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Post by Wade Mason on Nov 11, 2009 15:17:48 GMT -5
[Single Match] French Montana Vs. Jake Venom
Limit: 2 Each Maximum First Deadline: Saturday November 14th at 11:59pm EST Final Deadline: Sunday November 15th at 11:59pm EST
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Post by frenchy on Nov 12, 2009 17:03:03 GMT -5
I did not join the revolution to kill people, to kill the nation. Look at me now. Am I a savage person? My conscience is clear… [/right] FRENCH MONTANA 820 Broad St … Newark.[/b][/u] : Just outside the clamor of the downtown sector. A nationally prized, historical state landmark; a call to leadership to diverse forms of mankind. The faithless, the blasphemous, the sacrilegious, the unbelieving…the “free thinking”. All welcome to the general assembly, “to resist the forces that tyrannize, and to support the forces that restore the dignity of all men as the children of God, for only so is the gospel most fully proclaimed;”…Abundant rain could drive a man insane. The car, is a thirteen consecutive day storm…Guess who the driver is?: The onslaught of rain, though unusual, is by now normal. The darkened skies make it appear to be much later in the evening. The winds have picked up, keeping the natives inside, and the transients scurrying for the nearest shelter. He waits outside a massive brick structure; four stain glass windows, four sets of white oak doors with gold fixtures and a steeple as high as the eye can see. He quietly smokes a cigarette leaning up against the metal gate that encloses the courtyard. Brown “ Brick City ” hoodie under a black bomber, jeans and boots. The center door opens behind him creating almost a euphoric, heavenly light that radiates on the sun scorn concrete. Out from the glare steps a familiar face, he proceeds through the courtyard toward the opening of the gate…[/color] “You done yet?” *chuckling* "…It’s a beautiful evening. What’s to complain about?” “Maybe the “save me, O light of the world” bullshit they're putting in your head” “C’mon, don’t start with that bullshit. You know exactly why I come here… “To resist the forces that tyrannize, and to support the forces tha--“ “Push… We got it. Yet, you do the things you do?”: Irony: They continue a quarter mile south, towards the Broad St Station. A bus to train conversion hub frequently loitered by the lowest of humanity. Nearing the station the sound of constant rain and emergency sirens serenade the city. He pauses, gazing into a window of a small lone lit office building.[/color] ELENA ARI & ASSIOCIATES Attorney at Law [/b][/u] Pusher gives him a look after returning his eyes from the writing..."...Not today Frenchy.": Coincidence, may be described as the chance encounter of two unrelated casual chains- which miraculously, merge into one significant event...Noted.: He lights a new cigarette as he flicks the butt of the consumed, and coldly continues towards their destination.[/color] "Anyway, looks like you got a date huh?""...The fuck is you talking about? What date?""Mason man, Mason. He set up some shit... You haven't been near a TV bro?""No, I have no interest in their theatrics. It makes me itch.""Well, I guess Mason wants to check you out. He tossed you a scent...time to track the prey."They reach the station which holds a few brave souls who've ventured out in the turbulent weather to trek through the storm. They enter the platform for the 'L' train. He looks out and sees an approaching light."Tossed me a scent huh? Is it huntin' season already?..."The approaching train cuts off the conversation. The two enter the car pushing past the exiting passengers... Next stop: a familiar place.=============================[/u] :Docks by the airport. Two lefts, a right... Fifteen feet to the west. Still raining outside, there is a glow from three large flood lights positioned high on the eve of the structure. Two huge doors cringe open to a sliver. The looming darkness through the sliver parts as a small glowing cherry cleverly illuminates his scowling features...: [/color] "...Humanity either makes, or breeds, or simply...tolerates, all its afflictions."French furthers the opening as far as his wingspan revealing more of the space behind him. There isn't much light other than the glare from a window that’s out of view which casts shadowy impressions over the various amenities visible."In life, as we know, there are no mistakes. There are no redo's. There are no do over's. *flicking the cigarette at the camera lens* ...Wake the fuck up! Wake the fuck up and smell the anticipation...Heh, there's something about the rain that provokes my aggression. So, considering the state of 'flux' True Glory is in, it may just be the right time to strike. I mean, how many times do you get to see such betrayal at the top in a corporation who's 'inmates' are seemingly running the asylum? Sanctioned, at the spur of the moment we catch our prized Champion in a hallway melee in which he is man-handled, if you will. *smirks* ...Boom, through a table and three seconds later our heroine villain 'steals' the title. *clapping lethargically* ...Is this a soap opera? I feel like I'm aging watching this circus and its many, oddities. Mason, I swear to (insert whatever you believe in here), I hope you're clinically insane. Tell me this isn't your normal operation. Cease and desist orders?! Impromptu Championship matches without your knowledge? And, your other Champion was a no show in the main fuckin' event? There is no structure, there is no focus, there is no discipline, and there is no direction. Sounds like the recipe for a mutiny...
