[Scarred For Life]Julius Fristik Vs Spade

[onlytrevorhere]

You can begin role-playing for this match.

-Trevor

 

[Jon AKA Spade]

Somewhere over the rainbow

Hardcore Wrestling Organization,

Here I am again.

Another federation.

Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue.

Skies are blue and competition lives on. Is it trapped somewhere between life and the afterlife?

Should I be the one to play the role of judge, jury and executioner or should I sit idly by, smoking a cigarette and wondering what happened to the state of wrestling today that caused it to slowly corrode.

My confirmation seems like it might be coming shortly, one day somebody will just snap their fingers and everything will be forgotten. Everything that was accomplished by the legends of yesteryear will be like shattered windows that a youngster's baseball found its way through.

So unexpected, yet so tragic.

And to quote the legendary Louis Armstrong, there will still be those who will think to themselves, what a wonderful world.

But where is the wonder in this competitive world?

Don't ever let them tell you that fame and fortune bring happiness to your doorstep as well. Happiness is found in the journey, not the conquest.

It's easy for a rook to poke fun at legends he has just pulled the rug out from under, but the more jokes i make, the more enemies I produce and the more competition will be knocking at my door.

On second thought, maybe I should opt to play the role of Richard Gere or the Dixie Chicks, going against the popular sentiment, producing massive amounts of heat that only such comments can generate, maybe then it will light a fire under the preverbial rear ends of wrestlers in this industry.

I'm giving you all the time of day, I mean I am one of the greatest wrestlers to ever step inside the squared circle, and I'm giving you all my time, consider that fair warning to pay me the same respects.

The daylight only lasts for so long, you know what happens when the sun goes down.

That's right. People get bitten, and some bites don't heal as quickly as others. One more bite in your case could produced full fledged corpses that can be put down by a simple staking of the heart.

Unless you decide to make a move, your hearts are prime real estate and as with others that have crossed my path.

I'm only a few days away from staking my claim.

You've been warned, now act on that warning.

Who am I?

Why am I here?

What do I plan on doing?

Can I do it?

Is this real?

Where am I?

Am I lost?

Am I found?

Will I rise?

Will I fall?

I hate too many questions.

They give me a headache.

So...

Where do I stand now?

Simple.

I'm Ready.

Why wouldn’t I be?

Damn.

Another question.

I'm here for many reasons.

Always one day more.

Always we work for tomorrow.

So often it seems that tomorrow is never coming.

Can we make a difference?

Jesus tried.

The fake church twisted his words and his teachings.

Made him a manifesto.

A pretext.

For war

For slavery.

For genocide.

Then the prophet Muhammed came along

His children used him as a pretext to terror and holy war.

Karl Marx couldn't create a working example of socialism.

The Beatles couldn't do it either.

Che Guevara could not defeat capitalist brutality with violence.

And Salvador Allende couldn't do it peacefully.

Senator Wellstone couldn't make democracy.

Nader will never be elected.

Castro couldn't hold on and Stalin couldn't let go.

Martin Luther King, Jr. did what he could

But his people are still not equal.

They took Ghandi from us.

They stole Malcolm.

They murdered King.

They assassinated JFK.

What will they do to us?

What can we achieve?

What chance do we really have?

I don't know if we have a chance at all.

Maybe we don't.

But you'll never convince me.

As long as I have a living breathe, as long as my heart beats, I will fight.

Tomorrow may never come, but this I know:

I will march until victory always.

(Ever so slowly the camera opens up in a medium sized room, with the lights dimmed. In the middle of the room is a wooden desk, the kind of table that low budget high schools use. On either side of the table is two chairs, one of which is occupied by an older man, I'd say in his 40's or 50's. The man is dressed in a cheap, brown suit, and as the camera pans around, we see that his neck tie is loosened, and that he wears glasses with a silver frame. His hair was once black, but now is more grey, his hairline receding more every day. On the table, in front of the man is an empty ashtray, just waiting to be filled. The man slowly pulls out a large tape recorder and slides it onto the table. He reaches in his pocket and bring out a cassette tape, placing it in the recorder. Once again he returns to his pockets and pulls out a notepad, and then a pen. He places them on the table in front of him and then looks up.)

