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Roleplay Boards => Archived Roleplays => Climax Control Archives => Topic started by: London Underground on September 13, 2017, 09:35:49 AM
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Everyone has their own story when it comes to wrestling. So many wanted to be a wrestler since they were little sprogs, mumma's milk not long dried from around their young lips. Others had the genetics to grow and grow to a physical size where they just happened to feel they could handle the hardships of being thrown around a ring for other people's pleasure. We wasn't like that, we didn't even like wrestling until a few months ago, it does open doors if you want something else. Makes ya really wonder how an East London crime boss and his crew found their way in to this unknown world of wrestling. How did we get from point A, to point B.
Well, that's my story to tell, and for you to listen to...
The East End of London, some would say the rougher part of London until recent building work and the government urge to go upscale and build flats that no normal working man can afford. Paper over the cracks and draw in better people and the scum of the East End can disappear, or so they think. Use the high prices to drive out the normal people and fill London with money, but you can put newspaper over cat shit, it doesn't mean the cat shit will disappear. There will always be a low element, no matter how much you paper over the cracks, there will always be desperate people looking at unsavoury ways to make money. There'll always be people looking to control these people and to make money off their hardship. There will always be people like us looking to make more money while helping out the good people that the government don't want anywhere near their cash cow of a city. There's always someone looking to seize an opportunity, and that is me, my name is Daniel J Morgan and I will always look for a bigger, more lucrative opportunity and if it should fall in my lap, easy money. I'm a gangster, a real gangster, not one of these mongs who walk around with their trousers half way down their skinny arses, thinking terms like brap, brap, is proper hard, so I don't mind the scum of the East End, because these people were originals, not transplants from the countryside, or in modern society, illegal immigrants that just show up here because of free healthcare, or the money given to them for doing fuck all. I look after the real people and as long as they play by my rules, there'll be no problems. When they don't, well, we'll get in to that one later. I can smell an opportunity, but there's one thing stopping me and that's a guy in a big white house who looks like his mum was gang banged by a packet of Wotsits. You know who I'm talking about...
A huge office is seen, bookcases line a wall with countless books upon them. Thick red carpet line the floor of the room and tall leather chairs can be seen around the room. The camera spins more to see a small bar, complete with beer taps and a back bar fully stocked with most types of alcohol you can imagine. The camera sees a huge man behind the bar, pouring from a crystal clear cantina, dark liquid in to a glass. The man is neatly dressed in a grey suit, his muscles pushing the fabric to it's limits, and neatly combed dark hair on his head. He takes the glass in his muscular fingers and moves towards the desk, placing it next to the man known as Daniel J Morgan. Daniel's fingers are pressed together in a triangle shape as he looks at the point, his eyes focused and just the blurry outline of a man in his late teens with neatly combed dark hair, watching a television in the corner, a huge flat screen on the wall.
"Would you turn that shite down Henry, it's doing my nut in." Daniel barks towards the young man, causing him to jump from his skin. "Sitting there watching a bunch of sausage jockeys in their pants jumping around a ring."
"Sorry Mr Morgan." Henry stutters out as he quickly grabs a remote control nearby and quickly turns the volume down.
"What is it with that kid and his poxy wrestling obsession." Daniel says with a roll of his eyes as he looks up at the bigger man standing to his side. He picks up the glass just placed by his side and holds it up to the bigger man. "Cheers Os."
The man now known as Os, Os for short, happens to be Daniel's long time bodyguard and closest friend, Osbourne, a man mountain of a human, even if he doesn't speak.
"We need to think Os." Daniel says looking away from him, his tone troubled. "There's money to be made out there in America. We've done a lot here, made a fucking bomb in money just by loaning others money, by putting it in down and out businesses and turning them great once more."
Daniel catches Os frown out of the corner of his eye, slowly turning his head towards him and looking at him.
"Alright, alright." The calm Daniel admits "I didn't say we made them great legitimately, did I? I mean we did what we had to, but the real money Os, it's in America. Now our growing reputation in some circles in life gives us an in, but there's something stopping us from getting a real in out there."
"What's that boss?" Henry calls out, his attention diverted for just a few seconds during another Steve Ramone sex scene on his screen.
