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| Caleb Andrews vs. Jordon Webb | |
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| Topic Started: May 24 2007, 11:43 AM (218 Views) | |
| Kassie Khane | May 24 2007, 11:43 AM Post #1 |
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Caleb Andrews vs. Jordon Webb RP Limit: 3 RP each, per match Deadline: 11:59 pm EST on Tuesday, May 29, 2007 |
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| The Blood Diamond | May 29 2007, 10:15 PM Post #2 |
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[align=center]Deja Vu The light shines in his eyes, dilating his pupils. He can barely see past the flash of the round, black objects that takes his picture. He does not bother to raise a hand to cover his face. Caleb Andrews tilts his head back slightly as he is escorted by the security guards through the back exit. His hair is flat and damp against the nape of his neck from his long, hot shower, and slung over his left shoulder is the gym bag containing his important possessions. On this occasion, he is dressed in black, head to toe he is painted with it. His eyes flutter closed, embracing the warmth from the flashing cameras. This is his moment, it’s what he’s been waiting for. For six long years I worked for this chance, this opportunity to show who he was and what he was made of. And for six long years he also waited… and then it came. In one fell swoop, in one sweeping moment of ecstasy, he was here. He was being spirited away by the security force, knowing that the hounds were hot on his tail. They wanted him dead, and he knew it. They wanted he and his partner in crime to be executed for what had transpired here tonight. The beating of Jordan Webb… oh how he’d waited long to cherish that moment…and so did I. And he listens to the cacophony that rises all around him. The questions, the screaming, the death threats; all of it rising to a fever pitch, for one moment that could rival his finest orgasm. He does not mind the rising tide of questions and inquiry. In fact, he welcomes it. He was in the spotlight now. Caleb Andrews was the man who held all the cards. He was the man that everyone wanted to see, everyone wanted to know. He was the man that women would flaunt over and men would wish to be. As horrible as that might sound, Caleb felt a ring of truth in his ear. “This is madness,” a voice echoes from somewhere near by. “This is wonderful,” Caleb replies. his voice hoarse and his response barely above a whisper. Finally it ends, he opens his eyes and is face to face with an open door to a limousine. Time to be spirited away from his adoring public now. He looked inside and saw the slow, burning glow that scorched the leather interior from the overhead lights. He had been in here before, but could still not shake the feeling that he was stepping into another world. A world above the chaos and the mud of these middle class people… a world designed specifically for Caleb Andrews’s indulging. Caleb pauses, a slow smile creasing his features. His eyebrows furrow in a look of maniacal pleasure. He brings his gym bag to the front of him, opens the Velcro lock and shifts around its contents. Even in this blinding flash of warm light, he could see the sheen of the championship gold he now carried. He stuffed both hands in, pulling gently. He removed the championship delicately, and was reminded birth delivery. He handled it with such care. With the title nestled against his bosom, the fabric of his black t-shirt glued to his chest from the moisture, he ducks inside of the limo. His eyes have glazed considerably. The emerald of his retinas seems to glow on its own, filled with the delicate beauty of the championship he cradles inside of his arms. He hears the door close, but it is an echo. It is somewhere far, far away. “Mr. Andrews?” He hears, but from a distance. “Mr. Andrews?” It calls again, and Caleb feels his patience waning. All he wanted was to be left alone with his championship. All he wanted was to go to his hotel room and sleep with it at his side. To feel the soft leather against his skin… “Mr. Andrews?” “Yes?” He finally answers, his eyes struggling to look away from the vessel that his brought him so much in the span of just a few weeks. He raises his gaze to see two elderly men sitting on his opposite side, looking at him inquisitively. Caleb quickly asserts himself, struggling to put the title aside, and succeeds. His face turns to stone, his eyes revealing nothing. “Caleb, these are members of the board.” Another voice, the one from earlier. He turns to see the smile of his friend Aiden James. He does not look particularly weathered today. In fact he looks quite jovial. His eyes seem to dance amid the glow of the limousine. Caleb nodded with a rue smile. “A pleasure, I’m sure.” “Caleb, these are the men who helped us. I figured since the cat’s out of the bag, I might as well bring aboard the secret players. A celebratory drink, yes?” Caleb nodded slightly, his eyes adjusting to the dancing, pulsing glow of the limousine. “You said he’d be ready by tonight, Aiden.” Aiden adjusts himself, and then reaches to the shining steel of the ice pitcher that was currently chilling a bottle of wine. Caleb did not look for the label, and instead trusted it was expensive. Everything had gotten expensive. “Yes, I know. I think he has been having a change of heart.” “Why?” “I’m not sure Caleb.” “I want to talk to him.” Aiden’s eyes shift to those of his weasels. The ones who “helped” Caleb and he get here. Caleb knew it was crap. He knew it was a couple of old farts trying to suck pond water and ride the coat tails of his success. He knew this day would come, and always wondered how he would grin and bear it. Right now, it seemed to be the least of his concerns. “Aiden. If anyone’s going to convince this kid, it’ll be me. I’ve seen the way he stares at me. The kid probably jacks off every night to my picture. Fantasizing about what it’s like to be me.” Aiden chuckles, and the weasels join in. Oh how much they looked like the furry, cunning, wild scavengers. Cowards, weasels were. Cowards who would go running for the shore if this ship showed the slightest hint of sinking. That wouldn’t happen of course. It couldn’t happen. Caleb Andrews is on top of the world, the reign, the era has begun. Nothing was stopping it now. Nothing. I’m proving myself. I’ve silenced many, but a few seem to be vocal still. A few seem to think that Caleb Andrews still doesn’t signify what this sport should be, that he’s nothing more than a puppet dancing on the strings held by our chairman. Some people still think that Caleb Andrews couldn’t hack it if he were all on his lonesome. Some people