View Full Version : Suicide v Dakarai

03-18-15, 02:55 PM
All RP for the match between SUICIDE and HUSANI DAKARAI at Cyberstrike should be done in this thread. Any RP posted outside of the thread will not count.

The RP deadline is 11:59pm PST on THURSDAY, August 25th, 2011. Angles should be sent to neweraofwrestling@gmail.com ..

03-18-15, 02:56 PM
* Husani Dakarai RP for C13.

[Fade In: Present Day]
The camera opens up on a muggy, humid, late summer afternoon in the City of Brotherly Love. . .Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. The blacktop is still dark in some places from the massive thunderstorm that caused many Philly residents a sleepless night and a dreary early morning. Although the day started gloomy, it looked like it had every intention of turning into a scorcher as the sun hung over top of the city radiating its oven-like heat.

The small city block the camera was located on, full of rundown and boarded up brick row homes, was starting to come alive as people of all ages came outside to sit on their stoops and talk the latest neighborhood gossip, or watch their kids dart up and down the street weaving deftly between the parked cars lining the curbs on both sides; or even just to people watch.

That was exactly what the “Madman from the Motherland” Husani Dakarai was doing as the New Era of Wrestling camera stumbled upon him tucked in the shaded recesses of a nondescript porch. The six foot, eight inch African native lounged on an old, outside sofa of sorts; trademark Black & Mild cigar stuck jauntily in one side of his mouth, dressed in nothing but a dirty pair of baggy blue jeans and a pair of scuffed up old Army boots. . .no shirt adorned the Madman’s torso exposing his huge, barrel chest to the world.

Husani gave an audible sigh as the camera came shakily up the short flight of steps and onto the porch. He ran a large, calloused hand through his unusually untidy afro and a grim smirk appeared on his face. . .

“Another Cyberstrike in the books. . .and another slash in the win column of the Madman. If you dopes out there haven’t caught on by now. . .here’s a tip. . .always bet on black.”

The Madman gave a raspy chuckle and took a deep drag from the small cigar, taking a moment to enjoy the nicotine currently circulating in his mouth before slowly exhaling a plume of purple/gray tobacco smoke that threatened to engulf the entire porch.

“I hope that the fans of New Era of Wrestling are taking note, there’s a new force to be reckoned with this Season. The embodiment of destruction comes in the form of a hulking, rage filled, degenerate black man. In my first week I had a close back and forth match with Edward Patton. . .my ring rust coupled with Patton’s heart and determination made it a closer battle than I’d have liked, but I ultimately came out with my hand raised in the end. . .and also gained a newfound respect for Edward. . .something that I afford very few people these days.

“But this past week. . .I showed everyone exactly why I am the most fearsome force in Season Three and not just some two-bit, Chaos rip-off as some of my detractors on the internet and even within the New Era locker room were quick to say. Dick Dweck must’ve drawn the short stick of the bunch this past week and the punk stepped up only to get beat down in the end. In fact, I was kind of insulted being in the same ring as little Dickie Dweck. Week one I faced a credible opponent, someone who gave me a good back and forth, a run for my money and all of a sudden in week two I get put on the card against a man who thinks he’s some comic book superhero? Really? Well, I don’t know what fuckin’ superpower Dickie was <i>supposed</i> to posses. . .but I guess he forgot to use it because he was absolutely annihilated in that ring, without a doubt. I’ve even been told that he holds a banked title shot!? I don’t know why or even how that happened but if Dick Dweck is where the bar of championship-level talent is set. . .I’ll be sitting high above New Era on a throne made of the bones of my unfortunate opponents in no time at all.”

Husani’s grim face split into a sinister grin before he rearranged himself on the patio couch, putting his elbows on his knees and staring pensively into the camera.

“On the other hand. . .maybe I’m wrong. The winds of change have swept through New Era this past week like a tornado. What was once up is now left and what was once down. . .is now up. The First and his cowardly crew of Shadow Cult cronies once again reign supreme, holding the New Era Championship within their grasp. . .and the once shining visage of the Tact Legacy is once again tarnished and barely holding on by a thin string.

