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Thread: FWA Anniversary Promo Thread

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    FWA FWA Anniversary Promo Thread

    Please post your promos in here. The promo deadline is 23:59 PST on Friday, July 5th. This is 2:59 EST and 7:59 BST on Saturday, July 6th. Extensions are available on request up until 24 hours before deadline. Any request made after this WILL be automatically denied unless an emergency occurs. Extensions will also be granted to all participants in a match if one participant receives an extension.

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    Team Cyrus T is Best for Business

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

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    Re: FWA Anniversary Promo Thread

    Exile Chronicles (Chapter 2)
    Volume 7: Worship

    We see an image of the backstage area of some random arena. It’s poorly lit and completely empty save for some production crates bearing FWA’s emblem. The silence is deafening...until the sound of heavy footsteps begins to echo.
    Off in the distance, obscured by the lack of lens focus and the bright light behind him, approaches a dark figure...slowly, and with a purpose.

    As the figure continues walking forward down this empty hallway, we hear in the background a familiar chant, one that hasn’t been heard in nearly three years in FWA but is still ingrained into the minds of longtime FWA viewers:

    “Ryan Rondo!” Clap, Clap, Clap-Clap-Clap. “Ryan Rondo!”

    The figure in black continues to make his way down the hall as another familiar chant is heard:

    “Let’s go, Bell! Let’s go, Bell! Let’s go, Bell!”

    Ever closer still, and yet another chant:

    “Triple Champ! Triple Champ! Triple Champ!”

    Yet another.

    “Ken-ne-dy! Ken-ne-dy! Ken-ne-dy!”

    And finally, as the black figure is within mere feet of the camera, the most recent and, lately, loudest chant echoes:

    “Gabrielle! Gabrielle! Gabrielle! Gabrielle!”

    The last chant continues on longer than the others...and seems to get louder and louder and louder still. It almost becomes deafening...until a voice, pointed and commanding pierces through the noise and says,


    The figure, now right in front of the camera, is dressed in all-too familiar ring attire wearing an all-too familiar championship belt around his waist. And as the camera focuses in, Cyrus Truth looks directly at it with a stern, focused determination belying his fierce, almost feral pride.

    “It’s been long enough. I think it’s time we talked about something that needs to be discussed…”

    With a wave of his hand and a flourish of his overcoat, Cyrus turns around as his coat obscures the camera and the feed cuts to black…


    When the camera feed returns, we find ourselves inside a rather ornate, opulent temple that looks like it emerged from the pages of a fantasy novel. The smooth, marble floors with the lapiz lazuli inlays, the meticulously crafted pillars, and absolutely stunning mosaics depicting victories of long-forgotten champions.

    Positioned in the back of this temple is a large statue made of what almost looks like solid gold, although is most assuredly made of a sturdier material that has been made with a golden sheen. The statue depicts a curvy, voluptuous woman with long, flowing hair wearing a very form-fitting robe. At a passing glance, the woman looks oddly familiar...but before any more thought can be given to that, the sound of a bell echoes throughout the chamber.

    Holding the bell is an old man, wizened and wrinked with a pointed white beard and scraggly white hair atop his head. He’s wearing very ornate Hellenistic robes, appearing to be a priest of some kind. He continues to ring the bell as dozens...maybe hundreds of people in similar garb enter the chamber. Though the people look like they come from all walks of life and different social circles, they all come together as one body as the old man quiets them down and delivers his sermon.

    “My brothers and sisters, we come together to once again give praise to our Goddess, who returned after so long to deliver us from the machinations of the wicked and the heretics who dare to defile our most heavenly church with their lies and their tricks. The hour of our Goddess’s ascension to her exaulted throne is upon us, and we stand in reverence of her mercy and splendor! Give praise, my children...give praise!”

    Praise they give as the crowd roars their adulation and cheer for this “Goddess.” The priest gives his flock a simple smile...but his eyes suggest that there’s a blade beneath that peaceful grin. Regardless, the priest continues his sermon as the crowd listens intently, hanging on every word he says all the while gazing upon the statue of their deity with reverence.

    However, just out of sight, a lone figure is leaning against one of the pillars far away from the zealotry and the worship. As we pan closer, we see that it is indeed Cyrus, who looks completely out of place in his normal garb. The FWA World Title, which was around his waist, is nowhere to be seen, as if Cyrus is hiding it from the prying eyes of this temple’s devotees. However, there’s no panic in his expression...rather, it’s one of amusement, as if this whole situation is one big joke. A wry smile crosses his lips as he leans against the pillar, arms crossed in front of him.

    “Did you listen to that? A bunch of horseshit, if we’re being honest. I’ll give that old man credit: he’s at least capable of drumming up a crowd every day for one of these sermons. But in the end, it’s all just dust and echoes. Nothing more substantial than that. Yet, day after day people come to listen to it, and they feel...inspired by the rhetoric. It’s honestly a bit pathetic, and it’s exactly the kind of devotion and worship my opponent at the Anniversary Show lives for.

    “And I know you’re watching this, Gabby, and I know you’re likely twist this and deflect everything I’m saying. But you can’t. Not anymore. You went and showed your true colors last Fight Night, if only for a brief second. Haven’t you been wondering why I laughed in your face at the end of our face off? No...I think you know. You likely don’t want to admit it, because admitting it would also admit that, despite your insistence to the contrary, I CAN see through you. That’s don’t have to admit something to make it the Truth. Truth is Truth, whether you want to accept it or not. The reason I laughed in your face was because you had the gall to suggest that you could destroy my legacy, call to question everything I ever accomplished in professional wrestling and in FWA, and outright EXPOSE me as a fraud and charlatan by beating me for my World Title.”

    Speaking it out-loud again, hearing what Gabrielle had the temerity to suggest almost makes Cyrus laugh again, although The Exile does suppress his chuckle to keep it quiet from the ears of the Goddess’s devotees.

    “How arrogant. How absolutely, unrepentantly arrogant of you, Gabrielle! I knew you had an ego rivalling that of the other self-important would-be gods that have had the misfortune of crossing paths with me, but none of them ever dared to suggest what you just suggested. You think that one match can ruin my career? That you’re somehow more important than all the others I’ve faced to get to the top of the mountain in FWA? Who the fuck are you, that I should fear for my legacy? I’m Cyrus Truth, not some johnny-come-lately wrestler. I’ve been in FWA for three years and have held the World Title four times. The only person to have more reigns is your ex-husband, who I beat to reclaim it. You like to mention that I’ve never won at Back in Business, ignoring the fact that I’ve main evented every single Back in Business I’ve ever competed at, a feat that no one...NO the history of FWA can boast. And you think you...YOU? You think you can take all that away just because you might luck or cheat your way to a win against me? Tell me, you’ve never beaten Bell Connelly. Remember that Women’s Title match? So, does that mean your career was completely invalidated because you couldn’t beat someone whose number I’ve had since the first time I’ve beaten her? How about when Chris Kennedy beat you for the World Title and kept it out of your hands long enough for you to realize that you weren’t at the top of the mountain anymore and decide to take your ball and run home to that monument to your vanity that you call your daughter?

    “Maybe your legacy is one that can be shattered so easily, but mine? Hardly. Legacy is everything to me. It’s the reason why I compete, why I show up and fight as if it’s my last match on earth. You honestly think that I would be so shortsighted to build a legacy that couldn’t survive the twists and turns of the Long and Winding Road? I’ve lost plenty of times, Gabrielle, as you likely are crowing about as I speak. Tell many of those people who beat me once can say they were able to do it again? Just And she’s not here...and she’s twice the competitor that you’ll ever be, regardless of what your worshippers want to believe.

    As if on cue, another roar from the temple crowd erupts in adoration of the Goddess and in response to the preaching of the old man. Cyrus closes his eyes, listening to this worship with a wince and an incredulous expression.

    “That’s what it’s all about for you, isn’t it? The adoration, the love...the worship. Even you can’t deny that you don’t live for that. And I’ll freely are damn good at getting people to worship you. I mean, you don’t call yourself a “Goddess” or get people to call you that if you don’t want to be worshipped as such. The fans love to chant your name, sing your praises, venerate the very ground you walk on and take your words as gospel. It doesn’t matter if you’re not nearly as good as you think you are. It doesn’t matter what you’ve done to achieve those accolades you love to boast about. All that matters is this image of divinity you desperately need to project and the worship of the masses at your omniscience. All the lovers you’ve had can’t begin to rival the sheer ecstasy you feel when the people are chanting your name, calling you their goddess, and begging for you to return to the top of the mountain, even at the expense of a man they’ve come to respect.

    “Can...can I show you something? Because if you’re going to continue seeking worship, I think it’s important to put this into perspective.”

    Cyrus stands up and heads down a corridor away from the crowd and the sermon. The path is clear of people, as it seems the majority of the temple patrons are at the veneration.

    Eventually, Cyrus comes across a guard wearing Spartan-like armor without a helmet standing next to a door with a large lock on it. The guard, who had been dozing off, quickly stands at attention and intercepts Cyrus.

    “You! What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at the Goddess’s ceremo…”

    WHAM! In a flash, Cyrus grabs the head of the guard and rams him into the stone wall, smashing the guard’s face in a sickening crunch. The guard falls in a heap at Cyrus’s feet as The Exile rummages through the guard’s armor, finding a key. Using the key, Cyrus undos the lock and opens the door. With deftness, Cyrus opens the door and enters the room, closing the door behind him.

    Inside, Cyrus finds himself in complete darkness, but the sound of steel rasping across flint echoes as sparks fly next to what appears to be a torch sconce. After a couple of seconds, Cyrus manages to light the torch to give some light into this dank storage room.

    Grabbing the torch, Cyrus walks in and starts to move the torch around, showing just what that guard was protecting…
    Statues. Statues as far as the eye can see. This room is far larger than it should be, and is positively littered with various statues, not too dissimilar from the Goddess statue. However...the faces are different. Some are women, some are men. Some are so old that it’s impossible to really tell anymore. However, the ones we can see clearly?

    They all bear a resemblance to FWA superstars that have challenged Cyrus in the past.

    As Cyrus looks upon these monuments to his former opponents, these “gods” and “goddesses” that were once the target of worship, there’s a look of disdain in his eyes. Perhaps not so much at the men and women they were meant to represent, but the state in which their effigies now reside.

    “You aren’t special, Gabrielle. You never were. Neither were any of them. Neither am I, if we’re being completely honest. It’s a hard lesson I’ve had to teach so many in FWA, because there’s been SO MANY that have tried to project this image of perfection and many that have sought the worship of the crowd. And it’s not as if I don’t understand why. It’s...intoxicating, having all those people worship the ground you walk on, hanging off every word that comes out of your mouth as if it were the Truth even when those words were less than nothing. Ego drives us all...and it’s not too hard to take the plunge into projecting yourself as something above common mortals.

    “But therein lies the major difference between myself and all these other would-be gods. And that difference is why you can’t take away my legacy even if you were able to...and let’s be clear, you aren’t able to.

    “That difference is, where people like Gabrielle Montgomery and those of her ilk demand worship...people like me command respect.”

    “Respect.” That word, that tone...Cyrus speaks it with all the weight of the world behind it. The way he says “worship” is that of dismissive disgust. But “respect?” That word is spoken in reverence, in pride.

    “I absolutely despise worship. It’s an abhorrent substitute for respect, because worship doesn’t care about reason, doesn’t want to accept rational or critical judgment of the actions taken to generate that worship. It’s a shroud, a fog of lies and deceit meant to pander to the base emotions of people and sugarcoat one’s accomplishments to hide the bitter Truth about how those accomplishments were obtained...and the kind of person who accomplished those achievements. Gabrielle can say all she wants that we all know the kinds of things she did to get on top of FWA, but she stops just short of really digging into just what those things were, who she was and may still be, and accept responsibility for them. Because if she did? She couldn’t be worshipped as the “Caramel Goddess.” Because gods cannot have flaws.

    “I tried to set Ashley O’Ryan on fire. I tried to crack KAIZEN’s head open like a melon with a fire extinguisher. I took a pipe to the back of Shannon O’Neal’s legs. I have done my fair share of awful things, things that exist as a blot on my dignity and my honor. I did these things because I felt they were necessary to defend my principles, to reign and defend my title as a champion should. I make no apologies for these actions, but I’m also not afraid to let history be my judge on these actions. Because I know that I have built my legacy to withstand the storm of scrutiny. And because even in my darkest hours, I never...NEVER...cheated to win, nor have I ever manipulated and used politics to advance myself. I have won and lost on my own power and my own talents.

    “FWA’s fans didn’t understand me at first. And they’ll never love or worship me like they do you, Gabrielle. But whether they cheer my name or curse it? I have their respect. And that’s not something that can be cast aside like some kind of idol meant for veneration.”

    Cyrus moves his hand over the piles of idols and statues in the room to accentuate his point. As the camera looks at the faces, cracked and neglected, it’s become increasingly apparent the distinction that Cyrus is making between respect and worship.
    All of these idols were once worshipped as much as the Goddess...maybe some a bit more. But worship does not equal respect...if it did, then why were they cast aside and left to rot in this dank room?

    “You have spent your entire career pretending to be greater than you are, Gabrielle. You’ve built a church off the premise that you were above every single competitor you’ve ever faced, and you’ve used every tactic both honorable and disgraceful to acquire the accolades you needed to give credence to this myth. All so that you could be worshipped and deified and pretend that you, and you alone, should stand atop the mountain of FWA as its sole inheritor. You’ve disparaged the accomplishments of those who achieved great things in your absence because you, in your delusion warped view of reality, can’t imagine that greatness can exist without you. And you’ve never once expressed regret or remorse for the lives you ruined and the championships you’ve sullied with your actions. Say what you will about my actions, but I’ve never once disgraced the title nor my opponents. I want to build things up, to allow others to look past the delusions and accept the Truth of the world and of themselves. To allow all of us to become greater...and to earn honest, unbreakable respect rather than fleeting worship.

