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Zack Lifer; My Time Has Come...
Topic Started: Oct 16 2011, 09:14 PM (283 Views)
Lifer.
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Wrestler's Name: Zack Lifer
Wrestler's Nickname: Varies. "The Life," "The Damned One" ext.
How did you find us: Tom, "Draven" told me to join.
Height: 6'2"
Weight: 202 lbs.
Hometown: Newark, New Jersey
Billed From: New York, New York

Appearance:
- Hair color/length: Jet black with some blonde sections
- Eye color: Dark Brown
- Facial Hair: Scruffy. Small soul patch, doesn't shave much, yet not ever a full blown beard.
- Ring Attire: Long tights
- Backstage Attire: Jeans (mostly gray or pale blue), a sweatshirt of some kind no matter the time of year with an T-shirt under it with some sort of Zack Lifer design on it.
- Physical Features: Distinctive eyes, big and brown as if there is a deep soul inside, and yet almost empty when in a state of insanity I suppose. His eyes have a lot of emotion, usually when he's pissed off or happy on the outside, his eyes tell a different story, almost like you should almost pity him.
- Tattoos: right arm has various important tattoos that appear to mean nothing but in truth, mean a lot to him. Haven't really touched on them, but this might of gave me an idea.
- Other features: I suppose him smirking is a usual thing backstage or when he's not fighting. Even in the ring, there could be signs of an almost evil looking smirk when he believes he has the match in the bag, as he silently panders to the crowd. Has the tendency to read other people's eyes if the time comes. Can usually tell when something is wrong. ... Probably wasn't what you wanted when you said 'other features,' was it? Oh well.

Gimmick: Look below at history, Moments of insanity.

Strength: Mind games. Proving people wrong when he's the underdog to win.
Weakness: Over cockiness in the ring where he refuses to get the pin when he's won the match already.
Alignment: Natural, but ever changing depending on the circumstances.
Trained By: Unknown
Character Rep: Blake Lewis

Sample Pic of Wrestler:

Brief History:
Parents were once rich and in the spotlight in Boston, but one night after his high school graduation, he ran to New Jersey to start a life on his own, not taking handouts from anyone. Has the urge to prove people wrong, and it started with his parents and the media in general I suppose. Wanted to prove to the world that he could live his own life, hence the nickname and the stage name, as well as other hidden meanings behind the name Zack Lifer. Not the most stable person in the world, having moments of insanity that he either avoids or embraces depending on his state of mind. Complicated past.

Title History:
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May 21st, 2008 - July 20, 2008
December 7th, 2008 - January 19th, 2009

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July 25th, 2009 - Stripped (Partner left)

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September 27th, 2010 - April 2nd, 2011 (End of fed)


Entrance Music: "Nothing Left To Lose" by Deepfield
Entrance description:
The guitar rift of "Nothing Left To Lose" by Deepfield blasts through the speakers at full volume. The lights pitch black except for a golden light that searches the crowd. Suddenly, a figure is seen moving towards the ,ring down the steel stairs from the audience, and as the camera zooms in, the figure is revealed to be none other then Zack Lifer. He hops the barricade, emotionless, as the crowd cheers and jeers for him, straight down the middle.

“On his way to the ring, weighting in at 202 pounds, hailing from New York City... ZACK LIFER!!“

He then quickly runs towards the ring, walking up the steel steps while still keeping an eye on the entrance ramp. As he gets to the top of the steps, and looks around the arena, as the crowd gets louder, split between the feelings of cheering their heart out, or screeching the occasional "Life sucks!" He quickly hops the top rope effortlessly, and raises his right arm, hesitantly, in triumph. The sounds fade mid-lyric as he rests in his corner, looking eagerly at the referee, and back at the entrance ramp for the match to finally begin.

Finishers:
Forced Execution - Modified Cutter
Famous Last Words - Electric Chair Bomb

15 Most used moves:
Clotheslines
Ground and Pound
Low Blow
Mudhole Stomping
Hurricanrana
Sunset Flip Pin
Dropkick
Leg Sweep
Spinebuster
Arm wrench
Diving Crossbody
Dragonrana into pin
Diving Bulldog
Running Neckbreaker
Shooting Star DDT

Sample RP:


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Lifer.
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My heart skipped a beat, but my mind was running a mile a minute.

