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Thread: Tag League Final 2018 Promo Thread

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    Tag League Final 2018 Promo Thread

    Deadline is Sunday, Feb 18th at midnight Pacific, which is 3am on Monday Feb 19th EST and 8am UK time. As a refresher of our extension requirements, extensions must be requested at least 24 hours in advance of the deadline and with a legitimate reason provided. As such, any extensions requested prior to Feb 17th will be denied.

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    Re: Tag League Final 2018 Promo Thread

    Backstage at the Philips Arena- Atlanta Georgia Feb 2- twenty minutes after the Gruber/Wolf v Galloway/Wrath match

    Hanz is helped backstage to the trainers room. He is spitting up blood and holding his neck as the pain is killing him. He sits down on one of the examining tables, then spits out more blood. One of the trainers pushes Hanz's hand away to get a better look at his neck. Once he touches his neck, Hanz cringes, then spits up some more blood .

    Amy Duke walks in with a mic in hand and a cameraman right next to her. Seeing all the blood Hanz keeps spitting up, Amy has a worried look on her face.

    Trainer: Ms Duke, he can't do an interview right now. It could do further damage with him talking or moving around too much.. Please tell Mr O'Ryan we have to rush him to the hospital for xrays.

    Amy Duke: Sure thing. Mr Gruber, I hope its not too bad.

    Amy is about to leave but Hanz grabs her arm and motions towards the mic.

    Amy Duke: I can't Mr Gruber, the trainer said it....

    in a low voice, but sounding like his throat has been rubbed with sand paper

    Hanz Gruber: Its ok Amy. Go do as the trainer said, but you pointing to the camera man, you stay put

    Trainer: Look Hanz, you are going to make things worse

    Hanz Gruber: The fuck if I care. Please Amy, go.

    Amy hands the mic to Hanz, then gives him a quick hug then walks off.

    Trainer: I can't let you do.....

    Hanz Gruber: You can't let me do what? Talk? Speak my mind? Relax, I understand you are just doing your job and do not want to get in trouble if things get worse with me. You are off the hook. If I fall over dead- its not on you.

    Trainer: Well I'm staying back here with you.

    Hanz Gruber: Thats fine

    Hanz spits up some more blood and grabs a towel from the side, then wipes his face with it. He then motions for the camerman to come closer.

    Hanz Gruber: Again, tonight Wrath, you were on the losing side. Its a predictable pattern with you. Even with a world class partner by your side, you still loss. It wasn't Galloways fault- its all on you. Two weeks in a row your master was not out there with you. Two weeks in a row you were lost out there. Two weeks in a row, well actually a lot longer than that, there was no so called monster named Zako Wrath. There was no Walking Disaster. The only disaster out there was what your career has become. Yes, our first one on one match you won- but it was by count out. You didn't pin me, you didn't make me submit. No, I just didn't make it back into the ring in time. But to your simple mind- a win is a win

    Hanz starts coughing pretty hard and again, spits up more blood. The trainer starts to walk towards Hanz again but is motioned away.

    Hanz Gruber:And Wrath and Miss De La Meurta, you thought you were playing mind games with me- but no, any fool knew that Miss De La Meurta would show up. And whats sad, is Zako didn't come alive until he saw you. He snapped into his monster mode, beat the fuck out of me. He made momma D happy. I guess you think that was payback for last weeks trick, or the two weeks before that- me beating Zako down. You didn't see any of that coming did you? And it finally dawned on you I was sending you a message with the chain. I don't know who is dumber- momma D or Zako . My money is on Zako. But at least I know now that you know how to use a chain- learned that the hard way.

    Hanz starts coughing again, but much worse, and again, starts spitting up more blood.. The trainer again starts to walk up to Hanz, but again is motioned away.

    Hanz Gruber: Zako, on Feb 18th, in the great city of London, you better mark that day in your diary- or momma D might have to do that for you, I forget, you are not very bright.. That day, you and I get to use that chain properly in a match. I'll wrap that fucker around my fist and pummel your thick skull with it. Even if you pass out, I will continue pummeling. Its not going to be a match. Its going to be a blood bath. Its going to be your end. And momma D will leave you. She can always go back to suc....

    Hanz violently coughs and instead of spitting up blood, its pouring out his mouth. The trainer shoves the camerman out the way and yells out for help. Some medics rush in, followed by Amy Duke.

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    Re: Tag League Final 2018 Promo Thread

    A scene opened up with The Echo standing dead center in the middle of nothing. There seemed to be no light, aside from what was used to spotlight him. There was no chatter, no interviewers, just The Echo Drew lifted his head slowly, tilting it to the side to notice the camera rolling. It was then that he decided to speak.

    For someone like The Echo to face DFBs, it's a joke. It's something to be made fun of, something to not take seriously. But then again, this is exactly the reason the DFB aren’t in the finals This is the reason we're in our current predicament. Because DFB sees everything as a joke. They see this company as a joke, just as we’ve been proclaiming it to be. And because of it, they lashed out. And while we normally enjoy a good lashing out? this time? .. They can’t walk over us, See, when they attacked us two months ago they started something they can't stop, and you know it. You know exactly what we’ve capable of, what pain we’re capable of inflicting on the mass! And yet, you went and broke the rules anyway and attacked us from behind. You stepped into our house all high and mighty. And you delivered yourself to the wolves.

    There was an adjustment, Drew shifting his CWA championship from one shoulder to another.

    Drew Connor: When you attacked us from behind, you opened up the void. When you disrespected The Connor Brothers. You opened up the void. And there's always only been one way to close it. And that's always been to feed it. To allow it to feast on wrestlers like you. To feast on the souls of those who would step and dare challenge the golden gods of tag team wrestling

    . A small smile appeared on Ethan’s face, in referencing themselves as Golden Gods

    Ethan Connor And in case you didn't realize,? You're up next.

    Both their eyes widened as he spoke those words as if trying to send a mental dagger through the cameras. There was a shaking of Drew’s head, who was absolutely fed up.

    Drew Connor; We offered you a way out, we really did. You had the chance to bend the knee, you couldn't. You stole the spotlight from us through this entire tourny. Time and time again, you've been a thorn in our side. And it dates all the way back to your debut where you upstaged us. Your little five seconds of fame. Your moment, the only thing you could ever claim over me! But it ends later on tonight. I don't care what you think you know. I don't care who you think you are. You can walk out here with the fans chanting your name, come up with some hick references like we haven't heard them all! You're nothing more than phenomenally overpaid paperweights. But don't worry, you can be more. .. I'll help you. It's easy, it's all so simple. Soon your soul? It'll belong to us.. Your soul? It's going to belong to this void. It's going to belong to The Echo and After we shut you up, it WILL be once and for all. And we will prove to you we’ve better. have our word as kings of tag wrestling. You have my word as CWA World Tag team Champions. .. You have our word as The Echo

    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

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    Re: Tag League Final 2018 Promo Thread

    The scene opens up in jolly old England, London to be more exact. Beyond the sights and sounds of the city, it will be the home to the FWA's 2018 Tag League Final special event. On that card will be many showcase matches and one match in particular will be none other than the team of Rockstarz I&I, Starr and Izzy Van Doren, and they'll be taking on Mad Kingdom, Jason Randall and Penny. Speaking of the latter, Penny is currently taking in all the sights and sounds of London before the big show. She has her pets Fred and Norman with her, Norman is in a sling that's normally for an infant, while Fred is cradled in her arms.

    Isn't this just great you two?!

    She looks the usual tourist that locals become annoyed by as soon as they lay their eyes on them, but there's something about Penny that makes her less annoying to some people. It's like people cannot really dislike her, even if she did an evil or cruel thing to them in the past, they still find a reason to not dislike her.

    I wish we could be here all the time, couldn't you just imagine it Fred? Wouldn't it be great?! Then we could become all sophisticated and drink tea while eating crumpets, whatever those are. I'll have to talk to Jason about moving out here some day, speaking of which, did he say where he was going off to Fred? As much as it is we aren't here just for sight seeing, we do have a big match with our best friend Izzy and her friend Starr.

    She's walking along the way just talking to her cats like it's a normal thing to do, while others around her look at her like she's some crazy cat lady.

    Oh Norman, of course we don't really want to hurt them, but that's just what we have to do. I know you like them and if it weren't for Izzy, you wouldn't be in our lives, but sometimes even best friends have to fight. At the end of the day though, Izzy and I will still be besties to the very end. Oh yeah, I'm sure she's forgiven me for all of the times when we fought before, so I don't see why she would hold a grudge after all this time. Last week when we wrestled Hyper Vibe I held no ill will towards Eimi Sanada despite our past, by the way Fred, thanks for the tip for scratching the eyes it really worked!

    She's walking down the street when she walks by a local pub and stops in front of it, taking a look through the window.

    I wonder if Jason is in there, he did mention he wanted to visit some pubs while we were here. I don't know if there's a strict rule on cats in the pub, but I'll ask!

    She walks through the door, entering the pub and walks up to the bartender. A surly looking man that gives her an awkward look as she approaches the bar.

    Excuse me sir, do you allow cats in your establishment?

    She motions to Fred and Norman with her sweet smile, but the bartender just walks away and goes on about his business. Penny shrugs and continues on her quest to find Jason, eventually discovering him at the end of the bar with a beer in hand. She scurries over to him and nearly knocks him over with a hug, as well as nearly spilling his mug of beer.

    I found you!

    Yeah, you did. I told you where I'd be at, didn't I?

    I don't seem to recall you saying anything, did you tell Fred and Norman?

    They don't ever listen to me or tell me anything, they don't like me.

    Oh don't be silly, of course they like you!

    How come they don't tell me any special moves like Fred did when he told you to scratch the eyes?

    I don't know, maybe ask nicely?

    She takes a seat next to him on a stool.

    I'll keep that in mind next time I'm talking to them one on one, so what kind of sights did you see?

    Well we saw that clock...Big Ben! Then the Tower of London and London Bridge!

    Like the song, London Bridge is falling down, falling down!

    That's the one, we saw all sorts of things.

    He takes a swig of his drink.

    That's good. Me, well I haven't had nearly a productive day as you've had but I've done some thinking while I've been here, and I was thinking about our match Izzy and Starr and I realized one thing that we share in common with them...

    What's that?

    We are the only two teams that participated in the tournament that consisted of a male/female combination. Well, unless you count either one of those prima donnas Kennedy or Rondo as the female of their tag team, but yes technically that is the case.

    Wow, I never even realized that!

    He takes another swig of his drink as she looks at him with intrigue.

    There's something different about you...

    Why do you say that?

    You're just acting...not like you normally do. Not that it's a bad thing but maybe I am rubbing off on you a little...

    She smiles at him and smiles back at her sheepishly.

    Hey now, don't be going around ruining my reputation!

    Penny smiles more as she looks up at the TV and sees a football game on, not realizing it's referred to as such in the country and not what she thinks and is about to say.

    Hey, the soccer game is on...

    There was a chatter in the pub amongst the patrons but as soon as she says that word it comes to a mute. Everyone stares back at her, yet she's oblivious to it as she smiles while watching. The bartender walks over to them and gives them both an angry look.

    What did she say?!

    Penny looks at him confused.

    I said that the soccer game is on...

    This further irritates the man as he leans over the counter closer to Penny, near her face, trying to intimidate her. Jason gently moves Penny aside and gets in the man's face.

    We have a problem?

    The man grunts and begins to back away, but Jason grabs his glass of beer and smashes it over the bartender's head. Immediately he grabs Penny by the hand and rushes out of the pub before anyone can get to them, and they run down the street until they are far away from the place as they have stopped to catch their breath.

    Well, I think I'm all fired up now for our match with Rockstarzz I&I. I know that Izzy is your friend and all, but I hope you don't take it too personal if I smash her face in just a little bit or if I pummel Starr into oblivion?

    No, I understand that it's just a match. I already explained this to Norman before we found you. They did give us him after all, well technically it was Izzy.

    Okay, and while that may be so, just like the Bell and Shannon match we can't let our personal life get in the way of that. We may be out of the tournament but we still have a fight left and I'll be damned if we don't come out on top in this one. People didn't expect us to go as far as we did in the tournament, but we did. We may not have won it but I still feel like we're winners, if you get what I mean.

    I understand what you mean. We're still winners in our eyes and the eyes of the fans.

    Well yeah, that, and we've shown a lot of improvement. There was some bumpy roads along the way but I never gave up on us, and I don't think most of the fans did either, even if before I never did care about them and I still really don't but I know you do now. Whatever makes you happy sweets, I'll do it. Now, all of that action and other nonsense got me in the mood for some tea and crumpets, whatever those are.

    He wraps his arm around her and the two walk down the street as the scene fades out.

    Rest in power, Flock U

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    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.

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    Re: Tag League Final 2018 Promo Thread

    Denver, Colorado
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    The sound of the crowd was frankly downed out, both by the dull ringing sensation in the back of his head as well as the unnerving sight of staring down on the canvas as your blood drips from your forehead. Even your hand doesn’t hurt when slapping the ground with as much force as you can muster after putting your body through some sort of trauma that it was not built to withstand.

    He slowly stumbles off of his hands and knees back to a standing position as the lights surrounding him go dark for the latest promo. Visibly dazed and physically spent, he doesn’t have enough wherewithal to notice a stage hand approaching, his body language screaming panic and urgency but again this having absolutely zero impact on our wounded fighter.

    “You’ve got 70 seconds before the lights come back on…come on, put your arm around me.”


    Not even a single word comes out. Not for a lack of effort and most certainly not in an attempt to become the ignorant primadonna that he despises. However, despite not being able to utter a single thought, there was not a chance that he was being lifted out of this building unless it was on a stretcher. He lifts one foot and slowly and methodically places it proportionally in front of the other, planting it down and stabilizing himself before repeating the process once more with the opposing foot, until he pauses and reaches out towards the timekeepers area and opens his right hand, gesturing for something.

    Again, the stage hand comes back with his irritating tendency to quote time in seconds.

    “Only minus 35 seconds until the lights return. There’s nothing there for you now, WOLF has it.”

    It was habit. In the same way that you build up muscle memory when driving, he had reached out for his North American Championship and, as was so bluntly outlined to him, there was nothing there for him now. As the blood warmly trickled down his forehead and into his eyes further obscuring his vision, he took in a deep breath bringing in not only oxygen but the stench of blood and sweat that was emblazoned all around the ringside area. And so he began again, one foot in front of the other, pace by pace. As the lights in the arena returned and Starr stepped out for one of the greatest opportunities of his career, the irritable stage hand quoting the time in seconds had done exactly what he was asked to do, with “minus 3 seconds to spare”, and got the wounded competitor down the side of the entrance ramp and out of sight of the hard camera in the building.