    “Gabrielle...I am your absolute worst nightmare. Because I don’t buy your omnipotence. I don’t buy that this is somehow supposed to be my greatest challenge. And I’m not about to let you get away with running from your past. I don’t doubt your skill in the ring. And I certainly don’t doubt that you’ll do everything in your power to try and take the World Title from me. But you must be drunk on your own veneration if you think that it’s going to be enough to stop me. At the Anniversary Show, this farce ends. I teach you that all the worship in the world doesn’t make you a goddess. And you realize that, for all your boasting and grandstanding and attempts to undermine what I’ve accomplished? It was and always would have been just noise, pointless chatter with no basis in reality. I have faced the very best. I have endured the trials and tribulations of the Long and Winding Road. And yet here I stand, the FWA World Champion...the measuring stick of this entire federation. But unlike you? I’ll continue to pursue greatness. Because I won’t allow myself to be satisfied with just the veneer of greatness.

    “You’re going to lose, Gabby. I won’t allow you to have the honor of beating me. You’re not some great mountain I have to climb. You’re not some divine creature whose approval I need to validate all that I’ve accomplished. You’re just another soul to the call, another FWA legend to add to my collection of defeated FWA legends. And boy...I bet that makes you MAD. Right now, you must be screaming at the top of your lungs that I should respect you. Sure...once you’ve done something that deserves my respect. Until then...I have a sermon to crash, and a dose of reality to administer.”

    Cyrus finds an inset in the wall that he uses to mount the torch in his hands, freeing them as the Exile cracks his knuckles. He looks at the statues at his feet with a look of anticipation...and perhaps, just a smidge of regret. The blank look at one of the statues gazes up at the FWA World Champion as Cyrus, in a flash, brings his boot down with the video cutting to black before seeing the stomp…


    We cut back to the temple, where the priest is continuing his sermon to an enraptured crowd.

    “We have but to believe in our Goddess, who blesses us all with her beauty and grace, and to serve her as her faithful children. Then, and only then, can She reclaim the throne of heaven from the heathen that sits upon it, the wicked fiend who would dare to mock her majesty! So rise up, and give praise to…”

    The priest’s pontification is abruptly cut short by the sound of combat and bodies falling to the ground. The temple crowd, once loud and raucous, now is as silent as a grave as the sound of creaking wheels draws ever closer.

    Pushing a wheelbarrow-like cart is Cyrus Truth, who looks a bit ruffed up...but over his shoulder, we can see a quartet of guards who are on the floor not moving. The crowd is aghast as Cyrus pushes his cart in the middle of the crowd, who have nervously made a circle around him.

    Cyrus, with a smirk, dumps the contents of the cart, revealing them to be the broken heads of the statues he found in the storage room. The crowd look both shocked and confused...however, some of the older folks in the congregation seem to recognize these heads, and are confused as to what they’re doing here.

    The priest, indignant, glares at Cyrus and begins to rant, spittle coming from his mouth.

    “YOU! You heathen, you lowly wretch! How dare you defile this holy ceremony with your presence?!”

    “Oh yes, this most ‘holy’ of congregations. Well, if you must know...I have questions.”

    “You will not speak! Your words are poison, meant to deceive the Goddess’s children and turn them away from her glory! Brothers and sisters! DESTROY THE INTERLOPER!”

    The crowd is hesitant. Seeing this “heathen” brazenly walk among them with a cart full of the broken heads of former idols after dispatching the guards has them a bit nervous. Some, the younger devotees, almost act like they are willing to take the chance...but before they gather enough courage to rush in, they’re halted by Cyrus asking:

    “Is your faith so fragile that you are afraid to listen? If it is, then what’s the point of worshipping this ‘Goddess?’ Fear is not love. Fear is not respect. If you want to prove your faith is strong...then why not let me speak?”

    One of the young men in the crowd seems to not care as he attempts to rush...but he’s stopped by an older man grasping his shoulder. He’s got a look in his eyes that suggests he knows who these other idols are, and he looks at Cyrus with a sagely expression, nodding. It’s enough to get the younger man to relax as Cyrus turns to the preacher, who’s almost foaming at this sacrilege.

    “Well, actually, I say ‘questions,’ but all I have is just one question to ask. What has this Goddess done to deserve your worship?”

    The priest, still enraged, nonetheless lets out a throaty chortle, as if Cyrus had asked a stupid, obvious question.

    “What has She done? She is our Queen, our Goddess! She has ascended to the throne of Heaven twice before! She has struck down the mighty titans of yore! She has…

    “...Done nothing that the rest of these other “gods” haven’t done themselves. So why hide them in that dingy room but worship her?

    “She is ABOVE them all! She is stronger, fairer, more glorious than all of those pretenders!”


    Cyrus points to two heads, ones that bear a passing resemblance to Chris Kennedy and Bell Connelly.

    “That man took the throne away from her the last time she held it. That woman beat her and sent your Goddess into exile. I’m sure there’s plenty of others in this collection that have beaten her in the past. So what makes her so special?”

    At this point, the priest is absolutely livid. Practically foaming at the mouth, the priest glares at Cyrus.

    “Th-that is irrelevant! That does not matter!”

    “And while we’re on the DID your deity earn those accolades?”

    That doesn’t matter!”

    “Oh, but I say it does!”

    With that, Cyrus starts to approach the dais and the priest. It almost looks like the crowd might stop him...but in the end, they part to let him pass. As Cyrus slowly approaches the “holy man,” he gives a sermon of his own.

    “Accolades alone don't matter nearly as much as the methods upon which they are attained. It is the process, not the end result that we should care about! Blind faith and worship are pointless. Your “Goddess” is nothing special. And she’s done far more to earn scorn rather than praise. You and every other holy man says that the gods are the ones who judge us. I say it’s the other way around. The people should judge their gods, and give their respect to those who have done things to earn it.”

    “Y-y-you monster! HEATHEN! BLASPHEMER! You are NOTHING compared to the Goddess! You are a lowly, pitiful WRETCH! A SPECK OF GRIME AND SLUDGE UNWORTHY OF OUR GODDESS’S ATTENTION! YOU ARE…”

    Before the priest can finish his rant, Cyrus rushes him and grabs him by the throat, his hand squeezing to silence him. Cyrus glares at him with indignant fire and growls out:

    “I AM...the World Heavyweight Champion.”

    CRACK! In a flash, Cyrus drives the priest down onto the hard marble floor, cracking some of the lapis lazuli inlays with the force of his slam. The priest has the air knocked out of him as he immediately collapses in a heap, knocked out.

    The crowd is stunned into silence at this display of defiant brutality. They say nothing...can do nothing but listen as Cyrus addresses them.

    “My name is Cyrus Truth. And I ask that I be judged, not venerated. Respected, not worshipped. I ask that you look at the width and breadth of what I’ve accomplished on my journey along the Long and Winding Road, the good and the ill, and judge me accordingly. And I ask that you bear witness to the deeds I’ve yet to do. Because soon and very soon, this pretender of a goddess will step forward and challenge me for the throne upon which I sit and have sat upon like few, if any, before me. I will show this goddess just how mortal she truly is. I will shatter the illusion of her divinity and make her answer for her lies and deceit!

    “And at the end of the fight, when the dust has settled and all is, all of you, will bear witness to a goddess kneeling before a man...a traveler, nothing more.”

    Cyrus raises his left hand and snaps his fingers. Instantly, the statue of the Goddess cracks behind him, leaving a long, obvious gash in the formerly flawless idol. The camera lingers on the statue and the crack...a clear sign to Gabrielle that Cyrus Truth, the FWA World Heavyweight Champion, has every intention of showing her just how much she stands to lose the second she steps into the ring...

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    Re: FWA Anniversary Promo Thread

    The camera turns on and the viewers are greeted to the night sky in an undisclosed location in New Orleans. The camera turns to face “The Wildcard” Jason Randall, who happens to be holding the camera that’s facing him even though he is not looking straight into the camera. Randall is looking into the night sky that is about to be lit up with fireworks for the annual Fourth of July fireworks celebration about to take place, but Randall isn’t here necessarily to just watch the fireworks display as he’s got a lot on his mind at this point in time. As much as Jason would like to partake in the festivities and enjoy the celebration, he refuses to let himself get distracted from what stands in front of him in a few days. He places the camera down to where it’s still facing him while he stares back out at the night sky.

    “Redemption, in just a few days at the arena just a few blocks away from here I get my chance at redemption. While everyone else is out celebrating this great nation, I am contemplating what lies ahead for me in just a few short days. I’m not going to beat around the bush; I’m going to get straight to it, I face what is quite possibly my biggest challenge to date in FWA when I take on not just Dave Sullivan, but Randy Ramon joins the mix in a two falls match and the prize? Not one but both of Dave Sullivan’s prized possessions are on the line. Some say that there’s no way Davey boy walks out both of championships in tact, and as much as I would love to agree with that I can’t help but not…”

    He looks down at the camera now; he stares at it with a look of focus. He then grabs his trusty flask and takes a swig of it.

    “You’re probably asking yourselves, why Jason? Why can’t you agree with that? It’s simple, really. I can’t underestimate Dave and undermine all of his accomplishments, honestly it would be foolish of me to do so. Now I know you’re thinking that the last time I faced Dave I didn’t underestimate him, yet he still beat me. I came so close, and he still came out the victor. I beat myself up over it, I didn’t show it when I last sat down to speak but that was because I was focused on Randy Ramon at that time, but deep down it was eating away at me. I didn’t underestimate Dave, but I did underestimate myself. Now I know it sounds like I’m making an excuse and I’m the last person to ever make an excuse for himself, but honestly that’s how I feel. I didn’t believe enough myself thus resulting in me not being able to get the job done. Sure, I threw everything I had at Dave and came this close to beating him but he still get one over on me. I took him to his absolute limit and came so close to beating him, but in true Dave Sullivan fashion he was the better man that night. I guess you can say he beat me at my own game, because if you think about it, I should have won considering the match stipulation was in my favor but Dave proved once again why he is the best going today…”

    He takes another swig of his flask and looks down at the ground beneath him.

    “I wasn’t in favor of myself, like I said I didn’t believe enough in myself. I underestimated myself and proved every one of those naysayers right, that Jason Randall has all the tools to make it to the top but at the end of the day he himself doesn’t actually believe his own hype…”

    He looks up at the camera now.

    “This time though, this time I am going to prove them all wrong. I can’t lose this, not again. I refuse to let myself get distracted and lose focus. This is all I’ve ever been thinking about since this match was made. This was my shot at redemption, a chance to redeem myself and show that I can hang with the best of the best. Yeah, Sullivan is the best of the best, he’s at the top of his game. He’s even beaten our great world champion Cyrus Truth, and the only blemish on Dave’s otherwise phenomenal run so far, is a loss to the current challenger for Truth’s championship, Gabrielle Montgomery. I nearly made another blemish for Dave, I came so close but you unlike me believed in your own hype and you bested me. That...can’t happen this time. I refuse to let that happen to me this time. Everything I threw at you in our last match, will pale in comparison to what I have in store for you come the Anniversary show. I believe in myself this time, I am not underestimating myself this time. Like I mentioned countless times already, I nearly beat you. I took you to your limit. I was someone like you have never faced before. If you underestimated me before our match last time, I can bet you sure as hell won’t do that again; although even if you did you still came out on top. The only good thing to come out of that though is that now you know to take me seriously. You can look at me like I’m some legitimate threat to what you hold dear, and who knows? Maybe I’ll take both of your titles…”

    He takes yet another swig from his flask, this time until it’s damn near empty.

    “There’s someone else standing in my way of doing one such thing though; that is “Rockstar” Randy Ramon. At first I didn’t really understand why you were placed in this match but then I did some research, and I come to find out that you were owed a title opportunity many moons ago yet you never got it. Maybe it was because of all the times you walked away from the company when you couldn’t take it anymore? Just a guess Randy. I told you last week when the going has gotten too tough even for me, you never once saw me take my ball and go home. Here you are, back again. Looking for a shot at redemption, just like me. Looking for that one last opportunity, again just like me. It turns out we have more in common than I thought. I saw it in your eyes when we were facing off, that you still got it. You still have what it takes to hang, which is more than I could say for others that have come and gone more than I care to remember. I asked you to bring your absolute best in our match, and you didn’t disappoint Randy. I saw that fire in your eyes, that passion. You may not want to admit it but I’m right, it’s there. I dunno if it was because of me lighting a fire underneath you and honestly I don’t even want to take credit, but I’m glad you had a fire lit underneath you. You showed more passion towards me than you did to Armistead, and now look where he is, laid up somewhere with a broken arm at the hands of Dave Sullivan. I’m not here to kick a guy when he’s down though, I’m not here to talk about Armistead; I’m here to talk about you and Dave. As much as I liked that fire from you Randy that I may or may not have lit, I’ll damn sure take credit for putting it out just as quick as it was lit…”

    He looks back up at the clear night sky; in just a few moments it won’t be so clear anymore. It’ll be filled with fireworks.

    “I know that deep down I want this more than you Randy, for all I know after this is all over and you don’t walk out the winner; you may just take your ball and go back home. I hope that isn’t the case because say if I do win, I’d love for nothing more than to defend a championship against you. That remains to be seen if that happens because like I’ve said won’t be as easy. Sullivan is the best in the world right now, he has the hardware to prove it. He can back up his own hype each time he steps foot inside that ring. You saw what he did to Armistead, he didn’t even break a sweat. He asked for a challenge; well he’s gonna get it…”

    He looks back the camera.

