indiecircusrp

[indiecircusrp]

@chosenoftheconcretefist

[indiecircusrp]

[@revolutionizethegame] @[poisonivy] ivy w/ randy orton

Ivy marched backstage with every intention of causing havoc. She was still wearing her ring gear and make-up, except she never got to get out there and perform her match because her ring time was cut at the last minute to leave more space for the men. Perks of being a woman in the business.

She approached the control room, where cameras were being monitored and where Mr Man himself, Vince, was barking orders to get the program to run smoothly. She would let him get a taste of her poison, unafraid to speak her mind and especially unafraid to make her missed match everyone's problem. The room was small and dark, barely lit by the multiple monitors, the floor was overrun by cables, and several people crowded it, most with a headset, following or giving directions to the cameramen and crew out there.

"Oh no," before Ivy could even get close enough to Vince's desk, Stephanie got in her way, lowering her headset on her neck, "This is not the time."

"No?" Ivy crossed her arms, looking back at the woman. Her green gaze was dangerously irate, though she pulled a sharp smile that made her entire face look almost sweet. "And when would that be? You certainly waited for the right time to let me know my match was cancelled, uh? Five minutes before entrance,"

"I know, I know," Stephanie tried her best to appear calm and diplomatic, even though her gaze was sharp, like the one of a shark or worse, a businesswoman. "And I am very sorry about that, you should have been notified-"

"I should have been notified yesterday."

"But we didn't know time would run late yesterday." Stephanie's words seemed innocent, but weren't, and anyone knowing any better would have known to back off. Not Ivy.

"Time never runs late except when it's for the pick of the litter. Or your boy," It wasn't like it was news, Triple H and his stupid little clique were favoured and could run the mack around there because they were protected by her. Except some things weren't meant to be said. But Ivy didn't care enough. She was too angry to see the danger of being fired and, for all she cared, it was all the same; she wasn't getting paid that week, which meant struggling with rent and the travelling fees next week. "I drove my ass out here. I paid for gas, accommodation and food, all because I was booked in. Do you think I live by bubbles and dreams? Carmella and I both got fucked over, except she doesn't want trouble,"

"And you do?" Stephanie was clearly warning her. "Listen, I understand and I hear your complaint, let me handle this, ok?" She wasn't sympathetic in the least. "Tonight is a no. You missed the slot,"

"I didn't miss it. Triple H and his goons stole it."

"Fine, say they did. We may be able to compensate you for some of the trouble, and if you are nice, I might fit you into next week. And now say you are sorry."

"Sorry for what?" Ivy frowned, more than confused. "I've got nothing to be sorry for."

Stephanie grabbed her by the arm and gave her a squeeze, her sharp nails puncturing deep into Ivy's skin. "Count yourself lucky, missy. That tone you use isn't appropriate here, and I don't appreciate it. The only reason why you still have a job is because, for some reason, they seem to love you so since you bring money, I have to keep you around, but I don't like what you implied, and I don't like your lack of control."

Ivy looked up at Stephanie. For a second, she counted all the colourful things she could have replied to keep her pride high, but then she bit down on her tongue, hard, keeping herself from saying anything. Not because of fear but because of smarts. That wasn't the fight to have tonight, nor the place for it and, as it stood and as much as Ivy hated it, Stephanie held all the power. And Ivy needed her job.

She shook Stephanie's hold off herself with a bitter look but didn't dare to say anything. A small acknowledgement was not everything Stephanie was going to get out of her. Which seemed enough.

"Great," Stephanie melted into a large, fake smile, "I see we understand each other. Now keep it up and keep it down. You are better when you don't yap. Remember, we need you at the conference tomorrow, so don't stay out late either."

Ivy didn't speak. It was like shame had put a muzzle around her mouth. She wasn't the type to submit and let people run over her, but she wasn't an idiot either. Instead of replying with anything passive-aggressive, like she wanted to, because the idea of spending an entire day signing item after item and taking pictures with sweaty, horny dudes and getting paid a fraction of what WWE would make out of her face wasn't exactly fun. And of course, they wouldn't dare to cut her time during something like that. But she didn't say anything; she quietly pulled back, feeling more than defeated.