    It must have only been minutes but felt like hours until he was propped up against a wall backstage, a flash of blue tending to his open wounds on his forehead without even the ability to process that the “blue flash” was a medical glove. This isn’t what he is used to, the taste of his own blood isn’t something that he got into this business for. Makeshift stitches going in his forehead not even enough to bring him around, the dull throbbing pain that hadn’t subsided since the conclusion of the match with the words “there’s nothing there for you now” lingering like an awful smell. He slowly began to lose stability and became more dependent on the wall against which he was leaning as the efforts and the emotional trauma perhaps began to take effect. Foot in front of foot, pace by pace, suddenly doesn’t seem workable at this point. The flash of blue reaches around his torso in an attempt to stop him falling to the ground, but an attempt only it is, as he drops further and further……before a slow, soft violin chord somehow stops the descent.

    With the medical staff supporting him, desperately trying to return him to his feet, that slow and soft violin drags his head back up as he slowly and forcibly forces his eyelids open, breaking the seal that his dried blood had formed over his closed over eye moments ago. His icy blue eyed glare pierces through his crimson mask as he glances towards the source of the noise, the monitor showing real time events in the arena. Suddenly the legs have become once again stable, as he draws in a huge breath and brings in fresh oxygen into his lungs, as he plants one foot firmly proportionately in front of the other, repeating the process until he is staring at “The Exile” in the middle of the Mile High ring. “There’s nothing there for you now” once again runs through his mind, but this time it draws a smirk. A knowing smirk. And as if that smirk was just what his body shutting down was waiting for, he suddenly capitulates backwards into the waiting arms of three of the medical staff…

    The Prodigy Chronicles : Volume 1

    Our scene opens less than one week removed from the events of Mile High the week before. We are in a remote village perched on the border between the north and south of Ireland, the type of place where you may be calling for a united country in one public house before praising the Queen in the next. Nevertheless, seated in one of the awkward wooden pews which surely bring about later life problems for those that spend excess amounts of time here, is the now former North American Champion. Surprisingly, following the events of Mile High, he was medically cleared to travel. I don’t think there was going to be a medical professional alive that was keeping Parr from doing exactly what he wanted to do as soon as those stitches were bound, the blood was wiped from his eyes, and the strength came back into his limbs.

    Parr moves from the seated position to placing both kneecaps on the awfully uncomfortable wood below, and removes his head from his hands only to place his hands together in a prayer motion. His head comes to rest facing downwards towards where he is kneeling.

    “Forgive me father for I have sinned……”

    He brings himself to a stop. He hasn’t been here since he was last forced to go back when he was in his early teens. Good for soul, his father used to say. Good to wipe the slate clean and good to park some baggage behind and move forward. Curious that he should end up here of his own volition. Parr shakes his head, clears his throat, and brings his head down to a rest again, bringing his hands together in that prayer motion once more…

    “Forgive me father for I ha—“

    “I’m not your father but I’ll hit you a slap if you ask for forgiveness again.”

    Mike swivels around in his seat to see who had somehow snuck in and caught him at his most vulnerable, and to his surprise he is now casting his eyes on Tony Millar. Tony is a local hero, playing his part in the village’s 1959 national cup winning team, the one and only time that they brought that trophy home to the modestly populated town. To Mike though, Tony isn’t that hero, he’s the father of his childhood sweetheart. The less said about how that relationship ended the better, but he is the man who drove Mike to his first wrestling lesson when nobody else gave him a chance.

    “Rumours had it that you were in town boy…”

    Not hard to stand out when your entire population barely reaches 1000 people. They almost all know what you had for dinner.

    “But to come here…..I must admit that I’m surprised by you. What do you think you are going to achieve HERE? Did this place ever help you? Did he upstairs ever help you? I know how you get, I watch you from afar. You lost. You didn’t even lose the match but you lost your belt. You were better than it anyway. At least, I thought you were better than it, but that was before you apparently have turned into a snivelling little bitch….”

    If this were in front of a live crowd, you would have heard the crowd erupt and react with a massive “OOOOHHHHH”. However, not so much as a twitch from Mike, who immediately after seeing who had walked in and returned back around to his kneeling position and was seemingly deep in thought.

    “Forgive you? I can forgive everyone getting their ass handed to them once in a while, but I can’t forgive you for becoming what I despite, an arrogant idiot who thinks he is too good to eat shit once in a while. 15 months is all I heard you you remember when you thought that championship was the epitome of mediocrity? Do you remember when you said the likes of James Hughes treat that as their World Championship because they will never win THE World Championship? Is that really what you have become? A pathetic shell of the man who should be aiming to be at the top of the wrestling world, instead running with his tail between his legs asking for forgiveness for losing a match in which he never even took the pin or tapped out? Embarrassing”

    Without significantly reacting to any of the above, Mike rises to his feet and slowly rotates his shoulders, loosening the joint that was immobile whilst in the prayer position…not to mention the joint that is still in pain after the exerts of Mile High a few days earlier. Heading to the exit, he only stops as he comes side by side with Tony.

    “Asking for forgiveness doesn’t make me weak. I’m not asking for forgiveness for what I’ve done. I’m flying to tag tournament Day 1. I’m asking for forgiveness for what I’m about to do.”

    And with a hearty slap on the shoulder, Mike continues to walk towards the doors for which we hope he will emerge the other side not as Mike Parr, ex champion, but as The Prodigy once again.

    Three days later....
    “Stay out of my way, boy.”

    Truth drops his microphone and goes to walk past Prodigy, who then without warning catches Cyrus and connects with a thunderous Rolling Cutter. The crowd once again erupts as Cyrus is laid out in the middle of the ring. Parr is still on his knees, echoing Cyrus earlier as he dismissed James Sync. He leans in close to Cyrus so he can hear him over the noise from the crowd.

    “Looks like there was somebody in FWA that could stop you.”

    He condescendingly pats Cyrus on the chest before rolling out of the ring.

    The Prodigy Chronicles: Chapter 2

    “As much fun as you may have had between Day 1 and Day 5, the real entertainment returns and starts here tonight.”

    The day of the tag league finals is upon us, and seated in the lower stand of the 02 arena in London is “The Prodigy” Mike Parr. It is that moment between where set up of the ring is finished, and the crowd are about to be let in. Parr is taking the time to sit and think about exactly what he is done. After all, is that not what everybody has been warning about since he stormed to the ring on Day 1 and drove Cyrus’ face into the ground?

    “I don’t understand how you all forget so quickly. I cannot wrap my head around how every time that I stopped fighting with Cyrus that all I heard was that I was out of my depth, about how I was picking a fight that I couldn’t win. All I kept hearing was that I was barely worthy of Cyrus’ time and effort, that I couldn’t even get his attention as it lay with the deceitful Miss O’Neal. Do I really need to dredge up footage and bring you all up to speed so you know exactly WHO THE HELL I AM.”

    Prodigy’s voice raised appropriately at the end of the last sentence, echoing around the arena. He will never admit it to you, but he was definitely hurt by some of the comments that he read and some of the whispers that he heard.

    “Mike Parr is not a step down for Cyrus Truth. Mike Parr is not that little fly the buzzes around and becomes so irritating that you have to go get the fly swatter and beat it to death. Mike Parr is the best wrestler in this company, a little forgotten fact that seems to have been swept under the carpet because WOLF managed to pin another man to steal a championship from my grasp. When I lost that championship I had two options, I could go back and take what is mine…which don’t get me wrong, I could go and take that back in a heartbeat..... or I could go and make sure that nobody was talking about the fact that I’m a number of pounds lighter because I don’t have that gold around my waist.”

    “So I sit here now and I ask you….who is thinking about Mike Parr not retaining the North American Championship now? Nobody. I was left with a choice after that match to sit and let people dwell on what could have been, a record breaking championship reign, but instead I’ve decided to go forward and let people think about what is about to happen…..and what is about to happen is the utter decimation and destruction of the imposter knowing as “The Exile” Cyrus Truth.”

    Parr pushes himself out of the seats in the stands and slowly makes his way to ringside and towards the camera filming him at present.

    “But why Cyrus? Because he wasn’t always your anti-hero. He isn’t a good man. He came into this company and paraded around for 12 months pretending that he was the standard bearer of this federation, that he was a representation of the entire locker room. And for every single one of those 12 months, that made me physically sick. He was and is no representation of me and my abilities and what I stand for. He had that championship belt for 12 months but every day since Mile High 2016 he nervously looked over his shoulder in case he saw me coming for him in the distance. He ran scared.”

    “You know it was the money fight. You know it was the fight that the entire federation wanted to see. The hated villainous Cyrus Truth locking horns with the man who many believed should’ve been the first Triple Champion in FWA history, Mike Parr. He heard the crowd at Mile High 2016, chanting from the minute the show started until the second Cyrus somehow managed to get up that ladder and retain that championship, and he knew that he could not compete with that. So instead of giving the fans what they wanted and giving the universe what they deserved, he ran away and hid behind title defences against those that he knew could not hold a candle to him and more critically could not hold a candle to me.”

    Mike glances around the 02 arena from the ringside barrier, and lifts his sunglasses and bridges them on the top of his head, wanting to take in the serenity of an empty arena just moments before the madness begins. He pushes himself over the barrier and plants his two feet at ringside. The last time he stood ringside and contemplated was in the immediate aftermath of his loss in November.

    “I give him some credit of course. Somehow, he has managed to weasel his way into your hearts. He has managed to convince you that he isn’t the cowardly fraud that I know him to be, and he has managed to get you to think that he was the one who was somehow wronged in his feud with Shannon, that he is the only worthy of your cheers. It’s just more fraud, more deception. More cloaks and daggers. And you know what, enough was enough, I just couldn’t stand for it anymore.”

    “I am not going to pander and ask for your backing and I’m not pretending that this is some righteous and noble crusade, but with what I know and I what I was seeing, I could not just stand idly by and watch as everyone got sucked in to his web of lies and got sucked into the narrative of Cyrus Truth being some sort of wronged hero. I lay here, on my hands and knees, with blood dripping from my forehead, and I could barely catch a breath. I stumbled my way up the ramp to the backstage area where I could barely stand as a doctor tried to attend to my wounds. And you know what I heard? I heard HIM. I staggered over to the nearest screen that I could see and I saw HIM. I saw him soaking up your cheers. I saw him walk out for yet another World Championship match. And it was at that moment that I knew I had reached the tipping point and that, frankly, the time had come to finally lift the veil and expose Cyrus’ real self to the entire world.”

    Prodigy pauses momentarily in what feels like a confessional for him.

    “And so it took a few weeks and he tried to run away and he tried to hide like he always does. But you know how you always say a leopard never changes his spots? All I had to do was keep prodding and probing and this leopard would eventually show that those spots remain the same as they did when he refused to face me for the World Championship that he knew I would take from him.”

    “So when he signed on that dotted line at Tag League Day 5, he didn’t sign up for a match, he may as well signed a written proclamation declaring everything I have just said to you as the real “Truth.” So I ran to the ring and I didn’t need to probe and prod anymore, I just signed my part of the agreement and now all I have to do is live up to my part of the bargain. And you know what my part of the bargain is? It is to turn up here tonight in a couple hours, walk through those curtains and beat him like I would have done had he not run scared of me. It is to turn up and watch as you all see the man for what he truly is so, rather fittingly, the Exile is Exiled.”

    “So when the Tag League finals are over, the conversation won’t be about champion vs champion and it won’t be about which winner has taken it all….it will be about who is next. It will be about who is next to face the wrath of the wronged Mike Parr. It will be about how the hell Cyrus Truth seemed so indomitable for so long. It will be how many people have to pay for my recompense.”

    Prodigy’s glare does not break from straight down the camera lens as the 02 arena slowly fades black.

  6. #6
    Hail To The King
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    Re: Tag League Final 2018 Promo Thread

    Deception sits at his old apartment building glass broken covers the floor its raining outside the lightning and thunder crack in the distance. Deception sits in total darkness except where his cig is lit. He holds his mask in front of him his face covered by his hood there is a camcorder the red light flashing and he begins to speak.

    Deception: I wanna tell a story to you. There was once a old man. He was sitting on his deathbed. There was nothing no one could . This man was waiting for his time and begin to think back on his life and it played like a bad movie in his head. You see this man lived his life without taking chances without any kind of risk. This man looked back and saw that in the end his life was just should of could of what if what could of been and his regrets started to eat away under his skin like bugs crawling laying babies and driving him insane. He begins to scream No! No! I don't wanna go please someone help. Then everything stopped and a man in a suit with a cane walks in. He says why are you screaming? Why don't you wanna go. The man says there's things I should of done. Things I need to do. The one who got away the trip I never took saying goodbye to my father being closer to my mother list goes on and on. He says I wish I could go back do it again I do things differently. The man in the suit smiles says today is your lucky day. I am going to do that for and a snap of his fingers the man sends him back to the age of 21.

    He sees the one who got away and goes to say something but cant. His should of would of could of been keep happening over and over and no matter how hard he tries he is stuck in his own personal hell. The man in the suit appears and tells him he has been dead and this is hell. He says most men hell is drowning on fire the breaking of bones the torture of broken bodies but his hell is the worse of hell. The one in your head where it can do the most damage. The one where you play it over and over your biggest fears your weakness part of you and it eats you alive. The man lives this forever doomed to make same mistakes.

    Deception pauses looking back as if seeing his life pass him by.

    Deception: The moral of this story is that the man watched his life go by and seeing himself fall short time after time. You see things haven't gone right for me it seems like no matter how hard I tried to scratch and claw my way out of this shallow grave I fail. Reliving my mistakes knowing time after time shot after shot I was this close I was within inches of reaching my dreams my world.

    Deception clinches his mask almost cracking it as his hand bleeds.

    I know the truth life is hard and yeah, there is no such thing a fairytale ending and I know that the white knight is flawed and that the princess is really the poison apple but I am sick of playing the victim when in reality where I take this mask off I see the victims and its three men all of which stand in my way are trying to take what belongs to me. You cowards, You liars, You thief's this X Title will belong to me. I am a dangerous man because I have reached rock bottom and I am digging myself out of hell and I am breaking and entering into my heaven and by god if that means I got to break bones break bodies break my own and drag you to hell I am going to do so.

    Deception says his foes names and takes another cig out.

