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| Frank Gallows vs. Steven Jones; QFTG Semi-Final Match | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Mar 27 2008, 02:43 PM (503 Views) | |
| Josh | Mar 27 2008, 02:43 PM Post #1 |
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IPW Ignition April 2, 2008 From IPW Arena in Atlantic City, NJ Quest For The Gold Tournament: Semi-Final Match Frank Gallows vs. Steven Jones RPing Rules: Each participant may RP once a day with a maximum of four RPs for the week. The deadline for RPs will be 5:00 PM CENTRAL TIME on Tuesday. |
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| Aaron | Mar 28 2008, 08:07 AM Post #2 |
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Opener
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The Coin Toss Roll The Tape... Sand. Dry as a bone. As far as the horizon. Trees. Leafless, burning to a charcoal crisp in the sweltering heat. Cooling White. A fresh lick of paint to the miniature rest stop located at the side of the road. One car. Parked beside the only rusty gas pump for miles. Frank Gallows finishes filling up. He begins walking toward the small store across the brittle earth. Flies swarm around the water left in a red plastic dog bowel. He stops half way. The earth suddenly felt soft and moist and an oder had risen up around his nostrils. Looking down at his shoe, Frank sees the lump of dog shit that had clung to his sole, swatting the flies around him. He scrapes it off, dragging his foot along the ground before entering the small store, where he meets the character known simply as Man In The Fucking Shirt. Frank walks toward him, placing a packet of peanuts on the counter. FG:''How Much?'' MITFS:"69cents" FG:''..and the gas?'' MITFS:''You not getting any rain up your way?'' Frank places a salted peanut in his mouth, savoring the question. FG:''What way would that be? MITFS:''..I seen you was from Dallas.'' FG:''..What business of it is yours?..Where I'm from?..Friend.." Man In The Fucking Shirt looks at Frank. Speechless. He was used to making quick chit-chat with the few people that passed through there. He was never challenged, nor questioned over his ethic of conversation, but apparently today, he had touched a nerve. MITFS:''I didn't mean nothing by it. Just passing the time. If you don't wanna accept that, i don't know what else i can do for you. Will there be something else?" FG:''I don't know, will there?'' MITFS:''Is something wrong?'' FG:''With What?'' MITFS:"With anything?'' Frank smiles, placing another peanut in his mouth. Man In The Fucking Shirt recoils his neck cautiously as he questions Frank. FG:''Is that what you're asking me? Is there something wrong with anything?'' MITFS:''Will there be anything else?'' FG:''You already asked me that!'' Silence MITFS:''Oh..well, i need to see about closing here." FG:''What time do you close?'' MITFS:''Now..we close now." FG:''Now is not the time, what time do you close!!'' MITFS:''Generally around dark..." Frank glanced out the window, knowing full well that it was mid afternoon. He looks back at Man In The Fucking Shirt, raising a ginger eyebrow. FG:''You don't know what you're talking about, what time do you go to bed?'' MITFS:''Sir?'' FG:''You're a bit deaf aren't you! I said what time do you go to bed!?'' MITFS:''Oh..Er..Somewhere around 9.30. I..I'd say around 9.30." FG:''I could come back then..'' MITFS:''Why would you be coming back? We'll be closed..'' FG:''You live in that house out back?'' MITFS:''Yes, i do..'' Frank chews on some more peanuts, grinding his teeth. He seemed to be enjoying his interrogation. FG:''And you've lived here, all your life?'' MITFS:''This is my wifes, fathers place, originally'' FG:''You married into it?'' MITFS:"We lived in Temple, Texas for many years. Raised a family there, in Temple. We came out here about 4 years ago." FG:''You married into it?'' MITFS:''If that's the way you wanna put it.'' FG:''I don't have some way to put it! That's the way it is." Frank swallows the last peanut, placing the crumpled plastic packet back down on the counter, watching as its crippled shape tried in vain to stretch back out. FG:''What's the most you ever lost in a coin toss?" MITFS:''Sir?'' FG:''The most you ever lost...in a...coin toss!'' MITFS:''I don't know, i couldn't say!'' Frank pulls a coin from his sea of crumbs in his pocket, flicking it up into the air. The coin pirouettes in front of him before landing back in the safety of his palm, only to be slammed back down on the counter. Franks keeps his fingers covering it. FG:"...Call it..'' MITFS:''Call it?'' FG:''Yes..'' MITFS:''For what?'' FG:''..just call it!'' MITFS:''...Well...we