| Post-Match Visit; showdown rp 1 | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jul 9 2008, 08:03 PM (155 Views) | |
| Alex Ross | Jul 9 2008, 08:03 PM Post #1 |
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The Perfect 10
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Alex Ross' match against Hooligan was finally over, he could rest for another week before he had to once again return to the ring and compete to prove himself as World Champion of the sVo. The pressure was on now, if anyone got the upper hand on him, people would start asking questions about other people's abilities... and even worse... his abilities. From now on, Alex Ross needs a perfect record to maintain his image, but if he does happen to take a fall here and there, we can count on the World Champion to bounce right back with a reason (or excuse) for the loss. For now, though, it's another week survived, his first as World Champion... as he made it through the chancy Roulette week, but insured his title through some greedy sVo officials. His title wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, though. This much Alex Ross knew. The door to Alex Ross' locker room swings open, the doorknob whacking the dry wall on the left-screen side of the door. Alex Ross walks in still wearing his wrestling attire with a towel draped over his neck, holding a duffel bag in one hand and the World Title in the other. He always keeps the title close, at least since he's won it... and that damn duffel bag has been with him a lot too. Ross closes the door behind him and sets the duffel bag on a nearby counter along with the World Title. He thought about Travis Williams' little maggot child wanting to touch it and he got an impulse to shine it, despite the fact that the kid never did end up making contact with it. Ross uses the towel around his neck to wipe the gold plates on the leather trophy and he sets it back down. He took some satisfaction in his reflection off of the gold, but finally moved on to the duffel bag. 'The Perfect Ten' unzips the main compartment and starts filing through it. He stops after a moment, in paused reflection, as if he forgot something. Ross takes his hands out of the bag and starts frantically going through all of the side-pockets and compartments. He leaves them all open after searching, finally going back to the main compartment. His filing soon becomes a desperate dig as he sorts through the same stuff that he had before. Whatever he was looking for was not there. Ross slams a clubbed fist onto the counter, followed by a "gah" sound. He checks a few possible places for his intended find, but there is so such luck. The World Champion goes back into the bag one last time, digging and turning things over, feeling around. Ross has no luck, still, but this time notices his cell phone sitting on top of some clothes and his extra pads (that's elbow and knee pads, jerks). He had one missed call and a voice mail, presumably both the same person, Talon. He picks it up and and clicks a few buttons to check his mail on speaker phone. Computer Voice: One new message. Talon: Hey Ross, it's me. Just calling during your match, while you're kicking Hooligan's ass, to see if you wanted to be in on this whole charity idea I had... It seems to be something right up your alley... anyway, have fun picking your stipulations, get at me later man. See ya. Ross waits a moment, then presses "7" on the number pad. Computer Voice: Message erased. No new messages. Alex Ross hits the "end" key and tucks the phone back away into his bag. He wasn't sure what Talon was talking about with charities, but it wasn't really a big thing on his mind right now. He was desperate to find something. He directs his attention back to his search, still finding nothing different than the time before. In defeat, Ross turns, leaning against the counter, and slides down to a sitting position. He raises his knees up to chest level and his breath becomes shallow. Ross: Goddammit, not now, not now... Come on, where did you put it? Backtrack, backtrack. Walked in, set everything down.... No... The shared locker room? ... Ummm... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... SHIT. PAIGE'S OFFICE. Ross shoots up to his feet in panic and bolts for the door. He swings it open and there in front of him stand a group of reporters and interviewers for generic wrestling columns and magazines. In the front of the group is blond reporter Christine Lockley, the one who had just paid a visit to his friend Talon. They all boom with questions and the World Champion hears none of them. Ross: I can't. I can't. Not now, especially not now. Please just get out of the way, I NEED EVERYONE TO GET OUT OF THE GOD DAMNED WAY. The reporters quiet down a little when Ms. Christine Lockley speaks up. Christine: Talon has just announced after his win that he is worthy of the World Title picture, how do you feel about that? Ross: What? Talon was fucking with you, he knows his place and he knows my place. PEOPLE, GET OUT OF THE FUCKING WAY I HAVE TO BE SOMEWHERE. Christine: Mr. Ross, he seemed pretty serious to me. Ross: Why don't you people leave me alone? I NEED TO GET THROUGH. Christine: How do you feel about your match with Julian Fiasco next Sunday? Ross: Who the fuck is Julian Fiasco? God, GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE, WHERE IS SECURITY? Overwhelmed by the non-mobile crowd, Ross retreats back to his private locker room. He slams the door behind him, laying against it with his head back. His breath is even more shallow now. Despite closing them off with the door, the reporters are still yelling to Ross from the outside. Ross bolts the door and starts pacing to the blur of voices yelling to ask him questions. The reporters were never this bad before. Finally, in an act of little thought, Ross grabs a steel chair from the table setup in the middle of the room. Still unfolded and locked open, Ross throws the chair at the door. The chair hits the door, then the floor both with a smash. The impact puts a large gash in the door. Ross: Why now? WHY NOW? Shit- shit- shit- shit. Ross sets himself down in his favorite leather chair and runs his hands through his hair anxiously. The World Champion goes totally scatterbrained. He thought about getting to Paige's office, then his win over Hooligan, how it didn't really matter to him. He thought about stipulations, how he could use that against Travis Williams when he claimed his World Title shot... He thought about Travis Williams' kid, Trenton... Then he thought about Julian Fiasco. What about Julian Fiasco? The man had little experience in the sVo and already they were stacking him into the main event pile. What had he done to deserve this sort of reputable match up? Ross tried not to think too much of it right now, there's too much already going on. He thought about Talon. Talon. Ross begins speaking out loud to himself. Ross: That airhead... She said he... He wouldn't have. He's my friend, I'm always there when he needs me, dammit. I brought him back into the fucking business. He'd still be sitting in an office doing paperwork if it weren't for me! Fucking backstabbing... ... ... He wouldn't have contested my spot as World Champion. Why would I believe her? She's full of shit. My friend Talon is loyal. Fucking no good unappreciative bastard... Talking behind my back about me. I bet he was laughing when he said it, i told her he was just kidding... It doesn't matter... ... it doesn't, really... I just need to get to Paige's office before she does. Alex Ross remains in the leather chair, exhausted from first of all, his match... and now the stress of having lost something important and word that his friend Talon is actually up to challenging him for the World Title. He sits and reflects, but still in a mental panic. We fade to black to the image of a broken World Champion. |
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12:56 AM Jul 11