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Post by Deleted on Jan 21, 2021 18:38:29 GMT -6
Gambling With One's Soul, Part I: Learning As one would expect in this era of pandemics, political upheaval and general chaos in the world, the lights are not as bright as we have become accustomed to. The tone, no matter where you go in the country, is a somber one with bursts of fiery rage and madness here and there to remind you of just exactly where you are. Solace is difficult to come by anywhere but within one’s own domicile, and even then there is little escape when you deal with the issues that come with quarantines and the fear-mongering of the press and all else. It is no wonder that the world is on such a downward spiral.
This is what comes to mind as the view opens up in the middle of a casino, of all places. The Horseshoe Hammond outside of Chicago and across the border in Indiana to be specific. Not as filled with patrons as one would expect given the state of things, there are still a number of folks milling about, all masked, partaking of the various games available while being mindful of their proximity to other players. There is fun to be had, most certainly, but one must do so responsibly… something that a select few have an issue doing. The view of the camera sweeps left and right as it moves on the shoulder of another through the aisles, past lines of slot machines, card tables, roulette wheels and all else. It stops at a poker table where three visitors are seated, the maximum amount that can be allowed while maintaining six feet of distance.
One is an older gentleman in a veteran’s hat, masked and gazing keenly at the cards spread for the likewise-masked dealer. In the middle, a young man going for suave yet clearly missing the mark by about seven ounces of hair gel, is making eyes at the third patron while paying little attention to his steadily-dwindling stack of chips as each hand progresses. And what red-blooded man (or woman, if that’s how you swing) could blame him? Red dress, red heels, red hair… even a sparkly red mask to match it all. Her chin rests in her hand as she plays serenely, only once in a while glancing at the young man, seeming to smile beneath her face covering though just the sight of her eyes gives little away.
A fourth patron walks up to the table but seems content to spectate. His hair is an unruly mop of black curls, long enough to pull back but left loose on this evening. His leather jacket is aged yet in a stylish way; well-worn, one might call it. Seen a lot of miles but has been tended to. Light blue denim and black leather boots complete the simple look as the young man, peering through a pair of wire-framed glasses, stares intently at the table. The youngster in the middle, making one last attempt to impress the woman, bets the remainder of his chips on the following hand… and proceeds to get shut down by the older gentleman to his left. Oddly enough, he seems less than perturbed, shrugging and taking his leave with a wink and a folded slip of paper that he passes to the woman before wandering off. He stops to look at the fourth patron curiously, but said patron never takes his eyes off the table. Once the chair is open, however, he moves in to take a seat, nodding politely to the elderly gentleman as well as to the woman in red.
The camera’s focus is on this young man, masked in black like his jacket, as he passes a few bills across the table and accepts a modest stack of chips in return. It is the older man who breaks the ice.
”Hope you’re a defter hand than the other young fella, kid,” says the veteran, pushing his chips forward for the ante as the dealer begins to toss out cards with practiced skill. ”Had more eyes for the young miss over there than he did for winnin’. No offense, young lady.”
”None taken, sir. I’m used to the staring. That’s how I ended up with most of his chips in front of me.”
The gentleman chuckled softly and tipped his hat to her, earning a wink from the redhead over her mask. She, then, turns to the man with the wild hair and it is easy to see that she is appraising him considerably. First his face, then the rest of him. Feeling her stare, he turns to her.
”Something tells me that you aren’t going to be as easy of a mark.”
There is absolutely no mistaking the leather jacket man’s smile. His eyes utterly give away his amusement at the comments.
”Time will tell, I think,” he replies as he puts his own chips forward, being dealt two cards. ”I have been known to do fairly well for myself at the table.”
”Something about the way you say that makes me believe it, kid. I’ll have to keep an eye on you.”
This time for certain the woman is smiling. But she pushes her own chips in and the game is on. The first game goes by without incident, the veteran taking the win with three-of-a-kind. The man in the jacket bets modestly in this game, while the woman presses her luck a bit, only managing two pairs. In the following game, she comes up with an impressive full house-
”Cowboys and their sweeties!”
-drawing in the pile of chips with a large smile. The veteran had scored another three-of-a-kind, but a trio of nines wasn’t about to stand up to that set. The dark-haired young man nods with another smile behind his mask. It takes until the fourth game before he takes a win, a low straight putting away his opponents, their wild betting turning out to be bluffs and allowing him to more than recoup his first three losses.
”And just like that he wins it all back,” says the woman in red, her tone just a bit teasing. ”I wasn’t watching closely enough.”
The games continue and time lapses thanks to the wonders of videography. An hour and a half later sees the veteran having taken his leave and a couple others coming and going without making much of a dent. By now, the woman and the young man in the jacket both have well-sized piles of chips and are still intently going at it.
”I meant to say so before, but I do like that jacket. Haven’t seen one like it in a long time. Where did you get it?”
It was in the midst of a deal for a new hand. As she asks her question, the recording freezes and all around the jacketed fellow the world warps and twists…
...returning with only him unchanged, save for the nature of the jacket (it looks quite new now) and the style of his hair (going from a curly mop to a straight, long ponytail), he is sitting at a table with a few other men, all dressed to impress. A woman in red walks up to the table and the jacketed man turns to gaze up at her with a wide grin.
’Chere! You like the jacket?”
In contrast to the lady playing Texas Hold ‘Em, this woman in red is more conservative in her attire, more serious… even a bit bookish. But the beauty is all the same. No masks are worn at this point, the jacketed man’s smooth face giving away his youth. She, a little older than he is but still of a softer age, sighs and folds her arms.
”Oh, it looks great. But how much did you blow on it?”
”It isn’t cheap to look this good, chere. I might have to win me a championship if I want to accessorize with it, if you catch my drift.
That Creole accent would melt many a heart over the years; at this particular moment, it was only drawing a certain lady’s ire.
