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Thread: 04 May - World Grand Prix DAY 2 Promo Thread

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    04 May - World Grand Prix DAY 2 Promo Thread

    Deadline is Sunday, May 6th @ midnight PCT, which means Monday @ 3am EST, 8am UK.

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    Re: 04 May - World Grand Prix DAY 2 Promo Thread

    The Road to Back in Business XIII.

    Road filled with dead and vultures...


    Back in Business VI. Main Event
    Buried Alive Match
    Stu St. Clair(c) vs. Wolf
    .
    .
    .
    Stu St. Clair takes a breather as he notices Wolf isn’t exactly recovering after hitting his head on the bucket of the digger. Stu finally leans over Wolf and with sheer strength and determination he lifts Wolf up! Wolf falls from the height Stu holds him at into the grave that is six foot deep, crumbling into the hole. Stu watches him for a second or two before he walks over to the digger, operating the controls before he dumps the bucket of earth into the grave, covering Wolf and effectively burying him alive!!


    Langdon Trafford: Rest... In... Peace... Wolf!


    Piers Gallagher: Wolf's Back in Business dream ended under a pile of dirt. One day he will be back and God have mercy on those who will stay in the way of his Back in Business moment! He will never rest...





    The Wolf Amongst Us









    It was a late and cold night. I had just got done straightening up my office. The cleaning lady had come in and moved a couple of things around, to dust. Plus, I had to clean up after her; she always leaves a little bit of grim that I feel I need to pick up. Don’t ask me why, you would never quite understand the madness behind the man. But none of that was important now, as there was a knock at the door.

    Wolf: Come in.

    I said, very calm, very…stoic like. She opened the door and strutted in like a beautiful…um…she was just really pretty and the way she walked made me smile. Her name wasn’t important. She seemed to want something…something from me. But what was it. She sat down, and looked up at me with those big…brown eyes…Something on her mind, I know, but what…well…she opened her beautiful mouth to ask me.

    Katie Lynn Goldsmith: Sheriff! Public…Private Investigator Wolf, I need help. Someone has stolen the W from the Grand Prix Tournament. We need to find it before they do something vile with it!

    Wolf: I don’t know. It’s been a while since my last case…

    Katie Lynn Goldsmith: You are the only one who can find who stole the W. Please Sheriff Wolf?

    She seemed to really want my help. It had been a while since I took a case…not since last time, when I went one on one with noted mob leader Ryan Hall. He was a tough cookie, but I decided after beating him, and cracking the case, that I would hang up my Private Investigator boots. But this beautiful girl asking me for help, well, I suppose that was the one thing that could have pulled me out of my retirement. I reached across the desk and shook the girl’s hand.

    Wolf: I accept.

    Katie Lynn Goldsmith: Great.

    Wolf: M’am, who do you think could have stolen the W from the Grand Prix?

    Katie Lynn Goldsmith: Well, detective. I will tell you who I think did it. It had to have been Tommy Thunder, Starr, Christopher Manson or Chris Kennedy.

    I knew the names…

    Wolf: You can go now.

    She got up and left, in somewhat of a huff. She was as aggravated as she was beautiful. Anyway, I knew the names. I knew them well. I have encountered each and every one of them before in my life. The little shrom dealer, Starr. Then there was Tommy Thunder, the young chap who cleans pools for a living. Christopher Manson, the man I thought would take over the town after I retire. And of course, Chris Kennedy, the loan shark, and famous douche bag. I had to start somewhere. I grabbed up my keys, and I grabbed up my hat that I bought specifically for this, and headed out the door, after putting on my trench coats. Trench Coats are awesome.



    Starr Tommy Thunder Christopher Manson Chris Kennedy



    I jump in my pitch black Lincoln Navigator. It’s a great vehicle. I had it customized to have a lot of boom boom and a lot of vroom vroom. I drove down the highway, to the city. I had to go to rehab to talk with Shaman of Narcotics. I was a bit excited to see him, I hadn’t in a while. Nobody had actually seen him in a while. Nobody really cared that he had sort of dropped off the face of the earth. But I cared. For now, at least for this part. I pulled up to the rehab and walked in. The girl at the front desk was young, pretty, but had no idea what was going on.

    Girl at Desk: I am sorry, what was that?

    Wolf: I am here to see Starr.

    Girl at Desk: We have no stars here.

    Wolf: Well, he is not really a star

    I could tell she was lying; she was covering for the drugie. I-

    Girl at Desk: Sir, who are you talking to?

    Wolf: I…look I am a wrestler for the FWA, and I am doing something here because of a match I have coming up. Can you just say, oh, Starr, room 11D.

    Girl at Desk: What?

    Wolf: Say that and I leave.

    Girl at Desk:…

    She told me it was room 11D. Then she sent her goons after me. Two guys dressed in white. She kept calling them security, but I know goons when I see goons. They ‘escorted’ me out. Of course they would, they were working for Starr. He was a little guy, but he was also a giant pain in the ass. He was just the person who would have stolen the W. I snuck in the back, and made my way to his room, 11D, and found him lying in his bed.

    “Starr”: Well, well, well, if it isn’t the sheriff. The best private detective this side of the Mississippi, Wolf.

    Wolf: WHERE IS THE W?

    “Starr”: I don’t know what you are talking about. I am not strong enough to steal the W.

    Wolf: You little junkie. I know you get your high from stealing Ws.

    “Starr”: It’s just how it seems, Wolf. Of course, we all know that not everything is like it seems.

    Wolf: What?

    “Starr”: What?

    Wolf: What did you just say? That doesn’t make any kind of sense.

    “Starr”: Wolf, I am intoxicated. Nothing I say makes any kind of sense.

    Wolf: Right…DAMN! So, you have no…nothing that I can use?

    “Starr”:…

    He passed out after that. Oh well, I left quickly, as the goons were coming back.


    Tommy Thunder Christopher Manson Chris Kennedy



    I was midway on my way to see Tommy Thunder, when Tommy Thunder gave me a call on the telephone. I was a bit suspicious, but I answered anyway. It couldn’t have been Thunder; he was too green, he wasn’t going to blow an opportunity like that just for a W. Or would he? The phone rang again, because I was talking so much that it went to voicemail. I answered.

    Wolf: Hello, Thunder!

    “Tommy Thunder”: So Wolf, you think you are so smart? You think you know who took the W? Well, let me tell you, I DIDN’T DO IT! But I do know something about it.

    Wolf: What?

    “Tommy Thunder”: Information isn’t cheap.

    Wolf: I don’t think someone with only two wins has the right to throw his weight around.

    “Tommy Thunder”: You know that’s not very nice.

    Wolf: Shut up. Stop being a fan boy and start being a man. Tell me what you know or I will beat your ass!

    “Tommy Thunder”: Sounds good. There is someone you may not have expected to have stolen it. Tristan James Galloway. He likes stealing things and he just might steal this one.

    Wolf: Those are some big words for a little man Thunder, are you sure about that?

    “Tommy Thunder”: Ok. Oh, you know what, never mind, Tristan has no drive or heart. He would never steal the W, because he has so many L’s to keep him company..

    Wolf: This was a waste of time. You are just wasting my time, Tommy!


    Christopher Manson Chris Kennedy


    I hung up the phone. He was always the most difficult of people to deal with. That only left two other possible suspects who could have stolen the W. Chris Kennedy, or Chris Manson. I wonder which one it could have been. The evil, corporate tycoon or the new sheriff in town. I decided to visit the office of Kennedy; I had to get to the bottom of this. I had to find out what Kennedy did with the W. I didn’t think that Manson, could do such a vile thing and steal a W. I rolled up to Kennedy's headquarters. It’s easy to get in. See, it opens really easily.

    Security: Hey, what are you doing?

    Shit, the goons are back. I run down the hall, dodging working employees. There is a man with a giant stack of papers. You never really get this chance ever, I had to do it. I ran into him. The papers went flying up in a crazy paper cloud, just like it does in the movies. It was magical. The goon also tripped over the paper guy, so…win win for me. I found the office of Kennedy. It was more like a storage closet with a paper sign that said Chris Kennedy. I kicked the door down, and inside…there…he... was

    “Chris Kennedy”: HOW DARE YOU BURST IN MY OFFICE WOLF! I should have you arrested for not showing me the proper respect

    Wolf: Kennedy, you ignorant slut. Tell me where the W is!

    “Chris Kennedy”: No. You know as well as I do that I have stolen many a W from you in my day, but not this one. This is something I just could not steal. No matter how much I tried.

    Wolf: Damn it. I hate you, Kennedy.

    I got up and ran out, slamming the door behind me. I did that out of disrespect, actually. He was always running around demanding that people respect him, but f*ck that guy. I got out of my just to do this. Anyway, that only left one possible person. It was incredible, to me, that it was him who did this. He was the only one left. I decided it couldn’t be Starr because he is a nobody. He tries really hard to stay current, even though he has nothing to cling to. He gets lucky sometimes, however, his luck gets worn out fast. It couldn’t be Tommy Thunder, because Tommy just doesn’t want it enough. It wasn’t Kennedy; he is just a little bitch. Which meant one thing…it had to be Manson. I drove to find him…in his office…. I knocked on his door, and a slow, creepy, come in came from the other side. I walked in…and there he was….sitting in at his desk…..grinning…

    "Christopher Manson": Hello, Wolf.

    Wolf: VULTURE YOU F*CKING THIEF! I'm going to be the lash of the whip, I'm going to torture you in more ways than I can even describe in words. And when you think I'm done. When you think I think you've had enough? I'm going to put the Branding Irons on the fire. You'll plead, you'll cry out, you'll denounce every ill word you've ever said to or about me. But in the end, I'll hear your flesh sizzle. I'll smell the sweet odor of poultry as you scream. And as the light fades from your eyes, Manson... I will repeat these words: You are not worthy of the W. I'm not the knife in your back, I don't need to stab you in the back, I'll f*cking stab you in the front. Then I'll twist the blade, back and forth, back and forth, sickening sucking sounds gushing forth with the pool of crimson life that pours from the wound. I'll look in your eyes the whole time, Manson. Breathing heavier with ever twist of the hilt, enjoying the violence and gore. And as I stare with blood-lust into those baby-blues I will repeat these words: You have failed. I WILL BE JUDGE, JURY AND EXECUTIONER! Why did you do it, Manson? WHY DID YOU STOLE IT? WHY DID YOU STOLE THE W YOU SON OF A B*TCH?

    "Christopher Manson": I didn’t do anything, Wolf. I have been sitting here all day.

    Wolf: Yeah, thinking about our sins, huh? I have to find out who stole the W first.

    "Christopher Manson": Wolf…you don’t know?

    Wolf: No, I am trying to figure it out. All the clues point to you…

    "Christopher Manson": No, that’s…not…all the clues point to you, Wolf.

    Wolf: What?

    "Christopher Manson": That’s right Wolf all the signs point to you…You stole the W from the win in the Grand Prix from all of us.

    He got me. Manson is more dangerous than he gets credit for. I did not expect that my plan will be exposed by this man.

