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Archives => Roleplay Archives => Topic started by: J-Dub on December 05, 2017, 01:29:14 pm

Title: The Aftermath of being a Champion
Post by: J-Dub on December 05, 2017, 01:29:14 pm

Alastair Morrison is your new champion....double champion.... he pinned Barney....

Those words ring out, words that he has always wanted to hear, because despite his size, and what little natural ability he has, he has never won a championship. Inside wrestling it is more than just being able to, it is like any other industry, its like a sports franchise, they invest money into someone, they want them to be the face, and often times, those same people will protect their champion, because they make money. Gone are the days of going from company to company, racking up championships because you are good enough, but it is now how big of a following you can get. Which makes him feel lucky for finding the WWG, where they are not always above the political stuff, but they also put money on winners. There are times that people will always get a front row seat, but if you’re good enough, you can quickly work your way to the top with a string of wins. This past weeks win, is prime example of that. Big names that hold titles, enter a night where both were on the line, and the dynamic of the match made it equal for everyone, when someone just randomly added themselves to create an outcome.

but why, why are Ashton Stone and Drake Storm here and why did they ruin the main event and basically hand pick who they wanted to be champion?

Those words make the victory so much less of a victory for him, and for good reason. Even if he was “chosen” to be the champion right now, he does not feel like he earned it. He walked into that night expecting to take on the entire roster in the ring, and he did, until two late showers clears the ring and rolls me on top of Barney Green. For the first few nights he has been upset at the situation, one that he would have said that he was just as mad, if not more so than everyone else in the match. That is until he realized that he cannot be as upset as everyone else, because he holds the titles. Even though he holds the titles, he knows that he will only get more upset, being this directly affects him, he knows that many on the roster will call him out as not being a real champion, because he did not earn it on his own, even if he was just as much of a victim as they were in the match. He may not be able to be as angry as everyone else, but he will be angry longer than everyone else, at least in his mind he will.

He has to look forward now, he has to look at what his future will be like, because nothing in the past matters if you continue to live in the past, he has to move forward. Things happen in this world, things no one can control 100%, because we are not gods as we think ourselves to be, and often we find out just how not  all controlling as we think. He sits in his hotel room, as he still has no place of his own in Florida and has yet to create any friendships to stay at one of their places. Not that the locker room is off putting, but as with anything, people are hard to trust new people, and the outcome of last week’s match doesn’t help to create any sort of a personal bond. He looks across from the bed, that he is sitting on the edge in silence, and stairs at the two championship titles on the dresser, placed under the TV that is mounted on the wall. For him, this is more entertaining than any TV show, besides why turn it on, this isn’t Scotland, he doesn’t even know if he likes American TV. Not that it is all that much different, he is sure that if it became a thing, he would have no issues finding something he likes, but he wants to keep focused at his future.

If you were to ask him last week what he is looking forward to with his career, he would have said “my next match”. He would have said this because he knows if he is scheduled for another match, that he still had a job, he still was able to do what he loves, and at least here in North America, he would be able to reach people he normally wouldn’t in Europe. If you asked him today, he may say the same thing, but it couldn’t be all that convincing do to the impending backlash from the locker room, the new ownership trio could easily look at him as not being able to cut it, and worst of all, he has no clue how the fans will react. He purposely has stayed off of social media, matter of fact, the only time he has used his phone was to talk to his family, and the agent assigned to him.

To say that he is full of nerves is an understatement, this is the first time he was unsure how he would be received. This entire situation isn’t even one that is new to him, a very similar situation happened during his stone lifting days. At least then the outcome was much easier to take, running 3rd place in the annual Highland Games. Competing in his final event, doing what he can to keep his spot, lifts a stone he normally had issues with in training, multiple times. Each rep is counted, and the most in the event would win. He lifts up the stone with both hands, crossed armed and to the chest. He grunts as he extends his spine and stands up tall, beads of sweat drip onto the stone, and he slowly squats down and makes a ‘touch and go’ with the ground. He lifts the stone up again, as his face turns apple red, and extends back up. His coach and family yell at him with motivation as he slightly pauses at the top, and his expression changes, knowing he will not hold in proper forum. He drops the stone onto the ground and is called for a no rep. He collapse to a knee, breathing heavy, and his vision is hazy from exhaustion. He places his forearm over the stone, and the event medics rush over with cool rags to help cool him off, adding medical strips to help with cramping to his arms. He stands up and walks over and hugs his parents, knowing he did not make enough reps to move upwards to the 2nd position. His father nods in approval, and whispers supporting words to help with motivation and how he felt about the situation, his father knowing he gave it everything he can. One of the assistants run over to Alastair, and summons him over to the Judges tent.

