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Post by Star Stormz on Apr 16, 2022 0:35:21 GMT -5
PWS:APEX Presents: Tuesday Night Riot! April 26th, 2022 Crypto.com Arena in Los Angeles, CA
Tag Team Match Jack Russow and Miles Kasey vs Tyson Sykes and Alexander Lyons
RPs due Sunday April 24th at 11:59pm Eastern Maximum 5000, Minimum 300 1 RP per character
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Post by Alexander Lyons on Apr 24, 2022 4:37:56 GMT -5
Alexander had always hated Los Angeles, the smell, the smog, the crowds, and all the pretentious self centered residents of The City of Angels did little to impress The Horseman of Conquest. But he had to be here in one of the most rotten cities in the entire country, far from his home in Miami and far from his family's school in North Carolina.
One would think he might get along with the elite rich types in LA, being that Alexander himself was now on his own rich daddy's bankroll, was now driving an expensive BMW, and while he did try to insert himself with some of the upper echelon of society, their personality and bougie attitude drove him away. There was also the matter he was becoming something of an angry little rich boy but that isn’t important right now.
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We open on a scene of Alexander seated in nearly complete darkness, only illuminated by the moon and stars atop the building he’s perched himself on, high above the streetlights of California's largest city.
“Let me get one thing straight before I continue.” he begins his cold eyes looking directly into the camera, “There is no dissension among ANTITHESIS. My words for them last time were MOTIVATION because we are better than what we showed at Demons Run and everyone knows it. A little thing called tough love for you simple minded sheep out there. So I better not hear anyone out there trying to twist my words around or misinterpret their message. Now, what’s the deal this week? Jack Russow and Miles Kasey right?"
Alexander laughs to himself, he doesn’t seem to concerned about the next team in his path back to a championship.
“Didn’t you challenge Milo to a match at Destiny Jack? Now you’re teaming together? Against the former tag team champions? You really think this is going to work? I give it about three seconds before the dissension begins.” Alex says with the utmost disrespect in his voice. “It’s almost going to be too easy. I assure you that you both can not currently act and function as a team as well as Tyson Sykes and myself. Jack you already got a taste of what Tyson is capable of, and now you get to experience the power of us together as we set out to CONQUER AND DESTROY.”
Alexander smirks, and takes a moment pause, and crack his neck slightly.
“We have a few running around here carrying on some sort of family legacy don’t we Jack?” He began, ”Russows, Lopez’s, Landersons, Madisons, and then you have me. Lyons. A name perhaps that doesn’t carry much weight to many around here, but understand that your name carries just as little weight with me. Just understand that all Lyons have this sort of violent dark edge to them. It drove my poor cousin insane! You might remember her if you watched that whole PWE rumble deal. Then you have her twin, my other cousin who battles with his inner balance or whatever. My dad and both my uncles dealt with it, as did my Aunt Brandi…"
He gasps and covers his mouth with his hand.
“I forgot.” he said before continuing in a sing-songy voice to match the popular Encanto song., “We don’t talk about Brandi. No no no…”
He chuckles, clearly amused with himself.
“Point is fellas, the vicious side to me that Mike Hawk fell victim too last week is just a part of my blood, its inherent within me, and make no mistake about it, Mike Hawk was the victim last week. Having to use his cute little tricks to keep me out of the ring, where he KNEW I would beat him. Remember Mike, you beat Madison Carpenter. Not me. And then you showed your true colors as a coward afterward when you didn’t take the shot on Sanders.” he says shaking his head in disappointment, “Now, it’s Jack and Milo that get to have a taste of the feral side that I have unlocked within me.”
He laughs slightly to himself, showing more expression than we’ve come to know, but the laugh is almost maddening.
“Jack Russow has a cute moniker, The Real Wild Child he calls himself.” Lyons seems amused as he continues, “Wild you may be, but all that means is you remain domesticated, I have taken my wild traits and turned feral, and come Riot you will find out exactly what that means. You see, Tyson and myself don’t care about whatever this love-hate relationship you guys have is. All we see you as are victims. Victims that stand in our way of our goals, and plain and simple we are going to destroy you. You boys might not even get to fight each other at Destiny if you’re not careful.”
He grins.
