SD 47: Mikey & Delilah vs Jonathan Page & ??

[Ben Jacobs]

Winners receive a shot at the Hog Wild Tag Team Titles at Hog Heaven: Never Surrender against current Champions: The New Level.
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Post rps below.

2 point early rp bonus for each wrestler's first rp which scores above 10 and is posted prior to Tuesday, October 20th @ 3:30 PM CST. (Board time)

RP DEADLINE:
MONDAY, Oct. 26th @ 11:59 PM CST (board time)

Match & segment deadline is Wednesday, Oct. 28th @ 10AM CST. (board time)

[Delilah Ghost]

Does it count as irony that once a commercial for a gun show in Fayetteville finishes, the picture changes to one of RCW's favorite couple, Mikey and Delilah? Both wearing long black trench coats and dark glasses, they walk toward the camera. As they draw closer, you can see a picture of JFK overlaid with a gun sight on Mikey's t-shirt, and 'I shaved his balls for this?' lettered on Delilah's. She carries a guitar case in one hand, and waves at the camera as they walk by.

"Man, I'm glad Jacobs and Supreme let me hire my own cameraman. Some of those guys just have weak stomachs, y'know? How's it goin', Z?"

A simple "Yo" is the only response as the cameraman follows the pair. They lead him into a city park, walking up a grassy hill and stopping just before the top. Delilah motions the cameraman to stand back as they lay down, crawling a bit further up so they can look down at the other people in the park. The cameraman does the same after a moment, getting low and inching forward until he can film them from the side and perhaps get a shot of whatever they're looking at without being too obvious.

"And now, Mish Moneypenneh," Delilah says with a horrendous accent, "let's get to work." Mikey takes off his shades and stares at her for a moment, slowly shaking his head. "Yeah, I know. Worst Connery Ever. Had to be done. No way around it."Chuckling, she opens the guitar case and takes out a small pair of binoculars that she hands to Mikey. Along with that, Delilah pulls on a pair of latex gloves and removes the other object contained within the guitar case. Which is not, in fact, a guitar, but a rifle, every inch of it a flat black. She pulls a small pin out of the butt end, revealing a hidden compartment that she inserts a small silver canister into and puts it back together. Satisfied, Delilah assumes a prone position, watching the people below through the gun's scope.

"Well, we warned them, didn't we? Not our fault Pain and Suffering didn't listen. We told them they went too far and it was time for them to pay. We told them Fate was a fickle b*tch that would leave them to the storm. Pain and Suffering got exactly what was coming to them...pain and suffering. Lots of it. I hope Tommy boy is happy. We are." Delilah heaves a contented sigh and turns her head to grin at the camera."Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy just thinking about it." Grinning himself, Mikey nudges Delilah and points at something down below. Delilah puts her eye back to the scope and looks slightly to the left. "Ohhhh...could it get any more perfect? It's almost enough to make one forget one's troubles, it is." Curious, the cameraman follows her line of sight, pointing the camera down the hill. Children play on a playground in the distance, watched by their respective parents or nannies. Closer still is a woman spreading a blanket out on the grass, a basket sitting on the ground beside her. Delilah chuckles as the woman waves at a man walking a dog that is heading in her direction.

"And by problems, I mean Mister Dandyman and his mystery partner. Gotta say, anyone that's known me for more than ten minutes would say that was a pretty sweet move on someone's part. Me and the proverbial chicken have lots in common, seeing as how we've both been hit by mack trucks because we were wondering just what was going on on the other side of the street. If I didn't have Mikey to distract me, I'd probably go...well...even crazier trying to figure out who this mystery partner is. 'Cause really, with me and Mikey here, it's a seriously serious list. And, at the same time, it could really be anybody. It could be one of Dandyman's old soccer hooligan buddies, or even Bettie Lee. I bet she wouldn't mind going after me with a tazer and a police baton. And not in that way either, so get your minds outta the gutter. Sheesh."

She looks up from the scope and over at Mikey who has lowered the binoculars and is staring off into the distance with a dreamy sort of smile on his face. Delilah pokes him in the ribs and his smile turns a bit apologetic before he raises the binoculars again.

"Maybe for Christmas, if you're lucky. Now, where was I? Oh yeah. As feisty as that little Bettie Lee is, I doubt the fanboys will get that lucky. But the list is still pretty long, I'd imagine. There's probably people hoping for ol' Franky Higgs, or that one dude...the Pain Train guy...he was pretty funny. Couldn't be any of the standbys. Hell, Kip Reeves would probably poop himself if they told him to get in the same ring as me and Mikey. And I bet if they called up PB&J or Lowercase himself they'd just go 'Page who?' and hang up the phone. I doubt ol' SpongeBomb would do it, and everyone else Mikey and I like to annoy is either busy this show or out with an injury or two. Unless they get one of the newbies or dig up a golden oldie from our WpW days..." This time it's Mikey that nudges Delilah, giving her a look that obviously says 'You're forgetting the obvious here'.

"Yeah, but he's supposedly still on the injured list. But we all know how Philly likes to sneak in and ruin everyone's day, so I won't count him out yet. Either way, bravo Dandyman. Bra-freaking-vo. A masterful stroke, if you thought up the mystery partner thing yourself. I'm glad I'll be able to thank you properly now, seeing as how my hands'll no longer be tied by any 'Pure' rules. This time we'll really be able to put on a show, eh? Just be careful, Dandyman m'boy. The cat isn't the only one that satisfaction brought back. It brings me back too. Over and over again until I feel I've gotten it. In your blood. And now, let's get ready to run."

