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Thread: Carnal Contendership SUPERSHOW promo thread

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    Carnal Contendership SUPERSHOW promo thread

    Post promos in this thread, right here. HERE, DAMMIT! Promos are due Thursday, March 12 at midnight Pacific time, which is Friday, March 13 at 3 a.m. Eastern time and 7 a.m. British time. No extensions, though, for all you procrastinators.
    Last edited by Shake; 03-11-2015 at 09:30 AM.

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    Re: Carnal Contendership SUPERSHOW promo thread

    The Perfect Shot
    *The feed opens up in the war-torn remnants of an old Kingdom surrounded by the darkness of the night sky and bathed in the white glow of the moon. The camera is sweeping through the snow-covered streets of the abandoned territory until it reaches a large, partially crumbled stone building. The camera sweeps down on an area in front of the building, where a moon beam is shining like a spotlight on a figure kneeling in the snow outside the entrance. As the camera gets closer, the large crimson red stain beside the figure and the time between the vapor clouds rising from its mouth make it seem like a wounded animal trying to catch its breath in the snow. The camera settles in front of the figure and you can finally see that it’s Drew Stevenson! But it’s not the normally cocky and brash Drew Stevenson that the FWA fans are used to seeing. The Emerald in front of the camera is clearly drained of its brilliant color and barely clinging to life, eyes dimmed and void of vibrant life. Stevenson has one hand rested on the sword in front of him, leaning against the handle of the crimson-stained blade to keep his face from meeting the snow beneath him. His other hand is clasped to his wound on his side and is covered in the crimson liquid that is spilling out of his body and continuing to stain the snow below him. Stevenson’s labored breathing continues as a voice of an unseen person starts speaking in the background.*

    ???: This man you see kneeling before you in the heavenly powder, this wounded animal waiting to be put out of its misery is Drew Stevenson, the soon to be former North American Champion of the FWA. I could hardly believe it myself. The man has a list of accolades and accomplishments longer than the sword he’s currently resting on, but here he kneels like a shell of his former self that could crack at any moment. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that he’s lost a step or he’s not the man he used to be. But when a warrior the likes of Stevenson have been through as many battles as he has, eventually it all catches up with you. As many opponents as he’s defeated in the past…

    *The camera turns to the left and zooms in past the open door of the building to show three bodies lying on their backs with pools of blood outlining them. The camera zooms in tighter to reveal that the lifeless corpses lying behind Stevenson with their throats slashed are that of Christian Quinn, Danny Toner and Thomas Princeton! The camera zooms out and turns to the right to show a veritable army of FWA wrestlers! Alex Millar, James Hughes, Dune, Michael Garcia, Devin Golden, Jason Gryphon, Adam Bonnie, Triple J Security, Ryan Rondo, Humanity, Phillip A. Jackson, KAIZEN, Ghost, Don Sheen, DIVINE, Lucian Ace, Randy Ramon and two masked individuals clad in black nylon bodysuits are all standing in front of the former North American Champion! The 21 members of the FWA roster all have swords of varying designs and sizes and are glaring at the former Champion like a blood-crazed pack of wolves staring at a fresh steak!*

    ???: He’s got just that many lined up in the future.

    *Stevenson barely lifts his head to stare at the mass of bodies in front of him, all gripping the handles of their swords and tapping their hilts in anticipation. A faint smirk creeps across Stevenson’s light blue lips as he uses the handle of his own sword to painfully push himself to his feet. As he rises, the fire in his eyes starts to build back up and visibly turn from light to dark brown as a scowl forms on his pale face. When he gets back to his feet, everyone across the street from him all draw their weapons. Stevenson stands there for a few moments, surveying the force in front of him. Time starts to slow down as the vapor clouds coming from his mouth seem to almost freeze in place.*

    ???: But I’m not like any of them. I’m not like any opponent he’s ever had, past, present or future. Because I can guarantee that he’s never had an opponent that views him as a target in their crosshairs. He’s never had an opponent that truly attacks his weaknesses and uses them to bend his will and break his spirit. He’s had opponents who have tried intimidation, pity and betrayal to beat him and he’s still standing. Barely, but he’s still standing regardless. After I’m done, he’ll be lucky to be able to move.

    *Stevenson slowly starts removing his hand from his wound and stares as the blood and falling snowflakes mix together on his palm. The camera zooms in on the wound and the blood slowly trickling down his side.*

    ???: Although he has a very obvious weakness I can take full advantage of, that’s not the one I’m aiming for.

    *The camera sweeps up from his wound to his heart, zooming in until you can see his chest moving with every heartbeat. With every heartbeat, time seems to speed back up to normal and Stevenson stares across the street with anger, hatred and a twinge of agony in his eyes. The camera zooms back in and shows and X-Ray view of his heart beating and pumping blood through his veins.*

    ???: That’s the weakness I’m aiming for. His biggest weakness, unbeknownst to him, is his heart. The heart of a warrior beats for nothing but the thrill of battle. It needs it, it craves it. The only problem with a warrior’s heart, and his as well, is that it will power him through situations his head should have gotten him out of even if his body can’t take it.

    *The camera zooms back out to show Stevenson’s face as he roars before rushing headlong into the mass of FWA wrestlers in front of him! Everyone in front of him draw their weapons from their sheathes and return the battle cry before everyone except the two masked individuals rushes forward at him. Time begins to slow down again as the 19 members in front of Stevenson are roaring with mouths open and swords in the air ready to strike. The camera turns to show Stevenson running towards the unruly mob with his blade dragging against the ground and a small blood trail hung up in midair on its way to the snow.*

    ???: Stevenson’s not brain dead. He knows that as much as his heart wants to go on, his body will give out. So he’ll try to end it quickly to conserve what’s left of his shredded body.

    *Time speeds back up as Stevenson hits the crowd. Swords, blood and sparks begin to fly into the air as Stevenson makes very quick killing strokes at the first unfortunate few to get to him first.*

    ???: He’ll try to use all of his strength to his advantage in the early going before it depletes and he barely has enough strength to stand up.

    *As the first few unfortunates fall to the icy terra firma, Triple J Security swing their blades down to trap Stevenson’s blade under all of theirs. Stevenson lets out a vapor-filled roar as he powers his sword up and causes their blades to meet their foreheads in a very unfortunate manner.*

    ???: And in the end, when his strength and speed fail him, his weakness will be the only thing that drives him forward towards his goal, which is an unattainable one unbeknownst to him. His heart will continue to will him forward towards his inevitable end.

    *Stevenson rushes into a group of enemies and begins to slash away at all of them. Stevenson takes several slashes across the back while continuing to strike down enemies in the group. The bodies continue to fall as Stevenson keeps moving forward and keeps slashing away. Stevenson spins and scores a powerful downward strike across the body of DIVINE, the force sending her/him to the ground to reveal Jason Gryphon standing behind the corpse of DIVINE and Adam Bonnie behind him. Stevenson rushes forward as Gryphon lunges his sword forward. Gryphon’s blade pierces the shoulder of Stevenson, but the fire in his eyes grows as he keeps pressing forward and lunges his own blade into Gryphon’s heart while Gryphon’s blade is forced even farther into Stevenson’s shoulder! Stevenson continues to push himself forward and drives Gryphon’s body onto Bonnie’s extended blade. The force of both bodies coming at him knocks Bonnie off balance and to the ground. Stevenson continues to drive his blade through Gryphon’s corpse until the point of his sword finds a new sheath in the center of Bonnie’s ribcage as well! Stevenson twists the handle of his blade before pulling his blade out of the stacked corpses of Gryphon and Bonnie. He carefully grabs the handle of Gryphon’s sword and swiftly pulls it out of his shoulder, creating a small waterfall of his blood running down his arm. Stevenson slowly turns around and sees that Michael Garcia, Alex Millar, James Hughes, Dune and a mystery individual are the only ones left standing among the scattered bodies of those Stevenson has slain. Garcia, Millar, Hughes and Dune all begin to close in on Stevenson as he looks like he’s close to collapsing.*

    ???: The one thing that targets don’t seem to understand is that it doesn’t matter if you’re the fastest, strongest or have the will of 1000 men. At the end of the day, getting the job done requires you to be the smartest one in the fight. It’s not about how many shots you take. It’s making the most of one shot so you don’t have to fire another. The others will try everything they can to put him down. They’ll go for the obvious weak spot.

    *Garcia rushes forward at an exhausted Stevenson and thrusts his blade at the gaping wound on Stevenson’s side. Stevenson parries Garcia’s sword and spins around to deliver a quick and powerful slash down and across his neck and chest that nearly cleaves Garcia in two. What seems like a river of blood drops out of Garcia’s neck and chest and to the ground, along with his lifeless body.*

    ???: They’ll get their shots in as best they can while they think he’s at his weakest.

    *Stevenson looks down at Garcia’s felled corpse. Two small shadows appear over Garcia’s body and continue to get larger. Stevenson quickly looks up to see James Hughes and Alex Millar in mid-air, both descending on him with their deadly weapons coming for his head. Stevenson quickly puts his own blade up over his head as all three swords meet with sparks and a very loud CLANG that cuts through the silence of the night. Millar and Hughes land on their feet and continue to press down against Stevenson’s blade. Stevenson roars and pushes both their blades up and throws them away from him. Stevenson tries to quickly end them by executing a powerful horizontal slash at their necks, but both Millar and Hughes duck the blow. Millar rolls behind Stevenson and scores a slash across Stevenson’s existing wound, making it open even farther as the trickle of blood turns into a wall of it while Hughes thrusts his sword forward and is rewarded with a slice to the opposite side of Stevenson’s midsection. Stevenson grunts at the pain and drops to one knee. Hughes raises his sword to deliver the final blow and Millar rushes forward with his steel weapon of death aiming for Stevenson’s back. At the last moment, Stevenson falls slightly forward into a side roll, causing Millar’s blade to miss its intended target and find occupancy inside Hughes’s chest instead. Stevenson gets to his feet and, with a powerful spinning blow, takes Millar’s head off! The shocked expression of Millar flies through the air as his head rolls on the ground until coming to a stop under the boot of Dune. Stevenson looks from Millar’s detached head up to Dune’s cold glare. Dune steps on Millar's skull as he moves towards Stevenson.*

    ???: But ultimately…

    *Dune and Stevenson begin to circle each other before their swords meet in a flash of light and sparks. Dune and Stevenson close the distance between each other and stare at each other over the blades between them. Dune shoves Stevenson back and goes for a downward stroke, but Stevenson moves and scores a slash across Dune’s shoulder. Stevenson goes for an overhead strike, but Dune spins around and swings his sword up and across Stevenson’s chest. Dune’s blade slashes Stevenson’s torso from hip to opposite shoulder and Stevenson cries out in pain. Stevenson falls to his knees and his crimson-stained blade drops to the snow beside him. Stevenson looks almost out of it as Dune puts his blade to Stevenson’s neck. Dune lifts his weapon over his shoulder and brings his blade down as STEVENSON’S SWORD PIERCES HIS HEART! Dune looks down in shock as he sees Stevenson holding his sword in a reverse grip and the end of the blade embedded in Dune’s chest! Dune coughs and blood begins to leak out of the mask as he sees it flow from the hole in his chest.*

    ???: …they’ll all fail because they will all miss his true weakness.

    *Dune collapses to his knees and falls to the street with Stevenson’s blade still sticking out of his chest. Stevenson weakly smirks as the fire in his eyes begins to fade along with his strength. His body seems to sink into itself as he stays on his knees, barely able to hold himself up. The dried blood from his new wounds cakes on his body as the cold sets in and he starts to shiver. He doesn’t even notice the small crunching of the snow behind him as the masked individual creeps up behind him with a katana. The unknown person emerges from the shadows and cautiously approaches the former North American Champion. Time seems to slow as he raises his blade, aiming for Stevenson’s defenseless neck.*

    ???: A target can win as many battles as humanly possible, but the only thing that matters is if you're standing at the end of the war. You have to be willing to wait for the perfect moment to pull the trigger. You have to know that, eventually, the target with the most heart will collapse from exhaustion. It’s about taking advantage of someone’s weakness when the opportunity presents itself. And at Carnal Contendership, my opportunity has presented itself in spades. I have the chance to not only put down the wounded Drew Stevenson but I also have the chance to take out the last target standing and win the Carnal Contendership match, which will officially put the FWA World Champion, Gabrielle Montgomery, on the top of my list.

    *Time speeds back up and the masked man draws his sword downward and MISSES! His eyes get wide as he stares at the tip of a dagger poking out of his chest! Crimson liquid begins to seep through the mask as he falls to the ground and the second masked individual pulls the dagger out of his back. The second person grabs the back of their mask and pulls it up to reveal…GABRIELLE MONTGOMERY!! The soon-to-be former World Champion smiles viciously as she closes in on Stevenson. Cold vapor escapes the mouth of the Caramel Goddess as she bends down and puts one hand on Stevenson’s shoulder while the other draws back the dripping dagger she just pulled out of someone’s back. Montgomery plunges the dagger forward and Stevenson screams as a single point on his chest extends out and A DIAMOND TIPPED BULLET BURSTS THROUGH HIS HEART!! The camera zooms in on the spinning bullet and the blood trail following behind it as time stops. The bullet starts spinning in reverse and speeds back into the chest of Stevenson as well as the blood trail. The feed seems to be rewinding as the camera follows the bullet’s path back through the chest of Stevenson, out of his back, through the very ample chest of a very shocked Gabrielle Montgomery and out of her back as it keeps zooming backwards through the falling snowflakes in the air towards the dilapidated stone building that Stevenson started out in front of.*

    ???: At Carnal Contendership, I’m going to hit the perfect shot when I make Drew Stevenson the former North American Champion and I also outlast every target in the Carnal Contendership Match to become the next FWA World Champion at Back In Business X.

    *The bullet finally reaches the end of its path as it spins through an open window overlooking the street. The bullet zooms backwards through a silencer and back into the chamber of a matte black Remington Modular Sniper Rifle with a click. The camera sweeps up to show Cryos staring down the scope of the rifle. Cryos takes his left eye out of the scope and lifts his head to direct his ice-cold stare into the lens of the camera.*

    Cryos: What the fuck have you done lately?
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    Re: Carnal Contendership SUPERSHOW promo thread

    A bottle of wine, Lacuna Coils 'Broken Crown Halo' album playing in the background, the FWA Undisputed World Championship proudly displayed front and center and the most beautiful woman in the world. These are the things that one by one capture our attention. A bottle of 1978 Domaine Romonet. Cristina Scabbia elegantly but fiercely singing the lyrics of 'Nothing Stands In Our Way'. The gold of the most coveted Title in the world sparkling under the light. Gabrielle Madison Montgomery, Our Caramel Coated Goddess, our World Champion, a vision of perfection, a delight for the eyes. She smiles from ear to ear as she gracefully takes a sip of her wine and adjusts her gloriously lucious dark brown hair. A teasing little sigh or a moan as it may be brings forth a deep breathe from her that causes her body to suggestively rise and fall. A body blessed with ample curves that draw the eye over and over again, a body wrapped tightly in the purple silk of a short little shoulderless dress. So far she has paid the camera little mind, a woman like her is used to prying eyes and the constant attention. But a flicker of those gorgeous brown eyes and that devious little smile of hers directed our way brings an end to that and holds us all under her spell.

    Something truly great is about to come full circle. A glorious year, a rise back to the top that all started at Aces High last year. I was the second person out for Carnal Contendership and the last person eliminated, I was the flap of a butterfly's wings away from headlining Back In Business nine. It wasn't to be for their were grander prizes and grander plans in store for your Goddess. I went on to beat Phillip Jackson at Back In Business. Then The Snake and I had a score to settle, and I did exactly that. I took everything Stu had left to the point where he is now a shadow of his former self when I defeated him at Aftershock and Red, White and Bruised.

    Then came what the world had been waiting for, for three long years. At the FWA's Tenth Anniversary spectacular I defeated Phillip Jackson again and became the FWA World Champion again. Then history repeated itself when I made history by winning Mile High again. No one else has ever won that match twice, not Hall, not Boudreau, not Kennedy, not St.Clair, not Sinclair, no one else. Jack Of Diamonds was next when I defended my Championship once more at the CrossFire Reunion show. My third Trial By Fire match in a row followed that. No one else has ever braved those flames as often as I have. Then there was the return of Winter Wasteland where I beat Phillip Jackson and Jack Of Diamonds to once more retain my World Championship.

    Another sip of her wine, and another delicious little moan as she crosses her caramel coated legs.

    Quite an amazing year was it not? And now we are back at Carnal Contendership which has its very own Super Show this year as the FWA scours the entire roster worthy of finding someone to face me at Back In Business ten. It could be anybody...but theres a bigger match in store for the world. A match featuring yours truly against a truly tough test...Bobby Thunder. The real Main Event...

    Though you all will want to keep your attention upon that Carnal Contendership match...

    A sweet giggle brings an end to our time with her.

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    Re: Carnal Contendership SUPERSHOW promo thread


    “I know not all that may be coming, but be it what it will, I'll go to it laughing.”
    ― Herman Melville, Moby-Dick; or, The Whale

    A old wooden ship swayed back and forth as the sky was a gray overcast of mutiny. The sails were raised and the sailors were either drinking with liquid rage slowly brewing in their guts or cleaning around the deck letting the days roll over and their heads as they failed to remember what a world that didn’t rock under their feet. There was a whisper in the air that wisped passed with a long drawn out call to the crew, “silly sailors”. It was the salty winds that mocked them but it was soon interrupted and forgotten about as there was a loud slam as the captain (that would be myself) kicked passed the door of the captain’s quarters and with a wide gait and a scrutinizing gaze across the ship. My black wax cotton jacket flapped in the wind as my black leather boots made a pronounced thud with each step as if the whole ocean could hear it. My arms were behind my back as I held my head high and my chest puffed out. The crew made no attempt to hide their discontent as they held their stares while I wandered around the main deck. Taking in the conditions as I approached the bow of the ship before stopping and turning my ear towards the sea. Waiting...listening…

    Passed the wind, passed the water splashing against the ship, passed the disgruntled mumbling; there was something specific I was listening for...A body breaking through the water with a distinct husssh as if silencing all the other sounds of the international waters. A smile crept up on my face.

    Lucian W. Ace: Finally. It is here. A battle of strength, speed, intelligence and whatever that is that keeps you going. You know what I'm talking about, call it what you will... The will to win, testicular fortitude, heart, balls, moxie, the "it" factor. It doesn't matter, it's all the same. It's 24 hungry animals, put in a box and told to fight it out. The last one standing gets the meat and potatoes. That ever-elusive shot at The Gold. It's the equivalent of taking a crack-rock and dropping it in the middle of a group of tweakers. We want The Gold, we NEED The Gold. It makes or breaks any one of us. Man or woman, black, white, red, yellow, ugly, stunning, scarred, fair-skinned, rookies that may as well be painted green all the way up to the grizzled vets. We're all the same in the face of this thing. In this Battle Royal we all have one goal. 24 warriors, 1 shot.

    A mad man prays for days like these...These are the days we see the brass ring after years of climbing. We reach up hoping that we are close enough, that we are strong enough, that we are worthy...These days are not days of good versus evil. Such a thing only exists in movies. These are the days where you find something you would’ve seen as a threat, where instincts would have dictated behavior and survival would be rule one and find god.

    To clear any confusion, you don’t find a supreme being who plays Sims in his free see the judge and the executioner, you smell Armageddon in the air, you hear horns of Gabriel blow from the heavens and you feel a wrathful god of obliteration surge from your toes to your head with a dizzying ecstasy. There is no law but your law and it is time to put it up for Judgment Day. I listened as the hushes slowly got closer. I walked back to my quarters and reached in passed the door to pull out a spear. I had a hop in my step as I turned to my tormented crew who seemed to get dirtier even considering they were surrounded by water. I laughed as I spread my arms out in exclamation.

    Lucian W. Ace: Why all the long faces?! Today is the day! The untrained eye, the idiotic among you would look to me and say...he's a guy with no title history. What has Lucian Ace done for me lately? And you'd be right...but if you stopped thinking then then it's your ass I'll be tossing out overboard. Allow me to explain. A match like this begs for the untaught and the frankly ridiculous to come out of their shells and put on the big boy voice and run somebody like me into the ground with brilliant wit like 'You are Jimmy King's bitch', 'He is using you', I hear that on a weekly basis, if what any of you thought worried me in the slightest I probably wouldn't sleep as well as I do at night. Just because none of the mid-card idiots on this ship had the sense to seek guidance of somebody who'd frankly owned the mountain. I dare you to find me a single person in the history of this company who men fear more than Jimmy King. I could leave this industry in ten, fifteen years time with one title run under my belt but my actions will speak louder than any title reign. Notoriety, that's the name of the game in this day and age. Achieving wrestling immortality and if you think a cheap pop garnering 'bitch' comment tossed my way is going to put you in the history books then you are all too wrong. [ he shrugs ] Then there's those on the opposite side of the coin who won't even utter my name this week. Good for them, it either means they aren't idiots or they are underestimating me. Big difference and there will be a whole lotta consequences if it's the latter. Because as much as your respect, and that goes for any of you. As much as your respect means literally nothing to me - you will learn how you're supposed to act around a member of The Movement in due course. I don't have a hard on for the spotlight like Thomas Princeton, Ryan Rondo, James Hughes or any other of the fame hungry low life on this boat. I don't need your adoration, wrestler or fan. You can all keep going about whatever meaningless drivel you put out there week in week out and when I need you, no...when I choose you. Then you'll know. All I ask of any of you this week is to be there. Entrants before me, entrants after me. Be there... and be ready when it's you I throw overboard. Be ready when it's your arm I've got in a position it was never meant to be in. Be there when I've got your neck wrapped up in my arms or against my shin when I'm choking the life out of you.... life is a lot more brittle than you think. It can be given and taken in a matter of minutes.

    The crew looked to each other before returning their gaze towards me with wide frightened eyes. It was as if the giant gaping mouth of death had them awestruck and my amazement was the devil pushing himself forth into our world. My joy sunk from my face as it was slowly replaced with confused disappointment and a bit of disgust. They didn’t have my spirit for what was the greatest moment in their lives. So I turned and made my way back to the bow of the ship. I listened in again as the menace approached. I stepped onto the railings and held myself steady with my spear as I stared down into the blue abyss. For a moment there was silence...As if the ocean was watching, as if the wind was if we were all waiting for some inevitable conclusion.

    Lucian W. Ace: Hehe...

    Here it comes... A monster who would love nothing more than to tear my intestines out my mouth. The blood would poor down and paint everything red. Cathartic and hateful, the monster hardly has the ability to control itself and will rampage through every little thing that crosses its warpath. Michael Garcia is coming and he is hungry. He could reach in and pull out every vital organ he wanted but I am not gonna let it stop me from marching on wards, further towards the blaring sirens leading me to troubled water. Michael Garcia can only cause me pain but pain is just an illusion when faced with glory and respect. Soldiers march through bullet wounds, Olympians work past broken limbs, all of humanity throws its faults aside when promised praise, history and satisfaction and so I could be half dead but I won't stop until I am 100% a champion!

    Here it comes... A man who will not let the unfortunate events of life slow his dedication. Randy Ramon is coming. His strongest trait is also his most vulnerable pressure point. His disregard for himself and refusal to acknowledge his hindrance is only somewhat a noble aim to take but it would just be unrealistic to expect a handicapped man to win the big one, sure it would be the absolute underdog stories but this is reality and reality does not play favorites, it only crushes.

    Here it comes... Jason Gryphon! Chance and barriers are not existent to this wrecking ball of a being. Numbers do not scare him and neither do risks. He would throw himself into the eye of the storm if it got him what he wanted. Unchallenged, there is a world where our human laws have no say and usually it is a world moments before eternal darkness. Jason Gryphon is coming and he will recreate the world in his image...'empty on the inside'.

    The crew approached slowly from behind as they traded glances and nods. The boat creaked and rain began to pour down onto the lone vessel. I started to hum a tune to the beating waves. “Heehehe he he heeee heheee...” I slammed the butt of the spear on the wood which caused the sailors to audibly jump back a bit. It would be a lie to say that it wasn't foreseeable. But the question was could I defeat so many able-bodied enemies. When you come this far it is a question one should ask himself. How much shit are you willing to go through to get what you desire? How strong is your drive? I halfheartedly peered over my shoulder at all the tired workers, the hungry sailors, my hurdle before I can face my ultimate purpose. The boat began to sway harder as the storm picked up and the sky darkened. The men stumbled around as they lost their balance but I remained on the guard rails.

