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  1. #1
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    Round 1: Leyenda de Ocho vs. "The Canadian Wolf" Alex LeBlanc

    Round 1 roleplay goes here. 2 RP limit.

  2. #2
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    Re: Round 1: Leyenda de Ocho vs. "The Canadian Wolf" Alex LeBlanc

    Title: Caution Signs & Irrelevancy

    -The scene opens and LeBlanc is casually sitting at a poker table, a cigarette lit and hanging over the edge of an ashtray. The overhead light shining down on him, it reveals a white Crew-neck T-shirt. His hair well-coiffed, the Canadian looking much like Colin Farrell in those teaser trailers for "Total Recall", he begins to speak. Doing so, his tone is incredulous, almost confused.-

    Alex: So, this tournament is underway, I've received my first opponent, and rather than it being someone important or someone of high favor, I've landed myself a white guy who goes by the name of Leyenda de Ocho. A fake Mexican. A wannabe Luchador. In English, his name literally translates to "Legend of the Eight"...

    -Alex pauses and looks at the camera with an eyebrow raised.-

    Alex: "Legend of the Eight" What? The 8 Wonders of the World? The 8 Masks of Mexican Wrestling? The 8 Ways to Lose In A Multi-Man Tournament? What exactly is he a legend of? It must be nothing, because the fact is, I've never heard of him, I've never even seen his name, and having done a little tour of Mexico myself, I can tell you in all honesty that unless he has the name "Santo" or "Dr. Wagner" affixed to his wannabe luchador name, then he's as irrelevant as all those little jumping beans are pretty much interchangeable.

    True story.

    -Alex takes the cigarette from the ashtray and puffs, filling his lungs. Exhaling, he puts the cigarette down and begins to talk.-

    Alex: Before I went to PRW and became a two-time Undisputed Champion, I traveled the dirt roads of Mexico, and I learned a thing or two about Mexican wrestling and Lucha Libre. I learned that ultimately they CAN'T wrestle, it revolves around flips and arm-drags, that they wear masks because they're so hideous their mom's had to tie a t-bone around their neck so the dog would play with them, and that the pay is measly. In my year long tour of Mexico, I got paid in Tecate and sopes, or Dos Equis and tacquitos.

    Still, I learned enough while there to have fused it into my style of wrestling; an amalgamation of American Indy, Mexican Lucha Libre, and Martial Arts that come from the Far East, such as Muay Thai & Kickboxing. In essence, I became the master of White Trash Lucha Libre.

    -Alex shrugs, nodding almost as if it's common knowledge.-

    Alex: Not only have I become a champion using my system, but I've also been wildly successful teaching my system to others. One of the other competitors in this very tournament, Ace Andrews, is a student of mine. He was also a two-time Undisputed Champion at PRW. I'm not only a champion myself, but I also build them, mold them and guide them.

    When looking at my opponent, I couldn't tell you a single-****ing-thing that he's done. Not one. I couldn't even tell you what color mask he uses to cover up his poch-marked face and the eventual embarrassment and humiliation of getting sent back to Rogers Park, Chicago with a loss.

    -Alex pauses, looks at the camera with almost an air of disinterest, then moves on, giving the cameraman what he wants.-

    Alex: Still, I can almost bet that "Leyenda" is sitting in his 1996 Toyota Tacoma thinking that he could actually beat me, believing that somehow, someway he actually has a chance of making it into the next round. He's probably thinking that he's going to beat me in order to preserve the path of righteousness. Truth is, you have a better chance of finding needle in a haystack....at Churchill Downs.

    -LeBlanc leans back in his chair and puts his elbows on the table, clasping his hands together.-

    Alex: See, here's the thing. This tournament is my opportunity, my chance to finally break through the glass ceiling that is the second-tier and finally, after being held down and oppressed by mismanaged companies, take my rightful place alongside some of the more hallowed names of this business.

    I've been saying it since I first submitted my name to participate, and I'll say it again: I have all the talent in the world and I belong side by side with your Joey Melton's, your Spooky Doom's, your Nova's and whatever other name you glorify and build shrines to.

    When all of this is said and done, they're accomplishments will look like childs play because I will have been the man to go through 128 other men and come out as the sole survivor, the undisputed Best of the Best, and 2012's UltraTitle Tournament Winner.

