The Scorched Path (Rhys Cain RP Thread)

Been a while since I have done a roleplay review, but I think its an important part of writing roleplay’s, is knowing what people think as they read your writing and where you have done good… sometimes its just about knowing that it has been read that can give the satisfaction and desire to continue and improve.

When it started, it had me kinda of already trying to second guess where the roleplay was headed, and then when we got into the main content, I found it to be an innovative way to allow you to use the proverbial soap box to stand on and give an almost interview without it being an interview which I thought was a good way of getting your roleplay over.  I never liked the roleplay’s that are the usual ‘Walk to the ring, rant and then leave’ as these feel more like segs in a show than a roleplay, as realistically these would only be able to take place in a show as where has the crowd come from etc..  You managed to successfully circumvent this issue with your you tube video promo and I applaud you for that ‘out of the box’ thinking.

The main body of the roleplay itself was a good way to refresh everyone about who The Bruiser was and at what point of your storyline with Carstein you were at when 4CW closed 2 years ago.  You obviously had big plans to finish off the feud with Carstein and I have a feeling we haven’t heard or seen the last of the Bruiser and Carstein feud.  The roleplay was a good highlight package and gave a little insight into how Rhys has tried to recover from the torture endured in the feud, and it was refreshing to see that he isn’t just starting fresh and you acknowledge that after everything that happened, things haven’t gone back to normal.

One thing I would like to see a bit more of to improve slightly would be in the initial description to help build the mental image of the scene and location – But I am a description junky - Apart from that, it was a good roleplay and gave you a good starting point to go forward from.

Thanks for the review. I'll be sure to return the favour tomorrow.

MATCH RP FOR APRIL 3RD, 2016 SF

    Afternoon

     Ring, ring.

     With every ring on the other side of the receiver, Rhys Cain could feel his heart beating a little harder and faster. Ring, ring. They hadn't spoken in a few months and it was late in the UK. Ring, ring. She probably wasn't even near her phone. Ring, ring. Or, Cain dreaded to think, she was ignoring it...
     Cain sighed in defeat and pulled the phone from his ear, when he heard a click and her voice. He brought the phone back to his ear.
     "Hi, Ella, it's me. Hope I'm not calling too late." Cain muttered, tentatively.
     There was a moment silence that felt like several minutes before she replied.
     "No, it's fine. What's the matter?"
     She was using that voice. That voice she always used to use the day after a big fight. Of course, it had been two years since the big fight, and he couldn't remember the last time they'd spoken without her using that voice. Cain could hear the tinge of disappointment, still present after all this time, and he felt his chest ache.
     "Um... yeah, I just wanted to talk. I was hoping that, if it's okay with you, I could arrange a visit to see Serena sometime next month?" Cain asked, trying to sound respectful.
     "Next month?" she repeated.
     "Yeah... I would love it to be sooner but – well, I'm working again. I don't know if you heard but - "
    "I know about 4CW." Ella cut him off, as if 4CW was the last thing she wanted to discuss in great detail.
     "Yeah, well... my point is, I'm working again and I don't have enough days off the road until next month. I'm sorry it can't be sooner, but I'd love to see her."
     Cain cringed at himself; he felt like he was telling his parents he had crashed the car and was waiting for them to scream at him. He knew though, that deep down, there was a part of Ella that wanted him to be in their daughter's life, despite everything that had happen, and he hoped that side of her would be on the surface as he awaited a reply.
     "I suppose we can arrange something, yes." came the eventual answer, and Cain exhaled a sigh of relief.
     "Thanks, El, I appreciate it. For what it's worth, I'm sorry for everything that happened. As soon as I convince Carstein to come back, I can put all this behind me once --"
    "What the hell is it with you, Rhys?" Ella barked back.
    Cain felt ice-cold shoot down his spine.
    "I'm sorry, I didn't - "
    "No! I'm sick of hearing it! You have to let the whole Carstein thing go! Serena needs a father, not a broken man. It's been two years!"
    Cain felt a surge boil up in his chest. He'd lost control of his words.
    "You don't understand – what he did to me - "
    "Excuse me?! In case you forgot, I was dragged into it too. I was affected too and I'd argue I was more affected than you were. Didn't you learn your lesson from the last time you tried to get revenge? That whole stunt cost you us and you know what? Until you are completely over this feud with that man, I can't allow you to see Serena."
    "No, don't say that – please - "
    "I'm sorry but I'm not changing my mind. You need to find peace, whatever way you want, and give me a call when you are the man I knew again."
    "El - "
    The dial tone set Cain's blood at boiling point and he launched his mobile phone at the wall. It ricochet and smashed into two piece into the corner of the room.
   Dammit!
   Cain sat on his bed, face in his hands, for he didn't know how long, reliving the conversation, feeling all that nervousness, anger and pain all over again. After some time, he wiped his angry tears away from his face and stormed out his hotel room and to the bar lounge. On his way down the stairs, he pulled his second mobile that he used for just business calls and text his friend, Danny.

    Are you about?
    I'm getting a drink at the lounge.
    Could do with a drinking buddy.
    Rhys.

***

     Evening

     An hour later, when Cain was just finishing his second pint, he saw Danny coming through the lounge doors. He had short brown hair (that had turned quite grey the past few months) and was getting a bit of a belly, despite still being in pretty decent shape. Cain couldn't help but notice how out of place Danny looked.
     It was quite a high end hotel, abstract paintings on the wall, gold-plated door handles, and double the price for a drink than anywhere else in town and Danny was stumbling in with his cap on backwards, a shabby t-shirt only just covering his gut and jeans that looked like he'd owned them for twenty years.
     Danny, who Cain had wrestled many times, and teamed up with even more times, all around the world, knew immediately that Cain was not in a good mood.
     "Looks like you could do with something stronger." He muttered as he sat next to Cain at the bar and turned to the barman, "Two whiskeys on the rocks, please, mate."
    "How are you, Danny?" Cain greeted him with a hug.
    "I'm fine mate. Looks like I need to be asking you that question."
    "Ah, you know how it is. I tried calling El, things started well, went south quick." Cain muttered back, taking his whiskey from the barman.
    "What happened?" Danny asked, taking his too and drinking half of the fifth.
    "I stupidly mentioned Carstein." Cain replied, drinking too.
    "Mate..." Danny sighed.
    "I know, I know... lesson learned... but I can't help it. He's caused me so much shit these last two years. I don't think I'll ever be at peace until I settle things with him."
    "I know it's cutting you up, but how do you plan on getting him back? You can't force him to show."
    "No, I can't," Cain downed the rest of his glass and signalled to the barman for another, "so I'm going to lure him out."
    "And you plan on doing that how?"
    "Winning Soul Survivor." Cain replied.
     Danny looked at Cain quizzically, "I know you've taken a lot of shots to the head mate; but you didn't qualify."
    Cain chuckled, "I forgot to tell you; I'm in a second chance qualifier this week. Teaming with Paige against Sery and Senecca."
    "Well, that's good, mate." Danny smiled and raised his glass to that.
    "So, I qualify this week, I go on to win the tournament and become 4CW World Champ and then I rub it in his face until he can't take it any more and has to come back."
    "It won't be easy," Danny reasoned.
    "I know it won't be easy but I have to do this. I'm not gonna be able to see my daughter until I've gotten rid of my demon – and Carstein is the demon. I'm not just fighting for the title, here, mate, I'm fighting for my family."
     "Well, you know I have faith in you," Danny slapped Cain on the shoulder, "You had that match won last week if it wasn't for that bastard White's low blow."
     Cain grinned, "Cheers, mate."
     He finished another glass.

