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Old 05-13-2018, 09:42 AM
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Default MD 151 - Triple X/Keaton vs Kagura/Callie Clark

RP deadline is Wednesday May 23 at 11:59pm PST

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Old Today, 01:58 PM
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Shameel's 80's Dance Club


Toronto Ontario Canada


7:45 PM


Shameel's 80's Dance Club was one of the hottest dance clubs in all of Canada, started by the Shameel Family with their rich history of dancing and boozing around the world.The club was already filling up with attractive women and young men looking to hook up. Lately the club was having trouble with toughs coming in to try and intimidate the crowd....with toughness, but they were kept in check. Tonight some would get through the cracks though, trouble was brewing in Toronto.....lets zoom in on two of those trouble makers right now, shall we?


"So what Meatball? I came here for a good time tonight, and meet up with my tag team partner."
Mark Keaton and his pal elbowed their way through the crowds towards the bright neon green booths.


"I was hoping to party a little more, that's all boss." BigRoad moped as they slid opposite to one another in the 80's gimmick booth.


They ordered chicken wings, pizza and hamburgers...and beer, then more chicken wings for BigRoad. Mark tapped his gold ring on the cheap table, nothing to say and watching the women dance in the large dance floor situated in the middle of the club. He kept an eye on the entrance to the club, his tag team partner was going to meet him here to talk strategy.


"You think he'll get along wit us Mark?" Big Bad Roady asked after a basket of chicken wings arrived at the table, he grabbed one and chewed away.


"He better man, I'll tellin ya, he better realize that I'M the team captain of this group. I'm the two time tag team champion, the multiple year end award winner, tag team of the year, Vis Imperium son of a bitch. I'm the blonde dynamo, the ...."


"Did ya hear? WZCW brass are tryin to ban me from ringside? Do they not know I'm still your bodyguard, boss?" He grabbed another wing and devoured it.


The beers arrived.


Mark grabbed a beer and took a swing, he wiped off his mouth.


"They can't, not this time, man. You'll be in my corner in my match vs Kagura and Callie. I have something to prove against those two idiots, we're not losing this close to Kingdom Come, I'll make sure of it BigRoad."


Big Bad Roady nodded, then chugged a beer. The pizza arrived and he quickly grabbed a slice.* Mark lit a smoke knowing he wasn't allowed to smoke in that section of the club.


"Look, I've been thinking, dude. What kind of entrance am I going to have at Kingdom Come this year? If there is one thing I want, it's a fucking rockin entrance."


"Well, what if you have a rock band carry you down to the ring while you sing your entrance music and play the guitar?"


"Maybe, but picture this...a monster truck breaks through this huge wall and a few hundred pyro bombs go off right when a Twisted Sister song breaks out, I'll pull a wheelie right to the ring then jump out and play the guitar right on the hood!"


Big Bad Roady wasn't paying attention to Mark anymore, Mark noticed this and tried to follow BigRoad's eyes as they scanned the crowds, he was expecting to see Triple X walking through the hot women, possibly with an entourage of older chicks in tuxedo's or some shit, but all he saw was a bunch of toughs making their way towards them. Big Road gulped and tried to say something to Mark, but it was too late, the row of five toughs lined up right in front of their booth, blocking off the sights of dancing flesh and blue lights swirling this way and that.


The leader stood there staring a hole through BigRoad with his arms crossed, his henchmen trying to match his mean look.






DURAN BLACKBURN



The leader of the famed Canadian Motorocycle gang named Skull's Angel's. Duran founded the famously savage and brutal motorbike gang when he was twenty five years old, a year after his first murder and his second gang he was ever part of. Now his headquarters recently moved from Calgary to Toronto, but his divisions are all over Canada. Big Bad Roady was in this Toronto division, but parted ways with the gang....but not without leaving behind a 100 thousand dollar, unpaid bill to his group. One that was blamed on two of his gang mates. BigRoad has tried to leave this part of his life in the past, even going so far to shave his once long hair and gain 100 pounds.


"Big Bad Bob." Duran said through a scratched tone of a million packs of cigarettes and cigars, "Or should I call you...Big Bad Roady?!"


"I don't know what your talkin bout, my name is Big Sam Burly."


Duran wasn't amused, he put his hand over one of his leather clad henchmen's hand, making him put the switchblade away.


"Let's have a seat men. This is a celebration after all, a reunion!"


Duran slid in next to Mark Keaton, one of his henchmen slid in next to him, the other three stood along the table, trying their best to continue to block everyone's view of the club.