need to know what were calling it for here." FG:''You need to call it, i can't call it for you. MITFS:''I didn't put nothing up!'' FG:''Yes you did. You've been putting it up your whole life, you just didn't know it. You know what date is on this coin?'' MITFS:''No.." FG:''1958. It's been traveling 50 years, to get here. And now its here, its either heads...or tails!'' MITFS:''..Look, i need to know what i stand to win..'' FG:''Everything."" MITFS:''Hows that?'' FG:''You stand to win everything..NOW CALL IT!'' Silence. MITFS:''Alright. Heads, then..'' Frank lifts his fingers from the coin. Heads, it is. FG:''Well done!'' MITFS relaxes. Wiping the sweat from his brow. He takes the coin, about to place it in his pocket.. FG:''Don't put it in your pocket. Its your lucky quarter." MITFS:''Ww.Where'd you want me to put it?'' FG:''Anywhere, not in your pocket. It'll get mixed in with the others and it will become just another coin. Which it is..'' Cut. ................... |
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| MrJones | Mar 30 2008, 12:28 AM Post #3 |
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Jobber
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"Fighting my way back for a chance at the top." It was just days ago when Steven Jones jumped at the oppertunity to make an impact. Make a name for himself in IPW by taking out two men who were undeserving of the spot they had in the ranks of the company. It was part of the quest for the gold tournament and Steven Jones had laid both men out, and demanded the right to be back in the tournament that he felt he was screwed out of. Mr. Majors, the director of authority, came out and when the crowd wanted him to reprimand Steven for his actions, Majors gave Mr. Jones his wish, the wish of a second chance in the tournament. Why? Who knows. Does Steven Jones care? That answer is a simple, no. The cameras open up to a field, the hot sun glistening the white sand, no one is in sight at all except one man. Sitting in a chair, sipping on a corona with a cooler full of long necks sitting next to him. He's wearing khaki shorts, and a green polo shirt. He has a smile on his face as he spots the camera. He moves his sunglasses onto the top of his head and looks into the camera. SJ: Once again, invading my personal time huh. It's nice out here isn't it. No one around, just a good place to come chill, and not have to worry about shit. No paparazzi, no cock sucking teenagers trying to start shit. No drugs, no cops. It's perfect out here. That's what money gets you. High pay equals great benefits. Don't you just wish you had it like I do? Everyone would, don't let anyone tell you different. But I know how it is to be in the situation most of you guys are in, living pay check to pay check, paying for your trailer, gas, and groceries. But I'm the perfect example of a successful man. Jones sips on his corona, takes a bite of the lime, then begins to speak again. SJ: See, I'm living the good life. But some wonder, how can I be so successful? It's simple really. I make things happen. I don't let people push me to the side, and move past. That's not how it works. I don't take the back seat to anyone. If something is wrongfully taken from me, like my spot in the tournament, I get it back. Those two jobbers that were scheduled to have a match last week found that out first hand. I interjected myself into the match, and look at me, I've got another oppertunity. This time though, I won't be on the losing end. I know that people have been questioning if me and Majors have something going on. But to kill all the rumors, no we don't. He just saw things the same way I did, and my actions worked in the way he saw fit. I thank him for the second chance, but that doesn't mean I'm all goody goody with the boss. Fuck that. I've never been, and never will. The fucker can die for all I care. I've got enough money to buy the company if I wanted to. Jones throws his empty bottle of corona and it lands in the sand and he just grins. SJ: So, from the sounds of it. Frank Gallows is a tough competitor, and some would call him intimidating. I heard about his trip to the gas station. You know...The Coin Toss. A fucking coin toss. Frank Gallows, do you really think it's that easy? A coin toss to determine if you get everything or not? Man, you've got a lot to learn buddy. It's not about how much you work out and get strong, it's not about how much mind games you can play, and it sure as fuck isn't about a fucking coin toss. Getting everything is about being successful, and being able to do anything it takes to make sure you get what you want. If that means, cheap shotting a guy