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Thread: Fight Night August 25th Promo Thread

  1. #1

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    Fight Night August 25th Promo Thread

    Promos are due at MIDNIGHT PACIFIC TIME on THURSDAY THE 24TH OF AUGUST. This is 3AM EASTERN AND 8AM BRITISH on FRIDAY THE 25TH. That's 6 days and 11 hours.

    Good luck.
    ----



    ----




    IMPORTANT MESSAGE

    Spoiler:




    ~~HAVE A NICE DAY~~
    Spoiler:






  2. #2
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    Re: Fight Night August 25th Promo Thread

    YOU BETTER SHOW UP, MOTHERF*CKER!

    Step Two:
    Jame Sync


    This promo was brought to you by Bandai Namco Entertainment and Toei Animation...





    “You’ve made a grave error, Wolf. wake up”

    Wolf’s eyes flutter, as he awakens and yawns. The wind rages, whipping his face like sharpened knives, yet the echoing voice cuts through to him far harsher than the wind ever could. As his eyes open, he recoils backward, as he realizes he is on the edge of a building floating far above the clouds the settle below.

    He turns away from the edge, and comes face to face with a being, one who glows with a white aura that outlines his body. Wolf’s face contorts confusedly.

    Wolf: Who the f*ck are you?

    Mr. Popo: The man who will make certain you obtain victory on Fight Night.

    Wolf scoffs, whilst folding his arms, his fear from earlier now diminished, making way for his arrogance.

    Wolf: You? I don’t need your help. I am going back to sleep. It is only 8 AM that is like 20 more hours of sleep. You are worse than the stupid alarm clock.

    Mr: Popo: Don't you want to get stronger?

    Wolf: No.

    Mr. Popo sighs and shakes his head, before turning backwards.

    Mr. Popo: It appears you put your guard down and was defeated by Michael Garcia. Would you say that’s a wise, considering that you have set your eyes on even more dangerous prey in Kazadi?

    Wolf: You underestimate me. I’m the best I’ve ever been, and everyone will find that out soon.

    Mr. Popo: Even so, without refining your skills, you risk utter humiliation. Come with me.

    He beckons for Wolf to follow him, as the two of them cover the distance to a small set of steps. The steps carry them towards a dark door which looms before them, before Wolf can even question Popo, he is dragged through the doorway by a seemingly invisible force. He audibly grunts and struggles, as he is transported into another dimension.

    Wolf: What is this place?

    Mr. Popo: Due to your lack of training, I have taken you to…

    The Room of Spirit and Time.

    Wolf: Intimidating name for such an empty, bland space.

    He trudges a few steps forward, but as he steps onto the near-transparent surface, Wolf feels a violent shift in weight, as gravity brings him down to a knee. He strains to stand, although he does after a brief struggle.

    Mr. Popo: Gravity in this room is ten-times that of Earth’s. It will take a little, but given your natural talents, you should be able to grow accustomed to it shortly.

    Wolf’s face reveals disbelief, but even so, he attempts to move. Within a few minutes, he is maneuvering more freely than what he was when he first entered the space. With his restriction now conquered, he glances over towards Popo.

    Wolf: Okay, do you want to explain what’s going on here? Or am I just going to have to eviscerate you?

    Mr. Popo chuckles, before assuming a serious expression once more.


    Mr. Popo: I have seen fit to give you access to The Room of Spirit and Time. It’s a specialized room where time passes far more slowly than it does on Earth. In here, 24 hours of Earth time equates to an entire year here. Now, you won’t be needing that much time, but this location is the perfect place for you to receive some much needed training.


    Wolf: And what exactly am I going to achieve here?

    He gestures out towards the vast amount of empty space encompassing him.

    Wolf: There’s nothing even remotely in sight.

    Mr. Popo smiles, before waving his hand. Behind Wolf, the sound of two feet walking nearer towards him echo throughout the room, causing him to turn. Upon doing so, he spots nARC standing across from him.

    Wolf: nARC? The f*ck are you doing here? I thought you were dead.

    Much unlike the actual nARC however, this copy of him doesn’t talk whatsoever, staring at him with a deadpan expression.

    Mr. Popo: nARC, that is not. This is merely a copy of him that I have created. He is a perfect mirror of the way nARC himself would combat you in the ring.

    Wolf snarls.

    Wolf: And here I was marking for the nARC. He wanted to be a wrestler since he was 2 years old. Time to beat him up again.

    Mr. Popo: Well then, why don’t you do it again? Keep in mind, the extra gravity will make this more of a challenge then it may seem to you at the moment.

    Wolf: Don’t mind if I do.

    Wolf steps forward, stretching his arms as he faces nARC.

    Wolf: You see, the biggest weakness of Jason? His cookie-cutter approach to everything. The man screams vanilla. It oozes out of his personality, his movements, and especially his wrestling. So, the key to taking out nARC? Predict what he’ll do. I’ll counter him and relegate him back to being a jobber scrub without mercy.

    Wolf approaches nARC with confidence, as the latter attempts to grapple him into the set-up of a suplex. Wolf laughs as he sways to the side and lands a sharp one-two combination with crashes off of nARC's jaw. nARC shrugs the blows off and reels backward, sending a sharp Superkick Wolf’s way. Wolf ducks and returns fire with a side-kick that slams into nARC's elbow, before dropping him with a vicious overhand right that sends him to the floor. nARC crumples, and then disappears into nothingness.

    Wolf: Where’d he go? I wanted to humiliate him some more.

    Mr. Popo: Why? Your next opponent is already waiting.

    Wolf eyes dart around, and lock onto the swaggering figure of Bobby Thunder.

    Wolf: Bobby, you’ve never been anything but the dirt that resides at the bottom of my boot. I expect you to come as you always do; overeager and unrefined. I will show you the difference in our levels once again.

    The clone of Bobby Thunder charges Wolf, attacking him with a barrage of strikes which just barely miss the mark. However, Bobby’s pressure does manage to push Wolf back, managing to catch him with a boot to the gut. Wolf doubles over, and Bobby spins around, and then quickly leaps backward with a pele kick toward Wolf, who blocks the blow with two crossed arms above his head. Bobby hits the ground, where Wolf swiftly presses his advantage and locks him around the head, lifting him to his feet in an inverted headlock.

    Wolf proceeds to lift Bobby, and then slam him viciously into the ground. Bobby’s body dissipates into thin air, as nARC's did earlier.

    Wolf: Who’s next in this jobber parade?

    Mr. Popo: James Sync.

    Wolf: The King of Jobbers? Good!

    Wolf smiles, as a trickle of sweat runs down his face, he frowns upon noticing this. Wiping the sweat off his brow, Wolf takes in a deep breath still waiting for James Sync to show up.

    Wolf: And....?

    Mr. Popo: It looks like the clone of James Sync no showed. My magic is not strong enough to even create an illusion of James Sync appearing for a match.

    Wolf: Just like the real thing.

    Mr. Popo: You shall be fighting the real one on this week's Fight Night.

    Wolf smiles sadistically.

    Wolf: What if he is scared? What if my reputation truly does precede me? What if James Sync started doing his homework and didn't like what he saw? Would my job be over? No. No it wouldn't. Because we've sealed a pact, Sync. You put your name on the dotted line. You and I are going to tangle no matter what you do. You can't run, you can't hide. If you don't show up? I'll come find you.

    He tries to light up his trademark cigarette.

    Mr. Popo: This room’s temperature is also far higher than Earth’s, you’ll notice....

    Wolf interjects.

    Wolf: Shut the f*ck up or you will take his place.

    He takes a drag of his cigarette.

    Wolf: If you don't believe me, Sync, try me out. Stay home on Friday night, see if a f*cking taxi doesn't pull up to the hotel with a ref and a camera crew. Because I am going to fight you on Friday night, Sync. I am going to hurt you on Friday night. I am going to make sure every cent was well spent, I'm going to beat you silly with everything that isn't nailed down and I'm going to do it all with a big shit-eating grin on my f*cking face. Because you are a billboard to me. You are a tool. I will abuse you, I will use you and in the end? You will be better for it. I promise. It will either be: "holy shit, I can't believe James Sync pulled that out! Have you ever seen so much gore on a Fight Night? Hashtag Rockstar!" Or and this is the one I find more likely... "Holy shit, Wolf wasn't lying. Have you ever seen someone take that much punishment and still stand, even if he needed the ref and the trainers... And the timekeeper... And couple paramedics. Hashtag I almost puked." I got a question for you, Sync. Since, y'know, we don't really get to hear from you that much. Are you busy crying over your boyfriend Tony Juvenille leaving FWA? Follow up question: If so, would you kindly, pull your head out of your ass? Would you PLEASE make an honest attempt? 'Cause it's like this, you stupid, stupid, stupid...Rock... Star... F*ck. We all agreed to be the best we can be, no matter what, when we signed the contract. If your match against Cyrus Truth is you at your best then you have something coming? You couldn't seal the deal if you brought a lawyer, an economist, a nuclear physicist and a bunch of rabid midgets to hold somebody down with you to ringside for every bout, you douche. We both made our debuts in 2007 and since then I got better, I worked harder, I fought harder. And it won me fame, acclaim, titles, women, money, houses, the whole nine. Do you realize that I could shoot somebody in the head on national television and the crowd would still cheer for me? Do you realize that I'm the one this company goes to for anything media related? Do you realize I'm the Hulk Hogan of this generation? Think what you will about the guy, but in his day, he was a f*cking giant! He was the man! There is a reason people call him "The Immortal" Hulk Hogan, because he's transcends the business! He's more than a Wrestler! He's an ICON! People that have never watched a wrestling show in their meaningless lives, cocksuckers that know nothing about what we do, they all know the name... Just like they know mine. I can say I'm better than you, simply because I am. I'm bigger, I'm stronger and I will be remembered for much longer... I'm the most sadistic man in the business, always have been, always will be. And you became a joke, Sync. You're a living, breathing, technically sound joke. A thong, a dress, and we're all just supposed to forget and believe you are going to start putting any effort into this? THIS is the man we need to look out for? It's laughable... This is about the drive to be the best every night. That's why this is such a big deal to me. Because I pride myself in knowing that I am the best... every... night.

    Wolf shrugs, then takes drag off his smoke before dropping it to the ground. He uses the heel of his boot to snuff the butt. His face is steel, his eyes are on fire with hatred and rage.

    Wolf: Sync, you better not be hiding. You better be at the arena early as f*ck and checked the f*ck in so that when I show up? I know where the blood is going to be shed. Because I swear to the dark gods that oversee my existence, if you shaft me? I will give you a limp. Don't make me come and get you, Sync. I'm already angry, you don't want me to be pissed at you specifically. Because at that point? You have no chance of doing the one thing you should be focused on right now.. BEAT ME, SYNC! I DEFY YOU TO! STAND TOE TO TOE WITH YOUR DEMON! BECAUSE YOU HAVE TO! I WON'T LET UP IF YOU PISS YOUR PANTS HALF-WAY DOWN THE RAMP! I AM GOING TO BLEED YOU AND YOUR OPINION ON THAT IS IRRELEVANT, IT IS A F*CKING FACT! BUT YOU COULD WALK OUT THE WINNER, YOU WON'T WALK OUT UNDER YOUR OWN POWER, BUT F*CK IT RIGHT?!? BUT YOU NEED TO FOCUS SYNC, BECAUSE WHEN I PRESS YOU UNDER MY HEEL LIKE A CIGARETTE BUTT I WANT THE WORLD TO KNOW THAT I AM STOMPING OUT A MAN THAT HAS NO CHOICE BUT TO WIN, A MAN THAT HAS NOTHING TO LOSE AND EVERYTHING TO GAIN, A MAN THAT NEEDS THE "W" AS MUCH AS I WANT IT! Otherwise, you won't learn anything. Friday night, class is in session. Bring your A-game and a number two pencil because if you don't? You may never get another chance to fight anyone ever again. That's not a threat, it's a promise.

    Wolf shakes his head as a small smile curls back up on to his thin, angry lips.

    Wolf: You there! I am done here. Take me home.


    Mr. Popo: Yes, sir!

    With a wave of the hand, everything is reduced to black, and Wolf finds himself springing up from his sleep, waking up in his own apartment once more.
    Last edited by Wolfs Rain; 08-19-2017 at 09:45 PM.

  3. #3
    Tacos Rule!
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    Re: Fight Night August 25th Promo Thread

    Its in the Stars


    Hanz Gruber is sitting in the Doane Observatory in the Adler Planetarium in Chicago- which he owns, looking at the stars and far away planets. A young woman enters and taps on Hanz shoulder.


    Young Woman: Mr Gruber, shall we open now? That school tour just drove up.


    Hanz Gruber: Very well- but bring them here last for I want some privacy


    Young Woman: Yes sir. I'll text you when we are on our way here.


    Hanz Gruber: Thanks


    The young woman leaves and Hanz walks to the controls and moves the telescope around a bit until he has Sun in its sights- he focuses it in on solar flares and smiles. He turns on a nearby camera to record himself and its being uploaded to FWA.com live


    Hanz Gruber: Reines feuer, das ist mir. Or as one says in English, purefire, amazingly talented at one does in their life. The best wrestler to come out of Europe, the best wrestler to come along in this sport for a long time.


    Hanz Gruber: And yet last week on Fight Night I lost to Deception. And like I said last week, unlike Deception, I'm not gonna lie to the FWA viewers, nor anyone else. I'm not gonna make any excuses for my losing the match. I dared him to bring it, I dared him to be himself. He beat me fair and square. Deception, you may have thought you were playing mind games- but no, none of your shenanigans got to me- you just out wrestled me that night. Enjoy your win- for if we shall meet again- Du bist ein tot mann. It will be your end.

    Hanz turns the controls and focuses the telescope on a cluster of stars


    Hanz Gruber: And this week, Herr O'Ryan pits me against Izzy Van Doren. One thing I will say about the women here- they have more balls, more talent than most of the men here. The only men here that have my respect as far as wrestling ability are Tommy Thunder, Cyrus, Humanity and Wolf. And I'll admit, this will be my first time wrestling a woman, but I am not taking you lightly Izzy. I respect the fact you have no problem wrestling men and as I saw last week, you and Penny had no problem beating two men. So please, bring your best for I shall too. And don't worry, I am not gonna go all big doofus Zako Wrath on you to make a point, to show how tough I am by pummeling the life out of a woman- that's not me. I don't do that to women in any case. Against another man though- anything goes, especially if they piss me off. No Izzy, you and I can put on a wrestling clinic- we can steal the show.


    Hanz pushes the cameras lens so they are focusing on the stars


    Hanz Gruber: And you see Izzy- after your match with me, you truly will be one of those


    Hanz points towards the stars


    Hanz Gruber: And though you shall fall in defeat to me, no fault on your talent, I am just the better tactician - you still win in one way. You will have shown that you can go toe to toe with someone of my talent in the ring. You already have my respect- but you will get the respect you deserve from everybody in the arena, everybody watching on TV, everyone backstage.

    Hanz turns the controls and gets a nebula in its sights- he stares at it for a bit, then smiles.


    Hanz Gruber: Dust, hydrogen, helium and many other gasses. Weird how shit like that can be so beautiful. Kind of reminds me of Chicago- your town Izzy. The fact that I am in your town Izzy doing my promo, instead of in Phoenix where the show is, is only a coincidence. I own this place- have for a few years. When I want to clear my head, or just relax, I come here. If not here, my Germany or Austria homes are where I will be.


    Hanz Gruber: And I see why you fit in here so well, why you are Chicago's Favourite Gal. Chicago for all its beautiful buildings, parks and shit, it has its crime, its gritty in places, its trashy in places- more so than your New York, New Orleans. Hell even London, but there are those that stand out - they take all that shit in, they own it, they use it, they become better people because of it, they rise above it. That's people like you . That's people like my parents, my grandparents after WWII. I consider myself lucky- I never had to put up with shit like that. I was born after the Berlin Wall fell. Things had gotten back to normal in my Germany when I was growing up. I got to where I have by hard work, loving parents, great friends that all believed in me, helped me become the wrestler I am today, the man I am today. But Izzy, you always had shit around you that should have brought you down, but it didn't. I'll just help bring you to that next level. I'll help make you a star tonight.

    Hanz's phone beeps- he takes it out, reads the text. He responds, then walks over to the camera and turns it off

  4. #4
    Tacos Rule!
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    Re: Fight Night August 25th Promo Thread

    A Force to Be ....Sacred of, but not too much

    Katie Lynn Goldsmith walks down the hall with a camerman following her. She walks up to a door marked El Tacos Nachos Burrittos . Katie shakes her head at the sign then motions to the cameraman to start shooting


    Katie Lynn Goldsmith: Katie Lynn here, tonight the FWA viewers will finally get the hear from a new tag team called El Taco Hombres, unless they changed their name to this


    Katie points to the sign. She then opens the door and sees two men wearing sombreros - one dressed in all Mexican garb- the other one dressed pretty much as a golf caddie(looking like Chavos gimmick as Kerwin White), they are both in front of grill cooking something- it smells awful. She looks around and sees two donkeys who upon looking around some more, have shit on the floor. She looks around some more, with a disgusted look upon her face- when she feels something hitting on her leg- its a midget dressed as a chicken- its El Chickeno. He was not hitting her leg, he was pecking at it. She shoves him away


    Katie Lynn Goldsmith: Screw this


    Katie leaves the room and the cameraman is about to leave when Paco sees him and grabs him.


    Paco Torres: Hey man, where is Mrs Boobies?


    Cameraman: Katie? She just left, your chicken attacked her.

    Paco Torres: Its just what he does man. He's a little pecker, but he is our little pecker man. So you interview us now?


    Cameraman: No, but you want to just talk into the camera I will record you.


    Paco Torres: Can El Chickeno interview us?


    Cameraman: I, uh, guess so.


    Paco Torres: Hey Terry man, quit cooking, let the boys look after the food


    Terry grabs the donkeys by their reigns and pulls them up to grill, then walks over to Paco


    Terry Torres: Where is the fine Mrs Katie? I thought she was to interview us? Thats why we were cooking- for her honor

    Paco Torres: Forgets Mrs Boobies, El Chickeno will ask the questions.


    Terry Torres: Ok, but will he ask us fair questions? Will he be bias?


    Paco Torres: What does that mean? Does that means he likes men and women?


    El Chickeno: Yes and chickens


    Camerman: Can I just leave the camera with you guys?


    El Chickeno: No, they will sell it


    Paco nods yes


    El Chickeno: Please sir, sit down. I'll try to make this quick

    The cameraman sits down and El Chickeno hops in his lap, Paco and Terry laugh


    Cameraman: What the fuck are you doing?


    El Chickeno: I'm a midget, they don't have a booster seat for me. So please, just stay still or I will peck your eye out


    The cameraman uncomfortably does just that, sitting still with El Chickeno in his lap. El Chickeno then pretends he has a mic in his hand and starts the interview.


    El Chickeno: So Terry and Paco, this is your second ever match here in FWA. Your opponents tonight are the team of Graves and Sinn, also known as the God Killers. how did you guys prepare for the match?

    Paco Torres: Well when you were washing the guys, we watched The Devils Rejects.


    El Chickeno: I see, so how did that masterpiece help you come up with a plan for the match?


    Paco Torres: What? What is a master what?

    Terry Torres: Masterpiece stupid. A classic.

    Paco Torres: Well I never heard that word.


    Terry Torres: Well you should have studied more. But to answer you question you little pecker, we can not give you details. We don't want them to know what we have up our sleeves


    Paco Torres: Unlike you, I don't wrestle in a shirt, so I have no sleeves. You wear a shirt because you are getting fat. We really need to start cooking with olive oil instead of lard


    Terry Torres: You little shit, I..

    Terry punches his brother in the arm

    El Chickeno: Lets focus back on your opponents, The God Killers, Graves and Sinn.



    Paco Torres: What God did they kill?


