The following roleplay is for mature audiences only.
August 2013
It’s getting close to midnight as the moonlight shines through a rundown hotel room. This room almost looks like a warzone as the walls are riddled with bullet holes and blood is splattered all over the place. Three bodies are lying on the room floor with pools of blood surrounding them. The fourth body is lying face down on the bed wearing nothing but basketball shorts. His right hand is clenching a 9mm handgun and his left a bottle of jack daniels. The sound of loud snoring fills the room as the moon continues to light up the room. The snoring continues as it muffles the sound of feet approaching the room. “Hello in the there,” says the hotel manager as he knocks loudly on the door. “I have been getting complaints from other guests about the excessive noises coming from this room,” he continues while knocking on the door.
The body lying on the bed begins to stir as the hotel manager continues to bang on the door. “Who in the hell is making all that racket?” asks the body as he lifts his face from out of the pillow. “This is Ike Travers, the hotel manager, can you open this door?” he responds. “Do you have any fucking idea what time it is Mr. Travers?” yells the body as his face glistens from the moonlight. “Sir, the guests have been complaining about loud noises coming from this room. I just want to make sure everything is okay,” replies Travers as he begins to rifle through his own pockets. “I can assure Mr. Travers, all I was doing was getting some sleep. I would appreciate it if you kept the motherfucking noise down,” the man screams as he lies back down on the bed. “I’m afraid I can’t do that sir. I must enter this hotel room,” says Travers as he pulls out his universal card key from his pocket. “This is your last chance to open the door,” warns Travers. The man sits back up, points his revolver towards the hotel room door and cocks the hammer back. “If you value your fucking life then I wouldn’t open that door,” he demands. Travers doesn’t heed his warning as he slides his cardkey through the card reader. The tiny little light blinks green as he tilts the handle down.
The door swings open just a little as sees the barrel of the gun pointing right at him. “Are you going to shoot me?” begs Travers while putting his hands up. “I’m thinking about it. Who did you say you were again?” the man asks while trying to wake up. “My name is Ike Travers,” repeats the hotel manager. A slight snicker escapes from the man holding the gun “Travers? Travers? That name sounds vaguely familiar. Do you know who I am?” he asks. “I don’t quite remember your name, sir,” answers Travers. Another snicker comes out of the man’s voice as he follows it up with “Since you were kind enough to introduce yourself, I guess I could return the favor. My name is Holt. Dus…”
“I know who you are,” interrupts Travers as I gets up off the bed. “Oh, you do. Please enlighten me, how in the hell do you know me,” I said with a sarcastic tone in my voice. “You are Dustin James Holt, the stupid fucker who got drunk last night and shot three CIA Agents,” divulges Travers with a slight snicker of his own. “Those three weren’t agents besides how in the hell did you know they were shot?” I curiously ask him. “You are the only person in this room with a gun who is alive for starters. Plus this room is riddled with bullets and blood splatter,” assumes Travers as I put the bottle of Jack Daniels on the bed. I continue to point the gun at him while running my free hand over my hair. “I didn’t kill them,” I assure him. Travers cocks one eyebrow up as I tilt my head to the side. “What?” I finally blurt out as the silence was starting to annoy me. “If you didn’t kill them then who the fuck did?” he finally asks. “Why in the hell do you care so much about three sacks of shit. If you ask me, they deserved to get gunned down like this,” I blatantly say while uncocking the hammer and putting the gun back in my waistband.
“I only care because they got gunned down in my hotel,” answers Travers as I chuckle a little. “Oh give me a fucking break. Most people would kill for this kind of excitement. Well, I better get going,” I reply while putting my tank top back on my body. “Where the fuck you going?” he asks me while grabbing a hold of my wrist. “You are one stupid bastard huh. I never stay in one place very long. Sooner or later, Viola Vance will find out about her three pussy snatchers got popped,” I smugly answer as Travers tightens his grip. “Answer the fucking question, where are you going?” asks Travers again with dark smirk on his smug face. “You are some kind of stupid. I told you where I was going and yet you still have a tight grip on my wrist. So if you want to keep your hand on your body, I suggest you remove it now,” I tell him while reaching into my waistband with my free hand. “I figure we wait for Viola to get here so she can kill you,” he admits with a smuggish grin on his face. “Is that so well maybe you can give Viola a message for me when you see her?” I ask him with a very toothy grin on my face. “What’s the message?” he smuggishly asks me.
