hostilecityshowdown

[hostilecityshowdown]

“  you can make me bleed all you want,  i’ll never scream for you.  ”

adam cole + jay white and/or hangman adam page

notes:

• takes place immediately before forbidden door 2022

• "phil never happened" AU my beloved. hanger still lost the belt, but to [checks cagematch.net] takeshita (at DoN a month prior) because i say so. i simply won't accept that finlay loss to him either so we'll say he hasn't wrestled since losing the belt

• actual tangible frame of reference: two months before forbidden door/one month before DoN, page defended his title against cole in a texas deathmatch. jay white is IWGP champ, and the fatal 4-way (basically) happened because he kept being a brat about contendership for the belt

• okada isn't here because he has better things to do. like harass gedo (jay white's ringside accompaniment for the 4-way)

• while irrelevent, this is a no concussion timeline babey, but white still retains - he just gets slaughtered doing so

• read mango's slightly related ficlet :3

-

Fingers laced, elbows propped on his restless legs, Jay White stared out the window of his second floor hotel room. Facing west, he peered into the last brushstrokes of the fading sunset as if it held all the answers. Cole wasn't (usually) a problem on his best day, Page was just another tree to chop down, and Okada - well, if he could just keep his focus on the Adams and Gedo, Jay should be golden. It was the risk of Cole and Page teaming up that made Jay bow his head, fingers tangling in his still wet hair, leg bouncing so hard the shoddy hotel chair creaked and groaned.

The pair bested him once before, technically, and that- that right there was moral building for them, that was encouraging. That was a problem.

He hated rooming on the lower storeys.

-

"-and whose smart idea was that Texas Death match, again? Funny, because I distinctly recall you shrugging death off like a-"*

Snapped out of watching the coffee drip, Hangman glared through the doorway into the hall. He was sick of hearing Jay White talk, downright fed up with his apparent inability to shut the hell up. Looking forward to grinding his face into the mat in a few days. Looking forward to getting back on the horse, knocking the breath right out of him.

And pissed the hell off by Jay following Adam Cole around for days, talking incessantly. They were so far down the hall, he couldn't even hear Adam's responses. Screw him too, for even enabling Jay this long, actually.

Hangman took his acidic venue coffee black, found the nearest exit sign, and plunged into the sticky summer heat to get some air.

-

Whoever decided to room Jay White between two of his three upcoming opponents had a deathwish. Gedo and Okada were spread out elsewhere, both a curse and a boon, but at least the ice maker was on his floor.

The third floor, of all places. This hotel had ten.

His window faced north. The door to the room east of him was pulled shut, heavy bags dropped to the tacky carpet with muffled thuds. What was Hanger packing, bowling balls? To the west, Cole cycled his television's volume up then down then up like clockwork. Maybe he should get his hearing checked.

Maybe Jay should run some interference.

-

Out of habit more than politeness, Adam Cole clicked the TV off when he heard the first knock, hauling himself out of bed and throwing his hair towel behind him. He almost didn't check the peephole and, seeing the reigning IWPG champ pacing outside his door, seemingly having a silent conversation with... Himself, Cole was relieved he did. Jay had been chewing his ear off for a week, pulling up old BTE clips on his phone just to interrogate or, worse, critique him, cornering him in catering even when White had every reason to hit the gym or rest or do literally, sincerely, absolutely anything else.

It was like he was trying to annoy Adam into backing out of the fatal 4-way and, to his credit, if he wasn't long-term friends with some of the most obnoxious people alive, it might've worked. He tried a smile, then a frown, then scowled and, steeling himself, opened the door. Jay stopped pacing, turning on his heel so suddenly he had to throw an arm out to stabilise himself, expression somewhere between delighted beaming and a shitty smirk. Instantly, he was in Adam's personal space, jabbing a finger into the loose fabric of his shirt.

"You probably think this-" he flapped a hand in his room's direction and repositioned the IWGP belt slung over his shoulder, "-gives you some kind of advantage, huh? You think you can enact psychological warfare against the Switchblade?"

Adam opened his mouth to respond, but Jay just kept going, raising his voice to an alarming volume. "Well! Let me tell you something, Adam Bay-Bay Cole, there is nothing you can do to me to shake my resolve; you can make me bleed all you want, I'll never scream for the likes of y-"

"What the hell are you yelling about now?" Neither of them noticed Hangman's door open on the other side of Jay's, not until the man was stalking towards them. Panic twisted Cole's gut, drawing out a nervous half laugh.

