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Thread: Fight Night 11/15/2013 Promo Thread

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    Fight Night 11/15/2013 Promo Thread

    Promos will be due Thursday, Nov. 14th at midnight Pacific time, which is Friday, Nov. 15th at 3 a.m. Eastern time and 8 a.m. in British time zone. You can post your promo either here or on the FWA temp site, which we are using along with this forum solely for THIS Fight Night's results for storyline purposes (strip tease).

    No extensions. No regrets. No prisoners.
    Last edited by The Golden One; 11-10-2013 at 01:51 PM.

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    Re: Fight Night 11/15/2013 promo thread

    Drew, “Redundant – to no longer be needed or useful, that is the definition of it and that is exactly what this match means Vince, do you understand that?”

    With the video portion of the promo opening up right after hearing the deep toned voice of Drew Stevenson, we saw that he was sitting in the back of a limousine dressed to kill. Sporting his one hundred thousand dollar suit, black, he had a crimson red shirt underneath it and on his left wrist was a very expensive platinum Rolex. With the camera positioned directly across from him to record him – he had a very smug look stretched along his face as he was most certainly not impressed with what was going on or the match that he had this week against Vince, a man who he has beaten on countless occasions.

    “Surely you do because it has become redundant that I face you for a number one contendership at the...”

    Turning his head to look away from the camera, he seemed ashamed or just flat out disappointed.

    Drew continues to speak,
    “... X Championship!”

    Shaking his head, he returns his glance back to the camera.

    “Yeah, I flat out said it because I just don’t get it. It’s like I have regressed in the ranks here and I just don’t get that because it’s no secret that I’m the BEST REAL wrestler that the FWA has to offer and they think that it’s cute to put me back onto a road that I have already been on and dominated might I add.”

    While shaking his head, he let out a sigh.

    “But all I can do is sit back and play with the cards that the morons upstairs give me so I will do just that. Do you get that Vince? See, I don’t think that you get it in all honesty because you have always been the guy who stays at this level and you’re content; that’s great and all but you see - *I* am NOT content because I have been a Main Event level star since the very moment that I signed a dotted line to compete here but instead of embracing my God given talent – they decide that I’ll fit best in the X division abiding by X rules but what they fail to understand is that I am NOT going to conform to these rules...”

    Drew shakes his head,
    “... Oh hell no, I am a PURE wrestler, the BEST technical wrestler that the World has ever SEEN and here I am, just supposed to “conform” to rules that I have disagreed with since day one. Well you’re pissing against the wind on that one suits because I am NOT going to adapt to new rules and all of that crap when my technical style is the PERFECT style that has taken me to thirty one Heavyweight titles throughout my career. You see Vince, this is the difference between us because while you are happy and content with having never broken through the glass ceiling; I am not because I shattered the glass ceiling a long time ago and to see that I have been LOWERED in the ranks just pisses me the hell off.”

    Pausing, he takes a moment to reflect on everything.

    “Look at me Vince, seriously, look at me...”

    Straightening the jacket of his suit, he looks incredibly smug.

    “... I am a perfect, flawless ten. *I* am the guy who broke Lucian’s spirit and ended him and *I* am the guy who should rightfully get the golden opportunity for doing so. You see Lucian; let’s put all of our cards out there for everybody to see because they will see firsthand and for a fact that I am not content until I’m the royal flush of the FWA and currently – they have me simply trying to be nothing more than a full house and unlike you Vincent, I’m not content with being complacent. I won’t be content until I am in the Main Event for the FWA World Heavyweight Championship where I BELONG instead of being FORCED to drop down to the level where I have NEVER belonged to begin with. You see Vincent, the X Championship and division is absolutely PERFECT for guys like you, the guys who will never break through that glass ceiling but to a guy like me? It is a disgrace!”

    Drew pauses,
    “And what’s even worse about this is that I have already beaten you two or three times to the point that nobody even cares about this match because they just assume that I am going to maim and rearrange your face like I have every other time that we have faced each other and this time is going to be no different Vince because the fact is this; I am better than you!”

    With conviction, he continues to speak.

    “I am not only better than you but I have been and will forever BE better than you as well Vince, do you understand that?”

    Narrowing his eyes, he is very frustrated as you can see by the expression on his face and hear in the tone of his voice.

    “Now that Chris Kennedy, the golden boy of the FWA has been dethroned? Times seem to be changing and I’ll be DAMNED if I sit back and just wait for the suits to grant me the opportunity that I SHOULD have been given ages ago. No, I’m going to TAKE IT and if that means that I have to hurt you just like I did Lucian then you can bet your bottom dollar that’s what’s going to happen. You have become an annoyance Vince because every time I beat you? I start to ascend, to climb up that old ladder of success and then all of a sudden I find myself back to square one facing you yet again in a match that only spells disaster and losing to you. That is what annoys me Vince, because I for one am so sick and tired of seeing, hell, even hearing about you that I am really left with no choice BUT to hurt you Vince. Now before you start running off at the mouth telling everybody that I can’t hurt you, I highly suggest that you think that one through Vince because Lucian also preached that nothing or nobody could hurt him and in case you haven’t been paying attention Vince? I took Old Yeller back behind the barn and I put a much needed bullet right into his head and now we no longer have to see or even hear about that annoyance in Lucian Ace.”

    He flashes that million dollar smile.

    “Every single one of you should thank me because *I* am the reason that Lucian Ace is DEAD in this business and I’ll be the reason that you DIE in this business as well Vince.”

    Sitting in the back of his limousine, the little tinted window rolls down and the limousine driver speaks to Stevenson.

    “We’re here Mr. Stevenson!”

    With his door opening, the head of a heavier set man with blonde hair pops into the limousine. The man was his long time friend and former manager, Mark Robertson.

    “You ready for the FWA Press Conference?”

    Drew nods,
    “About as ready as you can get.”

    With Mark pulling his head out of the limousine, Stevenson steps out to the flashes of the cameras and to nothing but more-less screaming as everybody and their brother tried asking him questions regarding what he did to Lucian and on up to stupid stuff that nobody really cared about. Walking through the crowd, they make their way up to a wooden podium as Mark takes the initiative and sets this ordeal up.

    “Okay everybody, look, keep your questions FWA related and to the point. Mr. Stevenson is a very busy man and his time is valuable so let’s get this show on the road.”

    Standing behind the podium, Stevenson has his suit fixed perfectly and sports a very expensive pair of Oakley sunglasses that cover his eyes and keep the sun out of them. With tons of people raising their arms up and trying to all talk at once, Mark points at a middle aged man.


    Drew cuts him off,
    “... That’s Mr. Stevenson to you, be respectful!”

    Man looking dumbfounded,
    “Okay, Mr. Stevenson – why did you hurt Lucian Ace?”

    Rolling his eyes from behind his shades, he answers anyway.

    “It’s not why Drew why because I warned Lucian that if he steps into that ring to face me hurt that I’ll end him and I did just that. I’m a man of my word, I do what I say I’m going to do and Lucian tried to defy the odds because he felt that you people could grant him Superman strength and what happened was that he met his Doomsday. So don’t blame me because it was your “hero” who decided to fight for all of you and it is because of all of you that his career is finished.”

    With the people kind of booing him, Mark points to a young woman who fires away with her question.

    “How can you be so cruel? Honestly, you ended the career of a man who loved this business and you too used to love us – that was until you turned your back on us.”

    Smiling arrogantly, he was quick to rebuttal her question with his answer.

    “*I* turned my back on all of YOU? Are you serious? I would go out there and bust my ass for all of you, I would sign your little autographs, kiss your disgusting babies and sacrifice EVERYTHING that I had in me for all of you and do you know what happened, huh? Each and every one of you would start to cheer for my opponents. You cheered louder for Ryan Hall and Ashley O’Ryan when I was FINALLY beginning to get my big break and it is because of YOU that they decided to drop me down a few rungs on the old ladder. So I turned my back on you? No sweetheart, you turned your backs on ME so *I* killed your hero and I will continue to kill your heroes until *I* am sitting at the top of the FWA mountain, where I belong.”

    Seeing his frustration, Mark is quick to point at another person as to not give the woman any time to reply to his answer.

    “Next question!”

    Standing up, a man dressed in a suit stood up.

    “I am Johnathan from Pro Wrestling Illustrated and our question to you Mr. Stevenson is, what are your plans for the future should you manage to capture the X Championship?”

    Looking right at Johnathan, he chuckles and is once again quick to answer.

    “My plans Johnathan are that it will no longer be the X Championship once I win it. I’m not going to stand here and put on these ridiculous matches with the ridiculous X rules. No, I’m a WRESTLER, born, bred and raised to WRESTLE and I’m not going to walk into these little gimmicky, flashy matches simply because I’m told to. What’s going to happen Johnathan is this, the belt will mold around ME! Instead of adapting to its style? It will become a belt that adapts to MY style and I will make it the most sought after title in the FWA.”

    Drew pauses,
    “See, Vince is just a little pawn in my big game of Chess. He is going to step out from behind the gorilla position, see the bright lights and he’ll even enter that ring thinking positive. But the moment that *I* come out from behind the gorilla position and get bathed in the bright lights and the flashes? He will QUICKLY realize that he only has a false confidence within him because just like EVERY other time in the FWA? I am going to beat him, send him to the back to lick his wounds and continue on MY journey to doing something that this company REFUSES to do – put some class back into wrestling!”

    Taking in a deep breath, he expressed nothing but arrogance.

    “You’re looking at the BEST that the FWA has to offer, bar none. I have been the best since I first signed the dotted line and I’ll continue to be the best even after I’m gone. Face it Vincent, you’re f***ed!”

    Stepping down from off of the podium, this press conference was clearly over as he snubbed all of the fans and headed back to his limousine, followed by Mark Robertson, his long time friend.


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    Re: Fight Night 11/15/2013 Promo Thread

    "The old saying goes that when life hands you lemons, make lemonade. I never really understood that one, see, because you need more than lemons to make lemonade. You need water, sugar, ice and a pitcher to put it all in. So how the fuck are you supposed to make lemonade with just lemons? You can't. So what you do is, you grab the person who handed you those lemons, hold them down onto the ground and stuff those lemons down their throat while shouting "let's see you make lemonade with these". You'll get a whole lot further in life if you refuse to take shit from anyone."


    Wolf vs. Christian Quinn

    The wind whips Wolf’s raven hair as the scene opens. Snow falls heavily all around the massive man in black. Wolf standing in contrast to the white blanket that slowly formed around him in the dark of this cold winter evening. Black jeans, black leather jacket, black sunglasses, yes... Even at night. Every breath released a cloud of vapor as big as the clouds of smoke that billowed from his nostrils with each drag of his already burning cigarette. Despite the visible cold, Wolf seemed at ease, almost peaceful. Something that was completely uncharacteristic of him, even in the best of times, angry was the best he had. But not tonight. Tonight, Wolf was at ease. His body language screamed it. His posture relaxed, his hands (though trembling slightly from the cold) were open, palms exposed. Typically, they were clenched into white-knuckled fists. Through the mirrored sunglasses, one could almost feel him looking deep into the lens. Staring, as if waiting for a trick of some sort. He puffed away on his cigarette, content for the moment. When that moment passed, he flicked the butt as far away as he could...

    Wolf: I love Chicago. I've said it a thousand times before, I'll say it a thousand times more. It's the city of broad shoulders, although there are few shoulders as broad as mine. It's wasteland of corruption and political scandal. It's a hotbed for illicit activity by those in posisions of "power". It only makes sense that it's here, in this corrupt frozen wasteland. And because I love this city so much? It's always hard to leave. But not this time. In fact, I can't board my plane soon enough. I'm chomping at the f*cking bit to get back to where I belong... The middle of an FWA ring. Like the city of Chicago, it's a place where I can do no wrong. Win, lose or draw, it's success. It's passion. It's better than sex... It's what I do. Some men build bridges, some clean guns, others puppeteer nations, me? I wrestle. I fight. I was born into chaos, I've reveled in anarchy and I bring pain and suffering to any and all who cross my path... It's what I do.

    He pauses for a moment, still staring into the camera.

    Wolf: And tomorrow night, jet-lagged and limping, I will do it again. I will fight once more.

    He pulls an envelope from the inside pocket of his jacket.

    Wolf: I will have Christian Quinn, one on one. No bullshit, no work-arounds. Shit, technically, Quinn is the work around. But that doesn't matter. All that matters is that he will be within arms reach. Within grasping distance. Someplace that little f*ckwad doesn't want to be. Why?

    He chuckles as a smile slowly creeps it's way on to his face. It was eerie, like a predator baring it's teeth.

    Wolf: Well, "why" is the million dollar question, isn't it? When I rip his arms off and bludgeon him with them, I will ultimately get a chance to do the same to Ryan Hall. Why doesn't Quinn want to be within arms reach of me? Aside from the fact that I plan on ripping his off, I'll let you have three guesses... Go ahead, I'll wait.

    Wolf takes this time to pull a cigarette pack from his pocket. Carefully, he pulls one of the cancer sticks out and places it between his lips before producing a lighter, flicking it to life and igniting the wrapped tobacco. He takes a big drag, exhales, then continues...

    Wolf: If you guessed it was because he was one of four cocksuckers at the top of Wolf's "Most Wanted" list for screwing me at Anniversary show? You guessed right. He's a target. To get back at Kennedy and Hall, I have to beat him one, two, three... But to beat him... I get to beat him. And that, kids, is what makes this trip away from my beloved city not just easier, but welcome. I don't mind leaving, not this time. I could be headed to North Pole and I wouldn't care. If the end result is me wrapping my hands around the throat of Christian Quinn? Then it's fine by me. I don't care where I have to go, Christian... Through the gates of Hell itself... I don't care. I'd still show the f*ck up. Why? Because I get to beat you. I get to beat you within an inch of your life before I beat you... One... two... three.

    He's still smiling as he takes another drag off his smoke.


    He pauses briefly to compose himself.

    Wolf: I got better, I worked harder, I fought harder. And it won me fame, acclaim, titles, women, money, houses. Do you realize that I could shoot somebody in the head on national television and the crowd would still cheer for me? Do you realize that I'm the one this company goes to for anything media related? Do you realize I'm the Hulk f*cking Hogan of this generation? Think what you will about the guy, but in his day, he was a giant! He was the man! There is a reason they call him "The Immortal" Hulk Hogan, because he's transcends the business! He's more than a Wrestler! He's a ICON! Motherf*ckers that have never watched a wrestling show in their meaningless lives, cocksuckers that know nothing about what we do, they all know the name... Just like they know mine. I can say I'm better than you, simply because I am, but I won't. Any given day, any given match, you could come out on top. But what I will say is this: I'm bigger, I'm stronger and I will be remembered for much longer... I'm the most sadistic man in the business, always have been, always will be. Deal with it. You carry yourself as if you've actually done something in this industry but the fact is that compared to the rest of the roster, you're not in anyone's league. You're down in the development league, having a career on par with guys like Jugem Jugem. You'll never rise to become anything in this company or in this industry. Your dreams of holding a World Title? They're always going to remain just that, dreams. The day that you rise up to win the World Title is the day that you hit the lottery, found your own company and then put the World Title on yourself. Without Syndicate, you have got no hope. Zero. Zilch. Without Syndicate you're going to fade into obscurity and everyone is going to forget that you were ever apart of this company. And let's be honest, that isn't such a bad thing. I mean really, can you find me one person that can say "I'm so glad that I've had the opportunity to wrestle in the same company as Christian Quinn" with a straight face? Can you find me one person who will ever say that a match against you was an "instant classic"? You'll never find someone who will tell you any of those things Quinn. You'll never find them because here, in the real world, they don't exist. In your little Quinn World I'm sure you hear everything that you want to hear. I'm sure the trees are singing your praises and the forest critters are re-telling your exploits to their young. But here, in the real world, the only response people have to the name Quinn is "who the f*ck cares?". And the answer? No one.

    The smile fades with another drag, Wolf’s face steels as his voice takes on a more serious tone.

    Wolf: To get Ryan Hall within arms reach, I have to beat you Quinn. I am not the only one who wants to see your crimson aside from me, there is going to be a rabid mob of bloodthirsty maniacs that call themselves my fans cheering it on. They love it when I bleed you assholes like stuck pigs and tomorrow night will be no different... So get ready, Christian. Because tomorrow night? You're not going to walk out of that ring anywhere near as pretty as when you entered it. First I'm going to beat you, then I'm going to beat you. ... I'm going to beat you until you go limp. I'm going to do everything I possibly can to not only end the match, but your individual career. I'm going to rip, tear, punch, claw, kick, pull hair, bite, throw sand in your f*cking eyes, ANYTHING IT TAKES! And in the end, you're going to be like all the rest. Beaten, broken, bloody...

