RP #1- "Homecoming"

OOC NOTE: This RP is split into two timeframes. The Main Story is set February 6, before Darkside's RP. The Undeniable Words promo segment is set after and in direct response to Darkside's RP.

[Promo - The Undeniable Words #1, 2/9/08]

Alright, kids. I've got quite a few things to say, so I'm not gonna beat around the bush with any pleasantries.

Unless you've had your head buried in a rock on Mars while Reckless Endangerment was airing, every single person listening to these words right now should know exactly who I am. But for those who don't know, I'll say it again- my name is Steve Jason, and I'm officially one of the newest arrivals to the Platinum Dynasty Wrestling roster. With that said, I'm no wet behind the ears rookie taking on the first match of his life with trembling knees and wide eyes. I've been in this exact same scenario as I am now a couple of times before- although I will admit, this time it feels a little different.

Obviously, this is my first match in Platinum Dynasty Wrestling. And let's face it, as much as we'd like to pretend otherwise, first impressions count. In a major way. It will be no exception at this upcoming Disclosure. Whether I win or lose could take my career in one of two different directions. If I lose, then while I'm still here and I've still got a chance to do everything here I've always wanted to do, I'll always have the fact that I choked on the debut in my face, and it'll take that much longer to get the exposure- and the victory- that I need.

And if I win- if I soundly strike down one of my fellow debutantes and do it well, then all of a sudden eyes are going to start opening around here. It's one thing to make an aggressive speech like I made at the PPV, and make no mistake, I stand by every word that left my mouth during that session, but it's another to back it up and prove that every last one of those words is solid gold. Or, in this case, platinum. A lot of people- important people- are going to be watching this match, and I will make damn sure that by the end of it all, they're sitting back in their seats with stunned looks on their faces while saying 'You know something? SJ's going places. This man is quite clearly no joke'. Some of my fellow debutantes are probably not paying this match much mind. Others might think they're going to waltz in with an easy win and that it's not worth sweating. But I am sweating. Not because I can't win, but because this is my opportunity, and I don't make a habit of letting opportunities pass me by.

So. My opponent. Zachriel Donahue- or Darkside, they call him. Darkside. I've got to hand it to the guy, I've been in the game for a long time and with the number of angsty punks who watch too much 'The Crow' I've had to deal with, you'd have expected me to have come across someone with that name by now. Yet I haven't. My congratulations, Zacho- you just proved yourself to be one of the first 'dark' wrestlers I've clashed with- and there've been a lot- whose brain has actually been violated by some kind of original thought. Believe me, that's some feat, and one you should probably pat yourself on the back and be proud about.

That's about the nicest thing I'm going to say to you all day, mate, so I suggest you soak up those golden words of praise, because it's all downhill from here and to be frank, very, very little of what I'm about to say is going to be good for you.

Funnily enough, you started your little round of promo-speak not by discussing me, but about discussing your... companion? Girlfriend? Secret crush? Unwitting soul mate? Whatever... Heather Phoenix. You tell us that you've come to the PDW to find her. Well, that's just fine, but I've gotta question your commitment to the game if you came here to find a chick. No offense to the fairer sex intended, of course. That will be where you and I differ. It's officially on the record now- you came here to find Ariel or whatever the heck you're calling her. Well, I didn't come here for that. I wasn't dragged here because of some girl I've got goo-goo eyes over. I wasn't even dragged here because of my friends- I didn't even know Jem Williams was even here until I'd signed a contract, despite the fact we're old friends. I came here for one thing and one thing alone- the fact that maybe, just maybe, this place is the next step in my evolution, the next logical challenge for a superiority fighter such as myself. That's a minor factor, sure- but the reasons we are here could be the single factor determining who's going to win this matchup, if we're that evenly matched. And I dare say that the man with the clearer head and the more dedication to this place will win. Since I'm here to fight and not to pull chicks, that would be me.

