Silvio Leon/Amber Ryan Vs. Dominick Strife/Sebastian Hawke

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Webmistress Barbie
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Posts: 221

Silvio Leon/Amber Ryan Vs. Dominick Strife/Sebastian Hawke Oct 28, 2020 19:43:13 GMT -5

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Post by Webmistress Barbie on Oct 28, 2020 19:43:13 GMT -5

Tag Team Match!
Standard Rules!

2 RP Limit (Per Team. 1 Per Member. Best RP from Each Team will be used for Judging!)
4000 Word Limit

Please check your word count
Via: www.wordcountertool.com/

Deadline: Sunday, November 8th, 2020 at 11:59pm Eastern

Good Luck!

DistortedAmber
Chaos Wrestlers

... Lady Hurricane Stained In Red ...

Posts: 26

Silvio Leon/Amber Ryan Vs. Dominick Strife/Sebastian Hawke Nov 7, 2020 19:22:58 GMT -5 Havoc Helper likes this

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Post by DistortedAmber on Nov 7, 2020 19:22:58 GMT -5

Quick notes:
Firstly- thank you to the amazing Silvio for working with me this cycle <3 its always a pleasure and I hope we get to do more together down the line.
Secondly- this rp, in terms of timeline, takes place AFTER Silvio's (just in case any references don't make sense if you don't get to see his before reading this

)

Otherwise, hopefully you enjoy

“Are you aware that rushing toward a goal is a sublimated death wish? It's no coincidence we call them 'deadlines.”
― Tom Robbins, Half Asleep in Frog Pajamas

Undisclosed Playground
Baltimore, MD
03.11.2020
8:17pm

Everything was a matter of perspective.

A dusk lit playground gave the connotation of something sinister, something sinister and foreboding. Ominous breezes danced here amid the dewy grass, rustling through fallen leaves and creaking the chains of swings that had no one left to push them. Once the sun went down, a place filled with bright eyes and chirruping laughter fell into a monochromatic silence, devoid of everything that gave it purpose until the next sunrise brought colour and life back to this cycle once more.

In the right eyes though, there was a sad kinda beauty in the nightfall decay- a certain lonely passion in the way the darkness kissed at the edges of everything touched by a jaundiced street light, desperation in the shadows reaching out like grasping hands searching for something to hold. Malevolence disguised romance, an unconventional love between the night and everything it dared caress- even without the mirth of children, remnants of imagination ran rife, giving life to the inanimate- nothing about it needed to make sense when wood, plastic and metal became something far more than inconvenient splinters and a trip to the hospital for a tetanus shot.

Most importantly though, perception didn’t cease to exist just because there was no one there to appreciate it.

That’s what felt like it was missing from much of their adult lives, Amber mused silently as the metal climbing frame creaked loudly beneath her deft movements, imagination and perspective- especially the kinds that defied logic and reason. When she was younger, such structures seemed to tower imposingly, that reaching the apex was an achievement to be celebrated and a position not to be held lightly.
However now, a little older and less wise, it seemed almost quaint in it's design and even in the dark, the triumph of reaching the top was far eclipsed by the one of actually staying there. Perspective was indeed key, Amber contemplated as she allowed gravity to take over, and few gave quite the same dizzying insights as viewing the world upside down.

As a young girl, Amber had always had an affinity for climbing- more often than not when the world seemed to be crumbling around her, she’d disappear up into the biggest tree in the backyard in hopes that maybe out of sight truly was out of mind. Hours on end, she’d squirrel between the branches and hang by the crook of her knees- off the ground she felt untouchable, but almost inevitably the world would have to come crashing towards her once more.

These days, opportunities to simply disappear remained few and far between.

...“How immature”...

… “So reckless and irresponsible, you aren’t a child anymore.”...

… “Why don’t you grow up.”...

Growing up was a curse the short-sighted and uninspired put upon those with promise and potential, those whose dreams and aspirations had been crushed underfoot by anothers over-valued opinion. Amber had forgotten a long time ago that freedom that came with simply not giving a fuck, her career had been the standard, this unspoken precedent, for such a time that exceeding expectation had now become mandatory and the bar pushed ever higher until disappointment became an inevitability. In the here and now, hanging from a climbing frame speckled with rust and blemished with water marks by her knees, Amber allowed the cool night air to fill her lungs as the weight of the world seemed to fall away like ash from a rising phoenix… if only for a little while.

“Man, kids these days just will never know the sheer, daredevil joy of playing on steel pipe structures embedded in concrete, the sheet metal slides baking under a hot sun all day to searing your legs, the merry-go-rounds that destroyed many a pair of jeans when they ejected you onto the gravel.”

Giving an exaggerated sigh, he shrugged enormously as the redhead pulled herself upright, trying to allow for the blood to start flowing back through the rest of her body.

“How will any of them build character, I ask you, if their recreational equipment isn’t designed to make them spit Death in the eye every recess?”

In the race for the most interesting person she’d ever known, it was safe to say Silvio Leon was a front runner. Indistinct and yet expressively unparalleled. For having been only the third time having spent time together in an out-of-work setting, she’d found a certain inimitable connection within him. Survivors, survivors that were drawn into each other's paths by their determination to spite death and it's chase at every possible turn. Of course, one day they would slip and fail- but the journey… oh the journey was all the fun of it.

“Figured if anyone could see something in a place like this it would be you, of course I apologize it's not quite the colour driven mania that you’re accustomed to- however I thought I’d return the favour a little in terms of bringing you a little further into my perspective of the world I suppose.
It's not nearly as exciting, but likely neither am I beneath all the layers that wrestling casts us with.”

Looking around, the almost desolate nature seemed pitiful in comparison. Experiences and insights, connections forged in blood spilled and nature defied- and all she could recompense with was emptiness, solitude and a curious smile. He’d given her a glimpse into his technicolour manic dreamscape, practically poured his soul out through every pore and onto canvas- yet all she really had to give was a peek behind the curtains, a glance into her monochromatic purgatory that she’d built from every good intention she had left to stitch together. It didn’t feel like enough, but recently… neither did she.

Maybe upside down really was the way to go in such cases…

“I remember when I was a girl, we had this massive tree in our backyard… Well, I was a pretty small kid so I guess everything was massive back then… God, I spent so much time up there you’d think I’d made a nest or something.”

Amber chuckled sheepishly, it seemed so ridiculous and yet there was a certain catharsis.

“Every year when the leaves would start to turn, my aunt would be out there raking… Every year she swore she’d get ‘that stupid, messy fucking tree’ cut to a stump. I’d lose my shit, threaten to stay up there all fall and winter… It would be quite the sight… and every year, she didn’t. It survived and the world kept on spinning.
Never really thought about why- she hated it, hated cleaning up after it, hated the fact it always attracted squirrels that would raid her bird feeder, always swore her goddamn head off everytime I fell out of it. Which I did far too often…”

There was a wistfulness to Amber’s tone, a certain nostalgic longing for a time when things didn't need to make sense.

“Maybe she knew I had a connection to it… or maybe it was too much work. Either or, it's just… you make these connections with people, places and things sometimes and for the life of you, you can’t explain why. Only that it's something you wanna remember.[/color]

“The heart holds onto things for reasons only it knows,”

Silvio said, watching her with a gentle smile, spreading his arms to encompass the playground.

“When you’re a kid and things like feathers, acorn caps, sparkly rocks, and seashells are treasures. Places like this? Pirate ships, castles, space stations.”

Grinning, he hopped up onto a swing beside her, standing balanced on the seat and holding onto the chains.

“Or with floors of hot lava! But, I think if you can hold onto even a little of that as you get older, it’s good. I think it shows you can still see the possibilities in things. And the value of just...normal, earthy stuff.
Heck, I don’t think people really know how valuable normal can be. Doing a little paraphrasing here...I remember watching this one interview with Brandon Lee that really stuck with me. He was talking about how often we think of or experience things that make our lives what they are. We have these memories that are so indelibly a part of our identity, but...how often do we really even think of them? Some childhood memory of playing out in the creek or maybe a sunset that showed you a color you didn’t know existed? How many times do we pick up those treasures and examine them; see their true value while we still can?”

Smiling, his eyes glinted in the dim.

“I’m happy you wanted to share this with me. And I’m happy for your tree, Squirrel Girl,”

Silvio gave her a teasing wink as she slipped down off the climbing frame- maybe she’d have scored higher if she stuck the landing better but that had never been her strongest suit.

“While the nostalgia is nice, the name is absolutely not going to stick… However, reliving childhoods and that isn’t the only reason I asked you to meet me here, follow me. I wanna show you something.”

Beckoning to follow, their footsteps thudded softly further from the light. In tune out of focus, the deepening light further from safety never made such a pairing feel more secure- in the shadows, next to a street light flickering erratically stood Amber’s faithful 2012 Hayabusa. Scratched and dented, but sentimentally perfect.

“Been doing alot of thinking about a lot of things- particularly the way you ‘gift’ people experiences. You give to other people when you don’t need to, you owe nothing but still choose kindness- it's quite remarkable really. Never seen someone bring out so much good in so many people…”

Rummaging in the duffel bag firmly strapped to the back, Amber trailed off into inconsequential murmurings as Silvio watched, perplexed yet fiercely complimented.

