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Post by scottcarr on Feb 27, 2010 20:51:25 GMT -5
A girl, no older than Twenty, walks down the dark and busy street. Many call her a runaway, but how can you run from your life when all you remember is a life on the streets of the large city in which she stays. Others call her a whore; they try to force her to do what she will not. The pigs of this city dislikes her for she is a woman-child that steals for a living, she smokes and drinks for hours at times.
A long onyx duster she stole from a very large and mean biker earlier this night covers her body. Underneath that are simple jeans and a tank top, both black, her chains dangling around her waist, a studded belt and dark arm-warmers adorn her. Black steal-toes, worn from the years she has had them, a grim reminder of her past hidden beneath them all. Her neck is dirty from the necklaces she wares, one chain with her ring, the other giving to her by her sister, the only thing that tells you of her faith hangs from it. Her short black hair makes her look like a man, but for the lone braid running down a side.
The strangest thing about this girl is her eyes, beautiful silver-gray eyes like those of a cat that holds the pain that she has been given in her years of life.
The girl walks this street for one reason tonight, her need to find herself a place to stay for the night. The wind picks up as she turns the corner, pulling the coat closer to her body she hurries along the sidewalk, ignoring the looks and calls from the males around her. The girl never saw the stranger following her.
She walks on as rain falls hard on to the earth; she hurries herself into the nearby bookstore, her body drenched thanks to the weather. The girl walked to the café part of the store, "Coffee...black...hell of a lot of sugar ....please?" she asks, her voice in a low whisper.
The man behind the counter barley hears her request, "On the house buttercup....so is the food." She goes to protest, but the man hold his hand up, "your too thin darlin', until your family finds you the guys here will take care of you." She gives the man a faint "thank you" as she starts to walk to her seat, second floor to the right of the New Age section. ‘I'm thankful that they let me stay here', the girl thinks, thankful for the warmth of the building. ‘I just hope that biker isn't too mad at me for taking his coat and wallet.'
Minutes later, an employee walks up carrying a tray full of the most delicious looking, hot food that the girl had seen in days. She says her thanks and starts to eat slowly. The man watches her from his seat, just a few feet away from where she sits. The man was tall, nearly seven feet in height, and had been following the girl since she took the coat. If she looked up, the girl would be very fearful and worried for her safety; the man that is following her is the biker whom she stole the coat from.
The biker watches the girl with shaded dark green eyes, his long black hair pulled back at the base of his head. He saw the girl take his coat from the back of his cycle. He had no problem finding her down the street, his coat on her body. His mind starts to plan what he will do to the young thief in his coat.
The girl's sudden coughing fit brought them both- man and girl- out of there secluded thoughts. The girl is doubled over and shaking, one of the female employees walk to her, checking to see is alright, "Thanks for your concern but I have to go before the rain..." the girl trails to the door and with slight hesitation leaves the store. The biker follows suite, making sure the girl could not see him in the shadows of the night.
‘Well home sweet, haunted looking, old, burned out building.' The girl thought while walking into her ‘bedroom' for the night. She took the coat off and tossed it on to the dirty, bed-like, desk she chose to sleep on tonight. Tired, the girl sat down on a little dusty chair by the desk. The look of tiredness drops from her face, in its place is a look of fear and anger combined, for just behind her she heard the man walk into the room, his boots thudding with each step closer to her.
The thumping stopped right behind her; she felt the man's hot steamy breath on her ear, his massive hand rested on her freezing neck. She shivers as an unknown feeling courses through her body.
"I believe you have something of mine," the man's deep southern voice whispers in the girl's ear. She stiffens as the man tightened his grip on her neck, moving his other down her cold body. "But there may be a way I'll let you keep it." The girl's mind races, she knows all too well what this behemoth of a man wanted, but she cannot understand why he would want that from her.
The girl had never seen herself as good looking and especially not appealing to anyone. Sure, she has a great body- thin and pale- but to the teen girl she was anything but beautiful. The pain that shot through her neck kept her from thinking any more on the subject.
"Ta-take your coat and go, I-I didn't take anything out of it-I swear I didn't." The girl says in a quick, fearful voice. She does not want to give this man what he wants; only once, in her sixteen years alive, had she ever let a member of the opposite sex have that.
The black haired maiden heard the large man chuckle behind her, "It's not like you have a choice in the matter." The girl had never felt the mixture of things that is flowing through her body now, fear of this man, excitement for the rush going through her, anger, hate, love, all of these feelings because of this seemingly mortal man. She cannot move, he made sure of that; she wanted him to leave her alone, but at the same time, she wants more. The girl is in conflict with herself.
