Round 1 roleplay goes here. 2 RP limit.
Round 1: Sammy Brown vs. Cyanide Harvey
- Thread starter Chad
- Start date
CyanideHarvey
League Member
- Joined
- Apr 13, 2012
- Messages
- 3
- Points
- 0
The camera opens with a shot of a television. A young, cute, interview woman steps into the frame.
Interviewer: Today I am in the locker room of "Up and Comer" Cyanide Harvey. His career in the big leagues only spans a few weeks but already has made a dent in the wrestling world!
The TV is still in the frame, and playing on the TV is the movie 300. Cyanide is staring straight into the TV paying no attention to the young woman in his presence.
Interviewer: Excuse me... Excuse me, uh, Cyanide?
Cyanide sighs loudly, and pick up a remote, presses a button rather forcefully. Cyanide turns and looks right at the Interviewer. He gives her a long silent glare.
Interviewer: Well, Cyanide if I can ask, what are you doing...? Shouldn't you be Studying tape of your opponent?
Cyanide: What the hell do you think I am doing here? HUH? I am studying. It may not look like it to you, but I am. You said it yourself, I'm all but a Rookie. This movie is reassuring. This movie tells me that i have a chance in this thing.
The Interviewer gives Cyanide a look. A look of Disbelief.
Cyanide: You don't get it? Let me explain. If these 300 Spartans could stand against Thousands of enemies, to get all the way to the King/God just to prove that he is human and will bleed... Then i have a chance to make it through this thing. This isn't a movie, this is semi-factual, sure there weren't a bunch of monsters, but the Spartans stood against the Romans. They didn't bow. I don't bow. This movie, this movie gives me courage. It gives me strength.
Long awkward pause...
Interviewer: Cy...
The Interviewer has a look of shock as Cyanide interrupts her...
Cyanide: Shut up, I wasn't done. I will stand against my enemies. I will defeat as many enemies as i can. And IF I fall, it shall be with HONOR! Now if you don't mind. GET OUT!
The interviewer shuffles out of frame. The camera focuses back on the the Television for a few seconds, Then Fades to Black.
Interviewer: Today I am in the locker room of "Up and Comer" Cyanide Harvey. His career in the big leagues only spans a few weeks but already has made a dent in the wrestling world!
The TV is still in the frame, and playing on the TV is the movie 300. Cyanide is staring straight into the TV paying no attention to the young woman in his presence.
Interviewer: Excuse me... Excuse me, uh, Cyanide?
Cyanide sighs loudly, and pick up a remote, presses a button rather forcefully. Cyanide turns and looks right at the Interviewer. He gives her a long silent glare.
Interviewer: Well, Cyanide if I can ask, what are you doing...? Shouldn't you be Studying tape of your opponent?
Cyanide: What the hell do you think I am doing here? HUH? I am studying. It may not look like it to you, but I am. You said it yourself, I'm all but a Rookie. This movie is reassuring. This movie tells me that i have a chance in this thing.
The Interviewer gives Cyanide a look. A look of Disbelief.
Cyanide: You don't get it? Let me explain. If these 300 Spartans could stand against Thousands of enemies, to get all the way to the King/God just to prove that he is human and will bleed... Then i have a chance to make it through this thing. This isn't a movie, this is semi-factual, sure there weren't a bunch of monsters, but the Spartans stood against the Romans. They didn't bow. I don't bow. This movie, this movie gives me courage. It gives me strength.
Long awkward pause...
Interviewer: Cy...
The Interviewer has a look of shock as Cyanide interrupts her...
Cyanide: Shut up, I wasn't done. I will stand against my enemies. I will defeat as many enemies as i can. And IF I fall, it shall be with HONOR! Now if you don't mind. GET OUT!
The interviewer shuffles out of frame. The camera focuses back on the the Television for a few seconds, Then Fades to Black.
Beads of sweat formed on the brow of Sammy Brown, a man that few people would recognize if they passed him on the street. To be honest, few people would know who he was if they even saw him in a wrestling ring. Having been in the industry for quite some time, with little to no fanfare or success, those in the know would categorize Sammy Brown as a jobber. Truth be told, he wouldn't categorize himself that high if anyone ever asked his opinion.
Still, Sammy had a love for the sport that few had. His passion never faltered after countless losses, and still grew stronger every time he heard that classic Temptations song signal his entrance. If there was ever a song that described him, that would be it. He was exactly the type of guy to spend all of his time on the road and never worry about what he left behind. From city to city, state to state, and at times country to country; Sammy Brown considered whatever flea ridden rat trap hotel he was staying at his home. After all, home is where the heart was and his heart belonged to the industry so many piss on and believe themselves to be above.
Of course, that was a story in and of itself so let's just focus on the task at hand.
“Cyanide Harvey.” The older gentleman wiped his brow with the back of his forearm, the pair of work gloves on his hands covered in so much dust it left a trail in the perspiration left behind. Though apparent that he is a tad bit older than a majority of the entrants in the Ultratitle Tournament, his arms still had a slight bit of definition.
A grin formed on his face as he continued, “I'm not going to sit here and tell you that you don't stand a chance in the ring against me. I'm not even going to tell you that you don't have a squirt of piss worth of the experience that I do and that guarantees me a victory.”
A sweat soaked white tee shirt was stained and yellowed by age and loosely covered the slight bulge of a gut that hung a bit over his denim jeans. Dusty hand prints covered the faded blue denim of his pants, and his boots looked as if he had been standing in a pile of that same dust.
