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Thread: 25 May - World Grand Prix DAY 3 Promo Thread

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    25 May - World Grand Prix DAY 3 Promo Thread

    Promos are due Thursday, 24 May at midnight pacific, 3am Friday EST, 8am UK. American pplz, get em in before the holiday weekend!

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    Re: 25 May - World Grand Prix DAY 3 Promo Thread

    Danny Toner
    The Three Titted Hooker

    We open in a dimly lit room, the only light source coming from a long white candle stuck in an iron holder. The candlestick is situated on an old, wooden table which bears many scuffs and scratchings on its surface. Sitting on a stool beside the table is Danny Toner. His face is barely illuminated in the candle-light but we still see a flash of white as he smiles that smile at the camera. He speaks softly.

    Danny Toner: “Come closer.”

    Danny indicates for the cameraman (or whoever the fuck it is that captures all these guys in their day to day shit) to move towards him. Danny smiles once again.

    Danny Toner: “Get comfortable kiddo because Uncle Danny, well, Uncle Danny’s got a story to tell ya!”

    The screen fucks up and distorts Wyatt style but instead of the chilling, ominous music we get camp, time-travelling fuckery music. And you love it.



    Ever been to Amsterdam? Ya really oughta go if you haven’t been. It’s a gorgeous city, built on a family of canals and dams with little cobbled streets and bridged roads (which are slippery when wet). The guys there, they’re friendly as all hell and it’s one of these places where although heavily affected by tourists, you could still lose yourself exploring the local hideouts, nooks and cranny’s. Amsterdam is kinda unfairly known for two things; the sweet, sweet gringo and the smelly, slutty pootang. Both come at a price and like anything; you get what you pay for, you know? They say you’ll never smoke two of the same joints or fuck two of the same broads in Amsterdam but when you’ve been there as much as me … it all kinda gets repetitive and blurs into one. I won’t lie but I was getting kind of jaded with the whole Damski experience but one day I was knockin’ back some poorly pulled pints in this little bar called The Doors and that’s when everything changed.

    We see Danny Toner sitting at a booth in a fairly empty bar. He has a pint of Heineken in front of him and he’s eying the head on the pint in disgust whilst listening to the speakers blast out Riders on the Storm by the bar’s namesake – The Doors. An unlit joint hangs from his lip and he fumbles around his pockets for a lighter and curses himself as he fails in his conquest to light his spliff. Suddenly, an outstretched hand sparks a lighter right in front of him and without even bothering to look up, Danny inhales, lighting the joint. Danny looks up to mutter his thanks but can’t get his words out. Danny’s seen some characters in his time (XYZ, Ghost, Divine) but this one took the biscuit. The man who had helpfully lit Danny’s joint was a sight to behold. He was a plodding, overweight, funny looking man sporting a HUGE green mohawk and had tattoos on the shaved sides of his head. His earlobes are stretched to such an extent that Danny was fairly sure he could spit from where he was sitting and he’d get a hole in one. The guy smiled weirdly showing a set of golden grills on his teeth and took a seat without being prompted.

    Danny Toner: “Well, what the fuck have we got here?”

    Weird Mohawk Guy: “Heeeeeellloooooo.”

    Danny raises his eyebrow, he thought the Dutch accent was weird already but this guy just sounded like a male Ariana Grande on LSD.

    Danny Toner: “… Alright?”

    Weird Mohawk Guy: “What is your name?”

    Danny Toner: “Uh, Danny … why?”

    Weird Mohawk Guy: “Yes, yes Danny, good. Danny, tell me, do you like the unknown?”

    Danny jumps up from the booth and holds his hands in the air.

    Danny Toner: “No offense bud but I don’t swing that way, sorry du-”

    The Peter Wright lookalike jumps up and claps Danny’s hands in his own.

    Weird Mohawk Guy: “No, no, no! This, this unknown entity is the complete opposite of homosexual relations. This, this is a secret. A secret woman, one who very few know about but one that offers an experience like no other … a night you will never forget … if you’re willing to pay.

    Danny scoffs at the offer as he pulls his hands back from the weirdo.

    Danny Toner: “I’ll politely decline.”

    Weird Mohawk Guy: “Is Danny too good to pay for services? Even here … in this city?”

    Danny takes a big swig of his Heineken and looks at the man before laughing.

    Danny Toner: “Me! Too good to … pal, you don’t know the half of it. I’ve had every type of broad to be had in this city; black, white, Asian, small, tall, tiny tits, big tits, floppy-”

    Weird Mohawk Guy: “What about three tits?”

    Pause. Freeze-frame. Screeching to a halt sound effect. Danny’s mouth agape. Narration time.

    See what you guys have to remember is that I really freakin’ had done every type of chick imaginable. I don’t feel guilty about it, I mean, they’re being paid for it – well except that one time with this little Mexican chick but look, I didn’t know she was allergic to hot sauce so that ain’t exactly my fault – but for the most part they were paid. In full. It had become something like a game to me; trying all different types in all different ways. But as any nerd gamer will tell ya – you can complete games. And I’d felt like I’d completed Amsterdam but there I was, talking to a man who may or may not rape me, and I was just after being presented with the biggest fucking easter egg ever. A hidden final boss. The post-credits end game. How the hell could I say no?

    Un-pause. Danny closes his mouth and looks side to side and leans in to the man.

    Danny Toner: “Sorry pal, I need you to be really, really clear right now … did you jusy say … three tits?”

    The man slowly nods his head up and down and raises three fingers to Danny. He then touches his left nipple and mouths “one”, touches his right nipple and mouths “two” and then begins leaning towards Danny’s own chest but Danny slaps his hands away.

    Danny Toner: “Sold. Let’s freakin’ go.”

    The screen is engulfed in darkness and we hear Danny narrating once again.

    With the shake of a hand and the clink of a pint it was all set. I’d give this freaky, ghoulie motherfucker five hundred euros and he’d take me to pork a chick with three tits. Now of course I made sure we dotted the i’s and crossed the t’s – he guaranteed me it’d be full on intercourse with no time limit. In fact, if I had the money – which I did – he’d told me he’d take me straight to her. Off we went in a cab and after a really mild-mannered exchange with the taxi man he decided I COULD smoke in his car on the way there. Anyway I got there, this real seedy joint, up a lane and through a steel door kind of buzz, you know? El Freakazoid left me to it and I walked into this room and there was this broad standing there and well … well a picture paints a thousand words.

    We suddenly have picture again and Danny Toner is standing there looking at a tall, tanned woman. She has dark features – eyes and hair are both a full brown color – and she is clad in a black thong and a black sports top. Danny wasn’t looking at what she was wearing, he was too busy counting over and over and rubbing his eyes to make sure what he was seeing was real. Three. It was three. Three big juicy bad boys. Not that he was overly into it but this was one for the books. The woman bent over in front of Danny and opened a small fridge. She talks in a eastern European accent.

    Three Titty Brazzer: “Beer?”

    Danny Toner: “Don’t mind if I do.”

    The woman smiles and throws – yeah, I know, who throws bottles of beer? - the bottle of beer at the unsuspecting Danny and it sails right past him and smashes against the wall. Danny and the woman stare at the mess on the ground and then begin to giggle. The woman makes her way over and Danny instinctively reaches out to touch one of her three glorious breasts. The woman pulls away and wags her finger suggestively at him.

    Three Titty Brazzer: “You want to touch, you pay!”

    Danny Toner: “I already give your reptile-lookin’ pimp half a freakin’ grand?!”

    Three Titty Brazzer: “Huh? My …?”

    Danny Toner: “Fat guy? Mohawk?”

    The puzzled look on the prostitute’s face told Danny everything he needed to know – he’d been in the game himself long enough to know when he’d been swindled. With a shrug, Danny asked the price.

    Danny Toner: “Much?”

    Three Titty Brazzer: “One hundred.”

    Danny Toner: “For…?”

    Three Titty Brazzer: “Suck and fuck.”

    Danny Toner: “That fat bastard …”

    Danny curses about his conman as he fumbles around his pockets for two fifty euro notes. The lady of the night starts cleaning up the mess made by the broken beer bottle when she loses her footing (slippery when wet throwback) on the spillage and lands in the shards of broken glass.

    Danny Toner:
    “Oh fuck me!”

    Danny pulls the girl up to her feet. She has small shards of glass in her arms and one slightly bigger piece seems to have grazed her jaw causing a small laceration.

    Danny Toner: “Shit, you’re like an eastern European Izzy Van Doren!”

    Three Titty Brazzer: “Izzy Van Doren?”

    Danny Toner: “She’s some chick I work with that’s like you cause you’re all cut up and shit but she’s got yeno …”

    Danny fondles the air in front of his own chest as if he has make-believe breasts.

    Three Titty Brazzer: “Two breasts?”

    Danny Toner: “Yeah! Two of’em!”

    ???: “ABORT! ABORT!”

    Danny turns around and the fat, mohawk, stretched earlobe conman comes crashing in from a hidden door in the wall of the room. He looks frantic and he’s carrying a baseball bat.

    Danny Toner: “HEY! YOU! You owe me five hundred bucks!”

    Weird Mohawk Guy: “Fuuuuhuck you! Danny FUCKING Toner! I knew I recognized you! Mary, get outta here – we can’t rob this guy!”

    Danny stares at the girl.

    Danny Toner:Mary? Really!?”

    The girl shrugs.

    Mary the Three Titty Brazzer: “My mother is catholic.”

    Danny Toner: “Oh …”

    Wait. Baseball bat. BOOM! SUPPPPPPPPEEERRRKIIIIIICCCCCCCK!!!!!! Freeze on Danny’s foot mid-flight, inches from connecting with the guy’s jaw. Cue, narraToner (ya’ll like that?).

    Man. What. A. Let. Down. Not only was I after being conned, it was the last day of my trip and there I was trying to ride circus freaks and making deals with guys shadier than Thomas Princeton. Such is life kids, such is life. See there’s a lesson in all this – forbidden fruit doesn’t always taste the sweetest it just costs you half a fucking grand.

    Toner’s foot connects and the fat fuck goes flat on his back. Danny begins shouting obscenities at the man whilst Mary slips out of the room undetected. Toner’s FWA theme “Greenback Boogie” plays over the closing image aaaaaandddd scene!


    We’re back in the candle-lit room from the beginning of the promo. Danny has no smiles this time as he stares into the camera.

    Danny Toner: “Hanz, bud, there’s a reason I chose to tell that specific story the week I’m due to face you – it’s a metaphor for the whole thing. You better start looking for a new career you steaming German pile of garbage! I’ll put ya out of your misery bud, you might be the least formidable guy I’ve ever had the displeasure of sharing the ring with. At Fight Night – it’s all over. I ain’t gonna be able to get rolling until I beat someone to a bloody pulp and everyone realizes that Toner county is the new head of state in FWA and someone has to take the fall, unlucky for you bud. But hey, I’m doing you a favour, after all, you’re the third tit. You just aren’t worth my fucking time.

