| DJ RP | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jan 14 2011, 09:06 AM (23 Views) | |
| The Corporation | Jan 14 2011, 09:06 AM Post #1 |
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"A New Year is just a chance to make the same mistakes all over again." - Unknown It had not been a joyous holiday season for DJ. In fact it had been quiet miserably to say the least, leading into his dismissal from the One Shot Match and followed up with a loss to Vintor Otis. Christmas had been a general disaster but that was more of a tradition at this point. The New Year started like it was going to roll in with the usual misery as always. All in all it was yet another miserable close for the miserable human being that was DJ. DJ had traveled south of Arkham, down past New York to a seedy little city that set on out two islands. The name of the city was lost to DJ but he knew it was where people of his nature tended to accumulate. And what type of people were DJ’s people? The lonely. The disturbed. The angry. The miserable. The wretched who hated life as much as life hated them and in their frustration they sought to make others miserable as well. Sociopaths. Psychopaths. And all other names of the mentally ill, abusive, abused and generally misunderstood. Infuriated by his expulsion from One Shot and his loss to Vintor Otis, DJ could not fester for long before he found a reason to vent his frustration, either physically or verbally. Since he lost the line between DJ and the Future of Wrestling had melted away for the most part, the fragile psyche of DJ shattered along with his confidence and in its place was just.. a lump of cold fury. And Chris Wrestling, the man he had been loyal to attempt to end him. What was that? Did Chris really think that he had the right to do that? Did he think he could get away with that? Wrestling was nice compared to what the Future of Wrestling would do. Wrestling was uncreative compared to the things that the Future of Wrestling plotted. DVD could attest to that. DJ would kill Chris Wrestling but that would be too good for the leader of The Canadian Connection. There were so many better things to do, so many steps to take before he could get his hands on the leader of The Canadian Connection and take from him what Chris tried to take from DJ. Wrestling was a pleasant dream compared to the Future of Wrestling. - Unknown Shelter, 3:20 pm “You have no idea what it is like out there.. they call it a successful place but they would be lying.. there is no success out there, only misery brought on by all your hard work that builds up like.. like a pressure cooker and finally, at the crescendo of your career, it explodes spreading hot molten pain all over you..” A sickly looking DJ said, his dark curly hair plastered across the top of his head slick with sweat. His eyes were outlined by dark lines and a bruise was apparent on his left cheek. His stubble had crossed over into a black beard with line gray hairs mixed in. He looked old and tired and slightly wild. A green blanket was pulled over his shoulders and it could be seen that he was wearing a rather dirty black suit, the same one he had probably been wearing since he arrived back in Arkham after Unsanctioned. “..suh.. you’sa used to be a successfah fella?” a nearly toothless woman said with a grunt. Her face looked like a bad play statue that had severely melted in the hot sun before hardening into a sad parody of a human face. Her posture was akin to a very round boulder rather than a human being with her head about even with her shoulders. She was also wrapped in a green blanket though her clothing underneath looked like a collages of different cloths, each soiled and dirty from life on the street. “..Used to?..” DJ quirked his head to the side as he let a soft sigh escape his lips, his eyes turning up toward the roof of the shelter. The question posed to him by the dirty little bag woman was an interesting on as he had to reflect on if he was or used to be a successful person. The Future of Wrestling side of him wanted to reach out and break her jaw. No real reason other than that she offended his senses. The DJ part of him wanted to lay on his woes upon her looking for some manner of sympathy. “Yeeaaaah man, dats what Ophelia said!” the cutting voice of a youthful black man with shark eyes and several layers of sweat shirts and pants. Like so many of the traditional stereotypes that existed in any city, this urbanized youth was a striking example of what so many of the country viewed young black men. Brash, athletic and with