    Locke, Hughes, Morgan I want you guys to listen I want you to really listen I want you to understand that you are not going into a wrestling match tonight you are going into a fight you are fighting for survival which deep inside your heads you should of known that it was going to be that because we are in a cold world and each one of you have demons in your past and everyday you fight for the justice you think you deserve your fight is for nothing because I see you for what you all are just puppets with your strings being pulled as you wear a mask to hide your true face your true motives that make you the men you are today. See you never let the wolves inside the coop because that blood is on your hands and tonight the blood I spill is on your hands Locke. Its on your hands Hughes. Its on your hands Morgan. There is a dark side to justice guys and sometimes you got to do very evil things they say the path to heaven is paved with bad intentions but what they don't say is the path from hell is paved with even worse intent.

    Malice the word of the day look it up do your due to diligence because if you understand I mean truly understand that then you understand that malice is the most evil of words the most evil of things and that we are in a world where malice is as clear as day and it shapes who we are it shapes what we do and tonight we need malice we need survival we need it all because we are animals we are primal we are savage beast and we have a thirst for blood and our blood is paid in gold and I am taking the blood the pounds of flesh and I am walking out the number one contender and then I am coming for whoever the X Division Champion is. I had my shot once but I became obsessed with Penny I will not make that mistake again I am obsessed with the X Division Championship and I am turning my obsession into possession
    . This is my time this is my shot and none of you are taking that from me it is written in the stars the destiny is on my side. Justice will be paid in full.

    Deception looks on staring at his mask knowing what he must do tonight. He places the mask back on stops the recording and walks off.


    CWA World Heavyweight Champion
    Brayden Bridges

  7. #7
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    Re: Tag League Final 2018 Promo Thread

    Exile Chronicles: Volume 27
    "The Dance of Strings"

    Our scene opens with a sight straight out of a Victorian romance novel.

    The room is a bright and gaudy ballroom, illuminated by a half-dozen old-style chandeliers. This ballroom is packed to the gills with various men and women, all wearing nineteenth century tuxedos and gowns, sipping on champagne and dining on various hor d'oeuvres and dancing their elegant, refined waltzes. There's an air of regality among these patrons, as they seem to be in a state of reverie as a classical-sounding band plays their songs. You get the sense that these people are the most upper of upper crust citizens...or, at the very least, they are trying their damndest to pretend they are society's elite.

    Regardless, the music stops as the crowd politely applauds and one of the dancer, a young woman with honey blonde hair and wearing the most extravagant gown of the bunch. Her skin is alabaster white (likely due to some heavy powdering), and she smiles the most dazzling of smiles as she has the dance floor to herself and begins to address those in attendance.

    "Thank you all for coming to share in this celebration with me. To have you here as both witnesses and participants in this most grandiose of days is both humbling and most delightful. If I may beg your indulgence for a minute, hostess, I would like to take this opportunity to have the dance floor to myself. Well, myself and a would-be suitor. Is there any man out there who'd be willing to share this dance with me?"

    There's a loud muttering as several young men scramble among themselves for attention from the lovely hostess. One, however, doesn't even bother with that as he pushes the others out of his way and walks up to the lady. He's a ruddy-looking sort, with perfectly coiffed auburn hair and a toothy grin. He readjusts the lapels of his tuxedo and takes the hostess's hand, who smiles demurely as she motions for the band to resume playing. They do just that as the man and woman begin to dance another waltz.

    The camera lingers on them just for a second or two before rolling back to the crowd; specifically, near the refreshments table. There's only one man nearby as the rest of the party is watching the dance between the hostess and the brazen suitor. The man pays them no mind as he keeps his back to the camera and looks to be pouring himself a drink. Not champagne; something harder, a brown liquor of sorts. And as the man turns around, we immediately recognize him. Despite wearing a similar outfit to the rest of the men in attendance, the ruffled, disheveled hair and demeanor of Cyrus Truth is unmistakable.

    Cyrus's expression is a combination of bemusement and annoyance. It's hard to say if that's due to the current company he seems to be in or due to recent events in FWA, but Cyrus is clearly contemplating his current circumstances as he takes his drink and begins sipping at it. As the dance continues and the rest of the party-goers are seemingly enthralled by this, Cyrus has a disinterested smirk on his face as he talks, more to himself than to anybody.

    "I hate being right all the time, you know. That sounds pretty conceited, I know...but I do hate it. I've come to realize in my time in FWA that one of the things that keeps me pressing forward in professional wrestling is events and people that can surprise me. Predictability is boring, and knowing how the story ends is the surest way to lose my interest. So when people surprise me, it gets me excited. When Mike Parr beat me that one time, it helped keep me motivated to not take FWA's wrestlers lightly again. When Shannon beat me at Back in Business, I got a renewed vigor and a new target to shoot for. But Parr ended up doing nothing with his one victory and Shannon inevitably ruined my excitement and replaced it with rage. And then Bell happened last Fight Night...

    "I warned FWA, didn't I? I told them that Bell was going to break the more they tried to push and prod her. And inevitably, I was proven right. Bell may have won the title, but she lost so much more and cracked under the strain of the crown, just as her best friend did before her, and how nearly every World Champion that this company has before. All of for one. Despite what FWA might want to convince you of, the Truth is that as I held that World Title, I never faltered. I never cracked. I stood by my principles and never once sacrificed what I value. Shannon cast aside her pride to keep that shiny gold bauble. Bell Connelly cast aside her virtue for fear or paranoia, I don't know which nor do I care. I cast aside NOTHING. And I reigned in glory despite what FWA tried to do. And that's because I know more than anybody that if you have to sacrifice your principles, your virtues, and your pride for glory, then you will end up with nothing. There will be no songs sung about your battles, no history books will tell your tales, and nobody will remember your name when all else becomes dust and echoes. What worth does a coward like Shannon have? What worth does a fallen hero like Bell have? Exactly none, because when either was pressed and the pressure built, neither of them could withstand it and ended up cracking like eggs. But FWA will continue to insist that all is well, and everything's fine, and isn't this just the best thing ever that now we can have this match against former best friends? But that's the dance FWA is most comfortable having. Heaven forbid we pursue glory like warriors should. Instead, let's just continue to promote drama and keep this dance going, even if we have to change up the dance partners when one inevitably can't keep up."

    As Cyrus says that, there's a commotion as the crowd gasps a bit. It seems that the suitor has tripped over his own feet and fallen face-first onto the dance floor. The hostess sighs and shakes her head as another suitor steps up, this one with blonde hair tied in a ponytail. He steps over the body of the first suitor and picks up where the last man left off. Cyrus chuckles at this as he downs his drink and starts pouring another.

    "I don't need a golden belt to prove my worthiness. I don't need to be in the spotlight to achieve what I want. All I need is a ring to fight in, an opponent worth my time, and the chance to settle the scores that need to be settled. If I never get another shot at the FWA World Title, I could live with that because I've proven I can win and hold it with dignity, and I know that I can achieve glory in other ways and still hold true to my principles. It's those principles that compel me to fight Shannon again, because she needs to answer for her transgressions and for sacrificing her values for gold. And sooner or later, so too will Bell Connelly. Somebody has to stand by their principles in this Truth-forsaken company, and it seems that person is me. All FWA really has to do to keep me from reminding everybody how much they suck at keeping their heroes from succumbing to their worst selves is give me these fallen heroes and icons and let me rend them and scatter their souls to the winds. But FWA doesn't want that, because that would be them admitting that I was right all along, and that can't happen. So instead, they arrange another dance partner to keep me distracted while they figure out how to spin this latest descent into darkness...and perhaps, profit from it. And that's all Mike Parr is."

    The crowd gasps again as this suitor apparently steps on the hostess's toes, annoying her to no end. Yet another suitor steps in to replace him, this one with the slightly passing appearance of Mike Parr. The hair's combed differently, the eyes aren't the same color...but that sweeping, smarmy arrogance is VERY reminiscent of The Prodigy. To this new suitor's credit, he does seem more capable than the hostess's previous dance partner as they begin their waltz.

    "You listen to Parr speak, and you get the impression of confidence if not overwhelming arrogance. When he speaks, he speaks in a candor that suggests that he has everything figured out, that he's got the mental fortitude to back up his boasts in the ring. Admittedly, there's some value in his boasts, as his year-long reign with the North American Title can attest to, and you can't beat someone like me if you don't possess something resembling competence. Honestly, there's a lot to like about Mike Parr. The problem comes when you actually take a minute to listen to him. Not his words...but all the noise between his words. When you look at a man like Mike Parr, you see that a lot of that confidence is masking something. Something that if anybody were to expose would ruin him. Not because it would affect his ability in the ring, but because it would shatter this persona that he's built for himself.

    "Mike Parr is a very insecure little man. It doesn't take much to really see this, but so many people are unable to or unwilling to look deeper. But the clues are there for those of us who observes these things. I remember when Parr was trying his hardest to win the Tag Titles with Mac Michaud and kept coming up short. And then he decided that he'd make his own title before finally winning the North American Title. And even though he held it and defended it time and again for over a year, he still was clamoring for more and more attention. You've heard the same speech over and over again. Parr barks about how he should've been World Champion last year, how he could've been the one that unseated me, how he should've had a proper shot against me. He wants to paint my reign as a sham because he could've been the one, the one who cut my reign far shorter than it was. And perhaps, maybe he could've have. But that does the question, doesn't it? If Mike Parr could've been the one...then why wasn't he?"

    Cyrus looks bemused by that question as the suitor and the hostess continue their dance. This time, there's no follies or mistakes. It is a crisp, nearly flawless dance between the two. The crowd seems to be getting into it, gasping at every well-executed step and buying into this suitor's wellspring of confidence.

    "Despite my disparaging of the man who eventually beat him for the title, I've never once questioned the validity of his opponents. I've given him credit where credit is due. And as I've said time and time again during my reign with the World Title, I would fight anybody were they willing to step up. Mike Parr wants to make it sound like I was afraid to fight him. But what if the opposite was true? What if Mike Parr was afraid to face Cyrus Truth again? You hear Parr speak, and that might sound ridiculous...but the closer you look at it, the more it makes sense, doesn't it? He beat me once, and got the crowd behind him being a double champion even thought he simply gave himself one of those belts. But then Mile High happened. His golden opportunity to become World Champion slipped through his fingers. Hell, he didn't even need to beat me again to get the belt, but he still failed. And then all that talk of beating me got quiet, didn't it? A mention in passing here and there, but no outcry for a one-on-one match to take my belt. But why not? It's not as if FWA wouldn't have given it to him. Hell, they would've given Paulie the Safety Parrot a World Title shot if they thought it wouldn't completely ruin their credibility and Paulie had the faintest hope of actually getting a move to connect in our match, let alone beat me. So why didn't Mike Parr get another World Title shot? He was worthy, and I would've been willing. I think the answer has less to do with me and FWA and more to do with Mike Parr. Because with one victory, you always have that to hang over my head. But as so many in this company have learned, beating me twice is the hardest thing to do. Perhaps Parr realized this, and realized that to actually wrench the World Title from my grasp would be the greatest challenge of his career...and he knew deep in the pit of his soul that the odds weren't good that he could pull it off. And had I beaten him for the World Title, then what does that do to the validity of his boasts? It crushes them. It destroys his veneer of confidence. He is forced to accept reality instead of deluding himself into believing that he is greater than what he actually is. And that? That for someone who relies so heavily on his confidence has to scare him to death.

    "See, Parr may never admit this, but he understands that pro wrestling is like dancing. There are those who lead and those who follow. There are those who set the tempo, and those who must try their hardest to keep up. I know which of these I am. I also know that FWA is lacking in leaders and far too heavily weighed in followers. That's not entirely the roster's fault. FWA has this knack for attracting followers and promoting them as leaders. Why do this? Because followers are easier to control. Followers don't question why the music gets faster or slower, don't question why a particular song is played. Followers just try and keep up and don't ask why they must dance this dance. Parr's no different, you know. As much as he'd like to have you believe he's a leader, he's not. FWA has promoted him as such, and he's deluded himself into believing it, but deep down he realizes that men like him chase after men like me, because men like me are the ones who blaze the trails and carve the paths for lesser men to follow. Men like me don't let a song be sung; we're the ones who make the music and create the dance! That's why Mike Parr is not World Champion. That's how I know that he is afraid. And Parr knows I see right through this arrogance of his, and he knows that I will run through him should he step into the ring with me again. And yet, now he doesn't have a choice.

    "With his North American Title gone, he now has two choices if he desires to maintain relevance...and believe me, he thirsts for relevance more than a dying man in a desert craves water. He could either challenge WOLF and try to reclaim his belt, or fight me and hope that gets him the title shot he wants against Bell. And while WOLF is long in the tooth, the man is rage and rancor and somebody who'll die long before he lets that belt go again. He'll certainly kill before he lets that happen, and Parr knows that. Meanwhile, I am...what was the term? "Distracted" by my desire to crush Shannon, I believe it was. Parr is scared to death to fight me again, but thinks that he might stand a better chance because fighting him isn't my top priority. That would be somewhat understandable until he decided to be a complete fool and continue to prod me when I ignored him the first time. He is so desperate to prove that he's a leader that he has resorted to petty taunts and sneak attacks, thumbing his nose and ranting about how awful I am to anybody who'd listen. But Parr does not want anybody to realize his irrelevance, so he chose what he thought was the lesser of two opponents. And he chose very poorly. WOLF will satisfy himself by beating Mike Parr into a bloody pulp. For his disrespect and utter stupidity in choosing to stand between me and my objectives, I won't stop until I tear the soul from Parr's body and rip it to shreds. Parr knows that this was the stupidest decision he's ever made, but the part of his brain that continues to tell him that he deserves to be adored and that he's destined to be a leader is overriding his senses, and he doesn't even realize that FWA is allowing him to commit suicide by Cyrus Truth. But then again, sometimes a puppet truly can't see its strings."

    Cyrus looks out to the dancing couple. As he speaks of "strings," there's a shimmer in the air that not even the sharpest eyed viewer could see before. There, attached to the suitor, are countless strings attached to his body, his limbs, and his head. There's no sign of where the strings are being pulled from, but it's as if this fully-flesh and blood man is nothing more than a puppet. And still, the crowd don't seem to see what Cyrus sees as he and the hostess continue their dance, picking up speed.

    "Parr, you've been led to believe that you were a special sort of talent by FWA. You've been led to believe that you were the future, the new face to lead this company into its new future. It's the same lie that's been said to so many others before you, and all of them have found ways and means to let everybody down. The champions that this company has had in the past have not been able to stand on their own feet and their own principles, and have been more than happy to have their strings pulled by management feeding them lies about their greatness while those like you falter under the weight of rule. It's nothing new, you know. But none of us are special unless we prove ourselves to be special. You were on that path for a while, but you got got scared to go beyond the calm waters. You could've been exceptional...but instead, you decided to just say that you were and not step up to the challenge. Isn't that just sad? The man who wants to claim that I am utterly worthless was too afraid to actually prove it when he had something to lose. Pathetic, Parr...if this is the caliber of "leader" that FWA wants, then I weep for this company's future.

