Parker Wayde vs Rosalie Knight

Subject: Parker Wayde vs Rosalie Knight Wed Aug 08, 2012 4:05 am

Roleplay here!

Guest

Monday after Burning to Ash Battlegrounds:

It felt good to be home, if only for a little while.

Rosalie stared up at her house as the taxi dropped her off from the airport. It was nearly dusk, and the Idaho sky was on fire with one of its famous western sunsets. There was nothing like it out east, and she took a deep breath before letting out a long exhale. The air was cleaner here than Orlando, and so much drier.

She hadn’t been planning on coming home after the last show, but she’d wanted to avoid crowds for a bit. And, she had to admit, Amber and Tina and Jason. She laughed to herself and shook her head. The fact that she was even calling them by their real names in her head… This was something that could hurt actual friendships. She needed to take a step back from all of it and Boise was a great place to do that.

The door opened and Andrew poked his head out with a mischievous grin.

Andrew Knight
Hey, sis, are you going to come inside and eat dinner, or are you just going to stand there looking stupid?

Rosalie laughed and waved her brother’s comment off. A few quick steps had her up the sidewalk and onto the front porch in no time at all.

Rosalie Knight
You made dinner for me? How sweet.

She hugged her brother tightly. It was good to be accepted by family, and good to be accepted exactly for who she was. She had family, both biological and chosen, who loved her, and that was all she needed.

Andrew Knight
I figured you could use it after the week you’ve had. Mom ever get a hold of you?

Rosalie shook her head and made a face as she stepped past Andrew into the house, and set her bags down in the foyer. She could unpack and repack tomorrow, and head to Saint Louis on Wednesday or Thursday. She had some training to do, if she was going to face Parker one-on-one.

Rosalie Knight
No… but I’ve been avoiding her. I just got her to get over the wrestling thing and now I’m sure she’s going to tell me I’m going to hell for being attracted to another woman.

Rosalie frowned, and moved into the kitchen. Whatever was in the oven smelled absolutely delicious, and as she looked around, she spotted the garlic bread and the salad. Her eyes watered just a little as she realized what her brother had done for her.

Rosalie Knight
Andrew, did you make lasagna for me?

Andrew grinned at her, and grabbed the hot pads to pull it out of the oven.

Andrew Knight
It’s possible.

He laughed and gestured to her to go sit down at the table. He brought the lasagna over to the table and set it down on a trivet, before looking at her again.

Andrew Knight
You look awful, Rosie. Not sleeping well?

She nodded as she reached for the food, dishing up rather large portions. She never ate heavy before getting on the plane, and the flight from Orlando had been a long one. Her stomach rumbled as she took a few bites before answering her brother.

Rosalie Knight
No, I haven’t been. This whole thing with Amber has me all confused and a little stressed out.

Andrew nodded as he dug into his own food. He was lost in thought for a little bit, before he spoke again.

Andrew Knight
Well, it’s clear that the two of you like each other. And while mom might condemn you to hell for it, I say go for it. Like who you like and be who you are and to hell with the rest of the world.

Rosalie laughed, partly because she was trying to hide the fact that she was a bit choked up. She and Andrew had stuck together through the best and the worst of growing up, and she was grateful he was here right now.

Rosalie Knight
Thanks, Andrew. I knew there was a reason that I kept you around. But all of this… I wonder if you’re about to ask something from me.

Andrew Knight
Of course not, unless you want to let me go to FTA with you.

Rosalie chuckled at the all-too-innocent look on his face.

Rosalie Knight
I’ll see what I can do.

Andrew Knight
That would be awesome, sis. I have a feeling it’s going to be pretty dang cool.

Rosalie Knight
Of course it’s going to be amazing. I’m in it, aren’t I?

Parker Wayde vs Rosalie Knight Lambert-st-louis-airport

The shot opens on Rosalie Knight arriving at the St. Louis airport. She’s just picked up her bag at the claim, and now she’s on her way to catch a taxi. She pulls her suitcase behind her, and the wheels make a satisfying rumble against the tile floor.

