The Test Monkey The Test Monkey Draco's RP
The Test Monkey
NLW Roleplays #663
Date: 10/31/2009
Intended Show: Halloween Uprising

Ah, NLW.
[deep breath]

Oh god!

[hack, cough]

Goddamn! Did this place die without me? Smells like a
goddamn rotting corpse around here!

I knew it was home to cripples, has-beens, and never-will-
bes. Hell, that lovely Commissioner of theirs fits all three
categories. How's the neck, Will? want me to superkick it
for you? Throwing your rotting whale carcass down and this
place will always be this pungent.

Aside from the smell what is the best way to describe NLW?
The minor league? The place where the old go to die and the
young try to learn skills? Nah, too easy. I think the best
way to describe this place is a prison bus full of hobos,
then getting a deranged Santa Claus to drive it.

Nothing good to say about this place, I know. I never did
listen to my mother when she said, “If you can’t saying
anything nice, then shut your mouth!”

Why did I come back? Why did I take Sacky Boy’s invite?
Easily, I already know his plan. Even better than that I
know all the plans he wanted to use. Sacky Boy is a one-
dimensional fucktard that is easy to read as a book. Well, a
poorly drawn book by an eight year old…in crayon. He has a
few issues.

The first idea was an idea to put the hurting on. Draco vs.
Everyone. Ooooh, good one. No way in hell I could win that.
NLW has what…ten people?…even so, I can’t do that. Oh wait,
this is a special event. Only one match? Hmmm, sales tank.
Sacky Boy cries into his pillow. I eat through a tube. Lose-
lose. Not good.

The second I can envision that self-centered pile of shit
wanted to face me himself. Think about it Jack “Sacky Boy”
Sullivan vs. Draco. We all know he would put his name first.
He is that type of guy. Then it dawns on him what has
happened lately. I’ve been out breaking heads, winning
titles, and climbing the ranks. Ranks that Sacky Boy never
climbed. Beating the people he has on his standout pages.
Yeah, that is a lose-win situation. He can easily write that
one off as him laying in a hospital bed wouldn’t be a dream
vacation.

Then Sacky Boy digs deep into that walnut sized brain of his
to come up with a brilliant plan. It would be an amazing
dream match. It would be Draco vs. Pheonix. No wait, that
would be a wash. A cripple vs. a champion. Gimps are bad for
business. Yeah, the booking possibility is amazing. No,
Sacky Boy wanted me to suffer, to be divided. Why not book
me against an old tag partner right?

And Bingo was his name-o. Ok, I never tagged with a guy
named bingo, but the options are limited. Casanova? Not
likely. He does fit the Halloween theme, but Sacky Boy
wouldn’t want both of us against him. That would be too much
for him to handle.

Shane Donovan? Nah, he is under contract elsewhere. Plus, he
doesn’t have enough draw in NLW to cause Sacky Boy to get
all excited like he would about the rest.

Hmmm, that leaves…Angel. A solid contender. Great champion.
Hell, when he comes to insults, he is probably almost as
good as me. Well, maybe not, but damn good. I think I have
just struck some gold.

Then again you will be amazed at what you find on the
internet, Sacky Boy. Even a Legends of the Hidden Temple
match. Interesting. Not as interesting as the pictures of
your women still kicking around…quite the rack.

Draco vs. Angel. Halloween themed match up. Hell, two people
that aren’t involved in NLW are going to be putting on a
better show than the roster has seen through the…first?…
second?…third?…incarnation of this place.

So how you been, Angel? Still slumming down in OWF? Yeah, I
thought as much. I’ve been waiting for this match for a long
time. You were my partner, you were supposed to have my
back, and then you dropped the ball. Hell, you dropped it so
often that I thought you were dribbling the damn ball!

This match is going to be just a small bit of revenge. Since
dumping you and that shit hold of a federation I have
excelled. Since then I have captured four titles and only
lost two of them. Yeah, I know. You don’t care. I am still
the same cocky arrogant bastard.

The same cocky arrogant bastard who managed to beat you
before.

Yup, same guy. I just checked.

Since then have you improved? Have you gotten better? I
would wager dimes to dollars that you haven’t even stayed
the same. You better that fire that used to burn inside you.
I don’t care if you find it in the bottom of bottle, a
powdery line, a prostitute’s--

[shudder]

Well, you get the idea.

