Post by James Ceno on Jul 16, 2020 19:09:54 GMT -6
~James Ceno was at the bench press, sweat beading on his body as the plates, the largest the gym had, were raised and lowered slowly. His arms and chest visibly strain against the weight, but he is not any worse for wear. He breathes deeply and easily, letting his body do the work as his mind focuses on every breath, every rise and fall of his chest as his lungs inflate and deflate.
His age was not a number, and Jack Michaels, his former mentor and current friend, proved that. Even as the weight moved without needing spotting, he forced all conscious thought out of his head, thinking more on his past, which was an unfortunate side effect and symptom of having been and continuing to be one of the most despised human beings in the world of professional wrestling.
Regardless of that situation, the Firestorm knew he had to burn through and push forward, constantly haunted by the mistakes that came with the desire of being hated; he succeeded just too well.
He puts the bar back on the rack, sliding forward and starting to do some sit-ups on the bench. After 50 of those, he returned to the bar, ready to start a new set.
In his mind, he began to think of the latest company to seek him out: ECWF. He had been a guest at first, but a contract dispute led to his early departure.
Even after the BS that came with his original leaving the company...
Even after the absolute travesty that was the mix between truth and lies regarding his actions...
James Ceno was welcomed into ECWF with generally open arms.
Well, alright then.
Ceno finishes his set and sits up, taking a breath and sighing deeply. He dries the sweat from his face and neck with a black hand towel before starting to clean his workout space.~ This fire burns always...
Pretty popular song, but it is an intense summary of what my career has become.
At first, the fire was me, and I charged forward without any reluctance.
But then, the fire consumed me, and I wallowed in self-pity and debauched living.
Now, the fire has become me, and I will not stop until I get what I need.
The World Heavyweight Championship. ~James started to head out of the gym, freshly showered and dressed to impress in a black suit with red shirt and black tie, heading to a cherry red Pontiac Solstice.
It wasn’t a Dodge Viper, but it serves its purpose.
He wasn’t wearing a mask; he didn’t like to, but he did sometimes, mostly out of common courtesy. He refused to wear one out in the open air; if it was his destiny to catch the virus, then he will just add another fight to his personal match card.
Death would have to fight him again.
What weighed on his mind was that, two years ago, he was brutally beaten for the Ultraviolent title in Carnage, without so much as a farewell. It was their message regarding his conduct. Sure, he could sue, but he didn’t care enough to. He was bitter enough that it caused him physical pain.
As much as he meditated or took his meds or thought of other things, the minute that the fragmented memories hit his conscious mind, his face twists into a dark anger, and people have noticed the change.
As he gets into his car, he forces himself to breathe as he turns the key in the ignition, letting the car idle until he is able to pull his mind back to where it needed to be. He had an interview to attend, and he needed his mind to be where it needed to be.
The questions were selected by both Ceno and the local TV network, and they agreed on the subject matter.
No talk of the past, no talk of harassment: the past is passed.
Of course, some people just get zealous; they want the truth.
James... can’t handle his truth. It’s a reminder of weakness and failure. He failed the fans and his friends.
He failed himself; that is unforgivable.~ Even as they mic me up, I’m getting anxious.
This is the worst place to be: in the hot seat.
I don’t expect to be grilled, but I can’t be sure about anything except about one thing:
I am The Firestorm.
No one is allowed to take that from me. No one can.
I will die before I surrender.
It’s just the way of things.
Because the last time I surrendered at all, I almost died. ~The lights come on as a local sports broadcast starts on the city’s television station. James Ceno is sitting in an easychair, bound in leather, surrounded by sports memorabilia, as the host sits to his left. The camera is squarely focused on the host, as the director slowly counts down to the cue.~
??: Hey everyone, this is Steven Credible, and welcome to another squared-circle sit-down, here on Off the Ropes. My guest today, a 20-year veteran of our favourite sport and one of the most reviled stars in the community: he is the Firestorm, James Ceno.
~Steven leans over as the cameras transition to one that shows both the host and the Firestorm. They exchange a handshake, Ceno smirking.~
JC: Thanks for the cold open, Steven. It was certainly an effort.