    Wolf: I hate you Manson and I barely know you. The very thought of you main eventing Back in Business makes me sick to my stomach. I don't give a f*ck about how many clean wins you've had, I don't give a f*ck if Ash gave you a handjob when he gave you a Wrestling Job, to me? You're just another notch on the belt. I don't think you're special, I don't think you're worthy of my jealousy, let alone my respect, because you've only done two things around here... Jack and Shit. Are you talented? Yes. Are you as relentless as Starr? Yes. Are you as tough as Tommy Thunder? Pretty close. Do you have what it takes to square off against me? Sure you do. Are you the second coming of Pro Wrestling Jesus? No. No you're not. Why don't you get your tag partner and wrestle like a team for once or better yet go get a cup of coffee, then pour it on your crotch so that you can't have children. That way, when I'm done putting you out of wrestling? I never have to worry about Christopher Manson Junior coming out here acting like his delusional old-man and annoying me while he consistently fails at f*cking up the forged and folded iron Kung Fu grip I'll eventually have on FWA and North American Championships until the end of time.

    He cracks a smirk to himself

    Wolf: Can I be honest with you? Well I don't care, because I will be any way. Listening to you cut a promo takes me back to being a kid and trying to watch a porn channel on illegal cable, y'know where you've got one channel screwing up over the top of the other so you get this whole cluster f*ck of vocab. 'Today on sports center...F*CK ME LIKE YOU ....three to zero...PUSSY....Tiger Woods'.Well you get the drift. The fact is Manson, I don't know what the hell you said, I got bits here and there that could have probably made a sound board out of and as I sat there scratching my head trying to make head or tail of what it was you were trying to tell me I realized one thing, well sorry actually I 'remembered' one thing. Your opinion as a fellow professional wrestler really doesn't mean a thing to me. I'm the Beast. I'm the North American Champion and I'm soon to be the winner of this Grand Prix. You're a bi-product, a stat, an ugly motherf*cker and I plan on doing what I do best when we step into the ring. Beating you, showing that I'm better than you and just all in all laugh to myself when you realize that the five minutes you spent thinking up 'Sin City Vultures' wasn't worth the three minutes of schooling you got from me when your career was finally validated by being on the bill next to the Last Legend!

    He points back at his own chest, wiggling his eyebrows with a smirk

    Wolf: I'll tell you what I like even less than people who write me off after last week, I hate a kiss ass. I don't want you to bow down at my feet because it means I'd have to be near you and time would have to be spent together. There's a lot of crap about me being 'off of' my game and that I'm taking it easy , because people seem to think I can't pay my medical insurance. Well you know what? F*ck it. You only live once and I'll do whatever it is that I need to do to make sure that you and the rest of the poultry realizes that you can be who you want in this company, that's the beauty of the American dream...but when you set eyes on being on the main event of Back in Business? That's when I have to step in and wake you up and bring you back to reality. The Wolf reality. The reality where I'm top dog and FWA is Great Again. I will not let it in hands of rookies like you, Thunder or Starr. I am stealing your careers, your future and your dreams! Wanna know why I am stealing the W?

    He flashes a grin.

    WOLF: WHEN I WAS A KID, WRESTLING WAS THERE! WHEN I HAD A HARD TIME FITTING IN AS A TEENAGER? WRESTLING WAS THERE! WHEN I GRADUATED HIGH-SCHOOL? WRESTING WAS THERE! DID I WANT TO GET INTO MY "CAREER FIELD"? NO! I WIPED MY ASS WITH THAT MILLION DOLLAR SCRAP OF PAPER AND WRESTLING WAS THERE! I'VE FOUGHT AROUND THE WORLD! I'VE FOUGHT IN BACKYARDS AND BASEBALL STADIUMS! ARMORIES AND ARENAS! ACTUAL FIELDS AND FOOTBALL FIELDS! YOU THINK YOU CAN TAKE THE MOTHER OF ALL WRESTLING TOURNAMENTS AWAY FROM ME? HOW F*CKING DARE YOU!?!? I'M FIGHTING FOR MY LIFE AGAIN! I'M GOING ALL IN! I'M BETTING THE F*CKING FARM HERE! WEEK AFTER WEEK AFTER WEEK AND I'M GONNA KEEP DOING IT UNTIL BACK IN BUSINESS! I WILL GET MY HANDS AROUND YOUR THROAT, MANSON! AND WHEN I DO... When I do... AND I WILL! You will be BEGGING ME to TAKE what I love from you.

    Cracking a smirk he tilted his head as the skit came to an end.
    "You only need to hang mean bastards, but mean bastards you need to hang."


  3. #3
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    Re: 04 May - World Grand Prix DAY 2 Promo Thread

    XYZ vs. Cyrus Truth



    The man I face across from me ... is no ghost. He is no saint, no sinner. No act of kindness or despicable act of evil can change who he is. He is not immortal, he is not unbeatable. It has been proven. He is ... of armor than bleeds, of skin that can break.

    No ghost of Al stands before me. No ... the man before me is none other than ... Cyrus Truth, the FWA World Champion.

    Through my long walk on this revolving globe, I have come to learn three undeniable truths:

    One, the weak and downtrodden will rise with their savior, XYZ.

    Two, the world is round and never-ending, and it's finite being never ceases to complete itself.

    And three, the only future is the one you make in the present.




    This hollow voice speaks to us through a black abyss. Nothingness reeks its head in, and only the soft, deep voice of XYZ pierces through this shield of blankness.




    Why must there be a fly on the wall, when there is truly no wall. No fly. No meeting. No people. No air. No existence. We are living in our own minds, able to make whatever reality we choose. The fly is nothing more than your hopes and dreams, scattered about on the living room.

    My hopes and dreams are eternal, they are to lead people out of the valley of darkness and into the light.

    LIKE THE SWORD IN THE STONE, I can help pull you out of the snow and into the air.








































    Do you want to be that fly on the wall? You can't. Because you are better than just a fly. I can make you more. I can make you a wasp tarantula hawk monster. And a bird in the sky, or a pie in the eye. So staple clip my heart to your soul. We will soar with those flies on the wall and bring down everyone in our path. We prove it tonight. Cyrus Truth is no match tonight. And he will be down 1-0 when it's done.

    There is a ghost in my toast, and I will eat it.


    "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


  4. #4
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    Re: 04 May - World Grand Prix DAY 2 Promo Thread



    Back to the drawing board

    “Are you sure that you’re capable of doing this?”

    Jason Randall asks as he is seen laying on a couch in what looks like a therapy session setting. Panning out more it is revealed that Norman the Cat is sitting in a chair wearing therapist glasses and in his paws are a clipboard along with a pen. Jason shifts around a bit to make himself more comfortable.

    “Okay, I’ll take your word for it then.”

    Whatever was said by Norman to Jason, or so in Jason’s head, must have sufficed enough for The Wildcard.

    “Where do I start? Oh, well let me start with the fact that I’m now 0-2 against FWA legends and future Hall of Famers. Yeah, thanks to Chris Kennedy beating me I have yet again fallen to another FWA first ballot future Hall of Famer. You see that’s the difference between myself and Chris is that when I give him credit like that, when I give him praise like that, I actually do mean it. Well, kind of. The point is I can recognize Chris for who he is, he is a bonafide, first ballot future Hall of Famer, but I can also recognize that he’s a scumbag.”

    He pauses and Norman apparently tells him to take his time before he continues.

    “You see, what he said about me, referring to me as a “participation trophy”? That struck a chord with me. That made me want to beat him even more. I slipped up though. I let that blind me from what really mattered and it cost me. My pride came back to bite me right in the ass. I didn’t go down without a fight though. Yeah, I kicked out of Chris’ Bittersweet Chin Symphony not once, but twice. He had to cheat to keep me down, showing his true colors like the scum that he is. I’ve been known to bend the rules in my favor every now and then, but you know it’s not so fun when the shoe is on the other foot. Whatever, it’s behind me now. I should not be focused on Chris Kennedy right now. I’m back to the drawing board and I need to be focused now more than ever because a win in this next match keeps me alive in this Grand Prix. I need this win more than you could imagine man. I need to be on top! I need that taste of gold again and the man standing in my way next is Deception.”

    Norman says something to him as Jason nods.

    “Of course I’m aware of his history with Penny, she wouldn’t stop talking about it when it was happening. At the time I had more important things to worry, bigger fish to fry so I wasn’t too concerned unfortunately, but she held her own and beat him and took his mask as a trophy.”

    He digs through his jeans pocket and pulls out the mask. He brings it close to his face but then quickly pushes it away.

    “Ugh, I thought she said that she would wash this thing, it reeks of god knows what!”

    Norman then says something catches Jason by surprise as he sits up.

    “Huh? You want me to put this thing on? Are you serious right now? Whatever you say I suppose, you are the professional doctor here.”

    Ignoring the stench of it, he puts the mask over his head until it covers his face.

    “How does it make me feel? Well for one, it makes me want to gag from the god awful stench! Seriously though, in a strange way it puts me in the mindset of Deception. This is what is must be like to be him. The see the world through the eyes of a mask. It also makes me wonder, why is he hiding underneath a mask? What’s he hiding from? Is he just really one ugly bastard and this is the way he keeps his hideous face hidden from the world?”

    “What?! I am being serious, I’m just spitballing here. I’m just trying to get in the head of Deception and what he is like.”


    He removes the mask and places it back in his pocket, and then lays back down.

    “I know that he’s going to try to get in my head but when he gets there he won’t like what he’ll find. He’ll see the inside of the mind of a real mad man that is willing to do anything to reclaim his former glory. The fear inside him will then grow immense amounts but it’ll be too late. There is nothing that he can do that will stop me. Maybe that’s why he hides behind the mask, his fearfulness. I can see it though. I see it in his eyes as they stick out like a sore thumb through the eye-holes of his mask. He’s a scared little boy. He should be scared. He has every right to be afraid of what I will do to him.”

    “He fights for justice and I can commend him for that but in the end he should be fighting for much more. He should have loftier goals. That’s what is holding him back from reaching his true potential. You see I used to feel the same way. I fought for the good of the people but I saw that it was getting me nowhere so then I started fighting for me. Deception could learn a thing or two from me. He could learn that there’s much more than fighting for justice, justice for what anyways? Was he wronged in some past life? Who cares? It doesn’t matter now. It shouldn’t matter now. None of it matters now. Yeah, you can say that me wanting to reclaim my former glory is me living in the past but I realize that it was the past and now that it’s gone I want it back so it can be present again.”


    He pauses briefly, takes a breath and exhales before continuing.

    “I will give him credit where it is due he does have heart, but that can only get you so far. If his track record is any indication of that then I don’t know what is. I do see some of myself in Deception in a way, as crazy as it may sound. He’s got this never give up attitude. He’s willing to put it all on the line. He’s as gutsy as they come. He’s going to need that because it’s going to take a lot to keep me down. If he was smart he’d be doing his homework and studying my last match with Chris Kennedy or my match with WOLF. It’s going to take a lot more than heart and guts to keep me down. Deception has got a bright future ahead of him but right now it’s looking bleak because I’m standing in front of him. He’ll get his moment in the sun but right now it’s time to shine. I’ve climbed my way back up and I’m not about to let some kid in a mask knock me back down. I will do what I have to do in order to win, which I guess looking back now is what Chris Kennedy did when he beat me. He did what he had to do. I can’t say I blame him but he’s still scum in my eyes.”

