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Thread: Fight Night PROMO THREAD 6/27/14

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    Fight Night PROMO THREAD 6/27/14

    Post Promos Here. Promos will be due Tuesday June 24th at midnight Pacific time, which is 3am Wednesday morning Eastern time. No extensions will be granted outside an extreme emergency. Good luck!

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    BEATRIXX BLACK
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    Re: Fight Night PROMO THREAD 6/27/14

    PROLOGUE

    We open, strangely, not out on the streets for once but instead on a very fake set that is built to resemble the oval office of the White House. At first the lights are dimmed and we can’t see anything but the vague outline of the desk and the woman behind it, but after the last chorus of the national anthem plays, we fade in to reveal that sat behind the desk is none other than Beatrixx Black, looking deliberately dressed-down whilst losing none of her aggressively alienating look. We can’t see her lower half, but on top she is wearing a simple white tank top and has her natural blond hair in cornrows. She grins and stares intensely at the camera for a few seconds, before tilting her head back as if to gesture to the oval office around her.

    ”’cos I be runnin’ this shit, ya’ll know?”

    Rather than the camera freezing, instead Beatrixx simply laughs as the giant title flashes up over the screen.



    BEATRIXX BLACK: THE HEAD OF CASTRATE

    This promo is definitely different to Beatrixx’ usual handheld-style, and she definitely has something to say as she gets right to the point.

    ”Mah fellow Americans...Damn, has there ever been anyone who get so high so fast like me? Yo I’m serious, what ya’ll got when it come to bitches like me? Ya’ll got nothin’ I’m a whole new fuckin’ universe to you, yeah? Tha’ss why ya’ll can’t take yo eyes off me, ya’ll jus’ don’ know what B-double X be doin’ next, huh? Well tha’ss the whole damn idea, ya’ll. I’m sorry babies but I gotta keep ya’ll in the dark so nobody be seein’ me comin’. But ya’ll gotta admit...pretty good plan, right? ‘cos except from that made case’a pussy stank a couple weeks back I’m on fire, yo! Ya’ll can’t stop me, if ya’ll tried! Not that ya’ll wanted to, I know. Ya’ll desperate to know what Bee be doin’ now, well calm down lil babies, tha’ss what Bee here to tell ya’ll. This be my message to ya’ll Bee Bitches, so ya’ll listen up.”

    Beatrixx then, for emphasis, kicks her legs out to her side and crosses them over at the ankle on the desk, revealing that she is just wearing white underwear on her bottom half and white high heels. She laughs a little before continuing her speech, running a hand over her cornrows.

    ”The god dayumn Women’s Championship, ya’ll, tha’ss what’s next for Beatrixx Black, ya’ll. I am proud to announce to all ya’ll bitches that those guys in the suits, they can’t keep ya’ll down. They hear ya’ll been reactin’ to the news that it gon’ be Saddle Sally...mmm...versus Dinorah Redgrave at Red, White ‘n Bruised and then they hear ya’ll screamin’ that ya’ll wanna see Bee! Ya’ll wanna see B-double X as ya’ll Women’s Champion and god dayumn don’t say this bitch don’t treat ya’ll well ‘cos tha’ss exactly what ya’ll gon’ see. So ya’ll gon’ keep one hand on yo dicks an’ yo pussies an’ one hand on yo remote so ya’ll can watch Red, White ‘n Bruised an’ see this bitch get what she deserve. Saddle Sally? Flat on her fine ass back. Dinorah Redgrave? Fuckin’ unconscious yo, ya’ll just wait like good lil bitches and wait though, ‘cos we got some work to do first.”

    At this point things start to go off the rails. Beatrixx swings her legs back around and stands up behind her desk and starts talking about her tag match next week, where she is teaming up with Saddle Sally to take on Dinorah Redgrave and Gabrielle Montgomery.

    ”But we got some more pressin’ matters to deal with first, before I get to the fun part. This week on Fight Night I’m gon’ be takin’ on Gabrielle Montgomery and mah good buddy Dinorah Redgrave, ya’ll know? The Tattooed Bitch and Lil Miss Teeth And Titties? Yeah, I wanna tell ya’ll somethin’ I’ve been learnin’ about them ever since I got here just about a month ago now. Those bitches? They all about the surface. They all about wha’ss on the outside? And me? Beatrixx Black? I be lookin’ at the real shit. Yo I talked enough about Dinorah Redgrave las’ time, that bitch don’t deserve no more of my attention, but fucking Gabrielle? Mmm-hmm, I wanna focus on that bitch for a while if ya’ll don’t mind. Now don’ get me wrong, ya’ll know me I appreciate a tight ass and great tits as much as the next girl but that ain’t all that matters. When I watch you talkin’ Gabrielle, when I watch you walkin’, hell, when I watch you breathin’ an’ you be pushin’ yo chest in an’ out an’ archin’ yo spine like you tryin’a make yo elbows touch behind yo back...

    Beatrixx pauses quickly to demonstrate, taking a deep breath and aggressively thrusting out her own chest.

    ”...when I be watchin’ you do all’a that I’m always thinkin’ the same damn thing...wha’ss underneath all that? Ya see ya wanna know what I think, Gabrielle? Ya really wanna know what B-Double X thinks of yo game? Well fuck it a’mma tell ya’ll anyway, I think you afraid. I think you afraid of fucking up. ‘Cos you hit the ground wrong? You take a chair to the fucking skull? You ain’t pretty no more bitch. The same goes for you Dinorah, not that I think yo ass is hot in the first place but damn you seem’ta think that, am I right? Yeah, now I ain’t just sayin’ you be afraid of chippin’ yo nails, what I’m sayin’ is you afraid of losin’ yo’ career ‘cos everythang everyone knows about you...is in yo titties. I’ss in yo perfect complexion. I’ss in yo fine ass. Now, I don’ wanna speak for Saddle Sally ‘cos ya’ll know what I think of her, but I can speak for Bee Black and what I’m sayin’ is that when you go up against a bitch who don’t have that fear? You two ain’t got no chance. ‘Cos I be seein’ how ya’ll acting with all yo richness. With yo jewellery and yo cash and yo rich, expensive lifestyles. None of that for Beatrixx Black. Beatrixx Black ain’t afraid to tear all this shit down in a god damn second.

    It is then that the reason behind the cheap fakeness of the set is revealed. Beatrixx suddenly kicks the table and it instantly falls forward. She then grabs the chair behind her and throws it through the wall which tears and is revealed to be thin cardboard. Beatrixx then seems to completely lose her mind, grabbing picture frames off the wall and screaming as she slams them off of the upturned table before flinging them past the camera. She scratches at the walls and grabs the papers that used to be arrange neatly on the desk, throwing them around the room like the world’s most terrifying child having a tantrum. She then grows tired of simply destroying objects and grabs the stage assistant, dragging the young man in front of camera. She slaps him in the face then kicks him in the crotch, before grabbing a fistful of the papers and messily jamming them into his mouth, leaving him slumped against the upturned desk behind her. Beatrixx then pushes the camerawoman backwards, breaking the fourth wall as she stumbles and reveals the sides of the set and the grey warehouse it is contained within.

    ”Ya’ll see this?! It’s ‘cos I ain’t afraid to be ugly bitches! I ain’t afraid to cut my face, to get my god damn teeth knocked out, to break my fucking ankle so I can’t fucking walk, ya’ll know I’ll do fucking anything! So Gabrielle? Dinorah? You two can keep yoselves outta that ring on Fight Night, hell Saddle Sally, ya’ll might even be advised to do the same ‘cos if ya’ll step to me with yo pretty faces and yo perfect bodies ya’ll can be damn sure you ain’t walkin’ out the ring with ‘em, tha’ss for sure. Ya’ll don’t even know. Ya’ll don’t even know what B-Double X is capable of. It starts with you two bitches, Gabrielle and Dinorah. If ya’ll know what’s best, ya’ll better lay down and accept yo fate, because ya’ll gotta remember somethin’. Ya’ll don’t know shit about me. Ya’ll don’t know how far this bitch can go. Ya’ll don’t know if you step up to me what ya’ll gettin’ in to. So for yo own safety, I’m sayin’ this once, ‘cos I’m just that fuckin’ nice...step back. Walk away. ‘Ya’ll never know what I’m gonna do next.”

    Beatrixx licks the lens of the camera and laughs, but then rather than stopping there she assaults the camerawoman, revealed to be a slightly butch woman in her early forties. The camera falls on it’s side and it is left running as we see Beatrixx continue to assault her. Eventually she knocks the camerawoman down on the ground. Beatrixx stands with one leg on either side of her and crouches down. Beatrixx slaps the camerawoman in the face, then unexpectedly turns to look down the camera lens again, revealing that she knows it is still filming. She flips the camera off and laughs as we hear the scuffle of someone grabbing the camera and it suddenly cutting to black.

    BEATRIXX BLACK: THE FREAKY WOMEN'S CHAMPION OF THE FWA

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    Re: Fight Night PROMO THREAD 6/27/14

    Have you ever heard of the old saying turn the page?

    It was written as a song originated by Bob Seger and it meant to start a new chapter in your life. This was the perfect analogy heading in to Fight Night against his opponent Ryan Hall and that is because for the first time in a long time-the roles are in fact reversed going into this match. You see, normally, Ryan Hall was the man who had all of the gold, he had all of the prestige, all of the fame, the glory, and everybody believed that he would win even before the match ever began. As times have progressed however, things have changed and as we walk in to Fight Night this week, we see that Stevenson has the gold and all of the momentum which makes you wonder, are things beginning to change around here?

    It's no secret that Stevenson has preached that things were going to change for a long time but are we beginning to finally see that? Is it really time to turn the page, or was the dogs of old going to once again prove that it is their yard? Only time can tell but until then, Fight Night was going to be the very event where things would change and if Stevenson has his way about it-the page was definitely going to be turned and the new era would be ushered in.

    Sitting on an old dusty table in a dimly lit room was an old book; it had thick leather binding that resembled that of the book in the Bruce Campbell movie, Evil Dead. As the camera panned out and the room was completely empty, we can see a man wearing a long robe with the hood pulled over his face to conceal it walk up to the desk and take a seat right in front of the book. Sitting there quietly, his frail looking hand reaches out and rubs the leather binding of the book, it's almost as if this book means so much to him but the question is-what is in this book that means so much to him? As the camera begins turning to face the robed man, we can see the room behind him as a shadowy figure slowly begins to walk up behind him, no features revealed as to who the figure is but you can hear the creaking of the wooden floor with each heavy footstep that he takes towards the robed man. Stopping dead in his tracks, you can tell that it's a man by the size of the figure and as he stands there behind the robed man, he begins to speak as his deep toned voice echoes throughout the small, dimly lit room as you now know that the figure is none other than Drew Stevenson.

    Drew,
    "I have preached it all along, I have told the world that the times are changing around here in the FWA and look around-tell me that I am wrong and I will tell you that you're a liar. You see, everybody wants to read the book of old; they want to constantly live back in the golden era, the glory days of the FWA because they refuse to acknowledge that the times are changing. They refuse to accept the fact that this company is evolving, that new stars are beginning to rise and they hate the fact that people like me are beginning to take their place. But you see, that's just how this business works, that's just how the wrestling world works and if you don't like it?"

    Stretching his left arm out and pointing behind himself, there was an old door positioned in the darkness. The darkness was a symbol that the times of old were beginning to fade and that the times of new are being ushered in whether they liked it or not.

