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Post by Josiah Cena on Feb 4, 2022 23:50:54 GMT -5
PWS: APEX Tuesday Night RIOT Tuesday, February 15, 2022 American Airlines Center - Dallas, TexasSingles Match Aiden Reynolds vs. Jonathan Sanders
RP Deadline is Sunday, February 13 at 11:59pm est 1 rp each, 300 word minimum, 5000 word maximum
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Post by Aiden Reynolds on Feb 13, 2022 6:15:48 GMT -5
Dislocating, I lie awake Suffocating in my mistakes I lost my halo when I fell from grace But maybe next time I won't throw it all away Fracture.He was quiet. Which, if you know anything about Aiden Reynolds is equal parts strange and worrying. Thge normally motor mouthed Australian sat with a knife and fork in either hand, the blade gliding through the steak as he pops each piece in his mouth. The vegetables had been devoured at a faster rate than normal, he sat up straight and there was no humor, laughter or hint of his general personality or normal demeanor. He had been like this for a few days. As if lost in a world where thought after thought weighed heavily on his shoulders and weighed him down. He popped the last piece of steak in his mouth, a gulp of water. He popped to his feet taking his glass and plate from the small circular glass table in his apartment to the kitchen pouting it down on the bench. “I know it’s bothering you…” Kallie stated bluntly. There was no pretense behind her words and she knew Aiden understood what she was getting at right away. The six foot tall Australian placed his hands on the bench and shook his head, he swallowed and sighed heavily pushing down all his frustration and trying to kill his pride. He didn’t want to let her see it. To burden Kallie with the knowledge of how hurt he really was. Aiden cleared his throat and turned, managing a smile, his voice inflection changing and going up to try and distract her and keep the conversation on a pleasant note. “That obvious eh love? I can’t put anything past you.” Aiden smiled wider and tilted his head, studying Kallie’s facial features. Her long blonde hair, her bright blue eyes, her strong jawline and cheekbones that seemed to soften when she would smile and laugh. “I’ll be fine, she’ll be right ya know?”She’ll be right.A common Australian phrase. Uttered in the same breath as others. Like “cunts fucked” and “take care of it this arvo” It was a slang term. One to denote a light attitude toward all things. But, Kallie knew better. She folded her arms over her chest, sitting back in her chair and focusing her eyes on her stubborn boyfriend. “Don’t do that. Don’t shove it aside Aiden.” Her voice added bass. Her look showed just how serious she was. Normally they would laugh, smile and be so enamored with spending time together the worries of the outside world rarely impacted them. This was different. And Aiden knew it. He sighed, pushing out any resistance he had left. He stepped forward, looking across the kitchen to Kallie who stood up and moved alongside him. “What am I meant to say Kalisto?” He shook his head and looked down, his heart sinking as he finally let himself fully feel the disappointment and anger he tried to keep at bay. His mind flashing back to the moments that had kept him up at night, that had made his blood boil and his head ache with pain. “That Dickie is right but still went about it in a shitty way?” His voice faultered. His jaw clenched. Kallie shook her head, reaching out to grab his hand. “Is that what you feel?”“No..” He growled. “Truth is, I’m hurt in ways I never thought I could be. He told me I was the reason he lost. He told me I lost the islands titles in Fight, I lost the PWA Apex tag team titles, he questioned how seriously I take all of this and whats worse…I..” He trailed off, his palms laying flat against the black marble countertop as Kallie hand stayed on top of his, her other hand moving to his back and up his shoulder encouraging him to continue. “I know he’s right…”Silence.It seemed to last for an eternity. In reality it was only a few moments, but it stretched out Pushed to awkward lengths. Kallie smiled lightly and reached up turning Aidens face to hers, she stood on her tip toes to kiss the tip of his nose with a grin. Aiden couldn’t help it, he smiled, cracking under the affection and care from someone who had been a shining light in his life. “If you really feel that way, and think Dickie was right, then maybe you should make a conscious effort to change.” He gave a small nod and looked down. Kallie laughed before stepping back. “But…not too much. Taking wrestling more seriously is one thing. But I still want my goofy Aussie…”Aiden couldn’t help but laugh. He gave her a small nod and reached