    “What am I trying to say you ask? What I’m trying to say is that now the more I think about it is that in this match I’m Chris Kennedy and Deception is Jason Randall. As much as it disgusts me to even compare myself to Kennedy, it is kind of true in a way. Though this time it will end with me ripping that heart of Deception’s right out his chest and stomp on it until there’s nothing left of it. Then in true Deception fashion, he’ll show how gutsy he is when his guts come spilling out of him on to the mat in front of the entire world. As morbid as that sounds, it’ll bring me great joy. I’m going to enjoy making Deception suffer. Don't take anything what I said out of respect as a sign of weakness, or else that will be his downfall for underestimating me and thinking me for a fool and in the end he will be the only fool with only himself to blame.”


    He sits up now and faces Norman.

    “I gotta hand it to you Doc, I had my doubts but you did well. This really helped me just let loose and spill my true feelings out to the world, similar to Deception’s guts spilling out to the world again. What do you say? Down for some lunch? All this talk of spilling guts and ripping out hearts has given me an appetite strangely enough. It’s on me, consider it my treat to you just like the beating I dish out to Deception will be my treat to him.”

    With that he takes Norman out of the chair and leaves the room, ending the scene.


    Rest in power, Flock U
    Rest in power, TCON

    Team Cyrus T is Best for Business

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

  5. #5
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    Re: 04 May - World Grand Prix DAY 2 Promo Thread

    Starr is seen walking around backstage at an FWA. He holds a Ziplock bag filled with brownies given to him by a… friend. Starr stops in catering to grab a drink, but is interrupted by the Punk Rock Pipebomb known as Izzy Van Doren. They stop and mingle for a bit.


    Izzy: I see you got Penny's gift.


    Starr notices the baggie slightly hanging out of the front pocket of his jacket. He laughs and looks into the deep dark eyes of the beautiful woman in front of him. He can't help but smile around her.


    Starr: Yeah. She says these had tons of good stuff in them. Think there's protein and shit like that ya know?


    With an eye roll and a sigh, she sarcastically laughs out an answer.


    Izzy: Yeah… sure…


    The two engage in more light hearted banter that only a relationship like them brings. It wasn't long before the topic quickly switched to the Grand Prix.


    Starr: What do you have going on while I'm in the tourney?


    Izzy: Well I'm still recovering from Viktor Magnus. Next week, I have a match against some Nicholas Cage guy I think?? Dramatic shift in competition. I’ll still give it my all though.


    Starr: Don't worry about that. I hear he’s a real pushover. One of those there to get the paycheck type guys. He does a thing, then leaves.


    The two share a laugh when suddenly peeking around the corner is one of Ashley O’Ryan’s assistants. He timidly approaches the two and lifts up the mic on his headset.


    Stagehand: Mr. Starr, Ashley O’Ryan wants to see you. He says a doctors here for you.


    Starr: Got it, Rudy. Tell him I’ll be a minute. Hey take these back to the locker room. I’ll be there as soon as I get finished pissing in this cup.


    Izzy: Uh… s-sure.


    Starr saunters off leaving Izzy with the suspicious bag of brownies. She does as she was asked and goes back to the locker room. She lies down on the couch and looks curiously at the bag. Inspecting every single visible chocolate fudge square.


    Izzy: What's the harm in eating one? Besides he said these were healthy.


    She pops the bag open and is immediately overwhelmed with the smell.


    Izzy: Oh my god! These smell fucking awesome!!!


    Izzy starts to dig in and enjoys every bite of the snack. Unexpectedly, she's slowly eaten every single brownie in the bag. She lies down and stares at the lights with a smile on her face satisfied with her pre match snack... Then it hits her…


    Suddenly she's floating in a purple tinted sky. She flies through the air, passing over outrageously large plants. Some even reach all the way up to her. A Venus Flytrap opens up in front of her and in its mouth is a large eyeball. Its leaves turn into hands and they begin to wave at her. The look on her face says she's overjoyed and waves back.


    She looks back in front of her and the Earth has started to flip on her. It's almost like that scene from Inception. She's rocketed into a body of water. A large submarine chase is going on around her. One is captained by… Snoop Dogg? She decides to ignore it and keeps moving forward. She swims above a whale and gets the chance to touch it's back. The whale reacts by blowing its spout and jets Izzy back into the sky… passed the sky… and she exits Earth’s atmosphere. Little green alien zip by her. They kinda looked like the ones from Toy Story, she thinks to herself maybe that's just that race of alien.


    She floats by the bright sun. Her whole body just accepts its warmth and comfort. She falls back to Earth. Izzy starts to panic reaching for anything she can. She pulls out a parachute and straps it on. She pulls the string, but instead of an actual chute it's a giant pair of underwear. Izzy lands on top of a cloud. A large obese tiger nuzzles up to her. She scratches its large tummy and the tiger asserts Izzy on top of its back. The tiger, now identified as Helen by the collar around its neck, jumps on a runs across the sky with Izzy. A large trail of rainbows follows behind the duo. Izzy thanks Helen for the ride and she slips off and continues to fall through the sky. Helen takes a nap in the sun.



    A large, yellow submarine passes by. Out of the windows peeks 4 heads, each one looking halfway between regal and ridiculous. One head points out to Izzy.



    Rango: Look fellas it's Izzy in the sky!


    He exclaims to his friends.


    Jorj: No diamonds though…


    Pawl: Look out for that sexy Statue of Liberty!


    The submarine crashes, but not in a fiery sort of way. It slowly crumbles like a hot air balloon and falls to Earth. Back to reality and what you're about, Starr walks in and is about to get ready for his match.


    Starr: Hey I think I heard Paulie shit talk you in the ring again. Think he's challenging you to another Safety Style fight. Go fix that.


    Izzy sits up like a zombie coming out of its grave. She looks into Starr’s eyes with an intense glare. She suddenly and hollowly exclaims:


    Izzy: I AM THE LIZARD QUEEEEN!!!


    Izzy rushes out of the room and grabs a singapore cane on her way out. Starr notices the empty bag on the floor.
    𝖍𝖚𝖗𝖙 // 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖑



    x x x x x x x x x

  6. #6
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    Re: 04 May - World Grand Prix DAY 2 Promo Thread

    The pitch-black screen fuzzes ever-so-slightly, and even as a few moments progress we are still inevitably in the same predicament as before, an abyss with no visibility in sight. The only thing audible is the rustling of equipment and muffled voices which even though the sound barrier still sound visibly upset. How unprofessional. The technical difficulties alone are enough to keep you watching; however, much like Moses parting the Red Sea, it came as a miracle. The screen slowly began to fuzz into a multitude of different colors cascading around the screen before revealing a rather dull setting, The focal point of the lens zoomed in upon a silver-rimmed black box, one used to store equipment and all of that jazz. It slowly began to creep out, revealing more and more as the lens grew wider, capturing the not-so-grand backstage landscape of an FWA show It was an area that desolate, it didn't sparkle, it wasn't over-the-top. It was a scene that happened to be down to its bare bones; it was exposed; which could explain a lot considering the person who chose to address the public in this very spot. As the camera continues, we are greeted with Bell Connelly, fresh off her match with Ty Johnston, clad in her pink attire as she crumples over her head in her hands….Strangely doesn’t look particularly happy despite her win...in fact quite the opposite; She appears to be sobbing, quite heavily in fact, her body rocking with her cries eventually, it seemed like she senses she’s not alone and looks up at the camera for the first time, her bloodshot tearful eyes cutting a hole through the camera, At first it seems like she was going to move away from the camera, but she pauses. She’s to consider something and turns to the camera

    Bell Connnelly“People. They always want to know my story, y'know?


    Bell pauses to wipe away tears that have pored from her cheeks.
    Bell Connelly"Where are you from? Who do you know? What was it like? People even ask me for comparisons, and sometimes they ask me, Bell, what’s your proudest moment? And they assume it was the night I walked away with the world title in my hands. It’s a fair assumption, that was the greatest night of my life. The Pinnacle of my life. But no that wasn’t my proudest moment


    Bell pauses trying to steady herself before she gets overly emotional again.

    Bell Connelly “My proudest moment was two years ago, my first Back In Business in Berlin, Germany, just before the show we had Fan Access, meet and greets, that kind of thing, of course, my lines were a little thinner than a Ryan Rondo or Cyrus Truth; and were mostly made up of little kids...Which I STILL say make the best wrestling fans…..But anyway.It was late in the evening and this little girl, Hannah, her name was Hannah, her mom came with me before she asked me for an autograph and a photo and when I gave it to her, and her face lit up in the brightest smile imaginable….”


    Bell smiles at the memory.
    Bell Connelly“Her Mom cornered me a little while later, and said she just wanted to thank me personally, Hannah, you see had a heart condition, a big-time, serious one; she needed open heart surgery when she was a baby, so all her life, she lived with this ugly scar….


    Bell draws her index finger across her collarbone in a jagged manner
    Bell Connelly“Right here, she told me that Hannah was embarrassed and would cover it up wearing baggy clothes, staying inside...doing whatever she could to avoid showing her scar...but-


    Bell pauses trying to reframe for getting choked up

    Bell Connelly“....But her mom told me ever since she started watching me; she stopped covering her scar up.”


    Bell ends that sentence with a watery sigh trying to hold back tears again, but it looks like for an entirely different reason

    Bell Connelly“That..was my proudest moment in my career, That is something that no amount of wins, titles of achievements could EVER replace and I kept Hannah close to my heart ever since then….but not just her.


    Bell gestures for the camera to come closer as she extends out her arm focusing on her wrist tape, she twists the wrist tape to reveal a collection of names in pink written on it

    Bell Connelly“”...Hannah. Lori, Eight years old, blood cancer, Doctors told her she wouldn’t live to see ten, she’s twelve now. Tess, Eleven years old, her hair is long gone after years of Chemotherapy, and she’s STILL the most beautiful girl in the world, I tell her that every time I see her, Rose, Kelsey, Joanna. All gone. Little warriors whose fights are over, but I keep them close to my heart always, and there are ….SO many others. The biggest point of pride in my career, is that kids can look at me and feel hope, they believed in me, so I believed in them, and there was no bigger honour in my life….I love them……


    Her voice turns quiet, and she continues to stare into the distance a small nostalgic smile reaching her lips….but it abruptly dies as she turns to the camera

    Bell Connelly “SO WHY DID THEY TURN THEIR BACK ON ME! WHY DID THEY BOO ME!?


    Bell screams out, shrill and utterly slamming her hands off the ground, her face becoming a mixture of angst and pain can’t comprehending the betrayal she felt

    Bell Connelly“I….I don’t understand...I just.. I gave my life to you...so many charities, make a wish...hospitals...If you asked me to cut off my finger for my fans, I would have given you my whole hand and lived as Captain Hook the rest of my life. I never asked anything of my fans before, and the one time, I ask for a little faith, for them to stick by me….You break my hear, and for what?! What I did to Shannon O’Neal?! You picked someone who couldn’t care less about you over someone who loved you?! ARE YOU BOOING ME TOO HANNAH?! WHY DID YOU BREAK MY HEART?! WHY DID YOU ABANDON ME WHEN I NEEDED YOU MOST?!


    She rocks back and forth in time with her word, grabbing her hair tightly, her emotional words spilling out of her, slowly getting faster and faster as if a verbal dam has broken out from her


    Bell Connelly: “...and you want to know why I turned to Chris because he was the only one that was loyal, the only one who believed in me….and you started turning on him too…


    A wet chuckle escapes her lips, but not one of humour, more of bitter bemusement before looking up at the heavens as if expecting some answer on the ceiling

    Bell Connelly: You hurt me tonight….You did, but I understand more then ever, what I have to do to make you see….You should have believed in me from the very start.