The man is so close to the girl, the back of the chair is the only thing keeping their bodies from touching. The man stands, seemingly to walk away, the girl knows better; he steps to the side of her. His hand leaves her neck and travels down to her slim waist to meet his other. His grip tightens when the girl starts to move, but delicately, as if he did not want to hurt her. He pulls her body out of the chair, pulling her to him- her back against his chest.
The girl cannot stand being this way; his scent is making her wild, she feels like a caged animal waiting, wanting to be free. Her body is stiff, rigged in fear. The man seams not to be more than mortal. His body heat is non-excitant to her; he is cold, more so than her, but the thoughts of what he could be never formed in her mind. She cannot think about anything but the closeness of his body, his hands now touching her stomach. She feels only him, not the cold rain, not the mix of feelings she had just minutes ago; all she feels is the large scary man behind her.
The man seemed to be waiting for something from her. He wanted her to take him willingly, but she seemed to be in a limbo: to want him or not to want him. He wants her now, he knows her desire for him; they need and want the same as the other. He moves his lips down her neck, kissing it; he feels her shiver beneath them. He stops at the spot where her neck meets her shoulder, he licks it, bites it, his eyes watching her every move. The girl cannot suppress the moans that are escaping from her lips, her head moves to the side giving him full access to her; her minds wants her to stop him, but her body wants him to continue.
The young woman can feel a power coming from this man in waves; he takes her thoughts from her mind, her blood from her body. She cannot understand why one such as he can do these things to her. The young female feels the man's hands on her breasts, rubbing them beneath her clothes, she arches herself into his skillful hands, her arms move up to encircle his neck and pulls herself closer to his body. She could feel his hardened manhood pressing into her ass. As his lips captures hers in a deep, rough kiss his hands start to remove her top; her tank and bra come off with ease.
The man can smell her arousal; she is giving her body to him completely. He turns her to face him, pushing her body to the desk. He takes one of the girl's pale, white breasts into his mouth, sucking, nipping, and biting the nipple until it became hard; then, taking the other into his mouth, he does the same. The girl has her hands in his onyx hair, working their way to his unwanted shirt. The man kisses down her body, each kiss taking him closer to her core that, as if by his will, is uncovered.
The girl feels his hands roam her body, making her shiver with excitement. She has long since forgotten her fear of him, her distrust, and the world around them is non-excitant in her mind. All she knows is his lust; all she wants is his body. She gasps as he darts his tongue into her hot, wet core, moving in her; sending her soaring to new heights. Her mind tries to tell her something, flashes, other smell. The man pulls her closer to him, tasting her sweet juice, her thoughts scatter. She hears herself begging him for more, she feels herself starts to shake, her body arches and she feels something no man had ever given her.
The man drinks her dry, feeling her shaking subside as he kisses her forehead, telling her in movement that they have only just started his game. She feels his shaft pressing against her inner thigh; he spreads her legs further apart. The man sees a flash of fright in the girl's eyes before her lust for him returns. He slowly slides his length into her core, his intentions for her nearly realized. He hoped she does not realize the truth of their ‘situation' too soon, or his goals would be thwarted.
The girl feels him sliding in and out of her, faster and harder than the last; she pleads with him to pump into her harder, to go faster. They start to move as one, matching each other's pace. They each start to shake, she hits her high first with a few final strokes he, too, does- releasing his seed into her.
The girl felt him pull out of her, trying to regain her breath she looks at him, looking into his eyes she saw something only one other time had she seen. Her mind returned to her- her thoughts and memories alike. She knew exactly where she was, she heard the buzz of an alarm; she smelled the scent of home, both telling her she was dreaming; more precisely, she was in the dream realm.
"You're not real- you can't be. I'm-I'm dreaming, asleep." The girl yells at the man, the scene around them changes finishing with them clothed. The man, she still does not recognize, is dressed in all leather- from chest to boot. She herself is in black jeans and a red tank top, her feet bare, her lip ring hanging from her lip and the fresh tattoo stinging as she turns her wrist.
The man laughs, "You may be dreaming child, but I am real." The man advance at her, she feels her body being shaken and a voice calling her. She feels herself slipping back into the waking realm. The man states one final thing to her, "Soon you'll know who I am little one, find me and find fame..." With that she finds herself awakening - staring into the eyes of her elder brother's poster - the image of Scott Carr standing strong and triumphant in the middle of a ring holding up a championship above his head.
Shelby Testarossa: Ok....
The scene changes and we see Scott Carr pacing inside his Hotel room, his cell phone rings and he snatches the Blackberry up off a near by table. He looks at the screen and his eyes roll.
Carr: WHAT!?
Making a mockery of what's being said to him - Scott's hand flaps like the speaker's wagging jaw.
