Author Topic: JC vs. Brian Crucifix  (Read 154 times)

Offline Joe

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JC vs. Brian Crucifix
« on: September 04, 2017, 08:21:46 PM »
Standard Match!

1 RP Limit
4000 Word Limit

Please check your word count
(this is a new word count website - Hopefully it works out for our needs)

Deadline: Saturday, September 16, 2017 at 11:59pm Eastern

Good Luck!

Online TagChampCruci

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The Usurper's Incarnation
« Reply #1 on: September 12, 2017, 10:16:15 PM »
i. Zombies in The Sun

The winter wind whipped into my face, knocking my hood over my eyes. I brought the bottle of Jack Daniel’s up to my mouth, and poured the rest of the liquid poison into my throat. After my almost complete breakdown, I’ve had time to think. About what, I’m still not sure. If you were to make an inquiry on my current dilemma, I’d respond with something uncanny. Something like “Sorry, I’m not home right now. I’m sitting on the edge of a mountain watching the sun go down before I blow my brains out,” and if I were sending a text I’d add a little “lol, xD,” at the end.

But this was real life.

In real life, our emotions are out in the open, poking out like the scars on my face. People like Drake Monday hide their faces behind masks because they are too afraid to show their emotions, and who should blame them? When I was a child, if I were to even react to something my father said, his seven-inch paw would crash into the side of my face, and that’s only if he wasn’t holding anything.

The slick metal object in my hand, about 24 inches long, felt as if it weighed a ton. I clenched the handle in my hand, placing my pointer finger on the trigger.

“Don’t put your finger on the trigger unless you’re ready to shoot.”

I froze. I knew that voice. That sick, twisted, voice. The reason I was living on the streets in 2016, the reason I’m here now. It came from in-front of me, but as I looked among the trees, I saw nothing. I pulled the metal object to the side of my head, beginning to say my only prayer.

I thought of those I was letting down, those I had already let down, and I felt nothing. I set the finger on the trigger once more, and yet again, a voice was waiting for me.

“You think you can quit on me again?”

I knew these were tricks, horrible tricks that someone was playing on me. Kid … Graham … they were not here. Not then, not now. I rested my finger one final time. Surveying the mountainside, I only gave the world one last thought.

“If only all of this could have waited til my kids were around. Maybe then they’d care when their mother told them of their father,” Once more I found myself frozen in place. Was this why I was up here, to let go of any connection to my piece of shit dad? No, I needed to find my real dad, that son of a bitch that got away with what he did to my mother all those years ago.

But there are some obvious problems here. Let’s just say I knew his name (James Alexander Johnson) and/or where he lives (2600 Mason Drive, Asheville North Carolina) and it was the entire reason I was out here (it wasn’t), then why am I still up here on the Blue Ridge Mountains looking like an edgy teenager and not going to do something about it?

“Because you don’t have the balls,”

Again with the damn voices! This time the voice was my own, and it had a point. I didn’t want to go stab a man through his heart because he’s the reason I live my miserable life. Yes, I do. The gun was right there, what was I waiting for?

A lot of things.

What would KD and Ellis think, wherever they were? Psh, they might as well have done what I was going to do moments ago, because that part of my life was long dead and gone. But who was left to care for me?

Trent? No.

Joe? Never.

Redemption? He doesn’t have the heart to care about anyone.

Rob … I’m sure he’d understand if I had to “go away for a while.”

Let’s just face it, there’d be no one there for me … and I’m fine with that.

ii. The Bodyguard

Drip. Drop.

All I could hear was the sound of water falling from the ceiling, and hitting the ground below. A large man stood behind me, his face wrapped in bandages. I could feel his eyes drilling holes in my back, but I couldn’t move. I had a bottle of Jack Daniel’s in front of me, and if I’m living by Trent Steel logic, nothing separates a man and a good bottle of JD.

I closed my eyes, and took a deep breath. The man sat beside me, and I noticed how tall he was. I chugged a good amount of the drink, then closed my eyes. I began to think of all my friends, and other people, like those from the OWF. There were few of us left, and only two of us didn’t fit in anyone’s friendship circle. Well, make that four of us. CJ and Redemption no longer had anyone to pal around with, and I’m not sure Redemption ever did.

But their problems weren’t my own. I needed to focus on the task at hand. I needed to find what made me different than them, which was proving to be a major challenge.

Right off the bat, I could say that I was different than CJ because my wife and I have a stable relationship. At least, I hope we do. Sorry, Ceej. Oh, and I guess I’m different than CJ Wylde because I didn’t get success from being the best person I could be. Wait, CJ isn’t the type of person to have morals, but neither am I. I am the Usurper of Injustice, the wool over the eyes of the gullible, and CJ Wylde is just some guy with a mental patient’s ring on his finger, and nothing more. Same goes for Redemption. He’s just some guy in a mask, trying to put everyone in fear with his twisted attacks.

