Anyone else a fan? I stumbled across some of his stuff on youtube a while ago by complete accident and I got hooked. Kind've reminds me of a more gothic Weird Al. Some comedic songs, some songs actually serious. I'm a sucker for satirical type things, so I've become a big fan.

Here's a few different flavours of his music:

The Beast of Pirate's Bay by Voltaire (OFFICIAL)

Voltaire - When You're Evil (Lyrics)

Voltaire - Crusade (Lyrics)

I'll start this off with a quick disclaimer - I'm in no way looking for attention or trying to be melodramatic by posting this. I don't often bring my personal life onto the boards, but since coming back here a little while ago I've been feeling the need to get some things off my chest. It's a really awesome group of people that we've got here on EFK, and this is something I quite want to share, because keeping this kind of thing quiet can be rough.

Disclaimer #2: This is not in the slightest bit a joke. I'm not trying to pull one over on anyone (it would be... pretty weird if I was), just being honest. I get that this might seem funny to some people, but it's quite sensitive for me, for reasons that'll become pretty clear. So uh... please don't take the piss too much. Thanks. 


To cut straight to the chase, for just over a year now I've been trying to come to terms with Gender Dysphoria, that is "the formal diagnosis used by psychologists and physicians to describe persons who experience significant gender dysphoria (discontent with their biological sex and/or the gender they were assigned at birth)" (thanks Dr wikipedia!). In layman's terms, my body doesn't match up to what I feel my gender is. It was the beginning of last year that I started actually looking at the numerous strange thoughts and emotions I was having as possibly something to do with GID (gender identity disorder), and the more I researched it, the more it clicked with the feelings that I was having.

However, at the same time I was currently trying to deal with my A level exams, as my issues had the fantastic timing to manifest most just before I started sitting my January tests. School stress on top of this new personal trouble meant that something had to give way, and eventually that turned out to be the time I spent on this site. RL became a priority and I just up and vanished, which I still feel bad for (the lack of explanation, not necessarily the departure. In any case, I went on to juggle things enough to manage to pass my exams, get to university, and eventually start feeling like I wanted to rejoin one of my old communities.

Long story short I'm currently wrapped up in the middle of the extremely slow process of trying to get treatment on the NHS, which in a year has got me as far as recently receiving a letter telling me that I can get an appointment at the gender identity clinic in 12-18 months (yay). In the mean time I've been concentrating on trying to come out to people and getting a handle on a new, female identity, which has been going positively (university... some of the greatest collection of people I've ever met). Hopefully before long I'll be able to start the whole process in earnest, and until then I'll know that I already can actually pass quite well, which is always a comfort. ^^

If you took the time to read that, thanks guys. It's a difficult thing to keep under wraps, but I wouldn't have come out with it unless I genuinely enjoyed the company of the people here. 

And now for something completely different...

If you're not in the know, the Sanctuary is a competitive writing 'fed', where the scenario is that of a zombie apocalypse. Every week the people controlling the characters all RP, and the worst RP is eliminated from the game for that 'Season' (whether through dying or through being otherwise detained). Obviously isn't not fedding per se, but still, it's something that would be nice to get some feedy on, if anybody has some spare time.

Sasaki's bio: At 23 years of age, David is just your ordinary (albeit slightly flakey) young adult and as such, so far out of his depth that it isn't even funny. A graduate with an art degree, David soon discovered that his qualifications had few practical applications in the world of work, earning him a job at the giddy heights of a clerk in the local supermarket. Disillusioned and jaded, David nevertheless lived in hope that something better would come along all the way up until jobs didn't really matter any longer. With nothing more going for him than determination, David has made a solid commitment for the very first time in his life; survival, whatever the cost.

As of the first RP, shit hasn't quite hit the fan yet. Society is still going, the lights are on, the government is there, but there are more and more infected about and there is a newly installed national curfew 7 - 7. Anybody out during those hours will be shot on sight. Society hasn't collapsed yet... but it's crumbling.

Earthshaker

Good fucking god but this was boring.

David Sasaki sat slouched in his chair behind the register in a poky little store with delusions of grandeur. He wasn't really supposed to lounge around on the job, but damn, it wasn't as if there was anybody to give a bad impression to. The last customer in had been and gone what felt like days ago and Sasaki's boss - the store owner, had taken off 'for ten minutes' over an hour and a half previously. So fuck it. As far as Sasaki was concerned, with the way things were, he deserved a medal for even coming in. Or extra pay, that would be good, though it was so much wishful thinking on his part.