I love that sound. The sound of suitcase wheels on an airport floor. It reminds me of why I got into this business. It’s as much about getting to travel and to see and meet all sorts of amazing people in all sorts of amazing places, as it is about winning.

She pauses to look straight at the camera, and a hardened look comes to her features.

Or at least, that’s all it used to be. You see, in the time that I’ve spent in the Insurgency, I’ve discovered that there’s a need existing here. This is more than the need to win. This is more than the need to dominate. This is more than the need I had to prove myself as a rookie, like my opponent this week, or the need I have now to hold onto a shiny belt.

I’ve started to grow tired of being held back because I’m a woman. That High Impact Title should have been mine. It took a three-on-one handicap match to keep it out of my hands. Yes, I know it was billed as a four-way free-for-all, but the three men I was up against were members of the same group, it kind of makes you wonder, doesn’t it?

She smirks a bit as she takes up her leisurely stride again, the wheels rumbling once more on the tile as the sliding door to the outside approaches. The camera keeps pace with her, never failing to show the determination on her features.

I have to admit, that it could be partially my fault. After all, I was raised to be a good Southern girl. Do as you’re told, don’t cause trouble with your betters, don’t take shit from your lessors. Don’t forget your place, whether it’s to your detriment or advantage. Go ahead and go for what you want, but never directly. Always make everyone else think that you getting your way was their idea.

But you see? That’s one of the reasons I love this life. One of the reasons I love getting to travel to all sorts of different places and meet all sorts of different people… Because I get to learn all sorts of new ideas, new ways of thinking.

And Parker Wayde, honey, I ain’t a good southern girl anymore.

She exaggerates her accent, and laughs as the doors part for her, giving way before her presence, and she steps out onto the sidewalk next to the terminal.

If there’s something that I’ve learned from all the opponents I’ve faced in the Insurgency, it’s that you can’t afford to be a good southern girl in this game. You have to reach out and grab what you want. You have to fight for it. You can’t back down, and you can’t take an indirect route. My poor mama is going to kill me for acting like a Yankee, but that’s exactly what I intend to do.

You’ve got something to prove, Parker. I’m well aware of that. But I have things to finish proving, too. I haven’t finished, and I’m not going to let you stand in the way. That’s the way it works, honey, and I’m sorry that you’re the one who happens to be standing in my way this week.
I would say it’s nothing personal, but after that dirty shit you and Ruby pulled in the tag team match a couple of weeks ago, I think I’m going to take great pleasure in putting you away.

Rosalie wiggles her fingers at the camera in a sort of “bye-bye” gesture, and smiles prettily before she turns to hail a cab. She looks back over her shoulder as she gets into the back of one of the yellow cars.

See you in the ring, sugar.

The camera fades to black as the taxi pulls away from the curb and drives off.

Subject: Re: Parker Wayde vs Rosalie Knight Sat Aug 11, 2012 11:15 pm

Need to Hurt: Part Won

The undefeated Parker Wayde stands on the balcony staring off into the distance. His thoughts drift away from whatever hotel St. Louis had to put them up in. His head wasn't there right now. Rarely had his head been in the game long before the show actually started though. He had a job to do. Nothing more and nothing less. He went out in front of the people that gave their money to IWF and hurt anyone and everyone stacked up against him. He was part of Natural Law, but was he really? What had he done for them other than the things that he would have done regardless of his affiliation. His power, quickness and in ring ability was in St. Louis. Everything he had trained to do in that ring traveled from show to show. His thoughts however, had never left Winston-Salem, and likely never would. He wasn't paid to think. Parker Wayde is paid to hurt, and he loves what he does. As his thoughts wander though he tries to remember where this drive came from. The thirst to hurt people. The need to be standing above a broken body as the better man left standing. Surely this wasn't something that any child is born with. An infant wants for nothing other than food and warmth. What pleasure could he have gotten from causing pain then? If he wasn't born with it, the drive had to come from somewhere else. If in did, in fact, come from some other place, shouldn't he know what that was? Would it matter? How did he know the things that run through his mind on a nightly basis once he steps into the ring?