”We talked about this, didn’t we? About throwing money away as though your bank account is bottomless? How do you expect to handle expenses if you’re broke before the check clears?”
”That’s why I have you, though! To help me keep that in order!”
”I can’t keep in order something that isn’t there! Honestly! You can be so frustrating!”
Turning on her heel, she stomps off, leaving the young man looking troubled. Behind him, his friends are snickering, but put on straighter faces when he turns back around… not that they do very well at hiding their mirth even when he’s looking their way. The scene pauses… and Damon addresses those watching via voice-over.
”It still boggles my mind when I think that it was 2020 in which I celebrated my tenth year in the wrestling business. Back then, wrestling was a little bit simpler. Most of my then-peers and contemporaries did not bother with social media; everything was simply recorded somewhere and taken to the studio, then put up on a website for everyone to see at their leisure. Now almost every facet of our lives are on display for those who would follow us on Twitter, Instagram and what-have-you.
In the ring it was simpler, too. Fewer companies were active, and thus the competition was even more intense. I was fortunate enough to have good teachers and excellent training, which helped me get my foot in the door of the business. But even though they deemed me ready to step into the ring professionally, I still had much to learn. About managing money, about handling contracts and travel… and about managing myself. And to this day I am still learning. We all are. At least those of us who care about being successful anyway.”
Then, just like that, we’re back to the present moment.
”It was an impulse buy. One I caught a lot of hell for,” he replies dryly, chuckling at the memory. ”I caught hell for it. And rightfully so.”
She begins to stare a little more closely at him now.
”All night I have been trying to think of who you remind me of,” she says cautiously. ”Might I ask you to remove your glasses?”
Seeing no reason to deny her, he reaches up and removes the spectacles, gazing at her anew with his soft brown eyes. She leans in, squints a little, then sits back with a small smile.
”So it IS you. I’m a big fan, Mr. Cross.”
”You’ll have me feeling old, miss,” he replies with a wink. ”Damon is fine.”
”Congratulations on your win a few nights ago. I literally jumped out of my seat when you won the title.”
And there’s the pink in his cheeks. Damon rubs the back of his neck and smiles somewhat sheepishly.
”Thank you. I keep thinking it isn’t real. But all that has gotten me is a sore arm from all the pinching. And your name is?”
”Cecilia. Cecilia Grant.”
”A pleasure.”
Damon offers his hand and she accepts it.
”Is it true that you’re going to be in the Wartime Rumble?”
”It is. You must keep a close eye on Twitter.”
”Only for certain people.”
Damon smiles yet again, showing a little of his own charm.
”Consider me honored to have a stunning young lady like you as a fan. That being said… what do you say we make this next game a little more interesting? Put something on the line besides chips?
Cecilia smiles sweetly and leans in, chin her hand with her elbow propped up on the edge of the table.
”Do tell.”
In response, Damon shrugs out of his jacket and drapes it over the seat between the two of them, running his hand across the well-worn leather.
”If you win, I’ll give you this jacket. I’ll even sign it..”
”Oooooh,” Cecilia coos in response, looking quite eager. That is, until she considers what the other half of the wager might be. ”And if I lose?”
Giving it some thought, Damon looks Cecilia in the eyes for a few moments, bringing a deep blush to her cheeks, then responds calmly.
”You show me what’s under that mask.”
”...that’s it?”
”That’s it.”
When he offers his hand, she accepts it and the two turn back to the dealer, nodding to him for the game to begin. He deals out a new hand, the cards dropping one at a time as both Damon and Cecilia check their cards and make their bets turn after turn. However, as the game is coming to the final moments, a voice calls out harshly from a short distance off.
”CeCe! What the fuck?!”
All at once, Damon flashes back yet again, this time to a similar time and place as before, except that he is sitting alone with the red-haired woman who chastised him in his previous memory. They are sharing a drink, perhaps after dinner, when a belligerent man comes up. Nothing is heard this time around, but the man clearly has ill intent from the way he tightly grabs the woman’s arm and pulls her roughly from her chair. Damon is on his feet in a moment and the man turns on him, shoving him with one hand whilst not relinquishing his grip on the redhead.
Damon’s immediate response is to grab the offending hand of the man, to take hold of the thumb, and to bend it back sharply. Even in silence the exclamatory, pained shout of the man seems audible. He lets go of the woman, who staggers back as she had been trying to wrench free in the process, and falls against a table though she catches herself before tumbling to the floor, aided by one of the diners at said table. Meanwhile, the belligerent man turns on Damon who decks him with a right hand, knocking him to the floor. The scene freezes as he stares down at the incredulous fellow, and Damon’s voice cuts in again.
”And one of the most important lessons that I’ve learned in my time in wrestling can be summed up in one word: consequences. Everything in wrestling and in life has consequences. Sometimes they are immediate; sometimes they take years to come about. Sometimes… they cost you years. For me, one punch eventually cost me not only a couple years off my career, but also prison time and the loss of something… and someone... very important to me.”
The scene is back in motion and the man backs up on the floor before scrambling to his feet. He looks ready to lunge and continue the fight but at that point security comes to hustle him out of the establishment. Likewise, Damon seems to be asked to leave as well despite the redhead’s clear attempts to talk them out of such action. But Damon waves this off, sets down a few bills on the table and offers his arm to the woman, who takes it and falls into step with him as he turns to go. Adoration is clear in her eyes.
”In the ring I have made similar choices that cost me. One that nearly ended my life. Another few that cost me friends, family and allies. And still more that led to some painful matches, protracted rivalries and more. Often those choices had little to do with me at the beginning, but more who I associated with and who I gave my heart to. Because if there’s one thing humans are very poor at, it is making their brains and hearts think alike. The fact that I am still here today, still wrestling and, as of two nights ago, officially a World Heavyweight Champion, are proof that I learn from my mistakes. It takes me time, but I DO learn.”
