Author Topic: Paragon vs. Harry Hampton & Bryan Ford  (Read 188 times)

Offline Boss Joe

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Paragon vs. Harry Hampton & Bryan Ford
« on: November 28, 2017, 08:42:38 PM »
Standard Match!
For a shot at the tag team titles!

2 RP Limit Per Team, Best RP Wins
4000 Word Limit

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

Deadline: Saturday, December 9, 2017 at 11:59pm Eastern

Good Luck!

Offline Ragnarok

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Re: Paragon vs. Harry Hampton & Bryan Ford
« Reply #1 on: December 06, 2017, 07:52:22 PM »
Terrel, Texas. March 26, 2015

"At 20 Years old... I was already a decorated champion. Every where I went I eventually found myself in the Main spotlight. Was it because of my lineage? Could very well be... maybe because of my talent? Most definitely... My confidence? Without doubt... But it was my hunger for success... that drove me to that position...

But it didn't come easy at all... it takes hard work to be at this level... it's why I was the Longest Reigning Glorious Heavyweight Champion..." Ford said sitting across from the interviewer who nodded and jotted notes down.

"I see..." said the red haired woman.

"Our fans are dying to know though... what is next for you? With New Found Glory closing down... where are you headed next?"

"Good question... I'm in talks with a few companies... it's not even about the money or the deal... it's about going somewhere where I can grow and learn even more both as a wrestler and a man..."

Ford said his pocket buzzing as he checks his phone quickly and smiles to himself.

"In fact one potential place has had my eye for sometime now... and things are looking pretty well..."

"Any hints as to where?" The interviewer asked.

"Lets just say... Baltimore is the place to be right now" he winks as the interview is concluded.

An hour later Ford was on the road headed to his hotel room. When his phone buzzed again this time he picked up and answered.

"Pops! What's good man!"

"Happy birthday knucklehead! Reports already coming in on your interview earlier" Nick Ford responded.

"Really? That shit was like literally an hour ago..."

"Big news tends to travel fast... So Baltimore eh? Interesting choice kiddo"

"Nothing's decided right now dad... but hey they got some good things going on right now, might as well check em out right?"

"Yeah yeah, I feel you son. As long as it's what you think is best for you right now"

"Most definitely dad, but again we shall see. If you're so concerned come through with me and check it out, I can fly you out here."

"Hmm, not too bad of an idea. I'll let you know how the schedule opens up son. Alrighty well gotta go! Happy Birthday, love ya son!"

"Thanks dad! Love you too!" He ended the call and finally made it to the hotel.

He got outof his car and was soon met by a young Latin Woman.

"You're late..." said the woman

"Yeah sorry Daisy... was at an interview"

Ford went in for a kiss but Daisy turned her head away, leaving Bryan puzzled somewhat.

"S-something wrong?"

"You're not really thinking of going to Baltimore are you? I thought D.C was the Goal."

"Literally... that shit was an hour ago... you already know about it?"

"Answer me"

"Well... things change... What's the big deal? Anyways I haven't decided yet..."

"But D.C. has some of the biggest names and eyes in the world! This would make you skyrocket on everybody's list. Why settle for a B Show?"

"B Show? Have you even watched their stuff?"

"I don't need to in order to know this is a bad move."

"Daisy you sure like to tell me what to do these days... don't forget I've gotten far before I even met you. I appreciate the love and support you have given me but come on, it's just supposed to be that... Love and Support... neither of the two I'm feeling at the moment." FORD rolled his eyes.

"....This isn't working...."

"Agreed so let's discuss over dinner while I still have some birthday left to celebrate."

"No... we... are not working..."


"When I got with you.... I was hoping that I was getting with a future Hall of Famer... a big time superstar... a real A+ Wrestler... do you think you will get the same love and reaction from Baltimore?"

Bryan stayed silent biting his cheek a bit before responding.

"So what? I have just been some kind of cash cow for you or something? Day one you said that were in this for the long run... that no matter what you'd be side by side with me and watch as I went in to do big things... guess that was just something to say huh?"


"Nah! This is good... glad to see where you stand Daze..." Bryan scratched his head as he grabbed his suitcase.

"Hope you find what you're looking for Daisy... honestly I do..." and with that Bryan put his suitcase back in the car and drove off leaving her behind.

Daisy Rodriguez had been an important person for Bryan for the past year and a half, she was the o e he vented to late at night, the one who would cheer the loudest during all of his matches. But as time went on it seemed like she was trying to control him. And it had finally reached its breaking point. Bryan had to show himself that his decision would be what was best for him and him alone. What a Birthday this was...

Present Day
Bryan's Apartment

Bryan opened the door and tossed his sportsbag to the side, as well as his keys on the table. He had just finished a session at the gym. The young man was elated after Ultimate Carnage 3. He had the match of his life against Rogan MacLean and actually got what some could call an upset win over the vet.

Beating a guy like that meant that Carnage would expect better... no... greater performances from him. And he wanted to deliver those very performances for Carnage as well.

Bryan picked up his cell phone and ordered some take out as he plopped down on the couch, turning on the Television. He was surfing through channels when he stumbled upon Wrestling from D.C, a company he knew of and almost signed with. He sat jaw dropped as he saw his Ex Girlfriend Daisy Rodriguez interviewing some random new superstar.

Feelings began to resurface inside of Bryan as he watched. He looked at his phone and debated on sending her a text. Maybe something simple, a hello or how are you, anything.

As he began typing he thought for a second... then deletedhis words throwing his phone to the side. Ford decided once again that things were best the way they were.

This was a time where he had to keep his focus. Carnage was his home now and he still had to prove he belonged there. Bryan rubbed his temple as he changed the channel, now just waiting for his food.


December 11th, 2017
Backstage Area

Bryan is seen bouncing on his feet preparing for his match, he gives a smile to the camera.