***

     Night

     Cain walked through the dark street, his coat and hood covering as much as possible as the air snapped with a bitter cold at his neck. The winter chill had slipped into March and it didn't look to be going away any time soon. He strutted fast, passed all the closed shops and apartment buildings; as he passed a dark alleyway that he could barely see inside, he heard it.
     He stopped dead in his tracks; it was a groan – someone was in pain, and it was a woman. He listened intently into the pitch black abyss and heard it again, this time louder. Still unsure whether to move or not, and not sure if his whiskey brain was playing tricks on him. Then the groan turned into a ear-piercing scream and Cain ran into the alleyway.
     It was so dark he could barely see anything. He thought he could see the metal of apartment steps but was unsure. He looked around for any sign of a person; and listened intently – but everything was silent now; even the wind had stopped.
   Cain stumbled into his pocket and pulled out his phone. It was an old model but it did have a flash light app so he turned it on and scanned the area. He saw a few dustbins, the steps he thought were there in the dark, an empty gas cannister and litter sprawled across the grimy, muddy concrete. 
    On his second scan with the flash light, he saw a foot sticking out from behind a dustbin and his heart skipped a beat.
     Taking a look around to try and make sure no-one was about to ambush him, Cain slowly approached the foot and the dustbin. The barefoot eventually turned into a slender, white leg, and then a woman with only a pair of shorts and an old t-shirt (which Cain thought was probably her choice of bed wear) sat. Cain raised the flash light on his phone up to see the woman's face.
    "Fuck!" he gasped, stepping back and dropped the phone. After a moment, he scrambled onto the floor and picked up the phone and crouched down next to the woman. Her face was fine; but she was unconscious.
    "El, are you OK?" Cain cried out but got no answer.
    So many questions flooded through his mind. Was she dead? What the hell was she doing in the States? And how did she get here?
   "El, come on, girl." he muttered to himself more than to her and tried to tap her face lightly to wake her up. She didn't stir. Cain wiped the sweat off his brow; he was suddenly extremely hot, despite the cold night. He was almost seeing double; his whiskey brain had decided to punish him at this precise moment.
    "What's the matter, Bruiser? Can't wake her up?"
    The voice was sudden, sharp and loud. Cain yelled and jumped straight up to his feet. Only one man sounded like that.
    "C-Carstein, where the hell are you?"
    Cain couldn't concentrate; random flashing blobs appeared before him. He felt a terrible pull on his very core, like he could suddenly feel the whole world spinning. Carstein had annoyed Cain before, he'd made him angry; this was the first time Carstein had ever truly scared Cain.
    "W-where the fuck are you?" Cain screamed again. He turned to Ella. Blood was pouring out of her nose. Cain couldn't see anything but flashing shapes; and Carstein's thick, echoing laughter drowned his thoughts. He fell to his knees and covered his head with his hands.

    "STOP IT!!" Cain screamed and shot up to a seated position.
     He breathed heavily and it took him a few moments to understand where he was. He felt linen not concrete. He was drenched in sweat, not shivering outside. When his hotel room came into view, he breathed more steadily and tried to calm himself down.
    Cain got out of bed, turned the light on and headed for the bathroom. He washed his face and drunk a glass of water in one go. He looked at himself in the mirror. His hair was all sweaty and matted; his t-shirt dark with perspiration. He looked into his own eyes.
    You have to do this.
    And Cain knew failure was not an option; just as sure as he knew that he wouldn't get back to sleep because he couldn't get that haunting laugh out of his head.

MATCH RP FOR APRIL 17TH, 2016 SF

     Rhys Cain was nervous. His palms were clammy, his pits were starting to sweat and he couldn't sit still. He watched a few planes land, fidgeting nervously as he did so, even thinking to himself security might start to suspect he was up to something if he didn't calm down. It was ridiculous. He was only here to meet his brother, Zephyris. Of course, it was the first time he and Zeph had decided to meet up - and their relationship had been strained at best for two years. Cain rationalised with himself that since Zeph was coming out to meet him, they were obviously on good terms. Still, he couldn't help but feel nervous. He had apologised countless times to his brother, but everytime he looked into his eyes, he still felt a pang of guilt that wouldn't evaporate.
     Cain had always taken care of his younger brother; at school, he would be bullied by the bigger kids. Cain was only a little bigger than Zeph, but he was also in an older year group and in school that held as much weight as the literal kind. When Zeph left school, Cain had already started his wrestling career and Zeph showed up to Cain's training every morning until he agreed to train him. Cain was also responsible for bringing Zeph into 4CW. Zeph was happy to continue his indy career, making enough money to get by - he was never a fan of big crowds - but Cain had convinced him to come to 4CW and because of that not only did Zeph get caught up in Cain's feud with Carstein, he also was attacked by Cain himself when he stupidly tried to convince Carstein he was on his side.
     That whole jumbled mess of a situation basically severed any bond Cain had with Zeph and it had taken him a long time to gain Zeph's trust again. Cain just wanted to spend a couple of days with his brother - like they used to before everything went to crap - and now he had his wish and he suddenly felt like he wanted to slip out of the airport before his brother arrived and cancel the whole deal.
     "Rhys."
     Cain heard the voice behind him and spun around; his train of thought was broken by Zephyris' arrival.
     "Hey, Zeph." Cain replied, sheepishly.
     Protocol when meeting his brother was a hearty hug usually; but Cain didn't know how Zeph would react to that so instead, he jumped up from his seat and took one of his brother's cases.
     "How was your flight?" Cain asked as he lead their walk away from the terminal.
     "No complaints." Zeph replied, turning his mobile phone on as they walked.
     "Fancy a couple of beers?" Cain asked.
     "Sure," Zeph said, looking up at Cain momentarily before going back to his phone to check his messages, "Not here though - don't fancy pissing away money."
     "Ah, don't worry, my treat." Cain replied.
     "No, I'm good to buy." Zeph replied casually.
     The rejection hurt Cain more than he'd care to admit.
     "Yeah, OK." Cain stumbled slightly, "I know a decent pub a few miles from here."

***

     "Here." Zeph placed two pints on the table after going to the bar to buy the first round.
     "Cheers." Cain replied and sipped his before placing it back on the table.
     "So, how's things going in BPW?" Cain asked.
     British Prime Wrestling was a local promotion in Manchester, where Zeph has been working the last couple years. It wasn't on television and Cain didn't speak to Zeph often; so he was eager to hear of Zeph's success. However, Zeph just frowned at the question.
     "Lot of bullshit. Political crap. You'd think with such a small promotion, the workers would just be glad to get paid but it's like a piranha pit there. I'm getting a decent push in the mid-card so I'm not about to rock the boat - but I don't see it as a place to bolster my CV." Zeph spewed out.
     Cain chuckled inwardly. Knowing Zeph, this would have been building up for months - and he could finally vent his anger to the only person he ever really spoke to about this kind of stuff - his brother. It left Cain with a mixture of happiness and guilt again.
     "Well, you know, you're better than some local indy promotion." Cain pointed out.
     Zeph shook his head.
     "I'm not going back to 4CW." he stated blankly.
     "I'm not expecting you to, bro... but the States has a ton of promotions, even indy ones, that'd pay you a hell of a lot more than BPW." Cain retorted.
     Zeph's expression lightened. He shrugged.
     "To tell you the truth, I have been considering it. Jimmy Wreck works for WAW and has said he can get my foot in the door." he explained.
     Cain gulped down more beer.
     "Might be worth taking him up on that offer." he said as he replaced the glass on the table.
     "Maybe..." Zeph nodded, "I've seen your stuff, too."
     Cain raised his brow, "You've been watching?"
     Zeph paused for a moment.
     "Of course," he smiled, raising his glass, "Not gonna miss my brother kicking Carstein's ass when he finally shows his slimy mug, am I?"
     Cain smirked, "Well, hopefully, he'll show up this week. It's Fans Bring The Weapons - so having multiple choices to kick his ass will be great."
     Both men drunk some more beer as their laughter simmered. Cain wasn't nervous anymore. He had no need to be.
     "Good to see you, Zeph."
     "You too."
     Everything was, at least with Zeph, back to normal.

MATCH RP FOR MAY 16, 2016 SF

Late Evening
It was eleven PM when Cain had checked into his Montreal hotel, shower and get ready to wind down with a beer and the TV. He turned his phone on (which had run out of battery during the journey back and got himself online. Immediately, checking Twitter, he was bombarded with fifty notifications. It only took one or two messages to realise everyone was linking him to a video that Brian White had uploaded. Cain chuckled to himself while White ranted and raved about the sour milk that had been sprayed all over him during their Soul Survivor match as well as promise to "rip his head off".

When the video had finished, Cain propped himself up against the headboard of the bed and started recording. He started with a warming smile.

"Hey, Brian!" He exclaimed, "Here I was, sitting in my hotel room, a little bit bored if I'm completely honest, there's crap all on the TV. I logged into Twitter and found you had a message for me. And I just want to thank you, mate, because your rant was more entertaining than the reality shows my TV was trying to force on me."

Cain sighed.

"I know you're frustrated over what happened in the Soul Survivor, but I guess my only advice would be: there's no point crying over spilled milk."

Cain winked at the camera and grinned again.

"But hey, you know me, Brian, I am nothing if not accommodating to my peers. You want to rip my head off? Well, I'm free on May 16th, as you know, we'll both be at Storm Front. So I welcome you to .... well, try and do just that. As a fellow welshman, I respect what you've done to make it this far. It's hard for us - half of the American population have never even heard of Wales! Unfortunately for you, instead of working hard when you got to 4CW, you decide to pick a fight with me."

Cain looks a little more annoyed as he continues his monologue.

"Anyone who looks at us will see quite clearly that you've got at least 100lbs on me. So you're bigger, and probably stronger than me. One thing you seem to have forgotten about though Brian, is experience. I've been in this business for twelve years, since I was 18 years old, and I've been in 4CW for seven years. In 4CW, I've done it all, longest reigning Custom Cup Champ, World Champ, Hall of Famer - and what have you done apart from start a couple of street fights with a few punks?"

"I'm not bragging about my accomplishments - well, I am - but I'm not doing it to be cocky. I'm doing it because all my life, bigger guys have been picking fights with me, thinking my small stature somehow means they can steamroll me. You know where those guys are now? Back in the world of obscurity cos I outlasted them all. So pick your fight, Brian, and we'll settle it, alright, but when you are left in the dust maybe it'll make you think that you should never have started a war with The Bruiser."

