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Post by Laura Phoenix - HBIC on Jan 20, 2022 22:24:20 GMT -5
PWS: APEX PresentsRiotTuesday, February 1st, 2022Toyota Center, Houston, TexasWe are on the road to Demons Run!Main EventDemon’s Run Elimination Chamber Qualifying MatchSingles MatchMalachi vs. Tyson SykesRoleplays due by Sunday, January 30th, 2022 by 11:59pm Eastern5000 word maximum300 word minimum
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Post by sykes on Jan 30, 2022 20:29:44 GMT -5
"So, we're almost out of time Tyson, but I just want to say one final thing." Great. Here we fucking go. "Earlier in our conversation you talked a lot about Kayla... and I understand that's a sore subject for you. But I fear that the things you perceive as the reasons why Kayla left you are not entirely the actual factors at all. I'm so incredibly grateful that you've turned to find help Tyson, because from the sounds of it you've been surrounding yourself by people who are not only agreeing with you and telling you only what you want to hear - -
but they're manipulating you Tyson. They're trying to make you think that you're something that you're not. You're not insane. You're not a mad man. Sure, you have some anger issues that I'd love to talk about further with you... but you're not the abnormality that you think you are. Everyone has disagreements with the significant other Tyson, absolutely everybody. But the problem is, you stopped listening to what she was telling you the problem was, and started listening to everybody else telling you what THEY think the problem is." I could feel her eyes on me, as if she was waiting for me to praise her. To snap out of this into some epiphany. She was notably disappointed.
"Okay Tyson. That's all the time we have. Just... think about what I said, okay? Mental health is a dangerous thing, especially when you have such a negative self image like you do. You're not a bad person Tyson. But the most dangerous thing of all is when you surround yourself with bad people? That's when the lines start to get blurred in your head. THAT... is how you become a bad person."
...
"Tyson?"
Was... was she right?
"Tyson... are you okay?"
Am I surrounding myself with bad people?
"TYSON!" My eyes snapped up to meet hers suddenly. She shook the shock off quickly.
"Jus-... just think about it. Okay?"
...
No.
"Sanders was right," I said as I stood up. "This was a waste of time. Fuck you."
She didn't say a word as I excited the office, slamming the door so hard the 'Dr. Batya Martin' nameplate almost swung clear off the window. Who the fuck does this women think she is? ANTITHESIS have been the only people there for me. Nobody else actually cares. Nobody else truly gives a shit.
So tell me.
Why the fuck should I?
"You should have stayed gone. You should have stayed home. Because now? There's going to be one less branch on the fucked up Madison/O'Connell family tree."
The scene opens with a shot of momentary static before fading in on the Toyota Center in Houston, Texas. It's dark and the parking lot is mostly empty sans a few cars scattered around the massive lot. We don't see the man, but we hear the voice of Tyson Sykes emit from behind the camera.
"I got a lot to get off my chest this evening, so if it's all the same to everyone watching at home, let's skip the bullshit and rambling and cut right to the point, shall we?
Right here is the place, Malachi. This is the arena you're going to pull up to in your rental car. This is the arena you're going to walk around in, shoot the shit with the boys and girls that you haven't seen in a few months while you bask in the glow of your 'magnificent return'. This is the arena you're going to tape up your wrists once again - put on those knee pads and lace up those boots... once again. And this is the arena that you're going to hug your beautiful wife, tell her how excited you are to be back and how excited you are to once again have a shot to get your name into the PWS Apex Championship running again. She'll return your embrace, tell you how proud of you she is.
And then when 'Blood//Water' by grandson blares through the speakers for the first time in months, and as the fans buzz with anticipation - this is the arena you'll bust through the curtain of to the roar of your fans. There's going to be a lot of memories for you made tonight, Malachi, and I want you to savor that very moment. I want you to stop at the top of the entrance ramp and close your eyes as grandson screams out -
🎶 'We'll never get free Lamb to the slaughter What you gon' do when there's blood in the water?' 🎶
- I want you to feel the energy of the capacity crowd flow through you, the heat from the bright lights that flash around and pass over you, and internalize that moment.