    Bell takes the time to wipe the tears out of her eyes before she holds up her index finger.

    Bell Connelly: One match, One win, two points, Mission accomplished. Next? Seconds out, round two. Next match up. Next obstacle to hurdle


    Bell shuts her eyes s momentarily her hands frantically rubbing through her hair, she closed her eyes momentarily, taking a few deep breaths, trying to find her centre and after a beat, she opens her eyes once more looking a lot more focused
    Bell Connelly:“Eyes….What happened to you?, You want to be the World Champion more than anything, and you know what’s at stake next week. For years, you’ve run your mouth and blabbed, and blabbed, and blabbed ….how it was just a matter of time till you managed to hit the big time, how you were banging your head off a never-ending glass ceiling, and that could only last so long;...but how much time do you need, I mean? Before you left on your little hiatus. You seemed to be so close….but then you left….and you came back with half the title and doubled the facial hair….See you were good two years ago; but back then…You were BELOW Garcia, you were BELOW Gabby...and fast forward two years...You’re going to be below me...and Deep down, I know it burns… I know it just KILLS you every time you think about all the missed opportunities.. The world figured out that you were nothing when you’re not hanging off someone’s coattails, Every day, every second of your mediocre career, you wanted to prove to everyone that you’re a big freaking deal but guess what? You never got to prove it because you were sitting there praising yourself and bragging about what you WILL have due to the fact you had nothing to brag about in the first place. You were are a duel champ holding a tag title in a dead division YET you don’t even know what it means to be a champion, Jamie. Being a champion means taking the championship that has your name on it, taking it wherever you go and defending it against the biggest names. Have you ever done that? No… You haven’t. You haven’t done a damn thing besides hold the tag belts and calling yourself a team like it meant something, wrapping those belts around your greasy waist and take pictures for Playgirl with it. You think the guys in the back respect you? No… They don’t, but of course, you don’t care. You don’t care what anyone thinks of you as the most important opinion on you… Is you. You are the only one’s opinion that matters to you which is good… But more-so on the bad side as you can’t take the criticism. You look at yourself in the mirror, and you smile with that cheek-to-cheek smile and believe that you’re the future of this company; that you’re a real champion; that you deserve to win the GP more than me


    . Bell scoffs at that statement


    Bell Connelly: Give me a break, Cyrus Truth cracking a real honest smile is more believable than every single thing you believe. Week after week, you come out to the ring and talk about how this and that person are holding you back. You talk about how management is keeping you back and how you deserve your piece of the pie. … But you gotta GIVE something to GET something and honestly? The only thing you’ve given is ME a headache, and I’m honestly tired of hearing your voice. The matter of the fact is that I don’t like you… I don’t respect you… And I have the HONOR of kicking you out of the GP as let’s be frank - there would be lines out the arena doors to have the opportunity I have.


    Bell voices lowers noticeably hoping to underline every word


    Bell Connelly: Don’t you get it? James, I HAVE to win… I have NO CHOICE. You lost last week, so that means you’re out if you lose….And that’s your problem, not mine; BUT IF I LOSE, AND PAJ WINS….i could be in the semi-finals already, and that can’t happen. This GP is the most important thing in the world to me, and you’re not going to stop me. This week means the world to me I know I’ve said it before, but I don’t think the message got through to you, honestly. I want to be a champion but not some two-dollar champion like you… I want to be THE WORLD CHAMPION… I want to be a champion that matters and look at this; WHEN I beat you, I’ll be one step closer to doing that. And you James? You’ll be below everyone else like what you’re USED to. Just think of next week as just a typical night as every time you want to PROVE something… You come up short. Every time you want to scream, “In your face” to the fans and your peers… You come up short. Every time you attempt to bring a girl home from the sleaziest strip clubs ever, you make the girl giggle then… You come up short. Do you see the pattern? I see it, and it’s not going to change once Sunday comes around. I’m going to be more than ready… I assure you take the time now to pack what you need and preferably pack a few packs of mentos as there are rumours swirling backstage that your breath smells like- As for me? I’ll have what I need but by the end of the night? I’ll have what I need, Two more points to get me closer to Cyrus Truth...
    Last edited by An Original Name; 05-06-2018 at 07:28 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

  7. #7
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    Re: 04 May - World Grand Prix DAY 2 Promo Thread

    Exile Chronicles: Volume 31

    "What Matters"


    "I see that Chris and Bell managed to survive their first GP matches. Good for them."

    Our scene opens in a rather rough-looking coffee shop late at night. The patrons in this shop are various night owls and haggard types trying to keep their eyes open for just a little while longer before they inevitably succumb to sleep. Sitting in a corner booth is Cyrus Truth, dressed in a heavy overcoat over what looks like his ring gear. From the look of Cyrus's slick-backed hair and the small beads of perspiration on his brow, this seems to be right after his opening match in the Grand Prix against Danny Toner on the previous Fight Night.

    Still, despite how odd Cyrus looks, he doesn't seem to be getting any attention from the rest of the bums in this coffee shop. The only one paying him any mind is the waitress, a weary but pretty enough young woman who passes by to refill Cyrus's cup, to which The Exile seems appreciative. As the waitress walks off to check on the rest of the riff-raff, Cyrus's attention returns to a laptop sitting on the table. On the screen is what looks to be the results from Fight Night on FWA.com, showing images of himself, Chris Kennedy, and Bell Connelly prominently.

    Cyrus's expression is one of bemusement. Though Danny Toner did show up and put up a good fight against the FWA World Champion, Cyrus was ultimately victorious and earned 2 points. No doubt he's pleased with himself...but there seems to be more than that. In fact, as Cyrus begins to start clicking through FWA.com, he seems to pull up Chris Kennedy's recent interview with Langdon Trafford. The video plays...but Cyrus scrolls the volume down until there's no sound coming from the computer. The Exile scoffs a bit as he takes a sip of his coffee.


    "Eh, a bit watered down. The coffee, I mean. Not Kennedy...well, not really. I watched this interview when it was uploaded, mostly because I was curious as to what he had to say. I didn't really do the same with Bell, because I already knew how that would've gone. A whole lot of angst and frustration while deflecting all of her woes and troubles onto me instead of facing herself like a champion should. Though to be fair? It's not as if Chris had anything really worth saying when it spoke to Langdon. I heard his words, but they meant less than nothing. But, if he wants to continue hiding behind a mask of civility, he's more than welcome to.

    "As I said before, Chris Kennedy and his broken bird of a girlfriend do not matter. I wonder if that bruises your egos to hear that? Well, I do get a slight joy in bruising egos and shattering delusions of grandeur, so allow me to repeat that: Chris? Bell? You don't matter. Not yet. I know you really wish that I'd focus on you, because both of you seem to be demanding my attention with the things you've said and done over the last month. Both of you need to have the spotlight on you. Bell, you need it because you've gotten so used to accolades and praise that it hurts to have that taken from you. As for you, Chris? You're not any different, but unlike Bell you have had it for so long that you think you're due that attention. But unfortunately, I don't care about what you've lost or what you think you deserve. And until you win your blocks, neither of you deserve anything more than my faintest consideration. So rather than focus on a couple that don't figure into the grand equation at this point in the game, let's instead focus on what is important..."


    Cyrus uses the touchpad on his laptop to click to a new screen, this one showing the blocks for the Grand Prix. He scrolls down to Block D, showing him and Tristan Galloway on top with 2 points each. He also sees that his next opponent is Hanz Gruber, who sits with Danny Toner at 0 points.

    "Danny Toner. Tristan Galloway. Hanz Gruber. Right now, these three men are my entire world. There is nothing else besides these three worth my time and energy. Now, I know what many of you are thinking. I'm the FWA World Champion. By all rights, I'm going to Back in Business regardless of what happens in the Grand Prix. So why am I so determined to win when my spot is more or less secured? Ah, but that's the thing. Nothing is set in stone. I know Bell's been wanting her rematch and has been practically begging for it like a psychopath, and she's not the only one who'd love to get a shot at the title before Back in Business. And while Ryan Rondo is a piece of shit who's full of the stuff, I don't put it past FWA to let him run rampant and become a roadblock. By the way, Rondo...I watched your Fireside Chat with Weinstock. You seem to have a rather high opinion of yourself and what you're worth to the company. And considering how much trouble you caused Kennedy over the last couple of months, someone who's shortsighted might actually buy into your hype. But for those of us who remember our history, just keep one thing in mind. The last time you chose to stand against me, I beat you down and sent you running away from FWA, and you've not had the balls to step up to me since then. For as much as Chris Kennedy and Bell Connelly don't matter at this point in time? Between you and me, you matter even less. So keep your nose out of the Grand Prix and especially keep it out of my business. I'm not Kennedy. When I put you down, you will stay down.

    "Danny Toner has been dealt with. To his credit, he did show up and put up a good fight. But in the end, he failed. Conversely, Tristan Galloway won and now stands alongside me at the top of the block. That leaves us with Hanz Gruber. Now, I'm facing Hanz on the next Fight Night. And this normally would be the part where I would dive into Hanz's heart and soul and lay bare his faults for all the world to see. But that's the thing, and what has me at a bit of a loss...who in the actual fuck is Hanz Gruber and what exactly has he done?

    "That sounds condescending, I know. But honestly, who the fuck is this man with a name that sounds like the name of a villain Bruce Willis threw off a building in that one movie? Danny Toner may be a screw-up, but at least he has some credentials and, after having fought him, I know for a fact that he's a world-class wrestler when he's clean and focused. I've faced and beaten Galloway before, but I can tell he's finally starting to come into his own as the X Champion, so he has some value and is worth my concern. Who is this German bastard that now has the gall to step into the ring with me and what has he accomplished? I know he's been here for a while, so it's not as if he hasn't had a chance to accomplish something. But..."


    Cyrus quickly scrolls over a picture of Hanz and clicks on it, taking him to Gruber's profile on FWA.com. He takes a sip of his cheap coffee as he hovers over a section labeled "FWA Accomplishments" and it shows nothing. Cyrus snarls as he swirls the coffee in its mug.

    "How is this man in this tournament? Paulie the Safety Parrot, XYZ, and the Ghost of DIVINE would've been better options than this man. For all the shit I gave Toner, Hanz Gruber is a prime example of a man who has coasted among the dregs and couldn't even make a name for himself when mired in mediocrity. I don't want to come across as just outright dismissing Gruber, I really don't! I try to look at what my opponents are capable of, because I want them to be stronger so that, when I do inevitably beat them, it actually means something. But with Hanz...what is there to work with? What great victories has he had? He certainly hasn't won any titles or tournaments or anything that would suggest he's anything other than a waste of oxygen and flesh, but I don't see it! You have any idea how frustrating this is for me? To have to waste my time with somebody with absolutely no redeeming qualities?

    "Now, you ask anybody else in this tournament, and they might see this as an easy win that they're grateful to have. But then again, there's also a reason why I'm the World Champion and they're all chasing after me. I don't WANT easy wins. I don't want to coast to glory, because glory is earned in the heat of vicious and righteous combat. The whole reason I was so excited for this tournament was to fight the very best in FWA. How exactly is Hanz Gruber "the best" that FWA has to offer? Grrr...so irritating. Fine, be that way. I suppose they all can't be winners. Hanz...for the love of the Struggle, I hope you actually put up more of a fight than you have in your entire stint here in FWA. There's not a chance in hell I'm allowing you to win this match, and if you can't put up a fight then I'm just going to eat you alive. I will eliminate you from this block and move on to Galloway and press forward.