“Hello?” Her delicate words were like music to these bloody, ringing ears. She was the culmination of everything I hoped to be; A family man with a kid, married to the one person who truly understands me in this world. I know it was a long shot, but I haven’t let that stop me before, huh? I tried to formulate an answer, an easy apology that would get her back, a masterful quote that people would look back on and quote themselves as if I were a pop culture icon at this point. Of course, my luck fell to the floor like the soap in the men’s locker room, and I said what felt right— Poorly.

“Scar, I… It’s Nick, err… I’m—“ The words weren’t there, absent from my twisted mind entirely. It made me want to hang up right there. It made me want to slam this poorly built pay phone into the receiver as if it were some kind of drug. I held my composer and stayed strong, however. I’ve never been one to show my emotions in this Godforsaken place. Once they’re pushed down, and I mean deep down, it’s almost like your emotionless on the outside, but on the inside, you just wanna die. I’m pathetic, I know. You might as well just say it to my face. She spoke after quite possibly the longest pause known to man. I swear five years passed by during that nerve racking phone call until it finally came to a ‘less than perfect’ end.

“Nick, what you did back there… That thing with the ring. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I mean, I thought about it for a while now Nick, and now that I think of it… It was sweet. But then you ran and practically ignored me for months! Tomorrow morning, do you want to find a place where we can talk privately? About… Everything.” Something happened then, something revolutionary. This institution, this asylum; It was reality’s version of The Damned ruins I’ve trained myself to think I was a part of. Mostly because of those damn syringes they keep giving me. Chances are I’m probably right about it being doses of cocaine just like my imaginary dream land in this sick and distraught brain of mine, where everything was perfect, and everything was damned. I imagined her in the dark midnight air, and I pictured her smile, ‘the kind of smile where you couldn’t help but look up and smile back.’ I began to remember it all, and this place truly was beginning to look like the old Damned Cove. Fantasy and reality were now one. This was now The Damned Asylum.

“Uh, I—,“ I was suddenly pushed aside from the payphone, the phone hanging by its cord almost touching the cold, concrete ground. I then felt a hard punch to my abdomen, and as I keeled over a bit, I saw who the cooperate clearly was. It was Steven Myers. This was the man who started it all, who I depicted as the leader of The Damned. These days, in my fantasy world, I would certainly be the leader and Myers would be faded into the abyss somewhere. Yet, in the reality world, Myers started it all as well. By giving the police the tip that I was being abused by my father, a pure unadulterated lie, I was sent away at age 14. I was officially a foster child, a moment in my life that was a turning point, as I decided early on to do anything to escape that hysterical place even if it killed me. However, that’s a story for another time.

By the time my blackout ceased, I was looking down the barrel of a hardened, leather gloved fist, and as I quickly gripped it with my palm, I pushed him down to the floor with a heavy push of my own. My nostrils flared, as I faintly heard Scar talking in the background, afraid something terrible had happened to me. The truth is, she was right on the money. When the dial tone echoed throughout the hallway, and my urge to call her back burned away into a dusty, futile crisp of ash, I screamed at the man. I had once pointed a loaded desert eagle with the words ‘The Life’ written across the barrel at this very man, and pulled the trigger almost 5 years ago. It turns out the shot was useless, piercing his heart and hereby piercing his blackened soul in the process. He lived, to my anguish. Ever since, I swear he’s been plotting against me, and once, I swear I even remember him hiring agents to do the same to me, only they were trained not to miss. I took out all of my anger out on him at that one moment.

I clocked him with a ruthless, yet precise punch to the head. His blood trickled down to the floor, his nose bleeding from the shock of the blow. He wore bloodstained, white scrubs and a chain around his ankle. His chest was as built as that of wrestlers in the xWo thanks to the wrestling ring in the basement we used to ‘release our anger, and resolve our issues.’ That’s what the white coats would say anyway. Personally, I think it’s probably the best entertainment they get all day, but who can blame ‘em? I mean, I’m a professional after all. He smirked then, a sinister smirk, and began to speak. I didn’t want to hear a word he said.