... then I want you to open your eyes. I want you to snap back to reality - and I want you to make the last few steps to the ring, just as grandson foreshadowed for you - as a lamb to the slaughter.
For this arena will indeed be the place of your rebirth - but it will also be your fucking funeral home. Because you chose to do what you did last week. You were the one who decided that was a good idea - not Star Stormz, not Laura Pheonix, not Josiah Cena. Malachi O'Connell... you made the decision to attack 'The Ripper' Tyson Sykes, and now you pay the price for your actions." Sykes turns the camera to his face, a mix of confident determination and psychotic rage plastered over it. With a snarl Sykes sets the camera on a nearby lamp post base and sits down on a curb, staring daggers into the camera with the soft glow of the Toyota Center behind him.
"Here's the kicker Malachi, I like you. I've said it before and I'll say it again - you got it all. You're fast, you're athletic, if your head wasn't shaped like a Wheaties box then you'd have an impeccable look - and pound for pound you're one of the strongest competitors in the game. When you're in the ring there's no doubt that you're one of the best in PWS: Apex.
But there lies the issue I have - because you've become what I've ranted and raved about since the day I showed my ugly mug in this company... and that's that you decide when you're going to compete. You, like everyone else who shares your family dinners, think they can come and go as they please. That they don't have to work to prove they belong like a Dionysus. That they don't have to put on match of the night candidates every show like An Alexander Lyons. That you don't have to fight tooth and nail night in and not out for a spot like a Jonathan Sanders. You all act as if this business isn't a sport of competition and proving that you're the best. Instead it's a playground for all of you spoiled brats to play in when you don't feel like pretending you're on an episode of Full House anymore. So while people like ANTITHESIS are busting their ass and spilling blood to get ten minutes of air time - people like you get to sit at home until they decide they want that air time, and they get it. Not because they're also fighting, and competing, and spilling blood like us. But because they fucked someone who shares the same blood as those who write the checks. People like us HAVE to be the best because we have to earn our air time - we can't get it by getting our dicks wet like you people."
The snarl returns to Sykes face as he looks off to the side of the camera, seemingly in deep thought. As if reacting to a conversation in his own mind, Sykes throws his hands up in exasperation.
"Now don't get it twisted. I asked for new competition and I'm actually happy that you had the balls to step up and give me that Malachi. I'm not pissed off because you attacked me. I'm not pissed off that I have to fight you to get a spot inside Demons Run Elimination Chamber match. I'm pissed off because I could see it in your eyes when I watched that attack back. I could see the confidence - the arrogance, in those beady little eyes of yours. You really think that you have it in the bag. You think you're the popular kid coming back from detention who's just going to beat the shit out of one of the outcasts and get everything handed to you on a silver platter. And why wouldn't you think that? You've been conditioned to think that. You've been breed to believe that when you want something, you get it - signed sealed and delivered.
Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news my friend - but the only thing getting handed to you at Riot is going to be when I hand you your ass in the center of the ring while the entire choir of cowards that you call a family watch." Sykes eyes snap back to the camera with malice.
"So now that that's up out the way... let's talk about the elephant in the room shall we? And that is that the winner of this contest gets an opportunity to earn a PWS: Apex championship. The grandest prize in this company. What men and women dream of when they enter this company. Since day one I've said that my main goal in this company is to take that Championship by force... so that then all of you fucking haters will have to sit back, shut the fuck up and admit that you were wrong. That I am the absolute best wrestler in this company, and the most dangerous competitor walking Satan's shitty Earth.
So let's look at the facts Malachi, the accolades that say who truly deserves this opportunity. Measure dicks, if you will. Since my debut I've seen you have some great matches. Incredible wars. And you've come unimaginably close to greatness. But last time I checked this isn't horseshoes, and unless you've got a hand grenade tucked somewhere then close enough ain't shit my friend.
Since I've joined PWS: Apex I've beaten EVERYBODY they've thrown in my path. Shawn Young? I beat him. Cleo Phillips? I beat her. Bella Madison? Beat her. The Commonwealth, the undeniable best classic tag team in the business today? We beat them AND took the tag straps in the process. Chaz Holiday, PWS Hall of Famer? Beat him. And Nick Madison - a man who's held every title there is to hold in this company and arguably one of the most notorious PWS superstars of all time... you guessed it. I beat him. Everyone that has been thrown in my path, one way or another I've put down and added to the ever growing body count.
