The AKA (Slade Craven & Shadow vs. Steve Jones & Camel Clutch

RP Start: Now
RP Deadline: 7/25/08 Midnight Friday Night EST
Max RPs: 3
Show Date: 7/26/08 Saturday Night EST
Where: Texas, Massachuses

~Third Match~
*Standed Tag Team Match*

The AKA (Slade Craven and Shadow) vs. Steve Jones & Camel Clutch

The AKA are an unstoppable force. The young team of Steve Jones and debutant Camel Clutch must put a stop, but the task is near impossible. Can they defeat The AKA? Who knows.

Number of posts : 26 Age : 37 Registration date : 2008-07-23

The scene opened to what looked like the inside of a hotel room. It was presently vacant - the bed was made, the floor vacuumed, furniture dusted. It was pristine. A glass vase with fresh flowers stood upon a bedside table that was, funnily enough, beside the bed. Mints were left on the pillows of the double bed, the sheets on which were folded neatly at the corner to form a triangle. There was a chest of drawers beside the door with a small welcoming card from the hotel manager, along with the phone to contact room service and the outside world.

To the left of the front door was the bathroom, suitably polished up and filled with toiletries. It gleamed with cleanliness.

The room itself was modest, the hotel was only three-star but it was well maintained and the staff treated their guests with the highest standard possible. As this room was testament, they were dedicated to cleanliness and order.

There were footsteps outside, two sets. They marched straight past the room. There was idle chatter and laughter, muffled by the thick door, that got quieter and quieter as the two men passed by. Suddenly there was a shout of annoyance, followed by swearing in raised voices. The footsteps returned. There was the sound of a key being pushed into the door and the handle rattled as the person on the other side attempted to open it.

The door opened a crack, but halted at the command of a voice from outside saying something that sounded like “Wait! Wait!” The door opener obeyed.

A few seconds passed.

A mumble from beyond the door. Sounded a bit like “I’ve always wanted to do this!”

The door flew inwards, kicked open by a man of approximately six feet in height, well built. He had a satisfied grin on his face and a sports bag slung over one shoulder. Behind him was a slightly shorter man. They looked related, you might think them to be brothers. The shorter sibling was almost as stocky as his younger brother.

You’d not be mistaken.

These two gentlemen were the Ryans, Tony and Carl.

The younger but taller brother Tony, the one who took great pleasure in almost kicking the hotel room door off its hinges, strode further into the room. There was a big, black boot mark on the white painted door from Tony’s size 11s.

Carl followed him in and dumped his bag on the floor by the doorway. He cringed as his brother threw his bag onto the double bed, which bounced into the vase on the side table, smashing it on the floor. The water leaked unnoticed onto the crème carpet. That’d start to smell eventually.

Carl: You should clean that up.

Tony: Probably!

Carl: You’re not going to, are you?

He didn’t know why he even asked.

Tony: Nah!

Carl: You’re a tosser, Tony.

Tony: Bugger off, Carl, you fuckin’ borin’ knob. Lighten up, you miserable shit.

Carl rolled his eyes and closed the hotel door behind him.

Carl: You’ll have to knock off all this childish bullshit, T. They won’t tolerate it in DUW, it isn’t some shitty local fed in Manchester. This is America! These fellas are serious!

Tony: They’ll get used to me. They’ll have to, ‘cos I already signed the contracts.

Carl: Yeah but there’s probably some small print that says they’ve got the right to tell you to fuck off for being a complete cunt. Which you are, by the way.

Tony: Oh, fuck off Carl.

Carl: No, I mean it! You’re a right wanker. Good an’ proper.

Tony: I strive to please.

Carl: Who? Yourself?

Tony: Well, yeah. You said I was a wanker, like.

Carl: Hmm, true. You’re also a bastard.

Tony: So are you, you stupid cunt!

Carl: Well, yeah. Hey, why’s there only one bed?

Tony: ‘Cos I told the hotel how much of a cunt you are and they said you should sleep on the floor, ‘cos you’re a cunt.

Carl: I’m gonna ring ‘em and get the room changed.

Tony: We should fuck it up too and say it was like that when we got here! It’ll be funny as fuck, like!

Carl: Or not. What if they make us pay?

Tony: It’s alright man, I’m a superstar now! I’ve got fuckin’ shitloads of money!

Carl: DUW haven’t paid us yet, you cock. You’ve got fuck-all.

Tony: We’ve got fuck-all Carl. We’re a team, remember. “Rampant Ryans”.

Carl: You didn’t put that on the fuckin’ join form did you?

Tony: Yeah!

Carl: You complete and utter aboslute fuckin’ cuntmeister.

Tony: What? It’s brill, mate! Bloody brill.