"That young Henry, is this plum in a big white house in Washington that is trying to keep people out of his little country. That chubby git, who looks like he's been rolled in Doritos, and has his hair made by Lego." Daniel informs him "See, now that dipstick doesn't want anyone in his country, he wants to kick out innocent kids because their parents wanted a better life, and there's fuck all wrong with wanting a better life. Why settle for what we have when we can do better? That is why we need to get to America, to do better, to gain that better life, and spread the wealth back here."
Henry turns around, partly inspired by the speech, and looks across the room at his boss.
"But he likes money boss." Henry says with lowered eyebrows "And you have money."
Daniel stands up and moves towards Henry, the young man shifting in his seat, unsure if he has said something wrong. Daniel reaches him and puts a reassuring hand on the young man's shoulder.
"That he does Henry." He says with a thoughtful tone "But we've kept that very low key. We don't drive around in Ferrari's, we don't flash it all about and we sure as shit don't sit on Dragon's Den, do we? We keep it under the radar to stop the flying squad from putting there nose where it don't belong, but just say we do it the normal way, he's gonna look in to us a bit before ever approving an application. We're not famous money at the end of the day. Eyes are gonna be on us, and although we've had a few petty misdemeanours, we've never been done for anything big. Now if the eyes of that nation look at us and look deeply, they may get someone out there to talk and forget America, we'll be looking at a room at Her Majesty's pleasure."
Daniel squeezes Henry's shoulder.
"What we need is a smokescreen." Daniel tells him. "Something that's gonna take those peepers and put them on something else, just like we do here. I mean here, I'm a businessman, I own small businesses around the east end, because that is what I want them to see. Now, if I just hopped on a plane and went over there, set up, and kept flying backwards on a visitors visa once a week, eyebrows are gonna get raised, and I do not like raised eyebrows."
Henry nods his head, partly understanding what his boss was saying and spins back to the television, thankfully another disturbing Ramone scene over.
"It's a shame you can't wrestle boss." Henry remarks
"And why's that?" Daniel says as he walks back towards his desk.
"Well what I'm watching right now seems to get work permits and visa's for people all over the world." Henry tells him "There's a guy here who has been to prison and everything and they get him work permits for their tours."
Daniel stops in front of his desk, placing his palms firmly on the desk, his mind slowly ticking over as the opportunity appears in his mind.
"And where is this company?" Daniel asks calmly.
"Las Vegas, boss." Henry replies.
Daniel's eyes slowly look towards Osbourne as he stands behind the desk, his head moving up with his eyes.
"I think the boys cracked it Os..." Daniel says slowly before turning around and making a beeline towards Henry, who sees his boss moving towards him.
Henry backs off, almost flinching as Daniel reaches him, but Daniel lifts him to his feet and wraps his arms around the smaller man.
"Without sounding like a fucking fairy Henry." Daniel says as he grips him. "But I could fucking kiss you right now. You son, might just be the most idiot genius I know."
Daniel releases him and straightens up his jacket.
"Tell me." He says crouched down a little to look Henry in the eye. "What do you know about the people who run this place."
"Mark Ward runs the place." Henry stutters out "With a guy called Christian Underwood."
"Mark Ward, now there's a name I haven't heard in a while." Daniel says slowly "London hero Mark Ward. Mark Ward who was born forty minutes from here. That is not the guy we go to, to talk to. His local connections might have heard a thing or two, it's the other one we need to go and see."
A knock on the door quickly takes Daniel's attention. His eyes dart towards it.
"Come in." He calls out.
The door opens and two women walk in, almost the same height. Mackenzie Page, her blonde hair tied back, walks in first, dressed in blue jeans and a loose white shirt, followed by the loose dark haired Charlotte Elliot, also dressed in blue jeans, with a black shirt and leather jacket move in to the room.
"Kenz, Charley, I hope everything went smoothly." Daniel comments.
"As smooth as babies arse." Mackenzie replies. "I think they got the message boss."
"Especially after little miss nut job here threatened to do some horrible things with a tire iron." Charlotte comments.
"Whatever gets the job done." Daniel responds "Listen ladies, we've finally cracked how to get in to America, but it's gonna take a little time. Me and Os need a little trip stateside to have a word in someone's ear."
"And how's that?" Mackenzie asks with a tilt of her blonde head.
"Patience Kenz." He says calmly "But if it works out, you'll get to kick the shit outta people and have no fear of being arrested."
"We'll keep the business ticking over, Danny." Charlotte tells him firmly.
