Post by Chris Gardner on May 22, 2011 3:58:27 GMT -6
Author's Note: I'm sorry for the lateness of this RP. I'm obviously not going to be able to up a third. Sorry to disappoint you guys, specially Michael and Adam. All the crap with my girlfriend and the writing block were to b****es to me this week.
How cute. I think I pissed Spike Kane off. And now I'm being called an honorless man, with no principles or scruples. You may be right about it, Spike, but that's because of a single reason:
YOU.
I've stepped down to your level to fight you. No, I've gone lower than that - I've stepped down to Alysson's level to fight you. And it's pretty much ironic to see you complaining about me being a coward, cunning, prick of a man... Much like yourself, isn't it? That's a common characteristic among the Kanes - while your brother had no future, you have no mind. Also, hey, you've been in this assholery business for way longer than me! Have you warned Alysson that you could just go nuts and drop her on her head and snap her neck like you did with other people? What do you think it would happen to the Goddess of Extreme if that happened? We both know you're capable of doing just that, Spike. And as far as the much deserved closed fist that I sent into her face goes, that's for retribution for all of the claws in the eyes, kicks to the groin and slaps to the face I've been swallowing for the past few months.
And don't you get your nose in this business, Spike. You know exactly how siblings work their differences out.
If you're not aware, Spike, I'll give you some inside information.... I trained Alysson myself. Ninety percent of what she knows, if not more, was because of me. If she became a high-flying, spot-addicted, hardcore-bent hell of a wrestler, it's because I taught her to be that way. I created the woman you've just claimed as your Goddess. And I created her to be perfect! She's supposed to be entertaining, over the edge, limitless, she's supposed to make the crowd go crazy and her opponents go bust... As well as a beautiful woman. A charming, sexy princess that would leave men AND women drooling over her. An almighty amazon that would cover all bases.
And she always enjoyed the idea. You can go ask her.
And while you're at it... Why don't you ask her who does her heart REALLY pound faster for, eh?
And then Alysson crumbles on the mat after fifty push-ups. I, that did the same push-ups to encourage her, get up with rather ease. I see her gasping for air like an asthmatic child, which unphases me. I've been in this same situation before and I survived pretty well.
Alysson: Do we... Really have... To do... All this... Every time?!
Christian: Lessee... Yeah.
I shoot her a sly smile before she turns her face away from me, still melted all over the mat. I do a quick run to the nearby refrigerator and grab two bottles of water, only to come back to my sister and slipping her one of them. It hits her arm and makes her almost jump in place with the temperature difference. She takes her time to realize it's an innocent bottle of water, rolls over herself and sits up, leaning against the wrestling ring that's just behind her.
Alysson: This warm-up is a killer!
Christian: I know, right? But this was how I was trained. There's gonna be a day you'll be doing all of this and you'll just shrug it off like it's no big deal.
Alysson: Like you do?
Christian: Sort of.
I sit beside Aly, leaning on the ring, and this instantly prompts her to rest her head against my arm while I operate with the bottle of water.
Christian: Give yourself the next five minutes to rest your muscles, and then we'll get to the real action.
She just nods, opening the bottle and spraying some water all over herself, then taking a big sip. That in itself makes me chuckle.
Christian: You remind me so much of the younger me. That young hopeful that started wrestling in England just a few years ago.
Alysson: Tell me a bit about it.
She looks up at me, those enormous round hazel eyes gleaming with interest, as I begin my not so interesting story.
Christian: Nah, I just did that for a living. I trained in this backyard academy, guys showed me some moves, and I started adapting them to my style, you know? And then I started knocking on some indies' doors, doing tryouts, until I finally got hired by this one promotion in Blackpool. And it was one of these, yanno, "WE TAKE IT TO A WHOLE 'NOTHER LEVEL OF EXTREME!" ****...
Pause for Aly to laugh at my attempt at a guttural voice.