from behind, or taking out two jobbers, so be it. Hell, even beating up a homeless guy who has nothing in life helps. Having everything isn't simply having everything you want material wise. It's about having that personal satisfaction of being able to say, you're the best. You're at the top. Something I can say. Jones puts his sunglasses over his eyes again. SJ: You may be intimidating to some, but I'm one of the few who won't back down to a guy like you. You're nothing special to me. You can be clever with your talk all you want, but that doesn't mean shit once you step into that ring with me. It's going to be a shitty night for you come Ignition. You probably feel you've got this whole tournament in the bag, but you're in for a rude awakening, because this week, you've got me standing in that ring across from you. A man determined to get the gold. Someone who will do whatever it takes. I will pull out the most unexpected moves to defeat you and leave you laying, staring up at the bright lights. When you're lying there, I want you to remember that you were dropped by The God of Wrestling, Steven Jones. Mr. Jones to you. It's a harsh world, but everyone has to fall eventually. Come Ignition, your time to fall, has come. See you there, Frank. The camera pans out as Steven opens another bottle of Corona and enjoys his slice of Paradise. |
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| Aaron | Mar 30 2008, 10:19 AM Post #4 |
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Opener
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Two Sides To The Coin Roll The Tape... Since the dawn of time, there has been religion. Through evolution, religion has branched out across the world into different cults and sects, in doing so creating new teachings and beliefs, yet still clutching onto the foundation that somewhere, out there, there is a higher being. No two religions have the same God, each varying in feature. But what can be said for all, is that there is a universal element all religious groups have maintained throughout the ages, something that religion could not exist without and that is followers; believers in their faith. Steven Jones, you call yourself a God. But the fact is, you're the only one who worships the ground you walk upon. It appears that you're a man who believes strongly in the term actions speak louder then words? But as it stands, the only thing to support your crumbling theory, are the poorly strung words of which you speak, because just like many other un proven theories on the existence of God all we have is words. You're just as mortal as every other person this earth harvests. And just like every other human, you to have to face that inevitable day that is programmed into our existence, for there are no exceptions. Not even imagination can provide you with salvation. Some of us, may wait an entire life time for that day embracing religion to pass the time. But it is nothing more then a sugar coated way out of the cold hard truth that when its all said and done, thats as far as it goes. And Steven Jones, you won't have to wait too long to find out, that if there so should be a God then there sure as HELL, is a Devil. The scene opens. The Pub was empty. A clinking of pots and pans could be heard rumbling in the kitchens. Sunday Lunch was on todays menu, something that had been done religiously in the house of Gallows for sometimes. Although it was mainly Frank and Justice that enjoyed the traditional meal, the presence of Osiris now made the occasion a lot more family like. The smell of boiling vegetable; carrots, peas and broccoli.Something a little more saner then raw meat. Frank comes out of the kitchen, donning in a white chefs hat and a white apron that is stained a bloody pink. In his hand a meat cleaver. FG:''Have you found the Queens speech yet?'' The Camera pans over to see Osiris, still bound to his black mask sitting by the TV enjoying a game of Sunday football. He glares at his little brother. His eyes may as well have been made from fire and brimstone. He knew what a monster Frank really was, after all he was of the same blood and so it angered him when Frank didn't take things such as this seriously. Osiris points at the cameras. FG:''Were going to watch the Queens speech, before we have dinner. It's what we always do, now find the tape!'' Osiris:''Frank.." FG:''I know what you're going to say, Its not Christmas Day, so why the bloody hell are we watching last years Queens speech. So i'll tell you why..'' Osiris:''Frank..'' FG:''Now that were a family..'' Osiris:''FRANK!! Reply to the god damn promo Steven Jones made or I'll stick that cleaver where the sun don't