Man: Are you ready?

(A voice from behind the camera responds. The camera remains on the man in front of us as he continues to speak.)

Voice: Are you?

Man: Yes.

Voice: Then so am I...

Man: Alright then, lets get started.

Voice: Whatever you say Josh.

(Josh, what a stupid name. I hope I don’t offend anyone who's name is Josh...no...scratch that. I honestly don’t give a ****. Josh is still a lame ass name. Josh reaches out and presses record on the tape recorder.)

Josh: ...I am Josh Kessle...and the date is July 9th, 2005.

(Josh leans back in his chair and looks beyond the camera. He cocks his head to the side and begins talking, using his hands as he speaks.)

Josh: So...your name is Jon?

(By now the camera has panned around, and we can see the entire room. In the far corner, there is no light, and only the silhouette of a man can be seen. You can rest assured, it is indeed one of the hWo's talent for those of you who don't know the hWo just reopend its doors and is getting ready for a big PPV followed by Vendetta two days after.)

Man: No.

Josh: No?

Man: No. My name is not Jon.

Josh: Um...okay...then what is your name?

Man: That’s not what is important right now.

Josh: Then what is?

Man: Well not my name for one.

Josh: Okay listen man, I didn’t come here to run around in circles. Can we get to the point?

Man: Josh...I am paying you good money to record, and to tell my story to the world. It's a long story, yes...but you will follow my rules, or you will get no money. And I promise you one thing, you do not want to pass up this opportunity. You will be rewarded in the end.

(An awkward silence fills the room. The Man shifts his position in the corner as Josh just looks in his direction. Josh sighs and then finally answers.)

Josh: All right. Your the boss. So Mr....whoever you are. How do you want to start things off? Could we talk about your plans in the hWo?

Man: My plans? Josh. I know your familiar with wrestling, what does every wrestler want, desire, and need when they enter a new federation?

Josh: Um. Respect. Championships. Greatness.

Man: For most wrestlers...yes. But you see...I've achieved these things everywhere I have wrestled. I have nothing else to prove, and I could care less whether someone respects me or not anymore. I sure as hell don’t respect that many wrestlers. And Greatness? ****. I know I'm great. I may have not proved it in this fed yet because it just opend, and they may not believe me...but they will all learn soon enough.

Josh: And championships?

Man: Now that...that I want. That I need. And I guarantee that no one will hinder my progress. in the wrestling world every superstar in the hWo gets a shot at the nationaltitle in a cage of terror match.

(There is a pause between them. Josh has been jotting down things on his notepad. The Man waits for him to stop, and when he has, he continues.)

Man: But there was one thing you forgot. One thing that has brought me to back time after time. The thing that has brought me to this federation.

Josh: What’s that?

(There is a slight pause before he answers.)

Man: The desire to fight. The chance to square off with another gladiator, and battle in the coliseum in front of the entire world. To fight until the blood of your opponent has stained your fists. To hold the life of another man, in the palm of your hands. Not as much for the power over another, but to show true talent, and skill as a general, as a leader and as a god in that square battlefield. It may only last for a few minutes in time, but the moment can last forever.

Josh: So you simply came to fight?

Man: For the most part, yes. I love fighting...and I'm damn good at it. I have squared off with some of the biggest names of the wrestling world, and destroyed them. I've run circles around them. Out wrestled them. Soared higher then they could have ever imagined. And when I got knocked out, and they thought it was all over...I bounced right back up. I've never given up my entire life...and I don’t plan on it. Whether it's in my day to day life, or in that ring. I never give up. Ever.

Josh: How can you assume that people will take you seriously? You have all these statements, but you have not mentioned a single thing to back your claims up.

