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| The Redeemer vs. Kraven Blake | |
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| Topic Started: Aug 2 2011, 03:10 PM (165 Views) | |
| Kassie Khane | Aug 2 2011, 03:10 PM Post #1 |
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SCW PRESENTS: Breakdown The Redeemer vs. Kraven Blake Deadline: Noon EST Tuesday, August 9, 2011 2 RP Limit per match 3 RP Limit per singles match, 4 per team for the tag match. ~~Good Luck everyone!~~ |
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| megaron | Aug 8 2011, 10:43 PM Post #2 |
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So it goes.
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[align=center]What makes a man? Think about it: the person who you look at in the mirror every morning, can he be called a man? Or is he merely a cog in the machine? What makes someone see a male figure as a man? Is it the fact that he is – in legal terms – an adult?[/align] The Redeemer scribes in his journal as the sun light bakes his apartment. Sweat beads on his brow and drips, bleeding salty refuse through the page. He doesn't take notice, but I do. [align=center]Is it that he is able to provide for himself, like the ancient hunter-gatherer? No. Is it that he has expansive wealth, as the land lords of middle-aged Europe? No. Is it that he can roll around in a society-deemed luxury like a modern hip hop mogul? Heavens, no.[/align] He scribbles his manifesto and he is so focused that he doesn't even notice his house mate standing in his doorway, asking where all of the fucking tortillas went because he wants a mother fucking veggie wrap. I do. [align=center]What makes a man, then, if it is not his material possessions, things that can be replaced? If it is not obvious to you now, then you have no right in even reading the following word: perseverance.[/align] It's not that I don't want to help this tall, bronze gentleman with his dilemma, but it's a real task to drive the Redeemer from his work. Once he gets into a zone with his logging, he doesn't stop. He excommunicates himself from society and, in fact, the entire world around him fades to black, and the only thing that he can see is his thoughts being etched into waiting, recycled paper. [align=center]A person of the male variety cannot be described as a “man” until he finds the indomitable spirit within him. He is not a man until, no matter what kind of trauma he has faced, he can continue moving on. As a famous fictional character once said, “It's not about how hard you hit, it's about how hard you can get hit, and keep moving forward. That's how winning is done.” And he's right, because no matter what “Captain Cool” threw at me, I did exactly what I said and I dominated him.[/align] His house mate asks again if he knows where all of the mother fucking tortillas went because he wants a mother fucking veggie wrap, and now he stands closer to the Redeemer. I can smell his growing frustration radiating from him. [align=center]That is another characteristic that a man must possess. He must stay true to his word. When he tells you that he is going to do something, he must go through with it before he can truly be considered a man. That takes true commitment. Dedication is something that we as a society have lost. The notion that other people matter, and that we – as men (and women, for that matter) – need to keep our word to others. Politicians are not men, they are puppets. My code of honour is not a difficult one. It goes like this: I. Help those who truly need it. II. Keep your promises.[/align] His house mate reaches for the Redeemer's shoulder, probably to wing him around and snap him out of his altered state, but he feels a short, sharp jab in his hand. Blood trickles on the edges of the desk and his house mate is quiet. He doesn't know how to process this occurrence at first. It takes time until it registers in his head that he's been pierced through the palm with the Redeemer's pen. The Redeemer maintains his straight-backed posture and dips his finger in the crimson pool which fails to absorb into the sheet of metal. He continues scribbling as I hear a yowl and the hurried steps of orderlies. [align=center] III. Destroy your enemies.[/align] The Redeemer does not feel the grip of the burly men in white uniforms. They don't do much around here other than watch the monitors, drink coffee, and collect their pay cheque. Most halfway homes do not require orderlies to my knowledge, but ours is different. Regardless, we both enjoy motivating people to strive for higher standards. I feel it when they drag him away. [align=center]-=-=-=-[/align] They took his pipe away when they searched his room. The Redeemer has been without tobacco for over 72 hours, and he is more than a little bit edgy. The incident with his house mate was the primary reason for the administrators to search his room while he was in a group meeting. While he grinned at the unfortunate house mate across a circle of his peers, they were turning out his bed and browsing his drawers. “Legendary. That's what you call yourself, Mr. Blake. That's what is plastered all over your merchandise, it's in your entrance music, it's in your promos. Are you really what you hype yourself up to be, Mr. Blake? Are you truly legendary, or are you just another fading blip on the industry's map?” He smiles and picks at a scab on his knuckle from slamming his fist on the face of a young, portly orderly. I smile because ever since he involuntarily quit smoking, all he can seem to do is ask rhetorical questions and pick at his old wounds. Wounds that he got when he was still a smoker. His