“Even me, so I thought… I don’t have a lot to offer as a person, I don’t have insights and I can’t show people a different world than I know… What I can do is create a connection, see I had no one when I first came into Carnage- now… friends, family…”

In her hand, two thin metal bracelets- simple, metallic grey under the ever scarce light offering them up to Silvio with a warm smile.

“Now, I’d like to think you do too…”

As Silvio took one, Amber slid the other gently over her own wrist- the light capturing a couple words deeply engraved on each- poignant and true, even in the worst of lights. A bond spoken beyond words between mutual survivors eternally.

… ‘Not Even Death’ …

******

*click*

At first there was just whistling.

Soft, a tune you probably swore you’ve heard before, but couldn’t figure out why. A few moments later and the picture started to focus, shaky but recognizable, the same playground albeit the streetlights a little dimmer and the sky a little brighter.
There were the remnants of a sunset somewhere, but you couldn’t see it from this angle- only the last light of day reflecting off the edge of a redhead's sunglasses as they hung loosely from her t-shirt. Metal squeaking in protest and the clanking of chain punctuated the whistling, groaning under the weight cause, despite Amber Ryan not being all that big, these things weren’t really made for anyone over 5 foot nothing.

Swaying, it's a hope no one gets motion sick, as Amber looped her camera arm around the chain, the whistling trailing off as a breeze rustled through the messy tendrils of red falling around her face.

“What’s your definition of a legend?”

A pause followed, the scraping of metal chain links falling in time with Amber’s breathing.

“Is it someone who has achieved beyond expectation, who has set a standard that- coming into the business- you strive for in hopes that maybe one day your name will be recognized with the same reverence, spoken in the same breath, acknowledged as kin.
Is it someone who has done everything a thousand times over, proven time and time again why it's their name on the marquee instead of the rest of the schmucks who thought they might steal the throne while the king wasn’t looking.”

Swing. Back and forth, back and forth. Lazily, Amber kicked up a little sand over the toes of her converses.

“Maybe. See, I ask cause I keep hearing it in conjunction with my name- it's one of those ‘all due respect’ kinda things… Soften the blow before offending and hope that maybe that touch of deference might ease up the whooping that would inevitably follow. I might look dumb, but sweet boys, I sure as fuck ain’t stupid.”

Her tone drops with every falling syllable until the last ones rolling off her tongue are coated in venom.

“See, I don’t classify myself as a legend. Maybe it's just my attempt to stay humble and grounded while everyones trying to knock me off this pedestal I’m not even standing on, maybe I’m just oblivious to the fact I’ve done far more in this company- in the same amount of matches- than any of this ‘new blood’ seems to recognize.
I was World Champion by match number 6 in this fucking company, how are you guys doing?”

A raised eyebrow and a cheeky smirk follow before the tone gets a little more subdued once more.

“Seriously though- despite everything I’ve done… I’m not a legend.”

Amber dragged her feet through the sand, the swing clanking to a halt.

“... cause legend, legend is past tense.
Legends are ‘was’, they’re yesterday and yesteryear, they are nostalgia hyped up to eleven. You never hear anyone talk about what they are going to do next, only what they’ve done before. So you gotta forgive me at least a little kiddies, that I get a little riled when I hear people calling me a legend… cause to me it implies that I don’t have much of a future.
I’m all past and no present, the future is this distant light that maybe I’m not supposed to see- and maybe, just maybe, with my current track record you’d be right.”

Stepping off the swing, she barely took more than a step or two before allowing herself to almost coil into the sand below- the fingers on her free hand idly scratching across the faintly damp surface until it became a tally of sorts.

“Entourage, right?
I wish I could even say your name is original but you aren’t the first team of that name I’ve come across- oh, and don’t worry there was an ‘almost’ celebrity at the head of that one too. Guy had talent, shame he was such a douchebag… I’ll let you decide which one I’m referring to.
See, boys, our industry is one governed by tainted perspective- we’re told that everything we do matters, that every action makes a difference and wins… wins are everything. By that logic, that makes you both far better than me in recent memory…”

Amber scratched lines into the sand beside her, each one dug a little deeper than the last.

“Wins define our careers, no one ever got to the top by losing every week. Doesn’t matter where you try to plant your proverbial flag, all people are going to want to look at is who you beat to get there… and maybe I’ve had a rough run compared to you guys recently. However I’ve won more matches in this company than you’ve even wrestled combined- yeah, I’m referring to all three of the musketeers on this one. 14 matches, tally them up and tell me I’m wrong. I’ve won 23, there aren’t many people in this company that can measure that mark- yet still… recent memory, ya girl… she ain't doing so hot.”

Swiping her hand across the sand, the 14 tallies were violently struck from existence in a wave of sand and vitriol.

“Of course, the same cannot be said for my esteemed partner. See, maybe spooky boy and I don’t seem like the kind that would usually mesh well however there are things far greater than life and all the trivial things in it that can bond people. Between you, me and the swingset here… I like the guy, I think he’s damn great and one day might even be the best- you know, when I’m done in that role of course.”

Amber gave a chuckle, her voice crackling slightly under the strain of proverbially playing nice and her skin prickling as the temperatures slowly drop around her. Skies beyond her are getting darker and the illumination of the streetlight cast a little wider.

“Not many people believe that though- and I don’t blame them cause that's the industry isn’t it… Win after win after win- that's the funniest thing about all of this, going undefeated is possibly the worst thing that can happen in your career.
It's a process of build, of hype, of knowing that there's a fall coming and that you won’t see it until you're halfway back down the mountain with a concussion and a fistful of ‘what-ifs’.
So let's not focus on the wins for a moment boys- lets focus a little more on you… Young, determined, bright eyed and bushy tailed- it's really quite the sight to see. You all want to do so much, to strive towards greatness when greatness has no place in it's heart for you yet, you want to show the world that you’re more than just ‘young guns’ firing on all cylinders and setting the world alight with a combined enthusiasm that kinda makes me wanna throw up in my mouth a little.”

Noisily, Amber spits off-camera into the grass as if to reiterate the point, the faint curl in her lip growing into a familiar snarl.

“You want for a lot when you’re earned very little, it's easy to say you wanna take on the world- however your jaw, it doesn’t just unhinge like that, so that those words might go down a little smoother… It's really easy to say how you want to eat, breathe, sleep this business right up until the time you realize that you don’t… That everything you thought you wanted is right there in front of you, staring you in the face, and it doesn’t give you any kind of satisfaction.
Those words kids, they taste like metal, like biting on a spoon while the sensation shoots straight down your spine, it tastes like blood that's been sitting in the back of your throat for a little too long, cause someone once told you that you shouldn’t swallow. It tastes like everything you ever dreamed dragged through the mud and severed up to you cold, raw and still kicking.”

More prominent now, Amber bites the inside of her lip as the mischievous smirk crosses further across her features, the rosy tinge in her cheeks from the falling temperature deepening with every passing moment and her free hand still writing in the sand.

“You'll both say you still want it though, cause you’ve worked too hard to get here. You’ve kicked down that door and now no one gets to tell you that you have to leave- taking on everything and everyone if only to prove that you’re just as good as anyone else on any given night.
Of course, you don’t believe it… At first no one really does. That adrenaline though, it has a way of making you say things… making you do things… that you didn’t think you were capable of. All of a sudden, the impossible matches seem winnable, those breakthroughs come thick and fast and glass ceiling after glass ceiling shatters around you as you continue to escalate through the ranks.”

‘Entourage’, scrawled with a deliberate messiness, lay in that damp sand as Amber softly plants her hand beside it to rebalance herself.

“You get a little cocky, maybe a lot, why not after all… You’re doing great. Thumbs up all round for the good guys. Right?”

With a sarcastic thumbs up, Amber’s hand gesture quickly turns a little more… uncertain. A little more middling and is soon shrugged off in nonchalance

“You ascend and things get a little more rocky, you aren’t winning as definitively, the losses are racking up and you start to look at each other like the other one has something in their teeth- and they do, it just happens to be the middling status of your career.
Tell me boys, how many losses does it take before Dom turns on Hawke… Oh, and don’t pretend like I’m wrong cause sweetheart, you have traitor and sore loser written all over that forehead of yours so much I can see it from a mile out. Maybe you’ll argue with me now- but when things aren’t going so hot… You’ll hear my voice and realize that, like most times, I was right all along.”

Slowly, with an almost sick gouging motion Amber draws a heavy line beneath the Entourage name, like an ugly scar torn open in the sand.

“That's later, that's the future… That's little to none of our business right now. No, what matters in this moment is the line in the sand… and this line represents an opportunity, a chance to really make your names and dance with the lights turned all the way up, with all eyes on you.
Of course, crossing that line comes with a price…
See boys, I’m a little done with the playing… with the niceties… with the ‘do good, be better’ kinda mentality. I guess I’m a little tightly wound at the moment and I’m sure you can’t blame me… although maybe you will after chaos.”

Blowing the sand off her finger, it's almost surprising that Amber can even make that look menacing. Eyes narrowing, sick smile painted across lips- there's a Distorted Angel no doubt that's been a little absent, a little lost somewhere in the limbo of Amber Ryan trying to make good in her life.