    Gnashing his teeth, Wolf slowly pulls his sunglasses off as the camera closes in. It focuses on the fiery determination behind Wolf’s brown eyes as he adds:

    Wolf: The hunt is on.

    Wolf’s fearsome visage is held for a moment before the FWA logo fades onto the screen. It's shown for a moment or two before it too fades... To black.

    Ask of me, and I shall give thee the heathen for thine inheritance, and for thy possession, the ends of the earth. Thou shalt break them with a rod of iron. Thou shalt dash them in pieces, like a potters vessel. Be wise now, therefore ye kings. Be admonished ye judges of the earth. Serve the lord with fear, and rejoice with trembling.

    Psalm 2:8

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    Re: Fight Night 11/15/2013 Promo Thread

    Lost Lyrics

    Rocking back and forth to the low, echoing music, the scene fades in on the flickering lights of the low budget lighting effects, a young man plays hit heart out on a beaten up guitar. Sweat pouring off his face, his face twists and contorts and his fingers jam and mash down on a fresh set of Ernie Ball Slinky strings. His band-mate, a childhood friend one in the same, following the dream, sings his heart out into the microphone. This unnamed band continues to play as the crowd lucky enough to be in attendance tonight rock back and forth right in tune with the song. The cheers and hollers of enthusiastic approval echo throughout the low side of the volume spectrum as a moment slowly passing in time.

    Jethro Warren (V/O): The club is hot tonight. Just the same as any other music venue in any other city. There's that one joint where everything comes together nicely. Everyone knows that place, and everyone knows that moment. For that one moment in time, It might as well be Madison Square Garden or Budokan. The roar of a few hundred seems like a sold out gig. They love you... They love your music. They even picked up a few words of the chorus as they party and drink. This is their moment. Their music has finally touched someone. They're living the dream...

    As if time slowly lapses away, the dank club slowly becomes more and more empty. There are a few stragglers playing it up as the band continues to play, but slowly they disappear. The club empties. The band packs up. The lights turn on. Party's over. The club's closed. All that remains is a disheveled janitor, slowly pushing a large broom across the dance floor. He sweeps up the used beer bottles and discarded trash left by the concert goers. The camera slowly pans towards the small stage, where the Fantasy Wrestling Alliance's newest arrival, Jethro Warren. Dressed in a nice, unassuming, three piece suit with a loosened tie. Warren sits on the polished hardwood stage, looking out into the empty concert hall.

    Jethro Warren: Music is a fickle thing... You can't even measure it by years these days. Give it six months. Tastes will change. Genres will flash in and out of popularity. People grow up and change. Maybe one of them will make it big one way... Maybe not... That's just how life is. And the people that music touched, you ask? They'll forget. Life is just a series of moments, old replacing new... Or they become fragmented... Those girls singing their hearts out in the front row may remember this night in a few years... but they wont remember the band... Maybe a lyric or two... Who can say?

    Jethro pulls himself to his feet with the beat up Peavey amp the club provides for the bands. He grabs his glass of whiskey off the head and takes a drink, as he looks into the camera.

    Jethro Warren: Any kind of entertainment is just a fickle... Just look at the FWA. You have some guys who broke through and made it big. Your G-Richs', Ewan Edwards', and Gabrielles' of the world. Every hold, move and title reign will be remembered. Fondly or not... you all remember. The broad majority of the FWA, though... Is just a series of lost lyrics and forgotten memories. You know there was one point where James Sync was one of the hardest working wrestlers in the Fantasy Wrestling Alliance. There was a point where he had all the tools... the character, the ability, and all the potential just ready to explode to that next level. Maybe to be that next Ashley O'Ryan or Stu St. Clair. Not to say he would've made it, but he had a chance... Just like this band playing tonight, he had the chance to have the chance.

    Jethro chuckles as he takes another sip of whiskey.

    Jethro Warren: Now before you start saying it... I'm not the sentimental type. Just stating facts... Trust me, this is not going to be Sync's swan song. Where he turns it all around and makes one last go at wrestling immortality. He squandered his potential. Various hirings and firings... relegating him to a lower and lower place on the card. The only thing left is someone showing him the truth. Tonight Sync, I'm going to bury that dream. Pack up your gear, it's not like anyone wants you to pull it out these days. Your show's over... maybe a couple of lost lyrics here and there, but it's over. The era's ended for you... and begun for me.

    Warren, mockingly, toasts his whiskey towards the camera and takes another drink. Casually, he sets the glass on the busted Peavey stack and exits... Stage left. The camera takes one final pan towards the empty music venue. In the echo lost in silence... You can still here the faded bars of music and cheering fans.

    Fade to black.

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    Re: Fight Night 11/15/2013 Promo Thread

    ~The Tale Of Two~

    The outstretched hand in front of me touches the glorious gold front of the FWA Championship. As it lightly swings to fully face me, I see my own blue eyes reflecting upon it’s gleaming surface. My hands run slowly across it, caressing it, entranced. As I begin to come out of it’s pulling dream, I realise the reality of the situation. My hands both reach for the straps, ready to release it from it’s perch, to claim it for my own. But then, my eyes realise I am not alone. Tearing my eyes from the name plate which could soon feature my own inscription, I see the face to match the name that resides there: Ryan Hall. Hall reaches for the Championship also, his Championship, the Championship I am ready to make mine. Whilst my hands frantically fight with the straps, he has a firm hold of it’s face. I watch as my eyes reflect back into focus, and see more of my own reflection as the belt moves towards me. I see my expression, shock and fear. My face meets my reflection as Hall forces the belt towards my skull. I rear back to avoid it, and suddenly we hang mid air, free from everything other than each other, bound only by our grips upon the prize. And then, there is only falling. I see Ryan Hall, a foot of so above me, also airborne. But my hands slip away from the Championship belt, whilst Hall pulls it in closer. And still, I am falling. Falling.

    Shane McLean does not land, instead he jolts awake. He had been sure he had been back in the Mile High Massacre, his FWA Pay-Per-View debut, but instead finds that his opponent had instead this time merely been his bedding, a tangled mess of duvet to one side, pillows scattered to the other. Shane tries to focus on reality. To his left on a cabinet he sees championship gold gleaming in the moonlight sneaking in through the window. The golden face is not that of the FWA Championship, no, many years have passed since then, and Mile High here in 2013 had instead seen Shane McLean emerge victorious, retaining the FWA North American Championship that his eyes behold him now. Shane sits up, hearing the cracking of his spine, grimacing at the pain within his muscles. Pain is not uncommon, but since his return to the FWA, it is insistent to share his body. Shane looks again to his cabinet, though he does not look at his Championship belt. He has eyes only for the small bottle in front of it, and his arm outstretches towards it, finger tips meeting it, grasping it, and pulling it in close. McLean allows himself a small smile, and mumbles to himself.

    Shane McLean:
    “I guess you’re my prize tonight.”

    Shane pops open the bottle, and allows himself a couple of pills to pour onto his hand, and in the same fluid movement, they are in his mouth. He glances around for liquid to wash then down, feeling a foul tasting mush begin to develop on his tongue, and spots his hip flask sitting, quickly grabbing at it and guzzling it’s remains, grimacing as he swallows. He gasps afterward, then stands, shuffling like a man three times his age across the unfamiliar hotel room, the moonlight dancing across his bruised chest and Spongebob Squarepants pyjamas. He comes to a rest on a chair in front of a make up desk and stares at his reflection, one half of his face lit by the moonlight, the other shadowy. He chuckles.

    Shane McLean:
    “Well Champ, it was different gold years ago, but that was your one touch of the ultimate prize.”

    He pauses, and then speaks through only the half of his mouth in shadow.

    Shane McLean:
    “That’s not quite true is it?”

    Ryan Hall’s broken body lays sprawled out in the corridor, the only movement coming from his chest as it draws breath calmly. Despite the scene, his unconscious body is at peace. Over him, Shane McLean looks down at him, his face telling no stories, the FWA Tag Team Championship slung over his shoulder. His eyes crawl a foot from Hall’s body, where lies ‘the ultimate prize’, the FWA Championship belt. Again, he sees his own distorted reflection upon it, and if it were clearer it would now show an expression of hunger, a starved man now filled with greed. Shane McLean’s trance breaks as he hears noise from someway off down the hallway, though nearing, and without thinking his decision is made. He reaches down and cradles the Championship like a small child, his smile now one of kindness and caring, then dashes off.
    Back in the present, the moonlit side of Shane’s face smiles a combination of exasperation and warmth.

    Shane McLean:
    “You’re here then?”

    The only voice to answer him back is his own, coming from the shadow side and with a harsher tone.

    Shane McLean:

    McLean’s smile stretches both sides of his face, and he picks up his mobile phone. He sets it to the video camera mode, and holds it to view his own reflection on it’s screen. The side of his mouth in the light asks a question of the empty room, to which the darkened side replies.

    Shane McLean:

    Shane McLean:

    Shane McLean presses his screen and a red light signals a recording his begun.

    Shane McLean:
    “Ryan Hall, at last we step into the ring together one on one. I can only imagine this is at your request, after all, at the moment you are no doubt laid beside the booker. Yes, for whatever reason, you chose this match, but I too have wanted this match for some time, wondering why it had never came to be. Perhaps, it is because you, like many of those who frequently see their own face on the posters for FWA’s monthly pay-per-views, do not take a great deal of notice of me, a mid card talent of above average potential, but no major threat in the present day. But to me, Ryan, you define the three stages of my FWA career: My initial rise and crashing fall, my thirst for stardom at any cost, and now my quest to fight for the FWA. You’ve always been there, in the very fabrics of my being, the very elements that formed the Ace of Diamonds.

    How many other than myself remember when I first arrived in the FWA in a wrestling capacity? Maybe some of the long-term fans will remember fondly the young kid playing dress up each time he came out to the ring, perhaps some of the few old faces in the locker room who were there will remember the potential I came in with and wonder why I never made it to the top, but more likely, I am the only one who revises over it in my mind, trying to leave it in the past, trying to hide my disappointment from myself.

    In recent times, I’ve made it no secret that I originally joined the FWA as part of the management team based on nothing more than a love of wrestling, a suggestion from a wise businessman named Leon Denn, and a friendship with a young entrepreneur named Matthew Robinson. I’d wrestled independently, and this position enabled me to put myself in front of a larger audience. I promised myself I would just go out and have some fun in a few meaningless matches, and initially that seemed it would be the case, but then Matty was coming up with ideas for the first pay-per-view since we had came into the company: Mile High. I was aware of the concept of course, there’s not much in wrestling I don’t know about, but with the FWA is chaos during the transition, there was no way of determining who should be in the main event. I told myself whilst I proposed the idea that I was doing what was best for the company, rewarding those who had stood by the FWA as the walls had began to crumble, but I realise now that I was attempting to put myself in with the big boys. I suggested a battle royal to decide the competitors who would reach the final six to compete for the FWA Championship, a match only spoke of by those now who mock it: The Mile High Massacre match.

    My subconscious plan worked, I survived to the final six, and suddenly, the idea of becoming the face of the FWA alongside being one of the minds in the background seemed it could become a reality. That however, is when I met my opponent for this week: Then – as he is now - FWA Champion, Ryan Hall.

    I’d seen Hall around backstage before this obviously, found his sureness of himself to made him irritating to be around. Not everyone seemed to think so, there were always a few guys quite happy to talk to him about his favourite subject: Ryan Hall. There were always others more willing to talk about Hall without him present, and not everything they said about him was exactly nice. One thing I did pick up from overhearing these conversations, whether confident self-promotion from his own mouth, praise delivered to his face, or words of disdain uttered behind his back, that one thing that was clear from all of them, was that Ryan Hall was the cream on top of the FWA’s barrel.

    I won’t lie, of the six of us that made it that far, I was the long shot. Barely eighteen, my scraggly frame was thrown around like a scrap of meat, my inexperience picked apart. But then, it was I who ended up within inches of the Championship, and of course, that was the first I ended up, alone, face to face, with Ryan Hall. And when dream seemed ready to become a wonderful, unlikely reality, he extinguished them. There are no prizes for second place, all gains go to the winner: To no great surprise, Ryan Hall walked out still FWA Champion.

    I may have been the talk of the night that night, Hall coming out best had been the likely conclusion. But me? This eighteen year old kid who nearly became FWA Champion? The guy who dresses up and does bad imitations almost crowned the best in the FWA? Well, those are words who hide their true meanings behind a shroud of positivity. “Almost”. “Nearly”. Never.

    Ryan Hall had done it, remained on top of the world, whilst I landed instead in the Tag Team Division, to much success. But I watched with jealousy and disappointment, as I knew opportunities like that which I had failed to take at Mile High would be few and far between. I began to let my office duties slip – soon leaving them behind all together - as I once again failed to make the most of my chances when Ashley O’Ryan defeated me to gain entry into the Trial By Fire Four Way match in which Hall would next defend the Championship. Beginner’s luck had seemingly passed it’s sell by date.

    However, a new form of luck would come like the draw of a card. Adopting the moniker the Ace of Diamonds, I would find luck where Hall found misfortune. In a tale that’s mysteries remain locked away, and shall remain for now, Ryan Hall would be attacked and forced to leave the FWA, and the Championship I had fought in vain to make my own would come into my possession, and though I wore it as my own, I knew it was not mine to do so. The FWA Championship belt did not fit correctly, and though I would find entry into the Trial By Fire Four Way to challenge for it, though I scratched and clawed once again, leaving everything I could in the ring once again including large amounts of my own blood, I came short again and Tony Juvenile would become rightful FWA Champion.

    And so ended my first chapter of my career, and my first chapter with Ryan Hall.”

    McLean pauses, thinking. He checks his phone is still recording, and then a smirk creeps up upon his face in the shadows. A harsher voice begins to speak.

    Shane McLean:
    “I would mature as a competitor over the coming months, leaving the FWA Championship scene far behind and exiting the Tag Team Division to enter into a long and weary feud with my former partner Rodel Montez. After this, my career lost direction despite some of my best performances to date. Though once again I found myself tipped as a potential breakout star, I began to team with my friend Shawn Docherty, until once again Ryan Hall would enter into my life.

    Hall of course, like many before him and since, had returned to the FWA and was now aligned with the powerful stable of it’s time the Unholy Uprising. Their leader G-Rich had taken notice of my ability and lack of career direction and decided something could be done to make me a valuable asset. Perhaps he had not counted on my values, but I was opposed to joining the band, known for their disregard for all bar themselves. Shane McLean was not cast from their mold, and would not be persuaded by their words.

    Words perhaps not, but actions can be a far more convincing argument. I was forced to watch as the Unholy Uprising – Hall prime amongst them – would take a beating to Docherty, a beating that would force him to leave behind his dream of being an FWA star, and in efforts to stop the attack, I would cave to their demands and join the Unholy Uprising. Forced amongst the group, I cannot say who was more displeased by my appointment, as both Hall and myself did not want me there. For the first time, I did not enjoy coming to work, and soon was forced to leave both the stable and the FWA by G-Rich, who insisted I needed to realise a desire to be one of the best. I still can picture Hall’s grin as I walked out of the arena that night, a lost man. Perhaps this time, he thought he had seen the last of me. This was not the case.

    I remember my first taste of beer as a youth. A horrible, bitter taste, one I could not fathom how anyone could enjoy. But like many growing up in working class Scotland, the taste began to grow on me, and soon I would return to it more and more often. Success had a similar effect on me. The roar of the crowd when I returned at Desert Storm some time afterward was my loudest to date, the fans sure I was there to seek revenge on The Unholy Uprising. But I wanted that success as quickly as I could get it, thinking only for myself I turned against the crowd who had come to rely on me to lighten up the mid-card, and I pledged my allegiance to the Unholy Uprising.

    With this pledge, came a newfound appreciation and understanding for the members within it, and likewise I was met with their acceptance, including Ryan Hall. I make no qualms in saying that until recently, I held him in a high respect, would even go on to call him a friend. Success would come my way as promised by G-Rich, I went on to hold my first singles championship in the FWA as the North American Champion under the Unholy banner.

    But success came at a price, as my new found vicious streak would take it’s toll on my body, and soon my time with the Unholy Uprising would come to an end, as would my time with the FWA.

    And so ended my second chapter with Ryan Hall.”

    Shane McLean turns his head to look at the window, the moonlight disappearing as the sky no longer seems so black. McLean turns towards the mirror, the shadows no longer so strong on his face.

    Shane McLean:
    “Many years passed, and with each one time appearance rumours would swirl that Shane McLean was returning to the FWA, each time proving to be false. Until one day, it became a reality. My imminent return was announced, and it should have come as no surprise to me to find Ryan Hall also returning. Our careers however would not cross paths initially, save a few suggestions of teaming together on a one off basis that never came to fruition. My career however in this time found itself a new cause. Absence truly made the great grow fonder, as I had grown to realise truly how much I loved the FWA and it’s audience, vowing never to turn my back on them again. I would fight for them, and I watched from a distance as the newest power group began to take over: The Syndicate.

