Arty Kaiser
Rookie
THE YOUNG EMPRESS
Posts: 44
Likes: 7
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Post by Arty Kaiser on Nov 26, 2014 23:02:32 GMT
HEADS [WILL ROLL]
 Doesn't this look like a villain to you? No, I look kinda like a puppy. A big, adorable BLOODTHIRSTY, SADISTIC puppy. Do I look like I am about to rip a thug and an abomination apart?
- Double or Nothing - Triple Threat -
"The Gangsta" Frankie Cocheese vs. "The Last King" KONSTANTINE vs. "Perfectly Sane" Maxwell Schneider
Above are the current front runners of the Contest of Conquest. You mean, the people following behind me? Yeah, sure. Each of these men have been clawing their way up the leader boards and are all sitting at nine points. However, this particular match has the chance to shake the very foundation of the Contest thus far. In this match up, the winner will be awarded six points instead of the normal three. Yay, six points for me. Can you just give me the championship already? This victory almost guarantees they stay in the lead heading towards the second super card where they will compete for The RWD World Championship. So I win here and then I keep winning? Gotcha. Expect a high impact contest between some of the best we have to offer as the go for the gold and attempt to prove that they're worthy. No, don't expect that. Expect a bloodbath.
It has been a journey of sorts for Devin KONSTANTINE. Throughout his time here in the RWD, he has suffered one loss. That one loss against Maxwell Schneider has developed this mindset deep within him. This was not how it was supposed to go. It was supposed to be Devin KONSTANTINE leading the pack for this damn championship. Not a homeless, psychotic mutt. Not a hedonistic gangster with a massive chip on his shoulder. They needed the…perfect, upright gentleman to lead RWD into the future. You know what is funny, though? The two people he has to face are the type of people that wind up dead naturally. KONSTANTINE would help them on their ways as he kept moving on up. The championship was resting, waiting for him.
These people had the audacity to disrespect KONSTANTINE last week by chanting about Drew Stevenson. The man was gone. Devin never understood things like that. Frank Washington could rally the troops as much as he wanted, but Drew was gone. Noah was gone. All of the people that were in MSW were breaking away from that mindset or gone. No point in cheering for someone who had to buy his way out. No point in cheering in a man that is willing to rip asunder this federation because he is upset.
None of it mattered in the long run. If Washington, Stevenson, Adelaide stands up to KONSTANTINE’s future as champion, he will make it his ambition to excise them. When he holds that coveted championship, KONSTANTINE wants to be the center of everything. That is what a champion is, especially a world champion. RWD was full of unique personalities, albeit they are unsavory, but unique nonetheless. Washington and his crew are merely here, because KONSTANTINE does not have to excuse them violently.
Anyways to the major part.
Our scene opens up to a dark room. There is only a seat and a desk. KONSTANTINE sat in the chair, smoking a cigarette. The stream of smoke flew up into the air. He pulled it away from his mouth, putting it out against the table. After doing such, he leaned back in the chair, propping his legs on the table. Silence continued to fill the room, until the sound of him flipping a coin picked up. The conceited bastard did not acknowledge the camera at all. His focus was on this coin.
“Heads or tails?” he inquired. The cameraman motioned to himself.
“Me?” he mouthed.
“Yes, you,” Devin said, chuckling lightly.
The camera operator sat there for a moment, nervous. “HURRY UP AND ANSWER!” Devin suddenly shouted, startling the man. He caught the coin and glared down at the cameraman.
“H-Heads!” he said, panicking. Devin’s posture returned to normal. He tucked strands of hairs back into place. The image of sanity returned and KONSTANTINE was back in his seat.
“Heads means Maxwell Schneider. His head will roll. You see, this whole scenario started off with me falling to Maxwell Schneider. No, excuse me,”
KONSTANTINE said. He suddenly glared at the cameraman. “CUT THAT—“ - STATIC -
It was like nothing happened.
“You see, this whole scenario started with Devin KONSTANTINE losing to that mutt. A loss on the record started the downfall of sorts. Yes, I began to win all my matches. I have yet to lose, but I didn’t get my satisfaction. This match was supposed to be my opportunity to validate myself and excise the RWD of one blight. Everything was lining up oh so well, but then everything fell apart again. Frankie Cocheese is the other side of this coin, but I will speak about him later.”
“Schneider, you’ve betrayed our friendship. As a friend, I was meant to take you out, help you out of this place, get you help, but you didn’t want to wait. You let Cocheese beat you at your own game. You have disappointed me for the last time. Because you failed to keep your end of our bargain, we have to deal with that disrespectful, insolent thug. You allowed such filth through the filter. You see, at From the Ashes, I wanted to only take you down, out of respect for you. I didn’t want to have to rip apart two people.”
“It makes it all the more harder to give you the time and effort that I want. Every time that it seems like I can beat you to a bloody pulp, I will have to look out the corner of my eye and see Frankie Cocheese. Every time that I will turn my attention to that annoying gnat and try to crush him, you will be whimpering for my attention. And I can’t simply ignore my pet project. It is akin to ignoring my child. See? You’ve made this so much harder for me. You link to me to some arch villain,” Devin began to laugh. His laughter became hysterical. He laughed for a long time. His laugh echoed throughout the dark, empty room. Tears were welling in his eyes.
“I am not that bad. I am human, unlike you. I have morals. I don’t like to see an injured dog limp around. I don’t like to see our RWD tarnished by a poison spewing degenerate. I waste nothing. I don’t waste opportunities. I don’t waste time. I savor every moment that I have to do what I need to do. I am honest. I am wholesome. I am your spitting image of what a federation’s face should be. I do have my—“ he grinned, cracking his neck methodically. “Issues…”
“But it is okay, Schneider. I am in touch with them. As a matter of fact, I have made them a part of me. I am an agglomeration of issues, but I am content in letting people know that. This Sunday, I plan on winning. The people are starting not to care about little ol’ me. However, I enjoy the concealment of what I am. People are so focused on you, Cocheese, and WASHINGTON that they are forgetting about me. I can answer a question for everyone.”
“Why is KONSTANTINE called ‘The Last King’?”
KONSTANTINE let the statement sink in.
“The Last King of the Dying World is perfect of the RWD’s situation. You see, I don’t care about the politics or anything of that sort. The only reason why I hate Frank Washington is because he is an advocate for this. What is this? ‘This’ is the lack of focus on what matters. What matters is me taking the lead in this conquest and me winning the RWD World Championship. The Last King means that no matter what happens here, if the whole federation goes into total chaos, I will be on top of it all as its world champion. If this place dies, I will be the first, last, and longest reigning champion in this federation.”
“The world dying doesn’t mean that it doesn’t need a king to run it. And all of the other candidates are not applicable for that position. Not that criminal, not the beast, only me, your perfect image,” Devin caught the coin once again, before putting it on the table. “So as the crowd gets distracted because of their short attention span, I will continue what I’ve started. I will end Maxie and I will have to take down Cocheese. And if I have to take down Washington? Sure, I'd love to.” |
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Arty Kaiser
Rookie
THE YOUNG EMPRESS
Posts: 44
Likes: 7
|
Post by Arty Kaiser on Nov 27, 2014 3:15:57 GMT
TAILS
Another shot of smoke rising to the ceiling. Same room, same dark room, same table, and same image of KONSTANTINE flipping that damn coin. “Tails now,” KONSTANTINE said to the cameraman. The cameraman hesitated, but KONSTANTINE’s eyes fell on him again. “Did you hear what I said, boy?” he said, causing the man to nod swiftly. KONSTANTINE grinned.
“Tails,” the cameraman gave up, hoping that the Last King would not assault him or anything. KONSTANTINE flipped it and snatched it out of midair. He didn’t bother to check it; he instead threw it on the ground. It bounced high in the air and fell out of vision of the camera. KONSTANTINE reached up slowly to his cigarette, taking a drag from it and lowering it down. Silence filled the room as he sat there and exhaled. He brought his hand to his forehead, showing clear signs of vexation.
“On the other side of this coin was tails, which stood for Frankie Cocheese. The wittiest thing I can come up for that is that Cocheese is a grade-A ass. Wait, no, that is too pleasant. I don’t want him to regard that as a compliment. He is a mule that reeks of piss, feces, and his own vomit. You know what I regard you as, Cocheese? You’re a disease, alright. You are a malignant tumor that needs to be excised. No, you’re not even that. Being malignant means that you’re a threat. No, you’re more of a bump that itches every now and then. Aches on the face of a teenager. With some proper treatment, you clear up and everything is happy again. That is what you are to me. You appear in my field of vision and it bothers me.”
