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| Hiro Tanaka vs. "Dragonfly" Daniel Telmah; Regular Cage Singles Match | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Aug 10 2011, 10:52 PM (317 Views) | |
| Allocco | Aug 10 2011, 10:52 PM Post #1 |
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Majestic Owner
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/Deadline: 08.26.11 @ 11:59:59 PM EST RP Limit: 3 Venue: Royale Majestic Casino, Las Vegas, Nevada Please post your RPS within the match thread. |
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| Hiro Tanaka | Aug 13 2011, 03:06 PM Post #2 |
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MW Premier Champion
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--------------------------- Redemption: Chapter One ---------------------------- There was a time I truly believed I was not going to feel the warm embraced of the sun again, as I was locked behind prison bars, staring at my once bright future crumbled away. I had taken a life. The murder had plagued me ever since I committed the accidental yet dishonorable act. I fled Japan in the aftermath, hid in America, and attempted to pretend. Over and over, I tried to excuse my action, yet there were no excuses. I had taken a life, either way you looked at it. There was no malice in the action. There was no intention. There was the element of self-defense, but did that make the corpse any colder? The blood still stained my hand, the same way blood stained the hands of a vicious serial killer. Yet here I was, trying to escape punishment for my actions. Worst thing of all, I probably would make the same attack again, because the action inevitably protected my family. Yet I must bear the weight of such an action on my shoulders and accept the consequences. When I attempted to shred the weight of this guilty action, to shy away from the hand of justice, my psyche cracked. All the code of bushido that I based my entire life upon prevented me to do such an action. In one instance, I contradicted my entire existence and betrayed my spiritual core. Two sides of Hiro emerged, a dark and a light, yet all of them were to address the incomprehensible contradiction which occurred. Such a spiritual division, such a mental spilt, led to inevitable more mistakes. In my weakness, I committed more sins that weighed heavily on my soul, even to this day. A vicious, leviathan emerged deep within me, from the darkest corner of my soul, and showed that I was not as pure as I once believed I was. I had to face the reality that I was indeed a man, pretending to be a mere samurai, and there was still a journey for me to travel before I reached the plane of true valor. It took one woman to make me awaken myself to this side of me. This woman was an unexpected ally in the battle to stabilize the critical situation inside my soul and my psyche. This help was an echo from a past that I had shredded, and with a simple gentle touch of her soft hands, I opened my eyes to the reality of my situation. I regained my composure. I faced the hard to embrace truth, and I decided I will embark on the journey and become the samurai I want to be. I accepted I was a fool to think that I had already arrived at my final destination. The path ahead of me might bear obstacles and challenges that incite doubt within the very fiber of my being, yet if I was a true, courage warrior, I would combat and I would overcome. Yet I held myself back to fully commit myself to this warrior’s journey. There was another force deep inside my heart. The idea of chasing after justice and to regain my honor was opposed by the blossoming of a cherry tree. A love emerged towards this woman, and my journey might I had to depart. Once again, I was too weak to control, I held myself at bay. I walked, paced inside the cage, knowing I had to leave, but I lingered. I savored every moment with her, when she decided she needed to break free, I had to take my chance. I had to return back to my home and faced the consequences of my actions. Even if it might have meant eternity in prison, I had to face justice with honor… ----------------------------------------------------------------- In my hand, I held the crumpled picture. Her full head of light brown hair flowed down past her shoulders, resting upon the straps of her black cocktail dress. Her bright blue eyes were staring right into the eyes of the onlooker. On the back, there was her signature, with a little heart and a ‘better keep this forever, my Jap, or I’ll kick your ass!”. I released a little laugh; remember when she left this picture on my nightstand. At that point we were sharing an apartment together. So much progress was made in my recovery. I accredited it all to Jackie. The sister of my former lover and enemy, Celeste Camini, Jackie came out of nowhere to save me as if she was some sort of godsend angel. I shoved the picture in my pocket. I stared out the bars of my cell, there was not much room in this cell, simply enough for me to sit down. I was placed in solitary confinement for some reason. I’m treated as if I was some sort of animal. The Japanese penal system had some disgraceful flaws, yet I had to accept the consequences. Solitude was a time for me to engage in self-reflection, to answer important questions I had about my being. Yet for some reason, my mind constantly returned to the topic of Jackie. Why was I am so love sick with this woman? She did enormous amount of service to me, but yet she turned her back on me and asked me to forget about her existence. Yet I cannot abide her wish, no