lips turned blue and his red face turned deadly pale as white as a sheet.

“They… Listen to me attack him and take me out of here now. It’s an order."

The figures stood, lifeless, without thoughts. The small light bulb which dangled from the ceiling casting wild shadows across the walls revealed the man’s face.

He chuckled.


“You have no authority over them. Their hollow eyes betray their guise, revealing where they have been. Now they submit to my name.”

Paul wanted to run, but his feet would not allow it. He wanted to scream, but his voice would not come. He tried to swing his fist, but his arm had become as stone, stiff and unable to move. He was petrified with fear.

“You… you’re… not human but a demon.”

Against his will Paul closed his eyes and began to recite the Lord’s pray as the sinister man approached.

“Let me tell you a story of my old self. All that remains of him is a shell. He strayed from his path forced to pay for a sin he did not commit. The sound of angered flames silenced his pain. Left to wonder who had even began to care of his disappearance and why he was gone and where. But no one expected that one day the sky first turned red he would return from hell and with an army. Torrential bullets loomed over him. Greedy savages tried to stop him. But many fell under the power of his rage.

He consumed their souls and transformed them into something much like a creature known as a ghoul. A creation of demons in which the shell of a human was to control. And these ghouls here have but one goal, they want to claim your very soul.”

The aging man motioned with his hand moving up and down at the Ghouls getting close to him.

“No. Please, I’ll tell you everything you want to know but please don’t let them…”

The man lips turned up in a smile as he motioned to his Ghouls to stop.

“You know what, Paul. I have better questions for you.

Who is the man in white, double-breasted trench coat and long hair you have been working with all these years?

What does he want with my wife?

The heavy drinker lowered his sight. Tears stung his eyes, and he gritted his teeth to keep from letting his fear and emotions get out of control. After a pause he replied.

“Please, not him you don’t want to know of his Majesty.

His face turned so pale and he was so frightened that his knees knocked together and his legs gave way.

"He’s the image of the back of our eyelids. It’s always there in front of the eyes. But we cannot see him. He’s the almighty creator. Whoever believes in him has eternal life; whoever does not obey him shall not see life, but the wrath of his power."

He grabbed him by the neck and forced him to his feet.

“What the hell does he want with me and my wife?”

He looked directly into his dark eyes. “I don’t know he never told me.

“How he knew where to find this place?”

Paul paused for a moment, before looking at the Ghouls one last time.

“One of his men has infiltrated your ranks.

Crowley looked shocked. He kept looking at Paul trying to figure it out who can be.

“Where I can find that man you call Majesty?”

Paul approached him and whispered in Crowley’s ear. Crowley raised his eyebrows in surprise.

Crowley stood up, and looked at his Ghouls.

“Wait.” Paul said. ”What is a man like you possibly looking in wrestling?”

"PWC right? How a man who can control an army of zombies but can’t control an entire roster of men."

As Crowley began to walk towards the door, the halfway stared to vibrate and shake violently.

“Because for every blackened heart there’s a pure one that can’t be controlled. There will always be men like Shadow, Jalapeño or Bruce Thorn Jr.

But let me show you how a blackened heart submit to my name before I find who the traitor is.

As Crowley closed the door loud screams rang through the long corridor before everything turned black.

Continued...


****​
 

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OOC: Just some setup.


The breeze blows through the St. Louis sky.

It is midsummer so there is very little cloud cover.

Tree leaves rustle.

Above all a bird takes flight

It soars high, looking down at the Missouri landscape. Nestled in a broken down area of town is a martial arts dojo. The once empty Hammerpunch training facility was packed to the brim with middle aged women learning the art of self defense.

The bird lands on a tree branch and peers inside the dojo.

Bishop, one of Donald Hammerpunch’s assistants, is holding pads for out of shape soccer moms in sweats. They awkwardly throw "punches" and get back in line to redo the exercise.

Bishop: "Good Job today ladies. Remember if your attacker can't see you, their groin is open for immediate attack!"

Ladies: Yes, Sir!

After some time the women’s self defense class lines up. Their instructor stands in front proud of the effort his new students have given. With sweat dripping down more than just their brow, they anxiously await the words of the temporary master of the dojo. Not wanting to keep them waiting, he steps forward and everybody prepares to listen.