“So here’s the thing… You cross this line, you step in that ring with all your bluster and good intentions- and the biggest pieces of you they’ll find to put in a fucking casket will be whatever they can scrape from beneath my nails and pick from between my teeth. See, I fucking despise the person I become sometimes, I go to that place and I can’t wash just wash off the things I’ve done- but to find my feet, to get back on track… I’ll tap into that, I’ll become everything I hate, everything about myself that got me this far that I PROMISED I WOULD BURY…”

Amber trails off from the outburst, the camera a little close for comfort with an expression of equal loathing, confusion and vitriol. She licks her lips slightly, regrouping and trying to find the words to express something that seems beyond momentary comprehension.

“... I’ll take all of that, I’ll bring it to chaos, lay it all at your feet and bare my throat. I will beg you to take your best shot boys, and I want you to make me believe it's enough otherwise… otherwise I’ll end up tearing you both to ribbons. Not because I want to, not because I won’t feel bad about it afterwards… but because I understand what this business wants from us, what it takes to prove a point and to send a message.

As I told you- I’m no legend boys, there's still something left of me yet. How much? Well…”

With another swipe of the hand, definitive and deliberate… The Entourage's name is wiped from the sand, nullified but for traces of the name that escaped a hurricane's redemptive fury.

“That's just a matter of perspective.”

With a sickening wink, Amber blows a kiss to the camera as the footage abruptly cuts away to nothingness.

*click*

The Madness Menagerie
Chaos Wrestlers

"If you take away the voices we're just like YOU!"

Posts: 197

Silvio Leon/Amber Ryan Vs. Dominick Strife/Sebastian Hawke Nov 7, 2020 20:15:40 GMT -5 Havoc Helper likes this

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Post by The Madness Menagerie on Nov 7, 2020 20:15:40 GMT -5

October 28th, 2020

Sebastian Hawke’s Studio Apartment

"The Day My Powers Arrived" by Kirby Krackle clicks on as Sebastian Hawke’s phone lights up and starts to vibrate on his night stand. A soft mumble can be heard from a pile of sheets and blankets on top of a disheveled bed. A mop of hair can barely be seen poking out from the top as the phone once again vibrates, and the song continues it’s upbeat momentum, briefly muted by a stuffed bear that bounces off of the screen and landing elsewhere. Another moan from the mound of comfort and another loud vibration from the phone in protest. It almost was like listening to an early caveman argue with a rock; the phone would vibrate like all good alarms do, the mound of blankets would groan in futile return. The back and forth continuing until a hand finally shoots out from under the covers and starts swiping furiously at the phone, hoping that after the hundredth try at pinpoint accuracy, the snooze button would take mercy on their soul.

Sadly, the “snooze” feature was never turned on as the phone vibrates with increasing intensity. With one final grumble, Sebastian Hawke sits up and grabs his phone from the table. Finally managing to restore serene silence, Sebastian flops back down into the comfort of his bed. Being away from the only other place he has called “home” in his short life so far, Sebastian wasn’t used to having so much freedom to do whatever it was that he wanted. Sure, he COULD go get himself a part time job slinging burgers in order to put himself in a better spot, but he could make the same amount by doing an autograph signing at this point in his career. The last time he went out with Adrienne and a small crowd of Carnage stars, he was able to pay rent and a few bills, before having just enough to get himself through until next payday. It wasn’t an ideal situation, but being able to afford living in a city like Baltimore, do whatever he wanted, with the likes of Dominick Strife and Axton Friggin’ Gunn--Sebastian found it hard to believe that slinging burgers would add to his quality of life.

Setting up his instant coffee maker, the sounds and smells of maple bourbon infused coffee brewing filled the tiny space as Sebastian got himself a bowl of Cinnabon cereal. Turning on his TV, he was unable to get much further as his phone starts to make unruly vibrating noises again. Scowling, he takes a massive bite of cereal before wiping excess milk off with the back of his hand and checks his messages. Something that Sebastian would have to get used to was working for a promotion that actually told their stars when they were booked. Looking back at his time in his clandestine backyard promotion, there were times Sebastian came to the ring late because he hadn’t realized he was booked until the promoter called and asked him where he was. One of several things that Sebastian was grateful for: automatic card updates.

Taking another bite of his cereal, Seb begins to chew as he takes a look for Chaos 102. Something else Sebastian was suddenly grateful for was living the life of a bachelor as he spits his half chewed Cinnabons, soggy with milk across the room. His eyes wide, Sebastian can barely believe what the official Carnage messenger bot was telling him.

Opening match for Chaos 102: The Entourage (Sebastian Hawke and Dominick Strife) vs. Amber Ryan and Silvio Leon

Sebastian drops his phone, feeling a vague twinge as it clatters to the ground, hoping for a split second that he wasn’t now the proud owner of a cracked screen. As soon as the thought entered his head, it was quickly overshadowed by the news of his match at Chaos. Sure, he and Dom were on the fast track to being in a title match and maybe even holding gold by the end of the year… but facing off against two of arguably Carnage’s biggest stars was something that Sebastian had figured was a long way off. Gulping as much air as he can at once, he plops down and hiccups on impact, dazed beyond what he felt possible. His head was swimming, he was struggling to breathe…

Was this what dying was like?

He shakes his head, unwilling to give up. Of course he had been put in a match against Silvio and Amber, with Dom at his side. Since joining Carnage, people saw the two members of The Entourage for their past mistakes--verbal and physical. It was time to change that perception. Of course they had been booked like this; and just like any other match, Sebastian started to cement the idea that there was no way on this Earth or any other that he and Dom would lose this. This wasn’t a match with title implications. Amber and Silvio were the legends of today that people across the board looked up to with reverence, respect. Axton, Dominick, and Sebastian had been looked down upon for too long, and now?

It was finally time to put their names right up there with the rest of the Carnage stalwarts.

Sebastian nods to himself in confidence before realizing that he had made a mess, and that he didn’t have any help to clean it up. Sighing heavily, he puts his dreams of super stardom on hold to grab paper towels and start cleaning. There was planning to do.

November 5th 2020

Outside Carnage Arena

Sebastian Hawke stands before the entrance of a closed to the public Carnage Arena, his blue goggles covering his eyes and protecting his vision from an uncharacteristic sunny November day. The cameras come in and Sebastian smiles, his pearly whites doing their very best to dazzle the viewer as all eyes turn to him.

Sebastian Hawke: Legends.

He sighs in reverence before continuing.

Sebastian Hawke: Let’s discuss, shall we Legion? Champions come and champions go. Some are as noteworthy as Jack Michaels’ longest-reigning championship career. They could be as monumental as Adrienne Levi winning the Baltimore City Championship from a very game Dragon Lady, in a match that to this day is being talked about like it just happened yesterday.

They can be as insidious, no pun intended…

He winks at the camera and folds his hands behind his back as he begins to stroll around the building where he was beginning to gather a small crowd of curious onlookers. Sure, it was rumored that if a member of The Legion was diligent enough to stand watch at the Carnage Arena, they might be lucky enough to witness a roster member putting together a promo package. As Sebastian continues his stroll he takes note of the crowd beginning to form.

Sebastian Hawke: Oooookkkkaaaayyy… So, wasn’t planning on putting my public speaking skills to the test, but hey, who am I to disappoint? If you’d like to join in, that’s fine, just… Stay behind the cameraman, we won’t be going far, and when everything is said and done? Well, who wouldn’t want a free and unexpected autograph signing slash photoshoot with yours truly?

Everyone agrees and files behind the cameraman in a mushroom formation. Satisfied Sebastian continues.

Sebastian Hawke: Alright, so, where was I? Right… Insidious title reigns like Ken Davison. Titles come and titles go Carnage Legion, but do you know what stays the same throughout time, history, and the course of destiny itself? Friggin’ legends!

Sebastian raises his arms in the air and perhaps a little disappointed there wasn’t more fanfare, he lowers them quickly. Coming to his destination, a picnic area Carnage had set up for fans to come and go as they please, decorated with posters of all of the Carnage roster members. Of course there was a space dedicated to the current card and of course at the moment it included a prominent graphic depicting The Entourage, Sebastian Hawke and Dominick Strife taking on Silvio Leon and Amber Ryan in the opening match. The fans that had followed Sebastian started taking pictures as the young Hawke poses like he’s in the picture, taking just a few moments to bask in his own limelight. The shots finally stopped and Sebastian once again stands upright, his face a mixture of uncertainty and awe.

Sebastian Hawke: I… Honestly never thought I’d be standing here right now.

Taking off his goggles, he plops down in front of the billboard and the crowd follows suit, the cameraman stationed directly in front of Sebastian.

Sebastian Hawke: You watch these people on TV, watch them do these amazing things in the ring while you scrape by in a backyard league. One day you get a call saying that a scout found and watched you and suddenly Carnage Wrestling wants you on a flight to Baltimore. I’ve been a student of this craft for a few years, nowhere near the time that people like Amber Ryan have spent in this business. Winning, losing, and evolving in order to become a better version of herself until she finally reached the top of the proverbial mountain. Ask any Carnage Insider--hell, we could go around the room and ask everyone here whether or not Amber Ryan could be considered a Carnage legend, but is that really necessary? Show of hands, who thinks Amber Ryan is a legend, and Mr. Cameraman, do your best to catch everyone.

With that Sebastian raises his arm high into the air and as the camera turns, everyone in attendance also holds their hand up high. Satisfied, Sebastian puts his hand down and everyone follows suit.