matter how much I try to will it, it was if she infected me with some sort of feverish disease. I quickly pulled the picture back out of my pocket and I observed it once again. I knew I should have disposed of the picture, the healing process would be quicker and there would not be a distraction to my spiritual journey. Yet I could not, throwing out the picture felt as if I was abandoning her completely… destroying this memento would had meant the relinquishment of hope that one day she would change her mind. Just listen to myself speak like this? I feel as if I was some sort of school boy lost in love. I needed to focus on more important life issues, and let Jackie live her life in the way she sees best fit. Yet it was almost like yesterday, in our apartment. The windows looked over the bay, there were seagulls flying across the grey sky. I remembered the cool breeze sneaking into the living area of the apartment, through the opened window. The crackling of rain drops attacking the paved bricks below. I sat there on the black leather couch, my elbows planted on each thigh. I rubbed the stubble of an unshaved face. My entire body ached of training, yet I was in good spirits. I simply mediated. Jackie came through the door. A pair of tight jeans and a black tank top was her attire. With a smooth motion, Jackie hopped over the couch, after dropping her purse by the kitchen counter, before sliding across my lap and her arm around my neck. Jackie greeted me with a wide smile before leaning up, we kissed. The kissing started slow. There were no words. With the rate of passionate kisses increasing, I led her down onto the couch as my palm of my hand rubs across the back of her calf. Her kisses moved down from my lips down to the neck. With her ear next to my head, she sucked playfully on my neck. A moment pause to speak, “I’ve been thinking about you all day.” “I find that hard to believe,” I answered, my hand moving up her leg. Jackie looked up with a fierce look nodding before cupping the side of my face. Jackie grabbed the back of my head, popping up for another, but this time quick kiss, before moving me over onto my back with her on top. “Of course. I was lucky to catch you before you start your evening sessions,” Jackie explained in almost a hushed voice as her rate of breathing picked up. Her hand caressed my inner thigh, toying with me as she unbuttoned my shirt. Her kisses led her way downwards. “Maybe I was lingering a little while,” I admitted as her hands moved upwards as he face moves down. For a moment, Jackie looked up with a grin. She asked, “Why would you do that? You don’t love me, do you?” “Maybe I do…” I didn’t lie. My feelings for her had been warming up as of late. There was so much she did for me, so much saving she had done. I returned to who I felt I was in years past, a better version of Hiro Tanaka. Jackie was the only one who stood by my side and our passion for each other blossomed. We had been on lustful terms for months now, and there was some sense of deep attachment to Jackie. Yet the moment I mentioned the possibility I was in love with her. The mischievous playful face of Jackie transformed, almost as if she was in a state of shock. Her jaw dropped as if she wanted to respond, but she didn’t say a word. Her hands stopped their playful activities. “Is something the matter?” “You’re just joking, right?” Jackie probed. “I’m really starting to care for you in ways I never imagined I could,” I answered, honestly. Jackie didn’t say another word, but there was a confused look on her face. Jackie stood up and moved towards her room, before closing the door gently. There was the click of the door lock. I was completely bewildered at this response, why was she upset at me? I thought she would be pleased at the declaration but instead Jackie fled from the room. I rose to my feet and I didn’t know what to do. I never had been in such a position before in my life. I moved towards the door, with my knuckles, I knocked softly across the door. There was no answer. I waited a few minutes but I didn’t know what to say. I was utterly scared something had occurred that I had no sense of. That the little fantasy that was playing out between us had suddenly crashed into some obstacle. I didn’t want to force her to speak to me. I had faith that Jackie would come and talk about what just happened when she was ready. Yet she never did, when I returned from my evening training session she had left the apartment. During the course of the night, there was no sign from her. Then the next day, when I returned from an all day session, in the afternoon, still no sign of her. I tried her phone, called her, texted her. There was no response of any kind. Yet I noticed that she had been home, so was she avoiding me? The answer came in a letter. I returned a few days later, to find her entire room cleared of her belongings. There was a letter resting on the kitchen counter and an envelope. Hello Hiro, Things were just not working out. I thought its best I’ll leave before we get hurt. We had some good times. I hope you won’t hate me for this but this is for the best. Sorry. Jackie PS: Here’s my half of the next two months’ rent so you have time to find someone to fill my spot. I crumbled the letter. I attempted to call her again, but she still refused. I was confused. Perhaps I was a little hurt. Yet I wasn’t upset towards her, she had done enough for me these past months. Weeks passed, my mind kept wondering what was next for me. Then I realized that I have to move on from this pit stop on my journey to be a true warrior. Without