    I decided to remind the FWA fans that I was not afraid to fight for them, regardless the odds, and embroiled myself in a feud with Mac Michaud of the Syndicate over the Television Championship. The Syndicate took no major notice of me overall however, Mac Michaud should surely be able to dispose of the crocked blast from the past who had never really amounted to much on his own after all. But then they lit a fire in me. A fire that was lit from the Inferno himself.

    I watched in horror as the Syndicate sent a message to Hall, threatening to light his girlfriend and the power that be of the FWA Dinorah Redgrave alight. Though now this witch like burning seems strangely justified, I was rocked to my very core. I would not let this happen in the FWA. I would not let happen to my FWA. The same fire that Ryan Hall had felt in the past, leading him to take on the name Inferno, I now knew what it was. I found my reason at last in the FWA. It wasn’t to shuffle paperwork and make decisions from a stuffy boardroom, it wasn’t to be the rookie who shocked the world. It was to fight for the FWA. It was to defend my FWA from the Syndicate.

    They wanted Ryan Hall’s attention. They got mine.”

    Shane’s head dips down a little, his eyes not truly in focus.

    Shane McLean:
    “Whilst I waged my one man war on the Syndicate, doing anything in my power to counter them, it seemed Ryan Hall had similar plans. He formed a three man army alongside two of the best to ever grace the FWA ring, men I knew well in another former Unholy Uprising member Stu St. Clair and his long time partner Ashley O’Ryan, a man I once titled my blood brother having been left in a pool of my own by him. With these three men I respected above all else tying together to fight the same cause as mine, I imagined it would only be a matter of time before I would be called upon to their ranks.

    Winning my first North American Championship had marked my arrival within the Unholy Uprising, but it was on the night in which I won my second that marked it’s death. On that night, I cannot explain what I saw in more than the bare fact of it: Ryan Hall betrayed the FWA. He joined the Syndicate. In doing so, he betrayed me. That I was so shocked, proves that with age we do not only gain wisdom, we also gain foolishness. I had forgotten what I had once known as an eighteen year old in a business suit, stood in a locker room in my first days with the FWA. Ryan Hall has always been all about himself.”

    Shane McLean stands and walks towards the window, looking out as the first glimpse of the rising sun creeps from over the horizon. He props his phone against the window pane, and it shows his face as sunlight slowly climbs his bare chest. The look of sadness etched upon his face is unmistakable.

    Shane McLean:
    “We know now that the FWA is in dark times, and this sun may be rising on it’s last day. After tonight, there may no longer be an FWA to fight for. On this day, at last, myself and Ryan Hall take our story into the ring, one on one. The victor of the bout may be the final image screened by the FWA, my one true home. I swore I would fight for the FWA to the very end, and now for matters out with my control that may indeed be the case. The end may be the same as how it began, an underdog Shane McLean battling against the FWA Champion Ryan Hall. Heartbreaking to say, the book may close on the FWA, and with it we would see my third chapter with Ryan Hall close. I pray it not to be, would trade everything in the world just to know that next week I would step into that ring again, come home once again. But if the third chapter for myself and Hall is to close tonight, to become the final chapter, there is one last thing I know I must do.”

    The sunlight has now crept onto Shane’s face, revealing tears silently flowing down his face as he contemplates what tonight could mean.

    Shane McLean:
    “I must be the one to close it.”

    Tears continue to flow as Shane’s eyes stare into the rising sun, no longer seeing anything of this physical world, this world which could be gone for him when this sun sets tonight. His mind dances with all his memories a million miles away, and he does not hear as his phone lets off an alarming beep as it’s battery hits empty, and in what we must pray is not an ominous foretelling of the events to come, dies.

    ~The Ace of Diamonds~
    ~Shane McLean~
    Quote Originally Posted by AzaleanShake View Post
    may have been too high to English at one point. My bad.

  6. #6
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    Re: Fight Night 11/15/2013 Promo Thread

    Friend AND foe

    "Shannon, look, the FWA was a thriving business. It was at the top. This isn't our fault. It's a network issue. You can't just bail on it like before."

    As Robbins Thurgood's words fill the cold, brisk North Carolina air, the FWA's adopted rocker chick, Shannon O'Neal hastily stuffs clothes, vinyl records, makeup, a laptop and anything she can into one shoulder-strapped backpack. Shannon doesn't look like she's in a mood to discuss things as she is hunched down struggling to zip the bag all the way and meet airport standards. Thurgood stands straight up and next to his protege with an expression of helplessness. For the past six or seven weeks, he has served as an acclimation agent for Shannon. He greeted her off the bus the first time she showed her face and has sort of-kind of built a friendship along the way. At the least, he has taken - part by order and part by his own choosing - a greater interest in Shannon's "acclimation" to the FWA lifestyle than any other new talents he was assigned before.

    Thousands of people travel through this spot each day, with a sliding glass door opening and closing behind Shannon and Robbins almost in perfect sync. As the door opens, it has enough time to close only before someone else carrying luggage, laptop bags, suitcases and the likes steps into the sensor's zone and causes it to open again. An awning above all travelers reads, "Raleigh-Durham International Airport," which technically is located in Morrisville, N.C. It's a small airport with a thick lobby right in front and a handful of airlines available to choose, depending on the destination. Beyond that, it's a narrow, two-armed stretch of terminal after terminal.

    Standing in around 28-degree weather, and cold enough to see her own breath, Shannon wears a black leather jacket, one of those ear-covering, soft, woolen hats, and enough secondary layers to warm a homeless family. After living in Los Angeles for the better part of 15 years, Shannon isn't used to this weather.

    In fact, she's kind of over it, among other things in her life.

    "No. It's final. I got the 1:27 p.m. flight to Washington, D.C. and from there hit one to L.A. I gotta go back home."

    As Shannon finally zips the bag, she gives Robbins a hug while chewing her usual gum and tries to quickly leave before changing her mind. Robbins, wearing a thick trench coat and a really ugly sweater, grabs Shannon's arm and stops her.

    "Just tell me why."

    "I already did, Rob! I ain't stayin' around in a place that will be closed by tomorrow! I get 'ta go back to L.A., find a bartender job and make my way."

    "Then what? What after that? What do you do?"

    The two entered a fierce eye contact that was just about trying to let the other party know they wouldn't give in. Upon Robbins' question, Shannon breaks it and looks down.

    "Rob, I' been burned waaaay too many times. Worked at bars with the promise of $300 a night and got $100 and out a job a week later. Joined bands with all these shows lined up and turns out someone was lyin' and all I used for was backing vocals on a record. I been shit on before each way I turn, Rob. Each way. I ain't about to be used again. Saddle Sally, Sarah Wolf, Alessandra Allure and all the others can stay 'till the bitter end and see there never was any hope, but I ain't doin' it."

    Shannon tries to turn and leave once more but once more Robbins grabs her arm and stops her. Shannon turns back slowly and says her next line with a paceful, stern growl that carries a lot more emotion than it lets on.

    "I swear 'ya sunovabitch I'ma break your damn cheek if 'ya don't let me go."

    "What if I told you, no matter what happens to the FWA, I can get you somewhere to keep going?"

    "Rob, I heard those lines before and they never turn true."

    "But listen...listen. Shannon, when you walked off that bus in Buffalo back at the Anniversary Show two months ago, I almost quit. Seriously. I complained and complained and complained to the higher-ups for so long about you, I almost quit. I thought, 'How can I turn a bartender who calls herself a fighter into a wrestler?' I figured you'd turn into another Kassie Summers and be gone within a year, at most."

    Shannon rolls her eyes at the apparent jab at her wrestling abilities and past and impatiently stays quiet to let her agent continue.

    "As your agent, as the man who greeted you off the bus and was assigned to help acclimate you with the FWA and then got extended assignment because of your difficult tendencies, I thought both our careers were doomed. One day I was going to do it. I swear. I was going to quit.

    But then I saw you in the ring. Before that second tag team match. You and Saddle Sally against Sync and Hart. I saw you training. I saw you working. I saw you trying to be a wrestler..."

    "Don't call me that word, Rob. I ain't a wrestler. I fight."

    "But you're a damn good one and one of the most unique styles I've ever seen. Listen, I'm sold on you. Through all those annoying conversations and aggravating questions and your introvert personality, I'm all in. I may not be your agent for much longer, even if the FWA sticks around, but you can make it in this industry. You started out a rocker chick who didn't know a damn thing about wrestling. Now, you're a rocker chick who still doesn't know a damn thing about wrestling, but you're 5-0 and you can kick some ass like I've never seen before. And whether you get burned by the FWA closing - and I won't lie and say it isn't happening because I don't have a damn clue, but - you still can make do here, just like you did when you moved to L.A."

    Robbins goes silent as Shannon's expression changed from impatience to appreciation and even guilt. She feels guilty for almost leaving and appreciative that Robbins would put himself out there that much. She comes forward once more for a hug, a much longer one than before. The blonde sniffles once, maybe from the cold or maybe from tears. Robbins will never know because Shannon will never tell.

    "Okay. Okay. Fine. You win."

    "It's about time."

    Shannon smirks at her friend's sarcastic comment. She loses the smile and thinks to the actual match she nearly skipped out on.

    "Saddle Sally, eh?"

    "Your partner."

    "I thought we'd be goin' for tag team titles before one of us gone for the Women's title."

    "That's just the state of things right now. Plus, you didn't just impress me. Five and zero speaks loud."

    Another smile rises from Shannon's face as she takes in Robbins' compliment. But she knows this match will be her toughest yet. A former Women's Champion who certainly has wanted to reclaim the top spot in the division since Mackenzie Roberts took it back at Payback. Sally has been in the FWA for seven years and Shannon has only been in for seven weeks. Of the first five matches - three with Sally as a tag team partner - this one will be the toughest. Easily.

    "I ain't got a whole lot to say about Sally, 'cause I respect her and I ain't goin' to let one match kill a tag team. But I know what I want and I know what she wants. They probably the same thing. Six matches and already goin' for a Women's title shot? I read it compares to some Playboy model called Veronique who won the belt even quicker.

    That don't matter. History doesn't matter. I ain't here to break records or set bars or anything. I'm here to fight and succeed. Winning titles is the barebones evidence of success in this industry. Ryan Hall won that men's World title four times. Shane McLean was a failure before winning the North American title again. Mac Michaud is a great TV champ. Vodka and Snakes or whatever called are one of the best tag teams 'cause they held those belts a lot. Winning titles means you won at this FWA stuff and that makes sense.

    I just hope the FWA sticks around long enough for me to get my crack at Sarah Wolf if I beat Sally."

    Shannon picks up her shoulder-strapped backpack and flings it into the back of Robbins' rental car, which he begrudgingly drove Shannon to the airport in but never with the intention of returning solo. In fact, Shannon's desired departure from the company never was relayed to FWA higher-ups. Robbins felt, with all the other stuff going on, it was better to save the day on his own. Had Shannon not come around, and Sally won by forfeit, that would've been a bad situation for Robbins. So he's happy not to deal with that.

    "Sally isn't no slouch. She won the Women's title. She knows what it takes. I know that from watching her. From tagging with her. We blew those Canadian chums away at Mile High and half of the reason for that was her. She's a cool chick. She's probably the front runner for my second friend in the FWA."

    Robbins is all smiles, so he doesn't mind a drive back to the arena with Shannon rambling her unfiltered thoughts, as she always does.

    "It's too bad I gotta beat her."

    The silence that follows surprises Robbins.

    "That's it? I thought I'd listen to your aggravating, 80's-era voice the entire way back."

    "Nah, I'm just gonna savor this feeling. I like knowing I'm good at something that matters."

  7. #7
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    Re: Fight Night 11/15/2013 Promo Thread

    The Man that they call Deus.

    The Chicago skyline looks the brightest it has ever looked under nightfall… the stars are shining and the people are gathered out in the street. The years have past it by rather quietly here, a quiet 2010s, a silent 2020s and what was shaping up to be a completely boring 2030 decade, a big event has come to a rather small town. A ruckus has formed outside a small little bookstore, all clamouring to see something inside. A small poster hands in the window, like a taunt to those outside. On it is the face of the “Instant Classic” Christian Quinn. He’s signing his long awaited autobiography. People had been waiting for his say on the business and his ventures since he retired. The FWA became unbelievably popular during the 2020s and is booming in the 2030s thanks to the efforts of past stars such as Gabrielle, Devin Golden, Wolf, Shane McLean, Ryan Rondo, JKason Gryphon and many others including Quinn. He sits at a solitary little table surrounded by dozens of his book, smirking to himself as he sees the crowd of people outside. If it was Chris Kennedy or Jenny Ignito or Matt Boudreau sitting here, the windows would be smashed, the place would be ablaze by now. He sits and thinks the various chapters in his book – his lovelife, The Syndicate, “THAT” match that defined his career, behind the scenes and whatnot. Of course in his own typical fashion, he has to be wearing a custom fitted Armani charcoal suit with a golden tie and silver shirt set. Just to point out that he is still better than all of these people, despite not being on their screens anymore.

    Finally, the doors open and like a mass of mindless zombies, the peons assemble around him. He is surrounded by people screaming at him like a bunch of bloodthirsty animals. His mind goes to a blur after grabbing the first book and automatically signs it…

    Sometime after signing dozens upon dozens of copies of his book, taking a load of photos and washing his hands about 20 times after touching plenty of them, he sits on a stool with a little spotlight on him surrounded by a crowd of listeners. He sits with a book in his hands, randomly scrolling a wall of text he is about to read these people as if it’s the holy gospel. Someone raises their hand and shouts out to him…

    Yo, read us the match about Wolf, bitch!

    Quinn smirks at that. Finally something he can play off of, he’s always been at his best when responding to hostility from a worthless, talentless spectator.

    Sure. I would enjoy divulging the details, as to how I put that animal down, upon your wonderfully unassuming ears, maybe then your non functional brain will realise what the presence of greatness is and how to respect it

    That felt good, a little throwback to his golden years when he would have any sort of comeback at the ready for any of those who dare to challenge his intellect or insult him. A little throwback to Wolf, who of course has no intellect. Quinn picks up the book, and begins scrolling through the pages to find the chapter of that match. He looks at the title of the book, “The Man They Call Deus”, he sighs at that, the only thing wrong with that title is that it implies Quinn is a mere mortal man. He knows he’s not. He’s better than a god. He’s better than perfection. He is something that words simply cannot describe. He knows that now. He finds the page. Relatively early in the book. He signals people to listen… more like commands them.

    So, Chapter 7 in the greatest wrestler in the FWA’s story is all about how to beat an animal. You won’t need to learn how to hunt animals after you hear the story of Wolf vs Christian Quinn.

    Quinn stops and chuckles to himself a moment, finding himself playing his own character for the first time in a while, he is enjoying it. Maybe don’t go too extreme though, that’s when he will really shine.

    Why it took place right here in this mundane city! I knew there was something about this place I just loathed. The fact that you guys got to see such a spectacle… it should’ve been in a proper arena, not this hellhole

    He closes his eyes for a second and lets his words sink in and then he embraces all the boos with open arms. Like a mother consoling her child, he finally feels what it was like to step into the arena that night. He lets the boos stop and begins to read from the page.

    Chapter 7: Taming the beast. Wolf was my next opponent in the FWA. It was beginning to annoy me how much my opponents all had in common. They were all inferior. They were all simple guys who had no business being in the same ring as me. So finally, I had a challenge on my hands, could Wolf actually beat me and halt my rise to the top? That’s what I thought at first, I had some doubting thoughts but I hushed them the next day. OF COURSE, Wolf had nothing for me whatsoever. He was being given a tune up match he thought… but in reality, the FWA were throwing him to the wolves. Sending him back into the wild to die. He was worthless at Mile High and took out his worthlessness on me. Shame, I got up and dusted it off and now he will realise just what a huge mistake he has made. Of course, forgot that he lacked a brain. The thing about Wolf is, he just doesn’t realise things that are oh so blatantly obvious nowadays. He is losing his senses. I think it’s his mutty little bitch directing his attention away from the important things. I was going to start making him realise what was important in the FWA. Did he realise it? I don’t know but I bet I had his attention after our match. Wolf missed something important though. He fails to realise that all the men he has fought in the past… they are all exactly just that: Men. I am not a mere man. I am so above that level, I am something much more. You would all see this. But I realised that, conversely, all the opponents I have faced have been simple men too. We had that in common, me and Wolf. But, the difference is, he’s a simple brainless animal, he has had brutal back and forth wars. I had just been dismantling everyone with minimal fuss up until this point, as I should have been. So what would an animalistic save like Wolf be able to do? He can’t touch me, he isn’t going to be in a war, it’s going to be me putting him down in the harshest way possible. Wolf was going to find out, along with the stupid imbeciles that occupy this hellish city, that Christian Quinn isn’t hype, he was the real deal, he was the best person to ever set foot in a FWA ring.