shine!'' FG:''...Steven Jones?'' Osiris pans his hands in the shape of a rainbow mockingly as he says.. ''The Wrestling Gawwwd!'' Frank forgets about the Queens Speech for a moment. Picking his teeth with the point of his cleaver. The skin beneath his nails, from that of his fallen opponents had turned into dirt. He placed the cleaver down on the bar, taking of his hat for a moment of seriousness. FG:''Steven, Steven, Steven. I really wish you'd paid a little bit more attention to my last promo. But I'm not surprised that you miss interpreted the meaning behind it as you seem to have done exactly the same thing with myself. You're right, it wasn't about how much you work out and get strong. Where ever you got that idea, I'll never know. I mean, have you seen me? I'm not exactly a chiseled Greek God. Yet, in the 2 weeks I've been here, Ive still managed to defeat 3 guys. Which i guess contradicts what you say about getting everything is about being successful and being able to do anything it takes to make sure you get what you want. Because I've proven that i have just that Steven. I've proven, that I'm no one trick pony or a one hit wonder. You may not like to admit it Steven, but in your eyes, at the bottom of your heart and at the back of your mind you know damn well, that I am the best, the best there is right now. Your cliché insults do nothing to try and cover this up. For this week, is the real decider for you Steven. Whether or not you really can perform miracles. So, i guess I've just rendered your campaign pointless Steven, because you've stood there and told this and that, what i need to be and what i need to do, when I've already been and done it. Ive reeked the benefits way before you even planned your line of action because I am always one step ahead.Maybe you should pack your shit up and go home, because that's all very rich coming from someone who has yet to win a match! See, back at the gas station. I was trying to make a point, that I'm not just another Steven Jones. Another generic wrestler of the new millennium. Or as the case would be, not just another coin in a pocket, like those in a register; all sharing the exact same value. I don't have time to share this spot in the Semi Finals, with anyone, not even you. So you see, the gas attendant was merely just a pawn in my message. And like you've noticed, i like to mind fuck people. I, much like the coin have been traveling to this very destination that both you and i share for some time now and whilst this week we shall tare at the fabric of each others very existence we have to remember that whether it be a coin toss or not, we've both been putting this up our whole entire lives, we just didn't know it yet but come ignition we will both have to make the call and prey we make the right one in order to win the match. Man in the fucking shirt, asked me if him being married into his business was the way i wanted to put it. I told him simply, that i didn't have to put it in any way, for that was the way it was. So Steven, I'll put this in a way that even you can understand. If this is a coin toss, then i always call Heads." Osiris:''And they will roll.'' Cut. ........................... |
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| Aaron | Apr 1 2008, 10:56 AM Post #5 |
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Opener
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Ca$hin' In "At night, flowered red crosses she points out while you drive and I sleep. Markers beside the road reading in painted hand script "1967-2004" but meaning "There was someone I loved and they died here and now I am alone.". You drive in quiet in surreal pitch darkness. Outside the drone of cicadas and frog horks while AM radio plays bluegrass, and the singer is singing "Let's pass around that long-necked bottle and we'll all go out on a spree. Because today's the last of Wild Bill Jones. Tomorrow'll be the last of me. The raw animal stink of horseshoe crabs, died on the beach, Florida, Amelia Island Plantation outside Jacksonville, south of Fernandina Beach. Brown salad bowl helmets, prehistoric undersides and long dragon tail, rotting near the shore.You drag one up on the beach by its tail and flop it over, its belly a chassis of claws and ribbed lobster armor body. You say, "I'm sorry you died. I'm sorry you're gone.". She's on a towel by the sand dunes. The driftwood and soap sud sea foam hits your feet. "I can't ignore the past and fake a new name" you tell yourself. Your old name and self and face and life crawling into a mossy green grave to wake up new and smiling and sweaty earth-touched and sun-kissed. Watching yachts off the coast, white dots past