Ford: Tonight is the night! Tonight is the night I can prove myself to be a top tier talent in Carnage Wrestling! I also prove that the Ford name is a name with talent and passion for this business behind it. When I was only six or seven... Jack Michaels cheated my father out of a World Championship...

He walked away with the belt and my father walked away with nothing but the feeling of being cheated. Jack, if you think for a second that I'm going to let you forget the Ford name you're a damn fool.

Yeah you won War Games for your sugar daddy Jason Bridges... but one can only wonder... would that have been the same result if I was in that match against you? How about we find out tonight? How about you and I show Carnage what would have happened? What would have happened is I would have whooped your Ass up and down that ring like a kid bringing straight F's on a report card home.

What would have happened is Kyra Mohr... Tweeder... every single person on that team would have walked away with their heads held high... but because of you... everyone has to keep their head turned to the side in order to look over their shoulder.

On top of that you're tagging with the former Carnage World Champion... Amber Ryan... you are a beautiful woman... but a dumb one... siding with a loser like The "Blast from the Past" Jack Michaels.

You're an even bigger fool losing that belt before you and I could ever have the opportunity to fight for it. I will say I look forward to seeing what you bring to the table in this match. What are you guys called? Paramore? Paramount? Ain't that a movie company? Whatever your name is... don't matter to me. Cuz these boots will be meeting faves regardless.

After all I'm the guy that will Out wrestle, Outshine, and just overall be outstanding tonight. You see... what's at stake here is the opportunity to become the new Number One Contenders for the Tag Championships... and who decided to answer my call for a Tag Team Tryout? Why none other than my fellow IWA alumni Harry Freakin' Hampton!

Now Harry the last time we were in the ring it was on opposite sides for a title... you and I haven't been the closest or bestest of buddies in the world... but I acknowledge your talent. You very well may be one of the best in ring competitors today... next to me of course.

I know you're a guy that likes a lot of shenanigans... but listen dude... I need  you to be absolutely focused tonight. Tonight is a chance to make history for the both of us. We stand opposite from a diabolical, conniving, tricky couple of people. Staying on our toes has never been as important as it is tonight.

Oh... and C.O.N... I know the games you play... you like to try and take out your competition before they even have a chance to catch their breath... so take this as an open invitation to try that shit with me. By the time you even set foot near me, you'll be missing some teeth.

Paragon, C.O.N, Decepticons. Don't matter come one come all! I got something for all of ya! Get a pillow or something comfy to sit on... Cuz I'm gonna Whoop! That! Ass!

He gives the camera a wink before it fades to black.

Offline Dustin i.e. Jack Michaels

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« Reply #2 on: December 09, 2017, 11:32:53 AM »

CHAPTER 1- Reflection on Purpose

Tonight's the night we'll make history, honey, you and I
And I'll take any risk to tie back the hands of time
And stay with you here tonight
I know you feel these are the worst of times
I do believe it's true

– The Best of Times by Dennis Deyoung (Styx)


Jack Michaels was tired.

As he parked his 1997 Dodge Viper outside of the Baltimore Medical Examiner office, he reflected on the aches and pains in his body. He had been crisscrossing the United States for the better part of three months now. Most of the time he back in Las Vegas being a father, teacher and promoter. He worked out every day, kept a loose schedule for his numerous flash appearances and did everything he could to spend as much time with his daughter as possible. For a man his age, this was more than enough to chew on.

Jack Michaels had another world.

Jack was the defacto leader of Paragon and a rallying cry for the legacy of combat sporting. He led by example, preaching the merits of what pro wrestling could be. There was no back step for Jack as he told the people what he saw. What he felt. What he believed in. He gave his soul to what he felt was the only cause worth fighting for in wrestling. He never asked for anything except for people to see that he wasn’t some relic preaching rubbish. He was a legend who knew what wrestling could be once again.


Jack Michaels became hated.


For whatever reason, the masses could not see his vision for the future. They could not understand why he wanted the things that needed to be done. They were blinded by the glitz and glamour of this fake world and he knew it was time to do something about it. He knew what was going to happen and he told his partners what was to come.


Jack Michaels moved forward.


He had watched Amber Ryan in Carnage Wrestling and saw something he hadn’t seen in quite a long time. The talent was hungry. Wild. Rabid. They knew that there were the last bastion of some East Coast mentality that mainstream wrestling had pissed away. He soon realized that in order to keep pushing his message forward, he had to bring himself back to the bare roots of wrestling. It wasn’t about TV. It wasn’t about ratings. It wasn’t about money.


Jack Michaels found purpose.


Twice a month, he was in Baltimore for Carnage Wrestling and what he found was a crowd that hated him. The thing was, they didn’t hate him for what he wanted to do in wrestling but rather for being part of that perceived elite that had their time in the spotlight. He could almost respect that and realized while his message with Paragon was pure, he needed to keep pushing. He needed to show he wasn’t just a washed up old man but rather the most vicious son of a bitch to ever lace up the boots. He became The Blast once again and started to lay waste to those who fell in his path.


Jack Michaels turned back the clock again.


Using every trick he knew, Jack made the critics disappear as he battled just as hard as wrestlers half his age. He entered into their biggest show of the year, Ultimate Carnage 3, and went into an elimination Wargames match at number one with the intention of showing who he was and what he could do. For over one hour he fought in that ring. He took on the best Carnage had and was battered with chains and tacks, weedwhackers and glass. He took everything those wrestlers could give him and gave it back with twice the fury. At the end, Jack stood alone in the ring as the survivor and proved once and for all who The Blast truly was. Then... Something happened.


Jack Michaels heard the cheer.