The situation... well, it sounded pretty fucked up from where David was standing; a lot of his experience of the whole deal with the 'infected' had been via the news on TV, but this new curfew, the packed hospital... they were real and personal enough. Sasaki wasn't sure what to make of it all. It obviously wasn't a small problem, but was it really as much of disaster as people were making out? He had his doubts. On the one hand, how bad could everything really be? Stations were still broadcasting, the politicians were still arguing about the problem, as they did every last little damn thing; fuck, for all this hype about how dangerous the 'infected' were, Sasaki hadn't even laid eyes on one firsthand. All the same, on the other hand... there was that incident down in Alabamba with the national guard. Much as Sasaki wanted to put that down to military overreaction, you were talking kids here. What kind of lunatic ordered soldiers to open fire on school children without the best damn reason in the world? Doing it for the wrong one was asking for a fucking crucifixtion.

Added to that there were... other things. Small, isolated incidents. Little episodes that whilst noteworthy, weren't anything to get up in arms about, not on their own at least. But added together? Well, they certainly contributed to the sense of unease had about the current crisis. Stuff like people coming in and buying a shitload of groceries (or on a couple of occasions, beer). David's coworker announcing he was feeling rough and thought he'd better go to the hospital; a week had passed since then and there'd not been a sign of him. That guy that had come in with something which looked horribly like blood splattered all over his clothes, who Sasaki had just served as quickly as fucking possible to get him out of there. Fuck, even stuff like David's boss being late back from his break; the guy was a stickler for punctuality, once getting on his back for being all of two minutes late. Him being gone so long was yet another thing making life right now... less than normal.

Still, other than these few misgivings, Sasaki was mostly content with life. People were making a massive fuss over this new illness, but so did they all the time. They sensationalised a kid coughing in Thailand into a pandemic. Doubtless once this all blew over it'd be forgotten within two weeks and the media circus would find some new supervirus to seize upon and herald as the end of days. And he didn't doubt that it would blow over. These things always did. Even though trivialising the sickness was stupid because of the obvious evidence of the effects it was having, if society was collapsing, David couldn't see it happening.

Although the rows of barely stocked shelves told an interesting tale...

Sasaki sighed and leaned forwards, putting his elbows on the counter to prop up his chin in his hands. Manning a store single-handedly on a slow (practically dead) day really was mind-numbingly dull and Sasaki didn't have much of an attention span to begin with. For a few moments, he toyed with the idea of taking out his sketchpad, but then decided against it; he wasn't much in the mood for drawing. Then again, since he'd left college, he'd never really been in the mood. He cast about, looking for at least something to do, but turning up nothing more than the little radio stashed behind the counter. He hesitated for a second, then bent down to it and twisted the dial to switch it on. Reception had been pretty shit recently, but Sasaki could deal with some static if it relieved him of this crippling boredom. There was a wash of white noise and then voices, crackling but distinct.

"-I'm saying is that a curfew isn't going to make people calm down! You've seen what some of the infected are like - they're aren't exactly acting rationally!" the voice had an irritated tone to it, Sasaki figured he'd tuned in to some kind of debate.

"The President had to enact some kind of countermeasure though; this is the best course of action to avoid another San Francisco," a second voice, more reasonable in demeanour yet still communicating some exasperation.

"By gunning people down in the streets!?"

"Well, not exactly but-"

"This curfew is going to do little more than replicate Mobile on a national scale!"

"Now hold on just one second!"

Sasaki rolled his eyes. Typical. Some sort of debate show, perhaps even political, naturally concerned with nothing more than the virus. Not exactly his idea of something too stimulating. For every point that these two guys raised, Sasaki had heard the exact same argument - if worded a little differently, a dozen times over. So much for that ide-

Ding.

David's head snapped up and miraculously his ears hadn't deceived him. That was the bell on the door going off! An actual real live customer? Say it ain't so! The newcomer was a man in his twenties, his hair buzzed and jaw unshaven. Both of his hands were shoved firmly in the pockets of a pair of green cargo pants. Catching Sasaki's eye, he politely inclined his head and went wandering off into the shop proper. Just before he disappeared behind a row of shelves, David noted that the customer had a neatly bandaged forearm. It didn't look to be bothering him very much, but there was blood visible that had partially soaked through the bandage. Still, Sasaki didn't care about that; having somebody in the store was at least something to break up the monotony of the day, even if only for a little while. However, his brow furrowed when the newcomer returned to him at the counter in what seemed like record time. Okay sure, they were understocked, but how could he have had time to check the whole store so quickly?