"I know you will. We shouldn't be gone more than a few days." Daniel tells them as he looks at Os. "Pack ya bags Os, we're heading to Las Vegas..."
A classy bar is seen somewhere on the Vegas strip, a place where the bar selects the clientele rather than the other way around. People dressed in suits and evening dresses enjoy another evening in the City of Sin, but the camera focuses on one man sitting alone. The familiar face of Christian Underwood blends in with the crowd as he sits at a table alone, his eyes focused on papers in front of him. He waves his hand at a passing waiter, who gives him a nod. Christian starts to place the papers in a folder when he's approached by Daniel J Morgan and Osbourne.
"Mr Underwood?" Daniel asks in a pleasant tone, but Christian doesn't raise his head as he responds.
"Sorry, I'm not signing autographs. Check out the SCW site and see when I will be." He responds harshly.
"I'm far from an autograph hunter Mr Underwood, but I'm sure you get that all the time." Daniel replies with a smile.
Christian lifts his head for the first time, looking at Daniel, almost about to yell, but something about the way he looked, something about the aura surrounding him seemed to stop Christian in his tracks.
"Let me introduce myself. My name is Daniel J Morgan, and this is Osbourne. I'm a businessman from London." Daniel says politely as he places his hand out.
"Let me guess, the gorilla is your secretary?" Christian says, slowly shaking Daniel's hand.
Osbourne grits his teeth at the comment but keeps a stern face.
"Mind if I..." Daniel partly asks as he points towards the seat opposite Christian.
Everything inside Christian was screaming to get rid of this man, but something about him seemed to draw Christian in to want to speak to this man.
"By all means?" Christian says, surprising himself that the words just came out.
"Thank you." Daniel says as he sits opposite him. "I won't take up too much of your time, I'm sure you're a busy man and that you came here to get a fresh look on work you should be doing in the office. It works, I do it all the time. I'm sure you hear this all the time, but I want to break in to the wrestling business, and I happened to notice that well, your roster is looking a bit light on teams, so I'm here to offer you two teams today."
An eye roll is the response from the SCW boss.
"So you just approach a fed owner in the middle of an upscale bar and ask for a job?" Christian says in disbelief.
"Well I'm a firm believer in something, Mr Underwood." He says with a much firmer tone. "I believe that if you want something, you don't piss ball around and sit on ya arse hoping that it's gonna fall in ya lap. It's lazy because this world don't owe anyone anything, it's a place that gives us a chance to grow. You don't grow by sitting on ya arse and hoping that you're gonna just be handed something out of the blue, there's nothing to be proud at there but if you make the effort, like Os and I have, flying all the way from London to find you and talk, then it's something to be proud of and I will be rewarded so I think you should seriously consider what we're asking, or things could go downhill quickly."
"Is that a threat?" Christian asks, his tone firming up. "Cause I've been more intimidated by butch lesbians than your pet gorilla."
"Far from a threat." Daniel tells him "But you need teams, there's me and Os, and a couple of very bad arse young ladies back home called Mackenzie Page and Charlotte Elliot, that will also team. You've got nothing to lose out of this, we've got everything to gain, now you tell me Mr Underwood, who's got to work the hardest here to prove something?"
Oddly, the words seemed to make sense to Christian as he looked across the table.
As the waiter places the cheque in front of Christian, Daniel picks it up and hands it behind him to Osbourne, who looks at it and reaches in to his pocket, pulling out a thick wad of money.
"Alright. Send in tapes of your wrestling matches and I will watch them. Then I will get in touch and let you know if we've decided to give you a chance." Christian tells him.
Daniel reaches over his shoulder as Osbourne hands him the cheque, money already in the pouch and Daniel places it on the table.
"Might be a problem with that." Daniel says with a slight shrug "Considering none of us have ever wrestled before, there might be a lack of footage of it out there."
A shocked look crosses Christian's face as he stares back across the table at the unashamed look on the face of Daniel J Morgan. He places his hands out in front of him, not breaking eye contact with Daniel.
"What you're trying to say is you've flown all this way across the world, hunted me down to sit and have an impromptu business meeting, offering your services when none of you have ever stepped in a ring before?" He says not quiet believing what he's saying "And you thought that I would just say yes and hire you on the spot?"
Daniel turns his head towards Osbourne with a smirk and back towards the co owner of SCW.