It was faint but through the blood and pain, Jack could hear them chanting his name for what he did. Maybe they did not agree with the side he fought for. Maybe they thought his message for change was a lost cause. There were no maybes, however, when it came to the fact they respected what this former legend was trying to do. People could see his purpose, his drive, his passion and his desire. Even when Amber met him at the locker room with the EMTs, she had the same puzzled look on her face that Jack had.


Jack Michaels had reached them.


CHAPTER 2- A Daughter Abroad

Every night I say a prayer in the hope that there's a heaven
And every day I'm more confused as the saints turn into sinners
All the heroes and legends I knew as a child have fallen to idols of clay
And I feel this empty place inside so afraid that I've lost my faith
Show me the way, show me the way
Take me tonight to the river
And wash my illusions away
Show me the way

– Show me the Way by Dennis Deyoung (Styx)


A giggle from the backseat of his car caused Jack to snap back to reality. He looked in his rear view mirror to see his 17 year old daughter Amber as she smiled back at him. With all of her credits needed to graduate already in, she had decided to spend the month with her Dad abroad. Jack was glad to see her now because when she turned 18 at the end of the month, he knew her time would be dedicated to college and the pursuit of her own life. For now, however, she was still his little girl and he was forced to smile at her goofy smirk.

And what are you smiling at young lady?

Oh nothing, just realizing that Amber is totally right about your music tastes Dad.

Oh? And what does my illustrious partner have to say about my music tastes exactly?

That they were about as crazy as you are.

  Jack is forced to laugh as he listened to Show me the Way hit the high point of the chorus. He turned around to look at her.

I will have you know that Styx is a National Treasure and I will be god damned if you I let you speak ill of them or any of the other bands and songs that occupy my playlist.

  Amber raised an eyebrow.

What about when you play that Roller Coaster of Love song?

  Jack opens his mouth to reply but then sighs.

Okay... You can make fun of that one.

  The two shared a laugh as Amber looked out the front windshield of the car.

On a serious note, about how much longer you think she is going to be in there?

  Jack turned back to look out the front of the car as well and let out his breath.

Hard to say. These medical examiners are a tough bunch to read. I have no doubt that they will pass her after her physical especially if Amber acts like... Well... Herself in there. Even so, they are going to have a bunch of recommendations for her which the crux of which will be to take time off.

  Amber rolled her eyes in the back seat.

Yeah, THAT won’t happen.

  Jack smirked again.

Nope. She is about as stubborn as you are kiddo...

  Amber feigned shock.

As if.

  Jack laughed at the small victory over his daughter before Amber slid from the back to the seat next to him. She began to fiddle with his stereo as she spoke.

So, what’s next for you guys in Carnage now that you were the hero of Team Bridges?

  Jack gently slapped her hand away from the stereo before stretching a bit.

Nice try at the distraction but my car, my tunes.

Fine... But seriously, how are you and Amber going to be holding up next week? Oh... And don’t give me some BS story that the two of you are ‘fine’ either. I saw the match and I know how many stitches you still got in that rock filled head of yours.

  Jack turned back to look at his daughter and was amazed at how much like him she was. She had a very bright charisma about her but she wasn’t one to be lied to. She spoke her mind and she expected the same in return. Jack nodded his head and spoke the truth.

Honestly, I don’t know baby girl. Wargames took a lot out of both of us as did the… Holiday as you know.

  Both Amber and Jack went quiet for a second as the memory of Amber Ryan’s near death experience was still fresh in both of their minds. Jack cleared his throat and continued his thoughts.

Regardless of all that though, Amber and I are cut from a different cloth than the majority of the federation and we fight for something so much bigger than ourselves. Pain and suffering mean little when you fight the way we do. I’ve had worse, she’s had worse and I can’t think of anyone else I want to have by my side than her. She is the best back up I could ask for and I think she would say the same for me. We are like… Uh… What are you doing?

  As Jack was speaking, Amber had pulled out her phone and was now recording Jack closely.

Oh, this is good stuff. I want to stream this to my Youtube channel as an Amber Michaels exclusive of “The Blast” Jack Michaels promoing for Carnage Wrestling. Keep going Dad.

  Jack looks absolutely flummoxed as he stares at the phone.

I… Er… Wait… When did you get a Youtube channel?

Shh! The world wants to know what Paragon is going to do on next week’s Chaos!


CHAPTER 3- Even Trump is on Twitter

But don't be fooled by the radio
The TV or the magazines
They show you photographs of how your life should be
But they're just someone else's fantasy
So if you think your life is complete confusion
Because you never win the game
Just remember that it's a grand illusion
And deep inside we're all the same
We're all the same

– The Grand Illusion by Dennis Deyoung (Styx)


Jack sat looking at his daughter as she adjusted the settings on her phone to get the best possible picture of her father. He loosened the tie on his neck and gave her a sly grin.

You’re serious?

Mmhmm… Tell the world what you got!

  Jack sighed and sat up a bit straighter in his seat. He ran a hand over his mustache before he growled towards the camera.

LEMME TELL YA SUMTHING BROTHER! I have climbed the highest peaks and swam the deepest trenches and what that Bryan Ford dude and Harry Hampton guy need to understand is that when you are dealing with the power of JACKOMANIA and 50,000 screaming JACKOMANIACS that there is no way out! SO WHATCHA GONNA DO WHEN THE LARGEST ARMS IN THE WORLD RUN WILD ON YOU?

  Jack starts to cup his ear and pose as some people walking into the medical office stare at him through the window. Jack quickly rolls down the window and glares at them.


  The people scurry off as Amber is trying her best to not laugh while holding the camera. Jack starts to break as well as he rolls the window back up and looks at his daughter.

So how was that kid?

I thought it was pretty good... For a 1987 Hulk Hogan impression. Can we try something a bit more seri…


  Amber just shakes her head sadly at Jack.

Dad… Come on.

  Jack chuckles lightly as he runs a hand across his forehead.

