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Post by Admin on Nov 11, 2019 0:37:43 GMT -6
 Death Match
"Universal Superstar" Anaquin Adams vs ReaperRoleplay Limit: ONERoleplay Deadline: Sunday, November 24, 2019 @ 1AM Central |
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Post by Deleted on Nov 14, 2019 20:24:19 GMT -6
Scene One
Something has been eating at Anaquin Adams since she left Baton Rouge after challenging Reaper to a deathmatch. Something tugging at her very soul and she knew quite well what it was.
It was them.
Monster.
They wanted to come out and play. After the last time they came out to play, Anaquin’s life was turned upside down, including covering not only on TMZ the webpage, but a segment on TMZ’s TV show as well. To say it was embarrassing would have been an understatement. She shook her head and knew that she needed to go find something to do get this out of her head.
She could handle Reaper. As the “Universal Superstar” not as Monster. As Monster she couldn’t go out before the show and greet the fans. She couldn’t sign autographs or take selfies. As Monster she would do the things she swore to herself at one time she would never do again.
No. She could never be the Monster.
In the meantime, what could she do to get her mind off the turmoil brewing inside of her? She’s done rock climbing, mountain climbing, skydiving, parachuting. What could she possibly do that ease that craving she has building up inside her?
They weren’t the only thing itching to come put and play as Anaquin’s daredevil persona is also wanting to heat up her adrenaline.
Or perhaps heating up is not what is needed. She pulls out her phone and pulls up some information and soon she is on a plane headed to Alaska.
Scene Two
Alaskan Airlines flight #3443 lands, Anaquin is looking out in awe of the change flying so far north has done to the climate. There is snow everywhere. She has already hailed an Uber to take her to her hotel as she walks down the ramp and into the airport. Say this for Anchorage, they have a mighty fine airport.
She takes the escalator down to the exit, bypassing the baggage claim because she only brought a carry-on bag with her. As she stepped out into the bitter cold, a young man was waiting there with her name on a placard and after verifying his credentials, she hopped into the car and off they went.
The next morning she woke up, got ready, went to the continental breakfast and then called for the same Uber to take her to the event that was taking place.
The Polar Plunge, they called it. It was all to raise money for charity and she was happy to take part. She checked in with her ID and then went to the waiting area where those participating would try and stay warm until it was their turn to plunge.
As she waited, someone next to her asked her if she’d done this before and she told them no and they proceeded to explain the event. A hole was cut into icy Goose Lake and jumpers from any experience jumped in. The more jumpers, the more money is made for the Special Olympics.
So, Anaquin watched as some jumped right in, some dipped their toes in and gave up. As she was trying to determine which she would do, her name was called much to the cheers who recognized her from wrestling. She gave a wave and dropped her robe, dressed only in her bathing suit and flip flops, she walked out onto the ice with her arms crossed in front of her chest as she watched her frozen breath with each exhale. As she got near the hole, she stepped out of her flip flops and placed her feet on the frozen cold.
And this was the moment she almost changed her mind, but with the crowd chanting her name, she looked up to them with a grin and took several paces back. She crossed herself and then carefully ran towards the hole and as she reached the edge, she flipped backwards and dived down into the cold Alaskan lake.
That night, after she took the longest, hottest shower she had ever taken in her life. She pulled on her nightgown and crawled into bed, only to be disturbed by a very odd dream.
Scene Three
Narrator: Chosen over all others by the immortal elders, the Gods among high, Anaquin Adams and her mentor travel the highways and byways of the land on a never ending mission to right wrongs and develop understandings and to seek justice for all.
Images of Anaquin Adams in the ring, greetings fans, shaking hands. But then, it appears that someone has swiped someone’s purse and heading for the doorway. Anaquin easily chases him down and returns the purse as the police take the thief in hand.
Narrator: In times of dire need, young Anaquin has been granted the power by the Immortals to summon awesome forces at the utterance of a single word:
“MONSTER!”
Narrator: A word which transforms her into the most menacing of creatures, the most brutal of beasts and the most sinister of fighters.
The image of the Universal Superstar Anaquin Adams begins to change into something horrendous, disgusting and could only be conceived from the depths of Hades, but as she reaches her final form…
With a gasp, Anaquin Adams sits up in her bed, panting. A sheen of sweat glistens her brow as she shakes her head.