Question I'm wondering is- if, as you claim, despite coming all this way to chase a girl you aren't totally hung up on her- if you aren't so dependent on the Little Mermaid over there, if you're not worried about whether she takes a hit for you... if you don't need her... then I have to wonder why precisely you had to bring that fact up in the first place? To be honest with you, Zachriel, I probably wouldn't have even brought her up if you hadn't. Wouldn't have crossed my mind. Probably would have just been yet another girlfriend/manager of little consequence. Ironically, it's only by mentioning her and denying her importance yourself that you bring her to my attention- and that you raise my suspicions about whether you're on the level. I mean, it sounds like you're trying pretty hard to not only convince me, but the PDW roster in general. If that was your intention, you probably shoulda kept it quiet, because now you've got me just that much more curious about her and what role she has to play in all this- and, I dare say, in my own match. You say you don't need her to interfere, sure- and I'd believe that if you weren't yapping on about her every ten seconds.

Now, another interesting claim you had to make was that I was, and I quote 'at a disadvantage to those who have faced me in the past'. Apparently your reasoning behind that is the fact that I'm going up against you straight off the bat rather than having built up to it. I'm a bit more skeptical, myself. You think you're the first wrestler I've ever fought, Zachriel? Far from it. You are the first here, but believe me, I know how to handle myself in a fight already. I'm not green, I'm not inexperienced and I'm not going to be on the back foot here. Sure, I guess you could argue that I haven't been in the same federation with you and watched and waited for weeks- but believe me, Zachriel, I've got more than my share of sources on you and I am remarkably known for being able to adapt to opponents in a very low level of time. And I've had the 'disadvantage' more times than I'd like to admit in my life, only to emerge victorious anyway.

The next thing you tell me is not to think there are things that are precious to you. As if you think I'm going to try to destroy them or threaten them to try to get an edge on you. I don't do that, Darkside. I don't have to. Absolutely nothing you have is of any concern to me. I couldn't care less that you've got some jacked-up Harley that you decided to name after the Prince of Darkness for some god-awful reason. I don't care about anything you own. I don't even care about your 'girl'- unless I have reason to believe she'll make the incredibly stupid mistake of getting involved in this matchup. All I care about and all that I am focused on in the leadup to this match is you, Zachriel. I don't need to bust up your motorcycle- because I can get far greater rewards in busting you up.

One thing matters to me in this match, and that is being declared the superior fighter. You claim in the little world you dream up in your head that there is no superior or inferior? Well, that's fine, except we ain't in your world. Whether you like to believe it or not, Zachriel, 'your world' is nothing more than a construct in your head that you like to delude yourself into thinking is real. I will concede that you seem a little different to the other 'darker' people, but that's one thing you all have in common- you like to believe reality takes on your own little twist.

Well, I'm not that deluded. Rather than form some shadow of the world where I'm king, I've instead conditioned myself to become effective and operative in this world. The best way I've done that is by demonstrating absolute combat superiority over my opponents. I have dedicated myself to mastering my craft for years, and I have faced so many different opponents. I have had to utilise many, many styles of fighting. I have had to take on various ways of thinking. I have continually evolved and added to my body of experience in the hope of attaining that ultimate superiority. I've almost killed myself in the process multiple times.

[MAIN STORY]

DATE/TIME: 10:30PM, Wednesday 6 February, 2008
LOCATION: Apartment Complex, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

And so, with the Reckless Endangerment Pay Per View hitting the Platinum Dynasty Wrestling airwaves, the story of Steve Jason and his adventures as a certified member of the PDW roster had officially begun.

The feeling of exhilaration that had taken hold of Steve's body once his name was officially 'out there' was... hard to put into words. It was overpowering, as if a rush of warm air was continually coursing around his body, electrically charging his body and giving him the goosebumps. It was like the surge in the body of someone landing their dream job. Like the buzz an athlete felt when he was about to take that first ever shot at Olympic gold. Like the young man who was preparing and preening himself for that big first date with that beautiful woman. It didn't plague Steve 24/7, but it continually kept coming back to him in waves when his mind fleeted back to PDW. He was almost certain that feeling wouldn't be going away until his first match.

'His first match'. Steve never thought he'd be thinking about that again. If you'd asked him a few weeks ago if he thought he'd be fighting a debut match in a wrestling federation, he would have shook his head. But something about Platinum had caught his eye, had dragged him out of a quiet existence and back into the excitement of the squared circle- except this time in completely new, almost alien surrounds, with only two familiar faces in it- Star Deveraux and Jem Williams. It looked impressive. It had competitors who could serve as a challenge to Steve. It was a new setting he hoped to thrive in. And now he was on the verge of taking that first, exciting step to solidifying his arrival and starting his road to glory anew.

