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Roleplay Boards => Archived Roleplays => Climax Control Archives => Topic started by: Mickey Carroll on June 02, 2017, 11:16:26 PM
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One Too Many
#NP "Hiccups†by WATERS
Locale: Bad Boys Home; Las Vegas, Nevada
Storyteller: Mickey Carroll
What a bloody fuckin’ month this ‘as been. Not all of it ‘as been good, and not all of it ‘as been bad. The Bad Boys ‘as won the Number One Contendership to the Sin City Wrestling Tag Team Championships. This was the number one goal since we formed in December, and I’m positive we would’ve made it here sooner if we wasn’t too busy pissing people off left and right. We finally got our fair shot at the tag titles, since we was left out of that all-inclusive bullshit tag team battle royal at Blaze of Glory. It ‘as been a long time coming, and we’ve finally made our way there.
We went through one of the only few respectable tag teams in SCW when we took out The Elders. It was meant to be Dax’s test to see if ‘e really got what it takes to throw all friendships out of the window in order to become the most dominant force here. I can’t sit here and say that I didn’t ‘ave me doubts on the matter. I didn’t think ‘e could go out there and tear everyone down to the bloody ground with ‘is trash talk, and then turn around and attack them during that bogus tag team contenders match that took place before we was even considered. ‘E surprised me when ‘e led the fuckin’ charge on that attack, and then worked the outside of the match to make sure that we won the chance to go after the tag titles.
The same match that we interfered in, was the same match that featured Unholy Alliance, basically the tag team that doesn’t ‘ave the blarney’s to decide if they want to team or chase singles titles. Kudos to tearin’ a page from our book though. It shows that they’re taking notes. Super stables are all the rage right now thanks to the Bad Boys and Mean Girls alliance. Hopefully they took notes on how we beat The Elders, because I can guarantee that we’re going to bring it much harder against people we actually ‘ave a fuckin’ problem with. They couldn’t leave well enough alone, accept the arse kicking we ‘anded to them, and move on to more pointless Anne Rice style bullshite. No, they ‘ad to take it personally and try to outdo us. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, considering it’s yet another page they’ve taken from out of the Bad Boys play book. Originality isn’t their strong suit, and neither is winning. I suppose that chronic losers stick together?
Enough about those muppets, though. I’ve gotten meself all worked up this evening. The US holiday ‘as come and gone, and Dax ‘as gone out on a little temper tantrum because I ‘aven’t been Husband of the Year or some other nonsense. It’s fine. Strange, but fine. However, it’s now Tuesday night, and I’ve grown a bit worried. Giani says I’m just being paranoid, but ‘e’s so out of touch with the situation, and also not the one who could get deported because of one of their social media cock ups. I’m pacing back and forth, staring at me phone to see if there’s any sort of text, call, or Twitter update. Not a fuckin’ thing. The car keys are in me ‘and as I look toward the front door. I’m trying to play it cool as I wait for Dax, but it takes everything in me not to charge through that door and hunt him down.
Me: Fuck this…
I can’t do it anymore. I love me career too much to let this git ruin it for me with ‘is selfishness. I storm over toward the front door, and I fling it open, not quite expecting to see some bellend with ‘is tongue down me husband’s throat. I grab ‘im by the shirt collar and slam ‘im against the door as I glare into ‘is eyes. Hatred and contempt fill me as I reach me fist back, ready to give this nancy a good fuckin’ kickin’.
Me: Are ye blarmy, mate?! I told ye on Twitter that if I ever catch ye with me husband, I’m gonna knock the bloody piss out of ye!
Dax: Mickey… What’s the big deal? You said it yourself, I’m not your fuckin’ husband. Only on paper.
Me: Yeah? And that paper is meaningless if that nob Nicholas Taylor sees ye both tongue fucking on our porch! ‘E’d be chuffed to send me back to London, and ye know it. Do ye just not care, or what?