“Neither one of us truly knows which of us is going to stand in the center of that ring with our arms raised in victory, and if you believe that you know that you are going to be the one doing it... Well, you've made even more mistakes than I thought.”
Sammy rolls his neck around his shoulders, a crackle of bones slightly heard during the effort.
“You're a young guy, Harvey.” Sammy began as he stood up from his crouched position in front of a pile of fifty pound bags of concrete. “Both in age and in experience, so what I'm going to do is give you a bit of advice. You see, if you manage to be the one who continues into the next round I expect you to do your damnedest to win the whole damn thing, and using movies to figure out how to win this tournament is just not going to help you do that.”
Sammy stepped to his left, around the bags on the ground and continued to walk as he spoke. “Learning how a King lead 299 Spartans to their death against thousands, regardless of how noble and hard they fought, is teaching you nothing. Especially when you're not facing one hundred and twenty eight men. Right now, your focus should be solely on me, and if you manage to make it to the second round then focus on that opponent. This is not some battle royal where everyone is in the ring at the same time, so the odds are hardly stacked against you. The movie you should have been watching was The Karate Kid. That kid took on one guy after another until finally winning the whole darn tournament, but more importantly...”
Sammy cracked a smile. “He learned that he wasn't learning anything from the television and needed to actually get out there and train and learn how to defeat his adversaries. In other words kid, get up off your butt and figure out how to turn your opponents strengths and weaknesses against them, or you're going to end up on the outside looking in really quick.”
Sammy dropped down to one knee next to a large bag of concrete, then hoisted it up onto his shoulder before standing upright. He shifted the bag on his shoulder as he turned back to the camera. "I've been in this business a long time, and while I haven't enjoyed the success or fame as Lindsay Troy, Suicide, or even Shawn Jessica Hart... I have never given up, and I don't intend to do so anytime soon. You're in for a fight, Harvey, and I hope you're ready to step away from the television and step up to the challenge."
He nodded toward the camera then began to walk back in the direction of the pile he was crouched in front of a few moments ago. "See you soon, kid."
Still, Sammy had a love for the sport that few had. His passion never faltered after countless losses, and still grew stronger every time he heard that classic Temptations song signal his entrance. If there was ever a song that described him, that would be it. He was exactly the type of guy to spend all of his time on the road and never worry about what he left behind. From city to city, state to state, and at times country to country; Sammy Brown considered whatever flea ridden rat trap hotel he was staying at his home. After all, home is where the heart was and his heart belonged to the industry so many piss on and believe themselves to be above.
Of course, that was a story in and of itself so let's just focus on the task at hand.
“Cyanide Harvey.” The older gentleman wiped his brow with the back of his forearm, the pair of work gloves on his hands covered in so much dust it left a trail in the perspiration left behind. Though apparent that he is a tad bit older than a majority of the entrants in the Ultratitle Tournament, his arms still had a slight bit of definition.
A grin formed on his face as he continued, “I'm not going to sit here and tell you that you don't stand a chance in the ring against me. I'm not even going to tell you that you don't have a squirt of piss worth of the experience that I do and that guarantees me a victory.”
A sweat soaked white tee shirt was stained and yellowed by age and loosely covered the slight bulge of a gut that hung a bit over his denim jeans. Dusty hand prints covered the faded blue denim of his pants, and his boots looked as if he had been standing in a pile of that same dust.
“Neither one of us truly knows which of us is going to stand in the center of that ring with our arms raised in victory, and if you believe that you know that you are going to be the one doing it... Well, you've made even more mistakes than I thought.”
Sammy rolls his neck around his shoulders, a crackle of bones slightly heard during the effort.
“You're a young guy, Harvey.” Sammy began as he stood up from his crouched position in front of a pile of fifty pound bags of concrete. “Both in age and in experience, so what I'm going to do is give you a bit of advice. You see, if you manage to be the one who continues into the next round I expect you to do your damnedest to win the whole damn thing, and using movies to figure out how to win this tournament is just not going to help you do that.”
Sammy stepped to his left, around the bags on the ground and continued to walk as he spoke. “Learning how a King lead 299 Spartans to their death against thousands, regardless of how noble and hard they fought, is teaching you nothing. Especially when you're not facing one hundred and twenty eight men. Right now, your focus should be solely on me, and if you manage to make it to the second round then focus on that opponent. This is not some battle royal where everyone is in the ring at the same time, so the odds are hardly stacked against you. The movie you should have been watching was The Karate Kid. That kid took on one guy after another until finally winning the whole darn tournament, but more importantly...”
Sammy cracked a smile. “He learned that he wasn't learning anything from the television and needed to actually get out there and train and learn how to defeat his adversaries. In other words kid, get up off your butt and figure out how to turn your opponents strengths and weaknesses against them, or you're going to end up on the outside looking in really quick.”
Sammy dropped down to one knee next to a large bag of concrete, then hoisted it up onto his shoulder before standing upright. He shifted the bag on his shoulder as he turned back to the camera. "I've been in this business a long time, and while I haven't enjoyed the success or fame as Lindsay Troy, Suicide, or even Shawn Jessica Hart... I have never given up, and I don't intend to do so anytime soon. You're in for a fight, Harvey, and I hope you're ready to step away from the television and step up to the challenge."
He nodded toward the camera then began to walk back in the direction of the pile he was crouched in front of a few moments ago. "See you soon, kid."
Last edited: