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"Poison Fills the Cup of the Carpenter"; Triple Threat RP #1
Topic Started: Jan 9 2011, 10:31 PM (103 Views)
xShanex
Member Avatar
Stay Down
"Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul." - "Invictus" by William Ernest Henley





"H-....Hey."

"Hey."

"How goes man?"

"..........Since when did you start caring?"

"Not one for taking up friendly conversation are you?"

Our scene fades into life from the bellowing darkness to birth the view of the rising sun, while only a sign of a days beginning back in the Western Hemisphere of this little mudball in a vast emptiness we call Earth, serves as a symbolic entity representative of a nation. The shimmering eye opened down to the people of Tokyo, Japan, or at least the very few up at the recklessly early hour of 3 a.m. A long, drawn out silence is cast down between the two unseen conversers, co-existing with the slow descent of the camera to their position, only to be broken by the second, deeper voice of the two.

"So how were the flight issues? Christmas in Japan is something, huh?"

"Huh.........So it was you that told the Higher-Ups that? Well, guess I should thank you or something."

"Yeah, I thought rocking himself to sleep in a corner didn't sound as comforting."

"You know damn well I was in the hospital. They wouldn't clear me.............or let me leave the room. Trust me, I tried."

"Well they must've traumatized you pretty bad, I mean look at what you're wearing! It's.....normal!"

The camera continued it's slow-paced journey to the ground, catching a light laugh at the last comment made before officially revealing the two members of the video piece to the viewing public. First, leaning against a concrete wall set up around an apartment complex was the visage of one Ryan Shane. Ryan's lower-half was clothed with, not fancy, custom made suit-pants of two seperate colors, but simple tortured blue jeans, a single hole ripped into the right knee, his feet housed inside a pair of black Vans. He slipped his hands into the front pockets of a black hoody, white markings across it in the shape of multiple, highly-detailed crosses, the phrase "Royalty" crossing the chest. He peered at the other member of the conversation under the brim of a black baseball cap, the logo of the MARVEL comics anti-hero The Punisher brandished on the top, covered slightly by the hood of his hoody. With barely seen eyes, he made eye-contact with the other, answering his comment with one of his own.

"Last time I checked gods don't bleed, and I did a hell of a lot of bleeding during that show."

The camera then panned to the left, catching not only the face of the man Ryan was speaking with, but a rolling gasp around the world, followed by roaring cheers from the fans realizing that their World Heavyweight Champion, Eddie Rowan, had come into frame.

"Yeah, yeah you did. Oh, hey I got you something. It ain't much but, you know."

Rowan reached into the front pocket of the hoody that clothed his upper body, pulling out a crimson red can flashing in the light. He handed it over, Ryan taking it in his right hand and studying the text on the front.

"Dr.Pepper.........Blaze told you, huh?"

"Heh, yeah."

"He's a douchebag."

"He has his moments, but you do like it right?"

Ryan held the can still for a few passing seconds before snapping the tab and taking a long sip of the multiple flavored contents.

"That's good."

He finished the can off with simply one more gulp, crushing the can in his hand and tossed it to the ground. He shrugged, stretching his neck out before leaving the wall, turning to walk down the road.

"Probably not your thing, champ, but I'm going for a walk. You can follow if you want."

"Oh how lovely, the chosen one asking his lowly servant for a walk? Guess it beats sitting in the middle of Tokyo by myself, why not?"

The two turned, heading for the sunrise as the camera began to zoom out, not exactly catching the small talk between them, then slowly faded to black, but not for long, as the hazy view of a new video feed immediately took it's place. As before, the streets of Tokyo crowded our sights, but from the golden hue on the streets and the much larger crowds of people, it was a few hours later in the day. A small japanese boy ran past the screen, most likely to one of the many brightly colored stands laying around the public area. With a grasp of his childish laughter, the camera turned to meet a small park bench, no more than five feet away and on that bench, you guessed it, sat the pair of Ryan Shane and Eddie Rowan.

"Nice day."

"Sure is. You never get used to how packed this city is."