Back in the Horseshoe Hammond, Damon looks on as a somewhat boorish young man storms up to Cecilia. Dressed in a red silk shirt and black trousers, his short hair styled rather impressively for a fella, he folds his arms and glares at the woman who, at this very moment, is looking a bit mortified.
”I’ve been looking everywhere! Why did you ditch me?!”
”I didn’t ‘ditch’ you, Michael,” she retorts sharply, not turning toward the man. ”You were being an ass and I told you I was going to go cool off. So here I am. Trying to do that.”
At this point, despite the scene, a waitress walks up with a tray of drinks. Michael glares at her but both Cecilia and Damon accept a beverage from the tray, the latter setting a few chips on the glass-laden disc for gratuity. While Damon is not staring per se, his attention IS on the pair in front of him as he sips the beverage. Michael looks over at Damon for a moment, seething behind his own mask, and gestures in Damon’s direction.
”Cooling off, huh? Then what’s this,” snaps the agitated Michael, still gesturing toward a nonchalant Cross, ”cause it looks like something more than ‘cooling off’ to me.”
”Michael, you are being rude! That’s-”
”I don’t care who it is! Hey, buddy,” Michael cuts Cecilia off and turns to face Damon, putting on as much of a snarl as he can behind his mask. ”why don’t you take a walk before things get bad?”
Lowering his mask again to take another sip of his drink, Damon calmly puts it down on edge of the table and locks eyes with Michael.
”We’re in the middle of a game,” he retorts calmly. ”Once that’s done, you two can hash out whatever you want to. Make a scene, have a tiff… do whatever.”
Michael seems nonplussed, blinking as Damon replies to his directive with an unexpectedly calm comment. He puts his hand on Cecilia’s shoulder as if to pull her away, but she angrily shoves it off.
”Go have ANOTHER drink, Michael,” she snaps, peering at her cards for a reason to look at anything BUT Michael. ”When this game is done we’ll discuss this privately.”
”Like hell! We’re talkin’ about this now! And you,” he whirls on Damon again, just as Damon is finishing the last of his drink. ”I told you to beat it!”
The dealer looks to Damon for a moment, seeming to be silently asking if Damon wants him to call security over to deal with this. Perhaps Damon is well-known at this establishment? To the point that he’s in good with some of the people who work there? It is not explicitly stated. However, Damon gestures gently and dismissively to the unsaid request. Instead, he save his words for Michael.
”Look, friend-”
”I ain’t your friend!”
”...fine. Michael, then.”
Damon rises to his feet and almost immediately Michael squares up as though he expects a fight. Instead, Cross languidly stretches and flips his cards over. Combined with the community cards, Damon has a straight flush, six to ten, in spades. Cecilia, managing a small smile, turns over her own cards, showing that she had a basic straight, ten to ace. Damon faintly smiles her way, but it fades when he looks to Michael.
”I don’t know what your problem is, and it isn’t any of my business-”
”You’re damn right it ain’t-”
”Shut it!”
Shocking those present with not only the raising of his voice, but the heavy tone of it, his accent fully coming to bear, Damon surprises an agitated Michael into silence. Cecilia is not sure how to react. The dealer… just maintains her own silence.
”It is not my business what is going on with you two. But that being said, it isn’t anyone else’s business, either. It’s between the two of you. But Michael, you’re bringing everyone in earshot into it. Clearly, Cecilia is upset with you. Do you really think making an ass of yourself is going to help that?”
”Who the hell do you think you are?!”
Snatching off his mask, Damon throws it on the table so that Michael can see exactly who he is. Like Cecilia, Michael recognizes Damon easily after that and the kid goes pale.
”What, did you see her smiling and enjoying herself over here and think that she was making eyes at me or something? Did it make you feel jealous? Angry? Did it make you think of what your life would be like without her?”
”What… how…”
”Let me put you at ease, kid.”
Holding up his hand, Damon shows off his engagement ring, the one given him by his fiancee Danielle Anderson when she proposed to him on his birthday barely a month ago. Cecilia smiles at the sight of it, her gaze dropping to her own hand where a rather pretty ring sparkles there… likely given her by Michael.
”I just came to the table here to play a few games. Cecilia recognized me and we made conversation. If you don’t believe me, Mitzi here will corroborate. Right, Mitzi?”
The dealer nods slowly. Damon continues.
”I suggest the two of you collect your chips, find a quiet place in the bar and talk this out. Privately. Without a lot of yelling, cursing and all that. Figure out what’s wrong and then figure out how to fix it. Because what you’re doing right now, Michael? It won’t end well. It never does. Take it from someone who knows.”
Stunned into silence, both at the realization of Damon’s identity and how, instead of starting a fight, he is instead trying to help, Michael turns to Cecilia, who turns to him. There’s static… but also a spark of hope there. Without waiting for a response, Damon picks up his jacket and turns to Mitzi.
”Will you tend to the chips for me, hon? All of a sudden I feel like I need some fresh air.”
Mitzi nods. Damon adorns himself with the jacket and turns back to the couple.
”You two live around here? Or are you on vacation?”
”We’re from Springfield. Just trying to take a mini-vacation. You know… with how crazy the world is right now. Thought it would do us good…”
She trails off a bit, looking away. Michael all of a sudden has the air taken out of him and looks defeated. Damon looks between them for a moment, then takes an envelope out of his jacket pocket… which he offers to Michael.
”You’re a fan too, I’m guessing? Here.”
Michael starts to open it, but Damon stops him gently.
”Only after you two have figured things out. They won’t mean much if you don’t.”
Nodding to the couple, Damon turns and walks off. After a few awkward moments, Michael picks up Cecilia’s coat from the corner of the table and offers her a hand to her feet. They move off in the opposite direction of Damon; while the Saint of Bones heads for the elevators, they head towards the casino restaurant.
