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| Jon Riley vs. Joss Morrison | |
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| Topic Started: Oct 2 2012, 06:42 PM (102 Views) | |
| Kassie Khane | Oct 2 2012, 06:42 PM Post #1 |
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Jon Riley vs. Joss Morrison RP Limit: 3 per match; 4 per team for tag matches Deadline: 11:59 pm EST Friday, October 12, 2012 ~~Good Luck Everyone!~~ |
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| Chameleon | Oct 9 2012, 12:32 AM Post #2 |
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[align=right] I have a pet of life. I am a pet virus. I was born and groomed to infect the lives of others around me. Life has taken me and shaken me to my very end, before throwing me out to die in the cold of night. I was never meant to be popular. I was never meant to be a pretty boy. I should have been loved, but love has never been my strong suit. Anytime I have had it, I have pissed it away like the nothing it truly is. Depressed? No. I have accepted this. I have accepted my role. I am a virus. I am just growing. I am growing out of vengeance. The life of this world beat me down and left me to die. But I didn’t die. I was little and nothing. I was almost meaningless. But something breathed new life into me. This little thing called wrestling. The violence suited me. It fueled me. It has given me an outlet to spread my blood all over the rest of the world, showering it in my sickness and disease. This little planet known as SCW shall be infected. Audiences in arenas and those watching at home, will watch as this little virus grows and grows, spreading near and far. Consuming and destroying every single thing I know. Every single thing that I touch and draw in close. Smothering it in my pain. My anguish. All of those ingredients will be the perfect recipe for the SCW to garner cash, milking me for all I am worth, for the infected cow that I am. That’s not so bad is it? What choice do I have? None. We have never had choices. As humans, we are supposed to live, fuck each other, reproduce and die. That is our only purpose in life. I accept it. Nobody else wants to accept it. They are all so comfortable in being lost little sheep. I am not lost. I am sheep, but I am not lost. Signing a deal with devils in suits of the SCW shows that I am a sheep. Working my ass off to basically earn nothing in this business makes me a sheep. I do this because I am good at it and I love it. Love it? I know that rather sooner than later I will piss this all away. It is what I am good for. But before I whip out my cock and drain my lizard, leaving a big urine stain on the SCW, I am going to spread my virus and let it soak into the skin, then flow through the veins of some very unlucky people. I will watch them wither away and die after facing me. After facing me they will never be the same again. I know that there have been some violent people before me, but what I have to do is outdo them and carve out my own niche. I have to collect my own buckets of blood. I have to shed my own. I have to hurt myself. I have to also hurt others. It keeps me alive. The bloodshed of others keeps me going. I am Bathory. I am a fucking vampire. This is about being immortal in some sense. I want to leave a lasting impression on my opponents. On my victims. Even in those who are able to beat me and I know those days will come. I want the night or nights anyone comes face to face with me to haunt them for the rest of their days. That is what I want. I want the pain we experience together to remain embedded in their skulls like the knives and forks that will pierce their skin when we go to war. The Underground? I didn’t get Miller, who I was expecting since he was the first to accept my challenge. But it matters not. I will face anyone and everyone. I would even face that Steward bitch, just so I could have the satisfaction of choking the very life out of her. I would literally go out there and kill her. The SCW could come after me. They could have me arrested, charged and convicted of murder, but I would be satisfied. That stupid bitch has shit on the underground division and people seem to be OK with it. Even that Rachel cunt. I will kill that fucking poser too. But instead of those three, I get Joss Morrison. I can handle that. The crazy and immature one of Your New Favorite Tag Team. He is apparently becoming more mature thanks to a trip to Japan. I guarantee that he has never experienced Japan the way I have. I have been through the tables and the C4 matches in Japan. Matches that have you on the brink of death will make you grow up. Joss, just by the look of this pretty boy doesn’t have the slightest idea what that is like. Sunday night I will be there to educate him. If there are rules and restrictions, I can break them. The old saying goes, at least in my circle of friends, rules are like bones, they are made to be broken. Joss Morrison will grow up when he and I meet in the ring. He can love his facial features and he can work as hard as he wants to protect that pretty face of his, but when he meets me, face to face, I am going to rip his flesh to shreds. His arm will not be the only thing scarred. His face. His chest. His legs. His mind. All of it…scarred. He will not look like any king we’ve all been raised to believe in. He will be grotesque when it is all said and done. I don’t care what side of him I face, it will all end the same. Ugly. It has to be that way. That is the only way it can be. Joss and I must feel each other’s pain. We must share it in the ring and on the outside. We must experience the horror. The horror must take us over and suck us in. I have lived in the horror. It flows through me. People like Foxx and Morrison, they claim to be kings of the underground. Suicide queens. They are nothing standing next to me. I will bring them to the gates of Hell. When this is said and done, Sunday, the world won’t say a damn thing. They will just think of the name… …Jon Riley… [/align] [align=center] “I am my own parasite I don't need a host to live We feed off of each other We can share our endorphins” [/align] “You sure you don’t want me to go in with you?” The