MIX FINALS ROLEPLAY THREAD

[Marcus Welsh]

Roleplay Window: Thursday, August 26th - Tuesday, August 31st. 6 days to post 1 rp PER team member. 1k word cap. 150 word overage buffer. Anything over results in a DQ. Match will air on the September 1st episode of Piledriver.

Please post your rps as a reply to this thread.

This is for the MIX Trophy. Winners will face Them No Good Bastards at Under the Lights OR face one another for a singles title shot. Whichever they desire.

[theorginalredneck202]

[Brett Daniels is shown cooking shirtless behind a big grill ]

Brett Daniels: hey all come on in grab ya something cold there from the cooler and welcome back to what is this week three of the Brett Daniels resurrection tour.

Now you have caught me. I'm outdoors here on my back property enjoying the day grilling some vittles for me and the missus.

*flips the meat on the grill*

Daniels: Now you may be wondering what I'm grilling. Well I'm a man with a big appetite so there's a lot of meat on the menu. You got some chicken, a few burgers and one of our opponents Dolly Waters' favorites hot dogs. If I remember correctly you like yours with relish right?

*takes a drink from his beer sitting next to the grill then begins slattering on bbq sauce on the meat the flips it again *

Daniels: well dolly you better bring the relish, the onions, the pickles, the chili and anything else you can think because you are going to need all of it and the hot dog cart cause as I stated Southern Mayhem hasn't laid waste to everyone and everything just to go home with empty pockets.

No after last week's team building exercise and my partner nearly snuffing a dude out it's safe to say we're feeling just a little whiskey bent, hell bound and ready to bring this back home and grab this title shot cause we want the gold.

Now don't get it twisted, you are quite the competitor and anyone willing to interrupt the poker game that seemed to break out last week has gotta have big old lady balls. But we're going to give you the three piece just like we did to last two teams and it's ironic that your last name is waters because if I need to I will stomp a hole in and walk that son of a bitch dry to win the mix and I know you're willing to do the exact same thing because we're all in this for the win, the pin and that trip to the pay window to collect the spoils so I'll see you guys out there and be ready for a damn fight! Bon appetit!

[Grabs a pan and starts picking the meat off the grill

[Chris Madison]

The calm before the storm…

There’s something eerie about how serene it can be moments before a storm comes barreling through. The world of professional wrestling wasn’t much different. The finals of OCW’s Margarita Mix tournament have finally arrived. Stakes are high, yet the feeling around the OCW studios is surprisingly calm. The staff that sets up the OCW studios for their shows has already done their job, ensuring that every minor detail is in place. Only time stood in the way of crowning new contenders to the tag team championships.

Chris Madison, one of the four competitors involved in the finals of the Margarita Mix, found himself sitting in the front row of the arena. Leaning forward with his arms pressed against the security railing, Madison kept his eyes affixed on the ring in front of him. It was so quiet that you could hear a pin drop. The slow, steady, rhythmic breathing being inhaled and exhaled through Madison’s nose was the only sound heard for moments.

“It’s all about keepin’ your eyes on the prize,” he uttered, breaking the silence. “No one makes it this far into a tournament like this on luck alone. If you’re left standin’ in the finals of a lethal lottery tag team tournament, you’ve proved yourselves as a tag team. There’s no flukes at this stage of the game. If you’re still standin’, you’ve proven to have the chemistry and trust that a good team needs in order to be successful. Brett and I, we’ve clicked from day one. We’ve marched out to this very ring, time and time again, and proven that Southern Mayhem is a team not to be reckoned with. But we’re not the only ones…”

Madison slid back in his chair, his arms following along with him. His two hands grabbed the security railing before falling into his lap. Madison’s eyes remained focused on the ring.