”The Wartime Rumble…”
Later in the evening, removed by a few hours from the scene earlier on the casino floor, Damon is in his room at the casino’s hotel. He has a camera set before him, stationary, recording from the coffee table as he sits at one side of the sofa. The view is only from the chest up, his one arm draped along the back of the couch, a glass of wine cradled in his palm. His other arm is moving, but it is impossible to see what exactly it is doing.
”...might be yet another mistake in my career.”
He smiles faintly, swirling the wine in the glass, even in this moment of indecision and wonder looking quite endearing. His charm, apparently, is ever-present.
”When Rock ‘N Roll God contacted me about being a part of it, I did not hesitate long before accepting. Just long enough to make sure there were no schedule conflicts, in fact. I thought to myself that it would be a lark, you know? Something novel, a match that I have yet to compete in, something that I might be able to brag about to my grandchildren somewhere down the road. Now that I’ve had four days to ruminate on it? I am wondering what his motive is in truth. After all,” Damon pauses to take a sip from the glass, swirling the liquid around behind his lips before swallowing. ”I was wholly unaware that the ECWF knew I existed before now. And my only knowledge of it came from the fact that one of the men who trained me was quite prolific there for a few years. Eric Donavan? I’m sure you know the name.”
The grin on his face is conspiratorial for sure, but good-natured.
”Perhaps that is how they discovered me. That still doesn’t answer the question of why they would want me in the match. Probably to fill space. One of my peers, Tren Descarrilado, is also taking part in the match, Perhaps he put in a good word. Who can say? It would be out of character for him, but not out of the question. Perhaps I am making this all too complicated. Or perhaps…”
Damon pauses briefly, then reaches over the side of the sofa. There is the sound of shifting that is not his own, and another bit of breathing that also does not emanate from the Saint of Bones. When Cross sits up again, he is holding a neatly-folded championship belt that, upon setting his wine glass down briefly, he drapes over his shoulder.
”...the complications are from my end alone. Not two days after my entrance into the Wartime Rumble, I found myself in a title match that was not supposed to happen for another three months. You see the result of that battle resting over my shoulder here. Two days of being champion and already the pressure is felt, even before the pain of the match I fought through to earn it has faded. But I am nothing if not stubborn. And champion or not, I will be entering this Rumble, at number fifteen, with all intent to win it. To earn a shot at ANOTHER world championship. To, it seems, follow in the footsteps of the mighty Irish Dragon.”
Retrieving his wine, Damon lifts the glass toward the camera before taking another sip.
”You will all forgive me if I don’t call you out by name for this match. There is not time to put a moniker to twenty-nine faces. It will take enough effort trying to chuck you all out of the ring and last through till the end. And none of you, save Tren, know me from Adam anyway. So any comments, threatening or otherwise, I would make toward you would just fall on deaf ears. I’ll be surprised if anyone besides Tren mentions me, either,” Damon pauses, the thought making him chuckle before he continues. ”So what do you say we just cut to the chase? January 31st, 2021 at the United Center in the Windy City, ECWF presents World War 4. Thirty men will enter that ring but only one will stand tall at the end. Could it be me? My every effort will be intent on making it so. Will I be foolish enough to promise such an outcome? Not on your life,” he says, laughing boisterously. ”Look for the first poor sod to go promising that, saying how they’ll toss each and every opponent to do so, about how they’ll back in glory and confetti at the end, gearing up to battle Dan Anderson and how they’ll take his championship as easily as they cut through the roster and so-on and so-forth until we’re all bleeding from the eyes and ears.”
He gives a little shake of his head, still amused but not as loud about it.
”Smart money says at least half the entrants in this match will have a similar spiel. Half of those that remain will likely make some threatening ‘promises’ and a few of those that are left from THAT half will call upon their historic wins and accolades as proof that, ‘like always’, they will show us how it’s done. The rest will forever hold their peace for God-knows-why, giving the fans and the rest of us no clue as to their intentions. Perhaps they will count on the element of surprise? Who can say? I would certainly not endeavor to try and figure them out,” Damon continues, pausing for another sip of wine. ”So I suppose it is up to me to dare to be different. To accept that the odds are heavily against me. To realize that almost none of the other competitors in this match know who I am or regard me as any sort of threat. I’m just another face in the crowd, title be damned, doomed to be dismissed and ignored. But here’s the thing:”
Leaning in slightly, Damon throws all his Creole charm behind his grin.
”I love that.”
Taking a moment to sit back, he drapes the belt over the back of the couch; still in sight, it no longer commands the use of his left hand, which lowers again. A sound of happiness is heard out of sight as his hand is once more resting below the line of the camera.
”Like Al Pacino in The Devil’s Advocate, they never see me coming. Not till they reach the Crossroads and it’s time to make a deal. Until they’re face to face with their bad decisions and poor choices. When you’re staring down the barrel of a man who has faced the worst of humanity and his own foolishness and not only lived to tell the tale but become stronger as a result? You realize just how weak, how human, you really are. Now,” he holds up a hand as though to stave off retorts, ”I am by no means calling the others in this match weak or stupid. But I have this… knack… for holding the mirror of truth up for my adversaries, showing them what is real and what is not when it comes to their very existence. I proved to Tren Descarrilado that a man need not be a monster to succeed. I showed Jansen Myrrh that respect means everything. Two nights ago, I showed Sativa Neveah what a person can do with pure motivation and guts. At World War 4, I intend to show twenty-nine other men what it means to stand face-to-face with the Saint of Bones.”
He delivers his words with finality, clinking his wine glass gently against the title.
”I don’t have the poetic soul and broad talents of Eric Donavan. I don’t have the overwhelming presence and respect that Hiashi Shinsuma exudes. And, honestly? I’m lucky to be alive considering all that I went through in 2020… and that isn’t hyperbole.”
Damon says, opening his button-down shirt not to show off his chiseled torso, but to reveal a number of scars. Few of them could have been gotten inside a wrestling ring, even in the most violent of hardcore encounters.