"Let- let's, ah, take this inside-" Adam seized Jay by the collar and dragged him into his room, hip checking him into the wall as he scrambled to shut, lock, and latch the door. He could hear the other Adam's footsteps pause, the bases of his chaps' zippers no longer jangling against the jump rings on his boots. Jay allowed Cole to usher him further into the hotel room, snatching a Twizzler off the entertainment unit and biting a length off as Adam pushed his hair out of his face. "You- you can't make scenes like that with guys like Hangman next door-"

"*Actually,*" Jay said, still chewing the candy as he held up his belt and slapped the gold plate. "I can do whatever I damn well please, no matter who-"

"Open the door, Cole."

They both froze. Adam Page's voice was deep, cold, dangerous. They locked eyes, Jay slowly lowering his belt, the drawn curtains darkening the room.

"I'm serious, Adam. Let me solve this problem."

Silently, Jay took one creeping step backwards towards the door, only pausing when Cole furiously shook his head. He mouthed 'no,' motioning 'cut' at neck level with one hand. Bad idea.

After another minute, Page banged his fist against the door once before stalking off, Jay jumping as if the sound were a gunshot. Cole kept his hands raised, placating now, voice low.

"I don't know what your game is, Jay, but this is your grave to lay in," he pushed his hair out of his face again, wet strands sticking to his cheek, frustrated. "I just hope there's something left to bury after we beat the crap out of you."

[hostilecityshowdown]

“ do i ask questions or do i just help you clean up all this blood? ” jay white @ anyone he a) doesn't particularly get along with [in that moment] or b) does not know well [in that moment]

It was the quiet sobbing that caught Jay's attention. It must've been 3 or 4 in the morning. He'd been on his way through the hotel to get a snack from the vending machine. Deciding on a pack of M&Ms and Doritos, he had gotten comfy on the couch in his room. And that's when he heard it.

Through the (unfortunately thin) walls of the hotel room, was someone sobbing next door. Jay didn't know who it was, but that it was one of his co-workers. He wasn't exactly in good with most of them yet. Maybe this was a chance to make a good first impression?

Not like he could fall asleep anyway.

Bags of candies and chips in hand, he made his way to his next room neighbor. Knocking on the door, Jay waits, shaking his bag of chips to see if he could gauge how full it actually was.

Surprisingly, the person answers.

"Sorry if I kept you awake," the voice speaks through the crack of the door. It seemed like the door chain was in place. It takes a moment for Jay to clock the voice through the stuffy nose and stifled sobs.

"...Adam?" It was Page, no doubt. That slight country accent, the hesitant way of talking...

"...Jay?" Adam closes the door to undo the latch, before opening the door fully.

Adam's eyes are puffy and red, his nose scrunching as he sniffles. He seems more scared than usual, not making eye contact. Not even flicking his eyes up at Jay. Instead, he seems to be staring over at his hands that he was wringing nervously.

Hangman was a bit of a hurdle he was going to have to beat, soon. Unfortunately it wouldn't just be them dancing in the ring, but fortunately Jay was sure he could get the pin on Cole first. He was the weakest link, but that wasn't the problem here.

Not right now, at least.

Meekly, Adam steps back and points at the bathroom, where the overhead fan was on. The door was just barely ajar, and there was something red against the tile from what he could see. A towel, probably. Oddly, Jay wondered why Adam had red towels.

He stepped forward, opening the door. The towels were red. Stained red, and surrounding the dead body of a man with hair to his shoulders face down on the floor. Bleeding from the back of his head, blood pooled around him, soaking into the already saturated towels.

"...Is that Adam Cole?" Jay pointed at the body, turning just in time to see Adam coming at him with a lamp, wildly swinging as Jay manages to dive and roll out of the way.

"SHOULD I ASK? OR DO YOU WANT HELP!?" Jay's frantic yelling stops Adam in his tracks.

"Why would you help me?" Adam lowers the lamp for the moment.

"Maybe, Hanger, I don't want to end up dead on the floor of your bathroom!" He gestures towards the dead body of Adam Cole in the bathroom.

"...That's fair. So you're gonna help me?" Hangman is focused on the body of Cole, lips slightly parted as he's lost in thought.

"Why?"

"Huh?"

"Why'd you kill him?"

"...He just...he did the wrong thing Jay. I just was pushing him around. I-I just wanted to teach him a lesson."

Jay's standing up again, making his way back to the bathroom. He's scratching the back of his head, sighing. It was going to be a task, getting rid of these towels, and more importantly the body. He'd be missed.

