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> Trauma: The Beginning, RP 1 (ACW match Vs Mickey Carroll)
Posted: September 09, 2013 03:36 am

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The rattle of chains is heard on the dark screen you are watching, yes you people, curious to know what's about to happen. Fear no fans and wrestlers of Atlantic Championship Wrestling, for your questions will be answered. It's time for some verbal introductions, rather than the physical one you have come accustomed to.

The screen changes, showing the face of a young woman, her eyes as cold as eyes, her face showing little emotion. She is recognized as the female of the group that has already made such an impact in ACW, the female that has already brought a touch of destruction to your bi-weekly viewing's of ACW. The female handler to the giant man who saw fit to put your tag team champion in hospital. She speaks, her voice soft.

Woman: I believe it's time for introductions. My name is Nightmare and I have been responsible for bringing this man to the worlds attention.

The camera moves backwards, where the man in a cage, the man for the last month involved in disrupting ACW.

Nightmare: I believe you know Trauma.

Finally a name to the face of the six feet, nine inch tall monster. A blank look covers Trauma's distinctly fearsome face, strangely calm as a spotlight splits the darkness behind the woman, focused purely on the cage. Trauma's hands are chained, linked to cuffs around his feet, connected by a thick, powerful chain. Trauma stares directly in front of him as the woman continues to speak.

Nightmare: It's funny how cold he seems, is it not? Funny how he seems almost peaceful.

The screen splits in two, the female side being pushed to the right hand side of the screen, as blinding light covers the left of the screen. Trauma's cage split on either side of the screen. He stands in the middle, half of his body on either side.

Nightmare: No!

Her voice barks out.

Nightmare: You will not do this now!

A man steps through the light, the outline of his white suit is seen. His long, wild blonde hair sits untamed on the top of his head.

Man: Forgive me for interrupting you Nightmare.

The man's voice breaks as he speaks nervously, looking toward Nightmare's side of the screen.

Man: But he is peaceful.

The man looks in front, as if looking through your television screen.

Man: My name is Fantasy, and I am the angel on Trauma's shoulder. Isn't that right big guy?

Fantasy turns around, looking at the cage split across the screen. He continues to look at Trauma.

Fantasy: this man should not be feared for brute size, he should be feared because of her!

Fantasy spins, his hand pointing towards the dark side of the screen, towards Nightmare. Nightmare rolls her eyes at Fantasy.

Nightmare: Please Fantasy!

She snaps strongly at the man.

Nightmare: Don't you see what we have here? We have a man who can destroy all that's wrong in the world, we have a man who can single handedly rip apart each and every member of this poor excuse for a roster. Do you know what that would bring us, you stupid little man?

Fantasy rocks back on his heels, looking at the dark side.

Fantasy: Trouble.

A slight smirk passes over Nightmare's face as she breathes sharply out of her nose.

Nightmare: Who cares about the trouble it will bring when you have this magnificent beast in your corner?

Nightmare steps towards the cage. She runs her slender fingers down the shiny metal bars.

Nightmare: We have this machine Fantasy. We have the man who will take us beyond where anyone has gone before.

Fantasy steps up to the cage.

Nightmare: Come to the dark side Fantasy, it's where you belong.

She smiles towards the light side of the screen, but Fantasy moves to the other side of the cage, his hand gripping the bar.

Fantasy: Never!

Another voice crack proves the nerves of the young man, instantly getting a smile on the lips of Nightmare.

Fantasy: I will not let you use this man to do this. You have seen what he can do! It's not fair.

Nightmare moves her face towards the lighter side, looking towards Fantasy.

Nightmare: Fuck fair! Do you think it's fair what happened to him? Do you think it's fair that he is here? Too dangerous to walk amongst regular people.

Fantasy moves his face closer to the darkside, seemingly looking at Nightmare.

Fantasy: You make him too dangerous to be normal.

Another smirk crosses Nightmare's face.

Nightmare: It's a gift.

Fantasy: It's a curse!

Fantasy looks surprised at Nightmare.

Fantasy: No one should have to live like this, no one!

