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Post by REDEFINE Pro on Jun 29, 2014 17:11:57 GMT
SPECIAL ATTRACTION DEATH MATCH DAKOTA SMITH (Debut) vs ADAM STRYKER (2-0)
This is a match the CPHS School board doesnt WANT to happen. a Death Match between Dakota Smith and Adam Stryker. 2CW insists it will, but Crown Point High School ain’t particuarly happy about it. What will happen when these two go to battle at School of Hardknocks – and in a freaking deathmatch! Who does those anymore? We do, because we’re the cats meow…
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Post by highlarious on Jul 11, 2014 10:53:02 GMT
The sky is dark as a cool refreshing breeze rolls through-out the air. It is a quiet night here in Crown Point, Indiana. In front of you is the Crown Point High School. The grass in front of the almost L shaped building dances across the ground as you hear a creek of a old metal door, and then it slam shut. The camera follows the noise to what looks to be where the kids are picked up on the buses - rows of the big yellow vehicles can be seen lining the side of the building. There is a single red metal door next to a garage door, as the door opens once again you can see there is a man inside. The camera squeaks in through the door and you are now in the cafeteria. Various boxes of food supplies can be seen including some saying “ Mystery meat “. A little further into the room you see a man wearing all black with his hood up. You go in closer just as the man takes down his hood revealing a black ski mask underneath. The camera pans around the man and you can see that his eyes are blood-shot. He pulls the mask up over his face and starts to scratch his nose and you see that the man is Dakota Smith. He looks into the camera with a sly smirk before turning his back into the camera. A few moments go by and you hear something that sounds like sludge hitting other sludge. In Dakota’s hand - that are wrapped in black gloves , Is a ladle. He is scooping out and letting drip down a sickly looking brownish red substance. You hear him make a “mmmmm” Noise before turning back at the camera.
“There has been a great deal of talk as of late... As to what are the top companies... Who are the greatest wrestlers of our generation. A man who’s name is on many of lists, including mine is Adam Stryker. The man from SoCal that has set the world ablaze with his tremendous skill in the ring. He has wrestled all around the world, won numerous championships... He is indeed a great man. But do you want to know one name that is seemingly left off of most lists... Fuck, his name doesn’t even come up when you talk about the most violent if you can believe that... And his name... IS DAKOTA SMITH! Why is it that no matter how much blood, sweat, and time I put into this craft. I still have you fluckin’ maggots calling me worthless. Saying that I am nothing more than a spot-monkey who if you took away his weapons would be useless. Adam Stryker we may be in a death-match. A match that we both know all to well. But I promise you when I am done with you, no one will be saying that Adam Stryker is better Dakota Smith. No one will say that Dakota Smith can not hang with someone of real talent!”
Dakota begins to make his way out of the cafeteria, passing rows of brown tables and chairs where the children would usually eat. He comes across a pair of large wooden doors that he just pushes open so that he is now in the hall. With every thump of his feet as he walks a echo is released, going down the hall until it is nothing more than a whisper. The lockers that line the hall are red, various banners are placed along the ceiling. Asking for Bulldog Pride, or hyping the next big game. Dakota lets out a little couch as he bangs on the locker, the noise once again echoing throughout the whole entirety of the building.
“ Its funny if you don’t think about it. You do things people consider violence and are praised because your the good guy... You have made that name for yourself of being one of the hardest working wrestlers. While I myself have to scrape along the muck with the bottom feeders. Everyone turning a blind eye to my accomplishments. Do they not like me? Do they find me... Too violent? Or maybe its just my inability to get along with others... What ever the case may be, no one will be able to take this from me. The day Dakota Smith walked into Second City Wrestling. The day he went toe-to-toe with Adam Stryker, and he beat him to a bloody fucking pulp! He left him laying out half-dead on the cold gym floor. Brain matter seeping through his nostrils, and a deep red crimson flowing from his mouth. Some people look at you like a hero Adam, but I plan to show them even heroes die... Even heros breath their last breath! Because its either going to go down one of two ways my dick-headed friend... Either you die... Or I die trying to end yours! “
He stumbles across a door that says womens locker-room. With a cocky chuckle the man decides to go in the white tiled room. The room itself is what you would expect it to be , lockers, showers, stalls, and benches all scattered through out the room. Dakota tries to pull off some of the locks on the lockers but fails to do so. He comes across one that isnt locked properly and yanks the lock off. The door slowly creaking open as Dakota peers inside. He rummages around the locker for a few seconds before letting out a gasp of disgust, jumping back and a pair of blood stained panties dropping out and onto the floor. Dakota’s eyebrow raises as he shakes his head in pity. He then goes over to the low brown benches and sits down. Taking a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket he decides to light one up and smoke in the girls room, as the old song used to say.