“Milo. You especially piss me off. Because you simply couldn’t mind your own business. You had no reason to interfere in the message we were sending at Jack Russow’s expense. If anything you should have been thankful. Jack is the little shit who decided to interrupt your celebration and challenged you at Destiny. You should have JOINED in on the fun, soften him up some. Let him know who he’s fucking with. But instead you decided to help the little fella.” the frown is clear on his face as he shakes his head, “But that’s fine, we’ll just have to make an example out of you as well, and then finish the job on Jack that you never let us finish.”
He pauses for a short moment, and in the silence cracks his knuckles, we get a glimpse of a shiny golden ring with a lion emblem.
“Both of you need to be taught a lesson, and you will be. Then you if you’re both still able, you can fight each other or whatever it is you want to do. But if you think this upcoming tag match has a happy ending, then you haven't been paying attention.” he says with a sinister grin, “Your schoolyard feud has gotten in the way of a warpath and now both of you will face the destruction of Tyson Sykes, and you will…”
The camera zooms in close on his face.
“HEAR ME ROAR.”
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The rooms at The Fairmont Century Plaza were of the utmost quality, and the one of the only choices for Alexander to have chosen to reside for the events of Riot, and he was at least respectful enough to pay for the damages that he was about to inflict on some poor innocent bathroom mirror.
“Idiots! Savages! Idiots!” Alexander yelled, slamming his fists onto the marbled table of the luxurious suite he had rented for himself. He had tried that night to associate with some upper echelon types and been laughed at and made a joke of, “What do they know anyway? Idiots!”
He looked at his angry reflection, took a couple angry breaths and smiled devilishly.
“You don’t need them do you?” he said through his devilish smile, “You are Alexander, the true heir of the Lyons Dynasty. They should be kissing your feet and bowing to you. But instead, they mock you and treat you like some common folk!!”
A soap dish goes flying across the room, and smashes into the wall shattering into pieces onto the tiled ground beneath it.
“And they have the nerve to insult the company you keep?” he laughs. “What do those idiots know of a brotherhood? At least ANTITHESIS don't pass judgment on me and let Alexander be Alexander. Whatever you showed them didn’t you? YOU SHOWED THEM DIDN’T YOU?!!”
He yells with an almost gleeful tone, the man having clearly tapped into some new part of his brain.
“Your family rejected you, so when one insults the family that HAS accepted you, then maybe they get what they deserve.” he continued speaking to his reflection, “Those IDIOTS don’t know anything!”
Earlier that evening he had attend a private event, put on by some rich something or other, where other rich types could socialize with each other. The evening had gone well enough,until one of them had asked him why he still associated with common filth like Jonathan Sanders, called his family ring “cheap and gaudy” and then they had the nerve to ask Alex where his championship was! That had been the final straw, and the pate of bacon wrapped shrimp went flying from the waiters hands as Alex’s foot met his smug, arrogant face.
It only took a few moments for the security to descend, and escort a protesting Alex from the premises.
“Where’s YOUR championship then?” Alex said in a mocking tone, the guy deserved it and they all knew it.
“The shrimp tasted like dog shit anyway.” He scowled, “One thing is for certain. He’ll watch his tongue if he encounters you again, because you are Alexander Lyons and YOU are a name that is to be respected, even if you have to beat it out of them.They WILL respect the Lyons name, and if they don’t then they will find all their hopes and dreams…”
With a ROAR, Alex rears back and delivers a massive punch, spider-webbing the mirror as it cracks, he only laughs.
“SHATTERED.”
He smiles into the cracked mirror, as everything fades into darkness.
-fin-
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Post by sykes on Apr 24, 2022 17:07:12 GMT -5
"LET THEM FIGHT. LET THEM FIGHT. LET THEM FIGHT."
The scene opens with countless men, women and children crammed inside the packed San Jose Sap arena shouting the aforementioned chant as Jack Russow and Tyson Sykes continue to throw punches back and forth. The bell had just rung moments earlier, signifying the end of the contest, but the fans reject the officials decision - continuing their chant in between spats of loud booing. The scene on the screen suddenly pauses, just as Russow lands a stiff right hand to the jaw of Sykes.