    -Alex leans forward in his chair a bit, his face further illuminated by the overhead light.-

    Alex: There isn't a man in this tournament who is going to stop me. Not this year, not in this bracket, and sure as hell not in this match. There's no way in hell some low-rent curtain-jerker who decided to don a mask because he watched Juventud on Nitro back in '97 is going to pin my ass to the mat.

    There's no way some losers who put on a mask because he wanted to play 8-Bit Superhero is going to stop me.

    I've worked too hard, for too damn long and have pay too many dues to come up short now. I will walk through "Leyenda de Ocho" like he was a puddle in the middle of the sidewalk.

    "Leyenda" isn't a hurdle or an obstacle. He isn't even a mountain I have to climb. He's this tournament's equivalent of a "Caution: Wet Floor" sign.

    Utterly harmless, completely irrelevant, presenting no danger...

    And ultimately?

    An afterthought.
    Last edited by Alex LeBlanc; 04-23-12 at 04:51 PM. Reason: Color Coding; Changing Alex's Spoken Words to Maroon

  3. #3
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    Chicago, IL
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    Re: Round 1: Leyenda de Ocho vs. "The Canadian Wolf" Alex LeBlanc

    (In the ULTRATITLE locker room. Leyenda de Ocho, unmasked, has just returned after a rigorous workout in the weight room. Ocho sits in front of his open locker and opens a black duffle bag, stuffed with over 20 different lucha masks. He takes one out: a crimson mask adorned with a large pixelated Fire Flower on the back. Ocho puts it over his face. On a small shelf in the locker sits a portable television sitting on top of a Nintendo Entertainment System with Super Mario Bros. playing. A sound of a door opening towards the entrance of the locker room, a solid 50 feet from where Ocho is sitting.)

    TV Reporter: “Thanks for coming on such short notice, Mr. Garcia, the network really appreciates it.”

    Mr. Garcia: “It is no problem, I am happy to translate for you.”

    TR: “We heard LeBlanc's promo, so we just wanted to make sure that - alright, I think I see him.” (in a louder voice) “Leyenda de Ocho, if I could please have a quick moment?”

    MG: “¿Podemos tener una entrevista?”

    (Ocho looks to the TV reporter and smiles. He nods and motions the reporter, camera crew, and Mr. Garcia over.)

    TR: “Thank you, Mr. Leyenda…or Mr. Ocho? What do you prefer?”

    MG: “¿Prefiere el señor Leyenda o el señor Ocho?”


(Ocho looks over to Mr. Garcia, raising his eyebrow.)

    Leyenda de Ocho: “Ocho is fine, thanks for asking.” His voice is stern, devoid of even a trace of an accent.

    (The TV reporter exchanges a quick glance with Mr. Garcia, mumbles something, and waves him off. Garcia's face slightly blushes as he hurries away.)

    TR: "Sorry about that...we just assumed, with your name, that, you know..."

    LDO: "That I'd be Mexican?"

    TR: "…"

    "Have these people done NO research?" Ocho thought to himself.

    LDO: "You know, I've seen what LeBlanc has had to say. If he's as badass in-ring as he is ignorant outside of it, I might have a real problem on my hands. The best part about LeBlanc knowing nothing about me is that he has no idea the type of beating he's in for.

    The funny thing is, Canadians are supposed to be some of the smartest people in the world. I guess he's the exception."

    (The TV reporter nervously pulls some notecards out from a jacket pocket and begins flipping through them. Ocho has begun World 1-1 in Super Mario Bros.)

    TR: "So you, um...*cough* aren't..."

    LDO: "Don't even get me started on his insecurities. If you're the best in the world, you're the best in the world - no one can hold you back when that happens. If LeBlanc is being held back by a glass ceiling, guess what? He's not as good as he thinks he is.

    He's accomplished lots in - what is it, PRW? And good on him. But here's the difference between the kind of man I am and Alex LeBlanc: LeBlanc has spent years working his heart out in a second (or third, or fourth) tier company. And he wonders why he's being held back...

    That's not my style. If it's not the best thing going, it's not worth pursuing - and ULTRATITLE is the holy grail of our business. I would much rather spit fire and put on a blaze of glory in a place like this than put together tag matches in a tiny company. ULTRATITLE is everything."

