Redemption: Open Challenge For The US Title

[Austin Starr]

Open Challenge for the U.S. Title

A relative unknown signing in Valerie Melamid has turned out to be one of the hottest prospects in SCW right now. Currently the only undefeated superstar, she is also the current United States Champion, holding victories over hardened veterans like Blade LaVigne and Kenneth Walker doesn't come easy for this woman. Now on this show, she has a chance to become the final champion in SCW's storied history, if however, she can overcome one final obstacle. An open challenge, from any man or woman in SCW's past or present. It could be one man, it could be twenty. Either way you look at it, Valerie is going to be facing an uphill battle--but given her track record....she has proven that she is up for the challenge.

PLEASE NOTE: THIS CHALLENGE IS OPEN TO ANYBODY. THOSE INVOLVED IN OTHER MATCHES IN THE CARD ARE ELIGIBLE TO ROLEPLAY FOR THEIR RESPECTIVE MATCHES ALONG WITH THIS OPEN CHALLENGE. KEN AND I ARE GIVING YOU GUYS UNTIL THE FOURTH OF JULY TO POST YOUR ROLEPLAYS, THAT IS ALSO WHEN THE RESULTS WILL BE WRITTEN AND POSTED.....GOOD LUCK AND LETS GO OUT ON TOP......

[Mentally Ill]

Scene 1

The scene starts and we are taken yet again to another living room and all we can see is a TV and the channel is turned to the Church Channel as some reverend begins to speak.

Reverend John: It’s not too late the good lord Hesus Rice can save you. Hesus can be you guiding light, he can save. You can be washed away of all sins.

Mentally Ill: Oh I know who Hesus Rice is. He is in SCW. But in SCW his name is Kenneth Stalker, the guy that likes little kids … But he was saying that he was the light too on that show ummm Penance. He is the almighty number seveeeeeeeeeeeennnnnnnnnnnnnnnn….. Go Hesus Rice….Go…..

Mentally ill kneels down and begins to pray

Mentally Ill: Dear Hesus Rice who is better known as Kenneth Stalker, When I go to face Valerie Marmalade Jelly can you please make her fall in love with my small tiny insignificant penis, I know I got herpes and sometimes it burns, but I hope she just like my little disfigured Jalapeno. Well dear Hesus please make it come true. I wonder what Rahada is doing these days now, heard she changed her name to Miss Peaches...

Meanwhile somewhere else out there in the world Miss Peaches (Formerly Known as Rashanda) has just made a new video for her people, trying to jump start he career she has posted it on youtube and was trying to air it for the change to get a record deal

Mentally ill turns off the TV and the scene changes and once it does we can clearly see that Mentally ill is wearing a Maid uniform and has a vacuum in his hand and a fake SCW title he found at Toys R’ US

Mentally Ill: Check it out guys I’m the U.S. champ, I’m the very own undefeated Valerie Marmalade Jelly

Mentally ill starts to vacuum the rug.

Mentally Ill: Vroom….Vroom, yeah guys I’m the Almighty Marmalade. No one can beat me Vroom Vroom. I’m from Russia but yet I’m not a Russian champion, I’m a U.S. Champion. Mother Rush More can suck it. Go Jamerica, not Jamaica not America but its Jamerica. Number SEVEEEEEEEEEEEN. Can you make me a cake Valerie and mop my floors and wipe my ass. After this show you won’t have a job, I can be the one to employ you, I will pay you in monopoly money…. I will show you the meaning what it means to be a Broom Pusher …. Hehe... My innocent little Vacuum Guzzler. I have something you can vacuum up… hehe….

Suddenly Mentally ill got a realization, like something wasn’t quite right, like he had the feeling that he wasn’t real, and that somewhere someplace that he was just a made up character in some efed that someone decided to make and that he was just some words on some digital web site, that he was being typed to life by some fat kid sitting behind a desk better known as some guy named as Boje.

Mentally Ill: Holy Shit. Hey Valerie I’m freaking out. Maybe I’m starting to think why my name is Mentally Ill. Valerie please help me. Am I just a typed up character in an Efed. Am I just some words on a web site that they call a roleplay? Do I not really exist? Nah that’s just ignorant.