Some minutes later, Ivy emerged into the canteen. She didn't even realise how she walked there, lost in her own thoughts and wounded pride. She wasn't used to giving up, and that time, she didn't even feel defeated; she felt the fight knocked out of her guts. That was the moment her attention was caught by the loud rumbling voice of her current enemy number one.

The room wasn't crowded due to the show running in the background. Most people were either in the ring, getting ready for it or watching. But there were a few, done for the night, enjoying some post-show food. And in between those people sat Triple H and his crew.

Ivy so wished she could be the biggest person and just walk away. But she wasn't that person, and her shame for how she let Stephanie walk over her now morphed into rage wilder than before. She needed a fight, any fight, even if for only a moment. Even to feel validation in how powerful her recklessness made her feel. After all, it was why she got to the point that she was; everyone knew her to be a hot-head.

If she couldn't get what she wanted from the McMahons, she was going to give a taste of her thoughts to the big guy himself. It couldn't hurt more than it already did. And she wasn't scared of big bullies.

Ivy slammed her hands heavily on the table, barely getting Triple H and Batista annoyed attention. "You and your little boy band owe me TV time," she started, narrowing her eyes. Then her attention switched to the only one who didn't even bother to look her way. Her gaze became dangerous as she watched how he was too focused on talking, or better, bothering one of the catering girls. She was trying to clean the table next to him, but was blocked in by him as he had pushed his chair and body in her way.

Damn, Ivy hated bullies.

Ivy grabbed the tall glass of water on the tray in front of him and, without giving it much of a thought, poured it on him, clearly unafraid of openly crossing the great Apex Predator with no fear - or care for her well-being. "I am talking to you."

[indiecircusrp]

@[kingoftheblackthrone]

The world wasn't ready for him, but hell if Malakai was going to wait for that to happen, he would have waited forever. And he wasn't a patient man. No, he didn't have that kinda tolerance or time. He wanted his empire to start now; he already sat on a throne and wore a crown, all he needed now was for people to see what he was capable of. Most importantly, he demanded to be finally given his due. To be respected. To be worshipped like he deserved.

And Malakai always ended up getting what he wanted. There was no doubt or other way about that. He wasn't only a simple, stubborn man; it went beyond his flesh and blood shell, when he put his mind to something, nothing stopped him, to the point even the strains of reality bent to his will.

And now, he had decided it was time to step out of the shadows and remind everyone who was the new king. And who better to dethrone but the Rhodes? Royals among the ranks of wrestling, a family so well known and so respected, so privileged it was disgusting, but no one dared to cross them, ever. They were the ones you'd hope to impress, actually. Not him. They found a powerful enemy the moment they decided to get involved in his business, and came out and be the heroes while he was introducing himself.

And now, he was going to hit their weakest point, taking from them their most valuable possession: their little sister. He wouldn't have only taken her; that wasn't enough, he wanted her sanity. He wanted he essence. And only when they begged him to stop would he have freed her. Perhaps.

Malakai followed Brody's call, not that he was ever far from his loyal hound, having no doubt whatsoever that he would have gotten the job done exactly like he had ordered. When the road was cleared and Brody had the girl exactly where Malakai wanted her, he emerged from the shadows, taking form from the very darkness surrounding them.

He wasn't human. He wasn't a devil either. God, now that was a term he liked.

