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Thread: Fight Night Promo Thread 3/21/14

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    Fight Night Promo Thread 3/21/14

    Promos are due Saturday, March 22, 2014 at midnight Pacific time, which is Sunday, March 23 at 3 a.m. Eastern time and 8 a.m. British time zone. No extensions. Thank you.

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    Re: Fight Night promo thread 3/21/14

    "Oh look, I got my promotional video up first. Whoop de f*ckin' do! Someone bring me a f*ckin' cake!"

    Usually, a low-pitched voice is the one starting with a black screen before panning to an arbitrary setting. This time, it's a higher-pitched voice, one we haven't heard from in a long time. The screen stays dark for a little while, though, as a lower-pitched voice — yet, not "The Emerald" Drew Stevenson's — responds.

    "You think you're clever, mocking someone?"

    "Yes, I do think I'm f*ckin' clever, a**wipe!"

    Finally, the camera pans to some sort of medical center in Los Angeles, California. Standing outside in her usual black T-shirt with the white letters "The Roxy" on them is Shannon O'Neal, with blond hair flowing down below her shoulders and jean shorts amplifying the curves of her legs up to her thighs and around to her ass. The spring sunlight shines through the scattered clouds of the L.A. sky, finding hope between the metropolitan skyline. Shannon O'Neal is wearing sunglasses to protect her eyes from the mid-afternoon sunlight, while Robbins Thurgood stands next to her wearing a collared shirt and khaki pants with dress shoes. Always dressed to impress, Thurgood also has spiffy sunglasses on as the pair stand on the sidewalk outside of "Los Angeles Rehabilitation Center."


    "Maybe you should explain where you've been for the past few weeks."

    Thurgood's suggestion falls on deaf ears as Shannon O'Neal's focus is buried into her iPhone. She is scrolling the touch screen using her finger as Robbins Thurgood looks down to peak at what caught her attention.

    "That little asswipe, Drew Stevenson! He tweeted out some garbage about taking a loss to set plans in motion."

    "Is he saying he and Ryan Rondo are working together?"

    "I don't care. He needs to finally be put in a corner where he can't say sh*t. Then again, he'll probably roll his eyes and call me a copycat or say what I'm doing here is changing things in the FWA. I can see it now, him saying something like mockery is the sincerest form of flattery or some vagina nonsense. I don't give a sh*t what he has to say about me, to be honest."


    Robbins Thurgood starts to speak, but only gets a barely audible sound out before Shannon O'Neal shuts him up once more and looks around at her current surroundings. She notices people gawking at her low-cut shirt, which accentuates her perfect medium-sized breasts. Her cleavage is hoisted up to push out the words "The Roxy" on her formerly work attire back during her bartending days. She gives snooty looks back to the high-class people internally and quietly judging her before sticking up a middle finger directly into the air and receiving some gasps from some of the older-40 crowd members meandering down the sidewalk.

    "Last week was my first time back from an injury I suffered in the Women's title match at Trial By Fire against Sarah Wolf and Saddle Sally. I had very limited interaction with Sarah Wolf — wrestled her in that match and one other time — but the girl was a tough b*tch and it's really sad what Ryan Hall and WOLF did to her. She obviously fell for the one thing you don't fall for — love and lust — and it drove her to either commit the unthinkable act or f*ckin' lose enough care to stop thinking and go too far to return. That f*ckin' sucks and I sincerely hope the legacy of Sarah Wolf isn't tainted or run into the ground because Ryan Hall and WOLF are selfish d***suckers who only care about themselves.

    As a way to honor Sarah, I'm going to wrestle my tits off at Fight Night and beat this d*ck-riding a**hat known as Drew Stevenson. Yes, you may hear me shouting so-called profanity a lot more — because, quite honestly, I'm done being a toned-down version of Shannon O'Neal. That sh*t ain't why I came to the FWA or CWA or GWA or whatever we're called now. Sh*t changed once a month, so I figure since G-Rich is here he named the damn thing after himself. I came here to be Shannon O'Neal — myself, in all its f*ckin' glory. A rocker chick that...DOESN'T GIVE A F*CK..."


    As she shouts that last part, she looks around to everyone walking near her and eyeing her for her appearance and vulgar speech.

    "...what anyone thinks."

    Robbins Thurgood is trying to signal for a taxi cab, but in downtown Los Angeles, that only leads to frustration for the backstage talent consultant and personal manager for Shannon O'Neal since her debut back in August.

    "Last week was my first match since wrestling that self-proclaimed 'queen b*tch' to a double countout at Ace's High. I broke my hand in the Women's title match at Trial By Fire but tried wrestling too soon after surgery and bruised it up pretty good against Mackenzie. Last week at the Sarah Wolf tribute show, I wrestled my first match since being unofficially cleared by doctors. And after that, I came here to my rehab center for one last look from the white-coat frauds to make sure I didn't re-aggravate anything from the match. By the way, Saddle Sally, well done on that win. Mustang Maddie? Good job to you, too, and welcome back. Ayla El? You're still a c*nt bag.

    But not as big as the one I'm facing this week!"


    Robbins Thurgood looks back to Shannon O'Neal and shakes his head. "You're going to get fined a ton of money by the FWA for all of these cuss words." Shannon O'Neal looks at him and smirks.

    "How much is the fine per word?"

    "About $25."

    "Well sh*t, that's four shots of Jager you and I won't have tonight!"


    Robbins Thurgood looks back to speak once more with a haughty expression, but Shannon cuts him off.

    "I know you don't drink, you f*ckin' poonbag.

    So here's my thoughts on Drew Stevenson, straight from the mouth of a sailor and a binge-drinking rock'n'roll chick. I've watched this little dude run around taking about how he's the first to post his promotional videos and this really good in-ring wrestler and cares about what matters and doesn't d*ck around telling stories and mocks all the 'established' main event stars like he's so much better just because he believes in quantity over quality. Suck a d*ck, Stevenson. While I'm no fan of the sh*t-giggling main eventers who hardly put in any work, you're a disrespectful cockroach. Whyte Thunder legit went out of his way to try and give you actual ADVICE last week. If Gabrielle or Mustang Maddie or Saddle Sally or Sarah Wolf (R.I.P) gave me advice — actually picked me from an entire roster to try and help me out — I wouldn't be so condescending. I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt that when you sent in your promotional video, you didn't know the route Whyte Thunder would take. This is about your tweeting after where you picked out the carbon copy comment and tried to dog Whyte Thunder based off that, and then the segment before the match on Fight Night.

    Then, when you couldn't take a loss, you attacked the dude afterward. What gives? It's all about the wins and losses for you, right? You need to win to prove a point, right? It's not enough being noticed and even being in the "Golden Opportunity" elimination chamber match and receiving your first World Championship shot, but you're so f*ckin' overly prideful and stubborn that you can't possibly fathom the idea of someone beating you straight up or being better than you. You're a talented f*ckin' wrestler and there's no shame in losing to someone like Ryan Hall or Whyte Thunder — regardless how lazy you think they are. There's also no shame in being humble about beating someone as classic and great as Gabrielle Montgomery, but you have to pin a rose on your f*ckin' nose and run around holding a big sign rubbing it in everyone's face."


    Shannon O'Neal bends down and grabs a weed from between the sidewalk cracks. She places that weed in one of Robbins Thurgood's nostrils — pretending it a rose, except not pinning, but rather sticking it in an uncomfortable spot. Why? Because she felt like it.


    "Shut the f*ck up. That's my advice to you, Drew Stevenson. You're here, dude. You've reached the spot in your career when everyone notices you and considers you in that "this person could be World Champion any day now" classification because of your breaking-script shtick. Well done. Good on you. Enjoy it. You're there. I only wish I can get to that spot again in the Women's division. Maybe I will. Maybe I'll sh*t a brick and fade away into obscurity like Mackenzie Roberts. Who knows? All I'll say is I'm not the watered-down version of Shannon O'Neal that everyone saw being outcast by the 'Femme Fatale' crowd. This is me. This is rock'n'roll. 80's style. Hard-nosed. Been through hell. Ain't giving an inch. In your face. Don't care what people think. No bullsh*t.

    Get ready to become the prey, you little runt. I'm comin' at you to kick your haughty little a**."

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    Re: Fight Night promo thread 3/21/14

    Return


    For a fleeting moment there is silence until “The Waiting Makes Me Curious” by Fear Before The March Of Flames begins to engrave itself into the brains of all the audience members in attendance. The very slow melody of the song produces anxiety in the hearts of the common folk creating a knee-jerk reaction of scanning the arena for all. After looking around almost hopelessly, all eyes mechanically turn towards the curtain where two large bulky men begin to walk on the ramp. They both scan the arena as if they were looking for a threat to neutralize. After some quick scanning of the surrounding area, they begin to beckon for somebody to come out. Audience members get on their tippy-toes, trying to get a first glance of the person who is so important that they need to be protected by two large security guards. Pyro goes off near the titantron, taking everybody aback in shock. Still, however, nobody seems to be exiting from the curtains. The two security guards begin to cross themselves as if they are praying to their god. They get on their knees and they extend their hands in the air, as if they were giving an offering to a deity of some kind. The curtains open, capturing the attention yet again of the audience. Out comes a man with a black hoodie and brand new dark blue jeans. The man, whose face is mostly covered by the hood on the hoodie itself begins to walk down the ramp, with his security personnel not being too far behind. A fan, who looks at the man, waves their hands in front of the man in order to catch his attention. The man stops and looks at the fan who couldn’t be older than 16. Eventually, the fan sits back on their seat as the man stands there, intimidatingly staring the young fan down. The two security personnel behind the man only make things worse for that matter. The man goes up the steel steps methodically and very deliberately stomping on each step to produce a noise. The lights begin to flicker, causing some confusion over whether it is a deliberate effect or a legitimate light problem that FWA is having. The man stands in the middle of the ring and gets on his knees, kissing the center. He stands up again and takes off his hood, revealing himself to be Wake Walker. A good portion of the audience begins to cheer, recognizing the face of Wake. Wake looks at some of the audience members in the front row as if he were very angry with them. Wake motions to the time-keeper to give him a microphone in a very aggressive manner, screaming at him and waving his right hand wildly in the air. The time keeper tries to hand a microphone to Wake but Wake motions for the time-keeper to stand on the apron. The time-keeper does as he is told and hands the microphone to Wake. Wake looks at it for a few seconds and then stares holes through the time-keeper. Wake snatches the microphone from the hands of the time-keeper, nearly causing the poor man to lose his balance but as if that wasn’t enough, Wake pushes the time-keeper off the apron, sending him to the floor. The crowd begins to boo as the song continues to blare through the speakers, pushing its capacity for handling high levels of bass to new levels – a very symbolically heavy occurrence designed to speak not only to the audience but to the men and women in the locker room as well. Pushing his entrance length to dangerous extremes, the music begins to fade very slowly, almost painfuly slow. Wake hasn’t said a word yet but his actions thus far and demeanor has already earned him several enemies in the audience. The boos slowly begin to perpetuate through the arena. The security personnel cross their arms in a very authoritative manner, seemingly unimpressed by the disrespect the audience is displaying at this point in time. Wake deliberately waits a little too long for the boos to die down, further causing more boos. As if by design, Maxwell’s Demon has been recreated except in the form of a wrestling entrance. Finally, Wake opens his mouth – his words cutting through the very tension he has already created.