“What the hell was that?” she mutters as she crawls out of bed and heads into her bathroom to grab a drink of water.
Scene Four
“Are you sure this is the right way to go with my final wrestling match?” Anaquin asks as she stands in front of the forum of the Gods. “We haven’t seen Monster since last year and I haven’t had even an inkling that they desires to return,” she says as she looks from one elder to the next, hoping they wouldn't catch her in her lie. As they turn and begin to chatter among themselves but before they even finish their conversation, Hades, who is not at all interested in what they have to say clears his voice as he leans back in his chair, feet on the podium and chimes in.
“Anaquin Adams, surely you’ve seen the destruction that the Reaper has left in his wake? Shall I count the ways? War Queen Leah, Bruiser Maguire, Emily Blue… Skrabz?”
Anaquin interjects, “Skrabz was not a win for Reaper.”
Hades interrupts, “Merely a technicality, if you ask me. Had the match been allowed to continue I’ve no doubt that Reaper would have handled Skrabz without mercy.” Hades speech certainly seems well practiced, almost as if he’d been waiting for this moment for quite some time. “Do you not think that as the Universal Superstar” the result would certainly be the same? Why not enlist the legion MONSTER to assist you in your battle?”
Why, indeed, thought Anaquin Adams as she considered the proposal of Hades. The rest of the elders had silenced themselves as they listened to the words of Hades.
It was Apollo who speaks up now, “Certainly we can find a way to prepare Anaquin Adams for this match without enlisting the aid of… them.” Placing his hands on the podium, he leans over to look at the other elders standing around, “Hercules?”
Hercules yawns and shakes his head, “I’m more of a hand to hand combat guy. Surely there’s someone else?” He reaches up and brushes back his long hair and shrugs, “Besides, I’ve taught her everything I know that she’s capable of learning. It’s someone else’s turn.”
Anaquin scowls at the god, but bites her tongue as she looks back to Apollo, “Surely there’s some other way?” her eyes darting over to Hades who has a big fat smirk on his face.
Deep down, Anaquin knows that Hades is right. Could Anaquin Adams vanquish the Reaper as the Universal Superstar? A very unlikely maybe. But as the MONSTER, the changes are far better. But does she want to live through that trauma again? Does she want to allow herself to take that form when all it did was bring her bloodlust and insanity?
She recalls the days she spent in the Manchester asylum for the mentally unstable. Secured in a straight jacket. Her voice going hoarse from the screaming and the thrashing as she rammed herself repeatedly into the unmoving door. The nightmares that haunted her, taunted her and slowly stripped her away of every ounce of sanity that she had to spare. Their visits, their violent images that they filled her mind. Of her flesh being stripped from her, piece by piece until all that’s left is a puddle of blood.
Her body shuddered as the images flashed through her mind. She recalled sending a bloody Gray Zee into retirement. She recalls dowsing Gabriel Ohio in blood. She recalled it all, as if looking through a giant lens and seeing someone else doing those things in her stead. The legion that led her, finally had their fun and left her to once again return to being the “Universal Superstar” but she had always felt that they had never really left. That they were deep inside her just waiting for that moment when they would be needed again and their presence was growing stronger each and every day.
“They’re coming for you, aren’t they?” Hades’ voice breaks up Anaquin’s musings as she is awoken from her daydream. She smirks, “They are always there, I just don’t let them come out and play.”
“You’re cute that you think you can control them. If they truly wanted to, they could take control of you once again. But it would be so much easier if you just let them rather than fight them. You’ll need them for even a chance to beat the Reaper,” he responds as he drops his feet to the floor and stands up. The others sit by and watch the exchange, all except Zeus himself.
“Perhaps we should reconsider this option, Hades. The last time we let them take her, we almost lost her,” he says as he glances from side to side watching the others nod in agreement.
“I’m fairly certain the decision is up to her, Zeus,” he responds as Zeus scowls back at him, not happy with that response at all. Hades turns back to Anaquin, “Seriously, you’ve seen the carnage that he can do, Anaquin. The bodies that he has laid to waste on his way to the top of the MHW roster. And he wants you to be next. Are you really going to let your last professional wrestling match go down in a devastating loss to the Reaper?”
Hades is looking right at Anaquin, who glances over at the row of elders up on the pedestal as they look down at her to see what her decision will be here.
After a long silent moment where Anaquin is deep in thought, Zeus finally breaks the silence, “Anaquin. What have you decided?”