Sebastian Hawke: So Amber Ryan is a legend in this business and not to be taken lightly. Let me speak clearly for a moment and to you Amber.

Sebastian stares directly into the camera lens.

Sebastian Hawke: Amber, as funny of a guy that I am, I make the most jokes when I feel like a predator is swooping over my head and about to rip it off. Kindly see the lead up to my debut match against Mitch Heart. Be that as it may, when anyone says the name “Amber Ryan,” heads instantly turn, and everyone starts listening that much harder for the oncoming hurricane. You, Amber, are something of an enigma, because as much as you say that you don’t like being up at the top, you certainly have a knack of staying there. I’m not saying that to be mean, but more pointy and truthful. I see you way up there, wishing you could come back down and feel that fire that got you up there in the first place. The fire you see behind people, IN people, maybe people like me and Dom that propels them to heights not much unlike the one you are currently perched on. It’s almost like you’re on a plateau, but you miss feeling that burning desire to make it to the next level, because once you reach the top, where exactly are you going to go from there? THAT is what the difference is between being a champion and being a legend, Amber, because I can almost FEEL that intensity through the camera right now.

Sebastian shudders slightly despite there being no breeze before looking sheepishly toward the camera.

Sebastian Hawke: And… While I don’t overlook you as a threat to my health and well being, you should also know that I enjoy pushing buttons. You’re a legend in this business Amber, because despite not being declared a champion, you are looking at ways to keep yourself moving and eventually bust through a ceiling of championship title reigns and into a world that exceeds that. Imagine Alex Winter being a champion. He’d be despised, no one would like him as champion, and everyone would do their best to be the one that pries that belt from his cold and dead hands. Now… Think back to when you were champion and how everyone flocked to you not to be the one that puts you on your back for three, but to fight by your side should you need it and fight against you when the time came. Of course you see the difference and that is why you are considered as so much more than just another champion in this fan’s eyes.

The crowd falls into a heavy silence after Sebastian gets done speaking, the usually bubbly Hawke even feeling the effects. His face lights up suddenly though as he starts again.

Sebastian Hawke: And what’s a tag team match without the opposing team’s second person? Mr. Silvio Leon, uncrowned whatever champion of Carnage and undefeated in singles competition. Humble to a tee and would do whatever he can in order to help his friends out and smite their enemies. He is a man that, to be honest, is essentially impossible to hate and believe me, I tried!

Sebastian holds his hands up in mock surrender before laughing and continuing.

Sebastian Hawke: We had one awkward meeting where he snuck up behind me as I was saying things that I honestly had no place in saying. I felt about as big as… Well, it wasn’t that big at all. He put me in my place, but while he knew that he did, wasn’t about to rub it in. He’s one of the fiercest people on the Carnage roster and when HIS name is mentioned, people also listen almost as much as when his partner, Amber’s name is mentioned. Amber has achieved her status based on tenure and Silvio has made a name for himself by making a splash from the start and never looking back. Mysterious and to be honest friggin’ cool as sin. There’s something devilish about him that I can’t place and as much as I’d like to say that all of this makes me want to turn tail and run…

Sebastian pauses, smiling out to the crowd.

Sebastian Hawke: It makes me want to show up all the more. As I’m sure Amber could tell anyone, no one gets through this business--to the upper echelons of where champions and legends go to have their coffee talk--without challenging themselves. Look at this match on paper and you have an instant blockbuster, but break it down further than that and you are looking at THE most important match of mine and Dom’s young careers. Amber, a legend. Silvio, an undefeated enigma. There are no title belts on the line and the tag title contention that Dom and I are fighting toward has no bearing in this match. On paper, this is just a flashy match to start a show off with a bang. To me? This match will show that Dom and I aren’t reflections of what our past mistakes say we are. We ARE the future, and the future is going to throw down with today’s LEGENDS. This match doesn’t need contendership on the line. It doesn’t need a flashy gimmick or months of building. This was a match that was put on the card to show people that even opening the show, Carnage does it RIGHT.

Sebastian hops to his feet, overtaken by his manic energy.

Sebastian Hawke: I harbor no ill will toward Amber or Silvio, and I firmly believe that if given enough time to think on it, I can prove that they are both legends in their own right. To our credit, The Entourage--as bad as we came into this federation--we have come out on top with a perfect 3 and 0 win streak in tag team competition. Undefeated, and to be honest guys, I’m looking to stay that way. Putting that to the side for a moment though, I’m telling you right now that The Entourage is in this match full force, not willing to stop, and we WON’T give up, regardless how many people might look down on us for trying. You want to put the legends of today to the test? It’s easy to do, you put them in the ring against the legends of tomorrow. The Entourage has a long way to go to get there but in the meantime?

Sebastian shrugs before grinning one final time.

Sebastian Hawke: The journey is going to be the most fun you’ll have since the invention of the ball and stick.

Sebastian winks for the camera before keeping his promise to The Legion members gathered.

Sebastian Hawke's Studio Apartment
That night

“I don’t know dude, after the last movie suggestion I got, I’m not too keen to repeat the experience.”

Sebastian Hawke casts an uncertain glance in the direction of his friends, Dom and Ax, before going back to the cover of “The Goonies” and giving it an uncertain glare. Axton smiles and gets up, taking the case from Seb and ushering back to sit down before turning the movie on.

“Trust me! There’s no killing in this one, just pirates, booby traps, and a group of friends that have a sick adventure together. You’ll love it!”

Sebastian concedes as he sits on the couch, ready to spring up and away if anything got too intense, not that there were many places he could hide in his studio apartment. Maybe under the bed with a pillow to at least muffle the sound…

The three of them jump however as Axton starts the movie and suddenly a loud banging comes at the door. Before anyone has a chance to react a loud voice can be heard on the other side.

“SEBASTIAN THEODORE HAWKE THIS IS YOUR FATHER!!!”

Sebastian’s eyes grow wide as his face pales, “Wait uhm… Wait here?” Sebastian’s voice is quiet as he gets up and leaves Axton and Dom on his futon and answers the door. Eugene Hawke stands before his son, red faced as Axton and Dom turn to watch.

“You have some nerve you… Get out here!”

Eugene’s voice is filled with rage as he grabs his son by the ear and yanks him out the door, slamming it behind them. Doing his best to throw his son across the hall, Sebastian takes a few steps before finding his balance and squaring off against his father.

“I have nerve? You just yanked a grown man out of his own fucking apartment, ‘dad.’”

Sebastian spats each word with as much vitriol as he can muster. Twenty two years of being under his father’s thumb seem to finally be boiling over. Eugene seems to feel the same as he jabs a finger into Sebastian’s chest.

“You will ALWAYS be my kid, Kid. I deserve respect after everything I have sacrificed for this family! You were supposed to follow in my footsteps, actually BE my kid! Instead… You decide a life pretending to be something you’re not…”

He shoves Sebastian hard and the younger Hawke stumbles back into the wall behind him. His father bears down on him further.

“I’ve seen you on TV you know. Everyone on base LOVES talking about how GOOD my son is in the ring, dancing around with his friend, one of which happens to be some… Fag…”

Hearing enough Sebastian grunts as he grabs his father by the arm and pulls, knocking him off balance before delivering a hook with his other hand! Eugene bounces backward, stunned and Sebastian leaps off the wall at his father, driving his arm across his father’s neck and pushing him up against the opposite wall with all of his might. The resounding thud brings out a concerned Axton and Dom, both stop as they see Sebastian holding his father in place, an uncharacteristic look of rage over his face.

“Hey hey hey--whoa, what the fuck’s going on?” Axton’s alarm is obvious as he rushes up with Dom to break up the fight.

One on either shoulder, the pull Sebastian gently off his father, Sebastian giving him one last shove away.

“I’m not your kid anymore. Go fuck yourself dad.”

Sebastian rips himself away from Ax and Dom, grabbing his keys and wallet from inside his apartment and slamming the door behind him, locking it in the process. Glaring at his father out of the corner of his eye, he allows himself to be led from the hallway by The Entourage. Getting his breath back, Eugene rasps out after him, his voice echoing throughout the hallway as other neighbors begin to open their doors to check to see what the noise was about. Some were already on their phones.

“I came here for your mother’s sake… She was diagnosed with ALS, got six months before she becomes a potato…”

Sebastian pauses without turning around, his body growing tense as he listens to his father’s voice, almost taunting him with the knowledge of his mother.

“She wanted you to know, come back and visit. Don’t worry Kid, I’ll make sure the first time she closes her eyes, she goes nice and quick.”

Sebastian whips around to go attack his father, but is quickly held back by Axton while Dom pulls him away.

Axton’s expression is one of barely contained rage. Something about this is getting to him on a personal level, though it’s not clear what, exactly. Regardless, his voice is laced with enough poison to kill a cobra when he speaks, an arm around Seb’s shoulders.

“You don’t deserve Sebastian,” he snarls. “You barely deserve not to be skinned alive, you overgrown abortion, coming in here talking like disability is worse than death. If I ever see you come near Sebastian again, you can have a nice chat with my fucking lawyers--and trust me, buddy, I can afford better ones than you.”

He looks to Sebastian, his eyes cold. “Let’s get the fuck outta here. He doesn’t deserve your goddamn time and energy.”