“Dolly Waters and Hector Malvado,” he announced with a smile on his face. “You two are a dangerous team. You know why,” he asked as if expecting an answer. “From the moment this tournament started, you’ve fought as if you had nothin’ to lose! You’ve had to. No one looked at the lineup and threw your names out there as possible favorites. But that’s the beauty of this sport, isn’t it? Nothin’ that the so-called experts say has any bearin’ on the way things play out. You two, like us, fought week after week, buildin’ that vital chemistry that separates the good teams from the bad. The body of work is there. The road you’ve taken wasn’t an easy one. Douglas Crane, Vic Vinegar, Anthony Cross, Mike Mason, Bam Miller, LC Pinkston… But in the end, the results have all been the same. Dolly Waters and Hector Malvado standin’ in there with your arms raised high above your heads,” he acknowledged while pointing to the center of the ring.

“You guys have every reason to be confident that you’ll emerge with the championship opportunity and find yourselves standin’ across from Them No Good Bastards,” he confessed before winking. “But… Every ounce of confidence, chemistry, and trust that you two have, we have as well. For me, failure isn’t an option. I pride myself in bein’ able to step through those ropes, regardless of what company’s logo is on the ring skirt, and competin’ at a high level. I’ve done it throughout my entire twenty plus year career! And I will continue to do it until the day I decide to step away from this business. That’s what you’re up against. A man who knows no boundaries, who has no limitations, and who refuses to fail. I will not give up. I will not quit. I will take every last one of your best shots and glare back at you with a smile on my face. Southern Mayhem is walkin’ out as the winners of the Margarita Mix tournament and with that OCW Tag Team Championship opportunity because I refuse to let this end any other way!”

That declaration may not carry as much weight coming off of the tongue of other wrestlers, but Chris Madison has a proven track record that is hard to argue with. He held his head high above his broad shoulders and slowly rose to his feet. Madison jumped the barrier and stepped towards the ring, reaching up with one hand to grab the middle rope.

“I guarantee that anythin’ you’ve done in your careers pales in comparison to this moment,” he professed while pulling himself up onto the ring apron. Madison turned around, keeping his back against the ring ropes while looking out into the empty arena. “I can make that guarantee because you’ve never been in the ring with anyone like me! As much as everyone in this business would like to believe that they’re one of the best, there’s only a few that can actually back it up. At Piledriver, your journey as a tag team comes to a haltin’ end. It will be brutal. It will be violent. It will be a statement made to everyone who was involved in the Margarita Mix Tournament, to every tag team in OCW, especially to Them No Good Bastards. It is my mission to use and abuse you for the sole purpose of makin’ a statement. Dolly, Hector, I am goin’ break you physically and mentally. After that bell rings and every joint in your body feels like it’s hangin’ together by a thread, you’re goin’ to second guess whether or not this was all worth it.”

Madison drops down, taking a seat on the ring apron with his feet dangling inches from the arena floor. “It will be,” he suggested. “At the end of this thing, regardless of how you feel when you’re standing out here, looking into that ring as Brett Daniels and I crack open a few celebratory cold ones, you can’t ignore the invaluable learnin’ experience this has been. Hector Malvado and Dolly Waters are leavin’ the Margarita Mix better competitors than they were when they signed themselves up to enter the tournament. This can be the catalyst for great things in your careers - just not yet! So soak it in. Live in the moment and learn from this experience. Because in a matter of seconds, after that bell rings, your entire world gets turned upside down and it’s completely out of your hands.”

[Dolly Waters]

The camera brings us to…

(Audible Dolly sigh)

...does it matter?

Does it really matter?

You already know where we are, you’re saying it to yourself right now...
The Dark Room Cliché’
But in reality Dolly could be anywhere. She could’ve been anywhere this entire tournament and it wouldn’t have changed a single outcome. Because unfortunately for her opponents Dolly hasn’t been laid up in a bar, or a gym, or an office for the unwitting, hair-ripping-freaking sake of all that’s cringe.

My god! No! Never!