    People look at him in silence and then some raise their hands to ask him a question. Quinn simply stands and smirks at them. He doesn’t want to be stuck answering stupid questions from stupid people.

    You all know what happened that night, some of you were probably there. You saw the true Christian Quinn. You saw that I am more than a man, I am a wrestling god and you, Wolf, the rest of the world got to see my heavenly talents cleanse your mind and make you realise the truth. That is why you are all here today, to salute the greatest men to set foot in a FWA ring. You didn’t know that you were witnessing the true beginning of the Christian Quinn story and his rise to dominance. Wolf didn’t know either.

    With those last words, Quinn flashes his trademark smile at the unassuming audience and simply walks out, having said all he needs to say… he doesn’t need to see the look of utter astonishment on the crowd’s faces to satisfy himself.

  8. #8
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    Re: Fight Night 11/15/2013 Promo Thread

    No End in Sight

    Ryan Rondo
    vs Mac IV

    “I will not be denied at the second time of asking”.

    Ryan Rondo sits alone on one of the red velvet benches placed inside the Musee D’Orsay in Paris, France. It’s a chilly night, frosty air, clear skies. He’s wearing a simple suit, hidden away under a big black coat. The kind that Italian gangsters would wear. That kind of coat. But no matter the amount of layers that he has on, the weather still digs at his skin and the seething cold nips at his bones. Much like a recent defeat to the TV Champ of FWA, Mac Michaud. Something he has tried to forget about in the last few days. It’s been almost a week since and not even the splendour of France can take the memories away. He had it. He had beaten Mac on the big stage again… until fate dealt a cruel hand in Christian Quinn appearing. Gone went his title chance. And now his career might be gone too if the FWA can’t pull through its current problems. One thing is for sure though, this isn’t over. Mac, Quinn, The Syndicate, they aren’t finished with him yet. And he isn’t finished with them. He stands up and goes over to look at a painting with a luscious golden frame, he doesn’t look for the artist’s name, he’s just looking at a canvas with colours on it in his opinion. Colours do interest him…

    He leaves the Musee, still a bit annoyed about remembering the Mac matchup.

    “That’s twice now he’s tricked me with something outside of the box. First he uses Elise against me then brings in Christian Quinn. For being such a simple minded individual, Mac is pretty inventive. However, Mac, you’ve got it all wrong this time. I’m not hailing you as a tactical genius for using Quinn, I’m going to hail you as a complete dud. You’ve put yourself in the worst position possible. Now you face me for the belt, and if you lose, Quinn is going to look like the stronger one out of you two, and losing the belt means you lose your Syndicate status. You’ve practically given Quinn permission to be your replacement!”

    Rondo sighs as he watches his breath dissipate into air. It’s quite cold. But he casts his mind back to the Musee, the pictures he saw. Just canvasses to him he thinks. Not much to think about. Mac and the TV Title stuck on his mind, he finds himself mindlessly rambling to himself… in a decent manner, not as if he is a drunken hobo labouring around trying to find the nearest bench to sleep on. Still, he has a slender chance at redemption… assuming that the FWA will return.

    “A Painting is just a canvas right, a story if you will. Then the Syndicate has the FWA as its canvas. But the Syndicate is a painting yet to be complete. We haven’t seen the end of it. There’s enough time to reduce the supposed painting of the Syndicate into nothing but a blank canvas. They’ve lost the World Title and the Tag Belts… now all that is really left is Mac. But you can tell that if he loses the belt then the downfall of the Syndicate will be his fault, according to them. If the FWA comes back, which it will because every single fan wants it, needs it to, then I have the chance to be the one who delivers the finishing blow to the Syndicate, I will be the one to drive the final nail into the coffin and we can finally finish this sorry chapter of FWA History for once and for all. I want to finish the Syndicate so the FWA and its fans can move on. They both deserve so much more. That’s why I have to beat Mac, the FWA deserves a better Television champion.”

    Ryan sits and thinks about the paintings he saw and the depictions they gave of various events, he saw a fortress, a great castle, on fire… a huge inferno, merging together in the sky with its stormy rain and lightning bolts. Reminding him of Ryan Hall and Whyte Thunder. A visage of a battlefield laden with the White Saltire of Scotland emblazoned upon a blue background and the red of St George’s cross merging with the red of many dead soldier’s blood. This reminded him of Shane McLean and PAJ. Others he can’t remember.

    “If I was to paint Mac… the end result would look very similar to Edvard Munch’s The Scream. Why? It looks like a small child screaming for mercy. It reminds me of Mac, just as I was about to beat him. People say that monstrous beasts remind them of Mac, but to me, that is Wolf. Wolf’s the animal, Mac’s a pretender. Mac is someone who hides behind his steroids, his cohorts and anything else to avoid defeat. You see his true form when he sees defeat. He’s just a little, helpless child when he is left to his own devices. Easy to take away his toys. And that belt? His most prized toy? He’s going to be seen in his truest form when you see me rip it from his baby hands. Not only that, Mac can’t stand the pressure of a hostile environment. He saw it at Mile High as every single one of the fans in the arena chanted my name, even after the match, because they knew who the true champion was, who the true champion should be right now! And when he steps into the ring once again to defend his belt, we are going to see him wilt again as every fan chants my name to let him know who the true champion will be at the end of our match.”

    Ryan stops for a simple breather, stuck at the thought of the current FWA Champions. Stuck at the thought of his past title reigns. He’s on the cusp of gaining hold of another title again, something that hasn’t occurred to him just now. Not even when he had Mac beat did he think about the implications of getting gold.

    “Right now, you look at the current champions in the FWA: Ryan Hall, Vodka and Venom, Shane McLean, Jason Gryphon… all respectable champions, all people that are landmark names in their divisions… and there is Mac Michaud. Nobody wants to see you champion, nobody even cares that you are the champion. The fans don’t want you and the FWA doesn’t want the Syndicate controlling what is rightfully the FWA’s. That’s where I come in. Who is more reliable than a fan favourite like me? I’m considered one of the best X Division Champions, I am considered one half of one of the best tag teams the FWA has ever seen and now I have the chance to become one of the best Television champions it’ll ever see? No, scratch that, I promise you that when I beat you and get that title, I will become the best Television champion that the company will ever see. I want you to savour the moment Mac, for you will feel nothing like when the fans start chanting my name and you find yourself suddenly on the backfoot again… and you won’t feel the relief of Christian Quinn rushing to your aid, Wolf will take care of him for me. You get to witness the end of your reign Mac, which signals the end of the Syndicate. But on the bright side, you get to see the FWA grow into a better place without you. As it would.”

    Ryan stops again to contemplate what he is saying. Might be hurtful but if Mac truly is a monster then he has no feelings anyway. It doesn’t matter really. Mac won’t like the outcome of anything to do with Ryan Rondo in the future, that’s for sure.

    “It’s been quite a while since I had the tag titles. It’s been a while since I’ve felt what it’s like to be a champion. But going into this match, I already feel like I am the champion and that Mac is the challenger. That’s how it honestly feels. I feel like I am already defending the belt, it’s because this is the best opportunity I have at winning this belt. I was denied once, but I won’t be denied at the second time of asking. I just won’t. This is my chance to repay the fans for being absent so long, this is my chance to be the hero of the FWA and I am going to take it. Maybe the FWA needs a Maroon Monsoon to go with its Whyte Thunder? Who knows? Sometimes heroes come in pairs. What you can count on is that a hero will be on display at Fight Night. That hero is me. All I can suggest is that the people in the first few rows watch out as Mac may be spitting a few dummies in their direction after I am through with him. I promise that I will walk out of the arena as the champion, a champion that the FWA and its fans can be proud of. A true role model. Ryan Rondo is going to take the next step and write the next chapter of his legacy and journey in becoming the greatest FWA wrestler that ever lived.”

  9. #9
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    Re: Fight Night 11/15/2013 Promo Thread

    "Desolate Wasteland"

    This world is cold... Lifeless and the end strikes us without warning. What will we do when the end comes? Will we give up? Will we fight? Or will we consume each other until there is nothing left of our humanity. The first shots have already been fired... Someone will be the first to turn soon. What will I do?... Oh What will I do...

    The sky is black, grey and a swirling ugly abyss... It marks the beginning of a possible end to this world. Armageddon, the apocalypse, the end of days... whatever you wish to call it does not answer to names but only the cries of our souls. The skies pour down acidic rain and thunder rolls ominously through the setting. It's a cruel hopeless world with not one sight of the sun through the dark void in the sky. Strong winds blow the acidic rain sideways which stings your skin with every drop. The screeching sound of people screaming is heard in the distance and moments later a couple dozen people are running through the wasteland. Three in particular break away from the group... Searching for survival and some sort of twisted hope.

    Stuart: There is no food left... No water... It's over for us. How can we survive without any sustenance?!

    Christopher: There has to be a way... I won't die here... I won't let myself fall.

    Gabby: 'But what can we do? It's hopeless... We're dead. We're on our own out here... There is no one left to help us... No support... No supplies... No sustenance. WE'RE DEAD!

    Christopher: Well...

    A look changes in Christopher's eyes as he stares at both of them and grins a vile wolfish smile. He licks his lips...

    Christopher: Over half of you body is made of water... and there other half... Well I'm sure there is enough meat on the bone body of yours.

    Gabbie and Stuart look at Christopher's new demeanor... He is not the same person as he was before all this started. This new world has changed him, like it was bound to. He is the first!! The first to turn on his on his own kind as he looks for inhuman and monstrous ways to keep himself from sinking with the rest of the. He looks at them and Gabbie back away scared... Stuart jumps between them but Christopher savagely slams him into the ground and knocks him unconscious. Gabbie's face is now white and she screams before turning and running the other way. Christopher, being much better off than any of the survivors, chases her down with ease... as he is the most well fed and thanks to his family had the most supplies when this started. He grabs her hair from behind and throws her to the ground. His mouth waters as he bites her as the screen shifts to another location.

    Sitting on top of a large boulder in the middle of what appears to be the same wasteland is Ryan Hall... He shakes his head at what has become of this world he loved so much. The Mad Chameleon is wearing a long black coat with a hood that is covering up most of his face from the "acidic" rain. A shadow cast from the hood covers up most of his eyes and underneath this long coat is the golden FWA Undisputed World Heavyweight championship. Despite the entire area being nothing but grey-scale and colorless this belt golds brighter than ever before. In his hand is a lit menthol cigarette that he brings up to his mouth and takes a drag.

    Ryan Hall
    "This world... Forever changing and always evolving is still a fragile and delicate being. It's a living organism and all it takes it the right line of nutrition and intake to be cut and it's very existence is at risk. Suddenly this world isn't so beautiful anymore and it's consumed by chaos and mayhem. The balance is lot and anarchy ensues... it's not long before the world becomes and wasteland and people start betraying this world or even each other for other forms of survival. It's only human nature after all... but I still find it disgusting. I find it disgusting that these people who could do such greedy acts could forget about something they love... and turn their backs on. Devouring... Destroying... Decadence... this is now the truth of the world where people look out for themselves and use their survival as their excuse. They give into their human nature but hide behind excuses. It's pathetic. Why hide behind these ideals we fabricate to get through our everyday lives and hide from our true natures? As human beings we belong to the kingdom Animalia and as animals we are wild beasts deceiving ourselves with suits and premium cable television. We deny nature and when reality finally comes crashing down all around us most of you curl up into a little ball like a yellow bellied child. That isn't me..."

    The Inferno takes one last hit of his cigarette before crushing the cancer stick in his hand as he balls it into a fist.

    Ryan Hall
    "As greed incarnate, I find anyone who hides behind the facade of survival or any other ridiculous excuses to give into their true humanity a joke. I don't hide behind anything... I am greedy and I follow any whim or desire that creeps into this brain of mine. I have always given into my nature but most importantly I would never turn my back on something I desire or possess. I would never simple walk away from the FWA because the cord was cut and it became nothing more than a survivor game, I love survivor... I love betrayal and I love stabbing people in the back. Chris Kennedy on the other hand was born with a silver spoon shoved in his mouth by his wrestling legend of a daddy, he grew up in a fabulous mansion with all the greatest things and all the greatest opportunities. He made the most of the opportunities and became a wrestling icon that surpasses anything that his father did. He rose to the top of the FWA and even defeated me in a 1 on 1 match... Impress shit... even for a spoiled little brat. Chris Kennedy thought he was the greatest thing since porn of the internet and even thought himself as maybe the Devil incarnate. He thought he was a mastermind and played the game with me... I made a deal with the devil for my soul or a fiddle of gold and like I told the world... I am the master of the game. For my "giving" half of the deal I got to screw Adrian Wolf out of the FWA championship, let's see... WIN. For my "taking" part of the deal I got a spot in the legendary Mile High match and went on to win my FOURTH FWA championship and the first one in over five years. Oh, right... WIN! Chris Kennedy thought he was a puppet master but he failed to see the strings were actually connected to HIS back. 'And then... like a true spoiled brat, the WC network plummets into oblivion and Kennedy loses a 0 off of his paycheck and he jumps ship first chance he gets. This is where things become clear, the differences between me and Chris Kennedy become clearer. He made it clear his avarice desires more money beyond all else despite that silver spoon shoved up his ass, my avarice desire to rule with this gold around my waist... Even if it's ruling over a host of skeletons and corpses I will do it with a smile on my face. This is dedication... I will gladly take home nothing but zero point zeros on my pay check this week because this is what I love to do, you'll never see the likes of the FORMER FWA champion do that... but none the less here we are... a new era, the colors era and everything has already turned into anarchy."

    The horror of screams from all around him cry out and he smiles sadistically in response as if he were listening to a beautiful symphony playing out all around him.

    Ryan Hall
    "Can you hear that? Can you hear the panic... Can you hear everyone trampling over each other and the chaos all around us? I LOVE IT! This is the moments I am here for... THIS is why I am the FWA champion! I love these screams... I love sitting on top of the food chain and watching the lesser species tear each other limb for limb... I'm not here for a paycheck, THIS is why I'm here. All of you... All of you who doubted me now look like nothing but fools and I will relish every minute of it I as continue to rise the ranks of history. As long as I am here this company will never die... I love it to much... it's my possession... IT'S MINE and I will not relinquish it to the graveyard. So, here we are... The first week in the chaos the is the new era of the Fantasy Wrestling Alliance. It's kind of fitting don't you think? Ryan Hall, the man people swore wouldn't win the FWA championship unless it was Hell on Earth, wins the FWA championship and it's Hell on Earth! With this new day I find my first opponent in this colors era of mine to be yet another subordinate of my. The Ace of Diamonds, Shane Mclean! One of my former Unholy Uprising flunkies that G-Rich insisted on bringing into the fold. You see, unlike me, G-Rich had a thing for quantity over quality, Shane Mclean is shining proof of that example. A no name in the history books while under the Unholy Uprising and one who did nothing to help our cause. It's these reasons that I don't honestly consider you one of my fellow stablemates, more of a passer by lesser of a teammate. I remember you as nothing more than a exciting prospect that quickly fled my thoughts. Today, is a different story... You are the North American champion, you have a solid fan base and you have the people in the back on your side. Some would say that is the blueprint for success in this business but well, I have proven otherwise. I don't like you Shane. Maybe it's your quirky jokes or maybe it's your false sense of justice, regardless it's unbecoming of one who bears the name of the Unholy Uprising."

    The Mad Chamealon shakes his head as he stands up on top of the boulder. His thoughts shift back to the days of the Unholy Uprising days and his partnership with G-Rich and the others. It seems as if the screaming in the background does not reach his ears at all.

    Ryan Hall
    "Calling yourself the Unholy Jester does seem kind of fitting cause you were definitely the joke of the Unholy Uprising of all our one thousand and one members. You thrive on your personality and your witty little jokes to carry you farther than your actual talent would normally take you. This has put you into the spotlight and even helped you win the North American championship... BUT... I am in a completely different league than anyone you have faced in your entire career and I am JUST NOW hitting the prime of my career. Of all times for you to be matched up with me... The FIRST show after I won my fourth FWA championship is quite possibly the worst timing imaginable. The high I'm on... The high I feel is too great for someone like you to bring me down. I am on the biggest and longest run of my entire career and my momentum has sky rocketed since arriving back in the FWA last Trial By Fire. I have beaten over a dozen world champions... Tell me Shane... what do YOU have to offer ME? Nothing I haven't already seen... quirky jokes and creative jabs aren't going to help you when that bell rings and you're stuck in the pits of Hell face to face with the Devil himself. You are out of your league kid but don't worry I won't destroy you... My eyes of darkness has focused in on another already, you are just an interesting match up to showcase my skills after regaining the throne that was ALWAYS mine. Your rise however, I'm afraid it ends on Fight Night... it ends of the main event and all the people tuning from the FWA website will witness the day that Shane McLean hit the glass ceiling and was knocked unconscious by it. I am afraid of NO jester... just like I am afraid of NO champion of the mid cards."