scene opens as Jon Riley sits, sunk in the passenger side seat of his now ex girlfriend’s SUV. He stares out of the window at the big four story block where his young niece lives. Jon lets out a sigh, then turns and faces his ex. He just stares out her, a blank expression, as she stares back for a few moments, before she turns away and speaking, “I will take that as a no.” Jon smirks, “That would be correct Reagan. I am not going to go in there and pretend like you and I are one big happy couple. That we are going to do what we told her we were going to do and that is get her out of this fucking orphanage and give her a real home to come to. We can’t do that anymore, Reagan. You left me! I am not going to go in there and lie to her. I am all she has left in this world! Do you get that?” Reagan replies softly, “I am sorry, Jon…” Jon cuts her off, fire in his voice, “Do you get that?” Reagan responds, keeping her voice soft and almost to a whisper, “I said I was sorry, Jon. What else do you want me to say?” Jon shouts, “DO YOU GET THAT?! ARE YOU UNDERSTANDING WHAT I’M SAYING TO YOU?” Reagan shouts back this time, “YES! YES! YES! I FUCKING GOT IT! OK? I GOT IT!”, her voice trails off, growing quite once more, “I got it…” Jon climbs out of the gold colored 2011 SUV, slamming the door, out of anger towards Reagan and because he just hates new cars period. He stuffs his hands in his pants pockets and stomps towards the front door of the orphanage. He wants a cigarette, but decides against it, because his niece, Ava, who is six years old, cannot stand the smell of cigarette smoke. Jon can’t blame her, because he doesn’t like it either. It just calms his nerves when he isn’t following in his father’s footsteps and popping pills or doing anything to give him a nice little temporary high. Jon reaches the front door and steps inside. He stops at the receptionist desk, signs in and waits for one of the orphanage directors to come out and meet him. It is a black woman. In her mid forties at least, from what Jon can tell. It is always her. She always gives Jon the evil eye, which in return Jon just smiles at her. He kills her in his dreams. He chokes her out with barbed wire, letting it slice through her flesh and muscles, with the blood spewing out, spraying out like water from a fire hydrant in the big cities, in the middle of the street on a hot summer day so the kids can play and cool off. That is why Jon smiles as he follows the black bitch down the hall to the room where he will get to sit and talk to Ava, while she watches with a guard close by. Jon takes a seat in the center of the room, that is covered in kid like things. Rainbows. Butterflies. Shit Jon never really had a chance to experience or fall in love with. Jon has never been in awe about anything except for Ava. He hears the door open and he turns, a smile slowly appearing on his face as his little niece, Ava walks into the room. She appears to have just woken up as she is rubbing her eyes and is still in her pajamas. She has a teddy bear in her hands. It was the first thing Jon bought her after getting his first bit of money from wrestling. He received eight stitches in the side of his head after taking a cheese grater to the face, just to make some money. To Jon, it was worth every penny. Ava stumbles over, smiling a little bit, in between yawning, as Jon reaches out, wrapping her arms around her. She hugs him back, giggling a little bit. Jon cannot help but smile. Jon closes his eyes, “Hey baby girl. I’ve missed you…” She whispers in his ear, “I missed you too.” They break apart and Ava rubs her eyes again, while Jon brushes the hair out of her face with his hand, “There we go sweetheart. Now I can see your pretty face, “ the little girl blushes a little bit, “So,” Jon asks, “What would you like to do today?” Ava smiles, “I would like to color pictures.” Jon rolls his eyes, mockingly and responds in a joking manner, “Again?” The little girl mimics him, “Yes again…” Jon watches as his niece goes over to a little toy box in the corner of the room and opens it up. She begins to throw things around with great haste, which brings a smile to Jon’s face, something that rarely happens and he even laughs a little bit, enjoying the small amount of chaos she is creating. He looks over and sees the black bitch and the guard just standing there like robots. Jon imagines himself busting through the glass window, grabbing the guard’s pepper spray, spraying both of them in the eyes, then slicing their throats with the shards of glass, before taking Ava out of there, and running away, going into hiding for their rest of their lives, just so she could escape the prison of an orphanage. Jon then turns back to Ava, who is standing before him with two coloring books and a box of crayons. Jon takes one of the books and he pops open the crayon box, then looks at his niece and groans, mockingly again. “OK let’s color some pictures…AGAIN…” Ava giggles, “You’ll get over it man.” Jon laughs, “Where did you get that little spunk from?” Her giggling continues, before she replies, “You duh!” And then they get to work, coloring away. Jon gets lost in the time with his niece, never wanting it to end, for it is the only time he feels free. When there is no suffering. When there is no pain. Not even wrestling gives him that feeling of freedom. Nothing compares to the little time he gets with Ava. Leaving only makes his pain and rage worse. [align=center] An Hour Later [/align] “How was she?” Jon climbs back into Reagan’s SUV, slamming the door behind him, not as hard this time, as he slammed it when getting out. He buckles himself, feeling a sort of sweet serenity around him. Hearing Reagan’s voice however, brings him back to reality, “She was wonderful as always. I just wish I could get her out of there. I want her to be with me. That is what I more than anything else in the world. Just to have her be with me.” Reagan nods her head, starting the vehicle, “I know, Jon. I know that she means the world to you.” Jon scoffs, “She is all that I got. This wrestling shit, it doesn’t mean squat when compared next to her. I don’t give a fuck about anything else. I don’t give a fuck about anybody else. Not even