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Old 09-24-2017, 07:06 AM
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Default AS 121 - Tyrone Blades versus Batti

RP Deadline Monday 2nd October 23:59 (Central).

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Old 09-28-2017, 01:23 PM
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Old 10-03-2017, 09:18 PM
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Default Way Down.




"They can't do this!"

Batti scrolled over the announcement posted in on WZCW's main site. An article's headline, Batti V. Tyrone Blades, caught her eye. She bit her lip. With the click of the mouse, the reporter's biographical blurb popped up in grim bold letters.
The resident weeb is set to face off against Hall of Famer and closest friend Tyrone Blades. Will the happy go lucky blonde keep her momentum going and do what many in the industry have not? Or will Tyrone have to knock her out of the way to show Vis Imperium he will do whatever it takes to get his hands on them? Tune in Tuesday for the first-time confrontation.
She stared at the news article in disbelief. The Comment Section was full of condolences to her and praises for how she had gotten this far. Several said Tyrone Blades was a wrestling icon - a legend that just won't falter to some upstart. Batti placed her fingers to the keyboard ready to type out a big Fuck You to her doubters when there was a knock at her apartment door.

The blonde rolled off of her bed and opened the door. It was the last person she wanted to see.

"Hey," Ramparte blurted out apologetically. His eyes looked like a raccoon's, just darkened up with days of insomnia highlighting his cheeks. In his lap were the rest of her clothes. "Umm your clothes from last Christmas. I respect your decision, but I really wish for you to reconsider..."

Batti sighed. "You broke my trust, Rammikun. You spied on me, paid off people to mess with me. You got inside my head. That's not coaching. That's what abusers do. I love you, I really really do, but I can't stand to look at you right now. You've hurt me in ways I can't describe. And I doubt your bookworm mind could either."

She reached for her sweaters and jeans. He gazed down at his wheelchair.

"I only wanted you to be tough enough to beat Callie Clark."

"We saw how well that worked out."

"Please reconsider. I don’t know what I would be without you there for me."

For a moment, she stood in the doorway in her skirt and tie, feeling bad that it had come down to this. Maybe his intentions were good. Maybe he just wanted her to be strong enough to face WZCW head-on. To not lose focus and play around like a schoolgirl. But he hurt her. That’s all that mattered. He showed her there was a ruthless side and perhaps he did despise the fact she was a wrestler now and he wasn’t anymore. Ramparte made her tough. But he was not Tyrone Blades.

Saying nothing, she closed the door on The Recluse. She threw her clothes on a couch and picked up her cell.

"Hey. Let’s meet up. Sure, a bar sounds like a good idea right now."


________________________________________

It was pungent. Cigarette smoke was thick all around her, and from the looks of things she really dressed down for the evening. Girls half-naked swung around on barstools with their breasts wet with beer. Old bikers in the corner played the Fingers Dance with a cheap hunting knife. The grey bearded one lost. Tyrone Blades grabbed them a table and signaled to the barely legal waitress for a shot of Tequila. Batti asked for a Chocolatini.

The tavern fell silent. Bigger men than Ty started to laugh. Tyrone gave them all a look and they went back to their business. The waitress quickly walked off with their orders.

"Wowie. You have some reputation as a badboy, huh Ty-Sama?"

"I suppose. I’m a reg here so don’t feel awkward about the Chocolatini. I knew a guy named Spidey who’d drink nothing but White Russians here. Few truckers took offense to that one day. Bloodied him up pretty good, but not before ol’ Spider-Man took a shit on that pool table over there. Anybody can get their ass beat, but dropping trout in front of these lowlifes? Takes guts. Ever since he’d come in, get his cocktail, and nobody’d pay him any mind. Bloodstains are a lot easier to get out of the carpet than shit, feel me?"

"This is already shapin’ up to be an unforgettable evening."

Tyrone laughed. Batti smiled, happy that Ty was letting loose and being himself. The girl too young to be serving served them their drinks. Tyrone took the shot, licked the rim, and flipped the glass over. Bone-dry. Batti sipped at her sugary concoction.