Bishop: Alright Ladies, another great night of work here. Before I let you know, I wish to remind you that these techniques are only to be used in a worst case scenario and as a last resort. If you are challenged to a fight in the street, you walk away. If you are attacked, you defend yourself. Are we clear?

All the women: Yes, Sir!

The bird from the outside continues to watch, as the women file out of the building. It soon readies its wings to take flight to once again look down once again at the Missouri landscape…

____________

Somewhere in Scandinavia…

Voice: It is good to see you have continued your meditations.

Donald Hammerpunch opens his eyes. Seated in a cross legged position, he quickly scans the area for the intruder. Having trouble identifying the speaker in the dimly lit room, the Donjitsu blackbelt stands up slowly and readies himself for an attack. He moves slowly, however, still feeling the effects of his brawl with Remy Deiu.

Voice: At ease, Donald.

Hammerpunch: Sensei Rolling Thunder! I had no idea.

The 9th degree blackbelt in Donjitsu soon bows to the mystery man who is still hidden within the dimly lit hotel room.
Sensei Rolling Thunder: I see why you meditate. Your chi is deeply troubled.

Hammerpunch: Yes, Sensei. Things are not going well for me.The warrior techniques I have implemented in my dojo are being replaced by cowardly, practical self defense techniques. It is not what I had in mind when I created the sytem of Donjitsu.

Sensei Rolling Thunder:
Ah yes. Students bastardizing the techniques their masters taught to them. Sound familiar?

Hammerpunch looks down.

Hammerpunch: I did what I felt was necessary at the time.

Sensei Rolling Thunder:
I know which is why I have yet to renounce you as my student. Which is why you are still part of the Order You may have let me down, but you didn’t completely turn your back to me.

Hammerpunch: No I have not.

Sensei Rolling Thunder: Which is the reason I am here. Things are about to go down and I may need you to retake your position as protector of our ways. Pendragon has begun gathering forces and he must be stopped. You are called Hammerpunch for a reason, so now is the time you embrace who you are.

The former PWC heavyweight champ looks down at his clenched fist.

Hammerpunch: Sorry Sensei, I can’t. I have tried to but I can no longer control it. You must have somebody else more capable.
Sensei Rolling Thunder: There is nobody else! You are the protector, so time to start acting like it!

Hammerpunch: Yes Sensei!

Sensei Rolling Thunder: First step is eliminating your foes at hand. If you cannot dispose of these undisciplined fighters in PWC, you will fail in your upcoming quest

Hammerpunch: If you are referring to Austin Angel, do not worry. He may be a television champion, but his fighting skills do not hold a candle to mine. Even with his band at ringside, the techniques I have learned will come out on top.

Sensei Rolling Thunder:
I am not just referring to the rock star! I am not just speaking of your upcoming battle against the living God at Ragnoräk. I have watched your encounters with him and you so far have come out worst for wear. How many cracked ribs did you receive after your tumble with him?

Hammerpunch: Then what do you suggest Sensei!

Sensei: You must embrace who you are! Become the Hammerpunch! Use what you have been given

Hammerpunch: I told you already Sensei, the move is too powerful for me to control.

Sensei: Not without the proper teachings. There is a man here in Europe I want you find. It is a bit of a journey from Norway, but it will be worth your time.

The martial arts master steps forward, still hidden within the shadows of the room. He hands Hammerpunch a sealed envelope.

Sensei Rolling Thunder: Here is the info you will need. This man can help you.

Donald Hammerpunch takes the envelope and grips it tightly.

Sensei Rolling Thunder: I must go now. Remember, Gustav Pendragon is out there. It is time for us to fight back.

Rolling Thunder then pulls a ninja star from his pocket and throws it at lamp. As the lamp shatters, he walks over to the door and opens it.

Sensei Rolling Thunder: Now, I forgot to ask. Do they validate parking here?


TO BE CONTINUED...
 

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Discussion Starter #17 (Edited)
Stockholm, Sweden

He didn't know what upset him more, and Barney thought about that as he studied the simple wooden door in front of him. It was chipped, the paint cracking in certain places. It annoyed him and he didn't know why, everything annoyed him. He pulled the thin white material of the t-shirt over his head, obscuring his view of the the dodgy, annoying door in front of him.