"Not on the spot." Daniel freely admits "But you must think I've come over on a banana boat if you think I wasn't expecting you to be dubious about this whole arrangement. I admit, I have not been a fan of wrestling until very recently, but I feel like it's something we can do and all benefit out of it. I've never done anything without being fully prepared for it. I've read your history, I've read your personal struggle, being an openly gay wrestler and pushing through it and becoming respected. Now right now, I'm not a wrestler, Os isn't a wrestler, Mackenzie and Charlotte, they ain't wrestlers, and we know it's gonna be a struggle, but like you, we're not fearing that struggle Mr Underwood."
The smooth, and somewhat ego stroking words coming from Daniel seem to intrigue Christian, drawing him in.
"We don't give a monkeys nut sack about how hard the struggle is gonna be, we're looking forward to it." Daniel tells him "And I've read your company history, little casino to world tours is impressive, but I've seen you have issues with some people who just won't commit, turn up and piss off after one match. Me and Os flying this distance to just meet you to ask you for a chance show's the commitment we have towards this chapter in our lives, which is more than you can say for some people who have been wrestlers for years."
Christian rubs his chin, looking at Daniel from across the table. He wanted to say no, but as a business man, he saw the opportunity, he saw he was in the driving seat. For whatever reason, they wanted to be part of SCW, he had the power - or so he thought.
"You pay for your training, I'll get reports from your trainer, I'll watch a few matches then I'll decide." Christian tells the two. "In six months time, we'll talk again. If I don't hear from you over that time, I won't lose any sleep."
"You'll be hearing from us shortly." Daniel says as he reaches out his hand towards Christian and shaking his hand. "You have a great night Mr Underwood."
Daniel stands up and walks away, with Osbourne at his side. Daniel casts a look in his direction.
"We need a Vegas based trainer, Os." He tells him. "Just so we can get this party started early..."
As you smart ones have worked out, this happened just over six months ago...
"And that brings us to now." Daniel says as he sits behind the desk in his London office. "Where Os, Kenz and Charley around about to embark on our first little adventure to New Zealand."
The camera pans out to see Osbourne standing behind Daniel, a bunch of folders in his hand.
"Now I was the first to jump on Twitter last night and say with honesty that I don't know who the fuck half these knob heads are in the match, truth is I don't know who any of these knob heads are in this match, but I've had young Henry give me the rundown of it all and in to these folders, modelled so eloquently by Mr Osbourne over here. Now, if you haven't got it yet, Os don't do the talking but I'm more than happy to."
He presses his hands together in a triangle and looks down the camera.
"Now I might not know who these guys are, but on the other side of the fifty pence piece, they don't know who I am, or who the big man is behind me, but preparation is key and I've done just that." He says with the confidence of one hundred men flowing through him. "And when you throw in a little incentive of some gold, a chance to instantly write ya name in history, instantly increase your reputation, then I am on it more than a forty year old bald bloke who hasn't been laid in twenty years, is on a brass. First folder Os."
Osbourne takes the top folder from his hand and passes it to Daniel, who flips it open and reads for a few seconds.
"The Black Sheep." He says to himself before looking up at the camera "Pair of twins who have been in SCW for a while yet done nothing but form a stable of people who don't seem to get on, that seem lazy and in different books let alone be on the same page. That says a lot about their judgement when it comes to a few things. I mean if their judgement is that piss poor, then they won't take us too seriously. They'll think debuting team, probably about as good as Crystal Palace, steam roll us. Nah, that ain't happening and looking at one of their single records, pretty obvious that this Killian guy is the weaker link. Clearly he's the one who needs to be cut loose. There's the target right there Os. These guys have poor judgement, not much in terms of a decent record, expecting to take us out right away. From what I'm reading, they somehow managed to get a shot that never happened so probably already thinking they're just gonna take those belts. I do love causing a shock or two. I don't think these two are too much to worry about. Doesn't even seem like they've been a team in a while. Over confidence, poor judgement, no chance. Who else we got?"
Daniel discards the first folder and Osbourne hands him the second one. Daniel flips it over to read the page inside.
"Travis Nathaniel Andrews and Horace Jackson, managed by Ben Jordan?" Daniel's head shooting around towards Osbourne. "Ben Jordan as in Cockney Ben? IOD Ben? Millwall Ben?"
Osbourne nods his head up and down.