    Drew,
    "Then there's the door and please, don't let it hit you on the ass on the way out. Oh I know, I'm going to get a lot of heat for saying this and many people in the back are going to start crying about how I'm such a bad guy but the question is, am I really that bad of a guy? You see, not a soul out there complains when Ryan Hall, when Wolf, and when the other "legends" in the back want us gone but yet when we want them gone? People look at us as if we are the antichrist and that is because they refuse to let go of the past and move into the future. It's kind of like the old saying "don't fix it if it's not broken" and all they ever want to see is the same song and dance instead of something new. Well I'm here to tell you something different, I'm here to burst your bubble because the book of old? I'm about to scorch it, I'm about to throw that son of a bitch in the fire because I'm tired hearing about Ryan Hall, I'm tired of hearing about Wolf, I'm tired of hearing about Gabrielle, I'm tired of hearing about every single "legend" in the back who feels that what they did in the past warrants them main event status simply because they've been here the longest. You see, that's not how it works any longer-it goes off of talent, it goes off of work ethic, and if you don't like what I have to say then turn the channel or simply don't listen because I'm going to tell you exactly how it is because that's all I know and I refuse to sugarcoat things just so poor little Ryan Hall won't get his panties in a bunch or feel isolated."

    With arrogance oozing from every pore, he leans forward as his handsomely chiseled face pops into the light that is being produced from the burning candles.

    Drew,
    "Oh I know what you're thinking Ryan, you're hanging on to my every word and you're thinking to yourself "how can this guy be so arrogant after I have kicked his ass so many times" and that is because in the grand scheme of things? You have never and I mean NEVER kicked my ass. Oh I know, you'll throw out there all the times that you have "beaten" me but really? Take a look what's going on right now and tell me if I really look all that beaten to you. You see, here I am as the FWA North American Champion and there you are with nothing left but your pride and things that you achieved in the past. You have to cling and clutch on what you achieved back in the day where as I keep moving forward, where as I Ryan am beginning to replace you and that is because the suits in the back? They realize all along that what I said is the gospel truth; they realize that this company has to evolve or guys like you who believe that they should always be in the limelight are going to in fact be the death of it. Whether you like to hear it or not Ryan, people are sick and tired of seeing you, they're tired of seeing Stu who can barely walk, they're tired of seeing Wolf, well no take that back-they love listening to Wolf's rants because the guy nowadays seems to piss, moan, groan and cry about every single thing that doesn't go his way and as far as Gabrielle is concerned? Well, they will always like to see her because look at her-everybody wants to get in her panties, she's the poster girl for teenage ejaculation."

    Speaking with such conviction, he had a very smart ass attitude and demeanor as he just flashes a very arrogant smirk into the camera knowing that every single person that he just mentioned is listening to him.

    Drew,
    "But you see, that's okay because this week at Fight Night? I am going to change things around here as I beat you Ryan, I am going to beat you black and blue, I'm going to treat you as if you were Rosa Parks who was trying to take my seat and that is because that is how I see you Ryan-I see you as a man who wants nothing more than to be back at the top. I see you as a man who will go to great lengths to beat me and to prove that he still has it because at the end of the day? You need this win more than I do Ryan!"

    Leaning over and reaching over the shoulder of the robed man, Stevenson grabs the old book and holds it in his hand.

    Drew,
    "And I know you thought that would never happen because you believed you would forever be on top. Hell man, I know your type, you still believe it to this day that you're the best wrestler that there is but you're not-I am the best wrestler around here and I'm going to prove it as I take each and every single chapter that you wrote and toss it right into the fire where it belongs. You see, I don't ever expect you to accept it but it's time to turn the page Ryan-it's time to usher in something new, it's time that the people get treated to something different instead of the same song and dance that you and the rest of the "legends" have been giving them for years now."

    With the book still in his hand, he leans back away from the robed man as he turns his back to the camera and tosses the old book into a nearby fireplace. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a box of matches as he pulled one out and strikes it across the rough surface as the match ignites creating a beautiful orange flame. Holding the match in his hand, he just stares at the beautiful flame momentarily before tossing it into the fireplace as the book begins to go up in flames which signifies that the times of old are gone and that Stevenson, the man of the new era is in fact ushering it in as we speak and there's nobody who can stop him. Turning back towards the camera, he brushes his hands off as he has a very arrogant smirk which proves all along that he never cared about Ryan's history, and he most certainly never cared about burning it.

    Drew,
    "Fight Night is when everything changes Ryan, go ahead and say that you've heard this same song and dance before, go ahead and say that I'm full of shit and go ahead and say whatever it is that pops into your mind because it won't matter. When you and I step into that ring? All you will be thinking about is how to keep your legacy intact where as all I will be thinking about is creating one and who do you think will be more motivated?"

    Taking a moment to pause, he lets that question sink into the mind of everybody because as you already know, they are more than likely voting and betting for Ryan to win this match.

    Drew,
    "I can tell you flat out that it most certainly won't be you Ryan because I know you and I know that you feel that you no longer have to prove anything and maybe you're right, maybe you don't have to prove anything but that is what will be your downfall. You see, when you have nothing left to prove and you're stepping into the ring against a man who has everything to prove-you've already lost!"

    Nodding his head, he means every word that he speaks.

    Drew,
    "Personally though Ryan, *I* feel that you have much more to prove than what you will ever admit because for the first time in a long time? Everybody is beginning to see that maybe, just maybe you are beginning to slip, maybe you are losing your touch in that ring and let me tell you-the fact that they put you against me? It's most certainly not going to help you this week because you go ahead and hold onto the past, you go ahead and hold on to all of those other wins against me because that's all you will have because after the dust settles in the smoke clears this week? You will be lying flat on your back as you realize that I have in fact surpassed you, you will understand perfectly that I never asked you to hand me the torch-oh no, I decided to take it from you because I'm tired of waiting and let's face it, I am the future of the FWA and whether you like it or not-I decided to pry it from your cold dead fingers and there's nothing that you can do about it. I will admit though Ryan; you were once a great champion and a great competitor but here and now? All you are is the last King, I will give you that because at this week’s edition of Fight Night? I will be the man that puts you down Ryan, I will be the man that changes the landscape around here and I will be the man that changes how every single person around here looks at you because I am going to kill the last King."

    Flashing that traditional Stevenson smirk, you can just feel the arrogance and hear it with each word that he speaks. As the robed man reaches up and removes the hood from his face, we see that it is Rod Sterling with nothing but a huge smile stretched along his devious face as he speaks into the camera, it's as clear as day that he believes in Stevenson and knows that he will put Ryan Hall down once and for all.

    Sterling,
    "Veni, vidi, vici... He came, he saw and he conquered!"

    As Sterling expresses that devious, devilish smirk, he presses himself up out of the chair that he was sitting in and reaches over hitting a button on the camera as the video portion fades out but the audio can still be heard. Hearing heavy footsteps walk across the old wooden floor, it creaks very methodically as we fade out hearing a little girls voice very faintly singing "ring around the Rosie, pocket full of Posey, ashes, ashes, we all fall down".

    Nothing but static was heard after that.

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    Re: Fight Night PROMO THREAD 6/27/14



    The scene opens to an extremely dark room The Lights burst on and standing alone in an entirely white room is The Monster himself.he sways back and forth not appearing to focus on the camera. He is huge, wearing a sweat stained wife and ripped blue jeans. His long hair unkempt just like his . His head tilts as his eyes sharpen and his focus returns as he stares into the camera and slowly opens his mouth to begin talking.


    Mac: This is why I am here, To change the landscape of the FWA[CHANGE] To take those who stand for all that I wrong with the world and eradicate them from the company. I set my sights on one man and one man alone to start this mission. This "Man"[COWARD] who spends his days either in a drug induced haze or spiraling out of control in front of the entire world. This is who the FWA thinks is its brightest young star. During my last run I had to sit back and watch as the FWA bosses worked harder jamming Sullivan down the throats of the fans more then a typical night at the hiltons. The fans revolted, gagged even yet the bosses continued to push and push. All it did was make Sullivans star explode faster then anticipated[SUPERNOVA]


    Mac pulls at his own hair as he speaks in a loud, harsh tone. The rage in his voice is equally matched by the rage that twists his face into a sickly scowl. The monster begins, licking his lips at the thought of destroying Sullivan


    Mac: Now is the time to finish him off, I am not here for a wrestling match, I am here for a War of Attrition[BATTLE]. This is what I do. I ruin lives, I end careers and I change the game[REVOLUTIONARY] Dave Sullivan you cost me something I can never fully get back. You cost me a win against that no good hack the Mist. Now I am a man and I can admit the Mist brought it more then I expected, I see why he is the X division champion but that match was MINE! Until you popped your ugly mug out and cost me the match. I can't get that back...Oh No I can't but I can get something much better[REVENGE] I can make sure you are never in the position to do that again[CRIPPLE] I intend on making sure that my mark is left on fight night this week. It is time for Sullivan to face the court for what he has done and I will be the Judge, Jury and in his case the Executioner[DEATH]


    Mac Drops his head, his hair covering his face, He appears lost in his daze. The camera man starts to back out of the room but then he steps on a creaky floor board and Mac whips his hair back, his eyes rolled into the back of the head he talks into the camera in a low guttural tone.


    Mac: MY Name is "The Monster" Mac Michaud. I've been brought here to make a difference and that is exactly what I will do and it starts tonight with David Sullivan and it won't stop until I DECIDE I AM DONE! Bones will be shattered, Blood will be shed and gold will adorn my waist and there is nothing anyone can do about it[DOMINATION]


    There is a loud bang and a flash of light and when the light dissipates Mac is gone!



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    Re: Fight Night PROMO THREAD 6/27/14

    'Hate' is such a strong word




    How do we hate? Is it preconceived? Are we born with hatred? Is it taught? When did it start? When did someone label those extreme feelings as "hatred?" Can one truly escape that emotion? Can we lose hatred for a person, or thing? Is hatred the opposite emotion of love, and if so, like love, can we ever truly stop hating someone? Everyone hates one person, whether they admit it or not. Even the whitest knights hate someone. Maybe it is warranted, maybe not, but every person holds that ill-will emotion toward one person or object. To pass through life without doing so is impossible, as people are too imperfect and too drawn toward conflict. But the question remains: how do we hate? How is it built? When does it happen? Where is the line, the switch, that goes from strong dislike to that overwhelming emotion of discontent and disgust?


    As the professor finishes his speech, he stands in front the Advanced Philosophy class at Northern Illinois University in silence. He's waiting for an answer, from anyone, inside the half-filled classroom. Around 25 aspiring Philosophy majors and minors. But no one gives an answer.


    No thoughts?


    More silence, and the professor looks at his watch. Around 30 seconds left. He considers the fact it's Friday afternoon and the class probably is mentally exhausted and "checked out."


    OK. For next Monday...


    Groans from the aspiring philosophizers as they expect a homework assignment to come. One of them gives a snarky remark back.




    Hatred started when the first teacher assigned homework.



    The entire class erupts in laughter, joined by the professor himself. He disregards it beyond that.



    Everyone be prepared to give one theory on the evolution of hatred. How does it come? How do you define it? I'll call on you at random, so if you don't complete the assignment, you'll be taking a risk.


    -------------------------------------------------------------





    As one of the students returns to his off-campus dormitory — he's swarming with thoughts about the professor's "hatred" lecture — he sits down on his one-person bed and looks toward the wall. Little known among his peers, this quiet student is actually a psychopath. He's been determined as much by doctors following a high school incident when he attacked a teacher. Theories of violence, war, and the emotions surrounding it are always interesting to him. He's a huge fan in physical sports, such as boxing, MMA and wrestling, if only for the violence associated.

    But he hasn't a clue about the foundations of all these emotions. He probably could've raised his hand, given a 2,000-word, 20-minute speech about his past and all of his emotions, but none of it would've answered the professor's overarching question...


    "Where does hate come from?"

    As this man sits down on his bed, lightning strikes. He springs off his bed and opens his laptop. He hates this laptop. It was a birthday present from his father, who he absolutely despises. His father believes money can buy happiness. Throughout the kid's life in the rich suburbs of north-side Chicago, his father tried everything to improve his son's actions in public. Nothing worked. Psychiatry sessions. Guidance counselor sessions. Anger management sessions. It was an attempt to make other people fix the problem without him trying his hand, and just talking to his son. Being a dad was too much effort and time, so he tried being the rich uncle.

