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  1. #1
    Useless Member Apologue is on a distinguished road
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    The Prologue of Alex Rixon

    In the heart of downtown New York, the hustle and bustle of city life continue at an unfaltering pace. Everyday people, living everyday lives. The Big Apple serving a haven for opportunities, with many would-be entrepreneurs walking towards ventures holding disposable coffee cups.

    For one soul, the word disposable surmises the past fifteen years of his life. A man who's dreamed had broken through tragedy, snapped beyond repair. That unfortunate event triggered a chain of events that toxified his career and eventually spilt into his personal affairs. This downward spiral led to him being alone, surviving on the streets of New York City.

    At first, he went into hiding. Some people recognised his appearance, they found it amusing to harass a former wrestling personality that fell on hard times. Some tried to exploit that for shameless profit, even at the detriment of his own health.

    Eventually, the unhygienic lifestyle and growth of facial hair had allowed him to carry on existence without further bother.

    Until one day when that all changed, and so did that man's life, forever.


    Dressed in bedraggled clothing, a tramp is slouched over on the sidewalk, to ashamed to lift his own head. From afar, two voices are heard among the chatter of others, a topic that rings a bell of familiarity. Their voices draw closer.

    Fan 1: Dude I'm telling you, an armbar is going to hurt way more than an anklelock.

    Fan 2: Come on man, an armbar rarely does the trick. Besides, your closer to the opponent, easier to fight out of.

    Fan 1: Oh yeah? Well, you can roll through an anklelock. What's the point in trying if your opponent is just going to roll through?

    Fan 2: Not if you lay down next to the sucker, no. Target the legs, hard for the enemy to wrestle back.

    The fans cross a tramp, unawares of his prescience.

    Tramp: Any change, please?

    The Tramp's request brings both fans to a stop. One starts patting his jacket pockets demonstrating there are no contents. While the other stares with a frown.

    Fan 1: Sorry, man. I've got nothing.

    Tramp: What about your friend there? Can you spare me something? Anything?

    Fan 2: Hey-th-that is you. I know who you are.

    Tramp: Forget about it. Move along.

    Fan 2: Nah man, I can recognise that face anywhere. Had your poster one time.

    Fan 1: What are you talking about dude?

    Fan 2: What am I talking about? This man here used to be a professional wrestler.

    Fan 1: I don't recognise him.

    Fan 2: Well you wouldn't. Your stupid ass thinks an armbar is worse than an anklelock! This man, right here, hasn't been seen in over fourteen god damn years!

    Clutching his fists covered in filthy fingerless globes, the tramp grows agitated, as the fans conversation draws more attention from passersby.[ Not wanting to give a violent outburst, his eyes drift to find a sight to ground himself, to alleviate anxiety.

    Suddenly, his vision fixates on an electrical store window, visible between two parked cars on the opposite side of the street. One of the 4K televisions aired an OCW production, demonstrating statistics of one of their wrestlers.

    The Tramp's face turned red with anger. Completely unfazed by the fans rambling before him.

    Fan 1: Cut it out. We'll settle the debate later. What do we do about this, huh?

    Fan 2: Like what?

    Fan 1: Urgh dummy. A wrestler not seen in fourteen years! That sounds like viewers to me. Need to take a picture or a recording of this guy.

    Fan 2: That may be the smartest thing you've said
    in a long time man. Social media, Youtube, people are gonna eat this up!

    The Tramp stood up, undeterred by the fans recording his image and movements on their cell phones. He walked across the street, having no regard for the traffic or his safety. Nothing mattered more than getting closer to that television.

    Woman in Sedan: What the hell? You lunatic!

    Cab Driver: Get out the road you fucking bum!

    By a great miracle, the Tramp made it to the other side without incident. He stood watching a person who he had held disdain for so long. As that person ended his professional wrestling career. Accident or not, vengeance remained at the forefront of the Tramp's mind.

    Once that wrestler went off the air, the Tramp turned to discover a mob of people armed with cell phones and cameras. Back into hiding, he went, sleeping in the roughest alleyways, where a homeless person often avoids due to gang violence and the intolerance of rough sleepers.


    -All the images and recordings taken of the Tramp went viral. The information held a greater gravity than anyone expected. Many people tried to search for him again, the intentions mostly positive. A lot of fans wanting to hand out money offer a place to stay and try to bring this man's life back on track.

