Lacklan v Adonis

[UKWF]

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

[lacklan]

Oh Adam. Adam...Adam...Adam...

Affections.

Witch wannabe.

Forgive me my sins...for I now not...

Let us see how well the wannabe does...

My favorite, though...

Homework.

That was the issue for Tillman, Adam. Despite me cautioning Mister Constantine, his charge did indeed avoid doing the homework he should. He obviously did nothing but take a cursory glance at my social media activities and made an assumption that I was but a child posting buttpics online.

Silly, that.

Even such a cursory glance at my UKWF paperwork, public for all to see, would have shown him that I am a second generation wrestler with both championship pedigree and training. That glance would have shown him my expertise and drive. That glance would have shown him how resourceful and dedicated to excellence I am. That glance would have shown him the Firestarter.

Instead, he met my "sick right hook" and crumbled as my Consort pinned Wiland.

My own homework? About how Tillman needed Wiland to come back a far better man than he left?

Correct.

So spare me this moment to laugh over your own assumptions and idiocy as to who and what I am:



I will not be cast aside by some talentless, feckless manchild who is too ignorant of today’s wrestling world to realize that I am no easy prey, that my hands have claws, my maw filled with fangs. And...oh sweet Mother...how I bite. I watched you yip and yelp as I challenged you to put your proverbial money and jackass mouth on the same plane. I saw you hem and hum at the reality that...yes...oh yes...I would fight you. I will fight you. I DEMAND to fight you.

But do not fret! You are not alone! You were not even the only person THAT DAY to run from my challenge. But at least you had the fortitude to accept it after the second go-around. Though, considering the ensuing silence and employment of the dreaded “subtweet” strategy, I fully understand that you feared more than just a few people would know. Unfortunately for you, one of those penniless pauper interns who run the company’s online content saw what transpired. Say you stick your nose in something that had nothing to do with you, and saw you scamper as the fangs snipped your tip.

And now you must face reality as so many others are, as the lower-end members of the Dynasty did just a few days ago. The reality that I am fighting the world across the world, that I run from no one, that I stand my ground and kick the everliving shit out of anyone who would dare try to hold me down.

A final note of interest:

My monikers are true. I am the Queen of Red. I start the fires.

And you?

You?

I will...indeed...make you the last of your kind.

Hoist the banner.

Raise the colors.

The Red!

The black!

Gotta burn in that revolution.

[Neal Durden]

There was a time where he had the world in his hands. Everywhere he went people knew what they were getting and in turn, he made everything better for that promotion. Now, the tides have changed. Not only does his body has broken down from the injuries sustained over the years, but also his spirit. He’s nothing more than the shell of a man that once took a bump through a flaming table in a Cero Miedo Tag-Team match against one of the best tag-teams in the industry. Yet, he sits down, staring at his mask, the same one he used to announce his imminent return to wrestling, and smiles. 

“Masks, they always ‘ave a way of showin’ you the true self of the wearer, you know. They often advice you to be more afraid of what’s underneath the mask than of the mask itself an’, in my case, it does stan’ as a reasonable thin’.” 

Adam gets his head up, looking straight towards the camera, as he smirks. 

“I’ve been called a lot of thin’s in my years in wrestlin’… some of ‘em are true, others… not so much. But I’ve never been cataloged as nothin’ more than a ‘twitter troll’…” 

A slight laugh escapes Adam as he speaks again. 

“Maybe I’ve become just that, maybe the injuries I’ve sustained have made me grumpier than what I used to be. Yet, ‘am ok with that. Because maybe that’s the mask I ‘ave to wear in order to conceal the real danger for anyone who dares challenge me. Maybe, me bein’ ‘just’ a ‘Twitter troll’ is what people needed to start thinkin’ of goin’ into a match with me, without fear. 

Yes, I know, Sarah might be clever ‘nuff to be above fear an’ may have done her homework so well that she knows ‘bout every injury my body has sustained over the years. Maybe she knows ‘bout the time the SMWB put me thru a flamin’ table. Maybe she knows ‘bout the time Artemis broke my knee. Maybe she knows ‘bout the time Salem broke my spirit. Maybe she knows ‘bout the time Ash Scion an’ myself were embroiled in a PPV caliber match an’ it was interrupted before any of us could claim victory.  

Yet… somehow, I feel… she doesn’t quite grasp the situation she’s in.” 

Adam strokes his hair with his right hand as he continues speaking. 

“I’ve been in all out wars over the years… I’ve faced the cream of the crop everywhere I’ve been. Yet, somehow… she just thinks of me, as if I was just… some rookie lookin’ to make a name. 

Sarah, at Battle Lines, I hope you brin’ the best in you. Because, just like you did, all of the names I listed before, have said they’ll finish with ‘The last of his Kin’’ yet… here I am. Let’s see, if somehow, your wannabe ass… can do better than what the best, have been able to do.” 

