| Crippler RP | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Feb 23 2011, 06:15 AM (195 Views) | |
| Canadian Connection | Feb 23 2011, 06:15 AM Post #1 |
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sVo Superstar
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Prologue Monsters…giants…behemoths… since the days of Goliath, legend tells of these fearsome creatures who tower over the meek either by stature or via pure intimidation. For what it’s worth, I’ve fought my share of monsters in my lifetime, beginning all the way back with the man whose surname I forever sign on fan’s Polaroids, and culminating most recently with facing the mythical presence of the mighty Asesino. “Mighty,” I say, simply because that’s what everyone wants me to believe. I’m not buying it. The wrestling world is full of “monsters,” and the vast majority of them are notable for approximately two things: being big and being strong. The “monster” Asesino? He can barely make it through a match without entering an arrhythmiatic suicide… and I’m taller than he is. So much for that. With all the demons I’ve taken it upon myself to fight off, there’s not a man better prepared to exorcise another living incarnation of everything that was once imperfect in my life—now, it’s time to dethrone the devil inside. Crippler welcomes you. Act I Corgen residence, Las Vegas, Nevada: 3:28pm Say what you will about Las Vegas. For a land of sin, excess, and destroyed lives, Vegas has always been good to me. In 1999, the first Canadian Connection Training Facility opened out in the desert heat, attracting hundreds of aspiring wrestling recruits every year since. In 2000, Rey and I hit the jackpot playing slots on national television, turning this poor kid from Canada into an honest-to-goodness millionaire. Sometime in between, my little sister Shay followed me out here on one of the EWA tours and found herself a job as a sports radio anchor, which she, fortunately, still holds today. Ryan: Hey Cripple! Wanna come downstairs and play the old XWF game on N64? I’m getting really good with David 14 and could take you down with the Davidstation in no time flat! Sometime after that, she met Ryan, self-proclaimed wrestling fanboy, and for whatever reason became his wife, a title which she, unfortunately, still holds today. Shay: Ryan honey, I really wanted to look through some of these old pictures with Crippler before he leaves so we can send them back to Mom. Crippler: Sorry Ryno Liner, duty calls. You could probably just use the computer-controlled Canadian Crippler and you’d get destroyed just the same as if I were playing. Ryan’s face became somewhat reminiscent of a beagle that didn’t get its afternoon treat as he attempted to comprehend what I had told him. Shay reached over and gave him a kiss on the cheek as he grumbled and sulked off into the streamer-laden kitchen. Hard as it may be to believe, the Crippler does actually age, and with Shay’s 31st birthday passing last week, my 35th birthday this Saturday, and Showdown in Vegas this week, my sister opted to host a party for the two of us at her and Ryan’s two-story adobe-style home. The cake had just been cut and the other guests, including several mutual friends I met on The Canadian Crippler Tour 2000, some of Shay’s co-workers who knew of my elite SVO status, and a few cousins whose names I couldn’t hope to remember, were busily scrapping around the dining table for a piece of cake like piranhas on a fresh carcass. Crippler: I tell you, sis, the Crippler's posterior was looking mighty fine even as a baby! Shay and I sat on her crème-colored sofa, flipping through a large album of Mom’s photos that seemed to document our entire childhood until a sudden stoppage midway through our teenage years. Alas, it’s admittedly difficult to have family photos when you run away from home. I pointed out the seemingly unavoidable naked baby pictures to get a reaction out of my sister. Her smile contorted to show a combination of disgust and humor. Shay: Too bad we can’t say the same now, old man! You’ll be more wrinkled than a California raisin before you know it! Crippler: Au contraire, the Crippler at 35 is equivalent to 21 in normal human years, you see. Unfortunately, the good genes stopped with me, so enjoy your sagging and cellulite! Shay: As if! My sister slugged me in the arm hard but playfully, as was fairly typical for our relationship. In all honesty, my insults were completely unfounded, as Shay was still fit and beautiful as I’d always known her to be. As her deep brown eyes bounced joyfully to a party guest approaching at her side, I reminisced in my mind of the many journeys she and I had taken over our three decades as siblings. Leaving home for New York was a bold risk we had to attempt in order to find stability for ourselves and our mother… finding alternative education and turning it into college degrees was a feat few could claim… her sticking by my side