    Mom? That ship sailed a loooooong time ago.

    But yeah, he hates this laptop. He still uses it, though, and sits down and opens up Twitter. The kid absolutely hates Twitter. Anything involving social interaction and pandering to social norms and boxed-in constructs. But he still uses it, to follow some of the FWA, MMA and boxing talents. He likes antagonizing them, making them feel weak and fake.

    The kid immediately goes to one specific account, the one for the Fantasy Wrestling Alliance's Whyte Thunder. He sends a simple message, in private:


    "I have an assignment on the origins of hatred in my philosophy class. Could you help? My email is psycho6969@yahoo.com"

    ---------------------------





    After a night of underground MMA fighting, the college student arrives in his dormitory. He has dried-up blood on his chin, cuts and scrapes on his cheek and neck, and swelling just under his black eye. He sits down at his desk, about to give up on any response from Whyte Thunder.

    Checks Twitter. Nothing.

    Opens his email. Three unread in the inbox. Two are spam and one is from his father informing him of $200 deposited into his checking account.

    The kid sits back and sighs. Then he opens his philosophy book and prepares to do the work on his own, but his laptop makes a noise.

    One new email. And it's a reply. THE reply.

    Quickly, he opens up the message. No longer does he hate this laptop. Right now, the only emotion he has is excitement.



    Every emotion is about selfish wishes and survival. Every...single...one. Happiness, sadness, anger, jealousy, guilt, pride, embarrassment. Name them all, and they're all associated to selfish motives. I imagine you know this already from your email name and Twitter handle. So the emotion hatred comes from selfishness. The question is, rather, where does selfishness come from?

    And that, I cannot answer.

    No matter what the situation, we are always selfish. Wolf selfishly walked away from the Fantasy Wrestling Alliance after Back in Business IX and proceeded to arm-chair quarterback the entire company. He's possibly the worst offender, but he isn't the only one.

    James "Eyesnsane" Hughes selfishly walked away from the FWA, too. He selfishly bashed Mac Michaud for turning on Over the Edge. And "The Clown of Death" Ted selfishly has latched onto Eyesnsane's previous accomplishments to catapult himself into similar glory.

    Aut Pax Aut Bellum selfishly held the FWA's tag team division captive for two years to try each's hand in singles action. They selfishly avoided strong competition to pump up their reign as the dominant duo. And now they selfishly sit back in almighty chairs and claim conspiracy theories when they — flat out — just aren't good anymore, if at all proven by a vacant performance for the tag team titles at Aftershock.

    But let's refrain from singling out opponents. Like I said, everyone is selfish. Even you. Even me. Even Lucian Ace.

    Lucian selfishly wants to use me against Wolf, his father, because I believe he too is a psychopath and selfishly desires a twisted pleasure and satisfaction. And I, too, am selfish. In fact, I always have been.

    Fans despise me for what I did with Jason Gryphon a year ago. They have chastised me for playing the role of 'God,' in a sense, after so many years of me being praised and paraded for my unselfish ways. Yet, they don't know I was selfishly unselfish. Yes, we even are selfish when unselfish. We place others before us, hoping to receive the accolades of doing so.

    You asked me the origins of hatred. It stems from selfishness. It stems from concrete and abstract greed. Where those things come, I have no idea, except our basic instincts of survival and a necessity of being wanted. We fear death, and with that, we fear no longer being needed and thus outcast toward death. If we have no purpose, then we are easily tossed away.

    I do not hate Wolf. Hate is such a strong word.

    But I do compare to him. And I do have my own selfish motives. Wolf should never


    EVER


    make the Hall of Fame before me.

    Does that answer your question?

  6. #6
    Striving for a B+ in life
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    Re: Fight Night PROMO THREAD 6/27/14

    Flowing blonde hair, sweet brown eyes, an alluring complexion, an overworked white blouse clinging to her 36D breasts above a knee length black skirt hugging a fine French-Canadian posterior. It is of course the one time FWA Women’s Champion and former Assistant to the then General Manager, Temptations Assassin; Veronique de Moreau. The sexiest dual black belt in the world gracefully gets to her feet, a smile on her face, a bounce to her bosom and a slight skip to her step as she opens the large wooden door and lets the world into this office.

    Veronique: The ex-General Managers are expecting you.

    And indeed they are, after stepping inside we are treated with the sight of Gabrielle Montgomery and Dinorah Redgrave, both sitting behind an extravagantly large desk. Its rich hue paling in comparison to the tantalising complexion of Gabrielle’s warm skin or the multicolours of Dinorah’s extensive tattoo work. Both women are dressed in matching stripped business suits though of differing colours. The Caramel Goddess wrapped in the pureness that is white…The Valkyrie of Carnage much more chaotically dressed in red. The tight confines of both their skirts hug two of the finest posteriors in the FWA. While further up both women’s stunningly fit bodies their jackets cling to their every curve. A war of buttons is waged and currently won by Gabrielle who happens to have one more button undone than Dinorah does exposing just that much more mouth-watering cleavage than her cohort is. With that comes a slightly larger smirk as well as Gabrielle revels in displaying her legendary figure in much of its ample glory. But the paler skinned Dinorah is no slouch either, with her blonde hair tied back into a ponytail and a smile kissing her lips she is undoubtedly a gorgeous woman herself. But some would say that Gabrielle whose light brunette hair is done up into a bun is even more spectacular on the eyes. A true vision of perfection they both are just as they both are former General Managers of Fight Night in their expensively upholstered new office.

    Gabrielle: What a blast from the past this is…back behind ‘the desk’ once again, it feels like I never left…but then again I am regarded as the best General Manager the FWA has ever seen, so it’s only natural that I could slip right back into this role.

    Dinorah Redgrave, the seductively tattooed blonde bombshell raises an eyebrow as Gabrielle Montgomery, the tantalizingly complexioned brunette stunner smirks confidently but playfully.


    Gabrielle: Not that Dinorah didn’t do very well herself…even if she is the reason I lost my former job.

    An uneasy silence falls across the lavishly decorated ‘General Managers Office’.

    Gabrielle: But here and now in 2014 I hold no ill will towards Dinorah, we were friends in the past…very good friends. I respect her as a competitor, as a former Women’s Champion and as a strong, independent woman who has achieved some great things and run the FWA very well…almost as well as I did.

    Another sweetly devious smile crosses those full soft lips of the divine Gabrielle.

    Gabrielle: So this reunion of General Managers of the past is to be a happy one. Gone are the days where I was solely focused upon my success with little to no care for anyone else…and seeing Di, talking to her again…I get the same feeling from her. We’re both better people, and indeed would be even better General Managers now than we were in the past. So using this collective wisdom of ours, and seeing as we’re back in the office during a week were our regular General Manager G-Rich is sadly hospitalized by a pair of foolish and despicable young men it only seems fitting that we take charge. Gabrielle the longest reigning female World Champion in history, the former General Manager of Fight Night and Dinorah the former dominant Women’s Champion who replaced me at this desk, and what a week we have in store.

    Dinorah: X Title matches…random Tag Team matches, Drew Stevenson, Ryan Hall, the return of PAJ and then of course there’s us.

    Gabrielle: Oh of course, we are the real Main Event. It’s not just the absence of G-Rich and the fact that Fight Night General Manager appears on both of our resume’s that has brought us here together at this desk. No you see this week as has happened once or twice in the past The Caramel Goddess and The Valkyrie Of Carnage are in tag team action together. Two of the greatest Women’s Champions of all time and the two best General Managers ever standing alongside each other in the ring. This is a spectacular moment in time, not something to be easily dismissed. I know what you’re all thinking though and believe me I have had those same thoughts…the Women’s division is not what it once was.

    As hard as it is for me to say but gone are the days when Jenny, Moira, Aja and I stole the show every week and wowed the world. And gone are the days where Dinorah, Madison, Veronique, Ayla and Alana took the Women’s Championship to great heights. Those days are in the past and the both us; Di and I have watched as the division has become lessor than the greatness it once was…and the greatness it is still capable of. There were times where I looked down upon returning to where my career began, after being the World Champion for ten months going back…down to the Women’s division did not sit well with me.

    But priorities change, job titles change…what I want from my career changes. Stepping foot into the ring with some of the best female wrestlers of all time is a joy. You see Dinorah and I may have patched things up, we may have moved on from the days where we bitterly argued and tried to outdo each other as General Managers…but we do still disagree on something. While Dinorah here has…little respect for Saddle Sally I could not have more respect for our current Women’s Champion. Sally was one of the first people I ever faced in the FWA, Sally is the first person I ever feuded with, the first person I ever defended a Championship against. When I debuted in the FWA so did Sally. We have been in this company together for so long. Sally is in fact the only other woman still in the FWA from back then.

    Selfishly I can say she is a reminder of how far I have come in the FWA, I started out where she is now. Eight years later Sally is a two time Women’s Champion…while I am a Triple Crown Champion with six reigns under my little black belt. But I am not having a dig at Sally, I am proud of her. She fought harder than anyone else to get a Women’s Championship created, and though it took her seven years to finally see her name on it, she never gave up.

    Gabrielle takes a moment to applaud, a pure and sweet smile upon her face as she does.

    Gabrielle: As a former General Manager I can easily say that Sally is exactly the sort of talent that I would seek to recruit and reward. She is gorgeous…and she most definitely knows it. She is talented, she is cunning and vicious when she needs to be. She is everything that a General Manager looks for…though of course through all this praise there is one simple fact that rings true. Over the years Sally and I have competed for the Women’s Championship together, we have competed in all manner of matches against one another, she’s put me out of action with an injury at one point in time…while at another we were friends together in The Great Siege. In recent times I have even shared a pair of delicious kisses with her and those soft lips…

    A divinely sinful moan slithers forth from between her lips and runs down the spine of every man and many of the women watching.

    Gabrielle: But through all of that there has been one constant, one thing that has never changed from Back In Business two, to that sexy little bra and panties match earlier this year…and that is the fact that I always win. Every single time Sally no matter how much I respect you, how much I like you…and even though a small part of me wants to see if you can beat me, you never do and never have. I have won every single one of our matches. Women’s Championship matches, tag team matches, bikini contests, bra and panties matches…it doesn’t matter what kind of match it is, it makes no difference…I win, you lose…but for a few precious moments I get to mount a cowgirl.

    A life affirming, fantasy conjuring smile dances across her face, her eyes sparkling with a devious glee, that even Dinorah Redgrave can’t help but admire.

    Gabrielle: Then of course there’s the fourth wheel, the new girl, the rookie sensation as it were in this match. She’s foul mouthed, she’s brash, she’s confident, she breaks the mould…but she is successful. Another talent that as a former General Manager I can respect and one that as a former Women’s Champion I can appreciate. One Beatrixx Black, a woman whose talents have seen her already defeat a former Women’s Champion, a woman who has produced chart topping music…and a woman who has potentially shown up my former protegee Veronique and found herself in a Women’s Championship match quicker than anyone else…well except for me of course when I won that Title in my fourth match in the FWA.

    No matter what way you look at it Beatrixx has instantly made an impact since joining the FWA roster. Now as much as I would love to take credit for her signing, or even give that credit to Di…I cant, G-Rich is capable of a few good signings when the mood strikes him. The Women’s division of today may not occupy those lofty heights it did when Jenny Ignito had one of the greatest Championship reigns of all time, but with talent like Beatrixx joining the fold and talent like Dinorah here returning it is in good hands, the future can be bright. But that is the future of the Women’s division and the Women’s Championship. Sally may be a great Champion and Beatrixx may one day be a great Champion herself but this is about more than that.