Man: Honestly Josh, I wish I could. I wish I could tell you the entire story right now, make everything crystal clear for you and everyone else. But the time isn’t right. Patience is a virtue, and everyone will abide by it until I decide otherwise. I could care less if everyone thinks I am full of ****, honestly their opinions do not matter to me. Like I said, they will all learn soon enough. If they choose to underestimate me, then so be it. I will be the one laughing in the end.

Josh: That’s a very bold statement.

Man: I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true.

(Another awkward pause fills the room as Mr. Kessel just looks at him in the shadows. After a fairly long moment, they continue.)

Josh: You face Julius Fristik this week.

(The man is now Identified as Spade, Spade slowly steps out from the shadows as the camera slowly zooms in on his face. His blue eyes gleaming bright.)

Spade: I recommend you back out now Mr. Friskit. Before you seriously get hurt.

(He turns and walks out of view as the camera fades to black. End feed.)

 

[Jesse Jamester]

Wings of a Pegasus Pt.1

Wings of a Pegasus Pt.1



”When all is right, and all is clear… not a thing, can be harmed, not even a hair.”



As winds heavily echo on the outside, a new abrupt feeling is heard and felt on the inside. A noise not familiar with many ears, but nonetheless familiar in it’s own way. Searching through the dark, a hand is amongst the shadows. In it’s palm a razor is grasped. From the looks it’s gripped tight, cutting into the skin, as flood trickles from the inside of the palm and drips to the tiled floor.



The lights flicker.



Answers now revealed, as a bathroom is shown. Also it was not shadows, but a curtain that blocked the light forming the dark wall. The hand reaches out again, and grabs a white towel, wiping its palm on the towel, and then returning behind the curtain. A print of the hand lies on the towel in a dark mask of blood. Finally, the water stops running, and the familiar but not so familiar noise is now gone. Reaching back out, the hand grips the towel and brings it into the darkness behind the purple draped curtains.



SWISH!



The curtains open in the blink of an eye, and there steps out the hidden figure that was behind them. A white complexion shows ethnic, short bang cut hair tells personality, as the tattoos explain a story.



”Aaaaaahhhhh…”



Relief. That was what this figure of a man felt after stepping out of the shower. His body glistening from the water still on him, as his bang cut hairstyle is like a wet mop, covering his eyes from view. Wiping back the hair with his palm, he looks into the fogged up mirror, and then wipes some of the steam away with the same hand.



”Ehhh… need to shave.”



His words echo in the room, as he speaks to himself in a quiet manner. Opening the mirror he pulls out a razor and then shuts the mirror. His face depicts that of a ghost staring back at him. Not technically white as a ghost, but more so a man of lost spirit, that stands their staring back at him. Yet, his mind never strays from reality on this thought, and he continues to shave.



Ringggggg! Ringgggggg! Rinnnnnnnng!



Paused in the process of shaving, he goes to the side of his bed, where he picks up the phone that’s ringing off the hook.



”Hello?” he mutters in a gentle voice.



”HEY! What’s going on Julius?” says the voice on the other side of the phone.



”Just woke up… you?” replies Julius as he walks back to the bathroom.



”Crazy! It’s like eleven, man. What did you do last night?” says the man.



Sighing, ”Ah, just… stuff,” replies Julius faintly trying to remember.

”Well, what do you have planned for today? I got two tickets to some fight. It sounds promising,” invitingly asks the voice, and waiting for an answer.



Looking down in the sink, Julius stares back up at the mirror and blinks. Pondering on his choices, he then replies, ”Sorry, I’ve got work tonight. Maybe some other time… alright?”



”Alright, some other time man. Take it easy, peace,” the voice mutters, and then hangs up.



Click.



Pressing the end button, he hangs up the phone and sets it on the toilet seat. As he continues to shave, thoughts pour into his head. Stopping once again in his shaving routine, his eyes are distracted by the tattoo on his right shoulder. A fainted black portrait of a Pegasus standing on two legs, and fire surrounding it, with the name “Julius Fristik” written in a banner that the Pegasus stands on. His eyes blink, and then he shakes his head and continues shaving.

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”Are you ready, my warriors?”