    El Chickeno: I am not sure, it could have been any one

    Terry Torres: Well they are going to hell for that. People shall not kill gods, its one of the Ten Commandments


    El Chickeno: Ok, so we know they are going to hell for killing a god and your plan for the match is secret, but what are your thoughts on the two men?


    Paco Torres: What two men?


    El Chickeno: Graves and Sinn


    Terry Torres: But since they killed a god are they really still men?


    El Chickeno: I suppose. anyways, what are your thoughts on both of them?

    Terry Torres: Well one is bigger than the other


    El Chickeno: And what else?


    Paco Torres: One is smaller than the other


    El Chickeno: And what else?


    The FWA cameraman pushes El Chickeno off his lap


    Cameraman: You guys are idiots


    El Chickeno stands up and starts pecking at the cameraman- Paco grabs the camera and runs off out the door. All the FWA viewers see now is Pacos face staring into the camera as he is running......






  5. #5
    Squash Fodder

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    Re: Fight Night August 25th Promo Thread

    *Miss De La Muerta is shown staring ahead with the usual cold blank expression on her face, hood raised as she is shown to be in a dimly lit room with candelabras burning behind her on tables, providing the only light. A crow suddenly caws outside, but it does not change her expression at all in the least. Zako Wrath is shown to be standing beside her, looking somehow more savage and seething with bloodlust than usual, as he simply snarls, as his lips twitch ominously with animalistic aggression, with raw madness dancing within his red eyes. The more the camera focuses upon him, the more evident his passionate desire, for only causing merciless pain becomes. There is no thought, remorse for what he has done to others lately, only... unfiltered and unmistakable, anger, hatred, and seething...wrath.

    Miss De La Muerta: Last week Zako increased his list of casualties yet again,as he has effortlessly done, week in and week out. He decisively crushed three women at once in less than 4 minutes, and only stopped tearing them to shreds because I told him to, and before that, he added FWA interviewer Amy Duke to the trail of broken bodies he is constantly leaving in his wake. That was not about laying out an innocent defenseless woman who stood no chance at all against a monster-That was about making a statement, and that statement is that NO ONE is safe
    None shall escape...The Wrath...Of Zako.

    That brings me to the next helpless victim...Ashley O'Ryan...has placed in front of Zako: "The Malevolent One" , Mac Michaud. This has been done because Zako Wrath has to be PUNISHED for his actions. Let's see how Zako deals with someone who's just as much of a bully as him, let's see if he can bully Mac like he did Amy. Disgusting behavior." Zako will NOT be "punished" by anyone, ever, in any way of shape of form at all, no matter who it is. Then way he will "deal with" with Mac Michaud is by throwing and slamming him all around the ring, from bell to bell. Zako is not "A bully", he will ultimately and swiftly remove Mac Michaud from active competition just as he has done to others.

    It makes no difference if it is 3 women or one small interviewer, or a 6'11 , 328 pound former NFL athlete, as well a member of the United States Armed Forces.
    Zako does not care who is it is or what they've done in their past-For he will permanently alter their future within minutes. Mac Michaud is in fact a former X Division Champion, a former two time Television Champion, and he is tied for the most times holding that same title, and he EVEN has the most combined days of holding onto it. It doesn't stop there- he is also a former two time tag team Champion, so it should be said he is a very decorated man who has had quite the prosperous career... up....until....this point. It's all over Mac Michaud. You will stand before Zako and you will fall before Zako.

    I know all about you and the life you've led- You were thrown out of a professional football league because of "Excessive violence"...well, just what exactly do you think that is going to matter when you are looking into the eyes of the one known fearfully, as "The Walking Disaster"? So you like to be a bit too rough when it's not allowed, Zako breaks bone and puts people into the hospital because it is the only thing he thinks and cares about. How will you stand up to that? The answer is: You will not. He will Suplex, Chokeslam, and Kick you in the head, then leave you laying with a severe concussion when you feel "The Reaper's Touch".

    Your only option would be to beg me to get him off of you and end it all early... let's continue to be honest though-It wouldn't work. Stay home, Mac Michaud. I hope you're listening because that is your only option. Return to the military or become an athlete once more, while you still have the chance. Leave FWA immediately and get far, far, away from Zako.

    Do so while you still have the chance. HE is the true "Malevolent One" out of you both. I don't know where you went before you recently returned here but you should have stayed there. You came back talking about "No more monsters!", But Zako will eat you alive and move forward. Your end approaches.


    Miss De La Muerta now turns to Zako and looks him in the eyes and begins to shout at him "Pronto Zako, usted quitará Mac Michaud de FWA para siempre! Pronto! Matarás al que se conoce como el Malevolo!" [Soon Zako, you will remove Mac Michaud from FWA forever! Soon! You will slay the one known as the Malevolent One!"

    *The camera now fades away as the last shot is Zako's red eyes, as he decisively nods his head in response as Miss De La Muerta continues to shout.*

  6. #6
    I'm a Stone Cold Lee Guy.
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    Re: Fight Night August 25th Promo Thread

    It’s a bright and sunny day today in Phoenix Arizona as evident by the clouds are seen in the sky. A video has been uploaded to the FWA website, Most of the focus is set on the clouds slowly traversing through the heavens and the faint sound of children screaming and laughing could be heard under a roaring breeze every couple of moments. A couple of birds fly across the sky as the sound of them tweeting heads from the left speaker to the right. After a couple of moments pass, a familiar female voice can be heard, the voice of Bell Connelly.


    Bell Connelly: I see… A mouse riding horseback. She's going to war against the evil cat overlords.”


    She says as an arm is lifted, index finger pointing to a cloud.


    Bell Connelly:
    “No wait, scratch that. I see a group of ducks doing a pyramid formation on jet skis. But instead of a pyramid, it’s the shape of a Y. They’re not quite sure how they pull it off, but they’re not asking any questions.Just squint your eyes Tilt your head a little. Your mind will do the rest. Hey don’t worry if you didn’t I just have a way overactive imagination, so I see things most people can’t see. It’s a gift...Or a mental illness.One of those, I always get those mixed up. Potato. Potato right? Oh also don’t tell the ducks I’m watching them. I don’t want to throw them off their game for the cloud olympics...I hear they're going for gold this year.”


    Bell nods somewhat more enthused looking more like her self than she has since Ryan Rondo destroyed the women's title. She leans back in her swing her eyes closed for a moment. Her eyes closed as she inhales deeply from her nose.


    Bell Connelly: “I feel better...Better than I have been in a long time, For the first time since Back In Business, I feel more like myself….Maybe that’s just because I’ve been winning. Now that I’m in the finals. That I’m one match away from getting a shot at the North American Championships...Or maybe...Just maybe it’s because I’m in familiar surroundings.


    Bell twirls a finger idly around her surroundings as to underline the fact that this week Fight Night is taking place in her hometown; Phoenix, Arizona



    Bell Connelly: You ever work a swing set Zach? What I’m I saying? Of course, you did I know I did. I used to do it all the time in this playground….Well...PROBABLY anyway I don’t exactly remember this place, or ever coming here, but I don’ exactly remember….well… I lot… But I remember using one of these bad boys. My trusty steed. Pushing myself back as far as I can go, launching myself forward and letting the swing set do the rest….I tried so many times to get up and over the top...I don’t know what’ll happen if I ever did...Maybe I would let go and ...you know? Fly away…


    That last word was almost a wistful sigh more than an actual declarative statement; she looks off into the distance as her eyes glazed over somewhat a dreamy tone coming from her mouth looking a million miles away….before snapping back to reality and turning her head to the camera


    Bell Connelly: “But you’re not interested in any of that right? No, no, no. Mr Alpha Wolf. You’re after something else entirely. Am I I right?


    Bell leans forward in place just a little, smiling now addressing her opponent for this evening personally lazily swinging her swing side to side like a slow moving pendulum she released her grip on the left side and reaches down to the ground her hands reached down off camera and when her hand reappeared it’s now holding a piece of paper. With a little theatrical gesture she unfurls the piece of paper and holds it out in front of her making a show of clearing her throat.


    Bell Connelly: Heh-hem: ““Starr, Sync, Thunder, Galloway. Alright, fine, to be fair, they’ve got potential, I guess, but they’re not there yet, not by a long shot.” Starr also has one hell of superkick…”


    Bell makes a show of wincing like she has a migraine before continuing


    Bell Connelly: ...But that’s probably goes against the whole “I’m so much better than everyone else” narrative you have going on, where was I again? Oh right!! “Phillip A Jackson. Wait… I’ve beaten that guy twice now, like every damn legend, and former star in the FWA, he’s a fraud. He doesn’t measure up to what the history books have written about him. No” Well aren’t you a salty Suzy. Oh, but THIS is where it gets fun; No, really, there’s one head I want “Hmmm wonder who that could be” That’s Bell Connelly “Oh hey that’s me!”. She’s the last one with any measure of reputation here. “Aw shucks, you sure know how to flatter a gal” She’s challenged for the World Title time and time again. “Well twice actually, so really just time and….time. But who's counting? She pushed Ryan Rondo at Back in Business. She’s… Shannon’s dearest friend. To be fair, what’s left of her, having her heart beaten to dust by Truth, and Eimi and Rondo over the last year.


    As she reads on, with each word her voice becomes less playful, a frown beginning to form on her face


    Bell Connelly: … It isn’t much. But there’s still something left. And as much as she might think she’s got nothing left… There’s always a smaller place in the corner you can get pushed into, and the smaller that place, the more you want to fight for it. The Bell today is more dangerous than the Bell at Back in Business, more dangerous than the one from Carnal Contendership. I want that Bell. And I want to take her last sliver of space.”


    Bell looks up from the sheet of paper and looks at the camera with somewhat of a bemused look, her eyebrows raised as high as she can go. Before she quickly crumples up the piece of paper and flings it behind her back, never once taking her eyes off the camera, speaking in a jovial tone


    Bell Connelly: “Welp! Zacky M’boy. Mr Alpha Wolf. Just call me Genie, Because Ask and you shall receive. You wanted me, Here I am. Your dream date.


    Bell spreads open her arms proud and wide.


    Bell Connelly: “Live and in living colour. Are you excited? Because I know I am….Well, excited...and maybe just a teeny tiny bit….confused.


    The overly happy tone falters just a little as she narrows her eyes in good natured curiosity


    Bell Connelly: “Just a smidge, maybe you can help me out with that, maybe you can clear that big ol’ cloud of confusion that’s hovering above my head….Oh..Not those clouds:. Not the actual clouds, these are more metaphorical imaginary clouds. Kind of an awkward place to start using cloud metaphors. Am I I right?


    Bell shrugs a little before continuing


    Bell Connelly: Anywho. I mean, I get it. You got that whole “I’m cool. I’m cocky, and I don’t play by the rules. I want the main event. I want this. I want that. Put me in the world title picture! I get that you’re good and you like to tell people just how good you are.But what I don’t get, What I can’t get my head around. Is what you’re doing?


    Bell’s tone suddenly loses any trace of joy; a mysterious little glint begins to take form in those bright blue eyes of hers. The somewhat conversational tone is turning rather sharp.


    Bell Connelly: “Why are you here, Zachary?


    She repeats the question one more slowly emphasising each word


    Bell Connelly: “I think it’s a fair question. Ok, I know you said you want me. But come on, just between you and me. We both know I'm not the one you want. No no no. But you would want me, if Oh...I don't know. If I was about 3 feet taller. Covered in body hair, rippling with muscles and "I TALKED. LIKE THIS ABOUT HOW IM GOING TO BREAK YOUR NECK AND DRINK YOUR BLOOD HOOOOOOWLL-OW-OW-OW.: You. Want. Wolf. And failing to get your hands on WOLF. You'd want the world title. I mean, you're not exactly a man that keeps your card to your chest. We all know what you want. So you see why I'm confused right? Because we all know you don't want THIS. It’s you and me. The main event, The finals of the quest for the best come down between us. And the winner becomes number one contender for the North American championship. But you don’t want it. You’ve never wanted it. At Back In Business, you had the chance to fight for the north American championship. But you said “No, get me WOLF.” and when you couldn’t get WOLF, you ran away and sulked. You’re the entire reason this tournament exists, and yet here you are; one win away from where we started. So again I have to ask. Why are you here? A wise man once said: “If you want to start a war you better know what you’re fighting for. Seven of us came into this looking for a shot at the North American Championship. You…..I’m not sure what it is you want...To prove how bad you are? To prove you can do whatever you want? To show you can walk any round-robin you can without breaking a sweat? Is that what you’re here for, to fluff you’ve own ego. And-And-


    Oh boy, Bell’s is getting excited now, her fingers beginning to tremble, her breathing ragged as words just spill out of her. She has to pause for a moment to articulate her thoughts fully.


    Bell Connelly: You believe in your heart of hearts. That you want to win what’s an ego game to you is more than my need-MY NEED. To win this and get my life back? And people say I’m crazy….


    A strange little giggle escapes her lips as she leans her head down for a moment taking deep breaths before looking up once more


    Bell Connelly: In my life, I’ve died three times.In my life. Did you know that Zach? I was born dead. .God, I used to hear this story all the time. At first, they thought I was still born.For the first thirty seconds of my life, I was silent. I didn’t cry. I didn’t whine. I didn’t breath. It took what must have felt like a lifetime before I finally took a breath.Guess you can say that was my first fight. The second time I died….


    Bell pauses in mind sentence, lapsing into silence a blank expression coming over her face merely blinking at the camera for ….an uncomfortably long amount of time before shaking her head


    Bell Connelly: Long story. Sudden end. Let’s just say it was a transformative experience.: But the third time? The whole world saw that. Ryan Ro-”


    Bell stutters over that last name, clearly having trouble saying that name


    Bell Connelly: “ Ryan Rondo choked me out, And he power slammed me through the centre of the earth. And he broke. My heart. You’re not looking at a living girl here. Since Back In Business, I’ve been living in purgatory. My heart isn’t beating; I’m HOLLOW inside. The only thing that’s keeping me alive is WINNING THIS TOURNAMENT. ZACH. YOU GOT TO UNDERSTAND. I'VE GOT NOTHING LEFT. I LOST EVERYTHING ELSE! THIS MEANS NOTHING TO YOU, BUT THIS IS MY WAY BACK. TO GET MY LIFE BACK.


    Bell’s clenched fist begins to shake uncontrollably, showing everything that she's feeling inside her. Is it rage? Is it frustration? Is it despair? Is it maybe all of the above? The slightly unhinged side of her personality that’s we’ve
    sen way too much over the last few weeks. Bwll opens her fist and puts her palm to her face, seemingly wiping away a few tears that have started to form in the corners of her eyes. With her face cleared for now, Bell continues to speak, while staring down at her lap the whole time.


    Bell Connelly:"There is a sound that's unmistakable. They are the echoes of the slow, empty footsteps of a broken person. When their heart's been broken in two, or their dreams have been shattered into a million pieces, it's impossible to miss that image of a hollow person who walks not because they want to, but only because they have nothing left. I've seen that sad, little story played out a million times before, but never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that mine would be the same.


    A strained little laugh escapes her.


    Bell Connelly It's funny. You'd expect that with all my losses. , that would be my story. It isn't."


    Bell pauses for a moment, letting his head dip down before he begins to explain himself.


    Bell Connelly: "I had an end goal. I knew what I wanted. I knew where I wanted to be when this story reached its conclusion, and it wasn't losing to Rondo...or Cyrus...Or Emii. It wasn’t lying face down in a gutter, wasting away and letting life pass me by as if the rainwater was washing it all away into a sewer with all the rest of the grime and filth. But there came a point just before the first round... where I started to think. Of all the sad stories I could tell, did I want mine to be the same? When the world passes on the story of Bell Connelly, what would they say? 'She let everyone that had ever believed her down?” That... that's pathetic. That's more than pathetic. That's just damn insulting. I've been thrown down before. I've had my face in the dirt, and I've had the weight of my doubts and my struggles sit on my shoulders, trying to keep me from standing right back up, but every time... I stood up. I’m never going to lay down because someone told me to, whether it was someone I loved, someone I respected, or even myself. I was going to get back up, and I was going to do what I wanted, get what I wanted, life be damned. But when the world tells you you have limitless potential, only to turn around and throw a big fat stop sign in your face, and tell you this is as far as you go? Heh..."


    A soft chuckle slips through Bell's lips.


    Bell Connelly: “Despite what everyone might believe. I'm well aware of life's hypocrisy. Life is what you make of it. Everyone decides to pass on their life lessons to you, but they never seem to be aware of just how much they contradict. 'You can be whatever you want to be'... as long as you align with the world's design for you. 'You have the power to change the world'... as long as you turn it into something that everyone else likes. You grow up, and the narrative starts to take a tonal shift from idealism to CRUSHING. Cynicism, hoping that somewhere along the way, they balance out to hit that golden mean of realism in your head. Everyone only notices their own lives, but they don't see what happens when you take all the anecdotal evidence and pull the statistics out of it. We build kids up to bring them down. We tell them you can climb up to the top of that hill, then laugh at them when they're so surprised when they fall as if wondering what they expected. They expected what their parents told them, that if you resolve to do something, you can accomplish it. What they forgot t to mention are all the failures and all the losses that slowly chip away at that resolve, but what else can they do? No loving, responsible parent will tell their child no. It's much more comforting to tell your son or daughter what they can be when they grow up, not what they will be when they give up. They'll let them climb that hill and cheer them on the whole way through. The truth will knock 'em down soon enough."


    Silence falls once again as Bell glances to the side, lingering on the cynical message she's just left everyone with. As he turns his head again, he looks at the camera for the first time before he continues to spill his thoughts.


    Bell Connelly: "Not everyone gets up when they fall. There's the irresponsibility that the world expects, that every single time someone falls, they get right back up. They neglect the reality of weakness. Not everyone has that fight in them. Not everyone will stand back up, and when you roll down the hill and eat the dirt enough times, sooner or later, you'll give up. And once you're satisfied with your life at the bottom of the hill, once you've resigned yourself to a life laying at the feet of people who chose to stand and be better than you, the world comes right back up and hands you your consolation prize. Congratulations, you tried, and ultimately, you failed, just like every other lifeless body lying around you. And when they get up, and they haul themselves away to the gutters to drown? That's when you hear it. Those distinct, hollow footsteps. They don't walk to where they want to go, they walk to the only place left for them to go, and they walk with the weight of a person who only has the strength left to themselves to fall back down."


    Bell stops for a moment, quietly rubbing her hands upon his face before pressing her fingertips together, a sharp, focused look growing in his eyes.


    Bell Connelly:"They told me I should stop trying. They told me that I’m a choke artist. They told me that if I tried climbing back up that hill again, the next time I fall, it would be catastrophic. And for a moment. One singular second... I listened. I stared up at the sky, I gave up on that dream, and I resigned myself to my fate...But when I look at everyone else around me, everyone else in my position who push their sad, pitiful "life lessons" onto their children, I get sick. My story had to end with the same cynical, bitter taste that theirs did, and now I had to give up on the fairy tale and do the same? I have to give up, and pretend it was fine? Well... it was true. I could accept it. The thing is, I don’t. I chose to get back up. I'm not going to be like them, and you're not going to see the same from Bell Connelly: that you see from them. The people who say you can't, the ones who don't just say it but honestly believe it? They're the victims. The victims of circumstance, the victims of weakness, the victims of fate, whatever you want to call them, and if I was going to lay with them, I would be the same. I am NOT a victim I refuse to be one, and I refuse to let others tell the story of how Bell Connelly was a helpless victim, powerless to change her destiny. If I have to take one last throw of the dice. So be it. Getting up is always going to be a risk because what goes up must come down. That's what they tell you, right? But what goes up can go even higher, if it chooses to stand and climb. And if I have to take that risk of not getting back up, I will. If I lose against Zachary Kazadi? If he makes me tap out in my home town? If this is the last time I stand back up, then let them say of me that I came tumbling down and died on impact, instead of rotting away in the life of a philosophical corpse. I chose this life that led me here. I chose to fight, I chose one last roll of the dice to get , my life back and I wanted it because I wanted the rewards it would get me. The glory, the fame, I intended to write my story as a life of triumph. I'm not going to give up on it again. I'm not going to succumb to that weakness, and I am not going to let someone tell me to stop because I am not a projection of their fears and their weaknesses and if you want to tell me no Zachary? If you want to drag me down and keep me away from what is going to be mine? Then I am going to step up, I am going to meet you head on, and I am going to make you see, because what they tried to do to me... I will make sure I do to you."


