[Christian Underwood]

 Please post Roleplays here.

The first RP period has started.

[Parand Ara]

 
San Diego, California

The anticipation for the upcoming seafaring adventure known as Summer XXXTreme II was, as the event's title would describe; Extreme. It was a bold event, to hold an entire professional wrestling supercard on the deck of a luxury cruiseliner for any fan lucky enough to have procured a ticket. True, it would be aired live via webcast, but to attend on the actual ship as it sailed the ocean; for fan and SCW star alike, it would be a humbling experience.

For most.

One such competitor of the SCW was not as excited for this experience as those around her, because she simply was unused to the thought of being on such a ship for any extended period of time. She had grown up in an area that was more desert than anything else, let alone sea, and the luxury being afforded to the men and women of the SCW was not anything remotely close to what she was accustomed to. She knew nothing of what to expect, and simply wished that she could get this event over with as quickly as possible.

She had her reasons for how she felt.

It was not even the trip that was to come, but every time Parand Ara journeyed on the road or in the air to attend an event for the promotion that gave her a chance, she felt a distinct level of discomfort. She hated flying, as airplanes were as foreign to her as cruise ships, and she came to understand that few were comfortable being on the same plane as anyone, male or female, of a Muslim faith. And the prolonged experiences of driving across country in small vehicles or on buses left her bored and in close proximity of hostile stares and even more hostile words against her religion and people.

Yet for what she had to do, she felt the need to make certain concessions to beliefs in order to achieve her goals, both current and future. Such as traveling with two men, who, in her native land, would be seen as something of an abomination.

The sleek, red Nissan Versa pulled slowly into the parking lot of the 500 West Hotel and Hostel. It maneuvered around the number of cars that were already parked in their spaces until it found one close to the entrance and came to a stop. The ignition turned off and from the front driver's side emerged SCW Co-Owner Christian Underwood. He started to walk around the car to act his part as a gentleman, but before he even had the opportunity, the rear passenger door opened and Parand Ara climbed out on her own. Christian stopped and watched as she pulled her luggage from the back seat and he exchanged a weary glance with his husband, Scott, who remained seated in the front passenger.

As she hefted her meager luggage of two cases in her hands, she turned and approached Christian who shoved his hands in his front pockets and shrugged.

Christian: Are you sure you're going to be alright here?

Parand stared at the SCW Co-Owner and her boss for a brief moment before she frowned.

Parand: Why would I not be alright here?

Christian: Well, it's just that everybody else is staying at the hotels that are closer to where we'll be leaving at.

Parand: All the more reason for me to stay here, out of the way.

She glanced down, her face unseen through her niqāb, and brushed absently at her abaya.

Parand: I would hate to make anyone more uncomfortable than I already do.

Christian frowned, unsure if he heard a trace of sarcasm in the Syrian Bombshell's voice or not. He glanced toward the car where Scott remained and his partner gave a silent shrug. Instead, Christian, being the kind of man he was, sought a different tactic.

Christian: Is that why you didn't want to fly here?

Parand: What do you mean?

Christian: It was a four hour car drive from Las Vegas to here in San Diego. It was an hour long flight. Most everybody else wanted to fly and save themselves the time.

Parand: If my traveling with you disturbed you so, then perhaps you should not have made the offer...

Christian interrupted, perhaps a bit more hotly than he intended.

Christian: Did I say that the pleasure of your company 'disturbed' me in any way, shape, or form?

Parand had no answer to this statement, because in truth he had not said such a thing. She was simply all too used to the treatment she was accustomed to and it led her to unfounded assumptions. She just looked at him silently as he continued.

Christian: I was happy to give you a lift. You're not the first nor will you be the last, I imagine. I was just curious as to why you preferred to be driven as opposed to flying.

Parand: If you were me, how do you think I would feel being on an airplane?

Christian shrugged and shook his head, not completely understanding where she was going with the question.

Christian: How do you mean?

Parand: Can you imagine the stares I get as I walk through an airport? The whispers and fingers pointing toward me? Can you picture what I have to endure as I go through their security check? Things unlike many others? I would be in line and many others before me are passed through, but I happen to be 'chosen' to be searched more thoroughly? They tell me it is random routine but I don't believe either of us believes that, do we?

Christian just waits, and Scott this time turns to look at her as she talks.

Parand: I went through that once, and I do not wish to have to go through such a thing again. And the flight is even worse as nobody wishes to sit next to a so-called 'terrorist'.

Christian: I'm sorry. I was just wondering.