Face isn't always the best target.

When a person is gripped by fear, knowing that a strike is coming, they will protect their head. More specifically, they will shield their face. Why would would the untrained be so predicatively foolish? Blocking the part of the body with arguably the most natural protection is a dead giveaway of not only vital parts of the body, but your inexperience. Sure, a broken nose will hurt, Parker had experienced that himself. A black eye would swell, and become a target in the next fight. A busted lip would make the simplest task, such as chewing gum, a painful chore. Does it do the damage though? Is that the way to incapacitate someone that you want to hurt? No. Parker had heard enough from training in a gym that you beat a person's body before anything else. Parker knows that a broken rib is more painful than a broken nose. A bruised kidney lasted longer than a busted lip. A black eye doesn't measure up to the pain of a collapsed lung. More importantly, when you see a fist coming your direction, and your body has been so beaten that you can't even think to raise your arms anymore to cover your face, the fear itself is so much worse than any single blow. A hapless idiot, unable to defend himself, weak against the assault, that is what Parker Wayde turns you into. He learned that ages ago. But when? How?

Fist isn't always the best weapon.

To hold a roll of quarters in your hand while punching someone in the face will get you charge with assault with a deadly weapon. Why? The fist collapses on itself from the impact with another person's anatomy. The fact that you would think to strike with such a half-hearted blow is almost laughable. Why would you want to build in any padding to someone that you want to take to the ground and leave in a heap? Parker knew this too, and for that reason he finds a way around it. Closing your fist so that the tips of your fingers line the very center of the palm of your hand, and then striking out at someone connecting with the base of your palm, and the top knuckle of your fingers provides no such cushion. A single blow from the palm of a person's hand in such a manner can break the orbital bone around a person's eye with half the pressure needed from a closed fist. The striking surface is wider than a fist as well, meaning that a well placed strike can break two ribs instead of one. When was the first time he had tried this? Could he remember the day he first struck someone in this fashion if he tried hard enough. Parker tried to jog his memory. Just one piece of information would be all that he needed. Was it daylight? Was it dark out? Could it have been a lesson that was beaten into him rather than one that he beat in to someone else? He harder and harder he tried to pull the information out, the more interference he got.

The second shot to the head should be an elbow to cut cheekbones. Takes out the eyes and is a lot more accurate too.

You have to beat them into knowing that there is no way that they are going to walk out of the fight unharmed. After that, you make them fear you with the first strike to the head that makes it hard to move. Then, and only then do you turn out the lights. A single step closer than what it would have taken to land with the palm of your hand is close enough. No point taking chances that are unnecessary around the time that your victim is fearing for their lives. With both feet planted a quick turn of the hips with your arm extended and your elbow at a perfect ninety degree angle will send the point of an elbow connecting first. The shorter range increases the accuracy of the blow, and also helps to protect against feral shots. Prey that thinks you are going to strike with a fist from a distance is never ready for the close up thrust that turns the lights off. The skin above the cheekbone is easily broken. Pressed against the force of the oncoming strike, and the thickness of the skull, the skin is the first thing in the equation that will break. You take an eye out of the mix, and you find that you crush the will to keep fighting. Why exhaust yourself going blow for blow when you don't have to? Gripped by fear. Blinded by their own swelling eye. What do they have left to fight for? Survival? At this point most know that the battle is lost.

Fights continue until there is only one man standing....

Pulling away from his thoughts and opening his eyes for the first time it what feels like forever Parker stares blankly out into the night. The sun has left the sky black. The lights of the city reflect off of the pollution in the sky and not a star can be seen. The world appears to have lost its life while The Instant Impact was lost in his thoughts. He looks down at the railing of the balcony at the phone that always rings with a job for him to take care of. No missed calls. No instructions. Nobody to listen to. At least not yet. He turns from the railing and drops the phone into his pocket. Without closing the bay doors of the hotel room, he crosses the room and grabs his gym bag off of his bed.