    With a loud sniff, Bell wipes her eyes with her hands to clear her face of the moisture before looking up to face the camera once again. Her eyes are red and puffy, clearly, due to all the crying she's been doing this whole time, but her expression is a bit different. Still warped in a melancholic expression, her eyes are a bit stronger than they were before. There's a certain power in her gaze, a shred of determination that wasn't there before. Staring straight into the camera, she lets her resolve known as she continues to speak.


    Bell Connelly: I seem different because I am. I’ve been fighting desperately because I am desperate. This is not a game to me anymore. This is a war. This is my climb….back You’re coming for my space Zach? I’m coming for your head.. See you on the mountain top, Mike….


    With a courageous smile beneath tear-stained eyes, ends things on an uplifting, hopeful note as the video comes to an end.
    The most amazing thing about this recent conversation is that I've learned AON is even more of a waste of space than I thought he was previously

  7. #7
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    Re: Fight Night August 25th Promo Thread

    In empty arena. From the rafters sits Deception, his feet hanging from the edge.Katie Lynn Goldsmith walks up on the rafters. She is nervous, looking down, seeing how far from the ground she is. She is holding a handheld camera in her hand. Deception goes into his jacket and rumbles for a bit before pulling a cig out. He takes off his mask, his face covered by the shadows as he takes a drag. She sits next to him and asks Deception why he wanted to meet her. He starts talking nice and calm.

    Deception: Last week, I said I was going to beat Hanz and guess what? I did it. I know this war isn't over and in time we will dance with the devil again and I can not wait. That being said, Hanz last week you took everything I threw at you and you kept getting up. Hanz you also gave as much as you got and it almost put me down and for that you earned my respect. Such a shame we can't seem to be on the same page, a true hero & a true villain, we are just so different but yet so similar and this place would be ours for the taking. That though is a different passage from a different from a different book for another day.

    Deception grin shines as his face is still covered by the shadows. He points towards the camera pointing out that he wants her to tape what he is saying.

    Deception: That tape in there, what does it say?

    Katie Lynn Goldsmith: It says Jason Randall.

    As Katie says, on a piece of white tape on it reads " The Wildcard" Jason Randall. Deception nod's and begins to talk again.

    Deception: However tonight this isn't about Hanz, this isn't about Dairus, it's about Jason Randall. Mr. Randall allow me to introduce myself, my name is Deception and I am a hero of injustice. Now if you were looking for me to come out here and tell you that you are a liar , fraud, false prophet then you are mistaken. Jason, have you ever been in a fight you knew you were going to lose? Did you ever have those little whispers of doubt echo through your head until it becomes a scream that sends chills down your body leaving larva little bugs crawling in your skin? Your back is against the wall and the whole God damn world is watching, waiting for you to fail like it was some sort of sick car crash?

    Deception:
    I guess if you did that, the title around your waist wouldn't be there. It would be somewhere else, someplace where no matter how hard you tried you couldn't get it back. Its always just fingertips away, and I mean fingertips. It starts to eat your insides, it starts to become this addiction and you cant get your fix until you get that fix. I can tell you that I have had those lowest of lows. I have had my back against that wall. I have had those whispers of doubt creep into my head, I had it tear me apart at the seams. But you know what? I learned from that. I studied that, I can tell you right here right now Jason that until you have hit rock bottom you will never reach cloud nine. In your hands you hold a fix and I am an addict, a man with nothing to lose, everything to gain. At Fight Night you will find yourself in something you never excepted, a war, and we will never be the same.Now, I got something to admit Jason, I lied, its deception. I am sorry . I know exactly who you are "The Wildcard" and as judge , jury and executioner, I can tell you that my sense of justice is not swift it is twisted, it is dark, it is inhumane at times but it is needed. That is because you are just like every other person who walks into the world believing that they are the top of the food chain because sooner or later your feet are taken out right from under you and you are humbled.

    Deception: Humbled, hell that isn't a word to describe you. is it Jason? Self Righteous, Glad Handed, Entitled, Corrupt. These are the words that explain actually what kind of person you are. See, you placed a target on your back the moment you placed that title on your shoulder.

    Deception looks on, his mood changes into a serious and deep tone. His cig lighting up enough to see his eyes and that scar, just dim enough to show in the rafters.

    Deception: You like to play mind games Jason, you like to get into people's heads you like to see what just makes a person tick? The thing is, I like to do the same thing. I like to do it because it shows who you really are. This shows the best of you, the worse of you, the things that make you swarm like nails on a chalkboard. The type of things that you even hide from yourself. These things turn men like us from sheep to wolves and I can see you now foaming at the mouth, trying to not let me get under your skin.

    Deception gets up grabs his mask, places it on his face. He puts out his cig and tosses it. We see Deception's hands start to shake.

    Deception: Jason, I don't sleep well, not anymore. See my hands starts shaking, my body starts twitching. I start pacing. This isn't out of fear, this is because the hour clock is ticking and your Cinderella story is ending. There is no such thing as a fairytale ending and come Fight Night I will show the world the true face of Jason Randall.

    Deception takes a second before walking off. It looks like he is done but he stops. He looks Katie face to face.

    Deception: On second thought, hold on, I still have a lot more on my chest. Katie, the story of my life is not a tragic tale where I didn't know if I was going to make it through each day or not. I had a dream. I had a dream. They say don't dwell on the past or you can't move to the future, but I wasn't ever suppose to make it. I was never suppose to be anything except a silly naïve kid in a cape, flying around to elevate someone else. There is a reason why I came to FWA, this is where the best of the best are. I am here not to be a stepping stone. I refuse.

    Deception's voice break. You can feel the emotion pumping through his veins.

    Deception: I refuse to again scratch and claw my way to the top to be within fingertips and watch it fade away. No, not again. I earned this shot at your title Jason Randall. I earned it because I deserve it. There is no personal vendetta. There is just one thing, the X Title. I am going to take that championship and I am going to drive it into your skull over and over until you are out cold. I am then going to cover you and drown you in a combo of our blood, sweat and tears. I am going to hold that title high. I am going to take that title to new heights. I am going to leave a crime scene of broken dreams, shattered bodies, and a God damn fucking cracked skull in my wake. Every doubter who thought I was just this naïve kid with a chip on my shoulder is going to see a lethal dosage of my justice, with a X on my shoulder, on my waist, to face any man or woman who thinks they will pry this from my hands.

    Deception gets up looking at Goldsmith he adjust his jacket and walks off leaving Goldsmith in her thoughts thinking.

  8. #8
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    Re: Fight Night August 25th Promo Thread



    The FWA crew had arrived in Phoenix early, to get everything prepared for the high-budget event. It took a lot of work to pull-off a show that was as slick and well-produced as the FWA faithful had come to expect from their favourite wrestling promotion. But all of that hard work was well worth it, and the fans all knew that show time, they could look forward to an amazing show! Still, to whet their appetites, FWA management had kindly arranged a pre-"Fight Night" event for the fans, Those lucky fans would be able to meet-and-greet some of their favourite FWA stars, plus participate in an exclusive question-and-answer session, during FWA's official Fan Access weekend! And to be fair to them, The Heart Break Express WAS at the Fan event... just not out at the C booth, interacting with his legions of adoring fans. No... instead, Julian Watson and Ryan Martin was loitering behind-the-scenes in the FWA "green room". Julian Watson paced back and forth, looking annoyed, while Ryan was busy helping himself to the free snacks giving the stink eye to the event manager who was waiting patiently from her position on a small folding chair. Both men were wearing an official HBE t-shirt, with a black suit jacket over the top, plus a pair of dark jeans Watson finally stopped pacing and shot a frustrated look at their PA.


    Julian Watson: I'm so sick of this! We've only been here for... what? Ten minutes? And I already want to go home! I mean... have you SEEN some of the people out there?! It's like someone just smacked the whole lot of 'em in the face with a snow shovel! Seriously... welcome to Fuglyville! And we’ve supposed to pose for pictures with those freaks of nature? I don't want to get that close to them! I might try frigging catch something!


    PA: Mister Watson... don't you think you're a little... well... mean? These people are your fans, and it would make their day to get to meet one of their favourite wrestlers, in the flesh. And it's not like you'd be alone out there. You got your partner, and your manager would be right there with you...


    Ryan Martin:... And that's another thing! Why is it just the three of us that have to do this lame "fan interaction" crap?! Where the hell are the Olympians or The Vultures? If we've got to suffer like this, then surely they have to.

    PA: Well... while I'm sure they would have LOVED to attend this event in person, an unavoidable scheduling conflict meant that it simply would not have been feasible for them to attend...


    Julian Watson: Uh-huh... right. A "scheduling conflict"... by which you mean the Olympians are savouring every last second they have. Or maybe when the FWA high-ups made the call to The Vultures asking them to come, they just hung-up the phone on them?


    Ryan Martin: God... I wish I'd done that. But nooo... our generous nature costs us yet again. I think, "sure, that'll be a great way to give a little something back to all my fans"... and what do I get for our trouble? A horde of drooling half-wits that probably can't even spell "deodorant", let alone actually use it! I'm telling you right now; this is the absolute LAST time We will ever sign-up for one of these craptacular conventions again!


    Julian Watson: “Trust me, if Maddy has her way FWA conventions will never happen again


    As it turns out, much like the devil, Speak the name of Madison Banks and she shall appear as I the door swings wide open, and Madison Banks comes striding into the room. She is dressed in a tight black-and-white top, plus skinny jeans and boots. Madison looks even more annoyed than usual if such a thing were possible. She marches toward one of the chairs and throws herself down onto it.


    Madison Banks: That's it! I am DONE with those people! I never have... NEVER ... seen so many freaks, weirdos and perverts in one place. God… will somebody get me some water, please? And none of that cheap tap stuff... I want BOTTLED! Hurry up!


    The PA glances around and sees that nobody is bothering to deal with Maddy’s barked requests. She sighs and trudges off in search of some bottled water for the demanding manager. That leaves The Heartbreak Express alone.


    Julian Watson: So you're not having much fun either, huh? That's funny. I'd have thought you would have got a kick out of all this.


    Madison Banks Oh please. I like attention, but only when it comes from the right sort of people. And the guy out there that was... touching himself ... while I signed his magazine is NOT the right kind of person!


    Julian Watson: “Seriously?



    Ryan Martin: Ewww... that's gross!


    Madison Banks, You're telling me. I looked up from signing his magazine, and... well, there it was. I threw-up in my mouth a little, then got the hell out of there. And there is no chance that I'm going back out there. You two can do the Q and A


    Ryan Martin: Are you kidding me? I'm not going out there again! Those people are total freakazoids! They don't deserve to get their picture taken with "The Heartbreak Express” Screw the whole damn lot of 'em!


    Madison Banks “.....Did you just tell me no?”


    Ryan Martin: “...”

    ----
    And so, a large crowd of people had filed into the auditorium where the Q&A was to take place. They sat in rows of folding chairs, facing a large stage. There were three chairs already set up, one for the HBE members that were here, plus an extra seat for the Q&A host. And that individual - none other than Katie Lynn Goldsmith - makes her way out on stage, The crowd goes mild and greets Katie with utter indifference. He gives a dejected little sigh, then gets the event underway.


    Katie Lynn Goldsmith: Welcome, everybody! I hope you're all enjoying the Fan Access so far?


    This gets some cheers and applause


    Katie Lynn Goldsmith: Great, that's great to hear. Well, it's not over yet. We've still got the very special question-and-answer session with The Heartbreak Express I'm sure you're all looking forward to that!


    This gets a HUGE reaction, which seems to surprise Katie. It really shouldn't, since virtually everybody in the crowd are made massive FWA marks


    Katie Lynn Goldsmith
    Wow... I guess there are a lot of fans here? Well, OK then. Shall we bring them out here?



    The crowd cheers again, making no secret of the fact that they are all eager to see the tag team Alright!

    Katie Lynn Goldsmith:Let's not waste any time. Everybody, please welcome...The Heart Break Express!!


    The crowd goes crazy with cheers and applause, as Julian Watson and Ryan Martin (Whose nusing a painful looking red mark on his cheek) makes his way out on stage strutting arrogantly pointing to various fans before taking their seat, but Maddy does not appear. Katie looks clueless about what's going on; The fans start to quiet down, as they wonder what is going on...


    Backstage...Madison Banks is standing with the PA; They can hear the cheers of the crowd when her boys made their entrances., Maddy STILL has a problem with going out with the fans


    Madison Banks: I'm telling you, I'm not going out there! I don't care what anyone says or does; they can't make me. Why should I have to, anyway? If the tag champs don't have to do this kind of crap, then I sure as hell shouldn't have to!


    PA: I don't know what to tell you, Miss Banks. You AGREED to do this. It's a little late to back out now, don't you think?


    Madison Banks: No way! It's like this... I'm NOT going out there. Those people are freaks!


    PA: Well, I'm afraid you pretty much have to...


    Madison Banks: Excuse me?! Listen... I don't HAVE to do anything! I'm Madison Banks! I do what I want, whenever the hell I want to do it... And I'm telling you right now... I'm NOT going out there! There's nothing you or anybody else can say or do that will change my mind!

    PA: Well, alright... if you say so. But you know that if you don't go out there and entertain these fans like you agreed to do, then I'm pretty sure you aren't going to get paid...


    Maddy almost does a double-take, as this fairly obvious thought had never occurred to him


    Madison Banks: What?! Are you serious?!


    PA: It's weird, isn't it? People don't get paid huge sums of money for no-showing their public appearances, and just spending the whole day hanging around backstage bitching about what an awful time they're having...


    Maddy frowns at her PA, clearly unimpressed with her tone


    Madison Banks: OK, first of all? I wasn't "bitching"... I was just airing some of my grievances! And second... there is just no way I'm going to sacrifice my weekend to come to this event, then let some cheap idiot stiff me on the cheque, out of my way.


    From the way she was acting, you would think Maddy was about to charge the enemy frontlines on some battlefield somewhere. But all she was doing was going out on stage.


    PA: Yeah, good luck out there. Break a leg...


    Back out on stage...


    Madison Banks: Alright... I think Maddy might have missed her cue oh wait no-


    This time, Maddy does stroll out onto the stage, barely managing to hide her disgust Maddy strolls over to the remaining empty chair and sits down next to her boy's stagehand hurries across to hand them each a microphone, while Katie starts to make her way down to the front row of fans.


    Katie Lynn Goldsmith OK... thanks for being here, So, let's get this question-and-answer session started, shall we? Who's got a great first question for the Heartbreak Express? And remember... you can ask them anything you want. No subject is off-limits, and everything will get an honest an answer!


    The three members exchanged dubious glances with one another, apparently not putting too much stock in Katie’s claims that all of their answers will be the whole truth. All three is already looking uncomfortable, and like he wants to go home. Maddy starts grinding her teeth and glancing down at her Rolex watch every two seconds. Katie, meanwhile, has found the first fan with a question. It's a girl in her late teens, wearing an HBE t-shirt and carrying a banner decorated with pictures of the team. She looks extremely awestruck to be in the presence of her heroes and just starts waving her banner around frantically. Slapping Katie across the face with her banner; she glares at her, and she isn't sure what to do... but up on stage, Watson and Martin find her antics pretty funny. Even Maddy cracks a slight smile. The girl beams back at them... then actually does smack Katie in the face with her sign, by "accident."


    Katie Lynn Goldsmith: Watch it with that thing, will you?! You almost took my eye out!


    Julian Watson Hey, leave her alone, Katie! She's just happy to be here and having a little fun. Stop ruining it for her, and let her ask her question!


    Katie frowns, but she isn't prepared to risk getting on the Heart Break Express collective bad side. So she just holds out her mic to the girl so that she can ask them her burning question.


    Dawnie Hi, guys! I'm Dawnie, Oh jeez, I am SO stoked to get to meet you all like this! It's such an honour! You guys are, like, my heroes! I love all of you! OK... OK... my question is... What are you all most looking forward to about the title match?


    Ryan Martin: Well, I think that's a pretty easy answer for Julian and me. Winning the tag team titles!Am I right? What do you say,?


    Julian Watson: Yeah, sure... Hey, don't get me wrong! I am counting down the hours until we finally get our hands on those tag team belts. But seriously... how big of a sham is this whole match? EVERYBODY knows that we are the rightful tag champs! We earned those title belts, and we deserve to be the champions right now. We SHOULD be the champions! It was all planned out, and it would have been so perfect. But no... they screwed us at BIBWhat the hell was that all about?


    Madison Banks: Right, like my boys said... winning the tag team titles is going to be a great moment for us Yeah... a lot to celebrate. -Under breath-It's just a shame we'll have to do it here...


    Over in the crowd, Katie moves on to the next excited fan. This one is a teenage boy,


    Teenager: Yo, what's up, guys? I'm Kyle, and I'm from here Listen... I was wondering what you thought about The Sin City Vultures.


    Madison Banks: I really couldn't care less about either of them Let's face it... what have either of them ever done here in FWA? Nothing. What did they do to earn this title opportunity? Again, nothing. So my boys have no reason to care about them, one way or another. We're ALREADY the champions... and this match is just our first title defence. The vultures only are in this match because they stuck their noses in our business and we're going to RETAIN our titles on fight night, and send those two idiots running back to where they came from with their tails between their legs!


    Julian Watson: We saw what they had to say last week, about having chances and waiting to feed off of the Tag team division. Trust me; we’ve too much for them to handle.



    Katie goes to find another fan to ask a question. He picks out a man in his mid-twenties, However, before the guy can even introduce himself, let alone ask his question, it becomes clear that Watson has not yet finished his answer to the last question. In fact, their initial reservations about taking part in this Q&A session have quickly been brushed aside,


    Julian Watson: I mean, who the hell are these guys?! We’ve beaten, The Olympians. THREE times now. What the hell have they done to get a shot? Beat the same guy's WE’VE done a million times? It’s a joke!


    Katie Lynn Goldsmith: Uh,? If we can just hold that thought, and hear a question from our next fan...


    Madison Banks: Hold that thought? HOLD THAT THOUGHT?! Who do you think you're talking to Goldsmith? We’ve The Heartbreak Express,! The next tag team champions! When we speak, people listen. And he’s not even CLOSE to being finished! So why don't you just shut the hell up, and wait for me to tell you when it's OK to talk? Besides. I’M the only one that can tell them to shut up


    Katie doesn't even put up a fight and just meekly nods his head in agreement


    Julian Watson Great... now, where was I? .. it's like this. Most of the teams in FWA are pretty pathetic, right? I


    Ryan Martin: “Yeah that’s fair.”


    Julian Watson They all tend to be formed in the same way. A couple of no-hopers that can't cut it by themselves think they can reduce their levels of SUCK by teaming together, and entering the incredibly underwhelming world of FWA tag wrestling. Let's face it, what great teams has FWA ever produced? Think hard. I'll bet you can't come up with more than one or two teams. That's because the rest are just a bunch of sorry losers slumming it in thrown-together partnerships in a desperate attempt to cling on to their jobs. Well... The Heartbreak Express is something different. Ryan and I aren't like these other teams... like the Olympians and Vultures of the world... We aren't just two random guys that decided to team up because we couldn't hang with the main eventers. Hell, we ARE the main eventers around here! We want to elevate the tag team division here in FWA, and finally, give you s a set of champions they can be proud of.We're going to kick-start a whole new era for tag wrestling, with the express reigning supreme at the very top of the heap! And sure... it may take a while to get some REAL competition going. There sure as hell aren't any other teams around at the moment that could stand against us. But once we've proven to everyone that there are finally a legitimate set of tag team champions running the show, I'm sure that people will get the message, and we'll see some other excellent teams step-up to try and knock us down a peg.