Ryan shrugged in his seat.

"Never really bothered me."

The two surveyed the area, taking in the culture and the feel of the eastern air. Moments passed, and finally the silence between the two was shattered.

"Why do you hate me?"

"What?"

"I knew we didn't get along, I got that, I'm used to people not liking me, it's kind of my thing............but three weeks ago I was stomped down by three people, three Renegades..............and nobody came for me. Nobody came down to help, nobody even came down to fight their enemy. Everyone just watched.......they just watched."

"Jackson came out."

"Jackson doesn't count. Shit if he had an option he wouldn't help me either. Derek needs me around."

Rowan looked down at the now hunched over Ryan Shane, turning the question over and over in his mind before making an attempt to answer him.

"It's a respect thing, man. Why would you go out to help someone who called themselves your superior, barked orders, and made a name for himself by stabbing people in the back and ending careers? Let's face it Ryan, you're a good wrestler, yeah, but you're a miserable human being, if I can even call you that?"

Ryan let the words dance in the back of his mind, his eyes locked on the dirty gray of the cement ground beneath his shoes, nodding as realization hit him with a surprise left.

"Eddie........you might not like it, you may not appreciate my methods........but everything I do, I do for a reason. My ends justify the means. I'm not just some psychopath out collecting heads. Everyone who was hurt, they deserved it."

Rowan's reaction said it best. Was Ryan out of his mind, or just freaking stupid?

"Everyone? What about Buck Evans? There's a good chance he'll never wrestle again because of what you and Knox pulled."

"He attacked me first. He tried to make a name by hurting me.........I did what he tried to. I just did it better."

"Ryan it's not like you just beat up a few people. We fight for a living, we all know we can get injured at any time......but with guys like you walking the halls, willing to attack anyone, even people who called you family, we can't just close the gap."

That was it. Ryan's eyes shot a look of pure disbelief and unmeasurable anger.

"What?!? Eddie, you'd throw me under the bus for what I did to those biters? Kirkland and King are an insult to the life we live! Every spike I threw, every chair shot, every ounce of blood spilled from their heads, and my own was for Straight Edge, the REAL Straight Edge, not these little Johnny punk rocks who go to My Chemical Romance concerts, and their mom calls to them out of her minivan and yells "Brian, Michael, you both be good now!" and they cheer, high-five, and got to their nosebleed seats. Brian doesn't know the first fucking thing about Straight Edge, and I show them, I beat lessons into their skull with every attack!"

The eyes of dozens of Japanese vitizens, men, women, and children were all upon the two, Ryan's hate-filled gaze unbreaking from the eyes of Rowan, who was the only of the two to actually know what was going on. These people had no idea what Ryan was screaming, even if they did he'd look like an asylum escaped mental case.

"Alright, alright calm down, you're scaring the children. I'm just saying, poser, Nazi, douchebag, Renegade, it doesn't matter man. Every last one of them trusted you, and you jumped them all just to make yourself look good. How can we trust you after that?"

Ryan leaned back into the bench, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You can't, to be honest. At least I wouldn't blame you if you didn't. What you should trust is that last time I was in the ring I was torn apart by a pack of Renegade wolves, one in sheeps clothing, and I had no aid. That will not happen again, whether I get that back-up or not Mr. General."

A laugh came from the lips of Rowan.

"So you heard about that? Should I be watching out for any more fork attacks for the seat of power?"

Against it all, even Ryan could not force back a slight chuckle, shaking his head at the memories of his first attack on the then tag-team champions.

"Eddie, whether I like it or not, no matter the outcome you'd be the "General" of CZW, World Title or none. Everyone in that roster, they respect you, some are even your friends, but they all look at you like the ideal professional competitor and that is something I could never take. On the downside, that means I will never hold that seat of power. However....."

The sly, sadistic smirk cracked into the face of Ryan, his eyes narrowing and turning to Rowan. It was like looking into the eyes of a coiled snake before the fatal strike.

"That also means I can take the World Title and not have to worry about any.....additional disturbances. That I like."

