Warrior's Code (Extreme rp 1)

[Strife]

_Strife_

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PM Subscribe Thread Rank：Rookie Score：11 Posts：9 From：USA  Register：06-10-2010 12:20 PM IP：76.98.51.239

Date Posted：06-22-2010 3:10 AMCopy HTML   Extreme.  June 27th, 2010, will be the mark.  It will be the day.  The North American TV return of The Warrior. After years of wandering, after years of letting the wind in the mid west cut through his face, the blistering heat of the Mexican sun burn his skin, the cold Canadian country side in the dead of winter numb his toes, and molding to the morals and values of the land of the rising sun, Strife ends his nomadic journeys, and presses onward.  He moves onto a new chapter.  The SEF.  5 am.  Strife's cell phone alarm cracks the quiet air.  He sits out of his cheap hotel room bed, and reaches over, grabbing his phone.  He clicks a button on the side, and places it back down.  He observes his room.  A modest room rental from a place who's best advertising quality was cable TV. He tossed the sheet off his legs, wearing only a black pair of shorts.  Cracking his neck, he suddenly rolled off the bed, and landed on the floor stomach down on his hands.  He then began pumping out a series of one handed push ups, alternating hands.  After a long stretch of standard push-ups, he began lifting his legs into the air, executing a hand stand, and returned to his routine.  The world around him faded when he was in this mood.  And that mood was that of self perfection.  Never stop fighting, never stop pushing yourself.  He would never achieve his goal, however, as once you reach that state of perfection, once you reach that peak, the fight is over.  The only place to go, is to fall down.  He had fallen too many times, and his was content with all the climbing back up he had ahead of him.  With the push-up session over, he slowly brought his feet back to the ground.  He stood back up, and exhaled.  Walking over to his window, he peaked out at Philadelphia.  He hated cities.  Too cramped, too tight.  No breathing space.  No peace.  Of all areas in America, he hated the North East Coast the most of all.  Looking out into the streets, he gazed out into the horizon, surveying his surroundings.  He had a long week ahead of him.  Leaving the hotel room in a black tank top and shorts, he stepped out into the thick, humid air of the city.  "Fucking disgusting" He said to himself.  As he made his way down the street, his eyes darted in all directions, maintaining a constant view of all around him.  The area of Philly he chose to shack up in was less than desirable.  As we walked,  a woman not too far from him suddenly had her purse snatched from under her arm.  She shouted, but the thief simply kept running.  Which was his first mistake.  Without breaking his walk, Strife kneed the running criminal in the stomach as he went to pass by him.  The scumbag dropped like a bag of weights, clutching his abdomen, struggling to regain the wind that had been knocked from him.  Strife bent down, grasped the purse, and tossed it to the gracious woman.  "Hold on to it tighter next time..." He said with a half smile, and then continued walking. Strife finally came across something that brought him to a halt.  He peered down an alley way with a fire escape ladder leading the a rooftop of an apartment building.  "Hope their connected properly..." He said as he made his way to the ladder. Up on the roof, Strife was preforming leg stretches, hopping up and down, and breathing in a controlled fashion.  Gazing out onto the horizon of rooftops, he smiled.  He was going to enjoy this.  Like a flash he took off towards the edge of the rooftop, not slowing down at all.  He reached the edge, and jumped.  He landed with a thud on the adjacent roof, tucking rolling into a run after landing.  He hopped over any obstacle in his path, steam vents, electrical boxes, pipes, you name it.  His speed was remarkable, cutting the air as he jumped from roof to roof, not once slowing down.  He didnt know where he was, nor did he care, his only concern were the jumps.  Rooftop, after rooftop, after rooftop, he dashed through the sky line of the closely connected apartment buildings.  Landing rolling, running, repeating.  His run finally came to an end.  The sun was rising. His final landing, was followed by another tuck and roll.  He brought himself to a stop, and set himself in a kneeling position.  His breathing was heavy, sweat dripping off his brow.  He took a deep breath, taking in the new morning air.  "New day...new battle." He stood up, stretching his arms and legs.  He walked to the edge of the roof and glared at the sky, the sunrise was beautiful. "I used to do this in Tokyo.  It was more fun at night, after sunset.  Tokyo kind of looks like Times Square on steroids.  Free running is great for the body..great for the mind.  Keeps you in shape..and always keeps your mind on where you are and what your next pivotal move will be.  I've almost fallen to my death a few times, and I have the scars on my body to prove it.  See, I bring that up..because I pose a question to my opponent at Extreme.  Tell me...Where's your mind at?  Are you prepared..physically and mentally, to step in the ring with someone who will not only give you the fight of your short life, but step in the ring with someone who not only lives and breathes for this industry more than anyone else in this company.  See, Riot' O Bannon....god thats a ridiculous name....You and I don't know each other from a hole in the wall, so I won't insult your intelligence by thinking that I do, and don't dare insult mine by doing the same.  All I know about you, is that by Extreme I'm gonna be looking across the ring at you, and quite frankly....You don't wanna be that guy O' Bannon.  Strife turns from his view of the rooftops, and places a hand on his hip.  He rubs his hair from his face, and brushes it back behind his ears.  He looks into the camera with a serious as a  heart attack look.  "Riot...I am not here for some run of the mill exhibition match.  This is not a generic Tv match for me!  This is the stage for my come back, and like it or not, your the unfortunate stepping stone that is sitting in the water for me to move on.  See Riot, I'm fighting for something more important than fame, or money, or championship dreams.  I'm fighting because its what I'm made to do.  I'm fighting for myself.  I'm fighting because at every turn, every punch I throw and every kick I land, I evolve.  I'm fighting for Honor.  I'm fighting for my Code.  I'm fighting because its what I am best at on this planet.  I'm promising you this Riot...You have never, and Never will face someone like me.  I am the living embodiment of war.  I eat, sleep, breath, and ponder my next fight day in and day out.  I don't tie myself up with the hustle and bustle of life.  I'm not tied down by a woman anymore...that burden seems to be placed heavily on you though.  Tell me, how do you function with your mind so cluttered with non essential crap?  Are you gonna be clear of mind at Extreme? Strife smiles and almost chuckles. "I hope you are...or else your in for a sorry ass evening.  Cause I'm a little annxious to lariat someone's head up, and SEF management thought it good to offer up yours.  Be ready, O Bannon.  Be ready to fight the ghost....be ready to fight SEF's only true Warrior." Strife turns once more towards the sky.  The sun has risen.  A new day has started.  Dawn. A new era has begun.