He walks into the tent unsure of the context of the situation, and see’s the ranking board, with his name on top. Of course the shock of the situation had him curious, as he was pretty good at keeping the numbers in his head right, and knew there was no way that he could place first, and before he was able to ask what happened, the head judge approaches him. By the look on your face you already have seen the situation at hand. It seems your fellow competitors have sustained an injury, Robert Bruce injured himself at the end of his last heat, and came in here forcing a medical withdraw, and Caleb McKissick has been removed for exhaustion, he collapsed on the way to the lift you just competed in, and it seems that you made enough points to maintain your position which means you take the competition with the two withdraws. Congrats kid. He walks away leaving Alastair in shock with the news, he won, but he didn’t earn that win.

He slowly opens his eyes from focusing on the memory, and looks around the room, unsure how much time has passed, as one would wake up from a dream. He sees the digital clock on the dresser, and realizes that it is time to go, it was the day before the show, and he needed to do some promos for tomorrow, something that seems easy, one people think they could do better, one he thought before getting into the industry, but at the end of the day, doing a promo that connects to an emotion, one that is lasting, one that was worth doing, is extremely difficult, but all he ever wanted, was not to look like a fool. He stands up and grabs his bag of cloths and the coat that was presented to him the previous week. He begins to walk towards the door, and stops, remembering he has 2 titles grab, something that is still in need of getting used to.

As usual, he walks out and finds the closest bus stop going in the direction that he needs to go. Luckily for him, World Wrestling Generation has found a home to work out of on a regular basis, and until he finds his own place, it will be the same every week, and the fact he is just a short way from the school makes for a short travel. The wind picks up being he is close to the coast, and he grabs ahold of his bag a little tighter in order to keep it stable. All of this is reactive though, as his focus is on the next few hours, he knows that he has a lot riding on him, a lot he has to prove, his literal future depends on it. He wishes he could be more like the persona he puts out, a lot more confident in the outcome, as if nothing matters or distracts him from his goal. Part of the entertainment industry, you have to seem bigger than you are, or you just end up like the 10s of thousands of wrestlers in this world.

If all the other stressors weren’t enough for Alastair, his opponent isn’t making things any better. Not being too sure of much about Michael, he knows how hard he can punch. He felt a preview of that last week, but this time there are no other distractions, or anyone to potentially break a count. The one good thing is that he doesn’t have any more experience than Alastair does, both relatively new, but that doesn’t mean too much, even he’s been overlooked for his absence of experience. He hears the bus turn the corner, and the roar of the engine rings out as it breaks his thought process. The bus pulls up to a screeching halt, opens its doors, and Alastair walks in. He takes a seat and decides to research more about Michael Benjamin, for no other reason than to have a talking point upon arrival.

He becomes so caught up in his research that he forgets to get off the bus and finds himself 3 blocks away from his stop. He pushes the stop button and puts his phone away. As the bus slows to a stop, he grabs his bag, which is much heavier than he’s used too with the addition of the titles, and exits the bus. He looks towards the direction that he is going to start walking, and puts on his everyday sunglasses as cloud coverage has broken up and the Florida sun is shining down. He runs over the information he just read about, creating a puzzle in his head of words, to use as much of it as he could for his promo. Running different versions of structures dozen’s at a time, trying to create a bridge between topics that flow together, and doesn’t feel too forced, being it is part of our job to articulate as best as possible, and knowing his Scottish accent is hard for North Americans to grasp, even though it’s all English in the end, some people just a difficult time understanding.

He walks around the arena to the service entrance where he walks in seeing a crowd of contracted staff for the arena standing around with hard hats in hand, preparing for the set up that afternoon for the show tomorrow. He listens in, wanting to know every small detail, and chuckles to himself, remembering having to do the same set up in England four days a week, 50 weeks a year. That had seems like such a long time ago, but it was just 2 months ago. Now, he can’t take liberties of thinking of the past, once he walks through those arena doors, he has to be focused on the now.

He enters the staff hall, where several people are standing around talking about production mapping, talking over the recent production meeting they just got out of. He walks by people nodding and greeting the crew. He finds the locker room spot, unconventionally dressing out with the rest of the wrestlers, where most champions would have their own, because they feel they are worth it. Part of what sets him apart from the rest of the locker room, not that he doesn’t know his abilities, or even sure of himself, regardless, he still does not see himself as better than anyone else. The door opens up and another assistant walks through with a briefcase in hand.

Mr. Morrison?

He sighs and shakes his head; he never was comfortable with formalities. Those terms are used for people of respect and notoriety, not exactly how he viewed himself. The discomfort of the term is obvious on his face; to the point the assistant did a double take.


The assistant opens the case and without looking at Alastair he continues.

I assume you have the championships with you? I would like those now.

Alastair reaches into his bag reaching for the titles he won a week prior.

Is there a problem?

