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Post by Vinny Falcone on Jan 2, 2011 23:07:44 GMT -5
RP here.
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Post by darkangel on Jan 3, 2011 15:35:38 GMT -5
Roleplay:
(We see The Former Dark Angel, C.J Lane in the back of the arena. he storms around the back, clearly with something on his mind. Not watching where he is going, Lane almost knocks Joel Garcia’s camera man over. )
Lane: Watch it.
Garcia: Who are you?
Lane: C.j Lane. You?
Garcia: I am Joel Garcia, GWA Interviewer. You must be a wrestler, Right?
Lane: Guess you can call me that.
Garcia: Well Mr. Lane, may I ask you what brought you to GWA?
Lane: simple. I worked as a wrestler under Dark Angel. My contract was bought out, and I was brought here. Changed my name and lost my first two matches.
Garcia: May I ask you what you plan to do here?
Lane: another simple question. Win.
Garcia: simple enough motives.
Lane: There is nothing that can’t be too simple.
Garcia: if I remember correctly, you are a former SCW American champion. Do you plan on winning the North American belt, or are you going for the World?
Lane: I am going to work my way up. I barley was anything in my old company. I am not going to act like anything here. I am just going to stand back, win a few matches and let my time come.
Garcia: One last question
Lane: Shoot.
Garcia: Do you think you have what it takes to become the world champ?
Lane: time will tell. I can’t predict the future. I can’t tell you what will happen next. But what I can tell you is that I am going to do the best I can to make an impact.
Garcia: Thank you for this impromptu Interview.
Lane: no problem. (With the end of that chance meeting, Lane walks off with a goal in mind. He plans to do just what he told Joel Garcia. Win.)
End
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Post by tripmaster1 on Jan 15, 2011 20:20:17 GMT -5
An Introduction
I've always believed in the infallibility of psychological warfare. And if that doesn't work...the more conventional version."
--- Trip Master
He runs his hand over his sweaty hair as he circumambulates around the winding halls of yet another arena's backstage in yet another city. He's just finished a long match with a kid who tried hard but fell short and flat, and he aches the ache of the worked.
Trip Master has always been a fervent man. The vehemence with which he performs every task, every maneuver, every con-job, and every treachery, is possibly the chief characteristic of this ignoble man. As he brushes past other wrestlers traversing their own paths, his mind flashes to definitive points in his career. It may be guilt. Or pride. But the memories stand out. They often do, as, much to Trip Master's own annoyance---and never believed by others when informed--- Franklin Redgrave has a ninety-eight percent photographic memory. He can memorize the vast majority of a phone book.
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1997.
New Brunswick, New Jersey.
A TV taping for a local wrestling promotion.
No more than a few hundred fans. Good fans, though. Passionate. The followers of the small-time promotion. The most loyal kind. Redgrave likes these people. Signs their Polaroid pictures of him. In these days, Franklin "Trip Master" Redgrave is just beginning his career. He is actually a face at this time.
A match between Frank "Rockin'" Redgrave and the small federation's most notorious heel, Paul Erickson. Today, Erickson owns the MCW and wrestles for multiple wrestling companies. In 1997, he's just another ornery no-neck.
Erickson bashes a baseball bat across the back of Redgrave as the referee is distracted by Erickson's valet. An old trick; one that always seems to achieve the desired effect: Hero of the match goes down, and the villain stands triumphant.
To this day, it is among the worst pain Trip Master can ever remember. Three shattered vertebrae. The physical agony and subsequent weeks of therapy are frozen in his mind as if it had happened to the thirty-three year-old man of today, rather than the twenty year-old rookie of then. He can, of course, remember quite a lot of detail.
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2001.
Eighteen days after September Eleventh. Many local promotions in the United States have shut down entirely as the country, still in stupefaction, comes to grips with something never experienced before in dozens of American generations.
The Vancouver Wrestling League, a now-defunct promotion, is showcasing a hardcore match between Franklin "Trip Master" Redgrave and Perry Darrens. At this point, Redgrave is very much a heel.
A Figure-Four Leglock, his long-standing submission finisher, snaps the fibula of Darrens at the seventeen-minute mark. The sound of the fracturing bone still echoes in Redgrave's skull like the handclapping of giants. He still will not admit to any part of himself that he felt compassion for Darrens that night in a rainy Vancouver suburb.