Carl: Sure, yeah, if you wanna sound like a pair of fuckin’ dildos you stupid twat! “Rampant Ryans”? My God, we sound like the gayest tag-team on Earth! What’s our double-team move? “Man Rape”? “Bottom Blast”? You’re a fuckin’ dick, Tony.

Tony: Seriously, what’s your problem mate? Fuckin’ grumpy twat, it’s a class name!

Carl: Oh it’s class alright. Makes us sound like a class act! You should’ve--

They heard a phone ringing. The pair searched their pockets. Carl found his cell phone and looked at the screen. It wasn’t even on. He looked to Tony, who was throwing phone after phone onto the bed, searching for the ringing one.

Carl: Where’d you get those?

Tony: Airport.

Carl: I didn’t see you in any shops buying phones... You stole these!

He snatched one of the phones from Tony and threw it in the pile.

Tony: Hey, that was mine... I actually paid for it!

Tony guiltily held the ringing phone up.

Carl: Don’t answer that! That’s not yours!

He answered it. Carl growled out loud.

Tony: Yes?

The other person spoke.

Tony: No, I’m Tony.

More speaking.

Tony: No, Michael isn’t here. Can I take a message?

Carl: What the fuck are you doing?

Tony: Shush Carl, I’m on the phone! ... Yeah ... Uh huh ... Okay, no problem ... Cheers, bye!

He threw the phone on the bed in a pile of about two dozen others.

Carl: Jesus, look at all those mobile phones. We could’ve flogged them on the market back home, made a fortune.

Tony: Yeah... Couldn’t help myself. Sorry.

Another phone rang. The two men looked at the pile of phones, then at each other.

Tony: Ah, fuck it.

Carl: Weren’t we expecting a call from DUW?

Tony: Maybe?

Carl: That could be them! Start looking, you tit!

The two men started searching through the phones. Carl grabbed Tony’s phone and answered it.

Carl: Hello?

Voice: Hi, this is Randy McFadden from Dangerously Under-Rated Wrestling. Is this Tony Ryan?

Carl: Oh, I’m his brother. Just a moment.

He passed it on to Tony who held the device to his ear.

Tony: Helloooo?

Randy: Hi, this is Randy McFadden from Dangerously Under-Rated Wrestling. Is this Tony Ryan?

Tony: Speaking!

Randy: Hi Tony, this is just regarding your first match in DUW. We have a slot in a tag match available for Saturday, you interested?

Tony: Sure, who’re we facing?

Randy: It’ll be The Ass-Kickers Anonymous, Slade Craven and Shadow.

Tony: Who?

Randy: The, uh, hey, do you actually know anything about DUW?

Tony: I’m just pullin’ your leg, mate. Saturday, yeah?

Randy: In Texas, yes.

Tony: Fuck, we just got here in New York!

Randy: Sorry man, plans change. I’m sure I sent you an email about the show being in Texas, though.

Tony: I don’t have a computer.

Randy: Then why did you give us an email address?!

Tony: Good question. See you in Texas!

Randy: Fortunately not. By the way, don’t you want to know who your tag partner is?

Tony: Uh, what do you mean? It’s me and Carl. “The Mangler”. My brother.

Randy: Uhhh, no it’s not. Not according to our files. He’s your manager. And we have him down as “Rampant” Carl Ryan.

Tony: Fuck! Oh fuck, shit, he’s gonna be pissed off. Really pissed off!

Carl: What is it Tony?

Tony: I’ll tell you in a minute! Not you, Randy. Who is it, then?

Randy: You have Steve Jones on your side.

Tony: Who?

Randy: Very funny.

Randy hung up. Tony looked at the phone to confirm that the silence was indeed because the other party had hung up.

Tony: Who the fuck is Steve Jones?

Carl: I dunno. So what’s happening?

Tony: Uh, I got some bad news for you bro...

* * * * *

* * * * *

The next day, at the hotel bar in Texas...

Tony: You’re not still pissed off are you?

Carl: Whatever gave you that idea?

Tony shrugged and looked back at the laptop computer screen. Carl crossed his arms and sighed loudly, though Tony ignored him. His brother was clearly still in a huff about DUW not adding him to the roster. Instead, he’d become his little brother’s manager. This was something that made him very displeased. In fact, he was so pissed about it he was fairly sure he’d actually broken a knuckle on a wall outside. His hand hurt, he knew that much, but so did his pride. He sulked.

Tony, on the other hand, was happily browsing the internet using the new hotel’s Wi-Fi connection to have a look online and see if he was on the DUW website yet. The surroundings in the bar were peaceful and quite relaxing. There was a young couple at a table in the furthest corner and three guys sat at the bar itself, chatting idly to the barmaid. Otherwise, it was empty. It was a curious old place, nothing like the Ryans had seen back home. Tony wasn’t really paying much attention, though Carl had inspected the place since he had no talking to do, what with him being in a huff. The walls were wood-panelled with brass light fittings, switches, rails and fixtures while the floor itself was carpeted red. The ceiling was painted white. Carl wondered momentarily if it was dry, and took it upon himself to watch it long enough so that, by the time he was done watching, it certainly would be dry.

