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Post by Action Reel on Nov 22, 2021 20:46:47 GMT -5
Hardcore Championship Rules!
You can ONLY respond to each other IN this thread!
You have 300 words, MAX. Hard limit, not a single word over!
Your DEADLINE is DECEMBER 2nd at NOON pacific, 3pm EASTERN US time!
NO double posting/no responding to yourself!
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Post by Ash Blake on Nov 23, 2021 5:16:59 GMT -5
How do those hands of yours feel now, Zolton?
You were so eager, after all. Just so eager to reach out, fumbling my attention just two weeks ago, when the thought of yours truly pulling double duty at Turmoil was still a very real possibility. So eager to force my attention towards you, you had to go and tug on my skirt, lash me across the back, and show the world just what you were planning to do to me just to make sure you had my attention.
You have it now, Zolton. I'm transfixed; all I see is you. I hope you aren't expecting an apology for earlier — turnabout is fair play, after all. And even if it wasn't, I wouldn't dare waste a drop of remorse on someone like you. After all, you're getting far more than you deserve just by hearing me say your name: you're getting attention. You're getting the chance to delude yourself that even for a second, that this match is about you, when from the mere instant you slithered your way into contendership, the refrain was all but spoken:
This idiot's going to get eaten alive.
Congratulations are in order, I guess. You proved them all right.
I'm sure the opportunity was tempting. I'd been beaten. Bruised, battered, left in just the right position for an alleged contender hoping to wipe the taste of failure off his own tongue to pick apart. And so you did. You marched right out and tried to maim me. To humiliate me. To devour me.
Because everything about the woman lying prone on the mat, moments after the one man who's ever defeated her did so again screamed one thing to you, didn't it?
"This is your moment."
Said the spider to the fly.
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Z
Professional Wrestler
Posts: 22
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Post by Z on Nov 24, 2021 22:59:39 GMT -5
“Refusing to admit that I caught you off guard is something you most definitely will regret. The refusal of stating the obvious. You are truly worried that I might just be your kryptonite. Your achilles heel. From what was said at Clash, you seem to be looking past me. Feeling as though I am a mere speed bump. I am nothing more to you than a blip on the radar screen.”
“You proved my thoughts correct as well that night. I got and still am inside your head. Under your skin. Acting as if you weren’t going to step into that ring Monday Night and gain some form of retribution for what I did to you the week prior. You seem to be just like all the others Blake. Refusing to grasp the real reality of the situation. I am not just another tumbleweed blowing across the Action Wrestling landscape. No, I am a contender. I am not only a contender for the championship you currently hold, but I am also a contender for the championship you once held many moons ago. At least that is what it seems.”
“I am surprised that after Philidor fell, you even stuck around. That seemed to be your one and only identity. But alas here you are, somewhat being your own little girl. Bravo.”
“You’ve only felt a little bit of what I can and will do Ash. At Turmoil in the horrendous city of Chicago, you will get the full breadth of what I am and what kind of skills I possess. I am violent. I am intelligent, and, little girl, I am as technical as anyone. Your pain. Your sorrow will feed my violent chaos. Let the mind games begin here. End at Turmoil. Chaos is calling you Blake.”
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Post by Ash Blake on Nov 28, 2021 21:32:52 GMT -5
Five shots and a pose, that's how this all began in earnest, isn't it?
Not with the 'triumph' that made this formality compulsory in the first place. No, even with this match in your crosshairs, you couldn't divert attention away with your big win. That focus was given to Hellimination. To Wrestler of the Year. By every account, on every level — from the Pharisees in the stands to the groveling sadsacks you and I call colleagues — you were discounted. Looked past. A lame duck contender in the flesh, shambling towards inevitability.
So you made yourself known. Decided you were through playing wallflower when I was lying there, ripe for the taking? You crowbarred your way into my focus, made your intentions clear as day — and here you are, still introducing yourself to me. Jamming that bike pump into your sternum so you can puff your chest out like every man that's been bigger and allegedly badder than me that I've put down thus far.
Careful there, Zolton. You might pop yourself before I get a chance to jam a needle between your ribs.
