Post by Star Stormz on May 13, 2022 22:59:31 GMT -5
PWS: APEX DESTINY
May 28 and 29
Night One - Saturday, May 28, 2022
Three Stages of Hell
Jonathan Sanders vs. Mike HawkRoleplay deadline is Tuesday, May 24, 2022 at 11:59pm est
1 rp each, 500 word minimum, 5000 word maximum
Post by Mike Hawk on May 24, 2022 22:36:14 GMT -5
A very sad act 1
*The camera focuses on a sadboi™ who is none other than Edwin Mo, Mike Hawk’s Jonathan Sanders parody character. Complete with full-white face paint, black hair so long it goes into his face constantly, black lipstick and eyeliner, and a My Chemical Romance fan’s wet dream for an outfit. He stares into the camera, as the song “Tequila” starts up, the instrumentals playing over a panning shot of the morose madman. The song continues, and finally gets to the part where they’d normally say “Tequila”.*
E. Mo: Antithesis.
*The song keeps playing, now over some shots of Hawk dressed up as every ANTITHESIS member. As Sanders he’s in his E. Mo costume, and the other 3 are him in black clothing with paper plates on his face. Tyson Sykes has “Sykes” written on his, Dionysus is on stilts and has “Dionysus” written on his plate, and Lyons has “The Other One” written on it. They’re seen making macaroni together and laughing as Dionysus spills it all over the counter, having a pillow fight as Sykes is hit out the window by Sanders, who runs over to check on him, then the rest laugh. Soon the song reaches its titular line again, and Hawk appears once more, this time with the Tyson Sykes puppet on his hand, whom he makes say the line.*
E. Mo: Antithesis.
*The song continues, with Hawk’s “Antithesis” rolling down a hill together. Lyons keeps rolling and falls in the ocean, with the others getting up and laughing about it, amongst bubbles and flailing. It then cuts to them doing trust fall exercises, with Sanders falling into a coffin, then the others locking him inside and laughing. The group then all ride horses together, with Dionysus riding an ox. The song comes to a head one more time. Hawk uses the Dionysus puppet.*
E. Mo: Antithesis.
*He then whispers to the camera.*
Mike: I found the Dionysus puppet!
*The song continues. The group is walking along at the zoo, and Lyons points at the giraffes, then at Dionysus, chuckling. Dionysus grabs him and throws him over the railing. The group continues on without him. The camera then cuts to the 4 members of the group playing video games together. Sykes unplugs one of the controllers and the others look at him, Sykes giving a shrug. Cut to the group all exploring a cave together. They run out as bats chase them, and finally the song comes to an end, with one final utterance of the titular line, as Hawk comes on, this time with the 1960's television personality and host of the Twilight Zone Rod Serling puppet.*
E. Mo: Antithesis.
*Soon, Hawk is stood in eerie silence in the middle of a small, dark room. He looks up at the camera and smirks.*
E. Mo: The pool is open.
*He runs at the camera and grabs it, bringing it really close to his face.*
E. Mo: SWIM!
*He pushes the camera down, and it cuts to static, then quickly flashes a picture of a public pool before cutting back to static.*
A slightly less sad act 2
*A school. Which school, you ask? Fuck you! Who teaches here? Eat shit! Which grades are this place even for? Shut the hell up! Mike Hawk enters. He’s wearing a shirt that says “My Other Shirt is Relevant”. He walks inside, passing a bunch of classrooms as he looks around at the white bricked walls.*
Mike: Y’know, Johnny, I’ve been thinking. I know, that’s not something I do often, but I figured I’d try it and see how it went.
*He pauses, stopping in his tracks as he stares down some lockers.*
Mike: And, well… the result of my thinking is, I don’t want to be destined to do this forever. You’re a fine opponent and all, but I don’t think you’re really on my level. How many times do I have to pin you before you realize you’re not a match for me? How many times must we have a match? How many times do we need to step into the ring before you finally say “Nah, I’m good, we’ve fought enough times.”? Because apparently it’s more than 2!