    Ryan Martin “Not that they can…Personally, I mean our backs have been up against it for the last two months. Because The Olympians have been trying to screw us over for the last few weeks. With that old man constantly getting involved….Thank God we have Maddy to back us up.


    Julian Watson: Did you see her last week? She was about to press slam Aries over her head.


    Madison Banks: “True…”


    Despite his current role as the host of the Q&A session, Katie can't deny her true calling. At her heart, he's an interviewer... and she can’t resist.


    Katie Lynn Goldsmith: Well Maddy you have struck a chord with fans for someone so short you strike a fierce-


    Madison Banks: “What was that?”


    Katie looks up sharply a confused expression on her face meet Madison’s eyes as they’re now starting DEAD at Katie


    Katie Lynn Goldsmith: Well you strike a fierce-


    Madison Banks: “No no, before that”


    Katie Lynn Goldsmith: I don’t understand wh-


    Madison Banks: Say. Exactly what you just said”


    Katie looks rather alarmed at Maddy’s confrontational tone, while Watson and Martin start to shift uncomfortably in place most likely knowing where this was going, Katie apparently hasn’t caught on


    Katie Lynn Goldsmith: “.. For someone so short.”


    Silence. Total silence, all we can hear are the scrapping of chairs as Martin and Watson begin to lean their seats away from Maddy’s whose eyes have narrowed dangerously towards the interviewer.


    Madison Banks: “Katie...Come here for a moment….”


    Somewhat still alarmed by her demeanour Katie regardless walks up to Maddy and leans down to her hear her...


    Madison Banks: “If you don’t leave right now, They’ll never find your body. My father knows people who will wrap your body in plastic and drop it off a bridge.


    A hush persists over the scene while Katie seems to shrink under Maddy’s death stare before she hustles off the stage fearing for her life, an uncomfortable silence


    Julian Watson OK, now we're doing this! This has turned into a bit of a "Heartbreak Unplugged" situation, right? How awesome is that?! So what was I talking about... oh yeah! Heartbreak Express ruling the tag team division! You can mark my words; it's going to happen. But we know that for all of our dreams to become a reality, we've got to beat the Olympians and the Vultures , and you had better believe that we are going to drop The Olympians like a bad habit!


    Ryan Martin: Just like we’ve been doing all month! We’ve beaten them three times in a row, and we’ve about to make it a fourth. As for the Vultures? They don't know what they're letting themselves in for when they step into the ring with us! What can they possibly bring to the table that we can't counter? We've got the edge in experience, skill, tag chemistry... and, let's be honest, we're a whole lot hotter than both themes.


    Julian Watson Plus there's a little fact that we can wrestle.


    Ryan Martin Yeah... well, I think I've had enough fun So how about another question? Uh... let's see... how about you? The hottie in the third row!


    Ryan points to an attractive young woman in her early twenties, who has squeezed herself - and her ample cleavage - into an HBE shirt that is at least two sizes too small; she was bouncing up and down with excitement... which is no doubt what first attracted his wandering eye. Maddy takes the time to look at Martin with judgemental eyes.


    Julian Watson Go ahead, sweetheart. Shout out your question, and we'll give you a straight-up answer.


    Fan: Oh wow... There was something I wanted to know, but it's personal. That's OK, right?


    Watson and Martin is too caught up in having fun to think it through, and just nods the affirmative


    Fan Great! OK, so... I was wondering... are either of you going out with Maddy? I mean you work so closely together What's your relationship like now? Is it strictly business... or something a little more fun?


    Both Watson and Martin are taken aback by this question. Maddy herself looks up rather sharply her expression as first rather blank….Until-


    Madison Banks: “....Heh”


    Madison is trying to hold it back, but that one chuckle lets out a hail of them as she double overs in laughter


    Madison Banks: You think-HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAA


    Julian Watson: I mean, it’s a purely professional relationship...even if I don’t know why it’s so funny.


    Ryan Martin: “Right we’ve good looking-”


    That was the final straw for Madison Bank. She gets up from her chair, then hurries off stage to save herself from dying of laughter both her charges watches her go, then quickly decides to wrap things up with their fans.


    Julian Watson: Well, this has been fun... But all good things must come to an end. And now, it's time to go. But I'd better see all of you out in the crowd at Fight Night cheering the express on to victory! And don't be ashamed to cheer your favourites, even if most of the morons in the arena are far too stupid to recognise and appreciate greatness.


    With that said, they both head off the stage in a hurry making sure that Maddy is still breathing as they head off the stage, and toward "Fight Night"...
    The most amazing thing about this recent conversation is that I've learned AON is even more of a waste of space than I thought he was previously

  9. #9
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    Re: Fight Night August 25th Promo Thread

    The door was forced open and with a natural intake of breath there was a sharp intake of dust that had been waiting months, if not years, to escape into the light. Next, the search in semi darkness searching for the cord with which to illuminate his surroundings if electricity still even flowed down this far.

    No luck in that regard.

    With each step the creaking of the dated wood grew ever louder, to the point where you would think that one wrong distribution of weight and you might go crashing down to the lower levels instead of easing your way in. It would most definitely be a tough one to explain to his employers, trying to state that he was unavailable for work due to an injury sustained in the dark.

    On second thoughts, he never really let injuries stop him before so why break the habit of a lifetime?

    Finally on stable ground, steps successfully negotiated, he takes the phone out of his pocket and uses the background light to direct him further into the semi-darkness. Suppose it has to be better than nothing. He knows that it is down here somewhere, it’s just a case of how long he is willing to look. His phone, mercifully, has lead him to a battery operated flashlight, the sort that you may have last seen circa 2000 before everyone started to use their cell and mobile devices for everything that you need. One quick shake of the flashlight and click…let there be light.

    Sort of.

    The dust that escaped at the beginning was only an aperitif. Now he was being helped to the main course. Using the light for guidance, he scanned the walls and looked for one of the windows that had been boarded up years before. Alas, he found just that and approached cautiously, ducking under some spider webs and waving his hand in front of his face in an attempt to get some of that dust out of his eyes. Finally, he reaches the wooden plank that is blocking the incoming natural light and with the urgency of trying to escape a drowning vessel he rips the wooden plank away and streaming into the room are rays of natural light for the first time in a very long time. The natural light now lets us see a bit more of our surroundings, although a tour guide is clearly male but as yet unidentified.

    Adorning the walls are various types of championship belts, diplomas, certificates and trophies, although we are not yet close enough to identify exactly the nature of these awards and who they were awarded to. Our guide leads us past these, clearly on a search for something in particular. Along the top of the wall, closer inspection tells us dates are sculpted into the building in what once must’ve been a display worthy to show all proudly, not now the run down filthy basement hideaway that it has become. 2012…2011….2010….all the way back to 2004 until the man stops and reaches his hands out and dismounts one of the championship belts that were on display. He lets out a cough, clearly the dust and the conditions in the room are no place for clean oxygen supply. He returns back to the stairs and as creakily as every makes his way back up to the upper level. This time though, we follow him, and the contrast is beyond belief. Downstairs would struggle to get someone in off of the street to have a comfortable night, upstairs is something that you could only dream about.

    He slams the door closed and behind it leaves all the memorabilia and accolades. He is now on marble flooring staring out into what appears to be acres of a back garden.

    “Did you get it?”

    That’s most definitely a familiar voice that is bellowing from another room.

    “As-tu compris?”

    Still a familiar voice but not exactly the next sentence that you would have expected out of his mouth.

    “Lo obtuviste?”

    And the same again. Our guide is panting heavily still, breathing in the dust free oxygen that had escaped him for what must’ve only been moments but felt like an eternity down there.


    “I thought I’d try French and Spanish because you certainly aren’t responding to me when I’m asking a BASIC QUESTION.”


    As he roars the last two words of the preceding sentence, into view indeed walks the reigning North American Champion, Mike Parr. Parr is dressed casually in three quarter length shorts, one of his t-shirts that he would like to make you aware are available to purchase online and in every arena, and sunglasses perched on his head holding his hair in place. Even casually dressed, you would be hard pressed to find an individual breathing that wouldn’t want to have a rumble with the North American Champ.

    And no, that isn’t any sort of inference to a wrestling match.

    With his glasses perched on his head, we can see the frustration written across Parr’s face. Apparently he doesn’t like being ignored.

    “I think the answer you were looking for was “Got it, boss”. Pass it over!”

    Not so much of the pass it over as it was snatched from him. Big mistake from The Prodigy.


    “Disgusting..”


    The dirt and dust is now sprinkled across the front of his t-shirt and he clearly is annoyed with himself for not looking or thinking that through. As he turns swiftly and walks away he shouts over his shoulder to the man who retrieved the product….


    “Go get yourself cleaned up and let the driver know we’ll be leaving for the airport in fifteen minutes…..there’s just something I have to do….”


    The man remains out of camera shot, clearly not important enough to be addressed by name, as we follow Parr towards his destination, in which he thumps down the championship belt on the table. Gone is the look of frustration, and now is one of reflection. He slowly, as if the title was red hot, gingerly moves his hand towards the face of the title and swipes the dirt from the face to ensure that the face is readable. He lets his hand rest of the face of the belt for a moment, and with his eyes closed is clearly back in a place long ago. With one swift motion he completes the removal of dirt from the face of the belt and we now have sight of the TXWF Tag Team Championship. And no, it’s not expected that you would recognise that in the slightest.

    Someone who does recognise it, however, is Mike Parr. He stares at the belt and is, in what is a huge turn up for the books, speechless as he stares down at the belt.

    “My Achilles heel…..”

    Parr cracks his neck back and forth, clearly uncomfortable in the presence of the championship.


    “Since I arrived in FWA I’ve pretty much ensured that anyone that watches me knows that I am the best wrestler in the world. I am the best superstar that this company has. I may not be able to brawl at an elite level but I can wrestle you into submission or until you can’t answer the count of three. I can attack you from the air or I can keep you pinned to the ground. Anything that I’m not good at in wrestling, I work at until I pretty much can outlast and show up anybody else. Bring in weapons and sure you can have a lucky night but 9 times out of 10 even your use of weapons won’t be able to hurt me. Bring a ladder into the match and sure you might be able to scale the ladder and beat me to the belt once but give me that shot again and you aren’t even getting close. I adapt. I learn from my mistakes, I recognise my failings and I use that fact that I am not the best at something to fuel me to ensure that the next time I find myself in that situation that I am not left wanting. Someone as wise as me once said that repeating the same thing over and over again and expecting the same result is insanity. Use the Mile High massacre as an example, I was found wanting and came up short but it would be insane to be left in the same position again given the opportunity. That wouldn’t happen again. However….going by the definition above, you may as well put me in a white coat that secures my arms and carry me off….”


    Parr pauses for breath and breaks his glare with the tag team championship for the first time since he wiped the face clean. His breathing has grown slightly deeper, indicative of an increased heart rate which is brought on by anxiety. Of course, from the outside, should anyone look at him right now, you’d be hard pressed to tell, part of what makes him so brilliant.


    “Time and time again I am placed in a tag team match and time and time again I expect the same result. I expect to be let down. I expect to have somebody in my corner who not only isn’t good enough to keep up with my intensity in the ring or speed of my mental thinking outside but in fact somebody who weighs me down. And when they weigh me down I try too hard and when I try too hard I make a mistake. I hate mistakes. But it is the same damn hideous cycle every single time. This belt….this was the first belt that I won on a national scale, you think that I should have this pride of place and look back upon it and smile. It makes me sick.”

    “It makes me sick because it’s the one thing that I’ve never been able to right. It’s the one thing that I’ve never been able to shake. I cannot trust anybody else to do what I need to do or wrestler as capably as I can wrestle but as good as I know I am, I know that in these types of matches I require the other person to pull their weight. That requires a level of trust that I don’t feel that I can give to anyone in the locker room, to slap hands and stand on the apron and basically leaving my hopes of victory or potential of defeat in the hands of someone else…….that’s what happened here.

    “I had this championship belt and I never planned on letting it go. I was hurt. As good as I am, I cannot take on two people night after night and expect to walk out with the same result. So, body searing with pain, I reached out my hand and the other half of the tag team put himself into the match but crucially took me out of the match. I crawled underneath the bottom rope, and yes whilst I was hurting, I grabbed the ropes and pulled myself up in the corner ready should he need me, only to look into the middle of the ring as the ref’s hand slapped the canvas for the third time….”

    “We lost…..he lost…I survive beatdown after beatdown and he runs into the ring and lasts no more than 20 seconds.”

    For something that happened 13 years ago to still play over in his head so vividly, you can tell it has really affected Parr. It begins to put into perspective his struggles with Mac when they were forced together when he first arrived in FWA, where he almost tried to beat the Garcias and capture the belts alone but couldn’t get the job done. Particularly, when Mac then teamed up with Stevenson and got the tag belts some looked and couldn’t work out why that was possible when the far superior Parr couldn’t manage it.


    “From that point, I resent having to put my trust in someone and avoid it at all costs. This week…..this week should be different. Who is on my side? It isn’t a Mac Michaud. It’s the man who just held the top belt in this company for one solid year. If there is somebody that I should be able to rely upon to pull their weight in a contest it’s surely someone who beat KAIZEN into semi-retirement. It’s someone who naturally had a less impressive reign than the near 13 month reign I am currently on, but an impressive reign none the less.”

    “But then that other part of my brain remembers why he no longer holds the World Heavyweight Championship, and that reason will be standing across the ring from us. Shannon O’Neal. The current World Heavyweight Champion. So if I look over and I have to reach out and put Cyrus into the match, am I putting my hopes of victory down the drain? Does she have his number? She did at Back in Business….”

    “You see…..I’m already doubting him and we haven’t even hit the ring yet. My Achilles heel….tag team matches, working with a partner…..I’d almost think O’Ryan knew this and he’s trying to beat me down mentally so I’m easy pickings for the winner of his little 3 match per competitor tournament to see who has the privilege of getting their ass handed to them in the name of the North American Championship….”

    Apparently, as long as Kazadi and Bell don’t have the chance to win the belt in a tag match, Parr isn’t worried about either at this moment in time. One on one, he would back himself against any wrestler, superstar or fighter in this world.


    “I should be happy I have the chance to show the world what I know and what they should know by now, that I am the best wrestler in this company. I should be able to slap the taste out of Shannon’s mouth over and over again until the taste of victory that she has been revelling in since Back in Business is replaced by nothing but the taste of her own blood. And the Humanity…..speaking of Back in Business, who must be looking for an encore presentation of the feature film entitled “How to be out of your depth”

    Parr pauses once more, as you hear the faint sound of a horn outside. The fifteen minutes are up and the driver must be on the clock.


    “So…..when I’m throwing Shannon around the ring like a rag doll or I’m beating common sense into Humanity so he returns to his rightful place in the doldrums of this company, do I extend out my hand and offer Cyrus the chance to enact his revenge? Since that moment where I lost my tag championship I try time and time again to do it on my own, to make sure the other person on the apron doesn’t screw it up for me as they can’t get pinned if they aren’t legal. Or is that the definition of insanity?”

    “Or is it equally as insane to expect me to team with the man who held the championship belt that I wanted another shot at for so long and was denied me. I had the entire arena chanting “Triple Champ” and I was fingertips away from cutting his allegedly impressive year long title reign off at the stem. Then he ran away. He ran away and picked a fight with KAIZEN, who he knew he could beat. He picked a fight with anyone except picking a fight with the one man who he knew would not only fight back but would beat his ass until he voluntarily relinquished the championship instead of having it taken from him.”


    Parr breaks away from the table with the tag belt lying on it, and walks out onto the balcony with a view over the pool below. Pretty luxurious surroundings. Parr’s breathing has regulated somewhat as he has stopped fixating on the tag team match and is slowly coming back around to being the wrestler and superstar we are used to seeing.


    “Or maybe it’s insane to be wasting my time thinking about the past and instead not achieving in one night what that moron O’Ryan has been trying to achieve for the past month. He wants to create a buzz around the North American Championship again by getting some of the biggest names the company has to offer involved in a petty tournament. I suppose nothing kills a buzz like a dominant and unbeatable champion.”

    “Leaving Fight Night this week, you aren’t going to have people whispering the names of Kazadi or Bell. You’re going to have everyone talking about Mike Parr, the North American Champion, who wiped the floor with your pathetic excuse of a World Heavyweight Champion. You are going to have the image of your North American Champion standing above the person who is supposed to represent the best this company has to offer. Your buzz will be that the North American Champion is the most dominant champion your company has as has been the case for the last 13 months. This time is going to be different, this a tag team match that I am going to win and the name on the lips of everyone leaving that arena will be the name that has been too quiet around here as of late…..not even Cyrus can screw that up for me.”

    Another loud, further prolonged, sound of the car horn interrupts Parr.

    “Might as well get warmed up by slapping the s**t out of that driver”


    Parr marches back indoors and passes the tag belt on the table, not even casting it a second glance in an attempt to look forward and not back at where he has fallen short, marching towards his waiting car as the scene fades.

  10. #10
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    Re: Fight Night August 25th Promo Thread

    Words. Words were burning through BUCK’s mind as he wandered around the woods. He is holding a piece of paper in his right hand. The paper seems to be familiar to him, but the fact that he could see it again is a surprise to him.

    ‘’You kept it, you had it all this time…I will ask you about it when I find you.’’

    His voice is serious as always, but this time, it has a clear determination as well. It is obvious that the paper is very important. BUCK sighs, and begins reading it.

    ‘’Diary of Lennie Bronson

    January 9, 2002
    Dear Diary,

    Today had been strange. It started out as usual. Ms. Rogers woke us in the morning, we had breakfast. In breakfast, that Michael kid made fun of my weight again. I don’t know why he does that. Ms. Rogers always tells me to ignore him and reassures me that there is nothing wrong with my weight. Then I was sitting by myself and not doing anything. You know I don’t have much friends diary, don’t give me that look. Anyway, that was when the day got weirder than usual. Ms. Rogers walked into the room with a blond kid holding her hand. He looked so pale that I thought he was a ghost. Ms. Rogers introduced him to us. His name was Chris something something, I can ask him later but that is not what’s important. He didn’t talk much. Barely said anything. He sat next to the window and started looking outside. I asked him what he was looking at. He didn’t answer. I looked outside as well. I saw the old oak tree in the big garden. But on the tree branches sitting were some strange birds who I never saw before. I asked Chris something something about those birds. I thought he would know about them. He didn’t say anything. We sat in silence a few more minutes. Then Ms. Rogers rang the dinnertime bell. When I was about to head to dinner, the kid held my arm and looked into my eyes and asked what I thought about birds. It was weird, and I didn’t thought of an answer, so I freed my arm and went to dinner without answering him. The dinner wasn’t anything special, but the new kid had a huge apetite. I swear, he ate more than me. After the dinner he spoke to me again. He told me how he wished to be free and he didn’t liked orphanages. He told that he was in three different orphanages before and everytime something happened that made him ran away. He told me birds could fly anywhere they want and do whatever they want. I couldn’t say anything. There is something off with this kid, but strangely, I want to find out. Tomorrow I will talk to him again.’’

    How could BUCK forget that day. It was the day that changed everything….or the day that set up the day that changed everything. But it was the time that made the extremes meet each other. As much as the diary cleared things, it also created a lot of confusion and a lot of questions in his mind.

    ‘’What could be his purpose? He hid it from me for a long time, and suddenly I find this and he is nowhere to be found. You always worked in mysterious ways, but this time, you went too far.’’