over pulling Kallie against him into a hug. She made him feel better, like she always did. But, his mind wandered. He missed Dickie, he missed his best friend. He missed his brother. And he was going to get him back… A new chapter.You know the sound of a basketball slapping the wood? Being dribbled but in an empty area so it sends those loud pulsing echoes bouncing off the walls? That is what we hear first. Over and over again, the dribbling along with some footsteps Footsteps that get closer and closer before we finally see him. Aiden Ryenolds. His hair slicked back, his upper body covered up by a purple and gold NBL jersey from the Sydney Kings team. Despite the fact they legitimately suck because Australian basketball is…in all honesty…complete shit. “Is it too late or too early to say I told you so? Alexander fuckin Lyons tried his best. He really did. But whole he likes to spout off stupid shit that has no basis in fact I like to examine things a little more closely. I said it before. Everyone seems to think ol Aiden Reynolds is nothin but a joke. A side character in the great story of Dickie Watson. Maybe even the great story of Kallie and her rise to prominence. And what can I say? It’s not easy bein who I am, comin from where I do…”Aiden grits his teeth, his face twisting from it’s usual arrogant look complete with a smile and grin to a more stoic, emotionless gaze but with a hint of frustration and annoyance behind his baby blues. “Everyone wants to believe Australia is this beautiful country. A place where you can drive for an hour one way and find the coastline, an hour the other and find rainforests and an hour after that to find the dessert. And I get it, it’s a romantic vicious of the country I came from and trust me, most of the time I like to live up to the stereotype of the good natured Aussie larrikin. And if you don’t know what that is then fucking goggle it, cause I ain’t here to hold your hands anymore. I am looked at as a comic relief character on PWS and Fights TV shows. A joke to throw on the screen to give people an easy laugh and a cheap reaction.”
“Dickie, Dickie was right.”
“And the more I think about it, the harder it is to look in the fuckin mirror.”
“You actually believe I want to be looked at in the same vein as Mike Hawk? Or Richard Rider? Or Squid man? You people think I want or need that? I’ll freely admit that I enjoy making people laugh and smile, I love the fact that I have fans tell me that I make their day better when I tell jokes or they see me personality on full display in 4k. But, I need to find balance. And balance is somethin I have not been able to find in a very very long time.”
“I’ve always been the laughing guy…the jokester.”
“In Japan, in WWH, DIVISION, Project Honor, Fight, here. That was my place, my role. The designated area that lil Aiden Reynolds could safely fit into. Humor was my wheelhouse right? My lane that I needed to stay in…along with bein Dickie’s bitch…”Aiden steps forward, holding the basketball in his right palm and outward in an almost threatening manner. “How’d that go Lyons? How did all of that end up for you whe n I rolled into Riot, beat the brakes off of ya and left you lyin in a wreck like you took a turn goin too fast and hit a goddamn oil slick? I’m the fuckin tree your plastic fantasic bridge troll ass ran into. And now what? What excuse will ya use? Or what excuse will the rest of ya come up with? That I got lucky? That seems to be the running theme here when anyone beats you little Antithesis bitches.”
“Luck…”
“Ya know, for a group of guys who insist they’re doin things differently ya sure do talk the same tired ass bullshit everyone else does. Afraid to admit their failures, afraid to admit when they have been bested and try to get better. See, what I’m doin here, is evolvin, gettin better, changin. Becomin the goddamn man I’m supposed to be to stand up to people like you. And what a great challenge I have in front of me now eh? Jonathan Sanders…former collateral damage champion…”Aiden shakes his head passing the basketball back and forth in his hands, before it suddenly falls to the floor. Aidens expression turns serious as he sighs and shakes his head. “Well, shit Jon…I just dropped the ball.”Aidens voice changed, adding bass, taking all emotion out and becoming almost a negative version. A straight monotone voice. “That’s what ya want to say right? Some kind of deep dive into what I did and who I am. As if to try and get in my head and psych aval me all tied up with some kind of personal story about the time you were a little kid and ya pet rabbit farted the theme to the brady bunch and it broke your heart. Or some melodramatic bullshit. But, it’s all just stupid smoke and mirrors.”