And what about you, Malachi? While I was busy wrestling almost every single show and racking up one of the most impressive records of the year, what did you do in 2021? I main evented over half a dozen matches this year, and if my calculations are correct, you? You wrestled six matches. SIX. And of those six? You lost four times. In 2021 you won TWO matches. Not only that, but guess who TWO of your loses were at the hands of? Oh yeah, Nick Madison, the same guy I just beat a few weeks back. All you've done is win useless matches, and lose anything worth a damn.
But most importantly, most notably, you HAD your shot. You were given an opportunity to finally win the big one at the very event coming up. At Demons Run this time last year you were standing in the ring with Sierra Williams and the then champion Mack McKane, with the PWS: Apex championship on the line. This could have been your night. This could have been the night you finally lived up to the potential that everyone said you had. You could have seen that opportunity presented to you, grabbed the brass ring and run the fuck to the moon with it. So did you?
No. Sierra Williams did.
While you sat around wrestling on and off for a year, Sierra Williams has gone on to have one of the most impressive championship runs in PWS history. Hell, Mack McKane has even had a memorable year. He's lost his fucking mind, but at least people remember who the hell he is. But you? You haven't done anything recently. I'm fact, that's just the story of your career thus far isn't it? Tons of talent... tons of potential... but the only thing important you've EVER done?
Is the bosses daughter." With a smirk, Sykes stands and grabs the camera, pointing it at Toyota Center.
"I asked for an opportunity, and whether it was your idea or staffs idea to try and make your nobel comeback against me? It doesn't matter. I will not allow you to use me as publicity to get back what 'name' you had when you left. Tyson Sykes is nobodies stepping stone. This is MY time. I'm not going to allow this rare opportunity to slip through my fingers like you did a year ago. I'm going to walk into this arena Tuesday, February 1st, and I'm going to knock your square head off your shoulders clear back to Waterford.
Honestly? Maybe losing this match is best case scenario for you Malachi.
That way you can go back home for another couple months and maybe try again in the summer to find someone better than you again to attack from behind in an attempt be relevant again." Sykes voice fades with this final sentence, and doesn't return. The scene slowly fades with a final shot of the Toyota Center, before fading to static, and then black.
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Post by Malachi on Jan 30, 2022 23:51:17 GMT -5
Jan. 17 Denver, Colorado
“Yunno, I’m getting real fuckin’ sick and tired of this shit.”
Sitting in the medical office backstage at the Ball Arena, Malachi scowled darkly as he held an ice pack to the side of his head. It had been about an hour since he and his wife had been jumped on their way into the arena to support Lach in his match. His entire body felt like one big bruise, and probably looked the part as well. His head was pounding like a convention of carpenters had taken up residence, and he closed his eyes against a fresh wave of stabbing pain behind his eyes. He felt a gentle hand on his knee, and he slowly opened his eyes to the concerned face of Bella hovering inches away from him. That put a slight smile on his face as he laid his free hand on top of hers and gave it a slight squeeze. “You keep frowning like that, you’re gonna get wrinkles in your forehead the size of the Grand Canyon.”
That only served to deepen her frown, her blue eyes narrowing slightly. “How can you joke right now? I just watched you get jumped and damn near have your head bashed in on the concrete!”
“Not like they could have. Thick skull, remember?” He gently rapped on the side of his head with his knuckles, which he immediately regretted as a sharp pain dashed across his forehead and he winced. “At least that’s what everyone tells me.”
“Malachi, don’t even right now. I’m fucking terrified. Not just for us, but for Lach. He did bring Sierra and the girls, remember? Angel’s getting desperate. I think she’s going to do something really despicable.”
Mal let out a sigh, putting the ice pack aside and taking up both of Bella’s hands. “Look, we were jumped outside the arena. I don’t know the owners of this place personally, but I doubt they’d let anything happen to anyone inside the building. As far as I know, Lach’s got a secure room, and the crew’s on high alert for any of Angel’s bullshit. Things are going to be fine.”
