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Thread: PROMO THREAD FIGHT NIGHT 12/30/19

  1. #1
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    PROMO THREAD FIGHT NIGHT 12/30/19

    Post your promos for the 12/30/19 edition of Fight Night in this thread. The promo deadline is Sunday, December 29, 2019 at 3 a.m. Eastern time, 8 a.m. British Time Zone. 24-hour extensions are available upon request. If you receive an extension, then your promo deadline will be Monday, December 30, 2019 at 3 a.m. Eastern time and 8 a.m. British Time.


    "The Golden One" Devin Golden

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


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


  2. #2
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    Re: PROMO THREAD FIGHT NIGHT 12/30/19

    It's Christmas Eve, and in a local mall, there's three Santa Clauses! (Santa Claus'?) All around are children of different ages, and the Santas seem to entertain everyone.



    The Hulking Santa: Lemme tell ya somethin' lil dude! I've been keepin' my eye on ya, and I gotta say, you've been nice! Consider that big blue truck already down your chimney!

    The Hulking Santa lifts a few of the kids on his 24 inch python sized arms, while The Heart Break Santa signs some autographs for the adoring ladies.

    The Heart Break Santa: Now now, I can only fill one stocking at a time ladies. But rest assure, you'll all get a full one! Haha!

    Next to them is Santa Mahoney, drinks plenty of eggnog!

    Cactus Mahoney:
    Man... wish people liked me enough...

    Suddenly, a roaring sound is heard out in the distance!

    SAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANTAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

    A grown ass man can be seen, holding in his arm a disfigured teddy bear, and a hot bagel in the other. He runs rampantly over to the crowd and pushes through, revealing himself to be Captain El Franko! The Hulking Santa has a kid on his lap, and Franko looks over, barely containing himself as he hops up and down.



    Fat Kid: I waaaaant... a new Xbox Series X... a new pair of air pods... the new Playstation 5... some new Jordans.... no, Nikes... no... actually, Jordans... and uh... uh... uhhhhhhh...

    The Hulking Santa: Alright! You gotta be extra good brother! That's well, a lot, but I'll see what I can do! Who's next?

    Captain El Franko: Get yo diabetes havin' ass off the man's knee before it turns brown, sucka!

    The kid struggles to get up, and barely gets off him. His obese parents help him away, and Franko wipes off Santa's lap before sitting down, all excited.

    The Hulking Santa: Say uh... aren't you a lil old to be on my knee, brother?

    Captain El Franko: ...Oh, so I can't be on your knee, but tons of fun can? I oughta call security to pick up you up, perv!

    The Hulking Santa: Now just a minute! You know what I meant.

    Franko rolls his eyes and puts his bagel in his mouth as he gets his phone out, and brings up a huge list. He takes a bite outta the delicious treat, handing it to his weird bear, who Hulking Santa eyes suspiciously.

    Captain El Franko: I want-



    After an incredibly long amount of time, Franko finally read off his entire list. Half of the crowd is a sleep. Some ladies are side by side with The Heart Break Santa, while Santa Mahoney is asleep with eggnog all over his face. The Hulking Santa is barely up, but wakes up, shaking his head to try and see where he is. The bagel is gone, yet crumbs remain on Franko's teddy bear's face. Strange...

    Captain El Franko:You get all that?

    The Hulking Santa: *Yawn* Yeah, yeah brother... say, aren't you a wrestler or somethin'?

    Captain El Franko: How'd you know? Yeah! Captain El Franko!

    The Hulking Santa: Wait... you the Jewish guy right?

    Captain El Franko: Yeah... so?...

    The Hulking Santa:Uh, Jews ain't gettin' nothin' for X-Mas, Jack. But I hear Hannukah's great.



    Franko stands up, with his teddy bear, and looks around. Suddenly, he HEADBUTTS THE SHIT outta Hulking Santa! He goes crazy and starts throwing hands with the santas! Mall cops come running to the scene in shock and try to detain the crazed wrestler! A huge one rides on his moped at full speed!



    Cop: YOU LEAVE OL' SAINT NICK ALONE YOU SON OF A BIIIIIIIIIIIITCH!

    Captain El Franko: I'LL LEAVE MY BALLS ON YO CHIN! AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!

    Cop: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

    Captain El Franko: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

    THEY COLLIDE!



    Alright... so they didn't explode. But damn was it nasty!




    BREAKING NEWS - Current FWA star, "Captain El Franko", has been arrested during Christmas Eve for assaulting multiple men dressed as Santa Claus. One said Santa, who had the woman all around him, claimed Franko yelled that he would "steal his bitches", and that his disfigured teddy bear slapped his ass. Franko is said to have injuries after the officer who apprehended him fell gut first on him. Here's the criminal's mugshot, he'll be released on bail just in time for his match at the upcoming FWA event, says police.



    Captain El Franko: ...Well, shiet.
    Last edited by gurryman; 12-24-2019 at 06:05 AM.


  3. #3
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    Re: PROMO THREAD FIGHT NIGHT 12/30/19

    Is this a little trip down memory lane? Or is this a reminder of things past? Perhaps our Fallen Goddess has risen from the ashes like a Phoenix. Perhaps the events of last week have rekindled that flame within her. Perhaps she never truly embraced her simple mortality.

    Perhaps.

    But this Forest, this landscape it isn’t actually what we’d expect from our former Caramel Coated Goddess. No this forest is different, there’s a unique kind of presence too it. It is less inviting, its…Darker than our Goddess liked it. Sure at a glance you could claim this setting to be typical of the old Gabrielle; a natural landscape where she could stand in the middle of it as its crown jewel. But this one feels so different, this one has such a different vibe, and is teaming with other life. Owls, Eagles, Caterpillars, Wild Cats, Worms, Deer, Sparrows the list goes on. But none of it feels right, the vibrance of life within this Forest feels wrong, feels Dark, feels like it is hiding some secret. There shouldn’t be so many different so many different animals occupying the same patches of land as one another, almost like a gathering. This isn’t our Goddess, isn’t THE Goddess. Nay, this is something else entirely. This is still just the Gabrielle we’ve come to know in recent weeks, the Dreamer, the ‘New’ Gabrielle Montgomery. And she’s not in this Forest to display her former Divinity, or to appear grand before us. Rather she’s simply just here in this Dark Forest. This slightly recognisable landscape to the FWA Faithful.

    Gabrielle doesn’t belong here, like Alice before her, this isn’t her home. No, this is home to something else entirely.

    But still you could expect a Forest to have a calming influence, the beauty of nature is still on display after all despite the Darkness. But Gabrielle hasn’t felt at ease much lately. Christmas Day was a reprieve from this sure. The joy of watching her daughter Carmella tear into her presents couldn’t be anything but a happy moment. But the cloud of being forced to work with Cyrus Truth again has weighed heavily upon her for the past several days. It’s affected her sleeping patterns, her mood, her hungers. She detests Cyrus that much. So Gabrielle’s usual poise and grace isn’t quite there as she stomps barefoot through this Forest, unsure of quite where she is. We know, but our Fallen Goddess just sees an endless maze of tree’s. Her soft white, nearly sheer night gown snags on a branch and tears slightly as she yanks it free. Her feet are covered in mud and dirt. This is Gabrielle as we’ve never seen her before, out of her element for once, and with a scowl firmly pressed to her lips.

    “Where is he?” She mutters over and over again as she continues to trudge through this forest. The wickedness of the tree’s all around her lash at her bare skin and the soft silk loosely hugging her body. The determined, angry expression on her face just grows and grows with each step until she reaches a small clearing in the tree’s where a pair of Black Rabbits oddly sit.

    “Where is who?” One of them asks her. Their question and the mere fact they’re asking her a question make her recoil in shock. “Yes who are we looking for?” The second Rabbit asks.

    Gabrielle raises an eyebrow as she glances around herself looking for someone, anyone hiding in the bushes and voicing these two Rabbits who stare directly at her. But she cant find anyone, just the two Black Rabbits before her. “We’re not looking for anyone. I am looking for someone. And I seriously doubt a pair of Rabbits could help me in any way.” Is her venom laced reply. She then takes a few moments too pull a few errant leaves out of her dark brunette hair and then proceeds on her way. But the two Rabbits quickly fall in line behind her.

    “We can help.” One of them tells her. “We know where everyone in this land is.” Is the others reply. “How do you think we found you so easily…Gabrielle.” They say in unison.

    The sound of her name causes Gabrielle to stop in her tracks as she turns to face the pair of now smiling Rabbits. “How do you know who I am?” She asks.

    “Because you are THE Gabrielle, and you are chasing the man called Truth.” One of them replies.

    Gabrielle stares at them inquisitively as the Rabbits just stare back.“The Truth…Cyrus Truth?” She asks.

    “We don’t call him Cyrus here, he makes us call him Truth.” One Rabbit replies.

    “Of course he does.” Mutters Gabrielle as that scowl crosses her face once again. “He is indeed the one I am looking for. He needs to be punished further. He needs to be broken more than he already is. I need to take what little he has left from him.”

    The Black Rabbits jump for joy and then stand either side of Gabrielle as the unusual trio continue to head through the Forest. “Cyrus must fall indeed Gabrielle. He forces us too believe his lies. He forces us too follow him and look up to him as a Hero. But we all know this is a lie, we all know he is corrupt and must be broken down.” The Rabbits comments bring a joyous smile to Gabrielle’s face.

    “He will be broken down, by me. Its all I care about right now. It is all I think about. It is consuming me more and more with each passing day that I am forced to think about having to work with him.”

    “Our Gabrielle can not work with him, that is not how it is meant to happen.”
    One of the Rabbits chime in.

    Gabrielle grits her teeth and marches forwards.
    “I don’t want too. I hate the very thought of it. I detest the very idea of it. But someone is making me have to work together with him. Someone thinks its funny, thinks its cute to force myself and that lowlife Cyrus to stand on the same side of the ring. I thought last time would be evidence enough that we’ve both been pushed far enough by all of this. I thought it would be so apparent now that we just cant get along, we just cant work together. So I don’t know why this agenda is continuing to be pushed.”

    “They’re trying to break you” Is her answer from one Rabbit.“They’re protecting him from you.” Is the others reply.

    Gabrielle just keeps marching forward deeper and deeper into the Forest.
    “They cant play this game forever. There is coming a day and soon where we’ll be standing on opposite sides of the ring from one another again. I want it, he wants it…in fact we need it. There’s so much animosity, so much bad blood between us that has be settled once and for all.” Her every word drips with hatred and determination.

    The two Black Rabbits are excited by all this talk with their hops growing bigger and bigger as they travel either side of Gabrielle through this Dark landscape. She takes them further, leading the way as they follow, sure that she somehow knows where to go.

    Eventually this absurd trio find another small clearing populated by an Eagle, a Caterpillar and a Duck. Their appearance together making Gabrielle furrow her brow as she demands
    “Where is the Liar? Where is the false Truth?”

    The Eagle puffs out its chest as it spreads its wings making itself seem as big and intimidating as possible. “He is no false Truth, he is THE Truth. He is our King, while you have fallen.” The Eagle brashly tells her with almost a hint of a smirk upon its beak.

    Gabrielle’s eyes narrow, then she takes two steps forward and punts the Eagle, sending it careening off into the distance, leaving the Caterpillar and the Duck silent. “Where is he?” She demands once more.

    “It is not he that truly rules this Forest madam. He is indeed a Liar. This is not his land, this is home to the Cheshire Cat and his Clan.” The Duck exclaims. “They are becoming Butterflys. They are emerging from their cocoons. They’re who you should be looking for.” The Caterpillar chimes in.

    “They are not my concern. This may be their Forest; this may be their home but I’m not looking for them. I’m not after them, all they are doing is getting in my way. All they are doing is preventing me from getting my hands on Cyrus. They would be much better off simply staying out of my way and letting me pummel Cyrus. This isn’t their fight, and this isn’t their concern. If you know the Cheshire Cat Clan then you should tell them to avoid me. I’ll let them get their shots in on Cyrus if they want, but I have no ill will towards them. I have no need or desire to do anything to them. I just want Cyrus the Liar, the False King’s head at my feet.”

    The Duck and the Caterpillar exchange glances then look back up at Gabrielle and smile. “The Chesire Cat could allow this perhaps.” They say in unison. And that’s all it takes moments later the Caterpillar is perched on Gabrielle’s ear as the Duck waddles before her and the pair of Black Rabbits hop along either side of her. This unusual, and somehow macabre group continue to venture further into the Dark Forest.

    “I can feel him, I can sense him. Its making my blood boil. He’s right there, so close…yet I can’t just punch him in the throat right now.”

    Gabrielle’s intensity delights her small group of animals. “We all want that. We all want to see his lies exposed. We all want to see him broken. False King. False King. False King.” The Duck loudly shouts.

    “You can free us all from him. You can punish him for all his tricks and all his lies.” The Caterpillar adds.

    “Cyrus thinks he knows you, he thinks he is better than you. But you can prove him wrong. You can expose him, and you will.” States one of the Ducks, before the other one speaks up. “He doesn’t know what he’s in for. He keeps deluding himself into thinking he is so special, when we all know he is no match for The Gabrielle.”

    Ahead of them is another clearing. Though this one isn’t occupied by any animals. Its bare, its inviting, its what you could call simple in a way. But there’s something hiding nearby, something waiting. But Gabrielle does not care, the Duck slows its waddles and she quickly steps past it. The Caterpillar leaps from its perch on her ear landing on the back of one of the Rabbits who both pause. Only Gabrielle keeps walking forwards into this latest clearing. And then she see’s him, hiding in the shadows. It is unmistakably Cyrus The Liar.

    “STEP FORWARD AND FACE ME.” Gabrielle bellows. But the silhouette of Cyrus hiding in the tree’s of the Dark Forest does not come forward. He just stays where he is.

    “Face me CYRUS!” Gabrielle demands. “This is all about us. This is all about us settling the score and ending things between us. I hate you, I loathe you. You DISGUST me. You ENRAGE me like no other. I hate being in your presence, I hate being near you. It makes me so angry, so bloodthirsty even. I need to break you, to hurt you, to humiliate you, and to HUMBLE you. And you need all those things. You are a petty, pathetic, arrogant, revolting man, and I need you out of my life. But the only way I can do that, is by pulling your teeth out of the sole of my boot.”

    “SO FACE ME CYRUS. I do not want to wait any longer.”


    Gabrielle is furious now, she’s seething, almost chomping at the bit. But still Cyrus does come forward, all he does is glance off to the side, upon a group of shadows who slowly step forward towards Gabrielle.

    “The Chesire Cat Clan. This does not concern you. You are not needed or wanted here. This is all between me and Cyrus. Whatever fool has sent you, whatever fool has whispered in your ear, ignore then. Save yourself from this pointless battle that does not concern you at all.” Gabrielle demands.

    But the group continue to comes closer and closer and closer to the clearing. And now as does the shadowy image of Cyrus finally. All descending upon Gabrielle at once, it seems she can’t just have Cyrus to herself. Things cant just be that simple…

    And then behind her stepping through her small group of animals is a slender but curvy shadow bathed in caramel. It steps right up to Gabrielle and whispers in her ear.
    “You cant avoid any of this, you cant escape this…”

    …

    …

    …

    Gabrielle: And that’s it, every night I have the same dream. The same exact dream. My only reprieve has been Christmas Eve. And the only change has been every night the caramel shadow envelops me more and more.

    I don’t know what to make of this Doctor. Is it even anything?

    Gabrielle dressed in a pair of jeans and a white blouse sits up and stares her psychiatrist in the face, silently demanding an answer as the scene fades to black.




  4. #4
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    Re: PROMO THREAD FIGHT NIGHT 12/30/19

    Exile Chronicles (Volume 2)
    Chapter 15: Fear

    Our scene opens in a long abandoned, ramshackle plantation-style house in the middle of the night. A low fog surrounds the building as the sounds of crickets and...other things...cut through the silence of the dark. As the camera pans around the house, all covered in vines and ivy long untended and overgrown, we see a small light slowly moving around through a dusty, cracked window.