    “Sullivan, I’ve said all that I’ve needed to say but I’ll say more. I’m more focused than ever before. Yeah, I said that last time we faced off, and what happened? You still beat me. I guess you can say I didn’t mean it before. I wasn’t focused enough. Like I said I didn’t believe in myself, but that loss allowed me to open my eyes and see that. In a way that loss helped me become even more focused than EVER before, this time I DO mean that. I can see clearly now and what I see is me taking not just one, but both of your titles. You can call me Jason Two Belts, if I’m being honest it doesn’t have the same ring to it as Sully Two Belts; but at least I’ll know that I did what only one other person has been able to do and that’s beat you. I came so close last time and I let that slip away from me, I refuse to let that happen this time…”

    “Just like I refuse to let Ramon take this from me. I beat you last week Randy, and I hope that loss opened up your eyes and lit even more of a fire underneath you just so I can put that bastard out. This is my time Randy, with all due respect you may have had your time in the sun but it’s time to let someone else have that shine. I want this more than you could ever imagine. I NEED this more than you could ever imagine. I will do WHATEVER it takes to quench this need of mine, I will throw whatever I have at you both to gain what I want. You can throw whatever you have at me but just like I tell everyone else before a match, you’re going to have to kill me in order to keep me down…”

    “Sully, you almost damn near did kill me but I’m still here, still breathing. Randy tried to do the same but yet again here I am still alive and still ready for more. Better men have tried and they have failed in doing so. I always say that you’ll have to kill me in order to keep me down, and who knows? Maybe that time will actually come to fruition and someone will have done what I said, but now is not that time…”

    He looks out the sky and the fireworks have begun.

    “Get ready for the fireworks boys…”

    He turns the camera to face the fireworks as they pop off in the sky before the scene slowly fades out.

    Rest in power, Flock U
    Rest in power, TCON

    Team Cyrus T is Best for Business

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

  4. #4
    WC Hall Of Famer

    Jimmy King's Avatar

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    Re: FWA Anniversary Promo Thread

    Izzy: Penn, Not Teller... Merry Christmas!

    She brings the two a medium sized box Penny rips open the gift to reveal... another Fred? Except this one is all black and is smaller than the actual Fred.

    Izzy: Ya see, now Fred has someone to hang out with too! I don't know what you'd name it. Barney? Or is it a girl?? ...Wilma?

    Jason pulls the new plush out and looks at it confusedly.

    Izzy: I-is everything okay? Do you two like it?
    The camera finds Penny watching this interaction between her and Izzy at the 2017 Christmas Party. Izzy had gifted her another cat, to which she would go on to name Norman. She watches this over and over again as a single tear rolls down her cheek.

    “I remember that like it was just yesterday, do you remember that Izzy? It was the first time anyone besides Jason had done something nice for me. I never did forget that moment, but I have a feeling that you did.”

    She turns off the video and turns to the camera. She wipes away the tear and composes herself before speaking.

    “I don’t know what it was, but somewhere along the way you changed Izzy. I have asked myself over and over again, what did I do wrong? Did I say something to upset her? Why is she so mad at me and why aren’t we friends anymore?”

    She shakes her head.

    “I never got an answer and now I realize I don’t think I ever will. It’s too late for that, I’ve just accepted it. I don’t quite understand it but I have come to the realization that you aren’t the same Izzy that I once knew. There’s some bad inside of you that has taken over, it was festering away for so long but eventually it took over and now there is no sign of the old Izzy. I remember one time I wanted to form a tag team with you and I pitched the idea to you, but you turned it down. I was crestfallen, but I understood. You wanted to focus on yourself. Now, I look back at that and think that maybe that was when that evil inside of you took over.”

    She sighs.

    “I tried Izzy, I tried to reach out to you but you refused. You can all say that I didn’t try but I did Izzy, I did try. You can spin it however you’d like but it’s not the truth. I know it’s not true, whatever you have been saying about me. You say I turned my back on you, heck you told it to yourself so much you believed it but deep down you knew it was you that had turned your back on me. You’re too blinded by your own selfishness and anger inside of you that you don’t see it though. I know there’s some good in you Izzy, I really do. Believe me, I wanted to help you but the help I wanted to give is the help I don’t think I can give anymore…”

    She frowns at this realization and turns to Fred and Norman sitting beside her.

    “The only help I can give now is beating some sense into you in this match. No more games, no more sneak attacks, just you and me one on one. At first I didn’t want this but then I realized that this is the only way to end this. Now I know to put a stop to this I must relieve you of that evil inside of you, and to do that I have to bring out the darkness from within me. I don’t want to but I know it’s the only way to end this…”

    She turns serious now.

    “Izzy, I’m not going to apologize for what I have to do. You made me do this, if anything it’s your fault. You made up lies about me and about Jason. You didn’t have to bring him into this but you did, that’s when it became personal. I have to put an end to this, for good. Even if that means hurting someone that I once called a friend…”

    She grabs hold of both Fred and Norman and hugs them as the scene fades out.

    Rest in power, Flock U
    Rest in power, TCON

    Team Cyrus T is Best for Business

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

  5. #5
    Sully's Avatar

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    Re: FWA Anniversary Promo Thread

    Long Live The King

    Graveyards are not considered a place of celebration by many. A place of remembrance maybe, but not celebration. The entire milieu of a cemetery is grim, morbid, and dark. This specific graveyard in the middle of the Louisiana bayou is no different at all. Sitting right on the swampy waters, this graveyard is guarded by a family of alligators. If the alligators don't scare you, the legends of Voodoo and sorcery might. But this specific graveyard is not like any ordinary graveyard. This cemetery is a memorial to a very specific population.

    The tombstones are large and boisterous, as they belong to some of the most narcissistic people in history.

    "King Henry of England" reads one.

    "King James II" reads another.

    "Tutankhamun" is what a third tombstone reads.

    This the graveyard of Kings.

    For you see, not all Kings are immortal. Their reigns are never infinite. They have their moment in the glory, and then they fall from grace. It is never if it's going to happen, it is when it is going to happen. At least that is how the story goes. But who writes the stories? Who decides what Kings will fall and what Kings will rise? Is it inevitable? There is one man in particular who may disagree, and he is standing in this very cemetery right now. Standing in his three piece black pinstripe suit. He is The King. He is Dave Sullivan.

    Sullivan is standing in this bayou cemetery for one mourn all the Kings before him. But does he have a different motive? Does he believe in the tales of the Kings and their downfalls?

    King Sullivan gets to one grave in particular. The one he was looking for all along.

    He reads it aloud...

    King Sullivan:

    "Let us sit upon the ground and tell sad stories of the death of kings."

    King Richard II...died February 14th, 1400. He was 33 years old, the same age I am today.

    Generally, Kings do not concern themselves with the history of past Kings. They are not important. This man died 619 years ago, why should I care about his life? I'll tell you why. Because that snot nosed little school boy Dominick Armistead, that is why. That quote, that very quote on this grave...he posted it on his little twitter page before our match.

    Dominick Armistead had this whole big plan for that Fight Night show. He thought he was going to walk into Fight Night, still with his training Pullups on shouting to his mommy that he's a big boy now, and he thought he was going to take MY North American Championship. MY North American Championship that I worked so hard to save from corrupt and dirty hands. He thought he was going to do that.

    THEN...then he thought he was going to grab a microphone, and give a whole big speech about "The Death of Kings". He thought he was going to publicly humiliate me by quoting fucking Shakespeare.

    Well guess what. That did not happen. Dominick Armistead got into that ring with me, he looked me right in the eyes...and he shit his training Pullups right there in front of everybody. He looked like a deer staring into the headlights of a car. It was I that did the humiliating. It was I that showed who's death was upon us. I hope the message I intended to send got across loud and clear...

    ...I will not take disrespect from fools.

    Everybody saw what happened in Florida. I took Dominick Armistead's arm, and I snapped it like a little twig. I ended that man's career. The doctor's...they say he's going to need at least 13 surgeries before he'll be able to start physical therapy, and even then they say he won't be able to jerk his little pecker with that arm anymore.

    My only question now is, who is next? Who is next to try and run their mouth on twitter about the death of kings?

    Sullivan continues to walk through the graveyard, trying to avoid stepping in the muddy ground with his expensive loafers.

    He comes across a mausoleum. What could be inside?

    Another King? A Queen perhaps? An Emperor?

    King Sullivan looks up at the nameplate, but the revelation is is blank. This mausoleum does not yet have a host.

    Sullivan takes a deep breath.

    King Sullivan:

    No...I'll tell you about the Death of Kings...

    They are a myth. They are a myth made by peasants to give them hope. A myth made by the 99%...people like Jason Randall, or Randy Ramon. Kings are immortal. The accomplishments they have made will never be forgotten.

    Look at my accomplishments. Look at everything that I have earned. I am one of the only Double Champs in the history of the FWA. I have restored the X Division back to prestige and glory. I have won the X Championship more times than anyone in FWA history dating all the way back to Wyoming Joe or whatever the hell is name is, and I have shattered Kaizen's record for the longest reign in the title's history.

    What has Jason Randall done? He's won the title once, and destroyed any prestige I brought to it with my first three reigns. What has Randy Ramon done? Came here years ago to stink up the joint, left out of nowhere, and then came waddling back in again at the ripe age of 37?

    Look, I am a man of integrity. And for that reason, I have to give Jason Randall some credit where credit is due. When we fought in that Extreme Rules match, he really gave it all he had. It was a refreshing change of pace from the Dominick BrokenArmisteads and the Kevin Cromwells that have been getting thrown my way the since I've returned a year ago

    He lost, obviously...but I was impressed.

    My goal was not to retain my championship...that was a given. My goal was to get him to never want to fight another match again, just like I did to Little Dommie.

    He did not quit.

    No, he in fact he got back up and brushed himself off, and he came in the next day with his chin up.

    With all that said...he has no business in this match, fighting for my titles YET AGAIN. What I said before our Fight Night match weeks ago, I meant. He did not earn it. He lost chance after chance, after chance. Jason Randall has no business fighting or contending for either of my prestigious championships. He is not worthy of them.

    By all all means...I would sign a petition that would allow for a "Powder Puff" division to be started. Then, Jason Randall and all the other little losers in the FWA that can't keep up with me in the ring, can fight for their own little championship belts. It'll be like...a participation trophy of sorts. Or the special olympics. They can all fight and contend for the Cupcake Championship.

    Meanwhile, we can retire my X Division Championship, and I do not have to stress any longer about it being stripped away from me and given to any more cupcakes who ruin it's prestige.

    Sullivan smirks to himself at his new idea of a Powder Puff division, and his brand new nickname for all of those he calls peasants. Cupcake has a nice ring to it, and Sullivan finds it fitting for many of the opponents he faces on the roster.

    Sullivan opens up the doors for the mausoleum, and enters inside.

    If you thought this mausoleum was being prepped for the death of another king, you would be far from right.

    For there are two empty tombs inside this stone structure.

    I gave Jason Randall his deserved credit...for those who say I can never find anything nice to say about people, there you go. I did it.

    But my other opponent? I am not going to lie to you, I cannot find anything nice to say about him. In fact, I did not even know who he was! I thought he was another one of the Make a Wish kids that I was sent to go tell another bedtime story to!

    Then I looked him up, and honestly, he might as well have been a Make a Wish kid. Is that was this is? A Make a Wish kid requested that he get to fight for my two titles, so you booked him in this match? I hope he signed a not think that just because some alien looking bald kid is fighting for my titles that I'm going to go easy on him.

    When it comes to these two championships, I do not go easy on anyone.

    I am defending their honor. Their prestige...and Randy Ramon? He is the most washed up has-been never was loser that they could ever have brought back to put in this match. They may as well have brought Mike Mundane in and gave him a shot at Cyrus Truth's championship while they were at it.

    I have literally had farts that have accomplished more in their lifetime than The Wacky Wandy Wamon has accomplished in his entire 37 years of life.

    It's as if Mick Jagger and Steven Tyler jerked off together onto a radioactive sock, and then put that sock in a microwave...then when the microwave dinged, Randy Ramon popped out of it and said hello.

    The FWA quite honestly made the right decision years ago when they cut ties with this loser alcoholic. Then he comes back, more washed up than he was the FIRST time from his failure of a music career, and we expect him to win championships?

    I have a serious issues with this. There has to be somewhere to draw the line. This organization can be so desperate for talent sometimes, that they just bring in whoever is willing to fight.

    Like literally, two homeless men could walk in off the street today and they would probably give them a shot at the tag team titles. That is "The Genius" Ryan Rondo's dream card right there. The Two Homeless fighting for the tag championships, Mike Mundane fighting Cyrus Truth for the world championship, and "Washed up Drunkie the Drunk" Randy Ramon fighting for my two titles. What a brilliant booking job by the legend Ryan Rondo.

    We HAVE to have some standards!

    Sullivan stops to catch his breath from his rant.

    He slams closed the masuelome doors, and turns back into the bayou graveyard. The loud noise of the slamming door startles a nearby alligator, who scurries off into the water.

    This is not for me.

    Broken Armistead never got to tell his story about the death of kings, because it's never going to happen. I am The Immortal King. You wish I would die, I know you would. You wish I would die the same way a battered housewife wishes her abusive husband would die. Because just like her, you're too afraid to stand up to the guy who's going to beat you down every single night.

    And I will...anyone you give me to fight, I will fight, and I will beat them down.

    I am running out of patience. I think I showed that quite clearly when I snapped that little brat's arm in half.

    There is no Death of Kings. Only the Death of those who get in the way of King's.

    Do you want to know who my biggest antagonist is right now? It is not Jason Randall, or Randy Ramon, or Gabby the Slut, or Cyrus Truth, or any other sniveling Cupcake Peasant that is thrown in my face.

    My biggest antagonist, is the management of the FWA. For seven years they have tried to keep me down. Seven years! Yet I prevailed. I prevailed, and I dominated whoever they told me to fight. And now they see my success, and they absolutely cannot stand it. They cannot stand to see me dominating all the fresh new names they bring in or bring back to fight me. So yes, I ruined the career of their little "savior" Broken Armistead. And I'll do it to Jason Randall and Randy Ramon too.

    But yet...

    They continue the disrespect. Consistently.

    It is clear that they have finally realized...I am not losing this title in a singles match to anyone. So they concoct this little "Two Falls" match in order to try and involuntarily strip one of my titles out of my hands?

    Randy Ramon and Jason Randall probably know what they can accomplish. In fact, everyone knows what they can accomplish. It's basically coming down to which one of them gets the fall that wins them the X Championship. Because without a doubt, I am walking away with the North American Championship. You will have to pry it out of my cold immortal fingers.