”That is where my confidence comes from, gentlemen. That is why I throw myself head-first into the fray no matter the odds, no matter the stakes. That is why I didn’t think twice before accepting the invitation to enter the Wartime Rumble. Not so much because I thought I could win, but because I knew I could make an impact and raise my stock in this business. It took me ten years to win my first world title. One of my mentors did that in less than four months. It took almost as many years to properly get my head straight. And the people around me deserve as much credit as I do for seeing to that. My point, though? My point… is that I’m going to be real where this is concerned. I’m going to keep my head on straight and my eyes forward,” he speaks most firmly in this, never taking his eyes off the camera. ”If I get taken out of this match, it won’t be bad luck or anything like that. It will be because someone was better than me. There will be no excuses like you’re used to hearing from those who wish to obfuscate their failures. That is not how Damon Cross operates. If you want to eliminate me, you better be ready to fight like your life depends on it. Because wrestling IS my life at this point, and I will fight to the last breath to defend that. I will MAKE you earn any defeat you hold over me and I PROMISE you that whoever managed such will NOT feel like a winner!”
A forceful, yet heartfelt, promise. Damon lets those words hang in the air for a moment, then sits back again, finishing off the glass of wine.
”And for now, I’ll leave it at that. We’ll see if anyone else has the gumption to spill their guts and be so real in front of a camera. No matter what, I’ll stand behind my words. Perhaps I will do as the new number one contender when all is said and done. Perhaps not. But what you will never be able to call Damon Cross is weak, unmotivated, cowardly or dishonest. Beat me and you will earn your props… and probably a few lumps or scars. Fall to me… and you’ll still get respect due, as I was taught. Regardless of the outcome, though, when all is said and done, you WILL remember my name.”
He reaches forward to shut off the camera. For a moment, it lowers and there is a glimpse of a lovely young woman with multicolored pastel hair lying across the couch, half in Damon’s lap. But only for a moment. Then the feed cuts out.
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Post by Deleted on Jan 28, 2021 10:31:39 GMT -6
Rookie Month: Devin DeSean
This will be the tale of events surrounding Devin DeSean in his first month of being a pro wrestler. Devin DeSean was your typical athletic male model living in New York City, he wasn’t your feminine male model. Devin stood Six Foot Two and weighed a fit and built 218lbs, he also was an trained kickboxer though he had never fought competitively. He decided that he had enough of the modeling world as a full-time gig and ended up getting set up in the pro wrestling scene by his manager.
His first offer came when Federation X’s financials guy mentioned the companies reboot to Devin’s manager. Devin found himself in the fed on some Ultimate Fighter rip-off. His team was a joke and he become the only real stand out while the other team produced multiple names. It wasn’t long before he ended up in a situation where, he captured a title he later found out was defended anytime, anywhere, and there was no rule besides winning by pinfall, submission, or knockout.
He went back and forth with others on the roster though out the month and he had managed to hold the title on 3 different occasions. When word was received by his manager that HOW was interested in putting him in the DeNucci Cup, he cleared it with his bosses at Fed X and went on to compete. A week later he received an invite from Extreme Championship Wrestling Federation to compete in a 30 Man WarTime Rumble, and this is where the story really matters moving forward.
Devin DeSean was back in Toronto after successfully making it past round one of the DeNucci Cup. He was called into the Federation X’s Powerbase office. Devin walks in and takes a seat in front of Co-Founders Lars and Grayson. Devin had been on a roll both in the company and representing Fed X over in HOW.
Lars “So we heard you received another invite to compete at another promotion at the end of the month! “
Grayson “While we are grateful that you are willing to put yourself through the ringer and carry the Federation X banner to represent us in other places your very first month in the business...”
Marlowe “There are concerns it is not what would be best for business.“
Federations X businessman and former wrestlers himself, commented from the side of the room where he sat going over various reports and papers related to the companies reboot.
Devin looks over at him with a typical smug look of a rookie on a hot streak, before speaking up and looking back to the Founders.
Pretty Boy Devin DeSean “ I understand your reluctance for various reasons, I am still new to the business, I already am flying here and there to compete here and other in HOW. I can assure you I am more then fit and mentally ready!”
He said to them. The men in the room looked at each other for a minute before Lars spoke up.
Lars “I love the drive you have Devin. You push yourself to make things happen for yourself and you haven’t complained about any setbacks you have faced up to this point. While you may be at an early start to your career, you could really hurt your value if you get hurt from trying to do too much, too fast!”
Devin DeSean “I will work through and past anything I must. It is at the end of the month, so I have time to make sure I am rested and ready. Even if I end up advancing to the further rounds in the Cup! “
More back and forth took place between the Powerbase and Devin DeSean, and they had put it off a few days to think it over before giving him the go ahead. Once that potential roadblock was addressed, Devin had responded and officially took care of what he needed to do and was entered into the rumble at #26.
A couple weeks passed and, in that time, Devin had picked up more wins and times holding the anything goes 24/7 Bloodsport title. On top of that he had pick up a big win against another standout in Terrific Tony Robes II, the match made Devin the #1 Contender for the main title that Federation X had to offer, the X-Factor Championship. Devin had shown the Powerbase that Devin was not showing in signs of slowing down regardless of what he put himself through. This brings us to him arriving in the ECWF venue for the WarTime Rumble.
Devin was set up with the backstage crew that worked on setting up all backstage scene, shoots, and promos. After going over the cues and how they conduct business here, Devin steps on to the tap marks for wrestlers to know they are centered for the opening shots.
Pretty Boy Devin DeSean “ FOUR! ….. That is the number of weeks that this Adonis looking Model has been in the wrestling business. I have now held a 24/7 Anything goes title on FOUR different occasions and became Number One Contender to the X-Factor Championship in FedX during this time. Also, during those same 4 weeks, I have participated and advanced in the DeNucci Cup not far from here in HOW. As my name started to grow spread around, it was an invitation from right here in ECWF! That invitation is for the War Time Rumble. “
Devin flashes his typical smirk fill with his ego growing as he talked about his accomplishments.