"Neato trick."

"Thanks. I'm told I'm good with my tongue."

Was that heat coming from her face? She looked away, trying not to make a joke about what he said. Here they were, two close friends having a drink together in possibly the seediest bar Blades could have brought her to. But she was enjoying it.

Still, there was an elephant in the room. "So...we will be fighting in the ring. Against each other."

"Mmhm. Corporate bullshit. Of all the people you should be fighting..." he trailed off, throwing his hands in the air. "Why not Flex Mussel? I know you and Ram aren't very close these days, but surely getting your hands on him was the reason you even got into the business. Or Callie Clark? The fans loved seeing you two go at it. Batti vs. Callie III is a money maker WZCW could definitely use. Hell, fighting Titus Avison for the Eurasian Championship would be fantastic. Didn't he face you in your debut match? Fucking Christ. Instead they make you fight me. Typical."

Batti pressed her Martini glass to her lips and sat silently. She didn't know the ins and outs of wrestling like Tyrone Blades did. Why anyone would put them against one another was beyond her. It just seemed mean and conspiratory.

"I don't want this."

"I know."

"Should say to hell with it and throw the damn thing."

She gasped. Batti slid her Chocolatini out of the way and leaned over the table.

"You do that and I swear Vis Imperium will be the least of your concerns. No... you will meet me in that ring and you will not go easy on me. I've worked too hard and I've suffered too many times for Hall of Fame Wrestling Legend World Champion For A Year Goddamn Tyrone Mutha Fuggin' Blades to let me win. I'd rather you kicked me square in the face and pin me clean in record time than to deal with that. There are already so many people that think I'm a shit wrestler. If you let me win, what does that say about your own legacy?"

Batti Otaku lifted her Chocolatini to her mouth and chugged it.

"Now, let's have fun. Round Two!!!"


________________________________________



Tyrone guided her down the small stairwell that led to the bar's dance floor. Nobody was there but the live band that came in twenty minutes ago. They had finished tuning up before sliding into a crisp rendition of "Way Down We Go". Batti staggered drunkenly into Tyrone, stringing apologies, but he wasn't fettered. He graciously placed her hands to his shoulders. He pressed warmly against her, his Tequila breath making her giggle.

"Father tell me, we get what we deserve
Oh we get what we deserve"


Miles away, in another city in another bar, Ramparte had finished his Scotch. He tried desperately to pick a fight with a bar patron, but one look at his wheelchair was enough for the gruffest of men to feel sorry for him. He felt useless again, weak. Alone. He couldn't bare another minute there. Ramparte paid his tab and wheeled himself outside. A waiter asked if he could call him a cab. He shook his head.

"You let your feet run wild
Time has come as we all oh, go down
Yeah but for the fall oh, my
Do you dare to look him right in the eyes?"


Slowly she found her head resting against his chest. The lead singer was yawning through the lyrics, but they didn't mind. It was the steady kick of the drum set that really kept them entranced. Tyrone whispered something, Batti couldn't hear and she won't recall, but she knew it was sweet. Some compliment maybe. She pulled herself in tighter.

"And way down we go
Way down we go
Say way down we go
'Cause they will run you down, down til you fall
Way down we go"


Ramparte sat in an empty alleyway. The stench of hobo piss and trash were all around him, and it was then when he remembered who he used to be. An aristocrat. Someone of high class. Wine and fine suits. Mansions and butlers. A modern day Dorian Gray.

"How the mighty have fallen."

Flex betrayed him. Batti abandoned him. Cut down in his prime. What could he possibly do but try the impossible?

Without a word, Ramparte grabbed hold of the arms of his wheelchair and rose.

"And way down we go
Way down we go
Say way down we go
Way down we go"


Why couldn't she see him as an opponent and not a friend? Why couldn't she keep it professional between them? She was going through so much so fast. All she wanted was to escape. Tyrone Blades...he felt so comforting. And he never played with her emotions like Ramparte did. If she kissed him now, would he return it? Would she be distracting him from the corporate monster, Vis Imperium, etc? Who was she to be this friendly with a fellow wrestler? With Ramparte it was so different.