Parand: And you? Why do you choose to drive this distance rather than save time?

Christian shrugged and smiled.

Christian: It was only four hours, and I like to drive. I like to watch the sights along the road. It's relaxing.

Parand says nothing. She simply waits a moment and then nods. Reaching down, she grasps the handles of her bags when Christian steps up.

Christian: I didn't offend you, did I?

Parand: Would it matter to you if you did?

Christian blinked, not expecting that. Parand then shook her head.

Parand: You did not. I simply wish to get to my room and call an end to this day.

Christian: So no sight seeing? No little shopping excursions? None of the meet and greets we set up?

Parand: I think we can both agree that few fans would wish to approach me at such a thing.

Christian sighed defeatedly.

Christian: Alright, if you're sure. can I help you with...?

Parand: I can manage on my own.

Grasping her luggage tightly, she said nothing more as she headed straight for the entrance of the hotel/hostel. Christian turned and looked at Scott who called out.

Scott: You're welcome!

Christian: Scott...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Parand: Am I a cruel person? You must ask yourself that, Vixen. You must ask yourself what you have lived through and experienced that makes you both ready and capable to endure what is to come between us in this match at Summer XXXTreme II. A match you yourself asked for where there are no rules to stop us from bringing great harm to one another. No risk of disqualifications should we choose to use the first thing we can get our hands on as a weapon. No having the match brought to a premature ending should blood be spilled -- and I dare say that it very well could by your own machinations. No danger of being counted out of the ring if we took the fight to the outside of the ring and beyond.

This is all your doing Vixen. Your lack of respect. Your wounded pride. You lost that sham of a physical encounter between us. I felt nothing but shame and humiliation at being placed in such a vulgar encounter, whereas you thrived in an environment where you could show off your paid for body to hopefully entice the public to further support you against a woman such as myself. A woman who takes pride in the fact she does not have to whore herself out in order to succeed in a business like professional wrestling. A woman who knows who she is, what she desires, and does what she has to.

You chose to make this something more in a match where we have to literally injure and destroy each other to the very point the opponent can not stand after a count of ten. You have led nothing short of a pampered life compared to myself. How do you justify your reasons for thinking yourself even capable of fighting in such an environment? Hm? I have lived in a war torn land for most of my life. I know danger. I know violence.

I know war.

When you find yourself torn apart, bloodied and defeated, remember one thing Vixen;

You brought this on yourself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Parand sat on the bed in the small but comfortable hotel room, her luggage set against the wall, unpacked. The television remained turned off. The only sound were from the traffic outside of her hotel room window and the faint mutterings of TVs from rooms in close proximity opposite of her own.

Her eyes were closed. Her thoughts, her own.

Why did she do the things that she did?

She had her reasons, and they were her own.

[Vixen]

 Have you heard the phrase ‘Making your blood boil’?  I was living it, I have been living it these past few weeks.  My anger sizzled along my veins each time I had to deal with Parand Ara and her sanctimonious ‘better than you’ attitude and hidden agenda.  

Even now, just thinking about how she has driven me to asking for…no, DEMANDING a match that could be the last one I could possibly be fighting in SCW or my career.  But I have been through violence before.  I have bled and suffered in hardcore matches.  And when I get on the Royal Monarch cruise ship, I will be in a match that will cool the anger when I leave Parand a smear on the deck unable to answer the ten count.

Spike’s gym was a place that trained some very violent people.  The likes of Spike Staggs, Misty, Roxanne…the names of trainees were legend when it came to violence.  Adding her name to the list was on Vixen’s agenda.  Already in other federations, she had been in matches that saw her revert back to the soldier she had been.  The kill or be killed weapon of a VanDoo that had seen battlefield and death on peacekeeping tours.

In the past, Vixen knew that she needed to control her temper when she faced people in the ring.  Out of everyone that she has faced, none have pushed her to the point of berserker rage that Parand has managed to drive her to.  But did she have enough control over it to stop short of killing her opponent?  If Parand pushed her over the edge, would she be able to prevent tragedy from happening like it had on the last tour of duty?

The LAV she was riding in was holding the heat of the Afghan summer in it as the soldiers inside tried to relax.  Vixen pushed her helmet back as she rubbed her gloved hand over her sweaty forehead.

“Is it always this hot?” she asked to no one in particular.  The answering laughter only made her wrinkle her nose with a grumbled ‘haha’ that was interrupted by the explosion in one of the other LAVs in the convoy.  Scrambling for her gun, Vixen prepared as the LAV stopped and the back opened to release the troops inside.