The door reminded him of himself. Broken. He wasn't sure what had come over him, planning to stab his best friend in the back. He removed his hands from the thin t-shirt, allowing it to drop over his torso, pulling it down just to be sure it covered him. He shook his head, turning away from the door. He run his fingers through his hair, noting how thin it was.

Old age? He wasn't sure.

He'd been in the ring less than two hours previous and now he wanted a way out. Back to his hotel, sleep and fly on to the next location. He'd never been to Norway, it was a place he'd always wanted to visit but he never had. He knew that it'd be worth having a day or two to look around, find the best resturants in Hamar.

He pulled both of his shoes on and left with a pace.

Hamar, Norway

In some ways he was prepared for his match. He thought of the line from his most recent gaming experience, "Nothing is true, everything is permitted". It was true, in some aspects. Nothing was true, not if he could stab a brother in the back. Everything was permitted, if it meant getting a victory he didn't see why it wasn't permitted.

Oh right, the rulebook.

He shook his head softly. He had to focus on his match. Damien Dawson,
British. All Barney knew about him really. He'd been squashed by Remy Deiu before his match the week prior. The entire match was a throwback to the American Civil War just with less war. USA vs UK, that's all he could figure out about it.

The bolt, he'd held it before. He'd failed to cash in against the current Number One Contender for the World Heavyweight Championship Shadow.
It happened, he needed to get out of the company and that was the easiest way to do it. Plus he knew he'd get a chance to fight for it again like he was now.

He just had to knock off a Brit, a posh Brit. That was Damien's entire thing,
he was a little bit posh. Probably enjoyed tea with the Queen every Tuesday and wiped his arse on corgies. That was a British thing, right? He honestly had no idea, Barney hadn't spent enough time in the UK to know. The UK was just damp and cold.

He heard the door creak open, turning.

???:
Hello, Barney...
 

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Sorry it's really short, I forgot all about this and just wanted to get something in. I think I managed to advance the story at least and get the gist done I wanted done with this RP.

Stories From The Road: An Austin Angel RP

After Vortex 14: Austin Angel's Locker Room

We. Were. Furious. Becca had planned an amazing championship celebration, and that bastard Jensen had the nerve to ruin it. Bret had been rushed to the hospital to get stiches after having the bottle smashed over his head, Becca had a two hundered dollar ruined and me? Sure I got covered in cake but that was the least of my worries. I wanted Jensen's head on a platter, and so did Axl and Riley, who were sitting across the room from me waiting for me to speak up. I hadn't said a word since getting back into the locker room. Finally I lifted my head and looked at them.

Austin: Revenge. Jensen will pay for what he did tonight and I'm not just talking about beating him when he has his rematch.

I stood up as did Axl and Riley, Riley took a step forward and spoke up.

Riley: He's the reason Bret is at the hospital right now, so I'm with you. Let's make him pay. In fact I say let's go wait for him in the parking lot and beat his ass right there!

I shook my head, as sweet as destroying Jensen in the parking lot would be, I knew better. I know Clement is petty little man and would take any excuse he can find to strip me of my championship. And this means more to me than revenge.

Austin: Jensen probably booked out of town quicker than he ran threw the crowd to avoid us getting our hands on him again. But don't worry we will get our hands on him soon, and when we do the only person going to the hospital is him.

Suddenly Becca came out of our private bathroom, fully cleaned up and sporting clean clothes. Thankfully she wasn't seething anymore, but I could see the fire in her eyes still. She wanted revenge as much as we did.

Becca: I hearrd what you guys we're saying, and I agree we'll hatch a plan ssoon enough. But for now let's get the hell out of this place.

We all nodded in agreement, tonight was a bad night and we were all ready for it to end.

The Day Before Vortex 15: Hamar, Norway:

We were sitting on our tour bus on the way back to our hotel, sadly not the luxury bus as it hadn't been delievered to us yet but this would do for the time being. I sat next to Becca as Riey and a stiched up Bret sat across from us in the lounge area while Axl went to the back of the bus to lay down, he usually does sleep on the bus.

Austin: So how's the head Bret? Which reminds me, sorry about that.

Bret rubbed the bandage on his head and shrugged.

Bret: It's fine, and you know I don't blame you for it. Jensen is the one who pushed me in the way after all.

I nodded, the Ellliot's were more than just the band to us, they were good brothers and loyal followers. Once I teach them more with wrestling they'll really be great assets to have.