*Mike keeps walking, motioning to the halls around him.*
Mike: Since we’re still doing it, though, and since we’re going through three stages of hell, I thought I’d reminisce, and take you through the three stages of life. This is the first. School. This is where a kid spends 98% of their childhood, but don’t look it up.
*He gets a smirk on his face.*
Mike: Remember school, John? It’s where you would go during the day to forget about daddy hitting mommy.
*After that savage burn, he walks into a classroom, interrupting an ongoing class by kicking the door in.*
Teacher: Excuse me, sir, I’m in the middle of a lesson.
*Hawk completely ignores the man and continues loudly interrupting him and disrupting the lesson.*
Mike: And another thing, Morose Franklin the Zombie Armadillo, I bet you were the kind of kid in class who would sit at the back of the classroom and pretend like he knows what’s going on. That’s why you resort to violence so much, you never learned any other life skills because you’re an antisocial fuckwit!
Teacher: SIR! I’m going to have to ask you to leave.
Mike: Excuse me for one second.
*He picks the teacher up by the shirt, tossing him out of a window, which makes the teacher emit a very girly scream. Hawk then turns to the kids.*
Mike: Science is a lie and you’ll never use math. Go have fun!
*The students cheer as they run out of the classroom.*
Mike: Now then, Johnny B. Sadde, back to your school life. Let’s run, briefly, through your character traits… antisocial, narcissistic, perpetually depressed, short-tempered, borderline murderous, and willingness to play nice with others only if said others are equally as antisocial, narcissistic, perpetually depressed, short-tempered and borderline murderous. Gee, I wonder why you didn’t have any friends growing up.
*He chuckles to himself.*
Mike: But hey, at least you saved yourself the trouble of being indoctrinated into one of the good, obedient members of society by our school system. Because… well, you’re anything but a good, obedient member of society. Hell, you're barely a member of society! Have you MET you? Christ. Maybe your home life scared you straight. Or… gay? Bisexual? …Necrophiliac? I’m not really sure who or what you’re into, but I don’t want to speculate on that any further, because that means picturing you fucking and if I have to picture that any longer I’m gonna vomit all over this guy’s desk. And as funny as that would be, I’m already breaking SEVERAL rules just by being here, I don’t want them to take legal action, too.
*Hawk sits on a desk, looking at the camera.*
Mike: And that takes us to the second stage of life.
*The stage suddenly shifts, and Hawk is sitting on an office desk. And that’s because he’s in an office. It would be weird if he was still in a school, wouldn’t it? Yeah, that’s what I thought. Anyhow, it’s a standard boring office. The walls are beige, the worst colour. The desks are grey, the second worst colour. And the chairs are black, which is admittedly a pretty great colour, but when paired with beige and grey doesn’t stand out. Hawk gets up from the desk and starts walking around the office, the camera trailing along the bland, barely-designed grey carpet.*
Mike: Now we’re here, in the second stage of life. This is the stage where you wish for the carefree, happy-go-lucky days of the second, and dread the third. You wouldn’t know what this is, would you? Or… maybe you would. Do you actually live in a cave or did I make that up? Well, my point is, this is an office. Here, people work from 9 to 5, every day, spending every second of every hour slaving away to make life slightly easier for someone else, who’s doing something just as boring as they are. Yay, capitalism!
*Mike sighs as he knocks some guy’s papers off his desk, then knocks someone’s computer off his desk, then knocks some guy off his chair.*
Mike: But you wouldn’t know that, would you? You’ve got it easy. Wrestling, while difficult, is very easy!
Mike: Wait, let me rephrase that. See, despite the long hours on the road, you’re doing what you’re passionate about. As am I. We’re both very lucky in the profession department. And yet, you still dedicate your time to making life worse for those around you, and why is that, John? Is it because you want everyone to hurt as much as you do? Is it because you’re trying to distract everyone from the unfortunate reality of your face? Is it because of some biblical shit that only, like, 14 people in the world would know?
*He stops, grabbing someone’s pencil.*
Mike: This is mine now.