    BUCK is talking to himself but it is clear that he’s talking about Manson. He pulls out a second paper and starts to read it while still walking.

    ‘’January 10, 2002
    Dear Diary,

    I talked to Chris again. First, I asked him about his name. He told me something about Manson or something like that, but I figured out he was lying when I talked to Ms. Rogers, she told his name was Christopher George. She also told me I should think twice before becoming friends with him. She confirmed his old orphanage experiences and said bringing him to Mother Theresa Orphanage was a favor to her old friend, who also ran an orphanage before it got shut down. So, she thinks something is off with him too. And Ms. Rogers is the most trusty person ever, so I tried not to be near him today. But eventually he found out what I was trying to do. He wasn’t happy. But he didn’t shout or wasn’t cruel like other kids. He knew I heard something about him. He asked me what it was, I said it was nothing bad. Then he had a smile….it was really unsettling and creeped me out. I tried to ignore him for the rest of the day again but after dinner he found me again. He asked me if I loved being in this orphanage. I said yes, and he asked me if I want to be free. I told him I couldn’t understand. And he told me he could understand, and that would be enough. That was the last thing I heard from him…until the bedtime. I was about to sleep when he started watching outside again. I did the mistake of asking him what he found in those birds. He told me that birds were the smartest animals after humans. Then I told him humans were not animals. He just smiled, before saying that humans we-‘’

    The rest is torn out from the paper. BUCK thinks that it is a joke. The diary entry wasn’t finished. Was that Manson who tore the ending, or was it already gone? The former seemed more likely. It had to be one of Manson’s games. But BUCK was smarter than that. Because he knew the answer. He stops walking, puts the paper in his pocket and looks forward.

    ‘’Took you long enough, partner.’’

    And there he was. After seeing his tag team partner and old friend, BUCK’s face soured into an angry frown.

    ‘’Don’t be so mad, you know I wouldn’t do that if I didn’t think you could find me.’’

    BUCK’s face remains unchanged.

    ‘’It’s not about your typical silly games this time Chris, and you know that.’’

    ‘’Oh, it’s about your old diary then. Look, yes, I was hiding it. I would give it to you at a very important time.’’

    BUCK raises one eyebrow.

    ‘’We’re about to hit the jackpot, my friend. After we took that puny gods and ‘Heartbroken’ Express down, I heard O’Ryan talking about that. It seems even the almighty FWA can fall if you push the right buttons. They are giving us the shot. No, no…we took the shot.’’

    The expression on BUCK’s face softens a little, but still remains the anger.

    ‘’So you thought that game would motivate me?’’

    ‘’It was more about preparing, rather than motivating.’’


    ‘’What preparation?’’


    ‘’Where do you think we are, where do you think I took you?’’


    BUCK looks around the environment. He lets out a silent ‘oh shit’.

    ‘’The ruins of the orphanage. The place looked strangely familiar at the beginning…’’

    ‘’If we want to build a future, we must study the past as well. People did a lot of different things, some ended well, some ended bad. With the knowledge of their experiences, we can create the world we want. First, we will get the gold. And if we want to beat The Olympians and Heartbreak Express, there are some things I should tell you about them.’’

    Manson tells BUCK to sit down.

    ‘’The papers by the way, did you notice anything about them?’’

    BUCK thinks for a few seconds before pulling out a page from the diary.

    ‘’Half of the second page is missing.’’

    ‘’Can you read it 'till the missing part?’’


    BUCK starts reading it from the beginning…

    ‘’…’He just smiled, before saying that humans we’- And rest of it is missing.’’


    ‘’So? You know why I cut out that part, right? I wanted you to find what was missing yourself.’’


    ‘’I don’t think I have time for games anymore. Just tell me what you want to tell and then we can go kick that nobodies into a comatose and claim their gold if that is so important to you. Don’t you think I can ever get tired of your mysterious antics Ch-’’


    ‘’Calm down BUCK. I will ask you a very simple question: What is the difference between humans and animals? Answer me and we can get down to business. Do you remember the words I told you back then?’’


    ‘’Humans are animals with the ability of thinking.’’


    Manson started clapping slowly before sitting down and grabbing a stick from the ground. He starts drawing a circle in the mud with the stick.

    ‘’Yes..yes. We think. Since the beginning of the humanity. At the beginning, humans didn’t know how they got to exist, so they wondered about that. They created a lot of theories. The goal was always to know the unknown. Discover the truth. But they couldn’t learn the answer. There was no visible evidence. What did they do? They exceeded their limit of perception and came up with a strange idea. It was also such a big idea that we still see its influences to this day. A powerful entity, who could do everything you can imagine. People couldn’t figure out how they came in life, so they created the concept of God, the almighty creator of everything. Some limited it to just one God, some created lots of them. Different folks created different gods, different religions. Christians have God, Muslims have Allah, Jewish have Jahweh. Japanese had Izanami and Izanagi. Romans had Jupiter and Neptune. Egyptians had Bast and Ra. And Greeks had Zeus, Ares and Dionysos.’’

    ‘’Wait. Zeus, Ares and Dionysos. Aren’t they those Olympian boys?’’

    ‘’Yes. They claim they are that Gods. Or at least, the old Zeus does. But they are no different.They born, they live, and they die. And when they die, the Vultures comes in. When they die, they become just another food. We already arranged them for our table, but they aren’t going to come peacefully and let us take everything they got. It is never that easy, isn’t it? Nothing is sunshine and rainbows in this world, but everybody is trying to make it all about love and peace. Did we evolve the wrong way? Humans didn’t become dominant species in this world by love and peace. They didn’t sign peace agreements with the wild. Instead, they invaded the wild and conquered it. Wild animals learned to obey the humanity, and those who didn’t were hunted. It’s a world of chasing. You either run or chase. The gazelle knows he should run faster than the fastest lion, or he will be food. The lion knows he should run faster than the slowest gazelle, or he will be hungry. Our species conquered the world in the past, but now, they are trying to undo everything they did right. The strong lives, it’s simple as that. And WE are the strong. Not The Olympians. Not The Heartbreak Express. They don’t see the world the way we do. The Olympians is only interested in playing gods, like it’s some sort of theatre play. This match will be their tragic ending. Death of the gods, presented by the Vultures. The Heartbreak Express is chasing Hollywood dreams. Win, be successful, gain glory and live like kings, live like rockstars. Waste it on the drugs, on the booze, on the women. But us, the best tag team in this or any wrestling organization, we my friend BUCK, we are in for a new whole world. New whole perception. This is not a thing neither The Olympians or The Heartbreak Express can understand. For them, it is just competition. But for us, it is a war in all fronts. And the people, since the beginning of the time, fought for their Gods. Fought for sacred lands. Fought for tickets to Heaven. Fought to avoid going to Hell.’’

    ‘’So, instead of fighting for Gods, we are taking the fight to the Gods, right?’’

    Manson starts laughing.

    ‘’I couldn’t put that in better. You clearly are special. And you are the key to our victory. I am the brains and you are the brawns. Without brawns, you can’t win a fight. But also, without brains, you obviously can’t win a fight too. That is why I am playing those games on you. To make you understand our opponents better. There are a lot of different people around FWA. And if we want to prove that we are the best, we are going to know them all, inside out.’’

    BUCK chuckles as well. He already knew Manson’s purpose, but to be honest, it was such a pain sometimes.

    ‘’Continue on, then.’’


    Manson draws an ‘X’ that ruins the circle he made first time.

    ‘’If there is a God, BUCK, he will be thankful for us. For being the smartest. For being the awarest. And if there isn’t, well too bad, because it is going to stay that way. In our world, there will be no all-powerful entities. There will be chaos, there will be anarchy. And my friend, we will feed off that chaos. People will end each other, and then, the vultures will step in, and do what they do best: Feast on the dead.’’

    He continues drawing, this time it's a stick figure.

    ‘’Creating gods were not enough for people. Ruling and suppressing people with using the power of belief weren’t enough to satisfy their craving. They wanted more. They always do. Maybe this is another thing that distinguishes us from other animals. We always want more. More and more. We are insatiable for power. The people were so hungry for it, that they actually tried to become gods themselves. Pharaohs, Caligula….Charles Manson.’’

    The last name ticks something inside BUCK's head.

    ‘’Is that where you go-‘’

    Christopher knew where the topic was heading so he interrupted him.

    ‘’Pharaohs made huge pyramids for their graves. Can you imagine? The mystery of pyramids are still uncovered to this day, but they are just graves for humans that lived in the past. But what seperates them from the humans we know today is that they had unlimited authority, they had unlimited influence on their people. They were Gods to their people, so they could do nothing wrong, right? But having an ego bigger than you can handle is always a problem, it has the tendency of coming back and biting you real hard. Ramses was defeated by Moses, who invented a new God. Then the people that followed Moses' religion caused Jesus to form his own religion. Then came Muhammad, who also had a new God in his mind. You either create Gods or become one of them. Unlimited greed always lead to suffering, but after the suffering begins, greed is not destroyed, it just flows into another person. Like Ramses to Moses, Moses to Jesus and Muhammad. Caligula went crazy with the power. He created the strangest regime in history. He was taken down really fast. The faster they rise, the harder they fall. But of course, there are people still trying to be gods. And no, I'm not talking about The Olympians. They know they are no gods. I'm talking about missy Banks and her two servants. They call themselves The Heartbreak Express. Banks has an ego bigger than herself, so big that it is too much for her, so she split them with her goons. Julian Watson and Ryan Martin. I gotta admit, I have pity for those two. They are in middle of something they can't understand. They are not the brains, or the brawns. Banks is the brains, if you can actually call her that. They claim to be best tag team in the world, when in reality, they are not even a complete team. Their careers will go flushing down to toilet, when Banks decides they are too dumb and weak and moves on with some new The Heartbreak Express version two. Those two are pawns in her project. You got to admire her ambition, but it is not the right place or the right time. What did I tell the FWA universe, once the Vultures enter the equation, the whole math collapses. So, her ambition is nothing. Her plans are nothing, compared to us. Ares is the god of war. Dionysus is the god of wine, fun and insanity. Zeus is the god of the skies. And little sweet Madison Banks is really trying hard to be Athena, but of course, she will fail, like she did at Back in Business. And we will show her. No, we will show the entire FWA Universe that there is no point in resistance, if you are against the Vultures.''

    The sky is darkening, the night is falling.

    ''Go and brings some woods BUCK, it is getting dark and cold.''

    ''Alright.''


    BUCK stands up and goes inside some trees. While he is looking for woods, Manson lights a cigarette and smokes. Some time later, BUCK comes back with the woods Manson needed. He throws the pieces into dried mud. Manson pulls out two pictures from his jacket's pocket. It is clear that the pictures have The Olympians and The Heartbreak Express in it. He throws the pictures on the woods. He chuckles slightly before throwing the flaming lighter onto them as well. The pictures burn alongside the woods. Manson sits down and puts out his cigarette.

    ''This is what we do. We make fire. A fire that cannot be put out. A fire that only grows and grows. A fire that consumes everything in the way. A fire that controlled by us. If The Olympians are the gods they claim to be, or if The Heartbreak Express are good enough to put us outside the picture, they should fight against our fire. But they can't. You and I know BUCK, they can't. And they will know as well, if they don't, they will realize soon enough.''

    Manson closes his eyes and leans back, but a few seconds later opens them again in result of hearing something BUCK said.

    ''Let's make it a good one, Chris. Just like the old days.''

    This makes Manson chuckle.

    ''It will be better than the old days. I promise you, as a tag team partner, as a mentor...and as a friend. We will make it a damn good one, and in the end, we shall feast...like nothing before.''

    The duo drifts into a slience, there are no voices besides the voice fire makes and the song of crickets. The war was near, and Sin City Vultures were ready.

  11. #11
    Hakuna Matata
    Jimmy King's Avatar

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    Re: Fight Night August 25th Promo Thread

    The scene opens up with darkness and the feint sound of a drip from a faucet. A light flickers on giving the room life and revealing that the room is barren with the exception of man tied to the wall in shackles, and it appears that the man is unconsious with tape covering his mouth. The man soon begins to stir as he flicks his eyes open, his eyes begin to nervously dart back and forth as he eyes his surroundings. Unaware of his current location and most likely scared, the man begins to struggle in his shackles, trying to break free from them but there is no use. That doesn't stop him though as he continues to try until a door creaks open to the room and in walks a man with a hood over his head, covering his face. This prompts the prisoner to struggle even more, scared for his life and what this hooded individual might do to him, but all the hooded man does is approach the prisoner, kneels down and wags his finger in the prisoner's face before speaking in a low, calming voice.

    If I were you I wouldn't even waste my energy trying to break free because there is no use. Your only way to freedom is with a key that is in my posession and you will be freed when I feel it is the right time, and this current moment in time is unfortunately for you, not the right time.

    The hooded individual removes the hood to reveal Jason Randall, with his hair in a ruffled mess and his eyes looks as though he hasn't slept a wink in days but he still wears that same, sadistic smile that he always has. The prisoner goes wide eyed upon seeing who it is and looks even more terrified, eliciting a light chuckle from Randall.

    I guess that you remember me, which is surprising considering that I drove your head into that guitar in the middle of the ring.

    He continues to chuckle while still speaking calmly.

    There's no need to be scared though, honest. I'm not going to hurt you, because if I was going to hurt you, well I would have already done so. Technically, I already did but I digress. I'm not here to hurt you right now is what I should say, again I'm going off track here. The reason I brought you with me is because I wanted to use you as an example. I know what you're thinking right now, "Why me? Of all people why me?", well I could have used anyone but I chose you because you share somewhat of a similarity with a man that I will be facing soon, Deception. You see, Deception is this kid that hides behind a mask, like you who hides behind this false persona where you dress up as that bloated corpse Elvis.

    Deception was a normal kid with aspirations of being something in life, I'm sure you had aspirations of being something but here we are. Anyway, somewhere along the way something woke up inside of Deception, and he was changed forever. Now he has chosen to unleash his own brand of justice on those that he feels has wronged him. You know what? Now that I think about it, he reminds me more of a man that once wrestled in the FWA that went by the name of Ghost. Yet, Ghost hid behind face paint while Deception has chosen this mask of his. The only difference between them though is that Ghost fought for good and fought against evil while Deception selfishly fights only for himself just because he feels like he was wronged. Now he thinks that he's been given some sort of opportunity by facing me for my X-Championship, but what he fails to realize is that this is more of a death warrant than it is an opportunity. I asked for a challenge and the best that Ashley O'Ryan can throw at me is Deception? To make things even better, O'Ryan has the nerve to show no faith in me, a champion for his own brand.


    Randall runs his hands through his hair and lightly chuckles again before sighing, slightly less calm than before tone in his voice.

    Ashley O'Ryan doesn't believe in me. He doesn't believe that I can handle whatever he throws my way, well I'm about to prove him and everyone else wrong when I step in that ring and make an example out of Deception. He got lucky in his matches with Darius and Hanz Gruber, Darius was weak and no match for him while Hanz just slipped up but his luck ends when he meets me. He has no idea who he is stepping inside of that ring with, does he?

    He asks the prisoner, who looks confused.

    DOES HE?!

    Jason raises his voice, startling the prisoner, who nerviously shakes his head.

    HE HAS NO IDEA WHO I AM AND WHY I AM THE X-CHAMPION! HE HAS NO IDEA WHAT I AM CAPABLE OF! YOU SEE I CAN YELL TOO IN MY PROMOS LIKE A CERTAIN SOMEONE JUST TO GET MY POINT ACROSS! SOMEONE WHO COULDN'T EVEN LACE UP MY BOOTS, YEAH THAT GUY, WHO WANTS TO MENTION ME IN HIS PROMOS! WATCH YOURSELF OLD MAN OR ELSE I'LL LEAVE YOU LYING A BROKEN MESS IN THAT RING LIKE EVERY OTHER SO CALLED FWA LEGEND THAT HAS STEPPED UP TO ME AND FAILED!

    Jason takes a breath and calms himself, speaking softly again.

    Excuse me, it seems as though I lost my train of thought and went on a tangent of sorts there, where was I? Ah yes, Deception. He's going to learn why I am The Wildcard and why I am the new King of Extreme in FWA. I am the greatest X-Champion that this company has ever seen. I have made the division relevant again when it was in shambles, I brought it back to life and made it my own. This is my division, I am extreme. No one else can hold a candle to what I do in that ring. I do things in that ring that others wouldn't even dare to do because they don't have the balls to do it. I'm just a sick guy that gets off on that kind of stuff and watching others suffer from it warms my heart. Doesn't it warm your heart? You see, Deception probably thinks he can handle me but he's sadly mistaken. He can tell himself all he wants that he'll be the one to beat me for my title but he'll fall to me just those before him that thought they could but failed.

    To me, Deception is just another victim. Another lamb that's being led to slaughter and his blood will be on Ashley O'Ryan's hands, not mine. He doesn't want me to have this title? Good. All the more reason for me to keep this title in my posession. The only way that anyone will take the title away from me is by prying from my cold, dead fingers. Deception will have to kill me in order to take the title away from but the thing is, I won't die. At least not yet anyway, it's not my time just yet. There's still more for me to do on this earth, more people for me to torture and more people that will suffer by my hands.

    Deception will walk in to the match on his will and power, but by the end of the night he'll be leaving on a stretcher or better yet, in a body bag.


    He stands up and looks down at the prisoner. He retrieves a flask from his pocket and takes a swig from it, then takes a cigarette and lights it up.

    Remember before when I said I have that key to free you? Well, I lied.

    He chuckles while the prisoner begins to struggle. The door opens and Penny walks in with a syringe in hand.

    Take care of our friend here, make sure he finds his way home.

    Jason takes a puff from his cancer stick and walks out of the room while Penny injects the needle in the prisoner, making them go limp immediately and she begins to undo the shackles as the scene fades out.


    Rest in power, Flock U

    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
    Striving for a B+ in life
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    Re: Fight Night August 25th Promo Thread

    The year is 2014. Shannon O'Neal is just a pup, a barely-more-than rookie within the grand FWA. She's about to clear her first full year, actually, yet she hasn't won a World Championship. She's just a green little girl, who "fights" rather than "wrestles." She's a mere mortal standing against the likes of Saddle Sally, Dinorah Redgrave, and even the reigning FWA Undisputed World Champion, Gabrielle Montgomery.

    Shannon is just a tatooed-up blonde girl who talks with an accent and is a little rough around the edges. But people within the FWA say they'll eventually "refine" her, whatever that means. Shannon disregards it because, in this moment, she's focused on her upcoming Trial By Fire match with Gabrielle.

    Shannon joined the FWA around 14 months ago. She's now the FWA Women's Champion. And she's about to face Gabrielle, the World Champ, in a Trial By Fire match.

    But all she hears about is this new crop of young wrestlers. A very hardcore, alternative-looking group.



    Humanity starts delivering boxing style punches to the side of Ghost trying to wear him down but Ghost pulls him in and turns it into a belly to belly suplex! Humanity gets up fast but not fast enough and is knocked down by a fierce clothesline by Ghost! Humanity looks dazed as he gets to his feet, he takes a swing at Ghost but misses and then Ghost grabs him and hits him with a sharp edge chop. Humanity holds his chest in pain and then he is grabbed and Irish whipped off the ropes, Humanity is ready and is able to stop himself just in time to kick Ghost right in the chin and then grab him for a shoulder suplex!

    "They be got some ... weird 'it' thing going on."


    Shannon stands right behind the curtains of whatever FWA house show is happening. Humanity stands inside the ring with Ghost, his early rival. Humanity is clearly at the forefront of the duo, but he's seemingly not getting the full attention.


    "What is that Humanity missing?"


    Shannon, with her FWA Women's Championship over her shoulder, watches from behind the curtain as The Movement gives a declaration to the FWA about the next few months.