Mentally Ill: Ok get a hold of yourself ill. You’re not some made up character in an efed. Breathe… Whoa… Ok….Number Seven…………………

Scene 2

Mentally Ill can be seen in the SCW Arena as the show for Redemption was getting under way and the show was soon to start. The last time that Mentally ill would set place to visit everyone in the locker room one last time… the first person he ran into was the old former owner A.K.

Mentally Ill: Hey A.K. how’s it been these days.

A.K. (Ape King): Not much man Ill just keeping it real. You know Kenneth Stalker is looking for you might wanna pay him a visit. By the way have you seen son Donkey Kong anywhere I need to give him some barrels to throw at people, damn I need to bounce and get back to my Planet of the Apes.

Mentally Ill: Number seven ok.

Mentally ill hops around singing to himself laa…dee..daa… la de dah…… and skips around and knocks on a door that says Kenneth Stalker the new owner of SCW

Kenneth Stalker: Come in little kiddie….kiddie.

Mentally Ill: Not by the hair of my little chiny chin chin…

Kenneth Stalker: Good ahead and open the door little kid, I got my bag of treats, come play with me, will have some advil, and maybe some Nyquil.

Mentally Ill: What you want from the mighty number seven almighty you’re majestic Hesus Rice.

Kenneth Stalker: I want you and so does my other co owner he wants a piece of your mind he wants a piece of your asss… hehe… that’s why they call me Ken Keniff I’m from Connnecticut. I’m pretty big you know I’m on the Marshal Matters LP and I suck off the ICP Crown Poopies.

Kenneth Stalker opens the door with his white glove and moon walks out of the office and runs down the hallway when he see’s some kid. When Mentally ill looks into the office he is surprised as he see’s another person In the office better known as Austin Gay Porn Starr.

Austin Gay Porn Starr: That’s right I’ll shift the camera here, got the lube ready , that’s going to be the shit right durr….

Austin Gay Porn Starr looks at ill and is baffled.

Austin Gay Porn Starr: What the hell you doing in here, what me and Kenneth Stalker do behind closed door s is our business now get out, and with that Mentally ill runs down the hall way looking for someone else he can talk to before he leave and he finds another door, before he opens it another superstar bumps into him

Chris Cabbage: What are you doing I need to grow my daily Vegetables now move it.

Mentally Ill decides to open the door and he finds known other “The Future” of SCW sitting at the desk crying to himself.


Cry Bladey Lavingne: WAHHHH…..WAHHH….. I WANT MY U.S. TITLE….. I WANT MY SECOND CHANCE.

Mentally Ill: You want a soda big boy, huh.. You want a soda… I got a soda for you…

Cry Bladey Lavingne: Wahhhhh…Wahhh.. You’re ignorant…wahhh.. I want Title.

Mentally Ill: You want some candy big boy… huh, you’re a big boy aren’t you Cry Bladey… You a big boy arn’t you… take some candy

Cry Bladey Lavingne: NO!!!!!!! YOU IGNARANT… I want my title NOWWWWWW!!!!... WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH…………..WAHHHHHHH!!!!!

Mentally Ill: Well Maybe I can talk Valerie Marmalade into giving you her title after this fed shuts down and I find it in the trash can. Maybe I will do that for you if you can talk to her and make her my future wife.

Cry Bladey Lavingne: No!! YOUR SO IGNARANT!!! I got to prove myself WAHHHHHHHHHH…. And show everyone I can win the Title WAHHHHHHHHHHHH…

Mentally ill closes the door and takes off down the hallway ignoring the whining of Cry Bladey Lavinge. Mentally ill continues his way down the long corridor, and walks and walks for a second he thinks he see’s a ghost of Johnny Weeman getting ready for a match but shakes off that feeling and just then he went to his locker room to prepare for Redumption the biggest dumping fest of the year, or was it Redemtion, Mentally ill couldn’t tell the difference.

The Scene Fade to Black.

