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Roleplay Boards => Archived Roleplays => Climax Control Archives => Topic started by: Ryan Keys on November 04, 2016, 10:08:54 PM
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A day in the life of Keys
It was one of his ordinary days, nothing new happening. Ryan woke up, had his healthy, protein-rich, breakfast and finished some stuff he had left undone the evening before. Then, as he used to do every Friday, he took his bag and headed to his place of safety and sanctuary, the gym. There weren't a lot of people there, the regulars that greeted him with grunts and nods, their own strange language that they somehow adapted and understood. Familiar faces of guys like him who spent their time into those four walls, working hard to reach their goals, to look healthier, bigger, stronger.
The treadmill called to him first, the need to get his heart pumping, the blood flowing. That would certainly wake him up. Beginning with a brisk walk, he gradually picked up speed until he was in a full on run, the sound of his sneakers slapping against the mechanism echoed throughout, in tandem with the little pants of air that slipped as he felt the blood stir, beginning to thunder through him. It was a feeling that he loved, one that he lived for. With the music loud in his earphones, Ryan imagined himself running on the streets,dodging around pedestrian traffic, feeling the sun on his face, the wind in his hair. It would certainly feel better than the warm, stale air that circulated, carrying the scent of sweat and cheap deodorant. But, then again, hard work and dedication was his favorite type of cologne. After almost fifteen minutes, he slowed his pace and began walking again, catching his breath as he let his body cool down.
The next exercise that he had to do, following his form, was weightlifting. Wiping away the drops of sweat from his forehead with his towel, Ryan headed to the area where black leather benches were situated in front of a wall-length mirror. Three of them were already occupied, so he put his stuff on the last one, taking a moment to shake himself out before beginning again. He took two weights, 22 lbs each, and took a seat on the edge of the bench, facing the mirror. Once again starting off slow and easy, he curled arms to lift the dumbbells, focusing on the different muscles in his arms, targeting each one strategically. As he went, his forearms began to tremble with each movement. Five, ten, fifteen reps until he felt his muscles would surely burst. Pausing for twenty seconds, he laid down, facing the ceiling now, and just like that he lifted the weights up, then down slowly. Back up, and down, for twenty times., feeling the strain in his pectorals with every motion. When he finally stopped, his breath was a bit heavy, but that meant that it was working. Letting the weights fall on the floor, he sat back up, and stretched his neck, eyeing himself in the mirror, never completely satisfied with what he saw. There was always room for improvement.
Now he had to do some stronger exercises. Some squats, as a starter, holding a rod with weights of 33 lbs on each end. Panting slightly, he kept his eyes on his own image on the mirror, to check if the movement was right. He urged himself to push harder, motivated by the swell of his arms, the redness that darkened his cheeks. Once down, aided by one of the guys near him, he put away the weights and the rod, deciding to warm up his legs a bit, so he headed to where the bikes were. Greeting one of the guys already sitting on a bike, he took his place and rode for about ten minutes at a quite fast pace. He felt the muscles of his legs stinging, but he didn't stop. The other man in the room spurred his competitive nature. This wasn’t just a workout, it was a challenge. Subconsciously, he forced himself to peddle faster, to gain more mileage as if this were some sort of race, even though the bikes were sedentary. Without breaking a stride, he tilted his head back and downed a few gulps of water, his heartbeat drumming mercilessly against his rib cage as he ventured on.
Once done, he walked to the zone dedicated to stretching. Using a mat, he stretched his legs, arms and back, pausing for about two minutes to again give his body time to recover. Now, he could decide whether to go and do some more weight lifting, or some more machines. By this point, Ryan felt both exhausted, and zinging with energy, a contradictory feeling that he so enjoyed. It was exhilarating, though he knew he’d pay for it later. Soreness was a daily reminder of a job well done, something he actually looked forward to. No pain, no gain.