“'I see you’ve finally let go of it all, Zack.'” Suddenly, the white walls of the asylum had changed around me in the blink of an eye. The walls were now rusted bronze, dirty with grime never seen by the human eye. The floor was grated metal, and the lighting was of a midnight air that gave it a horror movie vibe to it. Then, Steven himself evolved from the poor reality to the version I had imagined deep in my mind. The decryption was fast and effortless. ‘The man wore a black sweatshirt, his hood flipped up, like the sweatshirt capable of being The Grim Reaper’s. A red slash, which was designed to appear like a believable scar, was ironed onto the front, even crossing the zipper itself. It was crooked, like the fatal man wearing it.‘ It was as if the transformation was complete, and I was once again in the Damned Asylum I had dreamt. My view of myself had also changed, as the next level of Zack Lifer was reached in this desolate place I called home. Bloodstained fingerless leather gloves covered my hand. My sleeves non-existent, my tan forearms showing more brutal muscle than ever before. As I moved them just a bit, a vein or two would tighten and I was in control of it all. A wishbone scar cruelly was placed on my wrist, and as I stared at this menacing creature of the night, I knew that only I was the man who could take him down once and for all.

I punched the brooding wall as the angst began to resonate within me, the pure body and mind I had wished to make a reality. My psychotic personality and my leadership qualities of the inmates who clearly ran the asylum was apparent in everything I did. It was almost as if the darkness had truly overcome me, and the actions were playing out right before my very eyes. I was the man I’ve always wanted to be. I was the man everyone would fear. My mission in the bloody torment that was the outside was completed, I told myself. It made me filled with the satisfaction that I had turned into this vicious beast in this damned asylum. I had to test my power, I had to force a total anarchy that would lead to a devilish snare of madness encircling this whole asylum. People would know that I was the man who did what I did, and I was the man who lead them all to the uncontaminated salvation we were all destined to gain. I walked to my cell, where I was shortly moved to after a witness white coat claimed I was threatening him with a sign of insanity not yet shown in me so far, not yet shown by anyone they’ve ever seen here for that matter. Everything was perfect, and everything was damned.

The next thing I knew, it was time. My opponent stood across me with frightened eyes, a man who I was very familiar with. Myers positioned himself to the opposite corner, gesturing me to c’mon, his bloody nose still apparent. Now, the area around me was different than the normal basement I was used to fighting in. This was an all out dungeon I saw before my bloodshot eyes. The walls and ceiling were made of blackened stone, and on the walls hung some almost gothic banners which stated my name in one corner and his name, torn and ripped, in the other. The ropes were poorly set up, as was always the case, but I made the best of it. In a blind rage, as some random white coat rung the off toned bell, I went at him in a blind rage. I tackled him down to the floor, and as my flurry of punches stormed down on that unfortunate man who took everything normal from me, who changed me from the very beginning, his body cringed and bled, and before I could land that final punch that would end all the madness, end all the suffering… They stopped me.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Nick?! I’ve never seen you this mad before, this vicious! Something needs to be done about this because here in my asylum, I can’t have this shit going on.” I don’t know went on then, my vision went black, but when I came back to full consciousness, I held my head in pain. The headache was splitting, and as I looked around the ring, I was amazed to see what had happened to me as I was truly one with the phrase. I was truly a blind rage. Bodies surrounded me. Unconscious, lifeless, bloodied bodies barely breathing. The white coats are now soaked in red, as well as this blood coated mat. They had what was coming for them, I suppose. I guess I should go see her now… Go make everything right.

My eyes closed and opened once again, my surroundings changed. I don’t know what’s gotten into me, but when I guess since I’ve been in that place for too long, I just snapped. I wanted to rid myself of this monster. This Damned Asylum wasn’t a place, it was a state of mind. I have a feeling though that the asylum won’t hear the end of me. I have a feeling that what I did to the Warden, Smith Junior, and his gang of idiotic, worthless psychotic degrees personified won’t just go away. But now, something more important was on my mind. I grabbed my cell phone from out of my newly dressed pocket. It’s safe to assume I stole it all back from my specialized name plated bin with all my things inside while in that mobile coma of mine.