There’s no scene or setting that can contain Dolly Waters. She’s the Red Army at Stalingrad. She’s Joan of Arc sieging Orleans. She’s Santa Anna circling the outgunned, outsmarted, outnumbered, shit-out-of-luck bumpkins at the Alamo. Doing what matters the most, when it matters the most. Out SHOOTING everyone.

OCW Universe…

And now, for the sake of irony… the cliché finale with music...

On behalf of Hector Malvaldo, I’d like to say: Gracias mis amigas!

Thank you, my friends!

Thank you all for having endured the retina-scalding, mounds of flaming garbage masquerading as tag-teams in the Margarita Mix. It’s truly sad what you, the fans, have undergone. Watching these uncoordinated, armature-hour jagoffs castrate themselves, while praying for a squad capable of ending the mockery that’s become of your Tag Team Championships.

Well I promise you this: your patience will be rewarded. Because it’s all over come Wednesday.

The Malvado Aguas are going to crash down like a mighty wave on Madison and Daniels, extinguishing the last burning bag of dog-doody on the OCW’s porch.

These two have no idea what’s in store for them on Piledriver. Hector and I have studied the tape, we’ve watched every “contest” these two have won by the skin of their scrotums… and I’m sorry, boys. Once you step in that ring with me, I’m going to stomp yer’ huevos until there’s nothing left but a puddle of busted yolk.

Yer’ nowhere near as talented as Hector or myself.

I almost thought I stepped into some alternate fucking universe, where Madison and Daniels were actually a formidable team. Given all of the pathetic cheerleading and cock-slobbing you two received on Twitter.

But then it dawned on me… those simps groveling at yer’ IP Addresses are just as oblivious as you two. They have no clue what good wrestling looks like, and that’s exactly why Malvado Aguas is going to seize that mantle of the OCW Tag Team Division, and restore honor to those championship belts.

I don’t know what’s so hard to understand. These fans don’t give a flying-fuck about your DEVELOPMENT of liver cirrhosis, Brett. They paid good, hard-earned money to hear the best promo work in the world, and to see good tag-team wrestling. Not to watch another team come to Key West and get wasted on the beach. How many dumb drunks am I going to have to kick the shit out of before that concept takes root?

Brett, the “big”, “bad”, “redneck” Daniels who…

“liked” my Brittany Spears video on Twitter. 🤣👌

Honey, I was raised in the hollers and the trailer-parks. Superman’s ass. Yer’ a bougie bumpkin at best. The type of dickless prick driving a 4x4 with a spotless truck-bed waving a confederate flag. Dick-riding the losing team. Just like the dopes on Twitter who think you and Madison have a chance of winning. The South won’t rise again, and the UNION of Malvado Aguas is going to happily tread all over yer’ asses.

Are you and Chris going to tell us how impressive it was that you beat Ricky in a virtual two-on-one? That rookie dipshit just lost on PPV for his own company.

So, yeah… congrats?

Madison, that big-eared, Shrek-looking sideshow, was doing backflips on Twitter for beating Talia Areno. I don't need to explain how pathetic that is. Stick to shooting-pool, Chris. It’s the only SHOT you have of shooting anything but yer’self in the foot.

It’s been clear since this tournament began who the best team was. The one team standing head-and-shoulders above the field. The team who will put an end to this pretend championship run of The Bastards, the lazy fucks who’ve held the OCW Tag Titles hostage.

TNGB haven’t teamed together since XWF WarGames, where TK got put down by Betsy Granger, the same Betsy I defeated on Saturday... and we all know what happened to poor Bobby. I won’t let you forget the facts. His big-ass got blasted and punked by Dolly Aguas.

Now they’re scrambling. TK calling me lucky and hapless in one breath? What a fuckin’ rookie! TK said that I would betray Hector, but has steadily changed his tune the more obvious it’s become that he’ll be facing me. It was all wish-thinking on his part. To set the record straight, there’s only one person who ever “sold out” their team at WarGames. It’s the reason that Mrs. Moose-Knuckles got famous in the first place: for acting like a punk bitch. I SAVED Robert Main, twice. You betrayed him. Facts don’t care about yer’ feelings TK, and the fact of the matter is you’re fucked, and you know it.