He wants to say I’m fighting in his army or some bullshit fairytale story like he’s leading me or something. Please, Redemption can’t lead anything. He’s only got Trent Steel in his possession because Trent lost some fucking match against … JC.

JC is the reason for all of this. JC is part of the reason Drake Monday became Redemption, JC is the reason Trent Steel is working for Redemption, and he’s probably somehow responsible for whatever the fuck’s going on with CJ and Lucy Wylde right now! JC thinks he’s playing his part for the better of this promotion, but he truly isn’t. He isn’t making the problems go away, he’s just making them worse.

I guess I’ll have to become an exterminator too. The man looked over at me, still chugging away at my liquid poison, and gives me a funny look.

“Hey, are you that guy that does the rasslin’ over in that Carnage place?”

I tried to ignore him, but when I put in consideration the pure size of the man, I swallowed my pride and turned to him.

“Yeah, who wants to know?”

Shit, I’m going to get myself killed! I throw my hood over my head and continue sipping away at the glass, but the man just laughs. I look up, waiting for the 5 inches of steel he’s probably got in his hand to be inserted in my chest, but he slaps me on the back.

“They call me Mauldin, and I’m in the bodyguard business. I saw your “ad” on Twitter and I’m willing to help you out. Kinda weird that I found you here at this bar. Wouldn’t you be training for your match?”

He was right, what was I doing here at a time like this? Oh yeah, taking a day off. I set the bottle down, and looked back up at him.

“Yeah, I should. Got a tough opponent ahead of me, and I ain’t too keen on using help to get me this win. They wouldn’t like that, ya’know?”

He frowned.

“I don’t think I know who ‘They’ is, but you shouldn’t let them rule your life, man. Just be who you are, and be the best ‘you’ you can be. It’s something I learned in Kindergarten. It’s funny how things like that come back and bite you in the ass later in life.”

Yeah, it really is.

iii. Skyfall

The death of the OWF seems to play a pivotal role in the lives of its former roster members. Most of us migrated to Baltimore, while others died off or went to UGWC or any other shit fed that wanted them. I live in reality. Most people feel the need to revive the OWF, I want it to stay dead.

I need it to stay dead.

I have a name in Carnage, I’m given opportunities that Chase Johnson would have never given me in the OWF. Hell, in the OWF the only ‘legend’ I got to face was Kid Dynamo, and even that’s a stretch. Before he disappeared though, he gave me some good advice. He told me to figure out who I wanted to be for myself, and not let others try and tell me who I needed to be.

I find this to be the worst advice I’ve ever been given, because most of the filth that escaped that horrid company were under someone’s command at some point, and look at them now. They’ve all been world champions while all I’ve done is win some midcard belts, and I won them all by cheating.

If I play my cards right, maybe I can beat you by cheating, Joe. You’ll sit there on your throne of broken bones and you’ll be “disappointed” with me. You’ll tell me that you at one point thought I could be the future of the OWF like you’re the Jesse Williams to my Drake Monday, but isn’t it obvious?

I was – and am – nothing to the people of the OWF. They only grinned at my pain, they cheered for my death. They wanted to disrespect me and make me into the villain I never wanted to be so they could hate me just that much more.

Elementary with the beliefs of the simple-minded, I was their whipping boy. I was the one that they called upon when they wanted to be entertained with the pain of another. They wanted to see me die in that ring, and I wanted to give them that pleasure. Enter Robert Zodiac, who gave me the opportunity to become the person the OWF wanted me to be, but in the land of Baltimore. He taught me to go into business for myself.

Hell, the teachings of someone who is nearly two years younger than I am has been more helpful to me than the teachings of both Kid Dynamo and Trent Steel combined, but there is one thing both of them told me that I’ve tried to cover up like a bad tattoo, and that’s “stay true to who you are, don’t try to become who others want you to be.”

Recently, I’ve changed who I am. I’m not this heartless bastard I’ve said I am. I’m not some kind of monster like the children of Baltimore think I am. I am a person, with feelings and emotion. I see the things you say about me on Twitter, on the Carnage shows, and I try to brush it off with sayings such as “They’re just jealous,” or “They’ve never been through what I’ve been through,” but they’re right. I’m a piece of shit, I haven’t a single friend in the world, and I certainly will never be world champion.

This is what makes you, the Carnage Legion, the real monsters. You want to see my life? You want to see a man who constantly asks if he should take himself out of the picture? Yeah, of course you do. Of course, you want to see the coffins I’ve picked out for my wife and I. Of course, you want to see me visit the graves of most of my family, the fucked up bunch from the house on the hill, leaving each a single rose, hoping that the nonexistent God chose me to take their places.

You want to see a man, only 26 years of age, broken and defeated. You want to see him with nothing else to lose. You want to see him die, and I don’t blame you.

iv. Kings

Here’s where things take a sharp turn.