Cain finishes the video and clicks "Upload". He then opens up a web page, clicks on the local supermarket website and searches "milk".

A Game of Cards
MATCH RP FOR 13TH JUNE 2016 - STORM FRONT

     "Check."
     Rhys Cain watched around the table as the other four men took their turns. Danny was next to go and Cain saw him look at his cards two or three times before knocking the table silently. Cain's eyes flicked over to Ralph, a friend of Danny's, who he had not met until tonight. Ralph's long black hair was greasy and rested on his shoulders. He had a bushy, black beard that reached down a few inches, chest hair sticking out from his shirt and a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead. Cain couldn't tell whether he was nervous or just warm, as sweat patches had also formed under the guy's pits.
     "Raise a ton." Ralph growled, in a deep gruff voice, as he slid over the necessary chips.
     Cain found his thoughts drifting. He had been in a weird mood lately. Whenever he was alone, he found it suffocating, and contacted whoever he could (usually Danny, who lived near Cain) to surround himself with friends, or at least acquaintances. However, as soon as Cain was surrounded by people, he felt agitated, annoyed by casual conversations people struck up, and found himself wanting to be alone again immediately. Cain decided to himself that tonight he had found a happy medium: he was surrounded by four men, some he knew, some he didn't, and was able to strike up a conversation if he felt like it. On the other hand, with the intensity of the Poker game strewn in front of them, and the quiet, focused atmosphere, he could just as easily sit in silence while they played.
     "It's you, Rhys." Danny said, breaking Cain's train of thought.
     He noticed it was his turn to go. The man next to Ralph, an older fat, balding man, the hair he had left a striking ginger shade, called Piers had folded. He remembered Danny mentioning Piers was Ralph's agent earlier in the night and thought that Piers had probably wished he hadn't entered the game as his stack of chips was considerably smaller than anyone else's on the table. Beside him, and to Cain's right, was Derrick, who had called Ralph's raise and everyone was now glancing at Cain expectantly.
     Cain refreshed his memory with a quick glance at the river that he had three of a kind Aces and added to the pot his raise to match up with Ralph and Derrick. Danny folded and everyone showed their cards.
     "Three Kings." Ralph muttered, looking fairly pleased with his hand, a King of Spades and Diamonds, with the King of Clubs sitting in the flop in the middle of the table.
     "Damn. Pair queens." Derrick said, flipping his cards over to show the Queen of Hearts and Diamonds.
     Cain flipped over his pocket aces and heard a groan from Ralph before he could even call his hand. Cain's Aces, Hearts and Clubs, matched with the Ace of Spades on the turn. Without a word, Cain collected his winnings as Ralph collected the cards to deal the next hand.
     "So," Piers' wheezy voice caught Cain's ear and he looked up at him to see Piers was talking directly to him, "is it true, Rhys? Has Jack Valentine really retired?"
     Cain sighed inwardly. He was in no mood to discuss 4CW backstage gossip with an agent who was just looking for a business opportunity.
     "That's what he said."
     There was a small silence as Piers and the rest of them checked their cards. Cain looked at the eight of hearts and the 7 of spades in his hand.
     "Well, if it is true... I mean to say, he's got a hell of a story to tell. Hell of a career you know... I do have a couple of contacts in the publishing industry... I'm thinking, book deal, few appearances here or there, give him a nice retirement you know, any chance you could build that particular bridge?"
     Cain folded his hand. He exchanged a dull glance with Danny, saying without words, "Why have you brought this guy?"
     "We aren't exactly friends. I don't think we've barely spent more than five minutes together outside the ring. Can't help you, sorry." Cain replied as he watched the players take turns folding and betting.
     A flicker of disappointment etched across Piers' face but he quickly disguised it and chuckled.
     "I understand... you don't want to open a branch of contact to just anyone... but I've been Ralph's agent for ten years and I think Jack Valentine would be interested in meeting someone as experienced as me." Piers went on in that annoying wheezy voice.
     Cain felt his chest warm with anger. Usually, someone like Piers would just mildly annoy him and he'd brush it off with ease. Of course, he was as far from usual as possible. His angry thoughts bounced from the ginger little twat's wheezy voice to the pressure he had been feeling continually, week after week, as he advanced in the Soul Survivor and then, with that on his mind, he thought of why he had to win the tournament, why he had to use the title to draw out Carstein, why putting Carstein out of commission was so important not for 4CW, but for him personally.
     "I just told you, I don't know him well." Cain retorted.
     He noticed his muscles in his face tighten. Piers had not noticed and probably due to the beer too many he'd drunk, continued jovially on, like he expected Cain to give him a wink and a nudge and give him all the details he wanted after the Poker game was over.
    "If you say so, Rhys." Piers said, winking forcefully, "We'll have a little chat when the excitement is over."
    "Look, you little dipshit, I just told you I'm not giving you any fucking information." Cain spat out.
    There was a tense silence. Piers, out of shock or fear, Cain didn't know or care, cowered slightly and didn't speak. The rest of the guys glanced at Cain, Ralph with an eyebrow raised intriguingly and Derrick with a frozen comical glance. Danny broke the silence.
    "Come on, take it easy, Rhys..." he said as quietly as he could but in the silent room it could be heard perfectly.
     Before Cain had realised what he was doing, he stood up, knocked the chair over and stormed out of the room. He didn't stop until he was outside and he let the fresh air hit him. It gave him a small relief and he took a deep breath. He'd quit smoking years ago but seeing Danny's half open pack of cigarettes and a lighter on the porch table was too much of a temptation to turn down and he took a long drag as he lit the cigarette. He heard the front door open behind him. He recognized the voice as Danny's.
     "You alright, mate?" he asked, quietly.
     Cain turned to look at him. Danny's eyes went to the cigarette in his hand but didn't comment.
     "Fine." Cain snapped a little more harshly than he meant to. Danny either didn't notice or didn't acknowledge the harsh tone.
     "You bit off Piers' head a bit back there..."
     "He's a little shit. Coming to your place under the pretense of a Poker game. Bet he only decided to come once he realised I was coming so he could try and squeeze contact details of 4CW guys."
     Danny shrugged.
     "Don't take him seriously. He's a small time agent who thinks he's bigger. He's like that all the time... you know the sort... never bothered you before..."
     Cain looked away into the night.
     "Yeah well, doesn't take much to set me off these days." Cain sighed.
     "I've noticed." Danny replied and paused for a moment, before continuing, "I know you're going through some stuff. I know it all boils down to you getting your hands on Carstein- but if you want my advice - if you become this other, woe-is-me person before you get a chance to put him down, then he's already won. There's no point fighting for your life to get Carstein in the ring if after you beat him, you're irreversibly damaged. For a start, you can forget about taking up smoking again."
     "Hark who's talking." Cain said with a ghost of a chuckle.
     "Yeah well, I'm the grizzled old vet, basically... you're the guy who's in his prime, a 4CW Hall of Fame Induction before you've even reached your twilight years. You could use this tournament, and Carstein, as a catapult to solidify that honour - or you could let Carstein win by allowing him to make you half the man you were before."
     Danny pulled the cigarette from Cain's hand and flicked it out into the wet grass below.
     "Come on, mate." Danny beckoned Cain towards the house.
     Cain shook his head.
     "I can't go back in there now."
     Danny rolled his eyes.
     "Everyone thought it was pretty funny and Piers is on his way out - got no chips left has he?"
     They shared a laugh that echoed into the silent darkness around them.

Last edited by rhys (Sun-12-Jun-2016 00:32:15)

Match RP, Jul 25th 2016 SF

The city had an aura, which shone brightly not only throughout the city but also into the sky and Rhys Cain found himself staring, immersed, in the glow. He was standing on top of a rooftop, he wasn't even sure what building it was or how he got up here, but he knew he wanted to stay here for as long as possible.
     The night-time traffic below was barely audible. The wind was still and silent and there was no wildlife fluttering around. This type of peace was hard to come by; it was the most peaceful Cain had felt in years.
     The random assortment of lit and unlit windows looked like some sort of misshapen, vertical chessboard. The amusement of the discovery was a relief and he found himself smiling for the first time in so long, that his face actually ached as it cracked. Cain wondered if even an appearance from Carstein right now could dampen his sprits.
     "It's good to hear I'm still in your thoughts."
      The cold tone snapped Cain out of his peaceful muse. The lights were no longer amusing but annoying. He flung himself around one-eighty and saw, to a mix of horror and anger, the Shadow Creeper that had haunted him for so many years, standing feet away on the rooftop.
      Cain's usual frown had replaced his expression; he did not know what to say or do. He wanted to lash out at Carstein - but he didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he had bothered him.
     "I already have the satisfaction." Carstein grinned and Cain noticed blood dripping from his teeth.
     Cain lost all inhibition.
     "GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" he roared.
     Cain charged for Carstein, who didn't move, and flung himself into him - but Cain only hit the hard rooftop and felt his tooth crack. Stumbling to his feet, he turned and looked for Carstein. He had reappeared, close to the edge of the rooftop. His grin hadn't moved a muscle.
     Without giving Carstein time to say anything else, Cain charged at him again. A small part of him knew it was pointless but a larger part of him knew that he didn't care. He jumped at Carstein - flew straight through him - and then he was gliding over the rooftop and falling, down, down, down....
     