No, just new management and owners would like to trade out the championships for new ones. Just came in from maker. Use these in your promo today, they reflect the light better than the old ones, they will look good on camera.

What will happen to those? I’ve never won a title before, I would like to have one of my own.

Mr. Morrison, I don’t believe you understand, those are yours, you keep them. As for these, they will go in storage for the time, and used in a display at some point. You’ve made it, its ok to relax.

He close the briefcase and walks out, leaving Alastair with two brand new belts, he is allowed to keep. Two belts, he repeats over and over in his own head, and I get to take these home.. Up until this point he is used to small trophies, a few medals from competition, but something as substantial as this is unheard of for him. Even when he won last week, he never expected to actually keep the titles, even after he lost them. Matter of fact, he was all prepared to arrive and have them get upset with him being he just left with the titles last week. He quickly snaps out of it, realizing time is an issue, and finishes getting dressed out.

With bag in hand, carrying both of HIS new titles, he exits the locker room and head down to the promo staging area. He walks up to the filming crew and looks around at everyone, the director signals with his hands on the location he would need him, perfectly marked with a line of tape. He places his bag on the ground and takes out the two titles, placing them on his shoulders and on top of his signature coat. He takes out his gimmick glasses and places them on his face, and walks over to the marked position. The countdown begins and Alastair closes his eyes.

He slowly opens his eyes, looking over the top of his glasses, and just like that… it is time.

There is plenty that I could speak upon the actions of last week, but with time, I announce here, that I will address the details of the end of that match, inside the ring. For now, I had found myself in a bit of luck, doing something that will be documented for all time, which very few have ever done. I walked in last week, barely any experience under my belt, and I walked out as the champion. I will admit, not the way I wanted, but it still happened. Though this week is not about championships, it is about a fight. My opponent, Michael Benjamin, was also one of the men in that match, one that I walked away with a steal as some would call it. I understand that my opponent may have something to prove about that, as he could have been the one to win this.

He looks down at the title, takes a deep breath, he knows what tomorrow will hold for him, so much is riding on it, and to face Michael Benjamin. The task at hand is almost impossible, but impossibilities breeds’ greatness and greatness he wishes to achieve. The brief moment on questioning himself has now passed, and the future is in need of his attention.

I will admit that at first I was not looking forward to this match, I remember nicely of how hard you hit people, how hard you hit me. Nobody likes being hit hard, especially as hard as you hit me, the problem with hitting people hard, is you have to insure you take them out in doing so, or risk being hit just as hard, if not harder. This is the dynamics of physical competition, one to my understanding you are no stranger to. Though you may be the only person with less time in the ring as I, I know you played American football; you played it professionally, and all through school. This means you are no stranger to this theory; you’ve done it your entire life, and made a pretty penny off of it. I won’t try and pretend I know about how things work, but I am sure not anyone can make it to a professional level like you did, that makes you special. I don’t know if you knew this, but I too am accustomed to competition, but with one major difference. When I competed, I had only myself to depend on, there was no team for me, it was me and the object I needed to lift. I never had someone to fall back on, if I messed up, I messed up and lost. Not that there’s anything wrong with being on a team sport, unity and support are just as important as ability, but I have not had those opportunities growing up.

It shows the fruits of your labors, your hard work and dedication have paid off, and you have a lot to show for it. You have earned everything you have, that is apparent, and no one can deny that. I am sure you were properly rewarded for your professional team, I can’t say I ever saw you play, but the fact you have a manager following you around, easing your burden supports that. I’m not insulting you over that, if I could afford one, I may consider it myself, but I am a champion that is just starting out. With that spirit in mind, I am sure that you can appreciate the fact that, I cannot go easy on you, and I cannot allow you to win, at all costs. I know you are upset with the outcome of last week, but let me put this into a term you could understand. This to me is like, if you got on your football team because someone else broke their ankle; you would have something to prove wouldn’t you? Seems like I do as well, so bring every bit of whatever it is that motivates you in this world, because I already am looking at earning the respect of being a champion. 

No matter what Michael, this is an opportunity to showcase what we have, make the company, the fans, all take notice. We only get paid because those two factors want to see us, so let’s… give… them… what they way want. Let’s bring the house down, and make them regret not putting us as the main event, lets make everyone talk about what we do. Best of luck my friend, you will need it.

His glasses slide down the bridge of his nose a slight bit, allowing him to gaze into the camera. What ever intimidating glare that he may have casted with his eyes, were overwritten by the smirk. You can see that he looks over towards the director and a subtle reaction can be seen, as if he saw something shocking. He looks back towards the camera and pushes the glasses up, shrugging the titles upwards as the camera fades out.

Title: Re: The Aftermath of being a Champion
Post by: Leedob86 on December 06, 2017, 03:37:18 am
Great character developing here. He feels like such a relatable character great work