Dressed elegantly, Malakai smiled, approaching slowly, watching almost fondly the scene in front of him as Brody held the girl tight between his arms, completely unbothered by any kick she may have attempted to give. "Now, now," he began, talking low like his usual. Malakai watched as the girl struggled, not giving up, never giving up, just like he liked it. "We shall behave, shan't we?" He sent a quick look to Brody, praising him with a grateful nod. "Well done, thank you for catching her." His attention then fell back to her as he got even closer. "All alone, I see? That won't be a problem for long," it was a dangerous promise he delivered with a devilish smile. "I will see to that personally. You see, I have a problem with your brothers trying to be smart and taking away my glory. So, I have a problem with you, too. Shame, I know." Malakai dared to caress her face, pushing a lock of her blonde hair off her forehead. "Hush, now. Don't be cross with me, be angry at your siblings, they are the ones who caused this." Malakai's smile was dangerous; behind his heterogeneous eyes, there was no emotion slipping. "Don't despair, I am not heartless, I will give you all the chance to apologise before, wouldn't be fair otherwise. Now, will you be a good girl and promise you won't scream I let you speak? It would only be a waste of breath, no one will hear you if you do but us. And if you do, I'm going to have to take back the trust I gave you. Do you understand?"

[@revolutionizethegame] @[kingoftheblackthrone] malakai + @[thehound] brody w/ emily rhodes

Brody crossed the backstage halls without a worry in his mind. After all, why would he have any reason to watch his back when he was at the top of the food chain? He was the biggest shark. He was the biggest motherfucker there, the one everyone had to look their back from. The true predator. Nothing worried him. Nothing scared him. He was the one doing the scaring and the hurting.

Some may think he was only a dog, good for nothing but to obey his master's orders, and part of that may have been true; he did have a leash around his neck, but not because he was forced into it. No one would have ever been able to make him do something he didn't want to do. He chose Malakai as a leader. He chose to swear fealty to him and never once doubted his choice. And, so far, Malakai had never failed to give him everything he promised and everything he deserved. Malakai Black might be his master, and Brody might live and breathe to obey him, but that wasn't degrading; it was the opposite. Malakai offered him a place to belong to in his House; he gave him a purpose, respect, and even affection. Now, why would Brody ever bite the hand that feeds?

No. Brody was scared of nothing. Not when shadows always lingered, protective around him, watching over him, as darkness bended under Malakai's will like to a god. Why would Brody ever wish to worship any other when he had the privilege to walk beside the lord of shadows himself?

The hound's black gaze moved around the halls, searching. He was indeed on a hunt like the good little dog he was. His target? The Rhodes.

He was about done with their entitlement, even when they were strangers, but it got worse when they crossed paths with the House. And now, Malakai wanted their attention and had sent Brody out for blood. Not literally, they weren't there yet, scarying their little precious sister was a message strong enough to hit them.

Brody approached her locker room. He knew she was alone because he could hear only one quick-paced but steady heartbeat coming from inside the small room, and anyway, his intervention was planned to hit her when she'd be alone.

Not alone, never alone, Brody felt the shadows whisps around him as darkness moved to encourage him - he knew Malakai was eager. Like a reply to his thought, the white neon lights above his head flickered and switched off, paving the way to more shadows to flood the space. Brody smiled.

Without caring to be polite, he kicked the door of the locker room in and barged in with the expected grace a man his size would have. He knew where the girl stood even through the door, so Brody's predator gaze fixed on her even before she had time to realise what was happening. He didn't give her any time to react and grabbed her from behind, rudely, strong arms caging her small frame to his large chest as a hand landed heavily on her mouth, suffocating any attempt for her to call for help.

If she tried to fight him off, any attempt would be useless.

Lights went off around them, all but the one from the bathroom, allowing the room to be slightly lit so she could still see what was coming for her. Brody smiled like a hungry wolf, sniffing the air around her and being pleased at the traces of fear surrounding her aura. And than that smile became a twisted laughter as shadows started to take shape and consistency. "Watch closely, little one," he hinted at her, making sure her face was pointed in the right direction. He didn't want her to doubt for a second what kind of entity her dear brothers had gone against. "Behold, the king of the black throne."