He took another drag from his cigarette. “I am impressed you managed to defeat the animal. Devin KONSTANTINE wasn’t able to do it. I can, however. If that confuses you, like I know it does, you twit. Let me explain. The man that stepped up to Maxwell Schneider was a man that has been playing the role of me for some time now. He is like my twin in a way. He hides within my subconscious, coming out to play when it is time to be this arrogant, little git that you all know now. You, Cocheese, have properly pissed me off. Didn’t your mother teach you any better?”
He scoffed. “Assuming that your mother was around and not around the corner, doing blow of both varieties. You see, RWD isn’t my first gig. The fun thing is that I know a lot about you two than you know about me. Sadly enough, I’ve had to hear about you, Cocheese. I didn’t want to hear about your existence, because you thugs bore me half to death. You’ve earned both my respect and rage for beating Schneider. My wrath includes but not limited to a sound ass beating, a few dozen chair shots to that ugly mug of yours, and a few messed up organs.”
“You probably already wish you weren’t born sometimes. I definitely wish that your mother swallowed you like she did your possible brothers, sisters, stepbrothers, stepsisters. If she had, I wouldn’t have to force you to bite the curb. Because damn, I bet giving a good ol’ curb stomp will be better than your ghetto dental plan will ever be. Consider it a gift from me to your sorry, idiotic ass. You know what gets me the most about you?” KONSTANTINE began to laugh at the thought.
“You act like rapping will get you places. You can spit out some fire and dance to the beat. Congratulations! You know what, Cocheese? I’ll do you another favor, since I am so kind and benevolent. When we get in that match, I smack you extra hard with a chair or something. I’ll even do it in a beat that you can rap to. Because once I do, I’d struck you so hard that you’ll have a speech impediment. I’ll clear up that hidden dream of being a signed rapper.”
“Let’s put these in better terms, okay? Terms that you can understand. I am going to shoot you down like they did Biggie and Tupac. Because once I get done beating the hell out of Maxwell over there. I’ll make sure to get over there and beat you like your father should have. Make you learn some damn respect. Hell, if they’d let me, I’d beat you with the RWD World Championship. It is the closest you’d ever get to it. I don’t like you, Cocheese, if you couldn’t tell. You took the joy out of ruining that filthy mutt’s perfect record.”
“YOU STOLE FROM ME, YOU PITIFUL EXCUSE OF A HOODLUM. You stole from me? I am going to steal something back. I am going to steal years off your life. All of your homies, all of your family, or whatever is going to pour a forty for you.”
KONSTANTINE’s anger shot up far enough that he smashed his cigarette. He glared at his hand. “Damn it, Cocheese, you owe me a cigarette too.”
Fade to black. |
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Arty Kaiser
Rookie
THE YOUNG EMPRESS
Posts: 44
Likes: 7
|
Post by Arty Kaiser on Nov 27, 2014 3:55:46 GMT
GAMBLE
KONSTANTINE had yet to truly think on the match in a global aspect. The whole duality of the coin was meant to bring his focus on each of his opponents. He didn’t yet look at it all from the arena. The arena? What did it have to do with it? KONSTANTINE was sitting there in his hotel room, looking over the map of the arena. He had a red sharpie in his hand, bringing it down on points of it. What was he marking? The camera panned over his shoulder, showing that he was locating every weapon that was in the arena.
“There is a crowbar near the locker room. I will use that to bash in Maxwell’s face. He’ll properly chase me around the corner and I will just turn on him. Cocheese might give chase, but he’ll grab a weapon. That is why I’ll throw it at him. He won’t try to catch it. He’ll duck and move out of the way, then I will kick him in his smug face. That is plan #25. See, that is the thing about me in this match. My opponents are not strategists. They are impulsive fools. I cannot say that I am not impulsive. I can be. It is a good trait to have. Me? In a match that will definitely shed blood, I think the objective is to see if I can shed the least amount. It can get in your eyes and what not. It is a distraction and a disadvantage…if you shed enough.”