    As we enter the house, we see that the light is coming from a lantern...and the lantern is held by Cyrus Truth. The light is faint, so we don't get a good view of him, but what little we can see is a bit surprising. The Exile, renown for his poise and stoic demeanor in the face of nearly every obstacle, looks...worried? Afraid? There's definitely a sense of trepidation in the face of the Wayward Warrior as he looks to be navigating this abandoned, haunting domicile with nothing but the light from the lantern.

    As Cyrus slowly and cautiously walks through the darkened manor, we hear the floor creaking under his feet...among other unsettling sounds. Low groaning...the rattling of chains...the faintest hint of mad laughter. Cyrus appears on edge as he keeps moving his lantern around him in the direction of whatever sound manifests itself. All the while, what shadows cast by the lantern's dim light seem to dance, and seem to reach out with dark claws.

    Opening a nearby door, Cyrus nervously enters another darkened room, and the light of the lantern is not enough to give us any details. The sounds from earlier get louder as a howling wind blows outside...and the shadows continue to dance as the cackling from earlier grows...and grows...and grows as Cyrus stands frozen, his face twisted with fear...

    ...but in an instant, Cyrus's expression changes. The look of worry and fright fall away, replaced by a expression of level annoyance. With a tone above a whisper, Cyrus growls out:

    "That's enough of that..."

    With one movement, Cyrus's hand moves towards the wall behind him and, just like that, the room he's in is immediately illuminated. It appears that The Exile had flipped an old-style electrical switch and, with that, turned on power for not only this room, but the entire house.

    The camera sweeps through the rooms of this manor and we see that the house, while unkempt outside, is still rather well-maintained on the inside. There's a bit of dust, but due more to absent-mindedness than neglect. Returning to the room Cyrus is in, we see that it is a small library, walls lined with bookshelves loaded with old tomes and grimoires. Cyrus, with just the faintest hint of a smirk, blows out the lantern and sets it on the small reading table in the middle of the room, which has an open book, a fountain pen, and a teapot letting off steam next to a teacup.

    Cyrus, for his part now that we can see him fully, is dressed in very antiquated, turn of the 20th century garb. A striped dress shirt with dark slacks, suspenders, and a windsor-knot tie complete the look as The Exile takes a seat. Pouring himself a cup of tea and taking the fountain pen in his hand, Cyrus begins to write in the book and, as if an afterthought, begins speaking to no one in particular.


    "I suppose I should address what happened on last Fight Night. As I suspected, Dave Sullivan's greed led him to overextending himself. Where once he held three crowns, now he only holds one...the one he took from me, the one I will reclaim in time. I give credit to Mike Parr for once again getting his act together and remembering what made him such a force during his first North American Title reign and what makes him one of only a handful of my worthy rivals in FWA. Fight well, Parr...until the next time you and I cross paths again. After all, it's not as if I have anything to do at Back in Business at the moment...

    "However, allow me to make one thing clear. While I agree with Blackbird's assessment that Sullivan neglected his responsibilities as X Division Champion...stripping him of the title was not the answer. Sullivan may be absolute scum and needs to be knocked off his pedestal, but that doesn't change the fact that he did win that title and, up until recently, defended it regularly. To have a title stripped is an insult that didn't need to be levied upon Sullivan. Blackbird's attempt to restore prestige to the X Division Title only served to leave the lineage with a black mark that cannot be scrubbed clean. Hell, you had him fight in a Triple Threat Match. Why not simply just make the match a two falls match with both on the line? No champion should ever lose their gold due to semantics. Titles should be won and lost in the ring.

    "Either way, what's done is done. And Sullivan has bigger priorities with Back in Business looming and my eventual rematch on the horizon. I wonder, though...will he simply double-down on the arrogance and pride that both led to his greatest achievement and his most recent stumble? Or has the weight of his ego become too much for him to shoulder, and will fear start to creep into his mind, knowing he stands to lose everything he has just as quickly as he attained it?"


    Cyrus pauses for a moment to take a sip of his tea and dip the pen in an inkwell, replenishing its reserve. He reaches behind him and turns on an old model radio as early 20th century music plays. With the cheery music and the decor, it's almost impossible to see this room as terrifying as it was earlier.


    "Fear...fear is an emotion for those who lack the vision to see the path that must be taken and the will to walk the hard road. Fear can be an effective tool, but only if one understands it. It's easy to look at my opponents, the Cheshire Cat Clan, and think that they instill fear, wielding it like a sword against their opponents. I'll admit, the motif they're going for can be unsettling for those of us who aren't skilled enough to see beyond the surface. And the fact that there's three of them and are all seemingly united with one focus and one will...well, that can be a bit worrisome.

    "However, much like many people I've had to deal with over my tenure in FWA...in particular, one individual who can't seem to understand how out of her depth she is...the Truth about who they really are cannot be masked so easily. For one devoted to the Long and Winding Road, fear is not an option to begin with. Certainly not from such paltry illusions as the Cheshire Cat Clan have relied on to maintain a semblance of relevance. Fear comes from an understanding...a union between one's actions and intent. And where many see the Cheshire Cats as creepy, unhinged psychopaths who'll tear any and all who oppose them apart? I see nothing but a trio of charlatans playing at terror.

    "Tell me, what exactly has this clan done since coming to FWA? What meaningful victories have they had? What championships have they won? I admittedly don't pay as much attention to the Tag Team Division as I probably should, but I doubt anything worthwhile has been accomplished by this trio. Why should anybody fear these people when they've done nothing since debuting? Hell, why should I? Last Fight Night, I faced off against the New Breed, a tag team with plenty of notable wins and a title reign under their belt. And were it not for the actions of an individual clamoring for relevance in my shadow, I would have emerged victorious on my own. Compared to the New Breed? These Cheshire Cats are kittens in a den of lions.


    Cyrus continues to feverishly write in the blank book...but the words he's writing seem to be in no known language. And despite the rather cozy atmosphere of this room, there's a definite menacing aura surrounding Cyrus, whose expression darkens ever so slightly.

    "But even if they had all the accomplishments in the world, I still wouldn't fear this clan because their facade is just that...a mask. Despite what their promos would have you believe, I've seen nothing from this trio that suggests that they truly are what they say they are. And that's the lesson here for my opponents: true fear isn't something that can be born out of a lie. Fear requires Truth, both in actions and intent. You have accomplished nothing, and I can read you all like a book. Honestly, this tag match is yet another waste of my time as I patiently wait to hear what FWA management has in store for me at Back in Business...and I am beginning to rapidly lose that patience.

    "Regardless, the three of you are as condemned as the rest. I said before that I would not rest until I reclaim what was lost and remind this roster that there's not a single soul in FWA that can touch me when I'm at my best...or my worst. If FWA puts you across from me, I will tear you apart. Because unlike you, my actions speak to my capabilities...capabilities far beyond anything the three of you have or will ever reach. The very best of FWA have learned, just as you will, that I am not to be denied...not for very long. And unlike you? I don't hide in shadows playing at fear. When I say I will break somebody, I break them. When I say I will make them suffer, I make them suffer pain the likes of which NO ONE on this roster can. The proud, the arrogant, the ego-driven stand in a ring with me, and I cut them down with words, a glare, and violence. There are none in this company like me...no one this company should fear more than I.

    "Three more souls to the call...that's all you are. And realize that the devastation that you and others will endure at my hands as this Reckoning continues comes not from hate, nor insecurity. It comes from unshackled, unbound focus...a desire to show FWA and the world that no amount of falsehoods, lies, or arrogance changes the Truth. I will eviscerate you all, punish you all for your trespasses, and leave you as nothing more than husks alongside the Road. And when the time comes that I regain my World Title and reign once more as champion...the shadow I cast that you all chafed under in your inadequacies will grow ever longer...ever darker. Then, and only then, will you and every other backbiting scumbag wrestler that's ever had the gall to question my integrity learn what it feels like to be truly, utterly, and completely afraid..."


    The menacing aura seems to intensify, as the area surrounding Cyrus seems to darken, as if threatening to swallow the light surrounding him. Tendrils of shadow, faint but still visible, seem to seep from the pages of the book Cyrus is writing in as The Exile continues to put pen to paper, a look of indignant rage crosses his face.

    "As for you, Gabrielle...at some point, you'll learn this lesson too. Perhaps a part of you already realizes it. Or just as likely, you're too wrapped up with this drive to stave off your descent into irrelevance. I don't know what FWA hopes to accomplish by forcing me to team with you, but you will gain nothing from it. You will continue to fall, grasping feebly for a lifeline that will not be there. And as my shadow grows strong once again? I will take GREAT pleasure in watching you drown in it."

    The shadows grow darker and darker still, as the tendrils pour out of the book. This isn't the false darkness from earlier...no, this is true terror, from The Exile's own hands. And any and all light in this room is being devoured by it.

    As the darkness consumed the room, the building, and the surrounding areas, the last thing we see are Cyrus's eyes...glowing with an inhuman, eldritch light...
    Last edited by Cyrus Truth; 12-29-2019 at 10:06 PM.

  5. #5
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    Re: PROMO THREAD FIGHT NIGHT 12/30/19

    “I remember it like it was yesterday. I don’t care who you are; When you’re a wrestler, and your thirteen-year-old son says to you “Dad I wanna do what you do,” Your gut reaction is going to be…”Aw bollocks!” It wasn’t like I was one of those big fancy American wrestlers. I wrestled in bars and churches; it’s a hard, unflinching cold business, that I did so I could say I put food on my plate for my family. The last thing I wanted was to have my son see me get several shades of shit knocked out of me and say “I wanna do that”, but then Our Kev was always the sporty type, Judo, football...I wanted him to play for City, but he had other ideas. So I had a plan, I had a mate who worked in the snake pit down in wigan, and I said “Ok, I tell ya what; I can get you a summer job there, if you can last the summer there, I’ll start your training. Now for those that don’t know, “The Snake Pit” has a reputation in British wrestling. It was less of a gym and more of a torture chamber, Everyday lads go in there with big dreams and aspirations...and then when they see what being a wrestler is actually like they run away and never look back, and that’s what I wanted for our kev. A thirteen-year-old in the snake pit? It’ll scare him for life. “So I wait a little while, and then I ring up the head trainer, and I say, “How’s our Kevin coming along “And...I’ll never forget what he said to me” Andy...I think your lad is special.”-Andy Cromwell,2019



    The scene cuts to an FWA. Com exclusive, which was recorded the day before Fight Night. Obviously, it was posted later to add jump cuts, video edits and whatnot. For all we know, this could just be a random video, but soon enough, we are taken inside the Gym. It was rather busy, with a bunch of large men lifting weights, running on treadmills while listening to their favourite work-out songs on their iPods. The cameras jump-cut once again as we see the focus of this video exclusive. There, curling a pair of 100lb dumbbells is Kevin Cromwell, the man who will meet Dave Sullivan tomorrow night on Fight Night. Kevin was wearing a black cut-off shirt, one of his signature shirts (available at FWA.shop.com, by the way!) and he was staring into a large mirror. The camera captured his backside, while his reflection was caught in the mirror. He had a stubble for a beard and was sweating tremendously. His muscles in his arms and such were bulging out of his arms, as each vein had its own muscle, it would seem. The video captured Kevin, as he slammed the two large dumbbells down and put his arms on his sides, breathing heavily. The cameras then did another jump-cut as we see Darius Hughes, a true legend in the sport of British Professional Wrestling when it comes to training, sitting in an area that was made for this FWA.com Exclusive. He was miked up, and the cameras were fixated on him, as he spoke to the camera.



    Darius Hudges: I helped train Kevin when he first broke onto the scene when he eighteen. I always said that with his Wrestling credentials, he could go down as one of the best to ever step into a Professional Wrestling ring. I know what he's capable of, and it's scary, especially at his age. No one this young should be able to do the things he does, but he goes as hard as he can each and every day. I don't think there is an off-switch for Kevin Cromwell.


    Those words, said by one of Kevin Cromwell's trainers in Professional Wrestling, Darius Hudges, really spoke words. The scene then cuts from Darius Hudges to back at the Gym, where Kevin Cromwell was now running incredibly fast and hard on a treadmill. In his ears, he had a pair of white ear-buds, as he was breathing heavily, listening to his music while he ran the treadmill. The cameras pan around Kevin, showing just how fast and hard he was running, before jumping yet again to another sit-down interview with a man that knows Kevin Cromwell all-too-well. That man was Kevin College coach, was Mark Anderson, resident head coach at the infamous snake pit in Wigan If anyone knows Kevin Cromwell and how hard he goes each and every day, it's definitely Mark Anderson who knows Cromwell better than anyone else it would seem. Mark was sitting down, as the cameras fixated on his face as he spoke into the camera, giving his thoughts on the Amadeus


    Mark Anderson The lad is something special. Never have I seen anyone adapt and work so hard to be the very best. When I was helping him train for a match like he is against Dave Sullivan, I have never seen another human being work this hard, but the past few weeks? I've never seen him work harder than he has for this. This match is everything to him, and I don't see him losing. Maybe I'm biased, but I've never seen Kevin go this hard. The guy's an Animal, man; an absolute animal.


    The video cuts once more, as now we see Kevin Cromwell, laying on a bench, bench-pressing what seems like over four-hundred pounds. His spotter, probably the closest person to him; His father Andy Cromwell, giving Kevin the drive and motivation he needed to get that last rep in which he finished it off with authority and sat up, breathing heavily. His dad behind him, clapping and applauding at how impressive Kevin was before the camera did another jump cut to Kevin, now more rested, sitting on a bench in the Gym. The cameras fixated on his face, as his blue eyes radiated with passion and the desire to be the absolute best. After a few moments, Kevin Cromwell opened his mouth and began to speak directly into the camera, giving his thoughts on the match at hand tomorrow night,


    Kevin Cromwell: “Every since April of 2019, I had a vision of how Fight Night would go….and this, isn’t it? See, I had it in my head, when I finally stepped into the ring with Dave Sullivan, I would be stepping into the ring with...THE king. The undefeatable, invincible, ego-driven prick that held three belts and looked down at everyone around here. I had this grand mental image where I would be the one to shut him up. That I’d get my payback on him, by hitting him where it hurts; Taking one of his precious belts from him


    A dry cynical smirk appeared on Kevin’s face.


    Kevin Cromwell: Leave it to the loony who ran NGW like the wasteland from Mad Max, to fuck up my plans. So the stakes are lowered, a non-title match against a Dave Sullivan whose mentally on the ropes….But you know what? That’s ok. Because Fight Night is more important than titles. It’s more important then what might come to me if I win; All that matters to me is proving I’m better then Dave Sullivan I haven't been this focused since the day I debuted. I have been in this Gym day in and day out for a week now, sunrise to sunset, working on improving every aspect of my body as I can. I'm faster. I'm stronger. I'm more determined than ever before. Everything I have done in my career leads up to this match tomorrow night when I get what I rightfully deserve. Dave Sullivan? He hasn’t experienced anything like what they're going to tomorrow night.


    Kevin wiped the sweat from his brow as he pressed forth, showing true emotion in his words.


    Kevin Cromwell: The way I see it; You’re my responsibility Dave, “The King”? That’s my fault. At Back In Business last year, you cheated, and you swindled your way to the X-Fly belt and then one month later. When I had the chance to shut you up for good, you escaped. You didn’t win. No, no, no. You escaped. You know it. And so did I and you used that as an excuse to call yourself a king. You used ME as a springboard for your bullshit...So how fitting is it that tonight...I bring you right back to earth. Aftershock was really an eye-opening experience for me because nothing hurt more than watching for months him dominating and sucking this company dry while I had to sit back and let you. But tomorrow night? I'm going to do absolutely ANYTHING to make sure he understands who the better man really is


    Kevin wiped the sweat from his brow once more, as he used his shirt to wipe excess sweat from his upper lip. Kevin then turned to his side where a bottle of water was and took a quick swig of it, as the cameraman continued to capture every moment of it. Kevin screwed the cap back on the placed the water bottle between his legs and stared intensely into the camera and continued onward.