    "Let me make one thing perfectly clear: in the end, it doesn't matter who stands in my way in this tournament. The only thing that matters is victory. Winning in glory. Fighting through all opposition with grit and determination until none are left standing between me and the main event of Back in Business. I've already toppled Toner. I will leave Galloway broken when we face. And as for Gruber? He's going to be nothing more than a smear on the canvas when I'm done with him. As for everybody else? Keep in mind that I possess what you desire, and that all you're trying to do is to catch up to me. To that end, you are nothing more than obstacles to overcome towards the path that lets me forge my destiny and follow the Road to the greatest glory yet to be obtained. That is all that matters. That is all that'll ever matter. Anything else is a distraction you can feel free to give weight to...but as for me? I'm going to do what I always do. Win...and never stop until I get what I want.


    Cyrus closes the laptop as he finishes his coffee. The waitress comes by to refill him, but Cyrus waves her off and hands her a couple of $20's, muttering something about keeping the change. Cyrus's message was simple, but pointed: Hanz Gruber is nothing but a cobblestone on the path to glory. And should he fail to show? This may be the last anybody ever sees of the German superstar...

  8. #8
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    Re: 04 May - World Grand Prix DAY 2 Promo Thread

    ‘Self-improvement is the name of the game, and your primary objective is to strengthen yourself, not to destroy an opponent.’ - Maxwell Maltz

    The Immortal Empire


    Phillip A. Jackson is standing outside in the early morning California sun. He is wearing a navy blue suit without a tie, the top two buttons of his white shirt undone with aviator sunglasses covering his eyes from the sun. Jackson is stood switching his focus back and forth between Oakland Coliseum and The Oracle Arena. He is stood between the two getting a feel for the landscape. Jackson walks down the open arena between the two stadiums as he walks past one of the pillars he runs his hand across it and feels the tips of his fingers with his thumb. Jackson is alone, but for some of The Oracle Arena staff setting up for the show. Jackson sees the advert for the FWA show tonight and smiles as he sees himself on it. Jackson keeps walking back and forth between the two car parks at the end of the open space.

    For this part of the journey, Viktor does not need to be here. This bit, he has already learned, so lets be a bit more classic Phillip A. Jackson because this is about self-improvement and how to use it to maintain success. Viktor was taught this on day one. I have proven that I can win without Viktor at ringside or as my partner. He doesn’t need this repeated because he listens to me and understands me the first time. That is why he is apart of this but the powers that be decided he cannot be apart of the grand prix. He cannot watch and observe me. He has been stunted by this but we can preserve because I always survive and I always keep going. I will engrain this into him too when the time is right.


    Jackson stops pacing back and forth and sits on a bench where he has left his backpack. Jackson looks out towards the sun and lets it wash over him as he smiles. Jackson has a moment of peace basking in the sun. Jackson grabs a bottle of water out of his bag and takes a sips and places it back in his bag. Jackson stretches his legs out in front of him, cross his feet over at the end. Jackson sits for what feels like minutes just enjoy the peaceful early morning. Jackson is sat pondering what comes next, for his alone. Jackson sits up.

    But…I get asked that a lot, how do I keep going? What drive me? For one moment, let’s look at the greatest empire in history. The Roman Empire. It ruled and ruled. It was dominant, it was the envy of the world and the influence it had is still seen today. It was thought to be an immortal empire but why did Rome fail? Like all great things it succumbed to ego, pride and laziness. They thought they were invincible. They ruled the world and who could stop them? They became lazy, drowning in their own decadents, while everything they have paved, from their roads to their armies slowly wilted because they stopped believing that they needed to improve. They were content. They were not wanting to change, creating divides and making things untenable because they were not self-aware, they thought they could do whatever they wanted. Unlike the Roman Empire, I wasn’t built with ego and I didn’t have an easy ride. I had to pave my roads over bridges that were once burned. I didn’t succeed every time. I fought, clawed, dragged and kicked ass on my way to the top. I had highs and lows and I was a beaten, broken man when I got to the top. I had no easy rides. I didn’t win one match and get a chance to main event. I didn’t have unbridled success in my first year. I had failure, lots of it. I had learned hard lessons. I had made friends and enemies. My roads were not paved with gold but with bricks broken from my successes and failure. I knew what it was like to have nothing. I knew that to keep my success going that I had to sometimes change. I had to adapt. I would not be ruled by ego, pride and I would NEVER be content. Everything can be improved. It took me five years to win a World Title that I would hold for one month. Why did I lose it so quickly? I thought I was the best ever and I wouldn’t need to do anything. I have changed from that kid to the man I am now. I am FWA’s greatest survival expert. Whatever so-called ‘era’ we are in there is one constant, Phillip A. Jackson because I was not built for one era. I am built for all of them and that was my own making. I am an immortal legacy in this business and this company. Nothing phases me because I focus on me. What do I want? and How do I get it? That is why I live in reality, I live in the truth and that is what this project is all about. It is about the truth. No delusion, no ego, no laziness just pure reality, whether that is good or bad and that allows me to be content and live in peace.

    Jackson pushes down on the bench and gets back to his feet. Jackson takes a deep breath, as he grabs his bag and places one strap over his shoulder and continues to walk. Jackson doesn’t pace back and forth but heads up the stairs leading towards Oracle Arena and leaning over the Oracle sign that is place on the side of the elevated walkway above the alleyway below.

    Reality is a funny thing. People in this business want to escape it. They want to live in a bubble and believe that everything will be ok. This is a business that believes delusion is the answer. Look at this tournament. It is a prime example, outside of Bell Connelly, Chris Kennedy, Cyrus Truth and me. It a stretch to say they will win it. Even guys without outside chances like Mike Parr and Starr. Everyone else is fodder. That is the reality that all want to hide from themselves. ‘But there is always a cinderella story’ maybe but when was they last time they won a damn thing. Look at The Athletics and how they thought that Moneyball that they thought be their ticket to the top. They shocked MLB but everyone else adapt and did it better because like all underdogs with no chance, they might surprise people but when the lights come on, on the biggest stage, they all crumble to the ones with more talent. This is why I live in reality and I thrive in the truth. Speaking of reality, we have my opponent for Day 2 of this tournament of false hope. A man not talented enough to earn a contract like everyone else but had to win a “reality” show to even get a spot on the FWA roster. A man so irrelevant and so bland that I thought he was just a friend of one of the wrestlers friend who came to shows. Honestly, he was so far off my radar and so far below me that I did a double take when this match was announced because I simply couldn’t believe they allowed riff raft into a newly minted tournament. They want to build this up as something special, something that would blow away the competition. Something that people will talk about for years but outside of the stars, what is there? Where is the once famous depth FWA used to have? Back when we had talent from top to bottom, guys who gave you a test everything single week? They all became dinosaurs who couldn’t adapt. No-one can adapt. They all are living in the delusion that what worked once will work every time, forever.


    Jackson looks over at the Coliseum. Jackson can see that the stadium has had maintenance that has kept the stadium, on the outside at least, in good working order. Jackson can see that the building looks old. It looks ugly and not modern. It hasn’t adapted.

    That is the one lesson that is free for everyone in FWA. Nothing lasts forever, except immortals. Now when it comes to mortals like Ty. Him being the number four ‘seed’ in our group he probably fancies his chances as an underdog. As the ‘Cinderella’ that will grip the hearts of FWA. It is rare an underdog does anything more than grip the hearts. It is a small, minuscule, tiny amount of times that a guy like Ty Johnson will actually do anything of any real significance. They rarely do anything to change the landscape because just like Oakland there is no real change to anything. Dynasties and former dynasties always seem to stay ahead. They always have spells where they fall but they ultimately rise again. This city knows that more than anything, unless you are talking about The Athletics. I’ve lived in this country long enough to understand all the sports in this country. Last three years, the best player and the best have been in the NBA finals. In the last 18 years, Tom Brady has dominated the NFL. The strong rise. The big, the global and the dominant forces of the world always stay at the top. It applies to everything. Google, Ferrari, McDonalds, IBM, Apple, Coca-Cola. You get the idea. That is what I am. I am a dominant brand. I am a global superstar, beloved and derided around the world in equal measure all over the world. I stand above the crowd looking down on guys like Ty Johnson. A guy who is, at best, a national brand. I dominant the world because the best always stays right where they are. Nothing has ever changed that. As long as that dominant force doesn’t get cocky, arrogant or lazy. As long as they don’t have self-destructive behaviours and tendencies then it cannot fall. I do not self-destruct. I self-improve because I do not want to go down as a failure. I don’t want to be an insignificant footnote in history. I don’t want to be a guy like Ty Johnson. In a building steeped in recent dominance, I want to preserve mine. I don’t want to worry about what comes next week because I know that is my biggest challenge. This week is about surviving. It is about making sure that I don’t see the smiles on the faces of the FWA fans as an underdog rookie puts away a legend.


    Jackson points over to the Coliseum.

    One day that building will be the home or former home of a historic dynasty. One day very soon, this will be the former home of an iconic NFL brand and the sole home of a team that tried to be different but couldn’t change when everyone adopted their philosophy. They have seen an empire rise and they will soon see the last remnants of a once great dynasty. Oakland has seen both sides of reality. One crumbling away into nothing in a stadium that is older than time.

    Jackson points backwards towards The Oracle Arena.

    And one with now great expectation that they continue to surpass as they continue to smash through records and continue to win and win and win. For me, this is about one thing. A title. Just like everyone else. Ty Johnson is a means to my end. He faced Bell Connelly last week so this position is not new to him. Bell took care of him handily and now I need to do the same. I cannot look past him as nothing because when you are expecting it to be ok when you do nothing. You lose. I am not Rome. I am Phillip A. Jackson, the immortal who will last for all time. Ty will want to shock to world but the world is not waiting for you Ty. You are the insignificant footnote in history, managed by an addict. Who will never achieve anything of significance because you are not good enough to. Truth hurts but truth cannot lie and I pride myself in truth as we have established. Ty, move on from this tournament. Work hard and focus on your own downfalls and don’t allow your opponent to dominate your thoughts. Your opponent should not be your focus. You should be theirs. I am generously offering you this for free so listen to it because when we step into Oracle Arena you will have to focus on me because I will dictate and I will dominant because that is what I do and in recent years that is all this city and that building have known. You all thought I would crumble like the Coliseum but I have found new life like those from the Arena. My ability to adapt, survive and improve can outlast everyone until I reach my own day zero. The mantra of this city is what I do. I just win, baby. I have found joy in spreading lessons and teaching everyone one thing. If you cross me, try to screw, don’t listen to me or try to stop my success…I will crush you like a bug because I always win in the end because I am THE Immortal, Phillip A. Jackson.

    Jackson looks up at Oracle Arena and smiles. Jackson walks towards the players entrance and sees that his agent and Viktor Maximus are waiting for him. Jackson shakes his agents hand and gives a big hug to Viktor and the trio head inside the arena, bright and early for a morning work out before Day Two.

  9. #9
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    Keep on Rolling

    The screen is black but a music track slowly fades in. It's a live, original version of 'Rolling on a River' by Tina Turner.