crumbling breakers."The sea is my brother" you say and laugh insane laughs, shaking with feeling alive. Delaware in the morning, dawn chill to burn off by noon. The beach goers will speed past. Crab-shacks in beach towns, the highway slicked with sand. New Jersey Turnpike, packed and crazy! Voices in the next room, New Jersey motel, muffled, that sound miles away. Bells clang in the nautical ship cry foghorn sad harbor.and you cast the nets fisherman, cast the nets, cast your nets, what kind of cure is this?" Roll The Tape... Osiris was done telling another tale of how he and his brother Frank, originally met. Osiris being the solemn drifter, looking for a ride. Frank being the good Samaritan, who pulled over the day he and Justice were taking a trip to New Jersey. A strange twist of events that brought two strangers together, unfolding an invisible relation. It was hard for Frank to remember. The memories were blurred. A man with thin sandy hair and rugged stubble was the only imagery he could establish from that day, years ago. But Osiris, with his concealing black mask, was the complete opposite. The pair sat by the bar, next to a local, smelling of vomit, who was known simply as Puke. Puke:''Get me another Scotch!" Justice shuffled over to Puke. His tangled gray beard covering most of his wrinkled face with crumbs and debre. Justice:''Don't you think you've had enough?'' Puke:''I'll tell you when I've had enuff, Gawd Damn It! I'm a veteran, how about you have some respect! Where am I? Gawd Damn Kindergarten? No, seriously where the hell am i?'' FG:''Get the man another Scotch.'' Osiris:''I don't agree with you turning this place into a soup kitchen. If the homeless want to drink here, they're going to need to have money to allow us to feed their habits. FG:''He pays for his drinks. I don't see what harm there is in letting him enjoy himself once in a while. Justice:''Yeah, only sometimes and when he does it's always in foreign currency!'' Osiris:''Look at him, he's fallen asleep in his own dribble again.'' The camera pans over to see Puke snoring in a small pool of spit on surface of the bar. FG:''Ok, everybody, just leave...'' Osiris:''He has nothing worth taking Frank, just leave it.'' FG:''I'm not going to rob him. Just go..'' Osiris and Justice leave the seating area of the pub. Frank moves to the stool next to Puke. Patting him on the back. FG:''You know, there's hardly anyone in the 21st century that will turn down a "free ticket", for whatever it may be. Today's people, with their internet assembled philosophies, will stop at nothing to get to where they have to be at the cheapest rate possible. The less they have to do to work for what they want, the better. But how many of these men and women, do you actually see achieve anything this way? Puke here, comes in here whenever his mobile home swings by this way. And by mobile home, i mean the rusty shopping trolley he carts around with all his belongings in. I give him a few drinks, to warm him up and keep his pavement worn skin out of the cold, if not for just a few hours. But look at him. This poor excuse for life he leads, isn't what he aspired it to be. Its no ''American Dream'', with it's picket fences and its 2.4 children. Puke is a prime example of those who do not not wish to work for what they want and desire. No, i stand corrected. Steven Jones, You are the perfect example of a person who lusts for the gains of old fashioned hard work, without having to lift a damn finger. I've given you a free ticket for long enough. Years from now, i see my offspring sitting in this exact same place, with you by their side! I believed you at the beginning of this week. There wasn't much of a spark, but there was a flicker of determination coming from you. So i dug the knife in a little further, cutting open your bravado rib cage, to see if your heart was still beating with the self certainty that i had first seen. Perhaps, i got a little too personal. Maybe i should've exposed my flaws for you to exploit. Because right now, as we stand hours away from Ignition, my own autopsy on your desire to win, has concluded that your heart has turned cold and black and more importantly dead. It'd be fair to say that I've taken the wind out of your sails, Steven. But come Ignition, i will have sucked all of the life from out you with my very own, patented Orchestra Of Wolves. And after you have struggled to your feet and when your vision finally comes to, You will see a better man, a real wrestler and far better evidence on the existence of God. I shall keep you in my prayers." Cut. ..................... |
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1:07 PM Jul 11