Carr: Yes Mr.Scratch... I'm very, very ready for Christian Gold. Talented as he is - he isn't my size, he isn't as experienced as I... and he sure as hell isn't as much of a threat to your world champion as I will be. - How do I know? HOW THE FUCK DO YOU NOT KNOW!? I know you're new, but you're not a fucking newbie are you motherfucker? NO! So straighten the fuck up and act like it when you open your mouth around me. ...Yes... I have respect, sir. But only if you're willing to act like a Man, god damn it! I mean you're asking me if I'm ready for the match? I was god damned over qualified years before I signed up for PWR! Fine... Fine... you want proof I did my homework on this? Cool... Listen up! Christian Gold... Christian Gold was born into an extremely wealthy family. At a young age Christian was allowed to do whatever he wanted and at 6 years of age he wanted to wrestle competitively, probably because his old man never gave him a proper sound whooping. Much like me, he wrestled from 6 to 14 and during that time he did not lose a match and won sate in his division every year. I mean if I didn't know better, I'd say the guy was emulating my history! Christian moved on to join high school wrestling and began a streak in that which lead to him winning the Oregon state high school heavyweight wrestling title three out of the four years he competed. He ended high school with a record of one hundred and seven wins and three loses. Christian then was heavily scouted by nearly every college in the country, after much thought Christian took a scholarship to Oregon O and became the wrestling teams captain. Christian wrestled all four years in college and won the NCAA division One Heavyweight title all four years he attending leaving Oregon O as the first only wrestler to go there and win NCAA all 4 years and with a record of a hundred and eight and two. After college Christian was faced with the first tough choice of his life, Should he continue to wrestle competitively or should he take the helm of his fathers business? After months of debating Christian realized that where he needed to be was in the centre of the combative sports quickly growing world. With his fathers full support Financially and mentally Christian made it onto the American Olympic wrestling team. Using his his fathers incredibly deep pockets Christian got all the best training possible he went out and dominated the Olympic wrestling circuit ending with him taking home the Olympic gold medal in grecco roman wrestling. See, I had to work for everything myself... and this silver spoon, is exactly what makes Gold soft. Though I digress, it was then that Christian knowing he could not move any farther up in the wrestling world decided to try his hand in mixed martial arts. less then a year later Christian captured the Heavyweight title and was once again on top of the combative sports world. In one of Christians title defences he lost his cool and choked his opponent out ignoring orders from the referee and got kicked out of the Mixed martial arts universe permanently. Because he's a spoilt little BITCH! With little to no respect for the most important aspects of competition! With no where else to go Christian turns his attention to the PWR and pro wrestling to continue his quest to be the best combative athlete ever.... and as of next week - the rest of the story is going to include "And then he met Scott Carr and got FUCKED UP!". Christian Gold has some Nicknames; "The Rising Star" and "The Olympian". The tape tells us he's a Weight of Three hundred and One pounds. Height wise he stands Six foot Six Inches. Billed From Portland Oregon a city located in the Northwestern United States, near the confluence of the Willamette and Columbia rivers in the state of Oregon. As of July 2009, it has an estimated population of 582,130 making it the 29th most populous in the United States. It has been referred to as the most environmentally friendly or "green" city in the United States, and the 2nd most in the world. Portland is Oregon's most populous city, and the third most populous city in the Pacific Northwest, after Seattle, Washington, and Vancouver, British Columbia. Approximately two million people live in the Portland metropolitan area (MSA), the 23rd most populous in the United States as of July 2006. Portland was incorporated in 1851 and is the county seat of Multnomah County. The city extends slightly into Washington County to the west and Clackamas County to the south. It is governed by a commission-based government headed by a mayor and four other commissioners. The city and region are noted for strong land-use planning and investment in light rail, supported by Metro, a distinctive regional-government. Portland is known for its large number of microbreweries and microdistilleries, and its coffee fanaticism. It is also the home of the Trail Blazers NBA team. Portland lies in the Marine west coast climate region, marked by warm, dry summers and rainy but temperate winters. This climate is ideal for growing roses, and for more than a century, Portland has been known as "The City of Roses" with many rose gardens—most prominently the International Rose Test Garden. Oh and the fountain of useless knowledge goes on! I've looked deep into this man... and you know what? You know you're from Oregon if... You know more people who own boats than under arm deoderant. You know you're from Oregon if... You feel overdressed wearing a suit to a really nice restaurant. You know