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2007.
Champion of the rapidly decaying Tri-State Wrestling Association, a fed that brings fast-paced wrestling action to the local gymnasiums of over fifty northern New England cities and towns. Redgrave successfully defends his title against yet another brazen upstart who thought he could live up to his own hyperbolic promos. Redgrave feeds him brass knuckles tossed into the ring by his manager Paul Striker as the referee is unconscious on the mat, having been standing in an unwise location as a flying forearm soared across the ring.
A young girl sits in the audience, watching Redgrave. She wears an engagement ring. By the following year, she'll be wearing a different one, bestowed from a different wrestler in a different organization. This is a memory rivalling all others in the department of the undesirable.
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The Present.
A contract signed in a well-known federation, recently revived. The future lays waiting. And so does a debut match.
In the middle of a GWA house show in Baltimore, Maryland, where a televised taping is happening, the spotlight casts its beam on the ring. There stands a sumptuous interviewer, leggy and curvaceous. The lady has an announcement to make, and the rowdy crowd of wrestling fans' attention gravitates toward the ring. The sultry bitch speaks.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, the Global Wrestling Alliance would like to introduce to you its newest acquisition. Please welcome..." (She looks down at a card to read something) "...the Trip Master!"
The fans' attention collectively turns toward the wrestler's entranceway, with the exception of several directionless men who haven't quite finished ogling the woman just yet. "Also Sprach Zarathustra" (better known as Ric Flair's theme music) begins to play as a man wearing sunglasses and orange and blue long tights emerges from the back and into full view. The man waxes dark and arrogant from his first few moments in the GWA spotlight. After a few token poses and primps for the crowd, Redgrave begins his walk down the aisle and into the ring, where the interviewing eye candy stands ready for the introduction/interview.
"Well, thank you for being here, Trip Master. Some of the fans may know you from your stint in the NEW---not that we're sure why you were ever there---and some may know you from your days wrestling in Canada and Minnesota. Many would remember one thing about you, though, I suspect...that is your penchant for cheating and conniving your way to the top. I guess the question is, 'What can we expect from you here, in the GWA, today?"
Franklin Redgrave gives her a cocky look, followed by a quick leer up and down her long legs, before taking the microphone from her and turning to address the crowd.
Trip Master: "Well, well, well. Another disappointment. What is it about you marks that you just keep getting more static every fed I join?" (Raucous booing follows this) "Apparently, I have some questions to answer from Sweetheart over here, so keep the blathering and booing and bitching down to a dull roar. God, I wish we could just make a living wrestling for rabbits...they're totally quiet and they don't breed as much."
Redgrave turns back to the girl, and runs a hand through his hair.
Trip Master: "First of all, Cutie Puss, I never cheated or engaged in unethical practices in my former places of employment. My own superior ability allowed me to take that rocket to the top. I'd like to make that abundantly clear right from the get-go." (She gives a surreptitious little eye-roll) "Furthermore, now that I've been announced, I'd like to comment briefly on my match. Beneath me, but I guess you gotta start somewhere..."
Redgrave now turns his attention to the camera. His face morphs from arrogant to arrogant/determined/irate as he removes his glasses and looks into what he hopes are the eyes of all important members of the GWA.
Trip Master: "But let it be known that the Trip Master is here to move swiftly through the ranks. I don't care who's champion or who mops the floors at two a.m. here. NOBODY is going to stand in my way."
He seems to compose himself, as the fans attempt to boo him right through the arena wall. It's clear those who don't know him have already formulated an opinion of him, and those who do know him haven't altered their own.
Trip Master swings his focus back to the hot little interviewer: "...Because nobody ever has. I'm the best, and the best...stays the best."
He casually hands the mic back to her and turns to leave the ring. Trip Master re-dons his sunglasses and spends his whole time striding up the aisle flipping birds to the fans that shout him down in the first several rows of seats.
An announcer, near ringside: "Well, Ladies and Gentlemen, there you have it. A real Emmy Award winner joins the Global Wrestling Alliance."
The color commentator: "Hm. I kind of like him."
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