She buried her face into his chest again, and quietly cried.

"♫ ♫ ♫

♫ ♫ ♫"


Ramparte took a step. And then another. Pain shot through him, pain he had never in his entire left felt. Left foot. Right foot. He swayed, bellowing like a wounded animal, cursing the sky. Blaming God for his plight. One more step. He thought of her, and how badly he wanted to make it up to her. He walked. If only she could see him now.

With one more step he tumbled to the garbage ridden pavement. He was out in the open now, on the sidewalk of a busy street late at night. A couple rushed passed him with a kid, no older than ten, looking at him curiously.

"Don't pay him any mind, David. He'll only ask for money."

His wheelchair seemed so far away. He crawled, shame and grime coated his face. He gave up midway, and silently wept.

"Way down we go"
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  #4  
Old 10-03-2017, 09:56 PM
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Tyrone: And what about her?

Titus: Exactly. You have nothing worry about.

Tyrone: Excuse me motherfucker?

Titus: You got her wrapped around your finger, there's no way she'll want to fight you. You can take her out easily and coast to a victory. It's a brilliant plan mate!

Anger flashes across Tyrone's face as he stares forward at Titus. He slams his hands on the table as he pushes himself up to a standing position. Jones recognizes the outburst about to come and pushes his chair away quickly to a corner, not before grabbing a bottle of whiskey beforehand though.

Tyrone: I don't have fucking anyone wrapped around my god damn finger you hear me? I'm not going to abuse one of the few people that I actually give a damn about in order to win a match. I've done this fucking dance with Banks before and I'm not going to kick my way out of it again.

Titus: And then what, you find yourself in the unemployment line right next to her? Our movement is for nothing then Tyrone, and Vis Imperium wins.

Tyrone: You think I don't realize that Titus? Well here's a news flash, I got a fucking plan for this. I'm not going in distraught like when he pulled this shit with Phoenix on me. There ain't gonna be any lying down or any of that bullshit. Straight up, Batti's been putting in work. More then you, more then me. She's getting better every god damn day. She's picking up fast Titus, and she's the next generation. While you want to cling to your perch, I'm working on making things better for those that come after us.

Titus: Well aren't you the knight in white armor?

Tyrone: Funny, didn't you have troubles with that particular protege of mine?

Titus: And where is he now? Where's your Apostles Burna? Where's Gordito? They're all gone. Because you cannibalized them in order to keep your spot, so let's quit with this pot calling the kettle black crap. You've done exactly what you're accusing me of. But now you have a change of heart because she's got a pair of tits?

Jones cringes and covers his eyes in the corner as in a flash Tyrone flies over the table at Titus, and the two tumble over the chair to the ground as Tyrone grabs him by the collar, his eyes widened with rage, almost as if a flash of red goes across his irises.

Tyrone: Say that again motherfucker and I will end you!

Titus: Oh did I hit a nerve loverboy? Banks was right, you got a weakness and you're playing right into their hands once again Blades. Who's to say Batti isn't working for them just like Stacey was?

Tyrone: Because I've danced with the devil enough times to know what I got myself with Stacey. Batti's genuine, Stacey was nothing but plastic. I fucked up Avison. I realize that, but I can't go through life suspecting everyone's out for my god damn neck.

Titus: And if you're wrong again, you leave me as the only man left to fight against them. You'll have to forgive me for not trusting in your track record in picking women.

Tyrone: Why don't you just go back up to your hotel room and sit there by yourself and be a miserable prick like you usually do Avison?

Titus: Ha! Shows how much you know. I can get any woman I want Tyrone. I'm an Oscar winner after all. Unlike you, you're just ghetto trash.

Tyrone lifts Titus up to his feet and tries to push him into the wall, but Titus resists as the two grapple with one another. Finally Jones gets to his feet, calmly walking over and grabbing both of them by the call and pushing them back. Tyrone gets smashed into the wall as Jones yells at the top of his voice.

