SLAMTRACK 7: Non-Title Match - Ivan Dalkichev (c) v. El Habanero

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NON-TITLE MATCH

Roleplaying thread for Ivan Dalkichev (w/ Nathan Fear) v. El Habanero

1000-word roleplay limit
No stacking allowed whatsoever

Roleplay deadline is Saturday, February 21 at 11:59pm Red Line time
​

 

[SenorJames]

"Now just go over there and..."

[Says someone that sound suspiciously like Danny Dalton.]

"Yeah, dude, I totes got it, kay?"

[Says a younger, mid-teens sounding voice.]

"Ooooooookay, whatever you say, kid! Here's your opponent for your first match, good luuuuuuuuuuuuuck!"

[The sound of paper being ruffled is heard as the scene begins to fade into focus.]

[BOOM!]

[The shot opens and here we are.]

[Walking on to the set, which is really a dark room with a lone spotlight shining upon a black backdrop with the RLW logo on it's center, is RLW and pro wrestling rookie at best...]

[ELLLLLLLLLL HAAAAAAAAAAAAABAAAAAANNNNEEEEEERRRRRRRROOOOOOOOO!]

[The kid walks in, he's holding a sheet of paper in one hand and a spicy as fuck, bright orange Habanero pepper, because of course he would be doing that, he is after all, El Habanero.]

HABANERO: [mumbling]
...Jackson... verse normal John... Second Coming... verse eso... Esotur... esotear... Is it Esotur or Esotear?

[Barely audible reply is barely heard off screen.]

HABANERO:
Oh, right... Kay... [mumbling again] esoteric... Hah! MARSUPIALS OF MAYHEM! YEAH!... hashtagbros... Uh... hey, uhm... where am I on here?

["keep reading" says the disembodied voice that sounds similar to Danny Dalton. Habby does indeed continue to read, his eyes seen through the holes in his luchador mask as they scroll down the page like a screen on a monitor, while scanning left to right.]

HABANERO:
Main Event... Non-title... Duuuuuuuuuuude, seriously? I'm not even on the show... "Last Titan"... Ivan DAL... Key? Chev? Is that right? Close enough? [shrugs]... verse... El Haban...

[Thunk!]

[That would be El Habanero falling over after reading the news that he is set to face the 400lb angry Russian bear of a man, in the main event of his first ever appearance in Red Line Wrestling.]

[I think the news... floored him.]

[YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!]

[Cue The Who, baby!]

[Out.]

"Kid... You awake?"

 

[RStrawsma]

(Fade in on the streets of Chicago, outside one of the many towering business skyscrapers in the city’s downtown district. The shot opens on our favorite goat-masked luchadore, EL CABRÓN, grooving to doom beats that only he can hear within his head and holding up a cardboard sign in typical panhandler fashion, which reads “WILL JOB FOR” followed by an image of a green potleaf. He holds it out to a BROAD-SHOULDERED MAN passing by on his way into the building. The man, clad in trainers and big enough to hold himself in the ring, simply shakes his head in disgust as he keeps going by, with the goat bastard serving him the bird as he walks in. The camera pans UP to the mirror windows several stories above...)

(We cut to the highrise office of NATHAN FEAR. He stands at the window, looking down into the city, dressed in one of his finest brimstone red suits. After a beat, the intercom on Fear’s desk buzzes.)

Receptionist
Mister Fear? There’s a Stephen Waltz here to see you.

Nathan Fear
Excellent, send him in…

...oh, and also...

Nathan Fear
...have there been any calls from the big promotions?

Receptionist
...no, sir. Nothing.

(We can see Fear’s reflected face form a bitter sneer… and then the large double doors open automatically as the husky man from outside on the street walks in. Nathan again straightens up the jacket of his suit and meets him with an open hand and a Devil’s smile.)

Nathan Fear
STEPHEN WALTZ! Welcome to Chicago! Did you finally get fed up with that pisshole back in Seattle?