still have the balls to say that Caleb Andrews isn’t championship material; that he isn’t the one to take this company to the heights its always dreamed of… … and yet, I find it funny that one of the most vocal, is you Xander. I find it funny because every time I look at you, I can tell that you’re still itching to put one over on me. Every time I look at you, and every time our eyes meet backstage, I can tell that you’re just salivating at the chance to show the world what you think you are. I know that look in your eyes, Xander. I know that look because I’ve felt it in my own soul, looking at Calli Bennett from across a room. Looking at the way she carried your name. I remember looking at her and thinking, my god, she has no idea what she has. I remember looking at her and thinking, she has no idea what kind of power she wields with that… and it was obvious she didn’t. It was obvious that the little bitch had to wait until she was without possession of any championship, without possession of the higher arch championship I wear proudly around my waist, to start with the prima donna bullshit. I can tell you’re asking yourself, yeah, so, what’s the point? The point of this is very simple Xander. The point is that we are now coming round again, full circle you might say. . And even then, who exactly did you beat for those titles? Dynasty? Revolution ? An easy way out indeed As for Webbie I’ve watched you, Jordan. I’ve not only noticed how you stare at the gold around my waist, I’ve also noticed how your behavior has slowly led to a downfall of sorts. I’ve watched, and I’ve hung my head in shame for you. I’ve hung my head because I know that a man such as yourself, a man filled with so much pride and an overwhelming ego… I know that it must be killing you inside. I know, Jordan, that the truth of what had happened must be eating away at you. It must be. You fought the very best in the world, and all the flashy tricks, all the high risk moves, and all of the love from the fans didn’t do a damn thing to save your ass. And yet, here we are. Full circle, and it’s you and me for the first time. You’ve been trying to put the past behind you. Like every match is the same thing. You’ve been trying to pretend that what happened to you the last time I stepped into the ring was just a fluke, or better yet, a nightmare. It was something that stalked in the dark, latched onto your very being and started chewing its way to your heart. To your pride. To your ego. It’s something that has been nestling deep inside you, and now it refuses to leave. Did your shoulders feel heavier after a hard match, Jordan? Did they sag slightly? Was it harder to continue on with that jovial bounce in your step? I bet it was, and I bet I know why. You made a vow, a promise to do something that no one else has done… … and you failed. You should’ve taken comfort in the fact that no one else has succeeded, Jordan. The truth of the matter is that you have refused to see the light that I bring. The truth of the matter is that the you have refused the word of Andrews, and that has allowed you to spiral downward. Down and down until you have sank so low you couldn’t tell yourself apart from the rest of the mid-card flunkies. And it disgusts you, doesn’t it? It must disgust you to realize that the illusion of Jordan Webb was shattered by Caleb Andrews. It must disgust you to realize that the illusion of you being some great, hero was broken over my knee. It must disgust you, most of all, that the people actually began to realize what I had said all along. Jordan Webb, you’re all flash, and not with a single fucking drop of substance. And yet you’ve tried, haven’t you Jordan? You’ve tried to make the people believe again. You’ve tried to make the people see that there is in fact no man behind the curtain. To see that the old, beaten, ex-champion they saw lying on his back counting the lights was nothing more than an illusion. Caleb Andrews didn’t beat you Jordan, you were tired. You were over-sexed. You were exhausted from a night of whatever. Whatever lie you want to tell yourself Jordan, the result remains the same. Caleb Andrews beat you at your best. And yet, you must be asking yourself, yes, I know this, yes, I know this… and you must be asking yourself why? Is Caleb Andrews pouring salt in this wound? Is Caleb Andrews doing his own little victory dance because he proved me wrong? The answer is no, Jordan. I’m not. You see, Caleb Andrews is a caring man. He’s a forgiving man. And most of all, Jordan, he wants to help you. Caleb Andrews can be merciful, and it is his intention on this week’s Breakdown that he show you this. You see Jordan, I have taken pity upon you, and your downward spiral. I have taken pity upon what you have lost, of the shattered illusion that you try to piece together like splintered glass. I’ve watched as you mumbled incoherently to yourself, trying so desperately to put it all back together. I’ve watched you as your hands cut themselves deeply on the glass. I’ve watched as you tried so frantically to put the pieces together, that you did not care for the spilling crimson that seemed to flow from your mangled hands like a river. I’ve watched, and I was disgusted. And this is what I bring you, Jordan. This is what I offer you this week. I offer you the chance of redemption. I offer you the chance to make things right with your illusion and your ego. I am offering you the chance to become something more than another mid-card, two-bit player. You’ve faded into the background here just like everywhere else… and here come Caleb Andrews, giving you one last chance to shine. That is why I’m not defending my title Jordan. That’s why I’ve decided to give you this secondary opportunity. I may pity you, but don’t doubt for a fucking second that I let you have this chance, this second, holy chance, because of that. I’m giving you this chance because seeing the sight of a broken, beaten man trying to reinstate the illusion of power that he held for so long… it disgusts me beyond words. So take this opportunity, Jordan. Embrace it. And when you’ve realized that you’ve spent too much time trying to piece together your life, your illusion. Once you’ve realized that all you’ve done since coming to SCW was flounder and fall just like everywhere else… I believe, Jordan Webb, that you will be born again. Let me help you, Jordan. Let me show you the way.. Only then can you fully realize what you’ve been missing, and only then can you fully realize that Caleb Andrews, the Underground Champion, is your savior. ( OOC . Aiden is getting used more often for SL , his history will be explained later )[/align] |
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9:53 AM Jul 11