"Can I help you?" Sasaki asked as the customer looked towards the rows again, then at the door.

"Uh... yeah," said the guy, approaching the clerk. He hesitated for a second, then one of his hands snapped up, holding a pistol he must have had in his pocket!

"Fuck!" Sasaki yelped, jumping back and colliding with the display behind him, sending packets of cigarettes flying everywhere. The pistol remained trained straight at him, albeit with its barrel wavering somewhat. Obviously this particular robber wasn't feeling too confident right about now.

Having said that, Sasaki was assuredly feeling a hell of a lot worse.

"The register - open the fucking register!" the guy waved wildly with his gun at David.

Sasaki swallowed. "Uh, dude, there ain't dick in the register," he didn't want to rile the guy up, but it was the honest to god truth. "Nobody's been in man, we got nothing but pocket change."

The would-be bandit swore loudly, taking another wild look around. The sidewalk outside of the glass storefront was utterly deserted - no help was coming from that avenue, at least not immediately. Fuuuck. Of all the days to be manning the store solo, it just had to be the one where some nutcase with a gun came charging in, didn't it?

"Just give me what there is - alright!?"

Sasaki held up both hands and popped the register. He wasn't some kind of ninja action hero, hell if he was going to risk getting shot dead for the sake of what couldn't amount to more than ten dollars. Gathering up the meagre pickings the register held, Sasaki handed it over to the buzz-haired man. Snatching it from David, the other quickly counted up his 'takings', then snarled in frustration and pocketed it anyway. The clerk watched as his 'customer' went roving into the shelves again, though being sure that he didn't stray far enough to allow Sasaki out of his sight... or his crosshairs.

After a few seconds of watching the robber pace back and forth agitatedly, Sasaki called out to him. "Far be it from me to criticise the guy with the gun... but dude, it's broad fucking daylight. You're fucking lucky somebody hasn't already seen you and called the police. In f-" Sasaki was cut off by a snort of laughter. The shaven guy looked both amused and incredulous.

"You kidding me man? Real life been passing you by or something? Here," the man with the gun walked back over to the counter and handed David a cell phone. The clerk looked at it with confusion. "Call 9-1-1. Go on, I'll wait."

Sasaki looked at the other man with first disbelief, then trepidation. Either this guy was fucking insane... or something was horribly wrong. Nevertheless, David dialled the number, held the phone to his ear, and...

"You have reached the emergency services, please hold the line until we connect you to an operator," after about thirty seconds of that message looping, Sasaki hung up and returned the phone.

"Everything's gone to shit. You see all that infection stuff on the news? It's worse than they're making out. A lot worse. I'm just surviving here."

"If things are so bad, why the fuck are you robbing corner shops!?" Sasaki, feeling there was a flaw in that logic somewhere, didn't hesitate to make his feelings known.

"Never know wh-"

David never got his answer, because at the moment, there was the sound of shattering glass and half a scream, abruptly terminated. Both Sasaki and the man with the gun whipped around. A pair of men had come crashing through the shop window, one having apparently tackled the other clean through the glass. Then ripped his throat out with his teeth. Sasaki's jaw dropped as the soon-to-be-dead party twitched and gurgled on the floor and his assailant looked up from his victim, displaying a crimson maw and a pair of soulless dark eyes. There was a surreal moment as Sasaki and the robber stared at the bloody-faced man, and he stared back at them and then... he lunged forwards.

The 'customer' swore and fired off a wayward shot at the advancing... man? Creature? Monster? - missing entirely. Sasaki, not being much for valour, decided this would be an ideal opportunity to make himself scarce. Vaulting the counter as the guy who'd held him up raved incoherently at his attacker, Sasaki didn't waste a moment in dashing over to the sizeable hole in the storefront, leaping through it and booking it up the street as fast as his legs could take him. No destination in mind but away from that fucking store.

As his feet pounded the pavement, Sasaki looked left and right, up and down. All around were the signs of something having gone terribly wrong. Boarded up windows, abandoned cars, even the occasional dead body. How in the fuck had he missed all of this, living in his comfortable bubble of scepticism? How in the fuck?