SC: Very good, very good.
~James laughs to himself and shakes his head.~
SC: So tell us about the past. Of course, for those of you in the dark, this man had to contend with some nastiness, but he is looking to make a comeback. Who has signed you so far?
JC: CWF and ECWF: CWF took a chance to keep me on amidst the... reminders of my stupidity, and Rock’n’Roll God, don’t ask, came to me with a proposition to come back. I’m in the main event for their upcoming show.
SC: We’ll come back to Friday Night Revolution before the end of the show, because there are some things that you, James Ceno, have done that would make most superstars jealous.
JC: Which part exactly?
SC: You’ve worked with some legends in the world of professional wrestling, even being mentored by one of the most old-school guys in the bizz in the form of The Blast, Jack Michaels. How did it feel to be under his wing?
JC: Other than breaking my shoulder with a tight chicken wing, of all things, he helped me get to some real heights with my career. However, I let myself be a puppy. I followed him to Carnage, which was the right decision at the time, and that’s where everything really kicked off for me. Two years ago, I became their Ultraviolent Champion; two years ago, they beat me down like an old dog and left me in the mud of my own making.
SC: But you’re completely past that now. You’ve been, in the last two years, in deep counselling, rehab and medical facilities.
JC: I’m showing signs of early CTE, which they wager is part of the reason why I said and did all those things.
SC: Damn, man. Okay, again, for those of you in a cave and not this man cave, CTE is chronic traumatic encephalopathy. It has shown itself in multiple sports where head injuries are as common as water in the Amazon river. It has also led to many sports-related suicides, including the murder-suicide of Daniel, Nancy and Chris Benoit, which is what put CTE into our vocabulary.
JC: And knowing that, they’ve been able to catch it early. I’ve let myself become a bit of a guinea pig for treatment, including having gone under the knife to allow a slight look at a living specimen.
SC: What did you do to make sure they didn’t hurt any nerves?
~Ceno starts popping every knuckle and each digit, his wrists cracking loudly enough to be heard at home.~
SC: Okay, Jesus Christ, cut that out. We get it; you’re old.
JC: Not too old that I can’t whoop you like a child.
SC: Yeah yeah. But you brought up ECWF and the main event of tomorrow’s Friday Night Revolution. What’s the plan?
JC: Plan? Simple: I walk in, get into the ring, destroy the five people in my way and walk out holding the Horror-Core title.
SC: Let’s look at the stipulations here. It’s a six-man dance, hardcore rules obviously...
SC: And it’s an elimination match. At the heart of it all will be endurance. For those looking at this man James Ceno here, it doesn’t look like you have much fat on your body.
JC: I wouldn’t know, but I try to keep some body fat in me. I can’t last very long in an endurance match of that magnitude if I was all muscle and bone.
SC: How are you in ironman matches?
JC: I am pretty sure that I won the only one I was ever in; I don’t remember.
SC: But your opponents... any dirt on them?
JC: Other than knowing Daniel Dream for being a two-bit sleazebag who sold me out, I don’t know. I seem to be hated, but you have someone like Madwoman Szalinski talking about pedophilia and I’m still the villain. Then again, Twitter is toxic in 140 characters or less.
~Steven gets a good laugh from the comment about Twitter.~
SC: Yeah well, at least it’s no Bach/Jericho feud over appearance and lip synching.
JC: Yeah, that’s so ridiculous. Jericho is getting fatter and Sebastian Bach is a damn stick.
SC: But do you know anything else about anyone else in the ring with you?
JC: Andrew Reigns and Syko sound familiar, but I wasn’t around long enough to know who people are. The only reason I know anything about Daniel Dream is because of Trinity, and they’re a bunch of backwards assholes over there too.
SC: What happened there?
JC: I signed on the dotted line, and I was committed to keeping the status quo. It was to the point where the management defended their decision, but one interview with Akasha Monroe, and I hold nothing against her; she is charming and beautiful and only nice to me, and they turned tail and ran, distancing themselves from me completely. I learned about Szalinski while I was there, and they talked about it without so much as a batted eye.