With that, the trio known as The Entourage turn their backs on Eugene Hawke and leave him alone with his thoughts.

mystifyingoracle
Chaos Wrestlers

Fortune Favors the Bold

Posts: 75

Silvio Leon/Amber Ryan Vs. Dominick Strife/Sebastian Hawke Nov 8, 2020 23:03:33 GMT -5 Havoc Helper likes this

Quote

Post by mystifyingoracle on Nov 8, 2020 23:03:33 GMT -5

OOC: This one clocks in at 3992 per the word counter! For those of you who cannot read my hand writing, I have included this link to a Google doc that has the text from Silvio's letter typed out. If you still have challenges with accessibility, let me know and I'll figure something out for you. If you prefer a more traditional reading format, there is a link to my Wordpress account in the RP title below the logo graphic. Thank you to Amber for the collab! I had a blast! Good luck, all!

Painting Hurricanes

    If anyone else had extended an invitation for her to join them in their basement for, ‘something special,’ Amber Ryan would have made sure that person would be taking their meals through a straw for the rest of their life. Silvio Leon, however, was a different story.

    But also a familiar one.

    They’d shared at least a chapter between them, though experienced at different times in their lives. Her thoughts drifted back to their outing at the aquarium. It had been an ethereal experience. She’d allowed herself to indulge in such vulnerability that she was half-convinced the entire thing had been a dream. A saltwater confection of a confession to Carnage’s gentleman demon.

    Descending the stairs, Amber pondered that as she gazed at the back of his head.

    Cat was more perceptive than people realized. She’d such a grasp of Silvio’s character that he’d apparently agreed with her. At least enough that he provided a glimpse of what lay behind the charm and parlor tricks he’d turned into psychological warfare. A survivor.

    That was familiar, too.

    They may have diverged on their conclusions about what made a person strong, but they were united in one sentiment that lived in their every defiant heart beat.

    I am going to survive this world that wants me dead.

    “Here we are!” declared Silvio, arms spreading wide.

    It had taken him forever to clear it out and ensure adequate ventilation, but it was going to be worth it. Sheets of canvas that spanned floor to ceiling hung against the cement walls; the blank whiteness of it all was almost oppressive.

    But it wouldn’t be like this for much longer.

    “Are we summoning the ghost of Bob Ross?” Amber drawled, looking down.

    “More like Lee Krasner,” Silvio replied with a grin.

    Arrayed in a circle on the floor were various brushes, rollers, bottles of ink, paint and spray paint, trays, palettes, pencils, pens, and even crayons.

    “Have you painted before?”

    “When I was little,” said Amber, arching one slender brow. “I hope you’re not expecting a masterpiece. I mess up stick figures.”

    “Good thing we’re not drawing stick figures,” he said.

    “And what,” she queried with a bemused expression, “will we be drawing?”

    “I was thinking about our match. Seb and Dom are hot off their third victory as a team. We haven’t been in the ring as partners before. We’re going to do warm-ups and strategize in the ring before 102, but if we want to win this thing, we have to be in sync with each other mentally; not just physically.”

    Raising his brows he put his hands on his hips.

    “I don’t know about you, but I could use some catharsis. These last weeks...months? Jeez, it has been months. I’ve been collecting some serious emotional detritus. I don’t want it to distract us from what we have to do at 102.”

    That was an understatement. Silvio found it difficult to recall when he’d undergone a similarly intense emotional whiplash in such a short stretch of time. Discovering a partner in love and war only to lose him. Befriending a cadre of fighters who had found common cause despite their wildly disparate backgrounds. Accepting his inner monstrosity when confronted with a man who could not easily hide his own. Acknowledging that he was something dangerous, and embracing it.

    Finding a heady little spark of idealism and being in a place where he might have the power to fan it into a flame.

    “I thought about your moniker - the Painted Hurricane. It occurred to me that, of all the things I have painted in my career, a hurricane ain’t one of them.” He beamed as he picked up a mask and pair of safety goggles for himself. “I thought I could change that with a little help, if you don’t mind lending it.”

    With a curious expression of her own, Amber gave the universal nod of, 'sure, what's the worst that could happen?’ Art was subjective, a medium of expression and a way of leaving a mark on the world where it might otherwise be devoid of colour. "Just when I thought I couldn't be surprised by anyone, you catch me off balance again.” Amber's silvery, wry laugh almost sank into the canvassed walls, captured for as long as they may hold their form. "Not that I'm opposed - it just seems harder and harder to keep landing on my feet. My femme felinity days are quickly closing behind me."

    For someone not known for it, Amber's slyly self-deprecating humour was a welcome change from the stoic, storms and fury facade.

    “Let’s see if we can’t get you back on your paws, tiger.” Encouraged, Silvio nodded to the mediums arrayed around them. “Anything you want to use, use it. Whatever colors or tools you need.” He made a sweeping gesture with one hand to the canvases. “Don’t think too much about what you’re doing. Don’t worry about designs or anatomy. I want you to feel this piece.” Drawing his hands toward his chest, he curled his fingers inward for emphasis. “Get out everything that’s been giving you grief; that’s been a frustration or a distraction.”

    Picking up a can of red spray paint, he shook it briskly, the dice-like rattle of the agitator inside breaking the room’s quiet as his posture and gaze shifted. Letting his grip on conscious thought relax, images swam in his mind. Ko’s amber eyes, sweat on silk, Axton’s cavalier smile, a kiss under the spotlight. He lashed out with the spray paint, a sharp hiss as he depressed the dispenser, arm moving in an arc as he stepped forward into the motion. A ragged red gash opened against pristine white canvas. Not missing a step, he reached down with his free hand and grabbed a posca pen, flipping the cap off with his thumb before dragging it across the canvas in vivid lightning bolts of blue.

    Amber found herself a little more reserved in such an atmosphere, the idea of channeling anything and everything via an outlet that wasn't self-destructive or violent feeling disconcerting. Perhaps in the best way. Although usually drawn to red instinctively, her hand hesitantly curled around a spray paint can of blue-grey, the rattle almost deafening despite the fact she felt only she could hear it. It reminded her of the boardwalk, the angry oceans beneath a swirling F5, the salt water technicolour dreamscape of the aquarium, the colour of eyes wrapped in bloodshot after nights of travel and violence.

    She didn't know precisely what she was painting - only that she knew it had to mean something.

    He felt more than saw Amber moving nearby. Setting aside the posca pen and spray paint, Silvio dropped to one knee, popping the lid off a paint can. The contents were a poisonous purple on the edge of scarlet. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, visions of his erstwhile neon-blooded tag partner flashing through his mind. It reminded him of the chorus of sensation in his body when indulging in his eldritch vices. The memory alone made his mouth water. Pouring some paint into a nearby tray, he reached for a roller, but thought better of it.

    Dragging one hand through the paint, he grabbed a box cutter with the other. Fingertips dripping purple, he spun around Amber as if they were binary stars caught in each others’ orbit, slamming his hand against the canvas. Eyes sparking and grin fierce, he channeled a thread of that survivor’s instinct; that saving grace that was all teeth and claws. The one he’d unleashed on Catalina. Silvio’s hand made a venomous path of ichor across the canvas - nails scratching out a sorrow infected with rage. Only one thing to do with such a righteous sepsis. Blade flashing, he caught hold of the fabric with one hand and dug the box cutter through it, leaving jagged rents behind.

    It was intriguing as it was astonishing, although Amber had long since learned to hide such things behind a veneer of toxic reverie. She didn’t have to see the jutting scars through canvas to sense the threads leading back through Silvio’s veins. Inside herself, she reflected that she'd allowed it to surface only to watch the fearsome and mournful path of rage that it had left before trying to bury it back beneath a mountain of ‘I’ll do better, I promise’.

    A promise never quite able to be kept.

    Her hands shook, though she couldn’t tell if it were adrenaline or something darker, something determined to share in this turn towards vibrant chaos, the hurricane trapped between her ribs bursting forth for an opportunity to play. Acrylic paint, thick and almost uncomfortably slimy between her fingers, one hand in the deepest shade of crimson she could find… the other a shiny obsidian with a surface like polished volcanic glass. Two sides, one coin. Both beautifully destructive.

    Dragging the edges of her fingertips down the exposed skin of her arms, thick trails of red and black respectively stained everything in their path like angry scars, wounds from underneath drawn to the surface in an effort to cleanse and destroy. One finger from each hand tracing a line from beneath each eye, down an angular cheek towards her throat- the one she’d bared a thousand times before waiting for someone to be brave enough to take a bite.

    Like a haunted clown, the fiendish smile would die- only reflecting the energy that radiated between them, intermingling into something… unique.

    She didn’t want to turn her back, didn’t want to miss a moment of this virulent energy edusing from everything they’d held inside- but the canvas called, the canvas begged for its pound of flesh and the redheaded hurricane was not one to deny such a request.

    There she is.

    This is what he wanted. More than any practice round in the ring, this felt like dancing; synchronization. Creativity and emotion was tangling, weaving, creating something new between them. It was all there for the world to see in a maelstrom of color; flames and wind setting the world alight around them. Silvio lost track of himself, moving more on instinct than conscious decision, riffing off of Amber’s art and marveling as her own meshed with his. Breath short and heart hammering, he slowed and finally stopped, sinking down to sit on the floor, blinking as he shifted out of the flow state.