Getting up, he noticed that the bench he had been using earlier had been taken over, the rest still occupied, so he took the weights that he needed and brought them to an empty corner, away from the commotion. He didn't need a bench to do this exercise. His arms hanging at his sides, he opened them wide, like an eagle spreading its wings, preparing to swoop in and claim its prey. Once again, the overworked appendages vibrated with strain as he stiffened his jaw, his eyes narrowed. They were pretty heavy indeed, but that was alright. If he wanted to reach his goal, he had to keep going. It took about two minutes, and then he repeated it for a few more rounds. When done, he waved his arms out and swallowed down another couple of mouthfuls of water from his sports bottle, then made his way over to the machine that would work the muscles in his shoulders. Dropping onto the cracked leather, he fixed the weights on 55 lbs and started going through the motions. Five, ten times. Pause. Weights on 66 lbs now, he did it another ten times.
He had just a few exercises left. Returning to the stretching zone, he reclaimed his mat again, and laid it out, lowering down to his stomach on top of it. Counting to ten, he allowed himself a few seconds of rejuvenation before picking back up. Eyes squeezed shut, he focused on the music, not so much the lyrics, but the pounding of the drums, the thrum of the bass. Refocused now, he starts again, doing downturns for three minutes. Then, he rolled on his back and executed fifty crunches with ease. Push ups were next. After thirty, he repeated the entire cycle two more times until he felt content that he’d reached, and surpassed his limit for the day. By now, the crew that had come in earlier were packing up as well, all of them sweat-drenched and feeling just as accomplished as the wrestler.
On his feet now, he followed through with a few more stretches, slow, easy movements to allow his muscles to cool down, drawing him out of the state of overdrive he had put himself into. Feeling satisfied, he went to the changing room, took a long, relaxing shower, then packed his bag and hit the road, ready to take on the day.
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Static from a TV monitor echoed around the dark room. Just the light of the frantic particles of static from the TV screen was was lighting up such a pitch black space. Soon the static began to sway into an image appearing on it’s screen. Scw’s future star, Ryan Keys came into view. A smirky smile upon his face as he took a small breath.
“You know I was going to make a They’re here… joke but the halloween feeling is over and Climax control is in gear. And let me tell you that I am back on TV with even more energy than before. As I gave James Tuscini’s title a good try I came up short, but that is just to recap for those not in the know. He is my vote for almost every ballot he is in when it comes to the awards here in SCW. No one else has earned it.”
Ryan had to give the other man his props. He has bested him in every match they have been on. Respect is due to those who have earned it. Unlike Steve Ramone. There are just something you can’t respect.
“Now enough about recaps. Let’s instead talk about Re-runs. Looks like one of SCW’s brightest stars has come back, and as SCW’s self proclaimed door into the business it is my honor to give Kris Halc his first match back. Let’s see if that spark is still there. I hear that he was a former champion as well. It’ll be fun to see how I can measure up to someone like him. And if I so happen to beat him tonight I will know that if I was around when things were up and coming maybe I would have been champion.”
He smiled as he knew that even if he has been in SCW for a short time he has earned pretty impressive feats. Though he was still not a champion, but those were very minor details. It takes much more to be a champion and it looks like Ryan hasn’t had what that is. But he will soon.
“I don’t want to bore Kris by talking about his past, or commenting on his life. We all don’t care about that. All people care about is you, me, a ring, and all the beatings we can give. Not sure if you have been paying attention, Kris, but I am what many call a fighting entertainer. I am go into that ring eager to fight and to entertain the crowd as I do it. Does that make me flamboyant? No, maybe it’s wishful thinking by management. Though I can say that I am nominated to be voted for the Future star award. Among everyone else that can be called impressive. But I won’t let that give you an impression of me.You can see that yourself in the ring.”
Ryan’s image began to static as a message hidden in the words got distorted, where one could clearly heard the words I will beat you . When the image was back and stable the brunette smiled brightly.
“Looks like I don’t have anything else to say. I want a fight and I am getting one out of you Kris. One way or another. There is no escaping me when it comes to giving the SCW crowd their much earned entertainment. So try and make things interesting. After all you are a former champion. I won’t except anything better than to fight you head on. I would have preferred to fight you at your prime, but I can settle for the here and now. Don’t keep the SCW crowd waiting Kris. Because I will come for you. And that is a re-run we can all enjoy. So stay tuned.”
That same smirk came into view as the TV screen soon shut off, turning the room fully dark with the anticipation of it turning back on again. But only time will tell.