Post by Mark Jackson on Dec 2, 2016 16:31:10 GMT -5
“Are you a child of God?”
“No sir, I’m a child of Stuart Johnson. Wouldn't say that I consider him a father though. The guy took off when when he he saw my mom holding me and died of a heroin overdose 3 months later.”
Mark is sitting on a pew inside a Catholic church. The altar hosts a couple of ornate religious objects and two stained glass windows shine a dim light into the room, one on the left wall and one on the right. Other than that however, Saint Herman’s was a small and modest church, sandwiched between two urban apartment buildings. Next to Mark is a large, stout, and well-built man wearing a dark, black priest’s robe over his dark, black skin. He laughs and continues to speak to Mark.
“No, what I meant is, are you a Christian?”
“I mean, I can't say I've ever been religious. I'm not against God or anything, but it's just not something that really...fits...with me.”
“So why are you sitting inside of a church talking to a holy man?”
“I need some guidance, Father…”
“...I’ve been kinda lost for a while, and I’m looking for some sort of sign, or direction, or lead, or...I don't know, ANYTHING. Looked everywhere for an answer, but every solution I thought I’d found was just worthless, empty. Figured that even if I’m not religious, a wise guy like you might be able to help me out.”
“Well, I’m very flattered that you considered me. Of course I’ll help you, but you should know that the church has service on Sunday mornings if you’d like to at least try hearing the Lord’s word.”
“Had a feeling you’d say that, Father Jacob”
The priest simply smiles
“It's somewhat of an obligation. Now, why are you lost? Is it something to do with your father?”
“No, no. Got over that a while ago. I'm just trying to find meaning. Success. Something to fight for. Some goal for me to reach.”
“Hmmmm...that's very vague.”
“I know, that's why I'm having so much trouble.”
“It's a difficult problem, let’s see if we can-”
A creak is heard from the back of the room as the main door opens as a man wearing scruffy clothes, with a hat pulled over his head and his coat pulled over his face.
“Sometimes it's comforting to know that you're not alone in your struggles, eh?”
The man slowly walks down the aisle and slides next to Jacob.
“Greetings, how may I-”
He reaches inside his coat pocket, and pulls out a knife, waving it in front of him.
“Guess who just got out, Jake?”
He has a rough face, covered with scars and explicit tattoos.
“Derrick, what are you doing here?!”
“You think I’m just gonna forget you after what you fucking did??! You stabbed me in the back, you prick!”
Mark’s muscles tense, but he continues to watch.
“I gave you a chance to redeem yourself, friend. But you refused, I had to tell the authorities, you were harming others.”
“Shut it! Just-FUCKING shut it! You act so self-righteous! I don't believe for one second you're a changed man, Jake! You're just a coward piece of shit hiding behind a robe! You only snitched to get off easy! I've been waiting to get you back for this So. Fucking. Long. I’m gonna twist this knife through your heart and watch you squirm, you slimy bastard!”
Mark stands up in protest, but Jacob gets up in front of him.
“Stop. His business is with me. Please, leave.”
“No, I can help you, I-”
“Get the hell out of here, kid! I don't got a reason to hurt you, don't fucking give me one!”
“Derrick, please, we can-”
He swings the knife forward, aimed at Jacob’s heart. The priest tries to dodge the attack, but the knife still lodges into his chest. It missed the target, but the blade still sinks deep into his flesh, making a sickening squelching sound.
Jacob falls backwards into Mark’s arms. Mark holds the limp body as blood slowly seeps onto his clothes, while Derrick pulls out the knife and inspects his handiwork.
“Hey, I fuckin’ told you to leave! I didn’t plan on killing somebody else today, but don't think I won't do it!”
Mark sits there, staring at the man bleeding out in front of him. As he looks, Jacob’s face begins to morph. Mark sees Eric Gillsby, he sees the kids at his gym, he sees the people that would give him food when he was still begging on the streets.
“Look, you got 10 seconds to get out of here, alright?"
And then, Mark saw a different set of faces appear. Faces he remembered from when he still lived out on the streets, before he was taken in. The face of the man he watched get mugged in an alley, the face of the child he saw crying in the arms of his lifeless parents, the face of the crying teenage girl he watched get raped by men in colored bandannas. The faces rapidly transformed into all of the kids, addicts, and innocent people Mark saw suffer. People who that were punished for doing absolutely nothing wrong. People who couldn't escape the terrible conditions they were born. People he was too powerless to defend. Mark feels something begin to rise up within him, a sense of compassion mixed with a feeling of pure, unadulterated rage. He gazes forward at Derrick, snarling like a wild animal.
Mark quickly sets the body down and charges forward towards Derrick with unnatural speed. However, Derrick still manages to get the better of him as his knife lodges itself into Mark’s leg.
“Got you, you crazy fuck!”
Derrick began to pull the knife back out, to ready for another blow.
But a hand grabbed his, Mark’s hand. Derrick slowly looked up, and instead of staring into the cocky smile of a prizefighter, he gazed into the terrifying eyes of a man pushed over the edge. The eyes of an animal. Derrick began to harder on the knife, but Mark didn't budge. He sat there, breathing heavily and shaking with the knife sticking out of him.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Mark clocks him in the face.
He begins to assault him with punches and jabs, but there isn't any stance or form to them. He's driven by raw emotion, he has no battle plan or strategy. He only wants to hurt Derrick, as badly as he can. He watches teeth fly out of the man’s mouth, he watches bruises begin to swell, but he keeps going. It's not enough. It's not anywhere close to enough. He begins to hit harder, until his knuckles begin to bleed, just like his leg and Derrick’s face.