Anaquin’s gaze moves from Hades to Zeus and then back to Hades.
Scene shifts to Anaquin walking down the sidewalk in front of several stores in Hollywood, California and it appears she’s walking right into the wind as it blows her hair back. She looks up, and opens her eyes only this time they are burning red as the scene fades.
Scene Five
Anaquin Adams is waiting for her match at California Wrestling, sitting in the locker room at the Warehouse in Hollywood. She is itching to get this match going, but she is also antsy to get back to training for her final match. A deathmatch against MHW’s resident butcher, Reaper. He’s mowed down the competition. Left a trail of bodies. Anaquin has no intention of being the next body laid to rest. Fans are filing in and she should really be going out and doing a greeting, but she is itching to cut her promo.
ON CAMERA
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Post by Deleted on Nov 23, 2019 1:18:06 GMT -6
”What I want is some goddamn answers! Where the fuck’s my boy?!”
The scene is now that of a police station. On one side of the desk, a very agitated, salt-of-the-earth looking fellow in a beaten trucker hat, old flannel shirt, jeans and dirty work boots. His face is lined and his hair is gray, but there’s vitality in him, and plenty of power from the looks of his stout build. A hard-working man. A man with a lot of predjudice in his being. On the other side of the table is a young detective, his suit a bit ill-fitting his tie loosened to relieve some unseen pressure. A cigarette dangles from one hand as he looks over a pile of black-and-white pictures strewn atop his desk.
”Why the hell ain’t you got people out there on this?!”
”I’m going to have to ask you, again, Mr. Morel, to calm down and lower your voice.”
The detective picks up one of the pictures, the view from over his shoulder showing a student athlete coming out of a locker room as well as someone in black. Going through each picture in turn, the flipping images becoming an equally-monochrome replay of the incident in question, the person in black walks up to the student and they engage briefly before she rams a stungun into his side, shocking him into unconsciousness. He drops, unconscious, as the person, a woman, picks up his bag and carries it off. Another figure, much larger than the first, drags the student out of sight. Back to the present, the detective tosses the picture back onto the table.
”Clearly there were two of them, but either because they’re masked or just staying too far from the camera for us to get a clear picture… we can’t tell who they are.
”Then get on some of that CSI or NCIS shit and find somethin’! Y’all and your computers can look up damn near anything these days! Start hackin’ shit!”
”Do you have ANY idea how unrealistic those shows are, Mr. Morel? The point is… we have people out there looking for your son. The best thing for you to do is stay calm and let us know if you hear anything yourself!”
Mr. Morel is about to launch into another tirade when someone else walks up. They’re standing behind the detective’s desk, purposely left a bit out of sight as Morel turns to them and calms just a bit.
”Perhaps I can be of assistance, Detective Haws. Mr. Morel, if you would come with me?”
The taller man’s manner and tone have an effect on Mr. Morel. Not enough to keep him from shooting Haws a smug dirty look, but enough to keep the volume down. Morel follows the other man out of sight and Haws takes a deep breath… and a long drag of his cigarette. He looks through the pictures again, mumbling to himself.
”Cocky little shit got what he deserved if you ask me.”
Thankfully no else hears that commentary as he snuffs the cig and downs the rest of the coffee in his mug as another detective walks up.
”Jacob.”
”Larry.”
Larry looks to the pictures, shaking his head, then back up to Haws.
”I don’t like where this is going. That fucker has a sneaky look in his eyes and you know what happened in the last place he worked.”
”Not a damn thing good. But it’s above our paygrade. Best thing we can do is try to keep this shit from spiraling. Let’s get a move on.”
Both detectives nod and head out the door… the door shuts and, just like that, the lights go out. Not in the precinct, of course, but in general. Just roll with it.
A harsh lamp is turned on, pointed at the face of a familiar young man sitting in an old chair. To call it so simple implies that there’s choice in the matter, though. There is none for this guy. He’s duct taped heavily to the seat, his wrists tightly wrapped behind the back of the seat, his body molded to the chair with several more turns. His legs are likewise immobile with broad bands of silver winding about his ankles, below his knees and his thighs. He’s barely half-conscious but as it comes to him more and more he starts to jerk and yank against the bonds, growling and grunting.