a weak grasp on the English Language. That was not to say he was not a smart person, chances were good he was a very smart young man however his taste in clothing and the fact he was fighting against stereotypes meant his life was pre-decided the day he stepped out of his mother’s womb and welcomed in all the horrors of ghetto living as the only life he would know. DJ turned his eyes toward the loud young man with a quirked eyebrow as he let his hand wander to the corners of the blanket he pulled around himself. His upper lip quivered slightly as he eyed the man. It was truly an unfair thought to think but when he looked at the young man he saw DVD. The former XWF Legend who fell so far from grace and clung to his previous greatness with the same sort of desperate hope that a priest clings to his faith even as his church burns down around him. And in that he saw himself to a degree attempting to cling to that last bit of glory he knew he had in him. That last bit of former self that was so great in the past. “..No. No.. Joe was it? No I wasn’t successful..” DJ said, his long white teeth snapped out from his wide mouth. The white of his eyes had turned yellow and red from his lack of sleep adding to normally quite animalistic appearance. Some of his oily black hair fell from his head across his face. “..No, Joe, no I AM a successful person.” His voice was clipped and the words seemed to scratch the back of his throat as he threw them up into Joe’s face. Charmingly enough it was not but a few weeks ago that he was selling off Manuel’s former secretary, Mindy, to a desperate police officer. And now he was the one who was out in the trash with the rest of the rubbish compliments. “Really? Den what iz you doin’ here wit uz Loosah’s?” Joe said, wildly gesticulations, arms swung widely to either wide with his fingers crimped open as if he were undergoing some radical seizer. DJ blinked at him for a moment as he watched him. Unfortunately it could not be claimed that this man was the only one who used such seemingly random and dangerous arm flailing. No, in fact the entire so called “gangsta” movement of the late 80ies and early 90ies seemed to center heavily upon one’s ability to lash your arms in different directions while speaking with barely understandable English. DJ let his hands slowly slide up to his temples as his eyes rolled slightly to the side, the sensation of a nagging headache slowly clinging to the back of his eyes. It was like the more he saw this Joe person the more it felt like a small child was pulling his ocular tendons. “..I am here.. because I needed to get away for a few days. Did you not hear my overly descriptive explanation about how success is like a pressure cooker? In the last two weeks I have been scalded by my success and I needed to take a little while to.. cool my heels off..” DJ said with a slow, medium paced tone, his voice wavering just a little.”You see.. I am a wrestler who rec-“ “..WAIT DAWG! I know you.. yeah.. yeeaaah! You’re dat DJ guy!” Joe responded as Ophelia, the old bag woman, simply watched the two with old, glazed over eyes. “You got your ass kicked, yo! You ain’t no successful dude! You’s a haz be-“ And much like Joe had cut him off, DJ returned the favor by ensuring that Joe was unable to finish his statement. In a flash of curly hair, thin hands and a black suit DJ was upon Joe like a monster. His mouth widened into a gaping maw of white teeth jutting out like pearly tombstones on soft pink sand. Joe didn’t have a chance as DJ dragged him to the ground by the collar of his hood, slamming him to the ground with terrible force, the sound of air escaping the man’s lungs squelched whatever screams he might have wanted to let out. “NO MORE! NOT A WORD!.. you see the problem with.. PEOPLE like you is that you just can’t shut up.. no.. heheh you just have to say the WRONG thing.. at the WRONG time and get people all upset..” DJ hissed at Joe whose dazed expression and gasps for breath kept him otherwise incapacitated for the moment. DJ let his hands slither up to Joe’s neck where his fingers carefully wrapped themselves around his throat. “And when you get people all upset.. mmm.. well you make us go crazier than normal. Never a good thing, Joe, never a good thing indeed. Right now.. we could just choke the life right out of you.. hmmheheh..mmhm…” DJ’s body trembled as his hands tightened around Joe’s neck cutting off the air flow and blood as Joe slowly came to. Joe’s arms and legs began to thrash about for a moment before he reached up and tried to pull DJ’s hands from his