You look me in the eye and feel compelled to tell me everything you think you are. Everything you need me to believe about you. Regale me, Zolton, tell me about the man you claim to be.
You're intelligent. You're violent. You're technical. You're the whole package, aren't you?
Nice to meet you, I'm Ash Blake. That's all I need to say on my behalf.
The Sword of Damocles that's hanged over my head for a year has already taken a couple whacks at my neck, and my head's not in a basket.
So tell me, what do I have to fear from the fly thrashing about in the web, insisting this was his plan all along?
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Z
Professional Wrestler
Posts: 22
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Post by Z on Nov 30, 2021 16:03:04 GMT -5
“So I seem to have a plan? A plan? Blake? Are you even paying attention? Do I look like a man with a plan? How ridiculous of a notion you seem to have in your mind. I am the man of Chaos, just in case you missed that in my new introduction to you.”
“How adorable you think that you are so special that I should feel all warm and gooey inside that you are speaking my name. You speaking my name is nothing special. Which in turn makes you less than so. Blake you need to do a little bit more research on me if you think that I am some kind of deep thinker. I am a man that sits in a room and plans out things. I am no such person. I create chaos. I create things from thin air. No planning needed. Did you even see what happened to Dick boy a couple of weeks ago? I guess not.”
“This match upcoming at Turmoil will be nothing short of chaotic. I will get to see how well you can handle things when you have a plan going into a fight and your plans fall apart.”
“Bravo Ash, you actually listened and were able to regurgitate my attributes. There are so many others that you will just have to wait and see what they are. If you haven’t noticed in my short journey in Action Wrestling, I am constantly seeking attention. Seeking focus from who becomes my next major opponent. You are that now. I am sure you already know that considering your retaliation at Clash. What happens though when the mind of a spider becomes the fly? I guess Turmoil will tell that story. Allow me to be the first to welcome you to the CHAOS!!”
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Post by Ash Blake on Nov 30, 2021 19:40:51 GMT -5
Jesus Christ, you're pathetic.
All I had to do was say one little word, an offhanded turn of phrase, and you start to spiral. Thrashing about, foaming at the mouth just to prove me wrong. It's a stunning display from such an intelligent man, but you are right about one thing. I don't think you're the type to make plans, Zolton; matter of fact, I don't think you've ever had a thought in your life.
It's been all adrenaline for you, hasn't it? That ancient reptilian brain whispering in the base of your skull. The jitters, the shakes. Pure electrochemistry — unhampered by trivial matters such as cognition.
I guess I shouldn't be too surprised by your absolute lack of self-awareness, but yeesh. There's cutting off your nose to spite your face and then there's impaling yourself on the knife you brought to the fight. Boasting your intelligence, only to forsake any forethought of your actions as a cheap little gotcha. What's next? If I point out our height difference, will you cut off your legs to prove me wrong there?
Please don't do that, Zolton. I'd be so owned if you did.
I wouldn't expect anything less from the ostentatious poseur who waxed poetic about how he'd 'weave the nets of deceit and dishonor' while disarming himself of the tools to accomplish such a feat with its first utterance — because nothing says smooth operator quite like screaming 'I can't be trusted' the first time someone shoves a microphone in your hands. You're a hammer who thinks he's a scalpel, but you're the only one getting cut.
So go ahead. Don't think. Act. Let the lizard brain rattling around in that thick skull of yours lead you right into the brick wall.
It's happened to better men than you, after all.
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Z
Professional Wrestler
Posts: 22
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Post by Z on Dec 1, 2021 19:16:56 GMT -5
“Excuse me as I attempt to hold back laughter.”
“What I found so interesting and quite astonishing is you are one of the very few women in this business that are far more than their looks.”
“What happens when the prey becomes the hunter? Riddle me, that little twisting thought line.”
“Reactionary nature is the most integral part of me keeping that lizard brain working underneath the levers running the rest of my thoughts. Yes Blake, I do have thoughts. Thoughts that put a smile on my face but would put you, your children, your children’s children in a mental institution for a period of time.”
