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A Good Steam; Rp number 3
Topic Started: Dec 11 2011, 04:40 AM (171 Views)
James Stall
Member Avatar
i'm a little bitch
[ *  *  *  * ]
James Stall pulls up to Quinn’s, a biker bar on Hempstead Long Island. He’s riding in on his silver Forty-Eight Harley Davidson, and is wearing a black motorcycle helmet along with matching shades and leather jacket. Crammed into a tiny gray sidecar is Adam Foulds. It is four in the afternoon. James pulls his motorcycle next to several other Harleys. He unstraps his helmet and sets it on the seat. After some struggling, Adam Foulds nearly falls out of the side car. He rips off his helmet and throws it back into the little tin can.

“What the bloody hell are we doing here mate?”

James surveys the parking lot which is filled with different models of motorcycle. He tugs on his leather jacket.

“I told you. I’m looking for some training.”

Adam watches as a large black man with a thick beard and a beat up leather jacket steps off his orange Harley and lumbers toward the bar.

“The shows in Canada mate. Shouldn’t we do your training up there?”

James whips off his shades.

“But if I was up there I wouldn’t be getting the specialized training that I need.”

“Which is?”

“One, apparently Mike Miller is in some sort of biker gang. I can only assume that he’s acquired some sort of specialized biker fighting style that I need to become acquainted with. Two, the endurance challenge is a multi-man match. So I figured I’d come here and kill two birds with one stone.”

As James goes to open the door to the bar Adam grabs his arm.

“Wait. So you’re telling me your plan is to walk into this bar, and pick a fight with everyone inside.”

James nods.

“Pretty much.”

“What am I here for?”

Stall shrugs.

“I don’t know. Just watch out, and let me know if anyone pulls a gun on me or something.”

James Stall swings open the bar door and steps inside. The bar is full of mustachioed and muscle-bound motor cycle enthusiasts in bandanas and leather jackets. The bar is decorated with red and green Christmas lights and tinsel.

“This place is disgusting.”

James pushes his jacket open and puts both hands on his hips.

“I love it.”

Adam looks around at the Christmas decorations and then back at James. He shakes his head.

“I really don’t see the point of this mate.”

“The Endurance Challenge is about surviving a match with five other individuals. If I can survive a brawl with a bar full of bikers I can survive that.”

Adam looks at all the bikers in the bar.

“And what if these guys cripple you before your match which is tomorrow?”

James stands defiantly and fixes his gaze on the back of one of the biker’s heads.

“That won’t happen.”

“But what if-“

James snaps his head toward Adam.

“Stop being a downer Adam.”

James turns back to focus on the largest biker in the room. James takes a deep breath and then walks up to him and taps him on the shoulder. An absolute mountain of a man turns around and steps off his bar stool. He is at least six five and three hundred and fifty pounds. He is equal parts muscle, fat, and hair. James straighten up, puffs up his chest and thrusts out his jaw.

“Hey Bear.”

The biker looks at him with a raised eyebrow.

“My name’s Phil.”

“Whatever you say Hondo.”

Phil crosses both meaty arms.

“What do you want?”

James jams his finger right into Phil’s chest.

“I’m looking for a good old fashioned street fight Ponch.”

Phil simply turns back toward the bar.

“Well you’ve come to the wrong place.”

James grabs Phil by the shoulder and he turns back around. More of the bikers are beginning to take notice. They stop what they’re doing to see what is going on. Adam shifts on the balls of his feet nervously.

“Look I don’t care how many of you meth’d up mother fuckers I have to face. I’ll take you all on.”

Phil knocks James’ hand away.

“What do you think we’re all Sons of Anarchy?”

James holds his arms out wide, and thrusts his chin at Phil a few times.

“It sounds like you’re ducking me.”

Phil indicates a selection of stuffed animals, dolls, and action figures that are sitting on the bar counter.

“We’re preparing for our annual toys for tots ride.”

James spots a large Tenderheart Care Bear on the bar counter. He quickly picks it up and tears its head off. His eyes gleam as he commits teddycide.

“I’m a bad man mother fucker!”

Stuffing flies everywhere. Big Phill seems unimpressed.