    Lucian W. Ace: You poor bastards...You think you can stop it now? I am already in too deep. To stop it now would be sacrificing my purpose. There is no way out. I will have my glorious day and none of you will be able to stop me. I don't care if I go down with the ship...I want to win!

    I listened again and what I heard was something unfathomable to the regular senses. I heard the future, I heard the fabric of time moments before, I heard my destiny was going to rise up and tear me to shreds.

    Lucian W. Ace: Here it comes...

    Here it comes... A call to anarchy reimagined into a man with nothing to lose. Indulgent and unforgiving, this is the essence of scum at its best. Scum is not to be laughed it, scum sees all and knows all, scum is the memory of our worst moments that chooses to build until there is nothing left but it. Adam Bonnie is coming and he just don't give a shit! Adam Bonnie is a bastard of thought. The true coward, someone who gets off from shitting on everyone as if its suppose to be a statement of some kind, like the world is somehow better for his opinion of every last person being stated. Just scum that has yet to drift into the sewers.

    Here it comes... A most powerful foe that rivals that of passion! The process of evolution can only dream of causing such a powerful trait to be such a dangerous weapon. Intellect and resilience has proven itself more than enough times to be the most effective offense. Self-awareness can maneuver past the wildest of swings and readjust for the proper position for a simple but yet deadly retaliation. Cryos is coming and as the world goes mad, the calculated and clever shall be king. But the truth is that mind tries so hard to shell out every detail possible but the fact is it is truly impossible to be able to pull apart and analyze every little detail of what is happening and what is to happen. There are holes in any strategy and having to much faith in your mind could lead to an unfortunate result if such an obsession could be so controlling.

    The sailors yelled and cursed as they shook off the unfriendly shifts of the ocean. Thunder started in from on high. They were really going to try. They didn't realize that they were already doomed. It is funny knowing something and watching other people not know. It is almost like you are standing in two worlds and one is just about to be crushed by the other. Almost hilarious on a galactic scale. I turned around on the railing and pointed the spear at the insubordinates.

    Lucian W. Ace: Do it, I dare ya! I will tear through every last one of you. I spent forever trudging through shit just to get here and I will be damned if it ends by the hands of some cowardly bastard who hides behind his fears. Reality is too hard of a fact for any of you to swallow. You all have pushed through the depths and the darkness like I have but you all still can't seem to stop distracting yourselves with your delusions and simple lives. There is something bigger going on here and you should all consider yourselves lucky to be a part of it! No mercy, no prisoners. I've been "the best", I am "the best", I'll be "the best" until the end of time. Because my history is recorded, forever. It's not just a trophy I won. It's proof that a white skin and a can-do attitude are only part of the equation. You want the whole thing? You pay attention to my story. I'm your Beowulf. I'm the quintessential epic. Pay close attention, because when you do? You'll realize the most important thing, all this? This is my story... You're all just a part of it.

    Here it comes...The unrelenting man. The irreverent spit in the face that just sits and corrodes the face. Outlaws in old westerns could be considered more wholesome than this man. That uncomfortable feeling that won't even let close your eyes at night. Ryan Rondo is coming and he is never gonna stop. Even though he has proven himself quite the competitor, there is still just a small part of me that never looked at him as more than riding his teammate's coattails to the top tier from Devin Golden all the way to PAJ. He has already failed to take that title last year and those who fail to learn from history are doomed to repeat.

    Here it comes...the one thing I don't want to accept. Devin Golden, the black sheep in all his glory ready to show what he is really all about. Self-loathing and unstable, he is the haunting scream that will rattle your ghosts. He is uncontrollable and he is lost which is exactly when you want to back away or he will reach out and claw off whatever he can grasp. I, at one point, called him a teammate. But as much as I know and relate to this specific competitor, I still feel a level of disgust when in his presence.

    But indeed, here it comes...DIVINE. Down to Earth with a sort of twisted spirit but one will soon realize that all the glitter, all the cartoons, all the perverted antics are covering up something really vile. An artist knows and artist and one knows when there is reality and when it's a performance to hide what is really lurking. One must have something burning deep within him to keep him going even now. DIVINE is coming and all will be shrouded in white... I swear it that there will be one day where I will take his art and shove it down his throat, taking some teeth with it. He can get his chuckles for now for in the end, I will be the real story. Make all the jokes you could ever want because it will be difficult to joke when I bust your jaw and forget about those silly little art displays after I obliterate you.

    I turned back out to the calling abyss and stared to my demons as they screamed for me to step off the boat and swim out for them. The crew moved in once again to try and overtake me so they could turn the ship around and head home to their loved ones, but my wild eye stare only became more sporadic as the tormented grin on my face obviously displayed the fear and shaken nerves even someone so lost in obsession could feel.

    Lucian W. Ace: Take me, you bitch!!! I'm going to rip and tear my way through anyone foolish enough to step in front of me. I'm going to give everything I've got in me and more... I should feel privileged to be part of this but what I do feel is ignored and it's not a case of ignorance is bliss for the FWA superstars this's a case of ignorance will be the death of them. Simple as that...

    A massive white figure jumped out of the water and rose six feet away from me. I stared up as I raised my spear while my mouth was hanging open as if lost in a sort of mania. The white wale, the horror of the hidden below, the judge and executioner himself. Am I worthy enough to take down this almost mythical being of destruction? Can I do what I need to and plunge this spear even if it means my own life. The world seemed to freeze as I was crazed with the phenomenon of finally getting the chance to end it once and for all.

    Here it comes...The Queen of all, a goddess through nature and selection that holds the hearts of millions. Daunting and incredibly high up, this woman kills you mentally first just by existing and then you start thinking about it. Are you up on the same level to be even thinking of yourself as a contender. As far as FWA has known, this champion has been the most impressive and will state a president in the history books of wrestling. One would say that she is in the perfect mix of zone and time, to never be slain. Gabrielle is coming and she is bringing her belt with her. I don't think she quite realizes that things must end and even if she is able to smash and tear and demolish everything, that doesn't mean she will get out alive. I plan on plunging my (allegorical) spear into her twisted heart and take her down with me if I must.
    This is the time to set an example and take your place as the fittest to survive. This is my opportunity to finally put to test all that I have preached and not only that but all I have went through as well. Every inch of my life will finally make sense if I can just take this short, inconceivable, blink of a moment and conquer all that which refuses to be conquered. I will be the truth, the reality. Conqueror of the faster, the stronger, the smarter, the angry and I will bring all of this world to their knees.

    I lunged up and took the beast right to the heart before it came smashing down onto the ship, taking the crew and all the supplies with it. The blue world was saturated with a red mist slowly spreading and wooden planks. Bubbles begins to break to the surface...first a few but then breaks between them because shorter and the amount of air bubbles rising drastically inclined moments before my arm raised out with a bloody spear in hand...I will conquer all!

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

    Psalm 2:8

  5. #5
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    Re: Carnal Contendership SUPERSHOW promo thread

    One for the Abnormal…..

    All I know how to do is keep on fighting. It’s what comes natural to me. My hands, feet, and body are things I control. What I do in that ring is all up to me. The only opinion that really matters is my own, because in the end. Other people’s opinion of me is just noise. While the ability to change the perception of others is something I control. I didn’t really get that before, but I very much understand it now. I gave this business too much power over me, over how it made me feel.
    Like so many before me, I came into this business thinking it was easy, and thinking that I could just walk through the door and have it all. I’ve seen people come and go in this company. I’ve sat in chairs and listen to management tell me I’m in over my head, and that I could not handle being the guy, that while I’m good I’m just not the face of the company material.

    I choked that down time and time again. While looking up and down this roster, I’m one of a very few trained martial artists, this company employs and we all know if it really came right down to it, I’m learned enough to cripple people and end careers at my will. There were two ways I could take that, two ways I could react, two different outcomes laid before me. To have stayed and weathered the storm as some around here believe I should have would have not served me or the company well. So, yes in my leaving, little old me did what was best for business, and more importantly what was best for me.

    A light slowly illuminates him sitting in a black leather chair, with a black t-shirt the reads “Eyes” across the front in white letters. His blue trunks are bordered by a black belt at the top, matching his black boots. Behind him is a stale grey wall, void of pictures or posters. The room almost seems eerily silent. As he focuses his gaze into the camera some light catches his eyes, giving his hazel colored eyes a glowing effect.

    I joined this company about six years ago, and what a ride it has been since then. Sure I had more than enough going against me in this business. I was brand new, did not know where to go and what to do, but I always knew I could fight. That of course meant that all I needed was a chance. Not at a title, you have to understand something. I willingly wanted the hard path, the road less traveled. You don’t have to understand why. The fact is it was my choice.

    During my time in the FWA I have stepped in the ring with a who’s who list of opponents. Not that I take issue with that at all, because I realize, it made me better, it made me stronger. Those experiences have made me what I am today. Hell I walked out the door making a mark on this company some guys will never make. That allowed me to put a company on my back and carry it, which is what I did while I was gone. I went to LOW and became the man, and rode that car till the wheels came off.

    A slide show begins that has pictures fade from one to another slowly as his voice is clearly heard as a piano is played in the background.

    Nobody will ever be able to take away the memories. The FWA faithful saw me fall in love with Nolee, then once again with Dinorah. I won my very first wrestling title here, and became the young lion of this company. Back in those days I used to chase a guy named Anthony or DA, whichever you remember him by. Had some knock down drag out fights with Confederate Funeral on my way to fighting APAB before they fell into the abyss of not knowing when to say when.

    Of course as the saying goes, that was then, and this is now. Funny thing about now though. Now there is no Duke Drazin, no Darnell Porter. Although oddly enough Gabrielle still has the title, or rather has it again. I signed to the FWA within weeks of Chris Kennedy. One of the few men in this company I respect. Keep fighting Chris, you keep fighting. I was here when Bordueax passed.

    Now I’m being dissed by the likes of Drew, well both of them, and Michael Garcia. Flavors of the months and fly by night champions. Jolson never had a fighting chance, Stevenson and Garcia, only managed a brief moment in time. There will be other matches gentlemen, and neither of you should feel all that secure in having beat me, once. It does happen; I never once said I was perfect.

    He stands up in front of the chair, folding his arms in front of himself.

    Thank you Drew, or perhaps it’s best I thank Lovisa, after all it was she that hit me in the head with a roll of quarters. Oh but how profound an act that was, you actually knocked some sense into my head. Suddenly I realize, that your truly is damaged goods. Sure I left a while but upon my return there is a lot that looks the same. I see some of the same suits do and saying some of the same things they were when I left. A wise man once said that “the more things change, the more they stay the same.” Yet things are different, the landscape has changed. I’ve never lost to Ryan Rondo, and let’s just say me and Paj go back a ways, but I’ve fought him and beat his ass also. Seeing as they have become big men on campus around here; I’m sad that I missed another shot at Wolf. I admire the fight in that guy, but Stu is still here.

    You know a while back, I heard that the company did not know what to do with me. Let me be of some assistance, put me in matches against anybody. Let me be clear, those of you who remember me. You all saw a different man walk out that door years ago. I am far, far from the man who left, while I don’t expect you to take me at my word on that, trust me, and perhaps a very smart Devin Golden. I’m just waiting for a chance to prove you wrong. I did not come back to the FWA to pick up where I left off.

    For all of you who wanted to see the Over the Edge days done, they are. For all of you who wondered what it would be like to see me navigate this company on my own, you are getting your wish in real time. Oh and I’ve not forgotten about all of you newbies, all of you snot nosed trash talking greenhorns. Before one of you mouths off and gets yourself into trouble, understand beating the hell out of the X-division was my warm up.

    This time around things have been surreal, and yet are falling into place, just as they should. The problem is not that this company does not know what to do with me, the bigger issue I see for them is not recognizing me as easily and quickly as half of them thought they did. I see it as it is, sometimes made very clear to us who the sun is shining on at the moment; that they were not prepared to see me walk in the door and beat another reign, defending X-division champion. They were not prepared to see me come within the slightest of in ring errors from beating their precious North American champion. The suits are still trying to figure out the new me, they are asking themselves how a guy like me goes to a company fighting to continue to draw breathe and evolves into more of a monster between those ropes, than any man who will stand in front of a camera trying desperately to convince you he is one.

    The photos relent, as we see James standing next to poster over his left shoulder on the wall showing himself, Alana, and Killemall. His speech continues as he seems to pace back and forth in front of what would otherwise be an empty wall, although the chair is no longer in sight.

    This time around, I’m not going to attempt to please everybody around me; I’m not going to put the group ahead of myself. I don’t have the love of my life running around, or an ex being used by a rival to destroy my image. There is no best friend to play the FWA15 video game with in the locker room from time to time. To the point, I’ve moved on from everything that lead up to my departure.

    Version two, there’s no version two, no reboot. This is the man known the world over as Eyesnsane with nothing left but the one thing he should have clung to the entire time from the moment he signed the first contract. That’s the fight, it’s what I go out there and leave in that ring. It’s why you are watching this right now, it is the same reason some of you went out and bought tickets when you found out I was returning. It was the same reason why you all tuned in to watch me fight the two champions I have since my return.

    Believe me when I tell you that each and every one of you, like me or not, knows full well that when I am involved you are going to see a man prepared to kill himself in that ring for you, as I kick ass for me, next. There are no movie roles, no comic book deals, or any other distractions for me. Consider me completely FWA driven, and to each of those suites who are very good at assuming they are perfect, that they always know better, just keep talking. I hear you loud and clear, and from the looks of things, you all have been seeing my answers that I leave laid in the ring for you.

    The slides continue as the scene fades out.

    The Carnal Contendership, is held every year, that however does not mean I have been in the match each year. That means this is a tradition, just follow me here for a moment. Let’s review, in 2008 a guy named Nate Robinson wins this match, and that same year becomes FWA champion. Ryan Hall was not to be out done as he was an FWA champion, who needed to win in 2009 to get a shot at losing to Matt Bordeaux, or the Michael Jordan of the FWA if you prefer. 2010 saw Nemesis win, followed by Wolf in 2011, and Jack Servino in 2012. They did not claim the FWA title during those years, while Chris followed in the footsteps of Ryan by claiming the FWA title before winning his first contendership in 2013. We all should remember that Wolf was last year’s winner as he headed out the door with a bang.

    This year’s match literally has something for everybody, it should feel all inclusive, but don’t believe me, you can go and ask Divine. Fight Night’s illustrious general manager has inserted himself into this thing, so the suites will have their inside man. The man who can do no wrong, Drew Stevenson has been invited and if you listen to the commentators you might think he has won the damn thing already, but I assure you, he has not. You also get to the mystical samurai warrior who join FWA after the ninja left in Lucian Ace, or Lucy, or whatever we are supposed to be calling this guy. The movement, you know, I got my fair share of crap over the name use of Over the Edge, matter of fact it started a blood feud. Then the best these guys come up with is the movement, I mean are you guys wrestling, or really excited about going number two. Maybe I can get a movement killer t-shirt made up for this one.

    One half of the tag team champions are out to add some gold, oh and we can’t forget about Michael Garcia or the returning Jason Gryphon. Throw in Dune, Cryos, and a player to be named later, and this things has the making of an ugly fight. Looking up and down the list, everybody has a reason to tear apart a particular person in this thing. While I have no doubt, that some will take the opportunity as just that, some of us actually are showing up to win this thing.

    I can’t complain about luck, truthfully I am luckier than most that come into the FWA. There are and have been competitors to go months and years having never won a title. Never knowing that feeling, never knowing that sense of pride and accomplishment, fight their respective hearts out as they did. A suit once asked what credible thing I’ve done with my time in the FWA, to which my reply was the only thing that came to my head. I said I’ve been a young lion’s champion; I’ve been a tag team champion, which is more than half the folks that come through the door get to do. As expected that reply was lost on him as I was supposed to have done so much more, in the two years I had been with the company, while in that two years there were a slew of people who simply came and went without so much as a whisper.

    I know better now, I know it’s not really about what you have done, those things are nice, and provide us something to talk about as we stroll down memory lane. Of course at the end of the day, I am not here to talk up the past, as nice as memories are and can be. I am not here to talk about where I have already been, I don’t have to justify my simply being on the roster, sure the first run was all on potential, but the people who run this company are not stupid. Are they going to bring back some slack jawed hack to serve as wrestling fodder and job everybody to death, if so, you better check my tape because it is not and will not be me.

    I am not here to fundamentally change the business. I am not going to waste breathe trying to convince all of you that I am bigger than the FWA. No, you see I am the realest person in this match. I’m the guy who tells you that if one of these folks tell you they are perfect, they are crazy. There is no normal, it does not exist in life, just ask Divine what normal is. I don’t need lawyers, or suites rooting for me in the back. I will not be led about by a puppet master.

    All I need is my body and a match. I don’t’ care what kind of a match it is. I don’t care who or how many stand to oppose me. I care about the fans, and what they want to see, and judging from the amount of cheers I hear when my name gets called there are plenty of FWA fans longing for and enjoying a man, who can actually stand tall in this ring, on his own, and without the help of others to bring him along.

    We see James seated in the chair once again. As he continues to talk, the camera zooms in from a wide shot until it closes in around his face, as the sole light shining on him becomes more and more dim, until There is only a black screen until his voice stops.

    I don’t know who is going to win this match. I do know that I want to win, not need to, but want to win this match. So I can prove to all of my crazies out there that you can achieve whatever you desire. You just have to want it, and not like you want your favorite snack. You have to find the kind of want, where you want it more than any other thought in existence. I know that all I need is me, these two hands, two feet, and all the strength this body has to offer. In truth there is only one difference between me and the 23 others in this match.

    That difference is heart. You see I bleed this business, wrestling is coursing through these veins and titles will result. That’s a guarantee, because nothing less will be acceptable to me. Otherwise you all will have the pleasure of watching me, give myself to this business, night in and night out, until I draw my last dying breathe. I am James “Eyesnsane” Hughes; you can love me or hate me, cheer me or boo me. Respect me or not, what none of you can do is change me, and there is not a single person in this company who can break me. So grab your tickets, order this, do what you have to do, because I am in the Carnal Contendership to win it, and fuck shit up for all my Crazies!

  6. #6
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    Re: Carnal Contendership SUPERSHOW promo thread

    Taking One For The Team....

    There is a sign on the door that reads, “Crossfire Women”. The door is bordered by two white walls on either side of the door frames. Slowly the door opens and we see Alana, exiting the room with the door closing behind her. Pausing for a moment we can see her dressed for the occasion. Black boots and matching pants, with her rock hard abs exposed slightly as her t-shirt is tied in a knot in the front, it is a black t-shirt with “Crossfire” across the front of the shirt, colored as flames. With her wrists taped and her hair pulled back into a ponytail, we can all see she is ready for a fight.

    I stand in front of these cameras and I say a lot of things, about a lot of things. I know, that just sounded ambiguous. There are points and times where I feel a need to get my point across, and last week was one of those times. Last week I found that I had reached my limit with the backstage politics and the ungodly amount of management pets this company has running around.

    Let me be clear, I do not regret one single thing, and if half of the boys in charge could really take constructive criticism, then I’d be delighted to say it to there faces. Alas, my bosses don’t have that kind of time for me. In their eyes, I’ve done nothing of note to gain their respect or recognition in general. I even understand why I’ve been put in this match for the women’s title. Before I go any further, You all need to realize, this is my punishment for spouting off, what I’m saying is, I’m not supposed to win this match.

    Turning to her left, she begins to walk down the corridor. Her shapely figure is on full display as she walks being followed by the camera.

    The draft has come and gone, and like it or not will be very memorable for me, and for reasons I don’t care to go into at this time. However I was hopefully optimistic that being drafted to Crossfire meant that as a competitor I was going to be taken seriously. I had hope that women competitors might be respected by the ex of women that have made significant strides in the company. I even dared to hold out hope that I might get some respect after beating Paj.

    All that hope is now gone, and I understand that here in the FWA, no matter how many things change around here, things really stay the same. It’s all business as usual, the good old boys club is in serious effect in FWA management. So, while this on one hand is a great opportunity for me to become a two time women’s champion. I have been placed in a match against a team of women from Fight Night. I’m not stupid, any of these women would love to win the women’s title for themselves, but more importantly they as a team can just focus on me, and take me out of it. Leaving them to sort the rest out for themselves and keep the title on Fight Night.

    That’s pretty much it in a nutshell. Princeton could careless which woman brings the title back to his show, he just has to get one up on Ashley. While I am thrown into a match I could not possibly complain about right? Gone seem to be the days I thought I was allowed to compete for the X-division title, as we watched another installment of Frick versus Frack. I suppose like a good little girl, I should just be thankful they turn my one on one match into that disaster they turned it into.

    As she passes a nearby refreshment table, she stops looking over all the options on the table. When a crew member walks up to her and asks her for a picture. The crew member takes out his cell phone as Alana agrees, they stand close to one another, smiling upward at the camera as it is being held up and above head level. Once snapped the staff member thanks Alana and leaves her alone. Alana’s focus moves back to the table, where she retrieves a bottle of water.

    Being drafted to Crossfire is not a death sentence. It is certainly not the end of the world, if all I am permitted to do is compete against the women of the FWA, that is not going to be a problem for me. They may take issue with me being back in their division full time, but as far as I am concerned my life just got easier and this match is the perfect example.

    I am more than prepared for this kind of a match and the women in it. I have faced each of them before, and I have beaten each of them before in some way shape or form. Like Sally and Shannon; I know full well what kind of dedication and hunger it takes to become the women’s champion. Something Taylor is still trying to figure out. While I think Zoey has a clue, about what it takes but just has not been able to put it all together.

    As a matter of fact I remember when Zoey first debuted. She was a breathe of fresh air. She impressed most of us, and it was not only one thing. She has style, looks, money. I remember the tour of her house, girlfriend was not playing. I remember those first few matches and that hot start. Management thought they struck gold. Her stock was on a major upswing, and then, bam!

    What happens when a corvette hits a brick wall? Everything falls apart,and her brick wall was a loss. Whether you saw it as close or clear cut it happened. At the conclusion of that match, I took a good look right into Zoey's eyes, and I can now safely say, that I saw the very moment she changed.

    Zoey has not, and as unfortunate as this is, will not get that back. That spark was surprisingly blown out easier than a candle on a six year olds birthday cake. Zoey lost that spark, and left. She came back, only to leave again. Oh but I get it. This time is for real, right? Are you finally playing for keeps? Are you back this time to finally make good on all that promise, on all that potential, hell all of that talent. Talent you take for granted, as if it is just as easy as flipping a switch. You're all desire,and while that can be a great thing that carries you a great way. It's also fleeting, you've stunted your own growth, and slowed your professional progression. All because you lack, the much needed dedication. There, I just helped you. You can thank me later.

    Taking a drink of water from the bottle in her left hand. Alana turns away from the table, as she continues through what seems to be a surprisingly empty hallway.

    We are going to have a Taylor Toxic sighting. You heard it here first, ladies and gentlemen, come see the former band front. The singer more known for her fighting. Although, I'm not really sure why. Tell me Tay-Tay, did I catch you on a bad day, when last we met in the ring? I was a bit surprised, sure you are new, but you honestly already have a bit of a reputation.

    You would be an interesting women's champion. One that I'm so sure, Thomas would love to have representing Fight Night. However, do you really think you are ready? These kinds of moments don't just happen everyday. You are stepping in the ring with women who know what they are doing, women who have been champions. Of course you are going to try to convince the world that you believe you can. But you know, deep down that you are in over your head. I'm not saying it will never happen, but I am saying it is not going to happen on this occasion. Being champion comes with responsibilities. Responsibilities you don't yet seem up to the task of handling just yet.

    Turning a corner, she walks between some black curtains. We soon realize she is underneath the ramp, and out of sight.

    This, is the big time. Two time, back to back FWA woman wrestler of the year. A three time FWA women's champion, and dare I say, future hall of fame inductee. Not many woman will come close to what you have done and the impact you've made on this company over the years. We cannot question your dedication, and all you have sacrificed to be, stay here, and it all finally paid off, and personally. Personally I'm damn happy for you. Thing is, I'm not here to get personal, or be your friend. I'm here professionally. I'm here to represent Crossfire, and most importantly to bring the women's title back with me. Its my time to climb that ladder, and I refuse to let you or anybody stop me. I know what's at stake, and this is a fight and, Sally you know better than any of these women just how much fight is in me.

    A small light on her right flashes three times.

    It's been one hell of a ride. Shannon, you did it. You became women's champion, and proved you could compete with Gabrielle. With all of that behind us, here we are. The FWA women's title is on the line in a ladder match, with multiple opponents. So I just have to ask, do you still feel like superwoman?

