Post by Devilkiller on Jan 16, 2015 16:09:02 GMT -5
Before the RP: I want to say that I'm starting Devilkiller all over, essentially. It will continue in episodes, some will be not so action packed and others will be. Since it's been a little bit since I've actually RP'd, this is going to be backstory to some of the new guys who have never read my work before, so to those who have followed along, well you'll get some action packed stuff, or interesting new knowledge of Devilkiller. I have no PC and have to write all of my RP's on my phone, so sorry if it's a little messy..
--Homecoming RP: I'm Back--
I shift on the brown leather love seat, stretching my legs over the arm and leaning my head on the other arm, looking up to the fluorescent light tubes above me. It reminds me of my first National title win, getting dropkicked into the light tubes as well as causing damage with them as well.
Dr. Estes: Mr. Sykes, please, answer a few simple questions.
What the f*ck does he need to know about me anyway?
Devilkiller: Alright, ask away.
Dr. Estes: Do you currently have a spouse?
Does that f*cking concern you?
Devilkiller: Not now. Looking for a girlfriend, though.
Dr. Estes: Good! Good. Do you have any children?
Are you going to kidnap him?
Devilkiller: Yes sir, a boy.
Dr. Estes: How would you describe you and his relationship?
Father and son maybe?
Devilkiller: If you mean, do we get into fights, then no. Very seldom. Strong bond.
Dr. Estes: Have you ever hit him?
Who the f*ck do you think you are?
Devilkiller: Who the f*ck do you think you are?
Dr. Estes: You seem to have anger built up from that particular subject. Did something happen to you?
Oh. Because I'm mad today and like to say "f*ck" means I have issues.
Devilkiller: You think you know me don't you? Because of me being angry and like cursing? That's how you know my life?
Dr. Estes: If you want any anti-depressants you will tell me if something happened to you or not as a child.
Oh sh*t. I want those meds. I can barely live without them.
Devilkiller: Yes, yes something happened to me.
Dr. Estes: And what was that?
I sigh. Yeah, something did happen, but I don't like talking about it much. It's just something that eats at me everyday.
Dr. Estes: What. Happened?
Devilkiller: I was young. 4 at the time. My dad was a drunk. An undeniable, unbreakable bond between himself and alcohol. I always say my dad died in a stairwell, but the real case and point is that the manthat died in that stairwell was the man I called my dad. He treated me better than my real one ever did. My real dad beat me in a drunken rage. Cursed me, locked me away in my room, hurt my pride. When I lived with my dad it was the worst years of my life.
Dr. Estes: Now why did you not live with your mom?
Devilkiller: My father kept her in jail. I never had my mom longer than 6 months at a time before she went in for 4 months or longer. Every time I would get close to moving back, dad would put her in jail.
Dr. Estes: Do you think your child wants to live with his mom?
Devilkiller: Good question. I've asked before, but see, he's young. He's now 6. He couldn't pick between black converse high tops or black converse low tops today going to school, much less chose a big decision like that. He told me he wanted to live with me.
Dr. Estes: Do you think that still rings true?
Devilkiller: Why are you asking these types of questions?
Dr. Estes sighs and takes his wide rimmed glasses off his face, running his hand over his half bald head.
Dr. Estes: Do you think that you keeping your son makes you depressed because it's almost like what your dad did to you?
You bastard.
Devilkiller: I will NOT treat my son like my dad did me now give me my f*cking medicine.
Dr. Estes: Why do you think you need it.
Well Doc, it's a long story.
Devilkiller: Have you not been keeping up? My best friend killed herself in December 2013. I almost killed myself a week later, but the gun didn't fire. I'm not doing anything to keep my mind off of things. I'm not doing anything to keep myself occupied. I have suicidal tendencies. I have just recently quit my pot addiction. Doc, you need to keep up.
Dr. Estes: Don't stop. Why else do you need the medicine?
Like I need to explain further why a guy my age that has seen people kill themselves needs medicine.