“See Jonboy, you are the most guilty when it comes to forgetting everything that happens in the ring.”
“A month ago, Kallie looked into your eyes and exposed you for the world to see, she verbally and then physically dressed you down and beat you and instead of getting a title shot she was pushed aside while you went on to one of the biggest shows of the year and faced..Violet Holt? Really? Fuckin Really?”
“A real champion would have addressed it, a real champion would have challenged Kallie, maybe even brought her into the match to make it a triple threat. But you didn’t do that, hell the next match you had ya didn;’t even acknowledge it or address it and instead went on to waste everyones time with some story about christmas that made zero sense. And I have to ask, do ya watch the show? Do ya watch wrestling? Do ya care about this company? The matches? Any other company? Do you even know what day it is or do ya currently thing it’s easter sunday 1996?...”Aiden kicks the basketball to the side and shakes his head. “The point, Jonny douchebag, is that I live in this place called reality. And all you do is skrit around it. Making vague comments that people think are smart and deep and that you are some sort of profound intelligent human being operation on a whole other level than us mere mortals. But, really, ya just a borin fucker.”
“And I get it mate, you’ve heard all this before but what have ya done to change it?”
“You were the collateral damage champion for so long and your job was to literally beat yourself half to death week in and week out but somehow with all the chaos and carnage around ya I just couldn’t bring myself to care. The only time I cared about you and that title was when Kallie beat ya and got nothin out of it, then ya went and beat someone who is widely known as a joke before another joke, one who was atleast smart enough not to cash his contract thing in on Sierra…cause that chick scares me…beat you for the title and ran off…”
“It took me girlfriend beating your ass and then Mike Hawk of all people to make you interestin…me heart weeps Jonny knuckle shuffle…”
“That means..wanker…for those playin at home…”
“I’m goin to make ya a little more interestin. Cause I know how you work. You don’t actually try, in or out of the ring unless you’re pushed. So ya sittin there waiting to see if I can back up what I said and did against ya boy Lyons before you decide to saunter ya dark and brooding ass down off ya olde english style throne while the cure plays in the background to come to work and do something worth while. Well I can tell you, Jon, I am worth while. I am someone you should be worried about. I am someone who can take this shit seriously. And when I’m done whoppin ya ass all over the arena…you’ll all wish I still took this all as a joke…”
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Post by Jonathan Sanders on Feb 13, 2022 23:55:06 GMT -5
ANTITHESIS: ETERNAL RECURRENCE“Will the circle be unbroken, By and by, Lord, by and by?”
“Is a better home awaiting In the sky, Lord, in the sky?” *Fade in.*
*The scene that greets us is of a small religious chapel; the space is not cramped, but clearly not remarkably spacious either. A far-off, unseen choir continues to hum the tune of “Will the Circle be Unbroken” as we pan around this space, from the stained-glass windows glistening dully in the overcast moonlight, past the pulpit and crucifix at the very head of the room to the small confessional booth off to one side, built directly into the dark stained wooden walls. It is this that draws our focus as a voice speaks from off-camera.*“Does it ever end?”*We slowly pan around now to reveal the source of the voice, Jonathan Sanders, seated on a pew just beyond the confessional booth. The Snake of Eden is clad in a plain black leather jacket and a black-and-white “As I Lay Dying” t-shirt, along with faded blue jeans adorned with chains and his signature Converse. The Lost Cause looks almost unfamiliar without the Collateral Damage title belt draped over his shoulder or his lap, and he sits somewhat awkwardly, as though he isn’t yet accustomed to being without it.*“So many times we’ve done this dance, Aiden. So many times we’ve been to war, and still the battle rages on. One has to wonder whether there’s really any purpose to it. Whether the horrors we inflict upon each other ever really have a point…”*Sanders is not looking at the camera just yet, instead keeping his head bowed causing his hair to fall into his face. When he speaks, the sound is wistful, almost as if he’s talking to himself as much as us.