    Like you, or not, and I'm not a fan. You've had a pretty good run, but all good things come to an end. That sentiment will hold true, your job in this whole thing is to bring the title. Oh don't get me wrong, you are going to fight, with everything you got. Question is after what you have just been through are you really one hundred percent? Are you really ready for this fight? Are you really ready for me to come right at you and let you know how I intend to take that title?

    I'm taking this title, for me. I'm bringing the women's title to Crossfire. I'm going to fight like this is the last match I'll ever have. I'm going to climb that ladder and become champion for a second time. As I have maintained, the last will be the first. I will be your champion, and it will begin, right here....

    A crew member moves in close as a fog machine goes off. The crew member is holding a fire extinguisher, as Alana glances at him with a look of concern. Band Up hits the PA system, as a section of the stage lowers in front of her, she steps onto it. While the fog machine pumps out more fog. The section of stage she is standing on slowly begins to rise, and as she becomes visible to the crowd the noise level raises. Only after the stage is back in place, does Alana begin to make her way to the ring.

  7. #7
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    Re: Carnal Contendership SUPERSHOW promo thread

    Everything was white; he could remember it almost as plain as day. The slight ticking noise that happened methodically and every few seconds was something that he would never forget, and that was because it was signifying his whole life -- every step of the way, it seemed as if everything was methodically planned, like fate had a hand in everything that he did and this was another step in his journey, one that he could not fail.

    Continuing to hear the methodical ticking noise, we see a silver pendulum that sways back-and-forth, never missing a beat. As the ticking noise fills our ears, everything opens up to a very beautiful day. Beautiful blue skies, green grass, everybody who is out and about seems to be having a wonderful day. Walking through the beautiful, fresh green grass was a young child, no older than seven years old and positioned over his shoulder was the FWA North American Championship. Sitting down underneath a large tree, the child removed the Championship from off of his shoulder as he simply stares at it, admiring its shine, admiring its beauty.

    "You know something, when I very first won the FWA North American Championship -- everybody was in shock, nobody thought that I had it in me to best a man who was at his peak and that man was Jason Gryphon. You see, Jason had it all -- he had just become the FWA North American Champion a month prior and every single person believed that he was unstoppable and that was because he was at that time. Many used to talk about how great that Jason had become, and it's true, Jason had become a household name and one of the biggest stars that the company had seen in a long time but when I got my opportunity at the North American Championship? I changed the weight factor on his pendulum and can you guess what happened Cryos? That's right! I beat him to become the North American Champion and I threw off the methodical rhythm that his pendulum had going and that stunned a lot of people because they truly thought in their hearts that Jason Gryphon was going to be the North American Champion for a long time to come but that wasn't the case, in fact, it turned out to be me..."

    With our young Stevenson getting up to his feet, he runs off through the beautiful grass and plays with several children leaving the North American Championship on the grass as the beautiful faceplate glistens under the sunlight.

    Tick... Tick...

    Tick... Tick...

    As the pendulum continued to swing back and forth, the sound of each tick was so methodical that it almost put you in a trance. As the ticks slowly begin to get quieter and quieter, we see a rainy day positioned outside of a large building. Walking up to that building was a much older Stevenson, looked to be in his late twenties and once again positioned over his left shoulder, was the FWA North American Championship and it looks just as beautiful as it did.

    "As time went by Cryos, I started to defend the championship more and more, I started to open eyes with what I was doing and people began to take notice. It didn't matter who they put in my way, I kept on winning and winning and winning."

    As the doors opened, hundreds, if not thousands of people came rushing out of the large building and began to surround Stevenson.

    "But somehow, I managed to do what I wanted to all along and that was fly under the radar until I felt the time was right. I have been competing each and every week for so long now that I don't really remember the last time I took a night off to be honest with you. Is that something that you are prepared for Cryos? Because that is what it takes to be the best, that is what it takes to be the longest reigning North American Champion in this company's history and if you can't endure everything that comes with this Championship then you don't deserve it in the first place. The one thing that you have to remember is that even though you are surrounded by many people, you will still stand out eventually. I mean, look at what I did -- I managed to break the longest reigning record in the company's history and not a soul knew it and do you know why that is Cryos? Because I wanted it that way, I wanted for every single person to put it into the back of their minds, I wanted for them to see me as just another face in the crowd, I wanted for them to play Where's Waldo with me and when I felt that the time was right? I decided to strike and I became the number one draft pick in the entire company, even over the FWA Champion herself, Gabrielle!"

    With every single person who walked out of the large building and surrounded Stevenson, they all suddenly began to fade away until there was only one person left in the crowd and that man was the FWA North American Champion, Drew Stevenson!

    With that scene slowly fading to white, we once again heard the very methodical sound of the pendulum which was telling a story. Swaying back-and-forth, the silver needle went from left to right, left to right and never missed a single beat -- not even when times looked rough for the champion.

    Tick... Tick...

    Tick... Tick...

    Thunder and lightning came down from the heavens; a downpour of rain soaked the entire earth which had become a battlefield for two men looking for supremacy. One man was a power-hungry and very greedy King who refused to take no for an answer and the other? Well, the other man was a warrior forged by war, a man who looked the King in his eyes and refused his offer which made him try to strike the warrior down where he stood. As the warrior fought against the King, the two things that were synonymous with history was that the FWA North American Championship was in every single story but also that the man himself, Drew Stevenson was also in every story and as the champion.

    "Even as I was threatened by the King himself, I fought until the very end. He had every advantage against me and trust me, he tried to do everything in his power to make sure that I didn't walk out as the North American Champion but that wasn't what fate wanted. In fact, fate wanted the opposite because they knew that the warrior who had been forged by war was exactly what the North American Championship needed and so once again, I managed to escape yet another war with the one thing that I have fought to protect since the very first day that I won it and that is the FWA North American Championship!"

    With our legendary battle between a warrior forged by war and a power-hungry King slowly fading into a white light -- the pendulum could once again be heard, its ticking still just as methodical and rhythmic as it was since day one.

    Tick... Tick...

    Tick... Tick...

    Darkness surrounds the area, except for the small bit of light coming down from the roof and shining down into the wrestling ring below. The entire arena was empty, well almost, there was one person sitting in this large, extravagant arena and he was looking much older than in the previous stories and once again, that man is Drew Stevenson and positioned over his left shoulder is of course, the FWA North American Championship. Sitting all by himself in the darkness, he turns his head to the left and looks at all of the eyes that are watching him. He looks much older, much more beat up and littered with scars as he has been through so many wars to protect and to defend the very thing that he has come to love and that is the championship that rests on his shoulder.

    "So here we are Cryos, you and me getting ready to do one on one battle for the very championship then I have fought to defend for nine months now, that being this beaut right here..."

    Looking down at the North American Championship which rests ever so gently on his shoulder, the place that it has called home for nine months now -- Stevenson rubs the face plate very gently with his hand, a very familiar touch and one that he does not plan on losing anytime soon.

    "... The FWA North American Championship!"

    Bringing his head back up, he stops rubbing the face plate. While staring into the camera, you could see the wear and tear on his face and in his eyes but you could also see the passion and love for this business.

    "I know that you are a very smart man Cryos so you know exactly what this championship means to me. I'm glad that you know exactly what this championship means to me because that means that you will know exactly how hard I am willing to fight to keep it. Let me ask you a question, why do you think you can be the man to do what nobody else has been able to?"

    Pausing momentarily, he wants that question to really sink into Cryos' head because it was something that he needed to ask himself before trying to take away something that had seemingly become a permanent fixture to who Stevenson was.

    "I mean, there is no denying just how great of a talent that you are, I mean -- you went on this very impressive undefeated streak, you have managed to capture the attention of every single person who watches you each and every week, including myself but that doesn't change my question because I just got through beating a man who had all of the cards. I just got through beating a man who threw every obstacle in my path so what makes you different from all of the rest who have tried to take away MY North American Championship?"

    Lowering his head to look at the floor, he takes a moment to gather his thoughts, to really reflect on everything that has happened and everything that is currently going on. Not looking back up just yet, he still utilizes this time and continues to speak.

    "I know, many have called you an assassin of sorts and hell, for all I know, you are working for Thomas Princeton. But once again, that doesn't change anything because you are getting ready to step into MY ring and attempt to take away MY North American Championship and I don't care how big of a threat that everybody is saying that you are because I am still going out there with the North American Championship draped over my left shoulder and you can bet your ass that I am walking out with the North American Championship draped over my left shoulder as well."

    Having brought his head up while speaking, he has a very serious yet passionate look stretched along his face, definitely a look that we have seen before.

    "I'm aware of just how hungry that you are Cryos, you want to be the man to end my reign. You want to be the man who gains all of the recognition, all of the fame and all of the glory for being the first man to beat me in a championship match in nine months but I'm telling you right here and right now; that is simply not going to happen!"

    Pointing down at the ground with his index finger on his right hand, he also shakes his head from left to right to really get the point across that Cryos is simply not going to beat him.

    "I understand that you are going to tell me otherwise, I understand the fire in your eyes because trust me, I have seen the fire in your eyes Cryos. You are a man hell-bent on becoming the North American Champion and I respect that, because I too was once in the same exact predicament that you are in now and as you can clearly see -- I stand here nine months later still the North American Champion so I obviously seized the opportunity that was given to me just as you are trying to seize it now."

    Placing his index finger back into his right hand, he sits there in the empty arena and utilizes this time to reflect on everything. Removing the North American Championship from off of his left shoulder, he holds it in his hands and stares down at the face plate.

    "The one thing that I have understood in our business is that history always repeats itself and if that is true, then that means that you will walk out as the NEW FWA North American Champion!"

    Nodding his head up and down very slowly, he knows that deep down, his reign as champion is in fact in jeopardy but he refuses to go down without a fight.

    "With that being said, don't take what I just said as a sign of weakness because for all you know Cryos -- you are not the man who is destined to beat me for this right here..."

    With the North American Championship held firmly in his hands, his grip upon the leather straps begins to tighten as he refuses to let it go.

    "... I know that you can't hear it Cryos but I can and the rhythm of my pendulum is still swinging just as it was the very first day I became the North American Champion. It is going to take a lot of weight to change my pendulum, it is going to take one hell of a man to pry this championship away from me and only time will tell if you are that man Cryos."

    Pressing himself up to his feet, he puts the North American Championship back up onto his left shoulder, its rightful home. Staring down at the empty ring, the spotlight that shines down into it really gives a different yet beautiful look at the sport that Stevenson has loved and been in for almost ten years now.

    "You see that ring down there?"

    Once again stretching out his index finger on his right hand, he points down at the ring that is already set up.

    "That is where you and I are going to do battle Cryos. That is the very ring where I won this championship, that is the very ring where I have defended it and that is the ring where I broke the record as the longest reigning North American Champion. Not only that, but that is the very ring where I have spilled my blood, that is the very ring where I have sacrificed everything for the last two years of my life and I'm telling you right here and right now Cryos -- if you make one mistake, just one..."

    Holding up his index finger to help get his point across, he continues speaking.

    "... That is all it will take for me to beat you. I welcome the fact that you are looking to become the new North American Champion just as I hope that you welcome the fact that I am about to burst your bubble in doing so."

    With the North American Championship draped over his left shoulder, he places his hands into his pockets and begins to walk down to the empty ring. As he is walking away from the camera that records him, he stops and looks back over his left shoulder.

    "I'll see you soon Cryos!"

    Looking back in front of himself now, he walks down each flight of steps as our scene slowly fades to white instead of the black that we are used to.

    Tick... Tick...

    Tick... Tick...

  8. #8
    Striving for a B+ in life
    The Golden One's Avatar

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    Re: Carnal Contendership SUPERSHOW promo thread

    One more card goes up, leaning against the likewise firm paper that leans against more firm paper yet is supported by that same paper. And it sits atop flat firm paper. It's a scientific phenomenon, physics at play. But without the "firm" characteristic, the house doesn't get one level.

    Firm. That's the best description for everything. Nothing has been done weak, with bends or rips or cracks or holes. The foundation is solid, with a meaningless-yet-meaningful nine of spades resting at the bottom next to a four of hearts, two of clubs, and queen of spades. The foundation must be well done, close together and...


    Then the walls are built. Two at a time representing one all in the same. The edges of the cards join together to support one another, like two people joining in marriage. If one is higher than the other, and/or one is lower, the entire house of cards is at risk of falling.

    So they are done meticulously, with firm placement and gentle release. That is step one. Many steps to go, with each card representing part of the journey. An architect at work. It's brilliant to watch.

    Troubling, too, to watch someone put so much effort into such a tedious task. That's what those who play the "usual game" think. This game is different, and these cards represent something far greater than a nine of spades, four of hearts, two of clubs and queen of spades.

    "One...card. All it takes to send everything to the ground."

    After the four cards are laid next to one another at the bottom, joined by their sides and corners, the two cards join together as one for the first level. Four more are made on each of the foundations. They are seamless. Perfectly done, properly joined.

    But a gust of wind could interrupt the perfect union.

    "So we form outer edges, to protect these four joined pairs. That's how we make sure the foundation is protected on all sides, from all comers. Because one wayward anything sends the entire thing to oblivion, to be restarted."

    Eight cards come around each side of the four upside-down V-shaped pairs of cards. Next is the foundation for Level II. The process continues.

    "Each of these cards could represent a victory. I'm at my limit. Each group of cards could represent a victory. I'm close to my 14. But I'm going with levels. That...that is what I feel best represents what I've done.

    It also represents what I can Carnal Contendership."

    "The Rotten Gold" Devin Golden's voice speaks without us seeing his face. Only his hands and arms mesmerize our vision as he uses one for support and one for card placement. Nothing but these cards are seen on the brown wooden table. He softly, gently places each, forming level two rather quickly, perfecting the task. Then another foundation and level three comes about. It only takes 30 seconds of work before he is laying the foundation for the fourth level of cards.

    Suddenly, his work has gone from elementary to impressive.

    "Isn't this a perfect mirror for what I've accomplished? How many can say they have returned and gone on to 14 consecutive wins? I care not for streaks or undefeated runs or whatever people harp on. I care not for what people say or think, but I only look at it as a testament to what I'm capable of when determined.

    And yes, I am quite determined.

    I have gone ... from nothing but laying roads, gravel, pavement, ground floor carpet ... to planning the very top of my castle. I did it because of what I've done before. I started with a plan, to go one by one through the entire roster, because that is what I intended to do to prove my worth. I am no self-proclaimed hero, no self-proclaimed monster, no self-proclaimed star. None of those things. I am the anti-everything, the opposite of self-entitled. I never want to be given anything based on my past, or other people's expectations. Leave that for others.

    I started with a plan to work for everything. So far, I've yet to have a single card lose its grip, to have any setbacks as I built my masterpiece."

    Level six now. The laws of physics eventually will intervene. "The Rotten Gold builds more foundations from the bottom, a whole new half of the card house, and begins building again.

    "Cryos came so close to knocking down my house. So close."

    Golden's hand twitches, but it's nothing harmful.

    "Now I am here...and everyone speaks my name. 'The Rotten Gold.' One of however many, 22 or 28. I care not of numbers, just like 14 levels or 14 cards or whatever is obsolete. I care not of the people in the match. I've defeated most of them. Lucian Ace. Ghosts and Snakes. Eyes and a Savant of an X-champion. The man called Cryos himself. My good friend....DIH-VYNE."

    Devin Golden is shown for the first time, and his hand slips as he joins two of the cards. His eyes close and he jolts from the passion inside, only to realize his misstep and catch it before an inevitable destruction of his work. He fixes the error, externally and internally, and moves on from his thoughts of DIVINE. The former World Heavyweight Champion's eyes close, out of frustration at himself, and opens once again.

    "There are men I long ago faced, and defeated. Formidable foes I expected to see again who were before me, one step at a time. Phillip A. Jackson. Ryan Rondo. Jason Gryphon. Drew Stevenson. Thomas Princeton. And there are people I've never faced. Randy Ramon. Don Sheen. Dune. Alex Millar. Humanity. Adam Bonnie.

    Their names matter not. Their accomplishments before today, like my own, matter not. I heard Jason Gryphon's return, Ryan Rondo's pledge to win. What matters ... is the game. They play one, with rules designed for a specific outcome.

    I play another, with rules designed for only one outcome. MY outcome."

    The house of cards is built high enough to the seventh level, with the final joining pair of cards together at the top along with three other pairs.

    "Imagine this, all you scared little children waiting for Ryan Rondo to save you. 'The Rotten Gold,' as you call me, Devin Golden is standing alone in the ring. Carnal Contendership is finished. Everyone, every last person I mentioned, has flown over the rope and out of the square canvas. Is that a scary thought?

    It gets worse."

    Devin Golden's silver earrings shine in the room and his nose ring is glimmering. The black eyeliner borders his lashes and the red tips of his hair bangs drop down nearly over his eyes.

    The house of cards has been built and slowly pushed in to make a pyramid-like structure. Eight levels high, it now has sort of a tower in the middle. Everything comes together to the middle, where two pairs of cards lean against one another and the adjoined firm papers stand next to one another, just close enough to form a bridge, if needed, for one more level.

    If needed.

    "I...Devin the only one. The referee raises my hand. The fans boo, cheer, fart, burp, whatever. I don't care. For all I know, I'm inside an empty arena filled with nothing but my thoughts and my dreams and promises fulfilled. I am going to Back in Business. I am the one to take down Gabrielle Montgomery.

    In one swoop, I have outdone everyone else left in the way. I have defeated EVERY SINGLE PERSON on the FWA roster. There are no doubts remaining, no belief of being handed any opportunities. Everything was earned, from the first person going out the ring to the last."

    The house of cards rests perfectly in the room. "The Rotten Gold" grabs one more card and places it at the very top, above all others, laying flat and horizontal like the foundations for each level. Except this one's edges and corners hang into the air. It sits as a symbol for this match. One match before getting to the last house.

    How I didn't see this sooner, from the horizon, I don't know. But it's here now. Carnal Contendership is like a fast forward button on a television. What would take me months and months to accomplish -- defeating every last soul before I take down the champion -- can happen in one night. One match. All is fair. Competition at it's finest mark.

    "And then there will only be one remaining. The house of cards will be complete."

    "The Rotten Gold" places two more cards, leaning against one another, at the very top. The house is finished, and Golden steps back and examines his masterpiece. From the beginning, four cards together on the table, it has come a long way. It is wonderful.

    "But one misstep..."

    Golden's hand moves closer to the house, and with a gentle nudge, a tap of one side causes one joined pair of firm papers to falter. The foundations and levels above it come crashing down, causing enough impact to force more stumbles below...and suddenly the entire building has come undone.

    "And everything...becomes obsolete. Everything.

    But not everything can be knocked over."


    You're senses are warped, and once "The Rotten Gold" finishes his statement, your vision changes to that of a miniature figure. Think a mouse, or an ant. Or a character in "Honey I Shrunk The Kids." The card house previously before you, down below on the table, is now high atop your perspective as a towering establishment. There is a thick, open walkway between the cards, before they were knocked down, with a white light shining on the other side.

    "It's funny how things change, right? Your perspective is a simplistic state of mind. You view my card house as merely a form of representation, something disposable and easily knocked over. Now...try knocking this over."

    You press against the firm, even firmer, paper slanted in a diagonal direction and leaning against another from the same deck. No budge. Nothing moves.

    "It's so different, isn't it?"

    You press harder. The tense of this perspective changes. "The Rotten Gold" Devin Golden's voice speaks from the sky, some unknown ceiling of white color above. Then...footsteps.

    "You can't knock this house over, can you?"

    Harder and harder you press, but it does nothing. This house of cards is unmovable, unwreckable. It's simply a towering statue in the midst of becoming something memorable, something immortal.

    "Every person in Carnal Contendership can be knocked over. Simply tossing them over the ropes is more than enough. Their hopes, dreams, wishes, everything about them is flimsy, breakable. Their historic countenance, the representation of their accomplishments, easily undone. Except for one ... who I will carry to the depths of glory along my side."

    The voice seemed to pause and grow into a sexual tone for the last part, but it's replaced by more footsteps, which halted for a moment during the talking.

    Those footsteps grow. Finally, on the other side of the narrow hallway below the second level and in between the card house foundation, "The Rotten Gold" Devin Golden stands. He has his hands on his hips, a sassy stance, not caring about any possibility of the card house falling on top of him and causing harm.

    He points upward. He smiles. He then looks to the ground in solitude.

    "My card house is unwreckable. I plan to win Carnal Contendership. No one weak like Jason Gryphon or Humanity or anyone of the sort will stop that. I only see a few challengers willing to meet me on my level, willing to challenge my mental state. one. The others don't matter UNTIL they matter. What matters is the possibility that I fail in my fast-forward approach. Say I lose Carnal Contendership. That is like an ant pressing against a much larger firm piece of paper. You are the ant. That is the paper. It cannot be changed, moved, affected. My goal carries on, does it not?"

    Devin Golden begins climbing one side of the unmovable card house until he reaches the second level. Then he climbs the third level, fourth level and so on. He finally reaches the very top, and climbs up and looks down.

    "Everyone will speak of an importance, a desire and a necessity to win this match. My necessity is simply to keep going, without any pause or any recollection of failure. Because failure itself is not failure. Failure is only the extent to which you allow failure to impact your goals. If you stumble or trip, fall and hesitate progress, that is not failure. It's simply the human characteristic most possess to sulk in the tripping or stumbling, the act of causing or being caused to hesitate and whining or complaining or seeking pity, that becomes failure.

    I don't make those mistakes. I don't let one misstep become anything more than ONE misstep. It doesn't stop progress. It halts progress. And it doesn't become a regression unless the mind lets it happen.

    Remember how I talk of a game I play, of a game I control yet others fall in line with the game no one can win? And I talk about how it's all mental?

    I hold my secrets close to my heart. My secrets are the only possible downfall. But you have a sample. You have a taste. You have part, a small part, of the key. Only when I do IT...when I finally take down everyone...will I say everything. Will I jump above everyone but the champion at Carnal Contendership, or will it merely be a passing point to the inevitable? It IS inevitable, yes.


    Because you cannot knock over ... what I've built."

    3x FWA World Heavyweight Champion
    2x FWA X Champion
    5x FWA Tag Team Champion

    2020 North American Sports Poster Of The Year

  9. #9

    Join Date
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    Barrows Mansion, Romsdalen, Norway
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    Re: Carnal Contendership SUPERSHOW promo thread

    (Brian: Whip whip whip... I remember the first time being challenged to the very extreme with reflexes and pure wit. It was 1994, I was 8. I had received a Super Nintendo for my birthday, with several games with it. There was one that peaked my interest all the time. It was called Super CastleVania IV; I popped that sucker in and started it up... later did I realize it would be a huge frustration, a never ending mess of death after death after death. However, I never gave up, no matter how much stress the game gave me. I was determined to defeat that game, and it took me 3 years to beat that damn thing. Why mention something so... trivial? Well, it is a very likewise scenario. Something new like this match like Carnal Contendership, similar to the WrestleRoyale in CWA, and now I'm determined to prove my worth. I was determined to beat one of the best video games of all time in my childhood, and I'm determined to show what I truly have in Carnal Contendership.

    However, my past continues to pop back up to remind me how much I don't matter. But... Things happen for a reason...)

    The scene opens up in a waiting room. It's slightly dilapidated yet nicely furnished with comfy leather sofas and mahogany end tables. Here, we see Brian/Humanity sitting on the leather sofa, with two others. One is Celestia, the gorgeous young five year old daughter of Humanity, who is holding his hand and waiting quietly, her blue eyes shimmering brightly with curiosity. The other is a beautiful woman of her early 20's, with hazel eyes and long, curly brown hair. This would be Ms. Stacy Kobain, Brian's lovely wife.

    Brian: ​Look... I need to see this guy so I can address my problems, alright?

    Brian was speaking to Stacy in a rather frank tone, while she had a very calm yet worried demeanor.

    Stacy: Brian, I know... but... It is not like there is much a doctor can do to help alleviate your problem.

    Brian: He's not a Doctor. He's a psychiatrist.

    The three of them sat there, until finally, Brian's name was called. He patted Celestia on the head and kissed Stacy's forehead, before standing up slowly and entering through the doorway. Here, it looked like any other psychiatrist's office, it had that weird looking couch thing. He is greeted by an older gentleman, possibly in his 40's?

    Ah, Mr... Brian Zewbowski, I take it?

    Brian: That is a yes.

    Doctor: Alright, if you could just take a seat over there we'll get started.

    Brian took a seat on the small, red leather sofa. It was actually quite comfortable.

    Alright. So... you're a professional wrestler?

    Brian responded with a quiet and slightly bashful voice. He was quite reluctant to be doing this, but he felt he had to address it...

    Brian: Uh, yes... I am.

    Doctor: What have you done these past few months, I would like to know.