“ Here I am! So it is clear that I said yes, sign me up and now I will be entering at a nice spot at Number Twenty Six! While there is a legacy and bit of pride one entering earlier and holding on to win…. Would gain…Pretty Boy Devin DeSean does not care about those things…What Devin DeSean cares about is winning! I don’t know anything about anyone in this event and honestly, I only need to focus on tossing those that I must over the top rope and send their hopes crashing hard on the floor outside. “
He picks up the promo card sheet of the match, looking at the pictures of the men before tossing it back down.
“ Well, I guess I will be seeing whoever is left when I enter the rumble! “
...... Would that be all from Devin DeSean before the WarTime Rumble and ending on a cliffhanger?!
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Post by The Cult of Carnivore(DD/P/ID) on Jan 29, 2021 21:18:43 GMT -6
"Carnivore" Daniel Dream dressed in a black jacket over his black long-sleeve shirt with the hoodie over his yellow Smiley mask, blue jeans, he stands in the middle of The Slaughterhouse Gym’s ring. To the side of Daniel is a tanned man with long black hair, wearing blue pants that was rechristened as Poseidon. Evan Moore wearing the Nex Gen Championship over the right shoulder of his open black jacket revealing a black shirt. Lee Matthews, wearing a black shirt and pants, still stares into the camera from behind "Carnivore" Daniel Dream, Evan Moore, and Poseidon.Daniel Dream: Everyone that has said I can’t ‘win’ a match has a chance to witness and experience me winning a thirty man rumble match. We always look back on the moments we are currently living in as nostalgia. Those who tasted victory in their most crucial moments may look back upon it all with a smile, while others feel the crushing weight of what could have been. You think about how far you’ve come to survive up to now. All the wars you’ve gone through and come out the other end, be it as the victor or the defeated. The battle scars, both physical and psychological, that give you vivid memories of the pain you endured. Was it for gold? Was it for glory? Sometimes that’s the only part you can’t remember. Remember. Of course, you’ll also think about those who fought alongside you.Daniel looks at Evan Moore and Poseidon.Daniel Dream: Pretty amazing the journey they've had.Daniel looks away.Daniel Dream: You’ll think about those who fought against you. Some that may still be here, and others that have faded away. They live on through you, whether you wish for it or not. The battles they shared with you cannot be forgotten, no matter how much you wish they were. Damon Cross, I've fought Eric Donovan in fact I fought him for the ECWF World Championship because I won the Wartime Rumble and you are not going to walk in the footsteps of Eric Donovan also you mention people I know without reason, so I gotta bury you a bit. I like you kid, but this is a selfish endeavor. Clean win over someone this mouth, but undeniably an impact player, does nothing but good for my stock. You wanted a war, ECWF, and I brought you a massacre. I was told in the indies that I would never win a World Championship, vindication at its finest. Now to win my fifth world championship in a fourth company. With as much I'm told this, you'd think people would believe me more, I'm going to win this Wartime Rumble opportunity and go on to win the World Championship. You’ve been wrong about every opportunity thus far. Why should I believe you? The answer is I shouldn’t. I wouldn't believe that, no, not even fuckin close to it. There ain't nothin you can say to me that'll make me believe this. I come to you this week, after a much-needed vacation, but I am prepared to get back to work. As much as I enjoyed the week off and the break away from the ring, I miss it, and I am eager to get back into the swing of things. If anything, I need to knock off that bit of ring rust and maybe answer a few doubters' questions about me and about how the year ended. It’s an opportunity to see me shine. A chance to see how awesome I am. A chance to start the year off with the biggest BANG possible. One of the most iconic annual traditions in ECWF, the Wartime Rumble match. It's every man for himself, it is one of the most challenging, grueling, difficult things that you can do in ECWF and to me...it makes me feel alive. The winner gets to face the champion in the main event of Starrcade. Here's the honest truth about it, I don't know how many more Starrcade moments I have left in me. But I do know if I want to accomplish my dream one more time, it involves the main event of Starrcade and winning the Wartime Rumble. Wasted effort caring about the outcome of individual matches. I only care that we win the war. Some of you have been winning and losing matches for years and changed absolutely nothing. I won a Wartime Rumble in the past that changed everything so I would like to thank myself, myself and myself. Without me none of this would have been possible. Nobody believed in me anyway, so didn't let anyone down. At least I was not eliminated first.Lee Matthews: Nobody in their right mind was let down by how you did out there, you fuckin killed it man. Daniel Dream: A lot of emotions in this one. I'm delighted to win, of course. But my friend had to lose. I'm still collecting my thoughts. This is just my brain right now but I think that I might have to throw Evan Moore and Poseidon over the top rope and eliminate them because I sure as Hell know that nobody else can eliminate a member of Team Resurrected.Evan Moore: You are not winning this year’s Wartime Rumble, I am. You know Daniel, I am sick and tired of proving myself week after week. Over and over again. Daniel Dream: I'm just saying though, might want to win once in your life.Daniel looks over at Poseidon.Daniel Dream: Shoot, what you dealt with is very trash also.Poseidon: You want to hear what trash is? Try winning a championship then leaving because you know you had no business winning one in the first place. I'm not going anywhere, and neither is this world championship belt. You can come and give it your best shot maybe recycle your career. Daniel Dream: Oh man you're breaking my heart with this sob story. We all go through this kind of thing...it's called hardship. Only differences between us and you is that you gave up on being a World Champion until somebody hands it to you.Poseidon: That's the only difference you see? So I don't want to hear from anybody ever that I miss an appearance. That is why I am who I am. Poseidon turns to Lee Matthews. Poseidon: What was I complaining about earlier? Lee Matthews: The weight of it all, the burden. Poseidon: My back hurts, you're right. My back hurts because I've been carrying this damn company. Lee, what if my back continues to hurt? It's the Wartime Rumble, I know. What if I can't make it because my back hurts? The guy that gets it done week after week, I never complained, IT NEVER BOTHERED ME, I NEVER STOP because I busy my ass for this place! THAT'S WHY I AM WHO I AM! Evan Moore: People want to watch the best wrestler in the division do their thing. People want a champion who is dependable. They want a champion who they KNOW they can count on to go out there and put in their best possible time after time. They want a champion who will represent them, I've represented the Nex Gen of wrestlers since the beginning. 'The Cult Leader' Carnivore Daniel Dream, Evan Moore, Poseidon, and Lee Matthews leave the ring of The Slaughterhouse Gym as the opening lyrics of "Kings Never Die" by Eminem plays over The Slaughterhouse Gym’s PA system. The scene fades to black."I can hear the drummer drumming.