"I'll tell you one thing Jack, those fans aren't the only ones who wanted that fight to go on longer." The voice at this point was all too familiar. The camera pans back, and we see the clip from the previous RIOT is playing on a television screen precariously sitting on an old, unstable looking black TV stand. The room is dim, apparently only lit by the television's glow, but sitting in a folding chair watching the clip is of course, Tyson Sykes. He spins from the TV, grabbing the chair with a swift motion and spinning it around so he's sitting facing the camera with his arms resting on the top of the chair. If looks could kill, Sykes would be the cause of a lot of deaths with his.
"So, let's skip all the bullshit that you're all used to. Usually we'd all take this moment to try and make some grander point, I'd bring up some half-assed metaphor or allegory to slowly build the tension before I got into the meat of this upcoming Riot.
But Jack? You got my full attention mother fucker, so let's play ball, shall we?" Tyson cracks his knuckles before settling in snug against the back of the chair.
"Last week Jack Russow and I locked horns for the first time, and before I go any further I want to set the record straight first - and that's that I underestimated you Jack. I truly did. It's no secret what I think about you as a person, and if it is than you're as stupid as I make you out to be, because I've been pretty vocal about how I think you're one of the largest collections of trash walking this dying planet. BUT... in the ring? Yeah. You're a lot tougher than I gave you credit for. Hell, you're a lot tougher than I think you give yourself credit for. When you shut your mouth and focus on wrestling, you're not half bad. But that's the problem, 'innit'?" Sykes rolls his eyes.
That's the problem, is you can't focus on wrestling, because you're too busy watching hours of people playing Call of Duty so you can steal their insults and act like you're something that you're not: funny and edgy. You see, let's just get this out in the open Jack.
You're not funny.
You're not cool.
You're not edgy.
And to top it all off? Nobody gives a FUCK about you. Not only are you from a family that most people hate, but you're the worst, most irrelevant part. You're like Kourtney Kardashian or Jake Paul. You're still obnoxious, everyone still hates you, and you're still a living parasite - but you don't even get the bragging rights of being popular or anything. Shit, if you're going to be a walking cancer to society, at least go all in and make a name for yourself. Instead, you just suck AND you're irrelevant - the worst of both worlds my man. So if you think you're getting under my skin with your 'hilarious' jabs about Rogaine or steroids or my 'hair partner Dirk', I BEG you to try a little harder than 2012 insults that could have come from Lycra or Blade. Quite frankly I've always been more of a fan of letting my actions speak louder than my words, but if you're going to try and get under my skin or embarrass me in a war of words? You're going to have to get a fucking army my dude, because right now you're walking onto the battlefield with a squirt gun in one hand and your tiny dick in the other at this point - and the only person you're embarrassing is the lost Jonas brother that looks back at you in the mirror every morning.
You know what DOES get under my skin, though? The fact that you can stand there with your stupid anorexic Johnny Depp looking ass and keep a straight face while you tell the fans how much they mean to you. How much you adore them. How much you adore this sport. Then in the next breath talk about how you hated having to step away but that your family will always come first. And you have the gal, the mother fucking AUDACITY to question my passion for this sport? Because I was talented enough to be an MMA fighter before this? You need to jump your tiny ass off the high horse that you rode in on because guess what? You know what you've done in this business that you love so much? You knocked up a bitch that people like ten times better then you - and that's the ONLY reason your corny, carny ass is still on TV. 'Cuz yeah, you're tough. Yeah, you're young and have potential. And yeah, you're a Russow. But at the end of the day you know what you are more then any of those things?
You're just a guy. You're unimportant. You're second fiddle. To your family. To your wife. To every single person in that fucking locker room. You're second fiddle. So you're fucking welcome, Jack, because yeah. You've gotten under my skin - but not because of your edgy middle school insults - but because YOU are an insult to MY sport. And you're welcome because now? I'm going to make you what you've always wanted to be. The center of attention.
You're going to be in the spot light for once in your useless fucking career as the EMT's stretcher your dumb ass out of Crypto.com arena. And as the few fans who somehow give a shit about you sit in silence, as your family who are far more important than you worry about your well being, and as your wife watches with a tear in her eye not knowing if you're coming home to her and your family... THEN and ONLY THEN...
will Jack fucking Russow matter." Sykes snarl turns into a confident smirk, as he slowly leans back, taking a deep breath.
"So now that we got that out of the way... there's only one more thing that I'd like to address - and I feel like I've had to do this before but apparently STUPID just runs through the PWS locker room like fire through a California forest... but ol' Miles Kasey you've ONCE AGAIN stuck your nose where it doesn't belong.