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    Re: 25 May - World Grand Prix DAY 3 Promo Thread

    A Astonishing Revelation

    We open with a look at the night sky over the city. It is a cool summer night as the rain hits against the windows of a old apartment building. We go into the bedroom where Deception sits in the dark not able to sleep he lights a cig smokes it as the dim light shows off just the scars on his face he seems to be talking to himself.

    Deception: There is no man that knows he has hit rock bottom until he starts to rise again. I am on the rise and I am the phoenix rising from the ashes and while my luck has never been on my side I am feeling lucky I am feeling good I have my head on straight and I see the light. There's a light and there is lady liberty on the other side ready to embrace me for the justice I have made in the wake of injustice in this world full of hate and evil. I am an lawful man but my mind it weighs heavy.

    I am not sure who I am talking too maybe this is just me thinking out loud maybe this is me becoming broken or woken? No, my mind is still here but I digress, I can't sleep I toss and turn and while others may find their answers in the bottom of the bottle and others inside a bottle of pills or whatever vice I find that my answers come in the form of you.

    The man I face. the man who has seen it all he has done it all and he is a man that is in the same place as me falling like the ashes of my cig to the ground ready to either go out or set a blaze that starts a fire that burns bright ready to burn down the very core of your bones. Chris, I don't know you that well and maybe that is my fault but allow me to introduce myself I am the hero of justice , I am the malice avenger , I am the man you face very soon . I am Deception and while you may overlook me because you think you are better then me I sit here thinking about you and the sins the injustices you have made. You were a leader of men , you were a liar, a false idol, in some sense a God to these people but I see you for what you really are.

    You know what that is?

    You are me you are the man in the mirror you are the worse parts of me coming to life . I see your face and I see it as if it was mine. You are arrogant, you are cold, you are so many more things in a list that could go on and on but do you know what it starts and ends with is that you are me.

    You see because, I am just one bad day from becoming you while you are just climbing Jacob's ladder to what you think is heaven but is a one way trip to hell. So I wonder if you are awake right now planning thinking like me or are you so vein so arrogant that you look past me onto the very next challenge.

    The truth of the matter is if you do that as I think you are you are going to fail and where you fail I succeed. I am ready to follow my road into the loving embrace of lady liberty while you sit in bed not able to sleep as the cold sweats form and the seeds of doubt plant in your head eating you alive.

    Chris you are going to feel what I felt you are going to open your eyes and see what I see and it is going to make you a better man and it is going to absolve you from the injustices and you will join my fight my crusade onto the path of justice. So join me help me help you help me help all those whose eyes can not see where injustices hid in the shadows stand arm to arm or perish like the rest of the damned, the lost, the broken, the woken, and you and them will fall. You won't though because I know who you are and I know what goes on in your head and I see what the next move is. I will see you soon .

    We see Deception lay back down muttering words as he clinches something we cant see in his hands.


    CWA World Heavyweight Champion
    Brayden Bridges

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    Re: 25 May - World Grand Prix DAY 3 Promo Thread

    The scene begins with what looks a set for one of those informercials that you see on TV at 3am and sitting front and center is Jason Randall. He’s sitting on a stool placed in front of the camera and directing the camera is Penny along with Fred the Cat and Norman.

    Penny: Are you ready?

    Jason Randall: I’m as ready as I’ll ever be

    Fred is holding the clapboard all cute like with his little paws.

    Penny: Ready? Action!

    Jason Randall: Hi, I’m Jason Randall. You might remember me from the time I beat Mike Parr senseless, and the time that Mike Parr laid me out in the center of the ring like a little bitch after he was supposed to be my tag team partner.

    Penny: Cut!

    Jason Randall: What? I thought that was perfect!

    Penny: It was good but did you really feel the need to insult him like that?

    Jason Randall: Well what he did to me made him look like a little bitch, so it seems appropriate to refer to him as such

    Penny: Fair point I suppose

    Jason Randall: Look, Penny dear, if you don’t like it we can edit it out but I really can’t help it, okay? I know you want me to be a better person and all that but this is just the way I am

    Penny: I know that but I also know that there’s good in you, I’ve seen it before.

    Jason Randall: Yeah, but where has that ever got me before in this business? No one has ever gotten by in this industry by being nice. You’ve gotta be ruthless to survive in this industry! I’ve tried being serious too but look where that got me

    Penny shrugs and nods in agreement knowing that his serious work wasn’t his best.

    Jason Randall: I’m just gonna be me, okay? This is who I am. I’m blunt and I’m honest, and if I’m being honest right now, Mike Parr is a little bitch

    Penny: Okay then, you be you! We’ll continue from where you left off and edit it later in post

    Jason Randall: In post? What does that mean?

    Penny: I don’t know but I just always wanted to say it

    He shrugs and sits back down on the stool as Penny shouts action.

    Jason Randall: Today I’m here to talk about why being a little bitch will get you an ass beating courtesy of yours truly. You see, Mike Parr is the type of person that thinks his shit doesn’t stink, but in fact it does. He’s that douchey kind of guy that thinks he’s so cool and that he gets all the ladies, but the reality is that he’s just a douche. He’s not cool and as much as he thinks he gets all the ladies, he doesn’t.

    Childish insults aside, I will give him credit. He is a solid hand in the ring, but don’t take that as weakness. I still hate your guts, Mike. I hate everything you stand for and I just hate you. Don’t feel too bad though, I really don’t like a lot of people but right now you’re at the top of my shit list and that’s not good news for you.

    He takes a breath and pauses briefly to think.

    Jason Randall: Now I know that you probably don’t see this match as a big deal because your fellow douche Chris Kennedy beat us both, thus securing Block B in his favor. It’s true, this match isn’t really a big deal but that won’t stop me from giving you an ass kicking of a lifetime.

    He stands up from the stool and stares directly at the camera.

    Jason Randall: I told you that I wouldn’t forget what you did. I bet you wished I’d have forgotten or you wish you hadn’t done what you did, but you did what you did and now you’re going to pay the consequences, Mike. You see I let it stew inside of me and waited for this moment because I knew inevitably that I would get my hands on your in this Grand Prix, and when I did I would do exactly what I did the last time we met in the ring and that’s beat your ass for that one, two, three! You better pray to whatever god you believe in, Mike, because you’re going to need whatever it takes to beat me. I don’t go down easy, not without a fight. Ask WOLF, ask Chris Kennedy. WOLF damn near had to kill me to keep me down and Kennedy had to resort to cheating, but they didn’t get the job done. I’m still standing, and unfortunately for you Mike that’s bad news.

    You can say whatever you want about me and it’ll all be true. I know I’m a scumbag, I embrace that Mike. I don’t hide who I am like you or your fellow jackass Chris Kennedy. I am who I am and there’s nothing that anyone can say or do that will make me change who I am. To take an old saying from myself, playtime is over and your ass is next!

    The scene comes to a close.

    Rest in power, Flock U

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    Re: 25 May - World Grand Prix DAY 3 Promo Thread

    For Whom The Bell Tolls

    Carved in wood hanging on the wall is the following words.

    ‘Water shapes its course according to the nature
    Of the ground over which it flows
    The soldier works out his victory
    In relation to the foe whom he is facing
    Therefore, just as water retains no constant shape
    So in warfare there are no constant conditions’ - Sun Tzu

    Just below the carved sign. Phillip A. Jackson sits across an oddly shaped table from his giant ally, Viktor Maximus. Jackson is sat on a wooden chair, that is backwards and he is leaning over the back looking out at Viktor. Viktor is squashed into a chair and easily towers over the table and Jackson. Other than that the room is vast and empty. They are sat against an outer wall with sunlight shining through the windows above their heads. The worn wooden floor and the paint marking from a former basketball court are the biggest landmark in a drab room. In front of Jackson there is something placed on the table but they are covered by a cloth that has been placed over the table. Jackson looks up at Viktor, who is blindfolded.

    ‘It is me, Viktor. For the first part of this I just want you to listen. Don’t feel around. Don’t worry about where you are. Just listen to my voice. We are about to speak about our next lesson. We are somewhere familiar but we will get to that. Our lesson today is win at any cost, that is what you need to do in an elimination tournament. They all hated me for it but I did it. There is no moral high ground in this tournament. The prize is too great. They all react with disdain at low blowing someone in a tournament. Who are they to hold the moral high ground? Who are they to act the way they did. Win or go home. There is nothing else. There is no grey. It is black and white. Victory or defeat. If I do not resort to it. I lose. I took advantage of a situation as it changed. That is the most important lesson to take from it. A veteran wrestler doing something savvy to ensure victory. That doesn’t change this week. It is more important this week because this is my toughest challenge in the tournament. That is our lesson today.’

    ‘Bell Connelly is no slouch. I know that, Phillip. You have managed to succeed without me at your side so far.’

    ‘I have yes, but this is a different beast completely, Vik. That is why we are here. I’ve arranged something special for us. Any guesses?’

    ‘I don’t even know where we are, Phillip.’

    ‘We are where we first met, Viktor. Take that off.’

    Viktor smiles, he is happy as he looks around.

    ‘The Academy. I have never seen it so empty.’

    Jackson smiles and nods.

    ‘Yes. Where we founded the project. The first step on our journey and now we face our biggest moments in history. It is not winning the tournament but it is raising eyebrows. I am on the cusp on people fearing me again. A win over Bell Connelly cements this project because it will cement me back in the minds of FWA. It will make me a force again. That is why it is win at any cost. This can make us a force. Bell Connelly is the victory that is needed to make us. You have already proven that you are the destruction and that you are worthy of being my project but I need to prove to you and to FWA that I am worthy of leading it. You know exactly where we are heading but the rest of them don’t. You know the final evolution of the project. You don’t know when that will be because I don’t know. Now I have a question for you, Vik.

    Jackson sits up a bit and Viktor perks up in anticipation.

    ‘Do you know how to win at any cost?’

    ‘Of cour-‘

    Jackson interrupts.

    ‘Are you sure?’

    Jackson pulls the the cover off the object on the table to reveal an arm wrestling table. Jackson puts his arm out. Viktor looks bemused.

    ‘You know I could crush you.’

    Jackson takes his arm off the table.

    ‘That’s true. You cannot win on strength alone. You cannot be one dimensional in your approach. I know what to expect from you so I plan accordingly. Like how I know facing you in a battle of strength in stupid and you know in a battle of wits I would win.’

    ‘Only because you make us do it in English…’

    Jackson shrugs.

    ‘Yea, yea. Mr. I can speak two languages. It is about finding your advantages. This place taught you to embrace your strengths. It taught you that if a guy half your size challenges you to an arm wrestling contest you crush him but this is about building you to be more. You cannot learn ring psychology here. You cannot learn by watching some of the most talented wrestlers in the world here.’

    ‘This place was good to me. I have many great memories here but you are right. I do have question though-’

    Jackson signals to Viktor to stop.