I’m tired of being the captain of the S.S. Troll the OWF Twitter Account. I’m ready to be who I really am. I’m ready to be the guy that Drake Monday couldn’t be. I want to be the man that didn’t have to change who he was to beat JC, and beat him without help. I want to be the man that strikes fear in the hearts of every impudent mule that has ever existed just from my name being mentioned.

Maybe I should stick to the cut-and-paste “throw a mask over my head and threaten to kill everyone” bullshit that everyone seems to follow, but that’s not my style. I’m the type of guy to be straight-forward with someone, so let’s be straightforward with JC, shall we? Joe Cool, as he was once called, is one of the toughest opponents I have ever faced. He is one of the most intimidating men in the history of this industry, and I am afraid.

I am afraid of what could happen to me if I screw up, if I was wrong in saying the only person that could save me was myself. Maybe I should have put Zodiac and Ragnarok in my corner. Maybe that will help me pick up the biggest win of my life, but I’m not STK and Meghan Harris. You think I brought Ragnarok out because I needed help against Boy? I’ve never needed help a day in my life. I didn’t need help to purposely use the OWF’s closing as an excuse to bring my father do his demise, or to win the Full Force Wrestling National Championship. Yeah, I’ve got two of these things now, by the way.

Help comes easy to Meg and Silva. They crave help. STK didn’t beat team CZR on his own, he needed the help of Will Prydor and Trent Steel. Meghan Harris needed STK’s help to lie to the world about Trent attacking her, she needed her brothers to get in the company, and she needs Aries Reed to stay relevant. She’s not the one with two championships, she’s not the one with all the friends in the world. I am. I’m the guy who’s been pushing himself these past 4 weeks to make it to Chaos 42 and look JC in his eyes, waiting to throw every punch at him, and I don’t pull my punches.

I don’t remember specifically why I wanted this match in the first place, but I know why I haven’t pussied out yet. Joe Cool, back in the OWF you became the biggest wuss on the planet. You failed to get the win for yourself, and allowed Trent Steel to beat you in the “Kill Trent Steel” match. It’s called a “Kill Trent Steel” match for a reason, but I should have known that you’ve held onto things like friendship all too dear.

You think that keeping pals in the bill of your cap is going to make you some kind of king around here, don’t you? You think everyone’s in up your back pocket because you’ve associated yourself with the man known as Trent Steel, and now it’s gotten to your head. You’re like all of them, believing that my head’s not on straight, saying “You’re just not ready for the big leagues.” You’d rather watch me on the side of the streets than watch me win a match.

That’s what makes you just like those monsters, Joe. It makes you sick, callous to the emotions of others, and turns you from man … to something unidentifiable. I don’t blame you for wanting to be like them, wanting to have everyone cheering your name as you bully everyone that isn’t in your little circle. That’s why we made our own circle. We didn’t need to be admired like all of you need to be. Brian Crucifix, Robert Zodiac, Ragnarok, Redemption, Sabiru, and countless others do not need the love of the people of Baltimore, but you and Trent Steel do.

You’re fueled by the people of Baltimore. Your ego is so large that you can’t live without their admiration, but you’re going to have to, because after you go on your “slight detour to shut some stupid kid up,” I’m going to make you respect me the way I respect you, Joe. I’m going to make you see that you should never take me lightly, championship over my shoulder or not.

Because I am faster than you.

I work harder than you.

I am stronger than you.

Simply put; I’m better than you.

And I’m going to prove that in Baltimore.

vi. A Newfound Ally

The phone rang violently in my pocket. I pulled it out from its hiding place and saw the name on the screen.

Damian Wallace.

I set the phone on the table, walking into the kitchen and opening the fridge. It went to voicemail. There was a pause, then Damian began to speak.

“Hey Brian, it’s Damian. I know you’re still mad about … things … but I wanted to let you know that a few friends of mine are bringing it back. We’re bringing it all back. The lights, the passion, the fire in the eyes of all our competitors … but we need a champion.”

I raised an eyebrow, turning back to the phone.

“You don’t have to show up if you don’t want to. We need you to get us some roster members for these shows. Spotlight is back, Brian, and now I’m in charge. It’ll be like CPW never closed, man. It’s what Pontius and the others have been pushing for since the company moved to Japan and fired us all. All of us but you and Ben …”

I sat in silence, knowing all the tension between my Uncle and the former CPW roster was a very real thing, but it had no effect on me. I took a bite from the sandwich I had just thrown together and sat on the couch, waiting for Damian to finish.

“… just think about it, okay?”

I reached my hand to the table and dragged the phone to my hand. I hit the “call” button, and Damian picked up immediately. I swallowed the bits of Parmesan and Salami and began to speak.

“I’m in. Also, find out what channel UGWC comes on, I think I'll be paying them a visit soon."

Offline Joe

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That Feeling, You Can Only Say What It Is in French
« Reply #2 on: September 16, 2017, 12:45:19 PM »
I took you home
Set you on the glass
I pulled off your wings
Then I laughed