    You see Beatrixx you’re new here so I should explain all of this to you. Now sure you’re young, you’re driven, you’re impressive, you are in every way a very interesting lady. And you and I share a…fine appreciation for the female form and all of its curves…Dinorah here does as well. You may be a great female wrestler and for that I wish you nothing but the best, but I am the absolute best female wrestler ever and one of the all-time greats regardless of gender. And it is as such that means that better than anyone else I can appreciate and respect a talented woman in this industry, but at the end of the day…I always win. I may not be as good a singer as you, but I am as decorated as I am in this ring for a reason.

    This means that on a week like this, during a time where everywhere I go I can feel Stu St.Clair over my shoulder, where he has dared to approach my daughter, where he has put a strain on my relationship with Ashley…I can forget all that for a few moments and just focus upon competing against two very talented women, but two women that I am supremely confident I can defeat especially with another woman like Dinorah by my side. Everything is on my side in this match; history, success, and I will even say talent. Yes despite all the praise Sally and Beatrixx will still come up short…that is the nature of things, I wouldn’t be the greatest General Manager ever if I wasn’t blessed with wisdom to go with my good looks…

  7. #7
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    Re: Fight Night PROMO THREAD 6/27/14

    Shannon O'Neal sits in the backstage, alone, lost in her thoughts.

    "This place is cut-throat. Robbins Thurgood was the snake-oil salesman everyone told me, but I refused to listen. I was his ticket back on camera, back in people's minds and back on the FWA radar. Now he's the SMASH general manager, leaving me behind, and won't even acknowledge my presence.

    Why do I feel this way?"

  8. #8
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    Re: Fight Night PROMO THREAD 6/27/14

    The scene opens to 'The Reborn' Phillip A. Jackson sat alone in the locker room looking down at the floor. His bag is packed neatly in the corner of the room. He sits reluctantly on the worn down wooden bench. Underneath Phillip A. Jackson is a towel so that he doesnt need to touch the wood directly. He looks up at the camera with a smirk on his face.


    Phillip A. Jackson

    The rebirth is real...ohhh so real...you thought that I would just get up and walk away from everything that I rightfully earned?! I worked my ass off to be where I am. I shouldnt of needed to because I am above this company. I walked in a hated man. I will walk away when I have bled FWA dry and they are on their knees begging me to stay and then continue to beg me to come back just like every other company Ive worked in. You thought that I was weak like all of you?! Weak like Shane and Rondo? I am above them too. They are just passengers on my unstoppable train ride to the top. They hide behind popularity and the security of trying to cut me out of the World Title match. They got a taste of what is coming on Fight Night. I will not rest until I get what I want because there is no-one else who can compete with me. Legends of FWA will be in awe of me. Rondo will be in awe of me and he knows exactly what is coming. Even he is smart enough to get it after I knocked him and Shane out. So be warned Rondo I am ready.


    He pushes the camera away as the scene fades to black.

  9. #9
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    Re: Fight Night PROMO THREAD 6/27/14

    As I pull up to the warehouse on the docks that is being rented by the FWA for the upcoming Unlock and Loaded Match at the Red, White, and Bruised PPV between Jethro and myself, I see River sitting on his motorcycle already waiting.


    River: Thank you for coming boss. As I told you over the phone, FWA Management agreed to yours and Jethro's stipulations, however they had conditions of their own. As they fear for the safety of the crowd, they requested that the Match essentially be conducted here and shown at the arena and everywhere else. They also wanted any referee involved to wear full body armor and the cages that Anna and Amber will be in, will be covered on all sides and the bottom with bulletproof glass so neither will accidentally get injured.


    Vincent: Well hell, did they leave us anything?


    River and myself head into the warehouse and see workers setting up the ring while some gunsmiths are test firing various automatic and semi-automatic firearms at various thicknesses of the bulletproof glass. On the other side of the ring, the foreman and engineers are figuring out the best way and location to hang the two cells above the ring along with figuring out the best way to construct the cells themselves.


    River: They're going to allow you and Jethro use several different types firearms, from pistols to shotguns to burst firing rifles.


    As I look at River, I raise my eyebrow.


    River: I'm guessing they figure that the rifles that fire in bursts won't do nearly as much damage to you or Jethro as fully automatic rifles like AK's and such would.


    I look at the firearms on one of the tables to see Glocks, Combat Shotguns, Double-barreled Shotguns, Pump-action shotguns, and a few M16A2 Rifles.


    Vincent: I'm presuming that there will be duplicate weapons for each of us to use?


    River: That is correct.


    Vincent: I get that Management wants to be careful with this Match as even I wouldn't want a stray bullet or two to accidentally injure or even kill a fan, but FWA Management will likely draw some heat for not having this match in the same arena as the rest of the matches.


    Just as I finish saying that, I receive a text from Management informing me about the next card. I pull out my cell phone and look at the Card as FWA Cameramen realize I am in the building quickly rush to where me and River are standing.


    Vincent: Well shite, FWA Management wants me to team with my previous opponents, the Kennedy/Carter Administration to take on Executive Excellence and Jethro Warren. And after what Jethro did after our match, clotheslining me as I tried to get into the ring, any truce we may have had going into Red, White and Bruised is officially voided. Jethro, you and Trace better keep Amber safe because I am announcing that it is open season on anyone affiliated with Jethro Warren, including Jethro himself.


    That said, I've got nothing but respect for Chris Kennedy, despite him pretending to be a newly signed Talent and became the X-Division Champion all under the guise of La Muerte Blanca and I do have equal respect for Brian Carter as both men have earned the right to have the out most respect from everyone in the Locker Room for all that they had gone through and the countless Title that they've respectively held.


    At the same time, since EE had attempt the homicide of the FWA GM, G-Rich, after the Tag Team Match. I've personally be asked and I'm sure our entire switchboard at our HQ has messages asking for my thoughts on the attempted murder of G-Rich. Well, I'm going to say this once and only once. Next time you want to hang someone, be it G-Rich or someone else.



    I look at River then chuckle before looking back at the cameras.


    Vincent: Wake Walker, Thomas Princeton, next time you want to hang someone, always, and I do mean ALWAYS make sure that the numbers are on your side so that no one is able to prevent said hanging. And sure some people might have thought that I was actually trying to slide into the ring to stop G-Rich's execution, but in all honestly I was actually trying to get into the ring to have a front row seat of G-Rich's demise.


    Now I know, you all think that that is contradictory to me being a “face”, well in a way, it is. But look at it from my perspective, what exactly has G-Rich ever done for me, for River, for anyone affiliated with the BIRD Empire? Nothing, zilch, nada, zip, zero. G-Rich had done absolutely nothing for me. So him dying, honestly wouldn't have affected me one bit.



    River: Although, had he died, then perhaps whomever replaced him, might actually have been a better improvement.


    Both River and myself laugh then walk away from the FWA Cameramen, heading over to where the foreman and engineers are at to see what they have in mind for the two cells.
    Last edited by The Altyrell; 06-24-2014 at 08:59 PM. Reason: Fixing the missing "[/b]" in what I first said

    [I WIN]


  10. #10
    Underdog
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    Re: Fight Night PROMO THREAD 6/27/14

    Boys we both have matches this week lets kick some ass.

    Dan and Andrew smile.

    Dan Ward: Eyes you and Ted have no shot! Just leave this place.

  11. #11
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    Re: Fight Night PROMO THREAD 6/27/14

    A Quick Prayer

    After his brutal match with WOLF on Fight Night last week, Jason Gryphon's rips are still taped up as he walks into the chapel of his church that is located on the small farm that he bought a few months ago. Jason walks in wearing just a pair of boots and jeans, his body sweating from being out in the sun. The sound of children laughing and splashing around in the compound lake can be heard as Jason opens up the door and they are silenced as he closes it. Jason slowly makes his way up to the altar to wear the bloody statue of the Gryphon still sits. He walks over to it and kisses it on the head before beginning to speak.

    Jason Gryphon:
    Gryphon, I pray to thy that you will hear my words and honor them. The time is almost here for our destiny to be fufilled. In two weeks time, I will step foot into the ring for the first time with Ryan Hall one on one. After everything that the man has done to me, you would think that I would be ready for him at Red, White, and Bruised but I am not. There are still some kinks that need to be worked out of my system. Before I can make Ryan Hall feel the power of the Gryphon, I need to make someone feel the pain that Hall will feel. The unlucky person that happens to be in my way this week is Danny Toner. This rookie drew the short straw this week and he will have nothing but agony to look forward to as he steps foot inside of the ring. WOLF showed me last week that one mistake can make the difference from victory and defeat and at this point in my career, I can not afford to make mistakes. I need to be at my very best for when I face Ryan Hall or everything that I have tired to accomplish will have been for nothing.

    Jason walks over to the podium and pull out the knife that he and his followers cut himself with all of those weeks ago and he sticks it in his pants.

    Jason Gryphon:
    I have put my sweat, my life, and my blood on the line to be the best that there is. I have done everything that could be expected of me at this point in my career but it is time for me to ascend to the next level. It is time for me to face the most elite that this business has to offer. It is time for me to challenge the St. Clair's, the Gabrielle's, the WOLF's, and The Hall's. People may not see me as the next face of this company but they are dead wrong. I am the next face of the FWA. I am it's light and it's dark twist soul. This Friday, I will do what has to be done, I will give the Gryphon a fitting sacrifice in Danny Toner. After I do that, I will begin the final preparations for my return to glory at Red, White, and Bruised. I will honor the Gryphon and all of those that have decided to follow me by giving them everything that I have to offer and when I don't have anything left in the tank, I will think of them and I will give them even more. Thy will be done.

    On the way out of the Chapel, Jason kisses the head of the Golden Idol of the Gryphon one last time before making his way into the hot Carolina sun where his people are waiting for him.


  12. #12
    The Franchise
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    Re: Fight Night PROMO THREAD 6/27/14





    Respect

    Todd Salum: Alright guys... are we good to go for cut three?




    Todd Salum clears his throat as we quickly cut in from black. With the words “FWA.com Exclusive” flashing bottom left, Salum looks directly into the camera, with professional demeanor and appearance.


    Todd Salum: Milwaukee Fans! Tickets have been quickly leaving the box office for Fight Night. Coming to you LIVE from the U.S. Cellular Arena. Hot off the heels of one of the most brutal acts in FWA history...


    Jethro Warren: Brutal? Just the latest in a long line...


    Todd Salum: Ugh... Jethro...


    Todd looks off camera as Jethro, with Amber and Trace in tow, slowly make their way onto the Fight Night backstage set.


    Todd Salum: Alright guys, cut.


    Jethro Warren: Good call Salum. It's not like you're working on anything important. Some random assh**e “hyping” the shows hasn't sold tickets in the past twenty years. Besides, you said it just it... One of the most brutal acts in FWA history... Executive Excellence lynched G-Rich's useless ass.


    Jethro quickly pulls out an e-cigarette to get his e-nicotine fix.


    Jethro Warren: Maybe if they would've killed his ass, we could've sold out the U.S. Cellphone arena... or whatever the f**k this s**thole is called.


    Todd Salum: Classy as ever, Jethro.


    Jethro exhales a massive cloud of smoke in Salum's direction. Todd coughs slightly.


    Amber Warren: He didn't ask for sarcasm... Show a little respect, Todd.


    Salum clears his throat, trying to regain his composure.


    Jethro Warren: Before we get sidetracked... G-Rich deserved what Wake and Tom did to him. G-Rich is a useless legend. Plain and simple. Playing favorites. Keeping guys like Wake down. Keeping guys like me down. The f**king assh**e deserved it. I don't have a tear to waste or even an ounce of respect for him. But that's the thing... there's a lot of people I don't respect in FWA... most of them... Just pawns... chess pieces in my plan to greatness.


    Todd Salum: And you respect what Executive Excellence did?


    Jethro Warren: Absolutely... for weeks now, I've been talking about people living up to their potential... And you said it best Todd........ “Most brutal act in FWA history.” Wake Walker... Thomas Princeton doing what needs to be done!