He sighed once more.

Tony: Hey, what the fuck’s this?!

Carl ignored him. His ceiling needed him.

Tony: Hey, look at this!

Carl ignored him. His ceiling needed him.

Tony: Hey! Hey, dick-head! Look man!

Carl ignored him. His ce--

Carl: OW!

Tony had smacked him across the head and turned the computer around for his brother to see.

Carl: Alright, it’s your roster page... so fuck.

Tony: Look at the fuckin’ name!

He looked. He grinned.

Carl: “Camel Clutch”?

Tony: What - the - fuck?!

Carl: Oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear.

He fought back a giggle.

Tony: This isn’t funny! Billions of people are gonna think I’m called fuckin’ Camel Clutch! That’s not my name! I’m the Manchester Marauder!

Carl: Not any more! Just like I’m your manager and not your tag partner!

Tony dug into an inside coat pocket and produced a mobile phone. He angrily keyed in a number and pressed dial.

Phone: All calls from this number... are BARRED.

Carl: The owner must’ve reported it stolen.

Tony: What a cock.

He threw the phone onto the table. It bounced and skidded off the side and smashed on the floor. Tony tried another phone. This one rang. And rang. And... was answered.

Randy: Randy McFadden, DUW.

Tony: Randy! It’s Tony!

Randy: Tony who?

Tony: Tony Ryan!

Randy: Tony Ryan who?

Tony: Tony Ryan who’s gonna fuckin’ fly a jet up your fuckin’ arse if you don’t stop bein’ a cunt!

Randy: Tony Ryan who’s gonna fu--

Tony: HEY!

Randy: Alright, alright, just playing. What is it? What’s wrong?

Tony: Why the fuck is my name on the website showing as “Camel Clutch”?

Randy: Uh, Earth to Tony - that IS your name.

Tony: No it fuckin’ isn’t!

Randy: According to your application form it is. I’m looking at it now. Why is your finisher called “Manchester Marauder”? Sounds like a better ring name to me, buddy.

Tony was gnashing with rage.

Randy: Tony, you there?

The phone burst into pieces against the wall. Everyone in the bar looked over to see Tony furiously chewing the corner of the table, his fingers gripping the edges, wrists twisting as if trying to tear off the edge of the table. Carl’s grin became wider.

Carl: Care for a beer, brother?

END

OOC Nice roleplay Man Glad you were on board for the match,

RP 1
Time to Make...

http://shadow-x.angelfire.com/RP7.html

Number of posts : 26 Age : 37 Registration date : 2008-07-23

OOC: Cheers buddy. Going for something a little different to my other work. Enjoy:

Despite the rain, it was a warm night. Carl Ryan walked through the streets of Texas with his hood up but his spirits down. To his brother he'd done a good job of hiding his disappointment that DUW had added him to their ranks as a manager instead of his tag partner, giving the impression that he was merely annoyed at the situation was purely to mask how upset he was about the whole thing. He'd trained for years to become an international wrestling superstar and he was on the road to doing that. Now, no matter how much he and Tony shouted at Randy McFadden he was not prepared to add Carl as a wrestler to their roster. Carl didn't doubt that his brother was just as angry as he was, though he probably wasn't as disappointed. The excitement of his first real promotion was overtaking all other emotion, he was dying to go out there and get into the ring with Slade Craven and Shadow.

Every time he thought about it he was reminded of his own desire to stand by his brother's side at the turnbuckle, ready and waiting to work together to bring down whatever opponent they might face. He was determined he'd get into the ring with his brother again and start winning matches, it was only a matter of time. For now he'd have to help Tony as best he could, pulling tricks and strings from the outside and to push him when it really mattered. It was the least he could do, and he knew that Tony would do the same… in his own special way, at least.

Still, the whole situation was not ideal. But then, many of the greats were stuck with bad gimmicks and stupid storylines when they first started out. This was just the first stepping stone to becoming an internation superstar, whether he or his brother stayed together for this or not - it would happen.

He wondered what his crazy brother was getting up to while he walked the wet streets alone. Probably enjoying himself, git.

* * *

At the Cock & Bull bar around the corner from the hotel, Tony was enjoying himself immensely. He was sitting at the bar with a bottle of Bud in his hand, or, as he called it, Piss Water. He was joined by two young girls and a swarm of young men who watched his peculiar behaviour with sheer disbelief. Tony gulped down the last mouthfuls of his lager (as this filth could never be described as "beer" by any means) he munched the top of the bottle off and crunched it until it could be swallowed. A young man had called his friends over to watch and shouted in amazement.

Man: Man, did you see that shit!? Wow! How the fuck you not bleedin' man!? Damn!