[indiecircusrp]

[@revolutionizethegame] @[kingoftheblackthrone] malakai + @[thehound] brody w/ emily rhodes

Brody crossed the backstage halls without a worry in his mind. After all, why would he have any reason to watch his back when he was at the top of the food chain? He was the biggest shark. He was the biggest motherfucker there, the one everyone had to look their back from. The true predator. Nothing worried him. Nothing scared him. He was the one doing the scaring and the hurting.

Some may think he was only a dog, good for nothing but to obey his master's orders, and part of that may have been true; he did have a leash around his neck, but not because he was forced into it. No one would have ever been able to make him do something he didn't want to do. He chose Malakai as a leader. He chose to swear fealty to him and never once doubted his choice. And, so far, Malakai had never failed to give him everything he promised and everything he deserved. Malakai Black might be his master, and Brody might live and breathe to obey him, but that wasn't degrading; it was the opposite. Malakai offered him a place to belong to in his House; he gave him a purpose, respect, and even affection. Now, why would Brody ever bite the hand that feeds?

No. Brody was scared of nothing. Not when shadows always lingered, protective around him, watching over him, as darkness bended under Malakai's will like to a god. Why would Brody ever wish to worship any other when he had the privilege to walk beside the lord of shadows himself?

The hound's black gaze moved around the halls, searching. He was indeed on a hunt like the good little dog he was. His target? The Rhodes.

He was about done with their entitlement, even when they were strangers, but it got worse when they crossed paths with the House. And now, Malakai wanted their attention and had sent Brody out for blood. Not literally, they weren't there yet, scarying their little precious sister was a message strong enough to hit them.

Brody approached her locker room. He knew she was alone because he could hear only one quick-paced but steady heartbeat coming from inside the small room, and anyway, his intervention was planned to hit her when she'd be alone.

Not alone, never alone, Brody felt the shadows whisps around him as darkness moved to encourage him - he knew Malakai was eager. Like a reply to his thought, the white neon lights above his head flickered and switched off, paving the way to more shadows to flood the space. Brody smiled.

Without caring to be polite, he kicked the door of the locker room in and barged in with the expected grace a man his size would have. He knew where the girl stood even through the door, so Brody's predator gaze fixed on her even before she had time to realise what was happening. He didn't give her any time to react and grabbed her from behind, rudely, strong arms caging her small frame to his large chest as a hand landed heavily on her mouth, suffocating any attempt for her to call for help.

If she tried to fight him off, any attempt would be useless.

Lights went off around them, all but the one from the bathroom, allowing the room to be slightly lit so she could still see what was coming for her. Brody smiled like a hungry wolf, sniffing the air around her and being pleased at the traces of fear surrounding her aura. And than that smile became a twisted laughter as shadows started to take shape and consistency. "Watch closely, little one," he hinted at her, making sure her face was pointed in the right direction. He didn't want her to doubt for a second what kind of entity her dear brothers had gone against. "Behold, the king of the black throne."

[indiecircusrp]

@[ghostrider]

Matt was both pissed off and amused. He liked to pick his fights; being dragged into one without consent wasn't really his style - plus, he was old for bar brawls, but he never turned down one when it presented itself. He was born to fight, to feel and endure pain, and especially to hurt others, and to win. Fighting was one of the few things he was good at, and the only thing that allowed him to be completely himself.

There was poetry in the way he had to feel the weight in each step, controlling his breathing, being high alert and as precise as ever to be able to dodge and hit with precision. And there was skill in his lack of fear or remorse. May that be a bar brawl or a ring, his opponents had walked into it willingly, so it would have been their problem if they ended up hurt and broken in more places than just the body; the ego, for one, was a good one to break in assholes like the boys attacking him.

Matt didn't tend to cheat. He wasn't a dirty fighter; he had a high moral code he liked to keep. Unless he got wronged in the first place, in which case, he didn't mind playing dirty. And a situation like that, five against two, required a good deal of nut kicking and throat or solar plexus punching.