I softly chuckle while pulling out my 9mm out of my waistband, putting it right next to his temple and cocking the hammer. “Tell her not to send boys to do a woman’s job,” I say while squeezing the trigger. Travers slowly falls to the floor as brain matter covers the walls. I chuckle a little louder while looking at the four dead bodies lying in this one hotel room. “I really out did myself,” I say while cleaning my prints off the weapon. I work quickly to reposition some of the bodies so it doesn’t look so much like a clusterfuck. After I finish moving the bodies, I place the 9mm in the hand of Ike Travers. As I am doing that, I let out a quick snicker. I once again pat myself on the back before wiping all of my prints off of everything I touched. I pick up the same bottle of Jack Daniels that I was drinking out of and quietly exit the room. As I am walking down the hallway, several guests stick their heads out into the hall. I tuck both hands in my armpits while trying to be convincing with the next few words that comes out of my mouth. “Everything is alright folks. Just go back to your regular scheduled evening okay. Although someone might want to call 9-1-1 because I believe the hotel manager just murdered three people and committed suicide,” is what blurts out of my mouth as I turn the corner. The sound of doors being slammed shut was like music to my ears as I run my fingers through my sweaty hair. “I really should take a shower,” I mutter to myself while leaving the hotel through the fire exit.
September 10-13, 2015
Two years have gone by as my life has returned to normal. I knew the investigation would stall after all the evidence started to fall apart at the seams. Would I like to see the look on Viola’s face? On one hand I would love to see the look on that bitch’s face but on the other hand I don’t risk jeopardizing my freedom for some cunt. During these two years, I have moved back to my hometown of Gainesville, Florida and started to get back into shape. Not to mention, I wanted to get back inside a wrestling ring. When my plane finally touched down at the Gainesville Airport, I was greeted by my beautiful wife Candi. The sight of her nearly made me jump out of my muddy boots. “Hi babe,” she says as she flings her arms around my neck. “I missed you sexy,” I said as we share a passionate kiss. We finally pull apart as we head for the parking lot. My brother K-Dawg is standing by our Honda CR-V with a smile on his face. “Hey yo,” he says as we high five each other before doing a manly shoulder tap. “Right back atcha bro,” is how I respond to him. “Man, I got some big news for you and Candi,” he says. “Can it wait Ken? Dustin and I really want some quality alone time,” replies Candi while trying to give Ken her puppy dog eyes.
“No, this can’t wait Candi,” he retorts. “What is so important, man?” I finally ask him. “Have you ever heard of a wrestling promotion called Galveston Island Wrestling?” he answers with a question of his own. “Dude, who hasn’t heard of them? I’ve become quite a fan of their show Revolt. Why do you ask?” I answer. “Because they are in need of some good wrestlers and brother I sent them a package of your greatest matches,” he replies with a solid grin on his face. I put both of my hands on his shoulders and exclaim, “Are you serious!?” K-Dawg just nods his head as I release my grip on his shoulders. I glance over at my wife who doesn’t seem to be all that amused by this sudden announcement. “I just got you home and you want to leave me again,” she says while crossing both of her arms in front of her chest. “You really want to do this now,” I reply with a slight bit of anger in my voice. “It’s been two years since I seen you. I got no phone calls, emails or a motherfucking postcard. I was really hoping you would stop all of this nonsense about becoming the greatest wrestler that ever walked the earth,” she proclaims while shifting her weight just slightly. “Admit it babe, you are washed up. You haven’t been good since 2009. Why would anyone want to take an unnecessary risk on you anyway?” she continues with the harsh comments. “Are you finished yet?” I politely ask while trying to hide how annoyed she just made me. “Dustin, it’s simple really I forbid you to leave me,” she says while placing one hand on her hip.
“You knew damn well that I couldn’t share any information about what I was doing two years ago. Did I fucking miss you? If I was being honest with myself then I would probably say fuck no. It was nice not to hear some cunt bitch trying to control your every fucking move. Since I am being honest, I’m happy to say that I even got drunk because you weren’t around. Do you know what else happened those two fucking years we were apart?” I ask of her while shifting my own weight around. “What else happened?” she asks. “I discovered some very naughty pictures of you and some fuckwald sleeping in our bed,” I answer with toothy grin. “Um, I can explain that,” she utters while tilting her head down. “Does it look like I give two shits about you screwing some manwhore? I understand women have motherfucking needs but you need to understand one damn thing. I don’t stick around for lazy fucks who love to nag just so they can hear their own cocksucking voice,” I comment as her cheeks begin to flush red. “There is one thing that does bother me though and that is you telling me what I should do about my own goddamn wrestling career. I guess you forgot who pulled your ugly ass off the streets when you were homeless. Did you fucking forget all I did to keep clothes on your damn back? Did you forget that it was my damn money that paid for your boob and nose job?” I continued. “No but that still doesn’t change the facts that you suck these days,” she replies while lifting one eye off the ground towards me.