*The person yells at him from off-screen, calling him a jackoff as he walks towards the meeting room.*
Mike: No, John… I think it’s because, loathed as you are to admit it, you DO care about something. Your singular goal is to make people miserable. And by having a goal, you go against everything you’ve ever said in this company. You WANT to hurt me. You WANT to break me. The great, emotionless honey badger of professional wrestling finally found a passion in life.
Mike: So you’re welcome. You’re welcome for helping you realize your true potential, the places you can go when you actually give a shit about what you’re doing. And hey… you’d better hope the feeling’s a good one, because when I kick your ass and pin you, 2 falls in a row, you’d better believe your passionate hatred will only grow stronger.
*Some guy is running towards the same room Hawk is walking to and Hawk trips him, sending him careening into a painting at the end of the hallway. Mike walks into the meeting room and sits down. Suddenly he sees two doors, one red and one blue.*
Narrator: When Mike came to a set of two open doors, he entered the one on his left.
*He snaps his fingers and soon he’s in a cemetery.*
Mike: And this is the third stage of life… death!
*He pulls out a script and looks at it.*
Mike: Wow, I actually wrote that. Okay.
*He puts the script away and shrugs.*
Mike: Y’know, I was going to do this in the hospital, but it’s closed at this time of night. …Also, they won’t let me in after what I did to it last time, which is completely fair. But honestly, this is more fitting, isn’t it?
*Hawk walks around a bit, looking up at the hospital that’s adjacent to this cemetery, before turning around to a giant mausoleum with the word “SANDERS” written across it. Hawk walks up to it, knocking on the door, and soon a zombie opens it, wearing a shower cap and a towel.*
Zombie: Do you mind!?
Mike: Oh, sorry sir.
*He walks off into the rest of the cemetery, looking at all the dead people.*
Mike: As I was saying, this place is quite fitting for you, isn’t it, Skeleton Joe & The Spooky Crew? Because you’re all sporting the “freshly-dead” aesthetic. Like you shop at “Forever 21 months deceased”. Like you’re kids in adult bodies who never grew up from the “putting a sheet over your body and going as a ghost” phase. Well, except Sykes. He more never grew out of the “showing off for mom by punching a wall” phase, y’know what I mean? Yeah, you know what I mean.
*Hawk nearly falls into a grave, then stops and looks down into it.*
Mike: Ah, an open grave. I wonder who it belongs to.
*The camera pans up to show the inscription on the tombstone, which reads, “Jonathan Sanders’ chances of winning the match at Destiny. January - May 2022”.*
Mike: Well, graves don’t lie. Why would they? The people they’re talking about are dead now, they can say whatever they want. My point is, Johnny Boo and the… no, I already made the “Spooky Crew” line. Dammit, it would’ve been better here! Well, whatever the case, just know, Johnny, that no matter what happens, these three stages will be just as terrible, just as grueling, just as horrifying, as the stages of life. Well, except for all the racism and genocide. Those things alone make life a thousand times worse. But regardless, John… when push comes to shove, and there’s nothing push loves more than shoving, Hell will be the LEAST of your concerns.
Mike: Because unlike you, I won’t be across the ring from ME.
*He goes to walk away, but trips and falls into the open grave.*
*He stands up, pulling himself out and walking away.*
Mike: I shouldn’t have made it an open grave.