    When it comes to the X Championship, I won't lie...I've had to come to terms with it these past few months. What it means to me...if it's worth all the trouble and energy I spend on keeping it away from the undeserving peasants. I have had to make a decision on whether or not I should just let this title go. I have made my mark on the X Division.

    But the X's for Powder Puff Cupcakes. It is for Peasants. And me? I am a King. Walking around with the X Division Championship is like walking around with a participation trophy.

    So if one of those cupcake peasants got the fall to win them the X Championship...then congratulations to them.

    But here is the truth...I don't plan on letting them. No. At the FWA Anniversary Show...

    I plan on walking in with both of my titles over my shoulders...

    and I plan on walking out with BOTH of my titles over my shoulders.

    If they want to take any one of my titles away from me, then Ryan Rondo is going to have to walk into that ring, and strip me of it himself. He is going to have to ADMIT that he has nobody who can beat me for that title. And then after he is done admitting it, he can get on his knees, and he can bowdown in front of the world to his KING. Just like Randy Ramon is going to bow down, and just like Jason Randall is going to bow down. Ramon, Randall, and Rondo...the Three Rs.

    Rondo...I am not a King who will die. And if you want to keep challenging me on that, then I am going to keep breaking arms until you finally get the point...and's going to be one of yours.

    I just have one last thing to say.





    “Let life be short, else shame will be too long.”
    ― Shakespeare, William, Henry V

  6. #6
    Friendship King

    Smooth Jazz Wolf's Avatar

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    Re: FWA Anniversary Promo Thread

    October 6th, 2018

    CWA’S Heartbeat: Where We Want To See The White Wolf
    by James King

    Since the unfortunate news regarding CWA recently, our forums have been abuzz with discussions and predictions about where CWA’s finest could end up next. It’s a wide world full of possibilities all across the globe, with ample chances and opportunities for CWA alumni to reinvent themselves or lend their star power to. We’ve already had several articles about some of CWA’s superstars and where they could go – all of which you may find within the links below – but today, we’re going to focus on one of the most requested names, a man synonymous with CWA, none other than The White Wolf, Krash.

    Pictured: The Moustache Maverick himself, Krash.

    Krash is a man who has done and won everything there is to do in CWA. Realistically speaking, he had to be thinking of a new horizon at some point, right? Here’s four promotions we’d like to see the latest freelancer dip his toes in.

    4. ASPiRE – Artistic Sports Presented in Riveting Entertainment. ASPIRE is less of a wrestling promotion, and more of a live comedy sketch show with a consistent wrestling background. You won’t find Match Of The Year candidates here, but you’ll likely find some fun to chortle at. Located exclusively in Ontario, Canada, this strange and off-the-wall variety sports entertainment show runs shows about twice a year – three times if it’s a leap year – and is the brainchild of Canadian entrepreneur Winfield Q. Straussberry, whose promotional goals can be really boiled down to ‘hey this seems fun, lol.’ Krash is no stranger to comedy, with many a laughter within his early days and, later on, with the comedic chemistry with longtime friend Alyster Black. Perhaps after a decade of grinding on the road with global promotions, a reduced schedule with a light-hearted focus could be exactly what Krash needs.

    3. VCAA – Victorian Combat Arts Association. VCAA is a far cry from the global-touring promotions Krash has spent the better part of ten years with, but it still holds value – it’s where the White Wolf got his start in professional wrestling, trained under the watchful eye of generational journeyman Murphy ‘Devastating’ Dreyer. A trip back to his roots could be something to help ease the mind of Krash, which Murphy Dreyer himself has publicly stated in several vulgarity-ridden tweets. The phrases ‘Krash owes us’ and ‘he’d be nothing without me’ has been stated several times, so at the very least a quick trip to repay that favour would get the aged Murphy Dreyer off his back.

    2. RoS – Ring of Sin. RoS is vastly different from your average promotion – it’s a widely cinematic show featuring mystical, supernatural, and science fiction characters, all blended into an episodic wrestling show, taking place in the ‘underground’ of Los Angelos. Bloody brawls, dangerous stunts, and massive, overarching storylines with twists and turns that wouldn’t be out of place in a primetime TV show is RoS’s bread and butter. Wrestlers ‘dying’ is not uncommon, nor is a previous deceased wrestler ‘returning’ from the dead. Much like ASPiRE is a series of comedic sketches with a wrestling background, RoS can be compared to a gritty, melodramatic supernatural soap that centres around a private wrestling promotion. With this season’s overarching storyline, ‘Who Killed Mario Cuetro?’, the addition of Krash as a detective brought in to help solve the case, or someone from Cuetro’s past out to avenge the RoS ringleader, or even an investor aiming to take over the now-leaderless show, would be a great addition to Ring of Sin.

    1. FWA – Fantasy Wrestling Alliance. Perhaps an obvious choice, but number one for a reason the ‘sister fed’ to CWA has been going strong for years now, with no hint of internal unease. As a product, it’s very similar to CWA, so Krash shouldn’t be too out of place in FWA. It’s the closest thing to a ‘fresh start’ in a land that’s still very CWA-like. Plus there’s the possibility of several dream matches, so to say, with the excessively talented FWA roster. Rumour has it, FWA officials have already sent feelers after the Heartbeat, but with no official confirmation, those will remain as only rumors for the time being.

    That’s our top four choices, but let’s be honest – we’d love to see Krash perform anywhere. Maybe break into an acting career? I hear Days Of Our Knives is always on the lookout for shirtless studs.

    Or maybe after nearly a decade of the wrestling grind, Krash wants nothing more than a bit of peace and quiet, in his lonely home in the middle of the desert. And if that’s what he wants, then I’d say he's earned it.

    But once he does return, oh boy. The possibilities are endless.

    Written by James King
    James King is an experienced referee who writes articles in his free time. He likes soft dogs and can often be found standing in the background of fights, waiting for one fighter to cover the other so that he may count to three.
    - The Ride Rolls On: Brayden Bridges’s Next Home
    - Dark, Darker, Yet Darker: A Hellscape For Lilith
    - We Don’t Want To See Him Anywhere: Dash Carlisle
    - A Most Savage Destination: Where Can Nate Savage Break People Next, And Should Jackson Fenix Follow?


    January 12th, 2019

    Fantasy Wrestling Alliance

    Felix J. Sayer <>
    12/1/2019 3:28pm

    To: Jake Montrose

    Dear Jake ‘Krash’ Montrose

    I’m writing as a followup to the email expressing interest we wrote to you several months ago. You didn’t respond, so I can only assume you didn’t see it. With CWA’s untimely demise, we’re interested in bringing you in to the FWA roster. We feel as though you have the quality talents we are looking for to breathe some new life into not only the FWA World Title scene, but FWA as a whole.

    Let us know whether you’re interested. We’re eager to write up a contract and get you on our roster.

    Felix J. Sayer
    FWA Talent Relations


    April 29th, 2019

    Within a quaint home, somewhere in the dusty sand dunes in the middle of nowhere, a bleary-eyed man blinked heavily, yawning, as he groggily sat up in bed. His bedraggled hair flopped over his emerald green eyes as he stifled another yawn, swinging his legs out of bed and stretching. Flinching at several audible ‘cracks’ in his joints, he stood to his feet, stepping over several empty bottles of whisky. He ran a hand over his face, ruffling his moustache, trying very hard and yet failing at stifling another yawn.

    Entering his kitchen, the man set the kettle on, wincing at the high-pitched whistle. He fumbled around for his phone, giving a quick glance across the latest news, tweets, and rumours, before sighing. Eight months on, and still no positive news on CWA. Even after Michelle Kelly leaked to him that CWA was stuck in a lawsuit all those months ago, there still wasn’t any updates or rumours that would put his home fed back on track. Waiting so loyally for a message that will never come was starting to wear thin on Krash.

    As he dejectedly began preparing a cup of tea, he heard the sound of a car approaching. Peeking out of the closed blinds of his kitchen window, he spied a pale blue sedan slowly approach up the dirt road that bypassed his house, before coming to a halt on the side of the road. As he idly sipped at his tea, a fellow in a sharp black suit stepped out of the car, squinting in the hot sunlight.

    Krash’s eyes narrowed. He knew enough people in suits to have an idea of what this man’s business was. He grabbed a bottle of whisky from his fridge, popping it open and pouring a hearty amount into his tea.

    He stepped away from the blinds, giving himself a brief once-over to ensure he wasn’t a complete mess. Sure, he was a rugged, raggedy mess, but not a complete one. A thin layer of stubble complimented his somewhat frazzled moustache, and he wore a white t-shirt above a pair of black trousers. He frowned, realising he had once again not bothered to change into sleepwear before bed. That’s a habit he’ll have to break sooner or later.

    A firm trio of knocking upon his door broke his thoughts. For the briefest of moments, Krash pictured him ignoring the mystery visitor, turning away and going back to bed. In his depressed funk, he still wasn’t quite up to face the world. But still, he shook his head. Whoever this man was, he clearly went out of his way to find Krash, and it would be downright rude to pretend not to hear the knock. As long as it wasn’t some sort of crazed stalker, he deserved at least five minutes. No more, no less. So, putting on a friendly smile, as he had done many times before, Krash opened the front door.

    “You are a very, very hard man to find, Mr. Krash.” The man in the suit said, shading his eyes with a free hand.

    Krash took another sip of his tea, briefly glancing at the man. Typical black suit, white button up. Nothing groundbreaking. Thinly cropped brown hair, and pale blue eyes. He had seen dozens of people who looked exactly like that, even fought a few, and remember the names of absolutely none. “Clearly, not hard enough.” He eventually replied, leaning on the doorframe. “How can I help you?”

    The man in the suit shuffled his feet. “May we talk inside? It’s hot out here, and the suit isn’t making it easier.”

    Krash imagined himself saying ‘no’ and forcing this man to say whatever speil he had planned in under an increasingly hot sun in his increasingly sweaty suit. The image brought a thin smile to his face, but he still stepped aside, allowing the man to enter.

    “Can I get you a drink? Cold coke?” Krash offered, more out of politeness than anything. The man in the suit shook his head, before reconsidering and nodding. “What’s your name, friend?”

    “Sayer.” The man replied. “Felix J. Sayer, to be exact.” He stood tall, proudly, expecting instant recognition.

    Krash sipped at his whisky tea, raising an eyebrow.

    Felix J. Sayer deflated. “I... sent you some emails? About FWA?”

    Krash let out the slightest of sighs. “Oh. You’re him. Mr. Sayer, do you know how many companies have tried to get in contact with me? Sign me up in an exclusive, dollar-sign-heavy contract?”

    Felix J. Sayer shrugged, sitting himself down at the kitchen table as Krash handed him a coke. “I imagine a lot.”

    “You imagine correctly. By my count, no less than twenty-five companies, from the national powerhouses to the local indies, have attempted to bring me on board. All offering the same thing – Money, titles, fame. One kept offering a ‘dedicated groupie’, whatever that is. So many emails, left unread, because they’re not CWA.” Krash paused, taking a brief sip of his whisky tea. “But you, Mr. Sayer, you’re the first one to come to me and talk in person, face-to-face. I value the personable touch, so for that alone, instead of refusing outright, I’m giving you five minutes. No more, no less.” With that, Krash sat at the table, across from the FWA representative. “Convince me.”

    Felix J. Sayer took a long mouthful of his drink, not breaking eye-contact. He licked his lips, sighing, before leaning forward. “Krash. You’re one of the greatest talents to come out of CWA, and it would be a shame to watch you wither your talents and fame away, waiting for a company that never treated you exactly how you deserve to come back, when we both know it’s not. Do you not owe it to those fans you do so love, to get back into the spotlight? Inspire the next generation, all across the globe?”

    Krash responded wordlessly, merely taking a short sip of his whisky tea.

    Spurred on by his silence, Felix J. Sayer continued. “I could offer you a guaranteed FWA world title shot. All the perks of FWA’s finest talents. Dream matches with the likes of Gabrielle, Kennedy, or the great rematch with Cyrus Truth. But that’s not exactly what you want, is it? Now, maybe this is me reading too close between the lines, but it sounds like what you want is an open door. The reassurance that, if CWA does come back, you’ll be able to be with it on opening day, instead of tied to a rival somewhere on the other side of the world. So, instead of an extra lucrative contract, or guaranteed title shots, or anything like that, I’m offering you an open door to selected companies.” Opening his briefcase, Felix J. Sayer shuffled around for a sheet of papers, producing a contract as he continued. “Non-exclusivity, to a degree. FWA will still be your primary employer, but you’ll be able to work non-televised, local-only companies such as VCAA, along with pre-approved televised companies at our discretion, with CWA potentially being on that shortlist. So, if CWA does come back, you’ll be able to work with it whilst still fulfilling your FWA duties. How does that sound?”

    As Felix J. Sayer pushed the contract towards Krash, Krash’s eyes narrowed. “Do you make this sort of offer to everyone who has other commitments?”

    Felix J. Sayer shook his head. “No. Usually it’s our way or the highway. But you, you’re such a high-valued talent that we’re willing to make compromises. You said it yourself, you’ve got twenty-five companies at your beck and call, and despite you being out of the game for six months, your name value hasn’t dried up – if anything, it’s increased. Someone as talented as you, as popular as you, well... We can afford to give you a little leeway if you get some more eyes on our product.”

    Krash’s eyes flickered to the clock, noting that out of the five minutes, Felix still had one left. “Mr. Sayer, I’m not saying ‘no’ outright, but-”

    “I can see you’re still hesitant.” Felix J. Sayer interrupted with a hand. “And I get that. It’s a new world, filled with people you don’t know. But I didn’t take a sixteen hour flight and a four hour drive, getting lost twice in this desert, to hear a ‘no.’ So, how about this...” Rummaging around in his briefcase once more, Felix J. Sayer produced a lanyard with the initials ‘FWA VIP’ etched on it. “This is a backstage pass for the May 10th Fight Night show. How about you think about the contract, visit the show, take a tour backstage, get the vibe of the company, and just see how you feel about it? Run into an old CWA buddy, catch up on past times. Or maybe find someone that’ll give you a reason to sign. Just think about it.”