Your boy Bobby is already defeated, and has already cucked himself out of his own credibility.

You said I’ve accomplished nothing, Bobby?

I’m glad to know that WRECKING you, not once, but twice, is nothing. Right from the beached-whale’s mouth, folks. A win over Bobby is peanuts.

What a cop-out.

How’s that vagina you replaced yer’ testicles with working out? Felt kinda’ dry to me, like those totally non-pre-written “freestyle” raps.

Defeating you two will be “nothing” like a challenge for Malvado Aguas. I tend to agree. Those belts are as good as ours. You sobbed about who I hang out with in the XWF… in OCW promos. That’s how you know they’re beat. They’ve got nothing of substance to say. No results to cite. Just Bobby bitch-made Bourbon knowing what’s about to happen Under The Lights. The Bastards are screw-

Before concluding her finale, a door to Dolly’s dark-room kicks open. The lights flip-on.

It’s Victor Malvado!

His eyes burst. His masked face twisted in horror. He is immediately overwhelmed and submits to his knees at the magnitude and majesty of what he’s viewing.

It’s Dolly Waters standing in the midst of every cliche’ promo setting known to man.

The bar. The gym. The graveyard. The house-show arena.

Dolly Waters is... all of them.

Every. Single. One.

“What are you?!”

Victor cries out, inexplicably in perfect English.

His face etched deeper with terror as he spots his brother Hector and Vanessa flanking Dolly on either side. They’ve been with her this entire time.

Dolly tilts her head, and approaches Victor with a tender regard. She lifts him to his feet, meeting his damp eyes with a reassuring, yet sinister smile. She answers his question:

“Aguas malvadas” she confirms, inexplicably in perfect Spanish.

-end-

[Deleted]

The scene opens in front of a green screen, everything else is dark and nothing can be made out. Vanessa Jimenez walks out from the right side wearing a nice purple business suit and matching color heels. Crossing her arms, she stands there and begins talking.

Normally Hector likes to do his talking in Spanish but because he wants to make sure his opponents feel what he is saying, I’ve translated his words and put them in writing in English.

Hector steps out from the left, wearing a black suit and tie with a red undershirt. His mask is red with a black spiral. The green screen comes alive, showing us the inside of a small church. In the front pew, there is a woman on her knees praying, a veil covering her head. He looks up at the camera, all business as well, he looks at the paper and begins reading. We’re not going to lie, his English is not great, but he is trying, though a word in Spanish slips here and there.

Brett Daniels, Chris Madison, you had easy ride up to now, but it ends tomorrow. You had to fight drunks, dumb she-ogres, douchebags, meat heads and undeserving bastardos. First, you eliminated some drunk PUTA and my primo, who deserved better. My cousin alone would have defeated you two pendejos if he didn’t have to babysit that borracha. Next you fought a dumb ogre woman and the biggest cabron in the competition behind only Fat Sonic and Knuckles… Those two had the chemistry of a round hole and a square peg… Last you fought one guy who couldn’t stay away from the mirror long enough to remember he had a match to wrestle, and the biggest poser Latino I have ever seen in my life! Because of them my hermano has gone down a dark path, trying to kill my amazing partner. Because of them my mama cries here in a church, praying for the sibling rivalry to end and for her sons to reconcile. Those two pendejos eliminated my brother and for what? FOR WHAT?! To lose to the likes of you?!

Hector spits on the floor and loosens up his tie.

Yes, the likes of you garbage man. While I beg my madre for forgiveness and understanding, you two drink yourselves stupid in some lounge or pretend to train in some dark gym that absolutely NOBODY buys. Si, muy original. Look at your bodies, they’re caca!