“For all three of us, we get more and more bloodthirsty as more blood is shed. I do not want to give my opponents the edge. So figuring out where everything is that could be used as a weapon is essential to my victory. I’ve noticed that all of the people here hardly talk about strategy. They rely so much on their pure skill that they forget that most wars are won through clever planning. As much as I love my matches were I can beat the piss out of someone, this is not one of those matches…for the most part. Yes, I am going to beat the piss out of Frankie Cocheese, because he is a blight on the world. Yes, I am going to be Maxwell Schneider intelligent. But I can’t do that the whole match,” KONSTANTINE let free a soft chuckle. “That won’t sell tickets to the next show.”
“I won’t run, if that is what you’re thinking. What is the point in ruining? I am no coward. But I expect this match to fall out of the barriers of the ring. I believe it will go backstage. Of course, it will. Maxwell will try to go find whatever he can’t carry to the ring. He’ll bring the kitchen sink to the ring, but he’ll go back to get the mirror, the bathroom tiles, and even the damn bathtub! I wouldn’t put it past him!” KONSTANTINE cracked up at the image of it. “I’ve never had the opportunity to beat someone half to death with bathroom items. It sounds like it would be fun.”
“Cocheese, what are you going to bring to this? A beer bottle or something? I am not sure. Be creative, okay? Don’t bore me like Bad Boyz did. Enough references, though. I think I spew enough of those at you. Anyways, I remember once that fans brought weapons. I hope they get creative also. Call me an artist of sorts. This macabre mind imagines what they would bring. The best thing a fan brought was a whole damn toolbox. I proceeded to beat my opponent with a couple of wrenches. That was fun times.”
“Honestly, this is one of the most surreal matches I’m stepping into. I’m stepping in with a deranged monster and a…murderer, if I hear correctly? Man, I never killed a man and I don’t foam at the mouth. What do I got? Oh yeah, everything else,” KONSTANTINE gave one of his “award-winning” smiles. “I am not going to apply my previous accolades here, because there is no point. It doesn’t apply to this match. While my two opponents run around in their proverbial circles, I am adapting. I AM EVOLVING.”
“That is what I’ve been doing since I’ve lost to Maxwell Schneider. Maxie didn’t evolve, which let Frankie evolve. That is the thing. Those two will never evolve. While I transcend this pathetic reality and evolve into the future champion that RWD wants and needs, those two will be doing what they do best. They will continue to be the insane bastards they were destined to be,” KONSTANTINE struck a pose akin to his narcissistic outlook on life.
“You know? As time goes along and I get to know Frankie Cocheese, I begin to realize that he isn’t a man. It is kind of the same perception that I have on Maxwell Schneider. Maxwell, at least, stays stationery in his evolutionary chain. Cocheese seems to have devolved. I guess he is a gnat. No, I’ll give him the benefit of being a fly. He wants to carry disease, but you know what he is always so close to death. He does as much as his little, feeble self can and then he just dies. That is a brilliant analogy to what is going to happen at From the Ashes. He is going to buzz around and be annoying, but then I might swat him.”
“That has been the recurring theme for me here. I’m constantly evolving. I was a man when I walked in. And you know what? I am getting closer to godhood. As commonly vain that sounds, but that is the thing. One must view themselves as either a beast or a god. If everyone else in this cesspool is a beast, then I am a god. All these sinners in the hands of an angry god. What is this god going to do? Be merciful? No. They have given up their chances for mercy. I am going to crush them. I am going to smite them.”
“I am going to watch their dreams burn up into the atmosphere and listen for their screams of pain and suffering. As I secure my victory in the bloodstained ring, the crowd you will know that I am someone that shouldn’t be ignored. No one will chant ‘Stevenson’ again while I am in the ring. Because I give no cares. I might smite those ignorant fools too.” |
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Arty Kaiser
Rookie
THE YOUNG EMPRESS
Posts: 44
Likes: 7
|
Post by Arty Kaiser on Nov 28, 2014 3:51:27 GMT
CONTINGENCIES
What more could KONSTANTINE do? He had scooped out his battle plan. He has spoken about each of his opponents. Hell, he has even let his calmness falter when talking about that impudent gangsta. In the time of war, one must always stay motivated. There is plenty of battles to be had, but to win the war, one must be valiant. He must stand his ground until the final moment. If he is to die, he will die fighting and taking someone with him.