I am just having some fun baby girl… I don’t know what else to do right now.

How about be honest?

  Jack lets his chuckle die as he looks back out towards the medical plaza.

Honestly, I am tired Amber. I literally just put my body through hell a couple weeks ago and saved the federation for Jason Bridges. I would much rather be sitting back at home and enjoying the holidays in peace but the truth is that the battle must go on. Amber and my work won’t be complete until the world understands what it is Paragon is continuing to do week in and week out. The next stop to do that just so happens to be the Carnage Tag-Team title belts. In order to get my hands back on the pencil thin neck of that piece of garbage Crucifix and his half inbred partner we have to go through Harry Hampton and Bryan Ford. It’s just another day in the life of Paragon and yet another rock for us to hop over.

  Amber puts down her phone slightly and gives her Dad a sad look.

Well that’s kind of dour. Where is the passion to face off with these guys?

  Jack breaks out in a humorless grin as he shrugs his shoulders.

Passion has to be saved for those who deserve it. Not to be too cocky baby girl but who the hell are Bryan Ford and Harry Hampton?

  Before Amber can respond, Jack turns in his seat and looks dead into the camera.

You see, this is the problem I and the rest of Paragon see in this world. They want to be seen as these big threats no matter where they go but instead they expect the world to curtail down to them. I mean here we are in a match to go on to face the champions because Amber and I have earned that honor. We beat who was in front of us, we did what the boss wanted us to do and we went from ground level one to this point. Hampton and Ford? What the hell have the two of them done?

I don’t…

... Know. Exactly. Nobody does. On the one hand you have Harry Hampton who was some internet darling because he used a half ass Judo throw to someone twice his size… Bravo. I am greatly impressed with that about as much as I am with the hemorrhoid I had on my ass last year. I have been throwing people around twice my size for the better part of two decades and I am still doing it today. More importantly, I was throwing them around and walking away with titles, pride and a sense that I did something more than just stand around and suck down air. I took my exposure and made a career and a difference in wrestling, not gather a few extra blow jobs from groupies and get my ass kicked every time I tried to head out to the ring.

  Amber chuckles a bit.


Hell, if I was Hampton, I would pack up my bag and head back to Scotland or Ireland or whatever god damn place he wants to call home and just call it a career. Go work at Subway, become a painter, do ANYTHING besides waste my time in pro wrestling. But you know what Amber… At least I can respect that a guy like Hampton has tried to make it on his own name. As worthless as he is, he never tried to cash in on some cockeyed revisionist BULLSHIT like his partner. Pardon my French.

  Amber soon realizes that her Dad is both tired and frustrated as he not only cursed in front of her but is now seething as he speaks. She stays quiet as Jack continues on.

I spend my whole damn life walking those halls and asking myself what do I have to do to keep pushing forward? What do I have to do to get my point across to the world? I don’t sit back and dwell on him or her or any person for something that happened in the past. No… I figure out where the problems lie and I take it out… BOOM! GONE! NO QUESTIONS ASKED. I did not sit on my hands and let some supposed problem build for a decade. But no… When push comes to shove, that is EXACTLY what that miserable son of a bitch Bryan Ford did. He waited 10 god damn years to take up a fight for his old man because he felt I cheated him. He really had to look hard to find me I guess because LORD KNOWS how hard I was hiding in that period. I guess money, power and fame bring a blanket over you that he just couldn’t find huh?

  Jack shakes his head in spite and runs his tongue over his bottom lip.

I have come to learn that there are a lot of people who don’t like me in this world and that is fine. At least most of them have a legit reason for doing so. I was too fast. I was too good. I was too tough. But you Ford... I don’t care WHAT you think… You are as worthless as your old man and as spineless as anybody I have ever seen. You got no guts, no fortitude and I would say go put a god damn bullet through your brain because not a FUCKING person will miss you when you are gone. Excuse my language again.

  Amber still says nothing as Jack slows himself down a bit and comes back down a notch.

The fact of the matter is that I work my ass off to keep my spot in this world because we fight for something so much bigger than who we are. I walk around at times trying to figure out how I can make that change… How Paragon can be that hope at the end of the night… I don’t have the time to blame anybody other than myself for the position I find myself in. Come Chaos… These kids are going to learn what it means to fight when Amber and I bash their skulls in and piss on whatever pansy ass hope they want to establish.


So tell me baby girl… Was that honest enough?


CHAPTER 4- Even Hurricanes Stop Blowing

A gathering of angels appeared above my head
They sang to me this song of hope and this is what they said
They said come sail away come sail away
Come sail away with me
Come sail away come sail away
Come sail away with me

– Come Sail Away by Dennis Deyoung (Styx)


Amber had a big smile on her face as she uploaded the video to Youtube and leaned over to her Dad. She gave him a big hug and whispered in his ear.

That was awesome. Just uh… Remind me not to piss you off anytime soon.

  Jack laughs to himself as he hugs Amber back just as they see another familiar face walking up to the car. Amber Ryan comes walking back with a manilla folder and a less than happy look on her face. She opens up the passenger door and sits down with a sigh.

So tell me baby girl... How long do they want you to take off?

  Amber R. rolls her eyes and rips the envelope up in her hands.

Will you just shut up and drive?

  Jack starts to laugh harder as he looks at Amber M. in the mirror.

Told ya so.

  Jack goes to start the ignition but we hear the starter grinding a bit. After the 3rd or 4th try, the car turns over and Jack begins to pull out.

What the hell is up with the car?

Oh… Starter is acting up. Ever since you um… Procured my car.

  Amber looks kind of sheepish for a second as Jack begins heading into the city.

My bad.

  Jack shrugs.

No big deal, I will get it fixed. I figured once my Youtube money rolls in from the exclusive interview I just gave my daughter that I can afford it.