myself. Just her.” Reagan puts the SUV into drive and begins the drive, “You have to care about yourself too, Jon. You have to take care of yourself, because that could be the deciding factor when it comes to if Ava ever gets to come live with you or not. You can’t be the mess that you are.” Jon just sits there, his arms crossed, not really wanting to hear what his ex has to say on the matter, but she has already started and Jon isn’t one to just sit there and take people talking to him, saying things he doesn’t want to hear, “Well, maybe you should have thought about that before you left. I wasn’t in a mess when we were together, Reagan. Did you ever stop to think about that?” Reagan shakes her head, “You can’t put the blame on me Jon. I left you when you were slowly becoming a mess. Getting into pills and always drinking. Hell, when you would come home from those God awful wrestling matches, you were always covered in blood, having it caked in your hair and on your skin. You smelled like someone had set you on fire and most of the time…that was the reason. When I would go watch you, I could just sense that you didn’t give a fuck about anyone, including yourself. You went out there, wanting to die.” Jon shrugs, “Maybe I did.” Reagan brings the SUV to a stop at a red light, she brushes her hair out of her face, then turns to Jon, “You can’t sit there and say that maybe you did. You told me on numerous occasions that you did not care if you ended up dead doing this wrestling shit. You can’t sit here now and say that Ava is the only thing you care about, because if you do not care if you live or die, then you don’t care about that little girl at all. You are just being selfish, “ Jon sits there, as Reagan begins to drive once more. There is an aroma of silence between the two, except for the sound of the vehicle changing gears, as well as the roar and rumble of other cars and trucks passing along the highway. Reagan sighs, shakes her head and speaks up, “I’m sorry, Jon. That was mean.” Jon is biting his nails, trying to calm his mind, trying to calm the rage he wants to unleash inside of the vehicle, before pulling his fingers away from his mouth and giving some sort of response, “I can’t believe you just sat there and called me selfish. You of all people, have no right in this goddamn world to call me…of all things…selfish. You’re the one who left me. You saw that I was becoming a mess and all you did was leave. You didn’t want any part of it. You turned your back on everything we had built like it was nothing. You left like you had been waiting to get away. And you call me selfish? You are a fucking hypocrite, Reagan.” Reagan shouts, “Oh my fucking GOD!” She jerks the wheel, pulling off of the road and into an abandoned parking lot. She slams the SUV into the park, shutting it off. She undoes her seatbelt and turns to Jon, “You’re fucking kidding me right? You want to call me selfish? Huh?” Tears begin to well up in her eyes, “You want to call me selfish? I did everything for you. I would try my best to talk you out of doing pills, because I know how much it means to you that you don’t become your father. You went behind my fucking back! I would drive you to your wrestling shows because you were too fucked up to drive yourself. I never asked you for much. I just asked that you take care of yourself. I did what I could, but you had to take some responsibility as well,” Jon turns and looks at her, seeing the tears welling up in her eyes, before quickly turning away and staring out of the window, not wanting to deal with the chaos he started. She wipes away her tears, “Do you not have anything to say? Huh? Do you not have anything to say to me, Jon?” Jon bites his lip, clenching his fist, as she questions him again, “Huh? Nothing at all? I can’t fucking believe you….” Jon snaps back, locking eyes with her, “Just take me home, Reagan. Take me home. I don’t want to discuss this anymore. It is getting us nowhere.” They just stare at each other, with Jon keeping his emotions bottled up, as Reagan tries to regain her composure. She goes to say something, but throws her hands up and lets them drop heavily back into her lap, before turning in her seat, placing her seat belt on once again. Jon watches her as she turns the key and puts the vehicle back in drive and they pull back onto the highway. A part of Jon wants to tell her that he is sorry too, but Jon knows that he won’t say a word. He will not offer an apology. It is just not in his nature. Jon wishes that he could go back in time and be back with Ava, but he knows that it won’t happen. He spends the rest of the drive home in silence, just as Reagan does. He can sense that she wants him to say something, but that is not how Jon is built. He has nothing to say, which means he will not talk. He only talks when he feels the need to speak. Now is not one of those times. After about twenty minutes of silence, Jon finally speaks, “Take me by my father’s.” Reagan brings the vehicle to a slower pace, her response is filled with some sort of confusion, “Are you sure about that?” Jon stares straightforward, “Yes. Just take me there and drop me off. I will walk home afterwards.” Reagan just nods, “Why do you want to go there, Jon?” Jon shakes his head, “It’s none of your business, Reagan. We aren’t together, so whatever I do is my business.” Reagan shakes her head as well, before responding, “Whatever you say, Jon. I will take you to your dad’s.” Jon wants to say something this time, but he doesn’t, knowing it will just go back and forth, leading to nothing. The rest of the drive is long and quiet. Jon looks up at the sky and notices the clouds growing darker and darker by the minute. A storm is brewing. [align=center] Jon’s Dad [/align] Jon watches as Reagan pulls off, before turning to face the front side of his father’s house. It is a run down shack, with a tin roof that looks to be on the verge of collapsing. Jon spits on the ground, before making his way to the front door. He opens the metal door and beats on the second door that is wooden and chipped away. Jon watches as traffic passes by the little trailer park his father lives in, knowing full and damn well one of those passing by, making