    ‘I know what your question will be. What is my advantage over Bell Connelly? I will do whatever it takes to win. Though seeing a boyfriend versus girlfriend scrap if she won would be very amusing. I am rational. I am realistic because I live in the world of truth. I am not some unhinged lunatic who listen to voices. I don’t need too because I am the voice of reason. Do you know why people are like that? Why they become unscrewed? People stop listening to them mostly because they are annoying and no-one wants to listen to them. They irritate you with high pitched whining and they slowly unravel because they cannot be heard. They construct a delusion in their heads and they slowly let it take over and allow themselves to be guided by delusion. Delusion lies to them and they believe they are better than they are. Trust me, I’ve been there. That can carry you to far beyond what anyone ever thought you could be. It can make you a world champion but you can see when you face truth without anything in the way, they fail.The biggest hurdle though is not the fact it is Bell Connelly. It is the face she will be pissed off. She will be angry. She will, like me, do whatever it takes to win because we have both been there. We have both lost our titles. She obviously lost the title much more recently and she wants it back but she got an opportunity to earn her title back. What did I get? Jack fucking shit. She is annoyed she lost the title but she gets a potential shot at a Back in Business main event to win back her title. I walked INTO Back in Business last year as a world champion and I didn’t even get to be the main event. I was screwed by some crap stipulation because they wanted to unify the belts. I got to be in the second match as a world champion. That is disrespect I haven't forgotten. We both have reasons to be angry but I didn’t go off the deep end completely. I saw where I was going and I reeled myself back in and I found new life in you, Viktor. In the Phillip A. Jackson Project. It made me realise that I was on a path to failure. I was on a path where I couldn’t be proud. I have set goals for us and my final goal will be revealed in time but this is about imparting knowledge. This is about teaching. This project doesn’t exist out of anger. I was disrespected but I have had a year to re-focus. I have had year to look at my options. I have had plenty of time to digest it. I wanted to be stronger and I have done that. I am hungry to win. Screw change. Screw being a better man. I wanted to be me and that has made me hungry. To make things right. I’ve said since day one in this company that I only care about one title. The FWA World Title. That is the prize at stake. Being a three time champion would truly put me amongst the elite because I have proven time after time that I come in waves and when the waves come nothing can stop me.’

    Viktor looks confused at Jackson’s phrasing.

    ‘I do not understand what you mean.’

    Jackson thinks for a second and nods.

    ‘To put it better for you, Viktor. I have always be up and down. When I am rolling, I cannot be stopped. The downs are hard but the ups are great. I don’t want that for you. I want you to be better than me. I want you to always be moving up and never hold the anger or the delusion that Bell Connelly holds. I don’t want you to have the ups and downs that I had. You have the chance to be better but first I have to better. I have to show you how to beat a former world champion and you do not want to beat me in an arm wrestling contest. So I will give it my all to take down an unhinged lunatic for you. To make this project better because it isn’t about numbers. I don’t want more people with us. It is you and me. No distractions, no secondary agendas just a focus on teaching and learning in action but it cannot come over success in the ring. This week again is focusing on me. Focusing on me advancing in the Grand Prix.’

    ‘You have not said what your plan is. You have only spoken about advantages. You are focusing too much on teaching me things. Speaking to me. You should focusing more on Bell. You said it was about making sure that you get into the next stage of the Grand Prix. You don’t act like you are focusing on it.’

    Jackson tilts his head and looks at Viktor with some shock on his face. Viktor stammers to apologise. Jackson comes down from the initial shock and nods his head in approval.

    ‘I was wondering when you would apply something. Finally, you are asking questions and challenging me. I can demonstrate what I have in mind.’

    Jackson stands up from his chair and heads across the gym. He looks back over and sees Viktor still at the desk.

    ‘Come on. We are going for a walk. I want to show you something.’

    Jackson gets Viktor to follow him through a set of gym doors. Pushing the bar open and out into a hallway laden with pictures of Jackson’s success and awards. Jackson and Viktor walk down the hallway, Jackson for the most part ignores all the pictures but Viktor glances at every single one. Jackson guides Viktor up a set of stairs and to his office. Jackson walks in and Viktor nervously follows. Jackson tells him to take a seat in a much more comfortable chair than the one in the gym. Jackson locks the door and walks to the other side of the desk and sits on his leather, high back spinning chair and looks across the desk and then up at Viktor.

    This, as you know, is my office here. I am not here very often so I know that it doesn’t get used but this is a place out of the way. I’ve been here a lot. I’ve been waiting for you to challenge me. I've been waiting to see some fight in you so I knew you were ready. Sometimes I don’t have a plan.'

    Viktor is shocked.

    ‘какие?! (What?!)’

    ‘I know, I know. I don’t know what you said but I am sure it was surprise. You always do this when you are taken by surprise. This will probably be a lecture, so sorry in advance. Bell, for all the talk of being unhinged and delusional, is dangerous because I honestly didn't know how to approach her. That is why she is so good but I have a plan now. I left out part of the Back in Business story. I forgot to say where Bell Connelly was at Back in Business. The Pre-show. She is riding a big up in her career and she is hard to stop. This is match where I go in as underdog and I will freely admit that to you. Now why did I bring you to my office to tell you this? Because this is the only room where I can be more vulnerable, where I can admit to weaknesses. Outside these walls, I cannot control. This room I can. Only I have access to it. Bell knows that I can beat her. Bell knows the danger I can be. She saw what we did to Michael Garcia. I can deceive and I can destroy. I can be the most vicious man in wrestling when I want to be. Michael Garcia was a show of force, a warning to FWA. A warning for those that may try and belittle us. That may say you were not ready. It was bring fear to them and that is why I have a chance. I have proven I will bend and break rules to win. Who says that you can’t do something without being at ringside? You represent a wildcard that people are scared of but Bell will not be scared of it. She will embrace the chaos. That is what scares me but it is something that I have no choice but to overcome. It is a hurdle I have to get over, by hook or by crook. For the most part, I can walk into a ring and know what to expect from people. James Hughes, I have known for years, don’t like him but I know who he is. I know what he is. Ty Johnson, didn’t know but I had the advantage of being in the business longer and finding a way to win. Bell has been in the back of my mind constantly gnawing away at it and staying there. Bell has been my focus from the very beginning because I knew that it would come down to one of us. All this talk of equal focus was crap. It was Bell from the start and even then I have struggled to find a way to game plan for her. I have come up with a solution. What would you do, Vik? As a man full of talk today?’

    Viktor sits back and starts to think carefully about an answer. Umm and Ahhing for about thirty seconds.

    ‘Umm..I would focus on what I am good at. I would use what you taught me and adapt when it is called for but that is the exception to the normal rule.'

    ‘Exactly, That is the answer I was looking for. Bell is unpredictables so, why let chaos rule? Take that out of the equation. I am going to do what I do best. Focus on me. Focus on being realistic. Attacking with purpose and striking at the right time. I am not going to dive in head first and get myself in trouble like I used to because that will be exactly what she wants. She prides herself on being unpredictable, chaotic and she thrives in it. She surrounds herself in it as a mask to hide her weaknesses. It is not easy to approach a wrestler like that but I have to walk in to Los Angeles and beat Bell Connelly for to advance in the Grand Prix. I have to be aware that nothing will be the same. Everything can change and I have to make lots of changes on the fly but in the end these are moments we live for. If I can’t be ready when the eyes of the world on the both of us. When two big names of FWA, face-to-face, toe-to-toe in a straight elimination match to advance. Winner take all match then everything we are working towards takes a hit. I will win by any means necessary because this is about immortality and that is what I strive for. Now let’s get to the arena.’

    Viktor nods and the pair head out of Jackson’s office and back down the stairs. Ready to take the trip to Los Angeles.

  6. #6
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    Re: 25 May - World Grand Prix DAY 3 Promo Thread

    Layers Of The Mind.

    The camera flew along a corridor - seemingly infinite - shadow clutching at the edges of the frame so that nothing felt quite real. There was a haunting melody in the background that only added to the sense of the supernatural being at play. As the corridor rattled along, doors appeared and disappeared on either side. There was no end to them. Each was sealed, concealing whatever was held within from view, until the camera stops and reveals a small blond woman calmly walking the halls, humming a little song to herself, her bright and colorful appearance contracting perfectly with the dim and dreamy halls she was walking through

    Bell Connelly:“Welcome Phillip to the one place you knew to find me. Welcome to your own head...

    Bell stopped in place tilting her head and narrowed her eyes at the camera.

    Bell Connelly
    “Of course, you already knew that right? We BOTH knew it’ll come down to this, after all, admittedly I hoped my ticket to Japan would have been punched by now, but since when did anything come easily to Ol’ Bell? I knew what was coming...just like you knew it would come; too. I’m not going to insult you and go over how important this match is….because we both know, You want nothing more than to the main event Back In Business and you know I need the same thing. Like two junkies fighting over one last remaining fix. You’re a cerebral gent. So I imagine you watching tapes of my matches for the last few weeks s. Over and over again.

    Bell extends her arm out in front her like she’s holding an invisible remote

    Bell Connelly: “Play. Pause. Rewind ZZZPT. Repeat. Play. Pause. Rewind. ZZZZPT. REPEAT over and over again, figuring out patterns of attack. Strengths. Weaknesses. Positions to avoid and areas to target again. You know all the counters to all my move, and counter holds to my counters coulters. You could write a thesis on yours truly. Me though? I’m a little bit different….For as long as I can remember -Which admittedly isn’t saying much- I’ve been different -I know shocking right?- But not just that...I don’t just look at people, I can SEE them, I could understand them. I can see what drives them. What makes them tick. I see through people. Gabby; felt insecure about me trying to “Replace” her Dinorah; hated me because I had everything she thought she deserved. Sarah DeBois: Had an intense need to prove herself in the eyes of Humanity -Who I’m pretty sure she had a crush on- and on and on it goes“So, For the past few weeks, these halls have become a second home to me. I’ve walked every inch of Phillip's mind, I know every corner and every dark secret he hides. I know where the bodies are, Phillip. I know what keeps you up in the dead of night and, above all? I know exactly how you’re feeling tonight

    Bell continues walking again as she speaks looking around her with a kind of airy intrigue

    Bell Connelly:“I gotta admit it’s a little….too….liner for my taste,..a little gloomy and I expected a lot more pictures of David Beckham, but you should see Cyrus’s head...He has doors even I haven’t been able to unlock, it’s a little like resident evil. Find Key C to open Door A I haven’t been able to find all the keys yet…But that’s him, and this is you unlike you, I don’t believe in secrets. You see, you might TALK about being an immortal and how you want to go to Back in Business to seal your legacy, but you’re not honest with them, Phillip. You’re not honest with anybody. You don’t reveal the turmoil that’s raging inside this head of yours. You don’t discuss the emotions, the fact that you KNOW you’re going to lose tonight. Well if you won’t reveal yourself, Phillip… if you won’t open up these doors and let the people see what hides behind them… then I guess it’s up to me to do it. After all, don’t the people have a right to know you? Don’t the people have a right to understand the mortal behind the immortal PAJ? Come on, let’s go take a tour...Have to be careful not to get lost, I'm not used to a mind so together My head is -

    Bell struggles with the words frowning.