SC: Damn. That’s rough.
JC: I was on a lot of opioid drugs because of bullshit like that, and it took a long time and a near-death experience to pull my ass up and out of it.
~Steven nods, catching a signal from the director to wrap it up.~
SC: Alright! This is where this shoot ends. James Ceno, the Firestorm, thank you and I wish you the best in your career resurgence.
JC: Thanks, Steven, and I will be doing my absolute best.
SC: There will be a podcast that will broadcast the first half of this show, and after that, I get candid with this man. All pretenses are dropped and that’s where we deal with and dish the dirt. So, this is it for Off the Ropes TV. I’m Steven Credible, and spot you soon.
~The broadcast ends, and Ceno just sighs, feeling unfulfilled and just angry.~
Last Edit: Jul 16, 2020 19:10:48 GMT -6 by James Ceno
Post by The Resurrected One on Jul 16, 2020 21:24:43 GMT -6
The Resurrected One's fingers tapped against the touch screen of his phone. Click click click. Click click click. Click click click.
Go down to the store and pick up a pack of matches, meet me by the old mansion as soon as possible.
Okay, I'm up. That’s not a problem at all.
The Resurrected One put away his phone as he walks on a small, scruffy beach area on a blue lake surrounded by thick, dark woods. The Resurrected One’s wrestling boots leave tracks in the dirt, sand, and the mud.
“My opponents are pathetic, they aren’t ready to go into deep waters in a Six Person Horror-Core Elimination match.“
“I am JAWS of ECWF, he’s dragging you down. Flail all you want, you’re not strong enough to fight back. Your pathetic attempts just make him angry. So he grabs you and drags you down deeper and deeper. Until the sun becomes just a memory. With every gasp, water fills your mouth. Then once the struggle is over and the last air bubble leaves your body. You’ll float to the top, still no one paying attention.”
The tall mansion loomed over The Resurrected One as he arrives and matched the charcoal sky. The sky is mostly clear with the moon visible, some clouds hang about
“Not everyone is a brainless zombie who stays with ECWF regardless of their status, money is a big motivator for a lot of them but not me.”
“I had started off my ECWF career in the very successful Team Resurrected alongside Evan Moore and Chaotic, these three men were quickly moving up the rankings.”
“Team Resurrected was doing it all and this gave a good foundation for Chaotic, Evan Moore, and I as we became The Tell-Tale Heart in Revolution's floorboards.”
The Resurrected One grabs a large, red gasoline can inside the mansion.
"Still got this in my house..."
The Resurrected One tracks a bit of mud onto the mansion's wood floorboards while pouring the gasoline throughout the house's first floor.
"I did exceed expectations and finally became the ECWF Champion. Revolution is the house that I broke into, I turned the latch of the door and opened it oh so gently for monsters. Monsters like Evan Moore, Chaotic, and Madwoman."
“In a Six Person Horror-Core Elimination match, every opponent presents a challenge. A door or window that is locked preventing you from passing through it but giving me the opportunity to do...Just that!”
“I'm criminally minded and I seek to find windows of opportunity. I climb right through them and stand over you as you sleep but I know that you would have been lying awake ever since the first slight noise of my return. You thought maybe you could wake up, roll over, and finally let the covers off your heads because the monsters had been good for so long. The nightmare could finally fade.”
“I am proud of my comeback story and I hope it inspires some people out there to follow their dreams and maybe they’ll be ECWF World Champion too.”
“Now to be the Horror-Core Champion, there can only be one after this Six Person Horror-Core Elimination match. Who will be the one left standing?”
The Resurrected One walks up the stairs of the mansion to the bathroom while pouring the gasoline on every step.
“I ain't lettin' anybody stand in my way of finally stakin my claim somewhere. Least of all you, Syko, whether I gotta drive my stake through your heart or sink my teeth into this match until I draw blood like Dracula.”
“This is my house, however, sadly neglected. I haven’t been defending my house because I felt I deserved better so I tried to make Action Wrestling or Splat be my home, then again aren't we all filled with our own crap?”