eye contact with Jon, is his father’s supplier when it comes to pills or anything else daddy dearest wants. Just then, the door opens and there stands Jon’s father, Eddie. His hair is black and thin. He has a bit of a gray beard on his scrunched up face. His eyes are squinted, looking like he is either high, or he has just woken up. He blinks a few times, then stares at Eddie and speaks, the smell of whiskey reeks on his breath, “Oh it’s you. I thought you were somebody else, boy. Damn, you need to call before you show up, don’t you think?” Eddie holds the door open and lets Jon walk in. Jon brushes shoulders with his father, before making his way into the mostly dark living room, except for little white beams of light shining through the plywood covering the windows. Jon looks around, then turns and faces Eddie once more, “You don’t have a phone, remember? Or are you too high to remember that you haven’t had a phone in fucking months?” Jon waits for his dad to respond, but he doesn’t. Jon walks into the kitchen and opens the refrigerator to find beer cans and no food. Jon grabs a beer than takes a seat at the kitchen table, turning the kitchen light on. Eddie snags the beer from Jon’s hand, popping it open guzzling at least half of it down like it is just water, before replying to Jon’s questions, “Still the smart ass huh? Did you come here to bust my balls or did you have some real reason to come by? If that is all you came to do, then you get can the fuck outta here, or we can go a few rounds if you like. You know I have no problem kicking your ass, like I did when you were a kid.” Jon lets out a mocking laugh, before grabbing himself another beer from the refrigerator and taking a few swigs, “I am not a kid anymore pops, so how about you watch that shit when you talk to me.” Eddie takes a seat at the table, sitting across from Jon, “So you’re saying I should be afraid of you? What is there to be afraid of?” Jon shakes his head, “I can’t believe this is happening.” Eddie slams his fist on the table, “Just answer the question, you little shit!” Jon smirks, “I am just like you dad. I don’t care if I get hurt. I don’t give a damn if I live or die. I am just as selfish as you are, you pill popping fuck. I mean, shit where do you think I picked up the habit? I would have to say that I learned from the best.” Eddie throws his hand up, waving off Jon, “Well, you needed to learn from somebody, Jon. Might as well have been me. I mean shit, I was the only father you had around.” Jon goes to take another swig of his beer, but hearing his Eddie’s words stops him. He lowers the can back down to the table and leans forward a little bit, confusion and curiosity in his eyes and on his face, “What that hell does that mean? Are you high right now dad? You tend to say some pretty off the wall shit when you are high.” Eddie lets out a laugh, then finishes off his beer. He lets out a sigh, then crumples the beer can up in his hand and tosses it behind him, out into the darkness of the living room, “You really don’t know do you?” Jon shrugs, “Know what dad?” Eddie leans forward, a grin on his face, “I’m not your real dad, boy. I was just there when you were born. I took care of you. I was the only dad you had around. I mean, I know you know about your mom’s little whorish past. Hell, there is no telling who your daddy is. She met me when she was pregnant with you. We got married and you took my name. We never had any kids because I told your mother that I would never sleep with her again for bringing you into this world.” Jon lowers his eyes and stares down at the table, before in a knee jerk like reaction, he backhands his beer can off of the table, and he jumps up from his seat and begins to walk over to Eddie, “You need to shut your fucking mouth right now! You don’t talk about my mother that way. I don’t care what she did in her past, but don’t you dare judge her in my presence. I will knock you on your ass, you piece of shit. You’re my father whether either one of us like it or not. I don’t care if you didn’t want me. I grew up, wishing I never had to deal with you, but those are the cards we have both been dealt…” Eddie begins laughing, cutting James off, “You think…” The laughing continues, “You think that…that I’m your dad? Boy, you need to go, “ Eddie crosses his arms over his chest and begins rocking back and forth, trying to calm his laughter, “You need to go to talk to your precious mommy and get her to tell you the truth, because she has been filling your head full of lies.” Eddie reaches down and grabs Jon’s beer car off of the floor and he begins to chug the remainder of it, while Jon just stands there, not really knowing how to react. He clenches his fists, ready to strike Eddie, but he doesn’t, as he tells himself that the poor drunk fuck isn’t worth it. Jon just shoves Eddie out of his chair and into the floor and heads out of the trailer, hearing Eddie shout, “I didn’t spill any beer!” before the front door closes behind Jon. Jon stands near the road, at the entrance of the trailer park, hands in his pants pocket, shaking his head, trying to calm himself. He tries to force his mind to think about earlier in the day with the time he spent with Ava, but those thoughts never come. All he gets are questions. Questions that need answers. Jon turns and begins to walk, telling himself it is time to pay his mother a visit. [align=center] “A Question and An Answer” [/align] [align=right] “Have you ever had something happen to you in your life? Like life just pulled a complete fucking swerve on you and you didn’t know how to react? Sure you have. Life has thrown everyone curve balls at some point in time. We, as SCW wrestlers, we…are no different. Hell, I just had a swerve earlier in the day. I am not going to tell you about my personal life, because it is really none of your fucking business, but what should be your business is that the SCW Underground division has been thrown a curve ball. I am that curve ball. How is that, you might ask. Well the answer is simple. Every single member in the Underground division has been talking about being violent. They have talked about hurting each other and doing this and that, yet here is the