Devilkiller: Without it I spend my days alone in my room in solitude. I spend my nights reminiscing of times where fairy tales exist and I got exactly what I wanted, and that makes me sick because I know I can't get that again.
Dr. Estes just nods his head and scribbles in his notepad, putting the tip of his earpiece of his glasses to the corner of his mouth.
Dr. Estes: Earlier you said you're not doing anything. I called your employer yesterday and heard you returned to work.
Yeah, like I work a 9-5 desk job.
Devilkiller: I don't work a 9-5 job like you, Doc. I'm more physical.
Dr. Estes: But you're doing something, right?
Yeah, killing my body.
Devilkiller: Yeah, killing my body.
Dr. Estes: Well I heard from them you made quite the impression.
Oh Doc.
Devilkiller: Yeah I don't want just impressions, I want to have gold.
Dr. Estes: Aren't you in a number one contenders match for the National title?
I want more.
Devilkiller: Yes, but you see, I've had that title before, best time of my life, but I want to be more. I don't want just one title Doc, I want to be able to be a Hall of Famer. My career has been mediocre. The only thing I'm remembered for? Winning that title. No, I need an impression. A BIG impression.
Dr. Estes: And what's that, Mr. Sykes?
Devilkiller: To break my own record.
Dr. Estes: Alright, that's a good start. Alright, Logan, I will prescribe you some Xanax for your previous anxiety attacks, and will prescribe you one month worth of Zoloft.
--Two days later--
After popping a Xanax to calm my nerves, I look back into my old road bag. It still has "Revolution" on it. I may be old fashioned but those were the times. Schneider having those crazy matches, Quinn winning the Big One, the "Boom" of new talent (including myself) that came in. I sit in reminiscing memory, missing my glory days. Hell I've only been at this 3 years and I feel I'm about 40 years old. Can I still hang with the new talent?
I go through the bag, taking out my SuperBrawl gear that I had worn the my last "full time" match, remembering the first "SB" moment. I lay them down on my dark green bed sheets and grab my fresh gear, the solid red gear with black "DK" on the legs in cursive print, and on the back is the words "I'm Back!" In the same
print. I fold the pants over and lay them in the bag, zipping it up right about the time Carter comes busting into the room.
Carter: Hey daddy!
Devilkiller: Hey buddy. Sleep good?
Carter: Yeah, I'm sleepy still.
I chuckle at the kid, he's 6 years old now. How time flies.
Devilkiller: Go back to sleep buddy. I'll wake you up for the flight buddy.
Carter: I wanted to say good luck. I love you dad.
In that moment, for a reason unknown, that's all that mattered. He loved me, I loved him. He is the one sweetest thing ever, him and his soft blond hair that extends to his eyebrows, his eyes having a soft sparkle in them. For a moment, I thought about something that I honestly should not have. Does Axel Thornstowe have this connection with anyone? Does he have a child? What are his aspirations and dreams? It's been months since I've been on the road, and since I'm coming back full time full force, I might need to start talking a little more to people. My main question to myself is, why would I think these questions? Why would I worry about Thornstowe? Am I really losing touch with reality? Do I even have it anymore? What if I lose? What if I can never get the job done? What if I'll never be the National champion again?
I shake these thoughts from my mind and look over at my son, standing in the door way, beaming at me.
Devilkiller: I love you too buddy.
Carter's eyes get a new gleam. There's a fire somewhere deep inside those veins, inside that mind of his. He has big aspirations. Future WFWF Champion. Future WFWF Hall Of Famer. Future WFWF mainstay. The future of WFWF.
I can't help but chuckle as he bounds away to his room like an excited rabbit eager to get back to his home. He really has big things planned for himself. I couldn't be more proud. He wants to be a champion. He wants to follow daddy's footsteps, but better. God I love that boy.
Moments like these I don't need my Zoloft or my Xanax to keep me happy or calm. Moments like these warm me up inside.