And the trumpets, someone's tryna summon someone, I know something's coming.
But I'm running from it to be standing at the summit.
And plummet, how come it wasn't what I thought it was, was it.
Too good to be true?
Have nothing, get it all but too much of it then lose it again.
Did I swallow hallucinogens, 'cause if not, where the hell did it go?
'Cause here I sit in Lucifer's den by the dutch oven just choosing to sin.
Even if it means I'm selling my soul, just to be the undisputed again.
Do whatever I gotta do just to win.
'Cause I got this motherfucking cloud over my head.
Crown around it, thorns on it.
Cracks in it, bet you morons didn't.
Think I'd be back, did ya?
How 'bout that I'm somehow now back to the underdog.
But no matter how loud that I bark, this sport is something I never bow-wow'd at.
I complain about the game, I shout and I pout, it's a love-hate.
But I found out that I can move a mountain of doubt.
Even when you bitches are counting me out, and I appear to be down for the count.
Only time I ever been out and about is.
Driving around town with my fucking whereabouts in a doubt.
'Cause I been lost tryna think of what I did to get here but I'm not a quitter.
Gotta get up, give it all I got or give up.
Spit on, shit on, stepped on, but kept going I'm tryna be headstrong.
But it feels like I slept on my neck wrong.
'Cause you're moving onto the next, but is the respect gone?
'Cause someone told me that kings never die.
Don't give me that sob story liar, don't preach to the choir.
You ain't never even had to reach in the fire to dig deep.
Nobody ever handed me shit in life, not even a flyer.
Wouldn't even take shit into consideration.
Obliterate anyone in the way."
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Post by Deleted on Jan 31, 2021 1:02:58 GMT -6
The camera fades right inside Johnny's private dressing room . He looks a bit ticked off at his most recent loss and the loss of his most coveted prized possession, that being: THE ECWF World Championship belt-- while his girlfriend/manager, Candy, tries consoling him and fluffs his hair up in front of the mirror as a conversation is struck. Johnny:" Johnny can't believe he lost his World Title belt to that one hit wonder scum of the earth, Dan Anderson. This is a dark day for not just Johnny, but the entire state of professional wrestling.." Candy: "Don't sell yourself short, baby. Dan Anderson just got lucky. Every dog has it's day. Or in this case Dan. That's all there is to it." Johnny: "Damn right he did, woman! No one gets one over on Johnny. No one! Dan can brag all he wants, but that win was nothing more than a FLUKE."
Candy: "That's EXACTLY what it was! A F-L-U-K-E." Johnny: "I was robbed!" Candy: "You were robbed." Johnny: "It was a miscarriage of justice." Candy: "Totally!" Johnny: "But That's okay because tonight Johnny has come up with a plan that'll rock everyone's socks off. And that plan is Johnny invoking his rematch clause. And when he beats that choke artist of a chump Johnny will once again be on top of the wrestling world where he belongs as the two time ECWF World Heavyweight Champion...and all will be right in the world again." Candy: "um...Actually Johnny there won't be a rematch taking place." Johnny tears his gaze away from the mirror. Johnny: "What? Why is that?"Candy: "RNRG wouldn't allow it. He said Dan has his hands full with those masked losers." Johnny: "No, he doesn't. He's obviously tryin' to duck Johnny. That lousy piece of slimy rat coward scum bag! And to think Johnny was generous enough to give him all those title shots!" Candy: "I know, So instead RNRG got you a spot at the WarTime Rumble match with 29 other superstars. And the winner of the match goes onto Starrcade to challenge the World champion in the main event." Johnny doesn't look pleased hearing that as he runs his fingers through his long hair. Johnny: "Let Johnny get this straight. RNRG signed Johnny up to a match that HE never agreed to be part of in the first place? He should have consulted Johnny first before signing him up involuntarily to this train wreck of a match." Candy: "Babe I thought this is what you wanted." Johnny: "NO! This is not what Johnny agreed to because this is a COMPLETE WASTE OF JOHNNY'S TIME! There's nothing left for Johnny to prove with this match. Johnny ALREADY has a rematch clause for a title shot so that exempts Johnny from participating in this Rumble Match." Candy: "Exactly! But um what do you want me to do??" Johnny: "You march on up to RNRG's office, look him dead in the eye, and you tell em' that Johnny isn't participating in the match and HE DEMANDS his REMATCH right here, TONIGHT. Or so help Johnny he'll sue this company for every penny's worth for not giving what is rightfully his. NOW Go and tell him what exactly Johnny said and what he thinks of this War Time Rumble!" Candy: "Ok, Johnny. I'll tell exactly what you said. Be right back." ~Half an hour later~
Johnny: "Well?! Did you get through to RNRG and get Johnny his rematch for the World Title?"Candy: "...No." Johnny: "No? What do you mean 'No'? Wasn't Johnny precise with the exact instructions he laid out??" Candy: "RNRG wouldn't have any of it. He got mad and put you at #5 spot in the WarTime Rumble match. RNRG even put me in the Female Rumble match. Even though I don't have any wrestling background or experience , I am forced to compete against my will."