Both men shared a laugh, standing up in the process.

"Well I'd be lying if I said that I didn't sound like one hell of a match, but it's going to take more than "Daddy Damage" to earn you that spot."

Ryan rolled his neck, stretching it out before placing his hands back into his pockets.

"Don't worry yourself about my means, just remember what I said...."

Ryan's eyes locked onto the golden centerpiece of the CZW World Heavyweight Championship belt, slowly descending into a hypnotic trance. His maw salivated with the hunger for glory, the thirst for championship gold.

"My ends always justify them. Congrats on retaining the championship, Rowan, and good luck at the Pay-Per-View. When the day comes when we finally face each other again, I want you fully prepared."

The champ simply watched as Shane chuckled one more time, turning and heading down the road and disappearing into the sea of the japanese street walkers.

"Looking forward to it, Ryan."

And with that, the scene began to fade away, turning away from the face of the champion and back into the crowd, disappating from reality.




Once again, a video feed emerged from the overwhelming darkness, shadows dodging the forthcoming light in order to remain in being. The view finally came to life to bring us to the stage for the CZW equivelant of Civil War, the Ariake Coliseum. The sun rested in the western sky, the late hours of daylight living out their final moments. The parking lot remained near vacated, any events that day long over, and only staff remained to clean up the left over chaos.

The sounds of passing cars formed a chorus of vulcanized rubber on the parkway, being joined by a sharp humming from off-screen, even out of shot. A mist-like evasion lead to the source of the hum, not cleared into the miniscule screams of the blaring headphones in the ears of one Ryan Shane, who stood at the foot of the building, looking up at the structure as if into the eyes of god himself.

Ryan nodded his head to the beat of the song, catching the camera crew in his side view, removed his hands from his hoody pocket, his sleeves rolled up to show off the multiple tattoos that formed the sleeves on both of his arms, and held down a single button, activating the screen on his iPod Touch, sliding the red box across the screen and deactivating the device, removing the headphones in the process. As he began to wrap the wire around the base of the Mp3 player, he spoke out.

"It's no secret that Mr. Derek Damage and myself share many interests in common. You don't call someone your "Chosen One" without common ground or some form of respect, and in my new family, there is plenty of shared opinions and intrigues. One is the respect for the Japanese feudal sciety, namely the Samurai. The Samurai, as Mr. Damage had said previously, lived by a system of honor known as Bushido. Just as the Knights of medieval France and England with their code of chivalry, the Samurai were bound to the code, and therefore bound to their lord, bound by honor."

As Ryan finished the wrapping he placed the player back into his pocket, turning to face the camera. He had turned the hat bearing the Punisher emblem to the side slightly, his cold, gray eyes cloaked by a pair of his signature Aviator shades. This image, the look Ryan Shane had made his return to main stream wrestling, his debut in CZW, was one long lost, and thought never to be seen again. He rested his head to the side, glaring into the eye of the recording device.

"But very few understand that not all warriors of the blade were as honorable as the others. Corruption spread by the hands of the feudal lords, therefore by the hands of the Samurai. Farmers were over taxed, townsfolk forced to work longer hours in order to provide sustenance to their lord. They took part in the spoils, the women, the gold, but no pride comes without a fall. The oppressed men of the towns banded together, training in secret, turning the very tools they used to feed the lord against him. These brave soldiers of the night have come to be called the Ninja, fighting back against the Samurai to own their own property."

He rubbed his face with his right hand, taking a swift breathe in through his nose before wiping his hand on his jeans.

"Now don't think the Ninja stood alone against the lords. Some of the Samurai saw through clear eyes what was going on and would not stand fo rit. A dishonorable lord breaks the code of Bushido, meaning his Samurai could leave without the need of a........honorable death at their own hands. These men traveled, searching for a purpose, some striking back against their former masters to do what was right. The Ronin are a misunderstood group, and this is where myself and Mr. Damage disagree. He sees them as dishonorable, unruly few. I respect the Ronin, living by their beliefs whether they survive or not. To die by your beliefs is to die honorably, and honr is all we really have anymore."