kicker…they are just liars. I mean, look at its current champion. Rachel Foxx. She is the biggest fucking liar of them all. She is a joke. I am the one calling her bluff. Big statement from the new guy? It is a statement that needs to be taken seriously. After all Rachel says and does, what really makes her hardcore? What makes her so knowledgeable about violence? This is a question that needs to be answered? I want to find that answer. I would love nothing more than to pulverize Rachel’s fucking skull into that mat with her own trusty sledgehammer, just to see if she is as sadistic, to see if she is as a fucking tough as she wants the world to believe she is. Right now, I don’t buy into one damn thing that comes out of her mouth.” “Same goes for Brittany Lohan. She wants us to believe she is a monster. I guess you could relate her to a vampire, because she has a blood lust, but then again she is letting her emotions get the better of her. She is torn between Poser Foxx and this other tramp hipster, Harmony Fisher. The Brittany Lohan who was out beating the likes of Ducky and Greg Cherry was ruthless. Now look at her. She is soft. She loves Rachel, but doesn’t want Rachel to hurt Harmony. Why don’t the three of you just fuck already and get it over with. Have that become a SCW DVD to hit shelves. I am sure it will actually sell. While that is going on, give me the Underground division and let me make the belt and the division what it should be. It has become a fucking joke, especially since that big nosed ditzy cunt Katie Steward won the strap. The belt and the division has lost it’s edge. It has lost almost all of its credibility. Are we to believe that Rachel Foxx is the savior it needs? I call bullshit. I would love nothing more than to welcome B Lo, Harmony and Rachel to my world of hardcore. To let them get a dose of reality. I would love to let them know that they haven’t seen hardcore until they have been in the ring with the likes of me. I don’t care. Those words are not meant to be some sort of catchphrase or way of life. I simply do not care. I have never had a reason to care and I am not about to start now. I could ease everyone else’s pain by taking a gun and putting it to the side of Harmony’s head and pulling the trigger. I could do that. Hell I have thought about it and you guys can take this as a warning or as a joke, but I just might fucking do it whenever I get the chance to appear on Breakdown or Ammo. What would B Lo do then? She would have no choice but to come after me and then I can open her up and dissect her, not only from a wrestling standpoint, but with a little fork or knife and let her guts spill out onto the ring. Then Rachel will have to come after me and I will do what only Asher Hayes was able to do and that is make her fucking relevant, before draining her of blood and life before becoming the Underground Champion.” “But before we can get to those unanswered questions, one will be answered this Sunday at Aggression. Do you, Joss Morrison, think that you can survive in the ring against me? You have no idea what it is like to be taken to war. You don’t know the first thing when it comes to being an elite wrestler. You don’t know what it means to truly be hardcore. It is more than just hitting someone with a chair or putting them through a table. That is something everyone from its champion to the bottom feeders like you need to know and to truly understand. I wanted David Miller when he responded to open challenge. He is lucky that he isn’t getting into the ring with me. He can take his pure wrestling and shove it up his ass like he has every single big time, main event opportunity ever handed to him. I am getting you though, Joss and I am OK with that. I just wanted to face someone in the Underground division. I am not sure if we will be able to compete under those rules, but I challenge the matchmakers to do what is right and allow us to compete in an environment that we are most comfortable with. I want to be able to see what you are really made of, Joss. I believe that you are nothing more than a pretty boy. That isn’t me and it will never be me. I don’t care to wear the flashy suits. I don’t want to be anybody’s favorite. I want to be me, Jon Riley. I am ugly on the inside as well as on the outside. I know that I’ve got nothing to lose and I am OK with that. You fear people like me, Joss. You don’t have to admit it. There is no reason for you to. You have to come into this match all confident and mature. You have to come off like you are strong and you may be damn good at that, but when it comes match time, it isn’t going to save you.” “The only thing to save you will be your will to fight and your will to live. I know that you want to live. You want to live to fulfill your dreams and your hopes. You want to get as much as of the spotlight as your good buddy Collin Cole. Who wouldn’t? He is facing the likes of David Helms who is basically the fucking man in this company right now. But you need to forget about those hopes and those dreams. You need to focus on surviving Jon Riley and living to see Monday morning. I have no hopes. I have no dreams. I know that they can slow you down when it comes to this business. I didn’t make it to the big leagues following some dream. I went out and did things my way. I didn’t play by anybody else’s rules and I damn sure won’t do that now. If the SCW won’t make it a hardcore match, then I can take a debut disqualification loss, because I will make an impact and I will use you as a springboard. Do you hear what I am saying to you. This isn’t confidence. This is just how I see things. This is what I believe. I want to know, Joss, if you can truly take a hit. I want to know if you will be able to withstand the punishment I dish out. I want to know if you are one of those guys who can back up what they say or if you are one of those guys who talks a lot of garbage only to get hit and then fold up. I guess we will find out Sunday…won’t we? Think about it, Joss. Think about it long and hard.” [/align] |
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| Chameleon | Oct 11 2012, 11:03 AM Post #3 |