Christian: ... and then I was trained into hardcore wrestling. You know, how to endure pain after being pitched into a cactus or a bed of tacks, surviving a wall of light tubes, crashing through tables and so on.
She makes faces. It probably sound painful as s*** for her right now.
Alysson: Did you get hurt?
Christian: A lot. But I never had to resort to anything excuse to get better and back into a ring. Sure, it took me some time to get used to it, but--
Alysson: Have you ever been a champion?
She smiles widely at me. The idea of being the top dog of the pack is the most exciting in wrestling. But reality is different in England, where people don't pay that much attention to professional wrestling.
Christian: There weren't championships worth running after back then. The champions had their asses so deep inside their own heads, they'd challenge you to a Blow Some TNT in Yo' Rear Match. Me, I was all about having fun.
Aly is laughing lividly again right now, as the idea of someone holding a dynamite banana with their buttocks is quite unique.
Alysson: Well, living in this industry sounds like a lot of fun.
Christian: Yeah, deep down, it really is. Wrestling is nice because it gives you the chance to be yourself or a character inside the ring... And kick some ass while doing it.
Alysson: Do you think I could be... Like... A sexy hot bad ass female wrestler in some time?
I look at her, she's wearing that big shining smile of hers again.
Christian: I can't help you with the sexy... But a bad ass female wrestler?
I embrace my sister and smile at her.
Christian: You're going to be the BEST female wrestler the world's yet to see.
She nods with enthusiasm, before springing up to her feet.
Alysson: Then show me some moves, fool!
She quickly rolls into the ring and begins jumping around like a little dynamo. I smile widely as I shake my head.
Christian: Do I have any choice, now?
And then I join her inside the ring as we lock up into a friendly, happy training session between big bro and li'l sis.
The metaphors you use to attack me are quite funny, Michael. But let's set something straight between you and I: the industry wouldn't be lesser off without me, but it sure would be better off without YOU. Hurting people and making them regret being in the square with you is what you do best, Señor Extremo? That's not how it looked like when I walked all over you and more two hopefuls before getting to a man bigger, badder and most dangerous than you and stripping him from the Honor Championship... That, as a matter of fact is still with me. And even Lex Sense sent me home with an apparent concussion. You weren't able to pull that one off. While I was battling the big-evils, you were coasting with your fake extremist luchador alterego, putting up some shabby nothings and failing like a rookie.
Yes, Spike; you've been failing, and you're still failing. Why did you take SO LONG to claim your own identity back? Isn't it that, maybe just maybe, the rest of the world is right, and you're just a dying carcass of the man you used to be? Living on your past glories will only lead you to be a grumpy old man with your memory photo book and a handful of stories to tell your grandnephews. As far as the PRESENT goes, Michael, you're history. And I'm MAKING history.
With a truth so sad, I don't even have to gob into your face to show you my disdain.
So we're back to where we started: I think I pissed Spike Kane off... Good. That's exactly what I wanted to do. Because if it's really going to be a Night to Remember, I want to remember this night as the one when Christian Gardner fought Spike Kane as he is. No honor, no half-assed displays, no excuses. I want you to bring your worst to Miami, like Bradley took his best AND his worst when I beat him in that parking lot. I want this to be the one night where, for the first time in over three months, Alysson Gardner didn't get involved, and the better man took it all. Or the worse man.
Let's face it, Michael: it's not about honor anymore. It's about inflicting pain. Causing suffer. Imposing power. And above than fighting under the strict Honor Rules you've created, Mike... Enduring and returning pain is what I'm the best at. And when we're all finished, something BIG will have been made. The one of us standing tall when it's all said and done will go back home with far more than a championship belt. It's going to be the halt of a record, or the breaking of a new one.
Are you prepared to break MY record, Michael Kane? For I'm more than prepared not to let you.
Rock out.
Linda: ... I see. Do you-- [...] Is that what you really want to do? [...] You don't know what you're doing, woman. You should stop and listen to him, at least for once. If only you-- [...] HE DID WHAT?!