    Todd Salum: So attempted murder is good practice for realizing potential?


    Jethro Warren: You're goddamn right... I've been talking about it since I've debuted. Doing what needs to be done and being man enough to stomach what you've done. I've definitely been the man in this new generation to set the table for that, and I've gotta tip my hat to Walker. He's man enough to be a pariah for his actions, just like I am... He's man enough to stand up to his enemies, like I do... and do what nobody else would do these days to get his point across. Finally I have some guys, outside my wife and Trace, that I can stand proudly against... We may not have each other's backs... but I know when the chips are down they'll do what needs to be done. That's all that matters... That's all I need. This week will be a cakewalk.


    Todd Salum: Cakewalk might be a word and a half... As you've realized last week, the Kennedy-Carter Administration definitely aren't pushovers and Vincent is looking to worse than “lynching” you, Amber, and Trace...


    Jethro Warren: Todd, have you been listening? Vincent may do what he needs to do against me... Do you think he could do the same to Wake and Tom? And Chris Kennedy and Brian Carter best days, in that department, are far behind them? They got no chance... No f**king chance whatsoever.


    Todd Salum: No chance?


    Jethro Warren: None... and if you thought last week was brutal...


    Jethro chuckles as more smoke creeps out of his lungs. Slowly he exits, just as he came, with his wife, and brother-in-arms. Todd shakes his head slightly, with a sigh, before turning his attention back towards the camera.


    Todd Salum: Cakewalk... there you have it. Cakewalk... World Tag Team Champions, arch-rival... Cakewalk... What an assh**e...


    Todd clears his throat and shakes off the situation before returning to his original job of doing advertisement pre-tapes.










  13. #13
    Weird Bitch Energy
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    Re: Fight Night PROMO THREAD 6/27/14


    The Kennedy/Carter Administration
    "Stars Shine the Brightest"


    You can’t appreciate the light without darkness. And boy, things have been bright these days for the redeemers of the FWA and the heroes of our story, Chris Kennedy and Brian Carter, The Kennedy/Carter Administration. The sunny skies of early summer, the shine of the FWA Championship belts, and countless victories adding a gleam to each of the four eyes that watch over the FWA. But your roots are important and if you stray to far and give yourself too much rope, you can choke on it. So here we are, with one of half of your FWA Tag Team Champions back in his natural habitat and the other half with the slightest twinge of uncertainty draped across his face, as he doesn’t appear to quite understand his partner’s connection to the dark night’s sky. With nothing for miles in every direction, the crescent moon in the sky, and two stars standing upright on the ground, our scene begins “The Infection” Brian Carter running his fingers through his hair with a look of peace on his face and 20 pounds of leather and gold resting comfortably next to him in the grass of this open field. Next to Carter is, of course, “The Astonishing” Chris Kennedy with his championship in his hand and a touch of discomfort in his bones. Carter shoots a glance at Kennedy and nods his head, before looking into the camera lens and into your heart.

    BRIAN CARTER: Please ignore your other four senses and simply look at me. And don’t just look at me, look into me, into my eyes, and deep into my soul. Do I look afraid? Do I appear humbled? Am I angry or even the slightest bit put off? Nah man, I been here before. I’ve seen worse and I’ve done worse. I know what it’s like to watch someone suffer and not be able to do anything about it. I know what it’s like to to be the one suffering and yes I even know the feeling of being the man dishing out the pain. So I’m afraid that the actions of Walker and Princeton last week, smashing myself and my partner in the back with steel bats and tying a noose around the neck of a man I once stood side by side with, G-Rich, didn’t quite have the desired affect on us. There’s no rage in my body, no fear in my heart, hell, hardly any sweat off my back. Because what the reformed Executive Excellence fails to realize is I’ve lived lifetimes in my years and there’s nothing you could do to me that I haven’t already seen, done, or had done too me. Watching G-Rich getting assaulted and being helpless to do anything brought me back to being a young boy, when I would stand idle by and watch my father beat my mother because she took his last fix while he slept. And then later, when I would run in to try and stop him and lose a few of my baby teeth for it. You boys you just don’t get it, but how could you. But I’m past all that and I’m past you two. I’m on another level these days, shared only with Chris Kennedy. We’re above the rest and beyond the horizon. Wake Walker thinks he’s there with us, hell, he thinks he’s better. I mean he’s undefeated after all. But so am I. I’m undefeated, but that’s hollow man. That doesn’t matter. What does matter is that is I’m unmatched. My ring prowess is undeniable. My mission is unstoppable. And my partner is unbelievably astonishing. And hey, speaking of partners, how can I forget Thomas Princeton. I could say a lot about Princeton, but instead I’ll just say this: if Walker’s your savior, then you’re beyond saving.

    The night is hot as the absence of Sun does little to curb the rising temperatures of the season. But Carter and Kennedy stand upright and still, unaffected by the conditions and unfazed by their opponents. The darkness brings comfort to Carter and it’ll only make the spotlight of Chris Kennedy shine that much brighter.

    BRIAN CARTER: You see we in The Kennedy/Carter Administration are the redeemers of the FWA. This place is littered with wayward souls and wasted folk. No one is beyond our reach, because there is no one we can not defeat and baptize by fire. But damn, there may be a few bottom feeders who I just don’t have any interest in saving. As I’ve been saying we do need bodies to climb on as we ascend to the top and fertilizer for the soil of the new world that we are carving out. And as fate should have it two of these men are in our match this week. Jethro Warren is one of them and I’ve stated previously how I feel about him. He’s nothing. His words, his actions, his persona don’t have any lasting effect on the world as you know it, or the world that The Kennedy/Carter Administration will build. But that doesn’t mean I don’t know what he’s about. Warren likes to watch people suffer as evidence by his role in that whole ugly scene last week. He stopped Blackbird from helping G-Rich and smiled wide when Walker kicked out that chair. Well Warren will learn it’s hard to smile with no teeth and that it’s difficult to watch your own destruction. It’s been said that some men purely want to see the world burn and for Jethro that may be the case. But this week, I plan on listening to him scream. Oh and how could I forget my so-called “partner” this week, Vincent Takaab Blackbird. Despite his valiant although ultimately meager effort to step in and prevent the actions that took place last week, I still stand by everything I said about him ahead of our encounter on Fight Night. I said he’s weak and it’s true. I said he’s a blasphemer and that is true as well. And Blackbird, just standing on the same side of the ring of The Kennedy/Carter Administration this week doesn’t make you our partner. Chris Kennedy is my partner and I am his, you are simply an intruder caught behind enemy lines. You see Walker and Princeton want our belts. Warren wants our blood. And Blackbird wants our glory. But you see us man, we just want all of you face down at our feet. This match may technically be three against three, but we see it as four on two. And in that case, you boys are going to need a hell of a lot more people.

    Carter’s words trail off and carry into the air of the night, forming stars in the sky. A sky which, might I add, seems to get darker with every passing moment, but the shine of The Kennedy/Carter administration never wavers. Nor does their resolve. After finishing speaking, Carter tilts his head towards Kennedy, who looks back and takes a step forward. Chris Kennedy's million dollar smile is absent, and it's place is nothing but vacancy, his expression impossible to read as his runs his right hand over his face, wiping away his veil of anger as he replacing it with a half hearted grin, his eyes remaining cold and dangerous.


    Chris Kennedy: Believe it or not, I'm not angry. At least, not for any of the obvious reasons. Wake Walker and Thomas Princeton, you attacked Brian and myself and you did it with our backs turned because that was your absolute best chance, I get that. If you guys think that your cute little sneak attack is the reason for my smiles absence, if you think that you two could ever do anything at all to remove a pep from my step, I'm afraid you've got it all wrong. You see, I placed my confidence in G-Rich as a general manager. I figured that with his experience, his knowledge and his wisdom, that he would lead the FWA into the direction it needed for it to flourish. I had imagined that G-Rich would take his generation and use that as the measuring stick for this new, post PWS Network FWA. Now, look at where we are now and it's not all that hard to see why I am REALLY upset. Two weeks ago on Fight Night, Brian Carter and I issued a challenge to G-Rich. We said we wanted a team that presented a CHALLENGE. We are heading into Red, White and Bruised and all Carter and I wanted was to make history. We wanted a tag team with caliber to rival our own, the likes of Sunrise-Sunset, Sisters of Destruction, Sinful Sensuality, we wanted LEGENDS. That's what we do, we beat the best of the best. With Vodka & Venom vanquished and Aut Pax Aut Bellum obliterated into ashes, we simply want to leave no room for debate on who the greatest to ever hold these titles were, we want to beat any and everyone that came before us, the ones of relevancy anyway. Executive Excellence, you are most definitely NOT relevant. Thomas Princeton, alongside Jack Severino, you carried the Executive Excellence flag into a tag team championship reign of a whopping 7 days! What's that famous Thomas Princeton quote, "If you blinked, you might'a missed it?" How appropriate is that? It sums up every single one of your FWA title reigns. And that 7 day tag team title reign? Wake Walker, you had nothing to do with it, because Wake Walker has NEVER been a part of anything that actually mattered. Wake, you are a picture perfect poster boy for mediocrity. Everything about you is boring, you say the same things over and over and over again, just to make it seem as if you've said a lot. But Wake Walker, I'll share with you a pearl of wisdom that my father blessed upon me. "Only speak when it improves the context of silence". Wake Walker, you talk a lot but when talk is cheap, your words are completely worthless. MY WORDS ARE WEAPONS. Every single time I open my mouth, my words fall from my mouth with enough weight to crush your throats. It's for all of these reasons, that you idiots are beneath us, in every conceivable way. Executive Excellence is not what we asked for when we said we wanted a challenge. You are nothing to Brian Carter and Chris Kennedy. You are the dirt beneath our feet that provides us traction in our journey towards immortality. The Kennedy/Administration represents everything that COULD be great in the FWA, while Executive Excellence represents everything that could ever be wrong with the FWA, a crap gimmick that never equated to success, shoved down everyone's throats because they can't take a goddamned hint. They aren't booing you parasites because you are "effective bad guys", they are booing you because you are just awful and they want no part of you on their television sets, they don't want to have to shell out $50 for a PPV to see YOU TWO diminishing the FWA product, as if anyone wants to pay good, hard earned money to be put to sleep.

    Kennedy runs his fingers through his hair and takes a deep breath. His eyes pierce through your soul and his smile returns.

    Chris Kennedy: This man right here...

    Kennedy pulls a cigarette out from behind his ear before motioning to Brian Carter. Kennedy places the cigarette between his lips as his partner stands next to him, nodding his head.

    Chris Kennedy: This man right here is one of the finest human specimens I have ever seen compete in this business. Thomas Princeton, you could never defeat me on your own, what makes you think you could defeat me with him on my side, and 200+ pounds of dead, mediocre Wake Walker weight slowing you down?

    Kennedy lights his cigarette and Brian Carter continues to nod in approval, cracking his knuckles as he does so.