The phone will ring... It always does when the time is right.

Parker places the strap of the bag over his shoulder and moves towards the door. He absent mindedly flips the switch on the wall, making the room as pitch black inside as it is outside. The outside world appeared dead. The hotel room appeared dead. As Parker turned the knob on the door and pulled it open to head to the show he came to a realization...

They were just how it felt when he wasn't in the ring.

Was there really not anything more to him? Had he become this machine of pain and destruction? Did it matter? If there was one thing in the world that he enjoyed doing, it is hurting people that are not as good as he is. If he took any joy out of a situation, it was one where he could look down and see a pile of something that used to be beautiful in front of him lifelessly sprawled across the ground. If there was anything at all that he lived to do, it was making a masterpiece of pain and putting it on display for anyone at all to see. Right not the world felt empty. Right now the hotel room was lifeless. Parker is just like them, and would be until the bell rings and he steps into the ring. Then it is all about dissecting his prey. Planning their downfall. Watching them suffer. In the back of his mind he would continue to latch on to the answer to his question though, and he knew it wouldn't go away until he had an answer.

When did this become so much fun?

Guest

Friday Night before Demons and Dragons

Rosalie floated on her back in the hotel pool, and stared up at the approaching sunset through the summer haze in St. Louis. She’d been training all day, and now she really needed to relax. She would probably hit the hot tub in a minute, and let the heat work tension out of her muscles. This confusion over Amber was really causing her some stress, and she didn’t know what to do about it.

She just hoped it didn’t interfere with her match this weekend. She wasn’t in prime shape; stress had a way of slowing a body down when the fight-or-flight response couldn’t be resolved. She didn’t know what to do about any of this. She didn’t want to ruin the friendship that she’d formed with Amber, or the one that had kind of started to form peripherally with Tina and Jason.

She growled in frustration, and slapped her palms against the water as she let her feet fall to the bottom of the pool again. Why shouldn’t she want what she wanted? She’d never expected to be in a situation like this, but here she was. Lilah made her feel like no other woman had ever managed, and she didn’t even know why.

Rosalie Knight
Fuck it.

The expletive was unusual coming from Rosalie, even muttered under her breath as it was. But she had a long flight from Boise to Denver to St. Louis to think about what she wanted to do with her career. She had been far too nice for far too long, as she told the camera yesterday when she arrived.

Why shouldn’t she go for what she wanted? What was holding her back? For the longest time, it had been herself. Her upbringing, her lack of ruthlessness… it was all working against her. She needed to learn how to get angry, and learn how to get ruthless. Maybe she should ask Lilah to get her an audience at the Fortress of Solitude. Stygian certainly had ruthless and angry down to an art.

But could she use Amber that way? She was so unclear on how she actually felt for the busty brunette, and those mixed signals were going both ways. What was the nature of this crazy thing, really?

She grabbed the ladder and hauled herself up and out of the pool, with the water sluicing down and off her muscular body. She caught a couple men staring, and she smirked to herself. Let them stare. She was done with men for now. That much she was at least clear on.

She wrapped her towel around herself, and headed away from the pool toward her room. Looking down at the hypnotic pattern on the lobby carpet, she didn’t see the other person coming down the hallway until it was too late. She bumped into a pair of large breasts, and looked up with a startled expression.

Rosalie Knight
I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean—

Rosalie trailed off as she realized with whose gargantuan gazongas she had just collided, and recognized the face of the woman standing right in front of her still.

Rosalie Knight
Amber! I didn’t expect to see you here.

The brunette giggled a little and reached out to rustle Rosalie’s hair.

Lilah
Remember when I texted to ask where you were? There was a reason for that, silly.

Rosalie grinned at her, and laughed.

Rosalie Knight
Well, if I had known you were coming, I might have gotten out of the pool sooner! Maybe would have had a chance to put some clothes on.

