[Jake Sullivan]

 (OOC Note: I apologize for the weak performance this week.  Motivation ran away from me for some reason.)

Los Angeles, California
Immediately after Climax Control

Things are definately reaching a boiling point in the fight for the SCW Heavyweight Championship.  The champion, "Mr. Showtime" Drake Green, doesn't feel as though the man with his sights set on his title, Rage, truly deserves a shot at his title.  But the Sin of Wrath is adamant to prove otherwise, and over the last few weeks since Drake became the champion for a second time in his time in Sin City Wrestling, he's done everything in his power to bring the champion down.  So far, he's been less than successful.

He could have been successful last week in Santa Rosa after delivering a nasty Death Drop to Drake, who is technically still recovering from a serious, and near career ending neck injury.  Unfortunately for Rage, and luckily for Mr. Showtime, his attempt had failed, and Drake was able to walk out of the trainer's locker room on his own.  But the attack had pissed off the champion, and this week in Los Angeles he had gotten his own revenge.  

After Rage had run his mouth, preaching about how he was the rightful number one contender and deserved to get his shot at the title, the fans had started chanting for Drake Green, and Showtime, as always, delivered.  He came roaring out of the crowd, sliding into the ring and attacking the Sin of Wrath from behind, eventually clotheslining the near seven foot tall monster right over the top rope and to the floor below.  

Big mistake.

Later that night, during the main event and just as Drake was going to save Equinox from being pinned by Despayre, it was revealed that Rage had been hiding under the ring throughout the entire match.  After a signal from Synn, Rage had reached his hand up from under the ring and grabbed a hold of Drake's foot, stopping him from saving his partner.  After that, all bets were off and the two battled through the crowd and Rage had walked away busted open.

Now the big man is backstage in the trainer's locker room getting cleaned up and checked out.  Synn and Kittie are with him, and Rage doesn't look too happy as he is forced to sit still.

Rage: This shit isn't necessary you know.  I'm not some pansy ass that can't handle a little cut.

Synn looks at him, shaking his head as the trainer focuses on the cut.

Trainer: This isn't just a little cut.  It's a gash and it needs to be stitched up so, please, sit still and let me do my job.

Synn: There.  You heard the man.  The more you cooperate, the sooner this will be over with.

Rage lets out a low growl, but has no other choice but to obey orders.  Kittie cracks a smile then laughs as she folds her arms across her chest.

Rage:  And what the fuck do you find so funny?

Kittie: You.  You say you can't handle a little cut, but you're afraid of a few stitches.  

Kittie laughs again and Rage snarls at her.  The trainer gives Rage a warning glance as he continues to stitch up the cut.

Rage: I'm not afraid of a few stitches, Kittie.  I just hate people telling me what the fuck to do.  And telling me to sit still is telling me what to do!

Kittie: Oh suck it up, buttercup.  

Rage: Kiss my ass, Kittie.  You're supposed to be on my side, remember?

Kittie: No, my job is to piss you off so you get the fucking job done.  You're worthless when you're a pansy ass crybaby.

Rage has finally had enough.  He swats the trainer's hand away before he is done stitching him up and Kittie grins.  Synn shakes his head disappointedly as he steps up to Rage, forcefully pushing him back down in the chair.

Synn: Enough!  Kittie, your job may be to piss him off, but not now it isn't.  He needs that gash stitched up so we can leave.  

Kittie: Yeah and he's being a big baby about it!

Rage: You know what.  Get her the hell out of here before I beat her ass.

Kittie: Oooh...threatening me now like you did Misty earlier?  Seriously, peanut head, I wish you hadn't have done that because now I'm gonna have to deal with that shit!

Synn turns around, looks at Kittie and points to the door.  Kittie's eyes widen.

Synn: Perhaps it's best if you step out in the hall until we're finished here.  

Trainer: I agree.  I can't do my job with the two of you arguing.

Kittie rolls her eyes.

Kittie: No, you can't do your job with Rage being a little pu--

Rage: Get the fuck out already!  Damn!

Kittie throws her hands up in the air, defeated, before she turns around with a smile and heads towards the door.  She walks out a few seconds later and Synn nods at the trainer, signaling him it's safe to finish stitching up Rage's wound.

Rage: Shouldn't you be with Despayre right now?  

Synn: Joshua is fine.  He's with Gabriel and Big B right now.  

Rage shrugs lightly then goes silent, letting the trainer do his job.  Synn stares at him, almost with a questioningly look, until Rage has to break the silence.

Rage: What?  What is that look for?

Synn: Are you going to explain this sudden desire to start threatening women lately?  First, TJ Codair's girlfriend Deacon Wolfe, and now Misty?  What is the purpose of it?

Rage laughs and a proud smile appears on his face.

Rage: Please, Synn.  Misty is hardly a damn victim.  She kneed me in my balls for crying out loud!  She's lucky--

Synn: No, you're lucky Rage.  If you threaten another woman around here even I will not be able to save your job.  If you want to go after Drake Green, that's fine, but Misty has nothing to do with it.  

Rage: Bullshit she doesn't.  The bitch has had the hots for that asshole for months now!  