[Blade LaVigne]

A Blade LaVigne Roleplay...His Last Roleplay Here in Sin City Wrestling................
==============================================

Dear Journal,

Week One

Well, I just bought this diary....This week SCW reopens and I was asked to join. I talked to the new owner and he gave me a good price that both him and I could work with. So I have my returning match this week and it is in a open to anyone battle royal. The winner will be declared the first ever Penance United States Champion. This is great news for me and for SCW. A new start will be great! The two people in this match that might have a better chance than me would have to be Kenneth Walker and Austin Starr...if not me, one of them will win. But hey anything can happen. If I win this match up, my family, everyone who said I could not become the top champion in a company will be proved wrong...

==============================================

Dear Journal

Week Two

.....I lost the chance to become the first ever SCW Champion. Lucky Kenneth Walker was the one to win it. I almost cried heh...But I told myself it's only the first week and I will have many chances in the future. Like this week I could prove myself in my second match. I read the card and I was surprised to be put up against the SCW original Johnny Freeman. Freeman is a great superstar, I seen his work before but we never wrestled each other before. So this should be interesting to see how good he really is...Sin City Wrestling is the only thing on my mind at this moment! Good luck Freeman! Let the best man win!

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Dear Journal

Week Three

I won! I really won! I beat one of the bests out there! I am so excited and proud of myself. I beat Johnny Freeman. But this week I must be focused and I must do what ever it takes to beat my next opponent...This week on Penance, I take on my biggest challenge yet...I go one on one against the United States champion, Kenneth Walker. Ken, he is as good as Triple H and The Rock from WWE. This is my chance to really prove myself, a chance to get noticed. I plan on doing whatever it takes to beat Ken...I will put my body on the line, and I will hope to god for this win.

==============================================

Dear Journal

Week Four

I lost once again damnit. Ken and I had a close match and somehow...he came out on top....Ken proved why he is the champion eh. I should not be this upset, it's only the third week here in Sin City Wrestling so I know I can only prove myself another week but I just...wanted to win this one for..for me....Well time to get ready for this coming week! I go one on one with the newcomer...Mentally Ill...Is that is name or..I have no idea..I will just have to wait and see..

==============================================

Dear Journal

Week Five

I win my second match! I am starting to see a pattern...I hope it does not stay like this. But this Mentally Ill kid...he is such a creep. After I saw his promo, I did not know what to expect. Thank god he was not that talented. Ill is a freak and he I think he has no career here. But hey anything can happen here in Sin City Wrestling. Seriously, the man beat himself up with a sledgehammer. He is a freak and if you watched that match, you would know what I mean. This week I go one on one with Faith Slater...Lets see if I can win two in a row!

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Dear Journal

Week Six

I win once again! Faith Slater was nothing and had no chance. I think this match was...Four minutes. At this moment in my career the fans are starting to like me. I am seeing more and more Blade LaVigne fans, signs and such out in the crowd. That makes me smile and I like how things are going in my career. I have a good about of VP points as well..As soon as I make enough I plan on going after Ken for one more chance! This coming week I go one on one with the undefeated Valerie Melamid.

==============================================

Dear Journal

Week Seven

Winning Two matches in a row I felt good going into the match with Valerie..But Valerie stays undefeated. I lost to her and the lost did not make me that mad to be honest...but Ken, our former champion...yeah former..He gave the championship to Valerie after beating me. SCW had to keep that a secret..Why? If I knew Ken would had done that...I would had pushed myself harder and I would had won that US championship belt. But no...It really makes me mad...........This week, I go one on one with the newcomer Jack Orton...good luck Jack Orton, I am mad and I want to get Valerie in a one on one...I need to earn enough VP points.....

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Dear Journal

Week Eight

I sit here with a smirk on my face. Why? I have won my match with Jack Orton and now I do have another VP points to challenge Valerie for her United States Championship belt...This time, this week against Valerie...I will not fail. I can not fail....Losing is not an option.

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Dear Journal

Week Nine

.........I lost.