    The clock had reached it’s end point, and the five minutes was up. Krash gazed at the VIP Pass and FWA contract in front of him, silently mulling it over. His moustache twitched, and he ran a hand across the FWA lettering on the lanyard, before nodding, ever so slightly. “... Alright. I’ll visit FWA, check the scene out. But no promises.”

    Felix J. Sayer smiled a toothy smile. “No promises.” And he rose, extending a hand.


    July 1st, 2019

    “It’s been a long road to get here, hasn’t it?”

    We open our scene within the familiar, and yet unfamiliar, expanse of desert somewhere in Australia, joining our mustachioed protagonist along his stroll through the sand. The immaculately groomed and neatly styled Heartbeat, seemingly unaffected by the wind and heat, was dressed in a pair of tan trousers beneath an olive shirt and a grey waistcoat, along with a pair of aviator sunglasses. He waltzed, seemingly aimlessly, across the beaten path, casually, a wooden cane trailing behind him, making a thin line in the sand.

    “A mere year ago, I was poised to recapture the CWA World Heavyweight Championship.” His voice was hopeful, bright, laden with the endless possibilities of what could have been. “Teaming with The Elite in a Winner-Take-All War Games match against some of the finest and fiercest CWA had to offer – Brayden Bridges, Beast, Belle, Nate Savage, Jackson Fenix, Sammy Riggins, Lilith, & The Dark Watch. It was to be the start of my second CWA World Championship reign, one that would eclipse my first, and bring CWA into a new, prosperous age, without Dash Carlisle running it into the ground.”

    “But that’s not what happened.” Krash said, the brightness in his voice abruptly vanishing. “CWA went into limbo, and everyone just sort of... moved on with their lives. As if that was that, pack it in boys, it’s all over. And everyone shrugged, and that was it. But I, I must’ve missed the memo, because I waited. I waited eight months, for some sort of sign, some sort of explanation, some sort of reassurance that this would all blow over, and I could go back to competing in the place I loved. The Heartbeat, beating once more, CWA’s blood running fresh. Of course, here I am in a desert, about to face off with the likes of Chris Kennedy, so no points for guessing what the waiting game gave me.”

    Krash halted, pausing, a seemingly dumbfounded expression on his face. “Why am I saying this? Why, Christopher Kennedy, am I telling you these things that you clearly don’t give a damn about?” He slowly sat down in the sand, his gaze to the ground – to the clear lettering of CHRIS KENNEDY, written in the sand.

    “Because I want you to appreciate the exact circumstances that led us to this collusion.” He continued, absently tapping a finger against his thigh. “I just so happened to be in the building, on a one-time trip to see how FWA operated, on the very same night you just so happened to lose a screw and disparage CWA. You didn’t know that the one man who still gave a damn about CWA was visiting backstage, didn’t know that the only man who would take umbrage with your callus comments would be in such a prime position to do something about it. How could you? I had vanished from the world for eight months. You probably didn’t even know I existed, let alone how badly CWA’s dismissal broke my heart. If so much as one thing was different, maybe if I visited a different day, or decided not to answer the door to FWA’s talent relations guy. If you leaned less into the ‘CWA’ and more into the ‘Cyrus.’ If any of those things happened, you and I would be in very different positions. I’d likely still be holed up in my home, waiting for reassurance that will never come. You’d likely be facing... I don’t know. Not Cyrus, presumably. You certainly wouldn’t be trying to break my face against the floor last week.” Krash winced, the memory of last week’s attack fresh in his mind.

    “So, what’s the lesson here? What’s the moral of this story?” Krash leaned closer to the name etched in the sand, whispering a secret whisper. “Be careful of what you say, friend. You never know who is listening, after all.”

    Leaning back, Krash gazed up at the orange sky above. “We’ve gone over the journey, discovered the moral to tell our children about, which they will summarily ignore, but what about the ending? How does this little story of ours end? There’s only one way it can end – with my hand, raised in victory. I won’t accept any other way. I don’t want to win, per se, I NEED to win, because you, Mr. Christopher...” Krash dropped the cane somewhat carelessly onto the name in the sand. “You are the representation of everything I’ve struggled against for the past eight months. You are the representation of the reason I was never given about CWA’s disappearance. You are the representation of everyone who just shrugged and moved on. And above all else, you, perhaps unwittingly, are the representation of some force that’s stopping me from letting go and moving on from CWA.” Those words said, Krash doesn’t seem boastful or proud. No, he instead looks... sad. Reluctantly distraught, as if the mere mention of having to let go of CWA tore at his already fragile heart.

    After a brief few seconds, Krash tore his gaze from the sky, back to the name in the sand. He raised an empty hand, patting the space beside it twice. “After all this is said and done, Chris, I’d like to shake your hand. Give you the courtesy of a professional introduction that, in my impulsive haste to slap the insults out of your mouth all those weeks ago, I neglected to do so. That was a personal failing on my part. You might take the chance to punch me in the mouth, or ignore me and walk off into the sunset. That’s your prerogative, and ultimately, doesn’t matter to much to myself. What matters to me, is that I give you the courtesy, the offer of professionalism that is sorely lacking nowadays. Shake it, ignore it, kick me into the dirt if you want to incite another round. I leave that up to you.”

    With his hand, Krash wiped away at the sand, reducing the name of CHRIS KENNEDY into nothingness. “I hope you find whatever peace of mind you so desperately need, Mr. Christopher. Do take care now."

    His piece said, Krash laid back in the sand, fingers clasped behind his head. A tuneless whisper echoed throughout the sand dunes, as we faded to black.

    CWA: A Decade of Decadence
    Maybe the end of something great.
    Maybe the start of something new.
    Stay tuned.

  7. #7
    Chikara Trainee

    Join Date
    Jul 2015
    Rep Power

    Re: FWA Anniversary Promo Thread

    Sean’s right eye creeps open slowly as he allows the light from morning to creep in bit by bit. Does it help? It’s debatable but he still squints as what feels like the brightest light ever shone makes his way straight through the blurry haze he otherwise sees. Then follows the left, the same process over again until such a point where the blurred scene begins to solidify and the objects in front of him become more defined. He pushes himself up from lying on his back on his mattress with his arms so he is now in a seated position on his ass, then raising his arms in the air and pushing towards the sky as much as his body will allow, stretching. He slowly gets his senses together as he thinks about the night before, and that draws an audible laugh from the Protégé and he turns his head down to his left (he sleeps on the right hand side of the bed always) and is met by the face of the Prototype staring back.

    “WHAT THE F#!K” Sean squeals as he jumps out of his bed and backs against the far wall, somehow remembering to manage to maintain some semblance of composure and dragging the duvet cover with him to maintain his modesty.

    Now it’s Prototype’s turn to laugh, somehow the entirety of the New Breed’s relationship is, yes, primarily built on being the best, but there is also the fact that they each love to infuriate the other. Some say that it brings out the best in them, but others counter that it’s simply because they are all assholes. It’s really a tough call to make.

    “Were you looking for this?”

    Prototype, with his feet on the ground but bent over stomach first at a right angle to the bed to get as close to Sean as possible, moves slightly to reveal he was laying on one of the tag team championship belts – that would be what Sean was glancing down to see.

    “You were sleeping with it?!?” Prototype enquiries, clearly bemused. Although that bemusement was admittedly somewhat ironic as unbeknownst to Sean, Protoype had just finished his morning workout having the belt hanging down of him so he could make kissing contact with it on every sit up. Still, at least he was smart enough not to do it in a position where he tag team partner could interrupt him and counter with it at the same time.

    “I can do what I want. As can you although I’d have hoped that didn’t stretch to sneaking into my bed while I sleep, what in the hell is wrong with you?!?”

    “No time to waste Seany, no time to waste. Have you seen the card for the anniversary show or were you too busy spending time with your loved one here?”

    “Rematch with the Warriors of Virtue I bet. No big deal. We’ve beaten them so many times I think they’re broken. Well, certainly something is broken because if what we have faced is actually working correctly then they are an even bigger pair of frauds than I had anticipated. So we just have to knock them off once more before we put out notice that the tag team division is, and forever will remain, ours until we are bored of it.”

    “Well, it’s Over the Edge….”

    “Over the Edge? That team of has-beens that we’ve already beaten. I mean, that team who’s last greatest accomplishment probably came around the time that PAJ wasn’t a cripple? Or a time where going online meant unplugging your house phone to dial up? I mean, those are different times that we used to have. I couldn’t handle a world where I could pick up my phone and scroll through thousands of comments calling us the worst of all humanity, to paraphrase. Nor could I handle a time where Over the Edge were anything but a reminder of how bad this division used to be and how bad this company used to be. That they are even renowned as some sort of legendary figures from the past is a joke. Their past wasn’t exceptional, never mind the present where they aren’t even a tenth of what they were then. So fine….guess they’re saving the Warriors of Virtue for another time, and we’ll just take out Over the Edge to start our reign.”

    “No’s both of them.”

    For all the front and bravado, this is the first time that anything other than arrogance and confidence was spread across his face. It was only momentary though, as he soon catches himself.

    “We…Well, that’s doesn’t change anything. If we can beat them both separately, we can beat them both at the same time. And sure even if they team up, we still have enough to embarrass them. But Over the Edge are arrogant, they will think they are too good to team with anyone else based on what they’ve done before. And even if they weren’t, would you really trust XYZ or Lord Dog?!? I mean, talk about a strange pairing…”

    “Stirling Jagger and Tommy Thunder”

    “No, no. It was rhetorical, I don’t actually want to talk about strange pairing, although I’ll admit I do have some time for the Sleaziest Player in the game. Shit wrestler, but he’s enjoyable….”

    “You’ll probably have time to appreciate him close up because he’s in the match too.”

    Sean is close to saying the same sentence as he did when he found Prototype lying in bed beside him, but instead just mouths it silently. He goes to speak back to Prototype but stops himself, takes his phone out, and shuffles through a few browser pages as if there is a need for him to confirm the information himself with his own eyes. . After all, if there are grounds so as not to trust someone it would begin with them sneaking into your room to scare you. Although it isn’t really a case of trust, deep down, for Sean. Seeing the information will allow him to process it. He probably has a voicemail from management but he goes straight to the dirtsheets for this for some reason….maybe a tiny indication that he might be slightly rattled. Sean, for all his talk and his bravado, is still relatively inexperienced. He is certainly the less experienced of the New Breed trio by a considerable distance. He is the future, or at least that’s what Mike and Prototype will tell you, but that doesn’t mean he’s currently the present. If you were to ask any of the other duo in private, they would probably tell you the tag team titles are ahead of schedule for him. But then again, if you ask them, they will tell you that is because of the woeful depth in the FWA tag division as opposed to the faster than expected development of Hughes.

    “So it’s the three other teams that we have to beat then? You know what. Fine. It’s clear that the FWA don’t like us, they didn’t like us turning up to beat up Risky Douglas and Jack Adams all the way through to not liking us for helping to send PAJ home with a cracked skull, bruised ego and broken spirit. So of course they are going to stack the odds against us…of course they are going to want us to lose in our first defense of the championships. I mean…is there any other tag team or champion in FWA history that immediately gets thrust into a match where the odds statistically are against you retaining before you’ve even had time to get to know her?”


    “HER!” Sean shouts as he points at the tag belt that is still laying on the bed. Prototype shakes his head, not even he can make fun of that. He is just trying to process Sean classifying his championship belt as a female and also sleeping with it. Sean glances down at his phone again.

    “So, can we lose without being pinned or is it an elimination?”

    “They haven’t announced it so I don’t think they’ve decided yet, it was more important for them to announce that the titles will be on the line. “Fair of them” they said. The stipulation can follow after, but Sean, it doesn’t really matter whatever stipulation is provided. If we need to beat all three teams we will do just that but if we need to make sure we just beat one whilst making sure that the others don’t show the world how shit they are in comparison to each other when we aren’t looking, then that’s what we will have to do. So….let’s go work it out.”

    Calming influence from the more experienced Prototype. Therein lies the difference between the two, Sean reacts and his very emotional whereas Prototype assesses and is very calculated. It is why they make a good team. Prototype turns and heads back towards the door that he crept through.

    “Don’t forget to grab ‘her’ Sean” Prototype chuckles as he leaves the room.

    Sean shakes his head, pulls on the closest clothes he can find, before grabbing her and making his way out after Prototype.

    “Why does he call himself the Division 1 superstar? They aren’t even numbered divisions in this company?”

    The door slams shut behind the Protégé on that bombshell.

  8. #8
    Chikara Trainee

    Join Date
    Jul 2015
    Rep Power

    Re: FWA Anniversary Promo Thread

    The Smoothie King Center has been shaken to its foundation as the crowd erupt in fury as The Prodigy has his hand raised in the air. The blood trickles down his face as the lights accentuate the fact that his torso is covered in sweat in between the drippings of blood. Viktor is nowhere to be seen in the ring as the ref holds Parr’s hand high in the air. Parr lets him continue on the basis that if the referee wasn’t yanking him up by the arm he would likely drop to his knees or his back in exhaustion – and that certainly isn’t a good look for somebody who walked into this match thinking it would be the start of his return party, the PARR project if you will.

    The referee goes to release his arm but Mike manages to gets his attention and somehow with some hint of subtlety manages to get the ref to edge him close to the ropes without giving the impression to the audience watching that he is being helped towards said ropes. He finally reaches the holy grail and takes a firm hold of the tape, letting the official now exit the ring, before glancing out a the crowd. Some….not many, but some….want to give him applause of at least his due respect for the effort that he put in tonight but the others aren’t as ready to forgive what he did to PAJ and that he brought the fury and wrath of Maximums unto himself. You reap what you sow is one of the oldest proverbs in history and certainly the only way in which it could be more applicable than it is right now would be if Parr was the only staring at the lights in the rooftop after being mauled by the brute force of Viktor. Mike raises his arm one more time before dropping to his knees, back and rolling underneath the bottom rope. He then staggers up the rampway, all of his focus on making sure he doesn’t stumble or show any sign of weakness to anyone watching. Be it next competitors, fans in the arena, commentators. Whoever. The PARR project is dependent on people viewing The Prodigy as a threat once more, not someone who has hidden away from singles competition since last August. Prodigy takes one spin at the top of the ramp to take in more ‘adulation’ from the crowd before disappearing behind the curtain to the backstage area.

