AnnieEclectic

She looked at her mirror image. But it wasn't a mirror, it was her twin. Her sister. Supposedly identical but at this moment they were in different worlds. The sister known as Allison Onita sat in the sterile waiting room on the east wall, flipping through a People Magazine, reading about celebrities, the latest movies coming out... trivial nonsense. The sister known as Ann Onita sat at the west wall of the sterile waiting room, deciding to look back down at her Sporting News magazine. Competition, pure and simple, and the speculation of was all she ever needed to read. But she wasn't reading. Her built-in paranoia wasn't letting her relax. People would often stop the twins on the streets of Yokohama, politely asking about how it felt to be walking and skipping with someone exactly like you. The two young girls would be subject to rhetorical questions, asked to no one and not expecting answers from the targets. Do they do anything separatly? Can they hear what each other is thinking? How eerie, wouldn't it just creep you out to have to wake up with someone that looked exactly like you? It didn't used to be eerie for Ann Onita. She used to think that she knew what Allison is thinking. But she's sure that right now, they've never been more separate. "Why are we here?" asked Ann, pretending to be reading an article about the NFL Draft, "There's nothing wrong with me." "You may think there's nothing wrong," starts Allison, "But it's been obvious since your match with Insane Luchadore. You've been taking a lot of damage, especially to the head. I want to make sure that you're fine." Or sneak behind my back and tell Tom just how hurt I really am... thought Ann. Silence permeated the waiting room. Why? Why is she going away from me? Doesn't she know that she's all I have left? No friends... no lovers... no other family... She killed that thought immediatly. She couldn't remember the circumstances of her parent's deaths right now. "...Miss Onita?" Both sisters looked up as the nurse looked at both women in a confused manner. "Ann Onita?" she asked. Ann sighed, "That's me," she said as she put down her magazine and walked with the nurse towards the doctor's office. She didn't have to be here. She knew what was wrong. You don't thrive in the hardcore division without recognizing the signs. Headaches, dizzyness, nausea and sleep troubles all added up to one thing: a concussion. She sat down on the wax paper and let the doctor stare into her eyes, flashing lights and tapping parts of her head. She could probably have given herself the examination and come up with the same conclusion. "Well Ann, I won't sugarcoat it, you have a low-grade concussion," said Dr. Bloomer, "You should rest up for three to four days, take it easy... I wouldn't do any heavy exercise until Monday at least." "I know, doc. I know," said Ann, taking her belongings and walking out of the office. The nurses put away her file in the office as she walked by, opening the door and walking past her sister who was talking on her cell phone. "Ann? You okay? What was the diagnosis?" she asked, trying to get Ann to stop and turn to her. Ichiban just kept on walking. "You know damn fucking well what the diagnosis is. Go ahead and tell him, I know he's on the other end," said Ann. Ann slammed the door to the practice closed behind her, walking towards her Miata in the parking lot. Inside the building, Allison kept the phone to her ear but didn't say a word. "What was that?" asked the voice on the other side. "Uh, nothing... I don't think I can say anything right now. Look, I'll talk to you later," she said as she hastily folded the phone back up and threw it in her purse. Shit... she thought, how did she know? END

...is that. That's a fascinating part of the angle that hasn't been brought up until now, and adds a bit more of a jagged edge to everything. I think you should do a little more with this and explore Ann's mindset on the fact without her sister, there really is no-one else. The lone wolf is the lonely wolf, but this is one that's been surrounded by people almost her entire career. -Z whoa... good point. I hadn't thought of that actually, as I'm really trying to hammer in the paranoia taking hold in Ann's brain. She's a paranoid scared girl, folks, just remember that. Plus I couldn't think of another way to bring the concussion into play, the real reason for this promo -Annie

Damn Z. I can't wait for this. Hopefully we finally see the end of an angle a year and a half in the making. the SWF: We don't forget shit. -Annie

damn... could I pull a 2001 Pedro and go 22-1? -Annie

Two wins, 3.41 ERA.. 8 2/3 shutout innings my first start? -Annie

holy jesus fucking christ, Z. Those poor eight bastards are going to explode. I'm going to have fun reading the bloody leftovers Meanwhile... my own match. It's go time, uh, again. -Annie