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Dear Journal

Week Ten

Week of Redemption

I must say, it has been a crazy ride getting here. Nine long and fun weeks...This open match for Valerie's title will be my very last match here in Sin City Wrestling. I feel like I failed everyone here in SCW...and I am sorry.....Win or Lose this match, I want everyone to remember the name Blade LaVigne. I want everyone to know that I gave every match my all and that I truely...love Sin City Wrestling....I hate to see this place close.....Bye SCW...Thanks for the memories.

The camera fades out of the Journal and we see Blade LaVigne sitting there on a chair infront of a desk..He drops the pencil on the floor as a tear falls from his cheer and he closes the journal.

[TerminusEst13]

Valerie spun the butter knife around in her hands as she waited next to the oven.
It was a simple art. Just as impressive as doing it with normal knives, except you didn’t gouge a chunk in your flesh if you messed things up. Depending on whether the blade was serrated or pinched, there may not be any danger at all—but no matter what, you still had the glinting shine of steel flashing through the air and metal flipping through nimble fingers.
It required grace, agility, and very sharp eyes, and what did it give you in return?
Pride. The knowledge that, despite the ability to tear skin to ribbons, you were capable of bending it to your will.
Confidence. You could overcome steel and make it do tricks like an ordinary dog, making a weapon a simple novelty.
Most of all and most simply, though, entertainment. You could do something to amuse yourself while the meatloaf finished baking.

She had finished the meatloaf actually about half an hour ago, but the recipe called for an hour’s worth of cooking. So, all she could do was just wait and entertain herself—she had since picked up the knife after about fifteen minutes, and had been playing with it ever since.
Flip. Flip. Spin.
Spin. Flip.
Flip. Spin. Flip.
Flip. Flip. Flip.
Spin. Spin. Flip.
Flip. Spin.
A small twist of her wrist was aimed the wrong way, and the knife spun out of her hand—it soared through the air, the light glinting off the metal as it made its way over the counter and over the sink before burying its sharp end into the wall.
Valerie groaned as she stood up, heading over to the knife. At least it went into the wall, instead of up into her face or her body. Bleeding all over the place would be, among plenty of other things, terribly inconvenient at the moment.

The knife had chosen a curious place to dig, however. Directly above its embedded locale lay a shelf, where the SCW Championship Belt resided; a large hunk of plastic, leather, and metal, a trophy declaring her reign as the undefeated champion of Second Chance Wrestling.
She had originally just put it there on the shelf to rest while she tried to think of a better place to put it, but eventually it had come to claim that locale as its home. Bereft of any other place to lay it, she had given up the search and let it just stay there, remaining simply to show off her accomplishments. She didn’t mind too much, at least it had someplace to rest.
Even so, however, it didn’t feel like it really belonged there. An artifact indicating superior prowess in grappling and combat felt out of place in a kitchen, and a haven of cooking and baking didn’t seem to have any place where a trophy could fit. Once again, she didn’t feel right holding the belt.
It was just a belt, after all. Did it really matter, what it represented?

She had won top rank in a simple federation—a dying fed, at that. This upcoming match was testament to this, the quote-unquote “final blowout” to end it all. The last match, the last royale, the last showing, the last everything.
After this week, it wouldn’t matter anymore. Sin City Wrestling or Second Chance Wrestling, whatever alias it used, it’d be the end. Supposedly, it had ended before and had been resurrected twice, but every chance to bring it up had resulted in something going wrong behind the scenes. This time, it was no different—it was collapsing once more, and this time perhaps permanently. Or maybe it would rise once more from the ashes in another person’s attempt to try and bring life into an older fed.
Either way, how much time did she spend here…nine weeks? Ten? More? Less?

Mmmn. It doesn’t matter how long it was, it was still all too short.
Did anything actually…happen in those weeks? Did she learn anything?
Valerie pulled the knife out of the wall, closing her eyes in thought. Week after week, match after match, all of them flashed in front of her mind’s eye; her memory pored through each of them in depth, as she tried to find anything that she learned.

…No.
Nothing.
Not a single thing.

