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Roleplay Boards => Archived Roleplays => Climax Control Archives => Topic started by: KojiVerse on November 23, 2012, 11:03:44 AM

Title: The Fighter Rises
Post by: KojiVerse on November 23, 2012, 11:03:44 AM
 I stand in front of a mirror that bends so that my inflection starts to stretch into infinity. I try to keep my eyes on all my reflections, because I can’t trust myself. There are too many of them, and then something snaps. My reflects shake and shudder, then start to shift. One becomes a little girl holding a deck of burning tarot cards. Another becomes a teenager smoking and muttering to herself. One is in fight gear. One is a dancer and another is in a straight jacket.

Trying to turn around or shake these growing visions does not seem to help. I am wearing my fight robe but my hands are bloody. I shake my head and look at my reflections to see they are breaking apart like china dolls against the hammer.

One reflection sets herself apart from the others. She breaks from the crooked angels where the others hide. As she breaks, flames start to rise from beneath her broken skin. She moves over to me with a crooked smile. I can tell from her flame touched eyes that she does not approve. Of all the pieces of me that could rise from the ashes she is not happy with the result. The phoneix can never be happy with any part of me that is not in the process of dying or being born. There is no rest from the wicked. I think I hate her.

So I strike at her flaming skin even though it hurts. I try to break her into nothing but you can’t break fire. Not matter how hard I hit, or loud I scream she keeps coming back just the same. The phoenix is the one part of me that never dies and the battle causes me to cry. I hate her and I love her.

Then I realize I am not hitting the phoenix. I am punching Olo’s mohawked nephew. The mirrors are gone and so are the visions. In this moment of clarity I see that I am back in the warehouse and I am training. I have lost time again and by the fresh bruise on his nephews face its hard to know how long I have been at it.

Olo is an old trainer I had. He is a half Russian, half Tai kick boxer who use to bust heads long before MMA was popular. The old man is as crazy as I am but one of the few people that might be tougher. He has survived war, prison and fights that are all sorts of brutal. I don’t like him very much but he is the best trainer I have ever had. When I rose from the ashes and walked out of limbo I knew my new life was that of a warrior. A fighter like Olo, and so I called him up. He brought his nephew Puck who I am currently trying to break down.



“Eh! Break it up! This is sparring not death match!”


Both fighters take a step back. Karina Koji is wearing black fight gear and a furious look in her eye. Her opponent is a rising MMA fighter from Tailand know by her uncle as Puck. He is looking worse for wear. He curses in Tai and goes over to a chair off the training mat. Drinking water he talks to his uncle. Karina paces.

Karina: What is he saying?

Olo: He say you crazy. He say you need to get laid.

Karina laughs at that and shrugs. She never seems at rest and hey eyes struggle to stay on her trainer.

Karina: Well I am ready for round two.

Olo: Yeah yeah...you are big strong warrior...but wait. Look at this.

The old man strides over to Karina’s work bench that is filled with monitors. Since Karina has seemed to fall into some money recently many of the monitors are now high definition but some still look at if they are about to fall apart. There are over a dozen monitors and they all are showing clips of Misty fights.

Olo: I have been watching the matches of this woman. You are stronger, that is not enough. This woman fights smart.

Karina: Da, I know. I have watched her fight plenty of times. She is smart and is a trickster. She will appear weak and then strike strong. I know she will do whatever she can to win and she is damn good at pulling off the victory.

Olo: That is not what I worry about. You were smart girl when I trained you in Russia. I watch your old matches and you still smart...but now you worry more about brutality. You have anger and that is weapon....but don’t get stupid.

Karina: I am not stupid old man. I am more focused than I have ever been.

Olo: Ah yes but where does your focus go. You are like missile. I know you will destroy everything in your path but I worry Misty won’t be on your path. You strike Puck like he is your enemy. You said it yourself, this Misty plays tricks. Maybe she sets you of course. You have to figure out who you are fighting.

