Roleplay Spotlight
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September 5, 2014
The Smart Mark
Logan Omari is seated in Parson’s office with an ever present scowl on his face.  He has his pants around his ankles and a busty oriental woman is on her knees bobbing her head up and down.  Omari leans his head back and groans irritably.  He starts talking to the woman performing fellatio. “Who the fuck does Riot think he is!?  He needs to wake the fuck up and read the writing on the wall! His days are numbered and after this weekend he’ll match the fucking ridiculous tattoo on his arm.  The broken alarm clock… Riot will be busted, broken and out of time!”
Omari grunts as he blows his load in the woman’s mouth.  She moans and swallows all he has to offer.  She smiles at him as she licks her lip catching a wayward drop of his cum.  He looks down and smirks at her.  He stands and pulls up his pants and buttons them.  Logan reaches into his pocket and takes out a money clip.  He pulls out two hundred dollar bills and hands them to the young woman. 
She leaves the office and Omari sees Parsons leaning against the door frame.  He chuckles as he smacks the woman on the ass.  He speaks to his fellow Bastard.  “When I told you that you needed to loosen up, I had hoped Olivia would be what the doctor ordered.  You didn’t look exactly relaxed there!  You did brick in her mouth, which is as good as it gets for you!”
Logan grins toothily as Parsons continues.  “Why the fuck were you bitching about Riot?  She was blowing you and all you could do was talk about Rob Riot?  He’s gotten inside your fucking head, Omari!”  The Nightmare backhands Omari across the face.  Logan reacts like he’s been struck with cold water.  Stars explode in his head as the metallic taste of blood fills his mouth.  Parsons swings again but Omari catches his wrist.  The Barracuda’s eyes burrow into Parsons’ skull.  “Try that again Parsons and I’ll rip off your arms and use them to cave in your fucking skull!”
Wrestling’s Viagra (Patent Pending) pulls his arm away and chuckles mirthlessly.  “That’s the man I know!  You needed a fucking wakeup call! I gotta get ready for this shindig in a few days! You coming?”
Omari shrugs non-committedly.  “I may be around.”
Parsons snickers and elbows Omari in the arm.  “You might want to  be!  The hot little ginger has been asking about you!  Tell me, you bastard… does the carpet match the drapes?”
Omari perks up a bit and grunts:  “Nahh… she’s smooth as silk! She gonna be around you say!? Tell the little snatch not to make plans. ”
Omari leaves the office and the Smart Mark.  He gets on his motorcycle and roars out of the parking lot.  He gets out on the interstate and starts thinking.  Rob Riot is not invincible, the man is good but he’s not beyond defeat.  The thing that people fear most about the cocksucker is his reputation.  He thinks he’s ten feet tall and bulletproof because everybody else believes he is. 
Riot surrounds himself with idiots who kiss his ass and tell him how good he is.  He has no confidence in himself and needs others around him to prop him up and to feed his fragile ego.  They tell him what he wants to hear… what he NEEDS to hear. Rob Riot is nobody special except to himself, the fucking pothead and his unknown bitch. 
Speaking of the bitch, Omari should see to it that she sleeps with the fish.  He has a huge fucking eel ready to bait her hook!
Omari has seen Riot’s type before, particularly in the underground fighting circuit.    Omari knocked these fuckers out and crushed them beneath his boot heel.  At Octane, Rob Riot will be no different. When Riot is beaten, Omari will expose the paper tiger that his opponent is.  The façade will be revealed and the smoke and mirrors will disappear.  Rob Riot won’t get over this encounter. 
Omari slows to the side of the road and turns off the engine. He steps off the bike and walks to the edge of the road.  He unzips his pants and pisses. Once done, he zips up and a twinge of pain strikes over his left kidney.  He rubs it annoyingly as  he remembers.
July 9, 2008
Ellis Park Indoor Arena
Johannesburg, South Africa
A bloodied and battered Omari left the ring with the South African Professional Wrestling Association’s Heavyweight Championship.  He had hit the sold out arena crowd with a major swerve after a stunning heel turn.  He and the incumbent champion were seemingly the best of friends.  The crowd was clearly divided as the two battled for the promotion’s top title.  The champion’s name, Garth Ekstrom was a Johannesburg native and the promotion’s top babyface.  The man was bordering on national hero status. 
The heat that Omari was generating was like a blast furnace.  The arena was near the point of revolt.  Omari is sneering and arguing with the fans when he feels a white hot pain pierce his side.  He reaches back and feels something wet on his hand.  He looks at it and it’s covered in blood.  He staggers three steps before collapsing.
What he remembers is through haze.  He saw a fan standing there with blood on his hands before being tackled by security.  The bloody knife was lying on the concrete floor.  As EMT’s rushed to help Omari, he saw his blood pooling on the concrete. 
The arena is still a chaotic mess but with the addition of a brutal stabbing the fans spill out and security is helpless to stop them.  The aftermath made national and international news.  There were nine dead and dozens injured.  The promotion closed its doors weeks later as they were unable secure any venues.  Some of the wrestlers left and worse still, most of the sponsors pulled support.
Omari underwent emergency surgery.  The blade missed his kidney by two centimeters. He was in the hospital for two weeks and in recovery for three months. The bastard that stabbed him was released on lack of evidence.  Omari was singlehandedly blamed for setting pro wrestling back in South Africa for ten years and blacklisted by most promoters in Europe. Logan had a change of attitude that didn’t tarnish his love of the sport but it certainly soured it for a while.
Omari is brought back to the here and now with the ringing of his cell phone.  He answers it with a smile on his face. The caller ID displayed “Red”.
“Hey Red!” 
She is crying.  Logan’s hackles go up.  “What is it?  What’s wrong?”
I’m sorry Logan… I tried to stop him… I tried to fight back!”
Logan grips the phone tightly and says between gritted teeth.  “What the fuck do you mean?!”
She continues sobbing into the phone:  “I’ve been raped…”
Omari’s blood turns to ice.  He starts breathing heavy and raggedly. “Who?”
She continues to sob.  Omari bellows: “WHO!?!?”
She catches her breath and speaks clearly for the first time on the phone call. “It was Rob Riot…”
Omari is stunned.  He tells her:  “You stay put!” He throws his cellphone on the road, smashing it to bits.  He fires up his ride and peels back towards Atlanta. He bursts through a wall of black smoke.
Back in Atlanta, Red looks at Parsons uncertainly. “I don’t know about this Chris…” Parsons looks at her, waving off her concerns… “Don’t worry about it sugartits!  Omari just needs some extra motivation for this weekend.