    Wake Walker: Pleasantries – an inconsequential remark made as part of a polite conservation. Hello, everybody, my name is Wake Walker and today I make my return to the FWA.

    Some boos are produced by the audience.

    Wake Walker: Disrespect – A lack of respect. I don’t disrespect the FWA but it’s clear that a lot of you do and it absolutely sickens me how sophomoric this place has become. I am one of the greatest wrestlers of all time, shut your mouths and start clasping your palms together like the extensive group of sheep and monkeys that you all are. That’s right, all of you, clap for me and show me some respect.

    Clearly, the audience has already taken a disliking to Wake. Some clap out of respect but the majority refuses to follow the orders of Wake after having been disrespected.

    Wake Walker: I expected claps and cheers with greater orders of magnitude than that. No matter, I’ve already exchanged pleasantries and all of you have already displayed just where exactly this relationship is going to go. That’s fine. By the way, time-keeper, I’d clap if I were you because unlike these people, I can actually curbstomp my foot through your head and send you on your merry way to the other side and get slapped with a small fine that my lawyers wouldn’t mind contesting in court. Now, then, all of you are asking yourselves – why Wake, why would you return to the FWA right now and why exactly does it matter. I’ll tell you why it matters. During my time here, I may have never won a championship but I was respected enough by the men in the locker room to be seen as a threat, not to be taken lightly. I spent a little over a year in my last run in the FWA and in that year, I went from being a junkie who had been contracted to the FWA regrettably, to some to a very memorable individual who laid down some of his legacy in this company. In my tenure here, I went head to head with another upstart named Razor and we were booked in a series in matches such as no DQ matches, steel cage matches among other idiotic match types designed to pan to all of you plebs. Finally, I emerged victorious in one of those brutal matches and I ended the very career of Razor. Don’t believe me? Search through the records and try to see if Razor even had a match after I had my way with him. That’s right, I ended somebody’s career – and just in two or three months of having been there. Then, I became a commodity in the company and was placed in matches with the likes of The Baz and other superstars who are well-remembered in the company but just couldn’t quite make it to the top. Then, at the very peak of my career, I went on to face the greatest champion that the FWA has ever seen, the great god himself, and I’m not talking about Duke Drazin – I’m talking about a real wrestler, a real wrestler who took things seriously, a real wrestler who unfortunately left this world just a tad too early thanks to an extremely rare disease. I’m talking about Matt Boudreau. He and I battled ruthlessly until the very end. People couldn’t believe it. I was the underdog in that match. No, I was less than that. I was merely a piece of meat designed to feed Matt Boudreau in order to groom him for his next big championship match but even the great deity himself didn’t see that match coming. I took Matt Boudreau to the very limit until finally, he defeated me. No longer did he see me as an easy hunt. Subsequently I went into a state of denial. I was so close to making headlines everywhere, I was so close to defeating the very champion himself which would have earned me a championship match in the future but just like all of you sheep who only stare in one direction with your pathetic deer-in-the-headlights look, I wasn’t seeing the big picture, which Ryan Hall who is also arguably one of the best FWA has ever seen, has said himself. I wasn’t seeing the big picture and the waves that I had made afterwards across the spectrum of the wrestling world. Subsequently after being defeated, I began to make my way out of the company. I was disappointed in myself for not having been able to defeat the greatest of all time. Foolishly, I went on hiatus – but not for long. Those same waves that spread all over the wrestling world eventually reached a small federation located in Texas. There, I dominated the competition and quickly made myself undisputed champion. Of course, much like other small federations in the wrestling world, financial problems were beginning to creep down to the very core of the company. To put it simply, they could no longer afford me and so I began to jump around in other small pools of wrestlers, establishing myself as a shark who would rip and tear anyone’s flesh and bone into pieces. I became a legend. I became feared.


    Wake beckons for one of his security guards to come towards him. The security guard obeys and listens to some of Wake’s whispering in his ear. This security guard seems to relay the information to the other security guard who then produces a bottle of water from somewhere within the innards of his jacket. He hands the bottle of water to the first security guard who then hands it to Wake. Wake nods and approves of their loyalty and sends the security back to his position where he continues to stand idle by, waiting for anyone who might cause any trouble with Wake. Wake takes a quick drink of water and then sends the water bottle back through the overly-complicated relay seemingly designed to frustrate the crowd and anybody watching at home.


    Wake Walker: Time. A very long time elapsed and I continued to collect these championships as easily as picking dandelions off the floor on a hot Summer’s day. Eventually, winning these championships no longer produced any sort of emotion from me. No longer were they accomplishments, but rather, formalities. It was elementary that any federation I would step in would quickly surrender its most prized possession to Wake Walker. Finally, I landed in a company in which I find myself right now – GIW. Now, I won’t say just exactly what GIW stands for because I can guarantee I would be crossing the line in that instance, but let me try to blur the lines around here for the sake of the risqué implications that we might see. I defeated many great superstars, superstars who had made their legacies known in many other companies, similar to me except I proved to be much greater than all of them. Helplessly giving their fleeting attempts, they continued to chip away at Wake Walker, getting nowhere rather quickly. Finally, I decided to exit the company and simply watch by the sidelines. But whilst I was watching them, I didn’t simply sit in my couch and munch on some fatty foods. No, that’s something the likes of Wolf and Devin Golden would do. Instead, I continued to refine my talents until I could refine them no longer. Once I saw that I was as close to perfection as any soul in this entire world could get, I returned to GIW and once again proved dominant but in a different manner. You see, prior to my time off, these men managed to catch me by surprise at times and although their chances were slim and the odds stacked against them, these men still had some light at the end of the tunnel but each and every time, they still lost and perished on their way to greatness. This time, however, I returned and I wasn’t in the mood to provide them with any kind of hope. I took that away from them and with each pinning victory and each submission, I sucked the very life source of each and every person I defeated. They all fell in a state of depression knowing that they were trying to win a war against God himself. Finally, we find ourselves in the present. Now, I am one of the number one contenders to the undisputed championship and just like all the other times – it’s elementary at this point that the gold will once again lay over my shoulder. Still, I had been so rampantly dominant that I felt I needed another challenge – that’s when I remembered about FWA. The place where I was once a medium-sized fish in a large ocean was the only place where I failed to conquer the ocean floor. Now, however, I return to the FWA as a completely different man – a man who simply cannot be stopped. However, there would be no challenge in just doing that! C’mon, guys!

    Wake begins to laugh very audibly, belittling each and every single competitor in the back of the FWA locker room.

    Wake Walker: So, I’ve decided to test the true extent of my dominance which is why I still have not left the other company I am a part of. I continue to remain in the main event picture there whilst wrestling here. I know that the administrators of this place aren’t stupid. They know very well just whom exactly they have on their hands. They did their homework – they did their job, and they observed my career in all these other companies. Now, somebody, enlighten me. Why exactly has the FWA already tried to ruin relations between them and me? You see, just like all of you in this building, the FWA is disrespecting me. That’s right, they’re disrespecting me and I bet all you are just dying to know just how exactly the FWA is disrespecting me and you’re all in luck. You see, the FWA suffers from a disease themselves – and this disease, just like Matt Boudreau’s disease, is threatening the very life of its host. This disease is… rigidity. The FWA has always been extremely rigid in the sense that they can’t handle change. No matter how great the talent they have is, they will continue to place them in completely irrelevant matches until these great talented individuals split and leave the company. Why do they do this? So that they can keep their same old tired-ass main events with the likes of Ryan Hall, Devin Golden and Wolf? As the bookers furiously pleasure themselves and pat themselves on the back for their supposed great service that they’re performing for the FWA, the crowd has grown weary and they’re beginning to leave and it isn’t just the fans leaving, it’s the FWA superstars themselves that are leaving as well. I remember back when I was that smaller fish in the FWA, I looked around and I saw all kinds of talent. I saw wrestlers I legitimately admired. Back then, I asked myself – someday I’ll be great enough to face these wrestlers and if I play my cards right, I might even defeat them. Now, I return to the wasteland that was once a thriving FWA and all I see is death and inactivity. I’ve watched some tapes and seen some of the way the wrestlers here perform and it’s quite obvious that things around here are not the same. The level of competition in this company has severely declined and I’d normally be happy about this. I’d be happy and tell myself, “Great! Another batch of superstars to belittle and take down a notch” but no, I see the grand scheme of things like Ryan Hall pretends to do, and I know that the better the superstars are, the better the company will look in general and the better the company looks, the better I look dominating it. So, I go back to my original point following that brief tangent – why then, does the FWA decide to go ahead and disrespect me like this? I mean…really… Thomas…The Iceman…Jones?


    Wake turns back at his two security guards who begin to crack a smile. Wake, with a face of incredulity shakes his head and begins to cover his face with his hand. The crowd continues to boo Wake, hating his overconfidence and bad attitude.