    Chris Kennedy: It stands to reason that G-Rich may feel backed into a corner, after what Executive Excellence did to him. I don't care, Anyone in his position should be unbreakable, the General Manager can't budge. Add in the fact that this is a man who has been in the ring with the likes of Matt Boudreau, he should be Superman for Christs sake. But G-Rich is WEAK. And it breaks my heart, because when two curtain jerkers like Wake Walker and Thomas Princeton give him the slightest bit of resistance, he falls to pieces. It sets a bad example to the rest of the roster, guys like Jethro Warren and Vincent Takaab Blackbird who view this business with hart shaped glasses, their futures still yet to be molded, their minds impressionable. That brings me to the other two elements that are in this match, Jethro and Vince. Much can be said about the ignorance of youth, and I could occupy a series of novels touching on the mistakes you two make, week in and week out. But Vince, you are the lucky one tonight, boy. For you are privileged to be on the right side of the school yard for this fight. Last week, you were humiliated by us so as long as you toe the line and stay out of our ways, we will get you a Win to make up for the loss we dished out, then we are Even Stevens. To be honest, if I had to pick a partner out of the two of you scabs, I'd pick Vincent Takaab Blackbird, because he at least takes this seriously. Jethro Warren, if you bring twice as much fight than you did last week, it still won't be nearly enough to help you. If Wake Walker is the poster boy for mediocrity, you are the epitome of inadequacy. You paint this picture of yourself, that of a jaded misanthrope. That's hardly what you are. When I see Jethro Warren, several words come to mind: Fail, feeble, fragile, flimsy. You remind me of those little tea cup poodles that bark and bark but have a bite radius of a squirrel. You equate to absolutely nothing and you are completely content with your unsatisfactory performance thus far. At least Vincent Takaab Blackbird tries to better himself with each performance. Warren, you are just like Princeton and Walker: Fake. It's apropos that the three of you would land together. You see my face? Do you see Brian's face? These are not the faces of the afraid but rather the faces OF fear. The Thomas Princetons and the Wake Walkers of the world attack us with our back turned because face to face, we are the most terrifying forces in this business. Vincent Takaab Blackbird, just try and keep up, kid. We are winning this match, and we will prove to Executive Excellence that they don't belong in the same ring as Chris Kennedy and Brian Carter.

    Kennedy tosses his cigarette. Brian Carter extends his fist and the two heroes bump knuckles before jogging down the open dirt trail, our scene fading to black on their backs.

    The End

  14. #14
    I Can Smell You.
    The Mist's Avatar

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    Re: Fight Night PROMO THREAD 6/27/14

    ~The~
    ~Sandwich~


    The Mist walked into the kitchen, pulling a plate off of the rack. He walked to the fridge, pulling it open. From the fridge, he pulled out a couple of ingredients. Once he sat all of the ingredients he gathered from the kitchen onto the table, he noticed something. He had ham, cheese, turkey, bologna, ketchup, mustard, and pickles, but not any bread. He walked through the kitchen, opening every cupboard and cabinet, appearing more frustrated each time he opened one. He left the kitchen, angrily. Alester had gone out shopping, The Mist put his faith in the fact that he would bring home bread. The Mist walked out of the kitchen and sat on a red leather couch, waiting for Alester's return. Every minute felt like an hour to him, though in reality, he had only waited about fifteen minutes before he heard Alester's car approaching.

    Alester entered the house, carrying a few plastic bags. Inside one of them, was the bread The Mist had been waiting for. He rushed up to Alester, taking the bread out of the bag and running back to the table. He lied two slices of bread onto the plate.

    He opened the pouch of ham, pulling a piece from it and laying it on top of the bread with deadly precision. He then closed the ham, returning it to the fridge and coming back to the table. He opened the container of turkey, reaching in a carefully taking a slice out of it. He measured the trajectory of his moving hand and managed to lay the turkey on top of the ham, perfectly in the middle of the sandwich. He opened the package of bologna, removing a slice from it and laying it directly on top of the turkey slice.

    The Mist then suddenly remembered something. He had heard a term while on a walk, but never remembered to look up what it meant. He went to Alester's laptop and opened Google Chrome, going to the Google website. He typed into the search bar, "French Doorbell." The first link he saw was to Urban Dictionary, clicking it, he was horrified at what he read.

    Occurs when a man poops on a girls chest and then sticks the poop up her nose. She then proceeds to give him a blow job and, before he cums, he punches her in the head so that the cum comes out of her nose. BUT WAIT!!! The cum can't come out of her nose because there is poopy in the way. So, at this point the man is pretty grossed out and proceeds to throw up on the girl's chest. In an attempt to calm down, the man smokes a cigar in the girls vagina. Lastly, he will pick up a Colt .45, shoot her, and then shoot himself.
    We gather here today in memory of Bob and Jess. However, we should take comfort in knowing that they died happy... In the process of performing a French Doorbell.


    Disgusted by this, he immediately shut off the laptop, returning to the table to finish making his sandwich. He opened his slice of cheese and lied it gently on top of the bologna. He then picked six pickles (sliced horizontally, not vertically) from the jar, lying them in row on top of the cheese, resembling the pattern you'd see on the sixth side of six-sided die. He then picked up the bottle of ketchup, shaking it and making a clockwise swirl, starting in the middle, ending near the edge of the bread. He picked up the mustard and did the same, only instead of clockwise, the swirl of mustard was counter-clockwise.

    The Mist returned all of the ingredients to their proper places in the fridge or in the cabinet. He sat down, looking at the beautiful sandwich he had just crafted. And I'm not gonna lie, this was a pretty badass looking sandwich, it looked so good. It looked so good that you would, like, want to just eat it slowly and savor how good it looked. I'm serious, this sandwich looked really damn good. Like for real, this sandwich was, like, the Sandwich God!

    He slowly picked up the sandwich and began eating, it was delicious. The flavors blended perfectly. He ate the amazing sandwich slowly, finishing it in about ten minutes. He then stood up and put his plate into the sink.

    He caught a burp in his mouth, looking up.

    The Mist: Jib-Jab sucks.

    He then walked up into his room and took a nap.


  15. #15
    God of Destruction
    Wolfs Rain's Avatar

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    Re: Fight Night PROMO THREAD 6/27/14

    We are the Freaks




    The scene opens up and the staple sounds of the carnival are heard in the background. They bewilderment of those watching some strange mer-man oddity in the the next tent over is only undercut by the applause of what we could imagine being well-dressed men admiring the plump forms of the bearded lady in another carnival tent resting within a cloud of nicotine. The sounds skip a beat and the camera catches a glimpse of the old-time record player - the source of what we know now to be just an illusion. And the camera zooms back to reveal "the Demon's Child" Llucian Wolf Ace. In front of him, a table and on that table, we can see various objects that seem to defy logic - at one end, there's a clock with bunny ears, their tips covered in black ink, it is suspended by a wire and now hovers in place.





    Lucian W. Ace: The carnival used to be a chance for all the "normies" to travel into a world of awe and wonder - a world that seemed to defy the status quo - to challenge not only the state of what we all consider normal but to also open our eyes to things that are non-descript... things that are not supposed to be yet are. Many would wait patiently for months upon months for the carnival to come back to town. During this period, all one could do is speculate over what new acquisition was made by the carnies this year: Would it be a mummy who's said to wake during one hour every 365 days - and would that special night occur for all in said town to behold? Or perhaps they'll ll us a story of an alligator man who feeds off the raw remains of chicken and swine?


    He offers a light grin at the idea.


    Lucian W. Ace: You see, FWA isn't so different. We are nothing more but a traveling circus, a world where anything can happen and usually does... we encompass the surreal and the non-descript, and this week, we come to here where all have been waiting, all but too eager to pull the curtain and watch as Fight Night offers them the excitement otherwise impossible to obtain...


    The camera's eyes pans right and onto the following object: A kettle. No, it's an elephant, pink in color. There's an eye at the end of it's trunk and right beside it a tiny cup. Ace's fingers reach around the handle, and sure enough, he tilts the pink elephant and through the glass eye does he pour tea.


    Lucian W. Ace: These men and women may have been pushed aside, chased away from society and forced to put their disfigurement up for auction, while others seized the opportunity to travel around the country whilst wearing their handicap like a badge of honor. Many even reached celebrity status, such as Jojo, The Dog-Faced Boy... or Emmitt Bejano, better known asThe Alligator Skinned Man who went to have what some consider the love story of a century with an equally revered sideshow in Percilla, The Monkey Girl... Whyte Thunder and I, we know what it feels like to have been pushed aside because we were made different; we know what it's like to be chastised and used as a scapegoat for everything that is wrong with wrestling. I have spent over a year pointing out the fact that prowrestling functions only through a veil of false acceptance that few dare to question. But despite that, Thunder and I continue to succeed... to push through the barriers set out on front of us and we've proven that, once again, we deserve the same kind of respect and recognition men like APAB take for granted.


    Once again, the camera shifts down to the various objects lying on the table and to what is perhaps one of the oddest elements present on this day - it is hard to describe and the mind struggles to make out it's purpose or function but it sits there regardless. A collection of teeth and gums, stuck together in a mound of white and pink.


    Lucian W. Ace: You're obviously book smart APAB, but common sense? That much you're lacking. Common sense would take you from FWA to TNA so you might have a career worth noting. Common sense would have taken you to do your homework on me rather than skim read whatever crappy profile they've got of me on FWA.com. Survival doesn't come in a text book. It all comes down to common sense and as far as common sense goes? I'm a genius compared to you. You've proven that to me this week alone. Did my genes makes me who i am? Of course they did, i can't hide from my genetic make up. I'm made of the genes of that man. Did he sculpt the wrestler i am today? No. Not at all, all he did was to make this cursed blood flow through my veins. All he did was making sure I got doors slammed to my face everytime I mentioned who my father was. Does that making me whiny? Does that make me a cry baby? I don't really care because I'm here now and I'm more, MORE than happy to make sure idiots like you don't stand in my way any longer. I grew up around the ring, thats one thing i do have those genes to thank for, because it puts me leaps and bounds ahead of anything you picked up from those survivor series DVD's you bought 8 years ago from that garage sale. You can claim to be anything you want but I've got just one claim to make for you APAB, for all your accomplishments, for all of your stables. We? We are just better wrestlers than you. I'm just a smarter ring competitor than you. So you can stick that in your peace pipe and smoke it because this is Fight Night FWA, not Woodstock, and not the Lochness lake where I'm sure you're a big hit with the locals. - He steps forward - As far as I'm concerned 'greatness may pass you by' the three count will pass you by on Fight Night.


    He brings his hands together and claps, once... twice... thrice... before moving them to the small of his back as he's been known to do.


    Lucian W. Ace: James and Ted.. they're fighters, they're loudmouths, but given the chance, they'll bust us up and leave us laying in a pool of our own blood... If this were a fist fight, if this were a first blood match or two drunks in an alley fighting over a sandwich, then by all means, Tted and James would be serious threats! They've got the size advantage, they've got the strength advantage and they've got the power advantage. Everything's in their favor, right? Huh? Wrong. Wrong, because the size, the strength, all that other bullshit...it pales in comparison to this right here!" -He taps the side of his head-"Bottom line, I don't have to beat the shit out of you, I don't have to go over the top to beat you at your own game. We don't have to beat you guys....you have to beat us! And while you're trying to follow your tough guy routine down to the letter, I'll be busy showing you what it means to be a wrestler, what it means to be on top and why we are the ones to beat in the FWA! Not because we're the biggest, not because we're the strongest or the fastest, but because we're the BEST! We're the best at TEAM WRESTLING because we are like one and if you people need any more proof to back that claim up, all you have to do is open your fucking eyes and LOOK!


    He takes a moment and moves away from the table, turning his back to the camera. His hands going through objects invisible to the viewers at home. Only his voice carries through --


    Lucin W. Ace... there's a lot of men and women who deserve the attention, the recognition, the admiration they receive from the press... the fans... the others watching from the back. All these things that I am constantly deprived of. Dan and Andrew are amongst those who've made it clear that I don't belong... that I don't deserve any of it... That, perhaps I'm in it merely for the reaction. Yet, I am still underestimated by most. After all I've done, all I've proven... I too am treated like a second-rate superstar. And so, Fight Night inches closer and both Whyte Thunder and I will have to do what needs to be done. And they, they will watch and point and laugh as we fight for their mere amusement. Like caged animals, brought to the center stage, we will go through our little act and then the music will hit... they'll clap their hands, and the dust will settle before their attention turns towards the next oddity.


    The camera begins to flicker much like the skipping of the tune still playing in the background. The image becomes grainy and Ace's back remains turned to the camera. His head lowered and his arms spread before him, hands resting on yet another t


    Lucian W. Ace: ... and while I thought that I had finally gained their respect... their admiration... I am realizing that I was wrong. And all the anger, the frustration, all of it... I'm afraid, will have to be taken out on you....
    "You only need to hang mean bastards, but mean bastards you need to hang."