    The camera fades in to focus on the wheel of a car turning. The camera slowly zooms out to show a black SUV. The window is rolled down and the man in the driving seat is shown to be Tommy Thunder. He has one arm leaning on the open window, his signature aviators on and an open collar white shirt.
    He in driving on a clear road with the scorching sun beginning to set on the horizon.

    He was on his way to Oakland, California for Day 2 of the World Grand Prix. He had narrowly lost his first match against Chris Manson, the match that was supposed to kick star this road to Back in Business so he was facing a big, uphill climb. It was nothing he'd not faced before but he cast his mind back to the night before the last show where he had vowed to to win, where he had told himself that he was going to start proving his worth in FWA. But he had failed. He was now still stuck on zero points in his Grand Prix group and was staring straight at an unknown road to Back in Business.

    He took a look at the sat nav; 67 miles to go.

    He took a moment to ponder his next opponent. Starr. the man who called himself 'The Interstellar Shaman'. Thunder smiled. He liked Starr. He was one of the younger kids on the circuit that he enjoyed the company of. Someone who was serious about doing well in the business but knew how to let loose and enjoy himself in his spare time. In fact, he reminded Thunder of himself to a degree.
    He was coming off a huge win, some may even call it an upset win, over WOLFF. This was clearly a man who was riding a wave right now and Thunder knew not to underestimate him. He had been championing Starr backstage, backing him to be pushed, but he needed to put that aside now. this was his opportunity. Another win here for Starr would put him virtually through from group C but Thunder was prepared to put a stop to that. This was his time, his opportunity to go to Back in Business and he as going to take it, even if it meant taking it away from a younger star who deserved the chance.

    He thought about the song playing on his IPod through his car speaker system. He needed to try and keep going. No, not try, he just needed to keep going. Full stop. There was no try about it.

    His phone rang. It was his mother. He turned the music down and answered on the hands free.


    Tommy Thunder: Hi mom.

    Thunder's Mom: Thomas, we haven't heard from you in over a week, where the hell have you been?

    Tommy Thunder: Mom, you know how it is with this job, I'm constantly on the road. I've barely had a chance to breathe let alone make a phone call.

    Thunder's Mom: But not even a message for your mom?! I know how to text no you know!

    Tommy Thunder: I know, that was my mistake. I've just needed some space, some time alone this past week.

    Thunder's Mom: Is it because of last week's show's result? I know you're disappointed but your Dad and I, we want to help you.

    Thunder: Disappointed is an understatement. And I appreciate that you guys want to help but this is something I have to do on my own. I did it before on my own and I'm going to do it again. i don't need any charity.

    Thunder's Mom: Is that what you think of us? Look, I get that you want to do it alone, and lord knows you can do it. But please don't keep us in the dark like this again. We worry about you. We know what this time f the year means to you. We know you want to go to that big show; Back in Business as one of the top stars for the FWA. But don't forget to check in with us. You are only human after all, even if you think you're not.

    Tommy Thunder: I'm sorry. I'll do my best but I can't guarantee anything. I may be off the grid for a while during this Grand Prix thing, maybe even beyond. I need to be alone, to collect my thoughts, focus and make sure that I'm going to that pay per view, not just as another guy on the card, but as THE guy on the card.

    Thunder's Mom: We know you can do it, just remember that we're backing you all the way. If you ever need anything, PLEASE call us, message us. ANYTHING.

    Tommy Thunder: I will Mom. I have to go now, I'll be in touch soon. I love you.

    Thunder then hangs up the phone.

    He turns the music back up. This time it's the Rolling Stones providing the music with an old classic.



    Another fitting song, Thunder thought as he smiled. He did think about what his mother had just said though. Was it that he couldn't do this on his own? He always had done so up until now and it had served him well. He wanted to be a top star again so badly but sometimes you simply can't always get what you want. but this wasn't a case of wanting something, he needed it. He needed that top level platform to be able to show everyone that he meant what his gimmick was all about.

    He liked Starr, a lot, but he would put all that aside tomorrow night when they meet in the ring. Starr was definitely the future whereas he was the past as far as the audience were concerned but he was prepared to turn back time and become the present in FWA right now by beating him. One win was all he needed and he was firmly back in the frame to proceed from Group C. He knew he could do it and he was more than prepared to do it at the expense of Starr, a man who he knew full well could potentially go all the way if he was to progress from this group.

    He was once again the underdog tomorrow night, a fact he once again fully appreciated and knew. He failed to cause the upset he craved for last week but this time there would be no mistakes. Chris Manson got lucky with a rollup last week. There would be no repeat of that with Starr.


    A new song came on...



    Another smile spread across Thunder's face. He had to look on the bright side The sun, a bright orange ball of fire, was now disappearing, setting over the peak of the mountain in the distance. He glanced at his sat nav once more; 23 miles to go.

    23 miles to Oakland. No more mistakes. No more holding back. He had to push one more time. Destiny was calling him.

    He put the pedal down and the SUV pulled away, eating up the tarmac as he sped off towards Oakland.

  10. #10
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    Re: 04 May - World Grand Prix DAY 2 Promo Thread

    “There is plenty in this world that grates at me at present, John, but that is pretty much near the top of the list.”

    Parr adjusts the microphone that is attached to his white shirt. The microphone is having to be attached to the collar of the shirt as Prodigy has unbuttoned the first three, exposing the top half of his torso in what is taking the “casual” look a bit further than your average person on the street. Nevertheless, his hair is slicked back by the sunglasses planted on the top of his head and his grey suit and brown shoes have left him looking every the superstar that he always wants to project himself as.

    Sat across from him is John Muldoon, one of the most influential sports writers in the United Kingdom and Ireland. His coverage of sports across the Atlantic that don’t have mainstream attention there, like wrestling/baseball and basketball for example, is renowned. World renowned is doing a disservice to that term but it certainly is renowned across the UK and Ireland. John is well respected as he used to play rugby until the age of 25, when a neck injury from an illegal tackle brought a premature end to his career. John is now approaching his 40s, but has spent the last 15 years building a second career for himself.

    Where is Langdon Trafford? Where is Piers Gallagher? I know that’s a question that many of you are probably wondering. Mike isn’t interested in conforming to the FWAs rules and regulations anymore. Mike isn’t interested in being the lapdog of Ashley O’Ryan. Mike isn’t interested in wasting his time and sharing oxygen with the puppets that FWA will offer him, to be asked bland questions that read like an FAQ section on your favourite superstar that will be posted on a part of a website that you would only ever visit in error.

    Mike isn’t unreasonable, so he allowed for a camera crew to be sent by FWAs top brass so as to capture the content on the conversation in addition to broadcast overseas through John’s company.

    “Sorry John…you’ll have to forgive me, would you care to repeat the question for me again?”

    Mike suppresses a grin, somewhere in his subconscious he is fully aware of how arrogant he sounds and how disinterested he appears. Realistically, it is just a front. Mike needs to appear to be disinterested as measure to protect himself from revealing too much as well as to add to his persona. No longer is he interested in pandering to audiences who have cheered him because it was the cool thing to do. It may have been cool at Mile High last year, but nowadays, it’s more of a cheer of encouragement rather than adulation. Mike prefers the latter.

    “Sure Mike, my question was about facing one of FWAs most revered superstars, “The Astonishing” Chris Kennedy. What are you feelings heading into the match, some say that it is your chance to truly make your mark in the company?”

    “Thanks John….and my response?”

    Again, Mike is fully aware of how he responded, and just wants it noted again on film.

    “To paraphrase what you said, that it grates you?”

    “Yes, John. It grates me. It is either something is taken from the opinion bank of someone who knows nothing about this sport or this company’s recent history or it is something that has been said to be deliberately inflammatory. Let me assume, John, that these words have left your mouth with neither of those rationales being applicable, and we can move on?”

    John nods, the correct response given the somewhat prickly current mood that Parr appears to be in. If body language is any sort of indicator, Parr is aggressively leaning forward with his elbows digging into his lap and staring a proverbial hole into John. John, however, is cowered in the chair across from him. His eye contact has dropped from eye level with Prodigy down to roaming the ground in what is quite an awkward encounter.

    “OK John…since you twisted my arm.”

    Prodigy again attempts to suppress a subtle grin. He knows exactly what he is doing and is taking great pleasure in making John feel as awkward as possible.

    “The thing that grates me about that entire sentence, more than anything else, is that Chris Kennedy is revered. What am I supposed to take from that? That regardless of what happens in that ring and regardless of the fact that I will be topping this group, that Chris Kennedy is the one that is going to come out of this tournament looking like the main event level superstar, that he is going to come out of this justifying that he is the top seed regardless of whether or not his actual performance has justified this. When is the last time that Chris Kennedy justified being one of the major players in this company? When is the last time that Chris Kennedy actually did anything but turn up and take the acclaim of those that he seemingly used to impress on a regular basis? I’m in this World Grand Prix and somehow, I’m ranked as second to Chris Kennedy? Do you know what happened the last time that Chris Kennedy and I were involved in the same match John? What the cherished and deeply revered Chris Kennedy did when he was in the ring with Mike Parr?”

    “He lost the North American Championship, John.”

    “But have I heard that online this week? Have I heard many people bring up that the “Astonishing” Chris Kennedy faced Mike Parr and lost his championship title? Have I hell. But again, I know what everyone is thinking, how did the rematch end. Do you know how the rematch ended John?


    “I wasn’t aware that there was any rematch Mike?”

    Prodigy’s motives in bringing John into this setting are again becoming more clear as the interview progresses. He is able to manipulate and bully someone not familiar with this setting into and end product that is much better than anything that Piers or Langdon could produce. Langdon and Piers becoming intimidated and edgy is common place, but there is something fascinating and edgy about watching an outsider become ever more uncomfortable with the situation.

    “You would be correct John. There was no rematch because Chris Kennedy did not have the balls to try and get his championship belt back. He disappeared from the FWA landscape. And you know something? Maybe I am not giving him enough credit because that is probably one of the more intelligent things that he has done and one of the more intelligent moves that an adversary of mine has pulled in a while. Because you know if he had decided to enact that rematch clause, he would have been pasted around the inside of the ring and made to look like an idiot. And then what? Then he couldn’t do what he seemingly always does and feels that he has a divine right to do? He couldn’t have breezed back in at Back in Business to take up a marquee match and then he couldn’t somehow force the narrative on the wider audience that he is a respected and revered member of FWA’s past that is still here, still in the present day, as good as he ever was. I don’t think that narrative would’ve been possible if the last memory that we had was Chris Kennedy not being able to wrest back a title he lost from who was then the hottest up and coming star in FWA. It would’ve been the typical moment that defines the “changing of the guard” and if Chris had allowed that to happen, it would not have been Astonishing but it would have been a travesty if that “has never”-been was able to saunter back in to Back and Business and enter this Grand Prix for a shot at another marquee match.”

    Parr pauses once more to gather his thoughts, however, his body language remains unchanged in that he is still sitting intently facing forward and into the face of his interviewer.

