Lopez v LeVine

[UKWF]

Post your RPs for the match below. 2 RP cap per side, max. 500 words per RP.

[fjl316]

We see Francisco Lopez leaning against the wall in an empty hallway. There's a slight look of disappointment on his face, with his thoughts on his ally Wasabi.


Lopez: You all what happened to Wasabi. He's going to be out for a while. Best wishes go out to him, and I hope he has a speedy recovery. With that said, I get a chance to fly solo for a while. One-on-One against a constant thorn in my side. Marcus LeVine. He said that Wasabi was a broken toy, and he took him out. Now, we'll see if he can break me. Here's the spoiler alert! He's not going to break me. Many people have tried to break me, and I am still standing. They've tried damn near everything you can think of. I've been put through burning tables, had my face almost burned off with a Fireball, had spikes driven into my skull, and have had to go through psychological warfare, and I'm still here, injury-free. I'm practically the offspring of an Energizer Bunny and a Nintendo Gamecube: you can try to break me, but I'll just pop back up and crack your jaw. LeVine, do everything you can to TRY and leave me broken, and you will fail. I'm going to make you become a "Broken Toy" that you love to call me. I'm going to enjoy what I have in store for you.


He winks toward the camera and walks away, as we see a demonic shadow standing where he was. The shadow slowly moves closer towards the camera when it suddenly goes to static.

[LeVine]

Marcus didn't sit in his Iconic chair; he didn't hang corpses behind him; he didn't seem to have blood dripping from the corner of his mouth, and the area he stood in wasn't the dark and simply unnerving room he called home.

Instead, Marcus stood outside of a grand looking house, and he wore an all black suit with a pocket-handkerchief that was folded to show the Canadian flag. His regular insane demeanour seemed all but evaporated, and instead, he seemed to stand with a sense of bravado. He talked calmly and continued to wear a slight grin as he did.

"Sorry. I guess I didn't see you there. Now, what am I doing, here?

well, I'm at my lovely home in Canada for a very specific reason, I can't stand to be there. I can't stand you English wrestling fans. You drive me absolutely insane.

It's not even your fault though and that's the sad part. You all have been tainted with a wrestling scene that as left your taste for the art sour. Now, I'm happy to show you a truly great calibre of wrestling, I'm happy to show you the difference between a "British Brawler" and a "Canadian Wrestler."

I am a Canadian wrestler, I am a technical masterclass, I am a god damn legend. What are you, Lopez?

You're a joke who used to be a violent nut case and now is the bitch of a different in a mask. If you get in a ring with me, you lose. If you step into a bar fight with me, you get your ass kicked. Let me walk you through this Cisco:

If you wanna take it to the mat, I'll lock you in a submission and tap you out.

If you decide to make it a brawl I will knock you the fuck out.

If you add in some weapons I'll take my favourite little kendo stick and jam it straight down your throat.

And, finally, if you want to take it to the air, I'll pick you clean out the sky like you're a fucking quail.

So take some advice Lopez, get the fuck out of this company, and avoid me. I can promise you when I compare you to a broken toy, it's not a joke. I wanna call you a has been, but you're a never was who can never be anything but a punching bag. So let's keep this message short and sweet for you buster: when a guy from some bum fuck state in a country where wrestling goes to die, goes to a country where wrestling USED to be great, and steps in the ring with a better-bred athlete from the best wrestling country in the world, that guy from the USA, gets his ass handed to him.

God save the queen, may I save the wrestling."

[fjl316]

We see Francisco Lopez sitting within the darkness as he is laughing at the comments made by Marcus LeVine.


Lopez: Ah, Marcus you have just made that fatal mistake. Calling yourself a Savior. You know, you remind me of another Canadian wrestler. He thought himself as a Savior. He thought himself better than me. For three years, he and I did battle, and while he would always walk away with victory, I would always come back for me. I'm not an easy person to make disappear. I do not know the meaning of "Quit!" I know nothing of the word "Die!" I am the Warrior who thrives on every single battle he steps into. I am the one who the Demons of Hell cannot comprehend. Marcus, you call yourself a Savior, and all I see is another False Prophet spewing nothing but lies and deception to those who choose to blindly follow your words, like mindless sheep. Ghensi better smile while he can, because his wish will come true. He has begged me to bring The Demon back and unleash it upon everyone. Thing is, he's been staring at The Demon all along! Marcus LeVine, your lies will end at my hand, and you will understand what it is you've brought upon yourself! You see me as a Broken Toy! After our match, tell as many people as you can. Tell them to heed your warning, for The Demon will be unleashed in UKWF, and will rain down destruction on anyone who dares stand in my way!


He stands up and stares into the camera as his demonic shadow stands where he is, and the two appear to merge into one when the screen suddenly goes to static.

[LeVine]

As the camera comes onto the screen it flashes between images of Marcus's close up face; beautiful, immaculate rooms and cars; as well as dead bodies and maggots. Throughout these images, Beethoven's Midnight Sanada plays underneath it all. Marcus sways back and forth during his clips, staring into the sky. As the camera settles on an image of LeVine, no longer zoomed in as he simply laughs and stares into the camera with a smirk.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the wrestling world, welcome to the world of Marcus LeVine.

Extravagance and violence.

That's what people have explained me as, Extravagant Violence. I enjoy hurting people. Lopez, the way you've talked in the past tells me that you get a sick pleasure from violence. If that's true, then I'm going to enjoy our match more than you could imagine. I enjoy hurting people, and if you like getting hurt then all that means for me is I get to hurt you even more, and I get to smile when I finally hear those screams."

The end of that sentence is punctuated with the loud screams of a woman as the camera cuts. Marcus's mouth now slightly drips blood, and he wipes that blood away with a handkerchief.

"Lopez, I am a saviour. I am here to save wrestling, from these idiotic, and useless styles of wrestling.

This is not about hating America, or Britain, and it's not even about hating you. It is about being superior to you. It is about being the greatest wrestler in the world. It is about representing the country of the greatest wrestlers in the world. And, you yourself proved my point. You couldn't beat that Canadian wrestler, no matter how many times you came back. I am not that wrestler. I am a different breed of competitor, I am a different style of wrestler. I am the Bon Vivant of Violence, I am the Roi des Tueurs, I am Marcus F*CKING LeVine and I am tired of being disrespected by pitiful little men who pretend to be monsters.

Do you know what a monster is, Lopez? It isn't some frightening thing that scares demons away, it's a man who looks you dead in the eyes and tells you exactly what he's gonna do to you. No matter how hard you fight, or squirm, or scream everything I say will come true. I am a monster. Continue trying to impress your little puppet master, I hope he keeps a very close eye on our match.

You were right, he's already seen the demon, but he hasn't seen the Anti-Christ of wrestling.

I always win, because unfortunately for you, I'm just:

Bred-Better."

The screen warps again, and Marcus walks away from the camera. Marcus sings to himself.

"I killed a man,
just to watch him bleed
Oh, what a feeling
his screams, they set me free"