But I realize that I'll be on an even higher high later tonight. Being back into the ring with passion, energy, everything that makes this business worth the pain and doctor visits.
I lean forward and rest my head in my hands, trying to force the small headache that's inching it's way into my brain like a very painful snail, out of my head, as if squeezing my forehead and temples will really work.
I sigh and stand up and start stretching, you know, the mid section, the legs, the groin, the arms, the essentials. I do the routine of pulling my elbow to the back of my head where my hand is down the middle of my back, making sure my arms won't give out trying to pick someone up who's more than a 40 pound kid. I feel my bones pop and my joints ache with adrenaline that I haven't felt in a long time.
I'm Back.
Baby, it's good to be back.
--Promo, "Devilkiller Diary", 6:00 PM--
The light that I oh so missed hangs above my head, swaying ever so slightly so the red tint of the room slowly fades in and out. I can't help but smile as I'm looking down at the floor, my hood pulled up and my paint painted on thick, sitting in the chair, fighting my nerves to keep myself from moving.
I'm back.
I take a steady breath before speaking.
Devilkiller: Why, hello, Portland Oregon.
Again I can't help but smile. It's been too long since I've been in this chair. Deep breaths Logan. Deep breaths. Let your feelings of being gone so long take over. Don't let adrenaline win. After all these years of doing the promos the right way you will NOT mess up today.
Devilkiller: As the fields stained with blood wash over and become a mere memory, we are left with the champions, the winners. The winners that proved themselves. The losers that, well, that couldn't get the job done.
There you go. Let the hate flow through you.
Devilkiller: But that's not necessarily their fault. See, when losers lose, sometimes it isn't because they lost. The case sometimes is the winner snuck a win, or got a quick win. But history books never lie, the loser lost.
Devilkiller: I am a loser in the history books. Lost the National title to Joe Bishop, current International champion. I lost a tag match once, a battle Royal, lost to Kyle Matthews, and lost to Penny Shannon. That's not that bad of a list, actually, but the history books don't care. The history books just say "Devilkiller Lost"
I take a deep breath and think my next words carefully, how to say them, what to say, and when to say the right thing.
Devilkiller: When I returned at The Clash and attacked Ante Whitner, it wasn't really anything personally bud. It was simply you being at the top at the wrong place at the wrong time. I mean it could've been anyone I was attacking. I could've attacked Shapiro, or Joe Bishop or whoever it was that was National champion. It's not personal between you and I. I just want that gold. To get that, I had to do two things. One was to make a big enough impression so when I came back I would be put in the spotlight. The second thing? Was to win my number one contender match.
Devilkiller: That brings me to my opponent. Thornstowe, you have had the opportunity of a lifetime! You got into a "Golden Opportunity" match! But not just that, you got into the number one contenders match the next show! I never got that lucky. Ever.
Devilkiller: You are a weird cat, Thornstowe. You just scream, psycho maybe? I don't know the correct term for it. Maybe "dreamer". See, in this life, you're one of two things. A dreamer, who dreams of gold and glory. Then there are realist. These realist are the ones that keep the world spinning. The ones who accept fate as it happens, whether it be good or bad. You're a dreamer. You have these delusions of grandeur that you actually think you can get the job done. Need I remind you I AM the longest reigning National champion in WFWF? It's true, check the record books. You're dreaming Thornstowe. Me? I'm the realist. I know my capabilities. I know what it's like to get my dreams crushed and become a realist. Soon, you will too.
This is really good. Logan, keep the ball rolling!
Devilkiller: I was a dreamer once. I really was. I dreamed I would be world champion in under one year. It's been 3 and I haven't been close to anything higher than the National title. It's time to wake up everyone else from their dreams and prove I deserve to go higher. And YOU, Thornstowe, well, let's say you're gonna be my guinea pig.
With that, I stand up and look into the mirror opposite of me, smiling. I'm back.
Devilkiller: WFWF, I'm back.