Sasaki found himself wishing for the comfortable boredom to return, knowing in his heart that for him, nothing was going to be quite the same way again.

'Ello ye of graphical skill, I've got a request for my character on Jesse's new site.

The name is David Sasaki and the picbase is Shirota Yuu.

This'll sound odd but I'll try to explain it. My only real preference is that the background isn't like... a design. For example flames or some kind of digital malarky. Gah. It's hard to word it. Basically the backdrop shouldn't be too artsy.

If you have the l33t skills to make it look good, then a zombie themed sig would be pretty sweet though, but don't worry if that's not workable, I'm not picky, lol.

Please and thank you. I'd be grateful.

Just a couple of quick notes:

* This isn't an active character as it stands. This RP was just literally me feeling them out a bit to see if they were a character I was able to write.

* The promo style (all caps directions, etc) is the one typically used in the TFWF.

* The opponent/fed referenced don't exist, lol.

* That said, I'd still like the reviewer to be as up front as possible and not pull any punches. I'm still developing the character in my head and on paper, so input would be very useful for tweaking leading up to a debut, particularly because she's unlikely to see the light of day properly for quite a while.



(LIGHTS OUT. THE ARENA GOES DARK AS THE CROWD BREAKS OUT IN CONFUSED MURMURING. SECONDS LATER A SPOTLIGHT ILLUMINATES THE STAGE. A FIGURE IS STANDING THERE, FACING AWAY FROM THE RING. THEY WHEEL AROUND AND RAISE BOTH ARMS ABOVE THEIR HEAD, SPREAD WIDE, BUT THE CROWD CAN'T SEE MORE THAN A SILHOUETTE.)


(LIGHTS ON. THE FIGURE IS REVEALED TO BE A YOUTHFUL WOMAN IN WRESTLING GEAR. THERE'S NO REAL REACTION FROM THE CROWD BECAUSE THEY HAVE NO FUCKING IDEA WHO SHE IS. SHE PRODUCES A MICROPHONE FROM SOMEWHERE ABOUT HER PERSON. WHEN SHE SPEAKS IT'S WITH A CONFIDENT DRAWL.)


: Take note. Each of you has just borne witness to something very special. In fact, so special that it is the single most important thing to have happened in this federation's history. The debut of Ash Wilson. My debut.


(SHE PICKS UP SOME HEAT FOR THAT, NOBODY LIKES ARROGANCE. SHE DOESN'T SEEM TO GIVE A DAMN.)


AW: What? Don't you agree? Are you honestly stupid enough to believe there's better - has ever been better in this company before I walked out here? Standing before you is pure talent, pure prowess. Standing before you is perfection.


(WILSON STARTS STROLLING DOWN TOWARDS THE RING, IN NO HURRY AS SHE SOAKS UP THE EVER INCREASING BOOS FROM THE CROWD. SHE ROLLS UNDER THE BOTTOM ROPE INTO THE RING THEN LOOKS AROUND AT THE FANS FOR A BIT BEFORE SPEAKING AGAIN.)


AW: So far as I'm concerned... this ring is now my property. How can I say that? It's simple. There's not a wrestler out there that can prove me wrong. It doesn't matter who they are or how hard they try. They will fail. That's a guarantee.


(WILSON TURNS HER HEAD TO EITHER SIDE AS THE CROWD START UP WITH A 'BULLSHIT' CHANT.)


AW: You know I'm not positive, but I think I'm sensing a little scepticism right now. For those that are too illiterate to read the writing on the wall, I encourage you to stay right where you are. Later tonight, some poor soul is going to step out from backstage... and then I'm going to snap them in half. Unless they've got the barest scrap of intelligence needed to recognise just what I am and stay away. But I wouldn't hold out hope for that. Owen Blakely...


(THE FANS IN ATTENDANCE POP FOR THE NAME DROP, WILSON LOOKS PRETTY ANNOYED AT BEING INTERRUPTED.)


AW: Owen Blakely is just barely famous enough that I've heard of him... and just barely clever enough to qualify as a human being and not a plant. And if you're supporting him... well, that explains a lot. Wrestlers attract fans from those that are like them, who can identify with them. Small wonder that a moron like him appeals to this crowd. In fact, small wonder that you aren't too fond of me. You see a person as flawless as I am... and you envy them, because you know in your heart of hearts that you'll just never be that good, that intelligent, that beautiful. Sorry, but there's only so much ability to go around, and I took the share that I was entitled to. What, do you really think, looking at me and looking at him that I'm somebody that he could beat?