a thought, I contacted a lawyer in Japan. I explained my legal situation. I booked a flight to Osaka. I promised to the police department I was going to turn myself in, yet I wanted to face my family before such an action. If they would please notify them that I would be arriving at the airport, I would say some words then go on into their custody. Justice was going to be served. I was going to pay for my sins. Her exit out of my life, led me to be in this prison cell. Yet I was not bitter, I simply placed the picture in my pocket. This was necessary. I should thank her for making me realize I could not afford to stop from my road to recovery. I had to serve the time so maybe I could forgive myself for my crime. ------------------------------------------------------------------- Dan “Dragon” Taylor was a great man. His son, “The Dragonfly” Danny Telmah, follows his father’s footsteps in a quest to be the greatest, on a mission to better this sport, that’s very respectable. It’s a nice change from the many other second and third generation wrestlers who walk around as if they’re royalty of this sport. Danny, you don’t seem to be that type of brat who feels as if he is entitled. I, for one, welcome such a change of fresh air. I’ve always hated having to listen to these individuals, who fathers started out from completely the bottom of the rankings, fought they way up to the top, spilling liters and liters of blood through their journey, shredding gallons and gallons of sweat in their famed battles, to earn their spot in history. Then comes some self-righteous offspring who is given opportunities because of simply what his father has done. The knack for wrestling does not pass down on genetics. You can’t simply inherit your father’s abilities. Yet here you are, profiting for the fact that your father was a great, while they are much more deserving wrestlers, who didn’t have that luxury of having their father be a wrestling legend, far more superior and deserving than you who fail to get signed as soon. I don’t think you’re one of those characters who purposely capitalize on their father’s name. I think you have no idea that you still get special treatment yet such is life I suppose. However I recognize you’re on a mission to live up to his name, to attempt to step out from his shadows, and if you could, while doing so, make this sport more honorable and more the better. Now that deserves some respect. So I guess I should say it’s an honor that I was chosen to be your first opponent in Majestic. Furthermore, I know we have an opportunity to have our talents shine brightly in our match, even if we don’t have all the hype as the Premier Championship Tournament has. We can outshine, outdo those competitors and show Aires Allocco that he seemed to have forgotten his two more talented wrestlers were let out of the reindeer games, almost bringing a sense of doubt if the tournament is legitimate enough. I’m sure you must be pretty bitter. Is it because you signed up late? They should have realized you were free n the open market, why not make the tournament better by signing a legend’s son? Or are you like me, who don’t let such actions bother him as much, who reaches down into his soul and grasp the hunger. There some sort of enjoyment that emerges when I have obstacles placed in front of me on my road to greatness. The fact that I’m not in this tournament, denied the opportunity, makes me even more hungry. I’m starving. I’m sure you’re such the same way. Yet we won’t complain, and whine about the fact. No, we will do something about it. Keep our mouths shut, lower our heads, and then focus on raising the alarm by doing what we do best, and that’s wrestling. Now we can go in and discuss our strategies against each other. Perhaps we could humor management and try to entice the audience into wanting to see us by throwing in some underhanded insults. Yet I don’t work that way, I don’t disrespect those who deserve some level of respect. I simply going to tell you, Daniel that I want you to simply come out, right straight from the letgo, and try to challenge me. Try to make your late father proud by putting on a performance that will steal the show, turn the heads of management, and also take the breath away from the witnesses in the crowd. I know you can step up to the plate, hit a home run, and so can I. Let’s try to bring some honor from this sport, and have a clean match. Show everyone else how it is done, without losing some integrity, without having it dirtied by disrespect. It can still be a personal battle between us, because we can show our passions in our craft, in our struggle to prove we are superior to the other, and that is what professional wrestling was founded on. Not on heated feuds, not on the pillars of hatred, but on the columns of passion. You see that is my mission here in Majestic. To restore prestige back to this sport. To fight battles not for personal gain, but simply to fight battles. I plan on doing that on Salvation and I figure you’re the type of character to do the same. But I don’t think I’m all intimidated by your father’s legendary status, don’t think I’m going to be a easy match because I’ve proved in SCW and elsewhere that I am a contender, I can be a champion… so prepare yourself for a hard fought match, but do so with pride. The best of luck to you, Dragonfly. It’s going to be a honor and I cannot wait to taste competition once again. |
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| Dragonfly | Aug 13 2011, 10:23 PM Post #3 |