Jack gives Amber M. a smirk as Amber R. raises an eyebrow.

Interview huh? Do I even want to know?

Oh… It is nothing you don’t already know, trust me. Anyhoo... Hey Amber, why don’t you tell Miss Ryan about the surprise you had for her.

  Amber R. looks at Jack and then in the mirror at Amber M. who is grinning widely.

Oh come on… I hate surprises as much as I hate doctors.

Well… This one I think you will like. Dad told me how much you hated doctors and when I found out we were dropping you off today, I realized that I wanted to do something nice for the two of you. I had some money saved up and since Hanukkah is next week… Well… Here.

  Amber M. reaches under the seat and hands Amber R. a box. Amber looks at it cautiously but then opens it up to reveal a brand new Paragon shirt featuring both Jack and Amber with a cool Gold and Teal logo on black cotton.

Did you design this?

Yeah and I got Dad the same logo but on some long tights for him. Figured you guys could match the next time you had a match. Do you like it?

I fucking love it. Thanks.

  Amber M. smiles as Jack looks in the mirror at his daughter.

You did good baby girl…

  Amber R. looks over at Jack thoughtfully as the trio head towards their hotel...

« Last Edit: December 09, 2017, 11:52:42 AM by Jack Michaels -Dustin- »

Offline Distorted Angel

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« Reply #3 on: December 09, 2017, 09:58:25 PM »
“Regret, albeit raw and relentless, is almost always unremarkable.”
― Kris Kidd

Undisclosed Hotel
Baltimore, MD

It’d been a little over 8 days since she’d last had a drink.

That's what alcoholics said when they stood up at meetings, pouring their hearts out to strangers in an effort to see who could garner the most pity for a self-sabotaged situation. They’d start with a name which would evolve into a story of heartache, all the problems in their lives filtered down into a very specific cup which they’d drank from heartily…

Once which most would return to after realizing their particular rock bottom just wasn’t low enough.

Amber wasn’t one of those people though- mostly for the fact she couldn’t stomach being in a room where pity and patting each other on the back for being failures was not only condoned but encouraged. That, and she’d never really had an issue with her alcohol consumption… till recently of course.
It was all a mistake, a fucked up snowball of events culminating in something she still hadn’t quite gotten her head around, something that didn’t quite sink in far enough to make her realize that she had yet another issue she’d maliciously avoid in hopes of attention starving her problems to death.

Alcohol had always been a crutch, everyone in the industry had them…

Even the starry-eyed rookies still sporting that ‘just outta wrestling school’ shine. Addicts looking for something to make their words a little easier to swallow- stardom, booze, painkillers, drugs, women, drama, money, power.
Just vices, crutches that kept many of those carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders standing semi-upright at least until the spotlight mercifully shifted to the next poor bastard trying to balance the anvil of reality on his head.

Now it sat within arms reach.

She only knew that cause she’d had her hand wrapped around the glass moments earlier.

She didn’t need it. Hell, she didn’t even want it… but the lights were a little too bright, the air too sterile and the pain radiating from the small of her back just a little too real.
War Games had left her bitter, winning wasn’t supposed to feel this way… although she hadn’t won, Jack had- hell, he’d done more than that, he’d earned the respect of the legion while Amber had continued to almost be good enough. They’d cheered for him, whether they liked it or not while Amber internally questioned whether she’d finally lost it and the auditory hallucinations were just fucking with her for fun.
She was happy for Jack, proud even, if she could manage such a thing- and in turn she’d found herself thrown under the proverbial bus cause Brian Crucifix had a hard on for his own perceived heroism.
He’d done better than one of the members of Paragon, that was supposed to be a fucking achievement. He’d lasted longer than a former Carnage world champion, only cause he’d used her body to deflect from his own fate. He’d outlasted the women who’d nearly caved his head in with his own baseball bat in the first round of Monarchy of Anarchy.

Karma perhaps.

Only it wasn’t.

And now she was being mocked from across the table.

Her skin prickled in the filtered air, she hated the room in truth, a far cry from her usual choice of haunt. She derived no pleasure from being surrounded by things- all a hotel room was useful for was sleeping, eating and fucking, and she barely managed any of those things these days.
Everything was too far away, too close and uncomfortably pretending to be homely, but just made her irritable. Everything made her irritable at the moment though.
Jack had made an off-colour comment about the jacuzzi, she’d given him a forced chuckle if only to prove that she was listening, but instead she’d sat in the shower for almost half an hour with the water running hot as her skin would tolerate and then a couple degrees more.

It probably would have helped to get undressed beforehand admittedly.

Hindsight was a bitch though as her wet hair clung to her skin.

She cursed the lights, too bright overhead making her feel like she was squinting and the muffled sound of footsteps in the corridor outside like thunder through her head. High strung with a doctors appointment, they acted like they just wanted to clear her for action… and they would cause it's what they were paid to do, the Hippocratic oath seemingly down the toilet in favour of continued business.
A pantomime that she’d long since groan bored with playing along with, still she was expected to participate cause it was the done thing.

Everything felt harsh and acerbic, the world had sharpened it's edges and expected her not to cut herself to the bone. Alcohol didn’t really dull the edges, it didn’t soften the blows- just made it a little more tolerable.She felt everything hyped and raw, torn by the decision to numb things a little or grit her teeth heroically in hopes they wouldn’t crumble and fall down her throat.

Win or lose.

Except it wasn’t.

Not really.

It wasn’t a decision, it was an inevitability prolonged in an effort to exert willpower. It wasn’t losing if your team still won after all, although her pride had suffered for not being there to see it.

Resistance wasn’t futile when there wasn’t a battle to be won.

Down in one.

It tasted like regret and frustration. A moment of burn to soften the edges.