“Get the hell out of here.”

“Fight me asshole!”

James gives Phil a hard shove. Immediately all eyes are on them. Clicks can be heard as everyone in the bar pulls out whatever gun they are carrying. Adam steps next to James and whispers in his ear.

“They’ve pulled guns on you.”

James smiles and gently pats Phil on the side of the arm.

“Right. You all have a nice day.”

James and Adam turn around, and as quickly and calmly as they can exit the bar.

“That was a close one mate.”

James continues to hustle toward the motorcycle. He puts on his helmet.

“Well let’s go.”

Adam grabs his helmet, and sets it on his head.

“Where?”

James straddles the bike.

“To our next training stop of course.”

Adam crams himself back into the sidecar.

“And that would be?”

James guns the motorcycle engine.

“Brooklyn.”

An hour and half later, and James Stall is sitting in Russian Steam room in Brighton Beach Brooklyn with a bald, but well-built older Russian man. Both men are wearing nothing, but towels. Adam is dutifully waiting outside the steam room in case James meets with any trouble. James looks at the Russian man and slides closer toward him. The Russian man looks back.

“What are you doing here?”
The bald man’s head is neatly shaved. He is older, but his muscles are like rock. James places his hand on the man’s shoulder.

“I’ll be honest with you comrade. I’m in the Endurance Challenge at Challenger Series. Originally there was going to be this big Russian guy in it. I kinda planned this out to deal with him.”

The man nods.

“I see.”

“Yeah. I was going to call him Ivan Gosuckadick. It would have been awesome. Then I would have fought you and three of your Russian mob friends.”

“I’m not-“

“Look I’ve seen the trailer to Eastern Promises. I know how these things work. We drop the towels. I fight you. Three of your mob buddies run in out of nowhere. I kill all of you in self defense.”

The man squints his eyes at James.

“I think you are incredibly racist.”

James waves his hands.

“No that’s Mike Miller’s gimmick or was… maybe. It’s a confusing issue. Anyway, that’s kinda pointless now.”

James scratches the back of his head.

“I was thinking maybe I’d just break your neck and call it training for Jason Matthews.”

The man looks unconcerned.

“Why would you want to break my neck?”

James shrugs.

“Mostly to show that I could.”

The man nods again.

“I’m going to ask that you not do that.”
James rests his hands on his knees and begins to rock back and forth.

“Eh. I’m not really in the mood. So you might just luck out.”

The man leans toward James.

“What’s wrong?”

James presses his left index finger to his temple.

“You’re the second person to me ask me that this week.”

“Then there must really be something wrong with you.”

James looks away.

“Maybe.”

“Well?”

James looks at the man.

“Can I be honest with you?”

The man smiles and clasps his hand across James’ broad shoulders.

“If two men can’t be honest with each other while they’re sitting near naked together in a steam room when can they be honest?”

James scratches his chin.

“That is an incredibly valid point.”

“I know.”

“You’re a wise man.”

“Thank you.”

“Yeah…”

“You are avoiding it.”

“What?”

“Telling me what’s wrong.”

“I’m not avoiding anything.”

“Yes you are.”

“No I’m not.”

“Yes you are.”

“Am not.”

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop this.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“Stop it.”

“St-“

The man pounds his fist on the bench they are sitting on.

“Stop it!”

“Fine.”

James sits there for a few moments in silence. The man leans toward him again. He motions with his hand for James to tell his story.

“So?”

“So?”

“Don’t start again. Just tell me what’s bothering you.”

James takes a deep breath and looks up at the ceiling.

“I have bouts of crippling self-doubt in between urges to enact unspeakable violence toward people.”

The man places both hand on his knees, sits up straight and nods.

“This is natural.”

James cocks his head at the Russian man.

“Really?”

The man again places his hand on James’ shoulder.

“Yes. You are young. You are like little bird spreading wings for first time. How even mighty eagle must leave nest at some point. How is it to know when it is truly ready? If it try too soon it fall to death. All birds must doubt themselves before they can fly.”

James looks at the man with hope in his eyes.

“And the urges for unspeakable violence?”

“That you should probably see a doctor about.”