Dax smiles at me as he grabs onto Tad Ezra’s arm and pulls him back closer, while Tad wraps ‘is arm around Dax. Me blood is boiling inside as I shake. I purse me lips as I look between the two of them. Tad looks over at Dax and winks at me from the corner of ‘is eye.
Tad: I was just saying goodnight anyway. I’ll see you the next time I’m in town?
Me: The bloody fuck ye will!
I slam the door right in ‘is face as I turn to look at Dax, who is already pouring ‘imself a cocktail from the bar. I let out a sigh as I walk over to ‘im, me eyes welling up as I watch ‘im drown ‘imself as I used to do any time things got hard. Seeing me in ‘im is hard for me as I take the glass from ‘is ‘and.
Me: Why the bloody ‘ell do ye do this to yerself, mate? Yer only torturing yerself and those who care about ye, Dax.
Dax: Oh? Since when the FUCK do you care? It’s not like we’re married, and it’s not like you don’t go around Twitter trying to fuck my sister. You said it yourself, this is just a paper marriage so that you can stay in the country.
Me: I did say that. But tell me this… Is SCW really worth me staying in the country? I bloody well would say not. I could go back to England, and wrestle for some hyped up company. I could find much better competition than Unholy Alliance, Black Sheep, and the like. Maybe I don’t say it enough, but yer half the reason I want to stay.
Dax snorts as ‘e stumbles over to the couch, spilling ‘alf of ‘is drink on the floor and the italian leather couch. That’s Giani’s gripe, not mine. ‘E’s clearly not in the right frame of mind right now as ‘e kicks ‘is feet up on the couch, drowning out whatever’s got ‘im all pissy right now, with ‘is whiskey sour.
Dax: Unholy Alliance… That should be fun, right? You and Giani should do just fine getting them down for the one, two, three while I play cheerleader on the outside of the ring, pretending I fucking matter. Because I clearly fucking don’t!
Me: What part of “Yer the bloody reason I decided to stay in the US†is so hard for ye to understand? You do matter, inside of the ring and out. Just because I don’t love ye like a husband, doesn’t mean I don’t love ye like a fuckin’ brother, yeah?
Dax: Yeah… If you say so, bruh...
Me: Can I ‘ave a seat, please?
Dax rolls ‘is eyes as ‘e picks ‘is feet up from the couch. I take a seat next to ‘im as I put me ‘and on ‘is knee to give ‘im a pep talk.
Me: Can I tell ye a little story?
Dax motions with ‘is ‘ands that I ‘ave the floor. However, I can tell that ‘e doesn’t actually give a toss about what I ‘ave to say to ‘im. I decide to continue anyway.
Me: Once upon a time, a little ginger haired boy, new to East London, went around as bein’ the weird kid from Ireland with the strange accent, the cheeky attitude, and the pa that’s always showin’ ‘is alabaster arse in town wasn’t doing ‘im any favors. Then, one day, the dark ‘aired cool kid of the neighborhood sees ‘im kicking a football around by ‘imself in an empty lot across from the park, and invites ‘im to come kick the ball around with actual people. We bonded over our love for clubs, like Millwall and Club Orange that we knocked off from the local corner shop. We grew up, and we ‘ad our fair share of good times, and a few bad. The steely eyed kid stood by the ginger shite through thick and thin. Anyone looked at Ben wrong, and I… I mean, ‘e… made sure that they didn’t make it out with all their teeth.
Dax: I know you think I’m fucking stupid, but I knew who you were talking about. Cut the theatrics and just get on with it. You’re really killing my buzz, man...
Dax’s hazel eyes are fading as the spirits get to ‘im. I decide to speed it up for ‘is sake.