    Kevin Cromwell: Last week, I delivered a message to him..I challenged him, like a man, I could have done what he did to Nova and just attacked him while his back and God knows I thought about it! For months on end, I dreamt of putting Dave Sullivan flat on his back and breaking that bastard's Ankle right then and there, but that would mean that I wouldn't have him in this match tomorrow night and all my training... EVERYTHING would have meant nothing. Because I don't just want to break his Ankle... I want to make him wish he was never born! I want to make him understand that the moment he screwed with me? It was the exact moment he became a dead man walking! Y' see, when I came back, I could have had him BEGGING for mercy... I could have crushed his Ankle into smithereens! I could have made sure he was out of this business and company for a long, long time... but tomorrow night? Fight Night is the night to truly end it all! I have been waiting for this moment for a long time and as far as I am concerned? I am going out there to end careers, but my pride will still intact. That's what this is all about. This is about my PRIDE. My DIGNITY and I'LL BE DAMNED IF THAT IS TAKEN AWAY FROM ME!


    Kevin’s words came out his mouth in a very angry way, but he pressed forth after taking a few seconds to regather his thoughts.


    Kevin Cromwell: My pride is EVERYTHING to me! I didn't bust my ass, dedicating my LIFE to being the absolute best, to only be cast to the side by everyone. Everyone talks about how I peaked too soon, that couldn’t handle the pressure. That I can’t beat Dave Sullivan but I'm in the best shape of my career! I have NEVER felt this good in my life! I'm better now than I've EVER been before! You know what that means for Dave Sullivan, huh? Do 'ya?! That means that tomorrow night, things are going to go very bad for him! He thought what I was capable of before was bad? He hasn’t seen anything yet! This is a long time coming, and I am going to enjoy EVERY FREAKIN' SECOND of it! If I get my way, and I KNOW I will... then Dave Sullivan won't be able to leave the area on his own! They better have an ambulance on hand because tomorrow night? It's a massacre, and I guarantee-- no... I guaran-DAMN-tee it!


    Kevin finished off that part with a very emphatic answer it would seem. Kevin picked up his water bottle, unscrewed the cap and took another swig, letting it linger in his mouth for a moment before swallowing. The camera shows the condensation from the water bottle, which means the water must be cold. Of course, that doesn't matter, but a fun little detail. Anyway, Kevin screwed the cap back on and placed the water bottle to his side this time next to him on the bench where he was sitting. Then, Kevin looked into the camera, showing those baby blues to the camera before continuing onward.


    Kevin Cromwell: People seem to think Dave Sullivan is some kind of unstoppable force. A King, but he’s not He's Dave Sullivan, portraying a character he's wanted to play since he first debuted. And because of it, he's become one of the most annoying little brats in the wrestling industry. He prides himself on being the FWA Champion. He prides himself on being different, but Dave Sullivan has not done one thing to spark interest in my eyes. Dave Sullivan has not done one thing that would make me stand up and cheer for him. Let alone applaud him. He walks around with radioactive hair colouring and claims how he's the best. He claims we’re looking at the one true king of FWA, But I'm looking, and I don't see a damn thing. What I see is a scared little insecure boy, hiding behind this new persona...Because the fact of the matter is Dave Sullivan, spent his entire career banging his head on the ceiling of the main event before he gave up, retired and became a talk show host, he gave up, he retired. But you hid behind your apprentice, and you cheated to get to the position you’re at now. See you got your ego, but I got what I do what I do best and what I do best, is wrestle. What I do is speak for a new generation, and cater to the old generation. What I do is integrate passion, intensity, true wrestling ability .. so carnal. Into one little ball .. and then I eat it. I'm the Amadeus because I follow the past. I study my history. I don't walk around claiming to be the very best for no reason; I have each and every reason in the world. And I look at Dave Sullivan, who claims that he's the ultimate king. He's nothing more than a disease, spreading throughout the FWA And I must hack it off, I must be the cure. Because you see, Dave Sullivan? He's nothing more than a monster. And I must become a monster, to combat the evils of monsters already here. I must stoop to their level, taking them out .. and ushering in a new chaos .. controlled. Controlled frenzy. I don't need a belt, I don't need anything that would turn me into my opponents. What I need is something far more important. What I need is a reason, a championship to live for. Something that will merge with me and prove to the world why I am the best in the world. And as I look at Dave Sullivan, I see he has what I need. I see he has what I need to combine with. I need to become a better version; I need to become the ultimate thing in this universe. I need to actually be the best, in every one else eyes. It's what pushes me to be the best. It's what pushes me to be the best in the world. And I'm going to continue to do it. I'm going to push through the king because it's a minor threat level when I'm around. You are nothing, Dave. You might as well put back on the suit, and start season two of your reality show. Because you're done. I'm the new thing. Me and Nova Diamond. We’re IT. You're not the best anymore. That reign has been taken over by us. THIS IS THE FUCKING REVOLUTION.


    Kevin’s eyes were full of emotion: pain, pride, determination -- you name it! Kevin’s blue eyes lit up the room as he stared intensely into the camera. After a few moments, Kevin coughed a bit, covering his mouth with his fist, before looking back into the camera, continued to stare endlessly into the lens with his baby blue eyes, still full of emotion, as he continued onward.


    Kevin Cromwell: It doesn't matter what he says, or what chap shot he takes. I'm going to be one step ahead of him.I'm going to prove to all of you, that what I have is real inside. That what I have inside is stronger than anything all of you could put together. I am Kevin Cromwell, and you're Dave Sullivan. You're a hype job, a damn good one you crafted for yourself. And you forcefully pushed your way to the top. But for me? I will harness and go further than anyone in this company has ever gone. I will go on to become the greatest. I will headline events; I will make sure that my face is seen on Back In Business. NOT YOU! So you can try your best, you can try and go on and speak against it. You can even hit me over the head with a scepter. This is life or death for me. Every week could be the death of me, so I fight not only for my championship and my career… I fight for my life. In the middle of a bloody arena with thousands of people cheerin’ or booin’ loud. I bathe in that glory. I strive to walk out as the winner. I FIGHT to walk out as a survivor and Dave doesn’t know about survival as he doesn’t have the instincts of a wolf… he doesn’t have the claws of a wolf… he doesn’t have the fight… of a Wolf. All Dave has is a target on his throat, and I’m makin’ sure this week is forever’ remembered as the night I rip off the wanker’s head and prove he’s actually not a human… he’s not a king… He’s just another victim that’s on my list.”


    Kevin didn't smile at all. Hell, he didn't even raise his voice. In a very calm, cool and collected manner, he finished off this video exclusive with a very chilling last few words.


    Kevin Cromwell: “Nova Diamond can have your belt at Back In Business..but Fight Night? All I’m after is for Dave Sullivan to scream my name as I break his limbs..Come On Dave, you know who I am; I wanna hear you say it. I want you to scream it;. Amadeus. Amadeus. Kevin. Fucking. Cromwell
    Last edited by An Original Name; 12-29-2019 at 10:15 PM.
    The most amazing thing about this recent conversation is that I've learned AON is even more of a waste of space than I thought he was previously

  6. #6
    The Maniacal Martyr
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    Re: PROMO THREAD FIGHT NIGHT 12/30/19

    The cameras of FWA are backstage, noticing one of FWAs newest acquisitions, Mike Valander.

    Mike is talking to his phone, possibly to someone else.

    Mike: Yeah call you in a sec.....Hey what's up? Did you see the match last week, man me and my partner had an excellent showing.

    Mike hangs up his phone.

    Mike: Yeah, that was no one. No one really important, these past weeks I have been on a tear even though I lost my first match, doesn't matter though.

    Mike takes a sip of water to catch his breath

    Mike: So yeah, these past few weeks have been up and down from the beginning to end and hopefully I keep going up to the top.

    Mike looks over to the match card.

    Mike: Says here, I have a 6 man tag match, I don't even know who my partners are.

    Mike hears some beeps coming from a truck parked nearby.

    Mike: Hold on, someone is honking his damn truck. Excuse me for a sec.

    Mike walks over to the truck to give the person a piece of mind.

    Mike: Hey you, I'm trying to talk over here, could you mind not honking your horn?

    The person lowers his window revealing him to be Mike's brother, Louis.

    Louis: Oh hey brother, what's up? Sorry about that.

    Mike is shocked when he sees his younger brother.

    Mike: If it isn't my younger brother Louis, how its been? How's momma Valander?

    Louis: Oh you know, shes fine. Guess what?

    Mike: What is it Louis? You came to visit me for a few minutes.

    Louis: Even better than that, I'm joining FWA.

    Mike: Oh really, geez what a surprise.

    Louis: I know, and my first match, I'm teaming with you in a 6 man tag.

    Mike: Oh boy, this is getting great (sarcasm).

    Louis: I know, can't wait to make my debut.

    Mike: I guess you gotta get ready soon I suppose?

    Louis: You bet, I can't wait. See you later bro.

    Louis leaves in his truck while Mike goes back and puts his head down.

    Mike: Oh my goodness, my brother is joining and he's teaming with me? You kidding me?

    Mike gets his head up and his smile turns into some anger.

    Mike: Who made this match for me and him to team? Like seriously? He's been bugging me everywhere I've been and now they give him a chance to join me.

    Mike's phone rings and he tells the camera to leave as it's family.

  7. #7
    The Artist of Chaos
    Mr. Franchise's Avatar

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    Re: PROMO THREAD FIGHT NIGHT 12/30/19

    The scene opens inside of The Artist of Chaos Eli Black's hotel. Suede rug, King Size bed with purple and gold sheets. Very eccentric throws and shams all over. Fitting for the FWA's quirky new superstar. Black is is basically naked sitting on a stool with paint brush in hand. He has half the canvas covered in a snowy colors which looks to be a festive painting. Black gets a face time coming in. It's from his new partner Laurie Stoudemire.

    Black: Hello.....

    Laurie: Hey Eli what are you doing....wait are you naked?!?!?

    Black: No Eli is not. How can Eli help you Ms.Stoudemire?

    Laurie: You are a soooo weird. Anyway. It's Christmas time and I don't have any family in Lafayette so i figured we can go to dinner together?

    Black: Even though Eli does not celebrate this holiday I will take you up on this offer. Will meet you at Pamplonas in 20 minutes.

    Laurie acknowledges that and they hang up Black packs up his painting tools and tidys up the mess he made. Puts on a black dress shirt with the Jamaican flag styled around his collar and cuffs. Nice black tusk and some pointy shoes. Black goes downstairs and calls his driver to pick him up. He arrives at the restaurant where Laurie is standing outside.

    Black: You got here fast. Were you waiting long?

    Laurie: No I've only been out here for a few minutes. I was in the neighborhood so I just walked. Do we need to make reservation?

    Black: They know Eli in here so there is no need.

    Eli and Laurie walk into the restaurant and the people at the front greet him like they known him all their lives. They seat him and Laurie immediately. They ask if Black wants his usual. He says yes and orders for Laurie as well.


    Laurie: Its like you run the place. Who do you know here?

    Black:*Laughs* Eli use to work here many moons ago. When Eli was traveling from city to city trying to survive on Eli's wit and determination alone. This place was one of Eli extended stays and Eli put in a lot of good work. Made a lot of great family and made some enemies.

    Laurie: I see not everyone in here is happy to see you. That guy over there is burning a whole threw you.

    Black: Yea when Eli is not always the nicest person to be around. Eli busted a few heads a long the way.

    Laurie: That's what i wanted to talk to you about. Your past, present and our future. I need to really know who I am working with. I've work with athletes, musicians, actors and you are by far the weirdest.

    Black: *laughs* You shoot from the hip Eli likes that. What do you want to know?

    Laurie: Well for one why do you talk about yourself in third person?

    Black: If Eli is to believe his therapist it's to cope with Trauma.

    Laurie: Wow I thought you were just a narcissist. Ok and the painting is that just to cope with Trauma too?

    Black: Nope Eli just likes to paint.

    There is a pause. Then both of them begins to laugh.


    Laurie: ok, ok so what do you want from me? I don't know much about the wrestling world.

    Black: The reason Eli has had to move around a lot is because Eli has had reckless tendencies in the past. So Eli needs you to be Eli's rock. Keep Eli centered when Eli start going off the edge. To have Eli's back when no one else does. Also to help stratigize against everyone on this roster. Can I ask you a question?

    Laurie: Anytime

    Black: Why did you decide to work with me?

    Laurie: I like a challenge. New client , new environment. Why do you hate Christmas?

    Black: Eli does not hate Christmas but growing up it was a constant reminder of what Eli lacked. So Eli treats it as another day. Speaking of challenges what do you have on my opponents?

    Laurie: Well the first guy Kayden Knox you guys have a bit in common. He's a bit if a loose cannon. He is trying to reinvent himself because whatever he was doing before was not working. He throws hands more then he will lock up in a traditional wrestling match so he's dangerous in the Street Fight stipulation.

    Black: Eli can respect a man attempting to show a different side of himself. Wash away his past and turn a new chapter. Let the people see the real him but Eli does not think he is as crazy as he thinks he is. Eli think the chaos Eli is about to bring is going to be too much to handle. He won't progress at my story expense.

    Laurie: Jason Randall. He calls himself the wildcard. It's exactly what he is. I was not able to find much on him but it seems like this street fight is going to be full of lunati....

    Suddenly the guy that was staring a whole on Eli Black walks up and grabs at Eli. Before anything can happen Laurie throws her drink in his face and knees him right in the crouch. He comes crumbling down. Black grabs her hands and leaves the restaurant and they drive back to her hotel. As they are going up stairs Eli is telling her that the guy lost to Eli in a bet and started a fight. Eli embarrassed him in front of a bunch of people and never let it go. Once they get into his room. Eli starts painting.

    Laurie: So what weird part of your life story have you been painting now?

    Black: More if a prediction of what's to come then what's was Before. Eli has had many street fights with many badasses before. Only difference now Eli will be getting paid for it and you will be by my side. The left of this painting is a young Eli facing against his demons. The right is him facing future against to of FWA baddest SOBs. I plan on coming out on top.

    Black turns around and Laurie is knocked out. He pulls a sheet over her and gets comfy on the recliner in the room.
    "Are you doin' this work to facilitate growth or to become famous?
    Which is more important?
    Getting or letting go?"
    __________________________________________________________

    "The worst part of having a mental illness is people expect you to behave as if you don't."
    __________________________________________________________

    "I rather you hate me for everything I am then for something i am not"

  8. #8
    Young Gunz
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    Re: PROMO THREAD FIGHT NIGHT 12/30/19

    Sunday, September 22nd | 10:30PM - The Monarch Bar, Seattle, Washington


    The murmer from the patrons of the dimly lit bar slowly fills the cramped, but oddly spacious venue. The lights from the bar cast a yellow hue onto the tables closest to it, leaving those in corner tables reliant on the flash of the headlights streaming through as they pass by. Sat in corner to the right, furthest from the bar sits former CWA wrestler Noah Stocke with a half filled glass of watered down scotch in front of him. He stares down at the glass before fixing his gaze to the television hanging diagonally from him. With his focus turned towards the television, he’s able to make out what the commentators on the right leaning news network are discussing.


    Shawn Summers [On Television] - Look, President Trump is doing what no other President has done before him. He’s putting the American people first and focusing the nations philanthropic ventures on the people who actually deserve it, the LEGAL citizens. We have families and citizens here needing assistance and jobs, but the Democrats want to give all of the assistance and help to the lazy, freeloading, illegal imm…


    Since leaving the professional wrestling industry, Shawn Summers had become a frequent guest on the right leaning news programs. While he may not agree with the nonsense that Summers spews, Noah supports and watches whenever Shawn is on. That’s what friends do.


    Noah attention turns from the television to the door of the bar as he notices his former tag-team partner, Trevor Ocean, entering. He takes a deep sigh and finishes off the remainder of the watered down scotch before raising two fingers up from the side of the glass to catch the attention of Trevor. Trevor walks towards Noah, taking a glance at the television before pulling out his chair.


    Trevor Ocean - He writes a couple of articles criticizing inter gender wrestling and the influence it has on young men breaking into the industry, and now he’s an expert on political policies and what’s right for the nation. Looks like he’s finally found his calling, yeah?


    Trevor sits down and Noah raises his hand to get the attention of the waitress making her rounds.