The trainer finally finishes stitching Rage up and gives him the all clear.  Rage quickly stands up, ready to walk out but Synn places a hand on the big man's chest, stopping him.

Synn: Whether that is true or not, this is a battle between you and Drake alone.  Just leave Misty out of it, please.  

Rage: Yeah, yeah, yeah...Are we finished?  I'd really like to get out of this shithole.

Synn simply nods his head, but before the two have a chance to walk out of the locker room, Kittie opens the door, first looking to Synn, then right at Rage.  She has an awkward look on her face.

Rage: Geez...what now?  We're ready to leave...

Kittie: Ummm...You have a visitor, peanut head.

Rage raises an eyebrow curiously and Synn looks at him.  Both are now highly curious until Rage's older blonde sister walks in behind Kittie.  He narrows his eyes, now on the verge of going absolutely apeshit.

Rage: Fuck...I don't have time for this shit.  Not now.

Ashley: Well, it's nice to see you, too.

Kittie watches on quietly, knowing exactly who Ashley is, but Synn stands next to Rage, completely baffled.  He turns and faces Rage.

Synn: Well...is someone going to introduce me?

Rage: There's no need to.  We're leaving...

Ashley, however, has other plans.  She turns her attention to Synn, extending her hand for a shake.  The two shake hands before she introduces herself.

Ashley: I guess I'll introduce myself.  I'm Ashley Sullivan...

Synn: Pleasure to meet you Ashley.  I'm Synn.

But then it clicks in Synn's head and he turns and looks at Rage again.

Synn: I'm sorry.  You said your last name is...Sullivan?

Synn keeps his attention on Rage while he asks Ashley the question.  Ashley nods.

Ashley: That's right.  I'm...Rage's sister...

Ashley hesitates before saying Rage's name, as she had to stop herself from calling him Jake.  Synn slowly turns his head back to focus on Ashley and things go noticeably quiet.

Synn: Well, isn't this quite the surprise...

Rage: I don't have time for this shit!  Stay the hell away from me!

Rage lashes out at Ashley before he storms past her and out of the locker room.  Kittie and Synn exchange glances before looking at Ashley.  Ashley almost seems heartbroken as she takes a deep breath and runs her hand through her blonde hair before turning and walking out of the room disappointed.  Synn looks at Kittie, but she just shakes her head.

Kittie: Don't look at me.  I told him I wouldn't say anything.  If you want to know, you'll have to ask him.

Synn: I guess I won't be finding out anytime soon then.

Kittie nods, clearly in agreement.  Synn shrugs and he and Kittie head out of the locker room to find Rage as the scene fades away.



Three Days Later..
San Diego, California

Rage has been rather quiet, and laid back this week, considering the fact that he has his first Heavyweight Championship match in two years coming up in just four days.  And it could perhaps be his most challenging.  Sure, he beat Nick Jones for the title two years ago, but that was when he was a fan favorite.  Things have clearly changed now.  Rage no longer cares about what the fans want.  He no longer gives a crap if the fans like him or hate him, and he certainly doesn't care about Drake Green.

So why, if he is hell bent on taking the gold from Drake Green, is he not preparing like he should?  Why isn't the big man in the ring, training for the match he's been waiting for, for so long?  Well, you'll have to ask him that.  

That is what Kittie is about to do, and she's not doing it quietly either.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Kittie stands outside Rage's hotel room, pounding on the door.  Rage is locked inside, sprawled out on the bed, ignoring her.  The longer he ignores her, the more pissed off she gets.

Kittie: Open the damn door, Rage!  I know you're awake in there!

Rage lays on the bed, grinning and shaking his head.  He doesn't say a word, quietly hoping she'll go away eventually.

Kittie: You know I won't fucking go away just because you're ignoring me! HELLOOOO?!?

Kittie continues to pound on the door until other patrons of the hotel peek outside of their own rooms to see what is going on.  She doesn't seem to care about the dirty looks she is getting, but she spins around and glares at everyone who is staring at her.

Kittie: What the hell are all of YOU looking at?!?!  Mind your own fucking business assholes!

Kittie's outburst practically scares each of them and they all quickly disappear back inside their rooms.  When Kittie turns back around, ready to pound on the door again, her fist connects with Rage's chest instead.  He growls and glares down at her, and she just cracks a satisfied smile.

Kittie: About damn time.  I was two seconds away from going to get Synn and have him get another key to your room.

Rage: No, you were two seconds away from continuing to pound on my fucking door.  What the hell do you want?

Kittie: What do you think I want?  We need to get your ass down to the gym and get some training sessions in before this match on Sunday.

Rage leans against the door frame and shakes his head with a laugh.

Rage: Right, because I need all the training I can get to face a guy like Drake Green.  I think I'll pass.

Kittie: No, you won't.  You're going to get your ass down to the gym today or I'm going to have Synn and Gabriel drag your ass down there.  And don't think they won't do it either.

Rage: Oooh...I'm shaking in my boots.

Rage laughs again but Kittie clenches her fist, hauls back and punches him in the chest.  It doesn't hurt him, however, but it does piss him off.  He glares at Kittie as she folds her arms across her chest, standing her ground.