"Dude, the fuck is going on?" Mark barked at his bodyguard. BigRoad gave Mark a serious look as if to say - Shut up, now is not a good time-


"I'll tell you what's going on you fucking blonde headed little shit, this bald headed fucker across the table from me is going to be gutted like a pig tonight. Right across his big, fat gut! TELL HIM WHY BOB!"


Big Bad Roady looked everywhere except the gaze of Mark and Duran. He wanted to grab a chicken wing out of nervousness but decided not to. He thought maybe grabbing a beer and starting a melee right now, but he knew all of them were carrying blades or even guns.


"You see, your pal here was once part of a motorcycle gang called Skull's Angel's...."


"Whaat?! For real Meatball?! You were part of that badass bike gang?! Give me five right now!" Mark smiled and held up his palm for a high five, but BigRoad continued to avoid eye contact.


Duran Blackburn stared at Mark incredulously. He shook his head and continued..."You see this guy across from us, he used to go by the name Big Bad Bob. Every gang member in Toronto was afraid of him, he was built like a brick shithouse, long greasy hair and used to have this mean ass goatee. He'd also smoke these stinky cigars all the time and put them out on people. Guy was a real asshole. There was this botched bank robbery by some of our members, Big Bad Bob hid 100 thousand of it at his place, but to make a long story short, made it look like it was Vinny and Cap's place, they took the fall, got caught by the cops and WHOOOSH! This fuck face vanishes into thin air! GONE!"


"Cool story." Mark said, uninterested as he took a swig of his beer.


"Y'see we have this guy in Skull's Angel's named Paco, guy is a seriously huge wrestling fan. He watches the damn show like his fuckin life depends on it. Then it dawns on him, Big Bad Roady is actually Big Bad Bob from back in the day! But with no muscles and a 100 plus pounds heavier, with no hair or goatee. Did I mention the guy is detailed?"


"Listen Duran, I can get your money back. I make decent pay, I'll give you my first years salary. What do ya say to that?" Big Bad Roady pleaded, Mark was shocked at how nervous his giant bodyguard was. He soon realized that this was no joke.


"Problem is Bob," Duran lit a bumpy, brown cigar, recognition flashed in BigRoad's eyes, a little shame as well, "Interest has grown in all these years. I'd say in the terms of two and a half million dollars."


"What?! Are you outta your fuckin mind dude?!"


Duran raised his hand, calling off all his henchmen as they reached in their leather jackets.


The leader of the Skull's Angel's turned his head slowly and stared Mark right in the face, his cigar hanged out of the corner of his mouth. Mark flicked his own cigarette in his mouth and took a long drag. Both men's eyes started to water and smoke curled around their cheeks and nose, Duran gave up first and butted his cigar. He promptly swatted the smoke out of Mark's mouth and stared at him again.


"Listen, I've heard things about you, a wild party animal, woman killer, rock and roller. You are way out of your league right now, especially in this situation. I would suggest, shutting your fucking mouth right now or I'll cut a brand new mouth from ear to ear. You understand me kid?"


Mark stared at the man with all seriousness, "A mouth on my neck would make drinking beer really difficult."


Duran closed his eyes, it was possibly the dumbest thing anyone has ever said to him. One of his henchmen chuckled then turned away, another let out a giggle then covered his face, he also turned away. Big Bad Roady's face was white as a ghost, he couldn't believe Mark had just talked back to the devil himself.


"Bah ha ha ha ha ha haaaaa haaaa!!!" Duran slammed his fist on the table, knocking over all the beer.


"You fucking asshole! I can't believe this guy! Did you hear what he said to me Jacob?! A mouth on my neck would make....ha haaa haaa haa...would make drinking beer really difficult!"


"Ya boss! Like dribble outta yer neck eh?! What a hoser!" His henchman sitting next to BigRoad blurted out, laughing with his boss.


"Anyway," Mark tried to ignore everyone and refocus on BigRoad, "Like I was about to say before these turds showed up, I think my entrance at Kingdom Come should be something really wild, like fire and lightning bolts man. You can imagine those pricks Stormrage and Matt Tastic will come out to something special to try and amp the crowds.* I can show everyone up, I think...."


Duran held a switchblade to Mark's throat.


"You still fail to see the situation your in, you have to be the dumbest son of a bitch I've ever met."


Mark grabbed Duran's wrist and bent it, he slammed his hand down on the table, sticking the knife on the surface, in a quick move, he elbowed Duran right in the nose then pushed him and his henchman right out of the booth. BigRoad quickly stood up and double clotheslined two henchmen at the edge of the table, knocking them both out. Mark jumped up and the table and did a running dropkick, knocking out another man. Big Bad Roady grabbed the last henchman and gave him a skull pounding head butt, sending him flying over a rail and landing on the stairs.