    Screams for help grow louder and louder, this time he seems irritated and jumps off of the large rock. He examines his surroundings and follows the screams for help. His eyes shine through the veil of shadow covering the upper part of his face. His usual arrogant smile is replace by a frightening frown and he searches for the source of this pleading for a savior.

    Ryan Hall
    "Shane... To you I am nothing more than a fleeting dream that you desperately try to hold onto but yet the more and more you focus the cloudier the vision gets. I am the dream you might as well forget about when you wake up. I exist in a reality completely separately from your own and yet I listen to your words every week and they tell me one thing: You are a fool. You keep on spewing my name as if you know anything about me... Talking down about my actions when even my most despicable acts out do your greatest hits. I am a diamond album and you have yet to even crack gold. In comparison our careers are so different it's hard to believe they exist in the same company with so many intertwining threads. We have crossed paths before yet you never go your shot at me. Thus far you have been nothing more than a witness to the historic career of Ryan Hall. You have experienced, in person, the legendary acts I have performed for this company. All these threads... All these experiences... All these endless battles I have survived through yet here we are: The possible end of the FWA. Most of you, especially YOU Shane, probably think I would love for this company to wither away and die so I could go out on top but that's the most ludicrous thing you could ever come up with. If the Fantasy Wrestling Alliance falls... Who is going to remember me? Who is going to watch clips of me on Youtube over and over again while waiting for the next episode of Fight Night? No one... They will simply move on with their lives and I am too selfish and self centered to ever let that happen. I have known about this problem for quite some time now... Perks of banging the FWA general manager and that was just more motivation for me to take back the crown. I HAD to take back my FWA championship not just for me... but for the FWA that is only mine to put through Hell. This is my Hell... This desolate wasteland belongs to me and no one else."

    He finds the source of the screams... It's a scene fit only for a R-rated horror movie... The young girl known as Gabbie is screaming and moaning as he flesh is bitten off piece by piece... THIS is the most grotesque and disgusting side of humanity... or any living creature for that matter. The Inferno does not look away however... He folds his arms and watches nature at it's volatile form. She pleads for help... She calls out to him... But the Mad Chameleon simply turns around and walks away as the now monstrous Christopher performs the coup de grâce.

    Ryan Hall
    "Did you know if you stop feeding fish and leave them alone in their aquarium... starving with resources or any help from the world outside their once perfect little snow glow, They WILL devour each other. These once docile and dandy little fish will destroy the weakest ones first and use them as sustenance. THAT is the nature of this world! The strong devour the weak and the weaker devour the weaker! You are weaker than I Shane... and you're too much of a spineless imbecile to devour someone else. You are not longed for this new world FWA has been plunged into but I am. I have no quarrels with watching my peers back-stab and betray each other in order to survive. This is what is the FWA is now and in this new world I declare the beginning of our very own hunger games... Only one can survive and you will be the first victim of this post-apocalyptic Colors era. You may have ditched they comedy act for the most part but deep down you're still the same kid I rolled my eyes at every time you lost a match with the Unholy Uprising moniker. You are not Unholy! You are Unworthy! My interest in you is only to steam roll you into the floor for the waste of time you were and still are! I don't hate you or have any real feeling towards you whatsoever. You could call this a whim... or you could call this that itch you keep scratching yet it won't go away. I'm going to nip this shit in the but right now. You are no FWA champion! You could never be FWA champion! Most importantly... You could never hope to reach the level I have obtained through years of excellence and unholy deeds. I am THE Extraordinary Gentleman, I am THE Unholy Upriser but you Shane... You're just a passer by. A witness to history, watching it pass you by chance by chance, title by title. So, you go on and clutch that North American championship... You hold onto it as tight as you can because that is the closest you will ever be to the man you stick up your nose at."

    His eyes close... The salty acidic rain touches his face as he looks up to the dreary and lifeless sky above him and opens his eyes. This is HIS reality... A word of destruction, mayhem and carnage. This is a world he could get used too... This is a world made JUST for HIM. The horrible, pleading screams all around him come to a halt. Silence ensues with only the uneasy sound of the rain and thunder to keep him company. He circles around and suddenly men approach him from different directions. There is only a few of them but at this stage of the Hunger Games now as the present day FWA he knows these men are the STRONGEST of them all. This will not be easy but it's a path he was destined to walk. They grow closer and his breathing comes to a calm steady pace. He is not scared... He was made for this new world and he will stand above all others.

    Ryan Hall
    "The one big difference between fish and humans is they say fish have no feeling. So when they destroy each other over what little they have left at least they can't feel the end of their reality. You all will have no such treatment... You will feel everything! This starts with you Shane, you will wish you were a fish by the end of this. You are not longed for MY world! The heartbreak has already begun, couples have been torn apart. The next logical conclusion is people jumping ship for anything they can grasp. I won't be the savior of this world however I won't let this world die but regardless I will thrive in this environment better than anyone. I may not be the devil but I won't be your hero! This match is about skillfully catching that pesky fly that won't leave you alone and wiping it off the face of the Earth. That's you Shane... You're nothing more than a fly that flied to close and now I'll end your three day life before it even peaks. This reality... is the embodiment of the Colors era and I, as the Mad Chameleon, will adapt to the chaos and the destruction and use this opportunity to become a true centerpiece of this business! The FWA is falling apart and I will rebuild it in the image of the Inferno! The Ace of Diamonds is nothing more than a facade of a half baked clown... I am the diamond of this industry and this is only the beginning of a reality that is nothing more than a desolate wasteland. Shane... Come at me with everything you got because you have no future! Ladies... Gentleman... Let the best human being survive and conquer!"

    He smiles sadistically as he is now surrounded by the strongest survivors of this post-apocalyptic world. What will he do? What isn't he worried? It's as if... he knows something they don't. Suddenly, behind the cannibalistic mob... countless more appear, all after the same thing. He isn't shaken and only stares them all down... ready to take on this world of his... the strong AND the weak.

    They all charge him at once as the scene comes to a close and falls in darkness.

  10. #10
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    Re: Fight Night 11/15/2013 Promo Thread




    That noise gets louder and louder.


    Closer and closer.


    Through the fog a black horse approaches.


    Its a slow, methodical pace to its movements as this magnificent black beast approaches our vantage point into this world. With a delicate grace it carries its rider over to us…and then suddenly stops. On this black night, atop this black animal sits a figure clad all in black. The wind whips at the riders long dark brown hair, catching it and making it dance in its loose grasp. The black rider just sits there for several moments, unmoving, not speaking. Just an uncomfortable stillness on this night as we take in the sight presented to us. This rider is not weighed down by conventional armour. The steel, the chainmail it is very lacking though still present. Black steel gloves hide away the riders hands and steel stiletto heeled boots wrap around the riders feet. Atop this mysterious figures head is a black steel helmet, completely hiding away their face. The same however cannot be said for the black riders body, there is no armour, no metal, nothing to protect those vital organs…and soft skin from our prying eyes. There is only black lace, minimalist black lace upon a caramel body. An obviously female body, nothing could ever hide away the suppleness of those breasts, the inviting warmth of those hips or the squeezable roundness of that ass. So that lace has lost its battle before it even begins, that nearly sheer, tight fabric does what it can though. Black stockings curl their way up her legs and around her thighs before suddenly ending just below her buttocks. Her bare buttocks, only the horses saddle touches that thick ass as her tiny lace G-string disappears somewhere warm before softly hugging her hips. Her stomach…so smooth, so soft, blemish free is naked to the touch, her skin sparkling under the pale moonlight. Casting a shadow above it all though are those magnificent breasts. Thirty-six DD…an amazing measurement and one that her tiny lace bra was never meant to have to contend with. It’s trying desperately to hold all her bosom in, but those caramelized orbs stretch and strain every fibre, pushing them to their absolute limit. It is a joyous struggle to witness, one that will eventually only have one winner. For now though the battle rages on upon that caramel complexioned body.

    This is a battle long awaited. A battle dreamed about and anticipated…though we have been at war as of late it is still a battle that has never been seen before…

    She lifts off her helmet and tosses it to the ground, revealing her sweetly beautiful yet devious face. Soft, full red lips kissed with a smile, a perfect little nose, sweet deep brown eyes, delicate little ears adorned with diamonds and hidden away behind her long brunette hair. She smiles from ear to ear and tussles her hair as the horse stands still beneath her.

    But we will not back down…we will take the fight to The Snake and in this first battle between us we will win.

    Her smile curls into a smirk as all the shadowy figures before her suddenly come into focus. Too many to count…they all seem to just be shadows or black figures, all alike though, all with the voluptuous curves of Gabrielle.

    Gabrielle: It does not matter what tricks Stu try’s to play this time. At Mile High he used them all and managed to win. He poured Whiskey on my head…and dropped a python between my legs. These are the tactics that Stu employed to take away from me, my FWA World Tag Team Championship. But Stu it’s not like that’s the first time I’ve taken a shot in the face…or had a ‘snake’ between my thighs. You got me once but you won’t get me again.

    You see this time I don’t have the opportunity to rely upon my partner to pick up any slack. I no longer have to depend on Daniella fulfilling her part of the deal. It is just me, the greatest female wrestler in the history of this industry…and I have so many ways of winning. So very many skills I can use to get the best of Stu this time. To get the best of Stu in our first ever one on one match.

    The only difficult part…is choosing from my army.

    Gabrielle jumps down from her horses back and slowly saunters toward the camera. As she does she slides her metal gauntlets off her hands, letting them hit the ground with a ‘clang’. A few sultry steps later she pauses and rests her hands on her hips. A determined warrior…and an irresistible temptress rolled into one.

    Gabrielle: All my skills, all my tools, all my weapons are represented here before us all. From my superior skill to my superior intellect. There is my sexuality, my experience…my cunning. My ability and my poise. My determination, my warrior spirit and my desire to be the absolute best.

    These are just some of the things I can use to better you Stuart.

    There is one thing though that is not represented here…one thing I can use against you that isn’t a part of me. He is however a part of your life…and now a part of mine. But worry not Stu I’m not talking about Micah, I’m not talking about your son. I used his existence to my benefit, I used him to hurt you…and it worked but it hurt Micah as well. He doesn’t deserve that…but neither do you Stu. I see now how far I went in the sake of success and victory and I regret my actions.

    The question now is, if you do what you feel you must to me in our match…will you regret your actions?

    She clasps her hands together, a seductive and teasing smile upon her lips.

    Gabrielle: Are you able to do what must be done to get the better of me…knowing that Ashley O’Ryan, your one friend left in the world now cares for me greatly?

    He means a great deal to me…and I mean a great deal to him. I’m making him happy, so happy like you would not believe. Are you willing to come between that Stu…are you willing to hurt the person who is making your only friend happy again? Ashley has been through so very much…but I am erasing all that pain, I am making his life better. So can you even bring yourself to hurt the woman who has fallen for your best friend?

    You do want him to be happy right?

    I know you have a black heart Stu…you have been a very cruel person in the past…all three of us have. My heart isn’t clean…neither is Ashley’s. But he now has the opportunity to be happy again…I will make him happy. I will do things that no other woman has ever done for him…things that will make your toes curl when Ashley tells you about them later. So Stu while you do your everything to get yourself another shot at an FWA World Championship…be careful you don’t lose the last person who has faith in you. Don’t throw everything away…I could be a great friend to you as well…I could repair your fractured…family…

    Her last few words slowly trickled out of her mouth, each letter hanging in the air poignantly. She lets them sit there in our ears as she stands still before our eyes. Letting moment after moment pass before she finally breaks the silence again with that softly sweet, yet strong and determined voice.

    Gabrielle: Don’t mull that over for too long Stu…you’ll want to pay attention to every word I say. You need to know what you are dealing with. This isn’t Gabrielle Kennedy…FWA World Tag Team Champion…I am Gabrielle Madison…Montgomery the second longest reigning FWA Champion…in history. Things have changed so much just in the days between our meetings Stu…who you poured your whiskey on at Mile High and who I am now are two completely different people. I’m not fighting for the Kennedy family legacy anymore…that stage of my life is now done.

    There’s a hint of sadness in her eyes.

    Gabrielle: But I am moving on and now I am on the cusp of becoming a two time FWA World Champion. Ever since I lost that title two years ago on the worst night of my life I have wanted nothing more than to reclaim it but it has eluded me thus far. But when I beat Stu St.Clair…I will finally get my one on one rematch, I will finally get the opportunity to see my name engraved upon that most glorious of gold belts again.

    The sadness is gone as that familiar flicker of intensity dances in her passionate eyes.

    Gabrielle: To get there though…to climb back to the top of that mountain where I will beat my dear old friend Ryan Hall, I must first gaze upon my army and select which soldiers it is that will stand beside me and best The Snake. It is my pure…raw sexuality…

    Gabrielle stands beside one particularly voluptuous and seemingly underdressed ‘shadow’, a teasing smirk proudly on her lips.

    Gabrielle: A trait I have used to my advantage in the past…people like Baphomet and Anthony have been hopeless to resist those charms in the ring and become an easy win for me. Jenny…our sweet…and devilish Jenny was another who had little resistance to these charms in past. I doubt that Stu St.Clair, the lonely Snake could fare any better. There hasn’t been anyone in your life since her, since before I won her heart, married her…and lost her. Can you resist the sway of my hips…the flutter of my eyelashes when we’re in that ring together all alone?

    What’s more powerful…a fight with Ryan Hall or a fantasy you can delude yourself into believing even if just for a second?

    I would hope that you are smart enough to choose wisely Stu…I say this not for own vanity, not just for my looks, I say it because you need a happy fantasy. You need something other than drunken nightmares. For once when you close your eyes it should be after you have felt a beautiful woman’s touch, let her scent linger your nose and felt a warmth that has been missing in your life for so long. This isn’t just a battle to decide who it is that has to face a Trial By Fire in weeks to come…this can be a flicker of happiness Stu. One touch of my soft, caramel skin and you will understand why Ashley has spent every night this week in my bed…if you just open yourself up to a happy delusion and deny the darkness that consumes your world.

    But if only…for it is not that, which I will be bringing to beat you.

    The shadow of sex and seduction suddenly disappears.

    Gabrielle: No…you’re a special case Stu, and this is a special night and you are far to set in your ways to enjoy the simple…delicious things in life. You are who you are just as I am who I am. No matter how tempting I am, how perfect I am in every way you are oblivious to it all. You love the darkness your life has become because there is no pressure. But if you stay like this Stu as I pull Ashley up and out of the darkness you will quickly find yourself all alone. Only I can change that for you but it is not my love and compassion that I will bring to this battle.

    Another shadow disappears.

    Gabrielle: Neither is it my purity, my will and strength over other things that keep me from being addicted to vices like you are.

    A few more blacked out figures disappear.

    Gabrielle: It is not even my vast experience, my knowledge, my ability that I have honed over the years.

    Several more figures suddenly vanish.

    Gabrielle: In fact Stu I will just come out and say it; to beat you there is only one thing I need.

    All of the remaining shadowy figures of Gabrielle suddenly disappear, all but one, standing proudly in the night, the one tool of Gabrielle’s that is most dangerous to Stu St.Clair.

    Gabrielle: This is how I beat you Stuart. It is not my connection to your only friend Ashley. It is not the fact I married the woman you love. It is not the fact I helped raise your son and am more of a parent to him than you ever will be. It is something far more dangerous…it is my cunning.

    I am smarter than you Stuart, I am more driven than you and I still have hope left in my life. I know exactly what you bring to the table, I’ve seen your every trick…and while you have seen some of mine there is nothing quite like experiencing it firsthand. You’ll give it your all, you’ll give it your unmotivated best. You’ll try as hard as a man with nothing to fight for can try. But it won’t matter, every step you take will be an inch short, every thought you have will be a second too late.

    I have a proud legacy to fight for.

    I have a fallen childhood hero to fight for.

    I have a daughter to fight for.

    I have a new love to fight for.

    I have parents proud of my every achievement to fight for.

    You have none of these things…for you have destroyed the lives of everyone around you. There is nobody left to inspire you. You had Ashley when he was down…but he is a happier man now, I don’t think that once forgotten smile has left his face since the night I first changed his life. Whose corner do you suppose Ashley is in for our match?

    Will he support the woman who has satisfied his every urge or the man who tried to drown him with his own addiction?