She didn’t pick up, and I was left to leave an insincere message… I should of, I know, but I figured it’d be better off if I actually went to her house plain and simple and told it to her face. I pictured a picture perfect moment as I did as I ran from the proposal situation. Now, this was my moment to tell her what I really thought about her, why I really cared. I’m not the most romantic guy in the world… Actually, I’m frankly the worst I can think of. The whole story with Sarah Price back in college, and how she gutted me like a fish mentally… Let’s just forget that ever happened. Scarlet will always be my first and only love.

Instead of talking of the boring, mind-numbing trip I took from NYC to Jersey, I figure I’ll spare you that much and lead to what was supposed to be our momentous meeting, just like she told me she wanted to have— To talk about everything. But of course, by the curses of everything I’ve been going through since age 14, it wasn’t meant to be my storybook ending where we both walked out to the sunset. I desperately dream of that reality every single night, us holding hands and being a couple that others would be jealous of, but frankly, in the real world, it’s only just that— A dream. Tears me apart, it does. But hell, what would my life be if I were to suddenly gain some hope? …

“I hope to God I’m wrong.” I said it to myself as I walked up to her innocent, white door. I knocked on the door, desperate for companionship and some knowledge that I had found the girl of my dreams. From there, it continued into a notorious nightmare. Not to sound cliché, but it was the story of my life.

“You looking for Scarlet?” The neighbor spoke from the other side of the fence, genuinely asking me what I was doing here. I nodded my head, confirming her suspicion. “So you must be this ‘Nick’ she’s always talking about, aren’t you son?” Again, my head nodded, as I walked towards the nosey neighbor on the other side of the white, picket fence. I never thought that this would be my surroundings; Not while I was awake or still breathing anyway. She continued, and I had a feeling a rant reminiscent of my childhood was coming on. I was once again helpless but to just nod my head and take it. It’s like I said; It was a nightmare.

“She’s not home right now. But why don’t you tell me… I never expected to see you back here in person. Why the change of heart? I thought you were some kind of big wrestler traveling the world and picking fights with defenseless people, but from where I’m standing, all you look like right now is just some poor pathetic man trying to get his shattered life back together.” Everything was perfect, and everything was damned. The phrase haunted me like nothing I had ever remembered before it. It was glued to my self-consciousness with no will to unglue itself. She continued however, and as she did, my mind was racing to about a million other unnecessary things.

“What you did about a month ago was— Well, I guess that’s why you came, huh stranger? You could have just left her out to dry, but you… You came back to finish what you started. Whether that be to try to convince her what a big mistake you made, or… Or it could be the other way around. You could be here to break her heart into pieces once again. Needless to say, she’s not home anyhow. Why don’t you go back to your big fancy home in Hollywood and leave this poor girl alone?” She got me all wrong, completely wrong. She thought I was some heart breaker, some guy looking to shatter the heart I… Listen, I can’t do this anymore!

“Scarlet! Scarlet! You in there?!” I screamed in the direction of the door, expecting her to walk out that door, and everything to be perfect. Everything was perfect, and everything was damned. The words were effortlessly absorbed, and as she never showed up at that doorstep, I truly knew where she now stood. Her words echoed in my brain, as vivid as if she were right next to me:

“This is a madhouse, Zack. A madhouse in the making, I swear by it! Swear on my brother’s grave… I’ll be atop the warehouse if you ever need me. It’s where I like to think from time to time. My version of those long walks you used ta take.” It immediately made me walk a blind path towards where I knew Scarlet stood, at the edge of the tallest building in this madhouse of a town. The sound of the neighbor babbling behind me was silenced only by my footsteps.