    Amber followed suit shortly after, contently drained and in a dreamy haze of focus watching the stationary swirl of colours seem to take on a life of its own.

    He positioned himself so he was sitting back-to-back with her, face radiant as he looked around the room.

    “The thing about a hurricane,” he murmured, taking in the storm of color around them, “is that there's an eye where it’s calm. Everything else around it is chaos, but the center is serene. That’s where we are right now; with the hurricane all around us. This is where we’ll be when we’re in the ring; tagging tranquil amid the storm.” Glancing over his shoulder, he smiled. “How’s that sound?”

    A momentary pause followed, before her tone fell into a harsh yet gentle whisper.

    “Unstoppable”

    “It was a dark and stormy nightmare.”

    Silvio speaks, face illuminated from beneath by a flashlight. Grinning, he clicks it off, the room lights come up, revealing his surroundings.

    “Just kidding! Got my spooks out last promo.”

    Sitting in the center of the basement, Silvio is surrounded by his and Amber’s work; a tempest of colors, shapes, and textures. He hasn’t bothered cleaning himself up since completing the piece; his jeans and shirt spattered with paint.

    “That’d be a cool tag team name for us, huh, Amber? Dark and Stormy. I was jazzed when I learned about this match. Not only do I get to team up with one of the company stalwarts, but I get to face off against two of the most vibrant up-and-comers we have at Carnage.”

    He takes a deck of cards from his back pocket, different from the one he typically uses.

    “Ordinarily this is where I’d start laying out the cards to figure out how the match is going to play out. But for today, let’s try something different. Instead of trying to take my advantage by figuring out where this match is going to go, I’m going to go into a little more detail about who you two are.”

    Spreading the cards out face up for the camera, Silvio reveals a spread of illustrations that feature people in regal attire.

    “The tarot has court cards for four suits; wands, pentacles, cups, swords. Each court has a page, knight, king, and queen, with iconography signifying different qualities and characteristics. I hardly consider myself the sole arbiter of talismans, but I’ve afforded a couple to some members of the roster. A Queen of Swords and another of Wands. With that in mind…”

    He grins at the camera as he draws a card toward himself.

    “Who’s coming to court at Chaos?”

    The card shows a picture of a smiling youth in a blue tunic patterned with red water lilies. In his hand he holds a golden cup out of which peeks a blue fish.

    “Sebastian Hawke. The Page of Cups.”

    Looking up at the viewer again, he smiles.

    “You’ve got a lot of good qualities. I see why Ax likes you.”

    Shaking his head, he laughs with a helpless expression.

    “It’s impossible not to fall into his orbit, isn’t it? He makes you feel like you’re the most important person in the world when you’re with him. So, I get that you’re an admirer. I think it’s part of your nature. You talk a lot about rising to new heights. When you look up, you can't help but see the people who’ve already taken flight and hope you have what it takes to make your own wings.”

    He traces the shape of the Page’s tunic and the waves behind him.

    “The Cups’ element is water. Intuition, creativity, possibility, and curiosity.”

    Tapping the fish popping out of the cup, Silvio grins.

    “You find creative solutions in places you wouldn’t expect. Saw that with your recent theatrical venture.” Clapping, he laughs. “Bravo, by the way! But it lets me know I’m going to have to be wary of you. You’re going to come at me with things I won’t anticipate. And you’re sensitive. Some people could think that’s a liability, but it can be an asset when used to tune into the people around you. And intuition? Where’s that more important than in a tag team match? Team Starfox’s card was the High Priestess. We were all about intuition.”

    His expression turns wistful before he shakes his head.

    “You’ve had people in your past call you a dreamer as if it were a four-letter word, haven’t you?” Leaning in closer, his lids lower, a smile teasing. “I bet at some point, the world tried to take away your dream, and you had the tenacity to say, ‘No.’ But saying it once isn’t enough. You gotta keep saying it over and over, getting up every time someone or something knocks you down. The kicker? You have to succeed every time the naysayers and circumstances come to put out your light. They only have to succeed once. The fact you’re still here has me sitting up and paying attention, because it means you’ve won every battle that matters so far. You proved that to everyone when you got into the ring with Mitch and instead of bailing afterward, came back for more action the next show.”

    Raising a brow, he smirks.

    “Now, there’s more than one way to read a court card. Where there’s light there’s shadow, and where there’s positive, there’s negative. Who are you, Sebastian, in reverse?”

    Placing a fingertip on one corner, he moves the card until it’s upside-down.

    “The Page of Cups in reverse connotes emotional immaturity. You got a tendency to come in a little hot, Seb. Sensitivity is good, but all things in moderation. Your nerves get raw, you might start snapping at everything around you. Heck, it got to the point where Axton told you to cool your jets. I get why you pop off, though. Like I was saying - you’ve had to persevere to get where you are. Sometimes that means making a fist before extending a hand. That’s survival. When every person is a potential Schroedinger’s dream-ender, better safe than sorry. You have something to defend, but you’re so preoccupied with swinging your sword, someone can take advantage of you forgetting your shield.” He gives a knowing wink. “Like our little encounter backstage, you’re not going to see me coming, and I’m going to get right inside that swing of yours.

    “And as for those wings I mentioned? Your’s are admirably made, but how are they going to hold up against a hurricane? The problem with viewing the world, Mr. Daydreamer, through rose-tinted glasses? All those glaring red alarms flashing in your face just look like the stars you’re aiming to reach. If you don’t ground your dreams in reality, they’re going to stay a fantasy.

    “So who do I get to meet in the ring? The creative, intuitive problem solver? Or the hot-headed young man with unrealistic expectations?”

    Drawing another card, he continues.

    “And who are you bringing to the dance?”

    The next card shows an illustration of a man in armor riding a draft horse, a disc with a star on it held in one hand.

    “The Knight of Pentacles, Dominick Strife. Ax told me a little about you; super responsible and always on the hustle. Same as our knightly friend right here. Something unique about the Knight of Pentacles is that he’s not riding a destrier; he’s riding a workhorse. That’s you, isn’t it? While your companions have their glamorous jousts, you have fields to till.”

    Spreading his hands, Silvio gives the camera a sympathetic look.

    “It’s not easy running a business while working at Carnage; trust me, I know. But you have the patience and persistence to manage. The Pentacles’ element is earth; stability, practicality, and thoughtfulness. You make a plan, you put in the work, and you don’t let anything get in your way. That was brought into sharp relief when they denied you entry at 98.”

    Making a face, he shook his head.

    “Which was bullshit. They thought they were putting up a wall, but all they did was throw down a glove. You weren’t deterred. Instead, you doubled down, deciding you were going to make yourself undeniable; unignorable. You’re the kind of person who gets what they want. Not because you’re lucky, but because you set a goal and you work until you achieve it. You said it when you fought Mitch - this isn’t just about a dream. Your life's on the line at Carnage. If Sebastian views the world through rose-tinted glasses, your frames sport some contrastingly pragmatic lenses.

    “I get the feeling that’s how your relationship with Ax probably started out.

    “As much as we’d like to think we’re islands - that we can handle things on our own - if you want to make it, you need connections to others. Axton and Sebastian with their energy, charisma, and resources? It all just needed a little direction, right? Something to help the center hold. Somebody like you, Dom. Suddenly, with access to that kind of support, your goals seem a lot more achievable, don’t they? Earth and water. No matter how vast the sea is, beneath it there is stone. That’s who you are; the bedrock.”

    He gives a sly smile as he inverts the card’s direction.

    “But how about the other side of that coin?

    “All work and no play makes Dom a dull boy. I can imagine it getting a little frustrating at times when your partners are tripping the light fantastic while you’re making sure the dance floor’s clean. I get the feeling, whether you like it or not, you’re the default impulse control for Sebastian and Ax. Their reality is just different than yours is. You have to live two lives because you can’t afford to only have the one. Do your partners understand?”

    Raising a brow, he shrugs.

    “How can they? Axton has enough money where he doesn’t have to worry about it, and Seb?”

    Pursing his lips, he gazes at the two cards laid out before him.

    “You’re in a similar situation to Sebastian. You’ve had to defend your ambitions from people and circumstances that would deny you. Where Sebastian has thrown himself deeper into his fantasies to achieve his goals, as evidenced by things such as his stage performance at Havoc, you’ve hunkered down in reality; grounded yourself. You’re going through the painful process of forging steel out of air; making sweat, determination and ambition into something that can keep a roof over your head and food in your mouth. And when you’ve got such a daunting task ahead of you…”

    Grinning, Silvio’s eyes glittered.

    “...What’s the harm in a few short-cuts? A few corners that aren’t quite square? A little...oh, I dunno...playing dirty in the ring.

    “Some might say you’ve got a mean streak, Dom. But, hey - I get it. Our situations actually aren’t too dissimilar. We both lost title shots, and we both took the fight to those who denied us shortly thereafter. We showed there are consequences to striking us down. Me with Cat at 101, and you? You showed us at WAR with Harry in the ring that you aren’t someone to be trifled with. Here’s the difference though - I was all business. You? You got nasty. You got personal. But, hey - like you said, ‘Whatever it takes,’ right?”

    Eyes glittering, he continues.

    “Get the job done no matter what, huh workhorse? Even if it means trying to poke out eyes or smacking people in the back of the head when they’re distracted. If the choice is you or them - well, that’s no choice at all. I wonder just how far you’re willing to go. Maybe we’ll find out.