“I even had the occasional thought of not sticking around...I’m a shit, I admit it, but I’m the toughest shit in this company. Two Tongue Tony is a clown in the sewers where everyone else is a door or window because shit just runs pass him. In a world full of clowns, we need real men and women now more than ever. Welcome to the real world. Tony will spiral down and think to himself that he’s not going to be able to stick around much longer, what I'm doing is flushing that shit down the drain for the health of ECWF. That may seem harsh, but is it wrong to flush down shit? Then I’ll wash my hands of Tony and my thoughts will become focused on James Ceno. Two Tongue Tony, you fool, you are not going to get the Horror-Core Championship because the only thing he is going to get are laughs like a comedian but some might say the comedian has an actual future. I’m about to be responsible for making you look like the clown you are. You’re going to get embarrassed."
The Resurrected One pours gasoline on the bathroom floor, splashing the walls, and filling the bathtub.
“I am a fighter. It is all that I know. What I am beyond anything else is a warrior!"
“A warrior is putting it lightly...A blood hungry pit fighting pitbull and when the leash gets loose, I am coming for your throat.”
“James Ceno, you think you’re the big dog, but you’re the equivalent of a Pomeranian. A little yippy dog who just doesn’t shut the fuck up. Who runs and hides behind the Rottweiler or a padlock account when the trouble really begins. You’re gettin’ thrown a bone here, big dog. I’m sorry that I have to be the one to take it away from you before you get the chance to sink your teeth in. I thought I'd feel bad murdering dogs but it turns out I don't care about that at all, it’s a dog eat dog world and I’m Cujo. I will have dismantled that flea bitten mutt, once and for all.”
“We didn't start the fire, doggo.”
The Resurrected One shakes the now empty red gasoline can.
“We merely hit the snout of the one who did.”
The Resurrected One walks down the stairs and walks out the front door.
Post by The Resurrected One on Jul 16, 2020 22:54:24 GMT -6
A great burning mansion. This once great structure stood for many a year before the star of our show, The Resurrected Once, sent it up in flames. Immediately following this we find him, a along with his manager and tag team partner Madwoman, standing before this burning structure. Evan Moore, wearing an open black jacket over a black shirt, stands to the side of The Resurrected One and Madwoman. All three current members of Team Resurrected are laughing wicked laughter, much like evil villains, until Daniel's phone begins to vibrate. Then, upon glancing at his phone, he elbows Madwoman in the side. Madwoman turns to look at the phone and her face changes from a jolly look to one of absolute disgust.
"The fuck is this now?"Madwoman exclaims with pure hatred in her voice. "The fuck did I ever do to this guy? It's not my fault he did a tell all interview and tanked an entire wrestling organization."
The Resurrected One turns and looks directly at the camera.
“Bitch Ceno, I'm not usually an optimist however I thought your latest interview would be flawless after your previous interview sent your career down the drain but I guess it's got to be very hard finding time to practice perfecting your interview answers between Alcoholic Anonymous and Narcotics Anonymous.“
“If anyone gave you a fuck about you then they'd make you get off them drugs but you keep eating pills so if drugs don't kill your career, the sexual harassment doesn't kill your career, then Team Resurrected and MadClan will because you're just a fucking drug addict in the Revolution house. Don't think you can kill my career either, my last name may be Dream but I'm the only Nightmare on Elm Street that Freddy Kruger skipped."
Madwoman sighs and takes a quick glance at The Resurrected One who looks just as pissed. She resumes her rant. "Bitch Ceno. That's your name from now on because by the end of this promo you're going to be my bitch. What compelled you to call me out like this, huh? I bet you think you're a little badass, don't you? Little badass that can't keep a job, can't lay off the alcohol, and has probably sucked more dicks than a French whore during World War Two. I mean, that's the only way I can figure you even ended up welcomed back to ECWF after getting kicked to the curb by Trinity Wrestling."