(WILSON CUPS A HAND TO HER EAR, THEN CUTS OFF THOSE FANS QUICK ENOUGH OFF THE MARK TO START CHANTING 'YES WE CAN'.)


AW: No no no, don't speak, I don't care. In fact, I could not give less of a damn about your opinions. The truth is an easy one. Blakely can fight me now, he can fight me in ten year's time and he can fight me with one arm tied behind my back because it will not make the tiniest bit of difference to the result. Each and every last match will be won by me and lost by him. But you know, he shouldn't feel bad about that. He's not in exclusive company. In the group of people who would lose to me in a match, he joins... everyone.


(A SMUG SMIRK SPREADS ACROSS ASH'S FACE.)


AW: The moment that he heard that I was signing here, the Heavyweight champion went home, sat down and cried. He hugged his title belt and told it that he was afraid, and that he would miss holding it. And then he sighed to himself, wiped away his tears, and treasuring every day of his reign like it would be his last. Because the champion? He is not a stupid man, and he realised that at the moment he and I meet in this ring... a new champion will be crowned. That is not a target nor is it a promise. It is an inevitability. It's only the best that hold the top championships, and the very second that I put pen to paper on a contract... the best. Became. Me. Somewhere backstage they are already hard at work engraving a plaque with my name on it: Ash Wilson, Fake Wrestling Federation Heavyweight Champion. Sooner or later, they know that it will be required. Although given it's me we're talking about? Sooner. Definitely sooner.

(UNSURPRISINGLY THE CROWD ARE NOW AGAINST WILSON MORE THAN EVER BEFORE AS SHE'S DONE A GOOD JOB OF PISSING THEM OFF.)

AW: Just listen to you. Still booing your little hearts out like it will make a difference. In the weeks to come, you're all going to see how insignificant you truly are. There will be nothing any crowd of any size will be able to do to stop me winning... again ... and again... and again. It doesn't matter if your name is Average Joe, Owen Blakely or Superman because no matter WHO you are, you can't stop destiny. Take. Note. Tonight is going to go down in the history books as the beginning of a legend. Tonight is the night that Ash Wilson made her first appearance. And tonight is the night that all of FWF realised that it's just a matter of time... before I break them.

(WILSON CONTINUES TO GRIN AS SHE LOOKS AROUND AT THE CROWD, THEN SLOWLY LEAVES THE RING UNDER THE TOP ROPE, SEEMINGLY REVELLING IN THE NEGATIVITY SHE'S MANAGED TO EVINCE IN SUCH A SHORT SPACE OF TIME...)

DISCLAIMER: All of the views and comments made in this column are in no way intended to be taken seriously or as genuine criticisms/insults. The Smark is a character and you should treat his ramblings as in character.

P.S. Ratings reflect in part how good I believed the segments/RPs were, but are considerably biased by the Smark's personal opinions of the wrestlers involved and the action itself.


Greetings true believers! Having suffered momentary confusion on expecting Vital Signs to be aired thursday rather than Friday, I must conclude that it had to have been pre-recorded. Not sure how HIW managed to get away with broadcasting the thing a day late, but I guess I shouldn't be surprised by their lucky breaks any longer.

NEVERTHELESS, I am ready and prepared to execute my solemn duty, however heavy it may make my heart!

*

HIW Vital Signs: 22nd January 2010
Wembley Arena


1. Okay, we open with some standard announcing fare from Dyer and Jones, as always making me wonder whether there's genuine dislike between the two of them, or they're just good at acting it out. Anyway, they're inevitably interrupted by 'Devour' hitting the PA. GM Deka Zukito comes out and gets some huuge heat from the fans. He's actually very over, but I just wish that he'd make up his mind whether he wants to be an authority figure or an actual wrestler. He's good enough in the ring to do it, but I guess there isn't really anybody to fill in the 'evil boss' role.

Not unless they want to bring back *shudder* Saunders.