    Ghost tries to get up but Humanity is on him and tries to lift Ghost into a piledriver but Ghost crawls out of it and counters it into a sloppy fisherman's suplex! The ref counts 1...2 Humanity powers out. Humanity turns to grab Ghost but he's jabbed in the head with a right forearm and then Ghost grabs Humanity and hits his finisher Darkness Falls! (Inverted DDT) the crowd cheers as Ghost hooks the leg 1...2...3! A tired Ghost gets his arm raised by the ref as he holds his side in pain.

    Winner: Ghost via pinfall







    After the match Ghost is celebrating with the crowd and doesn't see Humanity getting up. The crowd tries to warn him but by the time Ghost realizes what is going on he's punched in the gut by Humanity who growls at him and then pulls him in to hit his finisher River Styx powerbomb! Ghost is laid out cold on the mat, the crowd boos as Humanity just chuckles a bit to himself and leaves Ghost lying on the mat in pain.

    Langdon Trafford calls the act despicable but it doesn't look like Humanity cares very much as he exits via the entrance ramp. Ghost is escorted backstage by a stage hand who assists the sore superstar.


    Shannon turns her back to the stage and curtain and begins walking in the other direction.


    "He doesn't want IT. I hope ... I hope ... he never gets to me. I hope... Because as much as I might get on Gabrielle and others ....

    I can't get 'bout someone who has the whole world in front of them and ... can't even get up enough to get goin'. I'm sorry ... that ain't 'bout me."



    Shannon turns to the camera with a very serious expression. Remember, it's still 2014. She still has her babyface about her. She's not the hardened Shannon we know. She hasn't been pregnant, hasn't miscarried, hasn't been stalked.

    Hasn't won the World Championship for herself.



    " ... I just hope ... this dude turns it around and shows how fuckin' good he is.

    'N if not ... I hope this gets to him. I hope he KNOWS ... how good he could be. It's all 'bout just puttin' in effort for him. For me? It's more. So Humanity ... if in 10 years ya' see this 'n there's some sort of wishful thinkin' ... I just want ya' to know ...

    it's all on ya'. Ain't nothin' on no one else. Humanity makes Humanity. Ain't no one else gonna' make this thing a thing."


    "The Golden One" Devin Golden

    3x FWA World Heavyweight Champion
    2x FWA X Champion
    4x FWA Tag Team Champion
    Final record: 94-58-10


    Shannon O'Neal
    2x FWA Women's Champion
    1x FWA World Champion


  13. #13
    Backyarder
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    Re: Fight Night August 25th Promo Thread

    ---------------------------
    Chicago, IL
    ---------------------------
    Izzy is out and about her city checking out all the local shops and music stores. She receives a text from Trystan. She smiles and quickly opens the message.

    Trystan: Good afternoon beautiful...

    Izzy : Hey stud

    Trystan: Whatcha doin today?

    Izzy: Just walking around town. My first paycheck came in and I’m finding some cool stuff to spend it on. Looking around the thrift shops and record stores. Wbu?

    Trystan: Not much… Just chillin at the pad… Wanna meet up?

    Izzy: lol what? Why?

    Trystan: Because I asked and because you’re super hot.

    Izzy: Me? Hot? Please…

    Trystan: Well...In the business we’re in, you chicks just need a booty and some skills...And you got both girlie...

    Izzy: Excuse me?

    Trystan: Hey I’ve seen them both and that booty is luscious… Member?

    Izzy: Yeah… I member…

    Trystan: What’s wrong now?

    Izzy: You reduced me to my looks. Like is that all you care about?

    Trystan: Of course not! You’re legit a nice girl and kind hearted! Member Kelly? Come over, please I just wanna feel you again.

    Izzy: I fucked you once. Okay? Once and I was drunk. You think I’m some girl that’s automatically attracted to you? Is that how you’ve met other women? Just show ‘em your abs and they fall right on top of you?

    Trystan: Well it worked for you? I want you to come over, just for a little bit.

    Izzy: Trystan you don’t want what I am. I don't want to be in a relationship, Trystan fucking Sour. I want a friend. And the way you are making it sound you think I have an obligation to have sex with you… That's not the kind of friend I want. The wall that you keep joking about is up not for my safety, but to help me avoid people like you… I should’ve just ignored you in that Hot Topic.

    Trystan: For fucks sake, Izzy. Freaking out last week and now this?! Y’know what I don’t have time for this shit!!! Just go fade away!!!

    Izzy: Gladly.

    Izzy wipes a tear away as she looks up. Strangers have crowded around her watching her cry on a street bench. One woman even sits on the bench with her and consoles her.


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

    Later that night, Izzy is lying down on the couch in her apartment. She’s watching old Simpsons episodes when she gets a call on her cellphone. She just barely lifts up her phone to look at the caller ID. To her surprise, it’s Starr. She picks up the phone and just puts it on speaker.

    Starr: Hello?

    Izzy: Hi…

    Starr: Izzy is that you?

    Izzy: Yeah,

    Starr: What's wrong?

    Izzy: I just haven’t been feeling too good. I just got the matchcard from FWA and I’m really-


    Starr: Izzy, you and I know each other inside and out. I know when something’s wrong just by hearing you.

    Izzy: Ian, don’t lecture me. I don’t want pity right now. I want a friend.

    Starr: I AM your friend, Iz. Always have been. I saw that really bad subtweet you posted earlier and I wanted to check in on you. You mean a lot to me, Iz and it just made me worry about you.

    Izzy: It’s just… Ian… I’m not okay…

    Starr: Say no more. I’ll fly out there tonight, and I’ll be there in the morning.

    Izzy: Ian, you just got your first week off! You need to rest and I don’t want to take time away from that.

    Starr: Hey, I can still relax with you. It’ll be like old times. Well maybe not exactly… -Izzy laughs a little bit at Starr’s joke.- There we go. I promise everything will be fine. Anna will understand.

    Izzy: Ian… thank you…

    Starr: Anytime, Iz.

    Starr ends the call as Izzy’s spirits seem to be lifted. She spends most of her night crying on her couch until she falls asleep.


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


    Izzy is woken up to the sound of a knock at her door. As promised, Starr does show up in Chicago the next day. Starr takes one look at the disheveled Izzy. Her makeup has run down her face and her hair's a mess. He quickly embraces her. Izzy slowly puts her hands around him as well.

    Starr: You have no idea how worried I was about you last night. I hardly slept on the flight over.

    Izzy: I’m sorry...

    Starr: It's okay. I just want to know what happened.

    Izzy brings him in and explains her entire situation. Starr immediately wants to find Trystan and show him what he caused. Izzy holds him back and says she just wants this to go away and blow over. Starr, against his better judgement, obeys Izzy’s orders. In an attempt to make her happy, Starr takes Izzy out for food. The day out with one of her close friends does make Izzy feel better. The two sit on a park bench. Izzy turns to her friend, flashes a smile, and pulls out her phone. She gets on Instagram Live.

    Izzy: Welcome back to another Van Doren Diaries, ladies and gentlemen! Surprise edition, but I know some of you have been kinda worried about me and I want you to know that I have appreciated every tweet, every message, every ask.fm I’ve gotten because of the tweet I put out earlier. Thank you… all of you. And a huge thank you goes out to one of my best friends for forever, you all might know him as Starr!

    Starr: Hey guys what’s going on?

    Izzy: They're all excited to see you again! -Starr gets a big smile on his face.- Anyway, now that I’m back on my feet again, I wanted to send a little message out to one Hanz Gruber.

    Starr: Oh hey I know that guy! I beat the snot out of him at Back in Business!

    Izzy: And just like you did, I’m gonna kick his ass all around Phoenix!

    The two laugh as Izzy adjusts herself and she looks back into the camera.

    Izzy: Hanz, I don’t care how much bigger you are, how much heavier you are, because the fact of the matter is this: I WILL take you down to my size. I will fight and I will be the person with their hand raised high in victory. I am what most people call stubborn and don’t know when to quit. Hanz, you’re about to find that out first hand. You see I am tired of people who think that they can control me. I am so freaking tired of being just another person’s plaything. This time Chi-town’s Fav Girl is riding solo again and this time, Hanz, you’re going to find that this little lady means big trouble for everyone in that FWA locker room. Men and women alike. You want to be a big boy and make a statement in FWA, guess what buddy? That line starts behind me.

    Izzy starts to become filled with passion and intensity.

    Izzy: I’m not standing on the sidelines waiting for people to come along and think I need their help anymore. I am following in our World Champion’s footsteps and I am making my mark as a FWA superstar and as a woman. I don’t know when, but I will become a champion in FWA. That is all that is on my mind right now. Time to show the world what Izzy Van Doren is all about! Hanz, bring all the fancy finger claws you want, that thick as hell German accent, and your Eurogoth look over to Fight Night, because you’re getting a crash course in the lifestyle of the Punk Rock Powerhouse.

    Starr: Hell yeah, girl! -highfive- You killed it!

    Izzy: I guess that’s all I really wanted to say… Until next time Van Doren Diehards!

    Izzy closes the app and gives Starr a big hug.

    Izzy: Thanks for coming out here and rebuilding my confidence. You really are like my best friend here.

    Starr: Anytime, Iz.

    The duo continue on with their day out through Chicago.
    Last edited by ONAMStar; 08-24-2017 at 11:23 PM.

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

  14. #14
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    Re: Fight Night August 25th Promo Thread

    Exile Chronicles: Volume 22

    "Limits"


    Our scene opens outside of a dusty, free-standing building sitting just outside of what looks to be a major city, one that's identified by the subtitles as Mexicali, Baja California. Indeed, the surrounding architecture does lend itself to a Mexican flair, as street vendors selling trinkets, food, and various other novelties surround this building.

    We go inside to see that there's a wrestling ring set up. There's no crowd, so there's no show...but the banners are that hang from the rafters are those of Asociacion Mundial del Lucha Libre, a former sister promotion to the Clique Wrestling Alliance. And in the ring is Cyrus Truth, who even though he's not competed in AMLL for years is still recognized as the AMLL Television Champion. It seems he's chosen to return to AMLL not for one of their events, but to use their facilities for some intense training.

    And "intense" would be the word for it, as the ring is surrounded by various luchadors of all shapes and sizes. Cyrus is currently in the ring with a luchador in a green mask exchanging holds and grapples, and based on the faces of some of the wrestlers outside of the ring, this man's not the first to step to Cyrus. Cyrus is fighting to escape a headlock and does so by driving the man in green back first into the turnbuckle. The luchador releases his grip as Cyrus drills him with a standing enzugiri, rocking the green-masked wrestler long enough for Cyrus to snapmare him to the mat and lock in the Long Road to Nowhere, forcing a tap.

    The green-masked luchador gingerly rolls out of the ring as he's tended to by ringside attendants. Cyrus is panting a bit, trying to reclaim his breath as he utters a single word.


    "Mas."

    This time, a very stout, barrel-chested bruiser steps into the ring. He's got a crew cut and his hands are taped up like a street brawler. He snorts a bit, as he seems to be a bit more steely than the last guy Cyrus tangled with. Cyrus goes to lock up, but this new opponent's having none of that as he lays into Cyrus with vicious body blows and strikes to the head. Whoever this guy is apparently doesn't have too high of an opinion on an AMLL champion who's not been booked for years and looks to take a pound of flesh from the Wayward Warrior. And Cyrus looks as if he's feeling it as he's backed into the corner and this bruiser seems fit to use him as a punching bag.

    However, as he grabs Cyrus by the back of the head, Cyrus lunges forward with a brutal headbutt, staggering the bruiser enough for Cyrus to get some breathing room. Cyrus drops to a knee due to the punishment he received, and the bruiser's first to rise as he goes to grab Cyrus again. But The Exile is not down as he lunges again with a battering ram-style headbutt to the bruiser's chest and gets to his feet, lighting up the bruiser's chest with blistering knife-edge chops. The bruiser is having a hard time breathing as Cyrus rushes him and drives him down with Memento Mori. The bruiser is a bit slow to rise, but Cyrus is ready as he hefts him onto his shoulders and drives him down with Journey's End. And just like his green-masked compadre, the bruiser rolls out as a feral, unhinged Exile again looks out at the sea of luchadors.

    "MAS."

    This time, a pair of golden-masked luchadors enter. Cyrus is sandwiched between the two of them as they circle around him. Cyrus goes for a running discus punch on one of them, but they acrobatically duck as his partner follows up with a dropkick that sends Cyrus careening chest-first into a corner. As Cyrus staggers backwards, the golden-masked tag team starts to utilize combination moves, melding various strikes with some high-flying moves to bring the hurt to Cyrus. After a particularly stunning combination ending with a stereo superkick into a two-man brainbuster, the tag team is feeling pretty pleased with themselves as some of the luchadors at ringside are hooting in appreciation.

    As they posture, Cyrus is slow to stir. It almost looks eerily similar to the end of Back in Business, where Cyrus's body gave out of him and Shannon O'Neal finished him off to win the FWA World Title, the match that's led to Cyrus's very unsettling obsession with her. But this isn't Back in Business as the luchadors hush up, bearing witness to Cyrus rising to his feet again and taunting the golden-masked wrestlers to bring it on.

    One of them rushes in for a forearm smash, but Cyrus ducks and drives his fists right under his chin. His partner looks for another superkick, but Cyrus catches it and dragon screws him to the mat. The man he uppercutted regains his senses and goes for a grapple, but Cyrus reverses it into a suplex. Both luchadors are a bit shaken by this resurgence as Cyrus takes one and drives him down with Exile's Edge, and drills his boot into the other with Broken Path. Both are rattled and escape the ring to try and regain their focus as Cyrus growls out:


    "QUIERO MAS! DAME MAS!"

    "I think you've had enough, senor."

    An old, leathery voice speaks out with a very distinct Mexican accent as a grey-haired trainer speaks out at the crazed fighter standing alone in the ring. The other luchadors defer to him out of respect as he mutters some orders in Spanish and they begin to depart, much to Cyrus's irritation.


    "Did I say I was done, Manuel?"

    "No, but I did. You may not wrestle for us these days, Verdad, but we still run shows. And some of these young men have matches that they can't afford to miss tonight because you got some issues to work out."


    "My 'issues' involve reaching my limit and getting past that. My 'ISSUES' revolve around the only thing I care about...the pursuit of glory and the rush of battle! So forgive me if I take them as seriously as I do."


    "Man, you're all twisted. And over a woman! Never thought I'd see you let some perra throw you for a loop."


    Cyrus snarls as he quickly exits the ring and gets in Manuel's face. He doesn't look as if he's wanting to put hands on the old wrestling manager, but it's clear he wants to make his point clear.

    "Her name is Shannon and you will speak her name with respect in my presence, Manny. She's proven to be a fighter far more in tune with what matters in this sport than anybody I've ever faced. Nobody has compared to her in YEARS. Not in CWA, not in AMLL, and CERTAINLY not in that circus FWA. She may not fully appreciate what's going on between her and I, but soon she'll come to terms with that and understand what I mean when I talk about what truly makes a World Champion worthy of the title."

    Manuel isn't intimidated by Cyrus in the slightest. In fact, he seems relatively amused by this if his chuckle is any indication.

    "You've not changed, hijo. But you're goin' too far. This Shannon chica don't care 'bout what you gotta say, and ain't gonna care no matter what you say or do. You're gonna let this mujer haunt you and drive you towards your own death."


    Cyrus's expression changes. Instead of a stern, killer glare, he cracks a slight grin.

    "Oh, I certainly hope so."

    Manuel's eyebrow arches, as if he wasn't expecting that answer. But before he can ask what Cyrus means by that, The Exile turns away and grabs a nearby towel.

    "Now, if you're done interrupting me, you mind leaving me alone? If I can't get some live-fire practice, I'd at least like to get some time to myself to finish up a workout or two. Unless you need the ring for something?"

    Manuel sighs, knowing he's not going to get anywhere with Cyrus, shrugs and heads out to where his wrestlers ran to.

    "Haz lo que quieras, Verdad"


    Cyrus scoffs as Manuel walks out of focus. He continues to wipe the sweat off his face as he winces, tracing the welts on his body with his fingers. It's obvious that Cyrus was using AMLL's young lions in a brutal training session to try and replicate what happened at Back in Business, to see what exactly his limit is so he can surpass it. But based on his grimace, it seems he hasn't quite reached that yet. And it clearly annoys him to no end. How can he face Shannon again and not be able to go past that limit? If he can't rise to the occasion and be better than he was at Back in Business, how can he prove that he is the best? How can he stand in the middle of FWA's ring and decry them as a weak and feeble sideshow if he can't be the absolute best? This isn't about the title, although that is the symbol of excellence. This is about superiority...about glory and honor...

    ...And yet, it's more than that. Despite FWA's best efforts to distract people into believing otherwise, Cyrus sees a kindred spirit in Shannon. As he thumbs over his phone and sees a picture of Shannon next to an article on FWA's website, his brow furrows. Shannon was...is everything he's wanted in an opponent. Something more than just a strong opponent or a rival needing to be humbled. She's...more than that. But what? A friend? A common soul? Someone to love and cherish, or to taunt and prod? Cyrus has lived alone and stood alone his entire adult life, especially in pro wrestling. Tag team partners were fleeting, friends made and left behind in the recesses of time and history. Never has Cyrus had, wanted, or even cared about anybody else outside of what they could provide to him in the ring as opposition. But with Shannon...it's different. And he doesn't understand that.

    And Shannon's insistence on denying any sort of commonality is all the more infuriating. As Cyrus reflects on this, that familiar bile builds in the pit of his stomach...the same bile that he felt when she speared him off the stage at Carnal Contendership. Why does she seem so adamant about denying any common ground with Cyrus? Can't she see what's going on? How can she be so blind and STUPID?!


    Cyrus's tormented mental state is snapped back to the present as his phone buzzes with another match alert from FWA.com. Look as if the FWA brass has put he and Shannon in the ring in a tag match. Cyrus's partner? Mike Parr. Shannon's? Humanity.

    Cyrus chuckles a bit at this, as if this match is amusing. He speaks, and breaks the fourth wall as he looks directly at the camera.


    "Honestly, you think you're smarter than you are, don't you? And I don't mean the people watching this video, thinking they might be watching something "exclusive" instead of whatever I want them to. No, in this instance I'm talking to you directly, Robinson. You're still mad about that stunt I pulled at FWA headquarters or something? This tag match you've got me in on Fight Night...just another distraction and another opportunity to take me out of the equation with regards to the World Title. Oh sure, there's some tertiary connection between Parr and Humanity, but let's look at this from my perspective for just a second, shall we? You team me with Parr, a man who does not like me and hasn't been able to get over the fact that his one worthwhile victory over me was just that...one time. I gave him props for winning against me, but since then he's not been able to replicate that or even get himself into a position where he could potentially try. And he seems to not recognize the fact that as good as he is and how stellar his title reign is, even on his best day he doesn't compare to me. The one moment he had to prove he could bear the crown, and he let it slip through his fingers. Shannon gets her shot and knocks it out of the park. Tell me, Parr...how does it feel with that ego of yours? To know that you have a limit, a barrier you can't seem to overcome when the time comes for you to challenge it? To realize that for all your myriad successes, that deep down in the pit of your soul that you are ever-so WEAK? You see, that's the difference between a talented titleholder and a legendary champion. You refuse to see the limit and therefore know you'll never overcome it. I see the limit for what it is and EMBRACE exceeding it. But of course, you won't see it that way. All you see in me is some haughty ex-champion who was "too scared" to get back in the ring with you. A funny thought considering you probably would've been able to get that match you wanted had you not wasted your time on Garcia or shown up ready for war at Carnal Contendership. But go ahead and blame the fact that you don't hold World Title gold on me if it makes you feel better, Mike. I honestly don't care. You can do what I fully expect you to do and just abandon me to Shannon and Humanity...or perhaps you'll let ego drive you and take the match for yourself and actually doom us to lose. Either way, I don't care. You do not factor into my immediate future, and regardless of what you do or what FWA wants, I will survive Fight Night in fighting shape for my showdown with dear, sweet Shannon. Even if she has a demon fighting alongside her."