"Well slap my arse and call me Susie, I haven't spoke to Ben since he sold that dingy boozer for millions." Daniel says surprised "Wonder if he still knocks about with that wannabe Mickey Carroll."
Osbourne shakes his head.
"Shame. I owe that ginger prick a smack or two from the old days." He says clearing his throat "Anyway, back to business. These two seem like a bit of a mish mash. Like zero reason for their team other than the fact neither of them set the world alight when they were on their own. Stronger together and all that bollocks. Says here that this Travis guy is about as popular as a fart in church. Trying to redeem himself. That's mistake number one, we are who we are, and if we're right bastards, it's about embracing it. He seems a little bit confused about who he is and well, that will probably weigh down on his mind and force him to fuck up more than a thirteen year old trying to talk to an overly developed bird. I think Ben is flogging a dead horse with this guy, but he seems no threat, lost more than he's won. Let's see the other guy."
Daniel's eyebrows lower as he looks towards Os.
"Is Henry taking this piss with this? Says this Horace Jackson guy used to walk around dressed as Darth Vader. Truth?" He asks as Osbourne shrugs his meaty shoulders "Fuck me sideways, clearly drug testing is not part of the SCW policy. This is a team of two guys with identity crisis going on. They're fucking potty. No losing sleep over these two. Let's see what lunatics are next."
Osbourne hands him the next folder and Daniel flips it open to read.
"James Tuscini and Uncle Pinky... The fuck?" He says louder as he continues to read. "Tuscini looks like he's done a few things in SCW, more than a few, beat a few top guys so Henry says, but this Uncle Pinky just looks like a little sexual menace, a pimple on the arse of SCW. He's an old man competing there for the first time, no discernable training, no highlights, no matches, just a guy who generally is a laxative, just irritating the shit out of people. Ok, we knew that this division needed teams, it's obvious but to bring in grandpa there is a bit of a piss take. These guys think they're mafia or some shit like that, but we know certain parts of certain Mafia families around the world, and these guys will never be Mafia as long as people have holes in their arses"
Daniel slowly shake his head.
"These fucking idiots are no more gangster than the little dickheads who sit out on the street corners, puffing the green stuff, flashing off their arses, intimidating people and thinking respect is given through fear." He says with gritted teeth. "Reading the rules, only one person needs to get slung out over the top rope, just the one, which means no matter how good this Tuscini is meant to be, the team is only as strong as their weakest link and that is old Grandpa Joe over there. Tuscini is proper bent over and fucked here before the bell rings."
He spins his head back to Osbourne.
"I'll give ya a ton in readies if you powerbomb the old bastard over the top rope."
The offer of one hundred pounds cash forces a smile on Osborne's face as he nods.
"Give us the last one, and maybe we'll find a threat in this match." Daniel says to Osbourne and the last folder is handed to him.
Turning back in his chair, Daniel flips the last folder open and looks at it, for the first time, a more serious look creeps across his face.
"The Monstimals. Sure is a stupid name, but we might have a challenge on our hands here." Daniel admits "Two crazy bastards in masks who like smashing things up and beating people's heads in just cause they're in the way. Lord Raab is the one who's done pretty much everything, and his husband..."
Daniel turns towards Osbourne.
"Fairies everywhere, this is a game you gotta watch ya six." He tells him. "But his old man, or old lady, whatever order they want to go in, doesn't seem to have done much. Who knows, maybe he's a proper handsome devil under the mask or something."
Osbourne lowers his lips to a frown and slowly shakes his head. Daniel turns back to the camera.
"Nah, probably not." He says calmly "But these two Os, they seem to be the danger, they seem to be the ones we need to keep an eye, the only one's who have been around forever, beat people up that are no longer in SCW and have a solid determination to win that gold. Determination is one thing, but need a lot more than just that to get through and get what ya want. It might be suicide Os, but those are the ones we go to first, those are the ones we get rid of first and the rest will just fall in to place. Toss them out first and the rest will be so stunned, they won't have a fucking clue what to expect. Go for the big dog in the match and those two, they're the big dogs."
Daniel throws the last folder down on desk in front of him.
"I get this feeling that after Sunday Os, that hand luggage of yours might get a little bit heavier than it is right now." He says, getting an agreeing nod from the larger man. "And I think that should be enough for people to listen to. I think we need to go pick up our ladies and head to the other side of the world."
Daniel stands up and starts to walk away, followed by his bodyguard, Osbourne as the camera fades to black.