Deka plays down Azula's involvement, but he isn't fooling anybody. Besides, what would be the point of all the build up and messages if it wasn't important? Well anyway, Deka calls out Azula and then OH GOD MY EARS. 'Entertainment' plays and Chester Addison comes out. Deka tells him to GTFO, but unfortunately, the champ doesn't take the hint and marches all the way down to the ring. Expecting an excruciating promo, I was pleasantly surprised when Addison CKO'd the GM into next week. Then Addison had to go and ruin it by picking up the microphone. He threatens Deka not to get involved in his business and manages to make it at last halfway convincing, then leaves.

I am thoroughly sick of one or the other of these guys opening the show.


2. Short interview is up next, Jessie Hall having a few words with the main man himself, Johnny Styles. He tries to put himself over after last week's decimation at the hands of Katherine Stryfe, but it doesn't really work. They had the guy get SQUASHED, what were they thinking!? This is one of their champs AND probably their best wrestler! But whatever, I suppose asking for HIW to make sense is a little too much to hope for.


1st Match
Singles - Jinx vs. Travis Jeffries

...What.

Jeffries takes a chair to the back before the match even begins, and when it actually gets started, ends up getting punted in the head for the loss inside of like, a minute. Christ HIW, way to suddenly start deciding to sell Jinx as a threat! Why not job the guy coming off a victory in one of the hottest feuds you've had for a long time to him? Gee, that sounds like a great idea!

1/5

3. We then have a backstage seg with Dragon Demonico (your NEW UK champion) and his friend (tag team partner?) La Hormiga Verde. It's pretty goofy stuff, and a nice break from the standard serious fare, well up until Morgan Jones shows up that is. DD and Verde share a laugh at Jones' expense, leading to him challenging Dragon to a match. Not bad stuff, nice set up for later in the show.

4. We then cut to ringside, where we see Nathan Lancaster (been a while), saying that things haven't been going to plan, before laying down a challenge to the locker room: beat him and he quits. Naturally it is answered, a fired up Akemi Amaterasu coming out to give beating Lancaster a shot.

2nd 'Match'
Singles - Nathan Lancaster vs. Akemi Amaterasu

I honestly hesitate to call this a match, being that it was over in five seconds flat. Akemi rolls up Lancaster, one, two, three, bam he's gone. Yet another to add to HIW's 'future endeavours' pile. I'm wondering if the high talent turnover i's just bad luck on the company's part, or something about the federation that people dislike. Can't really say.

1/5

5. After the break, we're backstage again, where Akemi runs into Antonio Alves. He lets her know that he's none too happy with how she plays up to the fans, and Akemi responds by mocking him for losing to Jeffries in that 'I Quit' match at the HIW Christmas Special. Alves looks annoyed and Akemi goes off grinning. A sign of things to come, perhaps?

3rd Match:
Singles - Emma McIntyre vs. La Hormiga Verde

Not too shabby, I have to say! With Verde being a lighter weight wrestler, this was more even in the high flying department, which was definitely great to see. The Leafcutter was teased a couple of times, but McIntyre eventually picks up the win with Playing With Scissors. A CLEAN WIN! IT'S A MIRACLE!

3.5/5

6. Next seg, and (ugh) Addison is in his locker room. Stryfe walks in and says that, since their title match at the last PPV was ruined, she should get another shot. Addison, despite being the FACE, somehow gets away with both turning her down and belittling her, saying that Strfye ought to impress him for a shot. Uh... wow. Just wow. Since when does the champ decide who he's against?

4th Match
Four Way Dance - Katherine Stryfe vs. Johnny Styles vs. El Mistique vs. Antonio Alves

I'm not usually the biggest fan of these kind of clusterfucks, but the people concerned worked it quite well. The only and the only SBK really shone, just about managing to carry some poor work from Mistique and Alves, neither of whom seemed entirely on the ball today. The finish... HOLY SHIT THAT'S AWESOME! Stryfe dives off the top with a big splash onto Alves who is ON the shoulders of Styles as WELL as Mistique! How freaking strong do you have to BE to pull that off!? Styles hits the round lottery on both guys he's carrying and pins Mistique for the victory.

Holy crap!

3.5/5

7. Stryfe is straight back up on her feet and moves in to attack SBK from behind. He's looking to be on the verge of a major beatdown... but no! Travis Jeffries hits the ring with authority - charging down to throw Stryfe off to make the save! But here comes McIntyre to jump the guard rails and take Jeffries out with Style's Barely Legal title! The two guys look down and out as Nightmare Inc lay into them, but-

HOW MANY RUN INS DO YOU NEED IN ONE SEG!?