     It took Cain a few seconds to catch his breath once he opened his eyes. He was drenched in sweat, his bed shirt sticking and his sheets wet. He flung the blanket and swung his knees over the side of his bed and tried to slow his heavy breathing. Cain glanced at the clock and saw the big hand was on 3. It was still dark outside and the only noise Cain could hear was the occassional early morning cars travelling by.
     The Carstein nightmares had been becoming more frequent. On days where Cain had been drinking, or was anxious about something, they would be more frequent. Even in his own head, Carstein knew when to strike. The frustration was giving Cain a headache, although it could be argued that was from the drinking only hours previous.
     Now that the cobwebs had cleared, the night before was flashing in Cain's head. His ex-partner, Ella, hadn't returned his calls all day (not that that was unusual, as she hadn't returned his calls for weeks) and despite his eagerness to speak to his daughter Serena on her eighth birthday, it had not happened.
     He had fallen into a vat of emotions. He felt angry at Ella for ignoring him; guilty for not speaking to his daughter and disgusted with himself for causing this whole sorry mess in the first place.
     He felt helpless; it wasn't as if he wanted Carstein in his life. He hated the Shadow Creeper more than he hated anyone else and even though he would never admit it out loud, he feared Carstein more than he feared death.
     He feared that Carstein would have a lasting, permanent affect on his life and his family; that he would never reconcile with his ex-partner and that would never get back to seeing his daughter. All the stress and frustration would be enough to send anyone on a downward spiral.
     But you can't end up like that., Cain told himself.
     Carstein was, behind the mind games, behind the darkness, behind the proverbial mask, just a man. Cain knew that if he could draw him back for one last fight he could conquer his demons... and now that the final of the Soul Survivor tournament was looming, he felt his self-doubt growing. What if he wasn't able to win Soul Survivor? What if he fell at the last hurdle? Would he ever get his closure? Would he ever re-establish a relationship with his family?
     Cain sighed heavily. He had a long day tomorrow. He had no idea what match type he would be faced with, no idea what to expect from the penultimate round but he knew that if he didn't go back to sleep, his day would be that much worse. He grabbed a towel from the bathroom, laid it over the sweat-stained sheets and flipped his pillow.
     Cain was unsure how long he lay there with his eyes closed before he fell asleep. To try and counter act any nightmares, he thought of his daughter. He thought of her laughing, of her playing, of her smiling and tried to channel it into inner motivation.
      He was almost there... and he had to do it. He had to become Soul Survivor. He had to become 4CW Heavyweight Champion. Not only for the glory, not only for the carrot on a stick to convince Carsteint to come crawling out of the woodwork but so he could promise himself that he would never, ever miss his daughter's birthday again.

Last edited by rhys (Wed-3-Aug-2016 15:25:20)

I liked the imagery in this one a lot. Of particular notice to me was the whole lit/unlit window bit.

This whole monomaniacal Captain Ahab-esque angle/development of Cain's psyche is interesting. I wonder if it's all in his head. I don't know enough backstory on either character to say. I vaguely remember Carstein (back in '06), but can't say anything of mind powers or such. I feel that this does seem to have a genuinely supernatural element. I'm not sure 100% how you intend to play this out, but I will note that I have a new character in the makes and some interesting developments that may, if only for a single roleplay, make for a fun crossover. I'll put up the new character profile very soon and RP either for or before next show, within Paige's thread. Give it all a read when I've put them up and PM me if you'd like to hear my little idea.

THE ONLY CHOICE
MATCH RP, STORM FRONT, 22ND AUGUST 2016

==

4CW STORM FRONT ARENA
POST-SHOW

     From the moment he moved the spotlight over the casket and fell fifteen feet to the mat, Rhys Cain decided to give up on fighting the pain and just succumb to exhaustion; it was done, he had won. Cain was seeing stars and lightning bolts, and for a moment he wasn't sure if the graveyard themed objects were actually there or all in his head, but with the help of the medical team, he got some idea of what was real and what wasn't and some ten minutes later was laying down being treated by the doctor.
     The cold bag of ice that was placed on his head, by who he did not know or care, provided some temporary relief. Cain tried focusing his vision but was finding it difficult to keep his eyes open due to the dizziness.
     “Doc...” Cain tried to speak, but he found himself surprised by how weak his voice was.
     “Best thing for you to do is just rest a minute, Mr Cain. It seems like you've suffered a concussion.” The doctor's voice reached his ears. Every word grated at him like nails on a chalkboard. He felt bile rise up to his throat and heaved...

     Cain spent an undetermined amount of time in a sort of haze. He may have slept during that time, or he may have just been very confused, he wasn't exactly sure, but the next time he felt up to speaking he felt like several hours had passed. Somehow, he was now in a hospital, although he didn't remember travelling there.
    “Doc...” he repeated, even though he wasn't sure there was anyone in the room as he didn't want to open his eyes in case the room started spinning again.
    “You're awake I see... you've been vomiting, and very drowsy, so we brought you in. You'll have to be monitored for the night at the very least.” said the doctor's voice. It was a woman this time.
     Cain opened his eyes and after he adjusted to the light in the room he found it was no longer spinning, although his head pounded like it was about to burst.
     “Head's killing...” Cain muttered.
     “I'll get some painkillers for you. Paracetamol only, though.” she said.
     “How long will I need to stay here? Can't waste time... lots of training to do.” Cain spoke, and every few words he resisted the urge to vomit again.
     “Training?” the doctor repeated, disapprovingly.
     “Big title match... couple of weeks time.” Cain muttered, closing his eyes again.
     “Oh, well, I'm afraid that's out of the question Mr Cain.”
     Cain's heart stopped for a second. He opened his eyes and sat up sharply. All gravity in the room seemed to vanish and Cain could have been floating upside down for all he could make sense of his surroundings.
     “Lay down, Mr Cain, you'll only make yourself worse.” The doctor said sharply.
     Cain let the doctor guide him back into a laying position but didn't stop talking.
      “Can't miss this match... important.”
      “I understand, Mr Cain, unfortunately, you've suffered a concussion. You should be fine in a few weeks with plenty of rest – but I definitely can't clear you to wrestle so soon.”
      “You don't need to.” Cain said, a little bitterly. He didn't have to convince this woman to clear him; just the 4CW doctor, he thought to himself.
      “4CW's doctor will be taking my recommendation – and I can't, with good conscience, clear you for the next show. I'm sorry, Mr Cain.”
      Cain squinted as the room spinning lessened and watched the doctor leave the room. He'd never hated someone so much in his life as this woman right now... well, almost never.