“Get to cover,” yelled the leader of the group in her LAV.  “Return fire!”  Vixen scrambled out of the vehicle and behind a rocky formation as the sounds of shells and bullets filled her ears.  Looking over the top as she returned fire, she was struck by the debris kicked up from a close ricochet.  

Wiping at her face, Vixen notices the blood from a cut leaves a line on her glove.  “Fuckin’ hell,” she mutters as she wipes again then moves to return fire once more.  The firefight wasn’t long but it was more than bothersome for her unit.  Leaving her cover Vixen creeps towards the LAV that had been blown up noting as she did other IEDs that are scattered on the road where they could do the most damage if driven over.

It was these little annoyances that makes it so bad on the soldiers here on the road between the PRT and Kandahar.  Grabbing one, Vixen flings it towards the last location of the enemy as anger builds.  Cursing loudly in French as she is grabbed from behind Vixen is shaken by her buddy.

“Vix, get a grip, they are gone,” he says.  The two are standing in the middle of the road as Vixen’s eyes start to lose their wildness.  Before she can say anything else, a bullet streaks by her catching the soldier in the shoulder to send him spinning into the ditch where an IED had been placed.  The explosion blows Vixen back, leaving her lifeless on the road, the last sounds she hears is the call for a medic to check on her.

Hours later, Vixen is laying in her medical room, bandaged and doped up on morphine.  Her buddy comes in, his own uniform dirty and blood streaked.  With her eyes open, she looks at the soldier as she calls out softly.  “What happened to Lebeau?  Is he okay?”

The soldier looks at her and then shakes his head slowly in the negative.  Vixen’s eyes close in sorrow then open once more, the anger setting them alight.  “Then let’s do something about it,” she says with only a slight slur as she tries to rise.  Motioning the soldier closer, she gets his help to stand before reaching for her gear.  “Let’s go do some gratuitous violence,” she offers before being pulled into the arms of the soldier.  She begins to fight him as a nurse, seeing what is going on grabs a syringe and fills it with a sedative to calm the woman.   The soldier struggles with Vixen in her berserker rage at the death of her friend until the nurse manages to slip the needle into her arm.  The fight slowly leaves her as her body falls limp


“Are you sure you really want to do this Vix?”

The concern in the voice of Spike made her look up as he brings her back from her thoughts.  Vixen was standing in the middle of the gym, the dust motes dancing around her in a shaft of sunlight as she pulled on a pair of gloves.  “Do what…get in the ring with Jamie and get ready for a match that I asked for?” she asks with a smile.  

“Vixen, this match you asked for, this isn’t playing around you know,” Spike replies as he rests his hands on her shoulders.  “This woman is going to try to hurt you, badly!”

The smile that slowly breaks across Vixen’s face doesn’t reassure Spike in the least.  But he knows that look, he’s worn that look more times than not.  But this was Vixen this was the woman that he wanted to protect.  Was his devil may care attitude to violence rubbing off on her.

“Spike cher,” she says softly in a deadly tone of voice.  “This woman is trying to hurt her back just as much if not more.”  Vixen slides under Spike’s hands and then lets her arms creep up around his neck, her body moulding to his as she looks into his eyes.  “I am done being the one to let her walk all over me.  I am done listening to how I have to be the one to take it because she takes shortcuts.  I am OVER having to deal with Parand Ara and her jihad agenda against me.”  

Spike could hear the sizzle of the anger in her comments.  Nodding slowly, he motions to the ring where Jamie can be seen sitting on the turnbuckle waiting for Vixen.  She climbs into the ring and lightly bounces on her feet as Jamie gets to the mat and steps forward.  “Don’t worry Vix, I’ll take it easy on you,” he jokes as he taps Vixen on the shoulder, his finger pushing it back.

Vixen looks down at the finger then up at Jamie again.  Pushing away the hand, she stretches then motions for Jamie to step up.  Spike stands on the floor watching as the pair lock up.  Jamie pulls her into a headlock, teasingly giving her a nugie before floating over into a hammerlock that he quickly applies.  

“Got you now Vixen, how are you going to break this huh?” he taunts as he pats Vixen on the ass as he releases the hold.  Her hand goes to her ass in surprise that Jamie would have done something like that.  Turning, Vixen smiles a tight little smile.  The two lock up again, this time Vixen getting the upper hand as she locks on a headlock of her own.  Pushing her into the ropes, Jamie catches her with a clothesline that takes her to the mat.  “If you are not going to take this seriously Vixen, then how in the hell are you going to beat Parand huh?”