    "You want to be a leader, and yet you can't see the strings that tug at you, toy with you, and make you so wrapped up in your arrogance that you are now compelled to brag and boast and rush headlong into utter doom. But this time, I don't blame FWA for this. I blame you. Because you were either too craven to forge your own path on the Long and Winding Road, or too stupid to realize when you've stepped on a landmine. You are doomed to fail not because I'm a better wrestler. You are damned because you have allowed yourself to be a puppet like so many before you, and you're too blind to see that. I'm going to end you, you know. Some part of you realizes that, I'm sure. But you've committed to this path, because you've become drunk on your own pride. You could've been a man who could've commanded respect; instead, you're nothing more than a puppet demanding attention. Well, congratulations. You have my full attention. Boy, aren't you going to regret that when all is said and done? I will do what I do, and I will leave you destitute and deprived of your arrogance. You will be left with nothing...but on the plus side? After I'm done pulling your strings and tearing them off, perhaps then and only then will you finally realize the difference between us. I lead and march forward to new try and follow in the footsteps of better men."

    Cyrus downs his drink and slams the glass on the table. He then heads towards the crowd, pushing people out of his way, pausing only to swipe a cane from some older gentleman. The older man grumbles, but one stony glare from The Exile is enough to shut him up. Cyrus pushes through the crowd and onto the dance floor. The hostess and suitor don't pay him any least, not until Cyrus takes the cane and hooks onto the strings attached to the suitor and rips them apart.

    Immediately, as the strings are cut, the suitor collapses to the floor...the puppet with no strings crumbles onto a heap in the ballroom. The crowd gasps as the music abruptly stops and the hostess covers her mouth aghast at this. Cyrus glares at the suitor who tries to move, but can't. His anger subsides into fear as Cyrus leans forward and growls.

    "This dance was never meant for you. And because of that, you have to be laid low. This humiliation, this embarrassment...this is the price you must pay for attempting to take something you were never meant to have."

    Cyrus lightly kicks the motionless body of the fallen suitor as he looks up to The Exile with abject terror. Cyrus then turns his attention to the hostess, who has lowered her hands from her mouth and just seems a bit on-guard. Cyrus, without saying a word, holds out his hand, resolve in his stony eyes. The hostess hesitates for a minute as the rest of the party-goers watch with jaws agape wondering what will happen...but then, the hostess nods knowingly as she puts her hand in Cyrus's, as we cut to black...

  8. #8
    God of Destruction
    Wolfs Rain's Avatar

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    Re: Tag League Final 2018 Promo Thread

    Champion vs. Champion

    Wolf vs. Tristan James Galloway


    The President of North American Division



    “A story is told of a farmer who built a home on land that he believed to be unowned. Unbeknownst to him, the land was in fact owned by another, and the two men found themselves in disagreement on who owned the house now. The farmer claimed that because he built it, it belonged to him; the second man—we’ll say he was a soldier in the local Lord’s court—said that all on the land belonged to him. Weeks went by with no solution in sight, until finally a man in minstrel robes walked by the men and offered his services. The power of fate, this man claimed to possess. He boasted he only needed to touch the ground, and the very earth itself would reveal to him the true ownership. Looking for a conclusion to the matter, the two men agreed, and watched as the man knelt down and pressed his palm to the ground."


    Langdon Trafford: Tristan James Galloway retains!

    Piers Gallagher: Tristan James Galloway is still out X-Division Champion!

    “The man in robes asked in this conflict involved a King, but the men shook their head. There was only a farmer and a soldier. So the mediator tried a second time, placing his hand on the green grass beneath him”


    Piers Gallagher: HE'S DONE IT! Wolf pins Kazadi!

    Langdon Trafford: Wolf has just won the North American Championship for the third time in his illustrious career!

    “Again the man in robes inquiries about a king, but a king there was not; only a farmer and a soldier. The mediator cracks his knuckles, rolls his neck, and places his hand on the ground for a third and final time.”


    “The soldier chose that moment to strike, knocking the farmer’s head clean from his shoulders, while the man in robes was not looking. The body dropped to the ground at the very moment that the mediator looked away, a smile on his hands. ‘I have the answer,’ he says in satisfaction. ‘No need,” the soldier replies, watching the pool of blood ground across the ground, ‘so do I.’”

    A final shot is shown from the most recent Fight Night with Wolf and Tristan James Galloway staring each other down in front of a black screen.

    “This is my mother*cking house”

    The scene fades


    "Man has no sense of boundaries, never have."

    Shadows danced upon shadows in the room where it’s only true light radiated from the figure sitting at its head. Light appears as a single speck in the center of the darkness and expands outward. Focus follows and viewers find themselves looking at a single, wooden chair in the center of a shadowy expanse. A figure is seated there, hunched over with what appears to be a stick of chalk in his right hand. He sat, watching in the powerful silence that only he could radiate.

    "Man, oh imperialistic, all-powerful man, spits on the concept of borders and territories. He is forever going to defy claims by others; tell him not to cross this line, and do you know what he's going to do first?"

    The figure falls out of the chair, landing on the rough concrete with his knees. He leans forward, almost to the point that his forehead touches the bare stone, and draws a line across with the chalk. And then, sluggishly, he crosses this line; imagine Gollum from Lord of the Rings to truly imagine how this figure carried him across the newly drawn boundary.

    "And more often than not, the response is that of a child. A little stomping of the feet, crossing of the arms, and a new line drawn further back. And thus the cycle continues."

    And on the screen, the cycle indeed continues. The figure would draw a line with the yellow chalk and then immediately step across it; above the light continues to follow the figure, but his face is still covered in shadows. As he continues to move forward, though, new details emerge; now, viewers see red converse shoes, a tattered wife-beater, and holey jeans. But no face, at least not on the screen; every single viewer saw a face within the back crevices of his mind. And then, suddenly, the figure stops short of something. He reaches his hands out into the darkness, groping for the invisible barrier.

    Wolf: "Eventually, though, man smartens up and builds a line far harder to cross. A wall, or, in my case, a cage."

    The light finally catches up to the figure and viewers find see the cage preventing escape of the figure. Bars of steel, like one would see in the prison.

    Wolf: "I was no different; I was a man trying to maintain the territories he had garnered in his life. Though, unlike my brethren, the invader had already infiltrated my boundaries. He was within; the mother*cking monster was here, so I had to build the cage. I trapped the monster, locked him away, and kept the key close to my heart. Every once in a while, the cage would fail and the monster would free himself. He'd wreak havoc, both within my boundaries and those of others; for the creature he was, he possessed the same fault as man; he lusted after the materials of others, coveted them to the point that he took them. Eventually, always, I would prevail again and force the monster back into his cage. It was the success that would lead to my downfall."

    The figure looked left, looked right, moved towards the latter. His hand touched each bar until, finally, he came upon an empty space. An open door to be exact, the escape from the cage.

    Wolf: "The monster had gone quiet for a long while and for a brief moment, I thought I had conquered him. I thought he had grown tired of his repeated failures and finally gave up. I thought he'd finally leave me in peace after our years together. So I grew lax, grew complacent. And then, when I was at my lowest, at my weakest he pounced. And I have realized it is what is needed. USA grew weak and we need to release the Beast so we can protect what is ours. There is a man that thinks he can invade my yard and build his legacy on my soil"

    Wolf sticks his right arm into the empty expanse, his stump reaching for the darkness. The door swings shut suddenly, cutting him off, though; his arm catches in the door with a loud, painful thud.

    "There are lines and borders that should never be crossed."

    His arm free of the door, allowing it to completely shut. And then, for the first time, he turns to face the camera. Wolf. The eyes give it away, or at least the fire behind them.

    Wolf: "And there you are, Tristan, testing the crocodile filled waters with your toe, hoping the water was the right temperature, completely oblivious to the predators stalking you just feet away. You are an invader fighting for the possession of another material thing, something to stick in a trophy case somewhere next to a pricey watch or a trophy girlfriend. [smirk] Me? I am fighting for my land. I am fighting to make America strong again. I am fighting for blood. I am fighting because tearing opponents limb from limb and shortening careers is what I do! That's ALL I do! That's why I am whispered in certain circles like a phantom, like some unholy plague waiting to descend upon those unfortunate enough to find themselves across the ring from me. That's not a metaphor or some silly fairy tale as you might write it, that's a fact! Many have tried and failed to put me down over the years. Barb wire, fire, thumbtacks, glass, you name it and it's been used on me at some point in time. That's my collection! The collection of scars marks that cover my a man once said, my body is a roadmap of pain. Something that a man with your complexion probably wouldn't understand. But maybe that's the whole problem with you. Maybe you have spent a little too much time surrounded by things that you bought and paid for. Maybe you spent too many hours sparring against opponents who know not to push you too hard, lest they be fired for their trouble. You are used to getting what you want in life. But this time you are going to get a lot more than you bargained for when you step into the ring against me. "

    These words are dripping with poisonous sarcasm, venom long overdue in their delivery from the lips of this man.

    Wolf: "No man would dare question you, Tristan, for fear of the wrath you'd bring down upon them. Man will fear you, curse you, love and hate you; but they won't question you. But I am no man."

    Wolf holds up the stump, waving it in front of the camera. Blood runs down the arm, dripping onto the concrete below, drawn from the steel of the door.

    Wolf: "I am a Beast. Thus, I find myself unhindered by the aura, the power, that is Tristan James Galloway. Always have been, always will be. Because you see, I knew a lot of men like you, I knew Tristan James Galloway before he was Tristan James Galloway. I knew him as the man who could barely catch a break, before he ever became the man who never broke."

    Wolf backs up, pressing himself against the door of the cage.

    Wolf: "We all have our little quirks like that, Tristan, we mortal, imperfect men. Do you wish to know yours, Tristan? It’s death, Tristan."

    Wolf pushes back and the cage door opens, allowing him to step into the darkness.

    Wolf: "I've only admired one thing about your character since I first faced off against you: I admired your heart. Defeat never fazed you, Tristan, only made you stronger. If someone beat you, your heart told you to get back up and win the next time. If you were broken, your heart would tell body to get itself together. You may be the man, but your heart was that of the gods.

    Only death can stop you, Tristan.

    And who knows death better than me?"

    A second, brighter light is ahead, calling Wolf forth. A table is illuminated from above by an unseen light source, but viewers didn't care for that; they focused only on the red hand suspended in a gel-like liquid.

    Wolf: " I'm not going to literally kill you; I'm past the point in my life where I made such idle threats. I am going to stop your heart, though, because if I take that out, I take you out. If I knock you down, you're only going to get back up. If I break your hands, you're just going to kick me. If I break your legs, you're just going to crawl at me. Oh, to the FWA Universe, my description of your heart almost warrants your death; I mean, how else can I defeat you?

    How else have I've beaten you in the past?

    It just happens. It will happen."

    Wolf taps the bars as he speaks.

    Wolf: "When you made the challenge weeks ago, you crossed a boundary into a realm you've never been prepared for. Many times you have crossed the line, but failed. Many times you have toed the water, only to find out that the temperature will never be right for you. And yet you're always surprised with that pesky crocodile pops out and drops you on your f*cking head. You think you are able to save this tanking FWA Economy with your half-assed efforts? It's simple Economics. Supply and demand. The people that are buying tickets and shelling out fifty bucks a month for pay per views aren't doing that to see Tristan James Galloway come out to the ring to Dropkick and Armdrag himself to The North Americna Championship in that horrible greasy haircut. These Masses of Asses want to see me, beat you into a bloody f*cking pulp. Supply... and demand. And guess what? They're going to get exactly that. Why? Because the race for the office of President of The North American... Division, just got a lot harder to run. It's really less of a straight up race and more of an obstacle course now. "

    The camera is angled upward to focus on Wolf's cold, dark eyes.

    Wolf: "Prepare yourself once again, Tristan, to look up at me. And pray, pray that it won't be the last time. Pray, because only one thing awaits you if this is the last time you see my face.



    He takes a frantic drag off his cigarette, calming himself. Wolf begins to growl...

    My throne can only rise ever higher with each body buried beneath it, a pyramid to the heavens themselves.”

    A final pause.

    Wolf: “And as you can see I seemed to be a little grounded at the moment. It’s high time I ascend to the air once more, and it just satisfies me to know it will be at your expense. I am the OFTEN imitated, NEVER duplicated, undisputed ICON of Hardcore, The King of Carnage, The Baron of Brutality, The High Priest of Pain, The Grand Wizard of Gore AND THE F*CKING PRESIDENT OF THE NORTH AMERICAN... Division. And the your blood, Tristan James Galloway, will not just be a symbol of my reign... But a sacrifice to the old, dark, evil things I worship. Muster very bit of courage. Prepare every bit of fight you have. Then come on down and try to shove me off Capitol Hill, Motherf*cker. I've got nothing to prove, but everything to lose. However, like so many others before you... You're going to find that when it's all said and done? You're going to be left with one thing, Tristan... Scars like stripes. And I'm going to remain the dominant force of this division. THE PRESIDENT OF THE NORTH F*CKING AMERICAN... For one more term...

    And then, the scene fades out.
    "You only need to hang mean bastards, but mean bastards you need to hang."

  9. #9
    Mid-Card Champion
    Gambit's Avatar

    Join Date
    Sep 2015
    Rep Power

    Re: Tag League Final 2018 Promo Thread

    In a conference center in London, Tristan James Galloway, wearing ripped up jeans and a Metallica t-shirt, walks briskly down a corridor with the FWA X Division championship in his hand. Meanwhile, trying to get in stride with the X Champion is his agent Romeo Rollings. The expensive black suit Romeo is wearing is outlandish as his personality. While trying to watch where he’s walking, he’s busy pecking away at the screen of his iPhone most likely answering emails or text. As they walk down the corridor, Tristan breaks the silence.

    Tristan James Galloway: 45% really?

    At first Romeo doesn’t acknowledge what Tristan said. It’s almost as if he didn’t hear him. He’s still answering messages on his phone. Tristan periodically shoots him a look curious to see if he’ll have a response. Finally, Romeo catches Galloway’s gaze and realize he’s said something.

    Romeo Rollings: I’m sorry. I’m trying to close a deal on a new tv show for a actor friend of mine.. What were you saying?

    Tristan James Galloway: You said all I need is 45% to beat WOLF?