    (Playing through World 1-1, Mario has flattened several Goombas and Koopas. He hits a prize box and collects his Mushroom, growing double in size.)

    LDO: "You made the biggest mistake possible, LeBlanc - you missed me, and you didn't knock me out right at the start. See, what happens to our good friend Mario here is the same thing that I do in the ring.

    I push forward, I fight, I build the momentum.

    You didn't knock me out, and now I'm stronger."

    (Mario continues through the level and picks up a Fire Flower.)

    LDO: "And the longer this keeps going, the stronger I'm going to get. I've got the speed and the moves to leave you hurting. The more you ignore me, the more you try to push me down, the harder this is going to be for you. Because this is the important thing you need to know about me:

    All I do is go."

    (Mario picks up a Star and begins to sprint through the level, invincible, sending baddies flying. No enemies left, Mario jumps up the final staircase and pulls down the top flag.)

    LDO: "We're both starting from Level 1-1 ourselves, LeBlanc. Our past doesn't matter. What we do 10 years from now doesn't matter. All that matters is this moment, this stage. You've already given me all the momentum I need.

    Now watch me go."
    Henry Keyes, DEFIANCE

  4. #4
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    Re: Round 1: Leyenda de Ocho vs. "The Canadian Wolf" Alex LeBlanc

    Title: Fernando Torres, Silence & A Point To Prove.

    -Having fully heard what Leyenda has had to say, Alex sits on the bed in his dingy, flea-ridden motel. In truth, Ocho was right, maybe Alex wasn't as good as he thought, maybe he was working small promotions. Maybe Alex was the victim of his own device. Maybe his talent and his opportunity had passed him by and the well had dried up. Maybe good fortune had eluded him. Yet as he sat there in a white Chelsea FC jersey, the crest stitched over his heart, the number 9 of Fernando Torres stenciled onto his back, LeBlanc had a retort, even if it may not be of the usual chipper and happy-go-lucky manifestation.-

    LeBlanc: So, my opponent finally made himself heard. In doing so, Ocho presented himself as a video-game nerd, likening himself to Mario and played through the opening stages of Super Mario Bros. in an attempt to get into my head with an array of metaphors, a cleverly-developed message that must have taken him ages to construct, and potshots about where I've worked, a cute little dig about my intelligence and how seemingly, I'm a disappointment to Canadians.

    All of this is well and good, and frankly, was irrelevant to me because I saw through the song and dance and saw a man so utterly confused about what to say, a man so utterly confused as to what points he wanted to touch upon that he had to resort to the tried-and-true video-game reference in order to have something to say about me. Not only that, but as is usually the case in these little tournaments, "Ocho" puffed out his chest about how his company is superior.

    Now, I'm guilty of doing much of the same. I ranted about my opponent without knowing much about him, I levied my talent against his, propped up my accomplishments, made fun of his style, and even made fun of his luchador mask. In essence, I'm just as condemnable as Leyenda de Ocho is. If I were to make a reference now to...let's say sports, instead of video games? Well, then you could say we're just about even.

    The only difference is, I'd do it better.

    -Alex looks down at the crest on his jersey and smirks a bit before looking up to the camera, the smirk turning into a Cheshire Cat grin. Clearing his throat, the Canadian native speaks once more.-

    Alex: Now while "Ocho" had himself video games which gave rise to his pursuit of justice and righteousness, I always had soccer. I had the "beautiful game" and before wrestling sank its hooks into me and made me its personal *****, soccer was my first love, enchanting and alluring, as much of a stage, as much of a theatre as the world of Professional Wrestling.

    The cast of characters so wide and vast, so different yet so relatable, it wasn't long before I found myself embracing some of the athletes as favorites, much the way Leyenda has seemingly embraced certain video game characters to be personifications of his struggles, his frustrations and his strengths.

    -Licking his lips, Alex pauses for a minute collecting his thoughts, trying to elaborate on it a bit, pensive, but not at all combative. If anything, LeBlanc is more conversational in tone, more "matter-of-fact" then anything else.-

    LeBlanc: One of my favorites, if we're being honest, is Fernando Torres.