Me: Fine. Me and Ben was thick as thieves growing up. We did everything together, unless it was a neighborhood bird, despite the many offers we got. The point is that we was always there for each other. We were best friends. I never would ‘ave thought we would be, because he was always the calm, level headed one and I was too much like me pops. There was a little bit of trouble, mostly my fault. I figured our group of friends ‘ad a bright future, while it was destined for me to wind up in her majesty’s finest chambers, so I took the fall. When I got out, Ben wanted to help me get me life back on track. ‘E showed me the world of wrestling, and I never really took it seriously unless I was teaming with Ben. After Ben decided ‘e wanted to tag with someone else, I felt betrayed. Bitter. Jealous. I turned on ‘im. I ruined that friendship, and I’ve lived to regret it ever since. I knew I’d never find that in anyone again. Turns out, I was wrong. When Giani got in touch with me, sayin’ I was the only skull smashing son of a bitch he wanted to team with, I figured I’d fight for a month or two and then move back onto the pubs, whether it be in the US, or back home. Giani ‘as been great, but I found it somewhere I never would ‘ave expected… in you…
As soon as I say that, the most sincere thing I’ve said in probably three years, I feel ‘is head hit me chest. It’s a little strange, but I suppose a “bro hug†is in order. I wrap me arms around ‘im for a second… and then another… and another until it starts to feel too weird for me. He lightly moans as ‘e leans up and kisses me cheek. Me jaw drops as I don’t honestly know how to respond. But, instead, the sound of ‘is snoring lets me know that I don’t ‘ave to respond. It’s such a strange feeling, mostly because I don’t mind it as much as I thought I would. Not me cup of tea, but for a friend, I can let it go as I just keep on talking.
Me: It’s better not to be bitter. Clearly, me and Ben ‘ave moved on, and I intend to show that I’ve matured a lot since the last time ‘e saw me. But don’t mistake that for ‘aving grown soft, because Bad Boys will leave Summer XXXTreme with the tag belts, because I’ve gotten better at this craft, and I’ve got two of the best partners in the world.
I let out a yawn as I look down at me watch to see that it’s now 2:30 in the morning. Me party days ‘ave since gone, so this is pretty late for me. I start to get up, when Dax wraps tighter around me, groaning. For such a skinny arse, ‘e’s a heavy little bugger, and I don’t find it worth the fight to try getting up. Instead, I just let out a loud sigh as I pick up the remote next to me and dim the lights enough to hopefully fall asleep. I slowly lower me ‘ead against ‘is, and before I can correct the problem, I pass the bloody fuck out…
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Undead!
#NP "Undead†by Hollywood Undead
Locale: S. Valley View Suite G; Las Vegas, Nevada
Storyteller: Dax Beckett
Fuck yeah! Got my iPod loaded up with my first favorite band. Yeah, I used to love two songs by Hollywood Undead when I was 10, and that’s all it takes to qualify the as a favorite band? Oh, right. There’s a point to this, I promise. I just need to play this song a couple times, because I’m hyped as fuck, bruh.
Mickey: Bloody genius, mate! This is so perfect!
Mickey isn’t so much excited, as he is with me walking around with my Beats Pill blaring this as we walk through the halls of the business building. I walk in slow motion as I relive my childhood for a minute, doing weak Beastie Boys fake gang signs as I pretend to know all of the words. Giani shields his face from me as he pretends to not know me. Mickey seems to enjoy it as the office workers come from the various rooms, staring at me and scoffing like they’re going to actually say something, but I turn around and grab my crotch with one hand and wave my hand at them, daring them to. Giani grabs onto the belt loop of my pants as he drags me down the rest of the way. We make it to a large double door at the end of the hallway and walk through it.
Giani: Gawd, can ya be any more fuckin’ embarrassin’ to be seen with in public?
Me: Yeah I can! Wanna see?
Mickey: Yes…
Giani: NO!
Giani takes the Pill from my pocket and tries to turn it down, but instead, I counteract it with the iPod, turning it up even louder until he drops the Pill on the ground and stomps it to pieces. My mouth hands open as I watch him stomp it a few more times for good measure.
Me: Hey fucker! You’re buying me a new one of those the second we leave here.
Woman: Excuse me? Can I help you gentlemen?
Mickey: Er, yeah… We ‘ave an appointment for the Bad Boys at 3:15pm.