Lilah
Why? I think you look good in a swimsuit.

Rosalie flushed a little as the other woman looked her over, and pulled the towel closer. She could feel the heat from her blush spreading down her neck and over her chest.

Rosalie Knight
Thanks, Amber. You of all people probably know the kind of work it takes to keep a body in this kind of shape.

The brunette laughed and turned around, clearly waiting for Rosalie to lead the way back to her room.

Lilah
Have you had dinner yet?

Rosalie shook her head, which caused water droplets to flicker to the ground and be absorbed by that hypnotic carpet.

Rosalie Knight
Not yet. I was going to get cleaned up and maybe order room service… But if you’ve got another idea…?

Lilah
Well, I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t! Let’s go out and get something.

Rosalie laughed. She did enjoy Amber’s company, and she was hungry. What could going out to dinner really hurt?

Rosalie Knight
Okay, okay. But I’m not going in my swimsuit. Come on upstairs with me while I shower.

Why on earth did that feel like a suddenly dangerous invitation?

The camera focuses on Rosalie Knight as she ties her boots in the locker room. She straightens to her full height and runs her fingers through her long blond hair to straighten it out for the show. She gives the camera a little smirk as she shakes out her golden mane, and lets it settle.

Well, here we go, Parker. Tonight I get a second shot at you without Ruby there to interfere. Ruby Winters, the woman that gave up the Queen of Wrestling title to me.

Rosalie picks up the belt from where it rests on the locker room bench, and slings it casually over her shoulder as if it belongs there permanently. It’s clear that she owns the belt, in attitude as much as physical possession.

Let’s have a show of hands here. Who’s won an IWF title before, Parker?

Rosalie raises her hand, and then looks around with a comically confused expression.

Huh. I don’t see your hand, Parker. Oh, that’s right. You don’t have one. And while I know that titles don’t mean everything… I’ve still got more than you do. You’re still a rookie, Parker, and you’ve thrown your lot in with the worst of them.

Let’s see. Chad Mason. Plain and simple, he’s a dick. Sure, he has talent, but he’s a miserable excuse for a real human being. Ruby Winters. I beat her like a red-headed stepchild and took my title from her. She’s mentioned a rematch, but I haven’t seen her working all that hard to earn it. Marcus Silverstone. He’s the Tonya Harding of IWF. Had talent, decided to do back-alley thug thing, and is now about to get his ass kicked. I could go on, but this isn’t about them, Parker. It’s about you.

You call yourself undefeated. Great. Good for you. But the people you’ve beaten? Nothing more than scrubs. Low-level jobbers. I’m the Queen of the Ring, honey, and if you think beating a couple of nobodies makes you worthy to face me, then you’ve got a nasty surprise coming to you tonight!

Rosalie jabs her finger at the camera.

Listen up. I’m done playing nice. I’m done holding myself back. I am the Queen of the fucking Ring, and like the many before you, Parker, you are going to remember your place and bow down to me tonight.

The camera fades to black as Rosalie exits the locker room in a powerful, confident stride, with the Queen of Wrestling title still slung over her shoulder like it belongs there.

Subject: Learning to Listen IV Sun Aug 12, 2012 12:00 am

Learning to Listen IV

Parker nervously paces back and forth within his locker room. His eyes scan the bare walls on the adjacent sides of the row of lockers looking for an answer that just isn't there. His gym bag is open on the bottom shelf of the locker precisely in the middle of the row, and all of his belongings seem to be strewn about randomly outside of the bag. He turns around and starts to walk frustratedly in the opposite direction, this time shuffling his feet in smaller steps as he approaches his things, and what had become a pile of his clothing at the base of the locker. A black and green Natural Law shirt flies into the air, stopping only when it comes into contact with the wall at the end of the room. A pair of elbow pads land in one of the locker's near the end of the row. The Parker only seems more irritated now that his gear is everywhere and turns into his locker slamming both fists into the wooden frame.