    Romeo Rollings: I’m one hundred percent certain that you could beat him with 45%.

    Romeo gives Tristan a wink and a smile as they make a turn down the corridor.

    Tristan James Galloway: A little bit strong, don’t you think?

    Romeo Rollings: My words not yours.

    Tristan Galloway steps in front of Romeo forcing him to stop his stride.

    Tristan James Galloway: You represent me.

    Rollings gives Tristan a pat on the shoulder.

    Romeo Rollings: I recognize that. And I get you’re not the brash boisterous kind of guy… which makes me miss managing Elijah Edwards. Regardless, we’re getting into his head. You saw how mad he was about that. He thinks he’s this super rough and tough bad ass. His ego was hurt.

    Tristan James Galloway: Can we please try not to be too outlandish.

    Romeo Rollings: I make no promises.

    They open a door and step into a big conference room. There’s a stage set up with a long table with a black table cloth set up over it. There seems to be a thousand flash bulbs going off as the room is filled with fans and press. As Tristan James Galloway steps on to the stage, he receives a huge ovation from the audience. He raises his arms high in the air as he displays the X Championship to the crowd. The duo sit down at the table with Galloway setting the X title up right on the table.

    Romeo Rollings: ‘Ello, ladies and gentleman. As I’m sure you’re all well aware, we are days away from one of the biggest events of FWA’s calendar year. An event dubbed The Tag League Finals. While the Sin City Vultures vs Chris Kennedy and Ryan Rondo will be an epic main event. We are here to discuss the semi main event. One that has everybody talking and that’s the Champion Vs Champion bout of WOLF vs my client Tristan James Galloway. The North American champion vs the X Division champion. I feel it’s going to steal the show. How do you feel, Tristan?

    Tristan James Galloway: Jet lagged.

    Tristan has a charming smirk as the crowd chuckles at his remark.

    Tristan James Galloway: In all seriousness, I feel like it’s a huge match up. One of the biggest of my career. It’ll be right up there with my match against Cyrus Truth when I first entered the FWA. The magnitude of the moment isn’t lost on me, but I’m not going to get caught up in the mystic of my opponent or the situation. I’m here to wrestle and wrestle to the best of my abilities.

    Romeo Rollings: Let’s open it up to questions.

    They duo look to the microphone set up dead center in front of the stage. The first reporter steps up with their recorder to ask a question.

    Reporter: Why now do you think Ashley O’Ryan make this match?

    Romeo Rollings: I’ll take this.. For starters, I think the comment I made in passing at the beginning of the tag league. It was the tag match on Day 2 when they paired Galloway with Ty Johnson to face WOLF and Tommy Thunder. I was allowed the opportunity to speak for my client and in my humble opinion I felt the tag match was beneath him. He’s better suited for bigger challenges. One that test his ability, and facing the North American champion for the title, on paper, sounded like the best challenge possible. I think WOLF took exception of being called out and the company saw dollar signs in it.

    Reporter: And Tristan, what was your thoughts?

    Tristan James Galloway: The views of Romeo Rollings does not necessarily reflect that of Tristan James Galloway.

    Another rumble of laughter.

    Tristan James Galloway: I don’t undermine any opponent I face. I accept any and all challenges. I’m not particularly fond of tag team matches. Normally, my partner doesn’t meet the expectations I have for us and what we should be going into the match. However, I did express to Romeo Rollings how awesome a champion vs champion match would be. It’s a challenge. Whether I like him or not, WOLF has a litany of accomplishments here in FWA. His reputation precedes him. It would have been fun to face him. And it will be.

    Reporter #2: And what your thoughts on WOLF’s remarks that you’re boring?

    Romeo Rollings scoff at the remark while TJG buries his head in his hand, shaking his head. They look to each other to see who will answer first. It’s decided Romeo will be the first to take the question.

    Romeo Rollings: Oh, and profanity laced tirades are entertaining? After disappearing from FWA, he decided to wrestle around the independents. A place where everyone thinks they are, pardon my french here, king shit. They’re all knock out artist and everyone is beneath him. I mean, as an organization, who would you rather represent you as a champion? A guy who uses crude language while on television costing you money to FCC and the endangerment of losing sponsors or a guy who’s going to make his point in creative ways without the need to curse? This isn’t the early 2000s anymore. Wrestling doesn’t have a guy running down to the ring wearing redneck attire, drinking beer, and doing other profane things. We are in an age of the athlete in professional wrestling. Work rate has far surpassed any other decade before. Color me stunned that WOLF doesn’t come out to “Freak on a Leash” by Korn or some other nu metal act. Instead, he rocks an eye patch, a bad mullet, and 80s rock band leather. What decade are you from, man? Who are you trying to be? So when it comes to entertaining we know that’s not him. He’s not clever or creative. He comes out like a neanderthal when doesn’t understand something and punches at it. WOLF SMASH! EXPLETIVE! EXPLETIVE! I’m an old man who’s won titles! Real dynamic stuff there, pal.

    Tristan James Galloway: It’s all talk. Nothing more. When we step into the ring, the last thing he has to worry about if I’m boring or not. And when we fought, I don’t see him being too cocky. Sure, he’s got two victories over me in tag matches. Good for him. It gives him a bit of momentum going in to our match. However, it wasn’t my shoulders he pinned to the mat. It was always my partners. In one of those matches, they attacked me from behind to get the pin on my partner. This time, there won’t be any partners. It’s just me and him. One on one. It’s in this match we’ll see who the better man is.

    Reporter #3: What do you think gives you the advantage over WOLF in this match up?

    Tristan James Galloway: My size and strength; youth. Sure, he’s been in this business a mighty long time and has earned championships everywhere he’s gone. He’s also currently a champion, but so am I. I know what it takes to face a champion and to beat a champion. Being in this kind of environment is not new for me.

    Reporter #3: Do you feel that experience he has over you will allow him to get the psychological edge on you?

    Tristan James Galloway: Not at all. I don’t let mind games get to me. I stay focused on my goals and what I want to accomplish. If anything all the mind games show his desperation to get any advantage he can. Because he knows he can’t match strength with me. I’ll give credit where credit is due. He’s forty and still going, but the strength deteriorates with every passing day. His mobility becomes limited. The wear and tear on his body is catching up to him. I don’t have nearly the mileage he does. I’ll be calculated just as I’m sure he’ll try to be.

    Romeo Rollings: My client does weight training and grappling training. Not some fantasy land bullcrap training like WOLF does. This guy believes he went to the Hyperbolic Time Chamber and faced foes from his past! He doesn’t need a championship, he needs to get his head examined. Hell, he’s even walked into a photo shoot and Q&A at comic con thinking people were cheering him as we walked into the room only to turn on them when he “told them how it was”. He’s delusional, there’s no way around it! How can FWA allow him to compete when he’s the living personification of concussions?!?! Seriously, get him in the retirement home quick.

    Reporter #4: Elijah, what was going through your mind when WOLF spat in your face in the first tag team encounter you had?

    A moment of silence. The stoic demeanor has been traded in for a gaze of annoyed remembrance. Galloway looks to the ceiling as he ponders his thoughts.

    Tristan James Galloway: I know I said earlier that I didn’t let the mind games get to me, and it’s true, but in the moment I wasn’t too thrilled. I don’t think anyone would be. I wanted to drop him right then and there, but then there wouldn’t be a championship match. I would have proven nothing except I can beat him up when we weren’t in an athletic competition and I allowed rage to consume me. I am not like WOLF. Not one bit. I do not allow anger and chaos to rule my life. I find solace in victory and competition. I will prove that at the Tag League Final. Still, as a man, I could not allow that transgression to go by the waist side. I needed to stand my ground, so I slapped him in the face, and I slapped reeaaaall good, too. Just to let him know that this young gun has plenty of fire power within him. Once that happened, I could tell he wasn’t prepared for that. While he smiled to show some semblance of arrogance and spite, I knew he was rattled. That’s why he didn’t make a move after that. The look in his eyes told me he didn’t want me in a one on one encounter. If he were to step into the ring against me, he was going to be in for a long night. That slap was a small sample of what I have in store for WOLF. He’s hidden behind Hanz Gruber and Tommy Thunder, but come the Tag League Final, it’s Galloway and WOLF all alone. Let me also remind you what happened I initially laid out this challenge to WOLF at World’s Strongest Tag League Night 2, as he talked about being on another level that no one from my ilk good hang with him, I went down and I gave him the Shattered Symphony on the ramp way. He had no response. No comeback. He hid behind Hanz Gruber the last time we met, but when we did collide, I got the better of him.

    Romeo Rollings: The man has a lot of pride. I’ll give him that, but isn’t this old vet who hates the new guys routine a bit hackneyed? How many guys does Galloway have to face who feel that way? Randall, Mac, and the like. They have all felt this way and they have all been proven wrong. Tristan Galloway is the real deal. He’s here to stay. He’s the X Champion and soon will be the North American champion. Let’s be honest, WOLF. You’re clinging and clutching to your spot that’s been eroding around you ever since you’ve came back to FWA. The competition is younger and more fierce. The young lions of the pride have taken over and soon the remnants of the bygone era will be challenged and maimed. Trips to Japan with some guy you call Mitts because you’re too punch drunk to pronounce a Japanese name along with video tapes of the man you used to be will all you have left. Ladies and gentleman, thank you for your time. We’ll see you at the Tag League Final.

    Tristan James Galloway waves to the fans before holding the X title high in the are again. Romeo Rollings leads them out of the room.


    A young couple of Tongan descent named Corey and Amy are sitting in the offices of an adoption agency. Corey is dressed in a black button up shirt with blue jeans and new pair of converse while his wife Amy with fire orange hair wears a red dress. They are holding hands looking at one another with eager eyes. Finally, the door opens and a woman named Carly.

    Carly: Hello, how are you?

    Corey: Hi, we’re great.

    Amy: So happy to have all this paperwork done.

    Carly: Yes.. I’m sure..

    Carly sets the file down before looking up at the couple with great concern.

    Carly: Listen, Tristan has had a rough time. His foster father was… very rough around the edges. Tristan has been receiving consoling but there’s still a lot to unpack with him… And you’re certain you’re ready for this responsibility?

    Amy and Corey exchange a glance, nodding to each other and than nodding back at Carly.

    Amy: All we want is to give him a loving home. Every child deserves that.

    Carly flashes a smile.

    Carly: I’m happy to hear it. Let’s go get him shall we?

    The three of them exit the office and head out of the building towards a dormitory. Inside, Tristan James Galloway, age 9, is sitting on his bed with his book sack on his back and clutching his suitcase. Carly slowly approaches him with a warm smile as she stands before him.

    Carly: Tristan, I would like you to meet Amy and Corey. They’ll be your new guardians.

    Corey kneels before Tristan, sticking his hand out for a high five.

    Corey: Hey, buddy. How are you?

    Tristan gives Corey a high smile as he gives him a ginger high five. His glance shifts from the couple to the floor or anywhere else around the room. The couple smile, trying their best to give off a friendly comforting demeanor.

    Amy: Let’s get your stuff and get on the road shall we?

    Amy grabs a hold of the rolling suitcase with his clothes. Corey stands up and reaches his hand out to Tristan, offering to help him off of the bed. Tristan pops up clutching his back pack tightly. The three of them exit the dorm. They walk out to a big white SUV. The inside is pristine. It’s almost as if they drove it straight off the lot. Tristian, still wearing his back pack, tries to buckle up to no avail. Corey and Amy climb into the car looking back at Tristian trying to apply his seatbelt.

    Corey: It would probably be easier if you take off the back pack, bud.

    Tristan tries once more, but then comes to the agreement with Corey that it would be better if he took the back pack off. He takes it off and sets it beside him as he buckles up. After he does so, he grabs a hold of the back pack and coddles it in his lap tightly. Amy looks to Corey with a bit of concern, but he gives her a look that says let it play out.

    Corey: Do you got a million dollars in there?

    Tristan shakes his head no. Corey chuckles as he looks back ready to back out of the parking spot. While he does this, Tristian believes he is looking back at him, so he adverts his eyes elsewhere.

    Corey: I sure wish you did. We could buy a whole lot ice cream with it… and a big pool.. Maybe even make a bat cave.

    Corey’s eye settle on Tristan, who laughs at the idea of getting his own bat cave. The couple smile and laugh as they pull out of the spot. After a thirty minute drive, they arrive in a peaceful suburban neighborhood with kids riding bikes down the street and others playing hop scotch. The three of them get out of the car with Tristan carefully examining his surroundings. His gaze settles on the kids riding bikes down the road. The couple is at the door ready to walk in, they look back at Tristan who’s still by the car.

    Amy: How about we check out your room?

    Corey: Yeah, let’s see if you like it. If you don’t like the color, you can blame her.

    Amy gasp at the remark. Corey laughs his lovely wife slaps him across the arm. Tristian walks in cautiously and takes in the scenery. The living room is spacious and well decorated. He sees the very large tv with the surround sound speakers with several shelves of an extensive movie collection. Corey approaches the stair case and throws his arms up, inviting Tristian to walk up there with him. Tristan, still clutching his back pack, walks up the steps that feel as if they have an infinite number of steps. They approach a door that reads Tristan’s room in spray paint. Corey opens it to reveal a room decorated with posters of Batman, The Rock, The Avengers, and everything else an nine year old boy would possibly like. Tristan’s eyes wide in awe. He steps in, setting the back pack on the bed as he looks around at all the toys. Tristan picks up the Iron Man helmet and then sees a pair of giant Incredible Hulk foam hands. Corey and Amy stand in the door way with a smile.

    Amy: Like it?

    Tristan continues to explore the room finding all sorts of neat toys. Its something he’s not used to. He’s never had much in the way of toys or much of anything he could really call his own.

    Tristan James Galloway: (Quietly) Cool

    Amy and Corey share a look of relief and exuberance.

    Corey: Oh yeah, he loves it!

    Tristan finds some Ninja Turtles action figures and begins to play around. Corey puts his arm around Amy’s waist, kissing her on the cheek.

    Amy: We’ll let you play for a bit before dinner.

    The couple take a couple of steps back before leaving out of Tristan’s sight. Not that he was paying much attention to them as he was caught up in playing with his new toys. Lost in the world of a child’s imagination.

    Dinner Time

    Corey is setting the table while Amy sets the dinner on the plates.

    Corey: Tristan, buddy, it’s dinner time.

    Amy sets three plates down on the table. Green beans, chicken, and mashed potatoes is what’s on the menu for the evening. Tristan thumps his way down the steps, holding on to the railing as he makes his way down the steps that in his mind seem steep. Corey chuckles as Amy gives an inviting smile.