Stephen Waltz
Not much going on there these days… ain’t nobody seen or heard of Rocko Daymon since --

Nathan Fear
Whatever, don’t really care… what matters is that you’re here, and not a moment too soon.

(Fear motions for him to follow, and they step through a side door into an adjoining hallway. As they move through, we pass by several commemorative photos hanging on the wall, featuring Fear in photo ops with various celebrities, business magnates, and world leaders.)

Nathan Fear
Things in this Red Line Wrestling are a bit more chaotic than expected… thought we’d have some luck coming here, but yet again, we find ourselves surrounded by masked marmots and puke monsters. Business is messy, and this is a dire time… we had a bit of an episode back at Slamtrack 6, and let’s just say I’m not looking forward to the many lawsuits coming my way from those security goons. But what we could really use right now is a good, dependable man to have our backs when the shit hits the fan, to prevent outbursts like that from happening again.

Stephen Waltz
Then I guess I’m here to be that man!

Nathan Fear
Good to hear. There isn’t much else to the job… just look out for the local locker room scum that forget their place.

Stephen Waltz
Heh! That shouldn’t be a problem…

Nathan Fear
Otherwise, I’d advise staying out of HIS way as much as you possibly can.

Stephen Waltz
No need to worry about that!

(Fear stops at a door, opens it up to let the new employee pass through before closing the door behind him. The camera zooms in on the nearby placard that reads “BEHAVIOR THERAPY”.)

(On the other side, the room is decorated and furnished as a Japanese zen spa. Somewhere in the background, a shakuhachi is quietly playing. Waltz takes a moment to look around and take it all in, while Fear goes straight to the large man sitting peaceably on the floor in a blood red Triple-XL kosode. With the Red Crown Championship held on his shoulder, “THE LAST TITAN” IVAN DALKICHEV sits in an uncharacteristically calm and quiet meditation. At least until the moment Fear opens his mouth...)

Nathan Fear
Are we feeling better, Ivan? There’s someone I’d like you to meet…

(Dalkichev’s eyes flutter open as Fear motions Waltz to come over.)

Nathan Fear
Meet your new protective service squad… Stephen Waltz!

(Stephen puts on a dopey grin and holds out his hand. Ivan looks him up and down, and seems to dismiss him with low grumble.)

Nathan Fear
What, you don’t approve?

Ivan Dalkichev
... protection… is unnecessary.

Nathan Fear
I feel the same way, but considering that wasn’t the case at Slamtrack 6, I feel it’s better to be safe than sorry. We can’t afford you embarrassing yourself again, and --

(Ivan stands up to his FULL HEIGHT, putting Fear and Waltz into his shadow. The manager wisely cuts off his thought as the giant grumbles down the both of them.)

Ivan Dalkichev
...perhaps he can protect YOU.

(The Crimson Colossus brushes by them, making for the Red Crown resting on a velvet pillow between two bonsai trees.)

Nathan Fear
You understand that there’s strength in numbers… and considering who they’re putting in that ring with you at Slamtrack 7, I’d feel better knowing there’s less risk of another blindside or interference. Just some shrimp… EL HABANERO, or maybe El Jalapeno, or some such. Another clown in a mask…

Stephen Waltz
I notice there’s a lot of those guys around here like that, actually…

Nathan Fear
At any rate, a punk like that on his own wouldn’t pose much threat… especially if he’s named after a chili pepper. A new face for the fans, maybe… a new reason to buy overpriced shirts… but hardly comparable to the one and only RED CROWN CHAMPION of RED LINE WRESTLING!

(Ivan picks the crown up and places it on the crest of his head.)

Ivan Dalkichev
They come… they go… all want to set the world on fire.

(His SIBERIAN BLUE EYES find the camera, turning hearts into ice!)

Ivan Dalkichev
But no fire can melt the COLD of the MOTHERLAND that charges through these veins!