It was... a major buzz.

"Aaaand here we are..." Steve's voice was a long cry from the defiant, challenging tone he had used at Reckless Endangerment as the steel elevator doors in front of him opened- instead it was calm, sedate, and liberally sprinkled with friendship. He stepped out of the elevator into a large, rounded-rectangle-shaped room, which was saturated in warm, cheery yellowish-white lighting. This was no doubt the lobby of a particular floor of an apartment building- that much could be told from the lines of solid wooden doors racking up the left and right walls of the room. A large, brightly-lit electrical chandelier descended from the exact center of the room, while the floor was lined around the perimeter with glossy white tiles and lined around the core with plush red carpet. Topping off the scene were four leafy fern plants set in each corner of the room. While it wasn't overly garish, there was absolutely no question to the fact that whoever designed this foyer wanted it to at least look a few cuts above the bland, utilitarian foyers of so many other apartment buildings.

Steve's tall- well, relatively tall at six-three- lean frame was dressed a little differently than his debut. A black jacket of some lightweight, synthetic material covered his upper body, left open at the front to reveal a simple white-and-blue-striped rugby polo, and his legs were encased inside dark blue jeans and polished black boots. His ice-blue eyes were uncovered, his dark brown hair was short and pushed up at the front, and his wary, sharp face was covered with trimmed, maintained stubble. However, he was not alone.

"About bloody time, mate! I was wondering if we'd ever get up to the top of your poncy little fairy apartment complex that's nowhere near a beach..." That voice was loud and jovial, and unlike Steve's own mild, barely-present Australian accent, one could be excused for thinking that the source of this accent was the ghost of Steve Irwin himself. The source stepped out after Steve, and was revealed to be a man of average height in his early thirties. A yellow Hawaiian shirt and matching shorts was the main identifying feature of this man, as was a large red trucker cap from which golden blond curls spilled out of. His face was almost the direct opposite of Steve's- rounded and jolly, with a cheery, borderline-grinning expression on his face. Mounted on his shoulder was a large slab of Heineken.

"You're not still sore about me moving out of Cali, are you, Dougy? You still live on the beach, you know..." Steve shrugged, ferreting through his pocket for his wallet. His eyes trekked over to the door nearest to him- a simple white wooden door with the initials 'SJ' embedded on a golden plate- at the same time.

"I just don't think it's right, you know? You've always lived on the coast. You're a surfie, it's your code, mate! It's not like Delaware or Maryland are that far away..."

"Actually, I lived in a few land-locked cities before you moved to America." Steve shrugged, finally prying the key he had been looking for from his wallet.

As one might have guessed from that statement, Steve had lived in a lot of cities throughout his time. In addition to his original home in the coastal suburbs of Perth, Australia, he'd also spent time in Tokyo, Mexico City, Shanghai, Toronto, Chicago, Los Angeles, Miami, and Las Vegas among others. And now, with his move to Platinum Dynasty Wrestling and its localized setting in Pennsylvania, it looked as thought Steve would not be adding a new city to the list- none other than Philadelphia itself. It was just more convenient that way- flying in from Los Angeles would be a pain, and flying in from Perth was unthinkable. And to boot, having the Dynasty Spectrum virtually down the street- well, not precisely, but it may as well have been- was an advantage that Steve would definitely be exploiting.

It wasn't too bad a city, either. Not too few people, but at the same time not too many. There seemed to be a fair bit going on while at the same time not being too full-on, and after living in a megapolis like LA for the past several years, it was a welcome and refreshing change. A breath of fresh air, as it were. Yes, Steve could get used to Philly- he could definitely see himself growing to like the City of Brotherly Love in time, once he grew more acclimated to the place.

His choice of living space had been an interesting one. Steve wasn't poor- far from it- and if he really wanted to, he could have splashed out on some lavish, ridiculously-expensive pseudo-estate the likes of which would make him the envy of his neighbors. But the whole rich-snob thing wasn't Steve's deal- never was. Not that he had any intentions of slumming it either, but this time around, he'd chosen something that suited him rather than suited some kind of ideal of materialism. Granted, a high-rise apartment wasn't cheap at the best of times, but Steve had managed to get the balance right both price-wise and size-wise.

