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Post by Eddie Lopez on Jul 9, 2019 20:10:37 GMT -5
From the sold out talking stick arena in Phoenix (14,500)
1 RP 300 minimum and 3000 maximum
Deadline is Wednesday 7/17/19. 11:59 pm.
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Post by Mack "The Knife" McKane on Jul 17, 2019 19:39:16 GMT -5
“Those who escape Hell, however, never talk about it… …& nothing much bothers them after that.” -Charles Bukowski -The Mindless Ramblings of a Madcap Shambleton- I’m a nice guy.I hold the doors open for the people behind me, I tip generously at the pub, Hell I’ve even been known to escort a kindly old lady across the street.So why?Why do you persist, Malachi?See I know you better than you could ever imagine I do...a fact you’ll never let yourself realize or let the masses see. I understand what it’s like to be burdened by glorious purpose...what we have to do to save those we love. I’ve seen it firsthand...worse than you could ever imagine....your thinly veiled thank you was noted.How are we on a scale of 1 to 10, lad?See I don’t...WANT to do this. I wanted to let you and the lady ride off into the sunset. I know exactly what Hell knocks at your doorstep and I have TRIED...time and time again...to shield you from it!AND YET...YOU...PERSIST!!!And now your constant need for validation has driven you square into the dead end of my cul-de-sac....welcome to Elm Street...I’ll be your guide.-A Lantern In The Darkness- (We see the outer visage of what appears to be a prison as we see a man in a long black trenchcoat and a sullen face flow into the scene...Mack McKane looks up at the sign with a pained expression on his face as he gulps hard and saunters through the front door. He checks in at the front desk and is led into a room...where he takes a seat in front of a pane of glass and waits...it’s not long before a ragged looking man who bears a striking resemblance to him enters with a warm smile on his face. He sits down, and with his hands still cuffed he reaches up and grabs the phone as Mack does the same.)Mack McKane: ...ya look well...all things considered.Man: What are you doing here, youngblood. You should be out there...living for both of us.Mack McKane: I can’t just leave you to rot in here like this...d’you know how dangerous things could get!? You ARE the pretty one after all!(The man scoffs and runs his fingers through his tousled hair.)Mack McKane: Ken...there’s somethin’ I needed to tell you.Ken McKane: And what’s that, dear brother?Mack McKane: ...I found ‘em.(The man sits forward in his chair with a horrored expression on his face as he begins speaking very sternly.)Ken McKane: Now you listen to me...you stay away from them.Mack McKane: But I-Ken McKane: STAY. AWAY. I didn’t bite that bullet just so you could go back to the Merry Fucked Land of Oz, I DID it so you could get a new start!Mack McKane: THEY...WILL PAY!Guard: QUIET THERE!Mack McKane: I didn’t come here to ask for permission. I came here to tell you I have a job now...a thumpin’ good one...and if I can win my next couple matches, I’ll have the money to get you a PROPER trial but in the MEANTIME...I WILL hunt.Ken McKane: *sigh* I suppose there’s no stoppin’ ya…Guard: That’s time!Mack McKane: I put a couple bees (money) in your commissary, should last ya till my next visit.Ken McKane: Just...be CAREFUL little brother.Mack McKane: Surely.(Mack and Ken press their hands to the glass as the scene shifts)-Shadows Fall Amongst The Angels Best Intentions- (We open and we see a chilling sight...we see the Darkest Carnival. It’s haunted light illuminating through the tree-swallowed path upon which we see a tortured soul bound to each tree trunk caked in blood and either unconscious or crying out for help...a dark figure moves amongst them as the camera swings around to show the worried features of Mack McKane.)Mack McKane: I...shouldn’t be here. And I mean that in every sense of the word. I shouldn’t be in these woods, I shouldn’t be on this Earth, I shouldn’t be...PERIOD. But I am...I AM because sacrifices were made on my behalf. I trended for three days after I decimated Johnny Sins...whatever that means. And now I’m told “Mack...the people are clamoring! They need to know more about you!”...well no...no you fuckin’ don’t.