    Wake Walker: I realize that we’re in the whole Back in Business hype train right now, but really, the FWA really couldn’t have given me anyone better than that? I find that extremely disrespectful and I am personally insulted. This is the equivalent of going to a fancy Wolfgang Puck restaurant only to be served McDonalds fries that have been out for just a bit too long. I deserve much better than this. When the FWA goes ahead and tells me, here you go Wake – we’ve given you Thomas Jones, we wish you luck – it’s like them telling me that they see me as being on the same level as Thomas Jones. Thomas Jones… he … he doesn’t even belong in the FWA. Somebody, anybody who represents the FWA come out and look me in the eye and tell me, with a straight face, that you think Thomas “The Iceman” Jones is the caliber of superstar that we expect from a company with as much prestige and history as FWA. I dare any of you in the back to try that, I guarantee you won’t be able to. So, why would the FWA do this? To continue to perpetuate their dull yawnfests for longer? No. I’m here to change that. I’m here to change the entire landscape of the company. I’m not here to chase after your silly little toy championship belts like the North American championship. No, the FWA can keep that little novelty, so Shane McLean, you can breathe again and stop holding it in. I’m not here to face individuals like you, individuals like you whom are merely rubbish chickenfeed to me. I’m here for the real competitors, the real wrestlers of this company. I’m here to face the cream of the crop… but sadly, there are no such wrestlers in this company. Instead, I’m going to go after what the FWA, pathetically, has the best to offer and that’s Ryan Hall. He currently holds the championship which makes him the king… the king of mediocrity. And when I get an opportunity to face Ryan Hall in the middle of the squared circle, he can finally take a look in the mirror and have a glimpse of reality for once. For all his talk about mediocrity and being the best, he just can’t seem to be able to realize that he is just as mediocre as everyone else but slightly better. I’m also not going to sit here and just dismiss people with the wag of a finger. I need some solid evidence, and the way I know that Ryan Hall is also mediocre is when I saw him get taken by surprise by another wrestler who is the very definition of average, bland, vanilla and boring – PAJ – the last great Englishman. Unlike Ryan, I would have never allowed such an embarrassing event like that to have happened. PAJ has always delved in the X-Division with the rest of the losers of that group and will never truly amount to anything, and to allow him to best you and claim he “took you by surprise”? What a sad excuse for a champion that we have in this company and what a sad excuse of Englishmen we have in the world if THAT’S the last great Englishman. So whilst the FWA is busy stroking their egos …among other things, and getting excited over the same old garbage, I’m going to go ahead and take out every single little so-called “challenge” that the FWA has to offer me and just like pigs on a conveyer belt heading towards the big steel machine that’s ready to grind them up into many little pieces, I will defeat all the talent available one by one and it all starts with the Iceman.

    The crowd doesn’t seem to be very pleased with all the mean words and insults that Wake is spewing from his mouth so they proceed to boo him. The security guards turn around and, in order to intimidate, stare at the crowd – almost inviting somebody to come in so that they have an excuse to beat anything to a bloody pulp.

    Wake Walker: Thomas… or, rather, Tommy… tonight is not going to be a good night for you. It’s a night you’re going to remember for sure, or then again… the concussion you’ll suffer later might not allow you to, but regardless – it’s a night we’re all going to remember. You see, your silly little hick-self from the south needs to be taken out of the FWA permanently because its people like you, with no talent whatsoever, that continue to plague the FWA like a cancer and bring it down. When you have trouble defeating Vincent, the bird brain, it’s when I know you suck oh so much. You claim, Tommy, that you’re here from CWA in order to access the competition but son, you wouldn’t know what “competition” is if they slapped you across the face with Saddle Sally’s hat. When Ryan Hall refers to those suffering mediocrity… he doesn’t mean you, no, not at all! You’re far below mediocrity and not a saving grace in the world could ever possibly elevate you past the blackhole of suckage that you currently find yourself in. Tonight, Tommy, your nickname is going to be so ironic because when that bell rings and you find yourself staring at the greatest wrestler of all time, Wake Walker, from across the ring – you’re going to freeze in fear. After I manhandle you and show to everybody in the crowd and in the back that you’re nowhere near the level of competition that I’m supposed to be facing, you’re going to stare up at those ceiling lights… and you’re going to keep staring and staring, and suddenly, you’re going to realize that you’re no longer frozen! Great! Not great, Tommy, because you’ll be MELTING… because if you’re calling yourself The Iceman because you think you’re cool, then man oh man I’ve got some bad news for you – whatever you learned back at pun school, you can forget all that because it’s all trash. I’d even go as far to say you’d be burning in flames to show the distinction between being “cool” and it’s exact opposite, but then I’d imply you’re hot and on fire so instead, Tommy, how’s “inert” sound to you? Stale is more like it, actually.

    Wake Walker seems very amused with some of his very own jokes. He slaps hands with his security guards and snickers, almost like a little girl.

    Wake Walker: You know that “staff member” you were talking with the other week, if he even really was a staff member? He was right. Why, just WHY are you even here? The locker room doesn’t enjoy having individuals come from CWA, much less those who have no talent whatsoever. When guys like you come into the FWA, it infuriates some of the better superstars such as myself because we know that because of FWA’s bad decisions (of which you are a product of), some day when FWA is having financial troubles as a result of those bad decisions, we’re going to get our paychecks cut. The way I see it, if I effectively take out individuals like you forever, then perhaps all of the rest of us can get a better paycheck or at the very least, some pay security. Tommy, for the sake of your health and the health of the company, leave this place. Leave this place and never come back, don’t even TURN back! You’re not wanted here and if we’re looking to improve the FWA, it’s going to have to start by pruning the weak from this company. Tommy, come this Fight Night… I’m going to take you out and a long time from now, when historians are referring back to the legendary Wake Walker and his massive ascension into the high ranks of the FWA, they’re going to see that little line on my record and it’s going to read: Wake Walker vs. Thomas Jones, then it’s going to be followed by a dash and a nice big “W”. They will laugh at the level of competition the FWA dared to even place me with, and then they will laugh at your pathetic career and the pathetic company from which you came from. Ah, it’s funny how the future works.

    Wake walks behind his security guards, who do not seem to react to Wake moving, and places both his hands on their shoulders. Wake pats their shoulders for a bit.

    Wake Walker: …And to make matters worse for you, Tommy… let me introduce you two of my closest friends… Butch and Michael. You see, Butch and Michael have often been referred to as my “last line of defense” but I can assure you that they’re just my friends. Butch and Michael will stand outside the ring and look at our match up close. In fact, they’ll look at every single one of my matches up close because they will be there… supporting me. However, Butch and Michael also happen to be security guards… MY security guards, and they have been given very specific instructions that I’m fairly confident they will follow at all times. Those instructions are that should they manage to hear anybody talking about me in any negative way whatsoever, they are to destroy that person so that a lesson in respect can be taught. It’s in your best interest, Tommy, to keep your mouth shut because otherwise you may not only have a problem with me … but with my friends as well.


    Wake raises his arms to his sides slowly, as if he were prematurely celebrating.

    Wake Walker: Look onward at the greatest wrestler of all time, FWA, because in time he will be the face of the company and when he is, it won’t be because of the way you’ve booked him. No. It’ll be because of how dominant he was. The FWA higher-ups can cower in fear for all I care and give me their silly little hypocritical “welcome back!” speeches but when it’s all said and done, you’re all going to realize that you’ve all welcomed back into your company both Satan and God in one package.

    Wake drops the microphone and exits the ring, standing on top of the time-keeper with his “friends” intimidating anyone who might have a problem with it.

  4. #4
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    Re: Fight Night promo thread 3/21/14

    Due to certain contractual obligations, Mr. Stevenson's promo can be found here.

    http://wrestlingclique.com/showthread.php?t=155667

    - FWA.com

  5. #5
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    Re: Fight Night promo thread 3/21/14

    Its safe to say that Ashley O’Ryan is a great man, and a legend of the FWA. He is loved and adored by the FWA fans as much for his comedic wit as he is his ability in the ring. He’s the most decorated wrestler in FWA history, holding so many Championships it feels overwhelming to list them out. More than just a wrestler though, he is a father as well, to his two adorable children; Colin and Alexis. He is a man once plagued by his demons, but he’s found the strength to overcome them and be the very best man he can be. Now some would say he’s been rewarded for his kind hearted nature with a woman of fantasy come to life. The luckiest man in the FWA is all smiles as we’re treated to a view of the world from over Ashley’s shoulder. A view of sparkling caramel coated perfection, the way the camera sits we can almost pretend for a moment that we are Ashley O’Ryan. The man with more Championships than socks, a man blessed with good looks, humour and that rouge Irish charm. A man sitting across a table from Gabrielle Madison Montgomery herself. A wickedly tempting smile kisses those delightfully full, soft and moist lips of hers. A lustful glimmer dances in her sweet brown eyes. Her breath comes short and heavy with her teeth teasing the inside of her bottom lip. Her long, dark brunette hair is tied neatly back into a ponytail, revealing the elegance of her neck, the rosiness of her cheeks and the sparkle of her gold hoop earrings. Below her beautiful, beautiful face is inch after inch of bare skin, revealed by the plunging neckline of her white baby tee. The thin, white fabric snugly wrapped against her stunning body, the redness of her bra seeps through the cotton, as does that wonderful, candy complexion of hers. But unconfined in any material prison is a mouth-watering, begging to be gorged upon amount of cleavage from those glorious 34DD breasts. That low neckline leaves very little to the imagination, displaying the smooth, round curves of those magnificent curves. It is where our attention feasts for moment after moment…after moment. It seems impossible to look away.

    Ashley: C’mon Gabs quit stalling.

    She smirks and then picks some cards up off the table, she looks at them, grins, and then puts them back down on the table as Ashley whispers to the camera.

    Ashley:
    Gabs as the best strip poker face, you can never tell if she’s smiling because she as good cards, or if she’s smiling because she gets to take some clothes off.

    Did he say strip poker? Oh joy of joyous days!

    Gabrielle: I’m not stalling…I’m just thinking things over Ashley. You can’t just rush into these things, it’s like a match you have to take in a certain level of strategy and be patient. Every card, every draw like every match brings with it something completely different. I have to be prepared for that don’t I…just like I do on Fight Night every week.

    Ashley: Strategy at this table, Gabs I don’t know if losing all your clothes as quickly as possible is really a strategy.

    Gabrielle: I always win though don’t I?

    Ashley: Despite the fact you always end up naked and I’m still fully clothed, yes I suppose you do ‘win’.

    We can sense the smile on Ashley’s face, and its mirrored by Gabrielle; devious and playful as she raises her eyebrows. So seductive, so tempting, holding her audience spellbound with the simplest of movements. But more than that though the running camera and Ashleys words “you always end up naked” makes sure that nobody can stop watching this simple yet amazing scene play out.

    Ashley: Well I’ll bite…tell me about this match that’s somehow more important than your cards.

    Gabrielle: Its just me…in another Main Event. Some collection of wrestlers in the ring all vying to be the winner.