Duran scrambled to his feet. He back staggered his way through the crowds, calling back to Mark and BigRoad...


"I won't forget this Bob, and your stupid friend! I won't forget this! You owe us 2.5 million dollars! I WILL COLLECT!" He made his exit out of the club just as Triple X entered.


"Oh, there's Triple X. Time to let him know who the team captain is." Mark sat back down with BigRoad, they ordered more beers.


Triple X would soon join them......



TO BE CONTINUED






(In another RP....)
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Old Today, 08:54 PM
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The bright blue neon sign could be seen far into the distance, but the closer Triple X got to it, the more repugnant it became. He hated places like this. Even in his days as a tearaway teen, getting fake ID and sneaking into places he didn’t belong, this was most definitely not his scene. Hell, give him a good old fashioned gin joint any day.

He pulled up to Shameels and dismounted his motorcycle, taking a moment to take in the obnoxious glow. There were a handful of party-goers smoking their lives away by the door, and a group of choppers to the side of the building.

Of course he’d pick somewhere like this, X thought.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


A FEW DAYS EARLIER



‘He wants to what?’

X landed a hard kick to the middle of the bag, before grabbing a towel and sitting on his weights bench. Andrey, wearing some very fetching reading glasses, held his phone up again.


‘Hey square!

So we’re partners on Meltdown and we should have a team planning meeting. Meet me in two days at Shameels 80’s Dance Club. That’s in Canada, in case you didn’t know.

Don’t let the captain down!

Mark FUCKING Keaton.’



X laughed. ‘The fucking nerve of that asshole. Captain? I’ll show him.’

‘Is it not worth perhaps humouring what he has to say?’

‘Oh come on-‘

‘Mr Xander, just listen-‘

‘I’m not giving the time of day to that motherfu-‘

‘Xander, please! Just listen.’

X shakes his head, looking up at Andrey, who sits on a chair opposite him.

‘Amongst all of your accomplishments, are any of those in a team? All of your championships; are any of them in the form of tag team gold?’

‘……no…’

‘Then what harm is there in listening to a two-time WZCW tag team champion? Even if it is a sack of overbloated ego like Mr Keaton.’

‘You honestly think I should go?’

‘Yes. If for no other reason, you could bring him down a peg or two.’

X laughs. ‘or seven.’ He stood from the weights bench and walked to the window. ‘You’re right. Keaton is, for all of his annoying traits, probably one of the best tag team wrestlers in the company. And against tough opposition like Kagura and Clark, it might be…beneficial for us to collaborate.’

‘See? Not such a bad idea.’

‘Well that depends…’ X turned to Andrey and smiled. ‘…on whether I hit him before we get to strategy.’



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Walking in, X’s nostrils filled with the smell of stale beer, burnt chicken, vomit and more stale beer. The dance floor was already heaving with people; some on the more attractive side and some…not so much. Around the edges of the dance floor were bright green neon booths.

Yep, they feel exactly like Keatons style.

As he walked further in, a large group of tough-looking biker dudes were hurriedly coming from the opposite direction. The leader, scruffy looking and grizzled to the bone, bumped shoulders with Xander. He turned to face him, noticing his nose was busted, and his left cheek was beginning to swell.

‘What you looking at, fuckface?’

‘You’re the one who looks like he has a face full of fuck.’

He snarled at X, but his lackeys ushered him towards the door. ‘You’ll be next on my list.’

‘Can’t wait, buttercup.’

X threw the battered gang leader a shit-eating grin as he walked by, heading straight to the bar.

‘A Pepsi.’

‘You want that with vodka, rum, whisky?’

'Did I ask for any of those?'

'No-'

‘Then just straight, thanks.’

The barkeep pooped the lid on the bottle and slammed it onto the counter.

‘Pussy.’

X glared, dropping his money onto the alcohol-soaked bar, moving away before he could hear the barmam swear at him more. He scanned around the cubicles, assuming Mark Keaton’s style would be to prefer one of those. At least this early into the evening; he wouldn’t put it past him at all to be in the middle of a bunch of scantily clad ‘groupies’. But no; his first instinct was correct, and he walked over; Big Bad Roady staring at him as he approached and Keaton pretending like he hadn’t actually seen him until he got up close.

‘There he his!’ Keaton lifted up his beer bottle as X sat opposite the two. Xander noted the broken glass and the blood smeared on the table.