"Oi! Steve!" Dougy's voice snapped Steve back into reality as his sneakers tapped impatiently on the carpet of the atrium, "Have you got some kind of door that, to the untrained eye, looks like a regular door, but to you takes the form of Eva bloody Mendes? Cause that's the only reason I can possibly come up with for why you're just staring at it rather than opening it!"

"Alright, alright. Chillax, man..." was Steve's casual, cool reply before reaching for the door and swinging it open, unveiling the main living space of the apartment. The size was just right by Steve's standards- not cramped by any space of the imagination, but at the same time not so large as to have enormous stretches of unnecessary space.

The side of the room closest to the door was decorated with soft, teal-blue carpet that had recently been cleaned to spotless condition, spreading out throughout the half-circle shape of the living room. Three black leather couches were set against the wall about seven feet away from the door, positioned to form a 'U' shape around a glass coffee table. Directly across from the couches was a large plastic entertainment 'cabinet' stretching from floor to ceiling, with various areas cut into it to house a DVD player, sound system, and a decent-sized LCD TV. Further to the right of the cabinet and couches was a polished black, marble-like benchtop that served as part of the kitchen area, with the usual refinements present. And finally, the coup de grace on the far end of the apartment came in the form of a glass sliding door allowing access to a decent sized, tiled balcony overlooking the twinkling, many-colored lights set in the various buildings of Philadelphia itself.

"Well, maybe you didn't make such a bad choice after all..." was Dougy's graceful assessment of the situation, striding into the apartment as if he owned the place before setting the slab of Heineken down on Steve's tabletop with an abrupt *thud*, "It ain't a beach house, but I reckon it'll do you."

"Eh. I like it. It's not a hole, but it's not some arrogant rich-prat pad like they'd be trying to push on me back in LA..." Steve shrugged, stepping into the apartment after his friend- pausing briefly to lash his arm up to sweep a suddenly-flying Heineken bottle out of the air, "Christ! Can you give me some warning next time you decide to throw a bottle at my head?"

"Just trying to keep you on your toes, SJ. Now that you're officially booked and fighting, you've gotta be." Dougy replied with an impish smirk.

"I think you just couldn't be bothered walking over... but you do have a point." Steve chuckled quietly with a shake of his head, cracking open the bottle and taking a long sip of the beer inside, "Just hope the old reflexes haven't died on me too much. I'm up against a 'big guy' right off the bat, so it looks like I may be needing them to get the upper hand."

"Ah, yeah." Dougy nodded sagely, pulling loose a beer for himself before abruptly wandering over to one of the couches and flinging himself down upon it with a muffled crash, "That Darkside dude, right? You have to admit, it's pretty funny that after all you've been through in the past, you rock up to PDW and the first person you've got to fight is yet another goth." Those words were stressed with a certain comedic humor, punctuated by a roll of Dougy's green eyes, "You seem to be a magnet for the damn people."

"It's ironic, I'll admit it." Steve chuckled to himself again, shaking his head, "Now, it'll be interesting to see if he parrots the same mumbo-jumbo the vast majority of 'em have been spouting. Hell, wonder if I'll get yet another death threat. Course, if he's done his research on me, he'll know that's the stupidest possible mistake he could make." In stark contrast to his initial joviality, that last part was said with an icy seriousness that caused Dougy to straighten up slightly.

"Maybe it's better not to dwell on the topic, then, mate. I know you'd rather deal with the issue on your lonesome, so we'll just let it slide, and you can deal with Darkside yourself." Dougy paused for a few moments, drained his second bottle of Heineken in only a few monstrous gulps, let out an unashamed, uninhibited, thunderous belch- which only led to a raised eyebrow by the somewhat more-refined Steve- then continued, "I noticed you and Jem somehow managed to rock up on the same night. Did you two have that planned from the start?"

"Believe it or not, we didn't..." Steve answered with a short laugh at the mention of his friend, "Turns out we made the decision completely independently. I suppose great minds think alike in that regard. Although he's got an interesting time on his hands, it would seem."

"Heh. I noticed he got attacked by that bird... what'sherface. The pretty brunette chick, you know who I'm on about."