Find that fire. Fuel it with all the jealousy, rage,
depression, insecurities. Hell, pretend you are Plague for
all I care. When that bell sounds off, you better be in your
prime. You better be the goddamn beast that I saw when I
first started in OWF.

I want you at your absolute maximum. I don’t want a watered
down version. I want ever goddamn ounce of strength you had.
I want every attack to be your absolute best.

Why?

So I drill you for the three count you know, I know…everyone
will know the score.

Trick or Treat, Angel.

--------------------------

[New York City, the Big Apple, the City that Never Sleeps.
It was a place that lived up to, and exceeded, each and
every nickname it was given. Even in the early hours of the
morning before the sun had a chance to rise, there was still
the hurried nature of a the city. People were working their
graveyard shifts, partying for just a little bit longer, or
trying to travel streets in hope of finding some sort of
answer.]
[A high-rise apartment in Manhattan was nothing special. It
seemed they dotted the sky more often than the white clouds
during summer. There was one particular. There was something
odd about it. It seemed to beckon attention. Something about
it. There was nothing special. There were a few lights on,
but it was a carbon copy of all the rest.]

[Near the top of the building was the answer. Two apartments
had their lights on. Not next to each other. Not even on the
same side of the building. No, they were almost as far as
they could get from one another, but they were drawn to each
other.]

[flip flip]

[The sound of paper rustling came from the bedroom of one of
the apartments. There was music coming from the room. Very
soft sounding music in the background. The bedroom was the
only room in the apartment that had a light on. There was an
attractive young lady laying on top of the covers with a
small leather bound journal in her lap.]

[The big brown eyes of the woman never left the pages of the
journal. Her delicate fingers flipped through the pages
looking for a spot where she could write. Her naturally
puffed lips were wrapped around the pen as her pearly whites
gnawed lightly on the pen cap.]

[This woman was none other than Hope Finwood. She may be
hard to recognize as she is not wearing a leather or spandex
outfit. She lacked the spiked collar, a ball gag, or
anything that her public image from her past with the
Alternative Life would be seen with. Of course, her life was
much different now. She preformed the same deeds, but now
she did them privately.]

[Hope had found her page and pressed her pen against the
paper.]

It's 4:03 and I can't sleep
Without you next to me I
Toss and turn like the sea
If I drown tonight, bring me
Back to life
Breathe your breath in m--

[Hope’s hand quickly turned the small radio alarm clock off.
She shook her head as the lyrics of the song made her think
of a certain someone. Her husband? No, not her husband. Her
boyfriend? Sadly, Hope did not have a boyfriend either.
Girlfriend? Although, Hope had been known to experiment, she
was single. She was far too busy with her growing
appointment list and getting her business degree through an
internet college.]

Yeah…busy.

[The pen skittered across the page of her journal. There was
no writing involved, there was nothing, but drawing. It was
a face. The face of a man. It was a soft face. A genuine
smile. The man looked happy.]

[It was odd seeing this man like this. He had made his name
known as being the opposite of this drawing. He was a
hardened champion that couldn’t show weakness. Yet Hope was
his biggest weakness.]

[Ryan]

[Hope scribbled the man’s name underneath the quick sketch.
It was then that everything came together. It was Ryan
“Draco” Hand. He was known as a wrestler. Hope shook her
head and began to write on a new page. Her eyes were
drifting to dark outline left on the back of the previous
page. It was his eyes. It was so long since she saw them
that soft.]

That damn Shinedown song. I should be able to sleep. I have
a test I should be studying for in Business Ethics, but I
haven’t been able to sleep since yesterday.

[That was the last time that Draco and Hope saw one another.
Hope was helping Draco out the best way she could; cook for
him and make him feel like he had a genuine friend.]

[There was something wrong with Draco. He was edgy, fidgety,
and looked ready to run at the slightest noise. This wasn’t
like him. Hope knew that. She wrangled the truth out of him.
He was scared. Not for himself. He was scared that the
Alternative Life were starting to rear their ugly head
again. This time they were going after his loved ones;
family and friends. Friends category only had Hope.]