Woman: Um, it’s 5:15 now, though…
I get a shit eating grin on my face as Giani and Mickey both look back at me. I shrug my shoulder as I stroke my beard for a few seconds, flipping a piece of hair from my forehead.
Me: This beard doesn’t just magically look this awesome without some work. But hey, we’re here now.
Woman: Yes, and we have another appointment.
Giani rolls his eyes as he pulls his wallet out from his pocket and slams it down on the desktop of the secretary. She stares at him and shakes her head. Giani pulls bills out of his wallet, one at a time as the secretary continues to shake her head. However, after about $500 gets placed next to her hand, she narrows one eye and looks at the three of us. However, as soon as she focuses on me, still doing fake gang signs to the music still playing in my head, she shakes her head again.
Giani: Of for fuckssake…
Me: But I really wanna do this, my saucy meatball…
Giani slams another $500 down on top of the existing stack as she winks at us. She goes into the computer for a second and sighs.
Me: My, my… it seems we have a scheduling error. The Nguyen family is just going to have to get a refund. Come right this way, please.
I jump up and punch toward the ground as I push past Giani and Mickey. Mickey laughs as he follows behind me, getting just as rowdy as me. We make it to what looks like a military bunker, and a talk bald dude standing there dressed like a special ops officer. He turns around and looks at us, ready to give some bullshit rehearsed speech. But he seems to recognize us, and he runs his hands down his face.
Baldy: I hoped I’d never have to see you shitheads… Alright, well I’m assuming you didn’t research this tour, so…
Me: Yeah-hah-hahhh we didn’t!
Baldy: Alright, well, grab your guns and follow me. I’ll debrief you asshats on the mission in the transport.
Mickey: Bloody right, mate!
Mickey is probably a little too happy to get a military grade gun in his hands, but I can’t say much because I take the gun and aim it right at Giani’s crotch and fire, sending him to the ground with an echoing “Ohhhhh!†that makes even the instructor laugh, even though he tries his best not to. I high five Mickey as Baldy gets a serious look on his face.
Baldy: I have to ask that you don’t fire your guns until you have been properly trained on them. Also, please don’t fire them until you’re on the battlefield.
Mickey: Bollocks…
Mickey fires a shot at Giani’s ass for good measure, letting out an “oops†as I nearly fall over laughing. Once Giani regains the feeling of his nuts, he gets off the ground and we walk out of a back door to a sick ass military transport vehicle. We step inside of the vehicle, and sit on the nice ass black leather seats. Inside of the vehicle is this sexy looking soldier in his army fatigues. I lick at my lips before I realize I’m losing focus. He looks back at me, and I can tell what’s up. But nope, this is about something way better than army fetish bullshit.
Sexy: Tonight, you three are the latest recruits, with lots to prove. There has been a breakout at facility Ground Zero, and we’ve determined that the dead have come back to life. Behind you, you will find fitted vests and helmets. Put them on now.
We do as we’re told, for fucking once. Then, he goes on to do a bunch of boring talk about how the various weapons work, but I’m hyped about what’s going on when we get to facility Ground Zero. I hop up and down like a kid as we get to the facility. We unload from the vehicle, and the cameraman makes his way out first. We meet up with two more soldiers who are poised and ready to murk.
Sexy: Now, if one of you will do the honors, and…
I don’t even wait as I lunge forward, and with hella style, I kick the fucking door in. We storm inside of the first room as we heard screaming coming from inside of the almost pitch black area. We turn on the headlights of our helmets and we march down the stairs. I take a second to clue the viewers in on what’s going on, but not after pulling out another Pill from my pocket and giving some theme music… Yep, “Undead†because I loved this song in the UFC video game.
Me: Hello SCW universe. Since all of you are lame A.F. you probably have no idea what’s going on here. Well, Bad Boys are going to blow some fucking zombie brains all over Ground Zero. Yeah, it’s like a metaphor or something. Because this is exactly what we’re going to do to Unholy Alliance in just two short days, but like, Dmitri is the living dead, and James Tuscini is dead on the inside if his eyes are any indication.