“You see Blake what you have failed to grasp. Failed to see. The word vomit thrown out between you and I is nothing but that. Being precise with the words. Hitting specific details. Example being you feeling and thinking as though I was unraveling. I have never been the type to seem sane. Blake. The most obvious thing about me and you missed it.”
“Precision. It only matters when you need to land a plane. When you are a surgeon. Kind of comical that you used the analogy of you thinking that I think I am a scalpel but actually a hammer.”
“I’m actually a ticking time bomb. Awaiting for my time to explode. Can you hear the ticking clock Blake? As the time gets closer, that ticking will get louder. So loud that you will find yourself unraveling. Keep up the façade that you are wearing. Showing no fear, but your lizard brain is shaking in fear that the knees are cracking. Breaking.”
“Violence is the core part of us all humans. That is what has bred the elite. Tossing the useless in the proverbial garbage.”
“Another reign of CHAOS is, emanate… Enjoy.”
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Post by Ash Blake on Dec 2, 2021 7:23:32 GMT -5
Right, Zolton. That's what you are: a timebomb. Matter of fact, let me do you one better. You're a grenade. You're a mortar shell. You're the Little Boy and the Fat Man reincarnated — but even then, I could give you my coordinates and you still wouldn't hit the broad side of a barn.
I think I've been too nice thus far, too amenable. Let you play out your little fantasy of being more complex than that rattling reptilian brain of yours is capable of. Guess that's just my nature, to be obsequious. Maybe I ought to take the gloves off, eighty-six the ambiguity.
I'm not sure if I've made this clear, but you disgust me, Zolton. Empty-headed nihilist trash that you are, I'm sure you'll wear that as a badge of honor. Make no mistake, however, that's all you inspire in me. I don't fear you — this certainly ain't loathing, either — and I don't pity you.
Everything about you: your stringy hair, the gaudy memento mori painted on your chest, the 'chaos' you scream about hoping it cloaks every rotten organ of yours I've already charted, all it does is inspire the bile in the back of my throat.
No, Zolton, for all your preening to the contrary, I haven't failed to grasp anything, and I've seen right through you from the start. Five shots and a pose is how we commenced this little danse macabre, and we just can't escape its shadow.
Because it's you, to your core. The image of danger, without the risk. The agent of entropy who needs the trappings of legitimacy; ain't that right, franchise?
I'll ask you again, how do those hands of yours feel now, Zolton?
Because I can't imagine they'll feel much better when I smack them away from the cookie jar.
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Z
Professional Wrestler
Posts: 22
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Post by Z on Dec 2, 2021 10:05:18 GMT -5
“Hands. Feel. Excellent.”
“Here we are, going tic for tac on one another in little minute and a half intervals. Squeaking. Squawking at one another. So. Much. Fun. Right?”
“Blake, you are quite the confident woman. Something that I can’t deny respecting. But I must warn you, arrogance is a thin line you don’t want to cross. Seeing. Right. Through. Me. Could very well be your downfall. I already see my hands clamping down upon you. Watching the light in your eyes fade. But releasing, giving you a second to feel your life returning, only to watch me pull it from you.”
“Pity. Me? I have not once claimed or clamored for pity from you or any of the parasites out in the world.”
“I crave nothing from you. Another plain and obvious sentiment in these minute and a half increments. That. Championship. Is. All. I. Truly. CRAVE!”
“Your destruction, whether self made, or all due to my hands is simply a bonus. You’re nothing but a faceless blob of a meat sack. Have you missed any of that? Or should I break it down a little more elementary for you?”
“Championship. Glory. That. Is. All. I. Seek. I. Don’t. Want. Attention.”
“All this boils down to is whether you can withstand the storm and come out on the other side still holding your championship belt. You seem defiantly and overwhelmingly confident that you will. All your nuanced wording and venom laced syllables.”
“Turmoil is the fitting title for this pay per view. You’ve been in an internal turmoil since I struck you down a few weeks ago. Although you are putting off the impression it didn’t affect you. The world sees that it has.”
“Chaos. Is. Your. Only. Option. Accept. It. Resisting. Is. Only. A. Delay. Of. The. INEVITABLE!!”
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