Matt stopped thinking about it after a while; his body acted instinctively moving, dashing, parrying and hitting with ease. The boys were amateurs at best and ignorant for the most part, which meant they quickly fell on their ass, rolling on the floor whining in a pathetic display of misery. A smug smile crossed his lips as he looked at the scene. The rest of the clientele had cleared off around them, watching more appalled than amused.

"Sorry Pete," he mumbled, raising a hand towards the bartender behind the counter, genuinely feeling for the guy. "Put the table on my tab, right? I'll pay it back. The rest? These bastards can pay for." As he spoke, the man realised his jaw was aching. He had taken a hit a couple of times, but was sure the other's hand hurt more.

His attention then moved to the boy who fought next to him. He looked like hell, blood smeared over his face, ruffled hair and clothes, but underneath it all, his gaze was lit. It was undeniable, even for someone who didn't know him. But Matt knew that look, the thirst for the fight. The other was a stranger, and yet recognition sparked in Matt, like he was looking into a fracture in time.

"Come with me," he commanded without the patience to wait and see if the boy was going to be in the mood to do so. It surely came time to bail. Matt walked out without checking if the boy followed, but knowing it wasn't like he had any better option. "Care to tell me what happened in there?" He wondered once they were out, flipping a hand-rolled cigarette out of an old-school looking silver box he carried with him. He sent a look over to the boy, studying him.

@[ghostrider]

Matt didn't have the first clue of what happened but before he knew it he had been sucked into a bar brawl. Someone landed on him and, instead of getting back on their feet and being apologetic, the kid lashed out at him, as if Matt had been the culprit, hitting him first.

Shit luck for them, he thought. He was pissed off enough to do what he knew best - suppress the fight with a stronger fight. The kids would have thought about it twice next time if they all ended up with their ass handed to them. Matt took the first unexpected rookie punch to the jaw but was quick to react on his feet. The hit wasn't strong enough to confuse him, only enough to piss him off, maybe to leave a bruise. But Matt was certain the other must have hurt himself more, hitting his knuckles against his strong jaw. His body responded to the adrenaline of the fight with a skill that was, by now, innate. He didn't have to think about it. His responsive punch was a quick and well-set hook to the jaw, then, taking advantage of the boy losing balance, Matt roughly grabbed him by the T-shirt and rolled under him, threw him over his shoulder and through a table.

Matt only lost a second to look back, catching his breath. A proud smile popped on his lips as the boy moved, groaning in pain, but didn't dare to get back up. "Atta boy."

He then looked back into the rest of the fight, noticing how the rhythm had slowed now that he had put someone through a table. Matt didn't lose much time to assess the situation or think about right ot wrong, he only needed a quick look to know exactly the situation he had been dragged into.

One boy stood between the others. He bled but pulled a twisted smile as his gaze was full of the fight. Matt thought that look felt so familiar. "Five against one, uh?" Matt taunted the other four, siding with the single standing boy, who seemed more than ready to continue fighting despite having been punched a fair amount. Matt's dangerous look slipped on the rest of the boys; their cowardice was clear as day.

God, he hated kids.

"So? That's all you got? Cause I ain't done. C'mon," Matt readied himself, raising his defence and looking at them through his raised fists. "I can do this all day, bitches. Let's go." He sent a quick look to his temporary partner, thinking that was a hell of a way for an introduction.

[indiecircusrp]

[@revolutionizethegame] @[theoneandonly] olivia w/ cm punk + samoa joe

The small student house buzzed with energy. Downstairs, the party had already started. People had been coming and going ever since earlier that afternoon. Someone, at some point, had fired up the BBQ, making it official that the fun could start, so people started drinking and playing music. Upstairs, some of the girls were still getting ready. The multiple rooms were messy and open as girls and girlfriends came and went, borrowing make-up, trying on clothing and just generally chatting.

From downstairs came the loud chattering of many people mixed with music, the speakers pumped Nelly Furtado's last year's most famous Promiscuous, clearly setting the vibe up.

"How many people have you invited?" Olly asked, sending Val, one of her housemates, a look through the mirror while trying to fix her earring.