    Brian: *Sigh* Well... other than brutalizing myself in front of thousands, I've won on the grandest stage of them all, Five Star Attraction for the CWA tag team championship, I've also beaten down some of the best this business has. Names like Ryan Rondo, Stu St. Claire, Phillip A. Jackson... Danny Toner and Christian Quinn I guess count...

    (Humanity: I'd first like to address Executive Action. Yes, I know it's Excellence, but I call them Action for one simple reason. Without a "Commander in Chief" they have no ground to stand on. Plain and simple. However, they did manage to draw with us.

    Now, whether they win or lose the tag titles, it is all trivial. The Movement will take as we please. Jimmy King will bring the FWA to its knees and we will truly see the death of a company, under my and his leadership. Tell me, Daniel Toner... Christian Quinn... Are you truly satisfied with "just" the Tag-team titles? You two could aspire to so much more... why are you fighting a losing battle? You could join the true winners. See the truth; Phillip did. He saw what we were, he knew what we were to become, THAT is why he left Rondo a bloody mess. You two, however, blindly twiddle your thumbs and await the chance at RevELution at Carnal Contendership. Misguided... that's all it is...)

    Doctor: Alright? How about now? What do you have planned?

    Brian smiles and shrugs. He knows he has the fight of his life planned at Carnal Contendership.

    Brian: Well, I have a match that frankly is going to be the toughest damn thing I'll have done in this business, aside from well... my EWA days as King of the Hardcore Match. In FWA right now, there's a thing called Carnal Contendership going on right now. I've got to fight almost 20+ other guys for the right to face the champion. Needless to say, I'm not sure I can win this...

    The Doctor looks at him, nodding and writing stuff down on his notepad, attempting to look important.

    What kind of names are you planning on fighting?

    Brian simply shook his head.

    Brian: If I went into that, I assure you, it would be a waste of both yours and my time.

    Now, to separate the wheat from the chaff. First in the coffee grounds of this fu-... I mean, stinking joint, is DIVINE... Never has there been a more annoying thing on the face of this planet... She consistently would try to fool us that she is the face of Crossfire. However, how does one be the face of Crossfire when she is consistently a LOSER. She's dropped the ball on all the truly important matches she's had, and the only time she could truly make herself relevant was by using jobbers and low-carders to build a stupid streak. Then, she made a personal attack on my beautiful wife and daughter, using her to call me out as a homosexual...

    February 24th, 2015: @CaramelDIVINE: Married with a kid is the classic symptom of a closeted homosexual #havefunonthebottom

    Who do you think you are DIVINE? You are not Tri-gendered. You are not for LGBT Rights... You're for yourself. That's all you've been about. You've been perhaps one of the most selfish people in all of FWA, you pretend to be all these things while pulling the wool over our eyes. I've shed that wool and see you for what you really are. The word doesn't mean much, but you truly are a bitch. This, "Closeted Homosexual" is going to take pride in beating you to an unrecognizable pulp.

    You play your little mind games, but mind games don't work. Have I ever been afraid of anyone, DIVINE? No... But should I be? Maybe Brian can tell you the truth...

    Brian: "Fear is not knowing where your next meal is coming from. Fear is seeing a child get hurt. Fear is watching someone you love waste away. Fear is knowing you are going to die yourself."

    James Frey said that, and he was right. I had those happen to me! THEY HAPPENED TO ME!!! Seeing a child get hurt? I was the child who was always picked on and disrespected. I WAS THE ONE WHO WAS HURT! Seeing someone you love waste away? My mother is dead! DEAD! She died of cancer not even a year ago... I'm fearful that I'll lose my love Stacy without a proper goodbye. Am I going to die myself? I've already died inside... this... husk of a body. It's inhabited by a soul that is not my own! I'm very much... dead... You don't know what fear is until you've stared directly in the face of Death. Well... you're gonna learn very soon...

    Humanity: DIVINE, this is the last time you are going to be able to say anything, because once I kill you, oh and don't think I'm talking figuratively, you will truly become the nothing you always were.)

    The Doctor chuckled lightly before nodding his head once again.

    Ha ha. I see, well then, let's talk about the origin of your problem. What was the cause?

    Brian looked up at the Doctor, and rubbed his eyes. He turned to look at the plain grey wall next to him.

    Easy... It was my childhood. I lived in a good family, no doubt. My mother was a nurse at the Mayo Clinic for a long time before she died this August of cancer. My father used to be a Promoter for the old Minnesota Valley Wrestling that was in this area. That's why... Do you have any clue what it's like to have your father called a fake? A Fraud? That stings something fierce in your heart. It burns like a volcano erupted in there. I was made fun of bullied for being weak. I mean, I was always weaker than my brother...

    The Doctor nodded and spoke calmly.

    Doctor: So your brother. What is he like?

    Brian stared at the Doctor seemingly angrily. He shook his head and began to speak.

    My brother David was something else. We were complete opposites. He was popular because he was on the football team and the wrestling team long before me. I was just a loser... slow and weak...

    (Brian: I was so weak... So weak...

    Humanity: I made you stronger however. Everyone knows it, and if there's anyone who knows it more, it's that "avenger", Ghost. You see bud, if there's anyone who has fought us more in this company, it is Ghost. He considers himself as Eric Draven, the main character in The Crow. However, Ghost, I have some news for you.

    Just like in the Crow, The Movement will win in the end after you die... just like Brandon Lee did on the set. Except this time, the whole world will see it. Your time will come, but I already see you as the finale. From the ashes of a once great man lies a curse, huh? You know everything about our curse though, don't you... Brian was once slow and weak, but I arose from the ashes, and here I send my curse all throughout the FWA.

    Jimmy King, Lucian Ace, Syn, Nightmare, it doesn't matter. They are all my pawns in the grand scheme of things. Ghost, in order to defeat me, you will have to rip Brian's soul apart, however, I have that nicely kept in my clutches, so that no harm can come to him.)

    Doctor: I see...

    Brian sighs loudly and keeps shaking his head, as if trying to forget.

    Brian: Then he goes and dies in a car accident... My parent were inconsolable... he was so much better than me. Why did it have to be him that died and not me?

    The Doctor leans forward and pats Brian's shoulders, as if comforting him.

    Doctor: Well, things happen for a reason. You should consider yourself lucky you have a family out there. From what I saw, a lovely wife and a beautiful daughter. You have them.

    Brian: Doc...

    Doctor: Please, just continue with your story.

    Brian nods gently, wiping the minuscule tears from his eyes.

    ​Brian: Anyways... I was bullied a lot in school... when did my problem finally show up? It was in 9th grade. We were at this party, my buddy and I, Tommy. I had finally gotten to talk to my crush, Wendy, and made a new friend, when that freaking ape Randall got into a fight with me. I knocked him down and I punched the living daylights out of him... or so I thought.

    Doctor: What happened next?

    Brian: I ended up in the pool. Randall had brought brass knucks, ya know those things you put on your hand when you really wanna deal some punishment? Yeah, he snuck up from behind and BAM! I ended up drowning I suppose. Then I met him...

    Doctor: Who did you meet?

    Brian's slightly depressed expression changed quickly to that of soul piercing seriousness. His blue eyes felt like daggers to the Doctor. He opened his mouth, as a much darker tone came from him.

    Humanity: That would be me of course.

    The Doctor stared, frozen by the presence of this dark impending figure. Brian (Or is it Humanity?) only laughed maniacally and nodded, mocking the Doctor.

    Humanity: What's the matter Doc? Surprised to see your patient go AWOL and replaced with me?

    The Doctor stood quickly, taking a few steps back.

    Doctor: What are you? Who are you?

    Humanity stood, stretching out his arms in the form of Jesus on the cross.

    Humanity: I'm Brian's savior, and I'm also Death, or God, if you prefer. I'm not just some disorder you can claim to be Multiple Personality Disorder. Hell no, I'm an ethereal, living being. Immortal, if you will. Just call me... Humanity.

    Speaking of saviors, How about the likes of Ryan Rondo? He talked and he talked and he talked, but you know what, no matter how much he stood for you, he had a breaking point, didn't he? He's done nothing but complain, ever since we drug him into the ground in February. He even went on Winter Wasteland and BITCHED AND CRIED like the child he is. Boo hoo, I'm not being utilized right! Maybe if you didn't SUCK at your job, huh? Oh yeah, you're nothing but a whiny bitch.

    And that's another thing, people who bitch and complain because I was simply better than them. Bonnie knows exactly what I'm talking about. Remember Bonnie? January, when I kicked your scrawny 'ittle Irish arse? Go get drunk and stuffed, boy. You thought you could come get your revenge on me? You know, you and Ghost would make hella punching bags for The Movement.)

    The Doctor calmed and slowly got back to his seat. He stared at Humanity before shrugging his shoulders.

    Doctor: So you're... Humanity..? What a strange name.

    Humanity stomps his foot on the ground and huffs.

    Yeah will don't wear it out mister-Doctor-man. I rock the name Humanity!

    (Humanity: Ah yes, rocking it. Reminds me of the Rock Star himself. Randy Ramon, we meet once again. How our paths must meet all the time. Sure, you disposed of the monkey on your back, Syn... but, is that a curse in disguise? Without him, where's the fire? Where's the passion? Doesn't it seem... snuffed?

    You're not the same you, that's for sure, and of course, you always say you can't get a pin on me. I do indeed change the questions when they are answered, because it is the dim haze of mystery that adds enchantment to the pursuit. So what am I, Ramon? The answer is anything and everything. I am God and I am Death, and Brian is the poor unfortunate soul that couldn't be like you, so... popular... What is popularity when you have love? Answer me Randy. You should know by now you are indeed a lonely soul, even when surrounded by people. You have no one who will cheer you on from at home, someone who will grow up being your daughter. You have no one but yourself.

    Who's to blame for it, is it Syn? No, it's not. It you. You're to blame for your loneliness and loss of those around you. Even your dear mother couldn't stay around you. Ouch, how that must sting, the truth that is.

    Brian: You're going too far... bringing his mother into it?

    Humanity: Quiet you idiot, we're in this together and you can't argue about what I say, now can you?

    Brian: . . . Mom...)

    The Doctor stares at Humanity with an estranged face.

    You don't seem so... Death-like at all...

    Humanity: Well, just because I'm thousands of years old, it doesn't mean I can't be the hip-hoppinest cat in the land!

    . . . The Doctor only facepalms from the awkwardness of Humanity's attempt at trying to be hip. It doesn't work for him at all, does it?

    Whatever... So tell me, why are you even existing?

    Humanity smirks, whistling a tune before taking a seat with swagger. He looks up at the ceiling, stretching his neck until cracks can be heard.

    Humanity: Well, I exist because people created me. I'm like your own worst nightmare, a being that is "fictional" yet exists because people deep down in their sub-conscious know they exist. Something like that. You know, that story, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Brian's Jekyll, soft-spoken, kind, the picture of goodness. I'm Hyde of course, brash, violent, and above all, lusciously and seductively evil!

    Doctor: . . . What...?

    There was an awkward silence after that. Humanity sat there, staring off into space and smirking like an idiot. The Doctor had only one thought on his mind and that was, "What's with this guy?"

    (Brian: That... got really weird...

    Humanity: I'm weird? What about Triple J Security? They have a freaking "Hacksaw" Jim Duggan poster on their locker room ceiling!

    Brian: . . . Point taken.

    Humanity: Oh I shouldn't be talking bad about those lads, ya know. They're definitely tough cookies, that's for sure.

    Brian: Why am I stuck with you again?)

    Humanity nods his head, looking back at the Doctor with a very straight face now. The Doctor scoots back, as this becomes an awkward staring contest. He blinks, as Humanity starts to speak again, this time, without the joking tone he had moments ago.

    Humanity: Tell me, Doctor-man, what does Eric Harris, Dylan Klebold and Brian have in common?

    The Doctor raises his eyebrows in surprise, not understanding what he's talking about.

    Doctor: What the hell are you talking about? You mean those two kids from Columbine?

    Humanity: That's exactly what I mean. What do the three have in common? The answer is plain. Bullying. You see, Columbine happened for a reason, Doc. You could say they went crazy and killed those people, or you could say they were driven to it because they couldn't take the mental scarring anymore. They were outcasts just like Brian was. Does it make sense now

    (Humanity: Scarring. Mental or Physical, it doesn't go away quickly. It nags for a long time. That's why Jason Gryphon may just be a tad to quick to jump the gun. He's been out of the ring for such a long time maybe he's forgotten what his finisher is. He's old and rusty, and his neck is going to drag him down. So much so that he might as well not even wrestle. Things happen for a reason, Gryphon. Maybe your neck was a saving grace. Maybe it was a warning to stop you from possibly injuring yourself even worse. Think about it man...)
    The Doctor jots down notes furiously, listening intently and nodding.

    Doctor: Okay then. I see your point. Can I have Brian back so I can speak to him?

    Humanity sneers and shakes his head. His expression changes to that of innocence. Brian looks up, obviously having control of himself now. The Doctor leans forward and takes off his round glasses from his hooked nose.

    Brian: Ugh... He's very crude I know...

    The Doctor opens his mouth as if about to say something, but nothing comes out until a few seconds later.

    Doctor: So you're saying that... you two talk to each other?

    Brian nods quickly and rubs his chin.

    Doctor: Alrighty then...

    Brian sighs deeply, finding himself in the same old depressed mood he usually is in. After more moments of silence, Brian speaks.

    Brian: Doc... Sometimes I ask myself if I'm crazy. Maybe I am, but I can't quit my career because of it. I may be insane and Humanity may be an evil foul soul within me, but I just can't stop because of it. Carnal Contendership is a chance of a lifetime, and only so many people can win at it. Devin Golden is perhaps the biggest name going into it. He's undefeated since returning, and he's a man on fire. He cannot be beaten it seems... but he's just like me... human, Doc.

    Everyone in this is human, they have their weaknesses, their banes, all of that... and I'm... I'm just the weakest of them all. I'm the one everyone looks to in the locker room and they laugh at me. Their the ones who go, "Hey look at Brian, the biggest loser in the locker room!" You know... that hurts... I though I could get past that in High School, but... it's just the same doc. I'm not a bad guy I swear... I'm not a bad guy! Why is it always me!?!?

    Brian stands and smashes his hand at the cement wall, hurting and blistering his hand severely. The Doctor grabs Brian by the shoulders.

    Doctor: Brian, I think you know why. Things happen for a reason, but the hard part is finding out the reason. You know what? You can prove them wrong. This... Carnal Contendership, it's an obstacle towards proving yourself that you are not weak. This match? This... event? Maybe this is the time to prove yourself and all the others wrong. Sure, maybe you've got help in this Humanity person, but you can do it, man. Prove the non-believers that you can do this. This is for your family. This, is for your brother and mother. Most of all Brian, this is for you.

    Brian looks at the Doc... He embraces him and smiles confidently.

    Brian: Thanks Doc.

    Brian bids the Doctor farewell and exits into the waiting room where Celestia and Stacy were. He hugs the both of them and they begin walking away.

    Brian: Hey, you two... can you both come cheer me on at ringside? Daddy wants to make you both proud.

    The both of them nod and smile at him as they exit the building into the street.

    (Humanity: Ah, Brian, you finally look ready to win.

    Brian: I sure do. I'm doing this for me, so I can no longer be weak.

    Humanity: Then let's go out there and enter Act Three of our play.)

  10. #10
    We Are Mythology
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    Re: Carnal Contendership SUPERSHOW promo thread

    My Name Is Jason

    As the beams of sunlight trickle down from the horizon and as the stars in the sky begin to twinkle, the car of one Jason Gryphon pulls up to a Baptist Church in Downtown Raleigh, NC. Jason parked his car in the parking lot and slowly made his way out of the car. He put on a pair of sunglasses and a trucker hat hoping not to get recognized. He made his was over to his trunk and he pulled a backpack out of it before heading inside of the church. He headed down the stairs in the back of the chapel and made his way down into the basement where about 15 other people were sitting on folding chairs. The former North American Champion took a few minutes of his time, after putting down his backpack, going around, and greeting everyone warmly before going to grab a cup of coffee and taking a seat as a preacher walked up to a podium that was in the middle of the room.

    Jason began to listen to the preacher but his thoughts quickly drifted around to the events that had happened recently in his life, all leading him down the path that he was currently on. It had been a few days since Jason made his shocking return to FWA at Winter Wonderland to the delight of his fans around the world but now the most difficult part of his return was about to begin. Never one for taking the easy route on the road to glory and never one to allow others to dictate what he should and shouldn’t do, Jason announced that he was not only going to make his return but he was going to do it in the Carnal Contendership Match. Gryphon made it very clear that he was coming to win it all. This was no longer about him just coming back and picking up where he left off. It was about making a statement to the entire locker room that although he has been gone for almost three months, he was better than the person that he had been before he left.

    He was still the diamond in the rough, the one that is capable of stealing that show, and beating the best in the business if that meant getting what he wanted. Jason made no bones about the fact that he wanted to face Gabrielle for the World Championship at Back in Business and there is only one way that was going to happen, he had to literally go through the entire locker room to make it happen. Now, before he can begin any of his training for that match, he had to clear his mind and soul. There was no better place to do it than at this church he had been attending for the past few weeks. It wasn't because he was a religious man however. Jason was not coming seeking salvation. He came to seek liberation from the demons that had been haunting him, the demons that came in the form of a bottle.


    Once again, I just want to say how proud I am in all of you. You have done the Lord’s work getting yourselves clean and sober. Now who would like to open up tonight’s discussion? How about you Jason? You are been such an inspiration to the people in this room, would you like to start this week’s meeting off?

    Jason Gryphon:
    Oh, I don’t know. I’ve started off the discussion before. I don’t want any special treatment from anyone. I’m just another damaged soul when I come into this basement.

    A beautiful young woman who didn’t seem to be older than 20 years old reached over and her hand on his shoulder. What could this young woman know of the struggles that alcohols could bring to life? After some of the horror stories that she has told in group, she was the real inspiration in the room, not “Living Mythology.” Jason looked over at her, into her kind yet turbulent face, and placed his handed over hers.

    Young Lady:
    I know it can be hard to speak up sometimes Jason but we all have to take the lead at someone point. I never thought that I would be able to talk about some of the stuff that has happen to me but getting up there and talking really helped me. I know you are ready. Just think of this as another speech before one of your matches. Now get up there!

    Jason gave her a bit of a nod before rising to his feet and making his way up to the podium after receiving a pat on the back from the Preacher. Jason looked out into the eyes of these people that had once hit rock bottom just has he once did and found the courage to speak.

    Jason Gryphon:
    Hello, My Name is Jason…and I’m an Alcoholic.

    The Preacher and the Others:
    Hello Jason!

    Jason Gryphon:
    It has been exactly two months since my last drink.

    The small crowd in the basement proceeds to give Jason a round of applause as he announced the length of his sobriety. It has been so long since Jason had anyone cheering for him in any sort of way and the old feelings began to come back to him, the power and pride were beginning to flow through him.

    Jason Gryphon:
    Thank you. All of you have been so kind of me since I started to come here and I don’t think I would have been able to get through this period in my life without all of you. I am honored to call of you friends because you have been with me through the trials and tribulations of the past 90 days. Preacher Man, you were kind enough to take me into your chapel and comfort me as I began to go through withdrawls. That is something that I am never going to be able to thank you enough for. These last two months have been two of the hardest that I have ever had to live and this is coming from a guy that gets body slammed for a living.

    The crowd gives Jason a bit of a chuckle as he continues to speak.

    Jason Gryphon:
    I had everything going for me and I nearly through it all away. I had an amazing job, I had a new business that was getting off the ground, I had friends, and I had a legion of fans. Some that were willing to give up their entire lives just to be close to me. I would come into an arena and people would scream my name as I got out of my car. Some would even chase me into the arena like I was a goddamn Beatle. I had two drugs in my life, one was the feeling that I got when 15,000 people would be cheering my name and the other was alcohol. They played off of each other like the perfect tag team and it was the one opponent that I never thought I would be able to defeat. You see, the feeling of all of those people chanting for you, it gives you an ungodly feeling of power and I didn’t want that feeling to end so after every show that we would do, I would hit up a bar afterwards.

    Every night as I would walk into the place there would be some fan that would get star stuck and walk up to me asking if they could buy me a beer. I told myself that I didn’t want to be “rude” to my fans so I accepted the drink and then I would accept another and then another. Soon I would be shitfaced drunk and that feeling of power that I get from my fans would be amplified by the booze flowing through my veins. That wasn’t enough for me though, I felt like a needed more. For the past year of my life, I had been living a lie, and I couldn’t tell anyone about it. If I did, they would probably take me off tour and put me in some damn Rehab or Detox Center and I didn’t want to go down like that. I had to much down pride but as the old saying goes, "Pride Goeth Before A Fall." Unfortunately for me, the Universe or God or Fate, whatever you want to call it had other plans for me.

    A single manly tear begins to fall from Jason’s face as he continues to tell his tale to these people. The Preacher comes over to him and places his hand on Jason's shoulder. It was just as the young lady did a few moments ago to reassure Jason that he was doing the right thing.

    It’s OK, my son, go on. There is no judgment here.

    Jason Gryphon:
    It was a few hours after I had gotten home from the Crossfire Anniversary Show. I had planned this big blowout at my nightclub Mythology because I thought it was going to be the start of a new day with Ryan Rondo and PAJ joining forces with me to form NEO. The party raged on into the wee morning hours but as everyone began to stumble home, I just kept on partying. I had drink, after drink, after drink. I don’t know how I even got up the stairs to my bedroom above the bar but the next thing that I remember, I am laying on my back with a beeping sounds in the background. I woke up to find that I was in the hospital with a broken neck and I don’t even remember how I go there. That’s the worst part of all.

    The worst thing that can ever happen to you happens and you can’t even remember how it happens. As I lay in that hospital bed with only myself to blame, the only thought that was running through my mind was, “God, I need a drink.” I had almost hit rock bottom but I wasn’t quite there yet. I hit that low when I was released for the hospital and I made my way back to my club. I walk back behind the bar and the first thing that I went for was a bottle of vodka. I held that bottle in my hands like it was my own child and as I opened the bottle, I saw my reflection of myself in the glass and I didn’t recognize the person that was staring back at me.

    Jason walks back over to his backpack that he had put down earlier and brings it back up to the podium with him. He reaches inside of the bag and he pulls out that same bottle of vodka.

    Jason Gryphon:
    This is that same bottle of vodka that I looked into two months ago. I have kept it with me ever since that night and every time I look into the glass of this bottle, I see the person that I never want to become again. It is the evil part of me that I have to keep in this bottle because if I let him out, he will not only destroy me, he will destroy everything that I hold dear. I cannot and I will not let that happen.

    Jason takes the bottle of vodka and he smashes it on the wall beside the podium. The glass shattering into a million pieces as Gryphon symbolically destroys the thing that nearly destroyed him. The clear booze that was once contained in the bottle begins to flow down the wall. The small group of people begins to give Jason another round of applause as other almost lick their licks at the sight and smell of the vodka.

    Jason Gryphon:
    It was two months ago that I took my last drink and I will never pick up another bottle of booze as long as I live. You see, all of us here, we know something that the rest of the world doesn’t. We know what it is like to have the worst moment of your life come to fruition. We know what it is like to have that one bad day that could drive others to the brink of insanely. Others would become enveloped in the abyss of that day but we, we have come out of it stronger than ever before and we are not going to stop until we take back everything that alcohol taken from us. We all have something that we want to get back. It could be family, friends, a job, or in my case, respect. I had the respect and admiration of the entire world because of the man I was but when I failed, the vultures were more than happy to pick me apart because of my fall from grace.

    I could hear those cracking jokes about my alcohol abuse and how I came to fail on the grandest of all levels by falling down a flight of stairs. Mothers and Fathers that would look at me and tell their children that they should grow up to be like me have hit me up on Twitter and Facebook telling me that they don’t want their children to be like me because of my failure. They say they won’t buy tickets to FWA or buy my action figures or buy my T-Shirts because they don’t want their kids to become a drunk like me. That is what hurts the most and that is what I have to work towards fixing. Now that I can finally respect myself again, I can go towards earning back their respect.

    It had been a few months since Jason had given a speech like this but the old feelings were coming back. Telling people about his life and struggles were beginning to make him feel like his old self he began to pace around the same basement of the chapel.

    Jason Gryphon:
    I started to train for my comeback the very next night after I looked into that vodka bottle. I wanted to be able to see the person that I was before staring back at me. I needed to be proud of myself again and I needed to get to work. It was hard and painful and there was not a day that I did not feel like quitting. After the end of a long day, my neck would be sore and I would think to myself, “Is all of this worth it?” and then I would turn on a TV on Friday Night and I would see that the company that I had left had moved on without me. They soon forgot about Jason Gryphon and they wouldn’t even mention my name or give an update on my condition.