And with that, I punch the mirror, shattering the glass and letting it fall to the floor before walking out of the room quickly.
------
OOC: Thank you to all who read this. I had to start out with a kinda small RP to get the wheels turning. I hope you enjoy. I'm glad I'm back guys. I missed this feeling in my chest.
--Homecoming RP: I'm Back--
I shift on the brown leather love seat, stretching my legs over the arm and leaning my head on the other arm, looking up to the fluorescent light tubes above me. It reminds me of my first National title win, getting dropkicked into the light tubes as well as causing damage with them as well.
Dr. Estes: Mr. Sykes, please, answer a few simple questions.
What the f*ck does he need to know about me anyway?
Devilkiller: Alright, ask away.
Dr. Estes: Do you currently have a spouse?
Does that f*cking concern you?
Devilkiller: Not now. Looking for a girlfriend, though.
Dr. Estes: Good! Good. Do you have any children?
Are you going to kidnap him?
Devilkiller: Yes sir, a boy.
Dr. Estes: How would you describe you and his relationship?
Father and son maybe?
Devilkiller: If you mean, do we get into fights, then no. Very seldom. Strong bond.
Dr. Estes: Have you ever hit him?
Who the f*ck do you think you are?
Devilkiller: Who the f*ck do you think you are?
Dr. Estes: You seem to have anger built up from that particular subject. Did something happen to you?
Oh. Because I'm mad today and like to say "f*ck" means I have issues.
Devilkiller: You think you know me don't you? Because of me being angry and like cursing? That's how you know my life?
Dr. Estes: If you want any anti-depressants you will tell me if something happened to you or not as a child.
Oh sh*t. I want those meds. I can barely live without them.
Devilkiller: Yes, yes something happened to me.
Dr. Estes: And what was that?
I sigh. Yeah, something did happen, but I don't like talking about it much. It's just something that eats at me everyday.
Dr. Estes: What. Happened?
Devilkiller: I was young. 4 at the time. My dad was a drunk. An undeniable, unbreakable bond between himself and alcohol. I always say my dad died in a stairwell, but the real case and point is that the manthat died in that stairwell was the man I called my dad. He treated me better than my real one ever did. My real dad beat me in a drunken rage. Cursed me, locked me away in my room, hurt my pride. When I lived with my dad it was the worst years of my life.
Dr. Estes: Now why did you not live with your mom?
Devilkiller: My father kept her in jail. I never had my mom longer than 6 months at a time before she went in for 4 months or longer. Every time I would get close to moving back, dad would put her in jail.
Dr. Estes: Do you think your child wants to live with his mom?
Devilkiller: Good question. I've asked before, but see, he's young. He's now 6. He couldn't pick between black converse high tops or black converse low tops today going to school, much less chose a big decision like that. He told me he wanted to live with me.
Dr. Estes: Do you think that still rings true?
Devilkiller: Why are you asking these types of questions?
Dr. Estes sighs and takes his wide rimmed glasses off his face, running his hand over his half bald head.
Dr. Estes: Do you think that you keeping your son makes you depressed because it's almost like what your dad did to you?
You bastard.
Devilkiller: I will NOT treat my son like my dad did me now give me my f*cking medicine.
Dr. Estes: Why do you think you need it.
Well Doc, it's a long story.
Devilkiller: Have you not been keeping up? My best friend killed herself in December 2013. I almost killed myself a week later, but the gun didn't fire. I'm not doing anything to keep my mind off of things. I'm not doing anything to keep myself occupied. I have suicidal tendencies. I have just recently quit my pot addiction. Doc, you need to keep up.
Dr. Estes: Don't stop. Why else do you need the medicine?
Like I need to explain further why a guy my age that has seen people kill themselves needs medicine.
Devilkiller: Without it I spend my days alone in my room in solitude. I spend my nights reminiscing of times where fairy tales exist and I got exactly what I wanted, and that makes me sick because I know I can't get that again.