==

KEKE'S BREAKFAST CAFE
ORLANDO, FLORIDA

     “Here's your coffee, sir, and your bacon omelette.” the waitress handed the plate and cup onto Cain's table.
      “Cheers.” he replied, not looking at her. Cain was on the phone, trying to get hold of Max Clay. It rung to answer phone for the third time that morning.
      Cain sighed and hung up the phone, before redialling immediately and putting it back to his ear.
      Ring, ring.
      Come on Clay, you ignorant bastard. Answer the phone.
     Ring, ring.
      Today would be nice.
     Ring -
      “Yes, Mr Cain, how can I help you?” Max Clay's voice broke the monotonous tone of the ringing. He sounded annoyed.
      “I was starting to think you were ignoring me, boss.”
      “I was in a meeting. You calling was pestering me so much I stepped out. How can I help you?”
      “You know how. It's been a few days. I feel fine. I need the doc to clear me for the Soul Survivor final. You don't want the main event of the grand tournament being thrown out do you?”
      Max sighed.
      “You know that's not what I want, Cain, but I don't really have much of a choice, do I? If the doctor can't clear you, then how can I put you out there?”
      “So what – you're going to replace me?”
      There was a moment of silence.
      “I'm still trying to figure that out. Where are you? Aren't you supposed to be resting?”
      Cain grumbled to himself.
      “I told you, dad, I feel fine. I'm at a Keke's, enjoying a bacon omelette, trying to save my spot in the Soul Survivor. You know how important this is to me.”
      “It's not a matter of how important it is to you, Cain, it's a matter of your own health and the company's reputation.”
      “Listen - “
      “Mr Cain, I'm extremely busy, if you want to continue this discussion, make an appointment to come see me in my office.”
      “Wait - “
      Click.
       “Damn it!” Cain shouted. He slammed his fist on the table. A few people around him fell silent and turned to look at him. He stared at his breakfast, refusing to meet anyone's glance, embarrassed by his outburst, and frustrated at the headache that had just started pounding in the back of his head.
      It had been a couple of days since he had left the hospital. He was determined to compete in the Soul Survivor final, and he was not going to let a little thing like doctor approval stop him, but he wasn't stupid. He knew that if he wanted to get this concussion out of the way, he needed to chill for as long as possible and try to squeeze in some training the day before the match. It was the best he could hope for. The frustration mounted with the headache as he ate his breakfast and when he noticed someone he assumed was a fan approaching he was close to breaking point.
      He took a deep breath. He was usually fine with fans, and he could put on a front even if he wasn't happy to see one at this particular moment.
      “Hey man, I'm a huge fan, could I bother you for a photo?”
      The kid seemed polite enough; probably still in school. He looked nervous, almost scared, to meet his hero. Cain, despite his bad mood, didn't have the heart to crush his dreams.
      “Sure kid, take a seat for a second.” he replied.
      The boy went red in the cheeks and sat down hastily.
      “I heard you got hurt on the last Storm Front... are you going to be able to compete in the final?”
      Cain raised his eyebrow, “Do you really think I'd miss it?”
      The kid laughed, “No, I know you'll be there. Brian White really doesn't like you, huh?”
      “Feeling's mutual, kid. I'll slap some sense into him, here...”
      Cain posed for the photo with the fan, forcing a smile despite his pounding headache, and handed the phone back to the boy.
      “Thanks so much, Bruiser!”
      “No worries, kid. What's your name?”
      “Malacki.”
      “Nice to meet you, Malacki. I'd love to chat with you longer, but I got to finish this breakfast and start my day.”
      “Sure, sure,” the kid stood up quickly, “thanks again, dude!”
      Cain finished his breakfast in silence and wasn't bothered again. The longer he sat there, the more his frustrations about not being cleared ate away at him, until he decided he was done with Keke's for the day.
       Screw it, Cain thought, If Clay wants to play hard ball, let's play hard ball.

==

4CW HEADQUARTERS

     Rhys Cain threw a few tens at the taxi driver and exited the cab. He had arrived at 4CW Headquarters. He had waited another few days since he had last spoken to Clay and decided that confronting him face to face would be the best way to get what he wanted. Cain pushed open the double doors and walked to the reception desk. The girl at the desk was very pretty, long, brown curls and a couple freckles dancing across her face, but Cain wasn't here to ogle over receptionists.
     “Where's Clay's office?” he said, rather abruptly.
     The receptionist looked up.
     “Second floor, do you have an appointmen-  hey!”
     Before she had finished her sentence, Cain walked passed the woman and into the foyer. Ignoring the receptionist screeching from behind him, he saw out of the corner of his eye a security guard walking towards the stairs to meet Cain at the bottom. Cain sighed inwardly.
      “Sir, you can't go up there.” the man said, puffing out his chest. Cain smirked.
      “I can't believe I'm pulling the fame card, but do you know who I am?” Cain demanded, impatiently.
      “Yes, Mr Cain, but you need an appointment to see Mr Clay, he's very busy.”
      “Screw that.”
      Cain tried pushing passed the security guard but he stood his ground. Cain sighed again – and headbutted the guard without warning. He gasped and fell to the floor, holding his nose. Cain flinched momentarily from the headache that the headbutt had caused but ignored it and made his way up the stairs, now at a faster pace, before more security tried to stop him.
      Cain didn't meet anyone else until he got to the second floor and as he walked towards what he guessed was Clay's office, three more members of security met him in the hallway.
     “Sir, you've assaulted a member of the security, we're only going to ask you to leave one more time before we remove you.” said the biggest of the three. His shiny bald head and stupid goatee only pissed off Cain more. Didn't these people realise he didn't have time for their shit? He was here for a very important reason.
      “Try it.” Cain spat back and attempted to push past.
      Cain felt his hair being pulled back from behind as one of the guards grabbed him – and in that moment he snapped – spinning around and punching the guard in the face, he was bombarded as the other two jumped on top of him.
      Cain growled as he tried to fight them off, shaking them vigorously and throwing punches whenever he saw the opportunity.
      After a lot of confusion, flustered grappling and roars of frustration, Cain heard an office door open from nearby and the unmistakable voice of Max Clay.
      “Pick him up!” he barked. Cain looked up, still held by the three members of security, to see Clay.
       Max Clay sighed, brushing his hand over his head.
      “I'd love to hear the reason you've come to my office, without an appointment, and started fighting my security, Cain.”
      Cain frowned and found it difficult to keep his voice below a shout.
      “You're a clever man, Max, I'm sure you can figure it out!”
      “I told you, Cain, I can't let you fight if the doctor's don't clear you.”
      Cain stood up straight and pushed the security away from him. They made to jump back on him but Clay lifted a hand and they stopped. Cain threw them all a dirty look before turning his attention back to Clay.
      “Listen, Max, I don't expect you to understand, you're just the guy in the suit, you don't know what it feels like to be in that ring, fighting for your livelihood, your pride and your family. I don't want to fight in the final.. I NEED to... and I'm just giving you fair warning, doctor's clearance or not, I'm going to show up for that match.” Cain spoke slowly and deliberately, making sure Clay heard every word.
      Clay however, was not amused.
      “If you are going to prove to be difficult, I'll get security to stop you entering the arena.”
      “Like now? Fat load of good they did.”
      Clay's face warmed with anger.
      “Fine, then I'll fire you.”
      “That still won't stop me, Clay. Fired or not fired, cleared or not cleared, fighting off security or not, I will be at that show, I will fight Brian White and I WILL win the 4CW Heavyweight Championship!”
      Clay didn't reply immediately. His face was flustered; it seemed he was thinking of what to say next.
      “You want to fight that bad?”
      “It's the most important match of my career, Max, I'm not missing it for anything.”
      “Fine, FINE! I tried to help you, but have it your way you crazy bastard. You can have the match – on one condition – you sign a contract, waiving any responsibility for 4CW about your well being – if you get a career-threatening, or worse, life-threatening injury, then we are not held responsible.”
      Cain smiled. His head felt like it was about to split open; but the approval of being able to compete in the match gave him a relief he hadn't felt in days.
      “Done.”
      “I'll fax the contract to your agent. A bit of advice though, Cain: you go into this match not 100% you might never be the same again. You might hurt yourself so bad you can never wrestle again. Think about your life outside of wrestling. Think about your family.”
       Cain's eyes flashed dangerously.
       “My family is the only reason I'm doing this. You know what Carstein has done -  the problems he's caused – and winning the title is the only way I can think of to draw him out.”
      “Fine... but I think you're making the wrong choice.”
      “No.” Cain said, and his anger had ebbed away, and was replaced by a steely determination.
      “I'm making the only choice.”

To be honest here, at the start of this RP I wasn't sure where you were going with it.  By the end of this thing I was left with anticipation for this match.  The story you crafted with Rhys first receiving the  concussion and then putting up such a strong fight to push forward was good shit man.  By the end of your story I was left wondering how Rhys is going to be able to compete in the championship match.  I'm hoping that whoever writes the match incorporates this into how the match plays out.  Also, this is just a selfish request.  I would love to see a short RP the day before the match showing how your training is going.  Side question, what is the deal with Carstein?  I loved the strong note you finished your RP on.  That last line left a solid impression on me.  Good stuff man.

.

Last edited by Reamer (Sun-21-Aug-2016 18:40:25)

Rhys and Carstein had a couple of years feuding when 4CW was last up and unfortunately 4CW's closing kinda ended the feud right in the middle, so very little has actually been finished. Compy's sent me a match or two of theirs and, my god, but if a company ever booked a fight the way these were written, you've got match of the year contenders there!