(Mack cuts a few of the poor souls free, one collapses and can’t move...but the other attacks! Mack sidesteps the weak thrust and the Stockholm Syndrome ridden asshole that charged him goes head first into a tree trunk. Mack slinks through the trees and his eyes grow wide as he reaches out, now close to one of the tents that seems familiar to him.)Mack McKane: You people want a fuckin’ story? You want to see what I’m about? Look around you. Here’s your answer.(Mack flips open his butterfly knife and slices through the wall of the tent...the light instantly illuminates his face as he removes his mask...with a wicked smile on his face.)Mack McKane: ...this is where I leave you, darlings...until I am fully ready...if you’ll ‘scuse me.(Mack saunters into the tent and we hear a wicked hiss that turns into a blood curdling scream! We hear loud punches being landed and a massive scuffle ensuing as the freaks are alerted to the area and the camera cuts to black with the last shot of the cameraman getting the Hell out of Dodge.)-The Vampyre of Time and Memory-“Ain’t no confusion here… It is as I feared. The illusion that you feel is real. To be vulnerable is needed most of all… ...if you intend to truly fall apart.” (We open to see a completely white makeshift operating room. White, fluid-resistant plastic curtains flow in the gentle breeze. Everything just looks...cold. The only difference of color is the pewter altar in the middle of the room with a seemingly naked but heavily tattooed man lying on it’s cold tabletop thrashing against his restraints which seem to be layers upon layers of clear seran wrap as his mouth is gagged and his head is secured. We know him to be the knife throwing maniac in Reverend Synister’s Darkest Carnival.)Voice: Do you know...what your sin is?(Suddenly dressed in all white to match the aesthetic of the room, in saunters the rough features of Mack “The Knife” McKane. He walks up to the table and runs his hand through the freak’s hair and shushes him like a mother reassuring her newborn babe.)Mack McKane: There, there, love...Daddy’s got ya.(Mack straightens his back out and begins to stretch pacing around the room like a feral Tiger in a cage.)Mack McKane: You want your little story, eh? Wanna know what pops in me gob? What makes me...tick? Nah, bruv...nothin’ personal but this story is...well actually it’s QUITE personal. But I’ll tell you what I do. I will tell you everything and your bleedin’ little hearts desire can come true as long as you all realize I am telling this story to one...person…...YOU.Mack McKane: ‘Cause that’s what it is now, innit? Showdown of the Century? The Unstoppable Force meets the Immovable Psycho? MACK MCKANE...VERSUS...THAT EVIL SWINE, MALACHI! God that’s MILLIONS, innit!? That is a HISTORICAL match in and of itself and whattya do? You go and make it HARDCORE!!! Bruv...if you wanna roll these dice...you understand and you understand good that me? I don’t DO “hardcore”...I do Deathmatch.Mack McKane: Because I like it. I love the pain. It’s all I have LEFT! So let me tell you a ‘ickle tell, eh? Pull up a chair, Junior...this one’s gonna get intense.(Mack kicks the legs of a chair sending it skidding backwards as he plops in it right as it gets to the freak’s head and Mal begins stroking his cheek lovingly.)Mack McKane: ...you seen it. We was there, weren’t we? Yeah. I got the info you so desperately seek...I KNOW...where the Darkest Carnival is. But sorry bruv...my lips are sealed. MY lips are sealed ‘cause I made a promise...a promise NOT to let you go bugger all in balls to the wall gettin’ yourself killed. And they WILL kill you...I’d know…(Mack removes his mask and stares at the spikes playing with one of them in his fingers as his gaze drops and we hear…)“I want God to come...and take me home… ‘Cause I’m all alone...in this crowd. ...who are you to me? ...who’m I supposed to be? Not exactly sure...anymore.” Mack McKane: ...I know where the Darkest Carnival is because I was born into it.(There is a calm hush as even the freak stops bustling as if Mack has his attention.)Mack McKane: My Pop...was a wicked slinger. Could chuck a knife and hit a bullseye every time from 20 yards away. Started out as a tourist trap...a peddler that would take bets and scrape together just enough for us not to starve. We lived in a conversion van...my Pa, my Ma, little ol’ Me...and my brother, Kenny. Weren’t a lot...but we was alive...and we had each other. Aww...touchin’ little story, innit?