    “And John, just for the record, I do hold an element of resentment in relation to that. It should have been the changing of the guard, it should have been the moment where everyone now look back to in some alternate universe and they are talking about how the revered and respected Mike Parr is allowing the veteran Chris Kennedy one last shot at glory. Do you see the problem in that this isn’t that alternate universe? That should be the narrative of the story that we are trying to sell and the story that is being told. Referring back to your question, John, you asked if this is the match in which I finally am looking to make my mark in the company. Is that the narrative that you want to continue to stick with? I held the North American Championship for 15 months and I’ve battled and clawed my way into a position where I should have been the top seed in this group. My mark was made when I took the championship from Kennedy’s grasp and I held onto it for longer than anyone in this company would be able to dream about. This match isn’t about making my mark in this company, this match is about making a statement. And the statement will be one that is clear, concise, and unavoidably blunt. The statement will be that The Prodigy Mike Parr is better than Chris Kennedy. The statement will be that The Prodigy Mike Parr is going to win this Grand Prix and it is destined that he will then right the wrong of being beaten by Cyrus Truth in a match which was a de-facto World Championship fight. Bell wasn’t going to stop either of us. And this entire statement will be punctuated with Chris Kennedy’s blood splattered all across the arena until he runs back into his semi-retirement state once more until he is rolled out on a farewell tour or whatever the hell the FWA management want to do to pop a rating or two….”

    Prodigy finally adjusts his position and leans back more, taking his first sip of the refreshment that has been provided for him. John seems to appreciate the more relaxed atmosphere, and adjusts his body position accordingly from a slouch to a more pinned back against the base of the chair position.

    “Thanks Mike, we have some great stuff so far and appreciate your time. If you don’t mind, we would like to finish with a few quick fire questions?”

    If he doesn’t mind? For a respected journalist, John should’ve conducted his research and realised that Mike is exactly the type of person that will mind. However, for all of his faults, he does have a modicum of media training and knows that this is the sort of lip service that he needs to be au fait with if he is going to become the biggest star and the face of the company. Soundbites do sell tickets after all. So, bearing all of that in mind:

    “Fire away, John.”

    “Perfect. The last few weeks we have seen you speaking with a couple of individuals. Rumours have been rife on the internet that these friends of yours could be making an appearance at some point in the near future. Do you have any further information you can share with us?”

    “If it’s on the Internet, John, then it must all be true. Although, if I’m reading things online correctly myself I thought the common theory subscribed to was that I’m not exactly the type that makes friends easily.”

    An answer without providing any clarification or additional information. The journalistic nightmare but the professional athlete’s perfect response.

    “OK, thoughts on the Grand Prix in general?”

    “They must have given away an entry to this as a free prize in a box of cereal, because how the like of Danny Toner or Chris Kennedy somehow warrant an entry into this is beyond me? If the cereal that they got the free entry prize was reflective of their recent performances, it would have been way past its sell by date. Seeding aside, I like the format as it provides an indisputable opportunity for me to cement myself in the upper echelons of this company. I also have hopes that this format will expose the like of Bell Connelly and WOLF for the frauds that they are. Are they talented? Sure, but when your groups do not go as per the seeding, then serious questions will be asked. In my case, I’ve made my case as to why I think the seeding was wrong and it will be affirmation, but what happens if Bell doesn’t make it out on top? What happens when WOLF doesn’t make it out at all?

    “And should you progress, who do you think you might face?”

    “Couldn’t care less. It’s been a while since PAJ and I have shared a ring.”

    “And lastly, your hopes for the rest of the tournament?”

    Prodigy shakes his head dismissively, before letting out an overly exaggerated but clearly audble sigh so as to effectively express his displeasure at the question.

    “To win the championship at Back in Business, John. On the way, will I take great pleasure in beating Chris Kennedy to do it? Will I take enjoy showing Jason Randall that luck only gets you so far when I beat him around my ring? Yes to both of the above. But do you want to know what else I really hope for John? I really hope for validation. I hope for vindication. I cannot remember how many times I have stated that The Prodigy just isn’t a gimmick to sell t-shirts or sound impressive, it is how I believe I am defined. I hope at the end of this tournament, I don’t have to live in a world where people are clamouring for the latest Chris Kennedy comeback tour, where they are checking for the next Danny Toner appearance, or where they are praying for a Cyrus Truth and Bell Connelly rematch. My hope is that at the end of this tournament, when I am holding that belt above my head, that you will all realise that I was right all along and that you all will not be looking for and encouraging relics from the past to return because the present, the right here and now, is all and everything you should need.”

    With that, Parr unhooks his microphone and extends his hand to Muldoon. Muldoon, such as his nervous disposition at present, quivers thinking that it was going to be something worse than a handshake, before gratefully accepting. Parr turns and make the cut motion by his throat to the FWA camera crew and that is where we cut to black.
    Last edited by TheProdigy; 05-07-2018 at 07:05 PM. Reason: formatting

  11. #11
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    Re: 04 May - World Grand Prix DAY 2 Promo Thread

    Tristan James Galloway stands in front of what looks to be video village showing the match between himself and Hanz Gruber from the night one of the World Grand Prix. The match showed the power of Galloway. When the match concludes, Galloway kills the the video wall, turning around to face the camera.


    Last week, I beat Hanz Gruber. I would love to stand here before you and proclaim it was a rough and hard fought battle, but it was not. There was nothing difficult about winning over Gruber. I’ve done it numerous times before- especially for the X-Division Championship.


    Close up on the X-Division championship resting firmly around the waist of the TJG. The trademark smile surfaces on the face of Galloway as the camera pulls back on him. The champion adjust his hat as a look of disappointment appears on his face.


    There wasn’t a struggle. No mark of uncertainty. The outcome was telegraphed. Hours; days before the opening bell rang. It left me disappointed to say the least… However, I did exactly what I said I was gonna do against Hanz.


    Tristan shakes his head, smiling assuredly.


    I beat him soundly.


    The enigmatic loner raises two fingers in the air.


    Two points and on top of the leader board with Cyrus Truth, a man who I have faced before. While I may not have emerged victorious in that encounter, but I was not the Tristan Galloway who stands before you today. I look forward to going to war with “The Exile” once more, but before I set my sights on our World champion. Before I focus on that war to come, I must first face Danny Toner.


    It’s at this point, Tristan James Galloway walks over to an image of the returning Danny Toner plastered over a dart board on the plain white wall of this nondescript room Galloway is in. The X champion grabs a handful of darts as he walks away from the board.


    I must admit, my knowledge of Mr. Toner is very limited. I realize he has competed in FWA long before I ever set foot into the squared circle. He is a former Tag Team champion, winning it on two separate occasions. The one time time I actually got to see him in the ring was last week against Cyrus Truth. I saw his actions and I heard his words. For me, Danny Toner leaves a lot to be desired.


    Tristan throws several darts. Two land on his shoulders and one in the stomach. He looks back to the camera twirling the other darts in between his fingers.


    Over the last week, I’ve heard the men and women competing in this tournament remark over who should and should not be in the tournament. Cyrus accuses, and maybe rightfully so, Hanz Gruber being ill suited for the tournament. And now, I stand before you sharing that same sentiment… only with Danny Toner as the focal point. I think he’s unworthy of being in the World Grand Prix. After all, how long has it been since he’s been in FWA? He came close in a previous World Gran Prix, and I applaud him for his efforts. I know it takes a special kind of talent to make it out of the first group and go all the way into the finals when every group is the group of death. But what has he done currently?


    The sounds of ambient club noise fills the room. We can hear the clanging of glasses and inaudible bar conversations accompanied to the sounds of pool being played. We then hear the rowdy cries of what could be the proverbial wild man of FWA Danny Toner. Most likely from his recent foray into the party scene. Galloway isn’t happy.


    His focus is on booze, women, and fun. His mind isn’t on the prize. Not like I am. Danny has said it himself. He can switch it on whenever he likes. Is this not the time? Is now not the place? The main event of Back in Business and the World Heavyweight championship lays before you… and you choose to consume copious amounts of liquor with a couple of scantly clad women? You could have done that in your hiatus. You could do it after the tournament. Why would you not knuckle down and compete? Hell, Cyrus Truth earned two points over you. I would imagine that would leave a bad taste in your mouth.


    If only you cared.


    Tristan throws a dart at the image of Danny Tanner, followed by two more. Each one hits the center of Toner’s face. The darts keep coming. The X Champion stands there with a look of disgust at the image.


    But you don’t care, Danny. And that’s what makes me sick. You were handed this opportunity based upon your prior experience. You haven’t spent the last year and half on the grind. You have poured your heart into this like I have. I had a chance to win the North American championship on two occasions. The first against Mike Parr, who had a strangle hold on the North American championship. And losing to him forced me to get serious. It made me work harder because I didn’t want to feel that way again. So I went back and worked harder in the gym. I found time in the ring to hone my craft. I earned a championship and I took on all comers and won. I have raised the profile of this championship.


    Galloway proudly pats the X Division championship strapped around his waist. He picks up the bottom of the championship to raise it up with Galloway staring at it proudly.


    I want the very best wrestlers as my competition. I will not drown in mediocrity- not like you. While you were boozing it up last night, I was in the gym working on my chest and back. While you were sleeping until one in the afternoon, I was in the ring honing my skills to become a better wrestler. I don’t undermine your ability because when they say you’re on you are on, but you WILL NOT earn two points at MY EXPENSE. Not as long as I am physically capable. You haven’t earned that right and you don’t deserve two points over me. Not after I have busted my ass for the last year and a half to get to this point. I will collect two more points and I will meet Cyrus Truth in the ring one on one as two unbeaten men in Group D.


    Tristan slaps the darts off the image of Toner before ripping it off the wall.


    You may have shown promise in the past, but your light will not ignite against me. Even if you have compared to wrestle. The flame will be snuffed out. I will raise my profile by defeating yet another star of FWA’s past. I crave a legacy. I demand excellence. Not only from myself, but my opposition as well. Because if they are not great, how can I become great? That’s why I took on WOLF. That’s why I am in this tournament- illustrious prizes aside. I didn’t get into this business just to be rich. I didn’t do this for the popularity. I am a professional wrestler because I want to be the very best. Not the second best. Not the inferior champion. I want to be THE champion. Be mediocre, Danny. Party until your heart’s content. While you drink the finest vodka whatever club your in has to offer, I will consume the finest beverage of them all- glory.


    Tristan James Galloway deeply inhales. It’s as if he’s taking in future success in the moment. The famous cheshire cat smile he normally wears appears as he tips his hat and leaves the scene.

  12. #12
     
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    Re: 04 May - World Grand Prix DAY 2 Promo Thread

    Discouraged



    The name is Tommy Chapel. Born and raised in Brooklyn, I was a paper boy growing up. I got the news before anyone else every day, and it's something I got used to. My dream was to become a reporter. Been scraping around these locker rooms looking for a story for months now, and I keep getting beat to the punch by other guys around here like Dave Weinstock. Well not today...usually they keep us guys restricted from seeing the fighters this soon after a fight. But well with some creative instrumenting I managed to sneak my way backstack. My camera guy and I are both rocking janitors outfits. We sneak into Ty's locker room...but what I saw I wasn't prepared for.

    Ty looked broken. I mean I saw what happened in his fight against Bell. He was so close to winning. I think he actually thought for a minute he was going to pull off that big upset against Bell Connelly. This is going to be the interview of a lifetime, and I am not going to miss it. I rip off the janitor outfit, and underneath of it is my clean black pinstripe suit.

    Ty doesn't look very please at all, but my job isn't to please Johnson my job is to get a good story.

    "Mr. Johnson, Tommy Chapel here how ya doin?" I say.

    Johnson doesn't look very impressed. The jovial man I saw earlier in the day is rather quite pissed. I don't think he's mad at me though, maybe more himself.