when I opted to join “that crazy wrestling academy place” was an exercise in love, plain and simple. If I’ve ever had a best friend outside of the wrestling business, it was my little sister. I sighed thankfully…as my best friend inside the business was too aloof to even account for. Party Guest: Hey Crippler, didn’t you say Rey Rosario was going to be coming? Shay: He was on the invite list. He’s fighting downtown Sunday too, isn’t he, Crippler? My dour expression likely conveyed my disgust with the question more than any word I could conjure. I had been asked similar questions on a fairly frequent basis of late… “Where’s Rey?” When you team with someone for nearly your entire career, people tend to notice when half the team is missing. Shay frowned apologetically at me, but I opted to shake off the frustration and tackle the question head-on. Crippler: He was invited, and he’s somewhere lurking around Vegas… He probably got held up by casino security for trying to buy growth hormones off the Elvis impersonators or something. Okay, so it was more of a side-tackle. Regardless, the nuisance guest laughed and went back to his precious cake as I flipped the photo album to a new page. A collection of Halloween photos from 1985 revealed Shay and I in costume along with Rey and some of the neighbor kids. One photo in particular showed the Perfect 11-year-old, dressed as Optimus Prime, nailing a boy dressed as Quasimodo in the jaw with a blue-gloved fist as the boy’s parents looked on in terror. I couldn’t help but chuckle as Shay shook her head in disbelief of her troublemaking brother. Crippler: Hey, what do you know? I was beating up Asesino when we were kids too! Shay: Well, hopefully Asesino’s parents won’t ban you from setting foot on their street ever again… Crippler: That was a minor mishap… of course, I now own that street, so I wonder if that ban still stands…? Regardless, I have no desire to set foot anywhere near Asesino, other than square in his face but for now I have Jack Heart. After I’m through with Jack Heart on Sunday, the big oaf will wish he hadn’t stumbled onto the Crippler’s block. Strong words, I realized, considering I don't know anything about this Jack Heart guy. To me, it didn’t matter who he is—this Sunday night is my first real opportunity to knock him off my way. So strange, I thought, to have an image of invulnerability when your very existence is a marred mass of twisted psychology and defective science. Unlike my opponent thus far, I am not an upstart rookie, a rival teammate, or a simple man seeking retribution for personal torment. I am simply the greatest competitor SVO has ever seen, and Jack Heart will soon know that the pains he has suffered in his lifetime are nothing compared to those people incur when they step into the ring with the Perfect athlete. Ryan: Shay, can I have a word with you in the kitchen…now? My thoughts of destroying Jack Heart faded for moment as Ryan re-entered the room, speaking in a decidedly odd stern tone. There was a chill to his voice that I had never heard before. Shay looked up at him with wide eyes, then quickly glanced around the room to make sure everyone was still having a good time before rising to her feet. I took the photo album and placed it on the glass-topped coffee table. Shay: Sure...honey. Crippler, umm…just keep looking through there for a bit… I’ll be right back! The speed with which Ryan took off out of the room, Shay quickly following him, was alarming at best. I remained concerned momentarily, but quickly shrugged it off as Ryan being his asinine self or the two of them trying to surprise me with some grand birthday present hidden in the kitchen. Now that I mention it, I could use a new blender. With my hatred of surprises, I purposely ignored my sister’s request and stood up, slowly grabbing my Singapore cane from under the couch and using it to push a hole through the crowd of party guests leading to the kitchen. When I finally arrived, I gently pushed aside the multicolored “Happy Birthday!” ribbons forming a sort of curtain over the kitchen entrance and peeked my head inside. Crippler: Hey guys, nice try. What magnificent gift have you got for your amazing brother? My smug expression quickly faded to a guilty and concerned glare as I saw no sign of Ryan whatsoever…and my sister quietly crying on the counter. Act II Crippler: All right…who do I have to kill? I searched around the kitchen like a wolf sniffing out live prey. Shay wiped her tears away and tried to retain a straight face as she lightly grabbed me by the shoulders. Shay: Don’t worry about it, Crippler. I’m fine… really! Ryan and I just had a little…moment. Our matching irises met for a long second as I instantly recognized the old Crippler emotional wall. No matter how bad things got, everyone in our family knew not to express it for fear of being called out and having to explain the pettiness of our weakness. My aversion to frailty was