Tony continued eating his bottle.

Tony: Mm-Ith a thalenth I hath.

Man: Uh, what?

Tony: Thalenth! Th' one oth my thkillth.

Man: Dude, swallow that shit!

He did.

Tony: It's--

The door to the bar smashed against a table and everyone looked around. Standing at the door was a man clad in big, red, baggy pants with a huge basketball shirt on. He had sweat bands on each wrist and a visor on sideways with his hair spiked out of the top. He swaggered over towards Tony, who still had the bottom of his glass left to eat. The whole room had eyes on the honkey with the black bones.

Honkey: Yo bruthas, I's seekin' mah homie Tony Ryan, brah. He all up in dis place?

Tony: What did you say, you scruffy little cracka nut-sack?

Honkey: Maybe I ain't pronouncin' mah words correctly Eurotrash, I be huntin' for Tony Ryan… you seen him, dawg?

Tony: Who's asking?

He gripped the bottom of the bottle in the palm of his hand. It'd make for a nice red-faced slap.

Honkey: I's Danny Cool, I's lookin' for him so I can interview his ass.

Tony: Huh, all his ass is gonna say is…

He leaned to the side. The confused white man held his hands up defensively.

Honkey: Woah, woah! Turn of phrase my-man, contain yo'self. And yo gasses. Damn!

Tony glared at the man.

Tony: So you're Danny Cool. Yeah, I'd been warned about you, like. Bit of a tit. You sound like y'think you've got black skin on yer bones.

The Mancurian stood up and crushed the glass in his hand, ignoring the shallow cuts they caused.

Tony: What do you want?

Danny: Imma lookin' for Camel Clutch, I--

The fist came out of nowhere, nailing Danny Cool on the jaw and spinning him 360 degrees before he flopped onto the floor. After a few seconds he started to get back up, holding his face.

Danny: Oh man, that's some bad shit!

Tony: I'll show you s'more bad shit if you keep calling me that, you little cock! Get on with your fuckin' interview!

Danny: Alright! Geez, chill yo'self!

The skinny white guy dusted himself down. Previously unnoticed, a fat man with a camera waddles over and hands Danny Cool a microphone. Cool carefully positioned himself beside Tony Ryan, who snarled at him with contempt. The cameraman gave a thumbs up to start the interview.

Danny: Good evening ladies and gentlemen, fans of Dangerously Under-rated Wrestling! I'm here tonight with debutee "Cam--"er, Tony Ryan, the latest addition to the DUW roster!

Tony stared at Danny in shock, amazed that the young man could string a sentence together without some black lingo. He was actually verbally presentable. The bizarre young character turned to the Manchester Marauder.

Danny: So, Tony, I hear you're fresh off the boat from England, is that right?

Tony choked. A few moment's silence, then a nod.

Danny: Tony?

Tony: Um, yeah. England.

Danny: So how're you finding the good old U.S. of A. Tony?

Again, nothing. Danny started to speak but Tony beat him to it.

Tony: It's good, like. Yeah.

Danny Cool's voice lowered for a moment.

Danny: You didn't do a great deal of mic work before coming here, am I right?

Tony growled at the sly remark.

Tony: Fuck off, cock-sweat.

Danny: That's the spirit. So, your debut match this Saturday is against Slade Craven and Shadow of the A.K.A. with Steve Jones in your corner. How do you think you'll fare?

The younger Ryan brother was seething at Danny's disrespectful comment, putting his annoyance into his words.

Tony: How do you think I'll fare? Slade Craven sounds like he got the fuckin' inspiration for his name listening to fuckin' Noddy Holder -the cunt- while drinkin' some fuckin' milk, silly fucker. And Shadow? Some cunt who names himself after the only fuckin' thing dumb enough to follow him around other than that Noddy fucker Craven. Only Craven's slower than Shadow's shadow. Fuck 'em both, pair of wankers!

Danny Cool just stared at Tony blankly.

Danny: Uh... right. So have you heard what Shadow and Slade had to say about you and Steve earlier?

Tony: What? Steve? Oh, him. Yeah, I heard that bollocks, like. Twats need to get their heads around the fact that my name isn't "Camel Clutch", it's "the Manchester Marauder"! Silly fuckers, what kind of tit would call themselves "Camel Clutch"? Yeah, I can see it now - "Making his way to the ring, weighing in at three hundred pounds, from fuckin' Zimbabwe or sommat - FIGURE FOUR LEG LOCK!" Yeah, right. Fuckin' dipshits. Who's this fuckin' A.K.A. anyway mate?

Danny: Oh, they're the Ass Kickers Anonymous.

