Welcome Guest [Log In] [Register]
IBW Wrestlers Twitter feed:
Welcome to International Brutal Wrestling! We hope you enjoy your visit.


IBW is a hybrid angle based federation that is dedicated to wrestling and the dedicated wrestling fans. People from all over the world join IBW to live out their dream of being a professional wrestler, just like the ones that they grew up watching and continue to watch today. So if you are a true wrestling fan and are ready to enjoy the experience of building your inner wrestler from the ground up then please sign up here and become a part of the unique company that is IBW!


You're currently viewing our forum as a guest, which means you can't do much yet. If you're looking to join, you are about to begin your journey to become a Global Champion. To get started, please sign up and then fill out an application. You will then be assigned to our house
show and debut soon afterward.


Join our community!


If you're already a member please log in to your account to access all of our features.

Username:   Password:
Add Reply
The Series of Royce: Episode 1; Meeting Him
Topic Started: Dec 4 2016, 02:26 PM (180 Views)
Zhoom17
Member Avatar
⚔️ The People's Hero ⚔️
December 2, 2016 8:32 PM

The blackened sky summons snow on the polluted streets of Brooklyn, New York. One street in particular, Clermont Avenue, permeates with poverty. Women cry wearing filthy tattered garments, babies suffer without being fed, lowly children hide in the alleyways, men hold up near small trash can fires, and the buildings around them freeze with darkness and despair. Trash and debris litter the entire street, but snow creates a thick layer on the gravel to cover it all up. The purity of the snow seems to slightly heal the wounds of the ground it lies upon. But to no avail. The people are in misery, and no one comes to their aid. The police see their situation as a minor nuisance, while food shops keep to their selfish ways. Men begin to shovel snow in containers, in hopes of creating a source of hydration. The little girls attend to futile activities such as forming art from cardboard and drawing pictures of a greater life for their families. The snow doesn't seem to show any sign of stopping, and the night seems to be a timeless charade. Even more so, the sounds of their grief plummet most of the humanity left within them.


Oddly enough, Mr. Turpin stumbles upon Clermont Avenue, like an FBI investigator arriving at his crime scene. Some eyes turn to him, like a beggar's call, while others are too troubled to realize his appearance. Seemingly no one reacts. He takes a couple of deep breaths and proceeds to move along the sidewalk with each careful and concise step. He feels the heat emanating off of the trash can fire, in which the men(mostly old men) still circle around like desperate guttersnipes. Mr. Turpin sighs at the site, but continues to walk heavily down the path, with his hands in the pockets of his green winter coat he currently wears. The orange light from the trash can fire extends to the end of an alleyway and to a closed cardboard box. From there, a gentle sob catches Mr. Turpin's attention. Yes, indeed, there was much sobbing throughout the entire street, but this one was distinctive to him. It reminds him of himself when he was a child. It reminds him of when his parents never let him go to his friend's house, it reminds him of when he never got the right toy in his Happy Meal, and it reminds him of when he had to hear the drunken fighting between his two ignorant parents. It was the cry of feeling abandoned; his own cry.


He steps into the narrow alleyway, where all sound was muted except for the remote sobbing coming from the box. The bricks on each side were cold and untouched. Mr. Turpin's breaths sounds like unbridled shrieks to his own ears. He gulps and swallows sharply, as he reaches his fingers to a single flap of the cardboard box. He touches and grabs it, but the sobbing immediately stops, like an invisible off switch. He doesn't stop, as he opens all the flaps to reveal a small boy. Not a baby or a little child, but a boy who looks to be about nine or ten years old. He looks up to Mr. Turpin with his miserable eyes, pale and dirty skin, and messy brown hair. He's wearing a white t-shirt(barely white anymore), and faded black pants. His feet are shoeless and stiff as a rock from the intense cold. His face is stained with tears, as he remains speechless from looking at the man. He doesn't seem to know what to do, so he looks back down in his melancholy state. Mr. Turpin spies both ends of the alleyway to check for threats, before bowing a knee in level with the boy. He starts to speak in a soft-pitched, friendly tone.



Mr. Turpin: Hey buddy, how's it going?


The boy gives no response. Sheer silence.


Mr. Turpin: What are you doing in this here box, huh?


Boy: It's cold.


Mr. Turpin: Well... You know there's a fire over there in the street? You'll be a lot warmer there than right here. I can guarantee you that.


Boy: Those are mean men, mister. They're greedy and selfish. I just want to be warm.


The boy shivers violently, with both arms wrapped completely around his body.


Mr. Turpin: I see... Well bud, where are your parents? They've got to be around here somewhere...


Boy: I know where they are , mister.


Mr. Turpin: Oh yeah? Where?


Boy: *long pause* In the ground.


He gasps at the boy's words, but he tries to regain his composure. He pulls his hood back behind his ears to reveal his full head and hair. He takes several minutes to think of something helpful to say, something which wouldn't make the boy more somber than he looks. He maintains the friendly tone in his voice.


Mr. Turpin: Well uh.... What's your name?


Boy: I don't really know or remember, I guess. No one has ever called me by a name. My family is gone, and I'm all that's left. I'm a goner.


Mr. Turpin: Now don't think like that bud, be positive! I mean, you have to have a name, you couldn't have been born without one and....


He stops and realizes the boy looks completely serious and stern. He gulps again with tension and lets out a mighty breath of cold air. He mentally switches gears.


Mr. Turpin: Well little man, my name is Jake. Jake Turpin! Nice to meet you!


Jake holds out his hand in hopes of the boy's acceptance. The boy slowly starts to reach his hand out, but pulls back in hesitation. He bawls his eyes out straight away, and Jake feels like he's made a fatal mistake. He's never been in this kind of situation before, and the only thing that comes to his mind is to put his hand on the boy's shoulder. A sign of compassion and sympathy. A sign of comfort and safety. Something Jake's mother has always given to him. He remembers back to when his mother held and hugged him in 8th grade after an unsuccessful attempt to ask the girl of his dreams out on a date. The gift of compassion was enriching to Jake, and so it seemed to be for the boy as well. He stops crying a couple minutes later, and the boy reaches out his hand again. The two shake hands in a flurry of strong will.


Jake Turpin: You need a family, bud. You can't just wither away out here in the snow. That's no way to live your life. You're coming with me.


The boy's expression makes a complete U-Turn. He makes a slight smile and his eyes light up like a Christmas tree.


Boy: You really mean it, mister?


Jake Turpin: Of course, little man. In some ways, you remind me of.... well me when I was a kid. You're gonna be my little sidekick. And since you forgot your own name, I guess I'm gonna give you a badass name too! Let's see..


Jake thinks in deep thought before snapping his fingers in conclusion.


Jake Turpin: Royce! Your name is Royce! That is your name from now until forever.


Jake lifts the boy out of the cardboard box with little effort and puts him on his shoulders. The cardboard box, now empty, whisks away into the background from the gentle breeze. He walks out with caution and proceeds to travel to a new destination. The people, still unaware of this event, continue to cry and mentally beg for salvation. Jake and Royce look back at the utter devastation, but their feet don't. They start a new life together, with no limits.
Edited by Zhoom17, Dec 4 2016, 02:33 PM.
Posted Image

Pin Record: 11 - 6

The man who gleams brighter and fights harder, The RiZing Star!
The man who aids the old and guides the young, The People's Hero!
The man to change the world...
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Nika
Member Avatar

Ooc: nice
Posted Image
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous)
« Previous Topic · Promos Archives · Next Topic »
Add Reply

Skin Created by Xarina of Rapture & Zathyus Networks Resources.
This theme is best viewed in firefox.