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Author Topic: Welcome to Stormtropolis - Who Are You?  (Read 473 times)

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Offline Mark Storm

Welcome to Stormtropolis - Who Are You?
« on: December 04, 2017, 01:42:18 PM »
Welcome to Stormtropolis
Self Control

Her name was Rachel. And she was unlike any other women that Storm had encountered in the past. She was more than just conquest, more than just a mission that men would often try to embark on but would fail in doing so. She wasn't that sort of women. Her skin was thick, as thick as her mind (not in the sense that you're thinking) but in the way that makes it hard for someone to read what she's thinking, or how she feels. She carried a weight on her shoulders it seemed at first, but that weight was just a barrier, a guard to fend herself from the predators known as "men", who on many occasion would try to sweet talk her, try to get into her head so that ultimately, they can get in somewhere else. She knew the game far too well, yet she had fallen into a habit she wasn't accustomed to. She found herself in a hotel room, only a shirt on - that of Mark's, and it was 6am in the morning.

She turned onto her back and sighed, looking up at the ceiling for a second or two before turning to see if Mark was laying next to her. But he wasn't. She sat up against the headboard and analysed the room as best as she could as the curtains were drawn, so it was still dark. From what she could tell, the room was luxurious, she definitely hadn't paid for it. 

"Shit." she said in awe as she rolled out of bed.

Getting up, she walked towards the window on the other side of the double bed and drew them open, birds chirping and the light blinding her for a second. Turning around, she could now see the room in full view and it was beautiful, it was clear that Mark had been staying in this hotel room for a little while now, with some of his things already set up to make the room look a little more, homely. She recognized a photo just beneath abstract painting hung on the wall and walked toward it, picking the photo up and examining it a little more.

There he was. And it was from a time that Mark barely remembered anymore despite it being only two and a half years ago. It was his crowning moment, the moment that ultimately catapulted his name in the wrestling scene from the bottom to the top, the moment he cherishes the most in all of his career thus far.

"Good morning."

Immediately she turned around, her eyes in shock until she realized it was only Mark who had just entered the room without her noticing. She felt her heart beat out of her chest the moment he spoke, and she placed her hand against, looking at Storm frighteningly.

"Sorry if I shook you. You sleep alright?" he asked in a concerning manner.

Dressed in sports attire, it was clear to Rachel that he had just been out for a morning run or gym session or something, she eyed him from head to toe before turning back to the picture and nodding her head.

"Um, yeah. I did."

Mark nodded his head and moved away from the door and toward the bed, taking off his sweaty thermal and throwing it aside. Rachel continued to glare at the photo as she put it down before averting her attention back to Storm.

"We didn't um... have -"

"No ma'm."

"And how can I be sure of that?"

"Because I slept on that blow up bed you're standing on."

She hadn't even realized that she gained a few feet. She exhaled, relieved that nothing had happened but also surprised, which was actually kind of sad if you think about it. The way she saw the world, it was different to most. But you wouldn't understand it, unless you walked a mile in her shoes, and seen what she'd seen, and lived through what she lived through.

"When was this photo?" her conscious was clear, so now she could return to looking at the photo of Mark.

A championship belt in hand, confetti raining down on him from the heavens as he stood on the second rope of the wrestling ring, holding a championship belt over his head. And of course, he looked different. But that was two years ago, a lot had changed since then, not just his appearance.

"Feels like a lifetime ago." he said, putting on a tank top, watching her watch the photo.

And he was being dead honest. There was a time where the only place that mattered to Mark Storm was Extreme Wrestling Corporation. Because that was the place where it all started. Because that was the place where he started to matter. Because that was the place he was finally accepted for what he was. The championship belt he was holding was the coveted EWC World Heavyweight Championship. The photo was on the night of their most notorious pay-per-view of the year, Stranglemania and it was his, crowning moment.

"So this is what you do, you wrestle?"

Behind her, he shadowed over her shoulder, nodding his head as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

"For the EWC?"

"Not anymore."

Thankful as he might have been, he didn't love it anymore. Something turned sour along the way, and that sourness followed him around, it lingered and he couldn't take it. He couldn't take the politics of it all, a promotion that at first seemed like home slowly became a distant memory. It wasn't that he hated the company, he just hated how it operated and how it changed over the years. Favoritism and corruption. But those were just "allegations". But those allegations were enough for the founding members of the roster from the original revamp of 2015 to leave. He felt pushed aside and because of that, he felt he had to leave too.


She turned around and tucked her elbows into herself press herself against Mark as the two shared a glare, an understanding one. Like she knew why without him having to say anything. Kind of like the way he knew why she asked whether they had slept together, it wasn't just skepticism - there was more behind it. It was weird. They had this understanding of each other without even knowing each other for a full twenty four hours. But maybe that was the beauty of it. They'd skipped the whole getting to know each other completely phase, and they were just comfortable in each others presence, and that in itself is rare to find.