    I would watch and see all of these new faces coming in, people like Cryos and Dune, these young upstarts that were ready to take on the world and everyone it. It reminded me of the the man that I was. I would see mainstays like Drew Stevenson and Ryan Rondo continuing to hold down the fort and put on amazing matches and that reminded me…of me. I finally I saw people like Gabrielle and PAJ fighting and defending the World Championship and that showed me the person that I wanted to become. It was that thought of doing something that I had never done before that made all of the pain worth it. It was the thought of becoming the FWA World Champion that made me feel again and that is what I have set out to do. As the bones in my neck begin to fuse back into their former places and as I get stronger every day, the one thing that remains the same is my desire to become the Heavyweight Champion of the World.

    The young lady that was comforting Jason a few moments ago stands up and makes her voice heard as Jason tells the room about this dreams.

    Young Lady:

    You will get their someday Jason. We all believe in you. If you stick to the program, there is nothing that you can do.

    Jason Gryphon:
    Thank you for your faith in my little sister. You see as I stand here in front of you all. I want the best for all of you. I want you to get up off of your ass and make something of your lives. I want all of you to make your dreams come true. You are not going to succeed if you don’t put in the effort and at least try to make your life better. That is what I am going to do inside of the Carnal Contendership Match. People may discount me because of the fact that I have three months’ worth of ring rust or because there are going to be former World Champions in the match vying for the chance to face Gabrielle. I am not going to let that deter me. I am going to go into the Carnal Contendership Match with one goal in mind and that is to survive.

    All of us, we are survivors. We faced the hardest opponent in our lives when we had to kick the bottle and we all survived. We came out the other side of the dark tunnel that never seemed to have an end. Now, I am going to face the biggest challenge of my professional life. I will soon have to face off with some of my best friends, some of my worst enemies, and some people who I’ve never even met before. I will not let the fear of the unknown weigh me down like an anchor anymore. I will go into that match with the knowledge that there is no one better than me in that ring and there is no one that is going to stop me from achieving my dream of main eventing Back in Business and becoming the World Champion.

    For the past three months, it seems like everyone in my former home has done everything that can to forget about me, hell, some of them even mocked me on air. It’s time I make them remember who I am! It’s time for all of them to remember that I am JASON GRYPHON! I am a former X-Division Champion, I am a Former North American Champion, I ended Ryan Hall’s career, and I am going to be the one that goes to Back in Business to face Gabrielle in the main event. It is my destiny and I won’t let anyone steal it from me!

    If I have to come face to face with Michael Garcia again after all of this time, I will take great pleasure and throwing him out on his ass. If Devin Golden thinks that I don’t have what it takes to win the Carnal Contendership Match like he thought I couldn’t beat him, I will beat him once more. If Drew Stevenson gets in my way, I will steal his chance at glory just like he stole my North American Championship. When it comes to my friends, even people that I consider my brothers like PAJ and Ryan Rondo, I know that they would win at all costs. Last year I had to walk over Ryan to stay in the match and if this year I have to go through him, then so be it. PAJ has had his turn at trying to dethrone Gabrielle and failed so it is time for someone new to face the Queen Bitch of FWA for the gold. Grace Hopper once said, “It is better to ask for forgiveness than beg for permission.” If I have do that after this Saturday, then that is what I will do. Now if you will excuse me, I can’t stay for the rest of the meeting, I have some work to do. Keep coming back, it works.

    The crowd stands up for Jason and gives him another round of applause as he picks up the backpack that has the bottle of vodka in it. He receives a few pats on the back and he walks up the stairs and out the front door of the church. Jason makes his way out of the chapel and tosses the backpack into the front seat of his car and for a second, takes the time to look up at the blanket of stars that are over his head. When he looks up, he just so happens to see a shooting star streaking across the sky at that very moment. Gryphon gets into her car and bows his head against the steering wheel.

    Jason Gryphon:
    I don’t know who is up there or if anyone is up there at all. I don’t know if there is a God or a Jesus or a Buddha or a Muhammad or any other deity that our society puts their faith in. The one thing that I do know is that I need this. I need this win more than I have ever needed anything in my life. I have paid my dues and I have paid for my sins. Three months away from the job that I sacrificed my entire life to is more than enough to clear my cosmic debt with the universe. I am not asking for much here. It’s not like I’m asking for the sun or the stars. I just need this win. I need to be who I used to be and that man was a winner, he was a champion. You can call this a wish if you want but…it’s all that I have left…

    As Jason heads rises up from the wheel, tears can be seen running down his face as he starts the engine of his car. He pulls out of the church driveway and heads out into the night to prepare for the biggest match of his life.

  11. #11
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    Jimmy King's Avatar

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    Re: Carnal Contendership SUPERSHOW promo thread

    Dark days have fallen upon us...

    A voice says as footage plays the events that took place at Winter Wasteland.

    At Winter Wasteland a tragedy fell before us. The fate and future of FWA was sealed when it was revealed that underneath the mask of The Nameless was none other than CWA, Jimmy King. The very man, who in the past, set out to destroy FWA but was stopped. Now, he's back, and now dark days are truly upon us...

    Who can help save FWA from the clutches of this power hungry madman?

    The footage cuts to Ghost, who is standing in the rafters watching from above as the events unfold, and he just shakes his head in disbelief. Then footage cuts out and the screen goes black...


    Now the scene begins backstage as Ghost is seen walking down from the rafters, still in shock as to what just took place, when he is approached by Katie Goldsmith.

    Ghost, do you care to give a word on what just happened out there?

    Ghost stares at Katie blankly, and then walks away without a response. He walks down the hall until he reaches his locker room, and goes inside and shuts the door behind him. Inside is his confidant, Jane.

    What the bloody hell was that?

    Ghost doesn’t respond as he readies his items into a bag.

    Are you going to say anything about what just happened about there?

    Ghost slings his bag over his shoulder and approaches the door. As he reaches for the doorknob he stops, and looks back at Jane, who is rather annoyed that he hasn’t said anything at this point.

    That’s it, you’re just going to walk away?

    Ghost shakes his head and walks out the door leaving Jane alone.

    Bloody hell, sometimes I think I know that man, but then he’s a mystery...

    Scene fade out.


    I’ve been going about it all wrong.

    Now the scene begins inside of what looks like a darkened church. The voice of a man is heard, and it’s a mystery to who the man is until he reveals himself to be Ghost.

    The past couple of weeks now I have been going about this all wrong.

    He walks up on stage to a podium and looks out.

    The last few weeks I’ve forgotten about the plan. I’ve opened up more and shown a different side of myself to the world, and I realize now that it was a mistake. I lost my focus on what really mattered and now something terrible has happened. What took place at Winter Wasteland was nothing short of tragic. I do not blame Ashley O’Ryan. No, because he was given no other alternative, and he did what he believed was right in order to protect his friend. He is not to blame for this, no one is. No one saw this coming, we should have seen it, but we didn’t and now we are paying for it dearly.

    He steps away from the podium and steps to a window and looks straight out.

    A madman has taken control of Crossfire. A madman by the name of Jimmy King. A man who is consumed by power and greed, and wants nothing more than to burn FWA to the ground and watch on as it happens. He has his followers, The Movement, and now Phillip A. Jackson. This is something I would have expected from The Movement, but not PAJ. I thought he had changed for the better, but he showed his true colors, once again aligning himself with the devil. They must be stopped, each and every one of them. They must be stopped, and they will be stopped. One by one they will fall until there is no one left.

    He looks back to the camera now as behind him a wooden cross is hanging high above.

    It all begins at Carnal Contendership Supershow. It will be there where I must compete in an over the top rope battle royal, where the winner will go on to Back in Business to take on Gabrielle. Another person, who once stood for good and just, has shown her true colors and has embraced her inner darkness. It matters not who I have to go through in this match, only as long as I can get my hands on those in The Movement.

    Whether it’s Humanity, Syn, Nightmare, or Lucian W. Ace. I’ll take on each and every one of you and toss you over the ropes shattering your hopes and dreams just like you’ve done to everyone else that has crossed your path. Before I toss you out though, I want each of you to suffer. I want you to beg for mercy as unleash a fury upon you that has yet to be seen since I have arrived here in FWA.

    I hope everyone that will be in this match is ready. I hope that you all are listening to every single word that I say because I will not repeat myself. Everyone in that ring is a target, and each target will be tossed aside until I’m the only one left standing. Like I said, it doesn’t matter who I have to go through. You can throw all of the surprise entrants that you want at me, it won’t matter because the end result will be the same.

    I will win this match and I will then go on to Back in Business to challenge for the world championship. I will then go on to win that championship, and bring back the honor and prestige that has since been missing since it’s been in the clutches of Gabrielle. I am not afraid of anyone who stands in my path. You will all suffer and pay the consequences for your actions, and your judgment day will come as I unleash hell upon each and every one of you.

    He steps away from the camera and the scene goes dark but his voice is heard.

    At Carnal Contendership Supershow, I will show a whole new side to myself. Something that I’ve done my best to keep locked away, but now I must unleash it upon you all if I want to go on to achieve eternal glory. Now it is time that you all pay for your sins...

    A lone light shines on the cross.

    An eye for an eye.
    Rest in power, Flock U
    Rest in power, TCON

    Team Cyrus T is Best for Business


    Quote Originally Posted by Ed
    Stop the hating of the E-Feds. If you don't like something, that's fine, just ignore it and let the people who do enjoy what they're here on WC to do. Mocking them to make you feel less of a geek for being on a geek on a wrestling forum is lame. If you want to not read their posts, I can fix that for you.

  12. #12

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    Re: Carnal Contendership SUPERSHOW promo thread

    The Rockstar Plays With His Balls
    And the Cheese Stands Alone

    A Carnal Contendership Match Promo

    It’s just after 3:00 AM in Detroit Rock City. Businesses have shut down, last call is long gone, and even the alcoholics have passed out – somewhere. Minimal traffic fills the streets, the occasional taxi cab breaking the ear-splitting silence. We first see a shot of a large, wooden door. The sign in the window says “Jake’s Pub,” and the neon-lit “open” next to it is unplugged for another half-day or so. Slowly the door creeks open, and the cameraman slides inside, shutting and locking the door behind him. He flicks a light on, revealing the dingy interior we have seen on more than one occasion.

    The few tables in the establishment are covered in overturns chairs, and disco-like lights from the juke box in the corner fill the room. In the back corner of the room, next to the dartboard, sits a teal felt-topped billiards table. The cameraman approaches it, stopping just short, and sets the camera down on a drink-shelf on the wall, overlooking the table.

    Footsteps can be heard as the videographer continues walking off camera. Clicking and clanging can be heard in the background, until the jukebox jumps to life, blasting Fall Out Boy throughout the dive. A few more footsteps and then the sounds of ice hitting the bottom of a hollow glass ring out. Then we hear the *thwump* of a cork being removed, the slow drizzle of a fine whiskey pour, a few clangs, and more footsteps. The glass is set down on the same shelf as the camera, blocking the left margins of the view, but keeping the entire table in view. It creates almost an intentional narrowing effect.

    A few more footsteps, and then the camera man is in view. “Rockstar” Randy Ramon struts into the picture, decked out in denim jeans and a leather jacket. The t-shirt under his jacket bears a picture of a printer toner, surrounded by a red circle with a slash through the middle. He smiles at the camera, and brushes his hair back.

    “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, children of all ages… welcome to the Rockstar Revolution radio show! Yeah, we’re not on the radio, no, we still don’t care! I’m your host... the man with the plan; and the future winner of the Carnal Contendership match! I’m the Rockstar, Randy Ramon. I know I’ve been radio silent lately, but that’s because I’ve been preparing. Preparing for what, you might ask? I’ve been preparing for the topic of the evening: Carnal Contendership!”

    Randy turns and grabs a triangle shaped rack from the wall and places it on the table. He makes his way around the table, methodically removing the numbered pool balls from the pockets and dropping them onto the felt.

    “There’s been a lot of talk lately about me. Some of it has been good, some of it not so good. There’s been some talk about the Rockstar being a future world champion. There’s been a lot of talk about the Rockstar’s star burning out before it reached its brightest hue. There’s been talk about dude’s having boners for the Rockstar, and backstage politics, and favorites this and favorites that… but I’m here to tell you that none of it matters.”

    When he reaches the eight ball, he deliberately takes his time, looking at his reflection in the black resin that encapsulates it. After a moment of silence he looks away from the ball and at the camera.

    “Because I’ve been behind the eight ball since I first walked through those doors. Since day one I’ve been doubted. I’ve been doubted in the back, I’ve been doubted by fans, I’ve been doubted by people I’ve beaten. Let’s take “The Monster of the Mediocre” Michael Garcia. After the Xerox, Garcia has probably been my biggest detractor since I first showed up on your screens. Michael claimed that he was going to end the X-Division. He said he would destroy everyone in his path, and bring the entire roster to its knees. That ended at Mile High when I *won* the *right* to face him, one on one. Vincent begged me not to fail, and promised he’d have my back if I got the monkey off of his. And you know what happened? I pinned him. Clean, in the middle of the ring. That same night, Ayla and I won the Tag Titles. The following week we had our first defense, against Michael and Lady Gaga. Again Michael talked a big game. Again he said he got my number, but when he looked at the napkin, all it said was 867-5309. Different night, same result. Rockstar 2, Monster 0.”

    He rolls the eight ball onto the green, pausing until it bounces off the bumper and slows to a stop.

    “Ever since that night, Mikey has lobbed threat after threat at me, continuously doubting me at every turn. He’s poked at me on Twitter, responded to my posts on Facebook, even released public statements in light of my *ahem* arrests… he keeps talking a big game about being better than me, and some big scahwy monster… but he’s yet to prove it.”

    “But he’s just typical for half the people that are going to be in the Carnal Contendership: Full of talk. All bark; no bite. I’m not going to sit here and run down an entire list of each person in there and tell you why I’ll beat them… that would be boring – and that’s not me. Plus, I bet ninety percent of the men and women in there, plus one hundred percent of the whatever-the-hell-DIVINE-is’s will do just that. I’ve never been one to go with the flow, or blend in, or conform – why would I start now?”

    As he finishes this statement, he drops the last of the colored balls into the plastic triangle, tightens them up then removes the rack. Randy places the rack back on the wall, takes a sip of his drink, grabs a long solid wood pool cue and makes his way to the opposite end of the table.

    “See, instead, I’m going to tell you why I’m going to break the mold. I’m going to show you why you shouldn’t bet against me on Sunday, let alone ever. I’m going to show you why at the end of the night, I AM going to be standing alone in the ring…”

    He removes the pearly white cue ball from its cubby hole home, separate from the rest of the colored, carbon copy numbered balls.

    “I’m going to show you why I’m going to walk into Carnal Contendership, toss twenty something other hypocrites over the top rope to the floor, go to Back in Business, and put that prissy bitch of a World Champion right where she belongs – in her place.”

    With that he pulls back and, with all his might, slams the cue stick into the cue ball, which darts directly into the neat arrangement of color at the other end. Balls scatter everywhere. The Bright Yellow ONE goes straight left, right into the side pocket. Randy chuckles as he notices this and lines up his next shot.

    “Ah, number one. Ryan Rondo. Off the table so early? Here I thought you’d be more of a challenge than that. I mean, you went out in front of the world and fired all kinds of shots in different directions. You called out Gryphon, who if I recall used to be your bestest butt buddy in the whole wide world. You called out Kennedy and Hall. But then you made your biggest mistake – you called ME out. You singled me out. You looked high and low, scanned that entire locker room and you lobbed a missile straight into my court. And with it? You lit a fire under my ass; A fire that’s been missing for far too long. Sure, I could play the whole tough guy schtick, and swear my revenge – but that’s not me either. I know I don’t need revenge… I just need to prove you wrong. I need to show you – and the world – that every word that has been said about me is TRUE. And thanks to you I now have the platform to do so. That’s the biggest, and number one, reason why no one should bet against me. So thank you Ryan.”

    “And sure, my performances have fallen off a bit lately, but that’s because I haven’t NEEDED to try any harder. When the best that wants to challenge for the Tag Titles is the Bowel Movement, a lot of energy doesn’t really need to be expended. Hell, it’s been months… It’s been since TnT III, really, since I’ve been challenged at all. This is the first time all year I’ve had to actually train for a match… so… thank you Ryan, because now I’m going to hit the gym a hell of a lot harder than I probably would have, had you not started spouting off at the mouth.”

    He takes two steps to the left, lines up his shot, pulls back and drives the green SIX into the far corner pocket.

    “You know I’ve been here for six months… scratching and crawling for everything I’ve earned. Some clearly misinformed morons in the back seem to think I’ve been handed everything I have. Right. Okay. Let’s think about that statement for a second. I wasn’t here two weeks before I was put in an X-Division number one contendership tournament. I beat Digby, cleanly. I beat Toner and that drug riddled idiot Matt, cleanly. Then I beat Garcia, CLEANLY. None of those victories were handed to me – I took them all. The only thing that was GIVEN to me was a CHANCE. Let’s take it a step further. I was placed in a carousel, made to team up with a woman I’d never even met before, and put up against one of the self-proclaimed best tag teams in FWA history, the Dead President Society. And even though I had been through a war with Garcia earlier in the evening, Ayla and I won that match. Was that HANDED to me? Hell no! I took the CHANCE that I was handed, and I ran with it like my ass was on fire. While we’re at it, let’s go one step even further.”

    He takes a sip of his drink, surveying the table in the process.

    “All of this noise about what’s been given to me is drowning out the facts – like what was TAKEN from me. Namely the X-Division Contendership that I EARNED; taken from me just days after I earned it. But if I was given the CHANCE, you’d be looking at the X-Division champion. Not the Matriarch, not Jet Li and Jackie Chan’s creepy gay love child, but the Rockstar. If you can’t read between the lines, if you can’t understand the words that are comin’ outta my mouth… I’ve been GIVEN another CHANCE. A CHANCE to main event Back in Business… and I’m going to TAKE it. I’m going to run with it. I’m going to WIN it, and EARN my way into that match… haters be damned.”

    Randy, with a keen eye, lines up a combo shot, smacking the striped yellow NINE into the maroon FIFTEEN, and sends one into the left side pocket, the other into the left corner pocket. He chuckles at the irony, as he adds the two numbers up in his head.

    “Twenty-four. Twenty-four. Sure, it’s the number of hours in a day, and the number of beers I can down in a four hour period, but it’s also the exact number of pretenders I’ll heave over the top rope. It’s the number of dreams I’ll crush at the Carnal Contendership. It doesn’t matter if you’re the Sandman, boring people to sleep like Dune. It doesn’t matter if you’re crippling camera men like big strong Cryos. It doesn’t matter if you’re – well, who in the blue hell is Alex Millar, and why the hell should I care?”

    He chuckles, knowing he’s showing a side of himself that most viewers have never seen.

    “And I know you’re sitting there thinking: ‘What happened to fun Randy? Why is he so serious? When is he going to get drunk, piss himself and pass out?’ I understand… it can be a culture shock. You’ve seen me pull all kinds of crazy stunts for months… You’ve been trained to see me one way. Your minds have been molded to believe I am some sort of mess, with little to no control over his actions.”

    He turns and looks directly into the camera.

    “But… did you ever stop to think that maybe you were being played?”

    He lets that last thought sink in for a minute.

    “I mean sure, I’ve had my issues in the past. I’ve had my demons that I’ve had to overcome. And yes, Ayla did more for me than I could even put into words. But I’ve ALWAYS known what I was doing. I did most of that for attention. I’m not a criminal – but I got on TMZ, didn’t I? That’s free publicity. I’m not stupid enough to accidentally mix pain killers with a bottle of Tullamore Dew, but the video got almost a million hits on YouTube AND the FWA website, didn’t it? That was free publicity.”

    “Every single thing I have done since I signed the dotted line was done to get my name out there. They were done to create a brand. Whether that brand was R3, or that brand was hashtag revEL. It doesn’t matter. But it’s time people see the real me. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a fun loving guy, I’m a Rockstar, beer swilling, bombshell chasing, party loving animal… but I’m not an idiot. In fact…”

    Randy pulls back and drills the purple FOURTEEN, dropping it into the near corner with a bank shot. He smiles, and lays the cue on the teal. He walks off camera in the direction of the jukebox. He raises his voice as he walks.

    “That’s a fourteen… a count for every match I’ve won here in FWA. That’s a count for every Toner, Thane and Garcia I’ve cut off at the knees. That’s a count for every disappointment that thought they ACTUALLY knew me. Here I want you to listen to this, if you STILL can’t understand where I’m coming from.”

    Some more clicks and clanks ensue as he changes the song on the jukebox. A Theory of a Deadman song rings through, but one particular lyric stands out. Randy makes his way back on camera and points towards the box as it does so.

    “Celebrate the idiot, pretend that we’re so into it.
    Dumb down our intelligence, just to make us relevant.”

    Randy takes a sip of his drink and looks back to the table.

    “See, I had to be like the majority of society. I had to fit in. I wanted to be one of you… so you would like me. I had to… if I wanted to be where I am today. But it was all an exaggeration. It was a projection of who the man behind the mask wanted me to be… but it’s not who I am deep down.”

    Randy lines up and slams the purple FOUR into the right side pocket.

    “That one is for the number of the wall I’m about to break. I don’t want to be misconstrued. I don’t want any of you dirt-sheet-reading smarties to think I just *went bad*. I don’t want any of you dueling decision makers backstage to think I just went to the dark side, or that I now resemble a certain part of the foot. That couldn’t be further from the truth. It’s just that I just dropped a knowledge bomb on you all, and some of you aren’t going to be able to handle it.”

    “If that loses me some fans, so be it. If that loses me some sponsorships and public appearances, so be it. If that loses me the support of the boner-havers in the back… well, it won’t, so I don’t need to go there. It’s just time you all saw who I really am… who I hid from you… the man who convinced you he was an internal mess of a man, when all he was doing was waiting for the right moment to strike. And Carnal Contendership is that moment. While the “Living Misconception” Jason Gryphon, “The Last Hair on my Nutsack” Ryan Rondo, “Cubic Zirconium” Drew Stevenson and “Tarnished Pewter” Devin Golden are busy arguing over whose got the diggest bick, I’ll be outsmarting them and tossing them all over the top rope and punching my ticket to Back in Business number….”

    He draws a long breath, before laying into the blue striped TEN. He winks at the camera and further surveys the lay of the land.

    “…and then…”

    In quick rapid-fire succession he drills the red striped ELEVEN, the purple striped TWELVE, and the orange striped THIRTEEN. He smiles a broad smile.

    “…because, as has been drilled into my head, as has been alluded to on many occasions, I AM the future of this company. I AM the one that’s going to keep the cheeks in the seats for years to come. I AM the one who’s going to pop the ratings and sell the tickets. I AM the one they’re making t-shirts for… So this Sunday…”

    He adjusts his stance and calmly sinks the blue TWO.

    “…once Adam Bonnie finds his Clyde, Humanity departs for Neverland Ranch, Don Sheen becomes relevant, and Thomas Princeton gets himself out of Christian Quinn…”

    And then he drains the red THREE.

    “…once Lucian Ace and Jack of Diamonds find they’re Kings, PAJ finally finishes cleaning his VAJ, Ghost realizes that Christmas has Passed, and Eyesnsane…”

    He stands up and straightens his back, clearly perplexed.

    “…there is literally nothing interesting I can say about him. No joke I can make; no quip. I’ve got… nothing… but… he’ll join everyone else in the locker room when I win Carnal Contendership.”

    Randy takes a few steps to his right, and sinks the maroon SEVEN.

    “Ah, see, I love the seven… because in the right light? It’s the same color as applesauce.”

    He adjusts and drops the orange FIVE.

    “And the five? Maybe it’s just my inner fat kid, but if you tilt your head just right… it looks like a big ball of cheese. And I like that: because I am the cheese. The big cheese. I’m the Muenster who’s too Gouda to Brie beaten this Sunday. The Sharp-tounged cat with the Cheesy lines who won’t String you along and feed you Crumbled lies. I am the biggest of the cheeses… but this aint no Farmer in the Dell fairytale nursery rhyme… this is Carnal Contendership, and at the end? THE CHEESE STANDS ALONE!!

    He emphatically drains the eight ball for emphasis.

    “I’m not spending one more night behind the eight ball… it’s my time now.”

    The cue slowly rolls to a stop in direct view of the camera, showing a previously unseen detail: a small, red R3 has been engraved on it.


    He turns to the camera, pulls back and sends a Remix right into the lens, abruptly ending the feed.


