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Post by pwsstaff on Sept 28, 2022 20:42:04 GMT -5
PWS: APEX DISHONORED TUESDAY, OCTOBER 11, 2022 SCOTIABANK ARENA - TORONTO, ONTARIO, CANADA
PWS: APEX Collateral Damage Championship Glass House Deathmatch Devon Ryder © vs. Dylan Howell
RPs due Sunday October 9th, 2022 at 11:59 PM
1 rp each, 500 word minimum, 5000 word maximum
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Post by bobodoll on Oct 9, 2022 19:28:15 GMT -5
People might want to know what I was thinking about when I decided I was going to lift Horse the Attorney high over my head before dropping him on his, and the truth is I wasn't thinking at all. Not surprising, I try not to think too often and I believe that is a feat that I accomplish with ease. When you think to often it causes your brain to hurt and I like myself so I really don't want to make my brain hurt, crazy me, right? Other people like to think a lot though, and as such, have you ever seen other people and the way the hold their heads hurting themselves? Yeah, I thought so. You don't even have to answer because I already know.
Case in point, the man called Horse the Attorney. Now I don't know for sure because I have never actually saw the man before the event in question, but if you were to ask around to people who do know him (assuming anybody does) I'm willing to bet that there is a man right there who is consistently holding his head. Horse hold his head because he is lying to other people all the time about who he actually is and when you are consistently lying to other people about who you are? It starts to get hard to remember which lie you are trying to keep straight and that, you guessed, will make your head hurt.
Who Horse the Attorney actually is could be anybody's guess. There are two people who know who he really is although he is probably so confused by all of his lies and deceit that he is saying to people that I'm not even sure that he should count because I'm certain that he doesn't remember. That only leaves one person, the PWS:Apex Collateral Damage Champion, Devon Ryder, that really knows who Horse's true identity is. Now before I go any further I feel the need to explain myself so that all of you "thinking people" don't become even more confused, because yes I did say on the last Riot that I bet that Horse didn't even know Devon Ryder. I'm not a ridiculous man though. I know that Horse was sent in Devon's place, likely because Devon doesn't want any part of yours truly (more on that in a minute) so I'm also aware that Devon and Horse must know one another. But when you have run as many cons as Horse has, well there is probably no way that you can remember who you know and who you don't know any more.
So the end result was because he kept getting me to try and buy into his con that he was Devon's Attorney when I knew just from looking at him that wasn't the truth, Horse pissed me off because I don't like lying and I decided to drop him on that egg shaped head of his that hurts so much already, more than likely. Looking back on it, I probably shouldn't have dropped him on his head, but there is nothing I can do about that now and he was the one who started out lying to me to begin with.
What really is causing most of Horse's problems as a con artist thouigh besides the lying is being mixed up with Devon Ryder in the first place. Seriously though Horse, I know that your Mama Horse and your Daddy Horse must have talked to you about getting mixed up with the wrong Jockeys and Devon Ryder is exactly the type of jockey that they were talking about ok? In Devon, we have a man who didn't mind not showing up at Riot last week, in his home country no less. These people were there to see him, that is not lost on me alright? I know that people look at me and say there is one wrestler that has been punted in the head so many times now that he is just a few sandwiches short of a picnic lunch. I can't really say that I disagree with them either. But I also know what is going on around me and I know that those people were there to see the man that did not show up on that night. Yes, Canadians like me, but they idolize you Devon, and you were perfectly fine with sending home all of those people unhappy, and why?
Well, you say that it is because of some personal drama between you and your girl, but as a man who has caused and been involved with more personal drama than you ever will, I have to say that I don't think that was the case. Do I believe that there are issues between you and your other half. Sure, it could be possible. Maybe she realized what a giagantic prick you are. If that is the case, good for her, no one deserves to have their wagon hitched to you. Personally? I could actually care less because I think whatever it is between the two of you, it's really not as bad as your making it out to be.
No Devon, the really issue I think is that you are scared. Scared of me, because people in this company never know what might be coming from me next me, and to be fair neither do I. Therefore, it is also fear of the great unknown. See Devon, I actually think you were there in the back at Riot. I think you were planning to seak attack me somehow, but then you saw how things were going between me and your Horse cowboy and you thought to yourself "There ain't no way I'm going to let that happen to me." That's what happened wasn't it? You saw me, saw what I was doing and to hell with all of those people who came out and paid to put their asses in seats you were not dealing with the insane guy that night.