"Okay, well, we'll have that for later. First things first, you and I? We did see Cole. You're going to tell me where his room is, and I certainly hope you know. We are NOT going to his room. This place has cameras in the halls, I've checked. We're going to--"

"Why...How do you have a plan for this already?" Hangman cuts Jay off, his eyebrows raised and furrowed curiously.

"...Trust me Adam, that when I say we don't have time for that now...we really don't have time for that now."

[hostilecityshowdown]

“  your bandages— you’re bleeding through them.  ”

+

[ DISCOVER ] for [dark order] to find [hangman] trying to clean blood off himself &/ [ AID ] for [dark order] to help [hangman] clean blood off himself

(preferably just Uno & Hangman 💜)

there is rich lore behind this one and i don't even know it /j

-

The double doors were shrouded in shade, darkness devouring the closed bar beyond the thick hardwood. Empty sixth floor lobby, shiny tile slick and scuffed beneath his heels, elevator quietly descending behind him. Silence, then: A grunt, muffled. Something anyone else would have lost in the hum of the yellow mid-century wall lamps. Evil Uno squeezed the latch and pushed one door open.

"Adam?"

Silence. The glimmer of an ice cube in a whisky glass illuminated by a single banker's lamp. Denim hugging a bouncing knee, one eye bright blue and the other shaded black. Stained fingernails, split lip. Embroidered roses painted red.

"Adam." Closing the door behind him and walking slowly, Uno swept his hands out, palms open. Let the mask smile for him. Button behind the bar, amber glow wrapping around the polished wood, soft yellow lighting up shelves of bottles and glasses. Wood polish, ethanol, sweat, blood. He could hear Adam's ragged breathing. "Little dark in here, isn't it?"

"Was," Hangman muttered, boot heel clicking against the barstool once, raw knuckles splitting as he tilted the whisky glass towards himself with his fingertips. The ice clunked against the side and refracted the light, throwing a kaledescope on the bartop. He stifled another grunt, exhaled slowly, and let the glass rest with a thunk. "Used to be quiet, too."

His hair was plastered to his scalp, stiffened by coagulated blood. He was staring at Uno unblinking, expression unreadable; Adam didn't look particularly unhappy, concerningly. Uno clasped his hands together, stepped up to the stool beside him, and inclined his head towards it. "May I?"

After a nod he sat, precariously slipping on slick tile. Blood, surely. Think about that later. Finally looking away, Adam snatched up an already bloodsoaked rag, almost absentmindedly pressing it to his lower lip, giving up, twisting it, uselessly wiping at ash on his wrist and only managing to smear it further. For what must have been the upteenth time, Adam gave up and flung it back down. Uno watched him through his eyelashes, still, patient. Finding all the cracks and peering into them.

Adam didn't wrestle on Dynamite, aired only hours ago. He wasn't even on the card.

Uno was starting to lose control of Hangman. He was losing Adam. To Strickland. Somehow, one man was pulling him from between the fingers of the entire Dark Order. Like sand: No resistence.

"Let me get that." Uno procured a light purple handkerchief edged in black, uselessly dabbing at the blood caked on his temple, fabric staining instantly. Blood dripped from the corner of the folded bandana wrapped around his neck. The red was never coming out of those roses. Frowning, Uno leaned forward, yearning for a pair of gloves as his hand hovered over the bandana. It was soaked. He reached for the knot. "You're bleeding through it-"

Crushing, bruising force, a strong hand wrapped around his forearm, nails tugging hair off at the roots. Sharp inhale, raised voice, grit teeth; stay composed. "Alright- okay, okay, Hangman- Adam, it's o-kay."

He tried to throw Uno's arm away from him, grunting with the effort. Surging against him in tandem, Uno remained stalwart, free hand resting on his dear friend's thigh.

"No, no, you can't- Look, I- I need you to understand something, here." Breathing even more labored, eyes wild, Hangman let him tug the loose knot free and flick the dripping bandana aside. Nasty puncture wounds, blood pulsing with every rise of the blond's chest. This was going all wrong. "... You're not yourself, Adam."

He was going to have to do something drastic. Something more.

Uno locked eyes with Adam, leaning forward, one hand grasping his shoulder tightly. He dug his nails into the weave of the denim. The light shining off the embellishments of his mask was almost blinding. The Dark Order could benefit from a powerful, dominant figurehead.

The ice cube cracked, loud.

"Not without me."

[hostilecityshowdown]

mango and i sending each other evil prompts as if we aren't discussing each at length before/during/after concocting them

[hostilecityshowdown]

I just think his orange gear is sick

[hostilecityshowdown]

the visual of Hangman in front of the burning house still goes so hard

[hostilecityshowdown]

What if Hangman took over the Dark Order when he came back instead of pushing them away?