By the time I had arrived to this abandoned warehouse, my fantasy took over, as the walls laid tanish brown over the midnight landscape I had trained myself to love. A full moon hung perfectly in the corner, and as a lightning bolt struck the roof, I immediately feared for her life. I ran up to the gritty wall and climbed the ladder tied onto it by small wire-like threads. It held my weight, like it always had, and as I reached the top, I saw a pitch black silhouette at the very edge. The sound of her crying was enough to make me want to run by her side. However, the silhouette stayed as did the crying no matter how close I got, and as I stood side by side by my own imagination, I stood still at that edge, glaring down at the reality sharpened street below. The warehouse remained demented and shallow, while the street below was as real as real could get. I longed to see the real Scarlet, but this was all I needed to know that the search was truly on. I would find her and die trying. That’s not just an expression as much as it is a production to how it’s going to turn out… All I know is one thing:

"Everything was perfect, and everything was damned."

I saw a flash of blinding light that caused me to become confused and angry. Then, I realized that were on the ends of cranes in front of me, as I stood at the end of this abandoned warehouse. I knew that somewhere down the line, xWo would force me to make some kind of plug, some kind of promo to talk about my match at Last Rights against Christoph Friedmann and Klemmens Inc. as a whole. i did what they wanted me to do, but this time, i took my own spin at it.

I was never a fan of that Drake boy, but when he offered his services in taking down Klemmens Inc, I offered 'em the shot. Now I know that he wasn't qualified to face such a angry pack of wolves yet, and instead, he was eaten for breakfast. Not by Klemmens and his crew, but by the flames engulfing everything he once knew into a pit of fire. And I must say... I enjoyed watching it.

I backed away from the edge for a moment and sat down, my legs now dangling off the 3 story building, a perfectly damned view of the street that would easily kill me if I were to slip. I looked to my right, and the silhouette was gone, as if it were never there in the first place. I spoke again, pulling out a dark green grenade from my pocket, and looking down at the busy traffic.

You consider me a threat, Chase. I can see it in your eyes. i can see it in every single move you make. Your trying to scare me, trying to make me feel like this match is futile and your team shall eventually come up the victor. I regret you to say that it has not scared me at all. In fact, it has merely given me more ideas of which you stop you... Look at that traffic down there, Chase. Those cars must be at least over a ton. If anyone were to get hit by 'em, no doubt about it, it wouldn't be pretty. Gorey yes, but not pretty. This is Klemmens Inc. Thousands of speeding cars going double the legal limit to punish everything they were to come in contact with."

A few cars now drifted off the road, one hitting the fire hydrant, causing the water to squirt up in a blast easily foreseen, and another crashing into a building itself, right through the window. I raised the grenade to my eyes, examining all it's ridges and bumps. I pulled the pin, making the grande live as I held it firmly in my hand.

"Consider this easy to find grande me. So much planning, so much careful precision built into this thing. It's a shame it's going to go to waste."

I carelessly dropped the grenade of the street before me, and as the bomb finally exploded, so did a four door black sedan along with a few cars damaged around it. Sirens went off, and people left their cars, screaming for their lives. Music to my ears, if i do say so myself.

I'm giving you your Last Rights, Chase. You can give up while you can, and tell your little friends to go and play in traffic they created... Or I am not liable for the actions I do to you and your team, considering I am, after all, able to plead insanity after all. But before you make up your mind, I'll let you in on a little secret... Whether you give up or not, I will have everyone of your team members broken and begging for mercy as I take them down one by one, and do you know why? ... Because stuff like that... It's what makes me wanna live."

The screen fades to tan static before it flickers to solid black. Good luck, Friedmann. Your going to need it.





----------------------


Proud of this. Have to practice a bit before I get back to this level, been on a few months of not rping. Anyway, hope everything works out.
Edited by Lifer., Oct 16 2011, 09:19 PM.

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..::Resident Loud Mouth::..
..::Former MWE Undisputed Champion::..
..::Former World Heavyweight Champion of Genesis::..
..::Former MWE World Heavyweight Champion::..
..::Former MWE Tag Team Champion::..
..::Former MWE X-Television Champion::..
..::9 Time RP of the Week::..
..::Match of the Week Award Winner::..
..::2 Time Wrestler of the Week::..
..::1/2 RP of the Year Fitz Award Winner::..
..::ARE YOU KIDDING ME, Shanti I fucking Love you girl, best present ever!::..
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