That is the kind of thing that pisses me off even more about you Devon, you cant be a man can you, and face me like a man one-on-one.
Not to worry though because in just a few more days at Dishonored? There won't be anyway that you can get away from me Devon. That was exactly what I had in mind when I choose the stipulation for our match the Glasshouse Death Match. Have you even been involved in a Glasshouse Death Match Devon? I'm would be shocked if you have, but you are going to be in one at Dishonored. You are going to be in one with me Devon. I want you to think about that for just a second. You are going to be in a match where you will be locked in a cage with just me and a referee Devon, and I'm not in the mood for beating the hell out of a referee so the only person left in that cage is you.
It is also a very special cage, very different from any cage that you have ever been in because it is all made of glass, and yes the glass could break. Come to think of it Devon, when I look back on all on those fans who paid their hard earned money to buy a seat to put their ass in just to see you at Riot, only to go home disappointed when you decided not to grace us with your presence for whatever reason?
I have to say that I really hope that cage does break all over both of us, leaving us covered in shards of glass. In fact, I'm still not sure whether I want to win the Collateral Damage title more than I want to maim and destroy you.
Decisions, Decisions, maybe I will just try for both. After all, the event IS called Dishonored.
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Post by Devon Ryder on Oct 9, 2022 22:49:32 GMT -5
ACT ONE: THE END
“Hello, Devon…”
*Her voice. It used to be so comforting, to pull me back from the brink when I could no longer keep my head above the surface. Now, the sound fills me with dread. As I load the video she’s sent me through WhatsApp, I can feel a pit forming in my heart. A breath - deep, trying futilely to calm myself - and I resume.*
“I’ve spent a long time thinking about what I wanted to say. I thought about writing a letter, but I thought that you deserved this face-to-face.”
*A pause. Not mine, this time, but hers. She seems to be collecting her thoughts, giving much consideration to what will come next.*
“I am not happy, Devon. In fact, when I think about it, I realize I have not BEEN happy for a very long time. And for a while, I didn’t really know why. But now I do. It’s because I’m not a person - because I feel like, as long as we’re together, I can’t live my life. I didn’t mind at first; I know that wrestling has always been your dream, and when you asked me if I wanted to get involved it was exciting - to be by your side through this new journey, help support you in this phase of your adventure. But that can’t be ALL that I am, Devon. I can’t be your prop forever.”
*Desi pauses, here. I have so many questions for her, but I’ll never be able to ask them now.*
“I know that it was never your intention, meu amor, but it was always how I felt. That I was just an accessory. The other half of ‘Devon Ryder AND’. And you have no idea how withering that feeling is! How much I felt suffocated, every time somebody would call me for an interview and all they wanted to ask about was YOU! I didn’t know what this would be like, when you finally made it. How it would consume all that we’d built, how YOU would let it get in the way of the future we had planned. You’ve been so… distant, since you won that title. It started long before - when you arrested Cleo Phillips, even though I asked you not to. I TOLD you how it would look, all the problematic elements, but you didn’t want to hear me. You only wanted to do what you thought was best for you. For the ‘Canadian Hero’, Devon Ryder. But I never wanted that, Devon. I knew you had to be this thing at work - put on this persona, play the part - but at home, I didn’t WANT a ‘Canadian Hero’. I just wanted Devon. But you seemed to be unable to separate the man from the character, and I felt more and more of ME slipping away, more and more of us being lost to your persona. I couldn’t even TALK to you anymore - you only ever wanted me to be a support structure. A shoulder you could cry on, who could build you up when your confidence wavered. I didn’t feel like a partner, I felt like a therapist. Everything we’d built together - all our plans and memories… you seemed to want me to put it all away, to hang up my ambitions so I could support yours. But I just can’t do that. I won’t. And it breaks my heart to see all of that go, Devon. But I just don’t know what else to do. I need to live my life - I need to figure out who Desiree de La Roche is, WITHOUT being defined by her relationship to a famous white man.”
*She pauses, now. A beat. A tear. Her eyes are mirrors of my own - stained with the streaks of our evaporating love.*
“I’m sorry, Devon. I still love you. I will always love you. But I’m not in love with you anymore.”
*She pauses, taking a moment to dry her tears. Mine refuse to stop.*
“Hopefully, in the future, when we’re both more healthy and complete people, our paths can cross again. Maybe when we’ve both grown up a bit, we can HAVE that beautiful life that we had planned on. But until then…”
*A beat. The barrel is loaded.*
“I love you. Goodbye.”