Frankly, I'm honoured to be a part of this, even as a side note! And on a selfish note, I do kinda hope it was Brian White who gave you that concussion! :-P

"Hell Or High Water"
MATCH RP FOR 31/10/16

THE ARCHER'S BOW
CARDIFF, WALES
NOON

     “Well, I'd better be off.” Danny announced after finishing the dregs of his pint. He put the empty glass on the table and burped.
     “Already?” Zeph piped up.
     Zephyris looked disappointed which struck Rhys Cain as a little odd. He and Danny had never been best friends or anything.
     “People to do, stuff to see...no wait...” Danny mumbled.
     He bid his goodbyes to both Zephyris and Cain and left the pub.
     And this is a real pub, Cain thought to himself, not like those American wannabes.
     “Pint?” Cain asked his brother.
     Zeph shook his head, “Just a coke for me. I've got a show tonight.”
     Cain stood up.
     “Why were you so eager for Danny to stick around anyway?” Cain asked his brother, curiously.
      Zeph had an expression that made it obvious he was holding something back; an apprehension or, was it fear?
     “I wasn't... just didn't expect him to leave so soon.”
     Cain raised his brow, and held his stare until his brother cracked.
     “Fine but if you laugh I swear I'm going to kick your ass. Thing is, I wanted to talk to him – and you, really – about a business venture.”
     “Oh, aye?” Cain replied, his interest peaked, “Involving what?”
     “Well, it's a long story, see, after I won the title - “
     “Oh yeah!” Cain interrupted before he could help himself, “The title... where is it?”
     “It's in the car but anyway, I was - “
     “Well, what's it doing in the car? Go get it. First rule of being a champion: take it everywhere you go! You can continue this conversation as the WPW Cruiserweight Champ!”
     Zeph rolled his eyes and with a grin, stood up and headed towards the exit. Cain took this time to go to the bar and order a pint for himself and a coke for his brother. When he returned to the table, his brother was already back, the gold and green championship belt gleaming in the middle, looking out of place in the grubby, dank pub.
     “Nice!” Cain cheered as he placed the drinks on the table mats.
     Zeph's eyes lit with pride.
     “First defence tonight – you should come.” Zeph replied.
     Cain grimaced.
     “I would... only, I've got an interview. Usually, I'd rearrange but... I'm heading back to the States tomorrow and it's WhatBuzz – big YouTube hype -  4CW want me there.”
     “It's fine, I get it.” Zeph brushed it off; but Cain could see the disappointment in his expression.
     “Sorry, bro. Next time, though, yeah?”
     An awkward silence fell. Cain decided to check his emails while he sipped his beer. He was midway through logging in when Zeph broke the silence.
     “So this interview,” he said and Cain looked up, “Last minute hype for the Soul Survivor final?”
     “Yeah, pretty much,” Cain replied, grateful to his brother for changing the subject, “the usual slog when it comes to these big matches. I wish I could just go out there, already.”
     “Concussion definitely all cleared up?”
     “I'm fighting fit.” Cain raised his glass in an air of celebration.
     “And what if they bring up Carstein?” Zeph added, apprehensively.
     “I don't doubt they will.” Cain shrugged.
     “And you're fine to talk about it openly?”
     “It's not exactly a secret, Zeph. It's been the main focus of my career the last few years... but you know, this time off, the delay of the Soul Survivor final, it's given me time to think. Why is it the focus of my career? The only person making it the focus is me. That shithead has put me through the ringer without even showing his face.”
      “So what are you going to do about it?” Zeph asked.
      “Well, nothing, really. I'm just gonna let it go. Move on. My focus right now is on getting the 4CW Heavyweight Championship. Not to taunt Carstein, not to draw him out, I don't even care where he is. I'm gonna win that title for me – cos I think I deserve some good fortune for once, don't you?”
      “I'll drink to that.” Zeph nodded.
      Cain scrolled through his emails while Zeph went to the toilet. The first one that grabbed his attention was third in the list.

RE: WhatBuzz Interview

     Cain tapped and read.

To Mr Cain,
     We tried to contact you a little while ago but unfortunately were unsuccessful. There has been a personal emergency for Adam Champa, the man scheduled to interview you, and he has been unable to make the trip. We do apologise profusely for this, but it is due to circumstances out of our control. While we would be happy to arrange an interview at a later time, somewhere in the US if it helps, we still would like to deliver our promise of an interview with “The Bruiser” to our followers.

Please find attached the questions our Mr Champa had set for you, and if you want to reply with the answers (although if you are too busy, we understand entirely), then our website editor Daniel Payne would be more than happy to edit it into a website interview to be published in two days.

Let us know what you would like to do,
and my personal apologies again for the untimely situation,

Malacki Dustiphinycz,
WhatBuzz.

     Zeph sitting back down broke Cain's glance away from his phone.
     “On seconds thoughts, Zeph. I can come after all.”
     “To the show?” Zeph replied, brows raised.
     “Looks like the interviewer had some sort of emergency. Doing a website article instead. Who you facing?”
     “New guy. Benjah Weeh.”
     “Looks like it's gonna be a bad night for him, then.” Cain grinned, “So this business venture...”
     Zeph remembered the thread of the earlier conversation and his tone became serious again.
     “Right, well – like I was saying – after I won the title, I was signing some autographs, all that jazz, this kid comes up to me, must have been about fifteen, says he wanted to get into wrestling, but says there's no schools in the area.”
     Cain thought back to when he wanted to be a pro wrestler. Sure, there wasn't anywhere really to learn in this area of Wales – maybe one or two – and there were plenty in England. That's where he learned. Then again, maybe some people just couldn't travel like he was able to.
     “And he's right, when I thought about it, so I told him, I said, work hard in school and college, and I promise you, within three years, there'll be a wrestling school in this area.”
     Cain frowned, half-smiling incredulously.
     “What did you go and tell him that for?”
     Zeph sulked.
     “See, I knew you wouldn't take me seriously. It's a good thing to do! If you wanna learn how to wrestle here, you either move or you're out of luck... and I thought you know, I'm young, my career is still so busy, but Danny is more part-time than he ever was before, and I think he'd like to be a full-time trainer at our school.
      “Our school?” Cain repeated, warningly.
      “Well, yeah... see, I might have told the kid it'd be “The Bruiser” Rhys Cain's wrestling school!”
      Cain nearly choked on his beer. He gasped.
      “What? I'm not running a wrestling school! Do you think my career is drying up too?”
      “Course not, Rhys.” Zeph added quickly, “But the fact is, you're a bigger name than me, no-one knows who I am outside of Wales really. You wouldn't have to do anything. Just invest in the school and put your name on it.”
     “Invest?”
     Zeph added quickly, with a defensive tone, “I'll be investing the same. We'll be on even footing. Think of how much we could do to help these young kids who wanna do something exciting with their life but don't have the means.”
     Zeph looked eager for Cain's response to be a positive one, but Cain didn't really know what he wanted to do right at this moment. He sighed.
     “I'm not completely against it. We'll have a more detailed talk about it some other time, for now, let's just go do something before the show, shall we?”
     “But you'll think about it?” Zeph persisted.
     “Yes, yes.” Cain replied, with an impatient grunt.

* * *

THE DRAGON
CARDIFF, WALES
LATE EVENING

    Cain noticed almost immediately the cold chill in his hotel room. He had left the window open earlier; and the October snap had flooded the room with no mercy. He slammed the window shut tight and flicked on the heating.
     As his laptop loaded up, he thought of tonight's show. Zeph had looked awesome; somersault planchas, moonsaults, suicide dives, awesome chain wrestling. He'd shown more skill than Cain had ever seen before and it made him incredibly proud. He was more so proud that, even though he had trained his brother with the basics, he had adopted his own style that had nothing to do with Cain.
     Once he had opened his emails, Cain flicked on the TV (and decided upon a repeat of Match of the Day) and downloaded the attachment from his WhatBuzz email. He hammered through most of the generic questions the interviewer had set aside for him. The only two questions he stopped to think about were the last two.

Q: On Halloween, Gallows End returns, and you are in the main event against fellow Welshman Brian White in the Soul Survivor final. Any hint as to what stipulation you have chosen, and what are your thoughts going into arguably the biggest match of your career?

     Cain clicked into the “A:” box and typed his response.

A: All I will say about the stipulation... is that I'm going to feel right at home. As for this arguably being the biggest match of my career, there is no argument. You see, this is the biggest match of my career without a doubt. I am solely focused on this match and nothing else. My life right now is counting down the days until I am a 2-time 4CW Heavyweight Champion.

Q: And my final question, for you, Bruiser: do you have a message for Carstein?

     Cain stared at the question for a long time. He knew what he wanted to say; it was how he wanted to say it that delayed him. After a prolonged period of thinking, he started typing.

A: No. I don't have a message for Carstein. The Shadow Creeper has slinked away for good it seems. He's disappeared into whatever cesspool he came from. As far as I'm concerned, he's dead. Actually, it's like he never even existed. I've moved on from Carstein. Carstein doesn't advance my career. Beating Brian White in Soul Survivor does; so I do have a message for The Freight Train ... Come Hell or Highwater, I will beat you. You may be coming to 'crash the train' at Gallows End, but you'll be crashing it straight into a brick wall. I promise you, White, that after this match, you will never be the same again. No-one ever is.

     Cain read it back, one last time, feeling the yearning for sleep creep up on him, and when he was satisfied, and he couldn't keep his eyes open much longer, he clicked send.