  16. #16
    Weird Bitch Energy
    Jiggy's Avatar

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    Re: Fight Night PROMO THREAD 6/27/14


    FALLING DOWN / GETTING UP
    Golds Gym, Milwaukee. The punching bag is riddled with a series of lefts and rights, the pink boxing gloves are a nearly motionless blur. The camera pulls back and we see the woman throwing these jabs is none other than the Valkyrie of Carnage, Dinorah Redgrave, and she does not look happy. She pulls her arm back one more time and almost knocks the bag off the chain. She screams to the top of her lungs as she steps back and roundhouse kicks the bag and its chain right from it's ceiling post. She turns and looks at us, a scowl falling over her beautiful face.

    Dinorah Redgrave: Saddle Sally, do you HONESTLY think your one win over me negates the fact that I have beaten you more times than I can even remember? Do you think that your win does ANYTHING to even the score? It doesn't. I saw your promo and you want to know what? I WROTE YOUR GODDAMN PROMO. Everything you said, it was just a counter to everything that I said a week prior, the entire structure of your little speech was listed off of mine. Disgusting. What is your motto, if you can't beat them, BE THEM? You lucked out, girly. You got the best of me but not because you are better than me, but because I got cocky, I got arrogant, I had beaten you so many damn times that I was wrestling with my eyes half closed. You snuck on me and you took advantage of my arrogance. I will NOT let that happen again.

    Dinorah screams to the top of her lungs once more and cocks her fist back, putting it through a wall. She looks at her knuckles, which are now skinned and bleeding. She focuses in on the blood.

    Dinorah Redgrave: I lost sight of it. I let the FWA Womens Championship slip through my fingers. All those times I defeated you when nothing was on the line, they don't matter. The one and ONLY time I lost to you, it was for the title. I wasted it. I don't feel as if I should have lost that match but you know what? I am not going to let it hold me back. I am better than that. I won't simply "give up" and accept that I had my shot and that's that. I am one of the fiercest competitors this business has ever seen. Saddle Sally is, and I will ALWAYS maintain this, a fucking JOKE. She is not in my league, she beat me because I got comfortable and I promise to god that I will FIX THIS. Saddle Sally, savor that win bitch because it's the last you are going to experience for a very long time. You think it's over? IT'S ONLY JUST BEGUN! I AM GOING TO TAKE YOU TO A PLACE YOU'VE NEVER BEEN BEFORE, EVERYTHING YOU THINK YOU KNOW ABOUT ME IS GOING TO GO OUT THE GODDAMN WINDOW AND ALL OF THE BEATINGS I HAVE GIVEN TO YOU IN THE PAST WILL LOOK LIKE A DAY AT THE SPA COMPARED TO WHAT I HAVE IN STORE FOR YOU. That pretty blond hair of yours, I am going to RIP FROM YOUR FUCKING SCALP, YOU NO TALENT THIRD RATE HACK. WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? You don't get to beat Dinorah Redgrave, not on your BEST day, and honey, your BEST DAYS are BEHIND you.

    Dinorah paces frantically, before punching a nearby locker with the same bloodied fist.

    Dinorah Redgrave: I don't care who you think you are, Sally. I know who you are. You are that talentless little bitch that used to pack Zaire Wyomings lunch while REAL warriors like Gabrielle and myself were waging WARS with the best that this business had to offer. You can't seriously think you've won. Until that title belt is off of your waist, I am your WORST fucking nightmare. I am going to be the last thing you think about when you struggle to get yourself to sleep, I want to be the first thing you think about when you wake up in the morning, I want to be the reason for your loss of appetite and the bags under your eyes, I want to destroy you on every level, physically, mentally and emotionally.

    The blood trickles down Dinorahs arm and she doesn't even notice, she just continues pacing.

    Dinorah Redgrave: And DON'T think I've forgotten about you, Beatrixx Black. If my loss to Sally last week for anything taught me anything, it's that just because you've once beaten someone with ease, doesn't mean they aren't capable of getting a sneaky win when you begin to take them for granted. Even the sun shines on a dogs ass sometimes, and while your ass DOES look like a dogs ass, I need to make sure the sun never shines on you. There is not enough room for the two of us in the Womens Division. You show potential, and maybe the future belongs to you but my dear, sweet, uneducated thug of a woman, this ISN'T the future, it's the present, and the present belongs to ME. You couldn't stop me before, you won't stop me this time, NAW'MEAN? So take your fake accent and persona, and shove it all up your narrow white ass. You are not a "Boss Bitch", you are this epitome of "BASIC". You may have everyone fooled into thinking your broken ass English is "unique" and "character defining" but I see it for what it really is. You are uneducated, ignorant, feeble minded. You aren't trying to be "hip" and "edgy", you legitimately DO talk like a Saturday Morning Cartoon character with Downs Syndrome. You don't have what it takes to carry this company, and quite frankly neither does your partner, and she holds the goddamn championship. There is no value in Beatrixx Black, you are nothing more than enhancement talent, someone they pair against the big dogs so that they can catch an easy win here and there. You are nothing, Beatrixx. You are Zoe Ellis in a hoodie, you are MacKenzie Roberts with cornrows, you are the lowest of the low and you don't belong in the same promotion that I do, let alone the same match. Again, I can't predict the future and you just may achieve something one day, but that day won't happen while I am still here. I am dead tired of standing around with my thumb up my vaj while bitches of lesser caliber surpass me. I'm OVER IT.

    Dinorah sits down and runs her fingers through her hair, her heavy breathing beginning to calm down.

    Dinorah Redgrave: And then you have my partner, Gabrielle. Gabrielle and I have had our share of problems over the years, I even cost the woman her job at one point. But the truth is, all of that is behind us and Gabrielle is hands down the best female competitor on the roster, after myself of course. Of all the women I could possibly have on my side, she is hands down the best choice. She is one of the longest reigning FWA Champions, while Beatrixx Black has the longest finger nails. Hardly comparable, is it? Gabrielle is a warrior, a fighter, a GODDESS. With her at my side this match is in the bag. I don't have to tell Gabrielle to "stay out of my way" because chances are, if she manages to actually GET in my way, it's because she wants to put a hurting on you skanks more than I do, which as doubtful as that is, I am okay with. Beatrixx Black, Saddle Sally, you two are walking out of Fight Night even bigger losers than you already are. Gabrielle and I will walk out of Fight Night with knowledge that we already had in our possession: The fact that we are BETTER than you. Prepare your anuses, skanks. We're going in dry.

    Dinorah storms off, the camera focusing on her glorious backside as the scene fades to black.

    The End.

  17. #17
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    Re: Fight Night PROMO THREAD 6/27/14

    power.

    A black screen...

    Darkness. Then there is a blast of light and standing in the middle of this light is Thomas C. Princeton. He is wearing a nicer suit than usual with a 100% silk tie with the imprint "EE" on the tip of the tie in gray accents. He stands tall as he smiles into the camera, the harsh lighting striking his face and casting shadows that make him appear more sinister than usual. He cracks his knuckles as he places his hands cupped together right above his belt. There is his signature smirk, that at this point is almost a smile. His eyes are darkened under the shadow of the light. He takes a breath and then begins to speak.

    Tom: The American novelist William Gaddis once said that power doesn't corrupt people, people corrupt power. A thought as noble as it is accurate. But what is power? What is true power? Is it simply strength? Is it control? Or is it something more? Is it the fabric of what we as men desire or is it merely a societal pressure that comes from misguided utilitarianism? According to the Oxford dictionary power is the ability to do something or act in a particular way. That is the power of the individual. The power of a person to stand here on earth and shout up to the heavens that they can control their actions and that they have power over their own life. It is a correct way of thinking, but it is also foolish. Foolish due to the fact that at any moment someone can assert their power over you and suddenly all that singular power you thought you had is snatched out of your hands. It comes from a thief in the night, a drunk driver who has lost all sense of control, the weather, your boss, your enemies, your friends, your church, your god and even the nagging doubts within yourself that eventually surrender power up. Power is fragile, power is ever changing, power is fleeting.

    Now like many words there is a second use of the word power. Here is the secondary definition....power, the capacity or ability to direct or influence the behavior of others or the course of events. That is the kind of power that individuals can have, but it's far from individual power. It's group power, because it requires others to either sacrifice their own personal power or have it taken from them. Last week because G-Rich was unable, or rather...unwilling to hand over his own power he felt Wake Walker and I's ability to cause events to take place. And it almost cost him his life. Would we have actually gone through with lynching him? I think there is more power in letting people wonder that. After all the mind has the ultimate control over our individual power, and it can imagine far worse fates than I can describe to you at this moment. Fates that all who oppose us could face.

    G-Rich learned a hard lesson about just what kind of force Executive Excellence can and will be. He is not the first and he certainly won't be the last. This week my partner and I take on the Kennedy/Carter administration. The Kennedy/Carter administration is one of those tag teams I have faced many a times, a lot of flash and very little substance. Brought together by novelty or shared branding but not of similar minds or similar interests. They are a fly by night tag team that will be done and forgotten about as quickly as they appeared. And I have made a tag team and stable career out of dismantling teams of their nature. I am reminded of this stable called The Sons of Liberty. It was composed of some of the best and brightest stars of the time. All of whom today are fading further and further into obscurity. Soon to be forgotten, never to be inducted into the FWA Hall of Fame and to become wrestlers of the past that old men sitting on porches will talk briefly about while sipping peach iced tea. The team was composed of Bullseye Johnson a rabid champion and fighter who at one point held the North American title and was an eventual favorite to become a world champion one day, he never cut it. But he tried and often complained about his inability to reach that soaring height. Then there was Carmine "Grim" Reaper a name many people might still recognize, also a North American champion Carmine and I would go on to face one another in various battles throughout his now defunct career. And then finally there was Nemesis. He was in many ways one of my all time favorite enemies. Nemesis was brash, arrogant, and thought that he was the future of the company. He would be done and irrelevant before Bullseye or Carmine. And this man was a former world champion. They became a stable not because they were like minded, or shared similar goals or even were all that close. No, they were a stable for a simple and ridiculous reason....they all were from Boston. Get it? Sons of Liberty, Boston. Yes, I was not able to join their GPS locked stable because I was from the same state but from Roxbury. The same city as Malcolm X, but not note worthy enough in their eyes for me to join them.

    They came in and everyone made a big deal about it I remember. There were whispers that they would become the next Unholy Uprising. The biggest stable in FWA history at the time. People forget that for every UU or The Great Siege there was The Elite 5 or Hit Town Heroes. They fell into a worse category; mediocrity. And when I was traded to CrossFire I made a promise that I'd wipe their pathetic excuse for a stable off the face of the earth. And I did, one at a time I beat them so badly they no longer had the will to participate in the FWA. The only one who roughed it out was Carmine Reaper, and eventually he became worn down by my constant beatings and abuse. He lost his power to me and my dear friend and former stablemate Alexx. Executive Excellence lived on, just long enough to crush the one stable that to dare put themselves on our level.

    Executive Excellence was not an Unholy Uprising, it wasn't The Great Siege, it was a calculate stable that only wanted to break up power and have our members rise the ranks. It was a club, a committee, a society. We were the anti trust lawyers of the FWA. And we rode high until we were betrayed by Jack Severino and eventually spiraled downward. Now after years I have finally found a man who shares my thirst for power, control, and utter brutality and his name is Wake Walker. A man who I knew long ago, but the man I used to know isn't the one who has teamed with me. No, this man is now built to be dominant, destructive and most importantly...excellent.