Now usually, that'd piss me off Miles. It really would, because at the end of the day? We of ANTITHESIS take care of our business, and we don't like when people get in the way of that. And don't get me wrong, I plan on caving your fucking chest in come Riot... but if it were almost anybody else I'd be fucking ripped right now. But there's two things that save you here.
A. I know why you did it. You said it yourself, you've been sitting on the sidelines as of late. But Miles, I got news for you man, it's not a recent thing. You see, you've been a bench player since I got here - hell, you've been the sixth man since you fucking debuted. I talked about Jack Russow being just another guy on the roster but Miles, I forget you're even here. If you sat me down and told me to name everyone on the Apex roster, your frilly trench-coat wearing ass would be somewhere in between Kazmir Moskovitz and the dude with the fucking crocheted squid on his face. So I get that you had to nut up and do something, ANYTHING for people to actually remember you exist - even if it means committing career suicide.
And B. You didn't take something away from me Miles... you GAVE me something. A golden opportunity, in fact. Because in retrospect? Lyons and I may have gotten a little ahead of ourselves. ANTITHESIS as a whole has a lot going for it, but patience isn't exactly number one. So sooner or later one of those suits would have waddled out from the back and pulled us off of Russow #381, or more then likely they'd have sent their security to do it so they could sit and crank it to thoughts of pushing another Madison into the title picture - but either way we'd have been pulled off of Jack before we got to finish the job. Now? Now you've handed us the opportunity to finish the job and there's not a damn thing anybody can do about it... because it'll all be legal. If you didn't intervine this match? May not have happened.
So thank you, Miles. Thank you for giving ANTITHESIS exactly what we wanted... and that's all the time in the world, from bell to bell, free reign to do whateverrrrr we want to Jack Russow. Then after we're done with him? We'll send your ass back to the bench for another six months - then you can come back again and act as if you'll do anything more then be in a third or forth tier feud before disappearing again - rince repeat rince repeat. But at least for one night, just like Jack, you can share that spotlight that you've so desperately craved but never gotten a real taste of. Even if it's fleeting, you'll always be known to history as the man who was teaming with Jack Russow on the night his career was ended." The smile stays on the face of Sykes, a new found confidence that seems to be building over the past few weeks.
"Alexander Lyons and I have beaten some of the best teams this company has to offer. Young & Cleo, The Commonwealth, hell - we even beat one of the good Russow's and his girl! And while Lyons may be on a little power trip right now, and I'm coming off one of the biggest losses of my career - ANTITHESIS is ALWAYS on the same page.
And that page is simple.
Destroy and conquer." Sykes stands, the metal chair echoing a sickening scrapping sound as it slides across the floor. Sykes scowls at the camera once more before exiting the scene as it fades to black.
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Post by Jack Russow on Apr 24, 2022 21:31:44 GMT -5
-Jack’s Dad Joke- How do you stop a rhino from charging? …REFUSE TO TAKE IT’S CREDIT CARD!
“TYSON FUCKING SYKES.” Jack Russow raged backstage as he flips through the curtain stopping to pace back and forth like an ACTUAL feral beast, not like what that shitrope Lyons tries to make you think he is. He goes to charge back up the ramp but a small hand reaches out and takes his…it was his Alanah. “Now is not the time, dear. You’ll get your revenge in kind, I promise you. Just let it go for now!’ Alanah O’Connell-Russow pleaded with him through puppy dog eyes. He never could say no to her, how was he about to start now? He seemingly relents and lets her lead him down the hall as they walk hand in hand as Jack tussles his hair and holds the back of his neck. ‘Does it hurt bad, moi chroi?” Alanah asked with a flute-like quality of concern about her man’s current state of being. “No my darling, it’s just…that was BULLSHIT! It was complete and utter, 100% Non-GMO, Farm To Table, Fresh Off The Pitchfork BULLSHIT!” Jack bellowed just as they passed a dejected looking Slappy McGoo walking past them in a thousand yard stare. “Oh! Sorry about the language Slap…didn’t see you there.’ Jack offers kindly but is met with a simple wave of Slappy’s hand. Jack and Alanah look at each other with the greatest of concerns. “I will never forgive Jami for this.” Jack sternly snarls as it kind of takes Alanah back who clicks her teeth. “That’s not fair, my love…we don’t know what happened. Jami is the one that left, yes, but…why?” Alanah mused. “All I know is that man is the reason a whole Helluva lot of people are still alive…and now he feels like the walking dead.”-JACK DAD JOKE- Didya hear ‘bout the actor fell through the floor? …it was just a STAGE HE WAS GOING THROUGH!!!