    The aforementioned curtain is still waving back and forth from Parr emerging through it before he falls to a knee and uses one of the sound chests to bridge himself up and falling to another. Luckily for him, there are only a handful of producers or other assorted staff within sight of this and their word will be dismissed as unsubstantiated rumors. He heaves himself back to his two feet and stumbles down the corridor to his locker room, pushing open the door and slumping straight into the stool that was still set up from when he left. Mike breathes in heavily trying to steady his heart rate and gather his composure, but through the messy combination of sweat and blood you can see there is a wide grin.

    “Why Mike? Why did you do it? Well….I’ve got a better, more apt question, why wouldn’t I do it?”

    Parr covers his mouth as he coughs up a combination of blood and phlegm. There is a distinct difference in physicality between a tag match and singles that you cannot replicate with any amount of training. Like anything, if you stop doing something for a while, when you start again it takes a while for your body to adapt again.

    “The beauty of having Sean and Prototype with me lately is that people have managed to forget who I was and what I did before that. There is the good stuff, there is the year long North American Championship run and there is the tantalizingly close ascent to the World Championship scene. But there was also the bad stuff, there was the losses to competitors that shouldn’t be fit to say my name and there constant beat downs from the likes of Jack Adams and Risky Douglas. And, I’m ashamed to say, the guy who believed he was the best wrestler in the company and who thought he was infallible disappeared. I didn’t speak. I didn’t want to wrestle. I didn’t want to compete. Until very recently.”

    Mike reaches down and starts to untie one of his boots.

    “Until I began to feel like The Prodigy again and not just Mike Parr. And it happened one night months ago that many of you probably don’t even remember. It happened when PAJ and Viktor beat the New Breed to retain the tag championships. I stood on the outside, as I had been for months and months, and I watched as my two brothers competed and tried but ultimately came up short against the Project. And I thought to myself on that night, as I watched them raise their championship belts in the air, that I was not going to stand on the sidelines anymore and watch people parade around this company like they are the best thing to ever grace professional wrestling. They are not even fit to spit shine my boots. And not only did I hate fact that I was standing on the sidelines and watching them but I hated myself. It was, if you trace it right back to its root cause, my own fault and a problem of my own making.”

    “The Prototype and The Protégé needed their leader. Needed their standout performer to inspire them, not stand passively on the sidelines. And more important, Mike Parr needed The Prodigy back. So I sat and watched and waited for the right moment to strike, the right moment to announce my return to the limelight and the right moment to kick of the PARR project and….”

    Mike stops himself and again chuckles, as if repeating his PARR project lines has humored him.

    “People think that the PARR project is just a cute tag line, the PARR project vs the PAJ project. I mean, I’ll concede that it definitely sells shirts but the people just don’t understand exactly what the PARR project is. It’s not just something clever that I started to say, it’s the headline note for the reintegration of Mike Parr into the FWA landscape and it’s the headline note for The Prodigy coming back and reminding everyone of exactly who the hell he is. It is the day zero, and I do say that with all of the irony intended, of The Prodigy’s return to the upper echelons of this company.”

    Parr shakes his head ruefully as he reflects on his fall from grace over the past 15 months, before starting to untie his second boot. He is still moving gingerly after the battle. He wipes some of the blood tricking down his forehead to the side so as not to land in his eyes.

    “So where was I? I was sitting and waiting for the right moment to strike when it hit me. I know I’m brilliant and I’m capable of the most devastating plans but I’m happy to admit that it wasn’t pre-meditated. I was sitting backstage and I looked on the monitor and I saw Philip standing in the ring talking about sacrifices and talking about day z3ro’s and it spoke to me. He definitely didn’t mean for it to impact me and I’m still not quite sure why it did, but he resonated with me. He was right, to a point. A sacrifice was certainly required and day z3ro certainly had just begun. So I watched as he stood out there and begged Viktor to hit him with the chair. And Viktor relented. I couldn’t believe it. Viktor, this allegedly unstoppable monster, this behemoth from Eastern Europe where brutality and cold heartedness is not only a characteristic but a common one, stood there and looked like he was about to either cry or piss himself. He was an emotional wreck. And I couldn’t sit back and watch this shitshow go on any longer – I couldn’t sit and let them have their will they/wont they moment because, as PAJ had rightfully said, a sacrifice was required. And he was the right one to sacrifice. A aged, old, past his peak former champion whose powers had waned. The more I talk about it, the more I think it was less of a sacrifice and more of a show of mercy by putting him out of his misery. So I grabbed Sean and Prototype and we went down to the ring and we did what Viktor couldn’t do and what PAJ needed, and we beat him into retirement. And with every punch that was swinging, and with every blast of that steel chair against skin, The Prodigy was returning. So I hit him again and I through another punch and it was better than expected and suddenly, I was no longer Mike Parr standing in the ring but I was The Prodigy again.”

    Mike bridges himself back to his feet after removing both boots and moves towards the corner of his locker room and grabs a towel and places it around his neck, catching the drops of sweat and blood from his head and stopping them dropping on his shoulders and dripping down his torso. He drops his head into his towel………………………………………………

    Mike’s head shoots up out of the darkness that engulfed him with his head in the towel, his breathing significantly heavy and deep. There are markings on his head that suggest he was pressed into the towel for a significant period of time. What was that? Mike jumps up and goes over to the mirror in his dressing room and staring back at him is himself in pristine condition. There isn’t a drop of blood or a hint of sweat. There is a loud knock on the door as one of the workers at the Smoothie King Arena shouts “You’re up next, Mike”

    Parr breaks into a laugh, recognizing the reality of the last few moments where he must’ve sat slouched in his locker room, as he sits back down and puts on his wrestling boots, the final preparations before his match with Viktor. Why is he laughing? Because if anything, he now knows that he has made the right decision to come back.

    “So, why Mike? Why wouldn’t I do it? Because I then had to spend the last two weeks listening to everyone tell me about how Viktor Maximus would victimize me. Listening to everyone tell me about how I shouldn’t piss of somebody so big, so strong and built for this purpose? You know what I say to those people? I say that you go and f##k yourself. I wasn’t built and trained for the purpose, I was born for it. And to be honest, if I have to sit and be scared of a blubbering wreck who wouldn’t take a chair to his mentor to progress in his career…who wouldn’t take a chair to somebody begging him to hit him, then it wouldn’t be worth me coming back at all. I might as well retire. But as it is, tonight is not the night I retire…..tonight is the night that The Prodigy is reborn and the PARR project in its infancy shits on the PAJ project’s grand finale.”

    Mike jumps to his feet and, barring a few minor stretches as he walks towards the door, makes his way towards the ring.

  9. #9
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    Re: FWA Anniversary Promo Thread

    The End Of Our Story

    Part 1


    Dear Diary,

    Hey it is Alice again its been awhile since we last talked. A lot has happened but the fact of the matter is you really missed a lot. I found a family and we found a home. There was someone who was trying to take it all away but, we defended it together as a family though he still standing time after time he keeps coming up he keeps fighting and I am confused I don't know why anymore. His name is Mac Michaud and he has no family.

    He has no heart he just wants to watch the world burn. We tried to bring him in. We tried to show him the way the way of the dark forest he just couldn't accept it. In the end the rejects, the forgotten ones, the lost will show the world about acceptance about a place to feel wanted to belong.

    Mac our story has reached its the endgame. There is no where to go no place to hide there is one family vs one man alone against the world. You could of had it all. Crowe & Nova are the only family I need. The only family I want and The Dark Forest is our home.


    The Stars Aligned

    Part 2


    We open up with Nova by himself inside The Dark Forest. He is staring up at the stars in a daze.

    Nova: The stars are aligned fate is clear mind is ready the day is near. Alice found the rabbithole went down to wonderland. Crowe took off flew so high remembered that feeling of that night. We had a plan he knew the stakes he promised us a chance to make these fate.

    I see now what must been done the stars are aligned the battle is won.

    Mac do you know what it says? You lost the light on your way home fade to black you don't need to struggle no more.
    We are waiting to guide you like a shooting star watch as your beauty falls apart on the skies you will fly like Icarus to close to the sun.

    Nova waves his arm around as he falls to the ground.

    Boom! Boom! bye bye!

    Nova: You are no longer welcomed in this place you are no longer welcomed in our home.


    Upon The Crowe's Nest

    Part 3


    We see Crowe climbing a old home inside The Dark Forest he is seen struggling to get up but he finally does he waits a moment before sitting on the edge his feet dangling off the home. He pulls out a cig smoking it before he speaks to what we think is The Dark Forest.

    Crowe: I got to know why? Why did you think this was going to work? You told us to do all of this build this all make a family you told us you had a plan. The plan was to make him one of us you said he would fall in line that he would commit that he would see that everything is not what it seems.

    It seems to me that things aren't going as you thought.

    Yeah, I get it we won.

    We beat him three different times all three of us none of us failed so why must we do it again. All you are doing is breaking her heart. Alice thought that she could add another member that she could make a new friend what you did was wrong.

    Crowe seems to be listening to nothing and a few moments he speaks again with confusion.


    This isn't how it should be.

    You want us strong!

    You say another battle has begun.

    That this was a test.

    I have followed you all along. I have been by your side through this all. This is pain. This is misery. I came here to get away from all this.

    A few moments later Crowe stands up distraught and ready to jump off building.


    That night...

    It Still...

    I Don't wanna remember...

    Make it STOP!

    Im sorry...

    I know...

    This is all for the good of the family...

    This is all for the good of The Dark Forest...

    I will....

    I am....

    Yes I remember...

    Crowe sits down begins to sing.

    What is up
    Might be down
    Tears are just raindrops falling to the ground
    It will be ok
    Don't let hate fuel your pain
    no matter the cost
    No matter the fight
    Family is first
    Dark Forest will burn bright.


    CWA World Heavyweight Champion
    Brayden Bridges

  10. #10
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    Re: FWA Anniversary Promo Thread

    Sterling Jagger is seen working out with Tommy Thunder in the gym. Thunders back is turned as he does some workouts as Sterling Jagger stares at himself in the mirror lifting weights.

    Sterling Jagger: See Tommy I told you that us together we can change the bizz. We are hot we are up and coming we are cant miss TV for the Must See MVP's its got a nice ring to it doesn't it?

    Ya I know, you are the franchise you are the very best in the world but truth be told you needed me to push you like I need you. Its a you scratch my back I will scratch yours's deal. Just think we became a tag team and our first official match I get us a shot at the titles Thunder a shot at the belts. When's the last time either of us got that? I know where your past accolades add up you are fantastic a real men among boys.

    Thunder though we are in a new place and the competition is better they work harder longer and its on a whole different level a whole different fight. Look Tommy we need to go into this with a strategy here is what I am thinking we keep them to our side of the ring quick tags. We work on the legs. We grab them and we just work the leg ya know we can sweep the leg.

    Whatever it takes Thunder. When we win too we can go out to all the best clubs we can get the women the money the fame. Drinks on me, I know... I know your body is a temple but, even you can go one day and tempt fate.

    So Tommy.. You ready? Sterling Jagger is ready baby and no matter what happens this future for us looks bright. Well tell you what Tommy I am gonna go work us into some more endorsement deals! Later piece.

    Sterling Jagger leaves as we flip to Tommy Thunder who is seen to have earphones in and hasn't heard a word that was said.

    Thunder: Jagger did you say something? Sterling?

    the scene ends with him shrugging before going back to his workout.


    CWA World Heavyweight Champion
    Brayden Bridges

  11. #11

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    Re: FWA Anniversary Promo Thread

    “My name is Viktor Maximus and I have a voice”


    Grozny, Russia. Winter 2002.

    Tower blocks of flats dominate the skyline. Run down, long since forgotten by any government entity. The building cracking at the seams and the flats uncared for by anyone other than the few tenants that remain. Three giant men, both in height and weight, walk towards the ground floor flat with a smaller, equally weighty boy in tow. Two of the men are in their 20s and the eldest is much older in his 40s. The boy in tow is a teenage boy around 17 years old.

    ‘Hurry up, young one’

    The oldest of the three men scowls at the smaller boy struggling along behind them in the heavy snow. He tries to speed up but cannot walk faster. The man tells the other two to carry on and storms back to the youngest and clips him around the ear and drags him by the scruff of his neck to speed him up.

    ‘When I tell you to hurry up, you hurry up. Got that?’

    The boy sheepishly nods.

    ‘If you weren’t so fat, I would ship you off to do something useful for this family and you would become a man then. A real man like me!’

    The boy pushes the older man away.

    ‘Why would I want to be like you? You fat, lazy slob.’

    Rage builds in the older mans face.


    The teenage boy looks down, grown accustom to being screamed at. The older man pulls his fist back and the boy drops to the floor, cowering in fear.

    ‘You are no son of mine.’

    The boy looks up to see his father walking away, shaking his head in disappointment. The boy stares at the snow and once his father is out of earshot he looks up to see him going into their apartment and locking the door.

    ‘I’ll show you. One day he will be no father of mine.’

    The boy pushes his arms into the snow and attempts to do a push up but fails to do it.


    St Petersburg, Russia, Winter 2005.

    ‘MOVE IT!’

    The boy is now a slightly older and in much better shape. He is the Cadet and he is in the middle of an exercise drill in the middle of the Russian Winter. The Cadet is crawling through the snow under barbed wire.


    The cadet crawls as quick as he can through the mud and snow sludge that has formed. He is determined but still cannot match pace with the others but does not give up and gets to the end and he is met by his commanding officer who instructs him to stand off to the side of the course.


    “Yes, SIR!”

    The cadet stands at ease on the side of the course having to watch the death stares from all his other cadets as they pass him. Viktor stands stoically and does his best to hold a brave face but inside he is furious. His commanding over walks over to his towering cadet.

    ‘Follow me.’

    The officer, with The Cadet following behind, head into the barracks, they walk past the mess hall and to the office where members of the commanding staff are waiting.