Fades to black. 

[lacklan]

Sarah Selena Lacklan stands nearly nude in front of a long mirror in the Hollywood apartment she shares with Kenzi Grey, the affectionately named "Lacklanland West" building a place of love, passion, lust, and laughter. But the face of the albino girl is one of solemness as she examines herself, her odd red irises looking up and down her pale body. Fit, with a surprising amount of muscle for her age, she has several bandages wrapped around her body, white strips of cloth holding ointments and oils in place to heal rips, tears, cuts, and burns. But those eyes are not on her wounds from the damage five matches in seven days can create, even when one ended in the two combatants going through flaming table. No, her strange eyes are on her left shoulder where a tattoo of a white mask is forever embedded.

"Masks are silly things."

The Londoner accent of the girl is light and airy, as if a choir of angels spoke out in unison, but it is spoken in a soft whisper, as if her voice is afraid to awaken what rests in the dark.

“My father wore a mask after the fires ruined his face...forced him to protect it lest it be destroyed, his career ended."

She licks pink, plump lips.

“But most people hide behind them...they cower...they find false strength...”

Eyes study intently.

“They hide behind screens...hide behind anonymity...hide behind idols as false as that perceived strength...”

Pink lips curl into a smirk.

“Scion...as false as there ever was...falling to the gamer girl...and then falling into obscurity...the Year of the Scion but a joke.”

She smiles fully.

“To put yourself at her level...to say that you were eye-to-eye with her...with...PRIDE...in your voice...”

She slowly shakes her head, platinum hair gently swinging.

“As silly as masks. As silly as your infantile aspirations. As silly as the very thought that you have ANY idea who or what I am.”

Red eyes meet themselves in the mirror, red eyes looking through the mirror and into the heart of the Last of His Kind.

“I wear no mask, Sir. I wear not barrier. No wall. No falsehoods.”

She raises her arms, biceps and triceps popping in the soft light of the washroom.

“I wrap myself in the banner of the revolution. The colors...the red and black...they reveal all. And I am as bare to the world as the day I was born into the arms of a doomed father and dying mother. Bare...open...and unrelenting.”

She flexes, deltoids joining the arm muscles in their surprising display.

“My body...perfection. My mind...impervious. My fortitude...unbreakable.”

Arms slowly fall, eyes going to the tattoo of her father’s mask on her shoulder.

“Father spoke of the Light...but me? I *AM* the Light. That Light burns away those falsehoods...those masks. And you?”

She giggles.

“Gotta burn in my revolution. Mind the flames.”

[Neal Durden]

June 2, 2017

Reyes Coliseo

Houston, Tx

It has been ages since he’s been in this place. His black sneakers contrasted with the dust around the area, making him feel more out of place than what he should’ve. The wind kept piling up dust and blowing it in his face, but it only made him smile. He knew the place could be ready whenever it was needed, but today, today it was a dusty old place… the perfect metaphor for what his career had become. 

The first time he set foot in this place he had a clear goal of what he wanted to accomplish in the wrestling industry. After all, this was the first mainstream place that gave him a shot. At the time, he had a partner he trusted and an ego the size of Mt. Everest. Houston was kind to him, but he let it all slip away. 

Adam walked towards the building and tapped a couple of times on one of the walls. The Reyes Coliseo, once called the AIR Arena, the place where he started getting recognition as a wrestler, now stood in front of him as a memento of times past… and he laughed. Then, he turned around to look directly to the camera and spoke. 

“’Am sure you’re all sick an’ tired of ‘earin’ the tales of a guy that lives in the past… as much as I’m tired of ‘earin’ ‘bout ‘light’ an’ ‘darkness’… like this is some sort of Star Wars shit. So I’ll be short an’ sweet this time ‘roun’…” 

With a smile on his face, Adam, looked at the camera and continued speaking. 

“A lot of thin’s have been said ‘bout me in the last couple of days… all leadin’ up to my first match back in UKWF. Yet, my opponent fails to realize the small fact that… many have said they’ll finish off my career an’ I keep comin’ back like the plague. Countless wrestlers have stood in front of a camera to call me a fluke, to say that ‘am not what I say I am… as fast as they say that, I show ‘em why I am one of the premier independent wrestlers on the scene today. 

You, shall be no different. Because, as far as ‘am concerned, Sarah… you might be the daughter of a renowned wrestler, your name might struck fear in people like Tillman an’ Wilan’… but ‘am not either of ‘em. 

I know the dangers of lettin’ your ego run wild on your mouth… an’ makin’ you believe you’re bigger than what you are. So at Battle Lines, consider our match my way of sayin’… you have a future in this industry…” 

Adam shrugged as he continued speaking. 

“Too bad the present… as well as the past of this buildin’…. Belon’s… to… THE LAST… OF HIS KIN’…” 

He smirked at the camera and finished up. 

“See you at Battle Lines…” 

Fades to black.