    Ashley: I think this is more important Gabs.

    Gabrielle: Awww c’mon Ash…me and Saddle Sally in the ring…with Devin Golden as well, that sounds mighty important to me, especially when it’s against PAJ, Ryan Rondo and Ayla El. This is a big match Ashley, a big match heading into Back In Business, the final stop before that biggest of events.

    Ashley nods his head, amused and perplexed by the way that Gabrielle seems to be stalling instead of stripping.

    Gabrielle: Sally and Devin are two people that I respect greatly. Devin fought against the CWA just as we did, defending the FWA and making sure that its legacy was never brought into disrepute. He took Ryan Hall to the limit and came so close to beating him, I was cheering for him, ready to celebrate and congratulate…but then it was snatched away from him. I felt bad for Devin at the time…but now, the man who cost Devin that win, the man who robbed him of that glorious moment is being let off the hook. Devin Golden, Whyte Thunder whatever name you want to be addressed by, you disappoint me by not punishing Ryan Rondo. I know what it’s like to be forgiven, but Ryan didn’t just wrong you, he wronged the entire FWA. I want you to think about that Devin…and know that in that ring whatever you and Ryan have going on I want nothing less than your best.

    Sally…well I don’t have any of those concerns with you. I know you always give it your best, you are the latest woman to become a two time FWA Women’s Champion, a proud and noble feat…that I started. Seeing that Championship around your waist, despite our differences in the past, despite the fact you were a little upset with me when I pressed a kiss to your lips…I am so proud to see you as Champion. Nobody deserves it more than the woman who started it all seven years ago. You’re not just…so very gorgeous Sally…you are a woman that I am more than happy to stand alongside. Two women in the Main Event of the last Fight Night before Back In Business…what a moment.

    Ashley: C’mon Gabs your and cant be that bad…surely…

    Gabrielle pouts, and then almost looks sad as she reveals her cards…a Royal Flush, no one’s ever looked so disappointed with that hand of cards.

    Ashley: Awww Gabby.

    Ashley then reveals his cards a pair of sevens and 3 random cards which just makes Gabrielle sigh. Ashley though has an ingenious idea.

    Ashley: You’re out of luck Gabs…or in luck because at seven pm on the 20th of April which it is…a Royal Flush is useless…such luck on.

    Gabrielle’s frown quickly becomes a smile again, as with an all too expert sway to her body, and with her eyes never leaving Ashley’s or the lens of the camera that little white tee of hers slides away from her body, revealing all that scrumptious caramel skin underneath, and her breasts delicately embraced by the touch of a red lace bra. She winks at Ashley whose all smiles and the camera which shakes as the cameraman, lightheaded for a moment adjusts himself.

    Ashley: Now we ave a game on.

    Gabrielle smiles, and in fact the whole world smiles with her as she sits there in her little red bra.

    Gabrielle:
    Uh-uh I’m not finished Ashley…its not going to be that easy tonight, I still have so much on my mind.

    Ashley: Another bad and?

    Gabrielle: Maybe I just want to tease you…

    Or maybe I just dislike Ayla El so much that I need to get these thoughts in my head off my chest before I get anything else off. After all who could enjoy a nice game of strip poker with Ayla El on their mind? This time last year rather than simply facing me at Back In Business she faked her own death. I was disgusted by her actions, they served as the last straw in my life and for a couple of months I stepped away from the FWA. That is how appalling Alya El can be, of course she’ll deny all of this. In her own mind her little part of the world is perfect. To Ayla El she seems to regard herself so highly, when in reality, little Miss El is just an embarrassment to the women of the FWA. It is as simple as that, from the second she signed with the FWA years ago and ruffled as many feathers as possible right up until now, she’s been nothing but an embarrassment to all the other women.

    She seems to think she’s me…from the way she talks. She’s grand, she’s a legend, she’s an inspiration to women everywhere according to her. Reality could not be further away from her delusions though. Ayla El is a woman more known for constantly leaving when things get rough, then running back to the FWA once she’s built her confidence back. But this is no new news, I ridiculed her for this a year ago…and she hasn’t changed. Oh sure she found a little follower all of her own and parades around with an even bigger sense of entitlement, but it’s still just the same old Ayla El with an undeserved ego.

    Gabrielle shakes her head, while Ashley nods his and just admires the view before himself, pleased with his hand of cards. As are we.

    Ashley: You cant blame er for wanting to be like Gabrielle.

    Gabrielle: Well maybe not…but if Ayla leaves tomorrow…again she wouldn’t be missed. She has achieved so very little, and that is actually sad. Watching Jillian de Silva and Moira Crawford become World Champions instilled me with a sense of awe and pride. All my battles with Jenny, Moira, Sally, Anyanka showcased what women can do and led to so many other great female wrestlers signing with the FWA to be all that they could be. This is the true reason behind my disdain for Ayla, she is blessed with so much, despite how much I dislike her she is talented and she is in the FWA. She is a former Women’s Champion herself, but she wastes all these gifts after all the work I and so many other women have done to make the FWA the best place in the world for talented female wrestlers…

    Ashley: Some ave more talent than others…c’mon Gabs what’s your and?

    Gabrielle smirks and bats her eyelashes before revealing a pair of two’s and nothing else worth mentioning. Ashley flashes his pair of Kings and excitedly claps his hands together as the cameraman’s breath suddenly becomes short, such is his excitement. Gabrielle giggles…as her hands disappear behind her back and her bra suddenly becomes lose around her breasts…and then the red lace falls away…

    …but the camera seems to fall as well and suddenly everything goes black.


    Ashley: Gabs…I think your breasts killed the cameraman.

    Gabrielle: Did he really just faint?

    Ashley: He did and I think the camera is broken too.

    Gabrielle: So we cant make our home movie “Attack of the Irish Sausage” later?

    Ashley:

    Gabrielle: What a shame…I was so looking forward to my new feature role, I guess I just have to focus on this match.

    From the tone in her voice we can picture a topless Gabrielle, folding her arms and playfully turning her nose up.

    Ashley: Ow Rondo can be all brokeback when there’s women like you around, is beyond me Gabs.

    Gabrielle: Flattery Ashley, I’m already half naked. But Ryans…just different I suppose. He certainly does seem very different and in more ways than one. I think he could rival even you Ashley when it comes to the amount of Championships he’s won but that’s still not enough to keep him happy. He was all too quick to sell the FWA out and align himself with Jimmy King. I found it simply ridiculous, Ryan has no room to make any complaints, he can feel underappreciated…but compared to me he doesn’t even know what that word is. How many other former World Champions get treated like just some woman by her supposed ‘peers’?

    I still don’t get the respect I deserve from some, but I still fought proudly for the FWA; the place that has given me opportunities to show what I can do when given the chance. The same chances Ryan has been given but didn’t live up too. Even now; Ryan complains and he talks himself into an Elimination Chamber match for the FWA Championship. He makes me mad Ashley…given so much but he refuses to recognize any of it, he just turns his pockets inside out and claims poor. It is truly pathetic. Ryans young, he’s talented, he already has a decorated career and he seems to have won over some important people, judging by the opportunities he’s getting despite what he has done…

    Ryan should really just count his blessings and appreciate the way he’s being groomed for the future while you and I Ash are told we’re too old now. Been Main Eventers for too long and we have to move aside apparently.

    Ashley: You’re getting upset Gabs…time to cheer up, show me your cards.

    Silence for several moments, only disturbed by gentle rustling.

    Ashley: Is that a Monopoly card?

    Gabrielle: Yes it is.

    Ashley: Gabs did you put that in there? I don’t know if I can let that stand, despite my impressive hand.

    Gabrielle: I have no problem with it…C’mon Ash...please.



    Ashley: Okay…



    We hear a chair slide back, then what we can only assume to be Gabrielle tossing aside another item of clothing; her shorts this time.

    Ashley: I…wow…luck of the Irish.

    Gabrielle giggles and then we hear her chair slide back in.

    Gabrielle: So where was I?

    Ashley: Wondering ow quickly you can lose yer thong?

    Gabrielle: Well…maybe…but with Sally, Devin, Ayla, Ryan all down…that must just leave the pretty little Last Englishwoman PAJ. How adorable was he last week all dolled up like that.

    Ashley: That’s really not my thing Gabs.

    Gabrielle: Well I never said he was pretty, just adorable all rosey cheeked and looking set for a night out. He actually seems to have rather nice eyes if you put enough eye shadow around them. But I don’t think anything could make his heart nicer…PAJ has really shown himself to be a very distasteful person. In the modern era, the modern world PAJ still clings to a Neanderthal way of life and gives no respect to women. PAJ asked for his makeover to happen with the way he has been talking about me and the other women of the FWA. But I am only just getting started, this week I get PAJ in the ring and then the week after that I get to punish him in a steel chain match.

    Ashley: Remind me not to take the dirty talk too far with you…

    Gabrielle: I could never get this mad at you Ashley. Not when you’re so good at ‘poker’. Now where were we?

    Ashley: Well I have a straight flush…

    Gabrielle: So I guess this little piece of red lace has to come off then?

    Ashley: Yes…that’s the rules m’lady.

    We can only imagine the sights, the scene playing out before Ashley and how amazing it would be too witness. Is this the highlight of Ashley’s career or just another unique training session with Gabrielle?
    Credit to Comeback Kid for the GFX

  6. #6
    The Infection

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    Like tears in a bucket, brown water falls from a leaky ceiling into a cracked, plastic bin set up in a dark corner. The ceiling is brown and rotted, corrosive even, as the browned water has been falling for sometime. Fitting, actually, as all those who have inhabited this place, have insides that match the appearance of that ceiling. They’re scarred, stained, and broken. Their hearts aren’t blackened, but browned and stained, which is far worse. The black hearted are devoid of feeling. They could rot away without care. But those poor, brown-hearted souls, feel it all. Every bit of depression, misery, failure, and pain tugs at their insides, sending their emotions, their minds, and their souls into a flurry of madness. The leaking water hits the bin, as a light drizzle of rain hits against the grime-covered window of this room we find ourselves in. An oppressively bright, florescent light illuminates the room and reveals our location. The light makes up a sign that reads, “2nd Street Motel.” Although, I assure you, this place isn’t a respectable dwelling to hang your hat, but rather a den of sin and grime, called home by the lowest of the low. The paint is old, the bed is small and unmade, and even the simplest amenities, such as a nightstand or a dresser, appear to be worn down. However, there’s one thing that doesn’t fit in this setting. One man, to be viewed not only as separate, but above this decrepit setting. Seated in the corner, he flicks the switch on a small lamp, which allows a dim yellow light that reveals the profile of the man for which we are all here to see. His long black hair dangles, his beard is scruffy, and he is cloaked in black, from his black jacket, to his dark pants. He is “The Infection” Brian Carter. And with a quick glance, his eyes meet ours through the lens of the camera, and you just cannot look away, as his mouth opens, and prophecies falls from his lips.