    Trevor Ocean - No, no drinks for me. I’m not really planning on staying long.


    Noah reluctantly puts his hand down as Trevor continues to survey the bar. The two of them avoiding eye contact with one another as the awkward silence continues to grow.


    Noah Stocke - So ugh…Japan?


    Trevor Ocean - Yeah, what about it?


    Noah Stocke - Nothing…well, I mean things kind of got out of hand last time we were together then. I said some pretty fucked up shit and then I tried to go out and get some single bookings - but no one wanted to work with me due to my ‘reputation’ as being difficult or whatever. So I came back to the States.


    Trevor stares blankly at Noah as he proceeds to dump what equates to word vomit at him.


    Noah Stocke - When I got back here, I thought things would work out better but no one wanted to book the singles wrestler Noah Stocke. They wanted to beef up their tag-team division and they wanted The Elite and…I couldn’t deliver that so…


    Trevor Ocean [cutting the flustered Noah Stock off] - So you decided to reach out to me?


    Noah Stocke [still avoiding eye contact and speaking with a quiver in his voice] - Ye…yeah.


    Trevor Ocean [leaning back in his chair] - Well, look, Japan was fucking great for me. I had some great matches and got to meet some pretty dope people. It eventually led me to getting booked for some tournaments in Europe and learning some new techniques and shit.


    Noah stomach churns as Trevor speaks highly on his experience overseas. This wasn’t the meeting or reunion that he was hoping to have with his former tag-team partner. It was as if Trevor was fine without him and could continue to be fine without the weight of keeping up with Noah and his mood swings and dissatisfaction with the competition.


    Trevor Ocean - The only problem…was that it started to get hard to stay on-top of all the bookings [Something that Noah was excellent with]. Then, you know, a couple of drinks in Europe led to a few bar fights with tough guys wanting to ‘punk the wrestler’. You think because you’re with a couple of other wrestlers, and because you’ve tagged with them that they’d have your back but more often than not, they were egging the guys on. It was fucking crazy [laughing].


    The two laugh at Trevors predicament for a second before returning to the awkward silence before hand. The tension and scar on the relationship the two previously had was still raw. Both were in the wrong but neither knew how to come outright and admit that they may have taken things too far.


    Trevor Ocean - So…have you kept up with any of that shit that they’ve been trying to pass off as ‘tag-team wrestling’ here in the states?


    Noah Stockes demeanor perks up as he notices the smirk on the face of Trevor.


    Noah Stocke - I’ve…skimmed and watched what I could stomach but I’ve gotta say - I wasn’t impressed [laughing].


    Trevor Ocean - It’s like they’ve bastardized tag-team wrestling and what it’s all about.


    Noah Stocke [laughing] - Right!? It’s not like you can just throw two people together and they spontaneously become this cohesive unit that is putting on five star classics. That’s a one in a million chance.


    Trevor Ocean [laughing] - A lot of these teams are just gimmicks. There’s no actual talent like you see in Japan or actual knowledge of the sport like you see in Europe. These guys are just trying to appeal to the audience and hope that they are slightly y better than the team they’re facing so they can keep getting a spot on the card.


    Noah Stocke - I swear to god, I thought that I took a bad edible when I was watching a show recently and I saw this team that had this lame Alice in Wonderland gimmick. But get this, the fans were EATING it up and the commentators were talking as if they were the future of the business. I threw the shit out thinking I got a bad batch, but come to find out, the act was real.


    Trevor and Noah howl with laughter at the ideas of the teams competing in the division that they legitimized in CWA only for the company to fall just when the perception was beginning to change. The laughter between the two dies down and the silence slowly returns.


    Noah Stocke - Trevor, I fucked up in Japan. I said some shit that I shouldn’t have…it really messed me up not having you with me maneuvering this industry. It…really messed with me, man. I was depressed, couldn’t get outta bed, couldn’t be bothered with my family or the random girls…just, none of them really could understand me. They didn’t get my love for this business like you did. They didn’t have my back like I’ve always known you to. I guess…I’m trying to say that I’m sorry…and I realize what life was like without you and I don’t want to experience that…again.


    A grimace appears over the face Trevor Ocean as he looks down at the table, avoiding eye contact with Noah. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his cell phone, taping the screen, scrolling to the left before taping two more times and sliding the phone to a puzzled Noah Stocke.


    Noah looks down at the phone and reads over the message carefully before sliding the phone back to Trevor.


    Noah Stocke - They want to meet up with us?


    Trevor [nodding his head yes] - I think with a little cardio and a couple of months in the ring, we can get you into presentable fashion so they won’t look past us. I’ve been holding onto the message because I wasn’t sure where you were…mentally.


    Noah - I’m good, now. I’m good. Let’s fucking do this man.


    Trevor signals for the waitress to come over to which she obliges.


    Trevor Ocean - Then I think we’re gonna need that drink you tried to get earlier to seal the deal.


    ________________________________________________

    Fight Night | December 6th, 2019


    Trevor Ocean sits on a stool in the corner of his and Noah Stockes locker room. He slowly removes the tape around his hands before reaching down and unlacing his boots. He glances up and he notices Noah Stock, still dressed in his ring gear pacing back and forth muttering to himself. Noah looks at the monitor in the room and curses under his breath as the show continues to progress.


    Noah Stocke - The Elite, the most coveted free agent tag-team makes their debut for FWA last week and we get absolutely no mention or hype. We’re the final tag-team champions in CWA history and we get no mention confronting the current FWA tag-team champions.


    Noah continue pacing as Trevor removes his boots and looks at the monitor watching the tag-team contest featuring Gabi and Cyrus. Noah stops pacing and sits down on the chair opposite Trevor.


    Noah Stocke - Did you see my performance out there? I looked fucking sloppy and terrible. It’s no wonder the crowd was dead out there. We barely could get it together and get back in the groove.


    Trevor Ocean - Well, it was our first match back as a team. We’ll get it together.


    Noah Stocke [scoffing] - We’ve gotta get it together ASAP. They didn’t even fucking care.


    We need to recondition these fans to enjoy actual wrestling over over produced storylines that have predictable endings.


    Trevor Ocean - Noah, when we signed with this company we both knew that the fans didn’t care about the tag-team division. They only cared about the World Title scene. It was the same thing we experienced in CWA. No one cared until we gave the fans something to care about. We just gotta make them care and put the spotlight on the tag-teams. It’s what we do. We just gotta give them something to talk about.


    Noah nods in agreement untapping his wrists, seemingly thinking of a plan.


    Noah Stocke - Yeah, give them something to talk about.


    _____________________________________________________________________________________


    Fight Night | December 30th, 2019


    Noah Stocke and Trevor Ocean stand in the middle of the arena, where the ring is supposed to be. The shipping containers with all our the ring equipment and display stage sit lined up around them. The arena is void of anyone but the two. A glimmer from around Trevor Oceans waist gleams bringing the eye to his half of the CWA tag-team championship. To his side sits a crouched Noah Stocke, his half of the CWA tag-team championship dropped over his shoulder.


    Noah takes a deep sigh as he removes the black hood from over his head.


    Noah Stocke - It’s been a while since I’ve done this, but I’m sure my tongue is till silver and my whit unmatched. We’re the first one here for tonight Fight Night. We’re here before the ring crew can come na d set up the show. We’re here before the producers and agents can get here and determine the way the show is going to run. We’re here before your favorite wrestlers show up. Why? Because we like to set the tone for the night by being the first ones here and we like to leave a lasting impression on the fans minds by being the last ones to leave. That’s what leaders of the industry do. That’s what the ELITE do.


    We established this little routine when we first gained these [raising the championship] CWA tag-team championships. It’s only right that we continued this tradition on our way to becoming the reigning, defending, standard bearers of tag-team wrestling for FWA. Well, we thought it would be right to continue this tradition…until we made our in ring debut last week. Upon our debut, we learned pretty quickly that the fans of FWA have been trained not to care about tag-team wrestling.


    And, can you blame them? Why do they need to care about tag-team wrestling when you’ve got the Champ-Champ-Champ defending his title and running his mouth? Why do they need to care about the tag-team champions when they can get closer and closer to seeing Cyrus Truth and Gabi finally admitting that they’d rather fuck one another than fight each other? But, more importantly, why give a damn when the tag-team champions can’t even be bothered to show up on the damn show?


    As the CWA tag-team champions, we showed up to EVERY single show and wrestled every single week because we believed in the tag-team division there and we believed that the fans deserved to see the best tag-team that this industry has to offer. But here in FWA, the Undisputed Alliance don’t share our same mind set. That’s why they were NEVER able to become the tag-team champions in CWA. We made sure of that. Whether it be by disqualification or by an utter beat down, we made sure that Nate Savage and his little side kick never got their hands on the tag-titles because they didn’t deserve them.
    Savage and Fenix only wanted to be champion in theory but they didn’t want to actually do the championship work like Trevor and I. It’s the same reason why Nate Savage was never good enough to earn the World Title that he so desperately wanted. It’s because he didn’t…no…it’s because he couldn’t do the work to be the champion. It’s because he was never on the level of Krash, the workhorse of CWA. it’s because he wasn’t on level of Lilith, the wrestling savant. It’s because he wasn’t on the level of the Elite of tag-team wrestling like Trevor and myself.


    Nate Savage is a poser, a pretender that had to come to FWA to accomplish something he couldn’t do with Trevor and myself standing in his way. Let me ask you something, Nate. Did you enjoy FWA? Did you enjoy the little spotlight that was shined on you for the moment during that tag-team tournament? Did you enjoy the talk that was surrounding you and Jackson Fenix? Did you enjoy being considered the top tag-team and an actual threat? I hope you did…I really do. Because, the division is ours. We’re going to save it. We’re gonna outclass you and Fenix and tonight…Trevor is going to embarrass you. Then next week, I’m gonna embarrass Fenix and put my knee in the face of his little girlfriend, AGAIN.


    Noah looks at the watch on his wrist and smiles.


    Noah Stocke - Time it ticking on your reign, Nate. That Undisputed grip that you two have on the tag-team division…it’s…it’s slipping.


    We’ll see you soon.

  9. #9
    Hail To The King
    OMB's Avatar

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    Re: PROMO THREAD FIGHT NIGHT 12/30/19

    We open up to a room of people in a building as they begin to sit down they are talking amongst one another until a female voice is heard on the mic stating to settle down. The crowd quiets as the camera pans to see Dr. Cara Spencer the doctor who helped out Kayden when he was at his lowest point. She begins to speak as the crowd settles down.

    Dr. Spencer: Thank you all for coming and gathering here today as many of you know a few months ago a man name Sterling Jagger came into this place and came looking for help. He was broken, he was depress, he tried to take his own life.

    However he did not he got better because he learned to accept few things about himself. He learned not to hang onto the past and let it set his future. Now today, all of you are going through that same thing... you think that you are broken you think this is the lowest part of your life you feel like you are drowning and you can't keep your head above water. The man that used to call himself Sterling Jagger the man who now accepted his real self as Kayden Knox is here to speak to you today.


    Kayden Knox appears to a round of appluse as the crowd sits and Knox looks around the room before speaking.

    Kayden Knox: I know what you are thinking... that all of this is a scam that all of this is just some shit being talked to make you feel a little better bout having to be here the truth of the matter is that if it wasn't for Dr. Spencer and my best friend AJ Drake... I wouldn't be here today. I been right where you guys are sitting.

    I tried to kill myself.

    Kayden takes a few moments as if going back to think about his past. He shakes it off making sure his voice wasn't broken as he speaks.



    I thought everything was bullshit that nothing else matter.

    I was mocked... I was sad... I had the same things happen bad personal life. I had addiction. I blamed everyone else for my own undoing. The thing is the moment you go and you accept who you are you can learn to better yourself.

    You see people are always going to think they know who you are.


    They are going to think to they know you and try to break you and just human nature to be like that and it is a sad case but, you got to be better then that better then people like Jason Randall and Eli Black.


    Jason Randall is a guy, who could of been right here, right now talking to you in this same place because we aren't so different. You would see him go down the same road down the same path and you will see that the man in the mirror could be one in the same.


    Jason spent his whole life trying to be something after coming from his broken past and by his side his women offered her hand trying to be the same trying to make the same offer for help that Dr. Spencer is offering each and every single one of you.

    Eli Black on the other hand is not that same person.

    Knox voice gets angry but, he looks over at Dr. Spencer who smiles and he finds himself at ease. He speaks to them like a leader to a group of people.

    Eli Black is a self entitled man who thinks that worth is about the things you have as compared to things you don't. Eli Black is exactly who I used to try and be. I wanted the money the fame the fortune the thing is when you start to think that way and you lose time after time its going to mess with your head and I don't think Eli will ever admit to it but, the self doubt starts to slowly kick in.

    Eli Black is the person you don't wanna be people.


    You want to see yourself better by accepting who you are.


    Yes, there is always going to be those who don't like you.

    There will always be those self doubts in your head but, you got to accept all of your self the good, the bad, the things you want no one to see.

    Knox stops speaking as the crowd gives him appluse and we fade to black.

    (Sorry this isn't that long... work has been super busy.)






    Spoiler:


    CWA World Heavyweight Champion
    ​Brayden Bridges








  10. #10
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    Jimmy King's Avatar

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    Re: PROMO THREAD FIGHT NIGHT 12/30/19

    The scene opens up outside of an old gym in downtown San Diego and soon foot steps can be heard walking up, and it’s soon revealed to be Jason Randall who is looking like he’s seen better days with a five o’clock shadow and it looks like he hasn’t slept in days. He looks behind him at the gym and just stares at it for what seems like forever, lost in thought maybe? Who knows. He turns back to the camera, clears his throat and lets out a low sigh before speaking.

    You’re probably wondering what I’m doing standing outside this gym, well this place is where it all started for me. This is the place where I began my training and learned my craft, this is where I came to learn how to wrestle. This building here is what helped mold me into what you see before you today, well what’s left of me anyway…

    He sighs again as he stares back at the building and places his hands in his pockets.

    I came to this place because I had a passion for wrestling after watching it on TV as a kid. This is the place that I came to learn and better myself because I wanted to be like then guys I saw on TV, and this place was the only option in town at the time…

    Eventually I started getting booked for shows and right away I thought I was god’s gift to the squared circle, but I was greener than grass and got my ass kicked more times than I’d care to admit. It was a learning experience though…


    He looks back at the camera with a blank expression.

    Why am I telling you all this? Well that passion, that drive that I had...I just don’t know if I have it in me anymore…

    He looks down at the ground and kicks at it.

    This isn’t one of those “woe is me” things, but I just don’t know anymore. Take for instance in my last match with Michael Garcia, as much as I hate to admit it that big idiot was right about something. Leading up to the match he basically said I’m not who I used to be, I’m not the same guy I used to be. Basically saying that I’ve gone soft, that I don’t have what it takes anymore and I’m beginning to think that he was right. I mean, look at me, I couldn’t get a win if my life depended on it. Yeah, I’ve gotten a few here and there but in the end I lost when it mattered most, yeah I’d get a win and earn an opportunity but inevitably I’d blow that opportunity and become a joke of the locker room…

    I shouldn’t let it get to me but eventually after enough times of hearing it, well it gets to you. What I learned in that building behind me means nothing anymore, whatever I learned in there I no longer have it in me. Hopefully I find it soon because I still have a match to deal with at this next Fight Night...Eli Black and Kayden Knox…


    He looks up at the camera as he says those names.

    Knox, you and I faced off once before but to be fair we were both different people. You were some former adult film actor and I was once some Wildcard, kind of ironic we share the ring again. Last time that person that I was beat you but to be honest I thought you had me that night, I really thought you did but I got the better of you and you’ve gone on record to say that that night really ate away at you and now you’ve become the real you who you are today…

    Eli Black, I don’t know anything about you besides the fact that you’re an artist or claim to be. None of that matters, what matters is what you do in that ring. I want you to show me what you got just like I’m sure you’ll want me to show what I got but the difference is I’m sure that you’ll show me but I won’t be able to make good on my end of the bargain because you’re facing a broken man Eli. You and Knox, you two are facing a broken man…

    I’ll still do what I can to try and pull out that win because it is my speciality after all, a street fight but at the end of the day would this win really mean much. It’s just another match to me and I’ll go in there and do my best to entertain the fans because that’s all I really can do, I’ll try...for them. They’re all I have really…

    Good luck you two, you’re facing a broken man with nothing to lose and nothing to gain….