Tony: The wot? Ass Kickers Anonymous? Sounds like a bunch of scruffy no-name cunts tryin' to make a name for themselves by bein' complete fuckin' retards in front of a camera and impressin' fourteen year-old boys with their wrestlin' skills and bein' really fuckin' cool, threatenin' to hit people 'cos they're all big and hard. Like a pair of pricks. Literally. A pair of fuckin' pricks who are hard 'cos they think they're brill. Well you're bloody shit lads, an' I'll fuckin' show you exactly how shit ya's are. Yeah, I'm really really British and a bit young 'n all to boot, but I'm definitely a fuckin' brilliant wrestler, mate, and I'll show you two pair of knob-end twats what it means to be British, as well as better'n you fuckers. You's can slag off Steve Jones all you like, I dunno who the cunt is and I don't give a fuck either, he's probably naff as fuck. I'll smack the twat if he takes the fuckin' Mickey, you know that, innit?

Danny: Er, I'm sure you will. So--

Tony: Hey, that's another thing about these two twats, what kind of pompous cunts charge an interviewer for an interview? That's fuckin' shockin', pair of wankers. Two hundred quid for an interview? I'd rather shit on me own face than have to talk to them two cunts. Does DUW not pay you tossers enough to swan around like two nuts in a sack already? As for our match, too right I'll bring sommat to the table for the fuckers, the A.K.A. might be renowned for their skill in the ring but that's nowt to be proud of. If I were a bum-shagger an' all I'd hardly be braggin' about it, like. They can keep their faggy little habits to 'emselves and fuck each other in peace and quiet if they so choose, but I don't wanna hear that shit! You keep yer stool-pushin', man-on-man, sweaty, gruntin' exercises to yourself. I personally prefer wrestlin'.

Danny: Well, uh, I have no idea what you're insinuating there. Well folks, there you have it - colourful words from DUW newcomer Tony Ryan!

END

Number of posts : 83 Age : 34 Registration date : 2008-03-29

Via salltie) The scene opens up to Steve Jones sitting in an office. You can tell its not Dave Johnson office or any where else in duw for that matter. Jones is wearing a white t-shirt that said DUW, blue jeans and some airwalks shoes. He of course has his bat with him, the look on his face said it all, it's a depress look on his face. He looks around aimlessly, The camera looks where he looks, you can see something big is in the center of the room, it is cover up. The camera forcus on him, which is sending the salite images to the duw arena. He is also sitting on the desk as the interview is going on.

Steve Jones- It's about time for me to return to duw full time, what do you think? I believe its time for me to come back for a match that I know I can win, with my new partner I believe we will win.This week, which is my coming home week, Me and Tommy will be the winner! Wait, I am on the DUW website and it said here that Tommy left, so either I have to kick the aka ass by myself or if you keep reading I am in the match with a new partner. AKA, the last time we fought I had some ring rust, hell I been out of the ring for a long time...not Really putting my self to the test at vse. This will be the true test, and I plan to ace this test. Last time you beaten me, hell you beaten every one you been against. Every good thing must come to a end and I will end it for the AKA! AKA you heard your music playing after each match, but this time you will hear me or my partner music playing, you guys might think you have the advantage for a few reasons! Reason one you have tag experience...well I so do I, just not enough to match up with you guys...but Like they said its not how much experience you have its how you use it.

Steve walks over to the to the refrigerator, gets a bottle of water and opens it. He walks back over to the desk and before he place the bottle of water on the desk, he takes a sip of the water.

Steve Jones- Sorry but I had to get something to drink. Any way reason two, you are unbeaten...while I am pretty much winless in the DUW, but like I said ealier. Everything good must come to an end....and No one can go winless for ever...here is my chance to show all the fans of DUW what I can do!! I will win and there's nothing you can say or do about it!! So shadow...have You seen something blue, fast, and his hair is kinda spike? I forget his name but when you see him tell him I said hi! I mean isn't he your worst enemy or something? Maybe its something like this, if I take the sun away do you disappear? Will you be gone? If that's the case let the sun shine because I want to all of you, I want to make sure you are there when I lock in the sharpshooter and I want to make sure you, friend tap out to me!
I just thought of another advantage you have, you guys have a win over me! This time it will be different! You watch! I have a pretty good feeling my partner been around for a while, I also know he can teach me things that peppers can't! You know I am going to tell you alittle about Steve Jones! Here is alittle history lesson on the ace! Here is the young life of Steve Jones!