James looks down at the floor.

“Oh.”

The man pokes his finger at James’ chest.

“It could be that you are angry at yourself, and so since you can’t focus on yourself specifically so you turn it toward the world in general.”

James eyes open wide.

“Holy crap. I think you’re on to something.”

“So why are you so angry with yourself?”

James wraps his left hand around the back of his neck. He wipes his right hand down the side of his face.

“I guess it comes back to that self-doubt. I mean I get a good thing going, but I never seem to be able to keep it going you know? I should be able to win on paper, but I don’t. It’s almost like every time I’m actually the favorite in a match I find a way to blow it.”

The Russian man soaks this in, and nods.

“Let me ask you another question.”

“Shoot.”

“How have you been preparing for your match at Challenger Series?”

James places both hands on the back of his head and leans back.

“Oh you know the usual. I’ve been in the gym. I’ve been talking about why I’m better than each of my opponents. I tried to do this thing in a biker bar, but that didn’t quite work out.”

“Have you talked about how your opponents are better than you?”

James snaps forward again.

“They’re not. So why would I do that?”

The man pats James’ knee with his hand.

“There is your problem.”

“What?”

“You haven’t faced your doubts head on. You need to be honest with yourself.”

James slaps his chest with his hands.

“I am honest with myself. I’m the last honest men in NEW.”

The man straightens up in his seat.

“Then tell me why your opponents can beat you.”

James slumps his shoulders. His body curls forward as he thinks. Eventually he lifts his head up.

“Well, Doc’s the champ. He’s the champ for a reason. He’s talented. And he’s got a ton of hype behind him, but he never seems to let that get to him. So he beats this guy Matt Starr right? And he beats him twice. Then Matt’s off to fight for the World Title. So that says something about the caliber of people Doc can beat. But it also means Doc’s gonna be fighting pissed. He’s got to feel like he should be in the World Title match. So in a way he needs to win this. In a way even if he’s been so great so far he hasn’t lived up to all his hype if he can’t walk away from this big match the champion.”

James places his hands on the top of his head.

“And he’s got the athletic talent to do it. And the brains too, dude’s almost a legitimate doctor. I’m sure that means he knows how to work a body. He’s a dangerous guy in that ring.”

Stall points at the ground.

“Then there’s Misty Lyn. She’s got something to prove too. All her life she’s been compared to other people. She’s been compared to Kayla Jade. She’s been compared to the Brooklyn Bad Boys. I mean it’s sort of her fault. She surrounds herself with these people. But now she’s really trying to go at it on her own. She wants to prove to the world that she deserves to be measured by her own merit, and not against other people. I admire that honestly, and of all the people in this match I think I relate to her the best. Plus I’m kinda sexually attracted to her, which is weird because I thought I outgrew my Asian fetish after high school.”

He turns toward the man.

“Oh, and she’s faster than me. Bitch can run circles around me. There’s no doubt that I outclass everyone in this match when it comes to strength. But what I have in strength she has in speed and agility. She can wear me down. And I can’t hit what I can’t catch. Plus her tits can be distracting.”

“Who else is in your match?”

“Jason Matthews is dangerous because everyone underestimates him. I know firsthand what can happen when you do. And he broke a guy’s neck, which is supposed to be my thing, but it’s an accomplishment regardless. Kid’s hungry because he knows people underestimate him. And yeah, he may be the smallest threat in this match, but he’s still a threat. He’s got the ability to win or Travis Blaine wouldn’t have put him in this match.”

James‘ eyes focus on a spot on the white wall in front of the men where he visualizes Mike Miller.

“And Mike Miller’s hungry too. He just broke away from a major faction here in NEW. So now he has to prove he can do all this on his own. And the guy’s got the talent to be champion. He’s won singles titles before, which is more than I can say about myself. So he’s got the ability, and he’s got the experience. Plus he’s a little bit crazy which makes him unpredictable.”

James closes his eyes as he thinks about his next opponent. His shoulders tense.