He looked at his trophy closet. His past life was all in there. Eleven championships sat in these cabinets. He peered down at one. The NGC International Championship. It was stained with blood. The blood of one Robin Storm. He remembered how horrible that ladder match was. Devin remembered catching Robin out of midair and slamming him down onto steel steps. He heard the crack of his spine. As the vivid memory played throughout Devin’s head, he grinned madly.
This match at From the Ashes brought back the memories of delivering pain. No one knew how many hardcore federations he was in. JHW and REW were deathmatch federations. Every match was contended under hardcore rules. Devin reached up to his face. There was a scar that was usually hidden behind makeup. It was right on his cheek. As he felt it, he hummed softly to himself. Frankie Cocheese underestimated Devin’s capacity for violence. He looked like a pretty boy and acted so pompous, but he was more disturbed than he was.
No, KONSTANTINE never killed a man, but he made one wish that he wasn’t. Every accolade he had received came through blood. He didn’t waste a drop of it. What was blood good for, if it wasn’t for shedding? They would all know that. Devin knew what he would bring to the party. Cocheese might bring a chair or a baseball bat. Maxwell was bringing his kitchen sink. Devin was going to bring a few friends. So plus ones, if you will. He would bring more chairs, yes. He would bring a few tables. He would even bring a few ladders. Those were his friends.
But he held up something so small, but oh so dangerous. In his hand, Devin held a match. He struck it and watched the flame burn. It wouldn’t be a party if there wasn’t fire, yes? He have put people through flaming objects, struck people with them, and even set a man on fire. He did it all for his personal advancement. He have been put through flaming objects, struck with them, and even his arm was set ablaze…once. He never failed to remember the smells, sounds, and sights of such brutality.
Devin would also bring one of his favorite techniques. It was an update to the infamous con-chair-to. The macabre sandwich of flesh and metal could only get worse. “We call it a con-stair-to. Yes, childish name, but it was oh so gruesome,” he explained. “You would place the chair underneath the victim’s head. Then you would use most of your strength to lift up a set of steel steps and slam them on the head of your enemy. When you pulled away, they weren’t moving. They were definitely unconscious. You could quite easily get the one, two, and three. It was how I won this belt here,” he said, pointing to his PNW National Championship.
“I have called myself an artist, but I never shown any of my arts. I’ve simply done what every other man would do in that circumstance. But this Sunday, I have a rare chance to do a lot more. I won’t blab on any more than I have to. Talk has become cheaper than a whore in Cocheese’s ‘hood’,” he said, giggling at his own humor. “So I will leave most of what I have at this. We’ve all have spoken about how bad we want to harm each other in this match. You two have shown so much fire, but what happens if you can’t make it to the RWD Championship?”
“Yes, there is a fine possibility that I might lose this match. Maxwell has defeated me once before, but I have thought about this. My ambition is to become RWD World Champion. I don’t care if I have to slaughter everyone to do so. So I have had so many contingencies created. My objective in this match is to win. But I have created a secondary objective for myself. Make sure that neither of you can make it to the championship. Unlike our women’s champion, I have no qualms over being handed a championship. It is like being handed a medal.”
"All it would take for me to get closer is to cripple you all. All it would take would be one con-stair-to. Cocheese will more than likely chuckle, but he won't be able to do anything if I do it to him. He might say that the RWD doesn't need a 'gentleman' to be their champion. Being a 'gentleman' is far more acceptable than being a vegetable. No one is willing to come see a vegetable attempt to fight. The venue is upsetting. Cramping a few hundred people into a hospital? Gosh. So they would obviously have to make the gentleman the champion, yes? This match has lined up perfectly for me. The only other person outside of you two that can fight for the championship is me, Washington, and Assad."
"And let's just say that I have many ways of taking care of both already. I will cut my speech short. I do not want to give much more away. Fans of RWD, I hope you brought your paper bags and gas masks, because the smell of death is repulsive and the smell of vomit is even worse. What is the quote by Sherlock Holmes?"
"How often have I said to you that when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth?"
"I am that truth, RWD."
"And the truth will set you all free."
Fade to black. |
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so quickly so sad!