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(OOC: Just to let you know, I haven’t mentioned the match. This is really just an introductory RP. Was gonna put it in the CD area, but thought I might as well use it.) ~| Ashes to Ashes |~ 10th July 2009 Hospitals are eerie places; the cleanliness is often understood as creepy and unnatural. The white walls were unmarked and the polished floors reflect the long lighting that stretches along the ceiling. Boring porters squeak blank, old women from room to room. One room in particular is important to our story as it's the pre-resting place of Angela Telmah. She unwillingly lies in a hospital gown, motionless and trapped under her duvet. Her messy, brown hair is streaked with grey - an unfortunate circumstance of age; however surprisingly lucky to maintain any considering her situation. Angela was diagnosed with cancer four years ago and this morning was rushed to hospital after collapsing. Now, many wires and tubes are attached to different parts of her anatomy. The nurse keeps Angela company, assuring her that her son is on his way. She genuinely wants the woman's son to turn up out of compassion, but equally, she acknowledges that if her patient dies, she would be no wiser to his presence. Her son, recognisable to fans of this day as Daniel, enters the room with great power, giving a sense of unjustified pride. Daniel is a good-looking, young man. His pale face is chiselled and strong and is the barer of two familiar, dark eyes, struggling to ejaculate tears. "Mum!" He calls out, shocked to see her, although fully aware that this day was coming. "I got here as soon as I heard," He explains. His mother slowly removes the oxygen mask from her wrinkled face. "You're here now," She calmly states before giving a gentle nod to the nurse, signalling for her to leave the room. The nurse complies and Daniel paces around the room, surveying the machinery his mother is hooked up to. It pains him too much to see his mother in this state at just forty-four. "It's gonna be alright," He assures her. She chuckles softly with a half cough, ignoring his statement. "So where've you been?" She asks, changing the subject. Danny now ignores this, avoiding the answer as he looks down at his black, Converse shoes. "You've been wrestling again, haven't you?" She interrogates him, painting a look of guilt on his handsome face. He brushes his medium-length, black hair to one side with his nervous hand. "I told you I didn't want you getting into that," She barks as Daniel hangs his head in shame. "Did you win?" asks Angela, taking a surprise interest in the profession. Her son's face lights up and he flicks his head up, smiling for the first time in our story, showing off his charming and dazzling teeth. "Yeah! I couldn't believe it. It was a tryout match to FWF. I was against a huge star... He used to be a champion there, but I beat him," The boy rants in excitement until he notices the grin on his sick mother's face. "What?" He inquires. "You love it, don't you?" She begins. Daniel eagerly nods. "Oh, yes, so much passion. Just like your father," She solemnly declares. Daniel's face turns blank out of confusion. "Sit down," She softly orders with a certain reluctance. Daniel complies and sits on the edge of a black, leather chair beside Angela's bed, resting his arms on his thighs as he leans forward in mysterious anticipation of his mother's story. "There's something you need to know," She begins. ____________________ It was 1988 and the first time I'd ever ventured to one of his shows. I never liked the thought of seeing him get hurt, but he loved it so much, and I loved him. At the time, it wasn't as glamorous in England as it is these days. The rusty ring was outdoors and a dark cloud loomed over in pathetic fallacy of the situation. I was stood at the front with the animals. He had no idea that I was there, but I watched, lacking the enthusiasm of the people that surrounded me as they anticipated his world class opponent making a special appearance in the UK. The ring announcer gleefully introduced him: "Making his way to the ring ...from Washington, DC, USA ..."Captain" Joe Stall!" He declared. And there he was in all his might; seven feet tall and over three-hundred pounds of pure muscle, only a few years away from reaching his peak and becoming the legend you know today. Your father stood in the ring and didn't appear afraid in the slightest. I was trembling with fear for both of us it would seem. The monster stepped over the top rope with ease and the bell sounded. I couldn't bare it, but out of shock I was compelled to watch as your father was flung across from one side of the ring to the other; whipping ropes lashed the skin off of his back and before he knew it, the giant had gripped him by the neck and lifted him into the air before slamming him down onto the unforgiving, dirty canvas. The match was over in a matter of seconds. I welled up; the heartbreaking tears rolled down my youthful face. Your father rolled over, writhing in pain and for the first time, he saw me. I wasn't hard to spot being the only one that wasn't cheering. He stared at me and I could immediately spot through his empty eyes that the physical pain had evaporated, leaving him emotionally despaired as he knew exactly what I was thinking. I felt a drop of rain attack me skin, but refraining from the madness of the beasts around us, me and your father remained still. Soon after, the rain came crashing down and the riot ended, as did the show. The announcer thanked the fans for coming and they returned to the zoo. Your father stood and collapsed into the corner without breaking