“Fanatic has been unseated as New Era’s Knight in Shining Armor, and big brother Larry was so distracted, rambling and focusing on First and the Shadow Cult that he never gave a thought to preparing for his match-up with Jonathan Marx, and paid the price dearly for his oversight. It seems that all it took to put the Tact Legacy into shambles and uncertainty was a little pressure. After talking such a big game week in and week out. . .Larry and Baby Tact ended up choking. . .how disappointing that must be for you New Era clowns who peppered the Agganis Arena with motivational signs and sported the overpriced <b>TACT LEGACY</b> jerseys for so long.

But I’ve never been one for politics, and that’s not what I came here for. After the results of Cyberstrike hit the ‘net, my eMail inbox was flooded by a bevy of snot nosed New Era fans telling me over and over again that according to the rules of New Era, if I win just one more match I’ll be eligible for a shot at the New Era title. They told me that I could be the one to crumble the Shadow Cult and take down The First. And do you know what I did with all those eMails? Delete, delete, delete. . .straight to the motherfuckin’ trash can. I told you all time and time again that the championship belt isn’t what I’m after. I don’t need some cheap leather strap and a shiny gold plated hunk of scrap metal for validation like the Tact’s or the Shadow Cult. I don’t care about wins and losses and if I somehow become in possession of the New Era of Wrestling Championship belt by mere coincidence or because I’ve destroyed every single person in line for the belt, than I guess I’ll just have to drag that piece of garbage behind me to the ring. The belt means nothing to me. Whatsoever. The First and the Shadow Cult and the Tact’s and Jonathan Marx and hell, even little Dickie Dweck can fight over that thing all day long. In fact, I <i>want</i> them to. Get distracted by the shiny metal like a bunch of special needs children and you’ll never ever see the boogeyman creep up from behind and disembowel you all in one fell swoop.”

The Madman abruptly stopped his rant and stared into space as if he was envisioning the destruction of the entire New Era locker room by his very own hands. He took a moment before chuckling and taking another puff of the ever shortening Black & Mild. He gathered his thoughts before changing subjects for the final time.

“This week. . .this week I face a man I am no stranger to. Not a lot of people know this but Suicide and I have wrestled in the same promotion once before. . .a little place down in Florida. Although we’ve never had the pleasure of meeting toe to toe inside the ring before, I’m familiar with the man that you all know as Suicide. I’ve known him by a list of names and I’ve seen him change his look once or twice but beneath each costume resides the same skill, heart and passion as the man who stands before us today.

“I could cut promos every day of the week huffing and puffing like the Big Bad Wolf and threatening to tear Suicide limb from fuckin’ limb. I could cut promos screaming into the cameras that I’m going to make some sick and twisted artwork on the canvas with Suicide’s own blood. I could play the raging, methodical psychopath all day long to drum up ticket sales and to pump myself up. . .but I don’t think I’m goin’ to do that this week. Fact of the matter is, I know <i>exactly</i> who I’m facing in that ring come Cyberstrike. I’m not facing some greenhorn punk kid from Podunk, Iowa. I’m not facing some kind of mental deficient who’s tricked himself into believing that he’s some kind of amazing superhero. And I’m not facing a cult of cowards who threaten to thwart all comers by utilizing the number’s game. I’m gonna be standing across the ring from a man who has been through battles and was victorious. A man who has stood up all alone in the face of adversity and prospered when the smoke finally cleared. A man who has earned his respect by paying his dues in a business that can be fickle and forgetful in the blink of an eye or the snap of the fingers. I’ve seen it all firsthand.

“I’m not gonna let my own pride overlook the skill that my opponent posses this week. I still believe that when the bell rings, Metallica will blare from the P.A. system and the referee will raise my hand skyward, but I’m not so simple minded as to think it’ll be a walk in the park like last week. I know that <i>this</i> week could be the week I find my shoulders pinned to the mat when it’s all said and done if I’m not careful. If I’m not sharp. If I show any weaknesses or fail to capitalize on <i>his</i> own weaknesses. If you need just one reason and one reason only to tune into Cyberstrike this week. . .forget the Shadow Cult, forget Jonathan Marx, forget Yossi Hayat, Fanatic and Spectre. . .forget every other chump on the card because The Madman from the Motherland versus the Mysterious Wanderer will be a guaranteed knock-down, drag out war that <b>will</b> steal the show. Mark the Madman’s words.”