    If you don't know anything about the man, he's a 27 year old former prodigy, a man who set the world on fire when he first debuted for Athletico Madrid when he was still just a teen. With low expectations, he surprised many with his talent, earning a call from a bigger and better locale, Liverpool being the destination.

    Seeing as his talent was so great, so infinite, he went to Liverpool, became an icon to the fan-base, a man whose name was cheered every time they saw his face. His accomplishments bountiful, it wasn't until father-time finally started catching up to him that it seemed his talent and his opportunity to truly cement his legacy as one of the greats was going to allude him.

    Be it bad timing, injury, a lack of form, crisis in the organization's management, things never quite panned out the way he hoped they would. At age 27, with that window of opportunity closing, this former prodigy, this child star signed onto Chelsea FC and dove headfirst trying to finally establish his legacy.

    He had a bit of a rough go of it at first. For the first 18 months, he couldn't score. He was a disappointment. It seemed he couldn't live up to the billing, he couldn't meet the requirements of the task. He hung in the shadows, he sat on the bench, he watched as the game continued to bypass him.

    Then just last night, fate intervened. An opportunity arose. A chance. As a teammate was substituted off in a high-pressure situation, Torres came on the field in a Semi-Final match. The stakes high, the opportunity having finally presented itself, Torres caught the ball off a long pass, streaked down the middle of the field, and found himself one-on-one with the goalie.

    Torres faked him out, effortlessly slotted the ball in the net, sealed victory, booked Chelsea's ticket to the final and finally, at long last, etched his name into immortality. Finally, he had carved out his legacy...

    -Clutching at the crest over his heart, Alex shakes it, poignantly, looking at the camera, almost bitterly whispering at it as not to scream at it, getting his message across through gritted teeth.-

    LeBlanc: The reason he's one of my favorites, the reason he'll always be someone I root for is because I relate, because his redemption, his vindication is something I crave!

    With one swing of his foot, and with one well-timed shot, he changed his stars, he rewrote history and instead of going down as someone who never lived up to the potential, he grabbed fate by the horns and he made it his, deciding for himself how he'd be remembered and whether or not his name would be spoken reverently...

    -Chest heaving, Alex pants, continuing on, speaking excitedly, almost as if he has finally come to life, pushed to a breaking point.-

    LeBlanc: I've said it since this tournament was first announced, I NEED this, I don't just want this.

    In one tournament, I can take every criticism, every doubt, every ounce of frustration and every crippling disappointment that I've ever felt in my career and turn it on its axis. I can take every comment made about never having the capability of hanging at the top tier, every judgement passed as being someone who couldn't hack it...and I can rewrite it with one tournament, with one run fueled by desire and urged forward by the shot at vindication.

    This tournament to me is not about a belt. It's not about a title, or any of the rewards.

    This tournament is my opportunity to prove a point, my chance to finally silence the masses and hush all the whispers.

    -Alex snickers to himself, hand still over his chest.-

    LeBlanc: The tale spun by Leyenda de Ocho about my impending demise has been greatly exaggerated. I'm not going anywhere, rest assured. He's merely the first in a long line of opponents who will be shocked and awed by what will be a series of surprises, a "Coming-Out" Party for someone who should have arrived a long, long time ago.

    -Looking back down at the crest on the jersey, that Cheshire Cat grin returns, the Canadian slowly looking back up at the camera with a hint of deviousness in his eyes.-

    LeBlanc: I crave the opportunity to shut up everyone whose ever had a criticism, everyone who has ever had a doubt, everyone who has ever told me I wouldn't get this far, and everyone who is telling me that I won't go much further.

    When I'm done, this tournament over and my point proven, you won't hear a thing.

    -LeBlanc cocks his head and leans forward. His hands falling to his sides, he whispers at the camera.-

    LeBlanc: Enjoy the silence...


  5. #5
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    Apr 2012
    Chicago, IL
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    Re: Round 1: Leyenda de Ocho vs. "The Canadian Wolf" Alex LeBlanc

    (In a large wrestling training facility. Multiple rings in the center of the room, with weights, exercise equipment and a running track around the outside. Leyenda de Ocho is in his full Match 1 wrestling gear. He wears the same crimson red lucha mask with the pixelated Fire Flower on the back, as well as a pair of half-red, half-green tights; his right leg is in red, featuring a white circle on the outside of his right thigh and with a red M in the center. The left side is green, featuring a similarly placed white circle on the outside of his left thigh with a green L in the center. Ocho is jumping rope as two television reporters and a slightly larger camera crew enter: the first is the same man from a few days ago, with perfectly Romney-esque hair and a dark suit. The second is a woman, maybe 3 inches shorter than Ocho, with a tight bob of blonde hair and a bright blue pantsuit.)