Mickey: Plus, they’re bloody useless, walking around like people actually give a toss about them. Instead of brains, they’re looking to kill the honor of any title they can get their hands on, turning them into a shell of their former selves.
Me: And that! Besides, who in SCW is trill enough to mow down zombies in real life? Um, nobody but these guys right here. Yeah, such a thing really exists, and when I found out, I was like let’s do that!
Giani: Plus, it’s just too perfect for the promo against two guys who ain’t got a shred of appeal between the two of ‘em. I mean, it’s far more interestin’ than some Gothika love story, or some random nonsense with a cousin. Can we tawk about that for like five seconds? Who outside of Arkansas is that attached to their cousin?
I lean back with my free hand and high five Giani. Sergeant Sexy gives us the smoldering death stare as we quiet down for a second. He waves us over and points to a zombie that also for some reason looks like a clown.
Sexy: Watch this.
He takes his assault rifle and aims it at the zombie creature and fires, taking it down as I roll my eyes. He waves us ahead as we finish marching down the stairs. We make our way through a hallway to see a window that’s not boarded up. Zzzomg a fucking clown zombie is coming through it. Yawn. I raise my gun and fire one off in his fucking face! Sexy looks at me, partially impressed and partially annoyed that I jumped the gun. Ha!
Sexy: It’s important that you wait for me to give the signal at this point in the game.
Me: Fuck that. If I wait for your signal, I’m never gonna learn how to slay the undead in time for our match on Sunday. Plus, we could be dead by now.
Mickey fires off a few shots as a few zombies crawl through the window. He shakes his head as he brushes past Sexy, giving him an evil glare that I still don’t understand. I shrug my shoulders as I follow after him.
Sexy: You guys are going to wind up like these maggots, dead on the floor, if you don’t stop and listen to what I have to say.
Mickey: No, we’re gonna wind up dead on the floor if ye don’t stop tellin’ us what to do, and start takin’ down these bloody walkers!
Me: Ugh, truuuuth!
Sexy: You know what? Whatever. I guess you don’t want to be trained like marines, then…
Me and Mickey hold our hands up at him as we act like we already know what they’re about to train us. We walk through the window, looking from side to side. Mickey points at a couple walking down the hallway. Mickey drops one in a flat second with a shot straight between the eyeballs. I skip forward and smash the butt end of the gun under one of their chins, and then I make my voice as high pitched as a 10 year old boy.
Me: Headshot!
And then I follow through with the headshot, laying the fucker to waste. He raises his clown mask and rubs his chin as he says something that I can’t hear over my Pill blasting out the music. We continue forward to a door. Mickey nods at me until I shake my head and allow him his chance.
Mickey: Quite the gentleman, I must say…
Mickey does and Ax Kick to the handle, breaking it off before turning with his other leg, kicking the door down. We see two zombies coming in our direction. One of them looks disgusting and I look at Mickey with a fake whiny look.
Me: Ugh, that one looks almost as bad as Tuscini.
Mickey: And that one’s got more personality than Dmitri.
We hook arms and fire, hitting each one in the crotch repeatedly until they drop to the ground, and I’m pretty sure that they’re actually crying. Sexy and Giani approach us as we cackle at our handiwork. Giani grabs onto my arm and spins me around as I let out a loud, but super manly shriek.
Me: AHHHHHHHHHHH! ZOMBIEEEEE!!!
I nail him right in the chest, causing the red paint to splatter out all over the place. He sighs as if to tell me that the vest makes it hard for him to feel anything. I nod my head as I smile. However, next I blast two to the crotch, and if my aim is on point, each ball got a taste of the red lead. I turn back around as Sexy and the others charge through the room, and I push past them all, including Mickey, to jump and turn in mid air to knock the door open with my ass. There’s so many of these creatures inside of the room.
Me: Oh my god, this is perfect training. I mean, what if those lifeless pieces of shit of Blood Legion decide to get involved. We could get swarmed by them!
Mickey: But Dmitri and Gothika are the only undead members of the stable.