Jones: Alright that's enough out of both you mofucka's. I get it, neither of y'all trust the other that much, but if we're gonna be a group, we gotta let bygones be bygones. Tyrone, y'all know he's got a point about Banks targeting people you care about. Look what he did to yo family man! And Titus, y'all gotta respect Tyrone's wishes in this matter. You ain't ever had someone you cared about in this industry get thrown into the mix like this. Now can we please get back to fuckin' business before I toss both y'all mofucka's out of here and I drink all the whiskey in peace?

Tyrone thrashes against Jones' grip, but soon settles down as Titus seethes on the other end, shoving Jones' hand off of him. Jones let's Tyrone go, but he continues staring a hole through Titus, who returns the favor.

Tyrone: First of all, you drink all my whiskey Jones, I'll fucking cut you. But you're right for once. This ain't getting us anywhere and just gonna make it easier for Vis Imperium to rout us. We finally got an even footing numbers wise as long as Constantine can be kept together with duct tape and glue, but us fighting like this ain't helping matters.

Titus: Yeah well I am second guessing this whole team Tyrone. You said everyone's on equal footing here, but any time you have something come up, it's your way or the highway.

Tyrone sighs as he grabs at his hair for a moment, gritting his teeth before he looks back up at Titus and shakes his head.

Tyrone: Fine, I was wrong. That what you wanna hear you miserable motherfuc....

Jones: Y'all just starting shit again Tyrone.

Tyrone: He ain't gone after you like he's gone after me Avison. Banks has thrown my whole life upside down. So please believe that I'm ready for just about anything now. Yeah I gotta face Batti, but we also need the rest of the locker room to keep fighting as well. If I go in and try to destroy Batti, then I'm no better than that jackass. In fact I'll be worse since she trusts me and vice versa.

Titus' body language loosens up as he sighs in return, rubbing the back of his head as he looks at the ground.

Titus: Look, I'm not good at this whole looking out for everyone thing. I've never wanted to be that man in WZCW, but yet I was always shoehorned in against people like you. Alright Blades, I get where you're coming from. Let's bury the hatchet right here and now.

The two hall of famers extend their arms and shake hands, looking each other dead in the eye.

Titus: I hope you know what you're doing.

Tyrone: You and me both brother, you and me both.

The scene fades away and returns to inside a dim and dusty gym. The sounds of a punching bag can be heard as the camera finds Tyrone standing in front of it, his fists flying in torrid amounts. His hair is tied back, and is out of his Hollow Ones gear. His hands are taped up as he moves around the bag, striking with precision at taped X's on the bag. He suddenly springs back and connects with a super kick, before following it up with his sudden knee strike. The bag flies back from the strike as Tyrone keeps his hands on his hips, when suddenly a familiar voice calls out from behind him.

Batti: Blades-sama....

Tyrone quickly turns around, not used to be snuck on as he raises his hands up in a defensive stance. Batti steps back a bit startled but she lowers her eyes.

Batti: I'm sorry. I shouldn't have bothered you. Especially when we're opponents this week. I'll leave you be.

Batti turns and begins walking away but Tyrone relaxes and reaches out, grabbing Batti by the hand before she can walk away.

Tyrone: No Batti, it ain't nothing like that. I don't want to do this anymore than you do trust me.

Batti: You don't? But this is what you were born for. Fighting is all you know. I....I don't know if I can hurt someone I care about.

Tyrone: Batti, no matter what happens in our match, I'll recover. Trust me, I've torn my ACL twice, I've shredded my shoulder, the injuries go on. What I'm worried about is Banks trying to pull some shit on us. You saw what he did to Phoenix, I'm not going to let that happen to you Batti. I promise you.

Batti nods her head, fighting back tears before burying her head into his chest. He wraps his arms around her, running hand down through her hair trying to assure her.

Batti: What are we gonna do Blades-sama?