*“Human beings are a warlike species. All our history is written in blood. It has always been this way; for millennia, we’ve waged our petty conflicts - thrown every IOTA of ourselves since we crawled from the primordial muck into perfecting the absolute destruction of anyONE and anyTHING that has dared to cross our path - and yet, what has it ever earned us? What have we truly gained from all this bloodshed?”*Here, Sanders slowly lifts his head to face the camera, standing up from the pew to make his way slowly towards the altar. It is here we see the source of the dim illumination, a single thick wax candle burning in the centre of the altar. Sanders kneels directly in front of this slowly-burning light source and the camera moves to sit focus on his upper-torso, keeping the candles out of frame. The only reminder of their presence is the flickering orange-red glow playing across the Horseman of Plague’s features, throwing shifting shadows around his already-piercing steel-grey eyes.*“There is no salvation to be found in violence; nobody’s life has been improved by war. Ship after ship has crashed against the rocks, scattering their pieces to the sea and sending all their little soldiers to a watery demise…and not one has ever found Valhalla. We have never made a lasting peace. In spite of all the blood that we have spilled, for all the hate and pain and DEATH that we have spread throughout our lives…there is still no end in sight. Which begs the question…why? Why have we grown so fond of the ways in which we hurt each other, why do we continue to wage war even knowing that our battles will never end? Because human beings CRAVE the violence; it is in our very NATURE. We embrace our little wars, revel in them, BASK in the fury and the bloodshed that has so long sustained us as a people. We have even built games modeled after war. Of course, we have the gladiator sports of old - the thinly-veiled slaughter of the downtrodden and the damned dressed up in the trappings of ‘legitimate competition’ - but have we truly come so far? Do we not STILL watch sports in the hopes that someone taking part will suffer? The mere existence of professional wrestling, the ‘Collateral Damage’ division - the fact I was REWARDED for the HELL that I inflicted on myself and those around me - should be proof enough of this. We have never given up on bloodsport as a people, not really...we have simply grown more adept at disguising its true nature.”*A pause, here, and a bitter but self-satisfied smirk briefly flickers across the Outsider’s face. The expression vanishes as quickly as it came.*“And it is not merely our modern warriors who find themselves trapped within this cycle. Consider how often even you wish for conflict in your life. For your boss to make one more unreasonable request, that you may tell him how you feel; for that neighbour who so grates on your nerves to make one unseemly comment, giving you an excuse to verbally eviscerate them. We are drawn to confrontation; conflict has been normalized, to such an extent that those who do NOT find joy in fighting are labelled ‘anxious’. ‘Avoidant’. ’Submissive’, because they have the GALL to value peace over violence and aggression.” *The Lost Cause pauses here, directing his attention from the altar to a stained-glass window just over his left shoulder, which the camera turns to focus on as well. It depicts an image of the virgin Mary, cradling baby Jesus in her arms.* “My mother was a peaceful woman. A gentle soul, full of light and warmth whose only real crime was believing she could heal a broken world with love...a disease she passed on to her child. And how was all that love rewarded? What did this world GIVE unto my mother in return for her unending patience and compassion? A lifetime of misery, suffering, and a painful and untimely death.”*Here, Sanders pauses once again, shutting his eyes tightly along with a sharp inhale to keep the difficult emotions at play. He looks away from the window back towards the camera, which turns to focus on him in return. The former champion’s expression grows…complex, contorting from sorrow through to rage then back again, finally settling into a cold and steely bitterness, his fury clearly smoldering as he glares into the camera again.