Scorpio of all people comes charging down the ramp! He's in the ring! Stryfe bails! McIntyre gets a lariat in the face! DOA is back! I need fresh pants!

8. We come back from commercial and see Jessie Hall going into Deka's office and asks him for his thoughts on Scorpio's return. He says he doesn't care and more or less tells her to fuck off. This really could have been covered in a Deka promo or something.

5th Match
Singles - Morgan Jones vs. Dragon Demonico

Good solid match, and well worked. Jones win after smashing Demonico into the turnbuckle and hitting the Original Sin, FINALLY putting somebody over Dragon. Don't get me wrong, I like the guy, but it just seemed like his veteran status was giving him a free ticket. Then again, Jones has been around as long if not longer than Dragon... I'm not sure if they're looking to get Jones back into the UK title picture or showing that because he can beat the UK champ, he can move up the card. Wouldn't mind seeing either, but he's due a push.

4/5

9. Post match, Verde runs in to check on Dragon and gets owned by Jones, who nails him with a big time Judgement. Ouch.

6th Match
Singles - Chester Addison vs.

Addison gets into the ring then asks who he's facing, only for Deka to come out and drop the... uh, 'bombshell' that it's in fact him. The match itself... not bad for Addison, still nothing that compelled me to keep the video streaming. Fortunately it was short, ending with yet another DQ win for Addison after Deka lowblowed him.

2/5

10. After this, Deka is making to put Addison out of business, only for the lights to go out! Bobby Azula appears on the ramp before jumping up onto the apron! Deka demands he get right in that ring, but Azula shakes his head and drops back down. Zukito can't believe it, then turns around and finds Addison's up again - Final Notice! Deka's out again, and my favouritist wrestler ever is standing tall... yeah.


Overall show rating: 5.5/10 - Yet again your standard fare. Some good stuff on the card, but HIW lets itself down with a pair of pointless matches and another which isn't that great. Segments are once more the saving grace.

'Till next time faithful readers, this Smark bids you farewell!

A new character I'm debuting in SW right now. It's a completely different type of character to what I usually do, so some feedback would be handy.

(The emboldened part at the top is just the title, I don't usually post it in the RP itself, but obviously I can't really entitle the topic here)


No Threats


"Would buy you a drink one minute, then be hurling it into your face the next."

"Claims not to remember his rages... seems vaguely apologetic about them."

"He's like Jekhyll and Hyde, except Jekhyll is a douchebag too."


*


The cell door clanged shut. A pair of eyes appeared at it for a moment, then vanished. The sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor. Inside sat MikhailVolkov , a pensive look on his face. He didn't remember the incident that he'd been convicted for, and didn't particularly understand why he'd been sent here instead of a normal jail, but he wasn't complaining. Mikhail knew that in all likelihood, he had been responsible for crime he was accused of. Perhaps Mikhail hadn't been in the driver's seat at the time, but he knew well enough that it didn't particularly matter. 'My evil alter-ego did it' didn't constitute much of a defence, and Mikhail had outright refused to plead insanity. So... here he was.

Mikhail had had some vague concerns about having to fight against dangerous criminals week after week, but then had considered the fact that he himself was now deemed a dangerous criminal. After that brainwave, the worry had departed altogether. Mikhail didn't much like fighting, although he'd trained a little, one of his numerous psychologists telling him he could use it to channel his anger. Of course, that had gone to hell after Mikhail had been kicked out of every last gym anddojo for being too violent...

But whatever, that was the past now, Mikhail doubted that he was going to get in any trouble here for excessive force. An unexpected smile broke out on his stoic face. At last... an outlet that wasn't going to cause him more grief. Maybe being in a prison wasn't ideal, but perhaps it was worth it for the fact it was the only place his outbursts would be okay.

Silver linings after all.


*


"Volkov!"

Mikhail's eyes flicked open as an ungodly clanging resonated through his cell. A guard was beating at the door, presumably with a baton of some kind. Obviously, he thought that the prisoner would be lazy enough he required extra incentive to get up. Not so with Mikhail. In his first night in the facility, he had slept only lightly, and it was likely that the shout of his name alone would have been enough to wake him up. Mikhail sat up quickly and walked over to the door, which the guard was still enthusiastically endeavouring to beat down.