Tyrone: What else can we do Batti? We go out and steal the show. This is a test for you. I've been training you for a few months now, let's see you put that training to good use. I wanna see you give it all you fuckin' got, you feel me?

Batti nods but doesn't pull her face from his chest. Tyrone smirks a bit before reaching down and patting her on the shoulder. She looks up at him and he nods reassuringly.

Batti: I....I still don't know Tyrone. This is one of the biggest matches of my career, and if I don't go all out, I could lose it all. But if I give it my all, I could hurt you.

Tyrone chuckles as he steps away from Batti, shrugging his shoulders and rolling his head around before turning his face to the side.

Tyrone: Hit me.

Batti's eyes go wide and her jaw drops.

Batti: What!? I can't do that Blades-sama! Are you crazy?

Tyrone grins wide as he taps his cheek, his eyes going wide a bit.

Tyrone: I've been called that a time or two before. You need to get over your concern for me and HIT ME!

Tyrone yells towards her as Batti winces and steps back. She lifts her hands up into a striking stance for a moment, but notices them shaking. She closes her eyes and tries to calm herself down. Suddenly she opens her eyes and steps forward, swinging with all her might and punching Tyrone right in the side of the face. He turns his head away, absorbing the blow as Batti immediately lifts her hands to her face as she gasps.

Batti: Oh my god, Tyrone I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hit you so hard!

Batti tentatively walks towards Tyrone, who hasn't moved since being struck. Slowly he turns his head around, pressing his fist against his jaw and pressing it the opposite direction as a smirk forms on his face.

Tyrone: See? That wasn't so bad now was it?

Batti: That....didn't even phase you?

Tyrone: Oh it hurts like a motherfucker. But I'll survive, though I may need some medical attention for a little while tonight.

He winks towards her, causing Batti to blush a deep red as she tries to cover her face.

Batti: You are terrible Blades-sama!

He chuckles as he places an arm around her, as she looks up to him and smiles in return.

Tyrone: Now you see that you can do this Batti. Go into our match with no inhibitions. No concerns. For all you care about, there's not even fans out there. It's just you and I in the ring, just like we've done in the past sparring. You know me just as much as I know you, now we can take it to greater heights than we have in the past.

Batti reaches up and squeezes his hand, resting her head against his shoulder as she looks over at the ring.

Batti: Thank you Tyrone. I needed this. Should we spar or?

Tyrone looks up and contemplates for a moment before shaking his head.

Tyrone: Nah, y'all got all the training you need for this match. Living in the ring can lead to burnout, so I'm thinking we go and enjoy ourselves tonight, what do ya say?

She nods enthusiastically as the two begin walking towards the exit, her fingers soon interlocking with his as he keeps his arm around her. The two smile at one another. Ascension will come in a few days, they were not opponents tonight, and what better way then to enjoy life together for once.

Tyrone: Hey let me get out of these clothes and cleaned up, I'll call you a bit later, we'll hit up this spot I know.

Batti nods as let's go of his hand, skipping to the outside as Tyrone walks over to his bag, kneeling down while checking to make sure she's out of the gym. Suddenly he holds his hand up to his face, screaming in pain.

Tyrone: MotherFUCKER that hurt! Who knew she had that in her?

Tyrone grabs his phone from his bag, dialing a number quick as he starts tearing the tape off his hand.

Tyrone: Ayo Jones, cancel those plans at the fight tonight. Yes motherfucker I realize how much those tickets cost, get to scalping. You're fucking hysterical, you got a date you could take to that? Alright alright, well tell Mrs. Smith I said hello then. Ascension?

Tyrone smirks widely before grimacing in pain once more as he rips the last of the tape off.

Tyrone: We go Operation Black Out. Banks thinks he's got us by the nutsack, we gonna get him by the throat when he least expects it. Ight peace Jones.

Tyrone hangs up the phone and stares straight forward, a sinister smile forming on his face as he folds his hands in front of him.

Tyrone: Time to pay up Banks, and I'm aiming to collect real soon son.

With Love,

The Hollow Ones.
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