    Cyrus makes a clicking noise with his tongue as he re-enters the ring. He takes a seat atop one of the corner turnbuckles as he continues to expound.


    "Now Humanity...THAT was at least an interesting choice, FWA. Instead of throwing one of your already-proven-to-be useless scrubs in with Shannon, you throw a fellow CWA alum into the mix. Oh, you didn't think I'd let people forget that, did you? Before Humanity brought his...unique style to FWA, he was thrown to the sharks in CWA. And as much as Shannon likes to talk about how much CWA is "inferior" to FWA, I've proven in the year I've been here that CWA produces excellence when I will it to. You do not become as sharp as I am fighting the same dull and ultimately useless dross that FWA saw fit to feed me. My CWA is where the dull blades are honed and sharpened to a razor's edge. And Humanity is proof of that...although it's strange. Until I saw this match, I hadn't realized that, until now, Humanity's path has never crossed mine. It's strange because there's a lot about Humanity I can appreciate. The man is driven, passionate about the canvas wars. Give the man a goal or a cause to sink his teeth into, and he will damn near kill himself to achieve it. But the story of Humanity is the story of two wrestlers, and two wrestlers who cannot co-exist. "Brian" seeks a path of wrestling excellence and a peaceful life. "Humanity" cares only for mindless slaughter and butchery. The fight that rages in his mind is far fiercer than any street fight or lawless conflict he throws his body into with reckless abandon. But it's a fight that ultimately leads to self-destruction. Oh, I've no doubt Humanity will sacrifice body, heart, mind and soul to pin either I or Parr, but not for gold and glory. Humanity fights for blood and only blood. Without a cause to rally around or a guiding hand, he's no better than a wild animal who can't ascend to something greater. If Humanity could but just come to grips and bring the thoughtful man and ravenous beast together, he would make for a truly formidable foe...one that could even give me something to be concerned with. But as he is? He's just another lost soul that beckons for someone to put him out of the misery that resides in his mind. Well, if he wants a Reaper to end his torment, then I suppose I'll pick up the scythe.

    Cyrus laughs, clearly more bemused by this match than anything. He rolls his head, loosening the muscles in his neck as he seems to get himself ready for some practice drills.


    "At what point do you realize that there's nothing you can do, FWA? Nothing's going to stop me from seeing this gilded farce you've constructed burn to the ground. Not a trumped up lesser champion, and not a literal madman. You're putting your faith in men who fail to recognize their limits and haven't got the guts to see them and fight against them. They are not yet ready to ascend beyond the level that they are, and they've only themselves to blame for that. Meanwhile, when I push and prod Shannon to be more than she was, she flourished! But it's not enough. It's NEVER enough. Shannon...you are STILL being held back. And this time, FWA's not solely to blame. Why do you persist in pretending to be something you're not? Why do you concern yourself with being FWA's champion as opposed to a proper one? You want to ignore my words, even though I KNOW there's a part of you that wants to listen. A part of you that you may hate, but a part nonetheless. I am doing this for my own desires, yes...but can't you see what benefits you stand to reap? Benefits and prizes beyond title belts and the bleating adoration of wrestling fans. Glory and greatness that you are so close to reaching out and touching! WHY CAN'T YOU ACCEPT THIS?!"

    "...But that's fine. I can be patient. I have to be. You're too important to me to just give up. And if it means we get to fight forever? Even BETTER."


    Cyrus's lips curl in a sinister smile as he turns away from the camera and begins to run the ropes. Something's...off about Cyrus to be sure. And yet, despite the obvious malice in his tone, there's a certain...hopefulness to it. Like the voice of a mentor hoping a prize student achieves everything they possibly could. This strange dichotomy is only going to get more and more unsettling as we continue the march towards Shannon and Cyrus's rematch for FWA's most prestigious prize...

  15. #15
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    Re: Fight Night August 25th Promo Thread

    The Malevolent Chronicles Part 1: Destruction Of A Bully



    The scene opens up in the Malevolent One's dressing room. Posters hang on the wall featuring past FWA PPV events, there is a big Syndicate banner that is ripped and tattered. On the wall are shelves containging replicas of all the title's that Mac has won in his FWA Career. Zako's promo from last week runs on a loop on the big screen TV in the corner. In the corner of the room is a worn leather recliner, the leather torn from numerous freak outs from the former monster. plopped on the chair is the man himself. His hair done back in a tight pony tail, he is in his wrestling gear of a tight, ripped black muscle shirt and black leather pants. He stares at the TV watching the vicious assault of Amy Duke at the hands of Zako Wrath. Most would expect to see him enjoying it and smiling but he seems furious. He turns off the TV and tosses the remote smashing it against the wall as he begins to talk.


    Mac Michaud: Back in Business was not the highest point in my career. I needed to take some time after and reflect, rebuild, and refocus. I give Tristan James Galloway all the credit in the world. I'm not going to make excuses, I was healthy and ready and he was just the better man that night. He earned my respect, which is not something I give lightly. Tristan went through a war and came out the other side, He hit me as hard as I've ever been hit before, and I know I hit him harder than he has ever been hit and he survived. I respect that...


    Mac's face contorts into a sickening grimace, You can feel the mood in the room change as it almost feels like a dark cloud is hanging over the locker room. You can see the fire building in Mac's eyes as his rage starts to build.


    Mac Michaud: What I don't respect is some "bully" thinking it is ok to attack a defenseless woman. I have done some despicable things in this company. I have kidnapped people, I have sliced people open with shards of glass, and I have ended peoples careers in a blink of an eye. One thing I have not done...one thing I have never done is attack a woman. Amy Duke did nothing at all to deserve the brutality that you inflicted on her Zako. I have never seen eye to eye with FWA management but I was more than happy to take this opportunity to teach you a lesson in brutality boy.


    Mac paces around his locker room. His anger reaching a boiling point as he keeps picturing the assault on Amy Duke. The vein on the side of his head is starting to pulsate as his face turns a cherry red color.


    Mac Michaud: You sick pathetic piece of shit, You think because you are big you can just throw your weight around and do whatever the hell you want? That is not the way it works here in the FWA. You come in here talking a big game but what have you really accomplished? You beat a couple jobbers and a backstage interviewer? That is supposed to strike fear in me? Wait until you go into that ring with someone like me Zako. Someone who can actually defend himself. You have no idea what you have gotten yourself into. I haven't seen a single thing from you that impresses me in the slightest. You are a poor man's version of me. I see a lot of similarities between you and I. Except when I came into this company I didn't hide behind a woman. I didn't go after useless jobbers. I walked up to the biggest and baddest in this company and i slapped the taste out of his mouth. You didn't ask to fight me, You're getting punished and I am more than happy to dole out that punishment. After tonight you will be known as the comatose disaster!


    Mac's phone rings, he quickly answers it getting mad at the person on the other line. He say's she isn't here this week but she will be soon and throws the phone away. He quickly refocuses his anger on Zako Wrath and his despicable actions since joining the FWA.


    Mac Michaud: I had sworn to myself that the monster was dead but you can bet your ass what happens out there tonight will not be malevolent it will be straight up monstrous. You want to walk around like you are the biggest dog in the yard well u will learn tonight that you are nothing but a scared little poodle. I may not be the baddest dog around anymore, but I have enough left in the tank to teach you a lesson boy. I will break your bones, your blood will flow through the arena like a raging river. Every strike that I land will be a lesson in and of itself. You will learn the meaning of respect tonight. The boy's in the back and the fans in the arena may not like me....and I don't care if they do. You can bet your bottom dollar that each one of them respects me for what I have accomplished in this business. I have earned the right to walk around and see the fear in peoples eyes. The name Mac Michaud strikes fear in the hearts of men. Zako Wrath sounds like some pathetic 90s death metal fan had a inbred son and decided to try and come up with a cool name to hide his webbed feet. Boy, you are in for a world of hurt tonight I guarantee it. I live for pain and destruction, I thrive on war and terror, I feed on the minds of the weak. No one has a weaker mind than a bully. I am going to victimize you Zako, you will feel just as helpless as Amy Duke felt. I and the entire FWA universe will LOVE EVERY PAINSTAKING MINUTE OF IT.


    Mac yells right into the camera as he finishes talking. The anger he feels is prevalent in his facial expressions. He has the same deranged look that made him infamous as the monster as he envisions all he will do to Zako Wrath. A bright white flash appears in front of the camera and when it disappears Mac is gone.
    Last edited by The Mac; 08-25-2017 at 01:05 AM.

  16. #16
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    Re: Fight Night August 25th Promo Thread

    ON BEING TRUE TO YOURSELF...



    I wrenched. Not like my life depended on it. It didn’t. I wrenched not with desperation. I wrenched with cold intensity and cold certainty. Phillip A. Jackson resisted, how could he give up now? He’d told the world this was a new him. What sort of beginning would it be if he lost at the first hurdle. At the first change. Even Michael Garcia, in his thinly veiled new beginning had overcome the very same Wolf Jackson had praised with admiration. I answered that question for him.

    How could I give up?


    Smack!


    His face reared back ugly, his sight no doubt a mix of blackness and stars. Consciousness gone for a second and it returned. How could I give-


    Smack.


    Another one. How could I?


    Smack. Smack. Smack.


    His head recoils backwards in ways it shouldn’t. Forearm driven into his face over and over again. Soon enough, he’ll forget the question. Or maybe he won’t. Either way, the pain is too much, and there’s the knowledge at the back of his mind that he can fight another day. There’s always the X title. There’s always someone who’ll want his name, someone out of their league. But maybe… maybe the North American Championship, as long as a man like me, Zachary Kazadi, is competing for it, maybe its out of his reach. Well, as this fraudulent Phillip A. Jackson, it certainly was.


    Smack. Smack. Smack.


    This time it’s a more pleasing sound, to his ears more than mine. The sound that it’s all over. That the pain will subside… eventually. Was I happy with the victory? Sure. I’d also come here for competition, I’d aimed for the high highs, and they were proving to be smaller highs than I’d expected. But I’d always known, of all the great names in the FWA, Phillip A. Jackson was at the lowest of the rungs. I stood up, and didn’t spare the audience a single glance. The referee raised my hand only for a moment before I was out of the ring. In truth, part of me took pleasure in the jeers spread throughout the arena, rising above the cheers of those who respected what I did in the ring. Those jeers, for all I told them they didn’t matter… did matter. I’d broken their hearts. Disappointed them. They’d come to see me humbled, but I was never the arrogant one. Phillip A. Jackson was. Never in his mind did he think he’d give up. It never occurred to him that he’d find more comfort in the shame of defeat than in the pride he could put in resisting the suffering I inflicted. He was a changed man though, maybe this new Phillip A. Jackson would become used to defeat.


    The bell had rung, the show I offered these people was over. I walked up the steel ramp and walked past the curtains, and I allowed Phillip A. Jackson the spotlight he cherished. These people needed to think they were nothing to me. Phillip A. Jackson needed to understand that he was behind me. Ahead, somewhere back there, backstage… I knew my next adversary waited. She… she was perhaps waiting all of the one minute since Jackson had cried out his surrender. But me… I’d waited since July 17th, the moment the brackets were announced. In truth, I’d been waiting for this date the day I’d signed my contract. But July 17th, that was the day I knew this was necessary.





    The camera starts up after the ten second delay I allow it. The red light lights up, it stares at me from atop a stool, captures the entirety of me and behind me, it catches the many mirrors lined up.

    “Bell,” I say. Like a hunter finally unveiling itself to a prey, or maybe a stalker to the stalked, I add, “I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long, long time.”

    The fans would receive nothing from me, no theatrics, no words, no taunts but I owed every opponent a certain amount of respect. To every opponent, I owed a personal address. And this one, this was an especially personal address.


    “I thought, what better way to finally meet you, Bell… than by imitating the manner in which you’ve chosen to communicate these last few months to both your opponents and to your fans, the detractors included. You, a camera, and an easy click on FWA dot COM. You spend enough time on there, week to week that I don’t doubt you’ll see this message, if not now, then surely the next match after when you post another one of these.”


    I give her a moment then spread my arms at my surrounding, we both know she’s wondering what the mirrors are for. She can probably take a guess too.


    “I know what you’re thinking, Bell. Or at least, it’s what I’d be thinking. Mirrors… how original. I have no doubt I’ve been preceded by many in delivering a message through a house of distorting mirrors. I doubt even less than that, that many people have had some sort of deep self-reflection looking into a mirror with a camera conveniently standing by. But hey, originality can be overrated.” I shrug. It was true.


    I turn my back to the camera and look at the mirrors. My face has multiplied across the reflections the mirrors offer, giving the viewers, or my idealized viewer, Bell, the many angles at which to see me.

    “Allow me some of that self-reflection, Bell. I won’t take too much of your time, I know how fleeting your attention tends to be. Let me tell you what I see when I look at the man in the mirror.” I stared at the one mirror in front of me, for a moment, and only for a moment. Some men might get lost in that reflection, but there was nowhere for me to get lost. I knew every inch of the man standing before him. That man had always been honest. He had always put everything earnestly before him, not a shamed of it at all. “I look in the mirror, Bell… and I see the same man you see through that camera.” I nod, but on the basis of being safely understood, I allow myself to elaborate. “I see the same man, everyone else sees on Fight Night, show to show. I see the same man, everyone who attends the arena, will see. There’s no distortion. No doppelganger. I don’t see a man of two-faces. I don’t see a man who pretends to be someone else. I look at every single one of these mirrors, and I see the same reflection. I am who I am. I am who you see. I’m no Wolf disguised as a Sheep, I’m not a hollow giant, I am the very same man I’ve been since the day you first heard of my name, and saw my face. I’ve grown, no doubt. I’ve come a long way from defeat at the hands of KAIZEN at the Quest for the Best tournament last year. But look into my eyes, Bell, and they’re the same eyes that stared up at the rafters of the Madison Square Garden ten months ago.”

    And for a moment I am lost, brought back to the 11th Anniversary Show. Brought back to my first defeat. It’s not regret that stains my heart, but welcome at the memories that cleanse it.


    “Do you remember that night?” I shake my head and turn around. “I don’t need to ask that. No, that night will stay with you forever. It’s what started it all. Your fall. You couldn’t have cared less about a Zachary Kazadi, nor even the man who defeated me, KAIZEN. Your sole focus was on Cyrus Truth. The FWA World Heavyweight Championship.” I’m not sure if sympathy shows on my face but I try. I do sympathize. “Bell, we both reached up for glory, and we came back wanting. We both stared at the rafters of the Madison Square Garden, and we held back tears while our opponents name was called in victory.”


    The fun thing about figures of speech is sometimes they conjure hidden meanings you hadn’t even thought of.


    “Now that I think about it, Bell… maybe in that mirror, I see some of you, too. Not a like for like image. But for a moment, we were along the same trajectory. Our wings shot down and we were humbled. I can’t pretend to have faced the same failures you have, however. Your road has been plagued with them, another defeat to Cyrus Truth - I’ll admit that I am still wanting my own opportunity at redemption but KAIZEN seems to have gone missing-” I shake my head quickly, trying to avoid that habit of digressions. “You then lost to Eimi Sanada, and with that, the last vestige of your past glories. You sought redemption in the Carnal Contendership and lost. You were given a chance to re-establish yourself but Rondo belittled you and left you, like Eimi did, and Cyrus did, staring at the ceiling… wondering what else you have to lose.”


    This was an opportunity for further comparison. What did I have to lose? In many ways, Bell and I were in the same. Oh, certainly, she had lost much more, I’d never had as much as her to begin with. But in the end, we met at a crossroads, baggage-less and one of us would be sent back. Even as we’d walk such a long… and winding road to arrive here, we knew that nothing waited for us on the road back, there was really one direction to go. I didn’t like to look at things that way.


    “I apologize for bringing forth memories but you’re not the sort to stiffle away the losses and so I imagine those memories are, sadly, always at the forefront of your mind. In many ways you embrace them, Bell. You let them be your anchor. You allow them to guide you. Your mantra is, I’ve lost to Cyrus Truth twice now, for the greatest glory, I won’t allow such a weaker opponent in Eimi to upset me. I’m quite tired of losing now. And then you failed. So you walked into Carnal Contendership, nothing in hand, and you justified to yourself, you… you lied to yourself, I have less to lose than EVERY single one of the other competitors. Lost in your own little word, I doubt you’d even considered anyone else’s circumstances. Mine. Shannon’s. You told yourself that if there is any righteousness in the world, you would win, it would be the greatest marginal gain for you above anyone else. But you… lost. Then you walked into Back in Business, and you told yourself again… you said… I have nothing to lose… there is nowhere else to go from here… I will win… I am owed this. I am OWED SOMETHING. This loss is nothing to Rondo. It’s only right that I win- And…” I sighed. I was as depleted as she was. “You lost.”

    I step aside, allow the camera to stare at itself.

    “I wonder what you would see if you looked into the mirror. Knowing you, some bizarre things. Perhaps once, a world of bubblegum and candy… when everything was going well. Now, I imagine, there’s a hint of that bubblegum and candy, but there’s also some… hellfire and brimstone, maybe. I imagine that you don’t need distorted mirrors to see the many versions of Bell.” I let her imagine it, I knew she could. She didn’t see the camera. She saw herself sitting on that stool. She heard the sounds of a thrush hymning and a devil screeching. A jarring sound. Pink optimism and ominous red mixed in a sight only Bell could dream up. “Once upon a time, Bell, there was only one of you, before you really… really tasted failure. Cyrus Truth shattered something in you and you’ve changed. You’re not the person I once desired to face. You’re not the person everyone could help but to love… or hate… for your unyielding positivity. Bell, you’ve fallen, and you’ve failed, and you’ve let that alter you. With every defeat, you seem to pretend a piece of you is gone with it, and you’ve convinced yourself that this is what you need to do to redeem yourself, to return to the peak you were once at. You act like you’re stuck between four walls, with a limited supply of oxygen, and yet you insist on breathing heavier breaths in a desperate panic, and in that panic, only reduce the oxygen available, only further the losses. And there is where our paths diverged. There is where the mirrors come into play. I… Bell… have stayed true to myself, I have not let defeat change me for the worse, but you have. Your reflection is distorted. And that Bell, is a disappointment.”


    I step in front of the mirrors again, whatever arrogance everyone may usually perceive on my face, I do my best to bury that. No, Bell was someone I’d admired. Once, maybe months ago, I would have tried Rondo’s way, to ravage her with insults she would have no choice but to reflect on. But Rondo’s way hadn’t worked.


    “Bell, the way you are now, I doubt even Shannon would want to face you at Back in Business, with that title… that one belt… that corrupted you so much. I don’t blame you, Bell. At the very least that belt hasn’t corrupted you to the point that you’re threatening to burn people alive. Defeat changes us, still, I wish you’d returned to who you once were. And maybe you are returning. after the two victories we’ve seen of you in this tournament, we’ve paid witness to the Bell people couldn’t help but to… smile at. The natural step would be to defeat me, to truly allow the full-fledged return of the Glitter Queen… or whatever nickname it is you like to use for yourself. But then what… Bell… then what? What if you lose to Mike Parr? Will you allow that to devastate you? Will the beast return, again? What if you go on to win the belt and lose thereafter. How about then?” I allow her to ponder that question. What about the next time she falls so drastically. Will she turn to the beast once more? “No, Bell. You’ve lost so much and yet you haven’t learned that defeat… and I understand, this might sound laughable coming from me… but defeat is still worthwhile if it emerges from remaining who you are. If you must change to win, become a lesser version of yourself, is there any use? Bell, your victories at that point would be as meaningless as those reigns I decried Phillip A. Jackson for having. They’d be like cheating. You wouldn’t have won in all of those instances, Bell… the beast would have. And the beast isn’t you. And yet, this is imagining a world where the beast garnered you those victories. But it hasn’t. What do you have to show for the beast?”