"This story is about the first six years of my life, fun right? I don't know about that much be here it is. I was nothing but a brat when I was younger, some people still think I am. It's not my fault really, my mom was never there for me and you will hear about my dad later. She was more of a crack where then anything. She would do any thing in order to get her hands on crack. Even if it meant less food for us kids, there are three of us, me, Edward and bobby. Me and Edward were the youngest, and bobby is the oldest of us three, he was as abusive as mom was. It wasn't so bad when I first came home. But after a while, my mom got involve with the "wrong" people and she got into drugs. She wasn't so bad at first, she only really did weed, and was always funny but when she got in the heavier shit, like cocaine. After about two years of her drug usage my dad left us, and that's when the trouble begin, every day if it was my brother bobby beating us it was our own mom...our Mom. Me and Edward had to stick together or we something bad would happen to us and we knew this. We stick it out, when I was two, he was five, and bobby was 17 when all this happen. Our mom would come home late at night, smelling beer off of her breath and with her eyes glazed over, we line we would have a long night. At the age of three I started to plan a way out, well me and Edward were, we figured when my brother and mom is out we can escape and be out on our way. We tried this only to be seen by my brother, we quickly tried to escape but he caught us, he took us home and beat us and he said if we ever did it again that we will pay. When mom found out we had another beating and this time it wasn't pretty, most parents say "Im going to beat you into you can't walk", and that's what she did I couldn't walk for two days, bearly hanging onto my life. When I was four and my brother was seven we started to plan and this time we planed longer then three months, you had the beating and what not, but we plan ever night when my brother and mom would leave, we started, well my brother started to time them, to see when they would get in. We figure out my brother would be in about a hour or two before my mom, so we figure we would take him out then our mom. We made sure our bikes and every thing was ready to go, when the day came. The plan was simple my brother would hide by the door and when my brother comes threw, brother would hit him in the back of the knees, then his head into he is out. We just wanted to make sure we had time to get away, my brother was a master at knots and he made one and then warp up my brother again, and this was at the age of me 5 years old my brother Edward was 8 at the time, we left to be on our own, We would only come out of the near by woods when we knew no one was out and about and pick for food. Some night we wouldn't eat nothing, others we would eat like kings! This went on for about a year or two, and we were free.

Steve Jones- Our team, will win. I will ,ake sure it does!

As the camera goes to center of the room as Steve Jones does, he uncover the two dummies. It looked every thing like what the AKA looks like, even the ring attire. The head piece was nothing but a flat metal piece. Steve Jones went over and pick up a water melon and a pupkin and place one on the head piece of each dummy.

Steve- I think they looked just liked you guys. Twins, even the shape of your guys head match to. You see this is what I will do to both of your guys once we get done with you.

Steve Jones swings the bat and hits the pupkin, and then he does the same with the watermelon. The camera starts to fade after this.

OOC:sorry about the sucky role play...which I produce any way lol but im down state and don't have a way to get to a computer often.

OOC please leave some feedback on this whole storyline please on the feedback board. I'll post a topic.

RP #2

Nothing can stop...

http://www.angelfire.com/linux/sladecraven/RP5.html

RP # 3

It is only minutes after Steve Jones delivers his interview via satellite that the arena begins to dim. Everyone is silent for a moment when suddenly the strobe light goes off flashing repeatedly in time with the loud drumming introduction to Alterbridge’s Metalingus. Now the preshow arena’s crowd begins the cheer madly at the top of their lungs as the smoke pours onto the entrance ramp and when the chorus begins to play Shadow bursts out from backstage alone. His music blares loudly has he stands on the stage with his leather duster here and silver rimmed sunglasses. He smiles at the crowd as they cheer madly for him. Slade is not with him as the ring announcer introduces him.

John Simpson: Ladies and gentlemen, making his way to the ring at this time. From Dallas Texas, Shadow!

The fans scream at the top of their lungs as Shadow walks down the ramp and pulls himself onto the apron and into the ring. He walks around the ring for a moment before he holds out his hand and s given the mic by Simpson.

Daniel Mills: Wow it’s a surprise to see Shadow out here without his tag partner.

John Murphy: And it’s a wonder as to what state of mind Slade is in after everything that has happened.

Daniel Mills: Like that incident at Club Noir earlier today in Dallas Texas.

Chris Murphy: I am also shocked to see how fast the two of them got back here tonight.

Shadow still paces around the ring before he raises the mic to his lips.

Shadow: there have been several questions raised since I got back to the arena. One of which, being where is Slade.

The fans begin to roar and cheer. He waits for them to calm down a little before continuing.

Shadow: Yes, well Slade is not here right now, I’m sorry, but he will be here tomorrow night on Danger. He is taking care of a little bit more business to ensure tomorrow’s match goes off without a hitch. Another question that has been raised is that Tony Ryan is a new opponent making his debut and what kind of threat will he pose in our match tomorrow night? And I would love to answer that question as well. Because it would appear that after the incident that took place back home earlier today, that answers is the thing of the day. Slade is searching for answers, and I am here to provide others. So lets talk about Tony Ryan and unbelievably Forrest Gump meets Tim Curry, accent. No that’s wrong lets talk about him not knowing anything about the A.K.A. Well that’s fine you’re new here, you will learn soon enough. The A.K.A. are multiple time champion and Hall of Famers around the world. But what matters here in D.U.W. is that The A.K.A. are exactly what Steve Jones said they were, undefeated. Like myself. Tony, Tony, Tony, maybe you don’t know this but its kind of important. I have never been beaten. And that will not change tomorrow night. I could ramble on and on for hours entertaining these wonderful fans about how unbelievable I am in the ring, but I think I should just wait until tomorrow. I am really looking forward to what will happen tomorrow night, because I have been searching for a challenge, someone who can go toe to toe with me, but the question remains will you prove that for me? So Tony, my dear sweet probably illegally here friend, I want you to provide me with that answer tomorrow night in the ring. Lets hope you can do that for me.