“ We aren't that far from my home town you know... I even had a friend who used to go to crown point. He would tell me stories about how the women were loose and the guys were preppy assholes. I guess you should fit right in , shouldn’t you Adam? I can see it now, bright eyed young Stryker.. Macking on all the babes and throwing the winning touchdown at the big game! Its all one big happy fucking picture isn't it Adam? I find it rather disgusting honestly. Because its people like you that would of looked down on people like me. The stoner in the corner, plotting to blow the school up because people like you couldn’t just leave me the fuck alone! But you see the difference between us is... You left the high-school and you never looked back. You went onto brighter pastures. But me? I went back... I watched as people like you ruled the school.. I watched them with their painted up whores... Getting into their nice cars and driving to their lovely little homes. But when they opened their closet door.... I don’t think they expected to see me like you will come the 11th. Oh no... They were shocked as I cut them open to see what they were made of. “
Dakota flicks his smoke off into the shower and gets up with a loud crack of his knees. He stretches a little bit raising one hand above his head until his back cracks. With a little yawn he exits the girls laboratory, once again roaming the halls of the school. He turns a few corners until he is at the front office. There are posters up on the bulletin board promoting School of Hardknocks, Dakota runs his finger down one of em’ before ripping it of and crumbling it into a ball. He then pulls his lighter out of his pocket and begins to set a flame the poser, holding it in his hands as the fire burns away at the paper. It starts to burn his fingers and he whips it out behind one of the desks. He looks up into the camera with a almost devilish spark in his eye.
“ That reminds me Adam... What are you made of? If you would to ask the town, they would say rocks and hellfire! That you are man possessed when you step in between those ropes. But you know what? I think you are made of something much softer. Flesh, and muscle just waiting to be torn. Blood aching to be released! Bones that were meant to be broken... Thats what I see when I look at you Adam. You are just like me... Just flesh hanging onto bone waiting to be busted open. The day isn’t complete until we feel at least a little bit of pain. An addiction in its greatest form, no? A rush unlike any other... Why else would you sacrifice your body in and out every week , the same way I do... Yah’ know old boy... The more I talk about you, the more I paint my picture of who you are. The more I come to realize that me and you are not so different. Just different sides of the path really. You went on to become something great, and revered... I became something much more.. Sinister and feared. When people speak my name it is never in good spirits, misery often follows. The dread of my deeds laying heavy across the wrestling world. “
Dakota takes a few steps toward a door with a bronze title saying “ Principles Office” Dakota goes to open the door but it is locker, he whips his head back before shooting his leg out and kicking in the door. Inside is a large window to the left showing the darkness outside, it lets in some moonlight on the rather dark scene. The man makes his way behind the large desk in the middle of the room and sits in the chair behind it. He sits there for a moment whistling to himself a small tune before he spins himself in the chair. His attention is turned to a poster on the wall with a cat that looks like it had just been electrocuted it says “ Mondays...Am I right? “. This gains a small chuckle out of Dakota before he starts to rummage in the desk itself. Pulling out a file that says permanent records. Dakota looks through it for a moment, reading what is said about the students. Apparently most of them were getting in a lot of trouble. Dakota turns his attention away from the folder and back into the open drawer of the desk. He pulls out a half-empty bottle of Vodka and laughs to himself. Unscrewing the cap he takes a big slug of the booze before slamming it down on the table. His eyes look back up into the camera.
“ But when we face each other Adam... When that bell rings... When the first strike is thrown... That will be my time! My time to finally prove to the world!... That Dakota Smith... Is better... Than the fucking best ! “
With one last sadistic laugh Dakota begins to pour the alcohol onto the folder of permanent records.Taking his ligher out of his pocket once again he stands up... Setting the papers ablaze before the scene slowly fades out, leaving Dakota standing there just gazing into the fire. When the scene finally goes all the way black “ This has been paid for by the Jamison Foundation “ appears on the screen.
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Post by Dave on Jul 11, 2014 13:38:40 GMT
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