memories of a better time were trapped underneath layers of dried blood and repaired skin. “Your file says that you're a gun for hire. I can respect that, unlike a lot of people here. I have sold my problem solving abilities to willing investors over my career, so I am not a stranger to your position. Still, I can't help but feel bad for that girl that you assaulted. That's okay, though. We all make mistakes and in time, you will learn to pick your battles. You can't just take every gig they throw at you, you know. You have to have honour, and pride in your work. Can you really say that you're proud of tormenting a woman who is all ready a little... well, I'm really in no position to judge.” He chuckles at the irony of the thought that almost spilled out of his mouth. “What is legendary about a hit man who has no honour, no dignity? Does he question his motives every night before he sleeps? Does it bother you, Kraven, that you have no moral limits? I doubt it. You are, after all, the Angel of Death, and death has no room for morals when you think about it. I suppose, for once, a moniker fits somebody.” His knuckle begins to bleed again. He starts to chew on his fingernails, anything to keep him occupied while he does this without the assistance of nicotine, even though that isn't present in most pipe tobaccos. At least, I think that's true. I would take that notion with a grain of salt. “Of course, nobody has room for morals in this world. Every one is cheating on their spouse, or slighting the people who gave them everything, or nearly killing a tormented soul. But I am the Redeemer, Mr. Blake, and I am here to change your wicked ways, one way or another. Of course, the first step is to accept that you have a problem in the first place. You're supposed to be a person that the people are in love with, and yet you associate with the vileness of Hallucinagen. For crying out loud, the man is a lackey. A stooge. A toadie!” “You can do so much better than taking a job from someone who couldn't hold Gabe Newell's sweaty, oversized sweat pants. You can do better than harassing a delusional, easily-frightened young woman just for kicks. But first, you have to accept my way. You have to adopt my code of honour. Hell, you have to adopt a code of honour.” He chews his nail down to the nub, and spits it across the room. It, along with the bloody skin hanging from it, hit the wall and stick. “That is assuming that you are able to adopt a code of honour. That is assuming that you are able to competently hold a thought that isn't channelled into your ear through a stiff rectangular slip of paper. Stand up for yourself, Mr. Blake, or I will run you down like the mangy dog that you are. Believe me when I say that I am not adverse to dealing with your kind.” “And if you think that it'll just be some walk in the park because I've only had one match here? Then, buddy, your eight years in the ring haven't taught you shit.” Fin. -=-=-=- OOC: I am way more capable than this, but I totally procrastinated on the deadline. First bit is "off camera." Good luck to Kraven! |
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| Kraven | Aug 9 2011, 10:57 AM Post #3 |
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You know what? Fuck you Redeemer. Seriously. Go fuck yourself. THat's the best you can do is pull up my bio and start ripping me apart? That's an insult to even try to analyze me using my damn bio. You could have used the fact that I have been in five matches and was involved as a aprt of Rise to Greatness. You could have easily done that. It's not like my name hasn't meant something in the last little while. But no, youre gonna do the laziest thing possible and just read off a sheet. Fine... then you know what? Im not posting a staged promo. This is what you people call a shoot and that's what you're getting. First of all, the title is called Fighter for hire you idiot! I don't need a gun to put down people like you. You know what? sorry SCW, but I'm pissed off. i'm pissed off that I got bested by both retarded members of the Rejected. Ducky I could understand, the bitch is smoking hot and come on... who wouldn't want her to be on top of you like that? Legendary! But Wallace too. I dont even know how that asshole got past me. I worked my ass off trying to be undefeated and rack up my three wins. In less than a few days time, I lost two matches in a row. How the fuck am I supposed to rebound off that? Oh wait... this Redeemer asshole. Right. Great rebound off that. The guy pulls up a file and tries to insult me. Really smart, Redeemer. Incidentally, what the fuck is your name about anyway? I want to know. What are you redeeming? No, I didnt look up your file because I don't give a shit about what you say are your stats. If you've had a match, it certainly wasnt a show stealer like mine was with Wallace or Ducky. In case you didn't see, it was during the prime hours of the shows, and that's because when you put the FFH against the best in SCW, you get entertainment.... But you! you would rather just ramble off some nonsense that you could use for anyone. Well guess what, I really don't give a crap what questions you want answered and how you are going to judge me. This isn't even a match to me. It's a damn travesty. Hallucigen, consider our agreement over. I pushed Ducky and Wallace to the limit. I never said I would defeat them. I only said I was going to beat them within an inch of their lives. I did that. Even you failed to stop the girl and now she has the Underground title. You failed, Hal. You did that to yourself. But there is redemption for you down the road I am sure, but as for me, I am