Ryan's eyes looked to the ground quickly, before returning to the camera crew, his hands still resting in his pockets.

"I am the Ronin of the Youthful Aggression Empire. My lord, a man I idolized in Brian Kirkland turned out to be nothing more than a liar and a fake, using the people in order to gain what he wanted, to spread his propaganda. I utilized, not only the code of Bushido, but the skills of the Ninja, hiding in the dark, watching, waiting, until the time was right. Kirkland was hopeless in the ring, unable to react...........and I struck. I crushed him like I did so many others."

A single laugh and a smirk displayed Ryan's approving of his actions, a nod admired his work.

"Brian, my old buddy, you don't get it man. You had to be removed. You had power, you controlled the strongest force in CZW at the time....but the saying goes, power changes a man. You looked past the real meanings of Straight Edge, the real reason we began that revolution, and you wen't into battle only for revenge. An angry fighter is a shitty fighter, they don't survey their area, they just run full speed ahead. That made it oh so easy to clip your wings and watch you fall."

A second laugh now roared out, his hands leaving his pockets, going out to the side in an acgt of disbelief.

"Then they call me the traitor! They say I'm the one not to be trusted! NO! I struck out against the real backstabbers in an attempt to remove the damage done, to bring some damn dignity back to the lifestyle I love and for the most part, I was successful, but there's always those few people, those few dumbasses who don't see the light. Out of all of them, I feel the most grief for being unable to save Mike King. While guys like Shaw were lost causes, Mike had potential. The turn around, the man who gave up the rockstar lifestyle to be clean, be righteous , that's something to be admired. Mike needed guidance though, and Kirkland sure wasn't the one to give it to him. That's where I come in."

Ryan pointed to himself, his inked index finger to his chest. He then placed his hands behind his head, trying to calm his nerves of intense disappointment.

"Mike, I don't see how you didn't get that! I turned you away from your half-brother because he was a failure! You're above that King! You're better than him! Everything I've done, I've done for people like you, for Knox, for every one of those people in the CZW Nation and around the world who, even though I've done all of these horrible things, still throw up the X and live for the movement, but you've got your make-up covered faced so far up Kirkland's ass that you don't see the fucking light! That's why this match needs to happen. We need to all get in there and kick the holy hell out of each other! Mike you call us brothers, the YA brotherhood and the thing is, you're right. You're comepletely right and it's why I've done this all. You both deserve better. You both deserve to live the real Straight Edge lifestyle, but first you need to learn. You need to see what it is to truly be Edge, not just sober. With every kick, I throw the force of the F.S.U. into your soul, with every punch, the thrashing intensity of every pit I've ever witnessed, every one who's let the music of prosperity and clean living flow through their bodies and control them! Class is in session at Extreme Insurrection, and Professor Shane is in the god damn building!"

Shane's cool stature began to break, his body rocking back and forth slightly with the sheer energy of the moment.

"Thing is, though, there is more to this rivalry than meets the eye. More than was there when this all started. This is war, and nobody knows the heat of the fires of war better than me. The Samurai have evolved, the traditions passed down from generation to generation, now living in the shadows themselves in this modern society. See, the Samurai are now called the Yakuza, one of the most feared gangs in the world today, and their beliefs have evolved into a more intense Bushido. If you fail the Yakuza, you give a finger as an apology, and if you betray, you're killed, No acceptions. Then there is the greatest dedication of all. To show their appreciation of the Samurai culture, the Yakuza cover their bodies, every inch covered by clothing in their beliefs, their code tattooed upon their most respected grounds."

Ryan reached down, removing the hoody and shirt from his body, and threw it to the ground. He then followed it up with his hat and glasses, showing every last piece of art on his form.

"Every tattoo I have is for something that has changed my life, for better or worse. My choices, my family, my actions, they all remain forever stamped on my skin as reminders of who I am and what I used to be. Brian Kirkland believes the same thing, but he covers his skin with lies. He wears the banner of Straight Edge, but doesn't understand the true meaning, and will prove that in his response. Brian, I live this."