(Mack reaches to a nearby tray and grabs hold of a quite large carving knife as he twirls it playfully in his fingers which makes the freak start to thrash a little harder moaning for help as Mack slaps the blunt side of the blade against his exposed belly.)Mack McKane: SHUT UP!!!! STAY STILL!!! I’m TRYIN’ to TELL a bleedin’ STORY!!!(Mack sits back down after adjusting his coat, staring off into the abyss for a moment, then snapping back to reality.)Mack McKane: See Dad was on a particularly good roll one day an’ he got a little wild hair on his bollocks...took a bet that he could William Tell an apple off a girl’s head. Of course...he nails it. Next thing he knows, everyone scatters...and a smooth talkin’ sonuvabitch slides his way into my Pop’s world. Offerin’ him a show...his own mobile home...everything we’d ever need. Only he had to do one...simple...favor, innit? Blood out...blood in.(Mack’s expression somehow darkens even more as he is glaring a hole through the side of the freaks head.)Mack McKane: ...needless to say the knife tosser on the payroll magically handed in his resignation that night...for lack of a better term. I was too young to get it...but I noticed the guilt weighing heavy on me Pop’s face. He turned to the bottle...hard to regret somethin’ you can’t remember, innit? He was fine for awhile...but they had to keep steppin’ up the show. Dad would stay sober, do the show, then hit the rye. But the show was now a double act...me Mum.(The rage melts away as we see the single most heartbreaking wave of despair crash across the scarred features of the young man.)Mack McKane: She...she’d get strapped to a table like some common animal...like this FECKLESS SCUM I have before you here. And they’d spin her...and spin her...and Dad would throw those damned knives! Night in and night out...each show, he’d miss...each show she sported a few new cuts from his “talents”...and the pain on her face...it drove him to drink more. So he did...one show he showed up so sauced he saw triple....we SHOULDN’T have let her go…(Mack shrieks in pure blood-curdling agony as he throws the carvers knife sticking square in the middle of a picture of the Reverend Synister’s face on a board nearby. Mack is audibly sobbing now as he reaches in his pocket and pulls out a bottle of pills, taking three of them and popping them in his mouth swallowing them down with the sadness.)Mack McKane: ...she was gone...the one good thing...the one light we had in our shitshow of lives...taken from us...the bottles piled up...the rages got worse...he’d say we looked too much like her and begin taking it out on us...the humanity in his eyes was gone. Replaced by nothing but an abyss of pain and shame. We got tougher...so the beatings got worse...and when beating didn’t do the job…(Mack has stood up and began unbuttoning his trenchcoat with sunken eyes...slowly one by one with emphasis on each one...we see he’s not wearing a shirt. And once the last button is freed...he slides the coat off...and we see his entire torso, back, and arms...are riddled with scarred cuts.)Mack McKane: ...Jack Russow found me half-dead in a ditch...now you know why I owe him my life. You’ll get the rest of the story in time...was that enough for you? Do you SEE now? See...it’s like this, innit...I don’t DO this pro wrestling gig ‘cause I dreamed of it. I don’t DO this because I have championship aspirations...I do this because I am PISSED. I’m FUCKED in the head, Malachi! I’m a scrawny little whelp from Camden that’s been BACKED into a corner with one FUCKING MASSIVE CHIP ON MY SHOULDER!(Mack takes the chair and flings it as hard as he can as we hear it loudly crash through the halls as Mack grabs a butcher knife off the tray and maniacally laughs in the freaks face who is now bawling his eyes out thrashing for his life.)Mack McKane: And you’ve PISSED away all your “shiny new toy” essence and buggered with the wrong motherfuckers! Boy, I don’t know who the FUCKIN’ Hell you pissed off so bad to draw this lot but I’d sue if I was you! Me? In a DEATHMATCH!? Bruv, I’ll bleed MYSELF dry just for the fuck of it! I’ve bled Jack dry! I’ve bled Milo dry! And them is my boys!...the FUCK d’you think I’m gonna do to a sniveling little prick I HATE!?(Mack runs the flat end of the butcher knife along the belly of the freak smacking it playfully.)Mack McKane: See you? You NEED this match, don’tcha! You NEED this match to prove you got the stones to take on the Darkest Carnival in the first place don’tcha! You NEED me! Just like you needed me in the past! See it was ME that saved your wee lass outside that store when you two were flashin’ your asses just BEGGIN’ to get got. It was ME standing side by side with the man you hate and your bleedin’ SISTER...once again saving your ass! As far as this Hardcore stipulation goes, I have to admit something…(Mack leans towards the camera happily whispering behind his cupped hand)Mack McKane: ...it was me!