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[align=right] Sometimes you have to push some buttons to get what you want and what I want is a hardcore match. I came into this company and I issued a challenge. I didn’t challenge the World Champion or the substitute World Champion or the number one contender to the substituted World Championship. I issued a challenge to someone in the Underground division. When SCW fans think about the Underground division, they recognize it as “hardcore” or “extreme”. I had someone answer my challenge. It was David Miller, but his response got overlooked in favor of a guy who actually likes hardcore wrestling. That guy is known as Joss Morrison. But when you look at the card for Sunday Night Aggression, specifically my match against Joss Morrison, you will recognize that it is not a hardcore match. It is just a straight up wrestling contest. I am sure the booking team are happy with the way things are, but I have been left scratching my head, wondering what in the hell is going on here. I mean, are they trying to piss me off already? I mean, I have been denied David Miller. A man who has been seen as one of the most dangerous competitors this company has ever seen. Instead I am facing a Wild Mustang. I am not selling Joss short, but they could spice this match up a little bit. I mean, David Miller is a name that draws interest. Joss isn’t. I have already garnered interest with my antics thus far, and I haven’t even wrestled a match. Calling Katie Steward a bitch and letting her know that I find her useless and pointless raised the ire of many people in this company. Several of them, especially David Miller, said that the SCW would not be around if it wasn’t for Katie Steward. I’ve watched many of the broadcasts this company has produced and all Katie Steward has really done for the SCW is keep the Women’s division relevant. And she is the female version of another Underground wrestler wannabe in Thorn, meaning she is a main event jobber. I am getting agitated more and more. It makes me want to take a chair and just bash Joss’ brains in. I am getting to the point that I do not care if I get a disqualification loss because of it either. The way I feel right now…I would be satisfied in splitting his skull open and leaving him lying in a pool of his own blood. I would even stick around to watch EMTs make their way out to save him and rush him to the hospital so Joss could make sure his pretty boy image is saved. I am sure they can perform some laser surgery to prevent a scar. This pure wrestling crap is boring. I don’t mind it, but when I specifically challenged the Underground division, I would think that it wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to make the right call and make it a match with Underground rules. Doesn’t seem to be that way. I guess I could pull a Katie Steward and make an informal protest. That is just who I am. If I don’t agree with something, then I will let it be known. I am not going to be ignored. I hate that. I cannot fucking stand that. Joss Morrison may love the whole idea. I am not sure. I do not care. I know that I don’t like it and if it has to be a pure wrestling contest, then I am going to put up a fight. My voice will be heard. I want this match to matter. I want my debut to be groundbreaking, at least for me. I am not into this boring shit that has been going on with this company in terms of new guys coming in. I believe in my abilities and I know what I can do in the ring. I feel it would be best for me to perform in an environment I am used to. Do this thing my way, by my rules. By having no restrictions and no other rules to follow except for my own. [/align] “Do you think this is a good idea?” Jon Riley stands outside of the office belonging to members of the SCW management team. Beside him is the girl he knows as Scarlet. He doesn’t know much about her or her past, but they met each other and it’s been back and forth ever since. She comes and goes, in and out of Jon’s life, but he doesn’t seem to really care. His one and only real relationship was with Reagan and he knows that if he can’t be with her, then any other woman he meets will be just something temporary to pass the time. Jon turns and looks over at Scarlet, and he nods, “I think it’s a great idea. To me, it is the only way for me to get what I want.” Scarlet smirks, then leans in and kisses Jon on the cheek. He still feels cold to her, as he really hates public affection, before she leans back and responds, “That is what I like most about you, Jon. You know what you want. A lot of men your age have no fucking clue as to what they want, but you…you’re different. You’re the exception. You have a hunger inside of you. It’s hot…” Jon thinks about chopping her in the throat, hating how she talks like Paris Hilton at times, but he refrains, wanting to save his rage for his upcoming meeting with SCW management. He had called a few or so earlier, letting them know he wanted to talk to someone in regards to his match on Sunday Night Aggression. Jon just shrugs and responds to Scarlet’s comment, “Thanks, I guess. Are you going to go in with me, or are you going to wait out here? I am not sure how long I’ll be in there. It just depends on how much of a pain in the ass these guys choose to be.” Scarlett smacks his lips, then smiles and giggles, “Nah, I will just wait in the car. Got the keys?” Jon nods his head and begins to dig into his blue jeans, before pulling out a pair of keys in a quick haste. He hands them to her, feeling a sort of relief that she isn’t going in with him, because things seem to get crazy between the two of them at times and Jon doesn’t really want that to happen in terms of his wrestling career. She had cost him a job or two en route to getting signed with SCW and now that Jon is with the company, he doesn’t want to lose it thanks to her. She takes the keys and lets out another giggle, then leans in and kisses him on the cheek, “Thanks lover,” and then she turns and skips down the hallway. Jon stands there, feeling rather annoyed. With her as well as the SCW and then the office door opens up and out steps Bob Tomlinson. He stands there, and takes a look at Jon Riley, looking at Riley like he isn’t worth his time. “Can I help you