*applaudes* that's beautiful Z, can't wait to see what happens in the non-Tom/Ann bits included in here -Annie

Actually, I'm an Indy fan, not a Charger fan, I just happen to dig the Manning brothers in the terms of football. Hell, let the Giants trade up and take Manning, just let him go first. -Annie

I'd like to see the Chargers take Eli, if only because then if Boston pans out you have Colts West. I'd love to see a Manning/Manning AFC championship someday. Hey, where are all y'all getting those neat little flags, since I'm about to get flamed to death for my sig... -Annie

I'm guessing Mr. Rant randomly searches google for "Seattle" and "Lesbians" and found this thread -Annie p.s. Harley, how the hell are you? Ever think of coming back to the SWF?

Seattle = huge lesbian community. Perfect! I expect lots of sports groupies to hound me if we do well in my first year! -Annie

First Name: Ann Last Name: Onita Nickname: Ichiban Number: 1 Origin: Tokyo, Japan Birth date: 3-30-83 Age to start: 21 Height: 5' 10" Weight: 175 Bats: Left Throws: Right Position: Starting Pitcher **** The Pitchers' Template: Should only be filled out if you chose to be a Starting Pitcher, Reliever, or Closer. You have 9 points to allocate among the below categories. (Note: All categories start out as 5 or "C", and all talent ratings start out as average; talent categories are mostly for 18-year-olds, talent dictates how your player will evolve in the certain category.) Duration 1 Holding Runners 1 Avoiding hits talent - 1 Avoiding homeruns vs. Left-handed hitters 1 vs. Right-handed hitters 1 Getting strikeouts vs. Left-handed hitters 1 vs. Right-handed hitters 1 Velocity -- 2 *** All pitchers are allowed 2-4 pitches (pitches do not cost any points, just pick 2-4) Fastball Changeup Curveball Sinker -Annie