    Brian Carter: I spent countless nights staring at the dry paint on the wall, wishing I could trade places with it. Wishing I could… fade into insignificance. And for a while, I was close. I could tell you that I thought about giving it all up. Not just my FWA career but any chance I had at all of a purpose in life. But that would be a lie. Truth be told, I didn’t think about giving up, I did it. I resigned myself to misery, morbidly determined to finally live up to the “Carter” name, and crawl into a bottle or fall into the gutter. For a while there, things lacked substance. The cosmically enlightened Brian Carter that you all knew and loathed, failed to find meaning in anything. Day meshed with night and the lines of good vs. evil crossed over into a dark hole of apathy within my heart. Before all this, I found comfort in the darkness and the shadows. It wasn’t morbid, but peaceful. But when all this went down, that changed, and the darkness was suffocating. As I trudged along from alley to alley, fell into fleebag motel rooms, much like this one, and even collapsed in a gutter or two of my own, which I’m sure made dear old dad proud… I saw no light at the end of the tunnel. I saw no light at all. But now, as you can all see, things have changed. I’m here, present and accounted for, *Carter rises, stepping into the florescent light of the motel sign* standing upright and illuminated. The darkness couldn’t hold me. Misery and squalor couldn’t claim me like it had so many before me, including my own family. For me, things are just different. I’m different. I don’t know why, but I know I am. And all of you know it, too.

    Carter sits. The rain has intensified outside, however its impossible to notice as Carter speaks. His eyes draw you in, his words make you hinge to him, and his presence, nearly paralyzes you.

    Brian Carter: So with this renewed sense of meaning, here I am, in front of an FWA camera, addressing all of you like I have so many times before. Why am I here? Why did my drive lead me back to this place that has caused me so much pain and heartbreak before? The FWA is a place that has forced me to relive the dark memories of my past and a place where new dark memories were formed, memories that I have to live with everyday. The FWA is a place where I kidnapped a young boy, Colin O’Ryan, because I saw something in him and more importantly, because I saw something evil in his father. The FWA is a place where a man I called a friend, Ryan Hall, took me out of action for a year and started this whole downward spiral to begin with. The FWA is a place where an already jagged individual like myself has seen the true depths to which a person can sink to, a place where I have sunk to new depths myself, and a place where my body has suffered immensely along the way. So why, oh why am I here? Do I want to settle these old scores? No sir I do not, I crawled away from my past once before when I crawled away from my parents who had crawled into a bottle. No, not again, instead the reason I’m here is because of what lies ahead for me.

    Carter adjusts his jacket and shifts himself around in the wooden chair that sits in this dirty room. No doubt, before Carter, many a derelict has sat in that chair, abusing their body or their mind. But now, by the mere presence of “The Infection,” the chair has been purified and now has meeting, holding up the man, who holds up the world.

    Brian Carter: You see the secular word most commonly linked to Brian Carter is “potential.” Aside from the murmured whispers of depravity, it’s all that I’ve heard associated with my career since I first blew the doors off this place nearly 5 years ago. But you know what I think about when people say that Brian Carter has potential? Nothing. Now that’s not to say that my mind is blank, it never is, no I’m telling you that potential quite literally means you’ve actually accomplished NOTHING. And, boy I’ll give the sheep credit and tell them when they’re right, even when they do it unintentionally. To them the word potential is a positive. It promises hope and grandeur for the future, but for me, it just means that I haven’t done a damn thing in this company. Yeah I’ve held a title, had a few big matches, but my impact isn’t nearly as large as it should have been thus far, or as large as it will be when all is said and done. I don’t know if anyone knows, remembers, or even cares to remember the 5,000 pound piano that dangles over my head 24 hours a day, the diagnosis of Huntington’s disease, my parents final gift to me, the genetic disease that will claim my life before the age of 40. Some of you may have forgotten about that when you forgot about me. But for me it’s always there. I’d say it drives me but I don’t need motivation to be driven. Truth is, I’m not back to settle old scores, not to make you like me, not even to make you hate me. I’m back, to make an impact. I’m back to turn potential into action and turn the FWA upside down, to rock this place like no one before me. I’m back to make sure that when I’m gone for good, I take as much of this place as I can with me.

    Carter looks down at his hand, which he quickly clenches and unclenches. In his hands, lies the power, the power to do anything, the power to grasp anything. The power to accomplish, anything.

    Brian Carter: I’m here for the meaning that I will create. And I’m here to make things known. To open eyes and to make you all bear witness. To force memories into your minds, make you see things you can’t unsee, and make the name Brian Carter send shivers down your spine and sweat bead off your scalp. Should the inhabitants of the FWA feel fear? Of course they should. Not only for the… potential … of all the things I could do, but more than anything, because of the unknown. You see I am not a man who falls prey to fear. Experience, coupled with my own innate intangibilities makes fear foreign to me. But here and there, over the past 12 or so months, for the first time in a long time, I felt fear. Not fear of any individual, not even fear of death, those things don’t ruffle my feathers. But what did make me feel that cold, crisp, hint of fear wrap around my heart, was the unknown. Not knowing where I was headed, not knowing where I’d end up, and worst of all, not knowing how long my downward spiral would last. It haunted me. I’m typically the man with all the answers, but in those times, I was helpless. I was vulnerable. And I vow never to be again. I’ve seen the light because I’ve lived in the darkness. And now, the fear of the unknown, is what should haunt all of you. You think you know Brian Carter, but I assure you, you have no idea.

    Carter pauses and reflects on his words. He runs his fingers through his long, black hair and continues.

    Brian Carter: But allow me to narrow my perspective and focus on the task at hand. This week, I return to the FWA ring for the first time in almost a year, to square off against Jethro Warren. Now typically this is the part of our little talks where I verbally eviscerate my opponent; telling you all the flaws of his life and the evils of his ways. However, tonight, that won’t happen. Fact is, I don’t know Jethro Warren. I hadn’t heard his name until I saw it across my name on the fight card. I won’t even know what he looks like, until he stands across from me in the ring. I didn’t research his past, examine his character, or scout his tape. Now this isn’t out of arrogance, ignorance, or a lack of preparation. Instead, simply put, Mr. Warren doesn’t matter to me. In fact, regardless of who my opponent was this week, it wouldn’t matter to me. For me, this is just the first stop on my path. The first wall to knock down. The first challenger to PUT down. You see, this isn’t personal. However, Jethro, you shouldn’t take solace in that. That doesn’t mean I’ll show you mercy, in fact, it means the exact opposite. I’m not concerned with defeating you, but rather destroying you. I’m not looking for victory, but instead, destruction. As I said before, I don’t know you. To me you’re an empty bookshelf that I’ve been assigned to destroy or a blank canvas, that I’ll color with your blood, sweat, and tears. This isn’t personal. To me, Mr. Warren, you lack substance, you have no meaning. I view our match as akin to putting down an animal, or better yet, demolishing an inanimate object. Allow me to reiterate this, one last time, Jethro: This isn’t personal. And that, is precisely why you should be afraid.

    Carter stares deeply into the camera. All those watching, listening, and bearing witness to “The Infection” can feel Carter’s eyes look through them. Including, nay especially, Jethro Warren.

    Brian Carter: So here we are, once again, Brian Carter preparing to step into an FWA ring. Whether you all take notice, or don’t, either way, one day soon, you’ll all be forced to bear witness. This is just the first week of the remainder of my FWA career. The first show of strength. And Jethro Warren, you will be the first to fall at my hands. The first indeed; the first, of many.

    And with that, Carter rises. He runs his fingers through his hair and gazes upon the decrepit motel room one last time. Seeing the level he had fallen to and knowing the heights he will soon reach. The camera pans around, following Carter on his way out. He opens his door, allowing the streetlight to shine in and illuminate Carter’s profile as he stands in the doorway. After a brief pause and a deep reflection inward, Carter steps out, into the world, and out of sight.

  7. #7
    I was a highwayman
    Hardcore Iceman's Avatar

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    Re: Fight Night promo thread 3/21/14

    *Jones in a kinda pissed off mood wearing his normal outfit blue jeans cowboy boots and his "iceman cometh" T-shirt is told who he's facing by a reporter who is trying to have interviews as the wrestlers enter the building*

    Huh? That guy huh? Well he might be a monster but this ain't my first match. I can deal with so-called monsters in the ring. I'm sure people are saying this guy's different but the truth of the matter is he's not. I've seen it before guy comes in destroy's a few people then when they get in the ring with a veteran they realize they got to do more than have hard hitting offence.


    So I heard that you're getting some hate from both sides now is that true?


    Well if you mean hate from some at cwa then yea i'm getting some words from the boys because I wrestle here too.

    So are the management team trying to make you pick a side? Surely the cwa gm can't be happy with you competing here at fwa too.


    Yeah I've heard it through some friends of mine that they(cwa) might make me choose between here and there. And to be honest I think it's sick. Why can't I compete here and there at the same time? They haven't gave me an answer yet.

    How was you able to come here in the first place if they don't like you competing anywhere else?

    Well Jimmy King had just came into fwa and when he was trying to take over he said "anyone is welcome to join me at fwa" so when I heard that I jumped at the opportunity. Now since he's gone he assumed everyone would come back you should never assume anything.

    So there's nothing in your contact he can use?

    Nope when I signed up there was another company called PnH and there was kinda like a talent exchange going on so when I joined cwa they said if pnh thought they needed a talent to help with matches they could ask almost anyone on the cwa roster to "fill in". So no Mr. King can't make me go back or stay out of fwa.


    Ok so fwa management is ok with you competing in cwa?

    Well i'm pretty sure just like cwa they don't like it. I know some of the guys and girls in the back don't. But again I have the same contract with fwa as I do with cwa so it's my choice.

    Oh wow if you had to choose between fwa or cwa which would it be?