Nightmare: But honey, he does, and he likes it. Look in to his eyes and tell me that he doesn't enjoy hurting people. Look in to his eyes and tell me he doesn't like ripping the weak to shreds. That's what he was built to do. That's what he was born to do, to take out the weak, to destroy the likes of Ben Jordan and Mickey Carroll.

Fantasy runs his fingers on both hands through his messy blonde hair, turning away from the smiling seductress and walking away. He spins back, looking at her.

Fantasy: Says who?

Nightmare keeps her eyes locked directly on Fantasy.

Fantasy: Says you?

Nightmare: Says the way of the world you blundering idiot! Only the strong survive and the weak perish, because they can't handle life. We have the strong right here.

Nightmare's hand moves inside Trauma's cage.

Nightmare: We don't have to be part of the weak, we have strength right now, unstoppable, unbridled strength right with us. He will destroy the weak Fantasy. He will rip ACW to pieces on his way to the top. We already have Ben Jordan's weakness.

Fantasy walks back to the middle of the screen, staring in to the darkness.

Fantasy: We do?

Nightmare: Yes, we do and at the stupidly named Massacre In Moncton, we will help remove the weaknesses surrounding Mr Jordan. We will take away his best friend, and his weakness in one go.

Fantasy runs his hand across his chin.

Fantasy: Mickey Carroll is his weakness?

Nightmare: To some extent. Look at it, Mickey Carroll cruises through everything, filling his body with disgusting smoke and alcohol, normally too drunk to care.

Fantasy: Mickey Carroll threw a chair to Ben Jordan to hit him on the head!

Fantasy points to Trauma, moving to the cage and putting his hand through the bars, resting it on the big man's shoulder.

Nightmare: And for that at Massacre In Moncton, Mickey Carroll will pay, but Mr Jordan, he has a bigger weakness.

Fantasy ignores Nightmare, talking to Trauma.

Fantasy: Don't worry my friend, you will not have to maim for her delight, we know this is her delight, not yours, it's not you.

An angry look plasters itself on Nightmare's face.

Nightmare: Step back Fantasy, you can't be around him all the time, and someday I might tell him to rip your head off in your sleep.

Fantasy stops, staring at Nightmare past the invisible line between light and darkness.

Fantasy: You couldn't do that, because you'll never be able to bring him down, you will never stop his rampages. You need me, even if you don't admit it. You need me to keep him safe, or your little dirty work domination plan will go nowhere and you know it.

Nightmare looks at Trauma, her eyes staring in to his expressionless eyes. She turns back to Fantasy.

Nightmare: There's always a way to bring him down Fantasy dearest. I believe electric shocks would work as well as your words.

Fantasy: You wouldn't!

Nightmare: I would, so if I was you, I'd keep that stinking mouth of yours well and truly shut.

Fantasy: You can't do this to him, he is human after all.

Nightmare: He is, what I say he is.

Nightmare beckons Trauma towards her, bringing the big man closer to her. She puts her hand on his cheek, moving in closer through the bars to his ear, softly whispering something in to his ear. Trauma's eyes widen, his jaw clenches tight as he wraps his hands around the strong metal bars. Nightmare steps back, turning towards Fantasy with her head bowed and a wide, slightly twisted smile on her face. Trauma let's out a huge roar, rattling the bars around him. His emotionless face turns to solid anger as he moves towards Fantasy, his hands shaking the bars and roaring at him. Fantasy puts a hand on the angry man's shoulder, moving in quickly and whispering something in his ear. The anger drops out Trauma's face and returns to an emotionless state. Fantasy smiles nervously across at nightmare.

Fantasy: How do you do that?

Nightmare: I'll tell you my secret when you tell me yours.

Fantasy: Not a chance.

Nightmare: Then we seem to have come to a stalemate, haven't we?

Nightmare narrows her eyes, looking towards the light.

Nightmare: I'm tired of you now Fantasy, go and run a comb through that hair of yours or something.

With a wave of her hand, the light disappears, just leaving the darkness on the screen.