"Oh, you know how these things go. It was supposed to be just a couple of dozen but-" The girl shrugged innocently, sending Olly a little smile in response. "Can't help it if the entire campus decided to join. We are hot."

Olly laughed, shaking her head. "Well, it's clearly more than that. Let's just hope no one is going to break anything and that we won't get the police called. Neighbours already hate us enough around here."

"What is there to hate about a house full of college girls!?" Another housemate popped by the door bearing a bottle of clear vodka as an offering. Val took it without too much thought, while Olly shook her head, declining. "I think the answer to that is: a house full of college girls." They all chuckled, and then Val pressed on, trying to pass the vodka over again. "You got your boy coming over, right?"

Right. Olly's nerves shook and the warm twist of adrenaline tickled her stomach as she felt her anxiety rising. "He isn't my boy," she specified, obsessively checking out how her skimpy outfit fell on her thin body.

She met Joe at work. Most stuff about working there was pretty grim, but the pay was good. Good enough for her to ignore how she got hired exclusively because she was a "pretty face" who could catch the audience's attention being the new young little thing and not much more than that. And it worked; they certainly had an eye for business around those parts. Olly would have had fun with it; the mostly unwanted attention from the locker room and the audience alike wasn't the problem. Her barely having a say on what she could wear - which mostly included her being as uncovered as possible - and having her weight checked twice monthly was. But, working there had its perks besides the money. She got the chance to travel and network all across the US, something estremely lucky for someone in her position as an undergrad of sociology and public relations.

Who cared if to get there she had to go through a few uncomfortable conversations, it's not like she was going to do it for the rest of her life and she was twenty two only once in life.

Plus, the place had other perks. Like Joe.

Joe may not be her boy yet, but she had a pretty definite goal in mind. She liked him. She liked him a lot. He made her laugh, and he made her nervous, like not many other boys could say to have the privilege. And he was charming and easy to talk to, someone able to make her feel pretty, but not uncomfortable about it.

On that thought, Olly rolled her eyes, easily giving into Val's temptation, grabbing the bottle off her hand and taking a sip directly from it. Both her mates encouraged her with a cheer while the only thing the girl was thinking was how embarrassing it could have been if she was developing the biggest crush on a wrestler that did crazy shit for a living, and it may not be reciprocated.

"Olly!" Someone, a guy voice she didn't recognise, shouted from downstairs. "It's for you," to which point she just knew it must have been Joe arriving. Was it already six? She wondered in a slight panic, feeling like she wasn't at all ready or pretty enough. Both her friends, as she walked by, gave her a slap on the butt. "Go and get 'em," joked Val.

Olly hurried down the stairs, still trying to keep composure, unwilling to show her nervousness, especially to Joe.

As her eyes landed on him, a large smile popped on her lips while approaching. Her heart skipped a beat. He patiently waited by the door, chatting to someone she didn't pay attention to for the time being. "Hi, welcome," she caught his attention placing a hand on his arm, "it's nice to see you, glad you made it." She truly was, daring to pull him into a friendly hug only to have the excuse to feel him close. "Did you miss me?" She chirped happily.

Her eyes then switched to the other guy standing by, recognising his badly bleached hair. "Oh, hey," she was more surprised than anything, not expecting Joe bringing someone along. She knew him from work too, but it wasn't like her and Punk had talked much before then. "I don't think I know you as well," she hanged by Joe side, pushing a hand out, "I'm Olly. Punk, right? Or you go by something else while not in the ring?"

Olly then cleared her voice, deciding to shake off the awkwardness quickly. There was no reason why it was going to be a problem to hang with both. "Can I offer you anything? Want a drink? And I'm pretty sure we got hot dogs on the go in the back garden," she tapped her chin. "You tell me, boys."

[indiecircusrp]

@[ghostrider]

Matt didn't have the first clue of what happened but before he knew it he had been sucked into a bar brawl. Someone landed on him and, instead of getting back on their feet and being apologetic, the kid lashed out at him, as if Matt had been the culprit, hitting him first.