    Bell Connelly: “Have you ever seen one of those optical illusions ink bots where you can’t tell if it’s an outline of a bunny or a duck? It's a little like that only I don’t even know if its a duck or a rabbit...

    Bell suddenly stops dead in her tracks pauses for a beat and backs up -Without turning- The corridor groaned to a halt in front of a plain wooden door. A star hung on it, 'PRIDE’ emblazoned across in golden lettering.

    Bell Connelly:“Ah… your favorite emotion, Phillip. PRIDE…”

    The door yawned open, and the camera moved inside. All was darkness and quiet until a sudden burst of electronic interference brought a pale blue light into the room. It was an ominous glow – a row of old television sets. The camera rested on them for a long moment, but the interference was never broken. Neither sound nor image could penetrate the snowy-white screens. Pale light pulsed from behind each device almost like a heartbeat.

    Bell Connelly:"This is your lifeblood, isn't it Phillip? Fame. Everything you do, everything you've EVER done… it's all been about getting that gold star hanging on your door. It's about getting millions of people sat around these TV sets drinking in the glory of Phillip Andrew Jackson. Let's be honest,. You could have come back home years ago. You've chosen to WASTE your career in the Far East not because you saw any glory in it, but because you’re addicted to it all That applause… the chanting your name… it's all you've ever lived for. IT'S ALL YOU KNOW!! You can't measure success any other way, you can't measure STRENGTH any other way. No, for you it comes down to one word: validation. There's only one time in the past few weeks that I ever saw you smile. There's only one time in the last few weeks that you looked anything like the man who used to hold MY championship on his shoulder. You know when that was? When you stabbed Michael Garcia back. And got the spotlight for yourself, because that’s all you ever wanted. Not respect. Just being the name on everyone’s lips. To be a STAR. To be the prime time player. You want the spotlight for yourself, and the world title is an excuse to get it

    The televisions continued to flicker, the pulsing light seeming to quicken. Her distaste becoming clear.

    Bell Connelly:"That’s why you want to get to Back In Business? You’re fighting for one more shot at the spotlight> But What do you know about fighting for survival, Phillip? How many times have you stepped in the ring fearing not a loss… but fearing for your LIFE??? Because that’s what I’ll be doing!? Fighting for my life? Getting to Back In Business that much to me But you allow your lust for FAME to overcome you. You want to make DAMN SURE that the entire roster has to stand at ringside and look at you. You want every man and woman on to have a front row seat so that they can stand and applaud and give you the validation that you so desperately need. You crave being seen as the best. And that? That weakness? It's trapped you into a path that you can't take back. It’s set you on a path to complete and utter RUINATION!! because when you allow pride to take over your mind… when you allow your identity, your DNA to be DEFINED by the spotlight and how much merchandise you can sell… then you've already lost. Pride might matter to you Phillip but make no mistake: it doesn't matter to me… Real champions don't concern themselves with the opinions of those around them, but you… since the first day, you came here … every call you've made has been in pursuit of validation. And tonight, when you're looking up at the lights, and you realize that I've taken EVERYTHING, YOU EVER HAD… you'll realise the truth of that. But by then? By then it's too late. Pride comes before a fall, Phillip… and tonight?" Down...down...down you go!

    On cue, the TVs all went dark as though all the unseen power cables had been cut at once. The room was silent and eerie black once more, and then without warning the camera whirled out through the door and back into the corridor, back through the labyrinthine passageways and cul-de-sacs that made up the tortured mind of tonight's challenger. Wails came from behind some of the doors now. Others were being hammered on from within, dull thuds threatening to knock them from their hinges. Bell had disturbed the balance. When next the camera stopped at one of the doors, this one looked different to the last. There was a large brass handle in the centre of the wood, spinning this way and that. The door didn't open though. It seemed to ooze uncertainty. Bell laughed.

    Bell Connelly: "Every man suffers this one, Phil, and tonight it's your turn. DOUBT..."

    The handle, so wracked with its own doubt, finally spun one way and the door flew open. Inside this time was a creature a hideous beast! The beast made no motion forward and indeed didn't seem to pay any attention to the camera. It was anxious, its hands on its head and a pained expression on its face. It was the embodiment of anxiety and self-doubt. Bell had evidently found the demon of doubt that resided in PAJ’s head.

    Bell Connelly"You hide this door well, Phillip but I always knew it was here if I looked hard enough. You see, I knew your words were hollow. I looked into your eyes, and I could see it. Everything you say, every prediction… every vow… every promise you make there was a time when you believed that you could deliver on them. There was a time when the idea that you could fail never even entered your head. But now? Now you've had plenty of evidence to the contrary, haven't you? You thought You can come back into the fold to break Chris Kennedy’s streak and waltz back into the world title picture, but that didn’t work out for you did it? Because you blew it at Back In Business, and this is the closest you’ve come to the world title in the last year. That’s the sign. That's the PROOF that you haven't got what it takes to beat me. But no… that won't do for you, will it Phill? You can't accept defeat until it's staring you in the face. You can't give up… you're immortal You have to WIN. You have to prove me, and the rest of the world wrong and you have to have that title once more. Just like you were going to break the streak? Just like you were going to win at Mile High? Just like you were building your project to win the tag team title? All those times you told everybody that this time it was different. This time you were going to win. But then you can’t back up your words! But still, you repeat the cycle No. Not PAJ! Phillip Andrew Jackson is different! PAJ is immortal! What kind of immortal needs an army of denial just to try to keep this doorway to doubt slammed shut? You're no immortal. You're just a man wrestling against the inevitable. And tonight? When I lift back the veil again, You're going to have nowhere else to go. And when I beat you, move on to the finals and take your dreams of Back In Business from you. This demon of doubt is going to break loose, Phillip… and he's going to run WILD around the corridors of your mind… poisoning EVERYTHING, he touches. Trust me I know; better than everyone what the demon of doubt can do….and so do you. You know what awaits you when you lose tonight… and that's why this isn't the only door that you've kept hidden from the watching world."

    Bell leans forward in a hushed voice.

    Bell Connelly: But I found it, Phillip...I found it.

    She stays in that position for some time before suddenly giggly and childlike.

    Bell Connelly
    Come on, let me show you!

    The camera whirled around again, leaving the doubt demon to writhe and moan in the dark. The door closed behind it, and once more viewers took off down the corridor, turning this way and that around sharp bends and whizzing past an endless procession of doors large and small, black and white, wood and steel… on and on until the darkness deepened and a sense grew that this was a blacker and distant corner of PAJ’s mind than any they had yet visited. There weren't even shrieks or thumping or clawing sounds coming from behind the doors down here. There was only a silence more soul-sapping than any of the previous disturbance. The air seemed close. At the end of the corridor, the door they stopped at was wooden but chipped and scarred as though marked by the claws of some great beast. Blood stains smeared it, etching out a single word in their crimson hue: 'FEAR'.

    Bell Connelly"You know what's behind this one, don't you Phillip? This is the final destination... when doubt manifests, and there's no other escape. This is the part of your mind you'll go to when all others have failed you. This is where you'll go… when you're afraid of the dark."

    On that note Bell tries to open the door, but finding it jammed, she rolled her eyes momentarily clearly annoyed she was locked out after her big dramatic line.

    Bell Connelly: “Urg. it’s Cyrus all over again.

    Bell mutters under her breath before backing off momentarily.

    Bell Connelly:“Little pig, little pig, let me come in,“Not by the hair on your chinny, chin, chin then I’ll huff, and I’ll poof, and I’ll blow your house in...

    The door was flung open, and the camera peered inside, zooming further and further into the blackness. There was a shuffling noise and a rattling of chains, as though a prisoner had been awoken. As they crawled forward, a single shaft of light picked up on their left eye. As it opened, it was wild and animated, like no human eye could be. Darting this way and that as though for some unseen peril, unblinking, unceasing, the eye ignored the camera.

    Bell Connelly: "You already know where doubt will lead you, Phillip because you've felt it. I saw it in your eyes on that entrance ramp for every match of this GP…, and I see it each and every time I've looked at you. The fear of failure. You feel different now, don't you? You know what awaits. You know how it feels… to be ALONE IN THE DARK. This is where your mind brought you. After you lose tonight? This is the fate that you were consigned to. But you couldn't stand it. Losing that title…? And all the love and all the fame and the pride…? Gone. You made promises that time after time you failed to keep, but each time you made a new promise you had a purpose, and you broke free of the chains that held you here. You moved forward. You endured. You… SURVIVED. But all the time you kept coming back here, Phillip You kept asking yourself the same question. You kept waking up at night hearing the same words echoing around the darkness. 'What happens when the promises run out?' And that's the REAL question, isn't it? What happens after tonight, when there are no more promises? What happens when you have to look these fans in the eye and tell them all that you FAILED? That you're mortal? This tournament bought yourself some time, Phillip, but that's all. And tonight that time runs out. Tonight the chains that you've been trying to fight off ever since this started … they're going to snap closed around you, and they're going to drag you into the darkness. There will be no light… no glory… no fortune and fame… and there will be no FWA Championship. Down here, in the dark…? There's only FEAR. You know you're not an immortal You've always known. You don't have the MIND of an immortal. That's not what scares you. What scares you is that the rest of the world are about to find out too. And when they do? When you become NOTHING? Then everything you ever stood for… everything you ever wanted… everything you ever WERE… will belong to me.

    Bell puts her hand on her collarbone and pauses to underline her words.

    Bell Connelly:...And when I go on to Japan...when I go on to win the title shot that always should have belonged to me, You'll be left here to rot, Phil. I'll leave you here as a testament to what happens when you stand between me and that title. When your mind is as broken as your body… when I've thrown open each and every door, you see here tonight, and everything is chaos and fear and darkness…? THEN. AND ONLY THEN- Then you have my permission to crawl into the darkest hole you can find and GIVE UP. But until then? Tonight…? I want you to fight me, Phillip. I want you to shake off the fear and the doubt, and I want you to give one last effort want you to be a sacrifice worth my time. Because to be honest, after blowing away Ty and Jamie It's getting a little… predictable. Cast off this fear, Phil. Cast it off and give yourself an ending that people will talk about for YEARS to come. Let another emotion command you. Let a corner of your mind that you've never tapped into being your guiding light..."

    In an instant, the heavy door swung shut, and the camera was surging back down the corridor the way that it had come. Higher and higher it climbed, out of the realm of fear. Lighter grew the corridors, louder the doors and faster the travel. Higher and higher, more than ever before. Up staircases and ramps, taking corners sharp and narrow, until the doors grew much fewer. On the camera went until it faced a massive staircase that seemed to have no end. It still climbed even as Bell spoke.

    Bell Connelly"Up here resides the purest of all emotions, Phil. This is the corner of the mind that fuels me. This is what I ’ve released. And it is your only hope of survival…"

    The stairway ended at last, and at the top was a single door. It was ornately carved with an elegant golden handle. When it opened, a vast landscape that yawned before us, There was a line of trees stretching out – an entire world beyond the door. And overhead the deafening and awesome power of a lightning storm as it struck its anger upon the sundered earth below.