mister…Riley isn’t it?” Bob looks Jon up and down once again, then just stands there, waiting for Jon to reply. Jon shoots Bob a glare, wondering why he was looking at him so strange, before nodding his head and responding, “Yeah, you can.” Bob opens the office door and steps inside. He then holds the door open and waves for Jon, “Come on in then and we will see what we can do for you.” Jon sticks his hands in his pockets and heads into the office. He hates being in situations like this. He would never find himself in an office, unless he feels something is very important and the situation about his match is important. Once in the office, Jon looks around real quick, before taking a seat in front of what appears to be Tomlinson’s desk and Jon slouches, making sure he comes across as a corporate rebel. Bob takes a seat as well, lets out a sigh, then shrugs his shoulders, “What can I do for you, Mr. Riley?” “I’ll cut to the chase, “Jon starts, “I want a change in my match against Joss Morrison,” Bob looks at Jon, confused. Jon continues, “I don’t want a different opponent. I don’t mind facing him. I want the match to be contested under underground rules. I mean, it only makes sense, at least in my mind. So I came to you, because I figured you were the head dick around here. You even get to tell D. what to do. But that is what you can do to help me. You can pull some strings and make it happen. Simple as that.” Tomlinson lets out a chuckle and he shakes his head. Jon looks at him confused now, before Jon asks, “What’s so funny here Bob? I hope you don’t think I am joking here because I’m not. That is what I want and that is what I think you need to do to help me. I see myself as a big asset to this company and I think the management team here needs to do what it can to make the future superstars of this company happy,” Jon gets a bad taste in his mouth after saying that, but he then imagines himself dancing around in the ring with Rachel Foxx’s head on a stake, along with the bloody and mutilated bodies of performers such as Greg Cherry and David Helms and Lucas Knight, which brings Jon back to reality. Tomlinson clears his throat and shrugs, “Look Jon, I am not going to sit here and tell you that I can make changes, because it takes a lot more than me to get things into motion. You want to compete in an Underground rules match. That is fine. From what I’ve heard and seen of your work in the past, the division suits you. But that doesn’t mean you are going to perform in those sort of matches all of the time. We only really do those when it is meaningful to the match and right now, this is just your debut and I am sure you want it to be meaningful, but…” Jon cuts Bob off, “You’re kidding me right? I am here, asking you to get this done and you are trying to give me some sort of crap that you may or may not make this match what it needs to be. It has nothing to do with this being my debut or not. It is about the fact that I asked you for this opportunity. I am not here whining about it. I am simply asking you. I mean, the SCW allowed Rachel Foxx and Brittany Lohan to practically butcher one of those Stewards on live television and nothing has been done to them. There should be some assault charges going down after that. But I am asking you for this sort of match. Not only would it draw interest for the match, but it could make the company some money, because more fans would more than likely want to see the match.” Bob nods his head, then replies, “You make good points, Jon, but you…being a new talent, cannot just walk in and here and make demands. You haven’t even wrestled a match yet and you are already trying to call some shots. That is not how this works. At least not on my match. Plenty of people can walk over Oleska D., but not me. You started a ruckus with your arguing with Katie Steward and David Miller on the SCW website and then you come in here and you bark at me about giving you what you want. To get things like that, Jon, you have to earn something else first and that is called respect. So far, you haven’t even come close. Even if you go out and perform well on Aggression, I am predicting that it is going to take you quite some time to earn respect, not just from me, but from everyone else.” Jon lets out a chuckle, “Respect? I don’t think you get me at all. I do not care to earn respect. I am not here to get on anybody’s good side. I am here to do my thing and that is it. I came here to see if you would give me what I want. You don’t seem to want to do that, which means that I will have to take matters into my own hands more than likely. What that means, Bob…well I guess you and the rest of this stinking company will have to wait and see, just in case you don’t come through for me,” Jon pushes himself up from his seat, keeping his eyes locked with Bob, before continuing to speak, “I do not care if I piss everyone off in this company. Even those who used to work here. I don’t want friends. I will do what I want, when I want. I am sure you have heard that before, but a lot of people do that sort of shit because its part of their “gimmick” and they want to show off some attitude. I am no gimmick, Bob. I simply do not care for people and their opinions.” Bob stands up as well, glaring at Jon, “Is that some sort of threat, Mr. Riley?” Jon smirks, “You can take that however you want. I see it as a warning shot. If I don’t get the hardcore underground stipulation added to my match against Joss Morrison, then I will become a vigilante. I will work against the law and take the matter of justice into my own hands. I will let the SCW audience bear witness to the execution of Joss Morrison and the only thing you will have to realize that his blood is on your hands. I asked for a hardcore match and you fed me lip. You fed me political jargon that I do not give a shit about. A hardcore match is all I asked for. If I don’t get it, then what will happen in that ring will be far worse than what would have happened had the stipulation been added. That is just some food for thought…” Jon flips Bob’s tie, and smirks again, “Bob…” Bob jerks away from his desk, fixes his tie then walks over to his office door, opening it and turning to glare at