"Jay James. I think that's her name." Steve interrupted what would no doubt have become Dougy's drooling session, "And yeah. I spoke with him briefly about it- he thinks he's got it under control, and I know better than to interfere in Jem's affairs. If he says he's got it locked down, then he's got it locked down. Better to let him take care of it." He paused, then grinned slightly, "It is good to see him around, though. Nice to have a familiar face backstage. I don't really know anyone yet, you know?"

"Now that's a first." The smirk on Dougy's face was broad as they come, "Still, you know pretty damn well that if you don't know anybody now, you will pretty soon."

"In both good ways and bad ways, I'm assuming." Steve remarked wryly, "Always seems to be the way, and I have absolutely no doubt this'll be an exception to the rule. I've got a feeling I might have a few friends and a few enemies by the end of the..."

"Hold that thought, mate, I've gotta take a slash." Dougy interrupted Steve, rising up from the couch. Steve merely responded with a casual nod as his friend made his way through one of the doors adjoining onto the apartment, disappearing towards a hallway and, eventually, the bathroom itself.

That left Steve alone. As his mind often did when it was alone, it began to flicker back towards the upcoming events of the week- and the upcoming match. Darkside. The man was going to be tough to bring down, and Steve had to offset that power differential as fast as he could. While some of his technical and submission moves would help, as would his limited aerial abilities, he needed a way to be able to go toe to toe and press the superiority front with Zachriel Donahue if he could. That meant falling back on martial arts. Steve was never going to win a power-based brawl with Darkside- or he'd stand very little chance- but if he was fast enough and placed enough hits well- probably by combining Shotokan and Krav Maga techniques- he might have been able to...

He got no further, as suddenly 'Honest Goodbye' by Bad Religion began emanating from somewhere in his pocket, followed by a familiar rumble. That indicated one thing- an incoming phone call. Steve's hand deftly reached down into his pocket, fishing out the phone before flipping it open and speaking.

"SJ."

"Am ah speakin' to Steven Alexander Jason?" The voice on the other end of the phone was gravelly and deep- and in a Deep South accent, by the sounds of it. Could have been a somewhat older man too, although Steve wasn't too sure at this point.

"You are. Who's this?" was Steve's cool reply.

"Son, my name is James Augustus Diablo, and I..."

"Jim Diablo."

"I'm sorry?"

"Someone actually called their kid Jim Diablo."

"I shoulda known you'd have picked up on that. Yes, my name's Jim Diablo, and I've had some interest in speakin' to you for some time now. Ever since word got around that you're in that Platinum place and that you've moved to Philadelphia."

Someone already had their eyes on Steve? That was... unexpected. Usually it took a few weeks before some stranger called him for some bizarre reason or another. Evidently, this 'Jim Diablo' was ahead of the game a little. Steve cleared his throat, then replied.

"Go on."

"I understand you're a very busy man, particularly this coming week, what with your big debut match and all the bright lights and glory that involves. But I'd like you to come and see me in the days following your match. As I said, I have been watching you for some time now, and I have reason to believe that we could do big things together, son. No pressure and it's entirely your decision, but I'd like you to see me and hear about what I do."

Was it a trick? Possibly. There were certainly no limit of people in Steve's past who might have wanted to lure him into a trap such as this. But at the same time... the vast majority of those people had tried before and had received such severe reprisal that they had never tried it again. Steve only needed a few seconds to think before speaking back into his phone.

"Alright, Jim. Sounds fair enough to me. But I'm holding the right to set my own terms to this meeting if I have any reason to suspect I have to. We clear?"

"We are crystal, son. You won't regret this." Diablo rumbled over the other side of the phone, "I'll be in touch in the upcoming days."

Just like that, the line went dead, and Steve was left with a dead phone next to his ear. He clipped the phone shut without a second thought and made his way over towards the 'U' row of couches, taking that exact moment to let himself drop into one of the couches, sinking gradually into the comfortable material. As the flush of a toilet could be faintly heard in the background, indicating Dougy finally on his way back into the main room, Steve had to concede one thing as his ice-blue eyes flickered over the skyline of Philadelphia.

Things were certainly getting interesting. Again.

