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Vindication V

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When it Raines
Topic Started: Aug 17 2012, 01:33 PM (208 Views)
TGD
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#confirmedthirdparty
[ *  *  *  * ]
The Hilton New York.
A six-inch plastic figurine of Romeo Styles dangles loosely to the side of a young boy, swinging wildly back and forth as he stomps his way through the hotel's lobby with his father gripping his hand tightly and guiding the way. Filled with energy and excitement, this young child can hardly contain himself.


"Can we go now, Dad?! I want to see Razzle Dazzle now!"

The boy's father stops a moment, bending down to one knee. Their faces meet as the father takes his hand and playfully runs his hand through the boys hair.

"In a few days, son. You just have to wait, Vindication is just around the corner."

The two may be father and son, but they share little resemblance. This doesn’t retract from the tender moment between the two, as the father grabs around the child's waist and hoists him up into the air and clutches him close to his chest.

"It's going to be the best thing you’ve ever seen, son, I promise."

The plastic Romeo Stylez drops to the floor, the son embraces the father. In this golden-lit marble-floored beautifully adorned lobby, it’s the perfect moment between father and son. Kind of like when Gina and Clipper get it on. Other guests remain obscured in the distance, blurry shapes to be forgotten in memory. Another man approaches the two, a broad smile and pair of key cards in hand.

"Got the room, honeypot. You boys ready to stay on the executive level? Rumor has it a NEW star is just down the hall in one of the rooms..."

The boy pushes himself away from the chest of the man holding him close, his eyes gleaming with delight.

"Really?" The man holding him guides him to the floor, the child running to the other man and reaching for the key card.

"Would I evers lies to yous? Nows be goods and Daddy mights lets you stays ups and plays some Xbox tonight. That was a long flight from San Francisco, but we can sleep in tomorrow. Would you like that?"

Enthusiastically, the boy nods his head and jumps for the keycard. The man laughs as they play tug of war, before he finally lets go and allows the boy victory. The other man approaches as the kid buckles for the elevator, desperate to find his room. The other man clasps the man’s hands in his own, smiling.

"They grow up so fast."

"That they do. Thanks for this -it meant a lot."


The two men embrace, lips locked with the world blurred around them. This picturesque moment, framed by a family gathering as NEW Era draws close to its next big event. Jimmy Helmsley's greatest performance: taking a giant dump on the toilet (that's right Jimmy taking a dump is better than anything he's ever done). Men, women, and children of many backgrounds gather under one banner: Vindication III. Fans, athletes, and everything in-between has come to this. One event, a night to remember...

One man, in particular, stands out from the others. A gaunt, poorly-dressed seedy looking individual. His eyes are sharp, and his tongue quick. But his demeanor does nothing to command respect. He stands at the front desk of the hotel lobby, stirring up quite the scene.


"Now listen, what was your name? Ching Chong Ching Chong? Alright. Listen to me. Hear the words that are coming out of my mouth, you chink fuck. My client, my close and personal friend Adam Jones, is staying somewhere in your hotel. I lost my cell phone. My wallet got stolen by some of your slit-eyed street friends. It is very important that I get a hold of my friend. I need you to tell me which room he is in. Do you understand? Can you speaka da englisha?"

The wiry man raises his voice into a yell, while the front desk agent; a dark-skinned thickly stocked man in his thirties, is not amused nor does he appear entertained with the man standing opposite.

"First of all, I'm Persian. Secondly, I was born in Detroit. More importantly, hotel policy dictates that I cannot just... tell you the room where our guests are staying. Now I'm afraid that I'm going to have to ask you for the third and final time to leave. If you continue this behavior, this racist-fueled filth you've deemed fit to yell for all of our other guests to hear, I'll have you thrown out by force. Do you understand? Do you speak English?"

Aghast, the slender man backs away from the counter and sputters in failed retort -resulting finally to a flip of the finger. Curtly, the desk agent flips a switch and two surly-looking security officers drop in with a prompt response.