"With Supreme Justice..."
MATCH RP FOR 28/11/16

THE BRUISER SCHOOL OF WRESTLING
CARDIFF, WALES

     "Sludge Bomb, my dude!" Cain said to no-one in particular. He tapped the move and watched as his Alolan Exeggutor ripped a Granbull to shreds with Sludge Bomb. The updated graphics only made it look cooler.
     "Dude, is that Pokemon?" A voice called over.
     Cain looked up. His brother Zephyris looked at him with his brow raised, "Aren't you a little old for that?"
     "And what's a game I'm not too old for? Call of Duty? Where you pretend to be a soldier shooting people?" Cain retorted with a smirk.
     "Well, come on, why don't you work a couple of these new guys a sweat?" Zephyris nodded his head over to the newest (and first) recruits of their newly formed wrestling school. The seven students had surrounded both rings, and were all taking a break.
     "I promised you my name for the school, isn't that enough? I'm trying to beat my last trial here." Cain said, tapping his 3DS screen impatiently.
     "You know as well as I do that all these guys signed up for this school to train with you... please?"
     Cain sighed inwardly and saved his game.
     "Fine, but I'm not going easy on them."
     "Just show them the ropes, however you feel neccesary." Zephyris replied.
     Cain shuffled over to the group. Three of them were the skinniest blokes he'd ever seen train to be a wrestler but one or two of them looked like they at least potentially had the physique and stamina for this.
     "Wow, Mr Cain, I'm a huge fan." spoke the one closest to him. He was no older than twenty, with short blond hair. He was chubby, and a toned body was something this man would never achieve, but he looked hefty and Cain imagined he could probably throw a mean punch.
     "Let's cut the pleasantries. You guys are here to learn how to wrestle, so get any star-stricken awe out of your system because you aren't gonna be feeling so fond of me after we've done some reps in the ring." Cain tried to sound intimidating without coming off like a dick; he didn't want any of these guys to waste their time (or his) if they didn't have what it took.
     Cain spent ten minutes or so going through the basics with each of them. He got them to run the ropes for two minutes straight, showed them how to achieve a simple take down and challenged them to take him down. No-one managed to do so without great effort.
     By the end of the session, two of the skinnier men approached him, thanked him for the opportunity, and respectfully bowed out of the class but the other five were raring to go and Cain thought maybe they weren't so useless after all.
     Cain headed to the changing rooms to shower and when he returned to the dojo, he found that everyone was in mid-conversation with Zephyris. He heard his name mentioned.
     "...were you there when he fought Supreme the first time? I remember watching it on TV. Cain had a hell of a streak going with that Custom Cup belt, but Supreme was just too much."
     The man talking was in his mid-twenties, with dark hair and a thick beard, well-toned and was a little bigger than Cain himself. Cain remembered his name was Tony.
     "Well, a lot has changed since then, Tony, buddy." Cain announced his arrival.
     Tony spun on the spot, looking a little embarrassed at being heard.
     "You think I can take him now I'm World Champion?" Cain smirked.
     "I thought you could six years ago," Tony replied, confidently, "You were just unlucky, mate."
     "Aye, glad you think so. Cos there's no way I'm going 0-2 against him. And beating him in his own Custom Cup Rules will be a nice bonus considering he beat me under the same circumstances."
     Tony grinned, "Some supreme justice, eh? Awesome. Uh... you fancy going for a drink? I'm not gonna lie, I'd love to tell my mates I bought The Bruiser a pint."
     Cain shook his head, "Another time, maybe. I've got a Pokemon trial to beat."
     Tony frowned.
      "Pokemon?" he stumbled.
      "That's right. Didn't Zeph tell you? I'm on my Alolan Island Challenge."
      Cain grabbed his bag, flipped his 4CW World Championship over his shoulder and moved towards the exit, leaving Tony looking lost in translation and Zeph snickering to himself.

MATCH RP FOR STORM FRONT FEB 19TH, 2017

"A Little Discourage"

   "So what do you know about this Glock 9 guy?"
     Zeph sloppily placed two rum and cokes on the maple wood table. He sat down in the booth next to Rhys Cain before sipping his own drink.
     "Not much, apart from the fact he's a big, mean bastard. You watch yourself." Cain replied.

     Rhys Cain hadn't planned to or particularly wanted to come out tonight. He'd worked a house show earlier in the day and was aching, but his brother had just signed a contract resigning with 4CW, and since Cain was a big reason why it happened, his brother insisted on taking him out to thank him, and Cain reluctantly obliged. That's how they found themselves in a local bar. Some tables were a bit dusty and there was a drunk in the corner Cain had no desire to communicate with, but it wasn't that bad a place really. The indie band playing on the small stage was pretty good, there was overall a joyous atmosphere and Cain noticed the longer they were there the busier it was getting. He wondered if it was the band drawing the people in, maybe they were more well-known that Cain thought.

     "The bigger they are, the harder they fall." Zeph replied with a cocky smirk.
     "Yeah, but also, the bigger they are, the further you fly." Cain snapped back.
     "He has to catch me first." Zeph quipped, "And speaking of catching, we need to catch you a girl."
     Cain rolled his eyes, "Get out of here, man."
     "Come on, bro," Zeph exasperated, "You can't be hung up on your break up forever. Ella's moved on, you should too."
     "It's not about moving on," Cain argued, on the defensive almost too quickly, "I just... can't be arsed for all the hassle."
     "Oh yeah, regular sex and someone to wake up to... such a hassle." Zeph said, and this time, he rolled his eyes.
     "You know what I mean..." Cain muttered; it may as well had been a surrender.
     "No, I don't know what you mean... wait here." Zeph said and, downing his drink, he slammed the glass back on the table and walked into a crowd of people who had surrounded the stage for the band.

     Cain sat there, sipping his rum and coke, wondering what the hell his brother was up to, whether he had some crazy scheme or was just drunk already. His shoulder was bothering him; he'd taken a rough landing from a body slam earlier that evening. He tried doing circular motions with his arm to ease the ache, closing his eyes as he did so. He kept at it for a few moments, until he heard a giggle from nearby and opened his eyes, stopping his motions suddenly, and looked up to see his grinning brother with a girl linked to each arm.

     "Rhys, man, this is Daisy," he said, motioning to the shorter girl to his left, with a dark ponytail, bangs and a long but pretty face, "and Miranda."

     Miranda had a shorter, auburn bob, down to her neck, mint green eyes which stood out to him surrounded by her mascara, wide, cute cheeks, soft cherry lips and, Cain couldn't help but admit to himself, a cracking pair of tits that she had clearly decided she was going to show off with her low cleavage top. As annoying as his brother's match-making antics had become, Cain was attracted to the girl called Miranda and soon found himself hoping she would choose to sit next to him rather than Daisy. Deciding he wouldn't like to leave it to chance, he stood up.

     "Nice to meet you both." He smiled, and then edged his way behind Daisy and Zeph, before offering them to sit in the booth first.

     They obliged, followed by Miranda, and he sat down next to Miranda at the end of the booth, feeling pretty smug with himself.

     Smooth move, he thought idly.

     Ten minutes later, once they had made their introductions and Zeph had returned with more drinks, the booth almost became split into two sections as Zeph and Daisy were already ramming eachothers tongues down their throats (Zeph always did have a classy touch, Cain thought to himself sarcastically) and Miranda and Cain had established some small talk. He hadn't spoken to a girl like this in years; he'd been with Ella for so long he'd almost forgotten how to chat to a girl when he was single. For all he could tell however, Miranda was happy with their flow of conversation. Cain was tempted to compliment her eyes or her cute smile, but thought it would probably be cringeworthy, so he kept it to himself.

    "So what do you do?" Miranda asked him, breaking his train of nervous thoughts and forcing him to speak.
    "Uh... what, Zeph didn't tell you already? I'm surprised." Cain smirked, "I'm a Pro Wrestler."
    "A wrestler?" She raised her brow with a surprised expression. Clearly whatever she thought Cain was, it wasn't that, "Are you any good?"
    "Well, I'd like to think so." Cain grinned.

     He could feel his cheeks blushing and was suddenly thankful for the dimmed bar lights. He heard what sounded almost like a plunger unplugging from the toilet as Zeph came free from his partner, to turn to Miranda.

    "He's being modest. He's only the world champion."

    And with that, Zeph turned back to Daisy and burrowed himself back into her face.

    "So, you're the champion." Miranda grinned mischievously.
    "World Champion." Cain corrected her daringly.
    "Oh, pardon me." She laughed.
    "What do you do?" Cain asked her in the silence when she sipped her drink.
    "I sing in a band," she said, matter-of-factly, she sure wasn't as shy about showing off her work as Cain was.
     "Are you any good?" Cain shot back her own question at her and she stalled for a moment, before shrugging.
     "Why don't you come and see me and judge for yourself?" She asked.
     "When's your next gig?" 
     "Two weeks time, right here actually."
     "You're shitting me."
     "Nope, those on stage are some buddies of mine." Miranda pointed up at the stage, where the half-decent indy band were jiving to their upbeat, preppy song.
     "Cool, I was actually thinking they were pretty good earlier. If you are better than them, you're doing well. I gotta be in Wisconsin for a show on Sunday, but I'm sure I can find the time to come back here and see you play."

     Cain grabbed his empty glass and looked over at Miranda's.

     "Want another?" He asked her.

     Cain's momentary bubble was burst when she shook her head.

    "No, I'm alright, thanks..." She looked at her watch, "I was thinking, since those two are too busy sucking face to notice, you wanna head out somewhere quieter? You can tell me all about your wrestling matches."

     The bubble swelled back up.

     "Only if you tell me about your music."