well-documented to the world by the simple “Perfect” moniker I bared. Shay was much the same; she may have never stepped into a wrestling ring to face the Jack Hearts of the world, but she and I had enough run-ins with real life monsters to forever scare her from fear itself… Shay: He’s stressed out about losing his job at the factory… There was the time that she got lost at age 12 in the middle of the 2am New York nightlife and didn’t have money for a cab… Shay: …and he knows there’s a chance we may have to move to a more affordable house or move back to Minnesota with your help… …The three occasions we were held up at gunpoint simply for walking down the wrong back alley... Shay: Really, he just buries himself with his wrestling stuff lately to get his mind off things… I don’t see much of him, and it’s tough to face him when I do because I’m supporting both of us. It really hurts his pride…so we argue sometimes…but it’s okay. …And the family get-togethers that were usually climaxed by the loving tenderness of our father taking out his frustrations on one of us with any fist, boot, or alcohol-laden word that he wasn’t too tired to be use after a hard day’s bar hopping. Shay removed her grasp on me and wiped her eyes again as I slowly rotated my cane in my hand, wishing in futile delusion that I had had the blistering armament in my hands during each of those memories. Reading my sister’s face, I could tell she was hurting, but I wasn’t about to ruin her birthday party by making a scene…especially not against the brother-in-law who I’d come to know as a clueless moron incapable of hurting a fly…and one who had always respected my sister. I tried to comfort her while simultaneously sorting the pieces of the situation in my head. Crippler: Shay, you know your big brother will deliberately devastate any ignoramus who tries to hurt you…but I’ll trust you on this one. I suppose Ryan may be going through something deeper than we understand…Doc would call it an adjustment disorder, but I’d call it “Remora Syndrome.” Shay: My husband is a fish? Crippler: You would know better than I would…but no. The sole purpose in a remora’s life is to feed off the scraps of other beings, then detach and find its way to something else to cling on to. The remora always needs to be wanted and falls apart when he’s not given a seat at someone else’s dinner table. Shay: So how does this relate to Ryan? Crippler: Ryan, likewise, feels an inherent need to be attached to someone or something… he was attached to his job, but now that’s gone. He feels too ashamed to attach to you, so he’s adhering himself to his hobbies. For Ryan, that’s you. Don’t beat yourself up over it…he’ll come around, I’m sure. Shay blinked at me for a second in disbelief, then smiled a slight grin and nodded. Shay: Thanks, Dr. Crippler, I hope you’re right. Leave it to you to talk about parasites, huh? Crippler: The remora is more of a symbiote, actually, but who’s counting? I hoped I was right, too. I gave her a hug and nonchalantly slipped through the door leading down into the basement, leaving Shay to get ambushed by the oncoming wave of party guests entering the kitchen. Even if Ryan wasn’t being a chronic moronic, I thought it good of me to investigate. Passing down the wooden staircase, I could hear the sounds of Ryan grunting with exasperation, followed by several pounding noises. Praying that I wouldn’t find him with a Playboy, I stepped into the large, wrestling poster-covered basement and found my brother-in-law sparring with a large punching bag with DVD’s image emblazoned on it. Ryan: Crippler! There you are! You wanna try out my new official sparring mat? I’ve been getting back into shape lately! If I really did have any reason to knock Ryan’s lights out, he sure was handing me the brass knuckles on a silver platter. As wrestling always got my mind off real life issues and vice-versa, I agreed to a friendly spar with him. Watching his string bean frame trying out basic wrestling maneuvers was an exercise in trying to keep from laughing, but at least he tried. We fought for a bit and, even though we’ve never been best of friends, I felt as if wrestling was one tie that brought us closer. Crippler: You’re not bad… not as bad as half the other ignoramuses I’ve trained in my career, at least. Ryan: Really? Awesome!! Maybe I could be your new tag team partner! Crippler: Maybe not! One step at a time…do you have a signature move other than looking like a doofus? Let’s see it. Ryan looked the most excited I’d seen him since the time he got to sing the National Anthem earlier this year. He raised his hands as if to silence a nonexistent crowd, then motioned to me to stand in a particular spot on the mat. Ryan jumped up and down to build up a head of steam, then ran and launched himself at me, skillfully flipping in the air to deliver a somersault dropkick. Unfortunately for him, I opted to sidestep the move entirely, causing him to