All he accomplishes is making the chair jump and shift a bit, damn near dumping himself onto the dirty floor. He spots what we spot: a shadow moving toward him with a distinctly feminine shape. He wrenches further against the thick adhesive, trying to lunge at the shape in hopes of defending himself.
”Let me the fuck out of here, you crazy bitch! Do you know who the fuck I am?!”
”That’s why you’re here, shithead. Not so much who you are, but what you did. Now ditch the attitude before I forget that we need you conscious.”
”Fuck you-”
A harsh crackling sound shuts him down as the woman holds the stunner she’d used to drop him in the first place dangerously close to his eye.
”Call me a bitch one more time and I’ll fry you until your nuts explode like popcorn. Get it?”
”When my dad gets hold of you-”
”We’ll take his fucking head off. Now… we brought you here to ask some questions. You can either be a hardass and get what’s coming to you anyway, or make it easy on yourself and answer honestly. I personally don’t care which. But HE does.”
”Who the fuck is ‘he’?!”
A massive shape in a metal mask comes into view as the young woman in the mask adjusts the light overhead. Revealed is not only the form of Reaper, but a tray of devices that would not look out of place in a nightmare about dentists, unnecessary surgery or torture porn. Only now does the facade of toughness fade, worry etching itself across the young man’s features.
”What the hell do you want?!”
”Answers.”
For a moment, something other than anger or fear washes over the young man’s face. Reaper walks out from behind the tray and steps forward. He looms over the bound man, his form more than enough to block out much of the light. The woman in the mask, arms folded, stares as the student athlete blanches slightly; even with as much fire as he had in his gut, the sight of this metal-faced giant standing there was a bit terrifying. Then, Reaper’s gloved hand lashes out and catches him around the throat. Not squeezing, but holding tightly enough to let the young man know that it would only take a few muscles to make him VERY uncomfortable.
Or more so.
”Wh-What d-do you wanna k-know?”
”Several weeks ago. The downtown convention center near New Orleans. We want to know who attacked those two men.”
”Fuck makes you think I know ab-”
The acidic retort is never finished; Reaper squeezes enough to choke the remaining words out of the young man, leaving them as little more than a strained gurgle.
”That’s it. Piss him off.”
”Ggh… hhhck...”
A touch upon Reaper’s arm from the young woman causes his grip to slacken, but that hand stays right where it is.
”Who?”
”I ain’t… ain’t no… rat!”
”No, just a dead mouse if you don’t stop trying to nut up. This isn’t some suspense movie or pulp TV show, you lying bastard. There’s no dramatic rescue coming and I am a lady of my word. Give me names or the big fella here is going to make you scream.”
”You ain’t got the balls!”
He spits at Reaper, and though nothing truly gets on the big man, the woman puts a hand to her covered lips and giggles too sweetly. Reaper, canting his head to the side a little, turns and reaches for something not on the tray. The young man sits, defiant, until Reaper turns with a 2x4 in his hands.
First the defiance melts away. A moment later, Reaper swings for the fences, bringing the processed wood plank hard against the right knee of the young man! That crack… sickening and sharp in the otherwise-quiet room… one has to hope that it is more wood than bone. But from the wailing and yelling of the athlete… chances are that it was equal, if not worse. The masked woman steps in, shoving a handful of cloth into the captive’s mouth as Reaper hands her a roll of duct tape. She winds a heavy layer around the athlete’s head, ensuring that he stays (mostly) quiet before tossing the rest aside.
”You didn’t want to talk, but eventually one of you will. Eventually… the sight of what we do to each and every one of you is going to trigger someone’s sense of self-preservation. Eventually, you will all understand that in this town, you do not FUCK with family. Especially ours.”
”Mmmrh! Mmmph!”
The muffled retort causes the young woman to backhand the man, a weighted glove on her hand causing that smack to hit like a fist. She turns to Reaper, who takes the half-cracked 2x4 and breaks it the rest of the way across BOTH knees of the semi-conscious young man, leaving him writhing and just about in tears from the pain. Again, there’s a clear smile beneath the mask as the woman turns to Reaper.
”I can take it from here, I will call you when I’m done. You… you’re not ready for this. Not yet. I can tell..”
How can she tell? That much is incapable of being determined. Reaper offers a slight nod and no resistance… turning around and leaving as the woman goes to the metal tray, taking up a razor-sharp scalpel and pointing it right at the wide-eyed athlete.
”I suggest you don’t flinch…”
Cut to static and distortion.
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