    Bell Connelly:The one thing that can help you….RAGE

    The lightning flashed again. It was a devastating show of raw, natural power.

    Bell Connelly: "Once I was like you, PAJ I was neglected… I was unloved… I was written off. Locked up fear and doubt and pride and so much more. All the ways that you're going to feel after I defeat you tonight? I've felt them all but the difference between you and me? I have no interest in living my life for the approval of anyone But what I am… is a beast, everyone that stands in front of me and the world title I cut them down with fury. I cut them down to SPITE a world that never knew me. I take them to DEVOUR the injustice of a childhood spent in the shadows. What do I do? I release the demon inside me, and I BREAK… I TEAR… I DESTROY. And the things that I can do in that ring are things that no others could ever DREAM of doing. But I don't need to tell you this, do I? Because tonight you've given me all the tools I need. You want to talk about motivation? I have years worth of demons to exorcise -The North American Championship tournament, the WGTT. Losing against Ryan Rondo. A year of so near yet so far, and the fear of doing it again is all I need to unleash this STORM upon you. And make no mistake about it, that storm is coming in all its power and fury. I need to make an example of you. Thanks to you and your stipulation and your efforts to get as many eyes on this as possible, you've ensured that the entire world is going to be watching. But they're not going to see you… they're going to see ME. Shove a finger in the eye of every one that doubted me And not only that but after tonight? I have to move on from you, Philip I have to move on to the finals I have to. Chris will be watching tonight. I don't doubt it for a second. And he'll find no weakness in me. He'll find no mercy. He'll find not a word of a lie in anything that I've said to you. I love him truly, but we know what has to happen in Japan I AM the rightful FWA Champion in spite of all of your lies and all of Cyrus’s schemes, and tonight I'll bring fire and fury to prove it. And after that? I'm going to BIB. The site of my masterpiece, the greatest show on earth. Cy will doubt me just like you did. He'll deny what I am. But after tonight? He'll have to do exactly what you do, to believe his own words. He'll have to LIE. And when he lies, every time he'll be reminded of the story of PAJ, the last man who lied to the rightful champion. He'll be reminded of what happened to the last man who tried to go on my way. Phillip you're going to be burned to the ground. Not because I HATE you… but because I need to. How long have you craved fame and immortality,? Well, tonight you’ll get it. Tonight, when this ends, and your mind is broken once and for all, and you leave my life forever a sad, empty shell of the man you once were? All the world will talk about it. All the world will talk about how Bell Connelly is going to BIB.

    The door to the fury slammed shut, and suddenly the camera was falling. As high as it had climbed, now it was cascading down stairways and corridors and deeper and deeper into the darkness of PAJ's mind. Faster than it had ever moved before, toward the black abyss of fear.

    Bell Connelly: "Your mind will fall, Phil, and there will be nobody there to catch you. You will break, and all that will be left for you is a very mortal...fear."

    Still, the camera fell. Past the door marked Pride. Past the door marked Doubt, where the doubt demon was now loose in the halls and tearing at the wallpaper, howling like a banshee and beating itself on the headThe camera arrived all the way back at the door marked 'Fear', and it yawned open to receive it. The camera was sucked in, and the door slammed shut. A lock clicked. In the darkness, the camera thrashed around looking for an escape, for light, for solace.

    But there was none.
    The most amazing thing about this recent conversation is that I've learned AON is even more of a waste of space than I thought he was previously

  7. #7
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    Re: 25 May - World Grand Prix DAY 3 Promo Thread

    May 23rd, 2018


    f r e e y o u r m i n d


    A mantra rings out with a small clang a cymbal. Cracking noises are heard. The camera opens to the night sky. A view full of bright twinkling stars and a giant glowing moon. A single frame passes where an eye can be seen in the moon. The camera gently pans down to see the man who's been on somewhat of a roll in FWA as of late. The Interstellar Shaman Starr sits by the roaring campfire. He's yet again shirtless, sitting in his usual meditation pose. His eyes are closed and his hands are pressed together. Feeling the cool night air on his back, but the warmth and comfort of the fire on his front. The mantra from before repeats and continuously builds in volume, another cymbal clang pulls Starr's eyes open. The young star smiles warmly inviting the viewer in.

    Starr: Welcome once again younglings to the most soul cleansing, body nurturing, eye opening experience of your lives. The point in time at which atoms collide, the right seems wrong, and the third eye… is open. I am your guide in this world both physical and spiritual. The gatekeeper and keymaster to the inner light. The Intergalactic Guru, Starr.

    Starr takes a deep breath and holds it, another cymbal clang marks Starr’s slow exhale. He resumes his prayer stance and smiles at the camera again.

    Much love to you all. I am so overwhelmed with gratitude as I reflect upon how the past month in FWA have refined me… have defined me… and how my upcoming battles will unbind me… and I will become the top athlete and performer in FWA. Because now when I meditate on how close I am to reaching the pedestal that has far eluded me, I see the warm light. I am only a few key victories close to purifying the FWA… and I can wrestle on the biggest stage in FWA history. I am simply… overwhelmed with how sweet the divine grace and the light of nirvana truly is that brought me from my pre-enlightened past… to my glorious present where I have the opportunity to create a moment that transcends me… and create a massive shift in the unenlightened mass's ideology of what can and cannot be done in the sport in which I act… and I will continue this journey towards the great enlightenment in FWA at Back in Business.

    Back in Business last year is where I turned my career around from the nose dive it was taking and turned it into the meteoric rise that continues to this day. I let go of the things that held me down and grabbed hold of what would bring me up. I let go of Risky Douglas not because I wanted to neglect him, but because I simply couldn't live in the past. There are individuals out there that do not understand and try to resist change, but the beautiful and amazing reality of this is when you understand the fragile nature of the worldly possessions you cling to and love, you truly begin to hold them dear and show appreciation and gratitude that they deserve.

    Starr does some sort of Tai Chi moves bringing his arms out and pulling them back in.

    That's how I have treated this opportunity…

    Starr's peaceful and tranquil trance is broken when the fire begins to grow larger and larger. Starr remains undeterred. He looks into the flame with a piercing gaze.

    But oh… I foresee an obstacle in at play. A danger, a dark energy draws near and looks to tear off my wings and send me plummeting back into obscurity. I have the distinct dirty duty of dealing with this derelict demon filled with dark decisions… and I will dispose of him.

    Ladies and gentlemen, lately, I've been finding things… amiss. An imbalance in the natural order. What was up is down. Things in the FWA Universe are not as they should be. I believe I have found the source of the irregularities:

    Christopher Manson…

    The flames slowly morph into a face similar to Christopher Manson’s. Starr still remains stoic and unyielding in his stance against the flame. It rages and dances in the night sky.

    You see, Manson, your actions, your attitude, your behavior has all shifted the axis in a way that is irrefutably unacceptable. I have decided to take it upon myself to decide upon someone to take action. As it would be coincidence, I have an opportunity against you this week on Fight Night. So now, I will be the scales that tips the balance back to where it should be.

    Starr waves his hand over the flame causing it to back away and return to normal.

    My experiences with you have been small, but they’ve been enough for me to read and understand you. Our tag match, you threw me out of the ring after I finished our opponent off and stole the glory for yourself. And I let you live with that. I didn't see it as a failure on my part, I saw it as another failure that you’ve done to yourself. You are not to be trusted. And the deeper and deeper I go, the less light I see when I look back. You are distorted, Manson. But I shall selflessly help you.

    I will show you the weakness of toughness... the strength of control…. I will show you that your small minded attempt at carving your own path has shunned the one person that cares about you.

    And for that I ask, how much? How much can a man like you disregard what is right before his eyes, the inevitable truth? How much do you hate, Manson? It is not enough. It will never be enough. You don't intimidate me, sir. You or the bulk of mass you have that follows you… Speaking of…

    You carry with you a key to success in BUCK, but you relegate him to be your whipping boy. You think you're better than him. No, no, no I see the true potential that young BUCK possesses. I see that the guiding light he needs is not from you, but that what he needs his independence from the darkness that follows you.

    I will eliminate you from this World Grand Prix, Manson. Just like I have done to everyone who's stepped in my way. How? With the absence of desire, self, and full… of gratitude. I will risk this vessel made of flesh, muscle, and blood, sacrificing everything I can and letting go of the pain that may come and I will strike my opponent down at his most vulnerable... and it won't be for just me, but for BUCK as well.

    The flame quickly extinguishes without warning, like it had been stomped out by a force invisible to the eye. Starr is cascaded in the moon’s glow. He speaks softly.

    It is silent.

    Who is left to hear the secret?

    The camera slowly zooms in on Starr's face. He closes his eyes and assumes his meditation pose.

    Who will share our vision?

    The “f r e e y o u r m i n d” mantra returns and continues to loop and grow in volume. A bright eye opens up in the center of Starr's forehead. It looks around, up, to the left, until it finally centers up and looks into the camera. A cymbal clangs and marks the opening of Starr's eyes. They glow as well. A quick cut to black as the chant slowly lowers in volume.


  8. #8
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    Re: 25 May - World Grand Prix DAY 3 Promo Thread

    No More Fight

    Dave Sullivan walks up to Tyrone's Paterson New Jersey apartment.

    It's pretty crummy and run down. He still clearly hasn't gotten enough money to permanently move out of the hood. Or maybe he doesn't want to.

    Dave stands out like a sore thumb in this neighborhood. There he is in a fancy suit. Everyone else there is looking very...urban.

    Dave goes up to Ty's apartment and bangs on the door. He waits about a minute before banging again. Still no answer. Dave jiggles the door knob, and it turns open. It wasn't even locked.

    The apartment is trashed. There are McDonald's bags everywhere. Garbage, pizza boxes, soda cans, and clothes. There's a spilled bong laying on the floor, and there's a family of flies hovering over the couch.

    Dave almost throws up as he waffles through the apartment.

    Finally he gets to the back Bedroom. Laying there passed out in the bedroom, with an untrimmed beard on his face and nothing but a stained wife beater and a pair of black boxer briefs is Ty Johnson.

    Sullivan looks disgusted. He gives Johnson a kick.

    Dave: Get the fuck up.

    Ty groans a little bit, and Dave kicks him again.

    Dave: We've got another fight to prepare for. You've already lost two fights in a row. They were tough opponents, I get it.

    But this is James Hughes of all people. You are more than above his level. I know you are. But not if you don't put in at least minimal effort.

    Come on, Ty. This is your bounce back week. Management specifically gave you this fight to get an easy win and break the losing streak.

    But it's not going to be an easy win if you don't even show up.

    Ty tries to stumble to his feet. He's on his knees, and he pushes himself up.

    He's moving his mouth, and it looks like he's got something to say.

    When suddenly...

    Ty throws up right on Sullivan's shoes, and passes out again.

    Sullivan is furious now. He looks about done.

    Dave: That's it. Fine, you don't want to do this anymore? That's fine by me.