    *Jones is kinda slow to answer as he see's fwa talent walking by but finally answers*

    Well I don't think I can choose. As I said countless times i'm here for competition and what better way to have the best competition than to wrestle in two completely different promotions?

    How are the fans reacting to you doing this?

    It's funny I clean the clock of gekko I get a little cheer then the next week I can hear more booing. At cwa there's nothing but cheering yet now that people see i'm staying at fwa I can here a boo every now and then. Mostly from the cwa fans that have been cwa fans for awhile. And you know I can't blame them.


    ​ So with that you've stated you're not scared of your opponent tonight. I've seen tapes of this guy and he looks pretty dangerous.

    I've been in the ring with bigger more dangerous guys so this will be no different. Heck I've had a guy try and snap my neck in half before. I've had a guy break my ankle to pieces so even if he does live up to the hype i'm ready.

    Ok well good luck out there.

    Thanks oh can I give a shout out?

    Sure

    Hi mom.

    *the reporter and jones kinda laugh as jones walks away*

  8. #8
    Underdog

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    Re: Fight Night Promo Thread 3/21/14

    - Dents in the Armour? -

    The scene opens to a poorly lit, dark room inside some crappy beat up community centre. The carpet is covered in stains from god knows what. Half of the windows are boarded up and the other half look like they haven't been cleaned in years. In the middle of the room there is a collection of plastic chairs arranged in a circle and in it sits a chubby, hairy middle aged man. They all fidget in some way as the look at the only one who isn't chubby and hairy. The well groomed, PAJ, sat amongst them in the circle. PAJ is wearing a hoodie and sweat pants with a 'Hello my name is Phillip' sticker on the hoodie. PAJ sits circle with his head looking downwards as if he is ashamed of who he has become. The meeting has been going on for about 15 minutes when the leader finally prompts PAJ to talk. PAJ lifts his head up as the leader of the meeting speaks before dropping his head again.

    Leader: Why don't you introduce yourself?

    'My name is Phillip...and I have a problem...'

    Group: Hello, Phillip.

    Leader: Why don't you tell us about your problem?

    'Well...ummm...uhh..ok..there is a famous quote from Vince Lombardi. Winning is a habit. Unfortunately, so is losing. It is a quote that really helps me...ya know because I have come to terms with something I haven't experienced in all of my teenage and adult life. The thing that has been floating around in my head for the last month. The thing that has kept me from sleeping. The thing that has kept me from being the dominate force in FWA. A dark sickness has descended upon me and I am ill. The plague has come and I am it's first and only victim. The stink of losing has torn away at me and all that is left is that pissed off guy they all became reacquainted with towards the end of 2012.'

    Some of the members realised who this actually is and there is a whisper across the room amongst the guys there. PAJ continues to speak while looking at the floor.

    'The end of Jimmy King in FWA has affected me. I have been out of my zone for some unknown reason. I had a brief spell like this after I won a title. It seems the little things do get to you but I am better than all of you so why have I been chosen? I guess losing believes in pleasing people by trying to handicap those at the top to make people feel better but there is no control to it, it is fate and fate is a jealous little prick that wishes they were relevant to anyone. I am a guy that struck fear into the hearts of the FWA locker room and I commanded the respect I deserved. Now look at me. I am getting humiliated by WOMEN on LIVE TV?! People don't fear me any more. I am some little bitch. Those fake, vain whores in the women's locker room touched me with their soft but fake hands. I am the only thing left that is real and people hate me for it. Fate is fake. The women of FWA they are fake. Everyone lies. Everyone puts up a façade to make themselves seem better or they lack imagination and copy theme songs of the order that created chaos. I have been at the side of some of the biggest names in FWA but they are either False Idols or they are not worthy of being my King. They are all liars and you all love them. Reality is the one thing that you can't comprehend. Is it because all your lives are so pathetic that you have to accept lies to get through the day? Why live like that? Lies are the source of this broken system. Lies killed FWA and Truth was crushed by your 'heroes' that 'saved' this company and the kind of people who continue to ruin the industry'

    PAJ tentatively looks up as his confidence grows. PAJ looks up at the rest of the group as they all smile to encourage him.

    'There is no complexity to me. I am simple. I am pure. I am who I am and no-one can handle me because I am the best and they all know it. They all deny it and say it is some angle I am pulling but believe me I will break Gabrielle. I will stoop to levels so low that they won't have to worry about digging a grave for Gabrielle and a week later I will follow that up with climbing the highest mountain FWA has ever given me the chance to climb. The first and only smart move they have ever made. I will move from being the Last Great Englishman to being the Last Great FWA Champion because no-one will ever live up to me. Who led the North American Division out of the Television Championships steroid riddled shadow? I did. I dragged it kicking and screaming after a weak champion with a poor work ethic ruined it. I made a division with Clay Reitmeier successful. I do deserve credit for that. The best ideas are the ones you keep simple. My idea since day one has been to make this company, FWA, my bitch for all those down-trodden wrestlers that are tossed aside because of their past or the ones that believe there is a ceiling for guys like me by winning the FWA Undisputed Championship. I got lost in wars of other men and I forgot who I was and what I truly wanted. I am paying the price for my own failure but no more. There is no man who will stand above me any more. My focus is back where it deserves to be. On my one simple, humble ambition to break through the wasteland of broken LOWly guys that FWA has left in it's wake. Yet, I am hated. Yet, people believe I am some sort of arrogant, egotistical ass hole who only looks out for himself. That is simply not true. When I win the Undisputed Title inside the Elimination Chamber it is for all the little guys FWA stood on to become a Goliath but I still have stones left. In my success I am opening the door for everyone. No more ceilings, apart from the one that will lie at my feet because no-one will ever touch me again. No man and certainly no woman. They will all kneel before me'

    PAJ gets to his feet and stands above all the people in the meeting with a smile on his face.

    'No-one else matters to me. No opponent has ever given me sleepless nights. Gabrielle for six days a week is a name that means nothing. When I walk in the doors to the arena is when she starts to matter but only because I might need some food before my matches. What she doesn't understand is that her best years are done. She is past her prime. Used up by Chris Kennedy and then tossed a side like a wrapper he took all the goods and consumed them and threw out what was left to rot away with all the other discarded crap. I am making her relevant again and she will not give me a reward for all my kindness all I ask for is a little respect and maybe a sandwich every now and then. Like I have said already I am simple man. I do not ask for things that people can't deliver why the hell do you think I have do so much. No-one can give me what I need. They are all incompetent so do think you are special. I do not discriminate. If you are not me you are lowly. If you are not me you are irrelevant until I make you relevant. Part of it is that you are a woman but you will not be treated like one unless you start acting like one. I will beat you harder than I have ever beaten everyone. I will not stop until you breathe your last breath and you once again become irrelevant because I decided that you are. All you are and all everyone I have ever faced is just an obstacle and a hassle that will just try and delay the inevitable for their own devices. I am about success and it is not happening, again as I have said, but that stops now because the storm is coming. The storm doesn't need assistance especially against Whyte Thunder, Gabrielle and Saddle Sally?! And especially not from Ryan Rondo and Ayla El. They are not me. They are worthless especially when half the match consists of people who believe they have some divine right to compete with real wrestlers and not pathetic, sell-out eye candy. I don't sell myself to the fans. I force who I am down their throat until they puke their tiny brains out then continue to force myself through their body until they are nothing but a shell in awe of my great talent. I don't need people to hug me and hold my hand through my career telling me I am doing the right thing to reassure me. I am ALWAYS doing the right thing because everything I do is right. Only I can be right because if you are not me then you are by default wrong, unless I tell you are told otherwise. Speak only when spoken too or feel the back of my hand. It is the rule that all people, especially women, should be held too. I don't want conflict, I want peace in this world, but there are some many people who insist they have free will but, again, unless they are me they, you guessed it, they do not. I will put it simply for all of you. FWA is mine. The world is mine. There is not one human, dead or alive, who can stop me from taking what is rightfully mine. Not what is rightfully Ryan Rondo's, Ayla El's or Gabrielle's no-one else matters but me.'

    PAJ smirks with real confidence and stands on the chair he was once sat on. The chair somehow doesn't buckle but then everyone else there is heavier than PAJ.

    'That is why it is a god damn travesty that I am forced to team up with people I don't care about and the world doesn't care about. I have history with Rondo, does that mean I suddenly give two shits that we are teaming together again? No. I have never lived a day where I could look Ryan Rondo in the eye and think that he was worth standing in the ring with. To this day there is NO-ONE who has received that honour and anyone who thinks that they have had it, they haven't, I may have shown weakness in the past but there is no more weakness there is only one man who can control what I do and that is me. I do not need the burden of tag team partners. I dont want a guy like Ryan Rondo, a glorified tag team wrestler, to hold me back. I know what a glorified tag team wrestler is and what they look like. I broke that tag before. Rondo just like Team King will hold me back. Ayla El will hold me back not because she isn't talented but because she is a woman. She can't compete in the ring with us men. We are strong. She is weak. Just like all the women are weak. They want to be equal to us but they can only succeed in numbers and by blind-siding a totally innocent man. You want equality but not through progress but by bringing everyone else down to your petty, pathetic level. That's the problem. You fear making things better. I am the only one willing to stand up for what I believe in and NEVER compromise for anyone.'

    PAJ looks around the room as the group begin to stop feeling sorry for him and want him to just shut up or leave. PAJ stares in the eyes of the leader as he jumps off the chair and lands on his feet.

    'Oh woe is me! I am doing my dream job and people are ruining it, it must be so hard to be talented and have a strong set of beliefs..blah...blah...blah. You know nothing. This business is rough. I always see the same old tired, jealous faces of my so called 'peers'. They all make me sick. They all look down on me. Yet I have done nothing but work my ass off. FWA is a clique. You are in or you are out. There is no middle ground. It is black and white. Why is a women like Gabrielle in? Going on many, many, many and I mean many tours of all the sausage factories helps, especially when you have a season pass and you go three times a day to visit each of the owner of said sausage factories. Have some respect. Speaking of which, Miss Saddle Sally, how perfect that on the topic of respect you come up. I treat myself with respect. I have a strict diet. I do not indulge in things that harm. I am pure. This also applies to my appearances. There are millions of girls dripping at the loins to see me pose for Playgirl but I have respect for myself. I am not sexy cowgirl nor do I ever intend to be. I am not that insecure about who I am to sell myself to whoever wants a piece. That is the difference between men and women. There are men that will sell their bodies but there are a hell of a lot more women in this industry that have no self-respect. There are women that want to succeed and they will suck off a guy who should have been dead twenty years ago. These women become washed up and look sixty when they are thirty-five even with all their surgery. I am confident in myself. I don't need anyone to tell me anything so why the hell do you want to do that?'