Dr. Estes just nods his head and scribbles in his notepad, putting the tip of his earpiece of his glasses to the corner of his mouth.
Dr. Estes: Earlier you said you're not doing anything. I called your employer yesterday and heard you returned to work.
Yeah, like I work a 9-5 desk job.
Devilkiller: I don't work a 9-5 job like you, Doc. I'm more physical.
Dr. Estes: But you're doing something, right?
Yeah, killing my body.
Devilkiller: Yeah, killing my body.
Dr. Estes: Well I heard from them you made quite the impression.
Oh Doc.
Devilkiller: Yeah I don't want just impressions, I want to have gold.
Dr. Estes: Aren't you in a number one contenders match for the National title?
I want more.
Devilkiller: Yes, but you see, I've had that title before, best time of my life, but I want to be more. I don't want just one title Doc, I want to be able to be a Hall of Famer. My career has been mediocre. The only thing I'm remembered for? Winning that title. No, I need an impression. A BIG impression.
Dr. Estes: And what's that, Mr. Sykes?
Devilkiller: To break my own record.
Dr. Estes: Alright, that's a good start. Alright, Logan, I will prescribe you some Xanax for your previous anxiety attacks, and will prescribe you one month worth of Zoloft.
--Two days later--
After popping a Xanax to calm my nerves, I look back into my old road bag. It still has "Revolution" on it. I may be old fashioned but those were the times. Schneider having those crazy matches, Quinn winning the Big One, the "Boom" of new talent (including myself) that came in. I sit in reminiscing memory, missing my glory days. Hell I've only been at this 3 years and I feel I'm about 40 years old. Can I still hang with the new talent?
I go through the bag, taking out my SuperBrawl gear that I had worn the my last "full time" match, remembering the first "SB" moment. I lay them down on my dark green bed sheets and grab my fresh gear, the solid red gear with black "DK" on the legs in cursive print, and on the back is the words "I'm Back!" In the same
print. I fold the pants over and lay them in the bag, zipping it up right about the time Carter comes busting into the room.
Carter: Hey daddy!
Devilkiller: Hey buddy. Sleep good?
Carter: Yeah, I'm sleepy still.
I chuckle at the kid, he's 6 years old now. How time flies.
Devilkiller: Go back to sleep buddy. I'll wake you up for the flight buddy.
Carter: I wanted to say good luck. I love you dad.
In that moment, for a reason unknown, that's all that mattered. He loved me, I loved him. He is the one sweetest thing ever, him and his soft blond hair that extends to his eyebrows, his eyes having a soft sparkle in them. For a moment, I thought about something that I honestly should not have. Does Axel Thornstowe have this connection with anyone? Does he have a child? What are his aspirations and dreams? It's been months since I've been on the road, and since I'm coming back full time full force, I might need to start talking a little more to people. My main question to myself is, why would I think these questions? Why would I worry about Thornstowe? Am I really losing touch with reality? Do I even have it anymore? What if I lose? What if I can never get the job done? What if I'll never be the National champion again?
I shake these thoughts from my mind and look over at my son, standing in the door way, beaming at me.
Devilkiller: I love you too buddy.
Carter's eyes get a new gleam. There's a fire somewhere deep inside those veins, inside that mind of his. He has big aspirations. Future WFWF Champion. Future WFWF Hall Of Famer. Future WFWF mainstay. The future of WFWF.
I can't help but chuckle as he bounds away to his room like an excited rabbit eager to get back to his home. He really has big things planned for himself. I couldn't be more proud. He wants to be a champion. He wants to follow daddy's footsteps, but better. God I love that boy.
Moments like these I don't need my Zoloft or my Xanax to keep me happy or calm. Moments like these warm me up inside.
But I realize that I'll be on an even higher high later tonight. Being back into the ring with passion, energy, everything that makes this business worth the pain and doctor visits.
I lean forward and rest my head in my hands, trying to force the small headache that's inching it's way into my brain like a very painful snail, out of my head, as if squeezing my forehead and temples will really work.