throat, his eyes going wide as he looked up into his assailants eyes. For his part DJ was wild with fury, like a wounded animal that was lashing out at a perceived threat, who was in this case Joe unfortunately. Soft gagging noises came from Joe as he tried to untangle DJ’s fingers from his neck to little or no avail. Ophelia, the old Bag Lady, just looked on with dull eyes marked with extreme disinterest. Her hard life and time on the street had left her somewhat immune to the atrocities of day to day life. Justice was never fair for Ophelia so why should it be any better for Joe? DJ did not relent in his efforts to slowly choke the life out of Joe before he heard a soft beeping echoing from his pocket. DJ cocked his head to the side eyeing Ophelia as Joe’s gagging noises. “That you?” DJ said with a quirked eyebrow, toothy grin crossing his face as he enjoyed the act of slowly choking the life out of little Joe. Ophelia turned her pockets out indicating that she had no phone on her. DJ looked back down at Joe who’s eyes had started to roll back in his head. “And I know it isn’t you my little friend.. so by process of elimination it must be moi..” DJ released his iron grip on the man’s neck as he began to immediately cough and hack, rolling over to his side. DJ stood up and fished into his pocket pulling out his cell phone as he cracked it open to answer it. “DJ.. what?” DJ said as he stepped over Joe who continued to hack and wheeze as air was allowed to flood back into his lungs. Whatever DJ was hearing was apparently something that shocked him deeply. The color slowly drained from his face and his eyes widened a deep scowl chipping into his face. “..no that’s not possible.. Because it’s not, check again.” DJ began to pace as a hand ran through his hair. Whatever news he had heard was incredibly unpleasant to say the least. As he passed Joe he sent a stiff kick into his ribs knocking whatever air he had managed to pull into his lungs right back out. DJ spit on the man before he turned his attention back to the phone as he listened to whoever was on the other end confirm whatever it had been they had said. “YOU’RE FUCKING LYING YOU FUCKING LIAR!” And with that DJ fell to a knee and jammed his cell phone into Joe’s mouth. “He’s not fucking back! He is gone! There is NOTHING left but The Corporation and it shall reign forever! I don’t care what the hell anyone says.. “ His face flushing red DJ jumped back to his feet and sent a stiff kick straight into the face of Joe causing a crunching should as the cell phone was shattered along with Joe’s jaw it could be easily assumed. DJ roared out in fury before he turned, leaving the shelter. “Not possible! NOT POSSIBLE! They are fucking with my head.. Matt Anderson is trying to get to me.. Chris Wrestling is playing some game with me.. Night is long past.. there is nothing left for that man.. he passed on and now it is DJ’s time! Now it is The Future of Wrestling’s time! They can’t fool me..” DJ growled to himself as he stormed through the door, smashing it open as the cold chill of the night air washed over him. He turned his eyes up toward the moon which was masked by wispy grey clouds. The biting cold clutched to his chest and stung his eyes as his fury burned deep inside of him. It was a miserable holiday season and this was the icing on the cake. This was the ruinous news he wanted nothing to do with. Fucking Night was back, the previous Ruler of SVO. What the hell was that? Was the entire universe conspiring against DJ to ruin what he had left? No.. no he had to focus.. he had to focus on his match with Colt Cooper. He had to focus on that crafty bastard who had managed to sneak victory after victory. DJ could not become just another statistic.. but there was still Chris Wrestling. And there was still Matt Anderson.. and now there was Night. His world was coming to a difficult cross roads.. Would something finally break for DJ? Or was the end coming quicker then DJ could stop it? ..Maybe.. Maybe.. But DJ would watch the world burn before he went into the night.. and Colt Cooper would NOT be the one to put DJ down. DJ stormed off.. he had to return to Las Vegas. He had to confirm what he had learned. He had to confirm that this unholy union was forming against him. He had to know.. and he had to plan. The Future of Wrestling is not so easily defeated.. the Future of Wrestling is not so easily intimidated.. and the Future of Wrestling is not so easily insulted without returning the favor.. - Fade - |
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2:32 PM Jul 11