     She smiled again and Cain was quite tempted to swoop in and, as Miranda had put it, suck her face. However, Zeph and Daisy had been doing that for so long it just came across as crass to Cain, and even against his initial reluctance to come out tonight, he found he really wanted to impress this girl and then, maybe, "suck her face".

     "I'm out, bro." Cain called over to Zeph as Miranda grabbed her bag and headed for the exit.

     Zeph lifted a thumbs up but didn't move away from Daisy and it occured to him at that point that maybe this was Zeph's plan all along, knowing that it would make Cain or Miranda uncomfortable enough to want to go out alone together somewhere. Cain didn't mind his methods one little bit. On Sunday, he would go through a gruelling match with Brian White, tomorrow, he would deal with the hangover he may end up with but tonight, all he wanted to do was spend time with Miranda, the funny, pretty band chick who showed up and made up for being dragged out on a night out with his sometimes annoying but right now at this moment (due to whatever he said that convinced her to come over) best damn brother around.

MATCH RP FOR STORM FRONT MAR 19TH, 2017

"On An Island"

     In the winter, the dragon forgot the meaning of love. Now, in early Spring, he was starting to remember. "The Bruiser" Rhys Cain had split his life in two over the past month. His professional life, which he had split between 4CW shows, helping out at The Bruiser School of Wrestling whenever possible (which was not often as the flights to the UK and back were taxing) and testing himself by sparring against all styles of wrestling for his opponent at Revival, to which he still had no idea who it would be, and his personal life, which had been spent almost entirely with Miranda.

    Miranda seemed to like the idea of dating a Pro Wrestler, especially one that was 4CW Heavyweight Champion, and Cain would be lying to himself if he didn't admit that his ego loved every minute of it. It had been a long time since Cain had felt happy in the company of a woman; a part of him thought maybe the time wouldn't come where he wasn't pining over his ex and mother of his daughter but now she felt like a distant dream; and while he missed his daughter, and was disappointed with how little he was seeing her, he was happy to realise he didn't much care for Ella anymore; at least on a romantic basis.

     Cain's train of thought was broken my his phone ringing. It was Zeph. He pushed the hands free speaker phone and answered.

     "What's up, bro?" Cain called into the phone.
     "Hey, Rhys. Not alot man. Just thought I'd check in on you." Zeph's voice came through the car speakers.
     "Check up on me, huh? Well, I'm good. Just on my way to Miranda's." Cain replied.
     "What's the occassion?" Zeph asked.
     "She's cooking me dinner."

      Cain rolled his eyes while his brother made a suggestive "oooh" sound.

     "So, it's going well, huh?" Zeph asked.
     "It's been a good month, yeah." Cain replied.
     "And you know you have your amazing little bro to thank for that, right?"

     Cain rolled his eyes again.

     "I see you're as cocky as always." Cain grinned.
     "Well, you know... so are we still heading for Jacksonville together tomorrow?" Zeph asked.
     "Yeah, I'll pick you up tomorrow at around 2pm."
     "You nervous?"
      "Nervous? About what?"
      "Well, it's the last show before Revival - you still don't know who you'll be defending that title against." Zeph pointed out.
      "I relish the challenge." Cain replied.

      He decided not to point out to his brother that he had been sparring with everyone from high fliers to submissionists to brawlers over the past month to make sure he was prepared for any and all opponents.

      "Well, I'm just pulling into Miranda's now. I'll call you when I'm on my way tomorrow." Cain said.
      "Alright, bro, I'll see ya tomorrow."

      And with that, the line went dead.

     Cain pulled his Nissan Juke into the small parking space for Miranda's apartment building. He grabbed his 4CW Championship from the passenger seat and headed up to the building. Miranda buzzed him in and a few minutes later, he was knocking her door. She opened the door, dressed in a sleek, black dress that seemed way too nice for a simple dinner at her place, but Cain didn't mind. She looked great. Her mint green eyes and black mascara surrounding always made his heart beat a little faster and if anything, he felt a little silly for underdressing himself (in jeans and a black 'BENCH' t-shirt) since she had made such an effort. She glanced at the 4CW Heavyweight Championship on his shoulder and smirked.

     "You brought your title? What a show off." She teased.
     "Hey, I'm heading down to Jacksonville tomorrow, and I'm not leaving the title in my car." Cain replied, defensively.
   
     With a grin, Miranda allowed him into the house. As usual, she kept her apartment a lot neater than Cain's had ever been. Cain's apartment had everything he needed and nothing more; but Miranda's was full of all sorts of luxurious furniture and ornaments (including one particular foot-tall brass peacock that, unlike everything else in the apartment, Cain hated). Some people might have seen her as materialistic if they walked in here, but Cain just saw her as cute. They spent an hour or so with small talk while Miranda finished preparing the food before they sat down on her white leather dining chairs around her polished elm table. Cain had decided over the past month, after seeing a gig, that Miranda's singing was probably her greatest talent; but he questioned his judgement as he finished his steak, which was juicier than he could find in most restaraunts around Florida.

     "That was fantastic." he complimented her.
     "Well, thanks. I've never cooked for anyone else before." Miranda replied.
     "They are missing out, then." He replied kindly.

      Miranda sipped a little wine slowly and it looked as though she had something on her mind. Moments later, she started blurting out what she had to say.
     
     "I want to ask you something." She said quickly.
     "Oh yeah?" Cain asked, curiously.

      She looked nervous.

     "Now, I know this might seem a little ridiculous... I know we've only been dating for a month but I really enjoy your company."
     "So do I."
      "So," she seemed to be preparing herself, "So.. what I was going to suggest was... if it's alright with you... that after you come back from Jacksonville, we could maybe... consider moving in together?"

      Cain coughed on his wine. Whatever he had been expecting her to say, that was not it. He recovered quickly, wiping his mouth with a napkin. Miranda looked mortified.

     "Oh, god. You hate the idea. It was stupid of me to ask. I'm sorry."
     "No, no." Cain replied, trying to stop himself from coughing again, "No, you just took me by surprise is all."

     Miranda didn't look convinced; so Cain reached over and held her hand.

     "Honestly, I'm on the road a lot, so I won't be home every day but... I think it's a great idea." Cain said.
     "Really?" Miranda replied, "You're not just saying that? I can take it if you wanna say no."
     "Really." Cain smiled, "Yeah, it's only been a month but... well, I haven't been this content in a long time."
   
     Miranda beamed; Cain couldn't help but mirror the big smile.

     "So it looks like you'll be waking up to me every morning, then." Miranda curled her lip.
     "I guess so... I'm not sure about that, though," Cain grinned, nodding over to the brass peacock, "I don't want to wake up to that every morning."

RP TImeline: September 1st, 2020

They see me as the villain. I'm not blind to it. Not deaf to it, either. But I don't hate them. Not really. In a way, I pity them. Because they just can't see that Rhys Cain is their saviour.

And I know that makes me sound like a psychopath or a delusional man, but come on, use some common sense here. I'm not talking about Jesus Christ has cometh saviour... I just mean, in the context of 4CW, I can save the company. I can save the talent. I can save the product. Because I know how to run a wrestling show, I've been doing it for years. Who's main event matches sold Revival? Even when they weren't the main event, they were the star attraction. That's always been the case.

From my Death match with Rasheed Evans in my first Revival, 11 years ago... where as the rookie I stole the show with the lengths I was willing to go to win, putting Evans in that Back Snap over shards of glass to my most recent one on one match at Revival, putting my career on the line against one of the best to ever step foot in that ring, Supreme.

That's what I brought to this company.

And what happened this year at Revival? I was quickly featured and won the Tag Team titles AND finally became Grand Slam fuckin' Champion, only to be betrayed by my partner and screwed by management, as if my career defining achievement meant nothing. And the only reason I had that opportunity to begin with was because I MADE it happen. If not for what I did, would I have even made the card? And can anyone honestly say that Rhys Cain not on the Revival card isn't an absolute travesty?

I mean, 4CW has certain names that just jump out at you. And Rhys Cain is pretty much the first one. I'm humbled and honoured that that is the case, but at the end of the day, I'm entitled to certain benefits with that achievement. So all I've done for the past year is try and get what is rightfully mine, but of course, they see me as this horrible, vicious monster...

And the crazy thing is, that apparent "monster" has ALWAYS been a part of me... even when they cheered me... I literally just listed me holding a man over shards of glass in my FIRST Revival match a decade ago! I haven't changed! I'm the same Rhys I've always been... so then, logic only dictates that they are the ones who changed. The fans. All I've ever wanted was to entertain them. I loved being one of them as a child myself. And not to toot my own horn, but when I'm in the ring, they see the best damn wrestling this place has to offer.

But they don't appreciate me. Not like they used to. So now, this is what I have to do to adapt. To survive. I don't work hard to maybe get somewhere anymore. Now, I work hard and I take whatever the hell I want. Of course, you already know all this. You're me. Why am I telling myself any of this?

...

...

Maybe I'm trying to convince myself what I'm saying is true...

...

...

...

Shit, I'm starving. What's in the fridge?