They walk on until they reach the locker room and knock twice upon entering…the scene they saw was almost too precious…Rosie and Emma were locked in a heated debated about the lasting effects of lipstick on a baby, while Charlie had young Paddy in his lap and he was trying to read him O’Sullivan’s Stew by Hudson Talbott…a popular Irish children’s book. ‘GOOD HEAVENS, PLEASE DO NOT EAT THE LITERATURE!” Charlie pleaded with the toddler to no avail as Jack walks over and scoops Paddy up just in time. “Oh Jack…you are a hero and a scholar, my brother. Thank you.” Charlie bemused through wheezing breath as he reaches for his inhaler clutching the book to dear life as Alanah has slipped over and scooped up Elise RIGHT as Rosie hit her biggest selling point. “THEN MAKE ME A SISTER!!!” Rosie bellowed at the top of her lungs, “HO-KAAAAAAY everyone! That was a fun filled night of horse ploppy wouldn’t we say? All of us in a bad mood?” Jack asks sarcastically as Emma thwaps him around the head DiNozzo style and continues her way out of the room. “Charlie, Rosie, let’s go…yoooou all have a good niiiiiight!” and it’s not two seconds after Jack states, “...that was peculiar…and this couch is lump-” the lights had kicked out…and suddenly the pillow falls from behind Jack’s head and we see a Neon Red glowing visage of Levi Russow coming from the headrest Jack was just laying on. ‘WHAT THE SAM HELL!?”Jack bellowed to high Heavens as his dad screamed and barked for him to get off him. Levi pops up on the couch, wearing a partition of the couch, with his face painted to glow in the dark. Alanah is huddling the children and their effects in case they need to make a break for it. “YOU CALL THAT A WIN!?” Levi bellows at the top of his lungs as Jack grabs him by the collar and judo flips him off the couch through the coffee table. “1. I don’t call it a LOSS and 2. I call it *through hissed teeth* we JUST got them to sleep and you wake them up…they’re YOURS for the night.” Levi smiles and holds his hand up for Jack to help him up as he slides out of the cushion and wipes his face. “Son…have you heard any word from Mack at all?” Levi asked sheepishly. Jack coldly responds, “Not a word. He’s off globetrotting again. Can’t says I blame the guy…” Jack almost trails off as does Levi…Levi thinking of Mattie Cormier…Jack getting mesmerized by looking at the bent over best feature of his own wife. Both snapping back to attention at the same time. “Dad what the fuck are you doing here?” Jack quizzical tone seems to have caught the patriarch of the Russow family in his headlights. “...I…I don’t NEED a reason to be here!” “Yes, Dad, Yes. You HAVE to have a reason to be here.” “Well I’m here to watch two of my best students represent me proudl-” and Jack…cups a hand…over his own father’s mouth. “You set Miles and I against each other from day one at that school. You KNEW he had a problem with me being your son. So don’t you for a SECOND think you had a Goddamn thing to do with this. *deep breath* Now. Miles and I are going to decimate this little…Antithesis or whatever they call themselves. Assesmissintits is a better namesake. I’m not one to judge. But for now…I’m taking my family home…and I will be back next week when it’s time to HARM.-JACK’S DAD JOKE- I saw an amputee get summoned to court… His case didn’t have a leg to stand on!