Nothing was going to happen to me. Zimdela has left me under
his radar. No one in the AL would come after me. That is
disobeying a direct order from Zimdela. Ryan’s family…
they’ve already been effected. Ryan…is going to drive to
hell if he has to for them.

[Hope made Draco promise her that he would come back.
Promise that there wouldn’t be a funeral to go to. Hope was
a strong woman, but she couldn’t stand that.]

[She pushed those ideas from her head. There was no point
thinking of it since it wasn’t going to happen. She was
going to think of the better times. All the times that she
couldn’t stop laughing at Draco. The times that made their
relationship so unique and strong.]

I still remember all the times we would fight. I still laugh
at how they always ended the same way. One of us would just
start laughing. It was over the littlest thing. Once Ryan
tripped up the stairs as he was trying to stomp. I even
burped in the middle of a rant. There was always something
that kept us from fighting for too long. That is why we
lasted so long. We were an odd relationship.

…were.

[Each of them still carried a flame for the other. That was
something they both accepted, but the realization that
followed was a bitter one. The years they spent with one
another was for naught. They would never be able to get back
together.]

Odd…but gratifying. I never felt used like I did in the
Alternative Life. I wasn’t just respected because of my
power. That idiot loved me more than he loved his career…or
even his life.

Always comes back to mistakes. We both made plenty. More
than plenty.

[Hope closed her journal gently. She wouldn’t finish the
entry tonight. There were too many emotions starting to stir
up inside of her. Draco could bring these emotions out. It
wasn’t a bad thing, but she could not allow herself to be a
wishful little girl. No, it would only end like it had last
time.]

Mistakes.

[Hope just kept her journal on her lap. The pen cap was
getting chewed as she turned the radio function on the alarm
clock back on. It was a different song, but Hope still heard
those lyrics loud and clear.]

It’s 4:03 and I can't sleep
Without you next to me I
Toss and turn like the sea
If I drown tonight, bring me
Back to life
Breathe your breath in me
The only thing that I still believe
In is you, if you only knew

If you only knew
How many times I counted
All the words that won’t wrong
If you only knew
How I refuse to let you go,
Even when you're gone
I don't regret any days I
Spent, nights we shared,
Or letters that I sent

Fucking song.

[The light on the opposite side of the building drew the
attention as well. There was a small light on inside that
bedroom in this apartment as well. There was a man laying
under the covers in bed. The covers were down at his waist,
covering his lower half.]

[The man should be sleeping. He had a busy day of traveling
scheduled for the next few days, but there was an encounter
that kept replaying in his memory. The way she looked. The
fear in her eyes that she would lose him for good. The way
his heart beat faster when she grabbed his skin. The way her
perfume seemed to intoxicate him.]

[The memory was so sweet.]

[But reality was a bitter pill to swallow.]

[His eyes were looking down at his chest. The skin was
decorated with various scars. Each one told a story of a
battle or of a downfall. Each one catalogued in this man’s
memory. There were six that marked him much deeper than the
wounds would suggest. These scars were something that were
bored deep into his mind. Six sickly, thinly pale letters
were on his chest.]

[no hope]

[These scars easily identified this man as Draco. His hand
traced the letters that he had to forever carry on his
chest. The letters that were made by the woman that he still
yearned for. She may not have any hope, but ironically Draco
still did. He never gave up on her.]

[The lyrics of the song rang out in Draco’s mind. The song
reminded him of better times, times when the relationship
was good, and then the times when it went far south. He felt
the burning pain on his chest from the scars. Yet, he still
believed that something good would come from it. It was the
one thing he held on to in life.]

[Draco kept his eyes focused on his chest as the song
continued to play. Soon, his eyes were drifting upward. He
looked up at the wall. There was nothing there, but he could
sense Hope through all those walls. She was sleeping
peacefully. She was dreaming about owning her own business.
He smiled a bit as he spoke softly to himself.]

It’s 4:03 and I can’t sleep…without you next to me.


[Two people that shared a rich and interesting path were
only separated by a few dozen yards. There was no chasms
separating them from one another.]

[There might of well had been. Draco was never willing to
give up Hope…figuratively and literally. Hope could not
rationally see a solution where they could be together and
happy. She had given up hope for a fairy tale ending with
this man.]

[But they had the night.]

[But they had the song.]

[They had 4:03]



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