April 7th, 2004. 1:06 PM "Next." The slighty greasy long hair is becoming scattered from his ponytail. Could this day get any worse. Nothing like slinging overpriced caffienated crap to the masses... "Yeeeeees... Scott," says the next woman in line, "Could I have a medium Mocha Frappy?" He sighs. "Ma'am," starts Scott, "We don't have 'medium'. Would you like a Grande Mocha Frappe?" "Oh, oh yes of course," stammers the woman, turned off by the curt response of the clerk. "GRANDE MOCHA FRAPPE, BRIAN!" screams the clerk, "Brian will have your drink soon, that will be four ninety five." The woman pays for her drink and shuffles off to the side, nervously waiting for her drink. Idiots, Scott thinks, I swear just once I'd like to meet an intelligent, smart person in this line. A hot female one at that. A hot female japanese one at that... Scott chuckles as he finishes putting away the woman's money. Looking up he sees just what he described. Twice over. And for my next trick, he thinks, My next customer will be a talking, neverending pile of cash. "Two grande caramel macchiatos, whipped cream, caramel under and over," said the one on the right. Her voice seemed hoarse... a smoker? He did smell a faint whisp of... cigar smoke? Her twin on the left chimed in. "And please, could you put those heat sleeves on them?" she asked, her voice much clearer, "Last place we went to nearly caused third degree burns on my hands. Can't have anything like that happen to my current girlfriend you know." The horrible joke caused the 'smoking' twin to hand her head in shame, the 'clear' twin just laughed uproariously. "Don't mind me," she said, "I just love torturing my sister. But we will take those heat sleeves, please." "Sure," said Scott, liking his current customers, "BRIAN! TWO GRANDE CAR-MACCHIATOS. CREAM-OVER-UNDER! That'll be nine eighty four." The clear twin paid the fee. They chatted small talk as they waited for Brian to finish the drinks. Finally done, the three parted ways, the twins trying to keep their hands cool, and the clerk trying to keep the idea of a twin-threeway out of his head. "Heh, he liked you Alli," said Ann Onita, better known as Ichiban, "I'm surprised you didn't lead him on or something. Could've gotten free drinks..." "Please Ann, like either of us need to get free things at this point," said Allison Onita, "Don't you think Stevens signed us up to nice contracts?" "True," said Ann, waiting to drop her bombshell insult, "But at least that guy would be better for you than Tom-fucking-Flesher." Allison choked on her drink. "Ann," said Allison sternly, "You know damn well which side of that fence I'm on. Who stole who's girlfriend when she returned?" Ann blushed slightly, realizing she just lost that round. "Exactly, look I wasn't around to see what the hell happened between you two, but it seems like Tom's changed. The fans like him, the announcers like him, the guys all think he's matured backstage... why are you holding this grudge?" asks Allison. Ann remains silent as both women sit down. Seconds pass, both women waiting for the other to break the silence. Realizing her sister is simply staring her down until she breaks, Ann decides to start off... "A lot happened between us, you're right," starts Ann "And you weren't around for it but.... damn sis! Calling my beloved Hardcore title a 'tin belt', disrespecting me from day one in the Magnificent Seven, The fact that he's always beaten me, and not to mention that he's the reason..." Mysteriously Ichiban trails off, leaving her sister leaning forward in her seat, waiting for the end. An end that doesn't come. A minute passes, and Allison is starting to feel her back twinge for staying in the awkward position. "...AND?" asks Allison. Sighing, Ann knows better than to hope her sister would let it go at that. "And..." says Ann, "He's the reason... that... *sigh* that Chris broke up with me alright?" Allison's eyes widen just a bit at this statement. "You mean Chris as in... Christine?" asks Allison. Ann sighs again. "No. Chris as in... Christopher. Christopher Wilson... look I don't need to explain myself to you but as it was... I was curious and he was nice to me at a time when shit was falling apart everywhere. You had just gone into the hospital, X Force Nine was giving me the shaft, and Chris was there." Allison sits in silence, simply listening to this new part of Ann's past she hadn't heard before. "Sure, he was a manipulative evil fuck, and we were horrible as a couple," says Ann silently, "But it should have ended on our own terms. But no, Tom powerplays himself into the lead job at the Magnificent Seven after Chris retires and no word from him ever again. I never got to break it clean, and I blame Tom. That was the first strike against Flesher, but it wasn't the last by a long shot so if you think I'm being petty just think again, woman!" Disregarding the pain, Ann takes a giant gulp of her steaming hot drink and sits in brooding silence. Allison shifts uncomfortably in her chair and takes a sip from her own coffee. "Well," says Allison, "I guess... this is a bad time to show you this then." Allison take a piece of paper out of her purse and hands it to her sister. Curious but still angry, Ann unfolds it, immediatly noticing the official logo of the SWF at the top of the sheet. The next card. Scanning down she finds her name... paired with Tom Flesher's. In a tag match. As a team. No... she thinks. "Look, sis," says Allison, "No matter what happened in the past, Everyone but you realizes that Flesher is a good guy now. You can't argue that fact. Now get ready 'cause if you're going to win you're going to have to be a team. And I'm going to help if it kills me!" Standing up, Allison finds her own sudden anger surprising, deciding to hit the magazine rack and find the latest Linux Journal Magazine to help pass the awkward moments to come. What the fuck, thinks Allison, grabbing the magazine from the shelf, along with an issue of 2600, Tom seems like a good enough guy... Why can't Ann just let go of the past? At the table, Ann sits and spews the metaphorical smoke from her ears. She just doesn't get it thinks Ann, Tom, regardless of allegiance, is just in it for himself. And whatever you're thinking sis, you're just getting sucked into whatever trap that ass has set for me... FIN.