    Never Forget:


  13. #13
    Liv Forever
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    Re: Carnal Contendership SUPERSHOW promo thread

    Gabrielle: I am going to headline Back In Business X all by myself, I am going to be the Main Event, the grand attraction...and nobody can stop that from happening.

  14. #14
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    Re: Carnal Contendership SUPERSHOW promo thread

    Dream Catcher

    Muffled footsteps can be heard … they stop and some minute metallic creaking can be heard as a door opens – disturbing the ears with a slight screech – and light from within bursts in – revealing a small section of what appears to be a greyish room with an equally, dull, grey steel chair seated in the middle of it… a silhouette is cast over the light as the eyes are relieved of the brightness burning for a moment… The door closes as the silhouette steps in – their footsteps echoing around the room.


    Suddenly, power is heard surging through the room as the lights power on – the brightness sure to cause eyes to flinch for a moment as they familiarise themselves with their surroundings. A lit room with grey flooring… a steel chair in the centre and walls made up entirely of… mirrors. Standing next to the steel chair is a man wearing his wrestling gear and some of his own merchandise (t shirt) with his beard and long hair almost engulfing his face… a face that has changed. A man that has changed:

    “The Last Star in the Sky” Ryan Rondo.

    He takes a seat and clears his throat as loudly as possible, he leans forward, hands clasped… looking down.

    “Something happened last week that you don’t see happen very often. I walked out to the ring and wiped my ass with something that isn’t worth the paper it’s printed on… I spoke about things that people don’t want you to hear about. It was never going to be like that. I was never planning on doing that until right there and then. Not because I wasn’t in a match, not because I wanted to steal the show. No. I wanted to prove a point.”

    He looks up now and faces the mirror – what they represent is not obvious as he continues to speak with a slightly more aggravated tone.

    “I wanted to prove that I can still capture the attention of the FWA. That I am still someone ‘on the radar’. I walk around backstage and hear people say things. The worst was that I didn’t deserve to be the face of Crossfire or win the Carnal Contendership. I stood out there and spoke… and you all listened. You’re all affected. The management wanted me to hype the CC… and I did it. Now EVERYONE is on the edge of their seat wanting to know how it all pans out. All you have to do is listen to me and you’ll know how it’s going to pan out. People want me to name names, go on a rampage… I am not Drew Stevenson… I’m not here to wage a war on the boardroom or those behind the scenes. I’m here to win a match and stake my claim to being the champion. But Devin, Tomas, you want to see why I deserve to be the top guy on Crossfire… why I deserve to be the one to be given the chance to unseat Gabrielle at Back in Business… Am I burning out, you wonder?”

    He looks back down at the ground again as the last words spill out as if building up to some sort of verbal crescendo as the former N.E.O. member looks up again to – almost arrogantly, yet confidently – ask a rhetorical question.

    “Do you know who I am?”

    And with those last words, the chair explodes from underneath him, falling over has stands up and begins to bellow…


    He collects himself.

    “I might not burn the brightest, but I will burn the longest. And you will see that in motion at the Carnal Contendership….”

    He leans over and picks the chair up gently, somewhat calm again. There is a lot of pent up frustration in there.

    “I’m supposed to sit here and tell you about the Carnal Contendership… build on what I was supposed to do last week. But that went out of the window. Look. I’m not going to sit here and whine and moan like Drew Stevenson to get my spot. I’m not going to sit here and pull out some giant metaphor that will blow your mind into submission. I’m not going to pin balloons around with people’s faces on them and pop them. If you’re expecting me to just sit and list people and talk about them. Stop listening to me. This is not for you. The people who are willing to listen and tune into what I’m saying. Listen up. I spoke last week as Ryan Rondo the person… and I am going to continue to do that. People who don’t like me won’t like what I have to say.”

    He stops and takes a look around, having a few sneaky glances at the mirrors before him.

    “As for the mirrors? They’re just here. They’re not some part of an elaborate jigsaw or anything. Nothing to it.

    So what am I going to do? As I’ve said, I’m not here to bitch and whine. I’m not going to sit and try and tell you why I should win the Carnal Contendership. All I’m going to do is speak about everything that has went on inside my mind since last week. I want you to see things from my perspective. Maybe you’ll want me to win. Maybe you’ll think I’m an ass. It doesn’t matter. I’ve got points to prove and a story to tell.”

    He cracks his knuckles and his neck before giving a sigh and then getting ready to speak.

    “First off, let’s get some things out of the way… Tomas, I know you’ll be listening so enjoy. Devin, you tell me to stop using cheap shots when I come up with stuff… yet other people can do it? Ramon gets to jibe everyone and use a catchphrase related to Applesauce? Cheap shots are part and parcel with me, it was always in good heart… it’s part of what I am and what I do. If you don’t like it then you’ll just have to stick it where the Sun don’t shine… or is that set?

    That’s the unpleasantries out of the way, that’s your fill from last week. This isn’t a shoot. All this is me… given my own camera and no crew to do something. This is all I’ve got. I’m stripped bare of any tool to use your imagination. Instead, you’re going to see what I see…”

    He takes another long look around – all there is his reflection in the mirrors, the heads swivelling in unison before they become center again and look upon themselves…

    “All I see right now when I think about the Carnal Contendership … is me. Who’s going to win it? Me. Who’s going to Back in Business Ten? Me.

    Am I selfish?”

    He clenches his fist slightly, to refrain from showing too much anger.

    “I think you could say so. I also think you could say that I have DESERVED my chance to be selfish. Who was there for the New Era, leading the charge in order to help his team? Who stuck by the N.E.O. when Jason Gryphon left? I did. Who was the guy that everybody was saying ‘sorry’ to following the War Games match – I brushed it off, I didn’t care. But now, now I do….”

    The fist unclenches as he leans over slightly, combing both his hands over his hair before planting them over his face… He blows out some air…

    “I thought I had impressed enough. I stuck by my team… was ready to go again and prove our point but people fell away. I never once considered that might’ve been the last time I’d be mentioned in talk for going for the World Championship… until now. I feel like – then – I was trying to lead a horse to water… but then I realised, I couldn’t make it drink. I felt like it turned and ran away from me and I’ve been looking for it since. But now, I’m chasing a different horse. It’s not getting away from me…”

    Removing his hands from his glum face, he brushes his hair again with his hands and then clasps them on his lap, as he looks down.

    “You know, I never really thought about how long I’ve been here. This is my sixth Back in Business coming up. Doesn’t sound odd… but then I wonder about all these people such as Randy Ramon, Drew Stevenson, Jason Gryphon, KAIZEN and Lucian Ace… and the many others. There are but a few people who have been here and seen as much, if not, more than me. It makes you question things. It makes you wonder if you’re going to be able to realise that dream...

    This is the biggest match of my career. If you know me, you know that’s a big statement. This match is a must win for me. Is it a must win for anybody else? Phillip… maybe. James Hughes? Not really. Garcia? Eh. I can guarantee you that I care the most about this matchup…”

    He continues to speak with a slightly somber tone to his speech.

    “…because right now, it feels like the sea of the FWA has washed me up on theshores of time that the sea doesn’t touch anymore. Resigned to a fate of being forgotten, of being the something that was nothing… superfluous and unremarkable. Dead. Weight.

    But that’s not me. That is not MY destiny. I’m going to force that sea my way – send me a tsunami, send me an army of Blastoises – I want to drown amongst it all because I…"

    Now, both fists clench and the anger rises… but an eruption it does not cause – words reverberate around the room like a hailstorm of bullets ricocheting.

    “I need this. More than anybody could ever hope to me, more than I could possibly even convey to you right now. When you become despondent and begin to realise that the question that looms over your head is “IF” and not “WHEN” in regards to you becoming a world champion… that’s when it’s go time. There are SO MANY people in this match that don’t need this right now. They don’t… I NEED this. I don’t want to sit and worry and wonder about things – asking when it, the title shot, will be coming for me? Because that’s when it is too late. I need this because it tells me whether it’s too late.

    I need to be shown that I am wrong. In my head, I see me winning, I see me becoming the World Champion… because I KNOW I can do it.”

    The grips become tighter as he sits up more…

    “I KNOW that I still have what it takes to be the best in the FWA. I KNOW that I can beat Gabrielle and take that belt from her. I KNOW that I am capable of SO MUCH MORE. I KNOW that I can be a great World Champion… but my golden ticket has eluded me for so long. There’s people who don’t want me to win because it gives me a pathway to equal their achievements and outdo them… but I KNOW that every single belt I’ve crossed paths with has become a different belt to hold. Two title unifications, a tag division run that I keep hearing Randy Ramon and Ayla El drawing likenesses to… All these belts have something memorable in their history through me and I KNOW I can replicate that again with the World Title.”

    Eventually, he stands up… not wanting to sit down anymore. He looks directly at himself in the mirror.

    “And that’s only half of why I want to win this match. I am being selfish, yes, but I also recognise that there are SO MANY people out there who watch and when they are asked who they want to win, they’ll say someone’s name… Cryos, HUMANITY… all sorts… and I know that people out there will say my name. And I want to make sure that every tear, every blood drop… every bead of sweat is paid in full for them. I make a promise right now to every single person that wants me to win, I’ll do it for you.

    In my head, it’s me. I know I am winning that match… I can’t visualise anybody throwing me out or anybody taking my dream, my destiny from me. It’s hard to even want to speak about your opponents in that case. But I have this for everyone:

    Bring me down to you. Do it. Take it away from me. Try it. Because I want you to find out why my name is the one that belongs on top and just why Ryan Rondo should always be filed under “WHEN” and not “IF”

    That’s why I have decided that if you want the best out of me, you’re going to get it… and stacking the odds against me is what forces me to become the champion I once was, the fierce warrior that never gave up… no matter what. I’m going to be the first man in there, I’m claiming that ring and nobody is making me get out.

    This is me putting my pride on the line because I know I will come through it all as a better person. This is me doing what I love.

    People were pissed off that I broke kayfabe... the fact is... I do it everytime I leave the arena. Ryan Rondo is not my alter ego. The person and the wrestler are one and the same. This is not a character or a job to me. It is my LIFE. And MY DREAMS ARE ON THE LINE.

    I have waited. I have asked. I have hoped. But now it is time for me to show that I am what I say I am.”

    He pauses for a moment, the adrenaline starts to course through him slightly as he sits back down for a moment, looking slightly uneasy. His fists clench up on/off as he speaks before eventually clenching up fully.

    “In my head. I am already the champion. It’s all I need to do now. Ever since I set foot in this company, I have called it home. I have dreamt of being the champion ever since. But my head is not my home. It gets empty, alone… but this is my chance, and I just keep telling myself that I have taken the long way home… because my heart is about to burst at all the actions I could have taken and all the words I could have spoken that I have refrained from… until now. Now it is all about me. Now it is time for me to feel alive again. You want to tell me that I can’t walk in their first and leave the victor?”

    He picks up the chair and slings it at the mirrors, watching them shatter – the glass fills the room although doesn’t come near to Rondo who is now standing, looking somewhat relaxed… yet clearly a bit ‘hyped’.

    “Well… now you can tell me that I can’t do it with all that extra bad luck on top. You’re wrong. I will be forever faded under gold skies and this…

    This is what I want.

    This is my dream.

    And I am stealing all of yours.

    This is my moment.”


    On the night of the Carnal Contendership, Ryan Rondo sits in his locker room, preparing for the biggest match of his life. He sits wearing his ring attire with a hood up, sweating somewhat - maybe the adrenaline is pouring out of him as he hears signs of life coming from the arena beyond him. His mind suddenly tunes as he hears his own theme song starting up... He looks to the door. Nobody to call him. Right now, it really is every man for himself. Ryan Rondo is alone and there's no other way he would have it.

    He walks up to the door, the adrenaline already kicking in as he opens it up... thoughts flood the mind.... this is it....

    Before he steps out the door, he gives a quick glance up at some words scribbled above the door, places his hand on them and walks out ready to do battle.





  15. #15
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    Re: Carnal Contendership SUPERSHOW promo thread

    A Congregation of Excellence

    Inside the Mandalay Bay Casino, Las Vegas, sits three exquisite men… surrounded by the humdrum of multiple casino goers and gambling junkies… as they sit at their own personal table to discuss business, drink the best and most finely distilled liquer… smoke cigars so Cuban that you could swear Fidel Castro was in the building with the stink they cause… All three dressed in their finest suits, and all three smirking away in their arrogant increduility regarding the current state of affairs and the past events. These three men make up the personification of the word Excellence like never before. These three men are Danny Toner, Christian Quinn and Thomas Princeton.

    They sit in their own private area, not to be disturbed by the likes of commoners and idiots – a casino trip is the usual order of business but tonight, they have much more important issues to discuss.

    “It was luck. We all know it.”

    Toner says, trying to somewhat safeguard the fact that Thomas Princeton did not defeat Drew Stevenson, Executive Excellence did not defeat Drew Stevenson. Princeton doesn’t seem too annoyed as he sits counting his money… possibly for comfort.

    “We all know that Stevenson hasn’t escaped.”

    With that, Princeton stops shuffling his money and looks at both Toner and Quinn…

    “Of course, it isn’t over. Mr Stevenson will think he has won. As always. But he should know, that I’m better than that, better than him and he will see that soon. You two know what needs to be done. We’ve lured him in. The trap is set. Let him… stew in the pathetic stench of his ‘success’ before you turn the screw. I want Drew to know that he might seem to get the upper hand, he might even seem to be the victor… but he will soon realise that I am what I say he is. And he is nothing. You make sure he realises that…. I want him to leave that ring thinking that Thomas Princeton… Executive Excellence is better than him… because that is the truth.

    But… I want to propose a toast…”

    Princeton lifts up his glass – which is full of scotch so Scottish that you can hear bagpipes play when you drink it…

    “A toast to the real business. Drew Stevenson can wait, he’s sorted out. But a toast to the fact that Executive Excellence have their long deserved tag title shot…and by proxy, their tag titles. A celebration, if you will.”

    Both Quinn and Toner raise their glasses with enough arrogance – that if converted to food, could probably solve world hunger. Alas, those people aren’t as fortunate as The Instant Classic and his partner.

    “..The Movement..”

    Quinn perks up and cuts off Princeton.

    “… are nothing to worry about. What we have to worry about is the fact we have referees in our employ who have no idea what they are doing. Christian Quinn had the Nameless tapping like the fool he is…. That’s all right there. How he didn’t spot that makes “The Instant Classic” shudder… .. but it is a reminder that there are less fortunate souls out there who are not as perfect as ‘The Man They Call Deus’…”

    Princeton drinks the rest of his scotch and puts the glass down on the table as he stands up…

    “A crossfire referee no doubt. There is no need to worry. I will personally make sure there is an official of my choosing in charge…”

    “That’s only fair, Mr Princeton. For if we are willing to share our gift of excellence with those then we demand some form of gift in return. Then again, Christian Quinn should be so foolish to think that there are other people out there who are just as talented as him.”

    “Looks like you were wrong, eh?”

    All of them have a nice little laugh. The sort of laugh that you know just preludes some form of serious discussion.

    “Make that once…. And this never happened, right?”

    They all share a laugh again as Princeton puts on his coat and looks set to leave.

    “I have… wife business to get to.”

    Toner and Quinn raise their eyebrows and raise their glasses as a goodbye as Thomas Princeton leaves them to wallow in their overconfident, egotistical ways.

    “Wife business eh? Sounds like someone’s going to have a good night.”

    Toner says it with a laugh and Quinn lets out a slight smirk but he isn’t overly amused… he refills his glass, sits down and begins to speak.

    “ Christian Quinn is sure Mr Princeton will have fun letting his wife know he is better than her… multiple times.”

    They share another laugh but then Quinn speaks up.

    “But, in the meantime… we have things to discuss. Our plans for the future. Our plans to become unrivalled and unparalleled as the behemoths of this business… and it begins at the Carnal Contendership… because Executive Excellence are taking their rightful place as the tag team champions.. and there’s nothing that The Movement can do about… and there is nothing that the jumped up pretend partnership of Randy Ramon and Ayla El are able to do about it.”

    Toner slightly tenses up at the mention of Ramon’s name although Quinn is still relaxed and still drinking away…

    “The Movement will get their chance to face us in a rematch for the belts soon enough… but they should riddle me this, answer me: Why have we got the title shot first? Is it because there was a blunder? Is it because Christian Quinn and Danny Toner beat you both black and blue yet the match was somehow declared a draw?”

    “They’re probably wanting to stay as far away from us as possible…”

    “Correct. Why wouldn’t they? Executive Excellence had them bettered in every way possible. Christian Quinn had the match won and you were there to prevent any… shenanigans from the unwashed fools that dared to step into the ring with us….”

    “They’ll get their just desserts in due course… I haven’t forgotten about them. We haven’t forgotten about them. I think that once this is all said and done, maybe we could show them what it’s like to be us… you know instead of filthy recreants who have no respect for their peers… and superiors?”

    They both laugh at the suggestion…

    “Hilarious…. Why share it when we can keep it to ourselves anyway?”

    “Just thought we should be nice to them since they’ve probably had a lot of suffering and yadda yadda yadda sob story crap…”

    “If those people can go through enough… then why give them the luxury of something they don’t need? This is why we’re here. We’re here to drink the finest whisky, smoke the finest cigars and win all the belts… so that all the worthless and mindless peons don’t have to. These are the things that people like Christian Quinn and Danny Toner do. But these are the things that ‘commoners’ should be banned from…”

    “Sounds like we’ve got a couple of belt holders who fall under those rules…”

    “Yet they appear to still have those belts.”

    “Randy Ramon…”

    Toner says with a snarl.

    “and Ayla El, the so called RevELution. A supposed great tag team that have been sitting on top of the mountain with no real challengers for a long time. That is until, Christian Quinn came up with the masterstroke of bringing Executive Excellence from the ashes…..”

    “No challengers, is that so?”

    “Mr Toner. Your shortcomings are not your fault. What is a man to do when he is effectively missing most of his limbs? Marcus Thane was your partner. He was average. You didn’t have to admit it then but you know it now. You aren’t heading into that ring with Marcus Thane. You are heading in there with the man they call Deus as your partner. A welcome change, a better change… and you know it from Winter Wasteland…”

    Toner looks down and twirls his glass around in his hands, he has the utmost respect for Marcus Thane and what he has achieved but he smirks at Quinn, knowing that this time – there’s not going to be anybody holding anybody back.

    “Christian Quinn doesn’t hold brilliance back. He wishes to show it. He has shown it with Lucian Ace, himself and now you. We can sit here all day, drink and smoke but at the end of it all, we know that we can go to the ring and perform… because of who we are, what we are and who our opponents are…. Names are irrelevant when you have Christian Quinn and Danny Toner involved. That is a fact.

    Randy Ramon is just a name for all The Instant Classic cares…. Ayla El… is just a lowly female on the totem pole, missing out on the apparent resurgence of women’s wrestling under the watchful eye…”

    “Who cares?”

    Quinn shoots a sharp look at Toner then relaxes…

    “You’re right. Who would care when you have US challenging for the tag titles?”

    “I bet El and Ramon don’t care about it.”

    “And they shouldn’t. They should have their attention focused on us. Of course, Ramon might just be getting ahead of himself and may make the foolish mistake of thinking he can win the Carnal Contendership… even though he will have to step into the ring with us beforehand…”

    “I’m afraid I will be personally overseeing that Randy Ramon is not available for the Carnal Contendership… along with what we already have planned for a certain individual…”

    Quinn nods and lets out a sneaky smile.

    “Great to hear… fantastic. As always. The thing is, Randy Ramon has not been on Christian Quinn’s radar. Just like the majority, he doesn’t deserve the time of “The Instant Classic” but… Ayla El is a name that has been around these parts for a long time. Since even before The Man They Call Deus set foot in the FWA….

    A name that holds almost no weight nowadays. A name that’s become… almost forgotten. A name that never meant anything to Christian Quinn anyway.

    But, a lesser man would say she is a dangerous woman.”

    “Aren’t they all?”

    “They may as well be. All The Instant Classic knows is that Mrs Instant Classic likes to pilfer all of his gold and spend it on crap, when that gold supply runs out – which it never will – Mrs Instant Classic would decide to ditch The Man They Call Deus, however impossible it seems, and move on.

    And that is exactly what will happen to Ramon. What happens when the allure of your tag team gold no longer pleases Ayla El? Friendship? Exactly. What happens when the allure of that tag team gold can no longer please Ms El?”

    “I think in the end, Ramon will realise that who your partner is defines the outcome of it all. I may not have that W… yet”

    “It’s a foregone conclusion. The Instant Classic’s problem is that he looks at Ayla El and he remembers the fierce warrior who fought with vigor and passion and tried her best to become what Gabrielle is today. The best of the rest. She just fell off…”

    His grip around his drink tightens as he takes another drink of it.

    “… and that annoys me. That has went unpunished. She had the ball in her court and she slipped on her ass. You see, The Man They Call Deus doesn’t make those kind of errors. Christian Quinn will always strike when the iron is hot. And He says this… the iron is hot. Ayla El has done nothing but lollygag around since becoming a champion. She has waned already from the glory of winning the gold, she’s weak. Randy Ramon has two big matches and can’t just split his efforts. Tensions, frailty… it’s all beginning to break.”

    “The cracks are appearing. I’ve noticed it. They aren’t ready for what’s about to hit ‘em.”

    “Thor’s hammer will swing down on them with no mercy. That’s a guaranteed promise – something you can bank on when it comes to Christian Quinn. What’s more… is that neither of them have the guts. They will think that a previous few victories over you and your lacklustre partner hold any importance in this situation. That situation didn’t involve “The Instant Classic”… it is there irrelevant to any situation that does involve… yours truly. Ayla El, her time is nearing it’s end. Randy Ramon… he is….”


  16. #16

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    Re: Carnal Contendership SUPERSHOW promo thread

    Skeletons in the Closet

    Bright light fills a great, spherical room along with the sounds of Bach’s “Air on a G String.” Six doors line the edge of half the room. In the center is a wrestling ring. The ropes are tight but taught enough; the mat is clean and freshly lain. The camera swings down from the top of the dome – about 30 feet up – and levels off in front of the ring. It travels through the middle rope, across the mat, and back again through the ropes en route to a white door straight ahead. A dark band lines its underside.

    The camera is still moving toward it as the doorknob rustles and turns, letting out a puddle of shadow followed by a robed man with a long, greying beard. What sounds like human groans emits from within before Freeman slams the door shut quickly behind him. The camera stops when his body fills the frame. His eyes are wild for a moment, but then his face unclenches. He smiles wide and cracks a laugh, shaking his head once and clapping his hands. He starts to walk toward the camera when he looks up suddenly. The camera spins to show what Freeman sees.

    Directly across from him, upon the small ledge that leads from the entry hall, is Dune. A man with a half masked face and such a menacing air would strike fear in some, but Freeman laughs when he catches site of him. It’s not a mocking or cruel spirited laugh – more one of satisfaction in pulling off a bit of “light-hearted” mischief.

    Freeman: Ah, yes…well if it isn’t Dune come for a visit. You’re late, Sandman

    Dune: Yeah? Forgive me. Remember now, I don’t have a dune buggy to get from point A to point B with. All I’ve got are these.

    He slaps his right leg then his left.

    Freeman: Excuses. Don’t make them and you’ll be better off.

    Dune: Don’t waste my time. You called me here for something…well? Let’s hear it.

    Freeman: First of all, solid victory last week. You pinned the lesser man but you got the victory in a hard fought match and that’s what counts. Good work. But don’t get too high on yourself though – plenty to work on.

    Dune: No shit? You’re telling me I haven’t learned everything there is to know after six matches?

    Freeman: Watch it, boy. Don’t be a smartass. I’ve been through enough shit the past couple days – I don’t need any from you. You know what you’ve got coming at you next. Tell it to me straight – how you feeling?

    Dune: Well…pretty good, in general. If you’re talking about the Battle Royal though…that’s another issue. Me and twenty others. Twenty. I’ve got plenty of confidence in myself, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say the feat of beating 20 wrestlers when I’ve only faced 6 so far are pretty intimidating.

    Freeman: So it’s above you – winning a Battle Royal. Because if that’s what you’re saying to me, you can take your sorry –

    Dune: Cut the shit, Freeman. You know that’s not what I meant. It’ll be one hell of a task, but you’ve squared up with me enough to know that I’ve got what it takes to win.

    Freeman: Well, you’re wrong there. Sure we’ve been toe-to-toe more often than not in the short amount of time we’ve known each other, but I haven’t seen you defeat 20 men…at least not in the ring.

    But oh, Dune…that ends today. I’ve got a little surprise for you. You’re going to love it….