Valerie sighed and dropped the knife on the counter-top, burying her hands into her face and shaking her head.
The martial arts knowledge didn’t give her anything. Her competition here didn’t give her anything. Meeting and facing new people here didn’t give her anything.
Was it all entirely worthless…?
She had originally just joined for fun, to fill an empty hole in her life looking for a hobby. Then she learned about the wildly different philosophies of combat, and wanted to learn what people thought of fighting; could there be anything more to combat than just punching people until someone’s body breaks? What was a good reason and what was a bad reason for it?

...she wouldn’t be able to learn here.
This was the only area she knew of where she could, and now it was shutting down.

- - - - - - - - - -

It was late in the night—almost early morning, in fact. Roughly 5 AM, just before the hours where the sun peeked over the hills in sunrise. Valerie lay in her bed, sound asleep in her pajamas while her blanket was tugged over her and tucking her in.
Not for long, though.
Brrrrring, brrrrring, brrrrring.
Valerie’s eyes jerked open. Well, that was a strange noise to hear.
Ever since technology had graced the world with the beauty that was the cell phone, ringing phones had become more of a rarity than something commonplace.
It was something she never really understood. At this moment, she didn’t really want to understand it, either. Damned contraption, waking her up. Maybe if she threw the pillow over her head, it would drown out the noise.
Brrrrring, brrrrring, brrrrring.
Oh, wait. It was her own cell phone. She’d forgotten that she had set her ringtone as an actual ring. She groaned and reached over, feeling at the tabletop to find hers. Damned contraption.
It took a couple seconds, but she managed to grab it and flip it open. She blurted out a bleary “H’lo…?”, trying her best not to yawn into the thing.
The voice on the other end was quiet and succinct. He spoke urgently, though, as if there was a message he desperately wanted to get out.
“Excuse me, Miss…Melamid? Valerie Melamid?”
Valerie nodded to nobody in particular, slurring her words in her half-asleep ramble.
“Mmmhmm…tha’s me, sir… C’n I help you?”
The voice responded quickly. “Maid to the Klause Estate, yes?”
Valerie nodded again, closing her eyes once more, her words more clear this time. “Yes. Can I help you?”
There was a pause. The man on the other end paused before continuing. “There’s…there’s been an incident at the hospital. Young Mr. Klause is dead.”
She promptly bolted up, flinging the blankets off of her with her speed. “D-dead? DEAD?!”
“Yes, ma’am. We’re…we’re incredibly sorry, we don’t even know what happened. A-all he did was open his eyes and mutter one word, before going limp. It’s…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Valerie almost fumbled with the phone in her hand, but managed to maintain her grip. She stared off into the distance quietly, her jaw agape as she simply…stayed there.
Was this a dream? Was she still asleep, and this was just another nightmare? Maybe that was it—in a few seconds from now, the Burger King would wake up next to her and then feed her McDonald’s. Or some other comedic anecdote to signify this wasn’t real and everything was all right.
“M-miss? Are you still there?”
There was no anecdote. Valerie was very much awake.
She swallowed, trying to figure out what she should say. “Is…I…um. …wh-what did…what did he say?” She stumbled over her words, without any idea of what should be going on or what she should be doing. After she hung up, she would have to call the older Klause family, and let them know what happened.
“He, um…he only said one word, miss. All he said was ‘Valerie’. Your name, miss.”

- - - - - - - - - -

Valerie was in her maid uniform again, staring at the camera blankly.
Unlike the last two times, however, where she was wearing it for a symbolic reason or otherwise, now she simply didn’t care to remove it. There just wasn’t any real reason for it. The kitchen lay around her in its normal array, pots and pans hanging next to the window and used dishes in the sink.
The setting was similarly careless, simply Valerie’s room with her bed in the background—unmade, with the vacuum cleaner, duster, and mop leaning up haphazardly across it.
There was only silence, for a bit. Valerie continued to stare blankly at the camera, only an occasional blink giving any indication that she was still conscious.