-Basically…Run.-
We open with the visage of Jack Russow sitting in a busting hallway wrapping up his wrists with a somber look on his face as he begins to speak. ‘Last riot you saw me step into the ring with…what I had written off as just some other frat boy but good for you, Tyson Sykes. You managed to put up JUST enough of a fight to wait til your little buddies got there. That the legacy you wanna leave, is it? That’s fine. See you hear a lot about my last name in this company but not a damn bit of it has to do with me…not yet. But it’s gonna. I was gonna make my first mark facing Miles Kasey but wouldn’t you know…strange bedfellows and all that, HE hates you…ALMOST as much…as I do!” Jack chuckles at this notion as he snarls starting to wrap his tape harder. “See that double countout business was BULLSHIT…cause I took your best shot and I stole your breath. And we’re gonna let something as simple as counting to 10 fuck up my legacy? That’s fine…whatever. But the bottom line is that one more time, just…ONE more time. Antithesis couldn’t get a fuckin’ job done if they were paid in gold doubloons!” Jack rips the tape clear and tosses it over his shoulder. He stops and he peers into the camera breathing heavily for a moment. “And I know…I’m FULLY…AWARE…that this entire diatribe will fall on deaf ears just as it has for years and years! They say the Russows are a dying breed. I say you FUCKIN’ wish. So here’s what we’re gonna do boys…before I pummel his ridiculously handsome face at the VERY vocal protest of his girlfriend, I’m gonna grab my Great British Bastard…and you can grab that Toxic Avenger lookin’ motherfucker and you can meet us in the middle of that ring. And I’ll show you what’s what when the score’s even…when The Count…is in MY corner. Y’know it’s funny…” Jack hops off the box and starts his way down the hallway. “Gordon Ramsay showed me how to debone and clean a chicken, blindfolded, in under 30 seconds. But he forgot about one thing…”
Jack…produces a special looking butterfly knife as he flips it open gently and tries to flip it shut but catches his finger as he screams profanities. “FUCK that hurt! How’s he make that shit look so EASY!? FUCK! Alright…anyway…point! Get to the point. Gordon Ramsay…filet a chicken in under 30 second blindfolded…AH! Yes! I was about to offer to put on a blindfold and start hacking cause I think I can EASILY shave ten seconds off that time. Whattya say boys?
…wanna get fucked up?”Jack walks off down the hall still trying to figure out the butterfly knife whistling "Pumped Up Kicks" as we end.
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Post by Miles Kasey on Apr 24, 2022 22:54:56 GMT -5
At least we agree on one thing:
Fuck Antithesis.
Miles sat back for far too long and let this group walk all over a place that he helped build. He was stupid for letting it happen but there was personal selfish reasons that he pulled away for a bit.
It wasn’t a secret and there seemed to have been a major misunderstanding as to why between the Russow’s and him, but then again they could never seem to come straight at him to ask him why. Why did he accept the offer to train at Wolfslair? That would have settled so much in so little time. Mind you, this was about a year ago this bullshit went down, they barely seen each other since so he was certain there was no ill will there between he and Jack.
But with those damn Russow’s...who the fuck knew. Especially when he just showed up out of the clear fucking blew a month ago, pointed to a sign and set their road to collide at Destiny.
But 2 weeks ago, in the main event, when the assclowns from Antithesis decided to do Jack dirty and try and take him out for no good damn reason but to just make a point, at that moment Miles got pissed off and decided to take matters into his own hands.
Not only were they fucking with his match, but he was just DONE with Lyons and Sykes bullshit. Jack would be confused but at that moment he didn’t give a fuck.
It was time to put these assholes in their place. Once and for all.
It’s Been A Long and Winding Road Rhodes, Greece
He loved the travel, he loved going back and forth and seeing the world once again. What was even more amazing was there were a few that had reached out the proverbial olive branch, so to speak and invited him out for a night on the town.
He took full advantage of it. It had been a good long while since he had fun with other people and by the time they had closed out their pub and he stumbled back into his hotel room, he found a very annoyed Becca awaiting him.
“Well, it’s about damn time!” she said the second she heard him fiddling with the handle. She had almost been tempted to let him struggle but he had been drunk texting her through the whole night.
It was just blokes night out and she got that but it was sudden and she didn’t know what to think. But when she opened the door up, it caught him by surprise and he barely caught himself from crashing into her when she opened the door.
“Woah..he...hey! I did it!” his speech, very slurred.
“Did what?” she asked, trying not to laugh.
He looked at her and then at the room number, “Found you.”
He goes to lean in for a kiss but she puts her hand up and pushes him back, “Holy...what the hell were you drinking?”
Miles stands up straight for a moment before she allows him into the room, trying her damndest to not slam the door behind her, “Well let's see here. There was a few rounds of just pints of beer. When that barely buzzed any of us, I brought Ouzo ...bought? No...I brought up Ouzo.”