Ryan motioned to the words tattooed upon his abs, the phrase "Death before Dishonor" arching over his belly button.

"This is me. I didn't get any of these because it's fun, because being Straight Edge is the flavor of the month. This is my life, my only way and anyone who takes this for granted has to go through me to do so. Mike called my true colors yellow, but I see you both as green. You know what I am, and you wish you could live with the pride I have. You guys both forget, my heart is black, pupils white, and I'm seeing nothing but red.........and so will everyone else after our match, when it's pouring out of both of your foreheads."

Ryan gripped a fist, then pointed into the camera.

"Brian, my old master, you were corrupt, selfish, dishonorable, and for that I left and found a new lord. Now you declare war against my lord, my boss and he sends out two of his greatest hitmen to face you, one his favorite and for betrayihng us, you will suffer and you will die. Then we see the third side to this fight, the fact that the one finger pointer in the group is the exact thing he accuses me of. I'm the traitor. Mike, this is war kid! I don't care who Kirkland is to you, whether I'm your best friend or your worst enemy, he's a Renegade, we're CZW. He is the enemy and for that he must fall. When you shook his hand you showed every last one of us that you were nothing more than a liar, a deceiver, and a coward. You call me the traitor, no Mike, you're the traitor. I only stabbed one person in the back, you stabbed every last one of us without hesitation. I'm over our little disagreement. You'll never see why I did why I did, you'll never be able to appreciate it, and for that you must suffer."

Ryan brought forth hand, raising it up to the camera in full-view, palm to the lens.

"This match is personal, yes. This is a fight between family, whether we see each other as that or not, we'll be brothers for the remainder of our lives. Brothers fight and they finally make up, and maybe one day we'll see past this issue and find common ground, but at this very moment I am no longer Ryan Shane. I am no longer your "brother." I am a weapon weilded by the hand of Derek Damage, a weapon of Combat Zone Wrestling that, on Sunday, will be driven into the skull of Brian Kirkland, and without hesitation will I do the same to Mike King. The day will be won, and I will walk out with the heads of two rebels in my grasp, and I'll do this my way. No mercy, no survivors, just blood-splattered canvas. This victory is for myself, to reach the next step in my career. This victory is for the Straight Edge Movement who I carry on my shoulders into every battle. This victory is for CZW, who has done more for me in the past year than anyone or anything in my entire life."

Ryan then turned his fist, showing the bold, black X tattooed on the back of it. Resting around the X, placed in a black marker on the left, top, and right side were the letters "C", "Z", and "W".

"Eddie Rowan said it best. CZW for life. We may be seperate by beliefs, lifestyles, methods and judgements, but under the banner we are one, a force to which can not and will not be matched. I fight with the will of Derek Damage as my motivation, the need for a CZW victory as my cause, and the knowledge that the odds of defeat are much higher than the odds of victory. I don't care. If I am to die, let me die on the battlefield. If I am to perish, I'll do so fighting to the very end! CZW, hear my words. Whether you love me, hate me, respect me or would rather see me crippled in that very ring, I go to war sunday for you. My opponents can hit me with whatever they have, but at the end my strength will overcome and cast you both to the ground! Hehehe..........and I'll make sure you both get layed right next to each other, because you both look so cute together. Hope you like that idea, you'll be there awhile, because when I finally get my retribution, you both will realize that I'm the real image of Straight Edge, and that makes me better than you. You both, will......"

Ryan slowly brought his hands up, gripping his fists with the force of ages, the men and women standing behind his movement, the same ones King and Kirkland insulted by insisting they were among them. His knuckles told the story.

"Stay the Fuck Down!"

The intense, deep breaths of Ryan Shane served as a war drum, the beats moving the camera further and further away from him, the colors fading away to nothing but a deep black, distorting into static on ths sides until fully giving in, hiding the face of "The Straight Edge Curse" for the time being, leaving only the thoughts of blood lust and intense aggression which would explode at the end of this week.
Edited by xShanex, Oct 27 2011, 11:23 PM.
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