Those lights didn’t hurt so much now, the noises not so loud. Jack was standing in the doorway, she could hear him breathe as the glass touched down on the table top. He was judging, that was his right although he’d never go as far as to admit it- that stare cutting through her like she were made of glass.

She didn’t care though.

Anything to make the world a little less harsh.

Another time maybe she’d avoid it, her willpower in more of a fighting state. There would be other days, other fights and other opportunities.

For the moment though, life was just easier if you didn’t win or lose.


“It's funny, I thought I was initially seeing things when this match was presented to us.

You know? Like you aren’t quite lining the names up right only to find out that the truth really is stranger than fiction.

Turns out my eyesight is in fact 20/20… mostly… and I’ve not actually lost the plot… mostly.

Paragon, aka Jack Michaels and yours truly and sincerely, aka the backbone, musculature and overall good looks of the unfortunately victorious War Games team vs Bryan Ford and Harry Hampton for a shot at C.O.N?

I’m sorry, did Bridges finally snort so much fucking cocaine out of C.O.N’s collective asshole that his brain exploded? Did Jason Bridges get his nuts sucked a little too hard and he just slipped when picking names out of a hat?

Is there something I’m missing, like did I bump my head and miss everything from War Games till April Fool’s day?


Can someone please explain to me why this is a thing...

Two guys with absolutely no business in the tag division getting thrown in the path of the soon-to-be Carnage tag team champions cause C.O.N licked, fucked and sucked their way into a hurdle and a few extra days with the belts?
Paragon, who did the heavy lifting for Team Bridges despite the guy being a total a-hole and essentially won him the right to keep his chair warm a little longer- and this is what we get for our efforts?

Harry ‘I’m saving myself for someone special’ Hampton and Bryan ‘I really don’t understand what I’m doing here’ Ford.


Blunt force trauma time kiddies.

I wish I could say some nice things, you know?

I wish I could declare either of you future greats in this business, prodigies soon to be renowned for something other than your innate ability to make up numbers. I wanna be able to say the future of Carnage is bright but I’m a little too honest for my own good and I can’t just stand by and openly lie about such things.

Carnage will never be brighter than what it is now- save for yours truly winning her world title back of course- and guys like Bryan Ford and Harry Hampton, oh lord boys you could really pick up a few tips and tricks instead of trying to get your dicks wet.
It's called priorities- win matches, then get your hole. It doesn’t work the other way around unless you’re looking for round two but I can assure you, by that point there would be no woman interested in pursuing such avenues of cheap entertainment.

Women only laugh at guys with small dicks once, after that it's all pity.

Seriously though, Bryan… are you done with the whinging?

We get it, your Daddy got screwed a long time ago, and back then that type of thing probably wasn't as widely accepted, but now you’re a big bad wrestler looking to right the wrong huh? Make karma your middle name instead of genetic mediocrity.
That's just not how it works, see maybe Daddy might have told you fairytales and fantasies about the good guy winning over the evil, about the prince getting the princess with only mild coercion and that doing good will get you more than just a pat on the back as the next guy pushes you out of the way on his way to the top.

Yeah, Daddy Ford lied.

Good and evil is a fucking lie in this industry and everyone knows the key to success is a little bit of both. Pigeonholing might work for some, staunchly not allowing themselves to be swayed by the evil doers and debauchers while falling through the proverbial cracks- and that admirable, among other less desirable traits, and sometimes I wish I was still naive and gullible enough to believe that kind of drivel.

What you are, and what we as a collective are happen to be opposite ends of a very long talent spectrum- you try, you try really really hard and the carnage legion don’t seem to mind that you just aren’t getting it cause they wanna believe that anyone can be a star.
They can’t, otherwise it wouldn’t make those of us in the upper echelon look special anymore.

You wanna make this impact Bryan, create a legacy that your daddy could live vicariously through… and normally I wouldn’t give much of a fuck cause sometimes you just gotta let the peons do their thing beneath you- however you happen to be in a real awkward position, the kind that invites a swift kick between the uprights cause you wanna play the hero.
You step between Paragon and C.O.N, and it's no secret that those two brown nosing sly fucks deserve everything they’ll soon receive off the end of my size 9’s, while pretending like you belong. You step between Paragon and the tag titles, with two nobodies keeping them lukewarm like the talent pool they’ve been pissing in.

You step into no mans land and expect I’m not gonna pull the fucking trigger…

I figure you’d know better than that by now and yet here you are living up to the expectation of disappointment before I ever get my hands on you.

I suppose you’d know all about disappointment, right Harry.

Precious, window-licking, endearingly annoying Harry Hampton all loved up on the idea that there is a women who only despises most of his incredibly useless existence.
Yeah that's the kinda woman you marry, or plan to right before she takes out a restraining order.

Seriously though, if anyone could speak sense about this it's you- and that's me giving more credit than is due, so I expect I’ll hear all about this later, cause you’ve been around this place a little while. You understand the landscape and you know that mountains and mother nature are not to be fucked with- yet here you are, the token idiot with an umbrella in a hurricane.

I feel like I’m being trolled everytime I listen to you cause I can't help but wonder if you’re just a semi-decent actor looking for shits and gigs. Stupid is what stupid does and frankly, stupid does not generally win a lot of matches.
Must be a nice view looking up at the lights all the time, must be ike constellations by now- playing dot to dot with the arena lights and creating shapes with backstories cause some people have way too much time on their hands.

While you’ve been slumming it looking for your place at the back of the line, I’ve busted my ass to stay where I belong- and while that world title seems a little further from reach than i like, I can assure you that I’m closer to it now than you could ever hope to be.
Must suck you know, that the only titles you could ever hope to come close to are about to be snatched out from right under your nose cause they could only scrounge a partner on the same level as yourself instead of someone to carry your deadweight to somewhere you don’t deserve to be.