"You bastards! Come at me! Like Erickson!"
Fat fingers find their way around Kevin Raines' throat, and Kevin Raines finds his ass laid out on the ground outside of the hotel grounds. Wheezing and heaving like a blind man down meth alley, he does his best to brush himself clean and regain composure in view of the public eye. You guys aren't actually reading this shit, are you? When the dust settles, Raines shakes his head in defeat. Glancing up at the high-rise building, he sighs and reserves himself across the street. He would find Adam, eventually. This much was certain. Raines was like a bloodhound in this manner, and this matter was of great importance.

Though that didn't mean he couldn't get pissed drunk in the meantime.

And pissed drunk, he became. Or rather, pissing himself while drunk and passed out in the back-alley behind the bar while the moon hung low in the sky. You might call it a good night out. Greg, you are so fucking gay I better win this shit so we can have homo sex. Raines lays there for several hours on end, until the moon has risen and come back down again, and the sun peaks out over the horizon. Finally coming to his senses, Raines reaches for the wall, only to discover that the wall is actually the floor, and he's lost any and all sense of what is right or left. Struggling, he props himself onto his back and attempts to make sense of the world.


"Everything... won't... stop... spinning... dammit."

At long last, the world started to make sense again. Right became right, left was left. Kevin Raines was beginning to get his bearings straight. His head was throbbing, a mind-numbing pain encroaching itself all across his skull. But he would manage. It was better than playing Mafia with Jay Gold, a giant fucking dumbass, after all. It wasn't long, however, when he spotted Adam Jones exit the hotel. Renewed with vigor, Raines sprinted for his boss. Kind of like how Cam sprints for the anus hole when I bend over. Catching TGD by the shoulder, Raines nearly collapses.

"Jonesy! Finally... found you..."

"Raines? Are you okay? You look like you could use a bite to eat. Want to get a waffle?"

Everything goes dark. James Stall is a big fat bitch, the biggest bitch in the whole wide world. When Raines finally comes to, Adam has taken him to the diner.

"Rough night, huh?" asks Adam.

"I don't even want to start. If that damned ignorant desk agent had just let me see you-- whatever. I'm over it. We need to talk."

"About?"

Raines sighes, picking up his fork and musing over the plate of waffles. Google blue waffles. Do iiiitttt. He pauses a moment, savoring the aroma of fresh food. And then he lets the fork sit idle against his plate, looking TGD as dead and serious as he can right in the eye.

"Tombstone."

I can literally type anything right here and none of you fucks would give a damn, just say my shit is good and kiss my ass. Jones looks at Raines, curiously. How's that for a descriptive fucking sentence?

"What about him?"

Raines retrieves his fork, cutting the waffle up and enjoying a bit of food before continuing. I admit, that last sentence was totally put in here to make this roleplay seem longer than it really is. That one, too. And this one. And the next...

"You can't just beat him, Adam! Look at the man! Last time you met this asshole in the ring, he damn near knocked your head off!"

Adam felt the cold sting of Raines' words. It was like lavender. Soft and silky. Like my penis against your face. Rub it. Lick it. Like it. Ahem... back to the story. Adam himself had felt a great deal of apprehension and respect for the man known as Tombstone. A giant behemoth, wrecked with ink and scars beyond recognition. The man was on a fast-track to the main event in NEW Era, and Adam had long watched from the sidelines silently waiting to see what happened next.

"I'm disappointed, Raines. I thought better of you. You have so little faith in me that you feel certain I can't beat someone?"

Raines held his head down low. Lower than when I went down on yo momma last night. Begrudgingly, he admitted the truth.

"This guy is a monster, Jonesy. Forget the others. That Messiah fuckhead, and Scene. You need a fucking gameplan or Tombstone is going to mop the floor with you, and break you into tiny little pieces!"

"I have a game plan, it's called work my ass off like always and go all out. If Tombstone beats me, then he's more than earned the right to wear the title."

"Oh come on, Jonesy!"
Raines now has desperation in his eyes. More than anything, he wants to see TGD succeed. He wants to see TGD become the biggest superstar on the NEW Era roster. Have you ever farted into your hand and then sniffed it? More than anything, Raines wants to see Adam Jones defy the odds and beat this man, this tattooed freak, who many have labeled as the next big thing to hit the company. An unbeatable legend. Raines would hear none of it.