    PAJ stops doing anything and looks forward. PAJ looks puzzled and angry as he continues to look forward. PAJ slowly raises his lip into a confident, arrogant smirk and stick his head forward. The others slowly back away in their chairs in fear of the monster they see before them

    'Because you are a stupid, weak bitch...and you all thought I was going to play nice...I guess you can't break some habits...huh?'

    PAJ innocently smiles and shrugs his shoulders to play it off as the room looks on in shock.

    'They all bring it on themselves. I don't want to trea...never mind. I do want to treat them like crap one because they deserve it and two as is the theme we are establishing...they are not me...there will never be another me...I am the one and only...I am not a hero to anyone...I'm not a golden faced Batman believing I am bringing justice to a dark world. There is no such thing as justice because there is no law in FWA. It is dog eat dog. Does the biggest dog always win? No but the best dogs will always win. I don't want to save FWA. I don't have a noble cause that affects everyone and that is what I want. I want FWA to live and die by it's wrestlers. I want the top talent to rise and the crest-fallen mediocrity to quickly disappear but most importantly I want to run the asylum. The good guys no matter how flawed doesn't win. You are bound by rules and there are marks you cannot step across, isn't that right, Devin? I am bound to no laws and I answer to no-one. I can go as far as I want. I can slap around women on FWA property with a smile on my face and be treated exactly the same as an upstanding straight shooting good guy because no-one cares about the bad things in FWA or even the good things in FWA. They only care about their own problems and careers. That is why the FWA saviours really achieved nothing. No-one cared. Those who were outside just carried on with their irrelevant existence. Those of us who fought for our belief we didn't care about anyone else. I still don't care about anyone else. Everyone is their own hero and we don't need some poser believing he is doing anything that is remotely worthwhile to anyone other than Devin 'Whyte Thunder' Golden. Though I really do admire you, in the kind of feel sorry for you but maybe if you carry on you'll mess up king of way, for doing what you are doing because the idiots need the king idiot to survive and cling onto even though there is no such thing as right or wrong not in the world where I exist because with me and only me there is just right. I earned that through respect and pride because I am PAJ, not Phillip, I AM LAST GREAT ENGLISHMAN AND I AM KING OF THE WORLD! YOU ARE ALL WEAK AND WILL NEVER SOLVE YOUR PROBLEMS!'

    PAJ quickly kicks the chair dismissively behind him as he raises his arms in victory. PAJ beat his own doubt. PAJ looks at all the people at the meeting with a reignited fire in his eyes and laughs at all of them as the leader of the meeting calls for security. PAJ puts his middle finger up to the leader and confidently struts out of the hall as the room is left in shock at what they have been forced to witness. Security quickly try and catch PAJ as the scene fades to black.

    - Not a chance -

  9. #9
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    Re: Fight Night Promo Thread 3/21/14



    What Little Remains...


    Why do you... build me up?




    With the, almost, shrieking, refrain of The Foundations, “Build Me Up, Buttercup,” plays through Jethro Warren's penthouse, the scene fades into the bathroom as Warren gels up and styles his hair.



    Buttercup, baby... Just to let me down.




    With an unusual, almost disturbing, grin on his face. Warren has, once again, a disturbing jovial spring to his step as he bops to the music. His enigmatic, disturbing hatred for Lord Vincent Takaab Blackbird is still on display. Just to his left, attached to the edge of his mirror. A small picture of him, with his best man and his bride-to-be.



    ... and mess me 'round.




    Jethro steals a quick glance at the picture, and lets out a slight chuckle.



    Jethro Warren: Potential is a funny thing... An infectious thing really. It bleeds from our bodies, our actions... And the more we see it, the more we feel it grow and develop. It infects our minds. It pushes us harder. Beyond limits. Beyond our peers. It makes us do things we never thought we'd do. Actions that endear, disturb... engross, those that watch at home. Infectious... All consuming.



    And then worst of all...



    Jethro quickly picks a remote up off the bathroom counter and clicks a button. The music fades quickly. Jethro, hunched over his sink, looks up and sees the camera in the reflection. Still, with the same jovial, but intensely disturbing grin on his face. He slowly turns around.



    Jethro Warren: Worst of all... Worst of all!!! It overpowers some of us. Call it a lack of iron will... or a limp dick. However you want to spin it. Some people are just inadequate. They just can't handle the pressure of being great. Watching the FWA, trying to break in to this sport. I saw one man... One man who I thought got it, willing to do anything it took to live up to his potential, and I'm facing him this week on Fight Night.



    Jethro rolls his eyes, slightly shaking his head in disgust.



    Jethro Warren: You know... after he ran away like a scalded dog. Some sort of disease... Inadequacy... An excuse... A reason to blame... An out... Take me off the roller coaster, daddy. The loops go too high. The Infection was cured with an over-the-counter topical cream. When the chips were down. With your back against the wall. Nothing else to f**king lose cause you were dying... You ran! You hid away in your crack château, cause you COULDN'T live up to the name Brian Carter. Brian, I'm gonna call your bluff right now. You can't destroy me. You can't break me. No matter how many leaky pipes or crack motels you talk about your potential in. You can't crack Jethro Warren. Maybe in your heyday, this would've been a pissing contest, but you can't hold your own against this.



    Jethro chuckles as he reaches into his jacket's breast pocket, pulling out his signature e-cigarette. The hazy blue LED flickers as he takes a drag off of it.



    Jethro Warren: While you were convalescing... picking up the tattered remains of what's left of you. I was grinding people's lives into dust. I know you get it. It's a thrill... Living up to your potential, by any means necessary. Hell, I chased off Carmine... You remember him, right? And even though he's getting married this week... Vincent is losing his hair, constantly looking over his shoulder in FEAR... of what I might do. Trust me... He won't be the same after I get through with him. It's a constant... destroying lives. Inflicting misery on people who get in my way. People who get in the way of my potential. An infectious personality quirk. You're no different, Carter... You threaten me... You claim you'll make an “example” out of me. Brian, you aren't making it out San Fran alive. 'cause it won't be the Huntington’s disease. It'll be the steam roller of Jethro Warren's potential that finally puts the Infection to rest. The FWA's gonna have to sit through a funeral before they get to the wedding.



    Jethro puts his e-cigarette back into his mouth as he turns back to the mirror to ready himself for tonight. As the camera fades to black, he picks up where he left off and hums the rhythm to “Build Me Up, Buttercup.”



    *~*END~*~

  10. #10
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    Re: Fight Night Promo Thread 3/21/14

    "I got by...with a little help...from my friends"





    That's the thought racing through the mind of every passive party in a fight. Every friendship torn to pieces, marriage ruined by differences and athletic dynasties destroyed by egos.

    The Los Angeles Lakers were torn apart in 2004 when Shaq and Kobe Bryant split. Sunrise-Sunset is being ripped to shreds as "The Amazing" Ryan Rondo continues to poke Whyte Thunder with a stick.

    Tapei Death match. Street Fight. Who knows what will be the third stipulation. One thing is certain: one side wants this war, and one side...does not.

    With every act of hate and disdain from Rondo, there has been an act of kindness and warmth. With every verbal abuse from one side, a silent plea from the other. And with no end in sight, except the ending at Back in Business, the wrestling world turns its attention to Fight Night. Will they be forced to fight one another? Will either side give in, whether it's giving in to the fight or giving in to the peace?

    Sitting in his dark hallway, the same dark hallway he listened to Ryan Rondo offer words of encouragement before his World Championship match at Ace's High against Ryan Hall, is none other than the face paint-wearing star. He is the former World Heavyweight Champion. And he is lost within his own thoughts and minds, the troubles that have wrecked havoc on his mentality.

    "I became Whyte Thunder to close a chapter of my wrestling career," he thinks. "I became Whyte Thunder to close 'The Rotten Gold,' to accept that part of my legacy and embrace it as part of me. Yet, even though I've come to grips with what I did, I still can't seem to find happiness. I can't find closure."

    Just like last week before his win against "The Emerald" Drew Stevenson, Whyte Thunder transitions between opening and closing his eyes, noticing the similarities in darkness with both.

    "I can't turn away with my best friend hating me. I can't leave without this behind me. I wanted to leave after I lost to Ryan Hall. I wanted that to be the end. I would've done everything I needed to do, including accepting every choice I made along the way. And now...I have open wounds and unfinished stories."

    His thoughts are more concise than last week. He's more on point, if maybe because he's more lost and confused. Not confused, but hurt. He knows where Rondo stands. Rondo doesn't like him and wants a piece of him due to his misconceptions about Whyte Thunder's motives or mistakes or whatever. Regardless of the reason, Rondo holds ill-will toward his old friend, whereas Whyte Thunder is hurt by that.

    "Each time I was in a rough spot in the FWA, I had someone to turn to. Whether it was G-Rich, Mike Curtis, Michael Servin, Ashley O'Ryan, Ryan Rondo or whoever, I always had someone to go to. Most of the time, it was Rondo. I always got by with a little help from my friends. Having those people made it easier. Everyone in the FWA has someone. PAJ has himself and his own ego to stroke his hyped-up beliefs, Gabrielle always has a man, Saddle Sally has the Women's Championship and Zaire Wyoming, Ayla El has DIVINE, and Ryan Rondo has his drive and determination, along with his girlfriend.

    I have no one."


    With each verbal or physical shot Rondo takes, Whyte Thunder the fighter wants to fight back. But Whyte Thunder the person can't bring himself to do it.

    Not yet. There's still time to fix this before it comes to THAT.


    "PAJ and Ayla El are far from my favorite people in the world. Yet, this is bigger than them. Within this six-person tag team match is the looming possibility Rondo and myself will be in the ring together. If I can't fix this before then, what will I do? Do I have to fight? Can I delay that a little longer?

    Saddle Sally is an unknown, and Gabrielle Montgomery probably feels just like many others that I am a coward for not fighting back. I may be all alone on this one."


    Whyte Thunder rises up and leans against the wall. He feels sick to his stomach as his overthinking mind races.