(Fade out.)
How cute. I think I pissed Spike Kane off. And now I'm being called an honorless man, with no principles or scruples. You may be right about it, Spike, but that's because of a single reason:
YOU.
I've stepped down to your level to fight you. No, I've gone lower than that - I've stepped down to Alysson's level to fight you. And it's pretty much ironic to see you complaining about me being a coward, cunning, prick of a man... Much like yourself, isn't it? That's a common characteristic among the Kanes - while your brother had no future, you have no mind. Also, hey, you've been in this assholery business for way longer than me! Have you warned Alysson that you could just go nuts and drop her on her head and snap her neck like you did with other people? What do you think it would happen to the Goddess of Extreme if that happened? We both know you're capable of doing just that, Spike. And as far as the much deserved closed fist that I sent into her face goes, that's for retribution for all of the claws in the eyes, kicks to the groin and slaps to the face I've been swallowing for the past few months.
And don't you get your nose in this business, Spike. You know exactly how siblings work their differences out.
If you're not aware, Spike, I'll give you some inside information.... I trained Alysson myself. Ninety percent of what she knows, if not more, was because of me. If she became a high-flying, spot-addicted, hardcore-bent hell of a wrestler, it's because I taught her to be that way. I created the woman you've just claimed as your Goddess. And I created her to be perfect! She's supposed to be entertaining, over the edge, limitless, she's supposed to make the crowd go crazy and her opponents go bust... As well as a beautiful woman. A charming, sexy princess that would leave men AND women drooling over her. An almighty amazon that would cover all bases.
And she always enjoyed the idea. You can go ask her.
And while you're at it... Why don't you ask her who does her heart REALLY pound faster for, eh?
FIVE YEARS AGO
Christian: ... 48! 49! 50!And then Alysson crumbles on the mat after fifty push-ups. I, that did the same push-ups to encourage her, get up with rather ease. I see her gasping for air like an asthmatic child, which unphases me. I've been in this same situation before and I survived pretty well.
Alysson: Do we... Really have... To do... All this... Every time?!
Christian: Lessee... Yeah.
I shoot her a sly smile before she turns her face away from me, still melted all over the mat. I do a quick run to the nearby refrigerator and grab two bottles of water, only to come back to my sister and slipping her one of them. It hits her arm and makes her almost jump in place with the temperature difference. She takes her time to realize it's an innocent bottle of water, rolls over herself and sits up, leaning against the wrestling ring that's just behind her.
Alysson: This warm-up is a killer!
Christian: I know, right? But this was how I was trained. There's gonna be a day you'll be doing all of this and you'll just shrug it off like it's no big deal.
Alysson: Like you do?
Christian: Sort of.
I sit beside Aly, leaning on the ring, and this instantly prompts her to rest her head against my arm while I operate with the bottle of water.
Christian: Give yourself the next five minutes to rest your muscles, and then we'll get to the real action.
She just nods, opening the bottle and spraying some water all over herself, then taking a big sip. That in itself makes me chuckle.
Christian: You remind me so much of the younger me. That young hopeful that started wrestling in England just a few years ago.
Alysson: Tell me a bit about it.
She looks up at me, those enormous round hazel eyes gleaming with interest, as I begin my not so interesting story.
Christian: Nah, I just did that for a living. I trained in this backyard academy, guys showed me some moves, and I started adapting them to my style, you know? And then I started knocking on some indies' doors, doing tryouts, until I finally got hired by this one promotion in Blackpool. And it was one of these, yanno, "WE TAKE IT TO A WHOLE 'NOTHER LEVEL OF EXTREME!" ****...
Pause for Aly to laugh at my attempt at a guttural voice.
Christian: ... and then I was trained into hardcore wrestling. You know, how to endure pain after being pitched into a cactus or a bed of tacks, surviving a wall of light tubes, crashing through tables and so on.
She makes faces. It probably sound painful as s*** for her right now.