The scene in the background changes to that of a rundown cantina. Sitting at a table, we see the Malvados’ father and manager of champions, Paco “The Drinking Time Bomb” Perez. He is looking rough, drinking, smoking and sobbing as he looks a picture of his boys, thorn in half.

While my proud Papa goes back to old habits and becoming a prisoner to alcohol again because his proud and powerful sons want to kill each other, you two sit in your fancy office like you are some kind of a big deal or worst hanging out backstage with your pimps, making sure you have their money.

The scene in the background changes again, this time showing Victor, plotting something in the shadows. What? We don’t know, but through his mask we feel his anger and betrayal.

While you two play your little pool games like a couple of low life scum, my own flesh and blood plots a way to not only eliminate me from the tournament out of jealousy but eliminate my partner completely from the face of the earth.. 

Hector removes his jacket, throwing it on the floor and continues…

And I know… I KNOW you don’t care, you probably ask why tell you this? I tell you why putos! My life has come completely apart and STILL I go on because becoming a CAMPEON means everything to me! While you two suck each other’s bottellas, I work my ass off with Dolly to make it to the finals, and we will! While Nacho Libre and Joe Dirt play pineapple express in their bumholes, Dolly and I discuss all the possible ways we can, and WILL win the tag team championships and bring honor, back to OCW.

Vanessa interrupts him.

Actually, Dolly is not in OCW, and technically neither are you. You are in Outsiders Champ-

Que?!

Nevermind...

Tomorrow night Daniels and Madison, I will get revenge for my primo, and in his name, we will defeat you and move on to face the campeones.

Hector crumples up the paper he was reading and tosses it aside. The greenscreen behind him goes off. He stands in the middle of it, looking directly at the camera. Clearly, no script is needed now.

Bastardos, buenos para nada.

Si, es un insulto en español, bastards that are no good for nothing, pero en realidad si son buenos para algo, y solamente algo… para hablar, y hablar y NADA MAS que hablar. Pues el tiempo de hablar a terminado bastardos.

¿Te acuerdas de Cholo Santana, Tundra Nacos? Si, Tundra Nacos es tu nombre en español, tan horrible como tu estilo de pelo. Pues creo que no te acuerdas porque Cholo fuel el que te destrozo en la Copa de Quag, y yo no soy el, ni un jardinero, ¡tu racista hijo de puta! Soy Hector “MUY” Malvado, el que te destrozara por los títulos de OCW.

Si, son buenos con la lengua larga pero a la hora de pelear, es diferente porque pelearan con un Malvado, uno de los mas jóvenes, si, pero de los mejores luchadores en pareja del mundo! Y se que no tengo a mi hermano como pareja, pero si tengo a Dolly quien hizo al panzon enmascarado SU PUTA.

Hablando de esa albondiga humana, veo que le gusta ser un luchador de caricaturas. Pero este es el mundo real, y yo soy lo que representa un luchador de verdad, original y bien macho. ¡No ese sorbete de ‘Vanilla Ice’ que se cree rapero!

Pero seamos honestos...

¿que tan buenos pueden ser cuando son parte de un grupo que se llama Bob?

En serio, Bob?

Que original Chuck? ¿Porque no mejor Tom, Dick o Harry? Todos suenan estúpidos pero por lo menos Dicks les queda perfecto porque eso son, un par de palomas.

Si, lo sé, es un acrónimo…

¿Pero que tan enserio voy a tomar a un grupo que se llaman “hermandad de baddies”? ¿Que culeradas son esas? Es tiempo de que alguien les calle el hocico de una vez por todas. Dolly y yo con gusto la aremos en “Bajo Las Luces”, que es exactamente donde tú, Eugene del Walking Dead, pero en drogas y tu pareja, el tumor con patas quedaran, viéndonos desde el suelo a arriba, como levantamos nuestros nuevos títulos en pareja.

Hector picks up his jacket, throws it over his shoulder and walks off frame with Vanessa following closely behind.