‘You know, it really doesn’t shock me that you’d come north of the border to party in a grimy, headache-inducing club like this and to get in a fight as well.’

‘Sounds like a compliment.’

‘It really isn’t.’



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


‘Mark Keaton, huh?’

X and Red were both running along on an early, muggy New York morning. The streets were beginning to become busy, but the two simply ran through, almost in their own little world.

'Yup'.

‘You don’t seem too happy.’

‘I mean…I’ve crossed paths with the guy, but not enough to know whether I should be happy or worried.’

‘Probably both, mate.’

They turned off of West 129th street onto Malcolm X Boulevard, continuing straight down the street.

‘You worried about your opponents?’

‘I mean, I’d be silly not to raise an eyebrow at Kagura. Former Queen for a day, World Champion…but she lost it almost immediately and needs to build herself back up. And Callie Clark no longer has her Elite Openweight Championship so she’s in a similar boat.’

‘True…though you did lose against Mikey Stormrage too. You’re in need of a pick-me-up.’

‘Thanks for that.’

‘That’s what I’m here for.’

He’s right, X thought. Losing against Mikey was a huge setback. I mean, Mikey was a former World Champion, but I genuinely thought I could prove myself against him.


I shouldn’t still be having to prove myself.


They continued on running, until they reached their destination; Central Park. They stopped as they stepped foot in the park, Red bending over and X crumpling to the floor, lying on his back while catching his breath. Xander pulled a bottle out of his backpack, throwing another to Red. They both took a moment to collect themselves, before Red walked over to X.

‘You’re worried about Kingdom Come, aren’t you?’

X looked up. ‘What?

‘You’re worried you won’t make it on the card.’

X sat up. ‘It’s not that-‘

‘But it is something there, right?’

X paused for a moment, having another drink. ‘We have one set of shows left and somehow I still have no idea what I’m going to be doing. If anything, like you said.’

Red nodded, hands on his hips. ‘And you thought you’d be doing more, right?’

‘Honestly…’ X looked up to Red. ‘I really thought I had a shot at being in the World Championship picture.’

Red smiled, holding his hand out. X grabbed it, and his pal pulled him to his feet.

‘Mate, my advice? Take each match as they come. Use whatever dismay you have in your current situation and fuel your desire to push yourself to where you wanna be.’

‘Sure. Sounds easy.’

‘If it was, Xander, everyone would be World Champion.’

X nodded, patting Red on the shoulder as they looked on the sun rising over the beautiful park before them.

‘I’ll have plenty of dismay to spare having to team with Keaton.’

‘Better you than me, mate.’


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


‘So…what we doing here, Marky-Mark?’

Keaton was clearly annoyed by that little nickname, but tried his best to smile it off. ‘I figured we should talk some strategy. I mean, we are a team on meltdown, and as team captain-‘

‘-woah, okay, let me stop you right there. What's this "Team Captain" crap?’

‘Yeah. Team Captain. You been listening to that screamo shit a little too loud?’

‘Who the hell says you get to be team captain. More importantly, why the hell do we need a team captain? We’re wrestling for one match.’

‘Spoken like someone who’s never had team success before.’

‘Yeah, usually because I’m too busy getting success by myself.’

Roady’s eyes widened as Keaton began to smile. ‘Funny that. Seems like you ain’t done shit since you’ve been back.’

‘Oh really?’

‘Yep.’

‘Sure.’ X took a swig of his Pepsi. ‘I mean, other than beating Lynx, beating Titus, twice, once in his own match, lasting ages in the Lethal Lottery after already performing, and……oh yeah, beating your old buddy Constantine. Who you beat?’

Keaton took a long drag of his cigarette. ‘Lets see...Mikey Stormrage, Phantoms of Chaos, Ace Stevens, Lynx, just to name a few.’

‘Seem to recall you having some problems with Mikey and Stevens, Triple Dipshit. And I remember Lynx beating you first.'

X smiled. ‘Your buddy here couldn't get through Lynx without a huge assist from yours truly, so I'd quit while you're ahead pal.' He turned back to Keaton. 'I do seem to recall the last time we were in the same ring you got eliminated first while I lasted to the end of the match. Or am I remembering that wrong?’


‘You lost as well, dumbass.’

‘Fair point.’

‘And, for the record, I’m team captain because I’ve won the WZCW Tag Team Championship twice. How many have you won?’

‘No, you’re right. Though I was too busy not hanging off of someone’s cape, winning singles gold.’

‘Yeah. That was a hell of an achievement for 1995 but we’re in present day now.’