    With that the scene fades out and the screen goes black except for this quote in all white lettering.

    "It is during our darkest moments that we must focus to see the light" - Aristotle
    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.

  11. #11
    Friendship King

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    Re: PROMO THREAD FIGHT NIGHT 12/30/19


    Somewhere, in the middle of nowhere, Australia, a man awoke with a start.

    A dark, starless night greeted his view from behind the windows of his isolated home in the desert, as the hero of our story blinked groggily, running a hand over his tired eyes, wondering why he had suddenly been jerked awake. Who, or what, would dare impede the value of his treasured beauty sleep? Getting to sleep itself was a difficult task enough nowadays, even with the addition of his usual handful of sleeping pills downed with some whisky. To be awoken so rudely was certainly unwelcome.

    Krash yawned, lying back down and closed his eyes, certain that if he ignored whatever primal instinct caused him to be awoken, he’d drift back off to sleep in no-time. If he was lucky, he might be able to find that dream he was dreaming before being awoken, although exactly what that dream was, he couldn’t say. With another yawn, Krash snuggled in underneath the blankets, and proceeded to lay in complete silence for ten minutes as his body refused to settle enough for sleep.

    With a groggy sigh, Krash gave up with the effort, throwing the covers off and swinging his legs onto the carpet next to his bed. Stretching, and cringing at several audible pops and crack from his joints, Krash stood, running a hand through his frazzled, messy hair, before he made his way towards the kitchen. If he’s awake, he might as well have a drink.

    With another yawn, he flicked on the kitchen light, squinting against the harsh bright glare. With a staggered yawn, he sauntered right past the tall, hooded figure leaning against the counter, and opened up the pantry.

    As Krash’s hand wrapped around a half-empty bottle of whisky, he paused, and glanced behind him.

    The hooded figure against the kitchen counter stared impassively back at him, it’s facial features hidden within the black void of it’s hood.

    Krash blinked, then turned back to the pantry. His hand went right past the half-empty whisky to grab a full bottle instead. The situation seemed to call for it.

    Popping the top off the bottle, Krash immediately downed a long mouthful, before turning to face the strange hooded figure who seemed to be finding his kitchen counter to be a superbly comfortable thing to lean against in the dark of the night.

    The two stared at each other for a brief few seconds. Or, Krash assumed that a pair of eyes resided somewhere within the hood, staring back at him. It was difficult to tell, to be honest.

    “Morning.” Krash eventually greeted, ever the model of politeness and professionalism at the worst of times.

    The hooded figure remained silent, unmoving. As if a statue had manifested itself within Krash’s kitchen.

    Krash glanced at the bottle in his hand, then shrugged, and offered it to the hooded figure.

    The hooded figure’s head – assuming a head resided within that hood – seemed to tilt down, ever so slightly at the gesture.

    Krash raised his eyebrows, and waggled the bottle teasingly.

    The hooded figure slumped, finally moving as it stretched out a limb – presumably, it’s arm – and accepted the bottle. “Godamnit, this isn’t the way this is supposed to play out.” It spoke, grumbling in an impossibly deep voice. “You see a mysterious figure in your kitchen at night, and your first instinct is to offer it a drink?”

    “It’s a very hot night.” Krash said, shrugging. “It would be rude not to.”

    The hooded figure seemed to stare incredulously, before leaning back and downing a significant amount of whisky in one go. “Of course. Why am I even slightly surprised?” It rumbled in it’s baritone, before passing the bottle back. “Let’s get this over with, then.”

    “Are you Death?” Krash interrupted, before the hooded figure could get ‘it’ over with.

    The hooded figure grunted twice, which upon retrospect sounded more like a stunted, surprised laugh. “God, I wish I was. That guy’s livin’ the life.” It said, with zero trace of irony.

    “I’m going to assume I’m dreaming.” Krash quietly mused. “That seems like a safe assumption.”

    “Listen, Krash...” The hooded figure, who apparently was not death – a fact that Krash couldn’t help but be slightly disappointed by – placed a limb on Krash’s shoulder. The limb was cold to the touch, and seemed to be continuously shivering beneath it’s cloak, as if millions of insects scurried within. “Montrose... Whatever you want to call yourself. Have you heard of a little movie called... A Christmas Carol?”

    Krash groaned, rolling his eyes. “Oh, godamnit.”

    Hoody flipped a limb, and the sound of snapping - presumably fingers, but who's to know for sure - echoed. “Tonight, you shall be visited by three spirits of the ethereal plane! The-”

    Krash waved a hand flippantly. “Yeah, yeah, Ghost of Christmas Past, Present, and Yet To Come. I get it. We all get it. Even if we havn’t read the story or seen the movie, we get it. You and Casper the Friendly Ghosts are going to...” Krash paused, as a rather noticeable plot hole entered his mind. “Wait, what are you going to do? A Christmas Carol is about convincing an angry old man who hates Christmas to lighten the hell up and be less of a douche. I’m the least angry, old, douche-man I know.”

    The hooded figure made a vague shrugging motion. “Yeah, well, y’know what it’s like with modern retellings. Gotta throw in a neat twist or subversion every now and then. Think of this as less of us trying to make you a better, and more of a better person.”

    “You just said the same thing twice with zero change in inflection or tone.” Krash noted, having the three-dimensional awareness to sense that there wasn’t even any italics within the hooded figure’s explanation to single out.

    Another dismissive shrug. “It’ll make sense after we’re done.”

    Krash sighed in defeat, knowing this was a fight he couldn’t win. “Fine. Come on, then. Have at it.”

    The hooded figure slammed two of it’s appendages together, in a motion that could be generously described as ‘applaud-like.’ “Let’s start with... The Ghosts of Christmas Present.”

    \~-~/

    The hooded figure – who for ease we’ll just be calling ‘Hoody’ from now on – raised an arm, and the sound of a pair of fingers snapping echoed. The room around Krash and Hoody shifted, disappearing into the void, before slowly being replaced with dozens of colors, swirling and ribboning their way in to place.

    “Trippy.” Krash remarked, as the world came in to focus around them, revealing itself to be a mall. A perfectly normal, completely average mall. With all the normal things malls have at Christmas, including it’s very own Mall Santa, who- “Wait, is that Michael Garcia?”

    Hoody scoffed. “What? No, of course not.”

    The Mall Santa, a seven-foot giant with a cheaply-applied white beard, frowned at the child on his lap. “You want a title shot? What the hell have you done to earn it, you entitled little brat? YOU’RE EVERYTHING THAT’S WRONG WITH FWA!”

    The child, who had actually only asked that his dad come home for Christmas, instantly began crying. This show of any emotion that wasn’t immediate frothing anger appeared to displease the Mall Santa even more.

    “Okay, he might be slightly based on Michael Garcia, but for legal reasons, he’s not.”

    “GET OFF MY LAP BEFORE I HURT YOU, LIKE I HURT MY MOTHER EVERY TIME SHE CHECKS MY TWITTER DOT COM.”

    Krash let out a sigh, running a hand over his face. “Please tell me a belligerent Mall Santa version of Michael Garcia is not what you think the Ghost of Christmas Present should be.”

    A high-pitched, whiny ‘eeeeeh’ sound echoed from somewhere within the recessive void of Hoody’s hood. “Well, he’s not the ‘entire’ ghost, per se.”

    “Hey!” A new voice entered the area, as a very disappointed Mall Manager marched onto the scene, hands on hips. “We’ve talked about your conduct and how this isn’t appropriate behaviour for someone who is supposed to be as impartial as possible for a Santa! Why must you make everything about you?!?”

    Krash squinted. “Is that Devin Golden?”

    Hoody shuffled the tendrils that appeared to be it’s legs awkwardly. “Legally, no.”

    “You can’t just make crude portrayals of known wrestlers and say it’s not legally them.”

    Hoody waved an appendage around dismissively. “You’re focusing too much on the ‘who’, and less on the ‘what.’ What does this image represent?”

    Krash frowned, as the Mall Santa who was certainly not Michael Garcia but certainly looked a lot like him, quickly grabbed the crying child by the face, and slammed him onto the floor with The Pendulum. This casual display of child abuse earned a disapproving glare by the Mall Manager who almost certainly wasn’t Devin Golden, as he ripped off his suit to reveal rippling, hard-rock abs, before bellowing a war cry.

    “This image represents that Mall Santa regulations are at an all-time low nowadays.” Krash remarked, as Michael Garcia if he was stuffed into a bright red suit reached into his sack to grab a hockey stick, of all things.

    Hoody flicked another appendage in annoyance. “Forget the Mall Santa aspect! It’s a means to an end! What do Michael Garcia and Devin Golden represent that makes them suitable as the Ghosts of Christmas Past?”

    Krash arched an eyebrow. “I thought they weren’t Michael Garcia and Devin Golden, legally speaking?”

    “Godamnit.” Hoody swore, absently kicking a prop of a present. “Look, Garcia and Golden are pillars of FWA, for better or worse. For months, they were stuck behind a commentary desk, limited to taking barbs at each other. But now, now both are back in active competition, and have the chance to re-invent themselves. Though they’re both synonymous with the Past of FWA, they’ve been granted a second chance to create a new Present for themselves. To the point where no-one is thinking they there’ old relics from the past, desperate for another chance to hog the spotlight. No, they’re thinking that these two experienced veterans, with years of experience between them, are part of the Present of FWA. They fit in just like Cyrus, Sully, Gabrielle, and the like do.”

    Krash considered this point, tapping a finger against his chin. “Seems like a bit of a stretch, but alright.”

    Hoody’s arm appendages flopped. “I’m working with limited material, okay? The point is, these two fit into the present of FWA, even after being a commentary duo for ages. And you, despite having been in FWA for nearly half a year now, are still trying to find your place.”

    Irked, Krash shot a glare into the void where he assumed Hoody’s face resided. “Stuff like this takes time, alright? I’m not a FWA lifer like those two, I don’t have the years of ground support. So what? It’ll happen in time. Hell, it can happen just as easily as next week, when I help Devin Golden beat the stuffing out of Michael Garcia & Mike Parr. I’m looking forward to it. Golden is a legend of FWA, a man I greatly admire despite our setbacks earlier this year, and any chance to knock Michael Garcia down a peg is a chance I’ll gladly take. You know what Garcia is famous for? Injuring people. The man takes that as a badge of honour, putting names on the injury list. That’s not what wrestling is about. That’s never what wrestling’s been about, and it never will be.”

    Hoody tilted it’s head. “Is it not the point of your career, to incapacitate your opponent via physical violence in order to achieve victory? Surely, injuries happen.”

    “To a degree, yes. We fight, we wrestle, we hurt. That comes with the job. But there’s a fine line between someone getting injured in a genuine accident in the ring, and someone like Michael Garcia relishing the opportunity to be the cause behind such an injury. It’s about the intent. And unlike Garcia, I have never injured anyone in my career, intentionally or otherwise. I fight, I battle I defeat, but I’ve never injured anyone. I’m proud of that. I fight to win, not to hurt. That’s what sportsmanship is about. If your goal out there is to make sure the other person can’t walk home under their own power, then you’re not a wrestler, you’re a glorified sadist.”

    Hoody coughed. “Perhaps we should move on.” Hoody raised an appendage, and the scene froze, just before Angry Santa Michael Garcia and Fed-up Mall Manager Devin Golden could connect in the impending brawl. Frozen in time, the two’s eyes bored into each other, whilst the unconscious child lay beside them, forgotten about in the fight.

    \~-~/

    Hoody’s arm appendage finished waving, as the scene finished transitioning. “Behold, the Ghost of Christmas Future.”

    “It’s called the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come.”

    “Ghost of Christmas Future!”

    “Hey, quick question, you’ve read a Christmas Carol, right?”

    Hoody coughed. “I, uh, skimmed it.”

    “Good to know. Ghost of Christmas Future it is.” Krash remarked, once again recognising a fight he couldn’t win, before looking around at the scene starting to settle in. “Where are we?”

    “Where else, but the FUTURE!” Hoody cheered, it’s tendrils positively quivering with delight. As the smoke cleared, the scene faded in: A crowded city plaza square, filled with people of all colors, staring expectantly at a massive electronic billboard in the distance. Not a single person paid any attention to the hooded monstrosity and a half-naked Australian that had spontaneously appeared in the back of the crowd, far too concerned with watching the electronic billboard.

    “Doesn’t seem very futuristic.” Krash muttered. “No cyber implants, no civilian jetpacks. Just a lot of people in one spot.”

    “Reality is often disappointing.” Hoody noted solemnly.

    “Yeah, but this is a dream, Thanos. Could be literally anything, but instead you’ve gone with...” Krash waved a hand dismissively. “This.”

    “Hush! The show’s starting!” Hoody exclaimed, pointing a cloaked extremity at the billboard, as it sparked in to life.

    “Good evening!” A generic reporter appeared on the screen, in a generic suit with some generic papers. Even her mug read ‘generic.’ “I’m Caitlyn Generic, and you’re watching FWA’s Pre-Show Report! We’re less than twenty-four hours away from FWA: Season’s Beatings 2025, so let’s run down the card! The God of FWA, The Prodigy, Mike Parr, defends his FWA World Heavyweight Championship against a re-returning Michelle Von Horrorwitz! And, in the same night, he’ll be defending his FWA North American Championship in an Open Challenge! He’s held the North American Championship since he defeated Dave Sullivan and some other guy back in 2019, and he’s held it so long people have started calling it the Prodigal Championship!”

    Krash slowly nodded. “Ah. I can see where this is going. Mike Parr, the Ghost of Christmas Future, yeah? I can see that.”

    “Mmmm. Bit of an easy guess, ain’t it.” Hoody admitted.

    “We go now live to Mike Parr’s seventh mansion, for some brief words about the upcoming PPV.”

    The big screen cut suddenly to the handsome, stubbled face of ‘The Prodigy’ Mike Parr, the North American title over his left shoulder, and the World Heavyweight title over his right. He’s already talking, having apparently began some sort of speech long before Caitlyn Generic switched over to him. “-I didn’t try to be anything other than me. I did things MY WAY, I followed MY RULES, I took MY SHORTCUTS and sicced MY ALLIES on MY ENEMIES at all times! I’m a double-champion, the World Heavyweight and North American champion, which technically means I’m the King of North America twice over, and I did it all by BEING ME.”

    “He doesn't sound like the Mike Parr I've seen.” Krash remarked.

    “Maybe six years on top of the world changes his speech patterns?”

    On the screen, Mike Parr continued. “There are times when I look back, at that fateful night back in 2019 where I became North American Champion. Who could have known that it would be that win that would start my six-year undefeated streak? I mean, I knew it, of course I did, but who knows how things would be if Dave Sullivan, who will be out on parole in six months I hear, or god forbid that CWA tumour Krash, walked out as Champion? And to think, he was stupid enough to think I would shake hands with him and MEAN IT after MY victory! What an absolute idiot, who did he think I was? I sometimes get asked, if I could go back to that day, or any other day where I stabbed enough backs to end up as champion, would I do anything differently? And the answer is and always has been, no! No, no, a hundred times no! Sticking the knife between his shoulderblades was only the second-best thing I did that night! And while I’ve soared and conquered through FWA, taking out my competition with both my impossibly amazing skill and the duo of Protoype and Protégé, you know where he is nowadays? Probably facedown in a ditch somewhere in the desert for all anyone cares! His greatest contribution to FWA was being a hapless punching bag for me and the New Breed!” As Mike Parr let out a laugh, a gif popped up on the screen of that fateful night – Mike Parr nailing Krash with a Rolling Cutter, before directing The New Breed to maul Krash apart.

    Hoody coughed twice. “I feel like I should point out that this is not set in stone. None of this is. Mike Parr could most certainly become a god of FWA, or he could not. Fate isn’t wired up in absolutes like that.”