Mark doesn't stop until his body refuses to move.
And then, Mark starts to cry, falls over, and collapses.
“Doctor, how do the patients look?”
“Well, it looks like all 3 of them are gonna recover, we should be glad they were found when they were. The kid should be out by the end of the day, but I’m not sure about the other two. The priest might take a week or so, the wound is deep but it didn't hit anything important. The one with the tattoos though, he might take a while.
I would NOT want to step in front of whatever bus hit him”
"RIIING. RIIIING." Ken's phone blared throughout his bedroom. As he checked the caller ID, he found out it was an unknown number. He never really got any unknown numbers. The last time he got one was for a fan calling him, which was 2 months ago, back when he was on the set for the next big sci-fi thriller "2101, A Space Odyssey" that was a 3.4/5 so it was his best work of all time. But while he remembered the movie, the phone still rang. It rang and rang. Hart questioned if he should pick it up. What if it might be another "Haha you lost the battle royal you suck at wrestling" which that 7 year old told him at the grocery store yesterday. He hated that 7 year old.
"Hi, you're speaking to Ken Hart, Pro-Wrestler and actor extraordinaire. Unfortunately, I can't be near the phone right now. Probably busy writing autographs. Leave me a voicemail and we'll get back to business" He waited for the voicemail back but all he could hear was a man whispering something to what sounded like an employee. Eventually the man picked back up.
"Good Morning, Mr. Hart. I'm Mick Harrison and I run a talk show on 85.3 WOMMND. We would like you for an interview if you don't mind. Around Noon just call in and we'll set it up from there. Be there or be square. BRRRT." He was ecstatic to hear the news. That interview for the battle royal seemed so long ago. He checked his clock. 11:15 AM. He had 45 minutes to get ready. He pulled out everything he had in his closet. He was able to find his favorite suit and tie and put it on. Just in time, as it was 11:55. He called in and realized he put on a suit for nothing. But now wasn't a time for getting mad, as he was about to get on air.
"Hello everybody welcome back to the Harrison Show. We have a treat for you this afternoon, because live on air, the recently debuted Ken Hart will tune in to answer a couple of questions. And Ken, let me ask how are you today?"
"Well, I would be happier today if I wasn't screwed over. That Battle Royal is a complete scam. It was fixed for me to lose."
"That's just what I was about to get into. How do you feel about that battle royal at the Fall Brawl?"
"Fixed, almost certainly. It's one thing when a guy who murders and sacrifices a chicken at a wrestling event wins the whole thing is one thing. But of course I drew number 1. And how lucky am I to get Mason-fucking-James to draw second? That's not a coincidence that the person I start against is the same one who eliminates me. I still survived longer against James than any other wrestler in this business could. I was still able to prove my point. And I put an exclamation point on it when I hit Gamga Block with a Moonsault Side Slam."
"One very noticeable thing that happened during the match was you and the answer constantly teaming up. What do you have to say about that?"
"Well, The Answer isn't a scrub unlike every other wrestler in this company. He's a smart man. And by him helping me in that Battle Royal is an example of him being smart. I can't confirm anything with me and him in the future, but just know he's a locker room friend."
"How do you feel about fighting Mark Jackson?"
"Washup. I can beat him like I can beat anybody. He's not a threat to me."
"Thats our last question folks. Thank you for tuning in, Ken."
"You are welcome"
As he hung up, he got another phone call. It was his dad.
"Ken, I heard you on the radio, and you're fighting Mark Jackson? Are you insane?"
"No, he's insane for stepping in the ring with me."
"Well, I'll attend your funeral. Not sure about your mom though."
He turned off his phone so he wouldn't get any more calls. After that, it was back to his beauty sleep.
Andrew Jordan: Anyone checked my app for approval yet?
Feb 7, 2017 12:13:34 GMT -5
Kidd West: We were waiting to see if you would join our discord chat Andrew
Feb 7, 2017 16:30:02 GMT -5
Deleted: hey is chat having trouble
Feb 14, 2017 23:36:14 GMT -5
Deleted: chat? IDK
Feb 15, 2017 10:28:22 GMT -5
bedlam316: Hey. Just wondering am I supposed to start RPing if my profile was moved to the profiles section or do I need to wait to be "debuted" before that?
Feb 18, 2017 11:29:43 GMT -5
Kidd West: I will post up the rp threads tonigh. You can post your rp there whenever you are ready. Can I please bother you to join our Discord? XD discord.gg/Ee8Rbv6 It provides quicker contact with all members of the community
Feb 18, 2017 13:15:05 GMT -5
Kidd West: IF ANYONE CAN SEE THIS, I AM BACK FROM HOLIDAY
Apr 12, 2017 12:32:42 GMT -5
Kidd West: AND THE DEADLINE IS THURSDAY THE 12TH
Apr 12, 2017 12:32:57 GMT -5
stevewolf: Hey guys just wanted to introduce myself and thanks for the chance. I can't wait to get started and have some some fun with y'all.
Apr 16, 2017 18:31:24 GMT -5
Kidd West: Sweet! Will get match threads up tonight Steve. In the mean time come and join our Discord Community if you'd like easy access to the mods and to discuss wrestling content
Apr 17, 2017 10:43:03 GMT -5