    Corey: Careful, kiddo. It’s a long way down. Trust me, I know… Well, on drunken nights at least.

    Amy: Will you cut it out?! (To Tristan) Be careful, sweetie.

    Amy and Corey settle in to their spots at the table and begin to eat. Tristan stares at the plate for a moment. He’s never actually been given a meal like this. He’s used to small portions of peanut butter and jelly or some sort of scraps.Tristan picks up the plate and goes to sit on the floor, confusing Amy and Corey.

    Amy: Um.. where are you going?

    Tristan sits indian style on the ground and begins to eat the mashed potatoes with his hands, shrugging. For him, this procedure is normal.

    Amy: You can sit here with us, bud.

    Corey: Yeah, bud. I don’t think we bite.

    Tristan takes a moment to process what he’s been told. He joins them at the table with a smile, scooping more mashed potatoes with his hands.

    Corey: Let’s wipe our hands and use the fork? We’re well beyond the caveman days, bud.

    Amy holds out a napkin for Tristan to grab. He takes it and wipes his hands before picking up the fork and slowly pecks away at the chicken on his plate. Amy and Corey exchange a look, realizing there’s some adjustments there going to have to make with the newest child in their life.


    Amy unmakes the bed and adjust some pillows around for Tristan. She moves aside, allowing the little boy to climb in. Corey stands in the door way watching the events transpire.

    Corey: There we go, kid. All set. Good night.

    Amy: Night, Tristian.

    Amy gives him a kiss on the forehead before exiting the room, shutting the door behind her. Tristan tosses and turns in the bed trying to get comfortable. The bed is comfortable, but something he isn’t used to. He sits up looks around with his eyes settling on the closet. Tristan gets up and opens the door and seeing the space inside. He moves several shoes and other items out of the way. The closet is to his satisfaction. Tristan goes back to the bed grabbing a blanket and pillow then approaches the closet. Tristan settles in and goes to sleep.


    Tristan is outside in the front yard riding a bike with training wheels on it. He’s all smiles. That is until a stocky boy around his age on the pegs of a skinnier boy’s bike pulls up.

    Boy: Hey, sweet bike.

    The boy shoves Tristan off of it and climbs on. Tristan tries to take back his seat on the bike, but the stocky boy shoves him away. The stocky boy notices the training wheels on the bike.

    Boy: Seriously?! Are you a baby?!

    Tristan doesn’t respond, but he’s seething with anger. He clutches his fists tightly. The boy begins to peddle around Tristan.

    Boy: Hey, it rides nicely. Once I get these stupid training wheels off, it’ll be awesome.

    Tristan’s head follows the stocky boy doing donuts around him. The boy skids across the pavement. The skinnier kid rides up next to him.

    Boy #2: What a loser. Hey, are you just gonna let us take the bike?

    Boy: Right? I was hoping for more of a fight. Are you gonna run to mommy and daddy?

    Tristan approaches the stocky boy only to be shoved back. He approaches again and gets shoved harder, this time he falls to the ground. Tristan whiplashes and skins his elbows in the process. While this is going on, Corey has stepped out on to the porch watching the events transpire. Tristan sits up staring at the boys taunting him to do something. Tristan stands back up, storming up to the house, but stops when he sees Corey standing on the porch. Corey approaches him.

    Corey: Is there a problem?

    Tristan stares back at the stocky boy riding his bike in the street, mocking Tristan. Young Tristan’s gaze settles back on Corey, who has his arms folded.

    Corey: We’ve got two choices, kiddo. One, I go over and grab the bike and tell his parents what happened. They punish him. He’ll probably get a whooping or no cartoon network. Maybe no chocolate with the way his frame is. Which wouldn’t be a problem… or… you handle this yourself.

    Tristan looks confused.

    Corey: Because if I handle it, and he knows you’re a pushover and run to me anytime there’s a problem, it’ll cause you more problems. Now, Amy wouldn’t condone this, she’s a pacifist.. and I don’t condone violence, but I believe in standing up for yourself. He may be big now, but soon you’ll be as big as him- maybe even bigger- and he won’t mess with you. If he’s the way I think he is, he won’t put up much of a fight.

    Corey examines the boy, who is now taunting him to do something.

    Corey: And he’s in need of an attitude adjustment. So here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to go over there and deck him in the face. The first punch won’t knock him out- and it’s not supposed to. It’ll stun him. The second one though? The second one will knock him on his ass. Remember, to throw a punch you use your hips. Almost like you’re swinging a baseball.

    Corey mimes a swing for demonstration.

    Corey: That’s where your power comes from. Not your arms. Once he hits the ground, he’ll go running home. He’ll tell his pops. The dad will probably be pissed and march over here to talk to me. At which point, I’ll have to set him straight and get the lackey’s parents involved.

    Corey looks down at the apprehensive Tristan.

    Corey: The choice is yours, Tristan. I’ll take care of it either way. However, you can not let people walk over you or think they have a chance too… so what’s it going to be. Option A or option B.

    Tristan stares at Corey for a moment then turns back to the boy then back again. A heavy sigh escapes the little body of young Tristan. He turns back to to the boy and marches over like a boy possessed. The stocky boy stops riding around and steps off the bike. He’s ready to release a verbal jab, but is cut off when Tristan hits him with an actual job- stunning the stocky boy. Tristan winds back as far as he can and hits him with another one, knocking the boy to the ground. The skinny friend stares with his mouth agape, unsure of what to do. Tristan pays him no attention as he grabs his back and walks it back to the house. Corey smiles, but the smile disappears as he hears a banging on the window with an unhappy Amy staring out trying to figure out what’s going on. Corey shrugs, but looks back at Tristan with a smile. Tristan approaches and Corey pats the little boy on the back.

    Corey: Atta boy… She’s not going to be happy though.

    They bring the bike inside as Amy yells and tries to figure out what has happened.


    The scene opens in a run down dive bar with a beaten and worn out boxing ring sitting the center of it, surrounding the boxing ring are blood thirsty, inebriated spectators cheering on the fighters. One appears to be very young, barely out of the high school most likely, but in top physical condition. The other is a battle worn boxer who’s good years are behind him and this is the only way he knows how to earn a living. The two men are circling around the ring. The veteran boxer throws jabs only for it to be dodged or swatted away by the younger more agile fighter. Among the sea of people is X Champion Tristan James Galloway.

    WOLF, when I think of you and our up coming encounter, I automatically think of Marsellus Wallace’s speech to Butch Coolidge, a boxer coming to the tale end of his prime and facing down the reality of his circumstances. I can remember the phrase he uttered to him at one point. “Ability doesn’t last.” It’s true. Whether we like it or not, some skills we have fade away with time. They aren’t as sharp as they used to be. Athletes must endure this hard fact throughout their careers. Let’s take Peyton Manning for example. The man was one of the NFL’s most elite quarterbacks to ever play the game. He could read the defense like no other. His passing was accurate and precise. He turned good players into great players. He never needed an offensive coordinator, he knew how to dissect a defense like no other before him. They called him the Sheriff because he was such a gunslinger and no one could touch him. Although he may have won the last Super Bowl and game he ever played in, let’s talk about how sad and pathetic his passing was. Throughout the entire season, his passing game was diminishing. He could no throw the ball as far as he once could. He couldn’t move as fast as he once did. He had to rely on a defense and run game in order to bring him a Super Bowl trophy. A win is a win, but it’s a pathetic way to watch a great go.

    The older fighter begins to eat punches to the face. He tries valiantly to block and avoid the shots, but the younger fighter’s speed prevents him from doing so. The younger fighter’s cornermen are cheering him on and encoring him. Meanwhile, the veteran’s trainer is barking at hime to wrap him up. The fatigue begins to set in on the elder fighter. Galloway surveys the fight before turning his attention back to the camera.

    Perhaps, you are like Peyton Manning. You’re a decorated wrestler with a litany of accomplishments to your name. You’re a FWA Hall of Famer too boot. Your career has been stellar. It’s top notch, but as you look around and see the men and women who you once shared a locker room with no longer lace their boots up beside you. Instead, they’ve traded in their fist clutching championships to holding on to mugs of beer. They’ve become the old men on the stoops telling their old war stories and how things used to be before the FaceSpace and the video phones. You’re a relic of the past still holding on to the spot you perceive to be yours. In a way, it’s admirable. Because you want to believe you still have what it takes to wrestle against guys like me. You’ve captured the North American championship from Mike Parr, who had a year long reign with the championship. That’s fantastic. You showed the world you still got it… except there’s a bit of doubt in your victory WOLF. It wasn’t ability that took away the North American championship from Mike Parr, it was your decision to assault the referee that helped. After all, Mike Parr hit a rolling cutter on Kazadi and was a second away from retaining when you hit the referee with a steel chair. Also, you needed to pin Kazardi in order to capture the North American championship. You didn’t beat the champion outright. So who is to say if you faced Parr one on one would it be you standing here facing me? Or would it be Mike Parr?

    The bell sounds, it's the end of the round. The two warriors quickly move to their corners and receiving instructions on how to continue the bout. The young boxer does not at all appear fatigue or have a scratch on him. Meanwhile, the elder boxer appears to be worse for wear.

    And considering when we faced in those tag team matches, you needed to pin my partner each time. You needed Tommy Thunder to grab ahold of my leg as you gave Ty Johnson the Final Howl. In the second encounter, after I was moments away from hitting you with the Jackhammer to complete my shattered symphony, but lucky for you Hanz Gruber was there to make the save. So you pinned Zako Wrath, the man who I beat the week prior in a X title match, in order to win again. A win is a win, and congratulations… but are you really the bad ass you think you are?

    The bell sounded moments ago, and the round commences again. The veteran fighter is more timid to step into action, carefully throwing punches and keeping his distance. The young fighter blocks and dances around counter punching.

    In order for you to get those wins, you needed to beat up the inferior member of the match. You try to pick on the weak… like the bully you are. You need weapons and allies to gain victory and dominance. Strip that away and what are we left with, WOLF? A broken down asshole of an old man trying to remain the king of the pride. I pose another question to you, WOLF? What happens when we take away the weapons and allies and it’s just me and you? Is there enough fight in you? I know you can fight. I’ve seen it. And I’m sure in your mind you still have what it takes to go to the distance. But in a pure unadulterated wrestling match can you actually beat me? Does the old man have enough in the tank?

    The older fighter appears to be punching himself out. He's throwing all the bombs he can, but they get little effect. Sometimes the punches connect and rock the younger boxer for a moment, but he bounces right back and brings in the onslaught.

    I don’t think you can. You’ve shown that in your actions as of late and how you won the North American championship. It’s why you’ve been allowed to go without a title defense since you’ve won that championship. I, on the other hand, have successfully defended this championship multiple times. I’ve won gauntlet matches, I’ve defended it back to back to back. I even had to defeat Zako Wrath to even be considered a contender for the North American championship. I have more than proved my worth as X Division champion. I have shown I have also earned the right to face you for the North American championship. I am a fighting champion in every sense of the word, WOLF. I don’t enjoy the meaningless exhibition, I seek to prove myself each and every time I step into the squared circle in championship caliber matches against the very best in the FWA. The only way I do that is by winning championships and defending them. I have a need to be great. A desire to be great. I have shown glimpse of greatness. When I first entered the FWA, I was considered to be the next rising star. A competitor who would one day find himself North American title contention and even maybe the World title competition. I faltered for a bit, but I have found myself on the right track. I still am the man who they think I can be and I will be. I will cement that fact by becoming a duel champion. I will not only capture the North American championship, but I will also defend it alongside the X title. No one before me has done it, and I seek to be the first. A rare class on to itself. I will have a legacy no one would dare to replicate and may never will be able to do it again. If the journalist aren’t speaking about me now they soon will. All I have to do it get through you WOLF. It’ll be a war. I make no bones about it, but I know I have the fire power capable of rendering your obsolete.

    I have to beat you in this fight, WOLF. Because you and the people from your generation don’t think I have what it takes to hang. They don’t think I can overcome the experience and legacy you hold. I am not daunted by legacy. I don’t care who you are and what you’ve done. All I care about is proving people wrong. I have all the heart in the world. I’ve proven that time and time again. I have the strength and skill to hang with anyone. I need this one to show that Tristan James Galloway is one of the sharks in the water and not just a fish in the ocean waiting to be prey. I know I am a capable wrestler and I have to prove it to the rest of the world by beating you and the people of your ilk. I have to move on to tougher competition and stake my claim among the elite because I can be elite. I am more than what you think I can be. I am not a man who will be trapped in the box of the under card competitors. I will not be painted with a brush of never reaching their potential. I dare to be great. I dare to defy those who reside above me, who believe themselves to be better than me. Tristan James Galloway is more than just another face on the roster. Tristan James Galloway is greatness in the making. I am not the broken little boy trapped in the system. I am not a bum who will never amount to anything. I am the X Champion… and I will become the North American champion.

    I am your reckoning, WOLF. I am everything you’ve dished out coming back to haunt you. The karma that must be bestowed upon you. WOLF, you seem to think it’s arrogance, but it’s far from it. It’s confidence. Confidence that I can beat you and do it soundly. Confidence that I never had growing up because I had forever been told I couldn’t be a man in your position and that I should accept my place. I will not accept that place. I am more than the circumstances of my beginnings. What you hear is passion. The passion that I have for this sport. The passion I have to fight and defeat asshole pricks such as yourself, who think you’re teflon. I will not kiss the ring. I will not bow at your feet. I will not cower to the throne of collected skulls as your colorful little illustration depicts. Do you think of yourself a king? Well, then I guess that makes me a kingslayer. Because I will take the throne and my reign will be just and lead with purity.

    A knockdown has occurred. The veteran fighter drops to a knee. The crowd is in a frenzy. Tristan James Galloway grabs a beer from the bar and shuffles through the crowd to the corner of the bar to continue watching the fight. The veteran fighter is back to a vertical base and is counsel by the referee, who ask if he wants to continue. He does.

    When I think about it, WOLF. You and I are very much alike. We both lost our parents at a young age. Calamity and despair have plagued our lives. However, it’s our ideologies that separate us. You call me Barney the Dinosaur because I choose to live in a world of hope instead of despair. That I believe empathy and togetherness trumps a world of chaos and rage. I have a rage inside of me, WOLF. I make no qualms about it. I, however, channel that rage into something more productive and positive for myself. I turn that rage into motivation to become the very best I can be. If that makes me Mickey Mouse than so be it. I rather that than be a bitter old burn out asshole.

    The young fighter sees blood in the water. He drives several punches into the stomach of the veteran fighter, hoping to bring him down.