Karina looks at her trainer and then at the monitors. His words seem to sink in and for a moment hey eyes have a lost look. She turns back to the training area in a panic. She closes her eyes for a moment.

Karina: Time for round two...

*********************************************************************

The camera fades in on a tight shot of Karina. She is wearing a leather jacket and the vast vista of the Nevada desert behind her. Wind whips at her hair as she stares at the camera.

Karina: Heavy is the head that wears the crown....have you heard that phase before Misty. I thought about it recently when thinking about you. To be honest I did not put much thought towards you until our match but now you are all I think about. I worry about you oh sad queen.

Karina smiles softly, then briefly looks off into the distance with concern. She closes her eyes for a moment then looks back at the camera.

Karina: Heavy is the crown....I mean ever since you decided you were queen of the damned your troubles seem to multiply. You have your past chasing you and your pride causes you to rush forward creating new troubles as you go along. Roxane wants a piece of you. Odetta Ryder wants a piece of you...hell as far as I can tell all of NXT would be happy to see you fall. Everywhere you look there are daggers in the shadows. You surround yourselves with little minions with a hope of protection but every one of them can be used against you. Heavy is your crown Misty, if you’re not careful it will break your neck.

Karina laughs lightly at the thought and starts to pace as the camera zooms out. She is standing next to her motocycle on some dirt road outside Las Vegas. She keeps glancing beyond the camera with concern.

Karina: You have so many threats and so many concerns. I imagine I don’t even rank very high. I mean who am I to a queen, such as your self.

She smirks at that thought and stops pacing.

Karina: How does one become the “Queen of the Damned” anyways? I mean is it like how the Brits do it.....is there a list of people that are in line to be Queen. What gets you on this list?  They like to call me crazy but every self proclaimed Queen I have ever met was insane. I met the Queen of Cats in Berlin but she was just a vagabond who liked stays. oh and I also met the Alley Queen in Hong Kong, but she was just a hooker with a Napoleon complex. You are the queen of what?...darkness. To claim all the damned, that takes some impressive ego.

Karina stars to pace again. On occasion she will stop to look beyond her and then move quickly as she talks. He hands start to shake.

Karina: So Queen, you most likely don’t think much about me. I am just another match for you. I mean you have a long list of enemies and future conquest, and I have not made the cut. That is okay, I don’t judge you. But as if have said, I have concern for you. You are walking into this match pulled in many directions and with a heavy crown. You hardly have a thought for me but all this week you are all I have thought of. I have watched every match you have ever had that was televised. I have seen you rise and fall as a champion. I know you’re good and I know you have many tricks. You have skill and talent, but you also have brutality. You have a damn good finisher but your execution is sloppy compared to my Wolf Bite. I know a lot about you...but do you know me.......do I even know who I am?

She stares at the camera with a mixture of confusion and sadness. When she speaks again her voice is soft.

Karina: I think if all it takes to be a queen is force of will...I will declare myself a Queen myself. I am the Queen of Roulette and that means this Sunday you will be in my domain. Roulette Rules....and that means chaos will rule, not darkness. In the ring, Misty you could beat me. We are both skilled fighters that know how to create victories. But with Roulette Rules and the form I have taken out of limbo.....you can not win. With all your worries I am not even sure you will really even show up for battle. Either way it won’t matter. I stared deep into the stars and they burned my eyes....but they also told me victory will be mine.

She rocks a little back and forth. Then suddenly gets on her bike and gets it started. She creates a cloud of dust as she rockets away....

As I ride down the dirt paths of this hot, dry plain I thank the Gods that I going West. I need to create some distance from the heat of Vegas and the shadows of memory. I drive as fast as the bike will allow me but I know I can’t fully shake her. I glance behind me and she flies at a safe distance. She could burn the air around me and have me quick; but instead she teases me. She wants me to know that I am hers. She is me after all. The phonix of chaos wears my face and looks at me with my own eyes. She flies across the desert with wings of fire and I just hope I can make it to Sunday before she burns me again.