*And that was it. The bullet. My head spins, reeling from the shot, as I plunge backwards into the deepest darkness I have ever known. A gaping chasm of despair opens up beneath me, its maw opening wide to swallow up my soul… and there is no lighthouse to be seen. I have lost my anchor, and now…
I drift away.*
ACT TWO: IN THE ASHES
*As the video draws to its conclusion, we fade into a shot of a nondescript room, an apartment or a hotel suite, with one solitary chair sitting directly in our field of view. The chair is seated in front of a large picture window, with the iconic Toronto skyline visible outside of it. The sky behind the buildings is overcast, grey; an unyielding steel wall of angry clouds, threatening the urban populace below with a torrent of autumnal rain. Inside, however, everything is calm. Still. We hold on this tableau for several long moments, the silence of anticipation broken only by a steady and familiar sound…*
Tick… tick… tick…
*The clock pounds its ever-present rhythm dully out into the quiet emptiness, its staccato thrum a monotonous symphony that remains our only company until a lone male figure enters the frame from our right. The unknown individual slowly lowers himself into the chair, his hair in long black locks - a wild, uncombed waterfall - cascading down over his face as he does. With one smooth motion, he flips the mask of hair off of his face and reveals his identity to us as none other than PWS: Apex Collateral Damage Champion, Devon Ryder. The Canadian Hero looks anything but heroic in this moment; in fact, he looks defeated. His once-proud face is a haggard shadow of its former self, beset with lines and wrinkles - the hallmarks of sleep deprivation. A lengthy, unkempt beard and dark circles under each eye belie the champion has suffered many sleepless nights since his very public split from Desiree de La Roche several weeks ago. He does not look okay. With vacant, sleep-ringed eyes, the champion stares into the camera for a spell in utter silence, his typically-cocky smirk swapped for a frown of stoic consternation. The pain this man is feeling is written plainly in his eyes, which he keeps fixed directly on the camera before finally joining with the clock in breaking through the silence.*
“So I keep having this dream…”
*A beat. Devon pauses.*
“In the dream, I’ve died, and I find out there’s an afterlife. When I get there, I look up at the gods presiding over all of us on high and I ask them: ‘Why? Why did you take me so early?!’”
*Another pause, here. He inhales deeply and releases it through his mouth, trying to keep himself together.*
“They look down at me, their faces stern and pitiless, and they say ‘We gave you three decades. How much more time could you require?’”
*Devon pauses for a very long time, inhaling deeply as he clearly struggles to keep composure.*
“I don’t have an answer for them right away. I just stand there, silently, thinking about their question for a long, LONG time, until I can finally look back at them. ‘Just one more minute’, I tell them…”
*Devon’s breath catches in his throat and he chokes back a sob, tears streaming down his face now. He locks eyes with the camera once again, vulnerable and exposed.*
“‘Just give me one more minute…with her.’”
*There is another pause here, and this one is much longer. Ryder sits, unmoving, in the emotionally-pregnant silence for quite some time as he gets himself back under control, inhaling sharply and steeling his gaze beneath the camera’s harsh and unforgiving gaze. Slowly, with a visible effort as though weighted by a leaden blanket across his entire body, the champion lifts himself into a standing position and strides towards the window. He stands there for a long moment, surveying the Toronto skyline, his face invisible to us save its ethereal reflection in the glass. A ghost of the man who called himself Unbreakable, which looks us in the eye as he begins to speak again.*
“I didn’t know if I was going to make this video. Truth be told, I very nearly decided not even to show up tonight; to lock myself away in the deepest, darkest pit of my own mind, to wither up and die rather than face a life without her."
*Devon pauses again, to get control of his emotions and to allow the gravity of what he’s just said to sink in.*
"But I simply couldn't do that to you all. After all of the support that you have shown me, through the highs and lows of my career - after the hero’s welcome I received in my home country - I couldn’t break your heart. Even though it seems I’ve grown quite adept at that, these days...”