    You can prepare for this one on your own. If you even show up.

    I don't know what's happened to you, but you aren't the same guy who was competing on Ground Zero a year ago.

    You have the chance now to fight the guy who was your Ground Zero coach. We could be hyping this thing up as a mentor vs rising star sort of thing. But instead you're laying there giving no shits whatsoever.

    Well fine. If you're not going to care anymore then neither am I.

    You're on your own.

    Sullivan walks out. Leaving Ty to lay in his own filth and patheticness.

  9. #9
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    Gambit's Avatar

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    Re: 25 May - World Grand Prix DAY 3 Promo Thread

    It’s come down to this.

    It’s come down to two champions.

    One the World Heavyweight champion and the other the X-Division champion. Both of us have four points a piece. Both of us are at the top of our games, and both of us did not make it to this point of the group stage to lose. The winner of this stage advances on in the Grand Prix, where they will face the winner of Group C.

    Ever since the World Grand Prix was announced, I thought about this moment. I thought about what I would feel stepping into the ring with the World Heavyweight champion of FWA for the second time. I can remember our first encounter as if it were yesterday. A rookie Tristan James Galloway, bright eyed and innocent unaware of the challenges and obstacles that would he would one day face. A young man who began listening to the hype machine that is the FWA fan base, where people believed him to be the next big thing. Where people considered me to be a potential challenger for the North American championship, but for now would be tested by the current World champion in Cyrus Truth.

    I buckled.

    I buckled under the pressure. As many rookies would in the beginning of their career as they are placed against the World Heavyweight champion. Many expected it, but some questioned if an underdog story would transpire.

    I remember everything about that night. Before awaiting my entrance in gorilla position, I remember pacing around the locker room with a lump in my throat, palms sweaty, and feeling as if I was on the verge of puking my guts up. The pressure of delivering a stellar performance the people had grown accustomed to when seeing a Tristan James Galloway match. A man wanting to go out there and lay it all on the line… yet feeling scared and vulnerable, but never wanted these emotions to bubble up the surface. I had to appear cool, calm, and collected. For some, the outcome wasn’t to be questioned. The World champion was expected to win.

    Fast forward a year or so, and I now find myself the holder of the X-Division championship. No longer wide eyed and a virgin of combat. I am man who has been baptized by the fires of combat. Battled tested and ready. I know what is expected of me in this bout and what I must do. I know the depths my opponent is willing to go in order to secure victory. I know the opinions of most of the people watching this bout.

    Cyrus Truth will win. So it is written, so it shall come to pass. It’s as indisputable as gravity. It’s inevitable, it’s expected. It was the outcome the last time he and I met in the middle of the ring. There’s no reason why it should be any different. Yet I stand before you ready for battle, ready to deliver an outcome no one is expecting. Because I choose to not live your reality. I choose to not accept the statue quo. I choose to not buy into the hype of an individual molded to be an unstoppable deity. He’s a man and man is prone to errors. Man has strengths and weakness- weaknesses that can be exploited and will be exploited.

    I have listened to your words over the last couple of weeks, Cyrus. You say we are all chasing you, and you’re right. After all, you hold the prize we all seek. You’re the dealer, so to speak. You have been around for so long and such a success that it’s hard to see the chink in the armor, but it’s there. Trust me. As the weeks have passed, as I prepared for the inevitable encounter with you, I began to see the vulnerability.


    Your ego is your greatest asset, yet your greatest detriment. Your ego made you the World Heavyweight champion. Your ego cost you the world championship before, and your ego will cost you the Group D. When I look at you, Cyrus. I know you don’t see me as an equal. You think of me as a peasant. After all, whats the X-Division title to the World title? What’s a Tristan James Galloway to a Cyrus Truth, a man of prestige and experience. A proven track record of greatness. Next to you, I am nothing- so you would have me believe. A year ago, I would have. The last time we met, we played chicken and I lost. Now, I drive the car just a little bit faster, a little bit straighter, ready for the possibility of collision. We both sit on top of the leader board with four points a piece. I have proven that I am more than capable of not only competing against you, but I can beat you. Despite what anybody else may think. Despite what the negative voices inside my head my scream. I spit in the faces of my detractors. I spit in yours, daring you to fight me. Daring you to look me in the eyes and tell me I am not on your level. Because I am and I will be, and you will soon learn that fact. You will soon sing the tune of the shattered sympathy.

  10. #10
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    Re: 25 May - World Grand Prix DAY 3 Promo Thread

    Eyesnsane is seated on an empty patch of beach with nobody around him. The sun freshly risen in the sky shedding light on him as it ushers in a new day as the only sounds that can be heard are the waves that crest along the shoreline as water rushes towards him seeming to disappear into the sand just before reaching the man sitting right over left as well as the intermittent songs of birds in the distance. Eyesnsane is shirtless and wearing black shorts, no shoes or socks. His eyes are closed his face has a light chin strap beard that has grown in the thick mustache has given way to a thin goatee that connects to it and his head bald now as his hair is gone.

    Defeat is not an ending, it is but a moment in time. In the FWA I have been defeated many times. Yet those defeats are not what define me. They are neither who I am nor a measure of my success or limitations. I am sure I have as well proven time and time again that for each time I fall I rise. Much like the mythical Phoenix seemingly from ashes I not only rise but attain new glory not as before but better than I once was.

    This tournament has concluded for me. Such is fate for me it served merely as a distraction. I made a vow weeks ago upon my return to the FWA. I have not forgotten that vow. The X division finds itself in need of a change more of a return as I see it. Though my next fight is apart of this tournament it is also the next step on my path to achieve the vow I set out to accomplish.

    His eyes open and slowly he rises to his feet. He slowly takes a few steps out into the water walking out into the Pacific ocean until he finds himself waist deep in the water and he begins running along the beach.

    Strength against any and all resistance is a need in life and in fighting. Make no mistake that fighting is what I live to do. So it seems we have at least that in common Ty. That may also be were our commonalities end. To listen to you speak is a bit perplexing. On one hand perhaps you are a man who uses defeat as a form of motivating yourself. To focus on one's ceiling is something I think is dangerous. To do so is to first defeat your own mind. You seem to have given into the thought that you can only rise so high, but I ask how high might that be. Within your own mind you choose to accept that there is some level you will never ascend to. I have to wonder firstly why that might be.

    The water thrashes about his legs as he has to exert extra effort to run in the depth of the water while keeping himself balanced as waves crash into him from the side.

    Another commonality we share, we have both been beaten by the woman called Bell. Yet you seem to take such defeat as a finality. You have come out and told the world that there are only some many whom you can beat and have chosen to accept that you will never rise above that station in the FWA. So why? Why continue at all? Why climb into that ring one more time, certainly this company will not look upon you with pity. You can’t think the challenges will get any easier. I suppose I am questioning if you have any goals at all. Oh and I get it, you make clear you are nobody’s hero not even your own.

    Yes of course I know you used that rhetoric as motivation but I also see through the frenzy you tried to whip yourself into before taking on Paj. Name calling and a frenzy of attacks. Blind fury I suppose is a way to go. You know at this point I feel like I’ve seen it all. Gods and goddesses, astonishing prodigies bears clowns superheros and even a damn robot. There's really nothing new under the sun. We are all just different, that’s about it and of course walking different paths ours just happen to be crossing at this point and time. One of us will leave this tournament with zero points and not a single win while one of us will work our way forward to become the next and new X division champion. We can just assume since I’m not Tommy Thunder I’m a pretty safe bet to win.

    Reaching a rocky outcropping Eyesnsane hops up out of the water landing on the rocks as the waves and water splash against them spraying water and mist into the air.

    As for your challenge, you know the one where you said you would fight anybody on the roster in a street fight anytime and any place. I got you homie. Me and you, I’ll leave trademarks around your eye! Oh and let the suits be listing cause they could make our upcoming fight that fight now, but if not for the sake of their little pony show leading to one of the usuals going to fight for the title in the main event. When this this is a memory I’ll take you up on that fight. Maybe you don’t know about me. Maybe you think you are special and the only guy around who comes from hard times. I don’t know about Paterson. I know I’m from Chicago! I know I grew up in Terror Town and you can google that homie we invented street fighting better step your growth and development up! Oh but don’t believe cuz. You about to feel me soon enough. I’m gonna show you right here in L.A. how we get down in the Chi!!

    He folds his arms in front of him as the scene fades to black.

  11. #11

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    Re: 25 May - World Grand Prix DAY 3 Promo Thread



    The Astonishing Chris Kennedy lays sprawled out across a plastic beach chair, watching the waves crash onto the shoreline. His black aviator sunglasses conceal his bloodshot eyes as he raises his beer to his lips, finishing the can of Pabst Blue Ribbon before dropping into the graveyard of empty beer cans and bottles he's made beside himself. A lit cigarette rests between his index and ring fingers though it's all but forgotten, an inch of ash hanging off of it. Kennedy begins singing along to the radio beside him. The song is "Vacation" by The Go-Go's.

    "Can't seem to get my mind off of yoooou. Back here at home there's nothin' to dooooo.
    Now that I'm away, I wish I'd stayed. Tomorrow's a day of mine that you won't be in."

    Chris seems to notice our presence and he smiles at us, reaching over to turn the radio down and give us his full attention.

    "Oh hello there, friends. Seems you've caught me out here having myself a much needed break. A little rest & relaxation can't do nothing but good. I think I've deserved this, what with completely decimating Group B of The World Grand Prix. Chris Kennedy - UNDEFEATED. 4 Points. Mike Parr, 2 Points. Jason Randall, 2 points. Deception...ZERO POINTS. And so it would seem, I've been given a bye-week of sorts. 'But Chris Kennedy' you are saying to yourself. 'You don't have the week off. You are facing Deception.' And to that I ask, which one is Deception?"

    He scratches his chin and ponders the question for a second.

    "I suppose to understand who Deception is, I have to understand what Deception is. 'Deception', by definition, is the art of lying. See, that makes sense because week after week, the man known as Deception walks down to that ring with a microphone in his hand and makes several promises. A promise to the FWA fans, one where he vows to take control of his destiny and avenge his previous loss. A promise to his opponents, one where he insists that he will defeat them because they've never stepped foot in the ring with someone such as himself. A promise to himself, one where eventually, someday, he is going to become the FWA Champion, in spite of his failures. Each week, he vows to achieve things he knows he can't achieve, and that is why his name is so appropriate."

    Kennedy stands from his beach chair and stretches a bit, before walking towards the water, the waves rolling onto his bare feet.