Threat or no… with or without this crown at stake... I will EXTINGUISH this El Habanero, like a lit match crushed beneath my boot! I will do this, for it is my will, as All-Powerful TSAR of Red Line Wrestling!

ALL WILL BE BROKEN… in the REIGN of the CRIMSON COLOSSUS!!

(Fade to RED!!)

 

[SenorJames]

[Back from black.]

[Habby's still on the floor.]

[He totally passed out like a bitch, like a itty bitty, little baby bitch after the news of his first opponent in RLW.]

[The Czar of RLW, the Champ, the Big Cheese, the Head Honcho of all things Red Line Wrestling.]

[IVAN DALKICHEV!]

[Who also out weighs poor Habby by 200 pounds and change.]

"Hey, hey, kid!?"

[That'd be the voice of Danny Dalton, believer in all things Habanero.]

"Where'd you find this loser?"

[That'd be someone with a dissenting opinion. He doesn't deserve a name for said crimes.]

"Quiet, he's going to be something special one day, you'll see."

"He's going to something alright, probably a gore fill stain on the mat, but he'll definitely be something alright."

[With arms splayed out and mouth agape, a hand flashes into the screen as it slaps across Habby's unconcious face once, then twice, the second one waking our hero from his terror induced slumber.]

HABANERO:
Wh... Wat? What happened?

"You took a nap..."

[Says the non-believer.]

HABANERO:
Oh... Right. Uh, that's cool, because I just had a dream that I was going to be wrestling Ivan Dalkichev on my first night.

[Habs sits up and looks at the crowd of two people, Danny Dalton and the aforementioned nameless non-believer.]

"Afraid not, loser."

[Habs brings the flyer up and, yep, sure enough there's his name along side that of Dalkichev's in the Main Event of Slamtrack 7.]

"Hah, look at him, he's gonna..."

[Habby looks at them, then the paper again, then them, then the paper, again and again, each time the doubt and worry shining through his luchador mask.]

"Hush! Now don't worry kid..."

HABANERO: [backing away as he scoots on the floor]
Uh... Yeeeeah, I uh, you know...

[Habs' back hits the wall behind him.]

HABANERO:
Is it too late to, aaah, y'know...

"Nonsense, you're going to be fine, kid..."

[Habs hears Dalton's words and wants to believe, but there are always a second opinion.]

"And by fine, he means Ivan'll turn you into a fine paste on the mat, but..."

"I said quiet!"

"Bah! Is this kid even old enough to drive? And you want him to be Dalkichev's first match since Rush Hour?"

HABANERO:
Y... Y'know he might have a point, I heard that Ivan once ate a polar bear.

"Oh come on, where do people get these ideas from?"

"Not me, but I heard he killed it with his bare hands, heh heh heh..."

"Funnnnny. Now kid, don't worry, you'll be fine, and any of those "rumors" you've heard, they're just that..."

"Complete fact. There might even be a video of him choking out a Siberian Tiger on Daily Motion, or so I've heard."

[Habs eyes go wide as he pushes himself up to his feet with his back against the wall.]

HABANERO:
Y'know Mr. Dalton, maybe I should like, uh, make sure my moms really okay with this.

"Wait a minute. Your mom? Since when did we need to start having permission slips from home to get a main event off the ground?"

"Enough! You, go away, you're not helping... Now kid, I believe in you, I think... NO! I know that you can do this! Sure, this is an extraordinary challenge to throw at you on your first night in RLW, but we wouldn't do this if we didn't think you could handle it!"

HABANERO: [skeptically reassured]
Really?

"Yeah! Absolutely!"

[Rising to his feet, Habs looks at the flyer once again and nods confidently as he looks to Danny Dalton and takes a bite out of the pepper that never left his hand.]

HABANERO:
If you say so, Mr. Dalton!

"Good, good. You'll see kid, you're gonna knock 'em dead out there..."

[The nameless non-believer chimes in one last time from off in the distance.]

"HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

"SHUT UP! YOU!"

[Out.]