Their lips pressed and for the first time in a long time, everything felt right in the world. They were supposed to be there, holding onto each other. They were supposed to meet the night before in that bar. Mark was supposed to stomach up the courage to ask her if she wanted the drink. Like everything happened for a reason.

"Mark Storm." she said, looking into his eyes.

"What exactly are you?"

And if he could answer that, he would've. But he didn't.

"You fascinate me."

"Do I now?" she chuckled.

"I don't know you. I mean, I don't really know you. But I wanna. Do I sound weird?"

He totally sounded weird.

"You do. But I like weird. I'm weird too."

"Holy shit, you like this chick - huh?"

Greg Murphy was stuffing his plate with everything on the buffet table, but that's what a person tends to do when it's an unlimited buffet, you get everything. He had a smile on his face when he saw a plate of bacon, picking it up and securing several pieces for himself before placing the plate back down, which was pretty much empty now, to the annoyance of the person behind him but Greg couldn't give two shits. He was in his element. Food, was his element.

"Yeah, I guess I do."

"Bullshit you 'guess'. You know you do, kid. Hell, you haven't stopped fuckin' talkin' about her for the last half hour. On the taxi here you were yapping away about this girl like she was your soulmate or some crap! Which if she is, fair enough brother I respect that, but first you've gotta know, not 'guess'!"

"Guess you're right."

"Don't get me started, Stormy."

The two took their seat at a table beside a window with Greg instantly munching away at his meal whilst Mark looked at the view outside, or at least, daydreamed whilst looking outside. He couldn't stop thinking about this girl, Rachel, who he had only just met but it was different to any other meeting he had ever had with a girl. There was something about her, a sense of purity or something along those lines that drew him to her. Her dark hair, caramel skin complexion, luscious lips, bodacious curves, she was the whole package in his eyes.

"You wanna focus on the task in hand? Get some food in ya man, come on - you gotta eat. Flight's in..." looking down at his watch - "just under an hour before Toledo!"

"Nah, I'm not hungry."

Toledo was the destination. Flashpoint was the event. El Stravito was the opponent. Frontier Grappling Arts, the company. A company he was starting to feel at home out with a number of wins cemented under his belt, it was only a matter of time before opportunities would begin to swing his way too, championship opportunities that is. He was working hard enough, making sure that every match he had wasn't just a sidenote, but a main event caliber match that could headline any television event, or even pay-per-view. As long as he continued down that path, the opportunities would come, he was sure of it.

Pushing his plate aside, he clasped his hands together as he planted his elbows onto the table and looked at Greg, who was scoffing down his food in a hurry despite having a good 50 minutes before they needed to board the plane.

"I've been thinking."

Greg chowed away like a pig, it was rather revolting.

"Greg, can you just... like - ... fucking hell man, just stop."

"What did I do?" he asked innocently.

"I've been thinking." Storm continued - "Four Corners Wrestling."

"Yeah, what about it?"

"I'm thinking about givin' it a shot."

Greg put his knife and fork down and removed his bib from his shirt, placing it on the table. He looked around the room to make sure that it was decently cleared before running his fingers through his hair.

"Alright, alright, alright, alright... um, why?"

"Why not?"

Greg laughed, clutching onto his stomach.

"Oh I don't know, maybe because it's a promotion full with egotistical, nonsensical, idiotic, backward savages!"

He stopped himself, realizing that he had garnered the attention of a couple of people in the room. He smiled before bringing himself closer to Storm.

"That place Mark, it's poison."

"Says who?"

"Says everybody Mark, and you know it! You know it! You know it, and I don't understand how you can even consider going there. Everyone knows 4CW. Everyone knows the personalities they have over there. You wanna know why people keep themselves clear? Because they're bullies! They pray on the weak and sabotage them. They're nothing more than a bunch of internet trolls and SURE, the place is full with talent but it's also squandered, full of idiots and social media starlets."

Notorious. If there was one word to describe the promotion Four Corners Wrestling, that word would be it.

"Not a place for a competitor, like you."

"I think you're wrong. About them, about all of it. They're thick skinned. They're the toughest son's of bitches in the whole of the industry. And they're also misunderstood. Doesn't that remind you of someone?  And I know a few of their people. And they're good people, Greg."

That did remind him of Storm.

"You mean to tell me Bronx Valescence, Jason Cashe, Anastasia Hayden, Dakota Smith - hell even that Perry Wallace, are good people?!"

Mark nodded his head.

Greg sighed, the palm of his hand hitting his face as he shook his head in disbelief.

"As your agent, I'm advising you - "

"And as the guy who pays you, I'm advising you to shut the fuck up."

That silenced him. But only for a little while.

"Fine, then as your friend. I'm warning you, that if you go through with this, your world is about to flip upside down, you know that right? Because Four Corners Wrestling isn't a place where there's shortcuts or free passes or any of that shit. You'll start from the bottom, kid. And it's a long way if you're thinking about reaching the tippy top."

"I know. I need to do this."

Why? He hadn't even thought about why, he just knew that he needed to do this.