    TV Reporter 1: "Now remember, he's NOT Latino. I made that mistake the first time I met with him, it seemed to set him off a little bit."

    TV Reporter 2: "Got it, NOT Latino. That name though..."

    TR1: "I know, I know. There he is, over by the wall, jumping rope - Ocho! Ocho!"

    (The reporters and camera crew half-jog over to Ocho's spot as he continues to jump rope.)

    TR2: "Ocho, we were hoping to get your response after hearing Alex LeBlanc's latest comments. Your thoughts?"

    (Ocho continues to jump rope as he responds.)

    Leyenda de Ocho: "It only took one interview, eh?"

    TR1: "What do you mean?"

    LDO: "One interview, and they bring in more crew to talk to me. Not only that; my opponent changes his tone entirely. Funny, don't you think?

    He came into this match with a clear goal: don't even worry about this 'Ocho guy', run him over, and continue on his way. And now? One interview later? He is desperate, a man who I clearly got to. It is too bad for him that I wasn't his so-called 'Caution: Wet Floor' sign; if I was, maybe he wouldn't have slipped so hard...now, all I see is a fallen man, reaching."

    (Ocho casually puts down his jump rope and begins running around the track. TV Reporter 1 [Romney-hair] runs after him for a few steps before giving up the chase. Ocho runs in a complete rectangle around the facility. Upon reaching each corner, he runs up the wall and does a backflip; after four such flips, he has returned to his original location. Ocho picks up the jump rope and resumes jumping, as if nothing happened.)

    TR2: "Rumor has it you have at least two dozen masks with you in this tournament, and yet, even if you reach the finals of ULTRATITLE, you'll only face seven opponents. Why so many?"

    LDO: "Well, the truth is, each mask helps me channel a certain part of myself...a certain power, if you will. I don't know match-by-match what side of me is going to come out. Take, for example, my match with Mr. LeBlanc: the fact is, I never HAD to crush his misguided persona like a wayward Koopa, but unfortunately, he cast that first stone of hate. He sent a stream of insults my way, and it brought out a side of me that spits fire and takes no prisoners.

    It didn't have to be this way, LeBlanc. We were both in a new environment, we both share the same hunger to make waves in this tournament; we could have had a real camaraderie together. It is unfortunate that you made the choices you have. You looked at the finish line of this tournament, you looked at taking ULTRATITLE by storm, claiming redemption for so-called slights to your professional career; what you SHOULD have been looking at was me. Like I said before, we all start in World 1-1, LeBlanc. You can't win ULTRATITLE in one round - but you sure can lose it."

    (Ocho sets down the ropes again for another lap around the facility, complete with wall flips. Returning to his original spot, he picks up the jump rope yet again, and without taking more than a moment, he returns to jumping; strangely, he is not short of breath.)

    LDO: "Any more questions?"

    TR2: "How long have you been doing this particular workout?"

    (Ocho shrugs.)

    LDO: "Not sure. A while."

    TR1: "How do you have all this energy? You're 32 years old, and yet you're doing cardio like a madman!"

    LDO: "Age is a number, friend. 27, 32, 68 - it doesn't really matter as long as you have the heart, the drive, the determination. I feel like I'm in the prime of my life, both physically and mentally. The way I see it, when life throws something in your way, you can choose to sit around and mope, or you can choose to push forward, fight, build the momentum. Even losing is temporary."

    (Ocho looks over to the first TV reporter, smiling, and gives a quick wink.)

    LDO: "And you, my friend, know what I do."

    (Ocho puts down the ropes once more and goes off on another lap around the facility.)

    TR2: "I don't get it, what does he do?"

    (The first TV reporter gives a slight chuckle, shrugs, and responds.)

    TR1: "All he does is go!"
    Henry Keyes, DEFIANCE

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