View Full Version : Daymon v Blue

09-21-04, 12:45 AM
All RP for the match between CAITLYN DAYMON and KRIST BLUE at RAUCOUS should be done in this folder. Any RP posted outside of the folder will not count.

The RP deadline is 11:59pm on Tuesday, September 28th. Angles should be sent to secandido@comcast.net ..

09-21-04, 03:36 PM

(From absolute black silence, the dismal crashing of waves against the shoreline fades in. We get a long establishing shot of the blue Pacific Ocean, off of the coast of California. Pan right onto the beach front of the city of San Diego, coming to rest on the female figure standing on the balcony of her twentieth floor hotel room. Caitlyn Daymon stands in a white silk robe, seeming to have recently stepped out of the shower. Her dark eyes stare out to the ocean blankly, as internal thoughts tick away inside her head. Without so much as even remarking on the scenery, or what ideas she may be harboring, she cuts straight to the point.)

Caitlyn Daymon:
Phoenix, Arizona is finally behind me, serving as nothing more than another step in the ladder on my way to the top of the game. Naturally, my preconceived notions of victory rang true, as I successfully defeated Jane Doe, in spite of a pair of undignified attacks both before and after the match.

But even though I got the win, and I feel even more confident in my abilities to become NEW’s first Women’s Champion, I can’t help by get the sense that there are a few loose ends I still need to tend to. Perhaps, here and now, I can find closure on the matter.

Of course, you watching at home could probably see where I’m getting to. You saw the match… you saw what happened in moments that followed the ringing of the bell that cued my victory. And, I can easily guess, you all probably see the blatant close-mindedness and naivety of Jane Doe’s actions.

So, I’m just going to speak to Jane for the moment, to get a few things clear to a person who obviously lacks the mental capabilities to function logically and reasonably in the real world.

(Caitlyn makes an about face and steps through the screen door into her hotel room. Crossing the bedroom, she comes to an oriental dressing screen and steps behind it. As she speaks, her robe comes up onto the screen and another set of clothes resting nearby—a pair of black shorts and a white sports bra—disappear.)

Caitlyn Daymon:
Jane… everybody understands your rage; your temper tantrums are obvious indicators of that. But what, really, is your goal? Do you even HAVE one? Or is your single-minded purpose simply to be the thorn in every competitor’s side?

Honestly, I could care less about how much you hate me. In spite of all of your burning anger and passion, my focus and superior skill conquered over your unstable ire. How does that make you feel, Jane? Does it make your blood boil hotter than before? Does it tint your field of vision with the color red? I certainly hope it does, because the more irrational and spiteful you become, the more crushing it will be to your soul when I take the strap we both vie for.

(Her head momentarily pokes out from the side of the screen, and she looks directly into the camera for the first time.)

Caitlyn Daymon:
Does repeatedly taking a chair over my head make you feel better about yourself, Jane? Does it somehow make you forget that you truly are inferior, and that you may only gain the upper hand when I least suspect it? I made the mistake of underestimating your mindset, which allowed you to perform your weak-hearted methods, but I can assure you I will not make that mistake twice. I only hope, for your sake, you will not do the same.

(Daymon again disappears behind the blinds and continues changing.)

Caitlyn Daymon:
I can’t say your cowardly display of emotion following our match can be easily ignored on my behalf. What could I do in retaliation? Stage my own attack, perhaps? Attack you as you walk down the ramp, and shave your head in front of everybody? The list of possibilities has no end, but for your sake, I promise that I’ll take no act of revenge. Doing so would only lower me to your confused and miserable level.

(She steps out from behind the screen to reveal her new attire, in addition with a pair of running shoes, a black sweat band, and a ponytail.)

Caitlyn Daymon:
Rather, I will retain my focus… and my iron-clad will. At Battle-Brawl, should we meet again, I’ll simply go into that ring the same as I did in Phoenix. As hard as you will try to win, I will calmly beat you… and then I will take the title, and leave you there in the ring without so much as looking back, leaving you with your rage and pain—mental and physical—to continue your senseless, pointless, and powerless brooding.

And there won’t be a ******* thing you can do about it, because history has proven twice already, that no matter how badly you want to tear me apart in that ring, I will prevail. Tough crap, Jane.

(With that, she comes over in front of the bed and sits on the end, putting her attention on the camera.)

Caitlyn Daymon:
And now that I’ve touched on that subject, I’d like to turn my attention to more pertinent matters… that being yet another match, this time against a newcomer to our field of competition.