    “Because while Amber and I don’t have the Entourage’s history, we make up for it in our intensity. We’re carved from the same stone even if one of us is a spearhead and the other’s a statue.”

    He gestures to the artwork around him.

    “Amber is the storm. And me?”

    Silvio flicks a card out of his sleeve and tosses it to the floor in front of him, revealing a black three-leaf clover on a playing card.

    “I’m the Ace.”

Last Edit: Nov 9, 2020 0:03:46 GMT -5 by mystifyingoracle: Double checking a link

Dom Strife
Havoc Wrestlers

Posts: 16

Silvio Leon/Amber Ryan Vs. Dominick Strife/Sebastian Hawke Nov 8, 2020 23:43:48 GMT -5 Havoc Helper likes this

Quote

Post by Dom Strife on Nov 8, 2020 23:43:48 GMT -5

Prologue - Contention

"I'm sorry man... we really should've been there for you."

I picked up on a slight hint of dejection beneath the carefully crafted smile on the face of Axton Gunn as the three of us were exiting the Carnage Arena.

"Nah, don't worry about it dude."

It was just after Chaos 101. Sebastian and I were lucky enough to get through the first hurdle on our quest towards an opportunity for tag team gold, but by then that was yesterday's news. On that night it was Gunn and another star in the making, Jonathan Willis, for what would amount to be little more than momentum and bragging rights. Even though he fought valiantly, Ax didn't come out on top. Sebastian and I, we were there to support him. We were there at the arena but we weren't there physically at ringside during the match.

"We had a good, clean match. That's all that I could ask for. Jon deserved that after what happened at 100."

He wasn't wrong. Yet despite Ax's positivity about the circumstances I still couldn't shake the feeling that Sebastian and I could have done something. Maybe we could have stretched the rules a bit. Maybe our presence alone would serve as a bit of a distraction for Willis. Nah. In the end, in the deepest recesses of my heart, I agreed with the decision for Ax to go fight Jon one on one alone.

I just knew, deep down, it was the right thing to do.

"Yeah, but-" I started as I pushed the exit door open and held it for Ax. I continued as the three of us made our way out into the parking lot. "We're trying to get this thing off the ground. We're trying to show the world that we're a team."

"We are a team." Hawke chimed in. "We win together, we lose together. We can't expect to win every match from here on out. Can we?"

I shook my head.

"The point here is that we're having fun," Ax reminded me. "And we don't need to be dicks to do that."

"I'm not saying that I want us to be dicks... I just-"

I planted my soles on the asphalt of the rear parking lot.

"What if, for the sake of argument, that we just try to win a lot of matches because winning is just more fun? Ehh? Ehh?"

I could tell that my argument only went so far.

"I'm not saying that we can't have fun. Hell, I love having fun. But you both can't deny that there's a business aspect to being... in this business."

Axton turned towards me and lifted a finger as if he were about to say something, but he was cut off.

From the corner of my vision, one of the Carnage security guards, one that seemed all-too-familiar to me, approached us from the side.

"Hey, are you Dominick Strife?"

I turned. "Uhh, yeah?"

He split the gap between Ax and Hawke and pushed an envelope into my hand.

"Boss wanted me to give this to you."

Dom Strife presents -

Card Games

I sit at the green felt table with a pair of cards face down in front of me. I glance up at Silvio Leon. Cardboard cutout Silvio Leon. I gnaw at my upper lip for a moment before I pass my eyes over to the painted hurricane Amber Ryan. Cardboard cutout Amber Ryan. I notice my opponents are wearing their best poker faces, just as I'm trying to be. Sunglasses in a dark room, oh yeah, I'm Mr. Cool. (Not to be confused with Joe.) I look over at the dealer, her beauty filling out a shimmering black evening gown that is complimented by her figure better than a glass of wine ever complimented medium-rare filet mignon. She is very real; in fact, she is Isla Burke, god's gift to what otherwise would be this dreadful year.

Inhale through the nose, exhale slowly through the short crack in my lips.

It's time to place our bets.

I look over at my opponents. Silvio's got a mountain of chips to his benefit. Amber, perhaps even a few chips more. I look down at my own stack to see that I've been doing... ehh... okay. But I'm nowhere near their levels of success. Our blind bets go straight to the pot, because just like in real life it costs something just to play the game. Even though I've won a few hands at a different table, here the mandatory minimums are depleting me faster than I can keep up.

"The big blind is to you, Mister Strife," Isla says to me as she rolls her eyes. The last part wasn't a part of the script.

I pay my chips.

With the formalities out of the way, Isla buries the top three cards of the deck before laying the next three face up on the table.

Texas Hold 'em. That's just my game.

"Now I know what you're thinking," I say as I casually reach for the lit cigar in the ashtray to my left. "What's Dom Strife up to? Coming out here in front of a camera, playing poker with cutouts."

I sharply inhale.

"I mean no disrespect by it. In fact, the opposite really. Consider this a metaphor of sorts. That's the way my mind thinks. You don't get booked in a tag team match against the Oracle and the Natural Disaster with anything less than utter humility. I really am... grateful for the opportunity. It really is, something, to just be sitting here at the table across from these two... and as you can tell... my tag team partner is not with me tonight. Again, I mean no disrespect, but... I've done the dance of acting like I didn't belong when I faced off with Mitch Heart and look where that got me. Mitch mopped the floor with my face and I've been seen as nothing but a joke ever since."

I set the cigar back where I found it, and for the first time in this game, I peek at the two cards that have been given me.

"As you very well know, we all just do the best we can with the cards we've been dealt. Isn't that right, Silvio? Unless of course, you're not playing with the same deck. Unless of course, you're playing with tarot cards, shuffling and dealing signs and symbols with divine insight and a depth-of-meaning. In that case, by all means, feel free to make up whatever stories you want. I can't read them. I can't interpret their meaning. You pull out a deck of tarot cards and start showing them to me and you might as well explain them in mandarin. I'm not saying that you're full of it... all I'm saying is I wouldn't know it if you were."

I sigh as I press my cards back down to the table... because I know it's time to bet.

"It's an excellent strategy, when it works, I mean. Read me off a few cards. Tell me that the third star in the right corner of this one means that I'm angsty and impatient, but the sixth toe on mother earth's left foot over here means that I'm well-grounded and headstrong. If you win, which you do a lot, I might actually be inclined to believe you. If you win after reading me my future loss, wouldn't that make the Oracle just so mystifying? But as you can see here, Mr. Leon, I've extended the same service to you as you have done for so many others in the past. That's right Silvio, I've scouted you... and I want to tell you the story of our upcoming match the only way that I know how."

I look down at my stack, which isn't a lot. But after some careful self-deliberation I toss a few chips onto the center of the table.

"I'm a betting man, Silvio. When it comes to myself anyway. I've been through a lot, especially this past year, but I suppose everyone has. I've found that a lot of us who get caught up in this profession all seem to have at, the very least, similar backgrounds. So that doesn't surprise me. But what you see in the middle of the table right now, those three cards, those are called 'circumstances' in this metaphor of mine. You and I... Ryan and Hawke... the four of us made it into this match because that's the when, the how, and the where our paths finally cross. We can't change 'em. Nor can we change the two cards that each of us hold. I've got what I've got... and you've got what you've got."

I smirk into the camera.

"And neither of us really know what the other one is holding... are we?"

By the time I glance back down at the pot at the center of the table, I find that both Silvio and Amber Ryan have bet heavily... through some nifty camera cut-away magic.

"Sure, we can guess which one of us has the better hand. Maybe I'll go all-in with my chips... but then again... maybe I'm bluffing? You don't really know. And that's how I like to think of it, Silvio. You. Don't. Really. Know. That's what makes it fair, and that's what makes it even. You've got a former two-time world champion on your side... and I'll get to her in a minute. But when it comes right down to it Silvio, I'd be willing to bet that circumstances have been working out in your favor more often than not. I think you're skilled... I think you may even be one of the best to ever lace up his boots and play this game. But at the end of the day, it's hard to lose with the best hand."

I peer over at Amber.

"Isn't that right, Miss Ryan? The blood queen herself. Heir apparent to Paragon until that shattered to pieces in her grasp... as most things tend to do. One of the prides of Carnage Wrestling... a two-time world champion... who has won the belt more than she's successfully defended it. No one can deny that you're one of, if not the best, at chasing the highest prize in our company. But once you get it, you struggle so mightily to hold on."

I have to add a few more of my already depleted stack of chips just to be able to see the next card. Isla buries a few more from the deck before up-turning another card at the center of the table.

"That's 'the turn' with you, isn't it Amber? You've always been at your best when things aren't going great for you. The harder it is for you to win the game... the more insurmountable the odds... the more it makes you want to rise up, doesn't it? As it turns out, your biggest strength is also your greatest weakness. Because as I sit here, this is the game of my life. Hawke and I, we somehow pull this off against you and Silvio and the wrestling world won't stop talking about us until we're standing over Cortes and Marlowe with those bright flashy championships in our hands. To you this is just another Sunday. Nothing to prove. No big 'blast' here to cut you to shreds... to try to reduce you to your most basic elements. There's no rage, there's no fire, there's no burning. There's no energy for the hurricane to build and when you're not scrambling for your life you really are a light drizzle."