    “He’s not wrong, though.” Krash admitted, staring at the soundless gif on the screen. “Mike Parr. He’s the future. Even I can see it. He won that North American title all by himself, beating me AND Dave Sullivan. He doesn’t need the New Breed to back him up, he’s already got all the tools to succeed. But he still has them back him up anyway, just to tip things in his favour a bit more, and it’s...”

    A beat of silence. Krash frowned, trying to find the right words, and failing to do so.

    “It’s a bit disheartening, isn’t it?” Hoody spoke up, softly. “Trying to be the do-gooder, the respectful sportsman, only for a man who doesn’t need any underhanded tactics to succeed, yet uses underhand tactics anyway, for him to become the star while you vanish. Makes you wonder why you even bother trying to pretend to be anything else. But, again, this is only the things that may be, not the things that will be, so, y’know. Keep that in mind. Maybe you and Parr could switch places, if only a few choices were made differently.”

    “I mean, there’s still time, right?” Krash replied, frowning. “Time for things to change. I could beat him next week, get back on track, work my way up to something good. Hell, with Devin Golden by my side, we’re all-but-guaranteed a victory, right? All I need is the right win, at the right time, for it all to start clicking together. And don’t get me wrong, Mike Parr’s got a place in the future of FWA, I can’t deny that. But next week, I’m not only going to beat him, I’m not only going to get my career on the right path... But I’m also going to offer my hand in handshake, as he did last week. Unlike Mike, I won’t have two goons ready to strike at my word. There won’t be a vengeful assault, nor a revenge-driven attack. All I’ll be having to give to him, after my victory, is sincere congratulations on becoming FWA North American Champion. I’ll put forth the sportsmanship manner that Mike betrayed in his actions. And this time, if Mike brings out the New Breed to try to take me down... I’ll be ready.”

    Hoody raised another limb, starting to wash the scene away.

    “You want to know something sad?” Krash said, downcast. “I knew he was going to do it.”

    Hoody paused. “Hmmm?”

    “Mike Parr. That night, I knew he was going to attack me the second our eyes met after the North American title match. And yet, I still shook his hand and congratulated him.”

    Krash could feel, if not see, Hoody’s face furrowing in confusion. “... Why?”

    “Because I wanted to believe that I was wrong. I wanted to believe that myself and Parr has created a... bridge between us, a sportsmanship respect after we took turns kicking Sullivan to the curb. For just one moment, I wanted to give the benefit of the doubt, and believe in the best of people.”

    “Didn’t work out for you, did it?”

    Krash let out a derisive chuckle. “Has it ever? But you know the real bitch of it? As much as I’ve seen and had this happen to me time, and time again... Knowing full well there’s always going to be a 90% chance that it’ll end up with a knife in my back, I’d still give them the benefit of the doubt and the chance to be better, just for that remaining 10%.”

    “Even if the story keeps ending up the same way, again and again and again? You’ll keep up this charade?”

    Krash shook his head, refusing to answer. “Let’s just go. One more left, right?”

    “Yeah. One more.” With that, Hoody waved a limb, wiping the scene away.

    \~-~/

    As the world faded back into play, Krash blinked. “We’re... back in my home.”

    “That’s correct.” Hoody nodded. Indeed, they were back in Krash’s quiet home, in the middle of nowhere. The pantry door was still open, the bottle of whisky still on the counter.

    Krash arched an eyebrow. “Why?”

    “This is where the Ghost of Christmas Past resides.” Hoody announced, in a way that could have been cryptic and subtle if he wasn’t staring directly at Krash as he said so. Hoody waved another limb, and the television in the living room suddenly switched on, the familiar sounds of replays Krash had spent too much time watching filling the room.

    “-The Heartbeat of CWA! World Heavyweight Champion, climbing up top! Daybreaker! Krash with the Daybreaker! He makes the cover!”

    If Krash squinted, he could’ve sworn there was a faded, ghostly apparition of Krash himself, sitting on the couch and watching his victories of year’s past with an almost pitiable quality.

    “I can see where this is going.” The tone had changed in Krash’s voice. The dry, casual joking tone was gone, replaced by a low, subdued level. Krash’s gleaming emerald eyes seemed to grey slightly, as Krash strolled towards his pantry, reaching for another bottle of whisky.

    “Yes!” Hoody made a noise that sounded impossibly orgasmic. “Wither and tremble, for the Ghost of Christmas Past is represented by none other than-”

    “Do you want a drink? I feel like a drink.” Krash interrupted, brandishing the bottle of whisky.

    “Hey, don’t brush this off, this is the third act and it’s very important to the entire character arc. Do you know who the Ghost of Christmas Past is?”

    Krash chugged a mouthful of whisky. “I’m guessing it’s me.” He answered tonelessly.

    Hoody let out an otherworldly cheer. “Yes! And do you know why?”

    “No, but I bet you’re going to tell me. Cliff notes version, please.”

    Hoody paused, before slumping it’s shoulders. “You’re really taking the fun out of this, y’know? It's because you’re stuck in the past. You’re stuck longing for your glory days in a dead company, a big fish in a small pond instead of a small fish in a pool of sharks. Everyone has moved on, while you’re refusing to, acting like the same person you were in CWA as if that’ll still work in a completely different environment.” Hoody moved closer, raising a cloaked limb and pointing it over Krash’s heart. “CWA is dead. Killed by forces outside your control. It is not your fault, but you need to accept it. I know, it’s not that easy, but it doesn’t have to be that hard, either. Look, the Krash that withered in CWA can die too, if you want. You can move on, leave that person behind, be the kind of person you’re supposed to be instead of this CWA-tribute act.”

    “And what kind of person am I supposed to be?” Krash suddenly lashed out, wondering what would happen if he took this bottle of whisky and cracked it over Hoody’s head.

    Hoody merely shook it’s head. “You know the answer to that as well as I do.”

    Krash snorted, shaking his head as he brushed past Hoody, his shoulder passing completely through the hooded spirit and sending a shiver of cold through his spine. “Is there anything else in this haphazardly written Christmas Carol retelling you want to drop on me?” He asked, hand on the handle of his front door.

    “No. That’s all.”

    “Then I’d like to wake up now.” Krash requested, opening his front door. A black void greeted him, howling wind billowing into his home as Krash motioned for Hoody to take his leave.

    Hoody didn’t move a muscle, assuming it had muscles of some kind. “Have you accepted the lesson I’ve been trying to teach you?” Hoody asked gently.

    “If the lesson is that ‘A Christmas Carol’ is a bit overrated, then yes. I’ve accepted it with all my heart.”

    Something within Hoody crumbled, and the maybe-otherwordly spirit seemed to deflate. “I’ve said my piece, and done all I can. The rest is in your hands. Your past, your present, your future, all in your hands. I can only hope that someday, you’ll listen to what I’ve said here, and make the changes necessary for you to become a better wrestler.”

    Krash frowned. “I thought you said this was about becoming a better person.”

    Hoody stared. “I did say that, didn’t I?” Hoody pondered, before shrugging. “Person, wrestler... It’s all the same in your world, isn’t it?”

    Krash opened his mouth, then closed it upon realising he had nothing to retort against that.

    Hoody moved, not walking, not floating, but glided across the floor, black smoke billowing behind it. Hoody reached the front door, and spared one last final glance at Krash, before letting out a ragged sigh, and vanishing into the void.

    “Merry Christmas to you too.” Krash deadpanned behind him, closing the front door.

    Letting out a sigh, Krash took another mouthful from the bottle of whisky, as he leaned against the door and slowly slid down. As he waited for himself to wake up and end this godawful dream, he uttered the closing lines of this famous Christmas adaption.

    “'A Christmas Carol' fucking sucks.”

    ~FIN~
    Last edited by Smooth Jazz Wolf; 01-01-2020 at 12:40 PM.


    Spoiler:



    I'm not good at signatures.


  12. #12
    Striving for a B+ in life
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    Re: PROMO THREAD FIGHT NIGHT 12/30/19

    The moment the referee's hand hit the mat for the third time, the world just seemed ... lighter. It seemed a little easier, a little less hectic, a little more boring ... in a good way. The raucous cheers and boos from the crowd were drowned out by the thoughts of "the end." The two men in the ring had known each other for a half decade. One, the man who just won, was "The Last Star in the Sky". He wasn't finished yet. He looked the part, holding his hands high and embracing the chorus mixture of cheers and jeers, praise and heckling.

    The other man just lay flat on his back, breathing heavily as he looked up to the rafters of his "final" arena. He was at peace. He was … finished.

    As this man got up, he took in the standing applause that predictably came unto him. Hand-waving, nodding, smiling, the usual replies. This was his curtain call and he set it in the most intricate manner. He billed it as his final showing, his last performance of his career, and he meant to keep it as such. Because he knew how important that final walk up the rampway was. He knew what awaited him on the other side of the curtains if he did it the "right" way. And he knew what awaited him if he did it the wrong way.

    Each step up that rampway, with the fans cheering and some even crying, seemed like they were speeding up. He felt like wind was pushing him toward a finish line that suddenly he didn't want to reach. He was scared of the unknown. He was fearful of dying, and this moment is inevitably a wrestler's death … not from life but from his profession and what he's been so good at. As he got closer and closer to the moment, now reaching the top of the rampway and mere 5 steps ... 4 steps … 3 steps from the curtain ... he wanted to turn around, grab a microphone, and shout, "SIKE!" as if it was all a swerve to begin with.

    He knew he couldn't. He knew he wouldn't go back on his plan. This was what he set out to do, even if he had his doubts. And he had one very legitimate doubt that he refused to tell anyone about. This doubt truly almost made him go back on his plan a few days before this night.

    But he decided not to listen to these voices, because few people get the privilege of choosing their exit. He was great enough to be one of these few, and he should remember that. And he should also remember that everyone is scared of these last three steps … two steps … one step.

    Because yes …




    Death Is Scary


    There was no reason to be scared, it turns out. "The Golden One" Devin Golden hit those curtains with his eyes closed and entered the post-life of an FWA wrestler. Where did he go exactly? Well, that needs a few more paragraphs to explain.

    The final steps before the curtain were fraught with unknown fear. The first steps after the curtain were blissful. Think of a shiny silver staircase, or elevator as an alternative if you'd prefer not to put in any physical effort, filled with photographs of life's accomplishments. Think of televisions showing your career highlights as you go higher and higher up. Think of a clear blue sky with perfectly shaped, fluffy clouds. And finally, think of those pearly golden gates.

    Heaven awaits, even if Golden has one lingering question gnawing at him still.

    And as it turns out, heaven is pretty awesome. The retired wrestlers who did it "the right way" are all here. FWA legends like G-Rich, Matthew Boudreau, Ashley O' Ryan and others all have their place. They welcomed "The Golden One" in and had him as part of them from then on.

    Everything was … perfect.













    "There seems to be a break-in."


    "What do you mean?"

    "I mean … someone has broken into heaven."



    The turmoil rang throughout the sunny-skied, cloud-filled nirvana. Of course, it was no longer a nirvana now. An alarm pierced everyone's ears. People were throwing glares in each direction, unsure of what was to come.



    "Have you told anyone?"

    "Of course. We just don't know whom they're here for."


    Someone knows, because that someone is … that someone. And he overheard this.



    "They're here for me. ... I think they're here for me. It's a feeling, but I'm sure of it."


    Golden, the retired three-time World Heavyweight Champion and multiple-time X Champion, interrupts the conversation had between the wrestler ghosts of Jillian de Silva and "Simply" Shawn Cortez. He knows that he is whom they're here for.


    "People have tried breaking in before to take some of us out of heaven. It hasn't worked unless the person … wanted to go. Do you want to go back?"


    Golden takes a long, drawn-out pause before answering.


    "No. But I don't think it's about wanting. I think … I came here too early. Maybe I wasn't supposed to ... yet. I've felt ... ah, nevermind."


    This … this was the question gnawing at Golden since his last match ended.


    "Did I end it too soon just to have control of my ending?"
    Another way of saying it is,
    "Did I choose death just so I could choose when and how I would die?"


    The wrestler ghosts whom Golden became friends with are now crowded around, listening to him contemplate. They're nodding in agreement, putting their hands to their jaws, trying to understand this complex issue. A few of them have felt these before. A few people who made it to heaven also had this issue and were taken out of heaven after just a short while.


    "I think … maybe my time isn't up yet? Even if I felt like it was, even if I wanted it to be done, I don't think it's up yet. I don't know. Sorry."


    One of the ghosts -- Golden can't remember exactly who -- chimes in with this:

    "It'll be a lot tougher to get back here a second time. You may go to … 'the other place' next time you end. It always seems to happen that way. People go back and they don't want to leave the right way."



    "No, I won't hang on forever. I know I'm close to the end. I guess I … I just wasn't there yet. So I'm being brought back."


    And then … the floor of heaven opens up and Golden feels himself falling from the sky. The last view of this nirvana he sees is a puffy white cloud with a small hole that closes. This cloud gets smaller and smaller, further and further away, symbolic of just how far Golden now is from his resting place.









    "The Golden One" Devin Golden is contemplating his recent death, and recent giving of a new life. He's been doing this daily recently, unable to shake the sudden change in his routine's scope. No, he never really "died" in the biological sense. Even the spiritual sense.

    But as a wrestler, he definitely died. His career as a wrestler passed away in 2015. This is certain. There's no way around it.

    Fastforward to 2019. He's a wrestler again, faced with the full might of the FWA roster, and specifically the full might of one "Carnegie of Carnivore" Michael Garcia. He has been pulled back ... from the dead.

    So to speak.

    The Hall of Fame inductee stands on the tip of a hill. It's the largest hill in Lafayette, Louisiana, where there are very few hills rising above 20 feet. This one rises to 40 feet. The purpose is simple: This spot is the closest in the city to heaven, and "The Golden One" is symbolically on it and looking up to the sky.



    "I was brought back and put into a war I didn't want to fight. I was partnered with two people whom I don't have any affiliation with or affinity for. I was opposed two people whom I don't have much adversity with or negative feelings for.

    The only connection was Michael Garcia, who was the main vessel bringing me back.

    But sure enough, as the clock turns from hour to hour, each match is a chapter in a book and a bridge to the next one. I was pinned, and that put me in adversity with Krash. Simple enough, right? Well, again, it's not a place I wanted to be. This was not supposed to be my world anymore. I wasn't supposed to be going match to match, story to story with my road twisting and turning along the way.

    Now I am here, with Krash as my partner in a main event tag team match. It's not the present I hand-picked. It was hand-picked for me and I must come to terms with that reality. Tonight, I come to terms with that reality."


    Golden looks around at the grassy field, sandwiched between rows of trees. The cold, brisk winter air combines with a clear blue sky and sunny weather. The temperature is just below 60 degrees in the middle of the day, but the wind makes the temperature feel closer to 40 degrees. Golden wraps his hands around his midsection in a self-hug, to keep warm, as he misses the warmth and comfort of knowing what lies next for him.


    "Krash and I will coexist because, in my mind, our adversity ended at Desert Storm. You'll have to ask him whether he feels the same way. But I'm going into the match thinking we are tag team partners. No animosity. No negativity.

    The negativity goes to Michael Garcia, who pummeled me to a bloody mess on the last Fight Night. He refused to let me have ONE moment of happiness. I would've LOVED to go one on one with an old foe, Thomas Princeton. He's step for step with me in my career, starting before me and now back for one final run.

    Facing him would've been the highlight of this recent return from heaven for me. Garcia took that, though. He refused to let me have it. And he dragged me out and placed me in front of everyone's eyes. He deserves what's coming to him."


    Golden has never been closer in distance, theoretically, to the heavens. But he still chooses to walk down from this hill and eventually reach the main surface level of Lafayette, Louisiana. He chooses to be on the earth's basic, level ground. He chooses to be here now rather than seeking a way back up.


    "Mike Parr … I have nothing for you. All I know is your words against people like me. You're constantly talking down the 'old guard' as if there's a conspiracy against you. And maybe some people have one. But lumping me in there is wayward and fabricated. I never wanted to be here, facing you. I was pulled out of heaven. I was yanked from death. I was given a second life that I never asked for. I was tossed into the competition yet again. The ladder was shoved in front of me, and I was told to "climb" the same way I climbed before.