crash down onto the mat like a load of bricks. He slowly got up and protested as I smirked casually. Ryan: Hey! Cheap move! That would never happen in the video games! How about you try that on the EWA game? Crippler: Sure, I suppose I could waste a few precious seconds of my life beating you in the virtual realm too. I guess I owe you from earlier. Looking through ancient photos with Shay and/or Mom is a tougher hold to get out of than any wrestling submission. Ryan: Yeah, you know how women are! They just get in the way! You have to push them around and even make them cry sometimes to get out of things and to do what you want! So when I beat you as El Locon…AAARGHGH!! Wrong answer. I didn’t allow another breath to escape Ryan’s throat before I purposely slammed his back down hard across my knee and locked in the Crippler Lock on the hard mat. I could feel my eyes bulging out of their sockets as the man whose ankle I was now contorting like an origami swan had said exactly what I feared. Ryan tapped like a drunkard with his other hand and screamed like a child, but I refused to let up, questioning him in a calculated rage. Ryan: OWWWW….What the hell, Crippler!??...ARGH…Let go!!! Crippler: Does it make you feel like more of a man to make my sister cry, Ryan? Does it give you some sort of ego boost? Is it a power trip to be a monster?! Tell me!! I could hear footsteps rushing down the staircase, but I still maintained the hold. Undoubtedly, I never imagined Ryan would ever cause any pain to my sister other than the occasional headache. I had taken it upon myself to be a protector of late-- in the SVO ring, I had tried to protect Rey Rosario from becoming just another fallen hero; in my personal life, I aimed to protect the world from the old Crippler; now, I was protecting my flesh and blood from another of the world’s Asesinos. Party Guest: Crippler!! Stop it!!! Get off of him!! The hands of two individuals reached down and struggled to pull me off Ryan’s writhing frame. When they finally succeeded, I was out of breath, my face red with resentment and a sort of stabbing pain throbbing in my heart. I glared to each side of me at the two unknown male partygoers, both of whom silently let go of my arms as I regained my composure. Staring down at Ryan, who clutched his ankle and groaned in pain as he wallowed on the floor like an infant, I didn’t discern whether I was acting out of misdirected anger toward all the other times my sister was in danger… if there’s one thing I’d learned from my war with Asesino, it’s that all rage is explosive, and no one is safe from its shrapnel. I could have approached this differently…and I knew it. Crippler: Is Shay still upstairs? Party Guest: Yeah…yeah, she is. Crippler: Do me and “Husband of the Year” down there a favor and don’t tell her any of this happened. This is her party just as much as it is mine. Party Guest: What about his ankle? Crippler: Tell her he fell off his official Chris Wrestling bulging bicep weight bench… and that he has an apology for her. Ryan: Apology? For what? I suppressed any further anger. The old Crippler would’ve tattooed his initials into the man’s back with cane lashes by now. As it turns out, that explosive rage is just as much a monster as the demons we fight with it. I couldn’t let it get the better of me, just as Jack Heart wouldn’t get the better of me on Sunday night…I’ve spent my whole life dealing with his kind. I stepped over to Ryan and grabbed him by his free arm, pulling him up to his feet and leering directly into his eyes. He winced in pain and tried to escape my stare. Crippler: For being too proud to realize that you’re turning away the greatest woman you’ll ever meet because you can’t get your own shit together. I don’t care if you lose your job, lose your house, or lose your mind… I picked the cane up and raised it up under his chin, pressing it into his throat. He could’ve moved, but didn’t for fear of what I would do. I leaned toward him and whispered in his ear so that my words were inaudible to the other two men. Crippler: …You will never hurt my sister again. Are we clear? He rapidly nodded, gasping for breath the moment I pulled the cane away. I turned back to the two party guests, acting as if nothing had happened. Crippler: Perfect. So…when do we open presents? We will fend off the greatest evils for those we love. I walked up the staircase, calming myself and thinking of my innocent, childlike glee at knocking out the costumed boy on the lawn for no apparent reason. Things become different when the reasons are all you have to fight for. As I looked back at Ryan standing alone in the basement, I hoped that he would understand what I discovered months ago—the more flawless we believe ourselves to be, the more feeble we are; the more flawed we allow ourselves to be, the more perfect we can become. No monster can touch that. End. |
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2:31 PM Jul 11