"What is it, mulak?" Mikhail muttered, his minimal patience already run through. The clamour stopped, and the viewing slot slid aside to reveal a suspiciously squinting set of eyes.

"You are a prisoner here. You'd do well to remember your place."

"I've put bigger and stronger than you in the hospital, dog," Mikhail snarled, shoving his face right up against the eyeslit, grinning as the guard jumped back a little.

"You'll not be so cocky for much longer," the guard warned the prisoner, but Mikhail simply smiled at him. "You're wanted to say a few words about your next contest," Mikhail laughed, moving back from the door to go and sit on what passed for his bed, stretching out and lying down once again.

"I am imprisoned here to fight, not to speak. Find somebody else to parade in front of your cameras."

"You will do as you are ordered, prisoner! This comes straight from the Warden himself!" Mikhail sat up again, regarding the door impassively. "You have five seconds to come back over here or I'll have you thrown straight to the wolves!" the prisoner snorted.

"There have been some that called me a wolf," he said with derision, then held up a hand. "But very well, mulak, I will play this game of yours," Mikhail stood, walking over to the door, and after a moment, it opened. Mikhail didn't even see the rod coming, and it caught him straight across the jaw as the incensed guard sought to exert his authority. The guard landed another blow to Mikhail's head for good measure, and then sneered at him, having knocked him down to one knee.

"Soon, you will learn, scum. That was just the first lesson," however, the man took a step back as Mikhail let out a low laugh, getting back up to his feet.

"My drunken grandmother hits harder than you, dog, and she's been dead for seven years," the guard scowled, but simply motioned behind him, gesturing for two other prison guards to enter the cell. Each took Mikhail by one arm, and they marched him out. They went through a couple of corridors before entering a door set into the side of one of them. The room inside was barely more furnished than Mikhail's cell, but it did contain a chair... and a battered looking camera. The guards forced Mikhail into the seat, and the one that had struck him walked up to the prisoner.

"You fight Sally Screw in a few day's time. Here," he handed Mikhail a picture, depicting a woman super kicking a man in the jaw. The prisoner looked at it for a moment, then back up at the guard, shrugging his shoulders.

"What is this supposed to show me? She can kick people? I can kick people. Probably harder. I don't see-" he was cut off.

"Look, Volkov. Just stare at that camera and say ... you will crush her or something. There, job done. You get to go back to your cell, I get to take my break," Mikhail broke out into laughter again.

"Tell me mulak, do I look to you like the dummy of some ventriloquist? You want Mikhail Volkov to speak? Then he will speak, but with his own words, not yours," he smiled at the guard, who flushed with anger, then stepped aside. One of the others took up position behind the camera, and counted down with three fingers. At 0, Mikhail focused on the camera itself, then began, addressing it in English rather than Russian.

"...I am Mikhail Volkov. You will not have heard of me. I am not some famous wrestler fallen from grace like your Iziah Hunter or Hannibal Cage. I am a common criminal."

The prisoner paused for a moment or two, struggling to find what so say, then continued.

"I am told that I will meet a Sally Screw not long from now. I wish to warn her. I don't much care if she heeds it or not. Screw, I don't know why you have come to Siberia, what crime you may have commited. I am a murderer. I killed another man with my bare hands. This... is not a threat. I do not try to intimidate you. I merely say that if roused, I will not stop attacking until I am rendered physical incapable of doing so."

Mikhail had maintained a calm, level tone throughout, his face surprisingly serene. His English was extremely good, if heavily accented, and he stumbled over his words very little.

"And I will be roused. It is my nature. I say again. I do not threaten, I state. On this show, I would advise that you steer clear of that ring. Your kick? Impressive, but it will not save you from Mikhail's wrath."

The prisoner inclined his head the slightest bit, and the guard on the camera gave a thumbs up, shutting it off. The guard that had hit Mikhail earlier approached him, looking to take him by the arm an escort him back to his cell.

"That was... good, well done," he said, sounding surprised. "The crowds... they will react well to that. Nice show," Mikhail looked at the guard incredulously, then roared with laughter.

"Ah... my friend. A show? You think that a charade?" Mikhail chuckled to himself, shaking his head as another guard joined the first, hauiling him to his feet and beginning to walk him out of the room and into the corridor. As their footsteps began to click down the hallway, Mikhail's voice floated out into the air one last time.

"I was serious, mulak. Deathly. Serious."