"All I'm suggesting is that we even the playing field, just a little bit. Maybe even fix it so that Tombstone can't compete when Vindication comes around. Make it so that he's in no condition to give you an actual fight. Make you look like there's nothing he can do against you..."

"I can't believe this. You're suggesting that I cheat, that we injure or otherwise impair this man's ability to fight? Are you really that afraid? Really that confident that there's no way to beat this man? I'm ashamed, Kevin... what in the hell made you think that I would ever agree to this?"


Adam wasn't sure what to feel. He'd already had enough pressure mounting on him. TSO is a fucking queer. Now here was a man who claimed friend, sitting opposite him and telling him to go against his character.

"I won't have it, Raines. So just get out and go disappear for a few weeks before you come at me with your next bright idea. Maybe I can't beat Tombstone. Maybe you're right. Maybe he completely outclasses me! And that's okay. I want to be outclassed. I want to meet someone I can't beat. That's the only way I'll truly deserve to defend this title. That's the only way I'll get better. I'm excited for this Raines, and I hope he's everything you think he is. Because if it's true, this will be one hell of a match. Between all four of us..."

And that was the end of the discussion, but not the end of things as far as Raines was concerned. I was going to write some lengthy exposition here about Kevin Raines embarking on an epic quest to track down the tattooed freak show, but if you can't tell already -I'm tired, and I've procrastinated this roleplay far too long. So fuck you. You get this: Raines finds Tombstone later that night, just before closing time, at an old dive bar in the seedy part of town. Clutching a handle vial filled with a date rape drug that he's of course never used on any unsuspecting woman ever before in his life, Raines puts his plan into motion.

"Oh my God! Tombstone! Man, what a surprise! Big fan of yours, I am!"

Inviting himself in close to the inked wonder, Raines takes a seat. Did I mention Jay Gold is a faggot? Like Erickson.

"Vat do you vant, little man?"

Even his voice was enough to send chills down Raines' spine. Still, he remained composed. He was not about to give up now. He would see Jones through this. He would ensure his client remained a Champion, no matter the cost.

"I just wanted... to buy you a drink... that's all!"

Raines could just about shit himself, now. I just want to sleep.

"..."

Oh, Tombstone, master of eloquence. Raines orders a round of Guiness, regardless. His plan could not fail.

"To you, Tombstone! And your good fortune! May you see a golden title in your future!"

Raines splashes the vial into the glass with such speed even he hardly noticed himself doing it. This was it. This was the title defense right here. All Stone had to do was take the bait and hammer the bomb.

"Alright. Danke."

Tombstone took the glass and swallowed the drink down whole. Success! Victory belonged to Raines!

"Aha! I can't believe that-..."

Something was wrong. And I don't just mean the quality of this roleplay. Sure, originally it was supposed to have several looney tunes moments of Raines trying to assassinate Tombstone and failing. But this was something else. That hadn't been date rape drug Raines put into the glass. It was something worse. Something fatal. And worst of all, he had put it into the wrong glass. His glass.

"Oh... shit..."

Was this the end for Kevin Raines? I think not. Reacting quickly, Tombstone reaches over and catches Raines as he falls. Another patron comes in, handy with a cell phone. Raines ends his night much like it began, feeling like death at the back of a bar. But his target, this man he was supposed to take out of the match to ensure Adam's victory -now held his life in his hands. Was this fate, or irony? Whatever it was, it was Tombstone who assisted paramedics as they arrived to save Raines' life. It was Tombstone who came with him to the hospital to make sure he was alright. It was Tombstone that acted as Raines savior, when Raines had come to do him harm.

"Sie sind ein glücklicher Mensch."

"<You Are a Lucky Man>."

Luck had nothing to do with it. I did. I wrote this piece of shit. Eat my ass, Greg. In the end, however, fate was a cruel mistress. Raines had failed, and now there was nothing he could do to help Adam retain his title. Adam's fate, and his championship reign, was in his hands. Was it enough? Could Adam meet this challenge? Time would tell. Until then, I'm going to bed. This roleplay was the best piece of literature I've ever written. Praise it. Worship it. Post a picture of Red Foreman calling Jay Gold a dumbass.


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