Rage: Don't do that shit again.

Kittie: I'll do whatever the hell I want, peanut head!  

Rage: You know, you've really gotten annoying since you came back!  I said I don't want to train for this match on Sunday, so just accept it and get the fuck outta here.  I'm perfectly content hanging out in my hotel room until Sunday.  

Kittie snarls, much like Rage would.

Kittie: Yeah, and I know why.  If that blonde woman claiming to be your sister hadn't showed up on Sunday, you'd be doing what you're supposed to be doing and focusing on your match against Drake.  Instead, you're letting that shit get to you and it's gonna cost you everything in the end.

Rage: I'm not letting shit get to me, Kittie.  And what makes you think she's claiming to be my sister?  

Kittie laughs and shakes her head.

Kittie: Look, can we have this conversation inside your room or someplace else?  If we don't, I'm pretty sure someone is going to call hotel security or some shit.

Rage rolls his eyes and reluctantly heads back into his hotel room, allowing Kittie to follow behind.  She closes the door behind her and growls as she sees Rage once again getting comfortable on the bed.

Kittie: Seriously, Rage?  Get your ass off that bed!

Rage: Nah...It's pretty damn comfortable.  Now...you were saying?

Kittie shakes her head.

Kittie: How can you not think the bitch is lying?  She shows up after over twenty years?  Where is her proof, other than a name that is just about as common as John Smith.  Fuck, you're so stupid sometimes.

Rage: There is enough proof when I look at her face, Kittie.  It may have been over twenty years since I've seen her, but I know her face.

Kittie: Whatever.  I still say the bitch needs to come up with some proof next time she decides to show her face, but she better hope she doesn't.  Now, you need to get the hell over it and come down to the gym with me.

Rage shakes his head and Kittie throws her hands up in the air in frustration.

Kittie: Jesus!  Do you want to win the Heavyweight Title or not?!  

Rage: What the fuck kind of question is that?  If I didn't want to win the title do you think I'd be going after Drake week in and week out?

Kittie: Well, you're certainly not acting like it right now!  You're being some emotional pansy hiding out in your room, pouting over this bullshit with a woman who may or may not be your long lost sister.

Rage turns his head and glares at Kittie, but he doesn't say a word.  The two engage in a staredown and when Rage turns his head away again, refusing to say another word, Kittie gives up.

Kittie: Ugh!  Fine!  If you want to lay there and be a fucking pansy ass, have at it.  But when Drake Green beats you and you walk away a fucking loser, you have no one to blame but yourself.  Asshole!

Kittie then turns and storms out of Rage's room, muttering obscenities under her breath.  Rage sits there for a moment before he sighs and quickly sits up in the bed.  He stands up, grabs his room key from off the end table and heads for the door.  As he heads down the hall, chasing after Kittie, another door opens and a familiar red-head looks down in the direction Rage and Kittie went.  Electra Blaze glares down the hall with a fiery hatred in her eyes as the scene fades away.



It seems to me that people aren't taking this match between Drake and I very seriously.  It seems like all they give two shits about is seeing those dumbass bombshells collide in the ring in the main event over what REALLY should be the main event.  I mean, come on...The BOMBSHELLS main eventing over the Heavyweight Championship match?  What the fuck?

If no one else plans to take this match seriously, why the fuck should I?  Even Drake has been awfully quiet this week, which is a bit of a change if you ask me.  But, then again, maybe he's finally realizing what he's going up against.  Maybe he's finally coming to terms with the fact that his days as the Heavyweight Champion are numbered and he doesn't want to show his fear to his beloved fans.

That's it, isn't it Drake?  It's okay, Showtime, you don't have to admit it to me, but on Sunday, you'll have to show it to your beloved fans.  You'll have to show it to all of the people watching in San Diego and at home, because I WILL be walking out as the new Heavyweight Champion.  

Do me a favor, though, Drake.  Don't walk into that ring on Sunday and do what you do week in a week out.  Don't kiss the ass of each and every one of those fans in attendance, because it's all a load of crap.  You run around acting like the champion of the people and it's fucking pathetic.  You want to prove your a real champion, Drake?  

Beat me.

That's right.  Beat me...one on one...you're biggest challenge yet.  Don't try and run your mouth and claim it's not true because we both know...EVERYBODY knows...that you're in serious trouble come Sunday night.  You're life hangs in the balance against me...You're time as the Heavyweight Champion is in danger, but you'd rather run around acting like the brave dumbass you really are.  

Big mistake.  Bravery will get you nowhere.  Bravery can't help you, Drake, and neither can the support of your fans.  Nothing you say...nothing you do...can stop me from taking what is mine.  When all is said and done, Showtime...You'll be on your back, looking up as the referee raises MY hand in victory as I hold the Heavyweight Championship high above me.  And then they'll be wheeling you out on a stretcher so you can live the remainder of your days in a wheelchair.

Face facts, Drake...Your time is up.  My time is now.  The Sin of Wrath is walking out of San Diego as a two-time Heavyweight Champion.

And as the man who ended your career for good...