    You talk about wanting respect for who you are and what you’ve accomplished, but you’ve given none. To get respect one must give respect. You’ve told me that no one cares about me, but that couldn’t be anymore false. The fans love me. I represent them. I support them as much as they support me. I am still knocking at the door to become a major star in the FWA. I have slain the battle tested veterans who have stood before him proclaiming I didn’t have what it takes. They share the monstrous idle tough talk threats you have spewed my way. It’s the same song and dance. A song I’m tired of hearing. At The Tag League Final, I will change the tune the band is playing. You may think you’re Rocky and have one more fight left you in. However, what you may have forgotten was he lost that fight. Just like you will this Sunday. And he may have rediscovered his self worth and the pride that he laid it all out there, you want to come away with your arrogance inflated by defeating this young “unproven rookie”, who’s been in this company for two years. What you’re going to be left with is the arrogance beaten out of you. The holier than thou “my generation is better than yours” will be proven to be false. Because when it’s all said and done, you will realize that we are on equal footing and I will surpass you… like all the all conquerors who’ve fallen before you- I shall take the throne.

    The veteran fighter takes several shots to the face before falling to the canvas. His corner is urging him to get up. The younger fighter hops onto the ropes celebrating. The ref makes the count to ten and calls for the bell. The crowd is ecstatic for they have seen a knock out. Tristan James Galloway watches the ring with a smile, he turns to the camera tipping his hat before exiting the bar.

  10. #10
    Indy Talent
    ONAMStar's Avatar

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    Re: Tag League Final 2018 Promo Thread

    February 17
    London, England

    The hotel room is absolutely trashed. Bottles all over the floor, clothes in a pile in the corner, two heads pop up out from under the covers. First out is Starr. He slowly opens his eyes and looks outside towards the murky London sky. He tries wiping his eyes but he finds his arm is trapped under someone’s head. That someone being Izzy Van Doren who is still fast asleep in her underwear cuddled up to her probably one source of warmth. He smiles at the adorable site and wipes away the sleep with his free hand. Izzy slowly starts coming too as well. Starr climbs out of bed, his jeans from… whatever happened last night are still on as he gets up and uses the restroom. Izzy scratches her head and looks around the room.

    Izzy: Woah… what happened?

    Starr replies from the bathroom.

    Starr: Well someone got absolutely shit faced last night. When I said you had too much, you started throwing a fit.

    Izzy: Oh jesus christ. I did all this?

    Starr leaves the bathroom, puts a shirt on, and turns towards the kitchen.

    Starr: Not entirely by yourself… You wanted me to join you after you couldn’t flip the table.

    Izzy: Wait- why am I in my underwear…

    Starr: You see that bottle of jack in the floor? You spilled it all over yourself. -Starr returns with a cup of coffee from the kitchen.- Come on drink up. We got a busy day of press today and we’re already late for a meet and greet. Your clothes are dry now. They’re on your side of the bed.

    Izzy takes the cup and starts to slowly wake up. She hurriedly gets prepared to tackle the day in her usual punk rock way. She puts her clothes on and our duo of Rockstarrz are on their way.

    Later in the day
    In a London alleyway, the camera opens to FWA's resident Punk Rock Powerhouse Izzy sitting on a stairwell. Izzy's bundled up in her leather jacket as she pulls out a cigarette and starts lighting up. Pulling out more we see Starr standing nearby. Starr's trademark charismatic smile and energy are on full display as he looks at the camera.

    Starr: Hello lovelies! It’s your favorite rag tag duo back in the flesh again. England, has been a time for us hasn’t it Izzy?

    Izzy looks up at her friend with a look that says, "I’m hungover, but I’m happy."

    Izzy: Last night was a bit wild, but this morning I’m okay, I’m my usual self, and I’ve got my foot on the gas as usual. -She waves to the camera.- Herro.

    Starr: It’s been fun for me. Y’know I’m used to running on jet lag, no sleep and a whole bunch of caffeine, but we’ve managed to make it here. What have you done?

    Izzy: I checked out some old punk clubs the day we got here. And just walking around the city, seeing the eye, visiting the shops, it’s been an absolute blast.

    Starr: We are here in jolly ol’ Londontown for FWA’s Tag League finals where we will be taking on Penny and Jason Randall known as the Mad Kingdom. I gotta ask, Izzy... what’re your thoughts going into the match?

    Izzy: Sunday, I’m coming to London to cause a spot o’ bother. Penny and I… have a unique friendship that I can’t really explain. We get along like sisters, but we fight like two people that hate each other. We’ve beat the ever loving… er... crap out of each other all over the US and now we get to take it over here. All of those matches I won by the way. Feels like everytime we have a match we get closer… if that makes any sense... And Jason… I think that’s your territory.

    Starr: Jason’s a douche. -Izzy bursts out laughing at Starr’s frankness.- It’s funny because Iz and Penny’s relationship is completely opposite to mine and Jason’s. He says I’m not at his level, he says I’m just some young rookie, but y’know I’ve also beaten him. So I got that goin for me. I’ve been called worse in my life, but y’know my victories say a lot more. Just sayin…

    Izzy: Do we even have a strategy?

    Starr: I train every single day to be given opportunity after opportunity. FWA figure heads see that dedication and I get rewarded. Izzy is no different because we push each other to be our best. I don’t just train physically, but I also train mentally. I train to be faster thinking, faster witted, and more technically sound wrestler everyday. Competition is what I thrive on. I wanted to be with the best of the best in wrestling today and I want to BE the best of the best in wrestling today… each time I’m in that ring I stake my claim to that title. I’ve come pretty close recently, but I’ve let my ego and bad habits get in the way of glory. Recently, I’ve pulled my head outta my ass, dusted myself off, and I’m back to being my old self. You?

    Izzy: Well, I basically am gonna use the same approach I always have. Keep my head on a swivel, look for an opening, strike, and collect a paycheck. I’ve been in the ring with Penny and Jason separately. I’ve gone toe to toe in a deathmatch with Jason and came out alive. So they both know I’m one tough bitch to put down. I’ve absorbed chair shot after chair shot, big move after big move and I kept swingin. So… I guess that’s my strategy. Nothing ever changes.

    Starr: I’ve done this for as long as I can remember so I kinda learned to feed off of the excitement of the crowd.

    Izzy: Have you always been that confident, Starr?

    Starr: Not always. I have plenty of self doubt and self confidence issues, BUT… I know a way to spin my thinking around and motivate myself through a breathing exercise. I know where I stand in FWA and I’m not just a good Jr Heavyweight, I’m one of the greatest wrestlers, period. Space, time, history, you name it. My name is going to be in that book, I promise.

    Izzy: Jesus Christ, you’re a humble one aren’t ya?

    Starr: Listen, I call myself the Interstellar Shaman for a reason. I enlighten, I dazzle, and I am always centered and focused on my goal. I transcend the cosmos looking for the best fight anyone can give me.

    Izzy: Are you sure you’ve never smoked pot?

    Starr smirks and deflects the question by looking at the camera.

    Starr: Ladies and gentlemen, we go toe to toe with the Mad Kingdom this Sunday in the O2 Arena by god! It’s you and me against the World, babe! One last time!! Fans, I hope you’re watching because it’s going to be a match that’s going to leave Penny, Jason, their two cats, their entire kingdom and the whole O2 Arena absolutely…

    Izzy: Starrstruck…

    Starr is ecstatic Izzy would finish his catchphrase. Izzy shyly smiles and laughs.

    Starr: LET’S GET IT! ATTA GIRL!!

    The camera fades to black on Izzy and Starr walking out of frame.

    "Penny and Jason sitting in a tree...
    First comes love then comes marriage...
    Then Fred and Norman in a baby carriage."

    Starr takes a couple deep breaths and tries to come down from his high after speaking so passionately. Izzy approaches him with a somewhat sad look on her face.

    Izzy: Hey, sorry I started shit last night. I know I wasn’t much help today either, but I’m glad I have you to carry the load.

    Starr: Hey don’t mention it. It’s not like I’m mad at you for being you. I just want you happy.

    Izzy: I realized something when we woke up today.

    Starr: What was that?

    Izzy: I’m happiest with you… Listen, if you’re THIS willing to be this patient with me over how dumb I am most of the time… then maybe us being together… isn’t so bad as I once thought.

    Starr is taken back a bit. He kinda stands there with his mouth open stuck between shock and a smile.

    Izzy: I really don’t want this to be our last match as a tag together. But it just might be our last together for a while. So whatever you and I do after, I want to know if we’ll at least have each other after the matches…

    Izzy and Starr stand there silent in an alleyway. Starr reaches out his arms and Izzy comes into them. Starr wraps his arms around his long time friend. He fiddles with her hair and smiles.

    Starr: Anytime, Iz…

    Starr and Izzy leave hand in hand back out onto the London streets.


  11. #11
    Mid-Card Champion
    Eyesnsane's Avatar

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    Re: Tag League Final 2018 Promo Thread

    Guy’s HospitalLondon, U.K.

    Amy duke rushes into the hospital with a microphone in hand and camera crew with her. Coming to a desk where a young lady is seated and can be seen filing her nails….

    Amy: Excuse me, I’m Amy Duke with FWA and I got word that Eyesnsane is here. Can you tell me where he is or give myself and all of the fans an update on his condition.

    The lady stops filing her nails and looks a bit puzzled at first but once she notices the camera she perks up a bit smiling brightly and putting the file down.

    Lady: I can tell you that Mr. Eyesnsane is just through those doors and down the hall on the left. He said that a camera crew might be coming. You all can go right in.

    Amy: Thank you.

    Lady: No worries. First door on the right after you go down the hall yeah.

    Amy heads through the doors while being followed by the cameraman.

    Amy: If our timing is good we might catch him talking to the doctor. I wonder if he has caught that bad flu virus that’s been going around. What a tough break on the night he is supposed to compete for a shot at the X Division title.

    Cameraman: If he’s practicing Kung Fu, I’m not going in there and you should not either.

    Amy: Wait, what?

    Cameraman: Just trust me on that one.

    Amy: Why would he be practicing Kung fu in a hospital?

    Cameraman: The guy calls himself Eyesnsane.

    Amy: James, Eyesnsane whatever all I know is I’m getting this breaking news.

    As they near the end of the hall they see a doctor leaving from the room.

    Amy: Excuse me, I was told Eyesnsane is in there.

    Doctor: Oh, why yes he is, you can go right in.

    Amy: Thank you.

    The doctor walks away down the hall and as Amy stands just out side the door, she looks at the cameraman. While dusting herself off and straightening her clothes for a moment. Then talks a deep breathe and grabs the door handle and walks into the room as she raises the microphone.

    Amy: Ladies and gentlemen we are live and about to get an update on the health of James “Eyesnsane” Hughes who is supposed to be competing for a potential shot at being the number one contender for the X Division title.

    As Amy actually turns to look at Eyesnsane, she sees him standing next to a hospital bed wearing blue jeans and a black t-shirt with a brown leather jacket on and in the bed looking excited is a little boy.

    Eyesnsane: Damn it I thought I told you not to interrupt my being empathetic and providing comfort to little orphans.

    Cameraman: Ummm actually you told us to never interrupt your Kung Fu, you never said anything about little orphans.

    Eyesnsane: Well you should never interrupt my Kung Fu, and you should also not interrupt me being a comfort to little orphans, like little orphan Rupert here, who decided that he would make his wish and that wish would be for me to come and visit him in person before my big match tonight.

    Amy: Did you say make a wish?

    Eyesnsane: Yeah some kind of foundation or something that makes wishes for sick children all around the world. So of course I had to come here and see little orphan Rupert. I’m not sick, as a matter of fact Eyesnsane is strong and virile like a bull and I have the eyesight of am eagle. Also my style of Kung Fu is so good it makes Chuck Norris give his nod of approval.

    Orphan Rupert: Doctor says I’m sick.

    Eyesnsane: Of course you are but that’s only temporary. You just have to fight and if you fight with everything you got just like I’m going to do later you can beat anything.

    Amy: Umm Eyesnsane do you know the nature of the make a wish foundation?

    Eyesnsane: Didn’t I just explain that? You may report alot but you don’t seem to listen much. Now look little orphan Rupert here has been the president of the UK chapter of the Eyesnsane fan club so it’s the least I can do. You know to come here and provide him the inspiration he needs to go on. It’s bad enough he's never had a mother or a father or even a grandma. I can’t imagine life without a grandma.

    Amy: Hey.. How about you help me do a pre match interview with Eyesnsane? Would you like that Rupert?

    Rupert: Yeah, that would be cool.

    Eyesnsane: Of course it would be Eyesnsane is as cool as the other side of the pillow.

    Amy and Rupert look at Eyesnsane quietly for a moment seemingly puzzled by what he just said…

    Amy: I think the question most fans want to have answered is this. You were gone and we thought retired from wrestling. What did you do and what lead you back to wrestling?

    Rupert reaches under his pillow for a moment and then flips it over…

    Rupert: Hey the other side of the pillow is cooler.

    Eyesnsane: Of course it is because Eyesnsane knows what he’s talking about and more importantly would never lie to a poor orphan like yourself. Undoubtedly your life has been hard enough.

    Now about your question, opportunistic reporter Amy Duke. As you may recall I had reached yet another height of success in the FWA before my departure accomplishing things that nobody else will be able to because that’s the advantage of being the first to do something. Anybody who comes after is just a copy. Now even though I was enjoying the high life I found that there was something missing. I guess what I’m trying to say is it felt empty, reporter Amy Duke. When I had looked at myself I had become a cog in the machine, kicking ass simply because the company wanted me to just roll out there and do it.

    I would talk all this smack about being the biggest and baddest fighter and huff and puff belittling people left and right. Don’t get me wrong, I can kick ass better than most. I could be the biggest and baddest guy around without having to play little games and using cheap tricks. I had come to realize just how far away I was from the man who came to wrestling in the first place. I realized I was no longer that guy who was having fun and I had to find out why.

    He folds his arms in front of himself as he continues.

    Eyesnsane: That required some self examination. Some self reflection, so I went back to my roots and I realized that somewhere along the line I lost myself. So I went back to the ghetto. I went home. See what I’m saying is in life sometimes you have to go back before you can go forward. Can you dig it? I got back in touch with friends and family I’d not seen in years went back to my old neighborhood and before long started helping people. That was when I found out that helping people was something I liked to do. So I started helping disadvantaged single women of leisure and well some of them had kids that they subsequently did not, um let’s say want. So I started helping orphans as well.

    Amy takes a seat on the bed next to Rupert and allows him to hold the microphone as the room is quiet with its plain white walls with the exception of a large picture window.