Parker: How long is this mother fucker going to leave me hanging here?

He reaches for something inside the gym bag and pulls out his phone, still displaying "No Missed Calls" across the screen. He pumps his arm as if he wants to throw it against the wall alongside the Natural Law shirt, but rethinks the decision and places it carefully on the top shelf of the locker, undamaged. His gym bag does not avoid the fate of the its former contents though. With one swoop of his arm the bag takes to the air, smacking against the door and then falling to the ground upside down. If there was anything left inside, it was likely broken. He turns around and throws himself down in the locker, resting his shoulderblades against the back wall and running both hands through his hair. He exhales heavily, a calming mechanism that he picked up god knows where. As if this action alone drains him of his energy his arms flop down to his lap as he closes his eyes. Parker lets his head roll back when his eyes refuse to open. He lets the irritation, anxiety, frustration, and angry all fade away and starts to relax. It is at that exact moment, as he starts to close in upon total relaxation that a knock out the door causes his to leap out of his seat and rush towards the door.

Who the fuck wants to visit me at a time like this?

With any thought of being calm gone from his mind he swings open the door. His jaw is already unclenched to start the tongue lashing of a lifetime. Whoever the hapless son of a bitch was that decided they wanted an autograph right at this moment had made the worst decision of their life. He lets the handle of the door go, and the momentum carries the wooden door into the cinder block wall where it stops with a crash. Parker's eyes find his target, find the person that had interrupted him, finds the first person that is going to feel his rage on this evening... but the words don't come. His eyes widen to the point of nearly bulging out of his head. His jaw, left unclenched, falls to its lowest altitude, leaving his mouth open as if he road the tiny bus to work. The look of disbelief on his face draws a soft half laugh-half sneer from his guest who decides that she is going to have to do the talking first.

Female: Yea... I get that reaction a lot. Are you going to get your big black ass out of the doorway and let me in? I really don't have the time to stand here while you make googly eyes at me.

The female vistor steps into the room. Her high heels make a hollow sound on the tile as he steps across to the row of lockers, carefully navigating around the the things on the floor. She picks up the phone out of the locker previously occupied by Parker and clicks the button on the top that brings the screen to life. She stares down at it, and then back to Parker.

Female: So do you not know how to answer it or would you rather me have to hop a flight to come and yell at you every show?

Without hesitation, and in the same unsure tone he has answered the phone with since beginning his career with IWF. He straightens himself up and reaches for the door to close it behind him as he tries to answer.

Parker: It didn't go off.

Female: Bullshit. I called more times than I should have had you. Have you talked to anyone here?

Parker: I am telling you..

She cuts him off, becoming annoyed.

Female: YOU DO NOT GET TO TELL ME ANYTHING!

Parker: I didn't mean to insinuate...

Female: What? That I am some kind of idiot that doesn't know how to dial a fucking phone number? I asked if you had spoken to anyone.

Parker: Not a soul. They tend to avoid me around her Marie.

She straightens her short black dress around her thighs, and clenches it to her lap as she sits down in the locker. She crosses her legs and looks down at the floor instead of addressing him directly.

Marie: You will refer to me as Ms. Daniels. Do not get so familiar. This is a business. Not a friendship.

Parker finds the his manhood and inflates to take up for himself. Using his big boy voice he crosses to the row of lockers and addresses her.

Parker: Just tell me who to hurt. I know how to take orders. We have established that already.

Marie Daniels: I guess we have. HHR has another challenge for you tonight. Rosalie Knight. Good luck... or whatever.

A smile crosses Parker's lips and he turns around, with his drive to hurt someone restored, and a target now in mind.

» Steel Angel and Rosalie Knight [vs.] Ruby Winters and Parker Wayde
» Rosalie Knight [vs.] Ruby Winters
» Rosalie Knight [vs.] Ruby Winters
» Rosalie Knight [vs] Aubree Kendall
» #4 Rosalie Knight [vs.] Duke Dice #13