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Post by Deleted on Mar 29, 2015 16:39:20 GMT -5
(OOC Note: Due to the firewall at the new site I work and a bunch of new and dumb restrictions, I cannot access some of the boards on this site, to include the Roleplay Board and the Out of Character Board.
I will post my finished roleplays at work here, then I will later post them to the Roleplay Board once I get home, since I cannot use portable flash drives here or am even allowed to save any writing on the computer. I apologize for this inconvenience. Pray this travesty ends someday.
II)
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Post by Deleted on Apr 4, 2015 11:43:37 GMT -5
<^>
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Post by Deleted on May 31, 2015 16:48:34 GMT -5
The Final Insult!
The days have started to blur, as I feel myself losing control over my own body. That son of a bitch took me for a ride, before taking me hostage! I could see why Father stuffed this wrenched thing in that box. I just wish he would have labeled it clearly, like "In Case of FUCK THE WORLD, Wear This!" or something!
Now the whole world thinks I'm some sort of freak that bathes in blood or some shit. The Angel got the better of me ONCE, and he hijacks my Goddamn Twitter account, too! No shit, I don't know the password, and he can some how keep it from me, because he's an asshole like that.
This is not how I wanted this Pay Per View to go down...
For most of the week after the video that the paparazzi shot of me in the proverbial "blood bath", I kept mainly low-key, doing my morning exercises, the swimming, the weightlifting. Come to find out, I can sling 220 pounds around like NOTHING! Good to know, in case I grab a hold of his feet and swing him around for a bit. Now there's a move you almost NEVER see! The Giant Swing! I should TOTALLY bring back the Giant Swing!
I hear the scuttling of feet behind me, to see Hank Brown coming up on me, as I turn and glare at him. I continue to glare at him, until he finally hands me the microphone. GODDAMN! ANGEL WAS RIGHT!!! IF YOU GLARE AT SOMETHING LONG ENOUGH, IT FIGURES OUT WHAT YOU WANT!!!
Enough of that. What does Mod Deuce have to say, before stepping into the ring with Marc Mayhem...
Mod: We're finally here, you worthless sack of shit! Where the fuck are you at? This is a motherfucking hardcore match, yes? So where the fuck are you?!?!
Well, it looks like Mod is ready to start the match, even though he's in his street clothes. He bellows through the hallways of Arena Mexico, saying OVER AND OVER...
Mod: MARC! MARC! MARC!
COME OUT COME OUT, WHEREVER YOU ARE!!!
I'M GOING TO FIND YOU, AND I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!!! IN FRONT OF ALL THESE FANS...
Mod chuckles, as the camera continues to follow him. Mod grabs a mop, and steps on the mop itself, before yanking up, ripping the mop off of the stick. Mod drags the stick down the walls, as he says...
Mod: I know you're here, Marc. I can smell your stench! The stench of a fool!!! A STUPID FOOL THAT WANTS TO TALK ABOUT JAY OMEGA? YOU SHOULD CONCERN YOURSELF WITH ME!!! BUT DON'T WORRY!!! ONCE I FIND YOU, YOU'RE GOING TO WANT THAT CAB RIDE YOU'RE ALWAYS GOING ON ABOUT, WHEN DIVINE INTERVENTION AND THE WILL OF GOD FIND THEIR WAY ONTO YOU!!! AND SHOULD YOU REALLY FIND YOURSELF WORTHY, THE SWORD OF ARMAGEDDON WILL PART YOU FROM THE LAND OF THE LIVING!
AND WHEN I'M DONE SLAUGHTERING YOU, I WILL BATHE IN YOUR BLOOD, AS I HOLD THE HARDCORE TITLE CLOSE, AND FORGET THAT YOU EVER FUCKING EXISTED!
HA HA HA HA HA!!!
Mod walks off, as he chucks the microphone behind him. The scene fading to black...
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