I know nothing of Krist Blue, nor can I say anything more. Whoever she is, she needs only to look at the tapes of my work thus far in NEW. I can handle almost any beating, no matter how violent, and prevail. Furthermore, I train extensively. Perhaps it’s not enough to convince an absolute stranger of my credentials, but I suppose it’s a start. I won’t make any judgments on my opponent, however, until she finds the opportunity to speak.

Until then, I will train extensively to prepare for this match, and the title match at Battle Brawl. More importantly, I will hone my senses to expect the unexpected, and adapt to whatever may face me at Raucous.

(With a nod, she comes to her feet, taking a set of headphones and an iPod from the nearby dresser. She presses play, and at the exact same instant, “Hearts Alive” from the new Mastodon album begins to play. Caitlyn bobs her head to the beat for a moment, and then goes to the door to make her exit. On that note, we fade to black.)


09-23-04, 07:07 PM
(CUEUP: "Boomin" by Mindless Self Indulgence...)
(MWG's new zillion dollar Hollywood estate. Daddy's little princess is sitting on a big leather sofa shaped like pouting lips, overflowing ash tray, rolled up dollar bills and half empty bottles of pills all over the glass coffee table before her...She's dressed like a catholic school girl, nostrils caked with blood, eyes
blood shot, cheeks pale, legs neatly crossed, new pink highlights in bleached pigtails, smiling sweetly...)

"America's Sweetheart"

Hieeee everybody. So s'like...I was wicked psyched 'n stuff, cuz I thought maybe if I made it as a legit wrestler people would stop calling me a whore all the time? Like, I totally know sh*t like that shouldn't bother me, but I just hate how people are always taking their insecurities out on me. I remember a few months ago when I was in WFW, Golem was eating me out 'n sh*t, 'n then his wife burst in 'n then she hit me over the head with a whisky bottle and called me all these horrible names...It's so unfair, I swear to god. Just look at Em. He's a WAY bigger whore than me, but does he catch all this sh*t
for it? Noooo. He just catches sh*t for being a fag. That's also wicked gay, how everyone's always being mean to him for being gay, but at least he still gets high fived for f*cking a lot. On the other hand, everybody loves it when I kiss other girls in public, so I guess it's like, the balance of the space time continuum.

S'now I gotta go fight Caitlyn Daymon, who's a totally stupid b!tch by the way, even if she is pretty foxy, and she's all like "Eh, I don't know who you are, but I beat Jane Doe so I'm wicked awesome. I work out a lot. I'm
wicked smart. And I don't even know who you are, so since I'm so f*cking brilliant I probably don't have anything to worry about." Like, guh? like, anybody couldn't beat up Jane Doe? She sucks? Y'know? 'N like, maybe it would be a good idea for somebody as smart as her to keep tabs on things a little better. Cuz I was the only female IWF Vagina champion, and I was kind
of a member of LOVE for a while. I learned all my moves from Em, and Felix Red who was almost champion except for Manson beating him. So I've like, got hardcore wrasslin' skills? I'm gonna like, totally kill the f*ck out of this b#tch? For real? So she shouldn't be so f*cking nonchalant, right? Cuz she's gonna be wicked dead soon. Like, all bloody 'n saying sh*t like "Oh Krist, please stop hitting me. It's hurts sooooo baaaaaad."

Jane Doe might be an ugly, fat, stupid c*nt, but she isn't crazy for hating Caitlyn Daymon. I like, barely know Caitlyn Daymon, and I already kinda hate her. She thinks she's so cool cuz she uses big words all the time. Like it's some political statement about female empowerment to use a word like "photosynthesis." Like, okay, all I have to do is lick another girls nipple, and every guy in the room will do anything I tell them. If Monica Lewinski hadn't been such a pig, she could be President now. People call me a slut, but I'm so not. I'm a bigger feminist then that Paglia chick. I just, y'know, aren't trying to fake like I have a cock.

Caitlyn Daymon says she can take any beating. Well, (giggles) we'll see about that one, wont we? I'm thinking maybe she wouldn't come through so hot if somebody shot her in both kneecaps. So maybe she really can't take any beating? And I'm thinking maybe she can't even chill with me 'n mine for more than 10 minutes before she's puking the all over the new carpet, screaming at the shadows to stop changing color?

S'cool though. Cuz I'm like, gonna make this division into something cool. Raucous is gonna be a dance party, babes. One that'll leave Caitlyn Daymon wishing it was 1979....

09-27-04, 11:45 AM

Caitlyn Daymon
The second you think you’re finished dealing with the mentally deficient, yet another ingrate stumbles into your path…

(We fade into Caitlyn Daymon’s expansive San Diego hotel room at night. Daymon sits placidly on the sofa in her standard attire, rubbing a spot on her right temple with her index and middle fingers, as though trying to solace a headache. With her free hand she holds a bottle of Captain Morgan. On the TV, naturally, is the latter part of Krist Blue’s promo. Currently, Blue is professing a statement with no bottom line that has to do with her hatred for Caitlyn Daymon.)