    "When I was all alone, I wasn't. I always could turn to my best friend. Now...I really am all alone."
    Last edited by The Golden One; 03-23-2014 at 02:10 AM. Reason: Coding error

  11. #11
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    Re: Fight Night Promo Thread 3/21/14

    A new suit

    Pablo Garcia, a fifty-five year old Guatemalan immigrant had finally seen his goal and dream come to fruition. ACES, his suit and tuxedo store was finally open. For years he had dreamed of this day, and all the time working his fingers to the bone to make it to America, to earn his keep, it had all paid off.

    Now he just need customers.

    The shop stood empty.

    This was the first time in years that he felt alone. Marcia, his loving wife of twenty years had been dead for four years. Their only daughter was married and living abroad. He had kept busy with his goals. Now that he had reached them...it all hit him again. Hell, it was her that got him into tailoring in the first place.

    ~ ding...ding ~

    The bell over the door. Pablo looked up quickly. He didn't know the man. A customer perhaps?
    He silently prayed it wasnt another lost tourist looking for directions to the highway.

    Ashley O'Ryan looked around the store. Every suit in the shop was made by hand, by Pablo himself. His daughter once asked over Skype why he didn't hire help.
    “When I need the help, I will get the help.” was his response. He was very hands on.

    “Hello good sir. May I help you?”

    Ashley admired a single-breasted silver suit. The workmanship, the fabric. This wasn't shoddy work. He turned to the owner with a smile.

    “Aye. I'm uh...well I'm looking fer a suit.”

    “Excellent. Um may I ask for the occasion?”

    Ashley seemed puzzled at first,
    “Occasion? Oh..when I mean to wear the suit?”

    “Sí señor.”

    Ashley scratched his head,
    “Oh well...thats a good question. The problem is I know its going to be a formal occasion, but I dont know what it is going to be. It might be happy. Or it might be a funeral.”

    Pablo thought for a moment.
    “Ah I understand señor. A suit for all umm...options.”

    “Yeah, that's it.”

    Pablo brought Ashley to the fitting room.

    “So why you not sure of occasion? Or its for various occasions?”

    “Heh well I don't plan on wearing it once. But the next occasion... do you ever feel you put your neck on the line for others to easily?”

    Pablo stopped measuring for a moment,
    “I...I never really thought about it señor. I always just did what I thought was right. Consequences are no match in the long run for doing what is right in your heart.”

    “Heh, yeah I guess. I know this guy. He isn't really a friend more a um..co-worker. He seemed to be a decent guy but he left. Now he's back and...”

    “He seems no decent anymore?”

    “I...don't know. He seems troubled. He's starting to walk down a path that I've walked meself. A path I don't loik to see others walk down. It's a bad path.”

    “This man, did he listen?”

    “No...It's just one of many things plaguing my mind. It's barely even my business. Why did I care?"

    Pablo stops again.
    “Some can not help but help.You help!”

    Ashley smiled, the old man meant well.
    “Oh um I should explain...I'm a professional wrestler.”

    Pablo bolted up, excitedly
    “Mierda una celebridad!”

    “Uh my spanish is...practically non-existant but...uh..”

    Pablo started shaking Ashley's hand feverishly.

    “My first customer. You. A celebrity. This is a great honor señor. A great honor. I make extra special suit for you. You will be pleased. Extra special.”

    "I uh...Thank you. Uh...Gracias."

    I suit fit perfect, charcoal grey and single breasted. Pablo even threw in a free shirt and tie. Ashley paid and tipped heavily.
    The bigger thing was in the form of a simple Tweet.

    -Had best suit buying experience @AcesSuits. Pablo hell of a guy. Tell him Ash sent you-
    Two weeks later, Pablo would hire a woman as a helper. Two years later she would become Mrs. Garcia.

    "So what you use suit for first?" Pablo inquired.

    Ashley sighed.

    "A funeral. Thank you."

    Ash headed for the door,
    "I need to bury someone."

    ----

    My name is Ashley O'Ryan.
    I have a light side. I am a loving father. Those I care about I care about from the very centre of my being, even when I don't show it. I wish no ill will, if ill will is not warranted.

    But I have a dark side.
    Don't we all?
    This dark side has gotten away from me in the past. It has caused me to 'urt and be 'urt
    I felt it course through me weeks ago. But I have learned to hone it. To use it.
    To unleash it like a faithful but vicious dog.

    A dog to be sic'd at the throat of Christian Quinn.

    Lucian is weak. Not in body, but in mind. He is fragile where it matters most. Yes, I am mad for his part in wot 'appened at the end of me match with Blackbird.

    Now 'e is fully convinced. A rabid hound creates another rabid hound.

    I care. Per'aps it's a weakness. I don't care. I care.
    which is why I will, Christian, put you down.

    Then, Lucian can make 'is choice. To sit, or to attack.
    I don't care much which. Either way, 'e will be dealt with.

    I will not find my 'appiness through either of you, Christian or Lucian. I will not enjoy it.
    I am simply the vet, doing what needs to be done.





  12. #12
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    Saddle Sally Promo

    Inside the FWA arena....

    Saddle Sally comes out to a nice pop from the crowd as she struts into the ring wearing her trademark cowgirl attire. She is tossed a microphone and taps it a few times to make sure it's working.

    Sally: Howdy! It's so good to be in beautiful San Francisco! What a great stop on our road to Back in Business! This has been an amazing journey fer' me. Last week I competed and won in the main event, ya' have no idea how much that means to me. It was jus'....indescribable. And now here am I am booked fer' the last match of the night and I get to do it with one of the best teams ya' could ever assemble in the FWA! I gotta say I feel pretty confident 'bout this match, I feel real good. The competition is tough, no doubt 'bout it. But this is a true chance to send a message 'fore it's time to put up or shut up. This is 'bout all of us gettin' on our opponent's heads. This is 'bout slappin' the tatse out of their mouths. The reason ya' do that is 'cause I don't wanna hear Ayla El say "victory is so close I can taste it." Yeah, gotta get that off her tongue real quick.I know I rag on management a lot, but if I'm gonna get on them when they do somethin' that don't make no sense, gotta praise them when they do somethin' right. Got me teamed up with Whyte Thunder and Gabrielle!

    The crowd cheers Whyte Thunder and Gabrielle

    Sally: I know right? Now Whyte Thunder he's been through a lot and I think we have a tad bit in common. Thunder was betrayed by someone close to him, and I too had to take a look at my relationship with someone close to me recently. I turned out okay for me, but ya' know it doesn't look like the wounds are gonna heal anytime soon from what happened between Thunder and Rondo and I totally understand. Though Rondo kinda has problems of his own now that PAJ is goin' AWOL. But more on that later. I'm honored to be teamin' with Whyte Thunder he's a true warrior and he's been carryin' a heavy load for the sake of himself as this fed fer' a while now and I'm happy to help him in anyway. Winnin' on Fight Night would be significant fer' so many reasons, and I will do my best to make sure that happens.

    And of course they give me the...beau--....the talented...the very talented Gabrielle as my partner as well. We've had our tops and bottoms--UPS AND DOWNS together but I reckon that we will work great as a team. Gabrielle is a seasoned veteran and arguably the best female wrestler of all time though I uh,...

    Sally polishes her title belt with her sleeve

    Sally:...Am workin' on havin' that changed. Gabrielle and I as much as I dislike to admit it sometimes make a good team. And us together I feel like we'd be unstoppable regardless of our opponents. The two of us were here for the beginnin' of the FWA women's title division and we're still 'round to see it grow into what it has become.

    So yes to some people on the outside this team may seem eclectic, but if ya' look really close you'll see that we have more in common than some might think. Most importantly we are dedicated to stompin' out these parasites and degenerates that are set on destoryin' what we have worked so hard to build up. We will band together to make sure that Fight Night and Back in Business are some of the worst nights of their lives. They may think they're all that and a bag of chips but we're a gonna prove to be far more dangerous than they could have ever imagined!

    First we got PAJ the Great Englishman. PAJ is a lone wolf, a man out with his own agenda. He doesn't care 'bout anyone but himself, and that's not always a bad thing. But it spells trouble for our friend Ryan Rondo. Not to mention PAJ has been kind of slippin' as of late, remember back in February when all the websites, the marks, the articles we're hyping up PAJ, he was the future? The next big thing? Welp, I'm lookin' 'round and PAJ hasn't lived up to the hype quite yet. Maybe that's all it ever was....HYPE! PAJ talks a big game, but in the end I think he's jus' like anybody else. A wrestler who got a hot streak and now is coolin' down significantly. To me, you'll always be the man who had a little school boy crush on me, tried to get in my pants and my now husband kicked yer' sorry ass. Can't say that anythin' you've ever done has made me think otherwise, not even fer' a second!

    Then Ryan Rondo! Oh the great Rondo, we're supposed to fear ya' right? A mastermind? Deceptive? Powerful? That's all relative Rondo. What are ya' gonna do? Beat Whyte Thunder? Everyone who knows anythin' about wrestlin' history knows yer' the second banana. Side kicks rarely ever surpass the person they support, even if eventually they do come out from the shadow of their partner...they're still just second rate. Brian Carter, Aut Pax Aut Bellum....they're all back. And I'm sure there are more to come, what are ya' gonna do Rondo? The big dogs are returnin' to the junk yard, ya' better start speakin' up now 'cause soon yer' gonna find yerself back on the bottom of the heap! Fightin' and clawin' fer' the scraps they left fer' ya'! Do ya' honestly think that yer' gonna excel in a post Jimmy King FWA? I'd get back under the shadow of Thunder real quick.

    Finally, we have Ayla El! Now I already beat ya' last week in the main event. That doesn't need much repeatin' I think my actions speak fer' themselves on that one. But I will say that ya' managed to avoid bein' pinned by me. That don't make a lick of a difference though, jus' gonna make it that much sweeter when I beat yer' ass! I am the champion Ayla El, not ya' and yer' stupid freaky partner! Ya' think ya' intimidate me with yer' little mind games, trickin' me into kissin' ya'? I've been kissed by Gabrielle Ayla El, that's a real woman. If I gotta kiss one might as well be a real one right? Yer' a spoiled, bratty little girl who cries anytime she doesn't get her way. Well get ready to cry me another river, 'cause me and my team are gonna win this week and ya' ain't gettin' nothin'!

    This Fight Night is goin' to the men and women who will be the heroes and the guidin' lights of Back in Business. So YIPPIE YIPPIE KI HI YAY BITCHES! Ya'll have a nice evening!


    Sally tips her hat and exits the ring to a cheering crowd.



    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)

    Walt County

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