    Among the searchers, an investigator went off the beaten path. They knew the Tramp's history, how historical sightings ceased when fans first identified his situation.

    To the dungiest parts of New York, the investigator searched. Within a day, he found his target. -

    The investigator found the Tramp rummaging in a trash can. Two taps on the back of the right shoulder from the investigator caught his attention. He turned around to him showing a heart-breaking sight. In the Tramp's mouth, a blackened banana skin was gritted between his teeth. That being the best form of sustinence he found.

    Investigator: Alex James Rixon. I'd like you to come with me, please.

    Pulling the banana skin out his mouth, the Tramp scanned the Investigator, top to bottom.

    Tramp: Mistaken identity. Leave me alone...

    Investigator: I'm sorry sir, but you're Alex James Rixon. I've been looking for you. A couple of fans revealed your whereabouts. Did you know there's a missing persons report out for you?

    Alex Rixon: Tch, yeah right. This is a trick, just like all the others. You don't know me, you don't know a damn thing about me!

    Investigator: You were a professional wrestler, signed to my client, back in 2005. In your spare time, you frequented the development centre. During a session, a student broke your neck performing a move. The organisation and my client, could not and could never clear you to wrestle again. This incident remained outside of public knowledge, might I add.

    The Investigator presented a card, displaying his association to the OCW brand.

    Alex Rixon: Fine, ok, you did your homework. But a missing persons report, are you kidding me?! I've been living this way for years. SPAT ON! URINATED ON! SPOKEN TO AND TREAT LIKE A PIECE OF GODDAMN SHIT!

    Investigator: Sir, please I-

    Alex Rixon: Don't sir this and sir that! You're doing this to line your own pockets. OCW offered me work, to be a production guy, a cameraman or hell even a 'manager'. I know what my body can do, I could have stepped back in that ring. But just like my whore of an ex-wife, they turned their back on me.

    Investigator: Alex...cards on the table. I do get a commission in finding you, I won't hide that fact from you. OCW couldn't in their right minds clear you...you vanished. Only until those uploads popped up online, they dug deeper, discovering the divorce, the drinking habit, the inability to hold down work.

    Alex Rixon: What was I supposed to do huh? I worked my butt to the grindstone to become World Heavyweight Champion. I finally reach OCW, then some greenhorn gives me a booboo and that's it? Curtain closed!

    Investigator: They never turned their back on you...and that missing person report, issued by your daughter. Do you even know how old she is?


    The Tramp brandishes a tattered wallet, it's only contents, a picture of an eight-year old girl with flowing brown hair.

    Alex Rixon: Every damn day, I see this picture and count. My wife hasn't let me see her for so long. I can't afford lawyers, hell I tried to connect online, seek her out. The internet cafe turfed me out for stinking out the joint!

    Investigator: How old is she Alex?

    Alex Rixon: She's coming up eighteen!

    Investigator: Wrong...she's almost twenty three...and a mother...

    The Investigator's words brought forced Alex's legs to turn to jelly. On the ground he buried his head in his hands.

    Alex Rixon: She's a mother...I could have seen her years ago...I need help! Please! I need help!

    Investigator: Si-I mean Alex. That's why I'm here. OCW always considered you family, it's time to come home and rebuild your life.



    NOTE: This promo is an invitation for anyone who is interested in using this character as a manager. The plot is, your wrestler is the one referenced in the story, having ended Alex's career. It's about vengeance but designed to construct a strong personal bond.

    It's been years since I've done this. Open to criticism but I really enjoyed writing this

  2. The Following 4 Users Marked the hell out to Apologue For This Awesome Post:

    Benji Moore (12-02-2019), Kuma Empire (12-01-2019), Quartz (12-03-2019), Valkyrie (12-02-2019)

  3. #2
    Billy Bad Ass Wrestler Kuma Empire is a glorious beacon of light Kuma Empire is a glorious beacon of light Kuma Empire is a glorious beacon of light Kuma Empire is a glorious beacon of light Kuma Empire is a glorious beacon of light Kuma Empire's Avatar
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    This is very good. I would be interested to see who takes him up. Might make for a good Paul Haymen type of person.

  4. The Following User Marked Out to Kuma Empire For This Amazing Post:

    Benji Moore (12-04-2019)

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