Post by James Ranger on Nov 21, 2021 22:14:36 GMT -5
Whalan...Wha...lan…i swear my contract is weirdly specific about the locations of these….
James shook his head as his rented traveling bus moved comfortably on the highway. The match was a bonafide first in some time. He needed answers as he shook his head, immediately furrowing his eyebrows as he scanned a traveler’s guide to Minnesota as a whole. A folded section included a map of the state, to which gav evidence of heavy pen marks and marker dots.
A bump caught James, knocking him out of his trance as he gaze outward towards the landscape. It was in his opinion, well..uninspiring, if the words came flowing. He didn’t know what to expect visiting a state he never set foot in. He knew what would be out here though. If anything, he wanted the person to BE there.
Christian DeMarco.
The man supposedly lost his post as General Manager, which meant all pretenses were off the table and he could legit get on to finishing something that barely got off the ground. Good opponents were damn hard to find, even harder were the ones that kept you guessing. Christian more or less escape in James’s mind, the skirmish was merely the prologue and Christian got the last laugh more or less before vanishing from his sight. Until he arrived in Project: Honor, but he was in charge and his friend was unlike herself since his arrival.
But now he was in the present, the mindset required something far more dangerous up his sleeve. More serious than your backyard wrestling hardcore match, though a few international hardcore experiences were notched on his belt, this was something grander in scale than his tumble with Syndicate on the streets of London. The finances just to close off a section of a capital were nothing to sneeze at back then.
Where the hell did Project: Honor get this kind of financial power to just levy a town for a brawl equal to a Hollywood production budget?
The thoughts spun as he began reviewing the list of wrestlers set to compete at the event. The event itself kept him mildly interested just by its name alone: A Purge. But the list of names reflected something to behold….
If he could be retained the knowledge...most of the names didn’t match with his mindset of who to target. He wasn’t going to take a moment to fixate either…
They were expendable. If Replicants from Blade Runner were in the here and now.
If you could consider the thought of oh so many members of Fallout taking the distinct pleasure of butchering someone to the point of crippling them. If bloodlust had a form...he know who to watch out for, but that was a problem in and out of itself. Too much of an absence, not enough time to study, only a primal urge to deal with one, and that person might not even be here.
Amateur hour at its finest, but at its worst for the Black Mamba as he folded everything on the table. The highway barely had any cars on the path. Mostly Truckers looking for a faster way to get their next destination. He shivered as he recalled that haunted stories were frequently on roads where only the few traveled in search of a destination. He was merely visting but this match had all the necessary tools to get some momentum.
To quench a thirst.
He shook his head as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Such a thought was increasingly echoing, the closer he got Whalan. Something boiled and bubbbled within his thoughts. Nothing to seem to shake it off, no amount of reading to ease his mind helped cleared the thoughts. It was almost if words within the books that resonated with the urge to maim someone shined brighter and echoed on his vocal cords as he read outloud. He already had chucked two books on meditation across the aisle of his bus. Jacob was sitting further up as their compatriot “Viper” was at the wheel ensuing a smooth ride.
James insisted at least on manpower being at the ready for an escape. But only after the match was done. Something about “the Purge” just kept sending shivers down his spine. He couldn’t place it..
But he knew he do his best to survive the carnage that awaited him.
James shook his head as his rented traveling bus moved comfortably on the highway. The match was a bonafide first in some time. He needed answers as he shook his head, immediately furrowing his eyebrows as he scanned a traveler’s guide to Minnesota as a whole. A folded section included a map of the state, to which gav evidence of heavy pen marks and marker dots.
A bump caught James, knocking him out of his trance as he gaze outward towards the landscape. It was in his opinion, well..uninspiring, if the words came flowing. He didn’t know what to expect visiting a state he never set foot in. He knew what would be out here though. If anything, he wanted the person to BE there.
Christian DeMarco.
The man supposedly lost his post as General Manager, which meant all pretenses were off the table and he could legit get on to finishing something that barely got off the ground. Good opponents were damn hard to find, even harder were the ones that kept you guessing. Christian more or less escape in James’s mind, the skirmish was merely the prologue and Christian got the last laugh more or less before vanishing from his sight. Until he arrived in Project: Honor, but he was in charge and his friend was unlike herself since his arrival.
But now he was in the present, the mindset required something far more dangerous up his sleeve. More serious than your backyard wrestling hardcore match, though a few international hardcore experiences were notched on his belt, this was something grander in scale than his tumble with Syndicate on the streets of London. The finances just to close off a section of a capital were nothing to sneeze at back then.
Where the hell did Project: Honor get this kind of financial power to just levy a town for a brawl equal to a Hollywood production budget?
The thoughts spun as he began reviewing the list of wrestlers set to compete at the event. The event itself kept him mildly interested just by its name alone: A Purge. But the list of names reflected something to behold….
If he could be retained the knowledge...most of the names didn’t match with his mindset of who to target. He wasn’t going to take a moment to fixate either…
They were expendable. If Replicants from Blade Runner were in the here and now.
If you could consider the thought of oh so many members of Fallout taking the distinct pleasure of butchering someone to the point of crippling them. If bloodlust had a form...he know who to watch out for, but that was a problem in and out of itself. Too much of an absence, not enough time to study, only a primal urge to deal with one, and that person might not even be here.
Amateur hour at its finest, but at its worst for the Black Mamba as he folded everything on the table. The highway barely had any cars on the path. Mostly Truckers looking for a faster way to get their next destination. He shivered as he recalled that haunted stories were frequently on roads where only the few traveled in search of a destination. He was merely visting but this match had all the necessary tools to get some momentum.
To quench a thirst.
He shook his head as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Such a thought was increasingly echoing, the closer he got Whalan. Something boiled and bubbbled within his thoughts. Nothing to seem to shake it off, no amount of reading to ease his mind helped cleared the thoughts. It was almost if words within the books that resonated with the urge to maim someone shined brighter and echoed on his vocal cords as he read outloud. He already had chucked two books on meditation across the aisle of his bus. Jacob was sitting further up as their compatriot “Viper” was at the wheel ensuing a smooth ride.
James insisted at least on manpower being at the ready for an escape. But only after the match was done. Something about “the Purge” just kept sending shivers down his spine. He couldn’t place it..
But he knew he do his best to survive the carnage that awaited him.