‘The present day where we don’t have tag team titles because you and your buddies killed them off.’

‘Because we killed the competition off.’ Keaton stood up, rounding the table. ‘Something you wouldn’t know about.’

‘You’re kidding, right?’ Xander rose to his feet too. ‘Cooper was so bored he thought it was beneath him. He went out and learned how to be a half decent wrestler. And lets face it Unremarkable Mark, you only hung around him because of the big gold belt. You hoped it’d rub off a little of that magic, am I right?’

The two squared up, Keaton smiling while X remained stoic-faced. Roadie sat there, watching intently whilst gnawing on a chicken bone.

‘I’ve main evented shows for the World Heavyweight Championship. You had to watch while you played bitch to Cooper before he split.’

‘Yeah, well…..’ he took a puff from his smoke and blew it into X’s face. ‘That’s still closer to the World Championship than you’ll ever get.’

X had had it, and before he realised what he had done, he’d pushed Keaton. Clearly incensed, Mark dropped his cigarette and pushed back, knocking X into a group of big, footballer-types clearly out looking for women, dancing away. The young men were clearly pissed, pushing X back…who knocked Keaton into another group of bikers. Mark had a look on his face of Oh not this shit again, while Xander looked at the guys he’d barged into with disdain. The two superstars ended up back to back, staring the two groups down.

‘Great work, team captain!’

‘Ahh, just look at it as a little training for our impending teamwork. Roadie; request a beat, we need an ass-kicking song!’

Roadie obliged, running over to the desk to the DJ, shouting over the current song. The DJ nodded away, throwing on a track to hopefully suit the coming battle……

Click for Spoiler:


‘The FUCK? Roadie, ROADIE! Tell him to-‘

‘Shut the fuck up!’

The two groups closed in on the two, who raised their fists and prepared to enter the fight.



5 MINUTES LATER


‘We’ll kick your ass next time!’

The jocks, nursing their broken ribs, smashed noses and other assorted injuries, were pointing at Triple X as they hobbled to the door. Similarly did the biker gang.

‘Stay out of Totonto, asshole.’

‘I ain’t scared of Skulls Angels, I ain’t scared of you. NOW GET OUT OF MY CLUB, MOTHERFUCKERS!’

The lead biker made a cut throat gesture as they exited. X wiped his bottom lip, a small cut had formed, while Keaton looked down at his bruised knuckles.

‘Do you piss off a gang everywhere you go?’

‘Hey, the first group was Roadie’s fault. Those guys, fair point.’

‘Well at least you don’t just talk a good game.’

X stopped and looked around; noting the amount of dancers who were staring at the two in their bright green booth. ‘You know this is what Callie Clark and Kagura are banking on, right?’

‘What’d you mean?’

‘They’re gonna count on us ripping each other apart. ”Ohhh, they’re the bad guys, they won’t get along and by the power of friendship…” I dunno, some bullshit like that.’

‘That shit's not gonna happen.’

‘I know.’ X ran his hand across his chin. ‘Kagura’s a former World Champion, and Clark’s won the Elite Openweight Championship. And I know from experience that’s no mean feat.’

X picked up Keaton’s beer from earlier, passing it to him. ‘Kingdom Come is literally around the corner. Neither of us can afford to let them get the better of us.’

‘Obviously.’ Mark took a swig of his drink. ‘So what do you got in mind?’

‘Oh…’ X smiled. ‘I thought you were the team captain?’

‘Yeah well, call it delegation.’

X shook his head. ‘We can’t take them lightly, but you were right earlier. You clearly have the advantage in these rules. Kagura hasn’t really recovered since losing the World Championship so quickly, while Callie has floundered since losing her Championship. They’re both in fight or flight, and I say we make those fuckers fly.’

‘Hell yeah.’ Mark lit up another cigarette. ‘Want one?’

X laughed again. ‘You know, I don’t think we’ll ever like each other. But fuck it, I think we both hate losing to assholes like that more.’

‘Amen.’

‘Why are you still holding that out?’

‘Call it an olive branch.’

‘And I don’t smoke.’

‘Ah, shit. Well, fuck it, more for me.’

Roadie walked over from the bar. ‘Uh, boss…the manager said you need to put your smoke out. Entire building is a smoke free place.’

‘Awesome. Let’s grab another drink!’

X slapped Keaton on the shoulder. ‘Its been real, Marky Mark. See you in Newcastle.’

‘Yeah, whatever.’

Xander walked out of the club, and over to his bike. He took a second to breathe in the fresh air, and smiled.

‘Could have been worse.’
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