eye contact. Instinct told me to help my love; my heart wanted to get in that ring with him and assure him that things would get better. But I didn't. ____________________ "What did you do?" Daniel speaks for the first time during his mother's story. He is obviously still shocked upon hearing about his father's past, but eagerly overcome by the reminiscent sadness from Angela. "I went home," She continues. We lived in the same flat as you and I do now, but things were different then. We couldn't afford to decorate. The walls were cracked and water would often drip from the ceiling above us. Your father was seldom paid and I was working in a cafe to support us both. My parents were gone and your father didn't know his. He spent most of his life living on the streets until a lovely, Irish fellow named Tom brought him into the Last Call Inn not long before we met. That's where he was introduced to wrestling... and that's where he'd go after a show, but he didn't go there that night. I sat on our used, brown sofa that your father found on a curb, waiting for his arrival. He came home and didn't mutter a single word. He just looked at me with his puppy stare in wait of my announcement. I didn't speak. I couldn't. I knew that if I tried, I would start to cry. And I didn't want that. "Don't do it," He said. I found it hard to keep calm and I eventually snapped. I stood up and unleashed my fury, slapping him frantically across the chest like a dog in water. "Don't do it? Don't do it? You don't!" I forcefully ejaculated with great anger through the inevitable tears. "You have to stop this. Get a job... a real job," "This is my job!" He screamed at me as he grabbed my arms to protect himself. He calmed down. "This is my life," He protests. I fear I may have over reacted to his words. "Your life?" I pull away from him. "I thought I was your life. You promised me so much. You asked me to marry you and you couldn't even afford to get me a ring. What if we did get married... or had kids... how would you support the family?" I knew that I was pregnant at the time; one month gone, but I didn't want to tell him. He ignored my question. "I'm going to bed," He states with an irritable calmness. "Bed? Matress,! You're going to matress!" I scream again, correcting him. He turned back to face me and my anger vanished, turning me blank as I shook my head. "I can't do this anymore," I told him. "It's me or wrestling," I said, giving him a choice that I thought would be easy for him to make. It was, but unfortunately his reply was not as comforting as I was expecting. He slowly approached me and gripped me by the top of my arms, staring into my eyes. "You know I love you," He tried to make clear. Again, I could not endure speaking as the twinkling tears escaped from both of us, and so I nodded my head because I did know it. He did love me. I suppose I admire his passion and I accepted his decision. He kissed me on the forehead and without packing, he left. I advanced to the dirt-stained windows and looked out for my love... your father. I saw him take a moment of sorrow, mourning his loss momentarily, but I knew that he would have to deprive himself of all emotional attachment if he wanted to be a success. He dried his eyes and took a deep breath, standing proud as he walked out of my life and chased his dreams. That was the last time I ever saw him. ____________________ Daniel leaps up out of his seat in anger. "You told me he was dead!" He exclaims. Angela looks away. "A part of him died that night," She explains. Daniel is clearly enraged as he frantically paces around the room. He allows himself a moment to return to his cool state before sitting again. "Who is he?" He asks his mother. "I lost one love because of wrestling and I can't bear to lose another," "Who is he?" Daniel asks again, leaning closer. Angela coughs and replaces her oxygen mask over her face in attempt to squeeze out some air as the alarming heart rate monitor chimes faster in alert. "Mum!" Daniel worriedly shouts. "Mum!" He does it again, hoping a second time would incite more of a reaction. Suddenly, doctors and nurses swarm the room like cats to milk as Daniel stands in a horrific panic. Angela slowly removes her mask for a final time and utters the infamous initials. "D... D... T..." She forces out in her last breath. A nurse hurries Daniel out of the room and shuts the door. He peers through the window, silently shouting for his mother, but it's too late. Angela Telmah is gone... Two weeks later and Danny is stood with a black suitcase dragging behind him until he comes to a halt outside a large, black gate. He rummages through the left pocket of his dark grey, faded jeans and pulls out a piece of paper which seemingly bares an address. His eyes switch from the paper to the full address plate outside the gate, giving him confirmation of his whereabouts. His hand reaches out and, with a slight struggle, he manages to open the right side of the gate. As he strolls up the long, stone pathway leading to the large building ahead of him, he takes note of the beautiful garden that dances around the dragon topiary. He advances up the path until he reaches the outdoor tiles of the steps that lead to the porch. Without hesitation, he proceeds up the stairs and stares at the large door in front of him. His shaking fist moves up and bangs against the wood. Moments later, there is an answer and a promising, bright light shines behind the god. Standing in the doorway is the father of Daniel, Dan "Dragon" Taylor. |
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3:28 PM Jul 11