    Amy: So you are saying that returning to your local community and doing charity work sort of brought you back to yourself and revitalized you.

    Eyesnsane: No, Amy Duke that’s what I have already said and…

    Rupert: But why did you come back?

    Eyesnsane: Now look here, I know you are a poor sick orphan but when you see two grown folks talking, children need to shut the ******** up.

    Amy: Whoa!

    Eyesnsane: Is something you say to horses to get them to stop, and while I might be a stallion, I’m certainly no horse. Now Amy, little orphan Rupert has not had a positive role model in his life and as such I feel a duty to instil the proper values and principals that he will need to grow into a man and who knows someday he maybe a role model to poor orphans.

    Now as far as me coming back. Well I soon discovered that helping people comes with a price. Especially when the people you are helping have no place to stay. So I’m using half of all the money I make in wrestling to fund my non for profit organizayion and am building a home for disadvantaged women and orphans to live in, and to buy them food. Have you ever seen a poor orphan eat Amy Duke?

    Amy: No I can’t say that…

    Eyesnsane: You should at least once and they can put some food away. I also decided that coming back to wrestling would allow me to get back to my roots and I’m doing it for me this time and am having fun again for the first time in a long time.

    They both are quiet for a moment.

    Rupert: Are you going to win tonight Eyesnsane?

    Eyesnsane: Awe now that’s a great question. You see I have to fight three men at the same time. Now if they were smart about it maybe they had themselves a talk and decided to team up to eliminate me. I have the heart of a lion and a don’t quit attitude and that’s a danger to them. I have experience over them also. I expect they will take turns trying to knock me down a peg. They will claim to be big scary monsters or destructive forces ready to make a name for themselves at my expense. Many have tried and many have learned the hard way.

    I get where they are coming from. I was there once running around ready for a shot ready to make a name for myself and take down some big game if you will. You can come in this business thinking a positive attitude and brute strength will get you there but it takes so much more. I don’t personally know these guys but I have seen them in a ring. I have no doubt that I’m in for my biggest challenge since coming back. However, I’m ready for that challenge and moments like this are moments I feed off of. Rupert will be watching, my son Tyson will be watching, so will all the orphans around the world and all my fans here in London.

    I have been given a chance to do this for them. I’ve been given a chance to give them all something to cheer for and something to believe in. Will I have some fun, sure I will but when that bell rings I am going to become the most serious ass kicker you ever seen. Whether its my Kung Fu, or a straight up Chitown beat down I am going to give the orphans and most especially you Rupert reason to believe, reason to hope and of course reasons to be excited that Eyesnsane is back in the FWA. Most of all everybody will believe when I get my hand raised tonight that I am going to be the next and the new X Division champion not only that, but I going to make the X Division great again. Now can you dig it?

    Rupert: Yeah!

    Amy: Well that’s about all the time we have for now.

    Eyesnsane: That’s fine, now little orphan Rupert i have to go and get ready for the match but they are bringing in a TV and you will be able to see the whole show and I’ll be back to see you again before I leave London.

    Rupert: You promise?

    Eyesnsane: Yes little orphan Rupert, I promise.

    Just then a nurse walks into the room.

    Nurse: Alright, Rupert time for your medicine and I’m afraid you all will have to let him get some rest as well.

    Eyesnsane: No problem you just make sure you take care of my number one fan.

    Nurse: Will do.

    The scene fades out as Eyesnsane, Amy and the cameraman leave the room...

  12. #12

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    Re: Tag League Final 2018 Promo Thread

    Ty Johnson's plane has just landed. The young suited man makes his way through the crowded airport with nothing but a dufflebag carry on, not getting recognized by a single soul in Gatwick Airport. Near the baggage claims and pickups is a personal driver, wearing a suit and holding a sign that reads "Ty Johnson and Dave Sullivan". Ty sighs to himself as he walks up to the driver.

    Ty Johnson: Yo, you're my ride. You Higgins?

    Higgins: Why hello ya good 'chap. Yes indeed I am. Once your other patron arrives we will be all set to depart.

    Ty Johnson: Uh, he aint coming.

    Higgins: No sir? It was my understanding that you two would be travelling together.

    Ty Johnson: WELL HE AIN'T HERE. So why don't you take yo British ass, grab some tea, and go drive this damn car to my hotel.

    Higgins: Well alright then. My apologies sir. Follow me and I will get you to your destination.

    Johnson follows the jolly British man out of the airport as they head to the vehicle for a long and awkward car ride to the InterContinental London O2 hotel.

    December 8th, 2001

    3 PM

    A overwhelmed looking mother is dragging her five year old son by the hand as she walks down the chilly cold streets of New York City. She looks like a complete hot mess. The boy is wearing a pair of ratty and torn blue jeans, a pair of dirty white Jordan sneakers, and puffy winter coat.

    Momma Johnson: TYRONE. If I have to tell you to walk faster one more time I swear to Christ I am going to whoop your bottom right here in the middle of the city.

    Tyrone Johnson: Momma, what are we doing all the way out here in the city? You said we were goin to pick up Wayne from school. Momma I see school buses. Aint we gonna be late?

    Momma Johnsons slaps the young boy across the face.

    Momma Johnson: Boy I know you aint just talk to me like that. You are to listen to your momma you understand me? I am older. Aint none of you men are loyal. Y'all act like you love Momma but you all gonna run first second you get. I know how ya's is.

    Tyrone: Momma I do love you momma I do.

    Momma Johnson: You sick Tyrone. We are going to the doctor.

    Tyrone: Momma I ain't si

    Momma Johnson: TYRONE. What I just say? You do not talk back to Momma. You sick. And that what you gonna tell the man. Then that man gonna prescribe you with some medicine.

    Tyrone: Momma I don't want no yucky medicine. Please momma.

    Momma Johnson: Don't worry Tyrone. The doctor gonna say he giving you that medicine, but that medicine is gonna go to Momma.

    Tyrone: Are you sick Momma?

    Momma Johnson: Yes Tyrone. Yes I am. But once I get that medicine I'm gonna be better don't you worry.

    Tyrone walks into his hotel room, and throws his dufflebag on the bed. He takes out his phone, and begins to watch some game tape. Tommy Thunder's fights, his own fights, everything. Ty is looking at every little thing Thunder does inside the ring and outside of it.

    Johnson is watching a clip of Tommy Thunder pulling off the anaconda vise on his opponents.

    Ty Johnson: What can I do to counter that? Man...Dave would know...

    Out of frustration, Ty throws his phone into the bed and then takes his chair and throws it against the wall. The wooden chair shatters in pieces.

    Ty Johnson: DAMN YOU TOMMY THUNDER. For one time in my damn life I feel like I have someone who has my back. I was not alone...and then you go and like the snake you are you take him away.

    All because of some petty little feud that happened years ago down in some developmental brand crap. And yeah I know that you can't hear me right now, I know that nobody can hear me. BUT I DON'T CARE!

    Ty falls to his knees and begins to cry. He looks broken and defeated...

    Ty Johnson: I don't know how I can do this alone...I just can't...I'm not strong enough, not anymore. I've gone through too much. How am I expected to keep doing this every day? Waking up and putting on my armor, acting like everything is alright? Yet being absolutely alone. Nobody having my back. I don't have anyone...I can't trust anyone. My brother Wayne...he's always been there for me, he's given me everything I could ask for, yet even him I can't trust. I can't go to him and ask for advice, or support. I couldn't let him see me like this...I just couldn't.

    My entire life I've been alone, and I just can't do it anymore. I keep praying to this damn universe to give me a break. Then it gives me me this great guy, this mentor who has single handedly turned my life around, and Tommy Thunder goes and he takes that away from me.

    What did I do to you Tommy? What did I do to you universe?

    Ty Johnson is completely broken at this point. He reaches into the back pocket of his jeans, and pulls out a small baggy of cocaine.

    Ty Johnson: I'm sorry Dave...I told you I was done with this...that I was turning it around...but I can't. I'm just not strong enough. Not without you man...

    Ty opens up the baggy, and pours it onto the table. He cuts it into a nice thin line, and leans down to snort it all up...when suddenly at the door...




    December 8th, 2001

    10 PM

    That same little boy from earlier who was being dragged around New York City by his momma, is still walking down the city streets. Except this time there is no Momma Johnson in sight. Momma Johnson is in some trashy Brooklyn apartment, getting high with an old friend and a few strangers. You may be wondering how a mother could so blatantly forget and disregard her own five year old son. You may even consider it unbelievable, but if you did then you must not know Momma Johnson.

    The streets are pretty wild on this cold Saturday night in New York city, and all young Tyrone is doing is looking for some food.

    He comes across a building that says "Gramercy Tavern" on the sign. It is an extremely fancy looking place, filled with white people in expensive suits eating expensive food. He sees a white guy that looks to be about 50 years old coming out of the restaurant with his wife. The two are carrying some leftovers from their dinner when Tyrone approaches.

    Tyrone: I'm really hungry. Can I please have some?

    White Man: Beat it ya dirty street bum before I call the cops.

    His wife has no sympathy either as the two quickly get away from the hungry boy. Tears begin to fill Tyrone's face as he is completely lost and alone in New York City.

    Tyrone somehow makes his way to the bus station. "Paterson" he thinks to himself. I just have to find Paterson. On his way to the bus schedule he sees a garbage can, and sitting right on top is a half eaten cheeseburger. For the first time today Tyrone's face has lit up with joy, as the little boy grabs the burger and eats it faster than a dog eating a scrap of meat accidentally dropped on the floor.

    After his dinner, Tyrone finds the next bus headed towards Paterson. He empties his pockets of all the money his Grammy gave him for his birthday last September, and he buys a bus ticket. He has made it...Tyrone is headed home.

    Ty Johnson was inches away from snorting his first line of cocaine in almost a year, when all of a sudden there's a knock on his hotel door. "Shit" says Tyrone, as he throws his suit jacket over the table and the cocaine.

    As the suspense and anticipation slowly grows, Ty finally opens the door...

    It's hotel staff. His name tag reads Nigel.

    Nigel: 'Ello sir. We got a complain off a loud noise coming through this room.

    Nigel gasps as he sees the broken chair.

    Nigel: Oh dear. That is hotel property! What happened in here?

    Ty Johnson: Look I'm sorry. I'll pay for it.

    Nigel: Yes you most certainly will. Ya gobby tourists come in here and you break hotel property and you think you can get away with it. Well by her majesty's name I won't have it.

    Ty Johnson: Look, I said I was's just I've got a lot of stuff going on.

    Nigel: Wait, aren't you one of those wrestler fellas that's fighting at the O2 tomorrow?

    Ty Johnson: Yeah, I'm Ty Johnson.

    Nigel: Ty Johnson?? Why you're my son's favorite. Little lad loves ya...everyone does actually. That is all I hear nowadays. Ty Johnson this, Ty Johnson that. You're becoming to be a real popular name you know? Your match tomorrow, well just're not alone. You've got a lot of fans that certainly have your back.
    Ty Johnson: You know what Nigel, you're right. I don't know what I was thinking. My whole life I've been on my own man, but I've always survived. I have always adapted to the situation.

    I'm fighting a guy that thinks you don't need the fans to win. He is an old washed up journey man who spent most of his days fighting in developmental brands and beating nobodies.

    This is a man that calls the fans imbeciles, nobodies. Thunder thinks you don't get anywhere in this business by pandering to the fans. Well let me tell you I know what it's like to do the opposite. To be on your own. It's not possible. It is not human. You will fall apart. You can adapt and you can survive, but sometimes adapting means having to eat burgers out of trash cans.

    Well Tommy I am done eating burgers out of trash cans. That can be your style, but it isn't mine. You think by taking out Dave that you're going to sweep me by the knees and leave me broken and lost.

    Well I'm not lost this time Tommy. I'm not alone. I have all of my fans. They've got my back. They're going to be cheering me, and booing you. Everyone in that arena is going to be on my side. And the only one on Team Thunder is going to be the washed up journey man who doesn't even have his own action figure in Walmart.

    Tommy are all alone. And when I knock your ass to the ground, me and every one of my fans is going to be counting to 10.

    Ty pushes Nigel out of the room, and proceeds to sweep the cocaine back into the baggy. He takes it down to the bathroom, and drops it in the toilet.

    Ty Johnson: I don't need you. I've got what I need, and they will all be there cheering me on.

    Johnson flushes the toilet, and goes back to preparing for his fight with Tommy Thunder. This time with much more energy and confidence.

  13. #13
    Huggin' and Kissin'
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    Re: Tag League Final 2018 Promo Thread

    We open in quiet bar. A Nevada Reapers cut is framed above the bar implying it’s a clubhouse or an affiliate bar of the motorcycle gang. Sitting at the bar, sipping on Buds, is The DFB. They are both looking at Bobby’s iPhone as he flicks through his twitter feed coming to a stop on a post from the FWA advertising Sin City Vultures vs Ryan Rondo & Chris Kennedy for the Tag League Finals.

    Bobby Smooth: We got eyes on these Cody, let me tell ya’, we got eyes on these.

    Cody Mundz: You serious? I thought we didn’t give a damn about this tournament no more?

    Bobby Smooth: We don’t – we never did. We came in, done what we needed to do on night one and we’ve been coastin’ ever since – we didn’t need to win no tournament, we won the damn game on our very first night.

    Cody Mundz: How so?

    Bobby Smooth: The way I – and any logical person – see it is that Sin City Vulture’s are the reigning, defending Tag Team Champions who have never been bested in tag team action … except once.

    Cody lets out a chuckle.

    Cody Mundz: Damn straight! So what now?

    Bobby Smooth: So what now? Now we make sure those two freaks beat those two pretty boys in the final. The FWA’s hands are TIED Cody, they can’t do shit. If Sin City Vultures win the final the only god-damn match worth a dime they can run is Sin City Vultures vs The DFB 2. You know what that means?

    Cody grins and rubs his fingers and thumbs together.

    Cody Mundz: Fat cheques.

    Bobby returns the smile.

    Bobby Smooth: Fat fucking cheques.

    Cody Mundz: Speakin’ of paydays Bobby, we on the card?

    Bobby flicks through the twitter feed again before coming to a stop.

    Bobby Smooth: We going up against those two weird brothers, The Echo. Damn fools caught up in their own self-parody. They whittled over here in the big leagues pretty damn quick and they scurryin’ back over to the PG show where their dick jokes get a reaction.

    Cody Mundz: We botherin’?

    Bobby Smooth: Fuck yeah, I hate them two assholes, let’s get warmed up. We got a future tag title shot to prepare for.

    The two scheming bikers clink their dirty beer bottles together as the scene fades out.

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