“That’s what it is.” she said watching him stumble and crash into the bed, falling over to the other side, “Oh my God! Are you alright?”
Nothing from Miles for a moment before he breaks out in a fit of laughter, “I- I’m better than alright, love.” he manages to pull himself up and looks at her with big blue-green puppy dog eyes, “I know you are in a right foul mood wit me, but I cannot remember the last time that I felt like this...like I have proper mates.”
“What about the guys in Wolfslair?” she asked.
“They are too. But they not there! But this- Not since my days with running with Mack have I feel like this.” he pouts his lip out, “Sorwey”
Becca just rolls her eyes and sits on the bed, running her hand through his now overly curly hair, “You’re pathetic sometimes, you know that?”
“Oh I am an absolute madness, I warned you that a long time ago.” he said crawling up and laying his head on her lap, he just stares at the ceiling for a bit, “I used to be jealous.”
Becca squints for a moment, confused by this confession, “Of?”
“Jack. When...when Mack showed up, I was at first thrilled. We had been through so much but Jack- ...they were so thick...sometimes I felt like I was left out in the cold.”
Becca looks down at him, “But now?”
“Now...I don’t know, sometimes I wonder if Jack is now feeling like I did. He’s got Alanah and those babes...but it’s like he’s looking for attention. I don’t know...maybe us teaming has some...oh what’s that word...”
“Merit?”
Miles snaps and waves his finger, “That’s it. Doesn’t mean I’m not confuzzled...by him.”
“Well I’m sure you’ll find out what is going on soon enough.” she says, “How you feeling now?”
Miles blinks and looks around, motioning with his hands “Room is spinning clockwise.”
Becca looks like she’s about to shove him off, “Uh oh.”
Miles turns and looks up at her and wraps his arms around her waist, “No, that good...if it was spinnin the other way...then I’d be fucked.”
“Ok well if it changes direction...lemme know.” she smiles at him.
Miles smiles back before snuggling into her, “Deal.”
They remain like that for a moment before Becca notices his breath evening out, “You falling asleep?”
“Mmhmm, comfy” he says pulling in tighter, and just before the alcohol takes him...in just a whisper you hear, “Love you.”
Dreams are fickle Reality is a Bitch And Antithesis has fucked with the wrong set of assholes.
Miles is seen sitting in a comfy chair on a beautiful plane, one would assume somewhere over the Pacific Ocean. He is in full on hangover mode, complete with a baseball cap, dark sunglasses and the biggest 5 o’clock shadow that he could sport. For this he’s just gonna sit, stare at the camera and pray to the Gods he doesn’t lose the contents of his stomach. He is a professional afterall. Professional what? ....we may never know.
“The former tag champions of Alexander Lyons and Tyson Sykes find themselves on the apex of what could potentially make or break their whole damn team ahead of the rematch that they were granted at Destiny.
I’m kinda curious though...Alex...you got ABANDONED by your partner for him to chase the wild notion that he was actually ready to take out and become the PWS World Champion.
Now...mind you...I haven’t even hit that pinnacle yet but wasn’t it rather brazen of him to just up and leave you to the wolves. It cost you both the one thing that actually made you matter and then you went and picked a fight against the two guys on the entire roster that have absolutely nothing to lose. Well...maybe a little bit more of our minds but even that shit is debatable.”
He shifts ever so slightly as to not draw much attention to himself, continuing on.
“You see, Jack and I, we’re almost cut from a cloth that is undefinable. We don’t care what you honestly think about us because at the end of the day, we’re going to battle you and then go and kick each other’s asses at Destiny.
That part is inevitable. It also will force you guys to come to grips on the reality that Antithesis is in serious trouble.
Now, I’m doing this as I am super hungover on a plane coming back across the Pacific Ocean but if I can be this mentally clear with the mother of hangovers, what does that bode when we get to Riot and I’m standing in that ring from the 3rd best member of the group and the guy that thinks neckties, let alone a neck is passe.”
Miles peels his sunglasses from his face, and leans forward, the blue-green shining just right even through the bloodshot hungover eyes.
“You two need to come to the realization that PWS: Apex is not your personal playground. And just remember...
You are the ones that started this.”
And with that he reaches up and hit a button on his recording device...leaving us in the black.
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