Madwoman pulls her own phone out of her back pocket and begins to fidget. Before long she shakes her head and continues speaking. "I was going to block your ass on Twitter but it looks like you already locked your account and started a secret account with which to talk shit in a place no one will ever see it. Oh ho ho, you didn't think I knew about that, did ya? You're a scared little bitch. You can't even talk shit to your alleged tormentors on your main account, you little whore."
Madwoman pulls up the 5BW Twitter account and holds her phone in full view of the camera. "You see this, Bitch Ceno? This is the company I help run. I want you to know that every woman in this company wants to kicks the living shit out of you. I want you to know that these woman number in the dozen and come from every walk of life. Next time you want to talk some shit about Madwoman you might want to consider the consequences before a group of pissed off women find you and cut your got damn penis like Lorene Bobbitt."
Madwoman glances over at The Resurrected One again. The man has completely broken character and is cracking up.
“Bitch Ceno, you better keep your fucking mouth before 5BW cuts you off...literally!“
“I'm a madman, I'm surgical. You got balls, I think not after we are done castrating you on camera. You're going to lose it all in a pool of blood, sweat, and alcohol.”
Madwoman takes control of the promo once more, ranting and raving like the insane woman she is.
"And what the fuck is up with these comments about organizations and wrestlers I've never heard of? Is that about one of those fucking efeds I hear so much about? What kind of a fucking nerd follows that shit? Me and Dream, we live in the real world while you're out here concerned with people who steal our likenesses and spend hours over a keyboard pretending to wrestle. Well, Bitch Ceno, this isn't pretend. We're both coming to beat the living shit out of you and you'll be lucky if I don't invite my 5BW sisters to show up and take what's left when we're done. We're coming for that ass, Bitch Ceno."
Madwoman tosses her phone over her shoulder. The Resurrected one is quick to catch the phone. Madwoman continues once more.
"What the fuck did you think was going to happen when you mentioned my name? For the love of Christ, I'M MADWOMAN. IT'S IN MY FUCKING NAME. I'M IN-FUCKING-SANE. OF COURSE I'M GOING TO RESPOND. OF COURSE I'M GOING TO CRASH THE MATCH. AHHHH…"
From behind the bushes, to the surprise of everyone in attendance, arrives the recently retired Madman Szalinski, father of the MadClan. He's got a turkey leg in one hand and a Walkman in the other. Clearly he knows what's going on because he immediately starts shooting on James Ceno.
"I don't even work here and I want to beat your ass, you Gary Busey looking ass mother fucker. For a guy who's been in the business as long as you have, you think you would have saved up enough money for a hooker so you didn't have to take your sexual frustration out on your opponents. They got it bad enough getting paid thirty bucks and a retweet from Manny to be in the same ring with you. Someone in my family, be it my aunt or my dad or anyone else here, is gonna slap you so hard you'll grow titties."
The night is dark, foggy, the moon can hardly get through the thick fog and clouds making it a rather unnatural sense of darkness in the light. The wind blows softly causing ruffles of leaves to be heard moving along the ground, traffic can be heard way off in the distance, the setting seems rather eerie and unsettling, something like from a horror movie. After a few moments, slow footsteps are heard approaching, they sound as if they carry a purpose, they are heavy. As the footsteps grow louder, a pair of what seems to be cigar burns lighting up the sky seem to appear ripping through the darkness. The footsteps suddenly stop and a light breathing is heard. In the Darkness a white mask is made out where the cigar burns glowing seem to emit from. Then from beyond the mask a distorted voice that has a certain weight to it begins to speak. (Voice sample in link)www.youtube.com/watch?v=tndOjTlAddE
So here we stand, 6 of us, one championship. It’s been a long while since the Horrorcore title came home to where it belongs, well it seems it’s now going to be doing just that. I look at those who oppose me, "Carnivore" Daniel Dream, Mystery Entry, Two Tongue Tony, James Ceno, and Andrew Reigns. I think it’s almost a crime to have to establish myself against these insects. Being one of the most legendary stars in ECWF, one of the deadliest and most dangerous and unpredictable, it makes for a lethal combination that I bring to the table. So I ask all of you, what do you bring to the ring? Let’s go over some of the things you have said here.