Shadow lowers the microphone and pauses for a second. Then he raises it back to his lips and gets ready to speak again.

Shadow: All right lets move on to funnier people. Like Steve “The Walking Joke” Jones. Now Stevie boy, I’m sure you have felt left out after everything that has happened, I am certain you think we at the A.K.A. do not think much of you, and that pretty much the truth to it. We really don’t think a lot of you Steve, because well lets look a the facts. And the words that you have been saying tonight. Lets examine them all. First your humorous comment, all good things must come to an end, and that was put in perspective with your practically winless streak here in D.U.W.

He paces and holds out his arm.

Shadow: You’re right Steve all good things come to an end, but if you seem to think that your losing streak is a good thing, and I know I feel my winning streak is great, I don’t see why we should hurt our own feelings and destroy something we both like. And come on Steve, lets talk about ring rust. I had ring rust when I came back. You do not. There is a subtle difference in coming back after a long hiatus and having ring rust and just plain sucking then and sucking even more now. You see Ring Rust is when someone who is absolutely phenomenal comes back from a long time out of the ring and they shake off their ‘rust’ and proceed to whip ass just like they did before. Coming back and just having your ass handed to you over and over again is just plain stupidity. I think Slade might have been mistaken when he assume Tony Ryan’s mother smoked during the pregnancy. Or maybe you are just that special. But the smartest thing you have done thus far is not showing up here tonight and running your mouth. Now you’re pretty smart tonight, how about you get real smart Steve? Tomorrow night on Danger why don’t you visit the A.K.A.’s and drop a little cash to us. We wont throw the match we would never do that. But lets say we just so happen to get in the ring and not beat your ass as badly as we did before. Maybe we show a little restraint when you get tagged in against us. Now as for Tony Ryan, he seems to know what he is doing. So He doesn’t need a handicap. I’m offering you that, if you want to show the world you learned something after the last match, that wonderful debut at Untold Actions, take me up on this offer Steve. it’s the best chance you got.

He lowers his head and pushes his shades back up his nostrils.

Shadow: But something that has been egging me for quite some time is this misunderstanding of my name. Guys you need a lesson in trash talking, but I’m not going to give you one tonight, nor am I going to give you a simple and pointless back story. I’ve told you all I need to know about myself. No you both seem to think my name is completely ambiguous. That its literal, no guys come one.

He paces for a moment.

Shadow: Just because I am named Shadow, doesn’t mean I am The Shadow! I am not some former radio superhero, or that thing that Peter Pan couldn’t hold onto. No What is it a Shadow does? It covers anything in its path, and the only thing that can stop it? Well nothing can stop a shadow, because it just changes directions. But why focus on my name? that’s what I’m just unable to understand, we are about to have this amazing match tomorrow night and you guys cannot get around my name. How do you expect to perform when the concept of my name baffles you the point where your minds just explode? Please, please, don’t make me ramble anymore. Just put up or shut up Steve. I’m going to go back there now.

He points to the backstage area.

Shadow: And I am going to wait until tomorrow night. And when Slade gets here he will wait too. We’ll sit in our office drinking some Sam Jacksons, playing some poker and tell stories about how American’s have better teeth than the British, maybe because they spend their free time eating glass. And Steve if you can merit the stomach to face us in the office, and swallow that remnant of pride you once had, and offer up the right price, I promise we won’t beat your ass as badly as you and the people of the great state of Massachusetts are expecting.

Shadow lowers the microphone as his music begins to kick back up. He stands in the ring for a moment unsure as to what else to say. He face admits that he was a little off guard by the fact Steve Jones even showed up. But he still feels confident that the show tomorrow night will be awesome.

Number of posts : 26 Age : 37 Registration date : 2008-07-23

"...colourful words from DUW newcomer Tony Ryan!"

With a sigh, Carl switched the television off, he'd seen enough. The set powering down plunged the room into complete darkness, though this didn't concern Carl at this moment in time. His little brother had cut his first televised promo and, well, even Carl had no idea what he was on about. He vaguely got the impression that he had referred to his opponents to genitalia and may have brought their sexuality into question. He'd also called them wankers. And fuckers. And cunts. Worse yet, he found it necessary to accuse Slade Craven of stealing his name from an age-old glam rock band famous for one Christmas song... He didn't seriously expect an American to know that did he? How he even expected the men to understand a single word that came out of his mouth was something he didn't know. All he could assume was that his brother blurted whatever first came to mind when the pressure hit and the camera was on him.