*“I have seen what this world does to lovers. I have WATCHED it bring to ruin any who would see it mended. Those who try to break the cycle are themselves broken in turn, and so the fundamental flaw in the core of humankind can never be corrected. One by one, the peaceful and considerate are slowly beaten down, battered by the violence of society until nothing but a hollow, fractured, ashy SHELL remains. And so I broke myself of that hereditary weakness. I BECAME the rocks upon the shore. And, oh, how many ships you tried to send against me. The greatest of your warriors took up arms to fell the beast, to conquer the unassailable emperor with everything they had…and every one among them failed. And so the circle stood unbroken. Caesar Augustus did not fall. My ANTITHESIS was able to bloom within the heart of PWS: Apex; my message festered in its veins as it began to die a slow and agonizing death…but nothing gold can stay. Every Caesar is betrayed, in time; and so it was again. Just as we have seen with countless champions before me, the crown I seized with violence was - with violence still - seized too from me. And yet…nothing truly changed. Even when I fell, my reign of terror did not end. It simply shifted form. You beat me down, you slew the demon, you TOOK my title…but the problem was not solved.”*Jonathan pauses again to bring his emotions back in check, inhaling deeply as he bows his head pensively, as if in thought or prayer.*“How is a raven…like a writing desk?”*Sanders’ lips blossom into a wicked smirk, as he slowly raises his head to lock eyes with the camera.*“Those eight words are everything that I became. Carroll’s impossible question. The problem without a solution. Aiden Reynolds knows it well.”*The Snake of Eden’s smirk becomes a mocking, sadistic grin, his grey eyes glinting in the flickering candlelight to accentuate the expression.*“How many times have you thought about that moment, Aiden? How often do you replay that brutal beating in your head? I could SEE the fire in your eyes when I laid my hands on her; when I prepared to teach her the glorious lesson that this cycle of violence illuminates for us. I saw that spark…and I knew that we would meet again. Because nothing ever ends. Not really. We are merely cogs in an infinitely-turning wheel, running around the flat circle of time like rats, trapped in a maze that has no exit. There is no reward awaiting at the end of this adventure, Aiden Reynolds. No cheese for you to find to justify your labour. You have tested yourself against me before, so we already KNOW how this will go. You have already SOUGHT this goal, you have already seen yourself fall short…and yet, here you are again. You simply couldn’t help yourself. Because nothing. Ever. Ends. The circle is unbroken, the cycle MUST continue, and until this world has been blasted down to RUBBLE and built anew atop the ashes, we will always be prisoners within it. That is the Valhalla violence offers, Aiden. Not salvation, but an…education, I suppose. A swift and sharp deliverance of truth. The one and only answer to the impossible question of our time.”*Here, the Lost Cause pauses, letting his head bow slightly yet again as his eyes fall closed, but a subtle smirk remains across his face. It is quick to vanish as he speaks.*“How is a raven like a writing desk? The answer is: it doesn’t matter. Both are slaves to the ever-growing hunger that is entropy, both will rot and decay and become dust in the cosmic wind. Ravens, writing desks, title belts…people. All are fleeting, and all will inevitably fade away. That is the lesson that the cycle of violence teaches us, and the lesson that I was trying so hard to teach Kallisto on that day; how small, insignificant and ephemeral we truly are. That no matter how we struggle, how many times we throw ourselves against the rocks, we will never change a thing. You have SEEN that this is true, Aiden. You WATCHED Kallisto pin me, and yet my violence did not stop. The world SAW Mike Hawk steal my championship…and my violence did not stop. So what exactly do you seek to DO tonight, Aiden, that you have not already done? How do you propose to end me in a way I have not already faced? You should have LEARNED this lesson once before, but it will be my genuine pleasure to reiterate it again, and again, and AGAIN, as many times over as will be necessary to finally make you understand! NOTHING. EVER. ENDS. As long as we are breathing, the cycle WILL continue. You can throw yourself against me all you like, you can crash against these rocks in search of vengeance or Valhalla until there is nothing left of you but SALT AND SPLINTERS...but I will never go away. You will never solve the problem...but I do truly hope that you will try.”*Jonathan slowly lifts his head again, hands still clasped as if in prayer, and locks eyes with the camera.*“I look forward to watching you fail.”*Sanders’ sneer becomes a wicked grin, holding eye-contact with the camera as his hands move from their clasped position into the Baphomet pose we have come to associate with him.*“Amen.”*With that, Sanders has finished, leaning forward to blow out the candle and plunging the scene abruptly into darkness.*
*Fade out.*
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