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| "Welcome to the Parlor"; I didn't have to, but here's a short Axel RP | |
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| Topic Started: Aug 25 2010, 09:33 PM (152 Views) | |
| Axel St.James | Aug 25 2010, 09:33 PM Post #1 |
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The scene opens up to the typical "Backstage" area of any wrestling promotion you've ever watched. White-washed walls seemingly marching down and out of sight for eternity, generic black "marble" tiles following them like a lost child with their parent. Between each small set of wall, wooden and steel doors were placed, the wooden to be a comforting, welcoming experience for the talent that would be using these rooms as their dressing rooms or whatever other use they could have for them, the steel, well, these stood as sentries, warning the outside world that they do not belong in the darkness and the fire that dwelled below. Now, any normal man would walk by this, and not pay attention, but one in particular had no choice. From orders from the higher-ups, and with this "Damage Control" effecting the entire CZW workforce, not just the Ultra Violent competitors of the show that we've come to love, this cameraman, though hesitant, pushed his way through the double-doors into the immediate shadows down below. As he entered, the doors slammed shut behind him, causing a jump, and sealing his fate. With chattering teeth, the man eased his way down the stairs, realizing that for some odd reason, a small light had been activated on the other side of this room, but the reason for it was masked by the roar of the machinery, the raging of the flames within, and the haze in the air from what could now be identified as the Boiler room in the Acer Arena of Sydney, Australia. Generic placing for this, no? Moving forward through the heat and smoke, the cameraman now had found his goal, his "Light at the end of the Tunnel" to use a pun. A single candle, white, about two inches wide, three tall, sat on the cold, unforgiving concrete floor below, giving off an aura of orange glow to the floor and walls around it. The camera focused, looking up a bit to catch the man who had lit this item Clothed in black combat boots, tortured cut-off black jeans and the always popular black leather jacket, this honestly could be any man, but once the eye of the camera caught look of the man's face, that changed in an instant. Mid-length cut bleach blonde hair fell from the mans head, slicked back slightly, but not enough to give him the "plastic head" look. A black bar piercing ran through the right eyebrow of this individual, the color matching the ,mysterious facepaint that decorated the dead glare of the man. A black line, pointed at the bottom, ran from each eye down to almost jaw-level, giving him the appearance of a harlequin mask from Mardis Gra. On his bare chest, the camera now focused enough to make it out, more paint rested, this time spelling out a word. With a closer zoom, and with the light of the candle, we could see the word "Rapture" crossing diagnolly from bottom-right to upper-left. Though looking slightly different, this man could easily be recognized as the man who personally trained CZW wrestler and Youthful Aggression member "The Cult of Personality" Ryan Shane, Axel St.James. Axel simply watched the single, small ball of fire that flicked on the candle below, licking the wind with it's corrosive tongue. He held out his right hand, skimming it over the flames, as if to test his ability to avoid the burning sensation. With his hand still intact, he then held it directly on top of the flame, watching as the fire ate away at his palm, his cold stare still re maining. He brought his hand, now looking at the small spot of singed flesh, then bringing it back down to his side where it sat. ""Will you step into my parlor?" said the Spider to the Fly. This line begins a poem of a very important life lesson, one that finds itself immortally entangled with my life. You see, the Spider, cunning as he or very well she was, tried to convince the ignorant Fly to join it for dinner, never knowing that the Fly itself was the main course. Try, and tyr again the Spider did, but to now avail, as the Fly was just too intelligent..........or so it thought. The Spider eventually convinces the Fly of it's love, whether friendship or other, for it, time and time again, but the Fly could not be fooled, by this claims of this new "friend". Avast, the Spider found a way, and put the struggle to an End. Down to dinner the two sat, the Fly's nerves now will bend. Up jumped the Spider, seizing the Fly, dragging it to his farewell den, and this, my children, come and learn, flattery is a tempting sin, but those who trust the Spider's lies, will ne'er come down again." Axel rose his head, now staring into the camera with his usual discontent. He simply watched on as the shadows cast by the fire danced upon his face, his body, and his domain. "Now an innocent fly, ignorant to the truth, is buzzing closer, and closer, and closer to my intensely woven web. Robbie Ramone, a wide-eyed green horn trying to make his dreams come true on the biggest stage in the professional wrestling world today. My, my, my, what a shame. What a shame it is that so soon as you dream begins, it becomes a nightmare, and then you awaken. Ramone, I did some research about you, and I found out something interesting. September Sixth..........it's your birthday. Now what a present you have to open that day! What a gift I'm going to give you." Axel reached over, gripping the glass plate that held the candle resting on top of it, lifting it up, and bringing it closer to his face. The shadows around him shifted, now focusing away from Axel's body as if driven off by the pure light of the flames. "Pain is my gift. Without pain, we cannot experience pleasure. Without sorrow, joy would be hollow and meaningless. I'm going to beat you into submission, within an inch fo your life so to speak, so once you recover, you will appreciate what you have even more. Life is but a moving shadow, a tale told by an idiot, but also read by an idiot. We are all at war with one another, believe it or not, and come September Sixth, you become a casualty. Robbie Ramone, welcome to the Funhouse, and abandone all of you training. Thiis will not be a match, this will be a fight for your life, and that is the end, and nothing more." A smirk barely crept across Axel's face, as he looked down at the candle even closer. A few moments of silence past before an erie tune left his lips. The lyrics of "Happy Birthday to You" slowly hovered through the air, Axel taking time to breath within each line. At the final note, Axel took a deeper breath, exhaling strongly, and putting out the candle infront of him, plunging the room into entire darkness. Before the feed from the camera could be cut out, these were the finall word to be heard. "Happy birth...day.....to.......you." End |
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