    "The thing is, in Deception's mind, these aren't lies. He truly believes in these fallacies. Perhaps he should change his name to Delusion. Deception's entire gimmick might be all about telling lies, but let's talk about someone who always honest. Someone who does what they say they are going to do and never makes excuses. That person is ME, The Astonishing Chris Kennedy. Said I was going to blow through this entire tournament, right? Told you I was going to piss all over Jason Randall, told you I was going to shit on Mike Parr, told you I was going to do whatever it took to WIN and to keep WINNING. Love me or hate me, I'm the most honest man in the Fantasy Wrestling Alliance. That's why, when you look at the score board for the tournament, you see a 4 by name. One point for every goddamn World Championship I've won. This is why Deception is a zero. He's a zero in this tournament, he's a zero in this business, he's a zero in life. He's an insignificant little piss-ant who, week after week after week, is defeated by men of lesser caliber than me. But he shouldn't feel discouraged, I'm sure someday Deception will go far, I just hope that when he does, he stays there. It must now be obvious why I am considering this a bye-week. Have you seen Deception cut a promo? They say that laughter is the best medicine and if that's true, Deception's promos can cure cancer. How else does anyone think this will go down? I am a GOD in this business and he is nothing more than bacteria beneath my fingernails. I am the GREATEST wrestler of all time, and while many of the other dildo's on this roster make the same claim, I'm the only one capable of backing it up. Google me."

    Kennedy walks further into the water and at this point it's up to his knees.

    "What has Deception achieved exactly? In the Fantasy Wrestling Alliance, the answer is 'nothing at all.' Reason being, he is unmotivated, unskilled and unworthy. I've seen men like him come and go during my years and while Deception may not ever hold the FWA Championship or truly get a grasp on the English language, that's not to say that he isn't essential to the economy of the Fantasy Wrestling Alliance. We need curtain-jerking sacks of shit like Deception because it's important to have jobber matches every once in a while. Take now, for instance. Because Deception exists, I can kick back on the beach and listen to some 80's music while I'm rip-shit on PBR's and Hash Oil, instead of having to break a sweat with virtually anyone else. We need those bottom pillars, y'know. Otherwise, the middle and the top of this whole thing collapses. So Deception is going to fill out his role just as so many before him have. He is going to take this L and then he's going to go back to his hobbit-hole he crawled out of. I'm going to march forward towards that Back in Business main event because I know, sure a shit, that Cyrus Truth has no doubt paid attention to my standings in the GP. He knows that I'll defeat anyone who comes in my way and the inevitable Back in Business main event is Cyrus Truth vs Chris Kennedy. The Flavor-Of-The-Month Placeholder Champion VS The Greatest Man Who Ever Lived. And I will win that match and become a FIVE TIME World Champion. My BIB Streak will be 8-0 and I would like to remind every one of what I said earlier, I DO every damn thing I say I'm going to do. This is no exception. Deception, when you see this promo, pay attention to that last bit. What I just did? I looked PAST you and towards the future. This is something you'll never understand, because you have no future. My name is The Astonishing Chris Kennedy, and I the end of you.

    By now, the water is at Chris Kennedy's waist. He peacefully begins swimming further out, the sun beginning to set as our scene fades.

  12. #12

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    Re: 25 May - World Grand Prix DAY 3 Promo Thread

    Simply put, it isn’t a nice time to be alive. On the cusp of never ending nuclear conflict with North Korea all the way down to that burning the spaghetti that you had looked forward to having for dinner after a long day at work….life is realistically just one big disappointment after another.

    Now…not to be one to diminish the travesty of over-cooking spaghetti, but everyone has their crosses to bear. You know what life is? It is navigating those disappointments effectively until finally, one day, you release your last breath. When you release that breath, and that light flashes before you, you can only hope that you have navigated those obstacles sufficiently enough so that you will be remembered in a favorable light. It doesn’t matter if it’s your never ending charity work, your list of personal accomplishments in your chosen field or even the fact that you never overcooked the spaghetti, everyone has their own interpretation of what that favorable light should be.

    Right now, I should say almost everyone. Because there is one person in particular who is used to navigating these obstacles so that when it comes the time to breath his last, he will know exactly how he will be remembered. At least, in his head, that was the pipe dream. It appears he has more work to do.

    “Has it really come to this?” asked the unmistakable voice of Mike Parr, although admittedly from first listen lacking any sort of gravitas or enthusiasm that was present when speaking to him a couple of weeks ago.

    “My least favorite thing in the world is the dead rubber. That awful phrase used to describe the opposition battling for nothing other than to fulfill a pre-existing arrangement. It is up there with the game that can be played to see who finishes third or fourth. It means nothing to me. It means nothing to anything. Just two performing monkeys put out in front of their audience and told to do their thing for the enjoyment of those watching…”

    “Alas, I find myself sitting here staring down the barrel of having to participate in such a demeaning event. I have to walk out into that arena and face across from me Jason Randall, an also-ran in this tournament that never stood a prayer….and you know what I need to realize? That as of this contest, and this stupid premise, I am on his level. And that makes me want to be violently ill.”

    “Not the type of violently ill where I stick both my fingers down my throat and heave, but the type of violently ill where my favorite whiskey sits uneasy in my stomach until it makes a re-appearance. It’s a reaction, and unavoidable reaction, and it’s a feeling that I’m not going to be able to shake for quite a long time. “

    Parr is indeed sitting in the luxury of his own rented apartment at the moment, sitting at the makeshift bar. I call it makeshift because it is an island in the middle of his kitchen with a selection of whiskey and tumbler glasses in front of him. Parr strokes what are the beginnings of a beard, the result of a number of days not shaving. Sure, what does it matter now anyway? He isn’t on any promo tours to promote Back in Business because the one match that he feels like he should be in is now otherwise preoccupied. And worse, potentially preoccupied by Chris Kennedy. Parr swirls around the whiskey tumbler in front of him, particularly conscious of his violently ill ramblings previously.

    “This is the point in time where everyone would probably expect me to be bitter and smoldering over the fact that I was screwed in my match with Kennedy, that he cheated to get past me and get through to the semi-final spot that should definitely be mine. But you know what? If you think that you are an idiot. Worse…you are a moron, a moron who is not mentally equipped or capable of understanding how such a brilliant and complex mind even works. Did he cheat? Yes. But you know who I’m pissed off at?? You know who I want to punish?”


    “And no, not in a self-pity sort of way, but in a way that I know that I should know better. That I should expect that sort of garbage to be pulled. I pride myself on believing that I am the best total wrestler that this company offers. I pride myself on being one of the best minds in this business. And I can’t see the obvious in front of me, that Kennedy will do whatever it takes to win? Next time Chris….next time….”

    Parr still hasn’t downed the whiskey in front of him, instead choosing to stroke the aforementioned beginnings of a beard while he sits and thinks about it.

    “But this dead rubber. This pointless coming together. Again….I know what everyone is thinking, that this is a chance for redemption? That this is a chance to right a very very massive wrong that was in the forefront of everyone’s minds before this tournament began? Again…have you not learned anything…..If you think that you are an idiot. Worse….you are a moron, a moron who is not mentally equipped or capable of understanding how such a brilliant and complex mind even works.”

    “Let me be clear. Jason Randall is a pissant who is not worth my time. There is no baying for blood. There is no holy crusade to correct the wrongs I feel that were committed when he came out on top during our last meeting. Jason Randall is not Back at Business and he is not the World Championship…he isn’t even the North American Championship. Do I need to switch gears, get over the disappointment of being out of the running for the championship match? Maybe. But is it going to marginally help improve my mood and settle my stomach if I get to beat the tar out of somebody for 10 minutes on Day 3 of the World Grand Prix? Guess there’s only one way to figure that one out…. There is no underlying tension. There is no thirst for revenge…..the only thirst that I have right now however is pretty apparent….”

    Without any further hesitation Parr lifts the tumbler and sinks the whiskey in one quick swoop.

    “So Fight Night Grand Prix Day 3, tune in or don’t, I couldn’t really care less. Watch Jason fight what he may undoubtedly call the biggest test of his career. She if he can back up the undoubted promises he is making to shut me up. Tune in to see if Kennedy can rob his way to another victory. I simply don’t care what you do. But I’ll certainly turn up for my appearance, collect my pay-check and fulfill my schedule. And I’ll certainly be able to report back if beating the hell out of someone for 10 mins has helped keep that whiskey down…”

  13. #13
    God of Destruction
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    Re: 25 May - World Grand Prix DAY 3 Promo Thread


    Broken dreams, and memories filled the atmosphere in marriage to sorrow, pain, and shattered emotions. The walls were scraped with damages from things launched straight into its defenses, and it smelled like a tornado rustled through the furniture. The moonlight beamed on the shattered glass from the wall mirrors, broken furniture of what could be made out as bed furniture such bed side stands, and even other boards. Lamps were ripped in halves, and picture frames were smashed among the floor. Sitting down on the only chair that survived this path of destruction, Wolf was. Leaning over with his forearms against his thighs, the image was intimidating; A man without family or friends is sitting in his own bedroom all broken, and down on his luck. His knuckles are bleeding, and his shirt is torn as if he had a fight with a lion. He stands in silence for a few moments then shifts his eyes toward the camera casually, as a smirk begins to form across his face. He taps his baseball bat on his shoulder a couple times, glancing around the darkened room before he squares up with the camera.

    Wolf: I feel like I ought to say something dark and mysterious here. I mean, a guy dressed in all black and carrying a black baseball bat, standing alone inside a dark, broken room? Yeah, that's pretty much every cliche in one nice, neat little bundle. You know, you don't really realize how much you're surroundings influence you when you're standing here in front of the camera. All I ever asked for in my life was to be normal. A normal childhood, a normal teenage life, a normal household, a normal family, a normal career, a normal death. Normality was all I wanted, and yet God couldn't give me that. Ever since I was a child, I made choices that either benefit me or cost me dearly. Choices that I would be happy to make on my own but the luxury was not a privilege. My parents were killed when I was a young boy and everything I wanted was taken away from me. I feel like I should be switching back to my Batman voice for this little segment, something all dark and mysterious and threatening for the kids watching at home. And if I know Tommy Thunder, you know...the guy I'll be facing tomorrow night on Fight Night? If I know Tommy, then he'll be expecting something like that from me. If there's anyone who takes himself waaaay too serious, it's Tommy Thunder. And no, that's not necessarily a bad thing but come on, where's the smiles? The laughs? Where's the fun? Where's the actual substance, you know the stuff that really sticks with you when you strip all the fancy extras away...

    He raises his eyebrows as an idea suddenly pops into his head. He grins at the camera.

    Wolf: In fact, let me take a quick sec to make my point even further. I'll be switching to my Batman voice for this next part, so sit back and relax and check this out, because this is the kind of stuff people normally expect from someone who's dressed like I am. Check this out...

    He clears his throat, preparing to get his 'Dark Knight' on for the fans at home.

    Wolf (Batman Voice): Tomorrow night is going to be a summit of sacrifice as two warriors come face to face on the field of honor, prepared to make whatever sacrifice is necessary in order to claim victory over their enemy. On one side, a man who walks the path of lunacy...dark, mysterious and unpredictable, he battles the monsters hidden within his very soul, fighting them tooth and nail for control over the only thing he has left in this world...his own humanity. And on the other side, Tommy Thunder...a grown man who dresses like the host of a TV show on the Food Network. The ultimate battle is upon us and one man will make the ultimate sacrifice.

    He pulls a face, shaking his head at how it all sounds when you actually hear it.