Austin: I'm glad you see things the right way, but we need to shift our focus off Jensen for now and onto my next victim, Donald Hammerpunch. After all he used to be a big deal around here.

Riley and Bret laugh as Becca speaks up.

Becca: How did he win the World Title anyway? And he thinks this "donjitsu" he does is all badass. Puh-lese, if that weirdo Crowley can beat him it's obvious you can too babe, you'll take him on a one way trip to slamtown.

Austin: Damn right I will, he might be a former world champion but it's obvious he's on the decline, he's not what he once was. Where as me? I'm the fastest rising star in this company and in the whole wrestling business in fact.

Riley: Exactly dude, and he has no motivation to even wanna beat you, he gains nothing from it.

Bret: Yeah the idiot fans think it'll be a cakewalk for him to beat you just because he's been world champ. But that's why it'll be even better when you beat him, they didn't think you'd beat Jensen for the title and you did and now you'll beat Hammerpunch.

I nodded, I've trained these boys well.

Austin: Of course, and let's not forget I'm going in pissed off. I haven't forgotten what happened last week with Jensen ruining my moment, and tomorrow Hammerpunch feels that rage. Hell maybe after I beat him I'll sick you guys and Axl on him, let you guys get some of your anger out. Before we get our hands on Jensen that is.

Before we could continue our conversation, we arrived at the hotel. As we exited the bus, there was a nerdy looking man waiting for us, what could he possibly want? I was tempted to have Axl dispose of him, but I decided to see what he wanted first.

Angel: If you're a fan, I'm not signing any autographs.

The man quickly shook his head no as Riley, Bret, Becca and Axl filed out of the bus and stood on either side of me.

Nerdy Man: No Mr. Angel, I'm Mark Matthews, the camera man for your new reality show.

Mark, as I now know his name is held out his hand to me, he may not be a fan but I'm still not shaking his hand.

Angel: Well it's about time you arrived. We're not shooting anything tonight but follow us into the hotel, we'll give you the details about what you can film and what you can't, and all the other details.

I led the group inside the hotel and up to Becca and I's room, tomorrow I beat Donald Hammerpunch and take him to slamtown. But tonight, we begin planning the greatest show in the history of television.
 

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Backstage in a repurposed cleaning closet, Ryan Barron sits on a stool, A Scotland flag draped in the background and several bottles of Buckfast littered along the floor. Barron necking down the last bottle and wiping his lips.

“Prometheus Flame. A chance to challenge the Legacy Champion. And all thats in my way is Tristan Kist? I know I haven't had the best start here but that is going to change after tonight. When I beat Kist I will ascend up the ladder here and secure my place on the top. My place in the sun is tonight… and I’m rambling again ain’t I?”

“Yeah…” says a tracksuited figure behind the camera

“Fer Fuck sake. I canna post this bullshit on my YouTube. I look fuckin stupid!”

“Well… that could get you more views?”

“... upload it now”

Both men then sit eagerly at the computer, watching the video slowly upload.

“So whatever happened to that girl you were with?”

Barron looks confused

“You mean Appol-Apooll-Appollo- Fuck it we’ll just call her Beth.”

“Y-yeah, that one!”

Barron smirks and rubs the back of his head

“Weeeeeeell. We were on the road travelling here… and she wanted to stop and get some coffee at a nearby service station. So whilst she did that I was refilling the car. Then some boys drove past in a Nissan and my inner street racer said ‘aww fuck it’ and drove after them without paying… It was a good race!” Barron laughs “But uhh… she’s been trying to call me to pick her up several times… I just blocked her number rather than drive all the way back there and listen to her chattin shite and scoldin me”

His friend laughs loudly “Fuckin christ you are really one fuckin dumbass”

“Anyway…. We uploaded yet?”

“Just done now”

Both men look at the video and laugh. Their eyes then divert to the view counter. 1 view. They refresh. 3 views. They refresh again 13 views.

“Hey, we’re getting plenty of hits on this video!” Says Barron’s friend

“Let that ad revenue flow right in” Barron smirks. They refresh the video once more. Suddenly the view counter has dropped to only 4 views.

“... thats fookin bullshit” Barron roars and kicks the computer tower, sparks fly from it and the screen instantly blacks out.

“Uhh… whoopsie”
 
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