Alysson: Did you get hurt?
Christian: A lot. But I never had to resort to anything excuse to get better and back into a ring. Sure, it took me some time to get used to it, but--
Alysson: Have you ever been a champion?
She smiles widely at me. The idea of being the top dog of the pack is the most exciting in wrestling. But reality is different in England, where people don't pay that much attention to professional wrestling.
Christian: There weren't championships worth running after back then. The champions had their asses so deep inside their own heads, they'd challenge you to a Blow Some TNT in Yo' Rear Match. Me, I was all about having fun.
Aly is laughing lividly again right now, as the idea of someone holding a dynamite banana with their buttocks is quite unique.
Alysson: Well, living in this industry sounds like a lot of fun.
Christian: Yeah, deep down, it really is. Wrestling is nice because it gives you the chance to be yourself or a character inside the ring... And kick some ass while doing it.
Alysson: Do you think I could be... Like... A sexy hot bad ass female wrestler in some time?
I look at her, she's wearing that big shining smile of hers again.
Christian: I can't help you with the sexy... But a bad ass female wrestler?
I embrace my sister and smile at her.
Christian: You're going to be the BEST female wrestler the world's yet to see.
She nods with enthusiasm, before springing up to her feet.
Alysson: Then show me some moves, fool!
She quickly rolls into the ring and begins jumping around like a little dynamo. I smile widely as I shake my head.
Christian: Do I have any choice, now?
And then I join her inside the ring as we lock up into a friendly, happy training session between big bro and li'l sis.
The metaphors you use to attack me are quite funny, Michael. But let's set something straight between you and I: the industry wouldn't be lesser off without me, but it sure would be better off without YOU. Hurting people and making them regret being in the square with you is what you do best, Señor Extremo? That's not how it looked like when I walked all over you and more two hopefuls before getting to a man bigger, badder and most dangerous than you and stripping him from the Honor Championship... That, as a matter of fact is still with me. And even Lex Sense sent me home with an apparent concussion. You weren't able to pull that one off. While I was battling the big-evils, you were coasting with your fake extremist luchador alterego, putting up some shabby nothings and failing like a rookie.
Yes, Spike; you've been failing, and you're still failing. Why did you take SO LONG to claim your own identity back? Isn't it that, maybe just maybe, the rest of the world is right, and you're just a dying carcass of the man you used to be? Living on your past glories will only lead you to be a grumpy old man with your memory photo book and a handful of stories to tell your grandnephews. As far as the PRESENT goes, Michael, you're history. And I'm MAKING history.
With a truth so sad, I don't even have to gob into your face to show you my disdain.
So we're back to where we started: I think I pissed Spike Kane off... Good. That's exactly what I wanted to do. Because if it's really going to be a Night to Remember, I want to remember this night as the one when Christian Gardner fought Spike Kane as he is. No honor, no half-assed displays, no excuses. I want you to bring your worst to Miami, like Bradley took his best AND his worst when I beat him in that parking lot. I want this to be the one night where, for the first time in over three months, Alysson Gardner didn't get involved, and the better man took it all. Or the worse man.
Let's face it, Michael: it's not about honor anymore. It's about inflicting pain. Causing suffer. Imposing power. And above than fighting under the strict Honor Rules you've created, Mike... Enduring and returning pain is what I'm the best at. And when we're all finished, something BIG will have been made. The one of us standing tall when it's all said and done will go back home with far more than a championship belt. It's going to be the halt of a record, or the breaking of a new one.
Are you prepared to break MY record, Michael Kane? For I'm more than prepared not to let you.
Rock out.
PRESENT DAY
(Quick fade in at the Ragnal-Gardner's house. Linda Ragnal is on the phone.)Linda: ... I see. Do you-- [...] Is that what you really want to do? [...] You don't know what you're doing, woman. You should stop and listen to him, at least for once. If only you-- [...] HE DID WHAT?!
(Fade out.)