This would never have happened if he had been there to help, Carl thought. Maybe this manager business was fated to happen, Carl had been chosen by destiny to guide his younger brother towards sheer wrestling greatness, perhaps? Yes! That had to be it!

With a shout of joy, Carl leapt out of the chair he'd been sitting in and headed for the door to go find Tony. Sadly his first step landed upon an empty vodka bottle which he swore hadn't been there when he got back to the hotel. There was a full one, but that seemed to have disappeared. No matter. Anyway, Carl stood on the vodka bottle and, being of a cylindrical shape, the vodka bottle was not ideal for standing on. The bottle went backwards and Carl's face went forwards, combined with a little bit of down. A split second later, he was munching carpet, and not in a good way.

It had seemed like a split second anyway. It was really three hours later, but he didn't notice the time passing by. Probably because he had been unconscious.

That which woke him was the sound of his brother crashing into the room and slamming the door shut behind him with no concern for Carl's sleeping patterns. Alright, spontaneously knocking himself unconscious while rolling drunk wasn't exactly part of a "pattern" as such, but that wasn't the point. He was asleep and now Tony woke him up. The bastard. Tony grinned. Like a bastard.

Bastard.

Carl scowled at Tony angrily. Tony ignored his obvious fury.

Tony: Brother! Did y'see ma promo? Was fuckin'... BRILLIANT!

Carl: It was shit, Tony.

Tony laughed out loud, then started coughing uncontrollably. Before long he was doubled up, coughing his lungs up and clearly in pain. One final cough saw something fly out of Tony's mouth onto the floor. Carl grabbed it.

Carl: What the hell..?

It was a Bud label. Tony shook his head.

Carl: Have you been eating bottles again?

More shakes.

Tony: No?

Carl sighed. This wasn't going to be easy.

END

Slade sits in his hotel room running his hands through his hair. He stands there in only a black towel his skin still wet from the warms however he just took. on television, recorded on TiVo is the promo Shadow just cut. With an exacerbated sign Slade feels somewhat guilty. The A.K.A. were well known for their pranks, and getting arrested for pointless things. Now, after the heinous attack at his house so long ago Slade cannot help but wonder what he has don't to his team. he has been spending alot of time wanting to chase down the rat bastards who jumped him in his own home. He looks at himself in the mirror, the scar from where he had surgery on his arm years ago stands out under the fluorescent light

Slade: Tomorrow night. I'll make it up to Shadow. I'll start off the match. I'll take the brunt of it. He'll be the hot tag. Give him more time in the spotlight. He deserves it. After everything that has happened he has stuck by me. Shadow is a hell of a tag team partner. He's a good man.

Slade turns around and his tattoos on his back also reflect in the mirror now, the angel wings on his shoulders and the blood sin down his spine. His zodiac clock on his arm is brilliant looking. Slade Craven is one of the most talented sports entertainers today, and now he is being manipulated mentally by two sucker punching little pricks and that is keeping him distracted from his match. he owes it to Shadow to give it his all. He knows that in three days time Rorschach will call him with a meeting place where he can pick up the information he is waiting on. All he has to do it be patient, and take out his frustrations on his opponents. Slade walks across the room, still in the towel all the while running his hands through his soaked black hair. He flops down on the bed and the towel nearly falls off. He catches it and rights it before his 'genitalia' fall out. After fixing it Slade reminds the TiVo to watch Shadow's promo again. As he listens to his he cringes a little. Shadow seems a little on the spot he is a talented superstar, but quick on the mic is not his thing. Had Slade been there he would have ramble on as well, but it would have been a little more entertaining. He did have to agree with two things though.

Slade- Steve Jones should take us up on that offer. I think with would be fun to try and show restraint and put the heap of our focus on that bewildering opponent that has stunned everyone with his mind numbing accent.

To Craven Tony Ryan sounds something like William Hung crossed with a banshee, while his brother Carl seemed to be the better talent. Then again a gimmick wrestler can have more chance of advancement. The second thing he agrees with he doesn't say aloud. It didn't need to be said, its something that everyone knew. Steve Jones had not changed he was the same now as he was when he faced the A.K.A. at Untold Actions. But at least the match is going to be mixed up. Craven lets loose one more sign as he accepts the fact that a match being someone's debut, one person's debut as opposed to a team, is a wild card match. It can go either way.

Slade- It's going to be one hell of a show.

Craven leans back as he switches off the television. Tomorrow approaches faster than expected. He would focus on the match, then afterwards, after its all said and done he could divert his attention back to the problem at hand. Finding out put themselves into his life and how he would forcibly remove them from it, no matter what it takes. he reaches over and turns out the light in his hotel room. Right now the most important thing is to sleep.

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