Jon, “Get out, Mr. Riley. Get out now before I call security.” Jon throws his hands up in the air, maintaining his smirk as he strolls over to the door and he makes his exit, turning to face the Director once more, as Bob speaks again, “I will see what I can do to get you your match. If I can’t then I can’t. That is all there is to that. But if you choose to take matters into your own hands and you lose control, then I will have you arrested on…how did you put it in regards to Rachel and Brittany? Oh yeah…assault charges. That is what you can prepare to face. And that is all there is to that …” Jon lowers his hands, “Fair enough, but just remember…cuffs don’t scare me boss man,” Jon looks down at Bob’s tie again, then back at Tomlinson, before speaking yet again, “You have a nice day sir,” And then, Jon turns and walks away, heading down the hallway as the scene slowly comes to an end. [align=right] You ever wanted something so bad, Joss? Like let’s say for Christmas, you wanted to get that one special toy. The toy that would make you or break you. That one toy that would set you apart from all of the other losers in school. The toy that would make you one of the popular kids because you would FINALLY have something to talk to them about. You may have not been that kid, because you appear to be the rich and preppy type that never had to wish for anything. You had it all handed to you. Well, I was different. Life and struggle go hand in hand when it comes to me. I never had anything handed to me. I had to earn gifts. I had to beg. I had to pray to God. I had to just hope and wish for it. I remember one year, I was like six or seven and I wanted the dagger that the Green Ranger had. You know what I am talking about right? From the Power Rangers? I had to beg my dad for it. I had to beg my mom for it. My dad would just look at me and scoff. He was too busy spending money on pills. Mom was too busy hookin’ to put food scraps on the table. I say scraps because I can count on one hand how many actual meals we had in my household. My mom would just tell me that she would do her best. You see, I didn’t want her to do her best. I wanted her to come through. The few friends I had were getting that toy. Hell, some people that would pick on me in school, already had that fucking dagger. I told her that. I told her that I would lose all of my friends, but she just laughed at me. She told me that I needed to stop worrying so much. Do you know how that made me feel, Joss? It ate me alive inside and I was like six or seven. I just wanted a fucking toy for Christmas. That is all. I didn’t want anything else. I didn’t want stupid clothes or shoes or Christmas cards with fifty cents taped to them. The way I saw it, anything else besides that toy would be just a damn slap in the face. I deserved better than that, Joss, but I didn’t get my dagger. Do you know what I got? Therapy. Years of therapy. Why? Because some rich kid, like you, had his Green Ranger dagger and he rubbed it in my face. He told me that I was nothing. I was just a poor kid that would never have something as cool as that Green Ranger dagger. Do you know what I did, Joss? I hit him really hard. I took his dagger and I began to bash it into his face. His blood sprayed on me and he cried for his mother, his father, anybody to help him. But I didn’t stop. I kept hitting him, letting him know that his dagger belonged to me. I am reliving that right now, Joss. I am trying to get our match to be an Underground rules match. I think we would have a good match either way, because I can wrestle. I just prefer having no restrictions. It makes the match that much more if you catch my drift. I have gone to the front office. I have said my peace and now I am just waiting for them to make their choice. But I have the feeling that they are going to deny my request. They look at me like I am nothing. They look at my clothes. I don’t wear suits and ties like you. I don’t comb my hair. I could give a fuck how I look or how I dress. But I let them know that if that is how they want to play, Joss, then I am going to take it out on you. You are going to be that rich kid. I won’t have a Green Ranger dagger, but I am more than certain that I can find a few things to beat into your skull and make you bleed. To make you cry for help. I will make them pay for not listening to me. I will make them regret thinking that I am just some sort of joke. I will make you pay for being the right guy in the wrong place at the wrong time. You will be a victim of circumstance, Joss. But if they do listen, then it won’t be as bad for you. It is still going to be ugly just as I said it would be during my last shoot. I stand by that. I just don’t want your life in my hands. I can be clumsy at times when it comes to things of that nature. That would be unfortunate for you, Joss. I mean, just look at yourself man. You have the looks to be a potential world champion. I don’t have that luxury. I know that I won’t really amount to much in this life or in this industry. I am OK with that. I have accepted that. I don’t want the pressure placed on me. I have way more shit to worry about, ya know? I guess I didn’t listen to mommy dearest when I was little. I am worried that the office will not grant my wish. I am worried for you, Joss. OK no, I’m really not. I have no problem in hurting you and crippling you. Don’t take it personal if it comes to that. If it does come to that my friend, I will tell you what the office will more than likely tell me if they do not give me what I want…they will say…hehehe…it’s just business. Nothing personal. Well, I will echo their sentiments, Joss. I will make them know that the next time I ask for something, that I am not joking. That I am not going to take no for an answer. I will just be using you to send a message. That goes both ways. If I get what I want, I am going to use you to send a message to the rest of the Underground division, that I’m not to be messed with. That I am not one to be looked down upon. That if you fuck with me, then things will get real ugly real fast… Hey, Mr. Tomlinson…there’s you a warning shot… [/align] |
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7:27 PM Jul 10