you're from Oregon if... You consider "etiquette" a foreign word. You know you're from Oregon if... You resemble being called a weirdo. You know you're from Oregon if... You drool at the world's worst spaghetti sauce. You know you're from Oregon if... You've ever ordered a half caff/decaf, nonfat mocha grande with sugar-free cranberry whip. You know you're from Oregon if... You are amazed at an accurate weather forecast. Christian Gold may or may not be living proof of any of that... but ultimately I had to wonder, if he's supposed to be a Heel? If he's a heel... then what the FUCK am I? Satan? I mean I can't fault the guy's style... I love watching him go at a match - he's Extremely technical, he's a total fucking powerhouse and it's obvious he's a man with extensive MMA background. Seeing him dismantle someone is poetry in brutality.... I mean man - his Oklahoma slam, Canadian Back-breaker, Repeated belly to back suplex, Triangle choke, Spine buster, Kneebar, Key lock, The wizzer, Piledriver, Release belly to belly suplex, Perfect Plex, Tigerplex, Fishermans buster, gourd buster, kimura, americana, alligator roll, darce choke, release German suplex, jumping armbar, Double armm DDT, Capture suplex are all CHOICE! His Capture suplex Back Breaker - and "the nighty night", his Head and arm choke. And MAN The Golden Nightmare - that tazplex, is exquisite, and he's fucking well rag dolled full grown men with that Full nelson Suplex! I couldn't say I've seen more impact put into his 24 karat gold - Sit-out Dominator. And I've only seen little Japanese fuckers pull off an equally text book, albeit adaptable, Golden Dreams - his back drop driver... The guy is a Multiple world title holder in multiple wrestling organizations. To say he doesn't have what it takes to walk away with a win here is utterly disrespectful and stupid.... to say I'm not Four Hundred and Twenty Percent READY to leave him gurgling blood and popping snot bubbles in the middle of that ring.... IS STRAIGHT UP BULLSHIT! Gold isn't a push over... but neither is he going to man handle me, or walk away with an easy victory... I know the kind of animal Gold is... he's led a very different life than me, no where near as rough and brutal... but he's equally as trained. He's one man I've met in almost two decades that I can actually look at like a peer. All jokes aside Boss.... it'll be an honour to throw the fuck down with him. But I don't intend on losing. And Gold had better intend to Focus... on the... Danger! LATER!
Carr hangs up the phone it looks as if he's about to set it down when suddenly it rings again, he hits the speaker phone button and places it down on the table as he pulls a tin out of his pocket and lights a joint.
Nicholas Scratch:Hello? You hung up on me!
Carr: Sure did, Princess.
Nicholas Scratch:You didn't even give me a chance to explain WHY I called!
Carr:So?
Nicholas Scratch:So... now you're going to!
Carr: Shoot shit head.
Nicholas Scratch: What did you call me?
Carr: I didn't stutter, fucker. Carry on with whatever the FUCK you gotta say to me, because right now you're Blunt Blocking me and I swear to god if you think being hung up on is bad, you wait the fuck until I get to your office and staple your lips shut!
Nicholas Scratch: Are you threatening me?
Carr:No, Bitch... I'm warning you.
Nicholas Scratch: Listen, I just called back to tell you about you FCW match and that you'll be able to get directions at the front desk - give them to the limo driver outside and he'll take you to a children's hospital.
Carr: WHAT!?
Nicholas Scratch: Sorry Scott.
Carr: WHAT THE FUCK! TWO MATCHES! IN TWO FEDERATIONS, ONE OF WHICH YOU POINT OUT RIGHT BEFORE IT HAPPENS!? Fuck that... no... Fuck You!
Nicholas Scratch: This isn't my fault.
Carr: Whose fault is it?
Nicholas Scratch: It's no ones fault, it was meant to happen.
Carr: Fuck that! I'll do it - and I'll make a mess out of every last one of them... but what in god's name do I had to do at a Children's hospital!
Nicholas Scratch: That... I'm not certain of...
Carr: FUCK MAN! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU!
Nicholas Scratch: Nothing, just the same as you. I don't like this either - but you're representing PWR here... you know what that means for all of us...
Carr: Yeah, yeah... fuck...
Nicholas Scratch: So I'd suggest to fight like you know what it means as well, sir.
Carr: I'd suggest you ram your suggestions up your ass.
Nicholas Scratch: I'd suggest you watch your mouth if you want to keep a job here.
Carr: I'd suggest you consider the news you just sprung on me about my being chosen to compete for FCW, and the fact that I'm qualified to send people To the hospital - not help them out of there.
Nicholas Scratch: Look we're not sitting here having a telephone pissing match.
Carr: I'm not either... I don't want to fight with you, it serves PWR no good use at this particular junction...
Nicholas Scratch: I'm very glad you feel that way.
Carr: Sure... just one more thing?
Nicholas Scratch: What's that?
Carr: Fuck your mother.
Scott hangs up the phone and smirks while chuckling to himself. The phone rings again and Scott picks it up, seeming as if he's going to turn it off - he spots an unknown number and clicks it through. The vivacious voice of a young woman comes over the headset speaker...
Shelby: Hello?
Carr: Yes?
Shelby: Yes! Is this - Scott Carr?
Carr: Yes, who is this?
Shelby: Exactly what you need!
the scene fades to black.
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