This makes me chuckle, two of the most self-depreciating writers we have... Guys, you're here because you can write well enough to turn out 3k-6k worth of wrestling. It means you belong here. Too bad very very well booked card, and I sort of feel bad for Alan Clark this round. Poor boy. Tom, later we should IM and work out what we should do for this. cool card all around, great setup action for the PPV -Annie

I love you IL, but I had to whoop on ya tonight. Hope you don't mind. At least I let you withstand my nasty submission for like, what 8 minutes or so before you tapped? masochistic bastard... The new commish eh? New contract eh? Zed not happy eh? hmmm.... -Annie

proper way to fight Blanka: Hadoken (slow-mid-slow-fast pattern) until Blanka dizzies or uses an upward roll to dodge. Dizzy - jump in deep strong punch, crouching jab, fierce Dragon Punch. Leap back restart pattern Upward roll - walk forward until under Blanka, jab Dragon Punch, leap back restart pattern. See? Easy when you know how. Go to work, Flik. -Annie

*applaudes* bravo my man! -Annie

I need to start following this advice... now. That being said, Tom's match was excellent, and I marked for the Unprettier (twice!) and the Millenium suplex. I want to be that good at commentary, dammit Hopefully time allows me to come up with more comments later -Annie

thank you all, and oddly enough I may spend part of my 1st day of my 22nd year... writing Isn't this the big b-day rush, I think we have around 8-10 people fedwise in the last half of march... happy belateds to the people I missed, especially GSMS and Judge! -Annie

I vote 12 and if you do a woman I swear I'll kill you, in and out of the ring -Annie

awwwwwwwwwww YEAH I need to beat Tom. Really. I really need a legit win on him. Here we go. -Annie

I notice there's no King (KoF) right here. Boo. Hiss. Fuckers. that said, Iori over Sagat, easily. I own a Neo Geo. You know how it is. -Annie

I expect to see more head dropping in the MXC match than in the entire last decade of AJPW. expect -Annie

MVS and I are trying to get some stuff through the Dew U promotion. Want to help out? Drink dew and PM us the codes, probably best to do many at a time. Mike's after some Dew gear, while I'm after the XBOX. Put clothes on Mike's back and get Annie an XBOX so that Thoth can school her online. You know you want to. YOU KNOW you want to. Thoth, I'm looking at you. Oh yeah - PM Chuck Woolery to help MVS. And PM me for... me. -Annie