    ‘Sit down’

    Viktor sits and looks around the room before locking eyes with the commanding officer who sits opposite him behind the desk.

    “I will be honest with you, you have been trying hard, we can see that. You’ve pushed yourself to get better and you are required to do 2 years of military service, but you cannot and will not serve in this elite unit. You will amount to nothing if you stay. You will be outside the barracks at 04:00 and you will serve with the main forces, do you understand me?!”

    The Cadet hides his disappointment but gets up and salute and walks out of the office.


    New Orleans, Louisiana. 2019.

    Alone in a hotel gym at 3am. A man looks down at the floor. He takes a deep breath and smiles.

    ‘I showed them.’

    Viktor puts adjust his earphones and pushes his arms to the floor and rattles off push up after push up. Finishing up at 100 push up as sweat drips off the big man. Viktor gets up and looks around. He grabs his towel and wipes the sweat from his forehead. He notices that he is alone. He takes a deep breath.

    ‘Alone. Guess that’s always gonna be the case.’

    Viktor walks over to his phone, expecting to see a message or a voicemail, but there is nothing. No messages, no voicemails, no missed calls. A deafening silence, once so familiar, hits Viktor as he realises that he is alone as the adrenaline begins to wear off, all he can do is think…

    “Phillip is gone. It is all you again. Just you. Just me. I am ok. This is just like when I left home. I got through that ok and I had no clue what to do then. Just get in shape and join the army, good job. I’ve had guidance. A mentor that every else would want. I’ve learned from one of the best of all time. Just listen to his lessons and take it one match at a time. He was the big thinker. I just have to keep it match to match. Take everything in front of me and do what I can. One push up at a time. One curl at a time. One rep at a time. One man at a time. Work at it forever because perfection is unattainable.”

    Viktor grabs his things. He bundles them into his bag, throws it over his shoulder and heads back to his room. Viktor cleans himself up and sits on the end of his bed. He dials his phone. “Phillip” reads the call. It rings and it rings but there is no answer.

    “Must still be in the hospital or gone away on holiday somewhere”

    There is no personalised voicemail

    “Please leave your message after the tone”

    “I guess you’re busy, so I’ll just talk, this is my big moment. Do I put you at the back of my mind or do I do it for you? You gave me everything. I knew I could work harder than everyone, but you made me believe I could be better than everyone. Do I believe that? Who knows? Why am I nervous? This is my big moment. I have to put it all behind me. All I can think about is Mike Parr smashing you in the back of the head with that chair. It haunts me. I haven’t been sleeping too well because I should have done more. I should have just listened to you at the end. Why was I so stubborn? I didn’t want our time together to end but I couldn’t give you what you wanted on your terms. I couldn’t even do that. You wanted to give me a moment that would never be forgotten. You called it my destiny, but I don’t feel pride in my destiny. I feel ashamed. I am ashamed that I failed you. I am ashamed that I allowed our moment to be taken from us and before I go and carry on with my preparation. I want to make one thing very clear to you, even I have no idea you’ll listen to this, I will take back everything. I want my destiny back and I want Mike Parr to beg me for forgiveness. I hope to speak to you soon. Vik’

    Vik has tears in his eyes as he hangs up the call. He looks to the floor and feels no pride; he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He turns off the light in his room and tries to get some sleep.


    Smoothie King Center, New Orleans, Louisiana. 2019

    Viktor steps out of his rental car, grabs his bag from the backseat and steps out in the parking area for talent. He is greeted by some backstage staff and a camera crew and he shakes the staffs hand as they welcome him to the show. They are speaking to Viktor but he is not really listening just nodding along with whatever they are saying. Viktor is focused. He has no time for anything else. Viktor pushes open the doors and walks straight to the locker room. He acknowledges nothing. He walks past everyone who tries to engage him and throws his bag int the locker room and carries on walking. Viktor walks out through the curtain and looks around the arena. Viktor looks around all the empty seats waiting to be filled. He watches as the crew working on the set and on the ring. Viktor, stands on the stage, where he will stand alone. Viktor looks down at the floor and then looks up with his head held high and smiles.

    Viktor: So you’re sticking a camera in my face? Will Mike see this? Good. So, this is it. The place where I get thrown in the deep end. Where I am all alone in this company. Where I sink or where I swim. I am not worried because in that ring 2 weeks ago something happened, and I am talking to Mike about this one.

    Viktor stares down at the ring. He walks down the ramp and stands at the spot in the ring where his mentor’s career ended.

    In this spot, Mike Parr, you woke up the beast within me. You will understand that soon. I have had moments of doubt without Phillip; I will admit that. That night consumes my thoughts but the more time I have reflect, the less I think about the night and more about what I am going to do to the man who ruined it. I was trapped just a few feet away, helpless and unable to save my mentor but understand why, Mike, why you have a massive mistake.

    Viktor pauses and looks down at the canvas. He bends down and places his hand on it and smiles. He stands back up.

    My whole life no-one has believed in me or gave me an opportunity to succeed. I’ve been belittled and rejected by whole life. A guy my size, not suitable, not good enough, not quick enough but there was one man who believed in me. Phillip A. Jackson. The man believed in me. For the first time in a long time, there was someone trying to support me, rather than try and tear me down. From my time in the Army and as a competitive strong man. I was rejected and had no support. In the army, I worked hard to get to training for an elite unit and they rejected me. I don’t want to recall my time in the strongman scene, but I was not loved there. I was often envied and a target for gossip. When I went to the wrestling academy, they did not turn me away. They did not let me fall behind. They picked me up and they made me better, every single day. That is who Phillip was to me. He was hope. He was my creator because before I was in the FWA, I was nobody. Who I was, was not important. What I was, was not important. Now, I am somebody. My name is Viktor Maximus and I have a voice.

    Viktor looks around…


    Viktor shouts into the arena. A few members of the crew working around the arena stop and look at Viktor but quickly get their heads back down.

    However, my actions will silence you. What happens when I stand across the ring form Mike Parr will not be suitable for television viewing. Mike took my destiny. Mike took my moment. Mike took my mentors parting gift from me. You took his dignity. You took everything he worked for and made it a horror show. You took a legend out in a hate filled way. You showed that you are immature. That you are jealous of a moment not being about you. This was a year in the making. This was a plan by a man looking to leave this business and it was meant to be my torch when it was passed. You might call yourself a prodigy but all that means to me is you are young. You are naïve and I had to look up what prodigy meant because this is not my first language. I am experienced. I have been to hell and back. I have had a life outside of wrestling. I have had a life of discipline and hard work, that is the Russian way. No one has worked harder than me to get into this position and Phillip tried to take me to the top but the little young boy, filled to the brim with jealousy, just had to spoil a party because he wasn’t invited to it.

    Viktor has anger and deadly focus in his eyes. A singular focus to fuel and he continues to rant after climbing out of the ring and walking back up the ramp towards the back,

    I won’t allow you young punk to take my moment away. For too many years I have taken Гавно (shit) from Сволочь (scum) like you who I knew than. This time, a beast has finally awoken, and I won’t take that from anyone anymore. I have worked too many hours, pouring everything into being here to be walked all over because all of the people here think I am naïve. I am not naïve. I am not stupid. I made the best decision of my life in getting into this business and met the greatest man I have ever known. All it took was for one man to believe in me, to see all the work I have done. To see the life I have managed to carve out in the face of all the non-believers. Nothing is more important to me than to shut your mouth and to punish you for being the little Сука (bitch) you are. What is it that you are teaching to The New Breed? What is it that they are learning because they are not learning how to out work. They are not learning to be smarter. All they are learning is how to jump someone from behind and listen to an insufferable little twerp who is more insecure than his mothers legs. A man who has a weakness as obvious as that is an issue for you, Mike. Even if a dumb lackey who was being manipulated can see that, then how many “smart” people can see it. I do not need to worry about your insecurities. I care more about taking back my destiny and although I can never get the opportunity again. What I can and will do is tear apart the man who took it from me and restore the honour to Phillip’s legacy and to get revenge on you, Mike. There is no higher purpose. For me, it is revenge. I don’t need there to be a higher purpose or long-term plan to motivate me. Put the thief front of me and they will face the destruction that he deserves. That is all I need.

    Viktor heads straight back through the curtain after finishing what he has to say. He signals for the camera crew not to follow and we fade.

  12. #12
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    Re: FWA Anniversary Promo Thread


    We open upon a blissfully beautiful field. It’s a stunning, and peaceful landscape, picturesque even. Immediately it conjures forth thoughts of a serene tranquillity such is its overwhelming beauty. The grass is so beautifully green, as it’s gently rustled by a soft breeze. Various trees dot the landscape, some so grand and tall that they seem to reach up into the heavens high above themselves. A majestic Eagle leaves its perch on one of these trees and fly’s across the skyline. We see a tiny little squirrel quickly dart up another tree. Before watching a few colourful fish swims along a small clear blue stream. Then finally we witness what has brought us here today, as her glorious Caramel skin sparkles in the sunlight. She slowly and elegantly steps through the grass, a vision of beauty and grace within this tranquil setting. We just watch her for a while, admiring her, devoutly worshipping her, and being mesmerised by her every movement. That soft, gentle breeze tugs at the full-length white dress that hugs her body. The soft white silk material firmly cups and caresses her breasts, before loosely clinging to the rest of her body. As the wind picks up the dress dances playfully behind her, and clings to her thighs with each step. That Eagle fly’s above her…and draws our attention for a moment before the softness of her full lips, and the twinkle in her brown eyes pulls us back in to her Divinity. There’s a teasing smile upon her face, and a rosiness to her cheeks. Her long dark brunette hair is curled ever so slightly and cascades down upon, and past her shoulders. From amidst those luxurious brown locks we see the sparkle of her gold and diamond earrings. A shimmering that is matched by the gold around her neck…but ultimately surpassed by the way her Caramel complexion radiates warmth and beauty. This is Gabrielle, THE Gabrielle. Our Caramel Coated Goddess, The Goddess of the Mountain. The former Lady In Black. The Iconic, Revolutionary and Legendary Gabrielle. And now that she has let every inch of her beauty and her strength dawn upon us, we see that beneath her, under her bare feet is flame. Where she steps turns to ash, what was once green and glorious withers and dies. It is a stark contrast to the serenity and beauty of her and this place. She is not just our Goddess of Love and Happiness afterall, she is the Goddess of War also…

    But that smile upon her soft, pink lips assures us that everything will be fine. Then the softness to her voice reassures us even more.

    Gabrielle: This…this is like a fairytale…

    She gazes upon us all, staring through our vantage point into this land as the wind gently plays with a few strands of her hair.

    Gabrielle: But its not really. Because this is all real…

    The camera pans down to her breasts for a moment. Those mesmerising caramel orbs…until Gabrielle reaches out and redirects the camera upon her face with a playful smirk upon her lips.

    Gabrielle: A year ago I was happily retired, just seven months ago even I was happily retired. All of this was in the past, this was just a memory, it just a Legacy. Now I’m on the cusp of absolute greatness once more. I had happily given this life up to move on, and now I’m just one three count away from being the undeniable Greatest in the World once again. This feeling is so intoxicating, to step away from it all for so long and not skip a beat when I have risen once more…it can’t be matched…

    The camera once again pans down for a short moment.

    Yes…even that.

    A teasing, and all at once taunting little giggle saunters forth from her lips.

    This is what was expected though, this is what I had to surely do. But this is something that so many falls short of. To achieve true Greatness…walk away…and then achieve that Greatness once again. History is littered with the names of so many who tried to do this, and so few who were able to actually achieve it. You have no idea how good this feels, how vindicating this is, how fulfilling this is…just getting to this point again so fast excites me and delights me so much.

    She tosses her head back as a devious little moan emanates from her very being.


    She then lowers her head, and tilts it to the side ever so slightly as she smirks widely.

    Gabrielle: But you see through all this don’t you Cyrus?

    You think you’re so special because you can look upon your Goddess and not be overcome with lust and temptation. You think you’re so smart because you can look upon my body…and resist it. You think you’re so clever because you see this as just being some game, some act, some tool in the success of your Goddess.

    Maybe you are special Cy…I’ve brought men and women to their knee’s just with one look, or one flick of my tongue. You know that just weeks before Chris and I finally had our long overdue battle for supremacy in that ring…he was knocking on my Hotel suite door. I am an irresistible seductress, that is part of my Legacy. But you Cy seem immune to it, so driven, so focused, so dedicated to your craft in the ring that you aren’t consumed by the allure of caramel.

    That devious smirk upon her face dissipates for a moment as she tilts her head straight.

    But you’re not as special as you think you are Cy, you’re not as smart or clever as you want to be. You might be able to resist my curves, my body…my temple…but that’s where it ends. You think you see through something; you think you see past some “act”. You think this is all just a show, put on too fool the masses. You think you’re special by defying your Goddess as you denounce my Divinity itself.

    You still don’t get it Cyrus. You think you’re so much better than everyone else, but you’re just getting caught up on something else altogether instead. You want to fixate upon what I’ve done to get here, what I’ve done to stay here, but you in turn forget and ignore so much of what I’ve done. I’ve done things that you act like you’re above, things that you act like you’re too good for but that doesn’t define who I am as your Goddess. There’s so much more to your Goddess that you conveniently ignore…so much that makes everyone cheer so loudly for me…while they never seem to have the same love for you.

    Her passionate, fiery brown eyes light up as she takes a moment to gaze around at the beauty around herself and steps towards the clear blue stream as the grass crackles and burns under her bare feet.

    You want to walk out to the ring week after week and act like you’re gazing into me and seeing what’s truly inside. Well I know what burns you up more than anything else. I know what is inside you Cyrus, I know the Truth…

    After everything you have done, everything you have achieved, everyone you have defeated you still don’t have their love. Everything you do, you need validation for, you need praise for, you need love for, and you don’t get any of it from the FWA faithful. You’ve fought the good fight for so long, you’ve gone out there week after week dethroning cheats and braggarts, defying the odds, and bringing honour and prestige to everything you touch, and everything you do…





    And it eats you up inside Cy, and that is as you would say the Truth. After everything, despite your best efforts, and your most noble of intentions it hasn’t resulted in the adulation and love that I command and receive. When I returned to the FWA I was instantly greeted with the praise that you seek but cannot get. That eats you up inside Cy, I know what makes you tick, I know what drives you. I know that every time you stand in front of the World and make your proclamations of being special that you need everyone who hears your words to buy into it.