    I wish I could take credit for the idea to string up G-Rich like a Christmas tree but that was all Walker. All his twisted mind, the gears of his dark soul turning and twisting and he's only getting started! Tonight Executive Excellence returns to take on Chris Kennedy and Brian Carter. Interesting. This is a tag team that is made up of a FWA great and a wannabe who will surely be out of the company before the end of the summer....AGAIN! Let's start with the easy target first, his name is Brian Carter. He is a waste of space that shows up every six to eight months to make a grand return to the FWA pose for the camera, get in contention for the North American title win or lose his chance and then disappear once again. The Kennedy/Carter administration will never become a great tag team for that reason alone. Carter has no staying power. He's vanilla, with no personality and no commitment. He's like the sick version of Darnell Porter and the even lamer cousin of Rocky Creed. These insults may not mean much to the people listening. But Carter has bounced in and out of the alliance so many times he knows who I am referring to.

    Brian Carter is a lousy tag team partner, who will eventually leave Chris Kennedy with his junk in his hand as he drives off to take a sabbatical or do whatever the hell he does when he's not appearing in the mid to upper card to "shake things up." Carter is like another ultimately useless member of a great team. His name was Nathan Swift and Carter is just his reincarnate. Can anyone describe Brian Carter in ten adjectives or more? I mean seriously? I'm asking that as a serious question, can anybody? I severely doubt it. He is just like the Sons of Liberty, he's worse than being bad, worse than being almost great he's....mediocre.

    Next we have Chris Kennedy, the turncoat, the player, the soldier of fortune. Kennedy much like the president he shares the same name with seems to be both blessed and cursed at the same time. Blessed with impressive accomplishments and breakthroughs but also cursed with a terrible personal life that we can all see is eating him up inside. Whether it's his crumbling romantic relationships, his failed attempts at being able to truly be named the best there ever was or just his latest career venture....or box office flop Chris Kennedy is an outlier of success. He shouldn't be successful because truly he is unlikeable, unpredictable and unmanageable but he manages. He isn't a leader, he's a follower who will follow whatever path he believes will take him to the top. He is Nemesis without the promise, he is Bullseye Johnson without the luck and he is Carmine Reaper without the charisma. Sure everyone will say he was great, but they'll kind of sigh and throw up their hands when they say it. Kennedy wants us all to believe that he is the best, but he can't even convince himself. He doesn't say or do anything with conviction, it all based on connivence.

    And so on Fight Night Wake Walker and I will take on Kennedy and Carter and we will defeat them and show the world just how powerful Executive Excellence was and is and they will tremble like leaves on a tree and they realize that the days of peace on Fight Night are over. That Jimmy King, G-Rich, Rod Sterling are not the ones you should fear. No, it's Executive Excellence and the brute known as Jethro Warren, a man who smoke electronically and beats with his fists. A man marching to his own drum who I believe will say all that needs to be said about Vincent Blackbird a man so insignificant and so loopy I didn't even include him. Because this match isn't about him. He's just along for the ride. Kennedy and Carter see him a liability a crazy nutjob, a homeless man jerking off in a raincoat they have to share a taxi with. Vincent is not stable material, and that is an intentional play on words. He will lose because he doesn't belong this high up on the card and he will lose because Kennedy and Carter don't believe in his abilities like Walker and I believe in Warren's. We will stand tall and I will not say that it is because I am better, but because WE are better. We are Executive Excellence....and we are power.


    The camera cuts to black.



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  18. #18
     
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    WWE Re: Fight Night PROMO THREAD 6/27/14

    Here we are sitting in a park in Edmonton, Canada. "Though this isn't any normal park, this is Ballgagher park. Where the budget is low, and the grime is high. And despite it being in the middle of the June, the entire place is covered in snow. The grass, the benches, the maple syrup trees. Everything. And you would think with it being such a cold day here in the wonderful place of Edmonton, that a park would be fairly empty. But it isn't. In fact it's quite crowded. There's a frozen lake nearby where a couple of children wearing are wearing those fur hat things with the soft ear things attached to them, trapper hats they're called I just googled it, and they're also playing hockey and wearing flannel shirts, while simultaneously eating bacon, or well Canadian bacon. Which isn't that just ham or something? Probably. And then of course we have Dave Sullivan, who is wearing a hockey jersey. I don't know what team it's for. It's not the Oilers, but it's some rival of there's or something. Like Montreal or something like that. Sullivan is walking through the snow with his iPod, listening to music. "I don't want to do this annnnnymore. I don't want to be the reason why....." Sullivan sings as he goes to sit on a bench, but right out of nowhere before he sits, a random stray Canadian comes and says "Let me get that for you, eh?" and brushes the snow off the bench so Sullivan can sit down. Sullivan just looks at him, and the Canadian runs off. Sullivan sits down, and rips the headphones out of his ears, and finally begins to talk.

    Dave Sullivan: BANISHED! Man...I hate Canadians. Is Mac Michaud even from Canada though? I mean I know the real Mac Michaud is, but who knows I think his character is Canadian. Hang on, I'm going to start breaking this dialog up into single lines so it looks longer in the end.

    There we go. That'll help a little bit.

    Whatever who cares. I just want to tell everyone this right from the start. This match isn't important to me.

    Do you think I care whether I win or lose anymore? No...half the time I don't even feel like showing up to the arena.

    I don't even think FWA is giving me a paycheck anymore, but I don't care! I simply don't care. I am on a mission. And it isn't to win some title, or get redemption, or beat up Mac Michaud, or eat some curd...it's...well....I don't really know what it is.

    In fact I'm pretty sure I'm stoned right now. I have no idea what I'm doing, or what direction I'm going.

    The end game for me? I don't see it. I don't see it at all. That's the scary thing.

    I'm either going to die, or I'm going to go to prison. This isn't going to be a happy ending folks. Who am I even talking to? I'm sitting on a park bench talking to myself and a bunch of ugly looking Canadian kids playing ice soccer.

    And now management is telling me to go into some feud with some guy I used to know, and I'm supposed to just have some amazing comeback.

    I can't see it. I can't honestly see it happening. My career is over, I'm done. And I'm just spiraling further and further out of control, and now everyone just gets to watch on their tv while they're eating at Tim Horton's.

    I'm not happy. No...I'm miserable. Every day is a struggle for me. The only thing that helps ease the pain is when I shoot myself with a needle full of smack.

    But I'm going to keep doing what I'm doing. There's no sense trying to stop it.

    Just keep on riding till the wheels fall off.

    So that means I'm going to show up, lose to Mac Michaud, fight someone else next week, and do it again.


    Random Canadian carrying a hockey stick: Hell-o there sir. It's 2pm, aboot that time we all go down to Tim Horton's and have ourselves some curd. Would you like to join us, eh?

    Dave: I WAS TALKING!

    Random Canadian carrying a hockey stick: Oh, sorry aboot that I didn't mean to interrupt.

    Dave: AHHHH!!!

    Dave charges at the Random Canadian carrying a hockey stick, and tackles him to the ground. He just keeps screaming "I'm sorry" over and over as Dave keeps pounding his face in without mercy. He grabs the hockey stick, and breaks it in half. He takes the sharp bottom end of the stick, and horrifyingly shoves it in the eye of the Random Canadian no longer carrying a hockey stick...we'll just call him Jim from now, that sounds like a Canadian name. So Jim now has this half of a hockey stick in his eye, and he's screaming in pain, but he's still apologizing. Dave keeps kicking him in the chest, until finally he gets bored. He grabs his iPod, and leaves, but before he goes he says one more thing...

    Dave: Luckily you guys have free health care.

    He spits on Jim, and calls it a day. He's probably gonna go shoot up more H or something.

  19. #19
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    Re: Fight Night PROMO THREAD 6/27/14

    The Champion, Contender and the Irrelevant Crybaby

    The number one contender to the FWA Worls Title, Ryan Rondo, sits in a simple yet lavish hotel room with his girlfriend, Elise. He sits back on a chair topless, receiving a backrub in order to help with the injuries sustained from the brutal attack at the hands of Phillip Alexander Jackson. He sits with his legs placed adjacent from him on the lilac bed and its blankets. Eyes closed and letting the pain go away. But the hate and anger still remain.

    ELISE "So, that Phillip guy huh?"

    Rondo takes his feet down from the bed abruptly and swivels around, momentarily pausing to wince at the pain, and looks at Elise with a glare. She holds her hands up.

    ELISE "Only asking."

    Ryan decides to return back to his normal position as she continues to rub his back.

    RONDO "Douchebag."

    ELISE "Is that it?"

    RONDO "He's had it out for me for a while. Carnal Contendership, trashing me verbally and now this. It's all just a big problem he has. It's a load of crap and I am going to sort it next week, I'm going to phone G-Rich or whoever's taking charge this week and get that match set. Punk."

    Elise rolls her eyes at him.

    ELISE "I'm sure that he is just jealous of you. Maybe he doesn't have a thing for you, just the position you are in."

    'The Last Star in the Sky' turns around again and gives another glare.

    RONDO "You're joking, right?"

    ELISE "I just don't see the big fuss, he attacked Shane too. It's not like you were his sole target."

    RONDO "Right, but, the point of him assaulting me and Shane was to get to us. Try and belittle our match and make us look weaker than him so he can snake his way in and not leave the FWA looking silly with its next PPV main eventers getting squashed by a guy who cried because he's less popular than me. The guy wishes he was in my position and that's why he is jealous. I have more fans than him, I have Shane McLean's attention and I have a shot at the most important and prestigious title in this industry. He wishes Shane chose him. But Shane doesn't care about him. Maybe he has a hardon for Shane but feels sad and betrayed that Shane doesn't pay him any notice. That's another story though."

    Elise stops the backrub and sits on the bed next to Rondo's legs and stares off into the distance at a mirror and begins to brush her hair whilst side glancing at Rondo during the conversation.

    ELISE "Another story huh? I want to hear it some day. I don't get you guys. Just seems to me that the guy's just trying to get noticed and given the respect he feels he is due. It always has to be so alpha male when it comes to you wrestlers."

    RONDO "Nah, nah. He wants me out of the McLean match and wants himself in."

    Elise raises a finger.

    ELISE "or... or.. Occam's razor."

    Rondo returns a confused expression.

    RONDO "What?"

    ELISE "You know, maybe the answer is the simplest one, he just wants a shot at the title and doesn't care who is in the way"

    Ryan stops and considers it for a moment...

    RONDO "Well, whatever he is doing: It's a fat sack of crap. Parading around trying to be a good guy telling the fans he is reborn and changed... then goes and makes himself an asshole again. I knew it was all a load of bs. I never trusted him and I was right."

    ELISE "In your mind, you're always right, Ryan. According to you, the US are going to win the World Cup, Tyrion will die in Game of Thrones, you'll win the title at Res, White and Bruised..."

    RONDO "Hey! They will ALL happen. Trust me."

    ELISE "Hmm. Well Tyrion didn't die... and I don't think we are gonna win the soccer world cup..."

    RONDO "He can still die. and so what? That's your opinion. At the very least, I bet England are eliminated before us. Take that PAJ. or Phillip. or whatever."

    Elise lets out a sarcastic sigh and laughs at him.

    ELISE "Let it go."

    RONDO "Nah. Fight Night. Phillip is going to get smashed. He wants to try and displace me or as you say, just get a title shot, im going to show him why that is a bad idea. He thinks he deserves to hold the belt then he will have to show it against me but he has never beaten me one on one. I don't fear him or the hype. I will have the fans driving me and cheering me on. He gets to see just why I was chosen to face McLean and not him: because I am better. I am not going to stop, Elise, until I get that belt. This is the closest I have ever been and nobody is going to take this chance for me. Certainly not a crybaby piece of filth that is Phillip Alexander Jackson."

    Elise looks at him for a moment and nods. She then jumps into the bed and pats the side next to her, inviting Rondo in.

    ELISE "Okay, mr wrestling macho man champion of the world. Come to bed and just forget about it for tonight. Let's watch a film together. Just let it go. You can choose."

    RONDO "How about Frozen?"

    ELISE "Very funny."

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