That's the thing with Jack and I, there is no dead weight. No let downs. No blame game. Win or lose, and let's face it… do you really see us losing? We’re still fucking Paragon, we’re still forces of nature colluding like the global warming of Carnage and bringing the place right out of its modern ice age. Fuck, you could team with God and we’d still be dropping you on your head cause even the higher powers recognize that we aren’t the type of people to be fucked with…

Jack is like the goddamn katana of honour and all that spiritual feel good shit, I’m like a knife between the ribs in a dark alley. You and Ford are like blunt sporks bent just enough out of shape to be questionably useful.

Fact is kiddies, when it comes to Chaos, when it comes to the tag titles… Jack and I will still continue to be Paragon, we’ll continue to be the undisputed and undeniable tag team titles number one contenders, and you guys will still be washing each others back searching for sweaty relevance you just washed straight down the fucking drain.”


Undisclosed Doctor’s Office
Baltimore, MD

“Ms Ryan, I trust I don’t need to explain the possible severity of continuing to-...”

Amber had been tuning in and out for the previous 20 minutes, far more interested in the potted plant in the corner and trying to decipher it's authenticity whilst trying to ignore being poked and prodded insistently and being asked to describe pain levels on a numerical scale.

Pain didn’t work like that, not that doctors ever seemed to care.

It wasn’t a numerical system, the dull aches couldn’t be pigeonholed for convenience and the pin and needles weren’t exactly definable down to a rounded decimal.
She’d been hurting for a long time, instead of hampering her though the pain had become like fuel- a necessary factor in the progression of her career. Pain was reliable where others failed, it gave her reason to fight as much as it gave her reason to stop.

Yet doctors could only try to numericalize it.

“On a scale of 1-10…”

Someone prodded around her right shoulder blade and expected a coherent answer that wasn’t four letters, it’d been a well documented fact that she’d had issues with it for a long time and a telegraphed bullseye for even the stupidest of opponents to target. She restrained the four letter words as a shooting pain raced down her arm- electrifying every nerve along the way before escaping through her fingers with a numb tingle in its wake.


Maybe they’d learned her system by now, double her answer and maybe you’d be closer to the truth. An admittance of pain only spurred them on, the higher the number the more determined they became to ‘fix’ it. Somethings couldn’t be fixed though, but that wasn’t what people paid to hear.
Everyone wanted solutions- mostly in the form of a pill bottle, some to rattle and justify their desperate need to be medicated.

Amber just wanted to leave.

Booze helped, one mouthful had gotten her through the door at least.  Hell two might have even been enough to endure polite small talk about mundane happenings like the weather and a career they didn’t know anything about. Maybe someone would mention their kids and she’d laugh in the socially acceptable way, the pauses would be awkward but somehow it wouldn't grind on her nerves quite as much as if she’d forgone the crutch.

Someone behind her mentioned something about the bruise on her back- dark and unsightly, spread across her skin like it were constantly apologizing for the intrusion. She hadn’t looked at it much, a constant reminder of being thrown under the proverbial bus and a perceived failure to be there at the End Games alongside her esteemed partner in mischief and mayhem.

“On a scale of…”

They didn’t need to finish the sentence, she’d seen it coming from a mile away. Repetition was supposed to be comforting in places like this and no surprise was the only good surprise.
They pressed around the edge, probably where the blacks and purples lightened to a sickly yellow green- that meant it was healing but didn’t make it hurt any less.


Amber wondered if she’d have back teeth left by the end of the appointment, biting down hard enough that they might shatter and cut straight through her tongue. War games had taken a toll that she hadn’t paused much to consider- the physical state was obvious and everyone in that match had suffered, although some not nearly enough as she considered the smug tag team champions gloating that one of them had somehow bested one of their challengers.
Brian Crucifix using her as a shield, as a way to protect himself for a shot telegraphed especially for his stupid bald head, as a means to an an end… it cut deeper into her pride than she cared to fathom.

What could have been- he’d sabotaged the team by refusing to make the save, he sabotaged the team by causing her elimination cause he was too much of a fucking coward to accept that he was the lesser man. Now he expected to be rewarded for the effort…
If it hadn’t been for him, maybe Paragon would have been the victors and she wouldn't be sitting here trying to ignore being poked and prodded for the amusement of medical ‘professionals’.

He’d get his, or maybe she’d finally got hers.

Either way it had the same result. A high strung, sober redhead with a chip on her shoulder she couldn’t quite shake.

She slipped off the table silently, pulling her t-shirt back over her head whilst restraining the groan of effort it took- they didn’t need to know how much she was hurting, they didn’t need to know that she didn’t want to be fixed. All they needed to know was that she’d be competing on Chaos regardless of their supposed blessing.
Tracing back through the building, strangers nodded politely as the knot in her chest tightened- the curves of their smiles sharper than she remembered on the way in. Everything hurt and she was supposed to reciprocate like the world hadn’t turned up the contrast since she last blinked.

Fresh air mingled with the filtered sterility as she found escape, a pleasant enough change that soothed her frayed nerves enough that her career-homicidal nature could be repressed back into the far corner of her weary mind.
She could see Jack parked up, in the backseat his daughter seemed to laugh and smile- genuine and emotionally pure. They were bantering, exchanging witticisms and generally enjoying being in each others company.

It hit her like a speeding truck.

This is what would be without her, her absence wouldn’t change anything and maybe that was a good thing. Maybe it was the best thing.
Emotional kamikaze, that's how it had been described to her once by a therapist she’d paid too much. She couldn’t allow herself to be happy, a ticking time bomb of self-sabotage. She’d drag them down with her eventually- she’d let them down like everyone else who’d ever taken a moment to care more than what was necessitated.
They didn’t get that, too busy bantering and laughing like real people with real lives and real feelings. Amber was a pantomime, a marionette who could see the strings just going through the motions until the time came once again to cut away from the puppeteer.