I peek at my cards again, just to make sure they haven't changed since the last time I saw them.

"That's why I've always found it fitting that you name yourself after a natural disaster... because like a natural disaster there is no rhyme nor rhythm to your path of destruction. It just... goes where it goes... so to speak. Like a tornado, if you roll right over top of me, sure... you'll destroy my house in seconds. But if you miss me you'll do nothing more than ruffle the windchimes. I've got nothing that you want. My name and my reputation aren't of consequence for you... so I can already sense you moving on to getting yourself back into the world title picture or perhaps focusing on the partner you'd actually like to be with in Mac Bane. Outside of that ring, outside of this match I wish you the best... I really do. But not here and not now. Not when Sebastian Hawke and I are trying to do something... not when we're trying to actually build something that has the potential to last longer than one of your world title reigns."

"The game changes. Paragon is gone... and there are new names... new contenders at the tops of these lists and Carnage Wrestling has a new story to be told. I know people like you frequently choose not to remember what it was like when you were breaking into the business... but I'm willing to bet that's also just your pride talking. You can't look at Silvio and say that you're not jealous of his success. You can't look at SIlvio and be honest with yourself. You're not the standard-bearer you once were. You're now starting your new role as the gatekeeper... and it's a role that I'm very interested in Miss Ryan. If beating you is truly the pathway forward then by all means I'm ready to stand in the eye of a category five. I'm NOT going to back down or even entertain the thought... not even for a SECOND that I don't belong in the ring with the likes of you... otherwise I have already lost..."

I motion towards Isla.

"Deal the final card please."

I look up at Isla, and she glares down at me. I push what's left of my chips towards the center of the table.

"And I don't really care what Axton or Sea Bass have to say about it. Sure, the Entourage is here to have fun and to do things the right way. But we're not here to be pushed around. We're not here to be taken lightly. And by God, we're not here to be the joke. Not if I've got anything to say about it. My cards are my cards, they're what I've been dealt. But we're here to stay and I want our presence felt in that locker room. We may not win every match... we might not even have what it takes to hold our own in some folks minds... against these two powerhouses... but I refuse to back down. The story of this match is of pride, and circumstance, and yeah... a bit of contention between us. Because when it boils right down to it, in this industry, you've got to be willing to take the biggest risks to take home the biggest pots. While you two don't hold the CW Tag Team Championships you have at the very least a similar skill set to those that do. If Sebastian and I can't overcome this challenge; if we can't show that our teamwork is superior to a thrown-together mashup then by the end of the night we'll know where we need to improve-"

Contention - Part II

"Boss wanted me to give this to you."

I stood in the parking lot of the Carnage arena slack-jawed as the security guard pushed the envelope into my hand. He was the same security guard that just a few weeks earlier wouldn't allow me access to the building. I looked into his eyes and I remembered promising him that by Chaos 100 that he would know my name and know that I had done something to change Carnage Wrestling... for the better or for the worse.

I could barely hear Sebastian's voice like a ripple in the ocean... nearly silenced by all those waves of thought and anxiety.

"What's it say?"

"Huh?" I grasp the manilla envelope.

"What's it say, Dom?" He repeated. "What's it say?"

Fingertips shook. It took all I had to unravel the little thread to release the hand-written note. I cleared my throat.

"It's uhh... it's from CSJ." I stammered. "It says that he thought a lot about the conversation that we had earlier, and he wants to extend to me a... contract extension... with full health benefits?"

I was at a loss for words. If it wasn't for CSJ's handwriting down on the little sheet of paper in my hands, I probably wouldn't have been able to continue. It felt like gravity had shifted. As if I wasn't standing on the world anymore and the world were standing on me. It wasn't that I wasn't happy at all... but I could just tell that neither Ax nor Sebastian were going to be pleased that CSJ of all people was just deciding to be nice to me.

...and I was right.

"Oh nooo bro, you can't take that." Axton said with a step towards my side. "That guy's nothin' but trouble."

"Yeah." Hawke added. "Screw CSJ. He's everything wrong with Carnage these days. He's the reason that nobody is having fun."

"If you need help bro, I've told you like a million times that all you got to do is ask."

But I was too focused on the letter. Too focused on how CSJ kept going on in that letter, building me up.

"He says that I'm a real asset to the company. That enclosed is a check," I gulped hard. "For for for.... twenty-five thousand dollars. Because that's what the Baltimore City champion makes for their championship bonus."

"Oh come on!" Ax exclaimed, knowing exactly what CSJ's angle was with all of this. He knew that this wasn't so much to help me as it was to prove a point to one Adrienne Levi.

But the check was in there.

"Dude, there is absolutely no way you can cash that."

"Why not?" I asked rhetorically, staring at the check with my name printed right on it.

"Because dude CSJ is trying to buy you." Ax emphasized. "I'll give you fifty right now NOT to cash it."

But wait, there was more.

CSJ gushed in the letter how I'd be the new face of the company... someone truly worthy of betting on now for a brighter future ahead. He said how nice it was that he had people around that he could trust. Well, other than word got back to him that I didn't do what he had asked me to... to get rid of my old beat up truck.

"I do not like this." Hawke added. "I don't like this at all."

But CSJ wrote that he understood my situation. I'm just a kid trying to do for myself. There's nothing wrong with catching a good break from time to time, the letter said, because life was already full of the bad ones. The last thing in the envelope was special... and when CSJ said it was in there I couldn't wait to see if what he said was true. I held the envelope upside down and shook it... and true to CSJ's word something slid out of the bottom and into my hand.

A truck key.

"Guys. CSJ is giving me a brand new truck."

Both Axton and Sebastian shook their heads in disgust.

"No dude. You cannot accept it." Ax said to me.

"You mind telling us again what you told him in that little chat you two had at the pay-per-view?" Hawke then asked.

I shrugged my shoulders.

"Guys, I didn't say anything to him. All all- all I said was th-that... that I would try harder to do better around here... get better results."

"Sounds like you're doing better alright." Hawke sneered.

"...and just what is that supposed to mean?" I asked in reply with a bit of sharpness in my own tone.

Axton got between us.

"Guys, guys. Let's not do this, alright? Not tonight." He said calm but firm. "I'm a bit sore right now. Lets sort this out some other time."

Honestly, I was a bit offended. Sort this out another time? ...as if something needed sorting out? I was telling them the truth. I didn't say anything to CSJ. Nothing that I could recall him wanting to shower me with gifts like this anyway.

"Dom, Seb, let's roll." Axton said as he motioned toward the parking lot. "Our ride is waiting."

But I stood there, staring down at the key in my hand...

Card Games - Part II

"If Sebastian and I can't overcome this challenge; if we can't show that our teamwork is superior to a thrown-together mashup then by the end of the night we'll know where we need to improve-"

I tap my finger down on the poker table.

"But that's the thing. We know where we need to improve. We want to improve... but I... I guess I've just been a bit stubborn in the way that I've handled things lately. I keep thinking that losing means that I'll have to wait that much longer... that I'm running out of time and therefore running out of chips to play with. Impatience is a terrible, terrible quality to have and especially when it comes to being in a team who says time and time again that their top priority isn't exactly advancing their careers. Ax is already a millionaire and Sebastian is just too tired of dealing with all of the bullshit to want to start his own drama. Really, when it all comes down to it, I've been the one pushing us. I've been the one saying that we need to go for those tag belts. I've been the one who could care less if we make any enemies or hurt any feelings along the way."

I slowly take off my sunglasses, fold them up, and set them down on the felt next to my cards. I look directly into the camera lens.

"And maybe I'm not the best example of a perfect teammate. Maybe I'm not even the best example of a true up-and-comer in this business. Maybe I've already peaked in a place that I never really belonged in to begin with. But maybe, just maybe, the truth lies somewhere else on this table. Maybe we don't play the cards we're dealt as much as we're playing the people across the table from us... and across this table I see nothing but success and respect and admiration and perhaps above everything else... I see two people that belong. Two incredible athletes and superstars in their own right. I see two people who don't worry about their tomorrows nor should they... because they've become the authors of their own stories."

I can feel the corners of my lips upturn.

"Maybe that's all I want. A place to be... somewhere I belong... a pen in my hand. A blank check where I can write my own story... one where Dominick Strife is taken oh... just a wee bit more seriously than he's taken now."

I reach into my pocket and pull my brand new truck keys out... and set them down on the table.

"And what I see before me is an opportunity. One far greater than the sum of your parts can understand. Maybe you're here to have fun. But what I fight for is food in the pantry. Heat coming out of the vents in the winter time. A light that I can turn on when it gets dark outside. I fight for all of the things that most people in Carnage Wrestling take for granted because they've never had to live a day without them taken away."

"My hand was never the best. But I will never fold."

Act of Defiance 2021

Silvio Leon/Amber Ryan Vs. Dominick Strife/Sebastian Hawke

Post by Webmistress Barbie on Oct 28, 2020 19:43:13 GMT -5

Post by DistortedAmber on Nov 7, 2020 19:22:58 GMT -5

Post by The Madness Menagerie on Nov 7, 2020 20:15:40 GMT -5

Post by mystifyingoracle on Nov 8, 2020 23:03:33 GMT -5

Post by Dom Strife on Nov 8, 2020 23:43:48 GMT -5