    She wouldn’t have to look around to realize that there was nothing. She had nothing. This was something she’d reminded herself far too much.


    “Bell, I looked forward to this match because… someone needed to stop you. I needed to impart this lesson onto you. I need to defeat you. Competition is what I’ve always strived for here in FWA, and you, Bell, you’re one of the toughest competitors here… just not as you are now. I need to beat you, to take what you have left, and if that’s nothing, then so be it. But I need to be the standard you realize you need to match. I need to make you understand that your return to competing at the top, it will come not because you’ve changed, but because you’ve remained true to yourself - and bettered yourself. There’s a difference, Bell, it’s something small. But it’s there. You need to stop looking at what you’ve got to lose, and begin looking at what you have to gain. I understand, this might be hard to acknowledge coming from me of all people. I understand that I may very well be the very opposite of everything that you once were. But in our desires for victory, in our delight at the competition, we are the same. And thus, Bell, comes the end of my message. No belittlement. Respect, Bell, it’s something I’m giving you. Compassion, too. I will defeat you and I know you’ll push me for that victory, make me earn it. In that defeat, you’ll finally reach the end of that everlasting drop you started at the 11th Anniversary Show, you will have three choices. You can give up. You can meet me, with the North American Championship in my grasps, and face me as a pale, malformed reflection of your true self. The one I expect to face at Fight Night. Or… and this is what I desire above all else, Bell: you can begin the rocky road back to the top, remaining true to yourself, in spite of every defeat you will face, being content that you’ve lost as Bell Connelly, and not the beast… and eventually we will meet… and we’ll have the match that a year ago, you and Shannon dreamed to have at Back in Business and that… that match will make even this war that we are about to embark on, a pale, malformed reflection of what you and I can truly do.”


    The red light turns off and I hope that my message reaches her. But beyond that, I know that at Fight Night, a victory awaits me, and what waits for her after me, I’ll have to wait and see. For me, I see Mike Parr and the North American Championship waiting.



  17. #17
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    Re: Fight Night August 25th Promo Thread

    Amy Duke is shown down in the boiler room of the arena. She is looking all around she is talking with her cameraman saying this is where we are suppose to meet them.

    Amy is about to leave when she walks into Sinn startled she turns around to find Graves staring right in her face his head cocked he is playing with her hair.

    Graves: Didn't you get your head kicked in last week?

    Amy Duke: It was a stunt, I needed to do something that damn Goldsmith was getting all the damn interviews. They wanted Wrath to look strong to.

    Graves: Maybe, we should do something? I wanna look strong.

    Graves starts laughing. He stares at her.

    Graves: I am not gonna kill you just gonna hurt you really really bad.

    Just Kidding.

    Graves: Truth is, I find myself with a warp set of codes. You can go out there and ask me to put myself through thumbtacks put myself thtough tables barb wire tearing my flesh apart but don't ask me to hurt an innoncent women. Penny, I find you intresting there is something about you that I just can't put my finger on but I like you. We like you. I could see a kindred spirit someone who has had the world tell her who she is and who she should be but tonight, we can't focus on that.

    El Taco Hombres...

    They are in over their heads tonight we refuse to be the butt end of your jokes and we are coming to take you out and pick our teeth with that parrot.

    Sinn looks over at Graves shaking his head.

    Wait these aren't the guys with the safety cones?

    Who are they?

    They have a chicken? One think's he white. Alright...

    Hold on just one second...

    Graves paces around he motions to Sinn who grabs the cameraman and signals him to leave. Now through the cracks of the pipes we see Sinn & Graves talking very closely to Amy Duke.

    Graves: Your kidding me right? We are facing two f***** who have a pet mascot chicken while the other teams of FWA are going for the gold.

    No! No! No!

    Graves paces around screaming No for a few seconds before punching the wall.

    Graves: If this is what we get when, every chance we had we just failed at then failure isn't an option. I don't know about you but I am sick and tired of losing.

    Graves take a nearby pipe flings it inches from Amy's face she flinches screaming asking to leave. Graves just looks at her unemtional cold and collected and tells her to get the f out. Amy leaves but the cameraman stays in the shadows filming. Graves talks again.

    Graves: We are going out there tonight and we are proving a point that yes, things have not gone our way but thats alright. Everything happens for a reason. That won't ignore us anymore when we take those two and that damn mascot and tar and feather them to the point the flesh from their skins is like ground beef. Then we will feed it to them take a Dos Equis bottle and crack it over their heads. Now, lets go I have a craving for Mexican now.

  18. #18
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    Re: Fight Night August 25th Promo Thread

    The Blood of a Family
    Part 2
    One Man's Sorrow



    When speaking of curses, it's only natural to believe that families could be more affected by them than any other true thing. Places, items, and singular people, have been believed to be cursed for centuries, but truly, a family could become cursed far more commonly than realized. For centuries, family curses were believed to be either the happening of a dark pact or event that descends past the moral event horizen, or unfortunate circumstance beyond the control of anything with sentient thought. Indeed, hitherto, the mystery of family curses are far from solved, as the chance of happening are uncommon among the 7 billion people of the world called by many names, Gaia, Terra, or Earth, if you prefer.

    However, when speaking of family curses, one family whose curse comes from a long lineage, but is kept highly secretive from those aside from the family, is the Zewbowski family, dating back indeed to the early 1700's. When the first man of the family whom stepped upon American soil, James Heinrich Zewbowski, an Englishman of Prussian descent, came in 1710. For reasons unknown, he was the first of many to suffer from this curse. Four of his children died at birth, and his 5th survived, but the mother passed from measles shortly afterwards. It is rumored he may or may not have brought that legendary and decrepit book of pure evil, the Mortuus Libra from wherever it had came. It could also be said that he attempted to see what was inside, and from speculation, he succeeded, but was not the chosen one to read from it. As such, the Zewbowski family has had many a tragedy, including deaths at relatively young ages, social scandal, financial ruin, inexplicable and unexplainable crimes too horrific to speak of without hushed whisper.

    Even now, the supposed curse runs deep in the family into the 21st century, with very few Zewbowski family members left. It certainly... makes for some depressing family reunions... However, our story must continue, and continue it shall, with another tragedy in the Zewbowski family...





    July 24th, 2017
    Church of His Most Holy Lord
    5 Miles Oustide of Salem, Massachusetts
    A return to the ancient stone monastery, the new home of operations for one Humanity, ex-Brian Zewbowski. He sits in a dark room, lit by candles and untouched by renovations of decades past, as shown via the dust and neglect that has accumulated over time. A thick cluster of cobwebs and other things collect in the corners of the room, which remain barely visible to the naked eye. The floor, made of ancient oak, are in a state of disrepair, some planks splintered and warts of rot building upon it. His chair and desk, on the other hand, are in a relatively new state. Humanity appears to be writing manuscripts, visibly writing with quickness and passion.

    He appears to be writing something about his work with the Mortuus Libra, his lineage, the family curse, and finally, his future in... wrestling. He pauses for a minute to think about it all, every year he's ever spent inside a ring, the sacrifices, the victories, and then losses. It's the one thing on his mind the most, those losses. The losses inside the ring are that he does not care for, but it is loss of a different kind.


    Humanity: 13 years... That's a long time to be in the business. It's fair to say I've done a lot in that span of time... I've won championships, forged through rivalries, and hell, I've made friends. However, it gets old... In the midst of all that fighting, I've fallen in love, had a child, lost them both to divorce, lost friends... lost a brother... my mother... and in the end, I found that there's really nothing I can do about it.

    I lose everything in the end, and It's a painful experience. I'm not sure how much pain anybody really is, but sure, my body aches, my scars split from time to time, and my head has had more than its fair share of scramblings, but this is not the kind of pain I speak of. I suppose I'm talking only to myself, and those human emotions, known as sorrow still haunt me, but if there's one emotion I would never want to lose... it would be that. Sorrow, and compassion. They may be a sign of weakness, but they are also a sign that even a god has tears. The Reaper can indeed feel for those who die, you see. He is a gentle soul, not that of destruction, but of bliss. When everything crumbles around man, the Reaper will come, and end their misery.

    I often wonder if Cyrus Truth feels sorrow on that Long and Winding Road. For so long he's gone the road alone, surely he's felt some loss on a personal level, some form of sadness he can never shake... It's ridiculous, but it's on my mind. For all the great things he has done, for the long and tenured path he has forged, it is often wondered by me, that can a man who calls himself a King, or The Exile, or whatever he wishes, if something in his past created the man that stands before us now. His determination to be the best and prove himself, it is worthy indeed, but... perhaps he is a lost soul too. Mayhaps I am wrong, but that is fine.

    The same could be said for The Prodigy. An arrogant fool whose only wish is for someone so badly to beat him. There's much Freudian psychology at work there, and one must wonder if something in his past gave him the determination to look for someone who can defeat him. Has he suffered any form of loss, and not the kind of loss in the ring, that irks him as he walks the earth, demanding for opponents he deems worthy. It is one thing to be proud... and that is where I have been wrong. Parr is far from proud. If anything, he demands perfection from himself, and anything short is but failure.

    I don't know if either of them have suffered loss, but I have. It gnaws at my core, and it is why I still could never completely remove Brian from this body. He clings to those human emotions with such vigor and life, I had always accepted he was weak. Now, I'm not so sure.

    As for me, this pain is sometimes unbearable. It drove Brian to drink, and at times, I can barely hold on. This is the source of all my failures in the ring... I am simply in pain.


    Before Humanity could continue, a loud ear-piercing sequence of electronic noise could be heard... A cell phone is ringing. Humanity, whom is not one for technology, but finds it's uses, answers it slowly, his wretched and constantly filth covered hands, enormous compared to the small, black phonic device.

    Humanity: Yes..?

    A voice comes from the phone, with an inflection of distraught and shock.

    ???: Brian? It's your father.

    Father. The father of Humanity, a middle-aged man beyond his years, whom too was a wrestler, but long ago retired to settle down with family, speaks to his son.

    Humanity: What are you calling about? What happened?

    Humanity could almost envision the horror and sadness his Father held.

    Father: There's... been an accident. With Annette.

    Who is Annette? Humanity knows, and once again, a sting of shivers strikes and runs down his spine. Annette Zewboski (nee Lithgow) is Harold Zewbowski's widow... Before Harold passed away in a horrific car accident in 2006, he and Annette married years prior, and even had a child together. Harold, of course... is his brother.

    Humanity: Annette!? When did this happen?

    Father: It happened a few hours ago... we're at the Mayo, they're doing emergency surgery on her. You should... probably get here.

    Humanity: I'm all the way in Massachusetts... however, I'll be there as soon as I can.

    Father:
    It looks pretty grim...

    Humanity:
    I don't need to hear that. I'll call you when I'm at Minneapolis Airport.

    Humanity hangs up the phone, and scrambles to make it to his feet. The shock hit quickly, and of course, it has him on rubber legs. He takes only the essentials, and papers scatter across the floor as he exits the room quickly. One sheet of paper, is very clearly written as a title page for a manuscript... it is written: One Man's Sorrow: The Life and Times of Humanity. It was an autobiography, and next to it, very clearly a note that he hoped would explain everything, though now it appears he won't need it... for now.


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    Re: Fight Night August 25th Promo Thread

    It was a beautiful Saturday morning in Lexi Monroe’s condominium. The sun was shining through the bay window overlooking the majestic waters of Lake Superior. In the far right corner of the scene there was a hallway, and within moments, a half awake Michael Garcia emerged from that hallway before letting out a huge yawn that was almost so contagious it could be felt by the viewers at home. Garcia stumbled through the main living room of the condo and into the kitchenette. Mike started up a hot pot of coffee and cracked five eggs into a frying pan before turning his attention around to the morning newspaper. No sooner did the former Monster of the Midway take a seat at the table than the doorbell rang. Garcia let out an exhausted sigh before pushing himself up looking through the eyehole. Garcia took a step back, rolled his eyes, took a deep breath and begrudgingly opened the door. Jeremiah Jones came bursting through the door, brushing right by his client, and immediately pouring himself a cup of coffee.


    “Good morning, champ! Big win last night! I gotta say, Mike, the bettin’ odds were against ya! Hell, if you weren’t my client, I might have even put some money down on the Wolfster but my God, you pulled through…you definitely pulled through!”


    Garcia gave a rather annoyed look at his unwelcome visitor. Mike just wasn’t ready for this kind of energy at 8:00 AM. He walked over to the coffee pot and poured himself a cup before going back to fixing up his eggs.


    “Good to know I’ve got the undying support of my manager.”


    “Eh, don’t take it the wrong way. You know I’m always in your corner, big man, but this is Adrian Wolf we’re talkin’ about here! The man is FWA legend and after the way that Ashley O’Ryan laid down the law to him, it’s clear that Wolf was gonna have somethin’ to prove, some fire in his veins, ya know? That’s all I’m sayin’. And add to that the fact that yo’ black ass was comin’ off a humiliatin’ loss to Zachy Kazadi, and ya know…I wasn’t sho where yo’ head was at, man!”


    Garcia maintained focus on his eggs, not paying too much mind to his manager’s opinions.


    “My head’s exactly where it needs to be, Jerry.”


    “ Now, look, I’m as impressed by your win last week as the next guy, but all this talk about not being “The Monster of the Midway” anymore….talkin’ about changin’ who you are and what you’re gonna be in that ring, it’s kinda scary for a manager to hear from his client, ya heard? So what I need to know….”


    “ What you need to know is that Michael Garcia is seeing things cleaner now than he ever has. That’s what you need to know.”


    Garcia took his eggs off the heat and carried the pan over to his table where Jerry held out his plate. Big Mike, however, ignored his manager and scraped all the eggs onto his plate before taking a seat at the table.


    “The hell it is. Mike, you hired me to guide your career. You pay me a pretty sizable amount of money to help keep your ass relevant! Now, let’s be real here, son, that ain’t always been easy. You yourself know that there were times when rebuilding and rebranding your image was a bit of a chore. You’re near seven feet tall. You’re a human fuckin’ wreckin’ ball, man. So when a man of your sheer size and power goes out there and loses FOUR straight times to Cryos, when he loses three times to Mike Parr, and when he passes out to Kazadi, yeah, it’s quite the chore to make people buy in to the statement that Michael Garcia is the real deal, ya dig?”


    Mike raised his eyebrows and began to speak but…


    “Nah, man, c’mon, I need to say this. However, each and every time you failed, you came back stronger. And why, Mike? Why is there always an aura of fear that surrounds you? Why do the fans always come right back to knowing that you are a threat to any single person in this company? Because we always make sure that they remember that you are a beast. A true monster in every sense of the word. Every damn time you came up short, I worked hard to come up with something that motivated you to become that monster. “All Heroes Must Die.” Aligning you with James Hughes. Your vendetta against the golden boys. I manufactured that shit to motivate your ass. All of it! And why? Because when you’re motivated and that fire burns inside your soul, the cage becomes unlocked and the animal emerges. Dr. Frankenstein has once again unleashed his monster! The whole problem with this new change in your career path is if people don’t see you as a monster, as a wrecking ball then they’ll see you as an absolute nobody.


    Let’s face it, man, you’re not the most likable guy in the world. You’ve kidnapped Bell Connelly, ended more careers of fan favorites than I can count, continuously brag about every accomplishment you’ve ever achieved, are an almost unbearable douchebag in every sense of the word, and nearly killed Danny Toner, The fans would sooner root for Ryan Rondo or Cyrus Truth than they would you right now. And if you even think that you’re going to get by on your wrestling ability, well, let’s not get into that. Mike, you need to listen to me, I’m telling you this for your own good. I’m not trying to make you a monster, it’s what you already are! So whatever you’ve got in your head right now about no longer being the “Monster of the Midway” and changing your ways, reconsider. It’s a bad idea. A really bad idea. Career suicide, in fact. You are Michael Garcia and no matter how hard you try to change, you are always going to be the Carnegie Carnivore! You’re always going to have that itch to hurt people! You’re always going to long for the days when you would end careers without a second thought! And you’re going to long for the days when people gave a damn about Michael Garcia because if you actually continue this façade, no one, absolutely no one will give a flying fuck about who you are!”


    Jeremiah awaited Mike’s furious response but instead Mike sat back, took a moment to truly let those words sink in before taking a swig out of his glass of Orange Juice. He sat the glass down on the table as Jeremiah was nearly taken aback by the lack of anger shown by his client.


    “So…you’re just like the rest of ‘em, eh, Jerry?”


    “ I’m a realist, Mike and the truth is..”


    “Nah, nah, nah. You had ‘yer chance to talk. It’s my time now. We’ve been friends for a long time now, Jer. We’ve been through a lot together. Good times, bad times….but our relationship…it’s never been real. It’s been solid from the business aspect of it, and I always though we were good on a personal level but it’s just now hitting me how two people can know each other for as long as we have and still not know a single damn thing about the other man. For instance, you seem to think that I’m this talentless young punk that can’t achieve success on his own. You’ve got this false notion in your head that I’m just a brainless piece of meat that needs to rely on someone marketing me as some big, scary monster to be relevant in the FWA. You seem to think that I’m you’re creation. Well, Jerry, you’re not Dr. Frankenstein and I’m not your monster. Don’t feel bad, Jerry. I’ve been wrong, too. I’ve operated under the assumption for the past seven years that you’re not this money hungry parasite. I’ve been under the assumption that you picked me as your client because you believe in me. I always thought that you were able to see me for more than just your typical big man. Most of all, Jeremiah, I thought you were a capable manager. I was wrong. Ya see, Jer, you’re tryin’ to tell me that I need you to succeed around here but the fact is that you’re the one that’s always needed me. I’m you’re meal ticket, so long as I’m doing my part in the act. For far too long, you’ve been writing the music and I’ve been more than willing to sing the songs and dance the dance but that time, my friend, has come to an end. I’m not your creation. I’m not your puppet. And as of this very moment, I’m not longer your meal ticket.


    Now’s the time, Jer, to see what the two of us are really made of. I know what’s gonna happen to me. I’m going to work my ass off, harder than I ever have. I’ve been working a lot lately with Stu St. Clair to become a more technically proficient wrestler. Guys like you think that guys like me only have to work half as hard because of my genetics. That’s simply not true. I’m gonna’ bust my fuckin’ ass every single day to become the very best the FWA has to offer. I’m gonna focus less on ending careers and a hell of a lot more on getting the W’s. But what about you, Jer? What’s next for you? You think anybody wants to put up with your loud mouth, over the top, pretentious bullshit? You think anybody is lining up to sign a contract from you? You wanna talk about truths, well, let me lay out a hard truth for you, Jerry. Michael Garcia is going to be a success with or without you. Jeremiah Jones, however, is going to fall into obscurity, never to be heard from again. And one day, you’re going to come back knockin’ on this door, beggin’ for me to take you back but the only thing Im’ma have to say to you is to turn your ass around and kick rocks! So, Jeremiah Jones, having said all that, you’ve breathed in more of my air as I’d like you to so get your wannabe pimp ass outta this house, get to steppin’, and maybe one day, because I am such a generous motherfucker….maybe I’ll send you a couple extra bucks to dry your tears with. Now, get the hell out of this house before I go all Uncle Phil on your Jazzy Jeff punk ass!”


    Garcia steps up to Jeremiah, intimidating and flustering his now former manager, who stumbles down the hallway and through the door. Big Mike takes a seat before reflecting on his actions.


    “Damn it! I did it again! Motherfucker deserved it, though. No, no, no, that’s no fuckin’ excuse. I went right to the old bullyin’ shit. Fuck, man, maybe this is gonna be harder than I thought.”

    Garcia pulls out phone, dials and proceeds to make a call.

    "Hey, Malik....whoa, whoa, whoa. Don't hang up. It's your bro. If you got some free time this week, we need to talk."



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