They were so happy.

It made her almost violently ill knowing she’d be the reason that it would eventually end.


4CW: 10-6-0
Carnage: 11-2-0
Life: 0-1-0

Offline Ragnarok

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Re: Paragon vs. Harry Hampton & Bryan Ford
« Reply #4 on: December 10, 2017, 01:20:36 AM »
Baltimore, Maryland December 11th, 2017

Harry Hampton walked out of the doctor's office with his head held high. He was now One Hundred percent cleared to compete, not that any percentage would stop him any way but none the less, it was good news either way.

But with the clearance that meant Harry could return to his training and go as hard as he could. He looked at his phone as it buzzed, it was a text from Terra Skye. He grinned ear to ear as he read the text.

-Ugh, Vegas is getting on my nerves... remind me to never carpool with him again!-

Harry chuckled to himself as he replied.

-Aww... You're venting to me now-

-....Shut up Harry-

He got into his car leaning back into the seat.

"Ah am wearin' 'er doon fur sure" he said with a grin as he started the car and began to drive to the Carnage Arena. Since he was cleared he wanted to see what the plan was for him. Being left off a big show like Ultimate Carnage 3 was a horrible feeling as well as a missed opportunity for Hampton. Especially seeing how well everyone did in their matches. He felt even worse because he felt he could have been a real asset to team Kyra. Now he had to tread lightly with Jason Bridges fully running things.

But Harry pushed those thoughts to the side, he had to. More important matters were at hand. After about a twenty minute drive he finally pulled up to the arena. The Scottish man stretched and yawned as he stepped out of his car.

He smiled as a few fans who were standing around waiting for the doors to open saw him pull up and many were now making their way over to him with pictures and shirts ready to be signed. Hampton enjoyed the moment taking pictures and signing autographs for the fans. He said his goodbyes as he had to get ready for the show in two hours.

He walked into the arena immediately heading to the locker room. He shook hands and gave greetings to staff and fellow wrestlers as he sat down on the bench pulling out his wrestling gear.

That's when Bryan walked in. The two exchanged a look that provided enough tension to make a parachute work. Bryan grabbed a chair flipping it around and taking a seat, his chest against the part where his back would be.

Ford: "Harry Hampton..."

Hampton: "Bford..."

Ford: "Man it has been a minute since I saw ya, heard ya were doing big things in Japan"

Hampton: "Yeah, weel Ah decided tae come back tae th' states an' try mah hain(hand) at carnage. Whit abit ye? Ah pure techt(I thought) ye waur a hot free agent wa carnage?"

Ford: "Well you know me... I go where there's a potential to grow"

Hampton: "Lots ay potential haur bro."

Ford: "Exactly"

The two sat in awkward silence for a few moments before Bryan spoke up again.

Ford: "Look man... I know you and I weren't on the best of terms last time we saw each other... but apparently you and I are involved in some tag action tonight and it involves a shot at the Tag Championships for the winners... I want that shot. This is our first time teaming up ever but I really think you and I can do some amazing things in that ring dude."

Harry thought silently to himself for a bit before responding.

Hampton: "Ah was almost sidelined wi' injury... Ah missed it oan ultimate carnage three... Ah am dain(done) sittin' back an' watchin' other fowk gie th' spotlecht 'at Ah ken Ah deserve. Sae whatever bad feelings ur energy we hud ur hae... consider them buried. We ur gonnae gang it thaur an' tak' whit we baith deserve!"

The Scottish man stood up suddenly extending his hand to Bryan who looked at it for a moment then took it firmly in a hand shake.

Ford: "Alrighty I'll catch you later then amigo!"

Bryan gave Harry a nod and exited the locker room as Harry sat back down mentally preparing for the match later tonight.

Edingburgh, Scotland
20 years ago
George Hampton's Farm

Nine Year old Harry Hampton struggled carrying the large sack of manure up the hill as his father pulled a wagon full of gardening tools and bags of seeds.

This was little Harry's favorite part of the day, just him and his father, being men and doing their job keeping money and food on the table.

George: "Dornt gie nae better than thes mah loon(boy) diz it?

Harry: "Nae, it sure doesnae dad! Thes is real men's wark reit?!"

George: "Ye got 'at reit kiddo."

The two finally reached their special gardening spot and unloaded the wagon. Couple of minutes later they were digging up soil and planting seeds. The two worked diligently together making sure everything was perfect.

Two men were seen walking up the hill, George and Harry both groaned in annoyance. The Bushel boys were always criticising and tormenting George Hampton ever since they were kids.

Peter: "Och, whit dae we hae haur Gavin?"

Gavin: "Wa it's uir auld mucker george an' his wee runt Peter!"

The two cackledas the inched their way closer to the two Hamptons.

George: "Jist lae us be, Bushels"

Peter: "Ye hear 'at? he wants us tae lit heem be!"

The brothers inched closer as the kicked a shovel to the side staring daggers at George and his son. Gavin boot a boot to the back of George's neck pushing his face into a pile of manure.

Peter: "Ack... puir Georgie!"

Harry immediately ran up to Gavin and kicked him right between the legs. The man held his privates letting put a blood curdling yell, raising a fist to the young boy. Before Peter grabbed his arm to stop him.

Peter: "Easy Gavin! He's jist a bairn!(kid)"

Gavin groaned in annoyance as the two began to walk away.

Gavin: "Thes isnae ower Hampton!"

The two retreated back down the hill as George wiped off manure from his face.

George: "Aam prood ay ye son... ne'er lit onie cheil(man) push ye aroond"

Harry nodded as he helped his father up and they made their long trek home. He made a silent promise to himself and to his father that never again would someone walk over him
He would fight for his own honor... for his Family's honor... for the Honor of The Hampton's.