    That's not me stealing the light from you. That's someone telling me to take the light that you haven't yet. All I can say is, if you're so offended by my and others' presence still in the FWA, then you should do something about it. You're the North American Champion, newly crowned, and that accomplishment shouldn't be disregarded. But for how long have you been stuck in the North American Champion mud? If you want a brighter light, such as the light I've had before, then that's on you, champ."


    Golden takes one last look up to the sky and then back down to the ground.


    "If this is it for me, and if my eventual future is in 'the other place', then so be it. If I made a mistake years ago when I called it quits, then I will take on my fault. I messed up. I went too early. And I was brought back. I was brought back because I have more left to give.

    Krash knows that. Mike Parr will know it tonight. And Michael Garcia will know it at Back in Business.

    That's right. Back in Business is my future. I'm not in heaven. I'm not retired anymore. I need to accept that, and I will. Back in Business is what's next for me. A match with Michael Garcia is what's next for me. There is no heavenly light waiting in my near future.

    I'm OK with that, because I really do need to finish this with this so-called 'Monster.' There's a lot that has happened, and he's the one who brought me back in the first place. So let's settle it."
    Last edited by The Golden One; 01-01-2020 at 11:04 PM.


    "The Golden One" Devin Golden

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


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


  13. #13
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    Re: PROMO THREAD FIGHT NIGHT 12/30/19

    The scene opens up with Katie Lynn Goldsmith standing by looking at her watch, she’s backstage where Fight Night will be held and she looks annoyed as it seems like she’s waiting for someone or something.

    Katie Lynn Goldsmith: Where are they?

    She taps her foot impatiently and looks at the camera.

    Katie Lynn Goldsmith: FWA Universe, I’m sorry but I was supposed to interview Nate Savage of The Undisputed Alliance but he or his partner Jackson Fenix seem to be nowhere around…

    Katie walks down the hallway looking around for the tag team champions and begins asking random workers.

    Katie Lynn Goldsmith: Excuse me, but have you seen Nate Savage or Jackson Fenix? You know, the current FWA Tag Team Champions?

    The worker just shrugs and shakes his head, Katie walks off looking even more annoyed as she continues her walk down the hall until she reaches the end and finds the locker room of the tag team champions. She walks up to the door and knocks loudly, and the door swings open revealing Britney Adams.

    Britney Adams: Can I help you?

    Katie Lynn Goldsmith: Yes, can I please speak with Jackson and Nate? They have a scheduled exclusive interview for FWA.com before tonight’s show

    Just then Jackson and Nate walk up behind Britney and open the door more.

    Jackson Fenix: Hold the phone, that interview was today?

    Katie Lynn Goldsmith: Uh, yes it was, when else would it be?

    Britney Adams: Excuse me, but I don’t like your tone

    Jackson Fenix: Brit, it’s okay, really. I mean, I get it. Everyone wants an exclusive interview with the champs…

    He adjusts his championship on his shoulder and pats it proudly as he smirks, and then turns to Nate and pats his championship on his shoulder.

    Jackson Fenix: Can you blame them? Honestly, we are the hottest act in this company. We are the most talked about tag team in all of wrestling today and in FWA history I might add, look it up it’s real I didn’t make that up. I’ve said it time and time again since we arrived here, we are better than the best and we are most certainly better than The Elite...seriously though, watch your tone when you speak to the champs Katie

    Katie rolls her eyes and composes herself before carrying on.

    Katie Lynn Goldsmith: Tonight, your partner Nate Savage will go one on one with The Elite’s Trevor Ocean

    Jackson Fenix: Before you ask me the cliched question of what are our thoughts, let me ask you a question Katie if you don’t mind, who am I kidding of course you don’t mind because you’re getting paid to stand there and listen to me talk. Anyways, I digress, my question to you Katie what makes a person Elite?

    Katie looks confused and shrugs, much to the delight of Fenix.

    Jackson Fenix: Your silence speaks volumes Katie, there is nothing elite about Trevor Ocean or Noah Stocke. Now, I could stand here and tell you why, but tonight it’s not about me, no tonight is about my friend here my tag team partner, and I think I’ll allow him the chance to speak…

    Nate steps up from behind Jackson, Nate in his ring gear while Jackson is wearing FWA.com exclusive Undisputed Alliance t-shirt and black pants.

    Nate Savage: Thank you Jackson for allowing me this chance to speak, I do appreciate it. Now, I don’t speak much around here because for the most part I let my actions in that ring speak for me, but right now I have something to say to those two jackoffs in The Elite. You two think that you can just waltz right in to this company and expect to be handed a championship opportunity? It may have worked that way in that other place, where we all came but not here in the FWA…

    By the way, weren’t you two here in the FWA for a cup of coffee but then realized you couldn’t hang so you tucked your tails in between your legs and left? You see that’s the difference between you two and us, because when we stepped foot in this company we didn’t get cold feet after one match and split, no we stuck around and look what that got us…

    He motions towards his championship over his shoulder.

    Nate Savage: We are undefeated in this company, we’ve done what you couldn’t do in this company and win tag team gold. Yeah, in that other place you may have had the gold, and you may have had our number but that was then and this is now. That was a different time and a different company. This is the FWA, a fresh slate and a fresh start. I’m sure you’ll be more than happy to bring all that up but let me make it clear for you right now that none of that matters, the past is the past for a reason…

    Trevor Ocean, first of all what kind of last name is Ocean? It doesn’t matter but it’s still dumb. Anyways, I’m sure that Noah has got you all hyped up and ready for this match, but are you really ready? You’ve seen what I’m capable of, first hand you’ve experienced what I can do in that ring so let me ask you again, are you really ready for this? I’m even more vicious than I was before, I’m more ruthless, and I’m more dangerous. You guys think you should get a title shot against us? Prove it tonight, prove it to us that you deserve to get a shot at our titles. It’s all on your shoulders Trevor, do you think you can handle that kind of pressure, or will you just crack under pressure and then you and Noah leave again?


    Jackson laughs and puts his arm around Nate.

    Jackson Fenix: That’s what I’m talking about boys, Trevor you have absolutely no idea what Nate is going to do you tonight. If I were you I’d be having second thoughts, good thing I’m not you because then I definitely wouldn’t be as good looking…

    Britney Adams: You got that right

    Jackson Fenix: Tonight, Nate Savage makes mincemeat out of that chump Trevor Ocean and shows why we are the best damn tag team in the world today, and that’s not just a fact...that’s Undisputed…

    With that the trio head back in to their locker room and shut the door behind them leaving Katie alone 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.

  14. #14
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    Re: PROMO THREAD FIGHT NIGHT 12/30/19


    Know Your Role




    w/Mike Parr vs Devin Golden and Krash


    Fight Night 12/29/19


    It’s a cold winter day in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. The PPG Paints arena is in preparation for the arrival of the Shrine circus. Yes, the circus. And if there was one memory that Michael Garcia absolutely detested about his childhood, it was attending the damn circus every year. The music, the pomp, the circumstance, the annoying little ankle biters begging their mommies and daddies for more cotton candy (as if they needed it), but most of all, he absolutely detested the clowns. Those motherfucking clowns. Even now, the one thing that the Monster of the Midway fears more than anything is one of those face-painted, horn-honking harbingers of terror. Even Ronald McDonald kind of creeps out the Carnegie Carnivore. But what is it about clowns that truly terrify us? What is it about a man intending to bring fun and joy to little kids that truly makes us so uncomfortable? Michael often thought that it was because of the makeup they wear that hide their true identity and feelings. It’s the inherent ambiguity surrounding them that set off our alarms. But there were other elements of the circus that Michael actually found entertaining. The lions, the tigers, the elephants….the beasts that were on display for all to see. Now, Michael Garcia is never going to be a card carrying member of PETA, but there was a part of him that hated how the animals were treated by the circus performers, even as young boy.

    The camera takes us inside the tent where various crew workers were setting up for tonight’s event. The giant rings were set up on the dirt ground. Several long beams were placed in position on the ground for a structure that would be set up later. The crew was almost finished setting up the giant Shrine Circus stage to the right side of the building with it’s sparkling purple, pink and red lights. There were giant elephant structures set up to the left and right of the entrance area. Rings of flames were set up just in front of those structures. Several ropes were being hung high above for the trapeze artists later on in the show. And down below, in the center of the arena, under a single solitary spotlight, on a single stool, sat Michael Garcia wearing a top hat and holding a magician’s wand. Garcia felt at home because to him the FWA had just become every bit of much as a circus.


    “I know what everyone expects me to say.”


    Garcia clears his throat.


    “You’re all expecting me to say that what happened at Carnal Contendership was the fault of one, Devin Golden. You’re all expecting me to come out here and say that the reason I’m not facing Dave Sullivan at Back in Business is because of The Golden One. You want me to say that Golden cheated, used an illegal hold, raked my eyes, kicked me in the balls when the referee wasn’t looking, or caught me off guard. You’re all expecting me to cry, bitch and moan about my loss last week and vow that the next time I get my hands on Devin Golden that I’ll snap his neck like a fucking twig. You’re all expecting me to talk about how it doesn’t matter who walks out of Back in Business with the FWA World Heavyweight Championship because I will be back for it and I will become their worst fucking nightmare. You’re probably expecting me to remind you of Jason Gryphon and the number of careers that I’ve ended. I get it.

    Fact of the matter is this; I lost at Carnal Contendership because I didn’t take care of business. That’s not easy for me to say. I may be a lot of things, most of them can’t be said in the presence of children but one thing I am is a proud man. For me to come out here and say that I failed, that I allowed my eyes to drift off the prize… it pierces my prideful soul like a dagger to the heart. I may be an arrogant son of a bitch and I may talk a big game, but when a guy with my size and physical attributes gets caught off-guard and gets his showed up by a smarmy, pint –sized attention seeker like Golden. It’s fuckin’ embarrassing.”


    Garcia stands up from his stool and walks over towards the lighted stage, twirling his baton.

    “So, now you’re thinking, “Yeah, Mike, we’ve seen this before. This is about the time where you start talking about your next mission. This is where you talk about how shit’s going to change and you’re going to come back twice as dangerous as you were before! Look…I said it several weeks ago, when I first came back, when I took Cyrus fucking Truth to his absolute limits. I’ve had a lot of time to think, and I’ve come to the conclusion that I can’t call myself the Monster of the Midway anymore. I can’t be. Because that guy…that guy coasted on his size and his reputation. That guy never had to try hard, he never had to train hard, and he never had to commit to the rigors of everyday FWA because well, he never had to. I lost Carnal Contendership because I wasn’t prepared to win it. Devin Golden said it and he was exactly right. I was going to come into that ring and try to dominate instead of playing it smart. I stormed right down to the ring, choke slammed every son of a bitch in sight, and put one big ass target on my back. And then…then I let my own personal agenda affect my strategy. I allowed Devin Golden to get into my head, because I didn’t take care of that little bastard before hand. Devin Golden was smarter than me. He out strategized me. He was straight up better than me. He wasn’t lazy. He wasn’t complacent. He didn’t walk into this match thinking he could just bully his way through. He wasn’t fooled by his ego. I was. That’s…that’s the story of Michael Garcia. One step forward, one giant step back. Never making any progress. Always staying in the same spot…. talking about where he’s going and how he’s going to get there but never leaving that damn spot.

    The FWA has become a circus anymore and I was guilty of falling into the act. I had become just another part of the fanfare. I’d become a novelty act like the bearded lady and the human pretzel. ‘Ladies and Gentlemen, he’s seven feet tall and three hundred and seventy five pounds! Come see the Amazing MONSTER OF THE MIDWAY, right? Not anymore. I’m not some trained seal. I’m not a freak show. I’m not a fucking slave. I outright refuse to be a slave in this sideshow anymore. I’m not a slave to this company. I’m not a slave to the fucking people. And starting today, I’m no longer a slave to myself. This isn’t a rebirth. This is a death. The past of Michael Garcia no longer exists. The slate has been wiped clean. The Monster of the Midway rests in peace. The Michael Garcia that you once knew is no more.”


    Garcia takes a walk back to his stool and takes a seat.

    “But as the FWA gets acquainted with the new Michael Garcia, it seems that we’re also getting reacquainted with the same, old, broken down Devin Golden. The Golden One represents everything that’s wrong with the FWA. My God, how I cringed when his music hit the arena last week and each of you jumped to your feet and gave him such a rousing ovation. What the fuck has Devin Golden ever done to warrant a heroes welcome? Golden is just another worn down, broken nostalgia act begging for his final fifteen minutes of fame…. looking to ride the coattails off the newfound popularity of the FWA. Ratings go up, fresh new blood sign on to the show and suddenly here you come crawling back to relive your “Golden” years. Where were you, Golden, when the company wasn’t in such a hot place? Where were you when the rumors about merging with the CWA were running through the grapevine? You’re all about the competition, now, right, Devin? Bullshit. This isn’t about competition. This is about your ego. Feeding your over inflated ego and defending your honor. Newsflash: Nobody in the back gives a single fuck about Devin Golden.

    There are a lot of things I don’t like about you, Golden but at the top of the list is your overinflated sense of importance around here. I bet you think that there’s a line a mile long of people waiting to step into the ring with ya. No such line exists. There’s far more value in getting a victory over a Gabrielle or a Parr right now than there is beating Devin Fucking Golden. But you, you don’t see that. Your ego has blinded you to the fact that the business has passed you by. Don’t worry; it’s happened to Mac Michaud and James Hughes, too. If I had continued going the way I was going, it’d have happened to me too. This isn’t the FWA of yesteryear where the mediocre can find major success. The competition is a lot tougher now, Golden. Take it from me, you can’t just come in here and coast on your name value or your past accomplishments. They’ll eat you up alive. Parr, Gabby, Sullivan, Cyrus. Hell, even Nova Diamond will tear you to shreds. This should’ve been made painfully clear to you when you inserted yourself into a situation that you had absolutely no right getting involved in and somehow…someway, you managed to fail everyone involved. You failed the fans. You failed the company you work for. You failed the men you were trying to help. You even failed yourself, Devin. And you can keep feasting on the lowlifes of the FWA to keep up the aura that Devin Golden still matters in 2020, but the true fact of the matter is, you just have one purpose left… and that’s to be the next trophy on my mantle. The next career to die at the hands of Michael Garcia…”


    Garcia walks around the circus floor, bypassing a man swallowing a sword and a bearded woman that looked strikingly like Gabrielle. Garcia stopped as a tall man with dark features dressed in a black suit with tails and a top hat walks slowly into the middle of the arena at the beginning of the show, turns to face the audience and raises his hands dramatically up over his head in a 'ta-da' motion. Garcia points to the gentleman as he continues his monologue.

    “Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you…Devin Golden.”

    He pauses as he anticipates the people listening disagreeing with him.


    “No…no. This is him. Devin Golden is the…ringleader…of this circus we call the FWA. Now while that sounds like an important position, like he’s the glue that is holding this show together, the truth of the matter is that Devin Golden is perceived to be the face of the FWA that he really is not. Look, I get it, he comes out here and he entertains you, he sings his song and does his tricks, has you all fooled that he’s a bigger deal around here than he really is. Maybe he was some time ago, but here we are in 2020, and you’re still standing center stage, positioning yourself as some big deal around here when all you are is a big smiley face the company has stamped on itself to make it more marketable. Your job, Golden, is to stand front and center, under the spotlight, and put over the far more talented acts in the show, such as myself. That was your job as an announcer that retired from wrestling a long time ago! Me? I never claimed I was retired, only injured, and when the time was right, I was coming back to action to protect this show from the likes of Cyrus Truth and that sawed off midget, Krash! Nah, Goldie, you stepped off this podium and put yourself into the thick of everything and now, now you’re finding out that the talent pool has gotten just a little deeper than when you were on top. It’s adult swim, son, and you’re about to get eaten by a Great White Shark.”

    Almost catching Garcia off guard, “Entry of the Gladiators” plays over the arena speakers. Garcia starts to smile as the classic carnival tune signals the arrival of the circus performers, running a trial entrance for their performance tonight. A single spotlight focuses on the ringleader, wearing a tuxedo and bow tie, along with the same style top hat and baton that Garcia had in his possession.