Got a match you think is horrendous? Bring it on down to this thread! This is a "From the Vault" almost, only with the worst we've ever done. And to show just what I mean, let me drag up what is, quite possibly, the worst match I've ever written. It's a scant 1.5k. I don't know if Strangler ever saw this, but if he didn't he can now. Be Amazed. Be Confused. It's Mosh Mosh Revolution. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Fade into "Grand Slam" Mark Stevens and Bobby Riley sitting at the announcer's table, ready to call the next match... Stevens: Whoa... we're on? Uh, alright, we're back on SmarkDown here at the RBA... Riley: RBC Stevens: Thanks, RBC Arena in Raleigh, and sorry, but we weren't ready to go on but apparently there have been some rule changes in the next match, which was -scheduled- to be Mak Francis vs. Annie Eclectic... let's see what happened backstage earlier tonight... ************************************** -earlier tonight- Ben Hardy is standing between both Eclectic and Francis, microphone in hand as both wrestlers eye each other... Annie: Mak, look, right now there's an upheaval... dissent in the group.... so instead of duking it out, fighting and making things look worse, why don't we settle this with a battle of skills. Mak: Battle of Skill? HAH! I am the FRANCHISE. I'm the best at any and every thing possible. Name your challenge. Annie: *smirking* Fine. Meet me in the ring and get a partner. You'll need one. Mak: Partner? I can beat you singlehandedly. Annie: Alllllllright then... I warned you... fade ************************************* Stevens: And we've just gotten word that the battle tonight will be one of.... oh you're joking. Riley: What? What is it? Stevens: ...Mosh Mosh Revolution. Riley: WHAT??? Funyon rises to his feet as Mak Francis makes his way to the ring, knee and elbow pads covering his joints. He fastens then re-fastens his helmet and struts to the ring with "Down With The Sickness" playing in the background. He rolls into the ring as lights illuminate it... casting attention to the giant harnessed arcade machine towering high above The Franchise. Funyon: This is a Mosh Mosh Revolution Tag Challenge, set for one... fall? Introducing first, from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.... "The Franchise" ..Mak.... FRANCIS!!! Stevens: I have that weird feeling in my belly... Riley: Yeah.... me too. Do me a favor, if we both see Bear driving ANYTHING... we kill him, got it? Stevens: Agreed. "It's All About The Pentiums" BLASTS out of the PA system inside the arena. Out walks an... odd sight... an Asian woman walking to the ring, electronical bits and pieces attached to her body everywhere. A spy eyepiece is permanently attached to her head, covering her right eye. Behind her a HUGE man broods, wearing a suit that looks about ready to self destruct rather than try to contain the flesh it holds. He has half-moon spectacles on the bridge of his nose and carries a thick encyclopaedia with him. Both walk with purpose to the ring... Funyon: And his opponenets... first... hailing from the ARPAnet... weighing in at 3,098,451,783,432,189,934,023,118,042 microns, the Mistress of Code... the GNU Guardian... the Linux Goddess herself.... OPEN SOURCE! And her partner, from the Boston Library in Boston, Massachusetts, weighing in at three hundred fifteen pounds, he is.... THE BOSTOOOOOOOOOON LIBRAAARIAAAAN!!!! Together they are: The Information Superhighway!!! Stevens: Oh god. Riley: You know, I could spear my eyeballs with this spork, but the sight will never leave my mind. Information Superhighway enter the ring and smirk at their opponent, who himself is crying from laughter. Open Source calls for a microphone OS: Mak. Where. Is. Your. Partner. Mak just goggles at the two before him, watching in confusion as The Boston Librarian takes the microphone. Librarian: Sir, this challenge requires a team effort. By the rules you cannot do this alone. Do you have a partner, sir? Mak dumbly shakes his head 'no'. Librarian: We were afraid you might neglect this aspect of the challenge. Therefore we have found a suitable partner to help you in this small challenge of skills. My erstwhile partner assembled him only an hour ago. Stevens: I don't know what to say. Riley: ... The crowd sits on the edge of their seats waiting for the identity of Mak's partner to be revealed. Librarian puts the microphone in front of OS's mouth... OS: Android. Thoth. The sellout crowd at Raliegh screams a combined "ZUH?!?!?" Riley: Android Thoth? Suddenly a ton of metal drops unceremoniously into the ring. The compact metal forms gets up in a jerky movement, trying to brush off dust that wouldn't affect his painted form. Mak stares at his 'partner' ... an eight foot tall metal version of Thoth. Stevens: ...It's an Android Thoth. Riley: Yes... yes it is. In a FLASH~! Everyone is told the rules of the game and are strapped into the harnesses inside the 4 foot by 4 foot square sensor mat. Funyon: Rules state that choice of songs are ladies choice. Open Source decides the three songs to be played, the team with the most points, or the team that knocks out one of their opponents wins! Riley: Mark, how does this work? Stevens: Well... from what I understand, it's a concert sim. Stuff will be thrown