Shit luck for them, he thought. He was pissed off enough to do what he knew best - suppress the fight with a stronger fight. The kids would have thought about it twice next time if they all ended up with their ass handed to them. Matt took the first unexpected rookie punch to the jaw but was quick to react on his feet. The hit wasn't strong enough to confuse him, only enough to piss him off, maybe to leave a bruise. But Matt was certain the other must have hurt himself more, hitting his knuckles against his strong jaw. His body responded to the adrenaline of the fight with a skill that was, by now, innate. He didn't have to think about it. His responsive punch was a quick and well-set hook to the jaw, then, taking advantage of the boy losing balance, Matt roughly grabbed him by the T-shirt and rolled under him, threw him over his shoulder and through a table.

Matt only lost a second to look back, catching his breath. A proud smile popped on his lips as the boy moved, groaning in pain, but didn't dare to get back up. "Atta boy."

He then looked back into the rest of the fight, noticing how the rhythm had slowed now that he had put someone through a table. Matt didn't lose much time to assess the situation or think about right ot wrong, he only needed a quick look to know exactly the situation he had been dragged into.

One boy stood between the others. He bled but pulled a twisted smile as his gaze was full of the fight. Matt thought that look felt so familiar. "Five against one, uh?" Matt taunted the other four, siding with the single standing boy, who seemed more than ready to continue fighting despite having been punched a fair amount. Matt's dangerous look slipped on the rest of the boys; their cowardice was clear as day.

God, he hated kids.

"So? That's all you got? Cause I ain't done. C'mon," Matt readied himself, raising his defence and looking at them through his raised fists. "I can do this all day, bitches. Let's go." He sent a quick look to his temporary partner, thinking that was a hell of a way for an introduction.

[@revolutionizethegame] matt w/brek stoney

Matt was a regular at gritty-looking bars. He liked them. There was always something to see; quirky memorabilia, ugly furniture, the usual drunken who'd have stories to tell. He found places like that so in tune with his nature, making it more than a habit but a proper hobby to visit as many as he could while he was on the road. It wasn't just that he looked like he blended in perfectly in dark, crooked places, all dressed in leather and worn-out blue jeans like he usually did, looking as dark and dangerous as he possibly; it was that he simply found some form of simple pleasure in sitting there, sipping on a doubtful quality scotch while his elbows stuck to the counter surface.

"Hey Pete?" he called the bartender from the corner where he sat, "give me another?" he hinted at the empty glass, making the left ice-cubes clink in it. The nod he received was plenty friendly. He was known around those parts, making it a point to go enjoy a drink in that disgraced corner of the city.

While he waited, Matt's gaze circled around the room. Besides the usual crowd of a dozen unlucky bastards who were all there to enjoy cheap booze and share solitude, the place was slightly busier than normal. Students, for sure. The college brought in shit loads of youngsters each year and the only thing they would want to do on a Saturday night would be getting drunk, be loud and hope for a fuck.

Matt didn't give it too much thought, but he didn't appreciate them invading his space. Maybe, for everyone's well-being, he should have just got up and left. They would have grown tired of hanging out there. He didn't like young people. He didn't like many people in general. It was hard for him to be able to find akin spirits, and even in the wrestling industry, he mostly dealt with things on his own and his own way, just like everything else.

Matt was renowned and respected enough. People didn't tend to fuck with him, knowing consequences would have followed. And he wasn't known to take it easy either. He was the personification of the fight in the dog. Fighting was everything he knew, and not much else was worth to him but proving his worth in the ring. Now, at almost forty years of age, he had finally worked long and hard enough to be proud of his career, wins and losses alike. His occupation and all the expectations resting on his shoulders left little to no time for him to even notice everything he may have missed.