Johnny: "He did that?? The hell is wrong with that dude?! Who pissed in his cereal that he has to force us into a match??" Candy: "I tried to reason with him, but He's obviously mad with power." Johnny sighs, taking a deep breath. Candy: "What are we gonna do Johnny?? This is totally unfair..." Johnny: "Guess Johnny's got to do what Johnny's got to do..." Candy: "And what's that?" Johnny:" Throw every single piece of garbage in that ring and over the top rope and from there go on to main event Johnny Starrcade for the World Championship!" Candy: "That's great and all, but what am I going to do in my Rumble match? I have never competed or wrestled in my life. I'm just a manager. I don't have any formal wrestling training whatsoever." Johnny shrugs his shoulder. Johnny: "Johnny's doesn't want to hear all that negative stuff. You are managing the greatest wrestler alive in the world. That alone makes you great because you are already surrounded with the epitome of greatness that is Johnny Vegas."
Candy: "Well...I mean that Women's title belt would definitely look good on me. OooOh we can be the ultimate power couple. Think about it. With you being the World Champion and me being the Women's Champion, we'll be the king and queen in all of ECWF. We'll be ruling with an iron fist." Johnny: "That's a good start..." Candy: "You really think so? You really think I can win the Rumble and even go on to win the women's championship belt at Starrcade??" Johnny: "Yes. Now can the chit-chat and start fluffing Johnny's luscious, silky shinny hair. I need to look awesome when I win the Rumble." Candy: "Yes Johnny."
Johnny turns his gaze back to the mirror, admiring his reflection and singing his own praises while Candy does what she's told and fluffs his hair as the scene fades to black.
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Post by Deleted on Jan 31, 2021 13:04:57 GMT -6
OOC: This is Ace Reigns from ICW's RP. Thank you so very much Ace for participating
The first scene is seen taking place inside of the Miami, Florida home of the man who decided to represent the International Championship Wrestling federation in the upcoming Extreme Championship Wrestling Federation's World War 4, 2021 pay per view, " Killer" Ace Reigns but he's not alone as his beautiful finacee/tag team partner, "Lady Bombshell" Lacey London was seen sitting right beside her future husband/tag team partner in the living room. She just made them a cup of coffee for them to drink. Suddenly, he hears Jonathan Coachman, one of the ESPN'S Sportscenter say to the viewers that was watching the show.
Jonathan Coachman: Good day ladies and gentlemen, I'm Jonathan Coachman and I'm here to let you all know that the fed ECWF is once again doing the World War 4 pay per view and they are asking for anyone in the Men's and Women's War Time Rumble matches that if they want to participate that to go to ECWF'S headquarters and sign up? If you can't do it in person, you can send a email stating that you want to wrestle in either the Men's or Women's War Time Rumble matches. Good luck to you all. Now back to your local programming.
That perked his ears way up so he decided to send a email to the Owner letting him know that to add his name to the 2021 Men's War Time Rumble match. After that, he wanted to give his thoughts about the match. He also let his fed home know that he's representing the fed. His co-workers was so happy for him and wished him all of the luck in the match. The happy couple decided to get some sleep because he really needed to be lazer focused like never before. Off to sleep they went.
About a good few days later, he was seen backstage at the ECWF World War 4 pay per view getting ready to represent his fed in the 2021 Men's War Time Rumble. He was a little nervous but he quickly got focused and he was ready to go. He was seen sharing a locker room with one of the other competitors in the match, and one half of the Trios Champions, Dark Tiger. He nodded his head and went to his side of the locker room to get prepared for the match. He knew of the way to make his promo so he decided to go to the ring and speak his mind.
The night has arrived and he was so ready to wrestle in the 2021 Men's War Time Rumble. The song The song Sinner's Prayer by Sully Erna from the Rock band Godsmack starts to play over the PA system When Sully starts to sing, Ace Reigns starts to come on out to the mixture of cheers and boos from the fans after being accompanied to the ring by his girlfriend/manager Lacey London. They walk past the fans and go straight to the ring. He gets inside of the ring followed by Lacey. She is seen wrapping her arms around him and he start to trash talk on what he wants to do to his opponent. He stood right in the middle of the ring, and with his sexy finacee/tag team partner right by his side, say into the microphone looking intently into the camera.
"Killer" Ace Reigns: Well hello there puppets! My name is Ace Reigns and I'm here to wrestle in the ECWF 2021 Men's War Time Rumble match so to the other pissants, you have been warned. I've already heard from some of the suckers and some of their promos really did make me want to throw up. Damon Cross, you will be across the ring with a very vicious Pitbull and I'm going to kill any chances of you getting a win. TJ, your sugary sweet attitude makes me sick. Razor Blade, if you want to be cut and bleed to death at my feet, that can be arranged. Rick and Nathan, you two are nerds who probably still live with mommy and daddy. Eww! Devin, you think that you can get by on your looks? Why don't you go back to modeling if you are here at ECWF trying to get by looks alone. Team Resurrected, Eric Cobretti, Rockin Lunatic, The Father, The Judge, Evan Moore, The Wolf and Dark Tiger, I got respect towards you all. Johnny Vegas, all bets will be on but you will just crap out.
He had to laugh and continue to say.
Ace: The Age of the Fall, you will simply fall. Mike Dimter, you are one way stupid son of a bitch. If things don't go your way, just like The Frenzy's has done, you leave the fed. Not cool! To the rest of the losers, time for you all to fall and pray. Tick Tock!! Tick Tock!! I'm" Killer" Ace Reigns and I'm here to " kill" you all!
He was seen evily smiling and laughing at the same time. He was seen walking out of the ring ready to come back out and kick ass.
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