Just as he finished speaking, a knock at the door drew their attention, and they glanced up to see Charlie Jones walk into the room with a concerned expression on her face. “You may want to come with me. Something’s happened to Sierra and Lach’s disappeared.”
Both Bella and Mal’s eyes widened and they shot up off their chairs to follow Charlie down the hallway. Along the way, Bella shot him a look that clearly said ‘Told you so.’ Mal tamped down the terror rising in his chest as they approached the chaotic scene, seeing the EMTs loading Sierra Williams onto a stretcher and wheeling it down the hallway towards the parking garage.
“What the fuck happened?” Mal said, watching as his sister-in-law passed by, her face a mottled mess of bruises and dried blood.
“We’re still trying to piece everything together, but we have our suspicions…” Charlie said, running a hand through her hair.
“Angel,” Bella spat, the venom dripping in her voice. “Just give me five minutes in a room with that sadistic little bi-”
Mal laid a hand on her shoulder. It was a rare reversal of roles for the couple, Mal the calm and collected one while Bella was practically frothing at the mouth with anger. “Ms. Jones, you said that my brother disappeared?”
The PWE General Manager nodded. “The witnesses said that as soon as the crew were taking care of Sierra, he took off running down the hallway. Someone said he looked like he’d seen a ghost.”
A cold pit of anxiety dropped into Mal’s stomach as he made a realization. “The girls.”
The two women also made the realization, and Charlie’s eyes widened and Bella gasped before clapping a hand to her mouth. “She wouldn’t…”
“She damn well would. And Lachlan knows that. I’d get to his locker room ASAP, unless you want this place swimming in blood once Lachlan gets his hands on Angel.”
“Are you two going to be OK?” Charlie said.
“Doctor said we just need rest and we’ll be fine. Lach should be your priority right now. Don’t really feel like bailing him out of jail, and I’m sure your company wouldn’t appreciate the negative press that would come with one of your roster members getting arrested for murder.”
Charlie hesitated a moment before nodding her head and heading off down the hallway. As she walked off, Mal ran a hand down his face. The adrenaline of the moment was starting to wear off, and the aches and pains were returning to his body with a vengeance. “Guess we should head to the hospital. Lach’s still got his match coming up, so he won’t be leaving here for a while. Don’t want Si waking up by herself.”
Still visibly shaken by everything that just occurred, Bella just nodded as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and they headed off towards the parking garage.
—---------
One week later New York City
“Dammit!”
Tossing the phone to the side where it landed on a couch cushion, Mal ran a hand through his hair with a frustrated growl, tugging at the short brown strands. On the other side of him, his dog Luka let out a pitiful whine and laid her head on his knee, staring up at him with her dual-coloured eyes. He glanced down at her, giving her a scratch behind her ears.
Wandering into the living room, Bella plopped down on the loveseat across from Mal. “Still can’t get a hold of Lach?”
He shook his head. “Not a damn word. I even got in touch with Sierra, and she hasn’t heard from him either. Just one quick text to say he was fine, and then radio silence. Other than those damn cryptic tweets he’s been putting out.”
Bella chewed on her thumbnail, staring off into space. “His friend Kasey had said that she’s seen him like this once before, back in Japan. What happened there?”
“Far as I know, he had a pretty intense feud with a guy out there, something similar to what’s going on now. The guy was threatening the family, but he never went as far as Angel’s taken it. From what I’ve heard, Lach went to a pretty dark place during that whole time. I’m kind of fuzzy on the details, and he doesn’t really talk about it much other than to say that he did what he had to do to protect the family.”
Bella rose up from her seat and moved over to sit beside Mal, laying her head on his shoulder. “Do you think we should be worried about him? Is it possible he’s going to that dark place again?”
He sighed. “I’m not sure. He’s always been the level-headed one in the family. I’ve never seen him like this before. I want to believe he’s not gone off to do something stupid…but the truth is, I have no idea.” He ran a hand down his face again. “Besides, I can’t even worry about that right now. I just made my comeback in PWS, and now I’ve got Tyson Sykes to focus on. I’ve got an opportunity to get back my World title, and I’m not about to let it slip by. I just have to trust that whatever Lach’s thinking, wherever he is…he knows what he’s doing.”