    Dune begins to speak but Freeman cuts him off with his hand. He begins back-stepping toward the door. When his back is to it he speaks.

    Freeman: Just get in the ring, big man. Get in the ring and get ready. You’re in for the fight of your life, and it only gets worse at Carnal Contendership…

    Freeman turns the knob and throws the door open. A man runs out, then another, and another…in an instant more than a dozen men have scattered into the spherical glow from the darkness within.

    Freeman: Now’s your chance, boys! Like I said – take out the masked man, and freedom is yours. Go on now!

    A strange smile flashes across Freeman’s face as he watches Dune in the ring, eagerly awaiting his protégé’s next move.

    Freeman: Have at ‘em, Sandman!

    The men spill toward the ring, each of them dressed in a different outfit. Dune recognizes one wearing what appears to be Cryos’s ring attire…another is dressed up as Ghost…but clearly neither man is Cryos or Ghost. They’re disheveled and wildly aggressive…Dune recognizes them right away as the local folk. He’s seen enough of them to realize it. But, why - …there wasn’t time to ask. An androgynous looking outlaw leaps on the apron, and Dune lifts his fists and prepares for the strike.

    The frivolously dressed man is through the ropes and leaps toward him. Dune steps aside and throws him out of the ring. Another is through the ropes, this one dressed as Alex Millar. Dune charges and lays him out with a stiff clothesline. Two more enter, five…soon Dune is in the middle of a swarm of raving lunatics out for his blood. He throws elbows to his rear, headbutts and kicks to his front to create separation. He bulls forward, creating a flailing mass of humanity in the ring.

    Freeman takes a step forward, questioning Dune’s ability to fend the mob off himself. He prepares to assist the big man when a fearsome wail thunders from the bottom of the pile. Three men fly off the heap in the center, other scatter when they see the horror beneath them.

    Dune is lying on several unconscious bodies and is fighting off two more. The others have scattered to the corners and apron. A total of six men lay on the ground, and the number grows to eight as Dune reaches up and smashes the two attacking men’s skulls into one another. They drop like flies and he shoots to his feet. They splash in a puddle of something red and warm. The blood covers Dune’s back and shoulders, streaking down his long arms toward his clenched fists. He looks down…

    A severed head lies at his feet…Dune looks at Freeman, who chuckles at the gruesome sight.

    Freeman: Trust me, Dune – if they wound up in my possession, they deserve worse punishment than decapitation. These aren’t men of honor…you know that. None of them are exceptions. More than thieves though - murderers, rapists…that’s what you’re staring at. Don’t let a little blood stop you.

    Two men charge at him, one going for his legs and the other leaping on his back. Dune throws all his bodyweight backward onto the man on his back, crushing his ribs before he double-kicks the low-man square in the temple. He drops to the mat as three more charge. Dune lifts himself from the ground, grabbing one of the men by the knees as he rises and spins him around, knocking him into the other two. They fall and he slams the first man to the mat with a crushing thud. Dune charges the other two men, clotheslining one over the ropes and pressing the other over his head before sending him to the concrete floor below.

    Five men remain and they charge him at once. Dune leaps and tornado kicks one in the temple. The other four push him back into the ropes when he lands. He grabs the man in front of him around the waist, Belly-to-Belly Suplexing him over the top and onto the concrete. Another man tries to flee as he meets Dune’s menacing gaze, but the masked man grabs him around the waist and sends him flying out of the ring with a German Suplex.

    Freeman: Two more, Dune…make ‘em count!

    Dune stares them down. One is bigger than the other. Dune drops to the ground and takes the bigger man down with a reverse roundhouse to his ankles. As soon as the man’s back hits the floor, Dune leaps from the mat and takes the other man down. A flurry of elbows connect with his face before lifting him up. With his back the ropes, Dune grabs the man around the neck and lifts him high in the air, turning to Chokeslam him onto the concrete. A sound like crackling thunder echoes around the room and hints that the man’s back does not survive the fall.

    Dune turns his attention the last man in the ring. He’s not sure who he’s dressed as…he hasn’t seen this attire yet. The man lowers his shoulders and charges him. Dune takes a step back…draws his right leg back…and fires a heavy boot upward to catch the man in the middle of the face. He stumbles back. Dune steps up and punches the man in the gut. The man bends over in pain, and Dune steps over his head, hooks both arms behind his back, and lifts him up for a Powerbomb, catching him by his outstretched arms in a crucifix position. Dune powers toward the ropes. He bends when he reaches them, shooting up and throwing the last conscious man out of the ring. He turns and faces Freeman before the man’s body collides with the floor.

    He breathes deeply, looks at his bloodied arms and checks his body over for injuries. He looks at Freeman.

    Dune: What the fuck, man…I mean, really – what the fuck? Your idea of training me up is to have 20 guys try to fucking murder me at once?

    Freeman: Well – to your credit, you handled it fairly well.

    Dune: Fairly?

    He looks around at the bodies scattered about the domed room.

    Freeman: That’s right. You’re going to be facing a lot tougher competition at Carnal Contendership, Dune. These are mere boys compared to the men you’ll be up against in the Battle Royal. Granted, these were boys trying to kill you, but dominating 20 scum tribesmen is no true measure of your wresting ability. Fairly impressive, sure…but it’s gonna take a lot more than that to win yourself a shot at the gold at Back in Business.

    Dune: I appreciate where you’re coming from, but you’re preaching to the choir. I’m up against legends and jobbers alike - guys who’ve earned it: Ace, Jackson, Ramon, and others… guys who haven’t like Triple J Security, Milllar, Sheen…

    …and hell, you might as well throw me in that group. After all, I’ve only had four legit wins in the FWA if you don’t count me taking care of 2/3 of the J’s. What have I done to garner any sort of attention in this match? Those who’ve fallen by my hand will be wary when I’m near, but other than Cryos, Ghost, and Triple J, no one will be on the lookout for me in the battle royal.

    And that’s how I’d have it. Right now I’m the rattlesnake coiled in shadow, waiting for prey to draw near…and at Carnal Contendership there will be no shortage of prey.

    Freeman: Got that right. Legends of all shapes and sizes. From smaller guys like Golden and Rondo to guys bigger than you – Humanity and the Carnivorous Monster, or whatever he’s calling himself. Don’t let that one get his hands on you, Dune – the man’s a mountain and he’s not to be taken lightly, especially in an over the top Battle Royal. You mentioned Cryos who’s up against Drew Stevens – both should be more focused on their singles-match than the big one. If you get the chance, eliminate them early. The less men in the ring, the better. With a match like this, you want to avoid the chaos of numbers.

    You mentioned no one’s watching you, but I’ll bet the newer guys know to keep an eye out. Eysesnane comes to mind alongside Adam Bonnie. That It is something else too, Dune – don’t get caught up with that one for too long. Throw It out and be done with It. And don’t forget about –

    Dune: Princeton and Gryphon - yeah, I got it, Freeman. I know each man I’m up against by now. I don’t need you to remind me. I’m well aware of the disadvantage I hold in terms of in-ring experience in the FWA but I can hold my own against any man, woman, or It in this company. If it takes me beating 20 of them in a single match, so be it. I can hardly imagine a bigger challenge, nor one I would be so quick to take up.

    Freeman: That’s the right attitude – so long as you keep it should the doubt set in when you’re in the ring with so many great fighters. Dig deep, remain the aggressor, and strike when the moments present themselves, and I can honestly say you’ve got just as good a chance as any legend in the ring that night.

    Now, help me clean this mess up. It won’t take long.

    Dune watches as Freeman lifts a man onto his shoulders and walks toward the same door as before. He grunts in opening it, and when it does nothing can be seen within, only pitch blackness. Freeman drops the man in the dark room and closes the door behind him.

    Freeman: So long as you close the door behind you, they won’t be any trouble – not that they’d be much anyway what with the shape they’re in.

    Freeman walks down and picks up another. Dune follows suit. When he gets to the door, he opens it slowly and peers inside. Nothing – only darkness within.

    Freeman: Hurry up! Can’t leave that door open too long.

    Dune drops the man into the darkness and closes the door behind him. His heart is beating a little more rapidly than normal. Strange – he thinks, but doesn’t enquire about it. Likewise, Freeman offers no further explanation.

    The two men slowly but surely clear the room of the unconscious men, then set to work on the bloody mess in the ring. A couple hours of scrubbing fueled by non-match-related conversation does the job, and the two men shake hands before Dune steps out of the ring. He climbs the short flight of stairs that lead to the entry-way, then turns to Freeman.

    Dune: What’s with the –

    Freeman: Skeletons, Dune – skeletons in the closet. Let’s leave it at that for now, hmm?

    Dune gives Freeman a questioning glare. He chuckles to himself before he turns to exit the room.

    Freeman: I believe in you, Dune. You’re not the only one in the world who does. Remember that.

    Dune turns and looks at Freeman, but not for long. After the slightest of nods, he turns and leaves the room, making his way down the entrance hall. 6-1-8 opens the door and Dune steps into the canyon’s shadow. Even here the mid-afternoon March heat is oppressive, but Dune is no stranger to heat. He steps out into it, heading on a straight path that leads to home. It’s a long walk, but he has time – time and plenty to occupy his mind.
    Last edited by Dune; 03-12-2015 at 09:53 PM.

  17. #17

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    Re: Carnal Contendership SUPERSHOW promo thread

    Return of the King

    FWA Backstage - 8th February 2015.

    We see inside a locker room. Phillip A. Jackson rushes in after another defeat looking pissed off. He opens up a locker and pulls his bag out from his locker. Phillip pulls his phone out of his bag muttering under his breath…

    ‘I am so goddamn done with this shithole. They don’t appreciate me anymore. Fuck this they don’t pay me enough to put up with it’

    Phillip looks at his phone and a message from an ‘unknown number’ is on his phone. Short and Sweet it says…

    ‘Ring me. You know who this is. I saw the show and I want to help.’

    Phillip looks up into the sky to think about who it could be..

    ‘Kennedy?…Nah he has his own problems to deal with.’

    ‘Wife?…Nah, she is still a bitch who won’t talk to me’

    The edge of Phillip’s lip starts to curl before unravelling into a full grown smirk. Phillip walks over to his door with his phone against his chest and takes a look outside for anyone that might be around. Phillip is satisfied and shuts the door before locking it. He pulls his phone back away from his chest and starts to redial the number awaiting to confirm his suspicions.

    ‘It took you a while, Phillip’

    ‘Jimmy! I just got your message. I need you back, I need help, you made me a star’

    ‘I know, there is a plan in place, I can assure you. Just cosy up to Ryan and make it work. Play the friend then find a way to turn on him. I have an alliance in FWA. A real ‘friend’ who will help us. You will know. Just wait and see what lies behind the mask of the man with no name’.

    Jimmy hangs up abruptly as Phillip stands with his mouth wide open as his arms fall to the side and his phone lands on the floor but doesn’t smash we see Phillip’s mouth wide open, stunned from the phone call, as the scene fades.


    We open to a pitch black room. In the background we hear a door opening and someone walking across the room getting louder as they walk. The footsteps stop and we are greeted with a few seconds of silence before a spotlight turns on. We see Phillip A. Jackson’s face and top of his shoulders and nothing else.

    |Phillip A. Jackson|
    What a difference a month makes, huh? One month ago people were questioning Ashley O’Ryan’s decision to give me a World Title shot but if he didn’t I would have sued the hell out of FWA. It was a guaranteed title shot and I was seconds away from winning. I was seconds away from justifying the decision to give me the title shot. I showed you all that I am back because you all wrote me off. You ALL forgot who I was. I forgot who I was. Actors in Hollywood don’t like to be pigeon holed but some of them have a type I guess I just have a type as well so please pigeon hole me put the box around me and tell me what I am because what I am is being damn good at my job. In Hollywood that would get you an Oscar in Tempe, Arizona at the Carnal Contendership Supershow it gets you the ultimate prize, A main event at Back in Business. When I said I believed I would win one month ago. You would all roll your eyes, laugh and joke about it. Right now, it is a whole different story. One month ago, I tried to give a damn about what people thought of me. I wanted you all to like me but that was my biggest mistake. I don’t need anyone to like me. I can tell you right now, Jimmy King doesn’t like me but we share the same mentality. Win at all costs. I will do anything to win because that is who I am and that is who Jimmy King is. That is why Jimmy King made me a star. Jimmy King made you all fear me. Very few people have that impact on your life. Jimmy King and Robbins Thurgood have had the biggest impact on my career and I can’t thank them enough. They wont want my praise what they will want is for me to conquer the unconquerable and win the Carnal Contendership. Allow me to show you where I am. It will show you all what the Carnal Contendership will be about.

    The lights turn on around Jackson and we see nothing apart from him being sat on a chair in the middle of an empty white room. No Windows and one door, painted white to match the walls. Jackson is sat down on an FWA approved WrestleReady Co. Steel chair, backwards, so the back of the chair is facing us.

    Did you expect something grand? This is what the Carnal Contendership will be all about. Look around and all you see is me. I am the show. Just like last week when I stole the show at Winter Wasteland. Now, I have been labelled one of the favourites. Top on some lists, in the top 5 on most. Do I care? No. I couldn’t give a damn. I am alive again and I feel great. For most of the crap that currently exists on the FWA roster this is the highlight of their year. They see the opportunity to get a main event at Back in Business. They want to be fed to Gabrielle and they want to be chewed up and spit out just so they can say they main evented Back in Business. Good for them. None of them are going to be mention simply because they don’t deserve it. They haven’t earned it. I should be in the main event. MY name should be up in lights because I goddamn deserve it. I worked my ass off through the good and the bad. I didn’t quit when the world was against me. I didn’t quit when I thought I lost it. I fought through it because I know what I am capable of. I went through a dark time. I lost sight of who I was. I wasn’t mean to be liked. I was meant to win. I was born a winner and it is time to fulfil my destiny as a winner. I have twenty three others to conquer. They should be shivering in their boots because I am motivated. All the talk about me being a fallen star. All the talk about me being a one year wonder. All the talk will be silenced. No-one spoke about me like that when I was supposedly ‘great’ because they thought I was untouchable. When I fell from grace they all put their boot in and they kicked a lion when he was down. Now this lion is back and ready to roar. I will show no mercy because you all deserve to be destroyed. You all berated me. You all thought I was done and now it is time to show the world who is done. The Brothers of The Movement are free to stand at my side and I will make them stars just like Jimmy King made me a star. We are the new dominant force of FWA now they have me on their side.

    Jackson leans forward, leaning the chair forward too, with a huge smirk on his face before leaning back and casual pulling his shirt open to reveal he is sporting ‘The Movement’ merch. Buying into Jimmy King’s new regime. Before taking his outer shirt off and leaving the t-shirt in full view.

    We stole the show at Winter Wasteland and I should have stolen the FWA Title from the Queen Bitch but ultimately there is always a back up plan. Now this doesn’t seem like a sure thing, right? Well you would actually be right for once. The odds are against me but if I have proven that I thrive against the odds. I thrive when people doubt me. I thrive when no-one else believes in me. So I think this is exactly the right kind of back up plan for me. It isn’t the way we wanted to go but my victory in the Carnal Contendership is going to be handed to me on a plate. I am the most talented wrestler in the match and that includes our “unbeatable” champion, Gabrielle. Who will no doubt actually be scared because she might actually have to wrestle rather than turning up ten minutes late and winning with a cheapshot.

    Jackson smiles and looks down at his crotch. Then stares back up without moving his head back up staring intensely forward before lifting his head backup to it’s normal position.

    That won’t work in the Carnal Contendership and I will be waiting for you and you will be scared of me because I don’t fear you. I will actually hit you and I will never feel sorry for you and when you run away scared because you actually have to fight no-one will judge you or hate you because you are the goddamn golden girl. The double standard is sickening. We all know that without that cheap shot I would be the FWA World Champion right now. We all know that everyone would feel sorry for you and I would be some woman hating bastard who beat up a woman for a title belt. Much like the rest of the wrestler pathetically trying to get the opportunity just to face you at Back in Business. You don’t deserve the main event either. I might not have defended my bet but I defended it with honour because I never took the shortcuts you are praised for taking. Now, Tomas, Devin, Connor, Matt and Drew can bicker all they want but they should all realise that the debate who should be champion or whatever the hell it is really about wont matter. They wont be settling anything. They want to toss my name around, let them, because I will walk into Back in Business as the number one contender and I will make sure that Gabrielle and anyone who dare challenge The Movement never gets near the belt again. Then there will be no more arguments, no more anything other than The Movement. FWA once again fears me. FWA should once again be jumping for cover when I enter the arena, when my music hits and if they are running by the time I step between the ropes then they better be ready to be destroyed by FWA’s most talented wrestler. I will be on fire for the Carnal Contendership, so much so that the natives of Arizona will be putting on jackets for the rest of their lives because the hottest Arizona desert will be nothing compared to how hot I will be when twenty three others try and fail to contain my greatness. When the bell rings I will be the last man standing tall because there is no other wrestler deserving of a Back in Business main event because The King is back and ready to take his throne I hope you kept it warm for me because this chair sucks.

    Jackson slowly gets to his feet using the chair to get up. Jackson quickly picks the steel chair up and throws it aggressively to the side. Jackson demands the lights be turn off. The lights turn off leaving just the spotlight on him as he stands and taunts before the scene slowly fades.

  18. #18

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    Re: Carnal Contendership SUPERSHOW promo thread

    When in, Paris
    A Tag Team Championship Promo by Randy Ramon


    Mother placed a restraining order on Robin Hood. At least that’s what the running joke on Butler Street was. It always seemed that no matter what our family did, we couldn’t get ahead. Dad had the gig at the car factory, but the history of that industry has been well documented. It turns out that after thirty years of installing side panels on General Motors vehicles qualifies you to do exactly nothing else.

    Mom had worked in the payroll department of the local Shop n Bag, but that too went under. Determined to finally get a leg up on ol’ Murphy, Mom and Dad decided to pool all of their remaining assets, their savings, piggy bank, and IRAs to purchase the old, rundown, locally owner corner store at the end of the block. The place was a wreck. Wires hung from the ceiling, tiles were pulling away from the concrete floor underneath, the existing bathroom facility was barely a pot to piss in. If the health inspectors cared enough about our neighborhood, let alone our borough, they would have shut the place down in an instant.

    But Mom wanted it. Where everyone else saw a shithole, she saw opportunity. So they mortgaged our family’s future and bought the place. A month later, Mom and Dad had fixed the place up enough to open for business. We were all excited, lined up inside the store, wearing our Sunday best: Mom, Dad, Riley, Ricky and me. Nine in the morning, sharp, we opened the doors to the 3 R’s Mini Mart, and we waited.

    And no one came. That whole first day we sat around, patiently hoping for someone to come in. After a few hours, we would have been thrilled to just sell one lousy pack of gum; but we didn’t even have that much luck. We locked up when the time came, and Mom cried the rest of the night. She bled, sweat and cried to turn that place into a source of viable income for our family. She even hoped to be able to make enough money to put the three of us through college. As you know from the stories I’ve told in the past, 3 R’s eventually became a source of steady income, but barely enough to keep Ramen noodles on the table. Some nights we just ate Saurkraut for dinner because we could get it for a nickel a can at the Russian market just outside the city.

    Growing up I would read stories about famous characters that made it rich. King Midas was my favorite. Everything the man touched turned to gold. That’s an everlasting source of income if I ever saw one. Scrooge McDuck had his own private gold filled swimming room. The things I would give to take a dive into that… Elvis Presley had just become a household name… the young buck from Memphis came from literally nothing – slightly more than we had – to be able to support his own Mom and Dad. Maybe someday, I always thought.

    Then I came across this noble cat, Robin Hood. They said he took from the rich and gave to the poor. Dad always said Robin Hood was a communist, something I didn’t understand until the Cold War broke out. One day I asked my Mom, if Robin Hood helps the poor people, and balances everything out, why are we still so poor? Why do we have nothing? Doesn’t he care about us? I hadn’t yet reached that age where I could discern real from fantasy, and my mother knew this, so she played along. She carefully explained that Robin Hood had tried on numerous occasions to give our family money, but the Ramon’s were a proud bunch. We didn’t take handouts. We would make it on our own, like her parents did and their parents before them. She was determined to make that store work out. So the story goes that Robin Hood had tried so many times that mother now did not feel safe on her nightly walks around town. He would find her anywhere. She eventually had enough and called Detroit P.D. and had a restraining order filed against Robin Hood, forcing him to stay at least 500 feet away from her at all times.

    Mom was always good for a laugh, and boy did that one get a lot of them. It took many years for me to finally understand the allegory and anecdotes she had slipped into my impressionable mind; but once I finally understood, I was determined to make something of myself. She always told me I was destined for greatness, and I always shrugged it off as a mother coddling her child… but over time I started to believe her. If Elvis could do it, why couldn’t I? So I started playing guitar. I starting teaching myself to sing, listening to Johnny Horton, Conway Twitty and ol’ Bocephus tapes to get the tones down. One thing led to another, and as you know I eventually struck a record deal, released an album, made millions… but it was too late, as you also know.

    Mom was killed, in cold blood, in the same store she swore would make our family famous. In a twist of fate, she was right. Because if that event never happened, I would still be working in that shop. The moment that trigger was pulled, I knew I had to get out. I knew I had to become something… for her. And here I am.

    Fast forward, my family and I no longer speak… they blame me for her death in some twisted reality. I don’t understand it, and I never will. Nowadays I have some money. I don’t have the millions I did when we were on tour, but I also don’t have the pennies we had when I was growing up. I have a nice contract with FWA, plus the sponsorships that go along with it… at least the ones that don’t think I should be banned from TV…I haven’t eaten Saurkraut in twenty-plus years. In fact, I have enough money not to just live comfortably, but to take random excursions like this one.

    I’ve flown myself and Ayla half way around the world – to Paris, as a matter of fact – for an expensive, all out, top of the line meal at the world renowned La Coupole. I can’t tell you how much it means to me that I can do this. I can’t explain how validated I feel… all the scratching and clawing, all the blood and tears seem to have finally paid off. But why now? Why now, just days before the biggest night of our careers? Well, that’s exactly why. Still confused? Allow me to elaborate.

    When in, Paris.

    Scene opens upon a small table at the dimly lit La Coupole restaurant in Paris, France. On one side of the table is the Rockstar, Randy Ramon, dressed in his finest silk Armani suit, cultivated with a striped red and black tie. Across from him sits his tag team partner, best friend and co-champion, Ayla El. Maybe using the words "best friend" is a tad extreme, but whatever exact relationship they share, it’s a strong one. She wears a stunning, shimmering gown, so shimmery she almost looks uncomfortable in it. Her hair flows across her shoulders and down her back like a fresh layer of snow lying perfectly on the side of Mt. Kilimanjaro. They’re table overlooks a water fountain shaped like two babies with cupid wings spitting water into the air, crossing streams at the climax.

    Ayla – "So… this is all wonderful and all… but the private jet? Why? I don’t get it…"

    Randy smiles as he takes a sip of the Pinot Noir that fills his glass. He surveys the croissants on the serving dish between them and tries to decide internally if he wants another. Is he full? At this point it would probably be tough to keep down; does he want to fight that battle one more time? Is it even worth it? Maybe he should move on to the frog legs or the pie? He’s unsure. #metaphors

    R3 – "It’s simple. To this point, our partnership has consisted almost entirely of you helping me. It’s been a lot of you showing me how I should act, and I cannot tell you how grateful I am for that. You’ve helped me more than I could put into words. Now, I’m not going to mince words… As you know I’m one of the most confident SOBs in on the planet, but I think I’m stating the obvious when I say we have our work cut out for us over the next two weeks: Executive Excellence this week, and should we survive, the Movement the next week. I’m being a realist here. Should our reign come to an end, I didn’t want it to end without showing you a glimpse of the Rockstar lifestyle. This is the life I lead before you, albeit with a lot more drugs, and this is the life I want to lead now… and it means the world to me to be able to bring you into it. Win, lose, or draw… this is the person I want to be."

    Ayla smiles softly, understanding where he is coming from, but not allowing herself to even entertain the thought of losing the championships. She attempts to rebut, but she is cut off at the pass.

    Ayla – "Don’t...."

    R3 – "Oh, I know we will win. I know we will leave Carnal Contendership as the reigning Tag Team Champions, and you know why? Because that’s what Toner does. We’ve seen time and time again that he talks a big game, hell he talks a huge game, but when the spotlight is on and at its brightest, he shrivels up into a tiny little shell of a man. We saw it when he was partnered with Thane… he continuously fell victim to my small package…"

    Ayla – "You said it again…"

    R3 – "I just… there’s no good way to say that… there’s not. But the fact remains that he choked – three times. So he started teaming with this Harley Quinn, right?"