Caitlyn Daymon
I thought that it only got as bad as Jane Doe… until I saw this. It was then, I realized, that Jane is hardly anything to look down on. Compared to this person, Jane is Grade-A wrestling material. But watching this promo, I can see that there are other people in this world who are even less serious about this sport and even more idiotic. And lucky me, I end up being booked against them every time.

(Her words have fallen into a slight Irish accent; something handed down through family generations as the alcohol goes to the head. She takes another swig of the Captain while Blue raves over something that has to do with “taking a beating”.)

Caitlyn Daymon
Karla, lucky enough, gets a person who can’t even say a whisper, no pun intended. I, on the other hand, get this… thing. I’m stuck with this raving, ranting thing that makes less sense than a New York homeless person who has completely lost his mind. I’m stuck with a thing that means only to cause a scene as opposed to do well in this industry. I’m stuck with a coked-out, hyper-active, foul-mouthed thing, while Starr gets a dark match.

(The promo abruptly cuts off… or perhaps it comes to its end. Caitlyn simply shakes her head.)

Caitlyn Daymon
The more and more I think about it, the more I know that this division won’t stand for long. There just isn’t enough decent talent in NEW to make the competition for the Women’s Title interesting. With people like Jane Doe and Krist Blue… one can’t expect much. Either Karla or I will take the belt, and frequently fend it off from stoves of simple-minded gimmick wrestlers. Amnesiac Doe… druggie Blue… Swedish Hawke… mysterious Whisper…

… and not a logical mind among them.

(Caitlyn grabs the remote and turns off the TV. She slowly comes to her feet, bringing the Captain with her, and faces the camera.)

Caitlyn Daymon
So, Krist, now that we are familiar with each other, where may I begin?

…no, really. Where am I SUPPOSED to begin with a promo like that? Just what the hell am I supposed to say?

(She shrugs.)

Caitlyn Daymon
Your appearance has defined nothing, Krist. Look at the points…

You clearly don’t expect anything from me…

You clearly don’t have any motivation going into this match…

You clearly don’t care whether you win or lose, just as long as someone has a bottle of Quaaludes waiting for you backstage…

And, as far as I can tell, your only goal in being a professional wrestler is to show people that you’re not a whore.

(Another shake of the head and shrug, this time at the same time. Then she takes another sip of the Captain.)

Caitlyn Daymon
Krist, forgive me for being a bit brash here, but you cannot expect me to take anything you said in that promo seriously. Not only do you make no sense at any point during the sequence, but I’m willing to bet there was enough snow in your head to make your brain look like Christmas.

I could care less about your experience, or your idle remarks of “killing the **** out of me.” It’s obvious that the only people you can ever beat are, well… Jane Doe caliber, and only through hardcore stipulations. Unfortunately for you, this is a standard match—meaning all I have to do is pin your shoulders on the mat for three counts, and I move on, never having to worry about the name Krist Blue for as long as I live. And if you want to throw down after the match, like Jane at Raucous, then fine—we’ll throw down, and I’ll knock you on your disease-ridden ass. Your promo alone is blatant evidence of your inferiority…

Mentally… and physically.

It’s obvious I’m smarter than you, Krist—you don’t have to point that out a dozen times to get it across. An infant could have figured it out. But I’m also stronger than you… and faster… and more determined to win.

Call it a hunch.

And if you’re not willing to put your confidence on that, then consider it against the words of a coked-up loser who thinks putting on a white blouse and a plaid skirt makes her a Catholic school girl.

(Caitlyn sets down the bottle, and points at herself.)

Caitlyn Daymon
I came into NEW with a goal in mind: the Women’s title. Every day since signing my contract, I’ve worked hard to get there. I’ve trained myself to be in top physical condition. To this day, I am still undefeated, out of any federation, so it’s obvious my work paid off.

I could care less if you come down to the ring in a BSDM leather outfit with a bulldog taped to your leg—I’ve proven to everybody, twice with Doe, that I can never be caught off guard by anything. And even if you do step into the ring, and show me SOME shred of talent—which I still believe is a far-fetched concept—I’ll simple train hard prior to the match, and outwrestle you as I have all of my old opponents.

So, all I can ask of you, Krist, is to keep being yourself. Snort another line for me and laugh it up, because there is a person here who is more dedicated and talented, who will soon take these fists and bury them in your face. I want you underestimate me. I want you to put your guard down…

Because I want to hurt you more.

(Fade to black.)