    “Oh, damn, look the show’s starting!”

    The ringleader takes center stage, standing right next to Mike, and as the music lowers, he begins to speak.


    “Ladies and Gentleman! Boys and Girls! Are you ready for an evening of fun and laughter? Are you ready for an evening of an excitement and fanfare? Well, then…. Ladies and Gentlemen, boys and girls, children of all ages, The Shrine Circus is extremely proud to present to you….”The Greatest Show on Earth!”

    And with that, the music reaches maximum volume as the circus performers begin to pour out of the entranceway. A small parade of dirt bike riders came out from the sides, circling the arena floor. Acrobats began flying around the ceiling of the arena, flipping from one bar to the next. Elaborately dressed dancers pranced down the center stage to the music. A small float with a dragon on it was next before the circus animals like llamas and circus dogs were showed off to the crowd. Then there was a small parade of horses before some lions and tigers and elephants. Finally, the clowns made their arrival, which prompted Garcia to take a small step back when they got near. The music stopped and the production team pulled the ringleader off to the side to discuss some things. Garcia stepped right onto his platform.

    “Oh, indeed, this place is so much like the FWA. Don’t believe me? You see those guys up there? The bike riders? Constantly going in circles, capable of doing so much more outside of this place but just content to keep doing what they’re doing? You can almost see Jason Randall, James Hughes, and Over the Edge on those bikes, can’t you? Just happy to keep spinning their wheels. The acrobats? Those are the guys who want to do anything right now to get your eyes on them, working their asses off night in and night out and yeah, you’re impressed when you watch them but they’re never going to be the focal point of the show. Hi, Krash! Hi Cromwell! Hello Princeton! Oh it’s the dancers! Poor souls who fill the time for the chosen few that are allowed to break the glass ceiling. Nothing more than a filler act. I guess you could call these people Kayden Knox, The Cheshire Cat Clan or perhaps The Undisputed Alliance.

    He paused for a few moments, gawking at the lady dancers. That is until those damn fuckin’ clowns started honking their horns. Garcia waved as they drove by in their Pinto.

    “Hey there, Eli! Captain El Franko! Valendars! How you guys been?”

    Garcia stops and looks at the caged animals…. the lions, tigers and elephants. The animals were very docile, at the moment. He clenches his fist and looks down at the ground, taking a deep breath.

    “Might as well just a hang a sign over these cages that say ‘The Monster of the Midway’. A beast that had been restricted and tamed, chained by the shackles of Jeremiah Jones, Malik Garcia, Phillip A. Jackson, and Matthew Robinson , trying to make me perform for you people just to sell them a few T-shirts. Have you ever seen what happens when one of these beasts breaks free from its oppression? Have you ever seen the carnage and chaos that ensues when these massive animals have had enough of the way they’ve been treated by the people that have enslaved them? Last week, Devin Golden saw exactly what happens when I decide to take matters into my own hands. You’ve cracked the whip one too many times, Devin. You’ve cut in line one too many times, Krash. You guys are no longer running the show. You’re no longer in control. You have poked the beast just one too many times and now you’ll be dealing with the consequences. Krash, I have not, nor will I EVER, accept you as a member of the FWA. You’ll always be an outsider and you will never belong in the same ring as great wrestlers such as Mike Parr and myself. Consider Back in Business against Devin Golden a sneak preview for what is still to come for you. And Fight Night? Well, at Fight Night, Mike Parr and I are going to beat you so bad that you might just save yourself the embarrassment of continuing your career and retire yourself. You boys are in the wrong damn ring at the wrong damn time. I am no longer apart of the circus. I am no longer confined by some misguided fools trying to use me for their own personal gain. I am no longer concerned with making things right and doing things the right way. I am only concerned about one damn thing.

    Taking what’s mine.

    Garcia walked back over to his platform, ripped off his cape and tossed his baton to the ground.

    “Everyone has their role that the play in the circus, Devin, if they choose to be a part of it. Your role has already been picked, but me… I’m choosing to not be a part of it anymore. I’m not a sideshow. I’m my own fucking man. But you, you’re settling into your role quite nicely. Getting people’s attention. Taking center stage. Spotlights on you Goldie. So take your place and get ready.”

    Garcia takes off his hat and baton, and places them under the spotlight on the platform.

    “It’s Showtime, Devin! Let’s see if your act still holds up.”
    Last edited by Sayer; 01-02-2020 at 01:18 AM.

  15. #15
     
    Sulley's Avatar

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    Re: PROMO THREAD FIGHT NIGHT 12/30/19

    Regicide






    Royal music can be heard playing from trumpets in the background of a large palace. A palace fit not only for a King, but for many Kings. If you picture what the house of a God on Mount Olympus might look like, this Palace may be the closet comparison. It is made of solid gold and diamond. The windows are large, and the carpets are velvet. There are statues of many Kings of the past. King Henry, and King Richard. King William The Conqueror, and King Louis of France.

    Of the the biggest statues of all is that of King Elvis, King of Rock and Roll.

    And there's one for the King of Pop as well, Michael Jackson.

    But for King Sullivan, there is no statue. Not yet anyway...in fact, the reason why everyone is gathered today to the Palace of Kings is for King Sullivan himself.

    The masses of people begin to flood into the palace. Most of them are wearing quite exquisite clothes. Three piece suits, and elegant robes.

    Each and every one of them begin to gather into the chambers...they have all been called to witness an event that only takes place in the utmost of emergencies...

    ...The Council of Kings.

    Curia Regis.

    Inside the chambers sits a large desk...similar to that of the Supreme Court justices. There are seven large thrones that sit across the entire table, and each throne has it's own nameplate.

    The Herald of the Council appears, dressed in a shiny elegant suit. He holds a paper scroll in his hand as he reads from it aloud...

    Herald of the Court: Here ye...here ye...It is now time to commence Curia Regis for the Council of Kings. Specifically, the branch of Kings involving all Sports and their ambassadors. This meeting has been called in order to determine the fate of one specific King. The vote that will take place today...Regicide.

    I will now introduce our council...

    King Henrik Lundqvist...King of the NHL.

    Henrik Lundgvist enters the chambers to an applause, as he finds his seat at the large desk.

    King Tom Brady....King of the NFL.

    Tom Brady enters as well, and finds his seat.

    King Conor McGregor...King of the MMA, and King Felix Hernandez...King of the MLB.

    Conor McGregor and Felix Hernandez both enter the chambers to applause. McGregor has a smug look on his face, as Hernandez has a look of pride. They both find their seats.

    King Pelé...King of Football.

    Pelé enters the chambers and finds his seat.

    King LeBron James...King of the NBA.

    LeBron enters the chambers to a mix of boos and cheers, as he finds his seat at the desk.

    And last but not least...our commissioner King....


    King Muhammad Ali...King of Boxing.

    The audience erupts in respectful applause, as Muhammad Ali enters the chambers. He is wearing a shiny crown on his head, with Kingly robes.

    Ali sits in the center chair.

    And now...I introduce...King Sullivan...King of the FWA.

    Finally, King Sullivan enters the chambers. He sits at a small table sitting across from the council.

    It is he who is now on trial.


    Let the Council commence!

    The crowd erupts in applause yet again as all the Kings wave. All the Kings excluding King Sullivan, who sits at his table with a nervous look.

    King Ali clears his throat, as he begins to speak.

    King Ali: King Sullivan...do you understand why the council has been summoned here today?

    King Sullivan: Yes your majesty, I do.

    King Ali: So you understand that at the conclusion of this council, the seven of us will be voting on on the proposal of Regicide?

    King Sullivan: Yes I do.

    King Ali: And you understand that if we find Regicide is appropriate, you will be stripped of your title of King?

    King Sullivan: Yes I do...but, your majesty, I assure you...that will not be necessary.

    King Brady: I am looking forward to hearing your case.

    King Hernandez: As am I.

    King McGregor: Who the fook is this guy?

    King James: I was wondering the same exact thing...

    King Ali: King Sullivan...you understand that as athletes, holding the title of King in our respective fields is an honor that is highly hard to come by. And hard to keep as well?

    It is easy to keep a moniker such as "Lefty" or "Sticky"...but to be considered a King? That is too great of an honor.

    And with that honor, comes great responsibility.

    As King, you must at all times be flawless...or pay the price.

    We have gathered today because you have been accused of not living up to the moniker of King. You have plead not guilty to this accusation...now, it is your time to speak. Tell us, why do you deserve to remain a King.


    Sullivan smirks. He has been waiting for his turn to speak for quite a long time.

    The narcissist in him does not do well waiting for turns...

    King Sullivan: The amount of work I put in to earn my title as King of the FWA could be considered greater than that work any of you have put in, but certainty equal. I had to overcome every single odd, every single obstacle.

    Did I give myself the nickname at the beginning? Sure...

    But I have had to defend it ever since, and nobody can say now that I haven't earned it. Look at what I have accomplished! I hold every record you can think of when it comes to the X Championship. I have won that title more times than anyone else, and I've held it longer than anyone else! The record was 8 months before I got hold of it, and I held it for double that!

    And then...then I won the North American championship, and I became a double champion. A feat quite rare in the FWA, and a feat I conquered for 9 months! For 9 months I held two of the three singles titles in the FWA.

    And I didn't stop there. No, instead I went on to do what nobody expected me to do. I slayed the Vagabound King Cyrus Truth, I took his FWA World Championship, and I became the first every Triple Champion. I held all three singles titles my promotion had to offer, and I did it well. For two months, nobody had any gold but ME.

    And now...I sit here, still with my FWA World Championship, and I am being accused of not being worthy?

    I did not lose the X Championship. I held it for a record breaking 16 months, and that long streak came to an end because a NOBODY general manager who couldn't hold my jockstrap, was jealous of all the success I have had. I've fought Blackbird three times in my career, and I've defeated him every single time. The last time being in a torunament for the very X Championship itself.

    Blackbird lost, as he always does. And now that he's realized he has no success as a wrestler, he has ventured into the world of the FWA decision makers...how that's happened I have no idea. That is like a reality TV celebrity become President of the United States!

    And now look at the decisions he's made...he stripped my title, and made a historic record breaking streak come in an end in the most anti-climatic way!

    And now, to add it all on....

    KRASH costed me my North American Championship, to none other than loser crybaby Mike Parr, a man who does not deserve to hold it. I didn't get pinned, Krash did...and if it was a singles match, I would've beat Mike Parr just like I did the first time! And the second time! Mike Parr can't pin me. He had to pin the loser Krash, who costed his team the match in the CWA vs FWA tag team match, and costed me my belt

    I didn't lose either of my championships...they were taken from me.

    But you know what...

    I am okay with that. For the last year and a half I have preached about how these championships are not getting treated like they deserve. I took all of them, and I gave them the love and respect they needed. I rebuilt them...I brought prestige back. But now? Now I am a world champion for the first time. I am holding a title that is more important than any of those titles that were stolen from me. Keeping the prestige of this title is miles more important than keeping the prestige of the others.

    Those other two titles being gone from my hands? It's a blessing in disguise.

    Because NOW...now I can focus on what I need to. Defending the FWA World Championship.

    Nova Diamond may have been happy to see the worst night in the history of the FWA...to see those titles get taken from my hands...but he shouldn't have been. For the past year, those titles have been a distraction to me. I had to defend them each and every week, exhaustively...and although I did it and I did it with pride, it made me vulnerable. Vulnerable to losing the FWA World Championship.

    Now I can focus solely on defending this title. All of the success you've seen me have this past year? It's all been with me doing a thousand things all at once. Defending multiple championships, fighting off corrupt general managers, being the best that I can be...

    And now, all of that weight is lifted off of my shoulders.

    I am solely the FWA World Champion.

    It is my sole focus.

    For the first time, I can center my attention solely on one title...one match...one wrestler...

    At Back in Business...Nova Diamond is in trouble.

    The council of Kings seems impressed.

    King Sullivan has made excellent points.

    Although the titles are no longer under his control, he did not lose them himself...

    And he hasn't lost what is most important, the FWA World Championship.


    King Pelé: You make great points, your Majesty, however...I worry your attention is not where it needs to be right now. As we know, you have a match coming up against none other than your former rival, Kevin Cromwell.

    What are your plans for this?

    King Sullivan scoffs...

    King Sullivan: My plans for Kevin Cromwell?

    Are you forgetting about my history with Cromwell?

    Well here's a history lesson for all of you...

    It was in my return match to the FWA that I took the X Championship away from Kevin Cromwell's dirty hands, and went on my historic title run. At Back in Business a year ago, I humiliated Kevin Cromwell. And the humiliation didn't stop there...

    I beat him again at Aftershock, where I proved to the world that he was Icarus...and he flew too close to the sun. I said back at Aftershock that I was going to prove Kevin Cromwell didn't belong in the big leagues, and that's what happened. I said there I was going to chase Cromwell out of the FWA....just like I did with Vincent Blackbird, just like I did with Thomas Jordan, and just like I did with Dominik Armistead.

    After I beat Cromwell at Aftershock, he was so emotionally destroyed.

    He had no motivation.

    No will to fight anymore.

    So much so, he had to go on a hiatus, and leave.

    But his mistake? Coming back.


    Now he thinks he's worthy to step in the ring with me yet again?

    Good. Because if we don't have this match, you'll probably weasel your way into a shot at the X Championship again, and you'll probably win because that division is filled with peasants...and then I'll have to once again come down there, and take that title BACK OFF OF YOU...just like I did at Back in Business. Just like I did four times to peasants who didn't deserve to have that title.

    Peasants like you...

    But now instead, we fight here...at Fight Night, and I can once send the message you clearly forgot after Aftershock...you do not belong here. You are trash, and I am going to prove it.

    Just like I am going to prove that I AM KING.

    The Kings all whisper to each other...

    They begin to deliberate. This takes a minute or so, before finally, one of them speaks.

    King James: Alright King Sullivan. We have heard enough. The Sports Council of Kings will be watching your match against Kevin Cromwell. Immediately concluding the match, we will vote on the proposal of Regicide.

    We wish you the best of luck.


    King Sullivan: I don't need luck.

    I am better than each and every one of you. You sit up there, and you judge me for the small errors of success I've had...yet look at me, I am still a world champion. When is the last time you could've said the same LeBron?

    And how about you Felix? Look at the fall you've had as a pitcher. Who is calling for regicide on you?

    Every single one of you has had a fall as King...and yet you still wear your crowns.

    And I will still wear mine.

    I am a FWA World Champion...and nobody is going to take that away from me.

    Not Vincent Blackbird...

    Not Nova Diamond...

    And certainly to Kevin Cromwell.

    Not only will those three bow down...but you seven will too.

    I AM THE KING OF FWA...

    I am the KING OF SPORTS...

    I AM THE KING OF THE WORLD....

    I.

    Am.

    King.






  16. #16
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    Re: PROMO THREAD FIGHT NIGHT 12/30/19

    We open to a fantastic view of a countryside, as we see a train making its way down some tracks. The camera cuts to inside the train where we see Johnny Devlin and Andre Mack sitting in the luxurious train car from their first promo, again traveling by train instead of flying.

    Devlin and Mack have a college football game on, but they're not really watching. They're both stretched out, reclining. Devlin scrolling through his phone, Mack reading a book. When Devlin shoots up

    Yo! Okay!! Dre, check this out.


    What is it?

    I told you they're going to start recognizing what we're doing out here!! They gave us a match against former champions this week

    Hell yeah! We've gotta bring it bro, who are we against?


    The New Breed. Prototype and Sean Hughes.

    Never heard of em.


    Me either. Prototype was my nickname in high school though so that's kinda cool I guess. But I out-grew it. And this week, we're going to show the FWA that we've outgrown *former* champions. We're coming for the actual champions next.


    Sean Hughes sounds like a dude that peaked in high school and became a cop. Have you ever met a cool Sean? I don't know man, I just hope we get there soon. I get too claustrophobic in these trains. I wish you weren't so afraid of flying we'd get to the arenas so quickly.


    No need to rush my friend! We go at our own pace, everyone else will follow.


    With that the train goes through a tunnel as our camera fades to black


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