Throw In The Towel Match: Galanos v Gordon

[UKWF]

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

[Γαία Γαλανός/Davey-Boy O'Brien]

March 28, 2017 

Tonight, Konrad Raab fell. Another legend felled at my hands. At what cost though? I examined the gash that had only gotten worse with each fight.. Madman had busted me open first, then Jacqui, and, now, Raab. As my blood dripped onto the hotel washroom counter, I knew the main priority was to get the gash on my scalp sewn up. 

As I pricked my forehead with the needle, I forced back the urge to wince and pulled the needle and thread through. One stitch. I pulled it back. Two stitches. I could feel the weird pulling feeling through my skin. I fought the chills my body wanted to send up my spine. Ever since Madman Szalinski opened me up just barely at my hairline, I couldn’t stop this gash from opening back up. Jacqui Monroe had opened it, and now Konrad Raab. But, while all of them had made me bleed, I had won each of the matches, and it was all culminating to one single moment. The moment Madman Szalinski would have no choice but to throw the towel in for Patrick at UKWF All Killer No Filler. 

A twinge of pain poked me as I pulled the third stitch through. Did I really want to beat down the man who, for half of my life, was like a brother to me? Siblings have fights, right? So, what was so wrong about this? Why was everyone making such a big deal? Patrick had taken offense to my brand of love that I had shown Madman Szalinski. In fact, everyone had. I never expected them to understand though. No one ever really would. The unfortunate case is that Madman had refused treatment. Another twinge of pain on the fourth stitch. I winced, making it hurt more than ever causing me to poke my own finger, and release the needle, letting it hang there by a thread from my head. 

“Can’t he see I was just trying to help,” I inquired aloud to my mirrored self. 

I resumed my stitches, and after I finished the last one, I took a long look at myself in the mirror. 

“This is war, Gaia,” I whispered at length to myself, examining the botched stitches in my head. It would scar, but it was better than trusting some medical trainer who was just out of university. “There’s no going back now.” And, that’s the truth. I believe something that my biological father used to tell me was: 'if you’re wrong, stay wrong.’ Apparently, it was a military thing his father had taught him. 

I’ll admit it, I may have been wrong, but had Madman been seeking treatment, I would have been in the right to keep him out of the ring. Why couldn’t Patrick understand?! He would understand very soon, and there’s little doubt in my mind that there will be blood. Because, one way or the other, Madman will throw that fucking towel. I am not losing now. I can’t. 

[Γαία Γαλανός/Davey-Boy O'Brien]

“To all of you, this looks like some run-of-the-mill cemetery,” pointed out a familiar greek-accented voice as the scene opened up to a cemetery with Gaia Galanos standing before the camera. Her eyes moved from the camera to a single gravestone before her. “But, to myself or Pat Gordon, Junior, this is where the greatest man we ever knew was buried; Pat Gordon, Senior.”

For a split second, there’s a bit of a pained expression on Gaia’s face, but, almost the second it appeared, it vanished once more. “While it’s true that Pat, Sr. wasn’t my biological father, Patrick could never understand how much he meant to me. I come here when I need to talk to him, which is often. He loved me,” she swallowed hard and grimaced. “And, he still does.”

“I remember all those times we trained, wrestled, and argued, he was always there to settle this down. Senior was always there to protect you from my pure wrestling skills,” she said as Gaia reminisces. Her eyes turned toward the camera. “But, he won’t be there this time, Patrick. Not for the reason you think though,” she said with a small smile appearing on her face. “He won’t be there because we’re adults and that’s exactly how we have to settle this; as adults. His words; not mine.”

Gaia kissed her fingertips then gingerly placed them atop the gravestone before standing once more and walking toward the camera. “Patrick, there are only one person who can protect you from me at All Killer No Filler; everyone’s favorite,” --a roll of the eyes-- “, martyr, Madman Szalinski. He's enthusiastic about showing you the very same courtesy you showed him when you forfeited on his behalf.” Galanos began her walk toward the gates of the cemetery to leave. “That’s the difference between the two of us. I’m smart enough and brave enough to pick someone who couldn’t give a damn if I walk out of that match because, one way or the other, I will be the winner whether I can walk or not.”

“This match won’t be for the faint of heart, and, as much as you don’t want to admit it to yourself, Patrick,” that smirk twitched just a bit, “you know you’re going to have to go to hell and back if you even want to have a chance of keeping me on my back much less somehow, against all odds, actually winning this match.” She shook her head, and chuckled sardonically. “Right now, I know you’re sitting at your hotel, thinking about pretty, dainty, little Miss Julliet. Thinking about the comfort she brings you. How warm she is at night when you hold each other.” The smile on her face became one of pure disgust. “Patrick, even if she’s at ringside, she won’t be there for you at All Killer No Filler. You will be all alone with me, and only Madman to rely on as your second. In layman’s terms, Patrick: you’re fucked.”

Black.