    Ayla nods.

    R3 – "And they’re buddy Princeton HANDS them a number one contenders match against the Movement… after they’ve proven NOTHING except the yellowish hue of their spines… and what did they do? They choked. They couldn’t get the job done."

    Ayla – "To be fair…."

    R3 – "Sure, the Movement has stepped their game up lately… but how much longer can Toner skate by like this? I mean last year he could have blamed Thane; or his own personal demons; or whatever excuses he came up with. So what happens now when he falls short after PICKING his partner? What happens when Carnal Contendership comes and goes and he’s STILL a loser? Does he move on and find another partner? Does he cry about the light blinding him or something? I mean… when does the world catch on that the man is a fraud and can’t get the job done when it matters most?"

    Randy takes another sip of his wine, and then begins picking at the frog legs on his plate, pushing them around like a kid trying to get out of eating his peas.

    Ayla – "Look, I know you have a past with Toner..."

    R3 – "I already apologized for that. I know I let my history with Syn get the best of me. I know I let that become the focus, and ignored the most important fact: we’re the Tag Team Champions. I let my emotions get the best of me. I didn’t really like who I was during all of that. You don’t need to worry: I’m focused. I’m focused on one thing and one thing only: REMAINING the Tag Team Champions. Well, that and the Carnal Contendership."

    Ayla – "As you should be. You’re going to win it."

    R3 – "Thanks for your confidence, but we’ll talk about that later… right now is about wining and dining my partner, and preparing for the Xerox and the Joker’s bitch. So: here’s to us!"

    Randy holds up his glass of wine to Ayla, who raises her own to his. They clink at their highest point and then share a long sip. He places the glass back to the table and again looks at the croissants. He still cannot decide. The croissants are delicious, and warm, and he knows them. They’re safe. They’re the present. Or pie. He loves pie. All kinds of pie. But pie can sometimes have nuts, or other things you didn’t expect. Pie is risky. Pie is the unknown element of this equation. Can’t decide. #metaphors

    R3 – "You know I was thinking earlier, next week will be five months that we’ve been champions. That’s almost half a year. If we can make it to Back in Business as the champs, that’s over six months, and has to finally silence the doubters and the haters, right? I keep hearing all this talk about how we COULD be the best thing since Sunrise-Sunset, or how we COULD end up in the conversation for best team ever or how we COULD this or COULD that… We’ve already beaten everyone they’ve thrown at us… what else could we do? We make it to Back in Business as champions and they’re going to realize that we are the BEST in the Business and we CAN do anything we want to do. No more doubts."

    Ayla nods, not sure how to feel about this cockier, more confident side of Randy.

    Ayla – "I’ve told..."

    R3 – "I know you’ve said from the beginning that we could be the best if we focused… and I’m not being overconfident… I’m just tired of living in the shadows… I’m tired of blending in and skirting by. I’m sick of people questioning me, and us, and I’m taking the initiative now to show the world exactly who we are… and that’s cause to be confident. Toner and Quinn can flaunt all the money and the whiskey and the backstage politics they want… it won’t matter. They can try as many times as they like… it won’t matter. They can play whatever games they want, but I’m sorry… if they couldn’t beat the bowel Movement, we’re going to run them out of the building."

    Ayla – "You’re right… let them try."

    Randy turns his head towards the fountain, getting lost in the sounds of rushing waters. He lets his mind drift for a little longer than he probably should while in the company of another. Back to the croissant, then the pie, then the croissant, then the pie. He shakes it off and brings himself back to reality.

    R3 – "Here is exactly what is going to happen. We’re going to beat Executive Excellence, we’re going to beat the Movement, and we’re going to stroll into Back in Business as the champions. I’m going to win Carnal Contendership, and then I’m going to win the World Championship. You’re going to find a way to pry the Women’s Championship away from Shannon… and we’re going to leave Back in Business as the most decorated Tag Team Champions this company has ever seen, or will ever see again. THAT’S what’s going to happen…"

    Randy is getting fired up. His foot taps anxiously under the table, and his mind is going a mile a minute. His eyes rest once more on the croissant. He grabs it. #metaphors

    R3 – "The hell with it, I want the croissant damn it!"

    Ayla, completely taken off guard, looks him over suspiciously.

    Ayla – "You… can have it?"

    Randy begins chomping down on the croissant, enjoying a taste he recognizes; enjoying a taste that works for him. Why would he even want the pie?

    R3 – "It’s just missing one thing…"

    Ayla continues to look at him crookedly.

    R3 – "…applesauce!"

    Ayla – "Don’t you dare finish that statement!"

    R3 – "I wasn’t going to!!"

    The two share a laugh as Randy begins to simmer down a little. Ayla holds up the menu, almost impatiently.

    Ayla – "Can we order now?"

    Fade to black.


    Never Forget:


  19. #19
    Striving for a B+ in life
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    Re: Carnal Contendership SUPERSHOW promo thread


    "LOL at ya', Gabrielle Montgomery.

    LOL at ya' for believin' any of the horseshit ya' said.

    I'ma readin' this headline. Gabrielle addresses the women of the FWA.

    And I'ma laughin' like a damn hyena."

    Shannon O'Neal has a moment, staring into our eyes and standing like a president at a podium. She seems to be giving an "address," similar to the one Gabrielle Montgomery gave just a few days ago through the Internet waves.

    The sky is a pristine spring blue with scattered, stretching clouds across the rays of sunlight. The green trees sway against the light breeze in the background as Shannon O'Neal stands at a mock podium, talking to absolutely nobody. She has no one behind her, no one at her side and no one before her.

    This event takes place in a vacant, empty alleyway within a small New Mexico town. Just the scattered trash of old newspapers on the ground, plastic bins along the walls and empty burrito bags crawling along the ground.

    "This ain't 'bout Gabrielle. I ain't lettin' my Women's title match become 'bout all that bullsh*t she was speakin'. You 'gotta realize, though, all the crap that was just said. So I gotta' do my own 'address' or whatever little rich, prissy-girl phrases ya' like to toss out."

    Shannon O'Neal isn't wearing some proper attire or anything resembling a formal outfit. She isn't wearing a suit or anything like a champion. Instead, she's wearing a sleeveless T-shirt with all her tattoos showing along her forearms, some new and some old. She's speaking to a wall, with her blond hair frizzled behind and to her side. Her nose ring shines under the sunlight as the small shorts fit in with the temperature of this day's weather.

    "So I'ma talk to y'all about the women's division in the FWA, since that's 'bout everyone in this title match at Carnal Contendership.

    I ain't one for goin' through every single person, but Gabrielle did it. I guess I'ma wantin' to be like our 'World Champion' since I'm copyin' her. At least, that's what she be sayin' a lot."

    Shannon O'Neal coughs out anything in her throat and acts suddenly professional before introducing the first challenger.

    "Taylor Toxic, honey, you got a lot of spunk. You got all that kickin' and jazzin' and sh*t. I like that. I enjoyed watchin' ya' thse last few weeks takin' it to Saddle Sally and DIVINE and all the others. You gotta' lot to offer this company. And honestly, I ain't got much against ya' or many of these people. But you got one thing goin' against ya', and that's the hill. I got through it. I got through the loss to Gabrielle, the beat down, the depression, everythin' goin' through my mind a few weeks ago up to the night I went into the ring against Zoey Ellis at Winter Wasteland. Ya' ain't had to go through those trials, Taylor.

    Jack of Diamonds went through those damn trials and we all saw what happened to my friend....or, my old friend. I still consider him a friend. I ain't lettin' what he did to me after his match mean anythin' more than that single moment. He'll be back, and when he comes, I'ma be waitin' for him. But he cracked to the pressures of failure and disappointment after I nearly cracked. He pulled me out, and I'ma try pullin' him out.

    But Taylor, ya' ain't never had to go through any of that yet. Maybe it don't matter, but maybe it does. Maybe ya' need to have that feelin' before ya' can do what ya' have the chance to do.

    But ya' will. Eventually. Soon. Keep at it. And if ya' win, ain't no hard feelings from me. Ain't no disappointment for who won it, just that I lost it. But ya' gonna' get some soon."

    Shannon O'Neal thinks back to Winter Wasteland and smiles. She thinks back to the win against Zoey Ellis after everything she went through mentally the weeks before and smiles.

    "Zoey Ellis. Another who was faced with the chance to prove herself at that young clip. Ain't happenin', not at Winter Wasteland. So I got another challenge from Zoey Ellis. Think is, I ain't got anythin' personal against the girl. She was the number one contender. She was the top of the line, the next person to take a chance at becomin' Women's World Champion. She was the ruthless person who didn't care what I was goin' through.

    And I beat her. So now she's gotta' be the one to pick herself up and try to re-climb that hill. Thing is, I know how easy that is, and how hard it is at the same time. I've been there, and I ain't 'bout to let someone sneak up on me from the ground."

    Shannon O'Neal smiles again as she thinks to the win, and then thinks back to the fall when she defeated Saddle Sally at Mile High for the Women's Championship, which she proudly sports on her shoulder with the gold nameplate glistening under the narrow sunlight funneled into the alleyway.

    "Saddle Sally. I miss tanglin' with ya', girl. I miss takin' ya' out to dry week after week. Remember all those times we wrestled, even when ya' were champion and I was just now risin' and findin' my comfort zone in the FWA? Remember when we were tag team partners tryin' to find our chemistry while chasin' Sara Wolf and this Women's title. I miss those days, Sally. I miss ya' bein' somethin' of a threat, somethin' to consider in this division. But I ain't worried 'bout ya' anymore, Sally. Ya' lost whatever it is that made ya' somethin', and now ya' gotta' refocus. Take some time. Re-energize. Or, better yet, win the title at Carnal Contendership. All it takes is one match.

    Thing is...ain't no way ya' gettin' this one match on me. Ya' might get it on some of these younger girls, but I know ya' too well to be caught off guard by cowgirl."

    Shannon O'Neal looks around, steps off the podium and holds her title a little higher.

    "Alana Allure. I ain't forgotten about ya', honey. Ya' the girl I'd love to see around the women's title parts. Maybe if ya' show out good in the match, we can have a formal one. Maybe. But ya' been distracted by chasin' the males titles. I ain't criticizin' ya' 'bout that. I enjoyed watchin' ya' take it to some of those guys, showin' them girls in the FWA ain't nothin' to take lightly. Ya' said some things 'bout me during my highest points against Gabrielle Montgomery. I ain't worryin' 'bout any of that. I'ma worryin' 'bout how good ya' can be in this division if ya' stayed in it. Maybe it's a blessin' in disguise, instead of ya' bein' where ya' want'ta be, the Carnal Contendership match and all fightin' for a shot at the World title, ya' back in the Women's Division. I know my words sparked ya's determination to fight for the X-title. I know that. I take that as respect. I thought it was awesome seein' that.

    But we gotta' show them together. With all these girls that don't have it anymore, like Zoey and Sally, and someone like Taylor who's just a little too green and a little too new to this, I need someone like Alana to show the world what the women's division is all about.

    Yeah, we facin' in this match. But when it finishes, when it's all over, I wanna see ya' again. Let's make that happen. That's my address to ya', Alana. That's my words to ya'."

    Shannon O'Neal looks back at the podium, a symbol of professionalism and formality. She smiles and looks around at the trash on the ground, rather to associate herself with that than the podium.

    "Gabrielle must think we all trash, scraps and crumbs, for that 'address' she made to the 'women of the FWA.' Gabrielle must not think too highly of us. So here's what I'ma sayin', that we all go out there and f*** this sh*t up at Carnal Contendership. I know I'ma do it, I'ma remade girl.

    LOL at all the people who considered me down and out, and LOL at Gabrielle for thinkin' she's gotta' tell us some fancy words. We ain't gonna' be fancy when we out there stealin' the show. Gabrielle ain't no member of this women's division. She got booted out when I lit that hair on fire. She commendin' me for steppin' up against her, takin' on the challenge of the best female wrestler in the FWA. I damn well did it, beat her and can walk away from that fight as the FWA Women's World Champion and my pride up and head held high. How many in this match can say they did that against the mighty Gabrielle? How many can say they were the martyr and opened people's eyes?

    How many in this match can say they lit the goddess' hair on fire and walked away with nothin' but a bruise on her eye and a scrape on her shoulder?

    And anyone who can't handle the fire, best get out the damn kitchen."

    3x FWA World Heavyweight Champion
    2x FWA X Champion
    5x FWA Tag Team Champion

    2020 North American Sports Poster Of The Year

  20. #20
    Circle Jerker
    KAIZEN's Avatar

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    Jul 2014
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      Country                    Hong Kong

    Re: Carnal Contendership SUPERSHOW promo thread

    The following is an excerpt from PuroSpirit Magazine, July 2013 edition:

    “Tiga-gun Gym is a medium-sized hollowed out storage building on the outskirts of Kazusaushiku-Chiba. While most of the biggest wrestling and MMA gyms in Japan try to headquarter (and thus market) themselves in metro Tokyo, Tiga-gun Gym is located an hour outside of Tokyo, far enough to deter the hustle, bustle and distractions of the big city, yet close enough to be found by those who seek it out.

    The Tiger Dojo within Tiga-gun Gym is revered within wrestling circles in Japan. Run by Tiga-gun founder, MMA pioneer and five-time Super Puro Japan (SJP) World Heavyweight Champion “Ironman” MINORU the Tiger, acceptees are expected to live a minimum of 24 months in the dojo and conduct grueling training in catch wrestling, jiu jitsu, Greco-Roman and freestyle, and Combat Sambo. Only members of the Japanese Self-Defense Force which travel to the gym to train in hand-to-hand combat are exempt from the time length rules; normal recruits can be dropped at any time during the 24 months for unsatisfactory performance. Open recruiting is held only once a year for a week every January; of the hundreds who travel from all corners of Japan and the globe to participate in a week of workouts, training, and sparring, only 5-8 applicants are accepted into that years class. The graduation rate of the class is around 40%.

    In light of this, the graduates of Tiger Dojo have something of a mythical reputation as soon as they graduate and are presented to the public as the newest representatives of Tiga-gun. The list of Tiger Dojo graduates that have gone on to be Champions in SPJ (Japan’s dominant wrestling promo) is long and nearly continuous since MINORU retired and became Tiga-guns head trainer in 2001. From “Wicked” Akio Nakazawa (class of 2003), “Eagleheart” Julian Blanchette (class of 2005), “Goliath” Tau’a Whitelock (class of 2006), Shinya Nobu (class of 2008), Mela Verde (class of 2009) to SPJ’s current champion “BURNING” Naota Kotani (class of 2011), Tiger Dojo has dominated the SPJ title picture over the last decade and a half.

    Speculation over whether their latest class, which were initiated into the dojo in 2012, will graduate in time for SJP’s revamped International Young Lion Grand Prix tournament in January 2014, is rampant. Word from insiders in the poruresu community is that while only 2 of the 7 original members of the class of 2012 made it to the final stage of the dojo, both members are at such a level that MINORU may take the unprecedented step of graduating a class early to allow them both to be eligible for the Young Lions GP. Of course, this is all speculation, but PuroSpirit Magazine will work with our sources to confirm this, as well as attempting to identify the remaining two members of the class of 2012.”


    October 7th, 2013 – Tiga-gun Gym, Kazusaushiku, Japan

    Two men in suits sit inside MINORU the Tigers office in the back of gym. Sitting behind a desk laden with papers is MINORU, still muscular with a grizzled face and a tribal haircut. The office is adorned with pictures of him in his wrestling prime, with belts, cups, plaque and more awards, trinkets and measures of accomplishment than can be counted at once.

    The two men, officials from Super Puro Japan, lay out a bracket in front of MINORU with a smile. The younger official smooths out the edges of the bracket poster while the older official smiles wide and tries to curry MINORU’s favor.

    SPJ Official #1: “MINORU-san… I can’t state enough for pleased we are that you have graduated your class early this year…”

    SPJ Official #2: “Indeed… with the relaunch of the Young Lion’s Grand Prix, we are very happy to be able to have the prestigious Tiga-gun brand attached to the tournament. If this could be the birth of the next Naota Kotani, then I think we’d be all winners here.”

    MINORU reaches out for the poster-sized bracket that the SJP officials laid out on his desk.

    MINORU: “Relaunch, brand… enough with your business tribespeak. Lemme see this… where’s Ruy and Kai?”

    MINORU looks over the bracket.

    SPJ Official #1: “As you can see, Ruy Lopez Jr. is seeded #2…”

    MINORU: “Heh… so Shirasawa from ZST is the #1 seed? Laughable punk, laughable gym… punk looks like he can wrestle up a storm though, I’ll give him that.”

    SPJ Official #2: “Well, we can all agree that the front office really likes Shirasawa’s look and potential…”

    SPJ Official #1: “…but Ruy Lopez Jr., we have him in the first round against the representative from Lucha United in Mexico, El Conejo IV. It’s the perfect storyline, the luchador who came to Japan versus the luchador from the old country… its perfect!”

    MINORU: “…”

    SPJ Official #2: “The brackets will play out as they will, but we would be lying if we didn’t admit the front office is really hoping for a Shirasawa vs Ruy Lopez Jr. final, haha!”

    SPJ Official #1: “Tiga-gun vs ZST, that’ll sell out in 30 minutes! The media will go apeshit over it!”

    MINORU: “Where is Kai in all this?”

    The SPJ officials tense up at the mention of Kai. They look at each other, as if trying to prod each other into being the one to break the news.

    SPJ Official #1: “Well… uh…. Well, it wouldn’t be right if Tiga-un had two repress-“

    MINORU slams the bracket down on his desk. The two men in suit jump in their seats.

    MINORU: “Don’t give me that bullshit. ZST has two kids. Pankrash has two kids. I’m looking at this field and there’s nobody who can wrestle with Kai. Maybe Ruy can. But nobody else, nobody… not even your golden boy Shirasawa. And you knew that as much, I told you this when you approached me about the grand prix.”

    SPJ Official #2: “uhh…”

    SPJ Official #1: “Well…true… but…”

    MINORU leans in slightly. The SJP officials, clearly nervous, lean back and try to stammer out a response.

    MINORU: “Then why? One what grounds…”

    MINORU leans closer and his voice turns into a growl. The younger official inadvertedly lets out a whimper.

    MINROU: “On what grounds is SJP disrespecting me and my judgment?”

    The older official nervously tugs at his own necktie and speaks.

    SPJ Official #1: “MINORU-san… nobody is denying that Kai is a… an exceptional talent in the ring. But the selection committee from the front office, they said he was a little too…”


    Emboldened by the lead of his senior, the younger official chimes in.

    SPJ Official #2: “Uh, yeah! Front offices word, not ours, MINORU-san… below average height, doesn’t have that big wide look that Shirasawa or Gohei or SHIRO has… "

    SPJ Official #1: “He dominated all the drills at this summers rookie combine, yes, but he barely spoke to anyone and didn’t go to the media session or the meet-and-greet banquet… that’s fine if a gaijin like Lopez isn’t there, but for a local, a certain… etiquette is desired out of those the office wants to showcase.”

    MINORU rolls his eyes at the mention of the banquet. The older official notices.

    SPJ Official #1: “MINORU-san, I know you don’t like it either… but you know exactly what I’m talking about. That’s the front office culture… Kai doesn’t have the look. He doesn’t have the people skills. All he has is the ability to beat the kids who do have the look and the people skills, and that makes him a danger. We want people like Shirasawa. We want people like Ruy Lopez.”

    “Kai… he’s simply not star material.”

    MINORU: “Bullshit. Stars are born and made in the ring, not in the fantasies of some office gnome. I’ve got two kids who are going to tear through SJP and you’re telling me that you’re going to leave one of them out because he’s quiet and isn’t 6 feet?”

    SPJ Official #1: “MINORU-san, we’re not saying SJP won’t take Kai… I’m sure given his pedigree he’ll make it here eventually. But we’re looking for a big splash for this tournament.”

    The SJP officials shift in their seats. They look at MINORU, who silently glares at the bracket, towards the door of the office, and then at them.

    The older SJP official eventually takes his phone out of his pocket. He says something to the younger official, who gets up and leaves the office with a confused look on his face.

    SJP Official: “I sent Nagai-kun to the car to find something that’s not there, that should stall him…listen… off the record, I’m with you, MINORU-san. You’re looking out for your kids, I get it. Since we’ve known each other so long and I respect you so much, I’ll let you in a secret. The front office, SJP… they need this tournament to be a hit. They need it. Its vital to their hopes of international expansion. FWA, PWC, Lucha United, Europe, Australia… every notable fed in the world is sending someone. If one of those outside guys beats Shirasawa, people need a local gym to cheer. Lopez is a Mexican, yeah, but he’s our Mexican, and with Tiga-gun backing him its going to work… key word… Tiga-gun.”

    “If you’re insistent on this Kai kid being in the tournament, all you gotta do is tell me like it is. I’ll put the call to the office saying if that kid isn’t in, then neither is Lopez or Tiga-gun. The office will relent for sure. They need you guys in this.”

    The official holds his phone up.

    SJP Official: “Just say the word and I’ll make the call.”

    MINORU sits back in his chair. He licks his lips and crosses his arms while looking at the phone.

    MINORU: “…”

    SPJ Official: “…”

    MINORU: “No.”

    SPJ Official: “…what?”

    MINORU: “No. We will send Ruy Lopez. That’s all.”

    SPJ Official: “…wait, just like that? What was all that about then?”

    MINORU: “Listen, its late now and I have to close up shop, we’ll hammer out the details over the phone other time, OK?”

    SPJ Official: “Oh… alright then. Well, good day then MINORU-san, thank you very much for seeing things from our perspective.”

    With a deep bow, the official was out the door and off. His hurried footsteps echo throughout the empty gym towards the main doors and out.

    MINORU gets out of his seat. Stretching, he walks outside of his office and surveys his gym. The building is a hollowed out warehouse, split into four different sections, with every type of gym equipment, cages, rings, ropes, and crossfit structures all present. In the darkness of the night, the moonlight beams through the windows near the roof of the structure, sending intermittent beams of white bouncing off the blue pads and mats of the gym walls and floor.

    MINORU yawns.

    MINORU: “I suspect… being the only kid who lives in the gym gives you ample chances to eavesdrop…”

    “Am I right, Kai?”

    From behind one of the punching bags, a figure steps out from the dark corner of the gym. He is wearing plain workout clothes and running shoes, with small finger gloves on his hands and shirt stained with sweat marks. His eyes are downcast.

    MINORU walks over to his young charge.

    MINORU: “How much of that did you hear?”

    Kai: “…Everything.”

    MINORU: “Serves you right for always shadow boxing when you should be resting your body! How many times have I told you that!”

    MINORU lands a slap on the back of Kai’s head, but Kai barely moves. He continues to look down, as if trying to hide his emotions from his mentor.

    MINORU sighs. For all the prowess of someone raised in his family for the last half-decade, Kai was still plainly a boy in a world of men.

    MINORU: “Kid… you know how I got the nickname Tiger?”

    Kai: “… because when you were a rookie you give that nickname to yourself to sound cooler to women.”

    MINORU: “Exactly! Good, I was just checking to see if you remembered that story... now, why is my second nickname” Ironman”?”

    Kai: “Because… you defended you title a record 8 times under Ironman rules.”

    MINORU: “Correct. And that’s not a nickname that you give yourself or a random thing that sticks after you get big.”

    “A nickname like that, you only earn… for what you can do inside the ring.”
    MINORU moves closer to Kai and puts his hand on Kai’s shoulder.

    MINORU: “I didn’t push the issue with SJP because you don’t need it. You don’t need anything handed to you like Shirasawa. Eventually you and Ruy will graduate. You will both turn pro, and you will be signed. You will go out there and wrestle to the best of your ability.”

    “And you will win.”

    “Right now people see you and they think you’re too short, too plain, no flair, no big talk. That’s all good. Winning changes everything. Winning solves everything. And Tiga-gun fighters are winners. You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t destined for greatness. Maybe you don’t believe me now, but someday you will see within yourself the qualities which me and the other coaches see in you.”

    Kai wipes his eye. His fists clench.

    MINORU: “Stars are made in the ring… be patient and you’ll get your chance, kid… just remember though… that Champions… are made here.”

    MINORU points to the mats and the training equipment. He then decides to eschew the emoting and quickly takes Kai down to the mat and slaps on a kimura.

    Kai: “Ahhhh!”

    MINORU: “Since you love training in the dark in the gym so much, better train you up now to be less of a pussy! ROLL! ROLL! If you don’t roll I’m going to snap your arm right now!”

    Kai smiles a little through the pain and torque of his arm. He rolls.


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