As the bartender brought his drink over, Matt chugged it down, slamming the glass on the counter. "How about I settle up? Don't see it becoming much more fun around here." Matt loosely hinted to the kids having their fun. Pete, an older guy who had worked there for a decade, laughed, shaking his head. "Didn't know you were in for the fun of it," he then shook his hand in Matt's face. "On the house for tonight, seems like I'll get my sales in."

"Appreciating it, man. I'll see you soon." Matt slipped back into his biker leather jacket and turned over to leave. Little did he know, hell was about to break loose. All he needed was to be standing in the wrong square meter at the wrong second, and before he knew it, a fight had broken out and kids were throwing punches at each other, dragging him into it. Shit.

[indiecircusrp]

[@revolutionizethegame] matt w/brek stoney

Matt was a regular at gritty-looking bars. He liked them. There was always something to see; quirky memorabilia, ugly furniture, the usual drunken who'd have stories to tell. He found places like that so in tune with his nature, making it more than a habit but a proper hobby to visit as many as he could while he was on the road. It wasn't just that he looked like he blended in perfectly in dark, crooked places, all dressed in leather and worn-out blue jeans like he usually did, looking as dark and dangerous as he possibly; it was that he simply found some form of simple pleasure in sitting there, sipping on a doubtful quality scotch while his elbows stuck to the counter surface.

"Hey Pete?" he called the bartender from the corner where he sat, "give me another?" he hinted at the empty glass, making the left ice-cubes clink in it. The nod he received was plenty friendly. He was known around those parts, making it a point to go enjoy a drink in that disgraced corner of the city.

While he waited, Matt's gaze circled around the room. Besides the usual crowd of a dozen unlucky bastards who were all there to enjoy cheap booze and share solitude, the place was slightly busier than normal. Students, for sure. The college brought in shit loads of youngsters each year and the only thing they would want to do on a Saturday night would be getting drunk, be loud and hope for a fuck.

Matt didn't give it too much thought, but he didn't appreciate them invading his space. Maybe, for everyone's well-being, he should have just got up and left. They would have grown tired of hanging out there. He didn't like young people. He didn't like many people in general. It was hard for him to be able to find akin spirits, and even in the wrestling industry, he mostly dealt with things on his own and his own way, just like everything else.

Matt was renowned and respected enough. People didn't tend to fuck with him, knowing consequences would have followed. And he wasn't known to take it easy either. He was the personification of the fight in the dog. Fighting was everything he knew, and not much else was worth to him but proving his worth in the ring. Now, at almost forty years of age, he had finally worked long and hard enough to be proud of his career, wins and losses alike. His occupation and all the expectations resting on his shoulders left little to no time for him to even notice everything he may have missed.

As the bartender brought his drink over, Matt chugged it down, slamming the glass on the counter. "How about I settle up? Don't see it becoming much more fun around here." Matt loosely hinted to the kids having their fun. Pete, an older guy who had worked there for a decade, laughed, shaking his head. "Didn't know you were in for the fun of it," he then shook his hand in Matt's face. "On the house for tonight, seems like I'll get my sales in."

"Appreciating it, man. I'll see you soon." Matt slipped back into his biker leather jacket and turned over to leave. Little did he know, hell was about to break loose. All he needed was to be standing in the wrong square meter at the wrong second, and before he knew it, a fight had broken out and kids were throwing punches at each other, dragging him into it. Shit.

[indiecircusrp]

indie circus | independent kayfabe wrestling roleplaying account | multiuse | mostly 00s and modern tna, indie circuits, misc | selective | ships exclusive to @revolutionizethegame | please be advised there will be nsfw content following - +18 audience only - I will do my best to keep up with warnings and tags where needed | side blog to @marinashafirrp @rheanightmareripleyrp and my other multis @itstaztvrp + @attitude-erarp

my muses | sting | jeff hardy | matt cardona | ofc! olivia roberts tna ring announcer - fc: florence pugh | lita | ofc! poison ivy aka: ivy morrison, wwe wrestler - fc: madeline brewer | malakai black (aew era) | brody king | mjf |