(Mack cackles and slaps the freak hard on the belly as he begins oddly fluttering around the room almost dancing...it seems he’s come a bit unhinged.)Mack McKane: I wanna see what you do when everything is ripped away...when you’re down to skin and bone. I wanna see if you got that killer instinct you’re gonna need! ‘Cause believe me bruv...anything less?...and I’ll be glad you signed a waiver.Mack McKane: Pull your head outta your arse, kid...playtime’s over. I’m gonna hurt you...as only I know how. And then I’M finishing those rotten bastards myself. ‘Cause that honor isn’t YOURS...YOU haven’t put in the time or the pain to deserve it. The Reverend Synister...is MINE. He’s mine for everything he’s taken from me...he’s mine for my brother...he’s mine because I just straight want his blood. So as one last measure of mercy...knowing what you know now...and knowing what I can do? Get TH’FUCK outta my way! Or else…...your girl will watch me eat your fuckin’ heart.Mack McKane: NOW!...what to do with you...my pretty!(Mack gently runs the blade edge across the freaks belly as we see a brilliant line of crimson rush forth to greet the world as the freak shrieks at the top of his muffled lungs.)Mack McKane: Oh now that just won’t do at ALL will it! I’m going to need some mood music!(Mack cuts the wrappings off the freaks mouth…)Freak: Please...PLEASE...I BEG OF YOU!!! MERCY!!! MERCY!!!Mack McKane: Awww bruv…’aven’t you been paying attention?(Mack leans in closely grabbing the freaks head and whispering in his ear as he whimpers.)“...Blood In...Blood Out…” (Mack shoo’s the camera away as a curtain flutters down and we see their silhouettes as we hear Mack begin whistling “I’m Forever Blowing Bubbles” which is drowned out by the blood-curdling screams of pain echoing the air as we see the shadow of Mack thrashing with every blade he can get his hands on as we fade to black.)
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Post by Malachi on Jul 18, 2019 0:58:41 GMT -5
“I don’t like it.”
Sitting in a dark, dingy bar somewhere in New York City, Bella Madison stared into the glass of her drink, an angry look across her face. Next to her, Malachi took a drink of his own beer, setting the glass down.
“What’s that?” he asked, looking over at her.
“Management putting you into a hardcore match with Mack,” she said. “If it wasn’t for him, Jack, and Alanah, I would be in a burn ward right now.”
Mal scoffed derisively. “So?”
She gave him a sympathetic look, leaning her head on his shoulder. “You’re not still upset about what happened at Riot, are you?”
“Three times, Bells,” he said quietly, staring down at his glass. “Three times I couldn’t protect you from that fuckin’-” He ground his teeth together, seemingly trying to calm himself down. After a moment, he relaxed and let out a defeated sigh. “I just don’t know what else I can do."
“Could start by buying your favourite uncle a beer.”
Both Mal and Bella whipped around at the sound of the voice behind them and were greeted with the sight of a heavyset man, grinning broadly underneath a mass of facial hair. His face was heavily scarred, but his smile was friendly. A rare smile grew across the face of Malachi as he got up from his stool and embraced the man.
“Uncle Joe!” he said. “What the hell are you doing here?”
The man took the stool next to Mal’s and signaled to the bartender. “Ah, the boy’s got some eyes on him here in the States, so we decided to make it a family trip. Been an age since we’ve done that.”
The bartender set a glass of beer down in front of the man, and he nodded his head before lifting it to take a long drink. “Now, you gonna sit there like an arse, or you gonna introduce me to your lady friend?” He looked over and gave Bella a little wink.
“Right, sorry. Bells, this is my uncle Joe Pearson. He was a wrestler in the 80’s and 90’s back on the British scene,” Mal said.
“Back then, I was known as the ‘Crawley Nightmare’ Joseph Butcher,” Joe said with an easy laugh. “Known for having the bloodiest matches anywhere in the UK.”
“And this is Bella Madison,” Mal went on. “Second generation wrestler in her own right.”