Me: Trust me, after Jeremiah Hardin’s failed attempt as the Heavyweight Champion… they’re all as dead as a Hardin’s career. Or is the saying a “doornail� Either seems fitting.
We fire through the zombie fucks as the swarm seems never ending! Real life experience right here. I take a deep breath as red splatters all over me from the sprayback. I grit my teeth as I continue to fire like a madman.
Me: Die, you lifeless pieces of worthless, talentless, incoherent, wastes of roster space, redundant, boring, suck ass, weird, outdated, lazy, cheap, Nosferatu wannabes, idiotic assholes, overhyped, overpaid, under accomplished, cheating ass motherfucking pieces of shit!!!
Mickey: Was that about the zombies? Because that seemed a little more… Bloody fuck, ye useless, air-headed, dead-beat, dickheaded, dags, donkeys, louses, bellends, arse-over-elbow, twats!!!
Me and Mickey fire rapidly into the crowd of zombies like this was a round of Nazi Zombies, level 28. Bodies hit the floor like Drowning Pool, and we mow through them like our name was Daryl Dixon. In my head, it was like a montage that looked way better than it probably looked with these weak ass zombies. We make it through to a room with boarded up windows, and we barricade ourselves inside as Sergeant Sexy pulls out his walkie and calls for an air strike. In the meantime, I look to the camera, getting serious for a minute.
Me: Look, all nonsense aside, Unholy Alliance? You’re not even on our radar. You’re nothing but an annoyance that stands in our way as we work toward what we have always been destined to have. I thought we made it clear last week that we don’t care to have anything to do with you. It’s not because we’re scared of you two, like I’m sure you’re going to play up. It’s because we don’t care about you. The only reason you even entered our sights is because you were just another hyped up tag team that didn’t deserve the opportunity that you were given. You’ve had enough shots, and you just couldn’t get the job done. The Bad Boys can, and we will. That’s it. It was only business. But, hey… if you wanna make this shit personal, then let’s go there. Bad Boys do personal, and we do it fucking phenomenally. I’m sorry, you shit stains probably don’t understand what that word means. It means that we do it exceptionally well, something neither of you have ever done with anything. No Roulette or transitional World Heavyweight title reigns is going to scare us, because together? We’ve done it all and more. Our tag title reign is going to be historic, and you’ll just be a little blip in the story of the rise of the Bad Boys. That’s all you assholes deserve, so I expect a thank you card in the mail soon. You’re welcome.
Mickey steps in front of the camera and I step back, giving him props as I hype him in the background.
Mickey: Ye two muppets should ‘ave left well enough alone. We was gonna give ya fellas a free pass and not kick yer nancy arses, and that’s something the Bad Boys just don’t do. Honestly, ye aren’t worth our time. I know, it sounds generic and boring, but it’s true. Management must ‘ave a hardon for yer demise, because it’s clear that this is what will happen after Sunday. Imagine what it would be like if ye got beat by the two least decorated members of the Bad Boys, such as me and Dax. It will be the final nail in yer coffin. Pun intended. Come Sunday, the Bad Boys will go out there and prove exactly why they are the number one contenders, and yer not. It’s not luck. It’s not privilege. It’s because we’re the superior tag team right now, above all. Ye might as well save yerselves the embarrassment and not show up… but trust me when I say that we both hope ye do. Like an Amy Marshall movie, we’ll fuck you up!
There is a countdown in the background that reaches zero as Mickey wraps it up. The building shakes as the “bomb†is dropped. How fitting, right? Much like the bomb that will be dropped on Sunday, removing any relevance that Unholy Alliance had in the tag division, just like these undead zombie clown creatures. The perfect metaphor for these two clowns we’re going up against in two days. The laughing stock of Sin City Wrestling right now, falling victim to the Bad Boys Once this game of “Whose dicks are bigger?†is over with Unholy Alliance, then the games will truly begin. Watch out Team BJ. This detour is almost over, and then we’re coming for you. And your Sin City World Tag Team Championships, too...
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