Husani paused again and took the final drag on the Black & Mild cigar, flicking the plastic tip into the street and blowing the smoke through his nostrils like a prized bull. He turned back to the camera and waggled a finger in the lens before speaking again.

“Suicide. . .I’ve spent this time praising your achievements and admiring the work you’ve put into this craft of ours, but don’t get it twisted. Don’t mistake my kindness for weakness, because that’ll be the last thing you ever do. Don’t think that just because I rage on my lesser opponents that I’m any less calculating inside that ring than you are. Don’t think that because I’m not prone to flashy ariel maneuvers or that I’m not known for my extreme technical prowess that I’m any less of a threat than you are. Don’t make the mistake of thinking that just because I’m not as well traveled or as decorated or as acclaimed as you are that I’m not just as good as you are. And please. . .please don’t make the fatal mistake of assuming that just because I’ve been locked up for the past three years that my game has been thrown off even the tiniest little bit. . .if anything it’s made me stronger. I’m in the best shape of my entire life right now so I’m not gonna just lay down and die for you Suicide. If you want that W at the end of the night I’m gonna make you earn every bit of it. Fight. Scratch. Claw. Push yourself to the extreme. I expect nothing less and I hope you’re not expecting any less of me. When the bell rings and the referee lifts one of our hands in the air, we’ll both know. . .no matter what, that we earned whatever we’ve gotten. We gave it all we had, and let the fucking chips fall wherever they may.

“I’m not even gonna bother warning you to stay away from the ring this week like I’ve told to Edward Patton and Dickie Dweck these past few weeks, Suicide. I won’t tell you not to show up the night of the event. . .because I <i>want</i> you to show up. I haven’t had much of a challenge since I signed my name on the dotted line for Season Three and this match is just what I’ve been craving since week one. So instead of trying to scare you away. . .I implore you. . .I’m <i>begging</i> you to show that masked mug in the Agganis Arena on August twenty-fifth. Step between those ropes and let’s have a motherfuckin’ war, Suicide. I’ve got nothin’ to lose and I don’t think you do either so let’s go out there and show’em a sneak preview of World War Three. Whattaya say, Wanderer? Do ya have it in you?”

With that Husani glares into the camera as it backs away, off the porch and fades slowly to darkness.
[Fade Out]

03-18-15, 02:57 PM
* Suicide RP for C13.

The camera faded in to the top of an apartment building complex in the Bronx, New York. A nice breeze blew throughout the neighborhood as down below children and adults alike were enjoying this warm, sunny day. The camera turned its attention from the humanity and towards that of a mysterious wanderer. The one known as Suicide stood near the edge of one side of the rooftop, his trench coat blowing quietly in the wind as his attention was fixated towards the unknown.

“Much like the weather, the sport of wrestling is something one can not truly predict even if the patterns seem obvious. One day, the sun is shining and the temperature is mild. Then the next day, it becomes chaotic with dark clouds looming, lighting crashing down to the Earth as thunder explodes all across the skies. Most people seem to plan their day according to the weather, to accommodate the random because a forecast had been told to them beforehand. And even that is nothing more than the folly of humans because nothing is what it truly seems.

“For me, wrestling, much like the weather, is something I embrace and not hide from. It's unpredictability is something I can relate to. No matter what happens, there will always someone who craves power and wants to reside on top to rule over all. But I care not for who has the power nor who bows to it; I will always stay the course no matter what obstacles stand in my way. My concern is not of the control and welfare of New ERA but that of my own. As I’ve shown many before since I came back to New ERA, nothing will impede me from shaping my destiny. I made sure that I announced when I was going to challenge for the World championship beforehand simply because that was part of my plan. The main reason was that I wanted no distractions from now until Banned in the US. No matter who is the champion from now until the premiere event, I will be ready for anything... like I always am.”

Suicide turned his attention away from the nothingness and towards the camera.