I sigh and stand up and start stretching, you know, the mid section, the legs, the groin, the arms, the essentials. I do the routine of pulling my elbow to the back of my head where my hand is down the middle of my back, making sure my arms won't give out trying to pick someone up who's more than a 40 pound kid. I feel my bones pop and my joints ache with adrenaline that I haven't felt in a long time.
I'm Back.
Baby, it's good to be back.
--Promo, "Devilkiller Diary", 6:00 PM--
The light that I oh so missed hangs above my head, swaying ever so slightly so the red tint of the room slowly fades in and out. I can't help but smile as I'm looking down at the floor, my hood pulled up and my paint painted on thick, sitting in the chair, fighting my nerves to keep myself from moving.
I'm back.
I take a steady breath before speaking.
Devilkiller: Why, hello, Portland Oregon.
Again I can't help but smile. It's been too long since I've been in this chair. Deep breaths Logan. Deep breaths. Let your feelings of being gone so long take over. Don't let adrenaline win. After all these years of doing the promos the right way you will NOT mess up today.
Devilkiller: As the fields stained with blood wash over and become a mere memory, we are left with the champions, the winners. The winners that proved themselves. The losers that, well, that couldn't get the job done.
There you go. Let the hate flow through you.
Devilkiller: But that's not necessarily their fault. See, when losers lose, sometimes it isn't because they lost. The case sometimes is the winner snuck a win, or got a quick win. But history books never lie, the loser lost.
Devilkiller: I am a loser in the history books. Lost the National title to Joe Bishop, current International champion. I lost a tag match once, a battle Royal, lost to Kyle Matthews, and lost to Penny Shannon. That's not that bad of a list, actually, but the history books don't care. The history books just say "Devilkiller Lost"
I take a deep breath and think my next words carefully, how to say them, what to say, and when to say the right thing.
Devilkiller: When I returned at The Clash and attacked Ante Whitner, it wasn't really anything personally bud. It was simply you being at the top at the wrong place at the wrong time. I mean it could've been anyone I was attacking. I could've attacked Shapiro, or Joe Bishop or whoever it was that was National champion. It's not personal between you and I. I just want that gold. To get that, I had to do two things. One was to make a big enough impression so when I came back I would be put in the spotlight. The second thing? Was to win my number one contender match.
Devilkiller: That brings me to my opponent. Thornstowe, you have had the opportunity of a lifetime! You got into a "Golden Opportunity" match! But not just that, you got into the number one contenders match the next show! I never got that lucky. Ever.
Devilkiller: You are a weird cat, Thornstowe. You just scream, psycho maybe? I don't know the correct term for it. Maybe "dreamer". See, in this life, you're one of two things. A dreamer, who dreams of gold and glory. Then there are realist. These realist are the ones that keep the world spinning. The ones who accept fate as it happens, whether it be good or bad. You're a dreamer. You have these delusions of grandeur that you actually think you can get the job done. Need I remind you I AM the longest reigning National champion in WFWF? It's true, check the record books. You're dreaming Thornstowe. Me? I'm the realist. I know my capabilities. I know what it's like to get my dreams crushed and become a realist. Soon, you will too.
This is really good. Logan, keep the ball rolling!
Devilkiller: I was a dreamer once. I really was. I dreamed I would be world champion in under one year. It's been 3 and I haven't been close to anything higher than the National title. It's time to wake up everyone else from their dreams and prove I deserve to go higher. And YOU, Thornstowe, well, let's say you're gonna be my guinea pig.
With that, I stand up and look into the mirror opposite of me, smiling. I'm back.
Devilkiller: WFWF, I'm back.
And with that, I punch the mirror, shattering the glass and letting it fall to the floor before walking out of the room quickly.
------
OOC: Thank you to all who read this. I had to start out with a kinda small RP to get the wheels turning. I hope you enjoy. I'm glad I'm back guys. I missed this feeling in my chest.
I dont know good luck 