Eye going back to the scope, Delilah takes a deep breath. The camera turns to look at the couple at the bottom of the hill once again. The woman is reclined on the blanket while the man plays tug-of-war with the dog and the leash. Nothing more than a soft 'pop' is heard before the dog yelps and attacks the man. Leaving the gun and the case where they lie, the three at the top of the hill scramble to their feet and take off running. Delilah laughs as she runs, hand in hand with Mikey, the cameraman following behind. "I've always wanted to do that," is the last thing heard over the screaming as the picture fades to black.......

[High Society]

It was the age-old adage of the neophyte and his mentor. I was already a well-established figure on the British independent scene and generally considered one of the most promising talents on the singles roster. Willy Myers was the company promoter, an audacious character who wore garish clothes and big loud jewellery. Rumour had it that before purchasing the promotion Willy had been a permanent fixture on the London underground scene, smuggling drugs and collecting debts. After rising up the ranks of the criminal hierarchical system and making his fortune he decided it was time to invest his money. Although he knew next to nothing about the wrestling industry his shrewd business skills and London connections faired him well and in time the company turned into somewhat of a regional phenomenon.

It was Willy who first introduced me to Vauxhall. He was determined to reinvent the dwindling tag team division and he believed that by providing his star attraction with a partner he would be able to generate some interest and encourage other members of the roster to follow suit.

My first impressions of the new kid weren’t entirely favourable. True, he had plenty of enthusiasm and an encyclopaedic knowledge of the sport – one certainly couldn’t fault him in that respect – but he was incredibly naive. There he stood in a pair of jeans and a white button-up shirt, a look of eagerness etched on his youthful face. He represented everything I hated about the industry. I made a conscious decision then and there. If I was to team with this rookie I would make it my life’s work to corrupt him, to get him to adapt to my way of thinking.

Over the next few months I taught the kid nearly everything I knew and to his credit he was a fast learner. He picked up on things quickly and that made it easy to team with him. With his vast repertoire of wrestling manoeuvres and holds and my natural athleticism and penchant for “bending the rules” we dominated the division for two years. Nevertheless, the kid’s strict code of ethics was a constant thorn in my side. No matter how hard I tried he was unrelenting in his holier than thou attitude and it started to get to me. I couldn’t understand why a kid with so much promise would throw it all away for the sake of his “principles”. However, this wasn’t the only problem. Vauxhall was jealous. He was jealous of my handsome looks, my success with the ladies and my natural charisma. For two years he lived in my shadow fighting desperately to share the limelight. He tried his best to emulate my style, my fashion sense but it just wasn’t working. Eventually he snapped.

Now, we can talk all day about values and principles but ultimately what you have to understand is that in life there are two kinds of people. I hate to generalise, but it’s true. There are the kinds of people that are afraid to take risks. They live by the rules because they don’t like the alternative. These kinds of people wear beige cardigans, live in bungalows and subscribe to Gardeners Weekly. Then there are those that have a burning desire to succeed. These people are willing to take a gamble, to live fast and die young. These people believe that rules are made to be broken. These people drive sports cars, date beautiful women and command respect from every single man and woman on God’s green Earth. I’m quite happy to concede that I am one of the latter. I have taken many risks in my life and although not all have paid off I would not be in the position I am in today (that is one of the most feared and respected athletes in the industry) had I not been willing to gamble, to think outside the box, to tear the envelope. Vauxhall not only wanted to be like me, he actually wanted to be me. He craved the attention and success I received but wasn’t able to take that final step towards greatness. I don’t hate Vauxhall… I pity him. Nevertheless, when Vauxhall turned his back on me, yes believe it or not it was HE who turned his back on me, I couldn’t help but feel disappointed. I’d seen his arrival as an opportunity to mould a young talent. If he’d allowed me to do so I could have turned him into a somebody, instead he was content to travel from company to company rarely staying long enough to collect any accolades or achieve a great deal of success. It saddened me to see such an obvious case of failed potential. A year after leaving the UK in search of pastures new Vauxhall returned to Myers’ company with the intention of teaching me a valuable lesson about the benefits of “fighting fair”. Our rivalry continued and during this period we engaged in several bloody battles that rarely proved conclusive – I’d knock him down and he’d keep coming back for more.

What is the relevance of this story I hear you ask? Well, as I lay sprawled on my back and heard the referee hit the mat for the third and final count last Wednesday I couldn’t help but draw comparisons between myself and the young man I have just described – as much as it pains me to admit it. Seeing Puck’s hand being raised in victory was bad enough but when I thought of him going on to fight Sipes for the title it brought the memories flooding back. I thought to myself how sad it was that after years of preaching to Vauxhall about the merits of playing by your own rules and the importance of taking risks that I had failed to do either in one of the most important matches of my life. There was a time when I’d sacrifice my body during a match if I felt it was absolutely necessary. I’d throw myself about the ring, dive off the ropes, the turnbuckle, anything! I didn’t give a damn just as long as I felt like I’d given one hundred percent. Yes, I was still very much dependent on the ring psychology that I have perfected today but I was a different kind of competitor back then. It’d be easy to dismiss this conservative attitude towards matches today as a matter of growing older but at thirty-two I’m hardly over the hill.

The truth is I am my own worst enemy. When I arrived in RCW I naively thought that I would be able to compete as I had before. I didn’t for one moment consider that the reputation that preceded me would be to my detriment. It seems that during my time here there has been a bull’s-eye on my back. A price on my head. The guys in the back know that a win over Jonathan Page is something to tell the grandkids about. As a result I am subject to the most heinous treatment. My life has become a constant source of worry and neurosis. Well no more. No more am I willing to live in constant fear for my own personal safety. No more shall I be looking over my shoulder. You see I’m done with niceties. If RCW won’t play fair I shall take matters into my own hands. On Wednesday you will meet my insurance policy. Come Wednesday you will meet a monster created by my good self. Come Southern Dynamite you shall meet VAUXHALL!