—----
Twilight was descending on New York City, the sky shifting from the bright blue of the daytime sky to the inky darkness of nighttime. There was a sliver of sunlight hovering just above the horizon, painting the sky in bright vivid shades of orange, red and yellow while the first few stars started to emerge overhead.
It was here, sitting on the rooftop patio of his Manhattan townhome that Malachi could be found. Sitting in front of a large stone firepit with a warm blaze crackling merrily in front of him, his blue eyes reflecting the light as it danced across his face. His eyes flicked up to the camera set up across from him, and a smirk graced his lips as he began to speak.
“I told you all I would be back. You really think that psycho witch and her insane clown posse was going to run me off after they broke my arm like a bunch of cowards? Nah, it’ll take nothing short of putting me in the damn ground in a pine box to keep me away. And for anyone that sees that as a challenge…you’re more than welcome to try.”
He leaned forward slightly, picking up a log and tossing it onto the fire, watching the flames climb higher and the sparks dance up towards the sky. “When I was ready to come back, I was coming back to make a statement. That statement being - I am coming back for what’s mine. The PWS World Title. And there is not a man or a woman in this company that is going to get in my way. I mean, they can certainly try…if they’re complete masochists and enjoy pain, that is. Because I am not going to stop until I have that title in my hands again. And before anyone says anything, I am fully prepared to face Sierra again. We may be family, but we are professional wrestlers first. And this business means everything to us. So, once we come face to face for that belt again, all family connections go out the window. We know the stakes, and we know how this business works. There is no room for sentimentality.”
“But, first things first. There’s still the matter of getting into that chamber match at Demon’s Run. When I knew I was coming back, I had my sights set straight on that elimination chamber. I was ready to do whatever it took to get myself into that match, go through anyone I had to to secure my spot. And while I was backstage at the last Riot, waiting to speak with Laura and Ambika, a golden opportunity just happened to present itself. As I passed by a monitor, I watched as the show was hijacked by a screaming, crying, six-foot toddler. Bitching and whining about how he’s supposedly being treated like dog shit on a shoe. So, I thought to myself that I’d help the poor guy out. He wanted a match, and he got one. But you know how the saying goes, don’t you Tyson? Be careful what you wish for.”
The smirk on his face turned slightly sinister as his eyes narrowed. “You know, at one time I was just like you, Sykes. The cocky loudmouth with a chip on his shoulder, thinking the world owes him everything on a silver platter. You think that you’re the top dog in the pound, the big man on campus…” He paused a moment before letting out a chuckle. “Shit, now that I think about it, I’m pretty much still like that. The only difference is I’ve actually stopped throwing childish temper tantrums in the ring when I don’t get my way. I just show up, annihilate everyone they put in my path, and prove that I belong here.”
He leaned back on the chair, raising his leg to rest his ankle across his knee. “Much like I’m going to do to you come Tuesday night. You ever stop to think that maybe management is treating you like a child because you’re fucking acting like one? You literally said that you’ve been bitching and moaning for months to get a match. What the hell would make you think that Laura or Ambika would want to give you a match if you’re just going to behave like a spoiled little shitstain? Why should they reward you for throwing all your toys out of the pram and stomping around like a petulant pissant? It’s bad enough that you’re a champion…though to hear you tell it, you may as well have gotten spit in the face, the way you’re acting like you’re too good for it. You know, once I bash your brains in, get into the chamber and reclaim my World Title, I’d be more than happy to find a partner and relieve you of that strap. Just say when and where, mate. I’ve got no shortage of people that I would be more than happy to team with and rip those straps from your undeserving hands.”
He straightened out his leg and rose up from the chair, hovering over the fire so that it cast long shadows across his face. His blue eyes sparkled in the darkness as his expression fell into his trademark snarl. “But for now, I’m going to do something that’s been long overdue. You’re not going to the chamber, mate - you’re going to time out.”
He brought a hand up to slash his thumb across his throat before the camera lowered down to focus on the fire before gradually fading out to black.
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