Mason, a rebellion is brewing...":The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free, that your very existence is an act of rebellion.: [/color] "No, no there isn't a take over. Frankly there's nothing to, take over. There needs to be a complete obliteration of the True Glory muck and the 'deficiencies' left on the roster. No need for a response, I'll start the process with the table scraps you left me Mason. One of your many voids on the payroll, you place in front of me...wears a rusty crown. I swear I can't make this up. You see it. It's the purest definition of who and what you are. ...Jake, right? Nah, I have no beef with you. Really, I have nothing to say to you either. My significance radar isn't exactly buzzing. *laughing* ...A circumstance of destiny, I suppose. So we dance. Thanks to Mason's inadequate ability to properly run a business, our paths meet. No, I wasn't expecting my first time out a date with the reigning Champ, whoever that may be come Animosity.
Sadly, that's not an overstatement.
But at least, give me something to strive to. Something that might get a rise out of me. I, for years, fought in the dirtiest, grimiest rat holes. One on one, just for fifty bucks. I mean, the shows were and are plentiful. We got a nice buzz. I did it because there is just something, something in me that is just not satisfied. A lust? You could say that. Understand, because of this drive I have no need for a reason, a season, or method... I just go. To wage a war for purely moral reasons is as absurd as to ravish a woman for purely moral reasons...Important for you to know, Jake. It is not I who am solely responsible for your impending fall, I am not the puppet master. Your venom[/b], however potent, should be guided at its prime target. Wade Alexander Mason[/i]. I assure you, at this point in time it would be wise to understand who your enemy is. Know your enemy. Forty battles won, doesn't necessarily guarantee a victory in the war. If you know your enemy and yourself, you need not fear the results of a hundred wars. ...The battle of November 16th is drawing neigh."[/color] As if on cue, a loud crack of thunder rolls across the eastern skies as rain continues to fall. A rumble of bass drawing closer leads to headlights appearing adjacent to the open doors. Frenchy looks out and waves to the vehicle as the rumble has now reached a deafening throb. The truck stops, switches off the headlights and halts the engine. Out steps Pusher, carrying a large black duffle bag. He covers his head with his free hand and jogs to the opening to avoid additional rain. French looks at him and nods as Push continues into the building."In order to see the snakes, you keep your grass cut low. When they slither in you can spot them from your front door, take aim for the head. The body is left useless. …The fact that True Glory’s description includes serpents of many forms and high grass, lets me know there are plenty of reasons to keep my sights up. I don’t miss. All are targets; superheroes, freaks, metrosexuals (you know who) *chuckling* …and especially women. It’s been noticed that they, of all people are the most conniving. If only, just one truly enlightened soul could be found, my lonely journey can shine brighter. When you’re the only person that can see what truly is…it makes the vision that much more special. It makes you significant during the revolution…
An affliction is something which causes someone physical or mental suffering. Suffering is any unwanted condition and the corresponding negative emotion. It’s usually associated with pain and unhappiness, but any condition can be suffering, if it is unwanted. In a phrase like "suffering from a disease", the emphasis is on having the disease, less on the unhappiness it causes. So, it is irrelevant if I have a reason, or a motive. Neither does it matter if this is the grand entrance against compatible competition. The emphasis is on the task at hand…
Jake, afflict me."
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Post by chase on Nov 13, 2009 20:32:32 GMT -5
Location – Beautiful Gold Gentleman's Club Time – Sometime in the night Date - Unknown
Jake Venom leaned back in his plush seat, and looked the man that had just approached him straight in the eye. This was going to be very interesting. Jake motioned to one of the half-naked women swirling around him for another drink. She of course would know his usual, as she served him what seemed like dozens of times a day. Venom reached to the stand beside of him, and picked up his half-burnt cigar, and placed it in his mouth.[/i] Jake VenomPlease, elaborate Mr. Scott. The man just eyed Jake, not really sure how to react. He had flown here all the way from San Diego, California, and was expecting to find something more impressive than... Well, to put it bluntly, than this.[/i] Mr. ScottWell, Mr. Venom, I have come here to talk to you about your position in True Glory Wrestling... It seems as if you were accepted to the company, but haven't come in contact with the front office. My agency and I are Wrestling Agents, Mr. Venom, and we would really like to extend our hand to you before you show up and sign your contract... Jake took a deep drag of his cigar as the half-nude waitress showed up with his drink. Captain and Coke, the best drink on Earth. He swirled the drink around in his glass, and kept his eyes level with the man infront of him. He didn't like agents, lawyers, businessmen, or any of the type. They were all the same... Trouble.[/i] Jake VenomLook, Mr. Scott. Allow me to say I appreciate your offer, but I don't think I will be hopping in the ring anytime soon... Mr. ScottBut, we see here that Wade Mason himself has looked over your resume, and accepted it... Jake VenomAnd? What wrestling company owner wouldn't want to hire Jake Venom? Mr. ScottI'm not sure I follow. Jake VenomDo you not understand? You fly all the way out here to St. Louis, and come into my strip club, and say you don't know about Jake Venom? Mr. ScottWell, looking over your acco... With a shh, Jake holds up his hand infront of the man's face.[/i] Jake VenomI know what my accolades consist of, sir. I do not need you to repeat them. On that same note, I would like to ask you to leave. Mr. ScottTo leave? But Mr. Venom, we haven't even gotten to the meat of the matter yet. Jake VenomThe meat of the matter? Mr. ScottThe money of course. There is a fat pay-check to be paid from True Glory. Wade Mason's pockets are deeper than most others... Jake VenomAnd I'm sure you and your 'agency' would like to get a hold on that, wouldn't they? I know your type, Mr. Scott, and you play dirty. You shoot through every loophole to get to what you want, and you stab as many people in the back while you do it... Mr. ScottI assure you, Mr. Venom, that is not the case. Jake VenomI'm sure it isn't. Now, what you may not know is that I have money. I am not concerned with monetary bribes, sir. But you... When you see those dollar greens, your eyes light up like a kid in a candy store. Now, before I get irritated, Mr. Scott, I would like to ask you to leave... Mr. ScottPlease just listen. There is an outstanding offer on the table... Jake VenomNOW!