“I am tired of listening to your cum swallowing voice so it’s best that I drop your fucking ass right here,” I retort while removing my hand from her waist. “What are you saying?” she asks. “He’s saying hit the damn bricks bitch,” answers K-Dawg as he points toward the open road. “Why...I...uh” she scoffs while walking off. I watch her walk away as a sigh of relief comes across me. I then turn my attention to Ken. “Where is this Galveston Island Wrestling?” I ask. “In Galveston, Texas,” he answers. “Thank you,” I reply as he nods his head. K-Dawg doesn’t say another word as I give him one more high five before turning around and heading back towards the airport. He continues to watch me as I walk through the sliding glass doors and disappear inside the airport. The sound of keys jingling distracts K-Dawg as he opens up his hand to find my keys sticking between both fingers. A soft grin comes across his face as he sees a plane take off into the night sky.
September 15, 2015
After Revolt went off the air, the card for Unscripted was announced and I was shocked to see my name listed as one of the participants in the Unscripted battle royal. Once I find out about my participation, I hop onto the next train going to Austin, Texas. While sitting on the train, my mind starts to wander about the upcoming match.
“I wonder how many of my opponents are going to discuss how a battle royale actually works. A lot of people believe if you eliminate everyone in the match that you are destined to win. I hate to be the one who bursts your bubble but that kind of thinking will get you eliminated for sure. These kind of matches aren’t about brute strength. These matches aren’t about who has more talent than the other. Battle royales are won by those who are not just physically strong but mentally strong as well. Yes, having bulging muscles are good to have if you know how to use them correctly. I bet most of you are going to target me. That would be smart due to me still being new to the company. You wouldn’t want to see a newbie at the head of pack. I really don’t think that will sit well with the likes of Alexis Terry, Terry McKenna, Geneva Lost and Johnny Violence. These four individuals have just as much right to that number one contendership than anyone. However, I highly doubt they have the same experience as me in a match like this.”
I take a moment to catch my breath as the train pulls into the Amtrak station in Austin, Texas. I step off the train while carrying my only possession on this planet. I resume my thought while standing on the platform.
“I have been in numerous battle royales throughout my career and I have won at least 8 of those. So I know what I am talking about when I say that battle royales are like a human chess game. For those who aren’t familiar with chess then you can think of this match as a king of the hill game. You want to be the last man standing in the ring. You must use your brain but I know that could be too much to ask from some of my opponents. I know some will be hitting the ring hoping to be one who eliminates the most people but don’t your personal goal overshadow the true goal. The main reason we are in this match is to crown the next #1 Contender for the Undisputed Championship. I know Alexis Terry will do everything she can to get herself back into the limelight but she needs to realize that I am gunning for the same thing.
If you were to ask me what my goal is for this match. My answer is to be the man leaving Austin, Texas as the next #1 Contender. How am I going to do it? That’s the simple part, I am going to use this.”
I point to my own head while taking another breather.
“When I first signed my name on the dotted line, I wanted to work my way up the ladder but this match can change everything. ‘It only takes one match’ is the one phrase that I have heard throughout my life growing up. My father would drill that into my brain. Unlike most people in this company, I started my professional career at the age of 16. I was trained by my father. Each night before I left my father’s dojo, he would say ‘one match can change everything.’ I didn’t believe him at first but my second match as a professional wrestler saw me winning my first championship. Why am I telling you this? Because I want you to know how important this one match can be for someone’s career. I maybe a little out there because of my antics but make no mistake. I will be the one who out performs everyone else. I will be the unsung hero of this war. I just hope you all can go the distance.”
I say with a little chuckle in my voice. I finally step off the platform as a taxi pulls out front. I toss my bag across the seat while looking back at the train station.
“It’s just about feeding time and man am I one hungry puppy. Catch you assholes at Unscripted.”
The last thought from my mind is said as I finish getting into the cab and close the door. The taxi drives off as the scene fades.