[hostilecityshowdown]

BLOOD RELATED PROMPTS

requested by my bestie 

WORDS: 

“  is that your blood?  ”

“  woah—  hold up you’re bleeding.  ”

“  your bandages— you’re bleeding through them.  ”

“  shit,  i think i pulled my stitches.  ”

“  i’ll make them bleed for this.  ”

“  a little blood never never hurt anyone.  ”

“  why the fuck is there blood on the carpet?  ”

“  your nose is bleeding.  ”

“  you can make me bleed all you want,  i’ll never scream for you.  ”

“  you don’t understand,  i had to do it.  i had to kill them.  ”

“  stop fussing— this isn’t my blood.  ”

“  i did what was necessary.  ”

“  why are you bleeding?  what happened?  ”

“  who hurt you?  why is there blood all over you?  ”

“  i think you’ll look quite pretty when you bleed.  ”

“  who did you kill?  whose blood is that?  ”

“  i’m not usually a sadistic sort of person,  but i will take pleasure in spilling your blood.  ”

“  i don’t actually enjoy killing.  it’s messy.  the blood gets everywhere.  it’s just necessary sometimes.  ”

“  it looked kind of beautiful in a fucked up sort of way.  blood on snow.  the kind of thing you usually only see in stories.  ” 

“  i can’t get it off—  i can still feel it on me!  ”

“  just calm down.  breathe.  i’ll take care of this.  ”

“  hold still— you’ve got blood on your face.  ”

“  why is there blood on your knife?  ”

“  oh,  it’s just a little bit of blood.  don’t nutsack out.  ”

“  i’m going to drain every ounce of your blood.  nice and slow.  like you deserve.  ”  

“  i’ll kill anyone who ever makes you bleed again.  ”

“  your/their blood is just too pretty to keep inside.  ”

“  there’s something fascinating about blood.  it’s captivating. ”

“  blood of the covenant is thicker than water of the womb.  ”

“  you made me bleed on my shirt—  i fucking loved this shirt!  ”

“  leave me alone,  it’s shark week and i got blood on my sheets.  ”

“  should i be concerned about why there’s blood in the sink?  ”

“  do i ask questions or do i just help you clean up all this blood?  ”

ACTIONS: 

[ ALONE ]  for sender to show up on receiver’s doorstep covered in blood. 

[ ARRIVE ] for receiver to show up on sender’s doorstep covered in blood. 

[ CLEANSE ] for sender to find receiver trying to clean blood off themselves. 

[ DISCOVER ] for receiver to find sender trying to clean blood off themselves. 

[ AID ] for sender to help receiver clean blood off themselves. 

[ ERASE ] for receiver to help sender clean blood off themselves. 

[ ESCAPE ] for sender to find receiver after they’ve killed someone. 

[ SEEN ] for receiver to find sender after they’ve killed someone. 

[ HELP ] for sender to clean up the aftermath of receiver’s crime. 

[ ACCEPT ] for receiver to clean up the aftermath of sender’s crime. 

[ FOUND ] for sender to discover receiver covered in blood. 

[ EXPOSE ] for receiver to discover sender covered in blood. 

[ ATTACK ] for sender to stab or shoot receiver. 

[ WOUNDED ] for receiver to stab or shoot sender. 

[ BROKE ] for sender to punch receiver hard enough their nose bleeds. 

[ INJURE ] for receiver to punch sender hard enough their nose bleeds. 

[ WITNESS ] for sender to see receiver get hurt enough to bleed.  

[ WATCH ] for receiver to see sender get hurt enough to bleed. 

[ RETALIATE ] for sender to make receiver’s attacker bleed. 

[ DEFEND ] for receiver to make sender’s attacker bleed. 

[ SURVIVE ] for sender to realize receiver is bleeding after getting through a fight. 

[ FABRIC ] for receiver to realize sender is bleeding after getting through a fight. 

[hostilecityshowdown]

Loved this moment in the Anna and Mariah match 💫💖⭐

[hostilecityshowdown]

Girlies want only one thing in 2024 and its sickening 🏜️

[hostilecityshowdown]

undead adam cole commissioned by @/geneticghost on twitter

[hostilecityshowdown]

a collection

[hostilecityshowdown]

DDT-era golden lovers commission 🥺🤧

[hostilecityshowdown]

i did a lil painting the other day

[hostilecityshowdown]

welcome home 🏠

[hostilecityshowdown]

[hostilecityshowdown]

recent ‘wrestlers as cats’ comms i did