[Later That Night] [/color] Female VoiceI over-heard you talking to Mr. Scott today, when I was serving you drinks. You said you weren't going to wrestle... Mr. Venom turned his eyes away from the huge trophy case in the VIP room That was something that he always found hard to do. He eyed the woman approaching him, and a smile fell upon those dangerous lips.[/i] Jake VenomAh, Mandy, I didn't hear you come in. The woman walked up beside of Jake, and looked at the huge trophy case that lined the wall. Everything from trophies, to medals, to wrestling championships resided in that case. Things that had been accumulated over a span of many years.[/i] MandyAre those yours? Jake VenomThey once were. MandyOnce? Jake VenomA long time ago, those belonged to a man that I used to be... MandyWhat do you mean, used to be? Jake VenomIt's hard to explain. MandyTry me. Jake VenomWell... Where to begin... A long time ago, there was a young man named Jake. He was regarded as the future of American Wrestling. The man that was going to bring back the gold in the Olympics. Sports Illustrated done write-ups, ESPN done reports, this whole thing was a big ordeal... He won gold at the junior Olympics, making all of his opponents looks like jokes. Then, he went to college. Iowa, to be exact. The wrestling school to top all wrestling schools. And there, he developed a very nasty addiction. He was soon banned from the Olympics, and he traveled from shit-hole wrestling fed, to shit-hole wrestling fed, just looking for a paycheck. He finally hit it big one day. Winning the top-tier championship in one of those wrestling federations, and right after that, said wrestling company took off. They hit the lime-light, and was a glowing star in the world of wrestling. Jake was at the top. Then rumors of the addiction started back up... And then, they weren't rumors anymore. People knew the problems that Jake was having, and instead of offering their hand in support, that wrestling company turned their shoulder on this young star. And again, he was back to the life of a vagabond. And then, he opened up a half-decent strip club in the middle of St. Louis... And now he is here... MandyWow, so why don't you try and get back to where you once were? Jake VenomFear... Fear of being what I was then... MandyYou can change... We all can change. --- My good friend, Frenchy. You have already arrived, and began making your splash here in San Diego, California. You've already issued a challenge to the top of the organization, and started demanding that your needs be met, and that you are here to lead a revolution. The funny thing about all of that, usually when a revolution gets lead, there has to be more than one sorry sap fighting for his rights. Right now, you are just a sad man outside of an abortion clinic, holding up a white picket sign, calling people sinners and claiming to be the saint.
What trash.
I knew the second I gazed my eyes upon your greasy hair and your sunglasses that look like 1974 shit on your face. What the hell is wrong with you? Are you sad that you missed Woodstock, so now you parade your way all the way to True Glory, and demand things be changed? Are you such a wanna-be drugged hippie, that you have to make your way all the way from Who-Gives-A-Fuck, and come to California to live in the O.C.? You want to sit around all day with the long-haired college kids, and smoke weed in the quad?
Sorry to disappoint, but we aren't in college.
So, why don't you go back to what-ever computer club you walked out of? You obviously don't belong here with the rest of us. You don't deserved to be graced by the presence of the people that make their residence in True Glory. From the Teresa Quaranta's all the way to the Michael Hyde's. And yet, Wade Mason gives me the job of making an example of you the first night? If it were up to me, your ass would have been put up against one of the champions of the place you question. I would have set you in the ring with Russell Franchise, and let him put a franchise stamp on your ass. Better yet, I would have let you go up against the top of this sport, and face Jack Darling.
You wouldn't last.
Do you know why you wouldn't last, Frenchy? Because you're nothing but another kid who had a bleeding liberal teacher in high school, and he drilled it into your mind that your voice matters. Your voice doesn't fucking matter. The non-sense you are already spewing does not matter. And let me guarantee you this, once you step into that ring with myself, your so-called wrestling ability will not matter. I've been around the fucking block, Frenchy, and I know a thing or two about a thing or two, and I know that kids like you don't fucking last.
Now go the way of Che Guevara, and die.
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