Nightmare: Much better without his little annoying face on the screen, isn't it? Besides, no one wants to hear him talk about Trauma ripping peoples heads off their shoulders. That little piss ant doesn't have the stomach for such a thing, but I do. Now is the time to focus, now is the time to speak to a certain little Irishman.

Nightmare looks at the now calm Trauma.

Nightmare: You should have stayed out of the way Mickey. You should have stayed out and let us get rid of your little friend, but you seemed way to eager to put yourself in the firing line for him. You seemed why too excited to get involved in things that are of no concern to you. What a foolish move you chose to make and it will now cost you with the ability to walk. It will cost you with the ability to do everything you wanted to do. It will cost you with the ability to piss Mickey Carroll. Your time would have indeed came for us to walk through you and show you that you are on the list, but you made the worst choice of your life to speed things up a little and get yourself beat beyond what many would think, is humanly possible.

Nightmare runs her fingers along Trauma's arms.

Nightmare: This is the one thing that will happily pick you apart, the one thing that will break every bone in your body if I tell him to, and Mickey, it will be your unlucky day where I do tell him to pick you apart, like a vulture picking at dead and diseased flesh. I will tell him to take you apart bit by bit to send a message to the whole of Atlantic Championship Wrestling. I will use you as the perfect example for the term weak. You came here to ride on your more successful friends coat tails. You came here to keep an eye on his back, but did he need it? You're here with no one to keep an eye on your back, and if you think about mentioning that little group that your in, we know all about those too and fear none from there at all. We do our homework and you Mr Carroll, you are the weakest member of that group, and like a shark to blood, this man here will make sure to put you out of ACW for a long time. You think what happened to your friend was something? Well we have a very special surprise for you, don't we baby?

Nightmare puts her hand on Trauma's cheek, causing him to turn his head towards her.

Nightmare: Mickey Carroll must hurt, Mickey Carroll must be broken, Mickey Carroll must be ripped apart for the greater good. Do you understand me Trauma?

Trauma slowly nods, no emotion on his face.

Nightmare: Mickey must be torn in to thousands of tiny pieces. You can do this Trauma, you can go for his pet peeve and call him Mick, and still break him, do you hear me?

Trauma nods again. Nightmare rolls her fingers down the big man's cheek, turning back to face the camera.

Nightmare: He's bigger than you Mr Carroll, he's more aggressive than you can ever be. You may be a respected tag team champion but this man can make sure you're not after this match, because come the end of this, you will not be in any fit state to defend that gold. You will barely be in any state to breathe. This may be the last we see of you Mr Carroll for a long, long time. Your body will be beaten, your soul will be broken, everything you thought you had will be taken away from you in one match. Your career will come to a very quick end, a very, very quick end.

A smile on Nightmare's face shows her satisfaction in her own words.

Nightmare: It's time to pray to whatever God you choose to worship, it's time to put those hands together and drop to your knees, begging for mercy, because you will need every spare ounce of mercy your God will have. This is going to be your own personal hell....

Before Nightmare can continue, a huge flash of light is seen on the screen, and Nightmare's face has been replaced with the faded face of Fantasy on the screen.

Fantasy: Heed her warning Mr Carroll, please step away from this match, go out drinking and forget you're meant to be in the ring with Trauma. I tell you this for your own safety. Go now while you still have the chance, while you're still free, because whatever she says to him, he will listen and he will be on a mission to hurt you. Go while you still can, because she will make him do unspeakable things, and I don't want to see your career ended. She's a she devil Mr Carroll, she has no boundaries, no limits, she will make him really hurt you.

The light is replaced once more my darkness, and Nightmare stands smiling at the camera.

Nightmare: Nice try Fantasy, but we know who has the real power here. That idiot is right Mickey, I will make him hurt you and I will enjoy every second of watching him rip you apart. We will see you at Massacre In Moncton. Be prepared to say goodbye to your career at the hands of Trauma.

Nightmare laughs loudly as the darkness covers her face and the screen fades in to a heart monitor. The ear piercing sounds of a flatlining heart monitor is heard as a single straight green line is seen across the screen, before eventually fading out to black.
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