    I can respect Ashleys choice either way…you would be lost without him though Stu and I know this. I know how bad your life is, how empty it is, how badly you need Ashley O’Ryan there with you. Vodka and Venom is your last salvation, the bright light keeping you going. Without it you are nothing…we saw that before Mile High. I made you a worse drunk than you already were, a few taunts from me and you were broken, lost in a hole drinking yourself to death. That’s you with nothing at all in your life.

    So you need Ashley to give you any meaning, but I give Ashley a…warm sensation like nothing he has ever experienced.

    What would you do without him Stu?

    She looks quizzically into the camera, almost silently demanding a response with the intensity in her eyes.

    Gabrielle: Worse yet what will you do when everything you try against me fails? What will the once great Stu St.Clair who is now a shadow of that man do when he realises I won’t go down so easily?

    A smirk slithers back across her beautiful face.

    Gabrielle: You might still think you are great, you might still think that you want this opportunity, you want this win, you want to go onto Trial By Fire. But your desire is nowhere near as strong as mine, two years ago that Championship was stolen from me by the actions of a man I loved, I want to erase that tragic moment from my life. I want to experience the highs of being World Champion again. I want to celebrate with Ashley…and even you too Stu if you could ever let some light into your black world.

    So come at me as hard as you can if you must Stu, threaten to damage to one good thing you have left in your life…but just know that it is all in vain. You can still hate me, you can still hang onto your delusion of being World Champion again. But every ounce of effort you put into winning this match is wasted, you can’t beat me…all you can do Stu is more damage. Damage to a friend, damage to yourself. Accept it and you will take this loss like the man you once were.

    She giggles teasingly and then blows the camera a kiss as it all fades to black…

  11. #11

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    Re: Fight Night 11/15/2013 Promo Thread

    - Not dead yet -

    It is pitch black. We see nothing but black. Every direction, darkness. There is nothing. Before the panic can set in there is an echoed ringing. It sounds like a phone ringing. We hear a muffled voice somewhere nearby as we start to see more, albeit blurry, there is an English accented voice nearby as they respond but it is distorted.

    'Ok, I will talk to my agent'
    There is slamming and we are once again thrust into the silence. We are left in the dark, not knowing where we are. Where we will be. Where we are heading. A straight course for the end. We see a light in the distance almost as if a hand is reaching out to thrust us from the darkness. We are pulled up and we see a very blurry figure helping us up.

    'Get up idiot, I didn't hit you that hard, but now you know your limits on what you can talk to me about, understand?'
    We groggily shake our head in agreement. We can't remember what happened before hand and who was talking to us. Slowly our vision becomes clearer and standing before us is PAJ. PAJ hangs onto us by holding our arm.

    'Good, now we can move forward. I guess I won't need to speak with my agent after all. That is what is wrong in America, the one that refused to let me save it, you think you can sue for anything but when you talk about me in that way you deserve to be hit across the face.'
    We are still shaken as we continue to nod in agreement so we do not annoy PAJ. PAJ standing over us with us at his mercy.

    'I tried. I really did. I tried to save North America. I tried to stop myself from punching you in the face but in all honesty I'm a weak man and I can't resist temptation. A part of me wanted to watch North America burn with Shane McLean as it's champion but a bigger part of me wanted history. The first three time North American Champion. Like I said, I can't resist temptation but what man can't? Well you better because I know that you will be tempted to sue me. That would be a very bad move on your part. Just remember you're not dead yet.'

    PAJ smirks and lets go of us and we fall back to what we can assume is the floor. We can't move and slowly we black out again from the thud. We can continue to hear PAJ talking but the voice slowly fades as he walks away from us. Someone grabs our hand as it appears he has allowed someone to take care of us.


    Its been three days since we spoke to PAJ. We still can't remember what had set him off and what we did to make it happen but one phrase remains stuck in our head 'You're not dead yet?' What did he mean by yet? Was it a threat? Are we in danger? Or was it just the typical PAJ arrogance? We manage to shake it off and look around our drab hotel room. We pick up a notepad that is on the bedside table. It is notes on FWA Fight Night, it is in our handwriting, it has in a circle at the top of the page 'Watch Fight Night' we look up at the clock in a panic. It is 8.15pm. We scramble and look around to find the Television remote. We find it on the floor next to the bed and press the power button but nothing happens. We quickly dive towards the Television and at full stretch we press the power button and flick through the channels while hanging over the edge of the bed. It wasn't a big TV and it barely worked but it was something. We manage to find the channel that is showing Fight Night and almost like fate PAJ appears on screen, we suddenly sit back gripped by what we think is about to happen. His annoying, arrogant smirk fills the screen and fills every fibre of our being with hatred. We are shaking with rage never before have we been this angry. There is nothing more we want to do than smash the TV but we must know more. We must watch. We are not sure why but we must. PAJ is pacing around in his locker room, seemingly preparing for his match, in his typical over-the-top arrogance nature is wearing a suit. We think to ourselves...

    'A Suit? This isn't a god-damn wedding. Oh God, I wish someone would beat the crap out of you. I want to see that smile wiped from your arrogant face'

    PAJ looks into the camera almost as if he is staring right at us. Looking at us. Wanting to talk to us.

    'I hate myself. I'm so alone. I hate everyone and I am jealous of them and their happiness with what they have' he says...

    Well he doesn't but we want him to hate us. We want him to be alone. We want him to fail or have flaws. We want him to hate humanity...Something...anything just so we know that his stupid smirk has something hollow about it. Even just to make us feel better even with all our hate we can help but watch as PAJ begins to address the world.

    'There has been a lot that has happened in the past weeks since Mile High. A lot of uncertainty surrounding FWA but do I care? No, I lost at Mile High. That is a travesty. Shane McLean remains the North American Champion. He took MY title. He took the thing that made my career. He took everything that was good in this company and pissed on it. Just like Ryan Hall did to Chris Kennedy. He took what was most precious to him. Not his title but his pride. Chris Kennedy allowed himself to be burned by a man who couldn't lace his boots, Ryan Hall, A man that I have a victory over. A man that I am gunning for. Not out of some revenge for Chris Kennedy but because he has the one thing that will fill the void of losing the North American Title. Chris Kennedy was nothing more than a man I was going to stab in the back. I was going to do what Ryan Hall did. All that went wrong was that I was beaten to the punch but my plans were in place. That giant target shifts from Chris Kennedy to Ryan Hall. Be warned Hall. I never miss the target.'

    That threw fuel onto the fire. Despite EVERYTHING that has happened to him. Despite losing his title. PAJ is still as arrogant as ever duck off a water's back for him. He doesn't seem humbled by failing to win back his title. He seems more motivated and it drives us completely up the wall. PAJ puts his hand through his hair and completes his look by making his hair tidier.

    'Any man that is back here in their locker room can be beaten, by me, there are others that have that belief but I have destroyed a Hall of Famer in Sean Moore. I have run Clay Reitmeier, a highly rated wrestler for the future, OUT of the FWA. I have a pin fall victory over our new Undisputed Champion. I am most sough after prospect in FWA. That is why Chris Kennedy wanted me at his side rather than against him. He understood what I was going to become and if the great Chris Kennedy saw me as his chosen one what will the rest of the locker room do? They will look at me in awe, they will look at me with fear in their eyes just like they should have done all along. What do I have to fear when everyone else fears me?'

    Our anger reaches a boiling point. We scream at the TV.

    'Look at that asshole trying to be clever and philosophical just be cocky and insult people that is all you are good at'
    It does nothing. After all we are shouting at a TV but we feel slightly better.

    'Nothing is the answer. Why should I walk down the ramp fearing Carmine Reaper or Ashley O'Ryan? I shouldn't. I am the last of my kind. The last man who is truly great. The English used to rule the world but now they are nothing. I will rule the world as a one man empire. I do not need allies. I do not need anyone. I have never needed anyone. I am this company's saviour and if it doesn't survive then I will be this company's executioner, either way I am in the centre of the defining moment in the history of the Fantasy Wrestling Alliance...No...I AM the defining moment. Nothing will match me. Nothing will surpass me. There is no-one in this company that can pose a threat me. None of the “big” names in this company will be able to live in my atmosphere, Not Chris Kennedy, not Ryan Hall, not Gabrielle, not Adrian Wolf. Times are changing. A new era is coming. The One Man Empire was born not only to rule but to dominate. Liberation approaches the gates of FWA. Liberation from the same tired names. The same boring names you have had shoved down your throats for way too long. I will shake things up and it will be glorious.'

    We can't take anymore. If we didn't have to lean over to turn off the TV it would be off. We have to keep watching. We take a few deep breaths and look at the TV as PAJ arrogantly smirks. He is pushing all our buttons and we helpless to do anything but continuing watching.

    'Glory, something that neither of my opponents know about, they have won titles, they have been champions, Ashley O'Ryan is currently a champion. What have either of them done to really set themselves apart? They are both grey. They blend. They are just there without you ever really knowing they are there but people don't scream their names. People don't boo them out of the buildings because they are average. Carmine Reaper has been in and around this company for a long time and has only ever won two titles. I have been here just over a year and I have set the bar on what is it is to be a North American Champion. I made the title prestigious. You won a tag team title? You relied on OTHER PEOPLE? How pathetic...I thought I could trust people...certain people who I will not all know who they are....they sold out to the big wigs of this company that I was so determined to bring down. They destroyed my faith in others. There is no more loyalty to anyone just a tidal wave of destruction that will soon be crashing upon everyone. Carmine and Ashley will drown in the tears of those who wronged me. They will be haunted by the screams of those same men and women. Then they will be apart of those tears. They will add their screams. They are both weak.'

    We are seething on the inside but we can't look away in case we miss something. PAJ is arrogant and is rubbing it in our face by dominating the screen with his stupid little smirk.

    'Ashley O'Ryan, one half of the current tag team champions, partner to Stu St. Clair, The bastard son of Dublin. A man who is well respected in FWA both in the ring and backstage, much like Stu St. Clair and I beat him one-on-one in the middle of the ring and I didn't need to use my tactics to win either. What does that tell you? I am better than your partner. What it tells me is much more interesting. It tells me that you are either as poor as Stu St. Clair or you are carrying some seriously dead weight. I have quietly been watching you, just like everyone else, and I think you are just as bad as Stu St. Clair. Why else would you be tag team champions? It is something you think about. I have been a tag champion in a past life and every time I was carrying someone. If you are of level talent and you have the tag team belts. It means just one thing. You aren't good enough to win a title without someone there to hold your hand and bail you out when you are too tired to carry on. I stood inside a Steel Cage and I bleed but I didn't quit and cry to a tag partner. I knuckled down and I won my second North American Title. I reached out and pulled greatness away from everyone else and bought it all down on me and it will never be returned to the talentless masses that plague this company.'

    We laugh, not because it was funny but because it was completely wrong, we feel sorry for PAJ. How delusional he actually is about how good he really is.

    'I actually feel for all the people that have to sit there and watch them. They fill the seats to see me. They hate me yet they are compelled to stop whatever they are doing and watch. I just have that level of appeal. Guys like O'Ryan and Carmine are just glad to be apart of this roster but I am not satisfied. I yearn for more. I WILL rule this company. I will do anything to make that happen and nothing will stop me because I'm not dead yet...'

    It struck us. We understood what had happened. We were talking to PAJ. We asked him about his future, about everything that had happened to the FWA over the past couple of weeks, what it felt like to be human when he lost his title and punched us in disgust. We got under his skin. We get a small smile on our face, we won the moral battle. PAJ stares straight back at us, it feels as if we are stood nose-to-nose but there is distance between PAJ and everyone else he has ever spoken too. The scene fades to black.

  12. #12
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    Re: Fight Night 11/15/2013 Promo Thread

    Heroes vs. Villains

    How does it happen? Why do we fight? Do we fight for glory and honor or do we fight for the fun of it? When we fight we want to win, we want to be known as a hero or in some cases a villain. We never want to let fans down but yet when you are a villain you fight for that cause. You fight to make the fans mad and to spit in their faces because you are that good, you are that strong even if they doubted you, you rise to the top and you make them see that you are that damn good. As when you are a hero you fight for the fans because you want to be cheered you want to be admired. But isn’t there a fine line between being a hero and a villain? Of course there is, you want to fight on that line you want to toe it because in a way you want to have hatred in your heart because a man that doesn’t have hatred in his heart has never really lived. Have I lived? Of course I have because I still hate I still loathe but now it is a little bit slimmer now because I know what hate brings you. Hate brings you to always question people and I didn’t want to be like that anymore. You can’t question people all the time because well then you never really know anyone. If you go in looking for the good in people you can befriend them and then at the last second stab the bastards in the back. It has happened to me, and I will always take those scars into battle with me, hell tonight I will bring them, because I’m facing the last of a kind and a switchblade, anything can happen.”


    Carmine is sitting with a book next to him and it is open to a page and it has writing on it. Carmine toys with the book with his fingers and he looks up at the camera and nods his head.

    Carmine “Grim” Reaper: I have never hid anything from anyone. I have always wore my emotions on my sleeve. Has it gotten me in trouble? Here and there it has, but I don’t care because that is what I am. That is why I came back to the FWA because I wanted to prove to myself and everyone that I still had “it.” At Mile High I didn’t do what I wanted, I wanted to win a title because then I would have had another defining moment in my career.

    Jason Gryphon is one hell of a champion and he has proven himself over and over again. I wanted to beat him because then I could have had something over him, but now he has that over my head and now the friendly competition is pretty much his. As you saw what I wrote he is what a hero should be everything he does is for the fans, everything he speaks is for the fans. You have seen him speak to the heroes in the military he has visited them he has sat with them. That is what you do in this business you become friends with the fans and they love you for it.

    Ashley O’ Ryan has faced demons and we have all see them, he has drank and then he has stopped and then he has gotten back on it again. But you know what is great about him? He has won titles and he has defended them and he has become the biggest star that the FWA has to offer in some aspects. When he retires he is going to walk into the Hall of Fame, hell he is probably going to have his own wing. No matter what happens to him he keeps on fighting and hell he keeps on winning. Hell he has a title right now, and to be quite honest I knew that it was just a matter of time before he got hardware around his waist again. Ashley is going to come into this match knowing that he is the hands down favorite to win this match, and that is nothing against PAJ or anything it is just the gods honest truth no matter how much it pains me to say. Of course I want to go out there and win that match and have my hand raised. But when it comes down to it the odds are stacked against me. Ashley O’ Ryan doesn’t have a drinking problem and that is what I need from him to beat him. I need him to come out drunk and just stumbling around so I can slap him right across his red drunken face and have him fall down and get the 1…2…3…But that won’t happen I will have to be the “Golden Standard” of the FWA.

    Do I sound defeated? I might. But since coming back to the FWA I haven’t had that moment of pure bliss. Maybe facing Ashely and PAJ will give me that bliss. Maybe if I beat them I will get that passion back hell I need it.

    Carmine closes the book and picks it up and stuffs it into his gym bag and looks back at the camera.

    Carmine “Grim” Reaper: PAJ back when I started here in the FWA was a thorn in my side I couldn’t beat him. No matter the moment he always had my number and now will it change?

    I hope it does because I want to beat him, he is that one villain that loves it when the fans boo him. He soaks it in and smiles but on Fight Night I wipe that smile off of his face because I’m coming back and I’m coming strong, and the Syndicate won’t be around for PAJ to hide behind. He is going to have to step up and fight like a man something he hasn’t done in a while and I think that is what is going to kill him. He hasn’t fought like a man for a while and he is going to fail on Fight Night. PAJ shouldn’t be in this match he should be in a corner crying because his friends have all left him and he is all by himself.

    Time for a fight. Time to become what I want to become and that is a champion. My time is now. You are all warned.”


  13. #13
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    Re: Fight Night 11/15/2013 Promo Thread

    I lay in the dark on the couch that is in my office, staring up at the ceiling when the door to my office opens then closes almost immediately. I stretch a bit then get up and head towards the door. I open the door accidentally scaring Amber whom appeared to be talking to River.

    Amber: Aaaah, you scared me. I didn't know you were in there.

    Vincent: I'm sorry. I slept in my office because of the parasites that are outside of the office.

    River: Some of the employees were wondering why the reporters are camped outside of our office. The rumors are that it has to do with our contracts with the U.S. Government.

    I scratch the back of my head a bit.

    Vincent: They are out there hoping to get my thoughts on the whole PWS/FWA fiasco and whether or not I have plans on buying the FWA.

    Amber: Are you?

    Vincent: While I certainly do have enough money to put in a bid and probably end up buying the FWA, my thought is why should I? I mean, sure I would probably have full control over it, but eh, anyone who ends up in that position will just end up letting the power go to their heads and screw over pretty much everyone on the roster.

    Amber: Ah, but then you'd be able to make your own matches and essentially become whichever FWA Champion you wanted to be.

    Vincent: While that's true, if I were ever become part of the FWA Management, I would then retire from wrestling. Simply because in my opinion, anyone in position of authority/influence, shouldn't also be involved in any of the Matches.