[CONTINUED: Promo - The Undeniable Words #1, 2/9/08]

Obviously, this is a match that neither of us want to back down and lose. It's the first match, after all. The winner will be lauded, celebrated, and will have every eye in this company cast on them as possibly 'the next big thing'. The loser, even if he's lost by a fragment, has to go into the Spectrum every day facing the knowledge that he choked. I don't know how that feels, Zachriel- because I've never lost a debut match before. Every debut match I've had thus far ended pretty damn decisively. To your credit, you may be the toughest debut yet- but you have to realise just how much I do not want to be known as 'the man who choked'. You have to understand that this isn't some friendly match that I don't really care if I win or lose. I'm not doing this for fun. I'm not doing this 'to get it out of the way'. I'm doing this to break down the damn doors of the federation and make an example out of somebody.

That sounds familiar, doesn't it? You want the same thing, don't you? You want to make me some kind of 'example' of your 'power'. Well, as it so happens, I want to make you an example of my complete and utter combat superiority, so where does that leave us? We can't both have what we want, Zachriel. This isn't some perfect world where we can come to some kind of compromise that makes us both winners. Somebody's going to have their goals and dreams dealt a crushing blow to the throat, and as far as I'm concerned, it will not be me. And I'm gonna be completely honest... skittling a man much larger than myself is pretty much one of the first things I have on my 'to-do' list. You're bigger than me, and utilise power more than I do. That's impressive in this industry. But I dare say I'm faster, I dare say I have the technique required to put you down, and I have enough knowledge of many, many fighting styles to leave you completely clueless as to what I will do next. I intend to use all of that to my advantage when bringing the giant down and skittling him.

You're trying to intimidate me- I can smell it. Unfortunately, Zachriel, you picked the wrong punk to intimidate. While I have no doubt you are in fact different to the usual black-eyeliner-wearing nimrods I've shut down in the past, you do not scare me. You do not have me on the back foot. I am not holding back and there will be absolutely no doubts or hesitations running through my mind when that bell rings and I proceed to unleash complete and utter hell on you.

Now, you say that you will make me, and I quote, 'face my fear'. To be honest, I was sort of expecting that line- but not because of any stereotypes or any general behaviour. As I said, I'm pretty well-educated and well-read about you, and I do understand you've got this little thing about fear. Sounds fair enough. It's a powerful emotion- one of the most powerful a human can face. When your blood gets so cold you think it's about to congeal, when you start trembling, when you end up in a cold sweat and your head's swimming all over the place, and when you're trying to juggle keeping one eye over your shoulder and keeping your bladder under control at the same time.

What, you expected me to claim I don't know what fear is?

I know damn well what fear is, Zachriel Donahue. Cause while I'm highly evolved, and while I'm conditioned for fighting superiority, a part of me is still human. I can't bury that- and to be honest I'm not sure I'd want to. Emotions have certain... advantages, if you know how to use them. Ever heard of 'fight or flight'? It's the psychological phenomena where, when approached with a fearful scenario, someone will get a sudden burst of adrenaline that'll result in them doing one of two things- running like hell, or unleashing it.

While I don't deny the presence of such emotions, make no mistake, I am no slave to them. I am no slave to your precious, well-documented concept of 'fear'. I take those emotions, and I master them. I twist them, I channel them, I psychologically bend them to fit the cause I have planned for them. If somebody has made me particularly angry, I freeze that rage down. I take burning anger and I turn it into icy, ruthless, relentless drive. That anger's still there- but instead of it causing me to make mistakes and to fail to think clearly, it augments my skill and my thinking. It fuels me.

I have absolutely no doubt that 'fear' can do the exact same thing. There have been periods in the past, Zachriel, where I have had reason to feel that I'm at 'threat'. Sometimes that means that I'm in danger of failing an objective. Sometimes it means that somebody close to me is in danger. And sometimes it even means my health, my career, even my life are in very real danger. I have lost count of the amount of people who've tried to back me into that corner. People sharing similar traits to you have, people who are completely unrelated to you have. Every last one of them has regretted it. Because when I'm threatened, something happens, Zachriel. It's like I go into red alert, all bets are off, and what little restraint I may use goes to the winds. If you give me any reason to think I'm in danger, you leave me little option but to defend my existence to the last breath. You don't want that. You really don't want that. Because believe me, despite all you've said, if you put me in that position, I am capable of feats that will even shock you.

So unlock my fear, Zachriel. Make me 'face my fear' if you feel you must... but I have a feeling that's going to be a far, far more fatal error than I think you realise. An error you might not fully grasp until it's too late.

And that... IS UNDENIABLE!