*He walks off, the camera cutting to static, which fades slowly to black.*
Post by Jonathan Sanders on May 24, 2022 22:44:34 GMT -5
ANTITHESIS: AND THEN SHALL THE END COME
*Our opening shot is of the beach in Honolulu which will form our setting for PWS: Apex’s biggest show of the year, Destiny! Wind rustles through the palm trees on the darkened beach, and the only sound which greets us is not of screaming fans, champing at the bit for action, but instead the soft and steady thrum of waves against the shore. The makeshift “arena” is clearly not yet ready, though much progress has been made. Seating and some scaffolding has been set up, but the stands remain eerily empty, casting a somewhat liminal vibe to the space. We pan slowly through the empty seating, then down the festive entrance ramp - designed to look as if it’s been constructed of tiki and palm fronds, though likely metal underneath - and finally come to rest upon the ring. One tiki torch, unlit, adorns each turnbuckle post, for a total of four, and a hooded figure clad in black stands in the centre of the ring, nearly camouflaged against the ebony sky. Slowly, the figure begins to move, producing a lighter from beneath their flowing robes, and lighting each tiki torch in turn…*
“Abandon all hope, ye who enter here…”
*The voice is instantly recognizable, betraying the hooded man’s identity, but for those who haven’t quite pieced things together yet, when the final tiki torch is lit, the figures turns to face the camera and slowly lowers his hood…revealing his identity as none other than PWS: Apex’s resident malignant nihilist, the self-styled “Lost Cause” and leader of ANTITHESIS, Jonathan Sanders. Sanders wears a bitter, sadistic grin across his face, deep shadows flickering across his features in the moving firelight, and he moves to kneel in the centre of the ring as he begins to speak.*
“So, Michael, it has FINALLY come to pass. Our inevitable Ragnarok has dawned, and it shall be a glorious apocalypse indeed…”
“I do hope you are prepared for the Hell you have unleashed upon yourself. Dante was not ready when he made his great venture into the First Circle in the beginning of the Divine Comedies…nor did he know what lay before him. I will not accuse YOU of such ignorance, of course; we concocted this apocalypse ourselves. We have chosen the Revelations which shall End our tiny world, so the horrors of the pit will not come as a surprise to you. But I DO have ONE surprise, I think. It comes in the form of a story, about a young, naïve little boy, on the schoolyard in Toronto…a little boy named Jonathan, and the day he first met…Mikey.”
*Sanders pauses now, glaring into the camera lens. His eyes burn with the flames of the tiki torches which surround him, dotting each of the turnbuckles to provide a moody illumination for our scene. We slowly zoom on Sanders.*
“Do you remember meeting me, Michael? Because I remember meeting you...”
“You were a few years younger than me, but you already commanded SUCH charisma. You convinced the older children to follow you, to work at your beck and call…truly, these were shades of what would follow. You’d amassed yourself quite the gang, Michael…and admittedly, I grew jealous. ALL I wanted…was to JOIN you.
*A shadow steps forward out of the darkness on the left side of the ring; it is a figure only visible in silhouette, but the silhouette is clearly that of Tyson Sykes, his fellow ANTITHESIS stable-mate.*
“To be a PART of something…”
*Another shadow coalesces to the right of the ring, its form this time reminiscent of ANTITHESIS’ ‘Exiled Prince’, Alexander Lyons.*
*A third shadow. This one towers above the others, slowly swaying as it gains substance IN the ring, directly behind the Lost Cause. This is unmistakably the mammoth, hulking form of “The Mad God” Dionysus.*
“...As you did. But you simply wouldn’t have that, would you? To see such a vile, putrid peasant demand attention from the King…well, how could it EVER be allowed?”
*Here, Sanders pauses, his expression turning to one of oddly-nostalgic bitterness, the all-too-familiar hateful frown which splits his features being turned towards the ground as he clenches his eyes shut tightly.*
“Do you remember that day, Michael? I do. I have lived it in my head a thousand times, replayed the events again and again and AGAIN until they were burned into my brain! …And with every passing playing, every reminiscence, the memory grows clearer. I wanted to befriend you. I only wanted to belong. For the first time in my young life, I put ASIDE that nagging darkness - that wicked, whispered voice which told me not to trust - and I reached out. Vulnerable. Not as a predator, not with malice or aggression…but merely to be seen. Do you remember the words? ‘Please, Mikey…can I play too?’ I ran up to your group, the closest I could muster to a smile plastered ‘cross my lips…”
*Sanders’ eyelids quiver, his upper lip twitching in a ragged, silent snarl. He is clearly battling with his emotions…and he is clearly losing. When the Lost Cause next speaks, his voice is scarcely above a hoarse whisper.*
“You kicked me in the face...and you just. Started. Laughing. You pointed to my fallen body and shouted ‘Nerd! Neeeeeeerd! Everybody look at the stupid fucking nerd!’ You had them ALL laugh at me, Michael. Every. Single. One. It had taken weeks to build the courage necessary to approach you and your…cronies. The way you led so naturally, the ease with which you navigated every conversation…even then, I found your wit intimidating. But I persevered. I KNEW that I would be accepted! I KNEW that I had finally found my people. You HAD to be like me…I could see it in your eyes. I KNEW you would accept me…and I was proven wrong. For the high crime of simply wanting friendship, I was finally shown the weakness…of compassion.”