    Amber hops off of the table she was sitting on.

    Amber: Speaking of Matches, you're scheduled to face Drew Stevenson in a #1 Contenders X Rules Match for the X-Division Championship while the current X-Division Champion, Jason Gryphon, is in a Winner Takes All Title Unification Triple Threat Match against the 24/7 Champion, Alexander Sokolov, and Jayson Shephard.

    Vincent: Ah yes, that emerald bastard. So the FWA Management wants me to be in a #1 Contenders Match while that as*hole Shephard is in a Match where he could win the X-Division Championship even though I was closer to winning the X-Division Championship at the end of the Mile High PPV. Yeah, that's real fair.

    I shake my head in disappointment as I said “real fair”.

    River: That's why you should buy the FWA and take over. Then make the changes you feel should be made.

    Vincent: I'll consider it. Anyways, lets all get back to work.

    Amber and myself head off to deal with the many meetings I have on my schedule while River heads down to the R&D Department of BIRD Imperial Industries.

  14. #14
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    Re: Fight Night 11/15/2013 Promo Thread

    Scene opens outside of a memorial for troops who sacrificed their lives to ensure peace across the world. There are several reefs of poppies placed at the foot of the memorial statue. Along with several dozen flowers left at the memorial statue. The skies are grey with white fog hanging over. There no one around the memorial statues dedicated to the troops. Inscribed on the memorial are names of hundreds all of which having a phrased scribed into the memorial statue of never forgotten. There is a piece of paper with writing on it that appears to be ripped out of a book. The cameras zoom into what is written on the paper. It is written in red ink.

    The Battle Is Won but The War is Far From Over
    My head hangs high. My dignity has been restored and whatever people said I lack thereof of has been erased. A new chapter unfolds in front of me in securing my legacy. I am far from an honourable man by my actions and decision making. All of those things would make me a dishonorable man. However the people wouldn’t hold it against me for being dishonorable because they wouldn’t expect anything less from me. I walked away a victory when the smoked cleared but the same time I didn’t win the other battle. That battle I was about to win was taken away from me. My strong forthcoming in a night that should have stolen the show was ripped away from me. It wasn’t lack of a chance. It was an enemy ensuring my redemption wouldn’t happen the way I believed it would unfold. Even though she tasted defeat didn’t know when it was time to move on. From those actions I look and see it as an opportunity for more bloodshed to occur. The bloodshed will not weigh on my mind while I was it away from my hands if you would. The bloodshed will be on the ones who cared and dare warned you what would occur if you played with a snake. This snake has no problem taking her to hell with him as he great view of the lake of fire from where he resides in hell. The question is will my actions be constrained on the type of a match. If there are no rules everything I will do will be legal. If not I will cast a shadow upon her fearing of what could have been.

    Water droplet fall from the grey sky as several crows land in front of the memorial statue. A man wearing snake skin boot with white washed blue jeans with a tear on the left knee; along with a black leather jacket starts walking towards the memorial statue. The man has long brown hair that becomes wet the moment the rain droplets fall upon his head. He has a long thick beard. The camera crew member adjusts the lens and zooms in as we see more into the man’s face. He has one light blue eye while the other is pure white. It is none other than Stu ‘The Snake’ St.Clair. As he moves it is almost like he is gliding. His eyes are not blinking. He continues walking closer and stops within several feet before the memorial statue. He slowly turns his head at the camera crew. Staring at the camera crew is a man voided of any human emotion staring at them. The man slowly begins to talk in his all too familiar tone of voice.

    Stu ‘The Snake’ St.Clair: Never forgotten is what we say to those who gave their lives to ensure peace. Never forgotten and never forgiven is for one who has not had closure. There is no closure for I am very much awake. My actions made the doubt go away others bestowed upon me. My past has been put to sleep whatever skeletons were in my closet are gone. There is no hesitation in doing bad things for the greater good. There are no consequences for any actions I do. Caring is a luxury I can no longer afford. Ash has gotten his life back to a small degree. He believes in himself. He has seen the reward for his efforts. We are FWA World Tag Team Champions for our fifth reign. Our heads are in the game. Every effort that was put forth has paid off. The boys are back if you would. The crowds cheering louder than they were earlier this year. We got pegged as a flash in the pan for winning those belts for the first time since two thousand and eight. There is stiff competition out there but everything is in motion. I am looking forward to getting out pay off. NOBODY is going to cheat us out of it. At Thirty Three years old I am in still there. I am not over the hill. The fire is still burning if you would. I tasted heart ache for too long now and that is gone.

    * A sick smile comes over Stu’s face while he pauses as the rain droplet are now heavier and falling faster from the sky.

    Stu ‘The Snake’ St.Clair: I’m standing on my own two foot and I like every second of it. Taking my steel chain busting open Chris Kennedy, Drazin and of course my own Brother Wolf’s head open. Blood poured down there face like water pouring from a broken dam. Their faces were crimson and the chain was covered with their blood. I enjoyed that feeling. I felt comfortable and I got off on it. That match was the second warning I was back. The moment I put a large python on Gabrielle to the hitting a DDT on Kennedy off of the top of the ladder to the bloodshed I caused with my steel chain. I knew I was back. [*Stu pauses as he smirks. He then slowly continues*] The people in the area that knew I was back. Most certainly Nathan Richards, Duke Drazin, Ryan Hall, Chris Kennedy and The Angel of Death Wolf knew I was back. Nightmares do become reality. That night was mine and I was ready to climb. Then Gabrielle stuck her nose in my business. In essence she knocked me out long enough to ensure I wouldn’t be climbing that ladder any time soon. [*Stu smirks*] I may have been laid out on the mat but that didn’t mean I didn’t hear what was going on after Hall defeated Gabrielle’s husband Chris Kennedy. [*Stu chuckles before he continues speaking*] I listened to a man whimper in front of his wife about him losing the FWA Undisputed World Heavyweight title. It wasn’t stolen from him. Though he stole the victory at Red White and Bruised from Hall when the title was about to be his.

    • A slick and disgusting smile comes over Stu’s face as he pauses. The rain contuse to downpour as a wind begins to blow.

    Stu ‘The Snake’ St.Clair: I can imagine Gabrielle was embarrassed. Hell some might dare say more so when I dumped an entire bottle of whiskey on her. Gabrielle that night you saw your husband was no better a whiny spoiled boy who doesn’t like when things don’t go his way. He even tried to take that moment away from Hall only for all hell to break loose. The Syndicate self destructed. That was when the real ‘Astonishing’ Chris Kennedy came out. Your night was ruined not to mention your relationship with Kennedy was beyond repair. [*Stu smirks*] You may have ruined my shot at becomes World Heavyweight Champion for the Fifth time but I got one hell of a show seeing the implosion of the Syndicate and hearing Chris Kennedy grovel over losing his belt. That was classic. [* Stu’s face goes serious*] However you screwed me out of MY chance to be World Heavyweight Champion. That was a mistake. You open Pandora’s Box when you went on ESPN and ran me down in that interview. You made something inside of me SNAP. Everything that was bottled up that caused me pain and heart break was gone. All that was there was a man void of feeling compassion. All worries were gone and lust punishment was back.

    • Stu pauses as he smirks. His hair is beyond wet as puddles have formed on the concrete walk away to the memorial statue. Stu begins speaking.

    Stu ‘The Snake’ St.Clair: All those times Gabrielle; make me out to be nothing more than a drunk out on his luck. You knew what was going to happen. You made reference how because how much I drank I could bleach someone’s hair. That was ‘cute’. But at Mile High with your running me down as a drunk out on his luck. I thought you want to know what it is like. So I poured a full bottle of whiskey all over you. You smelled almost worse any homeless man begging for booze. Nothing worse than smelling like a cheap bottle of whiskey eh Gabrielle? [*Stu smirks as he pauses briefly*] Fun didn’t stop I had a snake ready for you to meet. Your shriek was just as good when I heard you scream back at Uncontrollable Chaos in 2008 when I dumped a python on you. I enjoyed myself that night up until the part you cost me my chance. Yes Ryan Hall walked away champion. I have no problem as he hasn’t tasted success in years. But now Gabrielle I got you in a match on Fight Night it is for a shot at Ryan Hall’s FWA Undisputed World Heavyweight title at Trial by Fire. Am I happy for the match? Sure but I want to retribution. I want to make you suffer. You think flaunting my son in me saying how he looks down upon me isn’t going to go unnoticed? Am I going to forgive you and move on? I am not moving on. Label me bitter if you would but god damn honey I want to do more than just kick your ass centre of the ring.

    • Stu pauses as he holds his right hand with his left hand. Stu starts clenching his right hand for a good fifteen seconds. His hands go by his side as he eyes the camera before he speaks with hate running down his face.

    Stu ‘The Snake’ St.Clair: I want it to be inside a steel structure so you cannot run or in a match where there are no rules. So everything I do will be perfectly legal. No consequences and a million witnesses watching something that will even make them turn their heads away. [*Stu pauses as he slowly exhales as his breath is seen because of coldness outside. He continues*] I may not get to unleash a nightmare upon you Gabrielle but I will cast my shadow upon you. You will remember fear and know every meaning of the word. You will not EVER want to be caught in my crosshairs ever again. There are methods on how I can do that. I could simply stalk you then strike when your guard is down. Or I can play upon what my mentor and trainer Jake Roberts did. Fear of the bite, fear of the fangs. I could have fun with dumping another long python on you. Or I could play with a King Cobra. [*Stu smirks*] Or I can do something completely different. You woke me up Gabrielle and you will get what is coming your way. Chris Kennedy isn’t at your side. Nor is Jack Severino or is Jenny Ignite. You got no protection. No back up. You’re a sitting duck with no control over what will transpire. I am in control of all things now. You better god damn believe I’M THE ONE WHO KNOCKS!

    • Stu pauses as he slowly exhales. He stares at the grey sky with rain pouring down from it. He slowly turns his head down and stares back at the cameras.

    Stu ‘The Snake’ St.Clair: Daniella isn’t there has she ran herself out of the business. You truly are alone. Sure the odd guy might turn your way because of your sex appeal. But they will not stick around to be your knight in shining armor. I will not be slain like some stupid ogre or a giant. I have a malevolent mind Gabrielle. I am always one step ahead of the game. I am sadistic by every meaning of the word. Yet I am no black widow like you are oh The Lady In Black. I can see why you are The Lady In Black. You dress for the night for it. Make extra money if you know what I mean. I am not one to be baited with your pleas or mercy. Where was that you dragged my life out for public display? You showed me none. You prayed on Ash saying he wasn’t all there because of what is going on with his wife and kids. He proved you wrong. At Mile High we proved you wrong taking the FWA World Tag Team Title belts back. I made you scream and I listened to soon to be ex-husband grovel over Ryan Hall taking the title from him. The outlook everyone once had has changed. The landscape has changed. You smell like a cheap bottle of whiskey while all you got is nothing. I’ve come to terms of what I don’t have but that will no delay me. You cannot play that card Gabrielle. Your time is soon to be up. I am hearing that old clock ticking right now as we speak. My time is drawing near when I win this match and climb up that mountain to be World Heavyweight Champion again. Begging for The Unholy King will lead you nowhere expect being burned by his devastating Inferno Cutter. You’re really out of options here.

    • Stu glares at the camera with a sickening delight.

    Stu ‘The Snake’ St.Clair: The only two options either put up a fight or play dead and hope the beating stop. Either way you’re going to get a hurting. I have no problem doing this on the new network we are on. It makes no difference in me getting retribution. This might be the one time in your life Gabrielle you might as well have some liquid courage because you’re going to need it. I recommend whiskey.

    • Stu briefly smirks as his face goes serious. The crows start cawing as he spreads his arm out to the side. The rain continues pouring as the wind continues to blow. Stu’s hair sways a bit from the blow of wind. The camera feed slowly fades out.

    End of Scene
    credit to xxhhhxx

  15. #15
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    Re: Fight Night 11/15/2013 Promo Thread


    Last Sunday, the improbable occurred at Mile High. In the face of an unrelenting challenge and outnumbered every way he looked, Jason Gryphon held onto his X-Division Championship in an Ultimate X Match against other opponents. Each one of those men tried their very best to take something that they all wanted away from the strong hands of Living Mythology but they all failed in their quest to become champions. Jason Gryphon can now truly say that he stand atop of the X-Division, especially since he could literally look down at five of his best obstacles and reign supreme over them all. The power of the creatures proved to be the turning point for Jason in the Ultimate X Match and thanks to their love and support, Jason was able to vanquish those that sought to take his most priceless treasure. He was able to fight them off with his speed, strength, and endurance to the delight of his creatures, which erupted in thunderous applause when he secured his championship. Now in order to continue to be the hero that those creature need, Jason must against again put his X-Division Championship on the line again on Fight Night. Alexander Sokolov and The Destroyer" Jayson Shephard have been able to weasel their way into a championship match with Jason Gryphon. Luckily for Jason, when he is able to defeat those two men, he is going to walk away with another championship around his waist. Jason will be the last ever 24/7 champion when he walks away with the victory. After a spiritual rebirth last week before his Ulimate X Match, Jason is now walking the path of the light with a new attire and a new attitude. Will that be enough for him to walk away with the X-Division Championship again this Friday Night?

    The Sun has finally arisen in Denver, Colorado. Inside of the room, the light of the Earth’s closest star is shining through the curtains in a large hotel room. Empty champagne bottles are scattered throughout the room and the remnants of a massive celebration can be seen. The King Sized bed appears to have to occupants on it, the heads of Jason Gryphon and the star of CBS’ 2 Broke Girls Kat Dennings can be seen peeking out of the covers. Jason finally begins to stir and one of his strong hands comes up from under the covers and wipes his eyes before going and holding his head. It appears that he has a massive hangover and drowning himself and celebratory champagne after his Ultimate X victory at Mile High. Jason can feel something under the covers poking him and he reaches down to find another bottle of champagne. The bottle clinks onto the ground but that does not appear to be the only thing that is under the covers between Kat and Jason. He reaches down and he pulls out a can of whipped cream and a set of handcuffs. A smile creeps over Jason’s face as he begins to remember last night’s adventure. Jason reaches over to the side table by the bed and reaches for his cell phone. He pulls it out and sees that he had a voicemail. He types in his access code and the following can be heard.


    Jason, this is your General Manager. Congratulations on retaining your championship last night. I can honestly say I didn’t think you had it in you to rise to the occasion. Anyway, I am sure that you are aware of the problems that FWA and PWS Network have been having lately but we want you to rest assured that you still have a job with us, but, we are going to need you to get to Fight Night a couple of days early this week so we can hash out these problems in person and not under media speculation. If you cannot make it, we will understand, but if you do can’t, we will just have to find ourselves a new X-Division Champion. We have booked you on a flight leaving Denver International Airport at Noon, I suggest you be on it.

    Jason looks over at the alarm clock and notices that he only has 2 hours to get to the airport and reach the next town on the FWA’s tour. He gets out of the bed wearing just a set of boxers so that the camera gets a full view of every rip and curve on Jason’s body. He looks around the room for something that he cannot seem to find and when he goes under the cover to look for it he finally wakes up Kat.


    Hey big boy, what are you doing? I am tried to sleep over here.


    Sorry to wake you babe but I have got to get out of here.


    Usually I am the one to say that.


    No no, believe me, if I had a choice I would be spend the day with you and we would have an encore presentation of what happened last night.


    So what are you looking for?


    I am looking for my X-Division Championship belt. Have you seen it?


    Well there is something long and hard under the covers and since you are standing right there, I would happen to guess that it might be your belt.

    Kat reaches under the covers and coyly pulls out the championship gold that Jason retained at Migh High.


    Oh thank god, you are angel.

    Jason reaches over and grabs his championship belt and gives Kat a seductive smooth on the lips.


    Listen, I have two hours to get to the airport and get out of Denver with my job intact. I just got a voicemail from my boss saying a production meeting has been pushed up by a couple of days and if I am not there I will be stripped of my championship.


    That’s not fair; she cannot do that to you.


    Unfortunately, that is the world I live in. I am the man of the people being ruled over by tyrants who would love nothing more than to take everything that I have done and throw it away and I cannot let that happen beautiful. That is why I have to get out of here.

    Kat moves out of bed wearing just a pair of black panties and the camera focuses in on her back as she faces her one night stand. Jason’s eyes try not to travel to her netheregions.


    I am not usually one for a big show of emotion…so I won’t show you one.

    Kat Dennings moves past Jason and swats him in his rump before going into the bathroom and during on the water to wash the smell of sex off of herself. Jason does not have the luxury of time. He quickly searches for his clothes. He quickly is able to gather up his clothes and he makes his way to the door.


    You have my number babe.


    Oh yeah, I have your number. I’ve had it since the moment we meet.