The voice stern yet very familiar, and as he steps from the shadows of the dark room, he reveals himself as Julius Fristik. Looking down on four men, he stares at them with presences of leadership. He observes their eyes, searching for something, and then, stopping on the second man from the left. Julius waves his index and middle fingers in an upward manner, and the man responds in standing up.



”Are you afraid? Do you have fear of your mission tonight? Speak,” Julius demands as he stares at the man with a glare, awaiting his answer.



Stuttering, ”Na… no sir.”



”You expect me to believe that!” yells Julius as he steps up to the man with his nose nearly touching the man’s nose.



”Sir, I’m not afraid! There is no fear in me, but that of the fear to fail you sir!” yells back the man. Tapping him on the shoulder as he nods, the man then sits down.



”I hope by now you understand what I’m doing for you four. See, to me, this is my life. This right here is how I live. Not technically this abuse I am using on you, but the force of learning I have initiated. In honesty, I find you worthy of being the next warriors of our generation. You’re strong in heart, fast in thinking, and are physically fit to take the pain that may overcome you in any battle. Men, this is not some game… This is the way of the warrior. Tonight, you will prove to me just how much you have learned from me. Tonight is your last test. Once you have completed this mission, you will have become my apprentices, and take over my duties as I move up in ranks of a warrior. So do me proud, and do not fail. Or else…” his words stern, as well his voice. Giving no sign of hesitation, or weakness in his claim, he leaves the men and returns to the dark shadows, where a desk is half seen. ”Begin now.”



The men all stand up, and orderly walk towards the door. Creaking with each step, they reach the wooden door, and open it. For a moment the room lights up from the outside fading sun, and then goes back to it’s dim state.



”They may be ready… but I guarantee they won’t all come back. Pity, they showed promising futures. But, that’s is how it works. Not everyone can be a warrior.”



Slightly humored by his last words, he clicks something once, then again. Just as the second click happens, a light illuminates the dark corner in which he sits in. Behind his desk, in a wooden chair, he looks down at the papers in front of him. One of them is a letter addressing his new job as a wrestler in Hardcore Wrestling Organization.



”Ah… a schedule for my next match. Lets see who I face?”



Opening the letter, he pulls out a piece of paper, and unfolds it. Looking on it, he notices the long list of names and people who are on the card for the first pay-per-view ‘Scarred For Life.’ Smiling, he finds his name.



”Ah hah! Here we go. Hmmm, who’s Spade? Never heard of such a person. Must be one of those low-card wrestlers from down south.”



Sighing, he looks up the card to the main event, interested to see who’s headlining the show. His smile grows as he notices the note underneath the stipulation of the main event.



”It can’t be that easy… Can it? A cage of terror match, with the whole roster in the match, they have to be insane. They’re willing to put all their talents future in jeopardy, for one pay-per-view. Interesting. I can see where this company is going.”



He shakes his head, not disappointed, but somewhat relieved at what I saw. Folding up the paper he places it back in the envelope he had opened and then drops it on the desk. Leaning back in his chair he stares up at the ceiling with thoughts urging to come out.



“It’s a natural belief, that when a man is put up against a challenge, he’s expected to fail. That’s normal. Yet, it’s not ordinary when that man takes the belief of failure and smashes it into oblivion in one night, disproving any logic answer for what was hope in others minds.”



His words fade out, as he looks down at the desk and then at the clock nearest him. It’s only seven o’clock. Spinning the chair around he looks at the corner where his gear is sitting and then back at the car keys on his desk.



”I guess it’s time to go diminish those hopes that everyone is having now…”



Standing up he stretches his legs, and then walks over and picks up his gear. Coming back he grabs his keys and then walks towards the door. Turning back real quick, he looks at the room as if it was the last time he’d see it, and then walks out the door. Once outside, the room in which he was in seems to have been apart of a circus act, for it was all inside a wooden stable-like shed. Closing the door, he locks it and begins to walk away into the woods, off to the hWo arena. Where are his warriors in training? Who were they? What was their mission? Who is this man we have encountered? Answers shall be given, soon.