“Why am I still doing this?”
She shakes her head blearily.
“What’s the point anymore? It’s always the same, every week. In and out of the ring, doing the same moves to the same people in the same situations for the same stipulations. Even this final super special finishing-with-a-bang blowout is the same.”
She counted on her fingers. “Step one: Learn who you’re fighting this week. Study up on them—their fighting style, their psychology, what guides their mind and fuels their body, and especially how you think they’ll feel about you. After all, it’s who you’re fighting this week.”
“Step two: Mandatory trash-talk to the opponent, talk about how you’re going to win and how they don’t have a chance. Bring up extensive references to past accomplishments, along with how they reflect on you as a person now and how they’re relevant to the situation at hand.”
“Step three: Go into the match and fight. For most people, they talk about how they do their best, how their belief fuels and guides them, and how they will respect their opponent regardless of win or loss…but for me? I guess I always had selfish reasons. I fought simply to fight. I loved the adrenaline, I loved the feeling, I loved pretending I was a kung fu action star, but most of all…I loved winning. I loved barely coming out of a match and yet still being the one on top. So for me? All I do is fight to win.”
She momentarily stared at her fourth finger, lost in thought. The silence lasted for just a couple short seconds, before she spoke up again; her tone was quiet this time, half speaking and half contemplating.

“Step four: …what is step four? Is there even a step four?”
She paused, then shook her head.
“Not for me. Most people also have something that they want to ‘learn’ or ‘gain’ from a fight, once they walk away from the ring they have something new that they’ve gained. Whether it’s just knowledge of someone’s fighting style, or respect with the crowd, or a statement of your power, or perhaps the coveted champion’s belt. That little hunk of plastic and metal that everyone wants and people have sacrificed their bodies and careers for.”
“I don’t get…anything. I’ve never gotten anything. Match in and match out, I’ve never got the satisfaction of good competition or a fun fight. I guess the closest thing you could say I’ve gotten is the championship belt, but I’ve made evident several times…I don’t care about that thing. Plus, it was just a gift—I never beat the champion in a championship match, I just sort of impressed him and had him give it to me. The only time I beat him was in an ordinary everyday match, in which case I wasn’t fighting for anything special…simply an idea of what Walker was fighting for. He never really showed it, in any case—it was silly to say I could discern his morals and psychology from how he punched me, and I never learned it.”
“But I kept going. I kept asking more people to show me their power. I kept asking more people to show me their ability. Then I became champion, and…well. Now people don’t want to face me because of who I am, they just want to fight me because I’m the champion. There’s no passion or interest in me involved, just in my title. That’s all they want.”
“Even now, there’s going to be who knows how many people facing me tonight, including one they brought from the archives of Sin City Wrestling’s past tenures. Does this guy know me? Does he care? Is he remotely interested in me? No…not at all. All he wants is, just like the others, the stupid belt.”
She turned around and pointed at the shelf where the belt lay.
“That stupid fucking god damn belt.”

Valerie then whirled around once more, pointing directly at the camera this time.
“But, turns out I still have the belt. I am the strongest here, I am the best here, I am the top here, and right now this is mine and mine alone. If all you want is the belt, then all I’ll give you is nothing. Everyone is going to be making a blind scramble for this for one more night, and I’m not going to let them have it. Not them, not anyone.”
“The belt means nothing—it’s from a dying fed revived several times, and this time it’s collapsing once more. And yet, all of you are still scrambling to get a hold of it and to claim it in your hands?”
She shook her head, bringing up her hands to bury her face into as she slouched over.
“No. It’s a pointless act, so you get an equally pointless response. Even though it means nothing, I’m still going to defend the title, just because it’s what’s expected. Even though it means nothing, I’m still going to take on all comers, just because I’m quote-unquote ‘supposed to’. I am the champion, after all—I need to defend my reign, or something like that.”
“Would anything change if I didn’t show up and simply dropped it into the arena? No. I suspect people would still scramble and squabble over it. Maybe we’d get a new champion, except then that person would rule over an empty arena. Would anything change if I showed up and then fought for it? No. I’d just rule over an empty arena, and nobody would care to see that I was once the owner of something that some people claim had value in the past. Even if I did get any more challengers in the future, or if I did join another federation, what use would the title be to me?”
She pulls one hand away from her face, waving it idly at the camera while her posture slouched even more.
“Nothing. Nothing but just another belt.”

“That stupid fucking god damn belt.”

((Just over 2500 words, fifteen minutes before the deadline. Whoo~))