ready to rip apart this new guy, because quite frankly, it's a damn embarassment to go from Wallace and Ducky to this asshole. I know what my people want. They want to hear a story about how I scored, but you want to know something? I didnt score lately. Because recently., everyones been laughing that I got my ass kicked by a fucking female in SCW. So mark my words, Ducky, and mark them well. What was business has now become so much more personal. I will beat you. You won't know when and where but it is going to happen. I want you to watch while I pick apart this asshole who showed about as much effort in his promo as he probably will in the ring. So there is no story for my fans. I have nothing. The last few days I have been striking out and ended up getting so drunk I got hit by a guy on a bike. It hurt like a bitch and I ended up needed stitches on my arm. Does that sound fun? Does that sound legendary? Because it isn't. It's not fucking fun and it's not fucking legendary. I have rammed my head against the wall trying to figure out what went wrong, and nothing came up. Not a single damn thing. I have no reason why things have gone south for me and why all of a sudden I went from bull to bitch in a matter of days. All I know is that I don't like it. So there's that analysis for you, Redeemer. You're not dealing with some stats on a piece of fucking paper. You're not dealing with some nameless flash in the pan. You are dealing with one very fucking dangerous person. You're dealing with a guy who has nothing to lose and nothing left to worry about. Losing to you, heh, whatever, because everyone already knows that at my best, I can beat the very best. Right now, wrestling you is the last thing I want to do. Beating you would mean nothing to me because who the hell are you? Just some freak in a costume. I'm done talking to you, Redeemer. Go fuck yourself. I clicked off the camera and the red light went off. I didn't like this feeling. To all of those out there who thought this was just going to be a shoot, think again. I'm going to admit something that happened. You are going to get a story of sorts. Here's the thing... shortly after Rise to Greatness ended I got a phone call. A very important phone call. Nothing to do with the FIghter for Hire but more inward, towards the private life of Kraven Blake. Without geting to much into it, SCW, my mother is dying. Please don't ask me how, because I barely know. The doctors aren't sure if it's cancer or some other anomaly, but I don't know. That;s why my head isn't in this. So instead of sending the video recording to SCW. I simply tossed it in the trash. My mind was swimming with the possibility of losing my mother. You have to understand, fans, that I lost my dad when I was young. I lost him in the ring. He took a move the wrong way and broke his neck. We never saw it coming. Some people say that this is what finally made me follow his footsteps. Now, well to be perfectly honest, the idea of losing my mother too is almost too much for me. So when i turned on the television, and saw that the Redeemer, instead of doing the respectful thing and pointing out my obvious match with Wallace or DUcky after I had nearly killed myself over and over again trying to make an impact, he reads off a piece of paper on a website. Needless to say, i was pissed and I still am. But fighting this guy, gotta say, is not high on my priority list. he won't last long here. I can already tell. He doesn't have the skill of the main eventers. I give him a few weeks tops. Then he will get tired of getting his ass kicked and pack it in. Personally, I don't care if I lose this match. My heart isn't in it or being the Fighter for Hire. My heart is closer to home. I don't know how else I am supposed to react. I see people lose their wives, kids, and even lovers and the next day, their defending titles and cutting promos like nothing is wrong. I've seen it here in SCW. How do they do it? I've seen psychos, skitzos, heartless, and all sorts of the most sickening people in this place. All the while lately, I've been wondering how the hell do I compete with that. Because deep down, I'm just a normal man. A normal man who is good at kicking ass. But right now, I don't want to beat up anyone. I want to be there with my mother in her final hours. I don't know when it's going to happen, but know this, friends. If she is not dead when Breakdown airs, then I will run to that ring, beat Redeemer as fast as I can and then walk away. I'm not booked for Ammo so hopefully, nothing will come up. I jsut need time my friends. I already received countless emails from you guys wishing me well but in reality, there's nothing any of us can do but wait. When my mother is finally at peace, then I will start healing and perhaps we will all see the Fighter for Hire return with a vengeance with that old mentality... But Redeemer, you are just an annoyance that I want to get rid of as fast as I humanly can. I don't care whether or not youre some saint or demon or whatever else. The truth of the matter is that he cannot save my mother. he cannot give her peace. his redemption his a joke, and I will not bow to him. Instead, i am going to treat him in this match the exact same way he treated me in his worthless promo. I am going to get past it as fast as I can. Oh, they just called me on the intercom. I better go. Keep hoping fans and thanks for your prayers. NOTES: This is a combination of a shoot and real life actually. No I am not going on a LOA. I am just happy to have the next week off. I hope mr. d will book me on Breakdown next time. |
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2:15 PM Jul 11