    Wolf: See what I mean? What the hell was all that supposed to be? I mean most of it was true but still...I guess that's what it's like being Ryan Hall or something. It's weird. But that's what I'm saying, you never know what the hell to expect from someone like me. That's my gift, my bottom line for this entire segment. [ he shrugs a little ] Another good example? You take Tommy again...sorry for picking on you so much buddy (no I'm not)... We call him Darth Vader of FWA for a reason. But unfortunately for him, the only thing he manages to choke into submission with the fans' interest in seeing this guy every damn week. I mean even the kids were falling asleep when this guy was out there and the ones that weren't? They were on the lookout for the hotdog guy because they needed to reload, so they could throw something else at him! And never once did it don on him that the people don't like him for one reason. It's because even the most jaded wrestling fan can take one look at Tommy Thunder and know that this guy is a phony! Tommy Thunder is a man who sounds like Guy Fieri but looks like Guy Ritchie. And he comes out in front of the camera with his arms crossed and his sunglasses on in the middle of the afternoon indoors (because pro wrestling, right?) and he'll deliver the most intense two and a half minutes of TV that anyone could ask for. But is it really that entertaining? Is he really saying anything that people don't hear like fifteen times every week? Tommy's the kind of guy I'd like to have on my side if I was in a barfight or something like that. But his greatest weakness is his repetitive nature.

    He moves to lean against the wall, looking over his bat while he continues to make his point.

    Wolf: Thunder's successful because he works a tight, familiar style. His punches are solid, his suplexes are crisp and he knows just how to hurt you when he really wants to. But like I mentioned before with the theatrics, what's really left when you strip all of that praise away? The answer...Tommy's a predictable guy. He relies on what's familiar and if someone ever forces him outside of his comfort zone, the guy falls apart like a wet pancake. That's why he's been on the skids as of late, it's part of the reason he is 2 to nothing in the Grand Prix tournament, it's why he's been stuck at the bottom of the rankings like, forever.

    That's when the smile returns to his face. Wolf bore no serious ill will towards Tommy Thunder. But there were no friends inside the ring, a hard lesson he'd learned a long time ago when he was first starting out. He scratches his chin lightly then presses his hand against his chest.

    Wolf: Thunder can stand in the ring and go on for hours about who's stronger with the force, but the fact of the matter is that when we share that ring tomorrow, consider me the f*cking Death Star because I'm gonna take aim and blow Tommy Thunder's ass into a thousand pieces! I'm a firecracker. I'm unpredictable. I could pull a rubber chicken out of my tights and cockslap him into submission three minutes into the match. I could pull off a wicked 630 legdrop from the top rope...well, if I was the aerial type...or the athletic type...or went to the top rope...or knew how many rotations went into a 630...or remembered the guy responsible for inventing the move in the first know what, forget the 630. That was a bad example. But my point is that you don't know what's coming when you're up against me. If anyone says they knew it was me under the Deadman costume, they're lying through their teeth. No one has ever known what to expect from me and that's why I'm the North American Champion. It's why I shocked Tristan James Galloway with my ol' buddy Donald Trump at the PPV. And I'm not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, if it nets me any kind of advantage. Hell, I'd go out there and wrestle in a Donald Duck costume if I thought it would give me the upper hand against someone...and that's the one WITHOUT the pants on!

    It certainly helped that Wolf had an ass like a superhero. Google "Wolf Ass" from the Red White and Bruised 2009. You know you want to.

    Wolf: Then again, I suppose you could say the same thing about Daffy Duck. He doesn't have any pants either. But then he doesn't have a shirt. Donald has a shirt and he works at Disneyland...Daffy doesn't have clothes and gets shot almost every episode he's in. I don't think it's right but if you want to freeball it, I'm not going to stop you...

    He pauses a moment as his eyes slowly shift back and forth, realizing he was beginning to ramble off-topic.

    Wolf: We might have ourselves a technical classic, we might wrestle right down to the wire the way they did in the NWA...hell, we might end up in Brooklyn, trading punches right in the middle of Juvenille's living room. Still hate the guy. Who the hell knows?! But what I DO know is that it's going to be good. It's going to be vicious. And when we're done kicking the crap out of each other, I'm gonna go home waiting to see how Starr and Manson ends up. So Tommy? You better be ready for one hell of a ride, because we've got ourselves a date with destiny on Fight Night tomorrow. And I've got my Batman voice all ready to go. [ he glances at his baseball bat ] Oh...and I'll be bringing my little buddy here along with me. And why, you ask?

    He aims the bat right at the camera.


    He grins as we fade to black.
    "You only need to hang mean bastards, but mean bastards you need to hang."

  14. #14
    Man of the Hour
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    Re: 25 May - World Grand Prix DAY 3 Promo Thread

    We are brought to the carnival place in Manson's imagination again. But it's not in a good shape unlike the last time we see it. A lot of machines are rotten or non-functional. We finally catch a glimpse of where the creator of this imaginary realm is and our clues gets us to a tunnel of love ride. But instead it is written down something else:


    We slowly get inside and see the highlights of WOLF's career, including his title wins or Main-Events at Back In Business. When we reach the end we see the last highlight:

    Wolf throws a clothesline but Manson ducks then springboards off the ropes, looking for a crossbody and Wolf catches him! Wolf immediately hoists him onto his shoulders and hits the Final Howl! Wolf makes the pin, picking up the big victory!

    Winner: Wolf (8:03)
    Then our gaze slowly turns to a boat that has been slightly burned but barely functioning. And we finally get to see Christopher Manson who is just glaring at nothing with a thoughtful expression. Manson turns his eyes to us and begins to talk.

    ''Well, it is clearly not to best time to catch me like this. I mean, I am fresh from a loss, obviously in a brooding mood. Just look at this, people. The mastermind behind the Sin City Vultures loses just like that.''

    We see the Final Howl again. Manson speaks in a tone of agony while rubbing the bridge of his nose with his two fingers

    ''I know what all of you are thinking. Christopher Manson lost! He's not getting any World Championship opportunities soon! WOLF just played him! Well, it's safe to say that I severely underestimated WOLF. I mean, who in their right mind would try a crossbody against somebody with a finisher which can counter it. Who does that?''

    Suddenly Manson starts to chuckle.

    ''Christopher Manson is done. WOLF beat him. Manson's not winning this tournament. I don't know about you but this situation looks eerily familiar. Should I have to remind you that we were in a worse situation in that tag tournament and every night I don't sleep without looking at the trophies. No situation is irreversible. And quite frankly, the hard situations does always seem to find me...and I am no type to refuse them and give up just like that.''

    Manson puts a perverted smile in his face.

    ''And it wouldn't be as sweet if it was any easy, you know?''

    Manson rubs the sides of the boat.

    ''I am not abandoning ship. No, most definitely not. I will continue to sail until I get Cyrus Truth's title on a silver platter. We have gone too far to be stopped, my friends. You and I both know that it is inevitable. And Starr should know better that The Vultures always prevail under pressure.''

    ​The tag champion starts to move the boat to the exit. As he exists 'The Tunnel of Hate', he looks at the sky, particularly one structure.

    ''Now, I would like to leave this stain behind and look to the forward. I still have a mathematical chance to qualify for the semi-finals. And that means I have to beat Starr and wait for....Thunder to win against Wolf....this is getting more desperate every second, isn't it? Or Wolf can beat Thunder...and that would mean I have to beat Starr in....''

    Manson quickly takes out a notebook from the pocket of his jacket and scribbles through his notes. He stops at one page and focuses on it.

    ''Alright, let's look at the data. Starr beat Wolf in thirteen minutes and thirty-seven seconds and he beat Thunder in seven minutes and forty-three seconds. If you put them together it makes a total of twenty-one minutes and twenty seconds. I beat Thunder in nine minutes and thirty-one seconds and....Wolf in eight minutes and three seconds. Yes, I have to be quick. I have to beat Starr in quickest way possible. I can make him hit me in the nuts...but he is too worked up with his hippie stuff. A count-out? Not very likely. Maybe I should get a quick roll-up then? That seems reasonable...but this is Starr we're talking about....and maybe I'm thinking too much.''

    Manson puts his notebook back in his jacket and sighs.

    ''Nothing bad will happen. I will beat Starr. And Wolf won't get a favourable result or time against Thunder. I have to believe it myself to actually make it happen. Because if I fail, then Wolf will get into the semis...or even worse...Starr will get into the semis.''

    Manson shudders at the thought.

    ''Starr...Ian. A text-book example of a likeable underdog...with lots of ups and downs. Personally, I am not the biggest fan of himself but saying that he's not a threat is just madness...and I only do madness once a tournament. DFB had their chance. Wolf had his chance. Sorry Starr, you're getting the best of Christopher Manson and you won't like it. Not one bit.''

    Manson gets up from the boat and starts to wander around the carnival. He speaks while walking.

    ''I'm being serious about ups and downs. Basically, our 'shaman' came to FWA as a cocky son of a gun, but then realized he's being mean to fans and with her friend and our personal old pal Izzy Van Doren, he turned to the light side! The big break of him was his performance in Mile High, where he definitely exceeded expectations and showed anyone he can hang with the best! But Starr needs to realize this: Being able to hang with the best is something...but actually BEATING the best is a whole another thing. Just hanging won't get you success. It will only gain you the meaningless support of the fans. But beating them will make you big. It will make you get above the level of 'underdog of the year.'. But remaining at this level can be your thing Ian, I'm sure it will suit you perfectly.''

    Manson reaches his pocket again, this time he grabs a small box of cigarettes...only to realize he hasn't got any left.

    ''Shit...anyways...the thing I don't really get is...that hippie bullcrap. The Interstellar Shaman. Talking about internal peace or crap like these...I have no idea where that came from.''

    Manson's gaze turns into the viewer.

    ''I want to ask you Ian. Seriously, where did that stuff came from? Let me guess it: just being a fan favourite didn't get you anywhere, did it? And you turned your face to the poisonous teachings of our modern society. The teachings of the rainbow. Teachings about leaving your mind to ecstasy. A false claim of internal peace. It makes me sick. While people like you try to make a 'difference' with your 'peace', our 'violence' and 'chaos' always grows stronger and stronger. And what irritates me the most is, the more bad you lose, the louder you get. It's about that. You try to clean your soul and mind because you know they are dirty. Dirty with lies. You try to free yourself because you are chained to your ignorance and delusion.''

    Manson's eye twitches a little but he still remains the calm impression on his face.

    ''A man like yourself...should never be near any glory. You will get drunk too fast. Look at what your performance in Mile High did to you. One good showing and suddenly you are all flower-child. And if I let you slip away from my will only get worse and worse. You will fall in that ring and grow as a person. You will understand what are we talking about. And you will be glad that I saved you from your nature. For the first time in your career Ian, you will be my feast table. I promise, I won't spare anything.''

    Manson chuckles as our view gets blurrier and finally Manson cuts us from his imagination.

    Worker bees can leave.
    Even drones can fly away.
    The Queen is their slave.

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