Bella extended her hand. “Nice to meet you. Mal’s told me quite a bit.”
“Every word of it true,” Joe winked again, and Bella giggled.
“So, how exactly did you find us here?” Mal asked, as the bartender brought over another round and put it down in front of them.
“Wasn’t hard, considering you’re your father’s son,” Joe said. “Anytime your da was feeling down on himself, he’d find himself at the local pub. With the way things are going in your career…” He shrugged, taking a swig of beer.
Mal looked down at the bar. “Yeah, well…” He took a long pull from his glass.
“Look, I know you got that hardcore match coming up. And I don’t know if you want any advice from a washed-up bleeder, but I’m gonna give it to you anyways,” Joe said. “You can’t let any of this shit stay festering in your head if you want to come out of this with most of your blood inside your body. Whatever you gotta do to get it out, do it.”
Mal sat quiet for a moment, thinking it over. Bella nudged him in the side. “He’s right, you know. You can’t let this keep taking up your mind.”
Mal nodded, draining the last of his drink.
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Inside the apartment of Bella Madison and Malachi 2 a.m.
Another sleepless night for me, Malachi thought morosely.
He stared up at the ceiling tiles, ones he was extremely familiar with at this point. For weeks, ever since what had happened at Riot, he couldn’t get a decent night’s sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see the events as if they had just happened. The helplessness he felt at being restrained, watching in horror as Levi stood in the centre of the ring and doused Bella in gasoline…
He shook his head to clear the images, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves. He knew he should take his uncle’s advice to heart, but it was hard. Never in his life had he felt such abject terror.
He hated it. He hated the fact that this was consuming his every thought, both waking and sleeping. He hated that he couldn’t keep the promise that he’d made to Bella back in Paris to always keep her safe. But most of all, he hated that he now had to accept the fact that he would more than likely have to team up with Jack Russow, of all people, in order to even get some semblance of revenge against Levi, Syn and the Darkest Carnival. It rankled him to the very pit of
He heard a soft sigh and turned to see Bella roll over towards him, snuggling into his side. He smiled a bit, kissing her forehead softly before slowly moving out of the bed and heading into the bathroom.
A few moments later, he emerged dressed in loose fitting shorts, a white T-shirt and running shoes. He looked over at Bella’s sleeping form once again, giving her one last soft kiss on her forehead before picking up his phone and keys and quietly slipping out of the apartment.
About an hour later
Having run the entirety of Central Park, Malachi collapsed onto a nearby bench, breathing heavy and wiping the sweat from his forehead. He stared off into the distance as he caught his breath, running a hand through his hair.
“It’s like a constant reoccurring nightmare and I can’t fuckin’ kick it. I have tried and tried and bless Bella, she has done all that she can. But even you can see the pure frustration that we have all been dealing with. Red, White and Bruised was the closest we got to any kind of redemption out of that sorry son of a bitch and for what? That bastard to mock it on Twitter. And now this....this match in the main event of Riot where it’s sure one, if not both of us are going to be left lying bloody in that ring. I don’t fucking give a shit about any of them, I just need to prove something to myself.”
He leveled his gaze to the camera, his face an impassive mask void of emotion. “And that’s the worst part of it, because I know what I have to do. If I am to get to the one man that haunts her dreams, I need to beat the fuck out of perhaps one of the sickest bastards I have ever seen.”
He held up three fingers to the camera. “Three times. Three times that asshole has gotten the jump on me and Bella. Three times I’ve failed to keep her safe. The third time…” His voice cracked as he looked down at the ground. “The third time I almost lost her.”
He looked back up to the camera, his blue eyes blazing with fury. “And then, the Three Musketeers just had to run down and play hero, didn’t they? And see, I’m a bit confused about it. She was told she was on her own. Yeah I said ‘Thank you’, but I don’t know what the hell else they want. So fine, I’ll go into Riot, I’ll beat respect into Mack McKane, bleed buckets of blood if I have to and make them understand one very simple thing. When I said I would walk through Hell and back for Bella, I wasn’t talking out of my arse. There is nothing I will not do to ensure that I get my revenge. And on Friday night, you will all know exactly what I am capable of. ”
Rising from the bench, Malachi drew his thumb across his throat with a vicious snarl, before turning on his heel and walking off into the New York night.
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