    I’m not going to argue with that.

    Jason heads out the door after calling for his car and walks down the hall toward the exit. He tips the valet and gets into his car, heading toward the airport. Jason turns on the radio to a classic rock station and Def Leppard’s “Pour Some Sugar on Me” begins to play. It is obvious that Jason is flashing back to last night’s romp with the famous actress.


    God Damn It! I should be back up in that hotel room right now making love to that beautiful pale skin goddess but I am? NO! I have to be dragged out of bed on two hours’ notice to check a flight that I didn’t even know about of the Administration is going to strip me of my championship. As much as I love my creatures and performing in front of them, being in the arms of a woman that gives you the kind of sex that makes your left side go numb is just a bit more fun.

    As Jason is driving down the hallway to make it to the hospital, his cell phone begins to ring. He looks at it and sees that it is from Deborah Redgrave. He answers the phone…


    Do you have any idea how bad your timing sucks Redgrave?


    Oh you are not the first person to tell me that Gryphon but as far as I am concerned, any bit of pleasure that I can cost you means that my timing in terrific. I heard rumors that you were seen with a stunning girl at the after party last night so I wanted to make damn sure that you couldn’t enjoy any bit of your downtime with that girl.


    So you couldn’t cost me my championship so you decided to cost me my prize?


    You know Mr. Gryphon, sometimes you are not a stupid as you look.


    What do you want woman?!


    Oh I just wanted to inform you that you will once again be putting that X-Division Championship that you treasure so much on the line on Fight Night.


    I am all about competition. Who will you be sacrificing this week?


    You will be in a Triple Threat Match against
    Alexander Sokolov and "The Destroyer" Jayson Shephard. If somehow you are able to beat the two of those men, you will able be the last 24/7 Champion. Good luck Mr. Gryphon, I’m sure you are going to need it.

    Jason hangs up the phone and he tosses it over onto the passenger side of his car. He has an annoyed look on his face as he thinks about his upcoming match on Fight Night.


    Last night in front of tens of thousands of my creatures, I defeated five men that wanted my championship for their own selfish means and now I found out that I must once again face a threat to my championship reign. I have to beat two men this time, one of which I soundly defeated at Mile High. I have beaten Jayson Shepard two times in the past months and now he magically gets another shot at my championship. If Redgrave wanted to take my championship away from me, she could have at least given me some competition that is worth enough to take my gold away from me. How many times must I face so called monsters and villains in order to prove that the way of the light is a better path to glory than that of darkness. It is that very darkness that Jayson Shepard and his minions thrive in and that darkness has done nothing for him in the past. If he believes that somehow he is magicially going to defeat me just because an untested rookie is in the ring with me, he has another thing coming. He may not have to defeat me in battle, all he has to do is pin Alexander to the mat in order to take my championship away from me. I will not allow that to happen. I will have to protect that fool…when I am not trying to smite him with the lash of my right arm myself.

    Jason sits in silence for a few moments before bring his attention to his other challenge.


    In order bring more people into the FWA, the upper management decided to create a championship for those that had not yet proven that merit and it has blown up in their faces because of this whole situation with the PWS Network. Alexander Sokolov is one of those untested rookies that was given a championship that didn’t mean anything. Now it is time to see what that kid seriously has in his tank because he is trying to take something away from me that I will not give him. He is nothing more than another one of these stereotypicial anti-American asses that believe that are better than me because of where they were born. It does not matter where you were born to be in this business, the only thing that matters is if you can get wins inside of our arena. He may have a bright future ahead of him but on Fight Night he is going to come across a light so blinding that it is going to put him out of commission for a long time. If he wants to become the X-Division Champion, I suggest the he hire a magician because that he is only way he is going to get the championship to disappear from around my waist and get it to appear on his.

    Jason pulls into the airport and parks his car, ready for the challenges that await him on Fight Night this week, and ready to put his gold on the line one more time.

  16. #16
    Boobage Expert
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    Saddle Sally promo

    Inside a nice hotel room...

    Saddle Sally sits on the edge of her bed in athletic shorts and a tight fitness top that shows off a nice amount of cleavage while compressing her breasts for faster running time. Her cowgirl hat is to the side. The camera places her symmetrically in frame. She faces the camera but doesn't look directly into it. Her eyes skewed just slightly to the outside.

    Sally: I reckon this was inevitable. Sooner or later we were gonna have to rustle up against each other. Just didn't think it'd be this soon. So much has happened in such a small amount of time. This whole FWA, PWS, who owns what and what belongs to whom it's all jus' crazy. I'm not knee deep in it, I jus' can feel it all 'round that's all.

    When I got the call about what was goin' on with the FWA I didn't quite believe it. I thought it was some unfounded Dave Meltzer report. I mean how could that be? The PWS Network is our home and it has been for nearly a decade, I mean it jus' had to be a mistake. Right? But it ain't false story jus' to rustle the herd. This is a bonafied shake up. And I'd be lyin' if I said I wasn't scared at one point that it all was gonna come crashin' down.

    Trial By Fire was pretty routine for Shannon and I. We had that match in the bag 'fore we even pulled up to the arena. So we we're in high spirits afterwards. I was ready to party...but after that whole mess I didn't feel like doin' much of anythin'. I admit at one point I thought 'bout callin' my husband Zaire. But I think he would have jus' not been in the right frame of mind. See his cousin is Matthew Robinson and I think he would have taken the whole shake up too personally. I jus' needed someone to talk to. I felt Shannon was that person, but there are others too like my kin Justine, Aja Melissa and even Lucy Pinder all were there to talk to me. Put my mind at ease, I'm very grateful fer' that.

    Sally pauses for a moment. She rests her hands in between her legs and applies pressure. As if the squeezing is getting the emotion to pop out of her...or maybe to keep it restrained.

    Sally: And ya' know I regret not callin' Zaire. I really do. I wish I talked to him, but I jus' don't know what to say right now. I haven't for a long, long time and I'm worried. I'm really worried. And now I gotta take on my friend Shannon O' Neil for a chance at the title. I could damage a friendship...jus' fer' a chance. And I'm gonna do it, I have to try. It's what I want. It's what I'm in the business fer'. Still, it gets awfully lonely out on the road. Sometimes I feel like a jackrabbit without a hole to call home. Shannon makes me feel a bit more normal, a bit more social. And now I've got to put it in jeopardy.

    I haven't really talked to her this week, I jus' can't find the words to say 'bout our upcoming face off. I'm real good at that. Not knowin' what to say. Friendship...friends are real hard to come by in these parts. I know. Zaire is....was?...No is. He is. He's my best friend, and yet I don't know what to do. Now 'cause of the career path I chose another friendship could go down the tube. I can't allow that. Win, lose or draw I need Shannon to know that this match is not personal. Not at least between me and her.

    I say it's not personal between the two of us, 'cause it ain't. But it is personal in one regard, it's personal to me. I want that title back in a way I don't think Shannon understands. I reckon one day she will, she's gonna win the gold one day. Fer' sure. But she hasn't experienced that rush that one gets in the FWA. When you win that championship belt, it's like time stands still and everythin' for one single moment makes sense. Everythin'.

    Sally takes her hands out from between her legs and rests them on her side. Now she looks directly into the camera her sparkly eyes locking in.

    Sally: Maybe in another world, another life one where I wasn't blessed with bein' born into a Christian family I'd use this opportunity to experiment. Now fer the few who didn't pick up on that I don't mean test tubes and beakers. I'm talkin' bout kissing, embracin'...scissorin' with another woman. Maybe Shannon. She is beautiful after all. I love her spirit, the way she moves into the unknown head first. I admire that. But this ain't another world, this is my world. And in my world that kinda stuff gets ya' sent to Hell. Not to mention Gabrielle has done enough experimentin' fer' the whole darn planet. Heh, but that's how badly I want to be close to Shannon. I'm not close to her yet, but I want to be. I so desperately wanna be.

    Sally gets to her feet now, the camera follows her as she looks out the hotel window at the city.

    Sally: Jus' look at all those buildings, restaurants, theaters, apartments, homes....all filled with people. People goin' to work, gettin' back from work, shoppin', drinkin', eatin', fuc-- ya' get the point. All of them doin' somethin', usually with somebody. But not me, I'm here all alone in my hotel room. The kind of room Zaire and I used to mess up 'cause we didn't have to clean up. Don't worry we always tipped well....and provided gloves. I know that any inklings of intimacy towards Shannon aren't lust fer' her. Its lust fer' my man, whose touch I miss like a baby calf misses it's momma's teat. I wish I could tell her 'bout my struggle, and how I want to return to my husband. But pride intact. But I jus' can't right now. Not this week.

    So now what?

    Sally looks back a the camera.

    Sally: Shannon O' Neil, this is usually the part where I look into the camera and make a very real threat that I will try and break yer' back with my Elk's Horn. That won't happen today though. I'm not tryin' to hurt ya'. I'm not tryin' to humiliate and discourage ya'. But I am gonna try and beat you, I'm gonna do my best to win. We are friends, I value our friendship...but...I want that Women's Championship. And I know that if ya' took the time to watch all this ya' already know all the stuff I'm thinkin'. And my deepest apologies if those got a tad awkward fer' ya.

    I wanna win though. So damn bad. It's in my bones, in my marrow, in my soul. I ain't bein' dramatic 'bout it either. It is what it is. I respect ya' Shannon, I want to keep bein' friends and tag team partners but inside that ring we will not be friends. We won't be enemies, but don't expect me to go easy on ya'. Do not mistake my dismissal of my more painful finishin' move and a dismissal of motivation. I have plenty of ways to end yer' run at the title. Elk's Horn is jus' one of many.

    I'm not gonna dwell on this too much, we both know what we have to do. And I expect nothin' less than yer' best. I'd like to think of us as partners....not like that...and that ya' respect me enough to give it yer' all. I want this to be clean, but competitive. I want to win, but I don't want you to see me winnin' as a rejection of you. I guess I'm kinda jus' reachin' a level of content with all of this. And I glad I am. I will see you inside the squared circle Shannon, and ya' better expect to face the power of a bull, the durability of a mountain and the agility of an antelope. Yippie Yippe Ki Hi Yay Bitch!

    There is a knock at the door. Sally answers it and receives hotel room service of a burger, salad and mineral water. She takes it and tips generously. She sits down. Alone. And starts to eat her food, the sound of her eating awfully loud in the empty hotel room. The camera fades to black.

    Saddle Sally 3x FWA Womens Champion
    2013 & 2014 FWA Women Wrestler of the Year

    The Semi-Published Works of iMatt

    "An Affair of the Youth" feature film production journalElsa, The Great (Frozen fanfic)

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  17. #17
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    Re: Fight Night 11/15/2013 Promo Thread

    Seattle, WA – Days after Mile High

    Ashley O'Ryan and Frank Duffy, an old friend and Ashley's bartender back in his business owning days stood at the window of the Pikes Places event room. The site of the first time he had gotten public drunk and made a pathetic spectacle of himself during their married life.
    He stared out the window and saw her. She was dressed in grey and black, a hood over her head as she stared up at the window.

    Ashley: Moira...

    Ashley turned for the door. Frank Duffy grabbed him.

    Duffy: She'll be gone before you get there.

    Ashley just looked out at his wife, but he couldn't help notice something. She seemed distant as she looked up at him. Like she was looking past him or something. Was her heart in this?
    ... Was his?
    Just then his son Colin ran up to her, holding his young sister, Alexis' hand. Alexis' body waved back and forth as the toddler did her best to keep balance and her caring brother did all he could to keep her on her feet. The kids never looked up, they never knew. Colin said something in an excited fevered pace and then ran off again with his sister.
    Ashley couldn't help be emotional.

    Ashley: Alexis...she's walking?

    Duffy: The reason for going through this is up to you Ashley. This is about more then you and Moira. You know that.

    Ashley looked out the window. Moira and the kids were gone. Ashley turned back to Frank.

    Ashley: Wot next?

    Duffy: No idea...but I'm sure you'll find out soon enough.

    A New Beginning?

    A day after Mile High

    Changes and decisions. Life is full of them. Some are seemingly minor, like putting on a different shirt or painting a room a different colour. Others are decisions that have a ripple effect. Like moving an entire company and all its rights over to a different network virtually overnight.

    Ashley O'Ryan faced such a decision, and whatever his choice was, there was going to be a ripple effect. It was going to affect more then just him. And not in a small way.

    He walked out of his hotel bathroom, the steam from the shower gently billowing out and put the complementary housecoat on. If there was any certain comfort in the world, it was that of a complementary housecoat. He looked outside, cold and grey with a thick fog. A hot shower was a good choice. He glanced at his phone on the dresser, the small light in the corner flashed. He checked it.

    GABRIELLE: Good luck on your match tonight. Hope this doesn't distract you too much
    Ashley scrolled down to the photo Gabrielle took of herself in the bathroom mirror, her towel barely making it necessary to have to use your imagination.

    He thought about texting back, but had no idea what to even say. He put the phone down.

    He knew what he had done. It was something he swore he would never do. But now that he had done it, what now? It wasn't a simple answer and there were so many factors to consider. He still cared for Moira, and the kids were the most precious thing on the planet to him. But Gabrielle made him feel a way he hadn't felt in years. Accepted. It was more then just a sexual thing. The world knew of Gabbies sexual prowess. But there was far more to it then that. She knew and accepted his faults. That isn't to say that Moira hadn't accepted his as well, but there was always a feeling of “the next time could be your last time”.
    Moira had been putting him through some sort of on going trial. Ashley had no idea what the end result was going to be. But he had a gut feeling the end result was going to be one of two things.
    Either he stayed with Moira and retired from the FWA. That was the only way that was going to work. Or he stay in the FWA and pursue things with Gabrielle. That was, if this wasn't all a ruse.

    Ash shook his head at the thought. He knew he could trust her in this regard. This was the Gabby he knew from years back. The real one. She cared.

    He took another look at the text.

    Ashley: Match tonoit... Roit...

    Well if there was anything that could take ones mind off of life changing choices, it was getting into the ring with two men the the intent of beating the crap out of them.

    PAJ and Carmine Reaper.

    Ashley: Heh, well this should be fun.

    Ashley had faced both of these men in the past. He had both won and lost to both these men in the past. There was a certain edge that he had over them as of late however.

    Ashley: Both losers. You know, I don't normally 'old that over someone's 'ead, but I'll make an exception in yer case, Phillip. You 'ad that loss to Shane coming. Despite all you said, you cracked when it counted. Yer ego got the better of you and you could NOT get the job done. All you 'ad to do was pin 'im more times in an hour then 'e could pin you.
    You couldn't dig deeper then 'e did. And yet, you 'ave the audacity to claim the FWA rotates are yer sorry arse? “I AM FWA.” Yer words, you cocky wanker.
    You ate them at Mile 'igh. You lost to a joke me boy. You 'onestly think you are going to beat me?

    He picks up his phone, sending a text to Stu. “Need to talk b4 match.”

    Ashley: Now Carmine...I actually loik you. You 'ave spirit and yer 'ead isn't quite so far up yer arse. And loik PAJ, you 'ave proven you can get it done. Except at Mile 'igh. Now you faced arguable a bigger scale challenge. It wasn't just you and one other person. The odds were not exactly in yer favor. But Carmine, you not only did not win the X-Division title, you got taken out on a bloody stretcher. That is insult and injury. That is a combination of things that do not make you look very threatening.
    If you want even the slightest chance of winning this match, you 'ave to make me feel loik you are a threat. I see a man who not only couldn't get the job done, but 'ad to be 'elped out. I loik you, but that does not mean I am not going to make you feel those injuries again.
    If you're gunna be called “Grim Reaper”, the death you should 'ave people be thinking about isn't yers me boy. Moit need to re-think that. Or you know, pull yerself together.

    There are certain things that are bound to change. One thing 'owever that will not is the passion I 'ave fer getting into that ring and doing the pure thing I know 'ow to do. Kick arse.
    Out of the three of us, who has gone further then being a North American champion?
    Out of the three of us, who walked out a champion at Mile 'igh?
    You can pull that whole “oh but you won the tag titles you got 'elp” card all you want. Guess wot, that was going to be a 'andycap match. My mental preparation was fer a 'andycap match.
    Stu coming out 'ad no effect on wot was going through my brain. Pure and clear certainty in me and wot I was going to 'ave to do to win.

    I got my belt. I got my win. You both fell short.

    An Irishman, and Englishman, and a kid from Boston. We 'ave the makings of a “Three men walk into a bar joke.”
    Two of us are going to be punchlines by the end. But I'll still be a champ.

    See ya in the ring.

  18. #18
    On Vacation
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    Re: Fight Night 11/15/2013 Promo Thread

    Ayla El appears on screen.

    Ayla: My children the team of Kassandra Summers and T-MOM will not defeat the message of The Brethren El!

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