The mask walks a few steps closer showing the full embodiment of themselves. Its a mask with a torn and tattered cloak flowing down the full body, smoke or fog around the feet making it impossible to tell if they are actually floating or they were walking. The footsteps made sense of walking, but now as the shadow masked figure moves there is no sound and it moves with flawless effort as if it were hovering. It stops and then begins to speak again.
James Ceno, you claim to be recovering from a broken shoulder, after the night is done, you’ll be rendered to a broken body, it’s a shame such good talent such as yours will falter and fall. You remember when you were addicted to drugs? After the night is done, you’ll have to be addicted to painkillers to remove yourself from the pain and suffering I shall wrench on you. This will not be pleasant for you, you won’t enjoy this, but i will, and oh yes there will be blood.
Resurrected one, Now that's a name i have not heard in a while. You once were dead and resurrected i am assuming, sounds ironic, because i don’t remember bringing you back from the dead, why would i bring back filth like you. You call us pathetic, well I agree the rest are pathetic son, but me, you must not remember my track record, I left bodies broken and bloody in my wake, in my path of destruction to the top. I destroyed everything. You claim to find the windows of opportunity, I am sorry son but your window just closed and now you are trapped in my world. A world of hell, pain, suffering and agony, welcome to a world where nightmares are reality. Undoubtedly it seems our others have yet to speak on the matter, thats alright. They will see the pain and suffering coming.
I hold no grudges, I hold no ill fated wishes against my opponents, I don't trash talk, I speak truth. You fine talented gentlemen are just going to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. You see, Hardcore rules is my playground, nd i have 5 of you, all to myself to play with and with all those beautiful toys. I am going to enjoy it. As quoted in a famous song, “Hold on Holy Ghost, go on, hold me close, better run, here we come, it’s the day of the dead.” Now let’s break that down, Hold on holy ghost, before death befalls you, you must face judgment of the undead, I am the Undead, Hold me close, I am your savior from death, keep to me and you won’t die, but you’ll be in sufferable pain, better run, yes that seems self explanatory, better run, because when i get ahold of you it will not be pretty. Here we come, the Undead is coming, it will collect the souls of its victims, it’s the day of the dead, one night, one title, six men, the Day of the Dead is upon us.
I come from a world of oblivion, bad dreams, I got all I need strapped right to my hamstring, I'm not really bad, I'm just made up of bad things, I'm really not a mad man, the voices keep asking, Born with a soul that don't wanna be saved, Every time I look around I see what a fiend made, they made me. A nightmare that unleashes pain and suffering. This is exactly what has to be done, it happened so gradually, It's like I magically happened to be the phantom that cannot be, Lets this dagger cut jaggedly, While you're gasping so rapidly, While you gag on this rag, I see you all laughing so happily, It's okay to get startled and be afraid of the dark, I'll just wait here to swallow your soul and tear you apart, And I've already started, there ain't no saving your heart, This is the day of the dead, this is ain't no day in the park, Here I come, here I come, grab your guns and crossbows, And run, better run from, the skull and crossbones, The fun has begun, yeah, it's hard to swallow, When I'm done, I ain't done, 'cause it's hell that follows, Now get ready for sorrow, 'Cause it's hell that follows.
IT’S THE DAY OF THE DEAD!
Smoke starts to come up from around the feet of the Shadow engulfing the body and the cigar burns that glow all of the sudden fade out into darkness. When the smoke dissipates the figure is gone and nothing is left but pure darkness and the sounds of the night of the wind and the leaves and the distant traffic. After a moment the camera light turns on panning around in the darkness to finally notice the area is in a heavily wooded area, like a forest. Suddenly something is heard with a heavy foot racing closer to the camera. The camera turns to see it, for a split second the camera catches a glimpse of a very tall pale white figure with no face, very long arms and legs. It’s only seen for half a second before it slashes at the camera with it’s long arms. The camera skips footage and crashes then falls to the ground showing leaves rustling around and screams can be heard as if the cameraman was being dragged away. The screams grow more and more further away until suddenly something appears out of camera shot to smash the camera ending the footage.