“Rather than be like the rest and talk about what has transpired in the past few days, I’d rather focus my attention on the immediate future... namely one Mr. Husani Dakarai. Here is a man who came to New ERA with a focus, a man of action that speaks prominently about his place in the sport. While he is raw, slowly but surely he is refining who he is and what he stands for. If I may be bold to say, he truly is a force to be reckoned with. I do not see the comparisons with Chaos for unlike the veteran, Mr. Dakarai seems focused and determined on his goals and shows respect when he feels it is due. This is why his opponents fell to his feet.

“I have no reason to judge you, Mr. Dakarai, for who am I to cast judgement on anyone? But I do question some things about you and if they anger you, just know it is merely the truth that I speak. Sometimes honesty changes the views of people.

“One subject I question is your supposed respect and kindness towards me. While I appreciate the fact you are taking me seriously, I wonder if you doubt your abilities by trying to reassure yourself that you are no pushover by lecturing me on the dos and donts on how to treat you. If there is anyone in this sport that knows more about being underestimated and overlooked, it is me. Since I came upon this sport, everyone looked at me, not as a threat, but as a joke. Sometime to not take seriously. I could list names of some supposedly main event wrestlers but that would be a complete waste and create false bravado on my part. But they soon learned that I was not about the fame, the fortune, or the championships. As someone has stated recently, I am here for wrestling and love of the sport. I am here for the competition and having my limits pushed. I view you, Mr. Dakarai as such a man to test me and I look forward to our battle in the ring.

“Which leads to my second question: why do you believe our match will be on par with an event that hasn’t happened yet but would shape the very world in which we live in? Do not get me wrong, Mr. Dakarai - there are wrestling matches, true epic battles, that on a rare occasion, shape the very foundation of our great sport. But I believe you are getting a little ahead of yourself if you believe when we clash in the squared circle it will be such an event.

The Mysterious Wanderer took off his fedora hat and held it in front of him with both hands

“I hate to destroy your dreams, but even with you putting myself on a high enough pedestal, that will not happen. However, that is not to say that our match will have no significance. Whether you care or not, and it seems on face value you don’t, the victor of this match receives a banked title shot. In fact, it’s very important to point out that no matter who wins this battle, it can be assured we will definitely face off against each other once more. But it’s not about future battles with you or anyone else for that matter I care about. Our match is my sole focus and no matter who is victorious, it will be a match everyone in New ERA will be following with keen interest.”

“Now with my last question, why bother begging and daring me to come to our match? I think it is a bit redundant to do so when I show up and stand face-to-face with every challenge that is thrown my way. You said it yourself that I have stood up to adversity no matter the numbers, no matter the strength and skill of my opponent or opponents. So why would that change now? Is it you truly believe that I will be a pushover for you even though you claim I am not?”

“I know we have been in each other’s airspace once before in Legacy of Champions and from that time to three years later here in New ERA of Wrestling, a lot has changed. You were incarcerated and paid your debt to society, trying refine yourself to become an even better wrestler than you one were. So to assume I am not prepared for you and will just overlook you because of said incarceration already tells me that you believe you have the upper hand. I also find it humorous that you believe you could even try to instill fear into my black heart when I’ve shown I fear no one.

“You could be six foot eight, seven foot eleven, or even four foot two. You could be man full of power and rage, speed and agility, or skill and intelligence. I will show up to our match fully prepared and ready to give you the battle you so desire. But maybe, just maybe, you might be biting more than you can chew. Confidence is good to have, but being overzealous like you seem to be may be your undoing. And that is what you have shown me Mr. Dakarai. Your previous victories over good wrestlers are commendable. But they are not quite like me.”

“I will definitely be at Cyberstrike and we both will be in for a fight. Will it be of epic proportions on par with major wars in our human history? Probably not. But will it be a match people may talk about for years to come? It could happen. Because when it’s all said and done, win or lose, I will show you the respect I know you earn and deserve. I expect nothing less from you, Mr. Dakarai, and there is no need for me to compare you to anyone else. I just hope you are ready like you claim you are, because just like it will be for me, this is no ordinary walk in the park. Like an old friend, a spectre of the past, once said, ‘there’s a storm brewin’’... I just hope you are prepared for the random and unknown...

“‘Nuff said...”

The camera faded out as it continued its focus on Suicide...