“And speaking of crazy there’s Iron Heart. And he’s in my head. He’s the guy who’s really gotten me thinking about my family. And I hadn’t really thought about them since Vindication. But now I can see exactly what he’s saying, and it makes so much damn sense even from a looney. And he wears a mask…”

James opens his eyes and looks at the Russian man who is sitting there listening intently.

“Do you know what the worst thing about an opponent who wears a mask? I can’t see his eyes. I can’t see if he’s hurting. I can’t see him telegraph his moves. I can’t tell if I’m getting to him while at the same time he’s getting to me. He’s already got the mental game won on me, and I’ve never had that happen before.”

The man gently places his hand on James’ shoulder.

“Now tell me why you doubt yourself.”

James’ face muscles go slack. Again he slumps forward. This time he brings his head to rest in his hands.

“Because I’m not my Grandfather, or my uncle. Both of them are Hall of Fame wrestlers. And I’m afraid I’ll become like my dad, a crippled washout. When Riot and Dice injured my leg at Vindication I was terrified. I’m afraid of failure so I fail. It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

The man leans forward and gets close to James’ ear. He whispers.

“So tell me why you are hungriest dog in fight.”

James drops his hands. He looking straight at the ground, but his head is supporting himself.

“Because I need to win this. Because honestly my record is shit. It’s nowhere near as good as it should be. I need to win this match. And then I need to win the next one.”

James’ back slowly begins to curl back into a straight position.

“ And I need to win the one after that. I need to prove that I can be consistent. I need to show that I have what it takes to be big time. If I don’t win this match I might as well resign myself to the midcard forever. This is my first shot, but it could just as easily be the last.”

James sitting straight up now. The man slaps him across the back.

“Tell me why you’re going to win.”
James presses his hands into the bench.

“Because I’m stronger. I want this more. Even though they might fear me. Even though they might respect me. They all still underestimate me. They can crack jokes. They can threaten. They can refuse to talk about me, but the fact is I am James Stall and this is what I do.”

He pushes himself up and stands in the middle of the steam room. He presses his finger to his chest.

“I win matches. I send people to the hospital. I end careers. I am the Cinnamon Stick badass, the Hardest Hitting Man in Showbusiness. And come Challenger Series I will be the NEW Television Champion.”

James climbs on top of the bench and points toward the door. His tone is steadily rising.

“Let those five other men be damned. I will prove to them all that I am better than those who came before.”

James begins to thump his chest furiously with both fists like a gorilla as he looks up at the ceiling and shouts at the top of his lungs.

“I am not a dime a dozen! I am not Joe Stall I am JAMES STALL!”

He jumps into the air and lands back on the bench. The towel he is wearing falls off leaving James Stall, with his well above average length penis, completely naked. He is too excited to care.

“And I am going to win this match!”

The Russian man jumps on top of the bench as well, and his towel also comes loose. He grabs James fist and shakes it.

“Remember my friend. No man is invincible. Your opponents may be carved from stone, but even stone can be broken up by a mighty hammer.”

James clasps his hand on the Russian’s. They look each other dead in the eyes, and both naked men share a total bro moment.

“I’m not converting to Communism.”

“I didn’t ask you too.”

James is the first to break the man stare. He climbs off of the bench and rewraps the towel around his waist.

“Thank you Sergei.”

The Russian man climbs down and grabs his towel as well.

“My name is Phil.”

James pauses for a moment and chews on his tongue as he nods.

“Really? You too? What a crazy coincidence.”

Russian Phil pats James on the back.

“Now you go out there and win that match.”

“I will.”

James begins to walk toward the door of the steam. Suddenly he stops and turns toward Phil who is still standing.

“Hey Phil?”

“Yes?”

“I’m glad I didn’t break your neck.”

Phil smiles.

“I’m glad too.”

James goes back toward the door, but again he stops and turns around.

“Phil?”

This time Phil just looks at him. James undoes his towel.

“Catch.”

James tosses the towel to Phil and walks out of the steam room. Phil looks down at the towel and shakes his head before tossing it behind him.

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New Era Record:
29-26-1

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Record Holder for Longest World Heavyweight Championship Reign (239 Days)
Record Holder for Longest Title Reign (239 Days)
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x2 North American Champion
x2 New Era World Heavyweight Champion (Current)
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