Like a match to a flame, the name triggers a sneer from Vixen who pops to her feet.  Physically shaking as she tries to maintain control, she closes her eyes and bites her lip.  Jamie saunters towards Spike, his back to the woman.

“Dude, she ain’t going to do what needs to be done.  Parand’s gonna beat her like a red headed step..”

Jamie wasn’t able to say anything else as he is attacked by Vixen, primal hisses of fury escaping her as she locks on a chokehold that she keeps tightening.  Jamie struggles to get her arms off his throat, his face changing colour from the lack of oxygen.

“Let him go Vixen,” urges Spike from the edge of the ring.  Looking in his direction, Vixen doesn’t speak as she leans back, her legs wrapping around Jamie as the hold deepens.  With him fading fast, Spike rolls into the ring and catches Vixen from behind, forcibly pulling her off the now limp body of Jamie who sucks in sweet air like a drowning man.

Spike holds onto the furious Vixen who struggles to escape the hold.  Whispering softly into her ear, Spike tries to calm her.  Finally the words break through the wall of anger and the fight leaves Vixen.  Spike lets her go just enough to spin her into his arms.  Sobbing softly, she melts into his embrace.

“I’m sorry…so sorry,” she sobs.  “I can’t lose it like that in the ring.  I know I have to maintain control but it is so hard when it comes to HER!  She just makes me want to …”

Spike hushes her as he strokes her hair, his eyes going to Jamie who is sitting up now, rubbing his throat.  He motions for Jamie to leave which brings Vixen’s attention to the other man in the ring.  Lifting her head from Spike’s shoulder, she turns to Jamie.  “Hey, um…forgive me for you know…”

Jamie shoots her an accusatory look as he rubs his neck.  Nodding he rolls out of the ring without saying anything to Vixen who visibly shrinks from Spike’s embrace then gets to her feet.  Rising with her, Spike puts his arm over her shoulder.  “He’ll be alright,” he offers as the pair of them walk to the ropes and climb out of the ring.

**********

Vixen:  Parand, I drew a line in the sand and dared you to cross it.  And you did which only made me feel that much more satisfaction.  See, since you decided that you wanted to put yourself in Sin City Wrestling with your ‘holier than thou, Allah has blessed me’ attitude and set yourself up against me, you did it without respect.

You talk about respect like it is your Allah given right.  You talk about how much of a loose woman I am because I am comfortable with my body.  You talk about how you beat me in that match that we had at Sunday Night Seduction like you won it cleanly.  I beg to differ but that wouldn’t be right either.

I have realized something Parand.  You have no idea who I am.  You are working on a preconceived notion that you know just who I am because of how I look and how I act.  You don’t know where I come from, what I have done in my past, my life from then to now, nothing.  You just suspect that because my life wasn’t like yours, I am less than nothing to you.  You Parand, you are nothing but a prejudiced, blind bigot who thinks that if a person isn’t like you, they don’t deserve respect.  Respect is earned and from your actions and speeches…sorry, sermons…You are the one that needs to learn some respect before others, namely me, are going to respect you.

Now when we get on that ship for Summer XXXTreme, I am going to be emphasizing that line with a line of blood.  It might be yours or it might be mine but it isn’t going to matter which it is.  All I know is that when the fight, no WAR, is over one of us isn’t going to be standing and trust me when I tell you…I will be walking away from you lying lifeless in that ring…on that deck…wherever you end up suffering the defeat that I am willing to kill to give to you.

***********

Sitting on a plane, Spike sleeping beside her as she rests her head against his shoulder, Vixen can’t help but think of the coming fight with Parand Ara at the supercard.  

Normally she would be thinking strategy and playing over the match against her opponent in her mind.  Normally it would be a match where she was looking for a win but this wasn’t the normal match she was in.  No, this was a battle that wasn’t going to be fought following any kind of conventions, this was going to be a dig in, completely obliterate the opponent war that she had demanded.  What the hell had she been thinking?  

“This is your captain speaking, we are approaching San Diego…” came over the speaker as Vixen sat up and nudged Spike.

As the plane approached the runway, Vixen’s thoughts were to chuckle at herself.   Thinking…she wasn’t thinking at all when it came to Parand Ara.  

This was all emotion pure and simple.

[Christian Underwood]

 The first RP deadline has passed. All roleplays posted after this will count towards the second RP period.