*Here, Ryder pauses once again, his expression growing forlorn as he ponders the reality of those words. Slowly inhaling, clamping his eyes shut against the well of emotions surging wildly throughout his psyche, he turns away from the window to once more face the camera. The ghost in the window turns its back, and once again becomes a man. Eyes open.*
“...So I suspect that many of you have questions for me. I think that’s probably fair. I’ve avoided talking about this for as long as possible, because I feared that acknowledgement would somehow make it all more ‘real’, that if I just kept my mouth shut maybe I could somehow win her back again…”
*He sighs softly, shaking his head against the thought.*
“But now I know that this was foolish. That I NEED to acknowledge what happened - I need to SPEAK of it and THINK about it if I’m ever going to GROW beyond this one defining tragedy. It… has not been an easy feat. When Desiree left - when we had that final, fatal conversation that put an end to something beautiful - she said that she didn’t want to CHANGE me. She didn’t want me to give up on my dreams so I could be with her, because then I wouldn’t be the real me, I’d just be a falsehood she created. But what she didn’t seem to understand is that I don’t want to be the version of me that doesn’t get to be with her!”
*Another pause. Devon inhales.*
“I am not okay. I’ve been asked more than a few times now, and that has always been my answer. Very generally, I have been barely hanging on - oscillating back and forth between ‘this was all my fault, I’ve ruined the greatest thing that will ever happen to me’ and ‘how could she do this to my heart’? But I have learned to live moment by moment. In the GRAND scheme, I am broken - in the ABSTRACT, everything that I knew as Devon Ryder has been shattered into a million tiny pieces, and I have no idea how to reassemble them. But at this moment, I’m alive. At THIS MOMENT, I’m still fighting. And I no longer want to lay down in front of a train… so I’m gonna call that progress.”
*Devon pauses again, then inhales sharply as his eyes steel.*
“At the time of this recording, it is currently the 30th of September. Here in Canada, that is what we call ‘Orange Shirt Day’ - more officially, the National Day for Truth and Reconciliation. It is an important occasion for us, culturally; it represents a day for reckoning with our country’s troubled history - for acknowledging our part in colonialist violence, and taking steps to make amends with our storied indigenous peoples for the actions of our ancestors. It is a day to acknowledge Canada’s deep flaws - and this country has MANY. It is a time when we bring to light how deeply imperfect our country and our system is… and this year, when it rolled around, I felt my faith was shaken. I didn’t know if I wanted to CALL myself ‘the Canadian Hero’ anymore. With everything that happened with Desiree, I didn’t know if I DESERVED to call myself a Hero. But then, I saw this shirt…”
*Devon holds up an orange t-shirt to the camera. It is emblazoned with a black image of three indigenous children from different tribes holding hands, and the phrase “Every Child Matters” beneath it in black.*
“See, when I looked at this orange shirt, I felt something… shift within me. When I looked at this orange shirt, I remembered who I am. I remembered… that I am unbreakable. Because Canada is NOT perfect - it is, in fact, at times not even good, and certainly unworthy of the praise I’ve heaped upon it. But Canada is TRYING. Canada is FIGHTING, every single day, to be better than it was! And maybe that’s enough. Maybe it’s okay that we’re imperfect - that we are broken, and marred by the sins of our past failures - as long as we keep fighting. As long as we know that we are broken, and we keep striving to improve. Perhaps that’s what a Hero is. To be honest… I’m not certain. Since Desiree left me, I’ve not been particularly certain of ANYTHING. I don’t even really know who Devon Ryder IS without her…”
*A pause.*
“But I’m going to find out.”
“Tonight, I face a man named Dylan Howell in a match I did not choose for a belt I did not want. Tonight, I shall battle in a match type that is not well-suited to my skills to retain a prize that I am no longer certain I deserve… but I will absolutely fight. Because I think that is the point - not the prize, not the destination, but the JOURNEY to obtain it. THAT will be the story Dylan and I tell. The LEGACY of Devon Ryder… and Dylan, I hope you know it is not personal. I have nothing against you as a performer - your antics are buffoonish and I have little respect for what you choose to call your ‘wrestling’ - but I bear you no ill will. You are simply in a VERY bad place, at what has turned out for you to be a VERY bad time. Because Desiree de La Roche is not what made me Unbreakable, Dylan. My beloved is not where I got my fighting spirit. It’s been inside me all along. The Canadian Hero is not a persona, it is a mantra. ‘Unbreakable’ is not a GIMMICK, it is a fact of my EXISTENCE! An existence that I have grown to question, deconstruct, and question once again. I said before that at the moment, I don’t know who Devon Ryder is, but tonight, Dylan? I am truly, deeply sorry…”
*Ryder pauses once again and glares into the camera, his vulnerability and sorrow now vanished, replaced with steely and determined resolve.*
“Tonight, you’re going to help me find out.”
*With that, the distinctive opening riff of the Guess Who’s “American Woman” kicks in to play Devon off, and he manages a small, half-hearted but familiar smirk as we slowly fade to black.*
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