    Yet no one ever does.

    And at this point Cy if no one has yet, I don’t think they ever will.

    As the glorious golden sunlight sparkles upon her tantalising Caramel skin, and the beauty of this landscape burns under her feet she gazes directly upon us once more, but she’s not looking at us, she’s looking right at Cyrus Truth.

    You think you see through some mask that I’m wearing, well I see through yours Cyrus. You are the FWA World Champion, that means you are at the top of our field, the pinnacle of our industry, the end game of all of this. You have slung over your shoulder, or wrapped around your waist what every single person who has ever put on a pair of Wrestling boots wants and desires most of all. You have what I want, and I have what you want.

    I want to be the World Champion once more, and you want that feeling I get when Envy hits the speakers and thousands upon thousands of people cheer my name.

    I see how much it breaks you every week Cy. In Tallahassee you walked down to the ring looking dejected and depressed as you were greeted with cheers, boos and a smattering of apathy. All you want is their love, all you want is to be accepted and appreciated, to be their Champion. All you want is what you heard, what you felt, what you experienced as I walked down to that ring and got in your face. They love me like you want to be loved.

    That’s why you defy me Cyrus, that’s why you defy your Goddess and claim Lies to be Truths. You want the love I am greeted with to be a Lie, you want the apathy you are greeted with to be a Lie. If you try and claim that everything I am is a Lie…then you can convince yourself that what you are going through is a Lie as well.

    But here’s a Truth we can both invest in; If I beat you I become the FWA World Champion, but if you beat me, that doesn’t mean they’ll start adoring you like they do me.

    A taunting yet cute laugh crawls from her mouth as she stares into Cyrus Truth’s soul.

    I don’t think they ever will Cy…

    She pauses for a moment and then excitedly clasps her hands together.

    Unless seeing you stand up to their Goddess, taking the fight to her, only to falter and bend the knee finally wins them over. Maybe witnessing you being humbled, and then embracing your Goddess will earn you what you seek, what you crave, what you yearn for. Its why you don’t lust for me Cyrus…

    The camera pans down once more at her cleavage. Those marvellous thirty four double D breasts coated in Caramel captivate her audience.

    You still want me Cy, its just not my body that you crave.

    The camera pans back up as Gabrielle’s tongue crawls across her bottom lip slowly, and her eyes flicker with a fiery intensity.

    You desire what I have, not what I am. Afterall week after week you point out my sins, you remind us all of the depths I have sunk too for success…yet I’m still beloved and worshipped. Arena’s full of tens of thousands of people chant my name week after week. Just imagine Cyrus if you could hear: “Cyrus…Cyrus…Cyrus…Cyrus” chanted loudly week after week.

    I think that would be your climax, your greatest climax.

    But you wont find that here, you wont win them over, lest they take pity on you. Beating me wont shower you with love and affection…but beating me validates everything you have ever achieved. And as I told you before losing to me destroys everything you have ever done.

    You scoffed when I told you this in the past. Your ego, your stubbornness refusing to allow you to even consider any of this for a moment. You want to question my Divinity when I hold everything you have done in the palm of my hand?

    She holds out her palm, smiling sweetly as she does.

    In my absence you have risen to prominence Cy. Without me around you have carved out an impressive legacy. While I relaxed, and enjoyed all the parts of life that we can miss so easily when dedicated to this, you became a Legend. When I stepped back…you stepped forward. Laugh if you must, put up those walls if that’s what you must do to protect yourself, but I know how badly you need something else that I can actually give you; validation.

    You want to defy my Divine status as a Goddess, when I can truly make or break you, everything you are is now at the whim and will of your Goddess.

    She slowly squeezes her hand closed as she just stares upon Cyrus Truth, wherever it is that he is taking in her sermon.

    You have become what we all see now, you have become a three-time World Champion after I retired. You’ve climbed to the top of the Mountain when I wasn’t here to stop you. You might not understand it Cyrus but you need this win to validate everything you are and have done. Losing to me, losing to your Goddess unravels the Legacy you have created and changes where you stand in the history books.

    To go from a modern-day Icon and Legend…to just being a seat warmer. When you lose to your Goddess Cy it changes who you are. It changes everything you have done, everything you stand for, everything you want to be remembered for. I’m not just some FWA Legend, I’m not just some challenger, or some challenge. I am everything.

    You boast about standing atop the FWA Mountain, well I created a Mountain. All those years ago, thirteen years ago in fact when a fresh-faced Gabrielle first signed with the FWA there was no Women’s Division, no Women’s Championship, and nothing really for Women to even strive for. I changed that. I alongside Jenny Ignito created something special, created a Mountain that I ruled as Goddess that women all over the World could look up too, and see as something that they could strive to experience themselves.

    Jillian de Silva rewrote everything when she became the World Champion. But she was one and done, and disappeared from the spotlight shortly afterwards. Moira Crawford was next, but again she was one and done and disappeared from the spotlight shortly afterwards.

    Then there was your Goddess, then there was Gabrielle.

    I have outlasted them all. Jillian, Moira, Jenny, Bell Connolly, Shannon O’Neal, Ayla El, Alana Allure and so many others have all come and gone. They’ve all crafted out their own Legacies and then left, but I am still here with the grandest Legacy of them all.

    You Cyrus, you just follow in the footsteps of so many others, you just do what has been done before, but only when your Goddess is absent and can’t challenge you. I rewrote everything, I changed everything. Without my staying power everything in the FWA would be so different. You are just another face in the crowd, you are ultimately nothing. That’s why this matters to you so very much. That’s why like it or not you ultimately can’t deny my Divine status.

    I am not just another face in the crowd, I am not just another former Champion, I am not just another Legend. I am not just another challenge at the top of the Mountain, I am so much more than that. I am that whom can truly make you special, beat me Cy and you become truly Iconic, and these past three years truly mean something. Right now the big question upon everyone’s lips is if you would be where you are now if I had never left…or would I have pushed you from the Mountain top and prevented you from becoming what you are now; a successful but underappreciated and under loved World Champion?

    Gabrielle raises an eyebrow quizzically and pauses her sermon for a few moments.

    You claim this is just another match for you, just another challenge, but watch what happens when you lose to me. Watch how much of your Legacy unravels and changes from what it is now. Watch as I stand above you at the top of the Mountain holding what was once yours above my head…as the World showers me with praise and admiration.

    Watch as I walk away with everything you want and leave you with a broken Legacy…

    That familiar smirk of hers kisses her lips, that evilly playful signature smirk of hers.

    Just try and deny me then Cy, just try. But don’t go thinking I’m so down on you Cy, don’t go thinking I can’t acknowledge anything positive about you. I will give you credit for two things…firstly you have truly been a respectable World Champion, and secondly…

    That devilish smirk of hers grows and grows as she then clicks her finger…and in an instant the flames beneath her consume everything. Gone is the beautiful landscape we have been enjoying, that majestic Eagle turns into a hideous winged Demon. The white dress that had so elegantly clothed our Caramel Coated Goddess Gabrielle is burned away and replaced by a very, very short, tight, halter topped black dress and the smirk upon her face is so much more wicked as she’s surrounded by fire.

    This…this is what you go on and on about Cy. That side of me, that side of your Goddess who has done evil things to stay at the top. That side of your Goddess who has started riots, who has ended careers, who has used her own family, who has done whatever it takes to serve the end goal. She’s always in here too, she’s always a part of me, a part of my own Legacy, a part of my status as a Goddess. For the Divine can not always be loving and caring, sometimes a Goddess must be cruel.

    Sometimes a Goddess must remind her followers of this. Sometimes a Goddess must make an example out of a blasphemer. Shall I do that here too you Cy, is that the fate you deserve after calling me out, after calling this Goddess out?

    I can be that cruel, I can be that evil to you Cyrus, I can show you what you claim me to be…but I don’t have too. I’m going to dethrone you, I am going to throw you from the Mountain top and take back my place at the top. I will do this to your face, I will do this in a way that you can not make any excuses and have to face the fact that the Legacy you have crafted for yourself, is one of success in my shadow.

    Embrace it Cyrus, embrace the Truth and accept your Exile from the Mountain top…

    A demonic laugh slithers forth from between her lips as the flames then consume everything…and leave us with nothing…leave Cyrus Truth especially looking at nothing…

  13. #13
    Mid-Card Champion
    Eyesnsane's Avatar

    Join Date
    Nov 2013
    Rep Power

    Re: FWA Anniversary Promo Thread

    Camelot Tower….
    Chicago, Illinois

    There is a click and clack that can be heard as the black high heels of Alana Allure strike the black marble floor with every step she takes, as she comes into view we see her in a grey business suit her jacket matching her pants covering a white button down shirt. She walks past three chairs in front of her desk as we see the back of Eyesnsane, Ted, and Killemall from left to right. Alana walks around her desk with ceiling to floor windows behind her showing striking views of downtown Chicago’s skyline against a bright blue background. As she stands in front of her black leather high back chair she folds her arms.

    Alana: I would like to think that you all had a plan, but I’m going to go out on a limb and say you didn't. Eyes, I how that last week was all the wake up call you are going to need. I also hope it was an eye opening moment for you both as well. Eyesnsane went out there and lost to the FWA’s shinny new toy. Try as he might, fight as he did, it was not enough. As a matter of fact now that I have had time to review everything you all have done since your return to the FWA, I’m left with one word to sum it up. Amateurish! I have made a decision and it is for the absolute best, I am returning as the manager of Over the Edge. I will make the announcement at the Anniversary show with us all appearing together. Now, as far as this show goes, Eyesnsane you know I don’t sugar coat. You took a loss and you looked bad doing it, you’ve built no momentum for yourself or for the stable. I expect that all of your time since so much of it is free will be spent training. You need to get it together, you more so than these two. You are looked at as the defacto leader of this group. Oh, but we will circle back to that, right now the matter at hand is getting my ninja and Ted here on the same page. So, Ted, what do you think you are getting into in this match?

    Sitting between Eyesnsane, Ted looks at both men at his sides and then back at Alana…

    Ted: Well it’s a four-way dance for the tag titles so we have to come up with a strategy to beat three other teams. I mean I know we are both tough fighters and I know this is a huge opportunity for us to jump straight to the top of the tag team division. So we got to just go straight at everybody and look for opportunities to get an advantage.

    Killemall can be heard laughing under his breath…

    Killemall: The existential question, what would you do with enemies all around and nowhere to go? Let me tell you something, there will be no friends and no strange bed fellows in this fight, and this is a fight and not a match. Two guys want to keep the titles they lay claim to while six of us should be willing and ready to do anything to take those titles. We need to only get in that ring and lash out as violently as possible in all directions if we are to be victorious. I for one do not plan on wasting my time and looking foolish inside of that ring. I plan to use this moment to put an end to all the mockery and snickering I hear from these neophytes that have no idea just how good and how dangerous I am in the ring. The FWA of the past has only seen a glimpse of my talents and that was when I was less experienced than I am now.

    Ted, I’ve seen you in the ring. I’ve studied the film of the run you and Eyesnsane had when you all were calling yourselves the pride. To say the least, I was not all that impressed, but somehow the two of you became FWA tag team champions. You’ll do as a partner for me, your are adequate, and you will certainly benefit from learning from me. I am very different than your friend Eyesnsane. I don’t care what the fans think of me, I don’t care what other wrestlers think of me. I care about winning, I care about titles, and I care about proving that I am hands down the best wrestler this company has ever and will ever see, the upcoming Anniversary Show will serve to allow me to display all of that. So don’t get in my, and don’t squander my talents.

    Eyesnsane leans forward in his seat to look at Killemall….

    Eyesnsane: Look we know the intensity is always there with you but take it easy, after all we are all on the same team.

    Ted: Yeah we are all on the same team, but I get where he’s coming from. We are all different, we all see things the way we see them, but we understand each other. That’s our strength we know each other better than any of the other teams in the FWA. We’re not hired guns or mercenaries.

    Alana sits down in her chair and crosses her right leg over her left as she leans back in the chair.

    Alana: Here is what I want you two to understand. We may have returned, but we may as well be making our debut. This is a new FWA, this is not the place either of you left. Most of the roster have no idea who you are. Most of them have never heard of The Pride being mentioned they don’t know the man who simply goes by the name Ted. Most of them could care less that you picked up a tag team title some years ago. And this generation this current era has no clue as to who Killemall really is. They’ve never heard of APAB to know that Over the Edge slammed their coffin shut, and then covered it with dirt.

    That said, a title win is not enough, it won’t be enough. You two need to take a different track, you two need to tear through the division. You two need to tear down team after team until there are none left. That is how we will control the tag team division. Those with the belts will only serve as place holders until we seize full and total control. Oh make no mistake you both are capable of destroying every team they have thrown into this fight and I want you to do just that. I want to to leave a lasting impression on each of them. The goal is not to make them remember, no the goal is to make them see, the goal is to make them open their eyes and part of that goal is revenge for a past loss. Ted you show them your skill you show them the heart that made you a champion before. Killemall you show them that a skilled martial artist is a dangerous thing in a ring, you show them the true meaning of kamikaze! Show them the man willing to destroy himself if it means taking out all of his enemies at the same time. You two go out there and pry their damn eyes open and make them see just who you are.

    Ted stands up and turns toward Killemall while extending his right hand. After a moment, Killemall stands up facing Ted and shakes his hand with his right….

    Ted: No matter what goes down I got your back and I’m ready to show the world what great tag team wrestling is all about.

    Killemall: In the destruction of our enemies, we forge a common bond. May the bodies of our enemies be our door mats and stepping stones.

    Alana: I have a car waiting for you it will take you to the jet and get you both down south tonight. Eyesnsane and I will meet you in New Orleans tomorrow.

    Scene fades to black….

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