at them, and they have to mosh and attack the parts of the body that the screen inside the ring specify, to the beat of the song. Riley: Okay, here's a question... how do you knock out an Android? Stevens: ...does any of this make sense? GAME: MOSH MOSH REVOLUUUUUUTIOOOOOON!!! SONG CHOICE? OS: I. Get. Wet. Andrew. W. K. GAME: I GET WET! ON YOUR MARKS! all four participants get into a 'ready' position, except for Android Thoth who stands perfectly still and blinks his LED eye-lights. GAME: GET SET! ...nobody moves.... GAME: GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! Electric Trumpets blare from the game's speakers, all four stare at the screen waiting for the song ot begin and to recieve the first attack.... At once guitars blare into life, drums, and the rest of the band play as the body sillouhette appears.... GAME: YOU -arm- WATCH -leg- WHAT -head- I SAY -head- All at once, Open Source superkicks Android Thoth, only to hit his chest and break her big toe. Librarian punches the Franchise in the arm (10 points), as Mak kicks his leg (20 points). Android Thoth swings his fist around to hit Open Source in the head (30 points), which he connects, sending her flying across the ring. She gets up slowly, then jogs over halfway through the next line.... GAME: WATCH WHAT -head- I DO Librarian and Source switch, with OS kicking the Franchise in the head (20 points) and Librarian taking a right hand swing at Android Thoth, catching his chin but causing severe pain at the same time (10 points). Riley: ... Stevens: You said it. GAME: BECAUSE I -chin- REALLY DON'T CARE -leg- I REALLY DON'T CARE -head- YOU'RE NEVER GOING TO GO NOWHERE.... I GET WET! Everyone is about to attack each other for more points when suddenly twelve thousand gallons of water drop from seemingly nowhere on top of the ring, dousing each fighter in cold, wet, H2O. Everyone survives.... except Android Thoth who is now smoking and twitching madly. The Game itself short circuits and weapons begin flying out madly at everyone. Rubber chickens land in the hands of Open Source and The Boston Librarian. Frustrated at the stupidity of the challenge's ending, Information Superhighway start beating the smoking husk of the game with the rubber chickens. A nozzle comes out of a different side of the game, spraying Mak Francis with Marshmallow Fluff at fire-hose strength. The Franchise is caked in sweet white fluff and is having a hard time removing himself from it. Riley: Now THAT'S entertainment! Stevens: How is watching Mak Francis get sprayed with white marshmallow entertain... oh dear god. Riley: mmmmm, Fluff! Stevens: Riley, you're really making me sick. Riley: Well you'd still be better off than Android Thoth, look at him! Android Thoth begins walking in circles backwards as his head rotates around his body. Android Thoth: Two and one half scissors please! Yes I'll take the llama and green bean combo madam, just be sure to add the extra Elvis Costello I ordered. No, straws won't be necessary, I'm just wanting to WIN SELF DETERMINATION FOR THE SOUTH MULDAVIANS~! Damn you Scarlet -I- wanted the pink tutu and matching wilderbeast! More twitching and violent shaking from thd robotic SWFer happen until he explodes in a shower of shards and sparks, leaving nothing but two robotic legs, now attempting to do the moonwalk, except both legs are doing the move at the same time. Fingers and sections of the arms land in the audience, killing two, injuring thirty, and turning on one really strange person. Android Thoth's head lands face down in Riley's lap, causing Stevens to projectile vomit onto the table. Riley: Mmmmm... Stevens: ***RRRRRAAAAALLLLLLLPPPHHHHH***** DING DING DING Funyon: Android Thoth has been destroyed, leaving Mak Francis partnerless. Therefore your winners, Open source... The Boston Librarian.... INFORMATION SUPERHIGHWAY!!! "All About The Pentiums" plays as Open Source and the Librarian celebrate as their friends The Polka Kid, Remo Thunders, Bastion, Alex Tsirinov, Sakhmet, and Shades McGee run into the ring, hoisting both upon their shoulders and marching out in a victory parade, replete with fireworks, pyro, and the University of Nevada - Las Vegas marching band leading the way out. People cry, except for that android snuff fetishist who's doing some really nasty shit with a metal forearm in the corner of the arena. Stevens: What a touching ending to an otherwise COMPLETELY FUCKING STUPID MATCH. Riley: Mmmmmm... Stevens: RILEY! GODDAMMIT STOP THAT! Riley: You've got a wife, I've got head. Stevens: You know, Thoth will kill you for this. Riley: Don't you mean Gherrit White? Stevens: No, Thoth. Riley: You have to ruin all my fun don't you? Riley throws the head into the audience, landing near the robot snuff fetishist who runs away with it in the night, metal protruding out of his rear end. Stevens: Well, Francis is going to get de-fluffed, I'm going to get some fluids in me, and Riley's going to... FUCK, PUT IT AWAY BOBBY!!! PUT IT AWAY!!! Riley: *sigh* Ruin all my fun. Stevens: Up next: A real match. Annie wins, Mak loses, and we all just lost some of our innocence. Riley: Or in my case, my virginity! Stevens: SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Holy god. that was horrible. I'm so glad I stopped writing script form. -Annie