*Here, Sanders pauses, his face contorting into a bitter frown again as he tries to fight back tears. Slowly, he gains control of himself, the anger turning to a derisive sort of glee as his eyes flicker sadistically in the firelight.*
“You know I made a vow that day, Michael? I vowed to myself that were we to ever meet again, I would make you feel everything that you had ever put me through; all the agony that you inflicted on me in childhood. I would give you that same moment of glorious clarity you gave to me, to finally help you realize how CRUEL and MERCILESS this world can truly be…but I never believed that I would have that opportunity. I wrote these off as fantasies, pipe dreams; the impassioned, rueful musings of a bitter, broken mind. But fate…fate often makes a habit out of mocking us, doesn’t it? You know I have never believed in Destiny, I have said so many times before that it is the name which human beings give to the prisons of their past…but now, Michael - after our lives so perfectly intersected, bringing me the vindication I have pondered on so long - I simply can’t deny it. THIS. Is. Destiny. You and me, our final meeting, two irrepressible forces rocketing towards each other at TERMINAL VELOCITY, prepared to destroy everyone and everything who passes in their way…this is what it’s all been leading up to. Our perfect Armageddon. The inescapable conclusion…to our Impossible Question.”
*A beat. Sanders smirks into the lens.*
“How is a raven…like a writing desk?”
“Do you finally understand it, Michael? The riddle I’ve been hiding in plain sight for oh, SO long…it doesn’t matter what the answer is. The point is that they’re both connected. Poe wrote on a raven, on a writing desk. They both play host to tragedies. They are both involved…with a murder. Their fates are forever intertwined, just as yours and mine; two opposing forces, cosmically entangled in perpetual annihilation. It’s us, Michael. It has ALWAYS been us! Everything I’ve done, this little…‘blood feud’ we have grown; it has all been personal. And I am so very glad I could have shared it with you, darling…because it could never have been anybody else. There is nobody else who could have stopped me, so many moons ago. No other warrior worthy of usurping my crown. You are MY Destiny… just as I am yours. There is no other ending that makes sense. No other possible outcome in this vast and cruel infinity of doomed existence! We must collide this way…and this is where it ends. Our final circle. The shining Emerald City at the end of our blood-smeared yellow brick road!”
*A beat. Sanders slowly regains composure, inhaling sharply.*
“I have been thinking about this moment ever since the day we met. Since I first reached out my hand…only to be shown what becomes of kindness. I am so, SO grateful to you for that portentous lesson, Michael…without it, if we had been friends…I truly doubt that I would ever have become the THING I am today.”
*Sanders pauses here, and smiles. For the first time since he tossed that Daddy Long Legs into the Black Widow’s web and watched the two spiders devour each other…Jonathan Sanders legitimately smiles. His steel-grey eyes do not break from the camera as the expression overtakes his face, but they do not bear malice. In a twist, we see his visage soften.*
“So thank you Michael. Truly, completely, and from the bottom of my withered, blackened heart…thank you for giving me that final push to become the Snake of Eden. For finally revealing to me that I am - and have forever been - THE. Lost. Cause. I will be a Walking Plague upon the wrestling business, I will burn it to the core and take the whole WORLD down around me...and I couldn’t have done it without you.”
*With this, Sanders is finished, and his smile blooms into a far more characteristic wicked grin, his grey eyes glinting violently in the flickering amber light of the tiki torches around the ring. We hold for a beat, and then…*