    Ty responds "Yo what the hell yo doin here. YO DAVE? Who let these fools in here man? I aint talking to no media".

    "Dave aint here brother. But c,mon what will it hurt. I just want to ask you a few questions." I say, trying desperately to get some sort of story out of this guy.

    "Yeah? Well I aint interested man. I'm sore, I'm tired, and I want to go home."says Ty.

    I gotta try and think of a way to reel this guy in. "I saw your fight. Maybe you didn't notice it, being in the moment and all, but I think you got boned by the referee there."

    Ty doesn't seem to be biting."Nah man. Aint nobodies fault by my own. In fact, no it aint even my fault. I did the best I could. But I know my ceiling now."

    Hmm, maybe I'm on to something here. "Your ceiling? Tell me about that?"

    "MY CEILING. We all have one man. Dave had his, he told me about it. And obviously mine aint too much higher. This was my chance man. This was my goddamn chance where I could have proven myself to be legit. To beat someone like Bell Connelly. But no. Who was I trying to fool? I aint legit man. I'm just some street punk from the hood who came in here thinking he the shit. Instead I got my ass handed to me. You know I actually thought I had a chance tonight? I actually thought I was going to go in there and beat Bell Connelly. She was a world champion. If I could beat a world champion then I can do it all...but naw. And she had an off night too, and I STILL lost. I put 100% into winning that fight and I STILL FUCKING LOST.

    Why? What is the point anymore. I know my level. I can beat fools like Tommy Thunder sure. But when it comes to legit competition I am nothing. I am a loser. I have my ceiling and it aint getting any higher".


    Wow...this was the story I wanted. I need to keep digging. "Well what about your match with Phillip A. Jackson? I just got word that's your opponent next week. Look man, maybe it isn't over yet. He is just as big of a name as Bell is, if not bigger. He has had a lot of success in this business."

    "There's no point man. I aint feeling it anymore."

    I'm starting to feel for this guy.
    "No! You cannot give up. If you give up right now you already lost next week. You already lost."

    "I already lost a long time ago. Before I even started."

    "No that's bullshit. That is bullshit and you know it."

    "Look man...I had a long day. I got stuck in an elevator, I got my ass kicked, and now I'm stuck here with you. Please, just get outta my face".

    "No. Not until you get over yourself and FIGHT".

    I struck a chord now. Ty is pissed. He jumps up and pushes me to the ground.

    "YOU WANT ME TO FIGHT? HUH? Is this what you want? Huh??? Fine. You got me. Fine! You think that PAJ fool really got something on me? Man drag that piece of cracka trash out to Paterson and I will whoop that son of a bitch any day of the week. I will drag him out by his stupid looking trunks down the street of my neighborhood with all the homies cheering me on. I will spit in his face, bash in his nose, and make him bite the fucking curb before I stomp his ugly face into the goddamn concrete. That is what I can do. I know what I can do.

    Take away the ropes, take away the ring. Take away the fans and take away the referee. You put me and anyone on this roster in the street one on one and there aint nobody who can beat me. Not Bell Connelly, not Jackson, not Chris Kennedy, not even Broc freaking Lobster.

    THAT IS WHO I AM. I AM A FIGHTER. I grew up like this. I was fighting for my life while these fools were out here hitting a boxing bag. Wolf was punching his trainer while my uncle was punching me for not getting him his cigs fast enough.

    That's the damn life I lived and aint no one got nothing on it.

    I earned this. I am stronger than anyone. And I am not going to let one loss get me down. Hell if getting my ass beat was all it took to keep me down I would have been finished way before I ever got to this business.

    PAJ is going down. I AM TY JOHNSON. I AM TY JOHNSON. I AINT GOT NO CEILING."

    ...Wow. I think I have my story.




  13. #13
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    Re: 04 May - World Grand Prix DAY 2 Promo Thread











    Somewhere in the middle of pacific ocean, several miles off the coast of central California. It's quiet, almost calming, as the water sways from left to right. The sun shines brightly over the seemingly endless sea and the sky is a never-ending canvas of baby blue. Suddenly, a seal pup emerges from the water, a desperate panic befalls upon his face. Terror in his beady little brown eyes, he lets out a nervous whimper as he paddles as fast as he can. Faster and faster, flippers working overtime. He's far from the other seals, having wandered off far enough until he found himself in unfamiliar waters. The pup once more lets out a nervous whimper as a Great White shark fin emerges from the water about 30 feet back. In the distance is a rock bed, about 45 feet long. If the seal pup could make it, he'll be just fine. But it's a long shot.

    The seal ducks back under the water, hoping to pick up some speed and evade the beast on his tail. The shark fin disappears in the water as well. The seal cuts through the water with an impressive acceleration, but the shark is faster. Mere feet away from the rocks, the seal emerges once more and makes a valiant leap, but he was never going to make it. Half a second after he leaps, the shark jumps from the water beneath him, gaining serious altitude while catching the seal pup in his jaws. The shark and the seal disappear once more into the ocean, and a red circle of blood emerges in their place. The ocean is now quiet once more.

    Half a mile away, removed from the chaos that has just transpired, we see Chris Kennedy's bare ass as he urinates off the side of his Maritimo M50 Yacht. As the camera pans out, his upper body comes into frame. His piss hits the ocean water and creates a sound reminiscent of light stream or a small waterfall.

    The yacht gently rocks among the waves. It's beautiful boat, ivory white with gold trim. Chris Kennedy pulls his shorts up and heads towards the bar, wearing white boat shorts and an unbuttoned baby-blue shirt. His hair is in a man-bun and his aviator sunglasses protect his eyes from the sun as he mixes mint leaves, lime juice, ice and rum into a glass, making himself his third mojito. He looks at towards the camera as his shakes the drink up.

    "The ocean is the most beautiful sight I've ever laid my eyes on. Sometimes I catch myself staring at it and I forget my place in the world. It seems big enough to contain everything anyone could ever feel. It feels endless, though we know nothing in this world is truly without end."

    Chris Kennedy pulls what appears to be a marijuana joint from his ear. Could be a rolled cigarette as far as our sponsors are concerned, but that's irrelevant. He lights the spliff and lets it sit between his lips as he lovingly watches the sea, his drink in hand.

    "I like to come out here to the deep pacific every time the FWA comes out to the west coast. It's a great place to come out here and get lost in my own head, collect my best thoughts and I'll tell you what, I've been doing a lot of thinking. Been thinking about labels, and what it means to be a hero, as I've been called in the past. Last week I called myself "The hero you deserve" and I didn't really give too much thought to what it meant, it just sounded cool. Then I beat Jason Randall last week in the ring, beat 'em clean too. My so-called "fans" that once cheered me and called me their hero, you all began to boo me, just like you did the week before when I knocked Cyrus Truth from his high horse. That's when it occurred to me. I'm not the hero you people deserve, because A) You people most certainly deserve an American treasure such as myself and B) I'm nobodies hero. I never asked for the label, you people branded it upon me after your precious Matt Boudreau kicked the bucket and you needed someone to believe in, someone to make you feel good about your meager, pathetic lives. You can't walk your own paths so you appoint leaders, you can't deal with your mortality so you worship made-up gods, you can't cope with your existence being so mundane and unnecessary that you latch on to men like ME and leech off of our glory, investing in it as if you own a part of it. You don't. You people feel betrayed, as if I owed you something. You people are as delusional as my would-be opponent, Mike Parr"

    Kennedy coughs a bit as he exhales a large plume of smoke from his mouth so big, you'd think Eyensane and Killemall would appear from it, ala Over The Edge. He ashes his spliff into the water and the ash dissolves upon impact.

    "Last week, Mike Parr said "I will not be remembered as the former North American Champion. I will not be remembered as the man who nearly beat Cyrus. I am the man who is going to do whatever the hell is takes to get the job done. No lies. No dishonesty. No deceit. No deception.” The question I have for Mike Parr is, how is he going to say he intends to do whatever it takes to succeed, then immediately begins setting limitations on what he would do to succeed? For all of Mike Parr's promises and threats, all he's managed to prove is truly how empty his words are. However, he is right in that no one will EVER remember him as the man who nearly beat Cyrus Truth, because that means absolutely nothing to anyone other than Mike Parr and he's the only one still talking about it. He is right to say that no one will ever remember him as the North American Champion because he is just another name on a long list of North American champions, better men than him that went on to achieve greater things. He is right to say that he will not be remembered. He should have ended it right there. Years from now, in the grand scheme of things, no one will ever remember who Mike Parr is, and it's all in thanks to himself. Dull. Bland. Boring. No seasoning, no sauce. I promised myself a long, long time ago that I would never suffer from "Stu St.Clair Syndrome" where week in and week out, every promo I cut is the exact same promo. Mike Parr, however, has no problem giving you the same tried and true. Mike Parr is still cutting the exact same promo he's been cutting since 2015, talking a lot but saying nothing whatsoever. Where has it gotten him? 1 midcard title run and the claim that he almost beat this guy and he almost beat that guy, as if this is some sort of bragging right we are all to stand at attention for. Pathetic. "I know what's best for me" he said in that same promo. I have to wonder how true that is, to be completely honest, because I believe Mike Parr is struggling with delusions of grandeur, a false impression of his own ability. He said that people expect him to blow through the Group B of the Grand Prix and then blow through the entire roster. That is truly adorable when you consider who is currently standing in his way. Nobody expects Mike Parr to win this thing. Even the people who run this show, the same ones that sang his praises years ago, they are the ones who have since washed their hands of him after he has failed to live up to their expectations. They know good and damn well that I'm the clear cut favorite to win this entire thing. ME, The Astonishing Chris Kennedy. I'm the one who has proven, time and time again, that I can come through and deliver when everything is on the line. Mike Parr is a sad excuse for a man that's still promising to prove himself, because 4 or 5 years ago he was a big fish in a little pond known as LOW and when he came to the Fantasy Wrestling Alliance, the big fish made a big splash on reputation alone. But the Fantasy Wrestling Alliance is an ocean, vast and deep. There are all sorts of big fish, and the biggest ones are nothing more than just food for the sharks like me. He's just chum in the water, y'see. Just like Jason Randall before him, and Cyrus Truth in the end, they are all just shark bait. Mike Parr will likely bring up the time he defeated me for the North American championship, and I wouldn't blame him because quit frankly it was the highlight of his career. The highlight of his career is footnote in my history that no one ever talks about, no one except for Mike Parr, just like no on but Mike Parr talks about the time he *almost* defeated Cyrus Truth. Thing is, Mike Parr only defeated me that night, so long ago, because I allowed him to. The North American Championship was beneath me, and Mike Parr was beneath me, and therefore I only gave 20%. Mentally, I was a no show. But the FWA Championship? The Back in Business Main Event? Yeah, that's something worth fighting for. Mike Parr is going to get me at 100% and that night that I phoned it in and ate an L will be a distant memory, one that Mike Parr will recall to when he's seeking consolation, consolation for the crushing defeat he will face at my hands, pathetic piss ant that he is."

    Chris Kennedy finishes his mojito with one last gulp before heading back to the bar to mix himself another.

    "Mike Parr already fancies himself a main-eventer despite not really achieving too much in his 3 years. I would like to see things from Mike Parr's point of view but I have a bit of trouble getting my head that far up my own ass. See, when I was 3 years into my career I had won two world championships, carnal contendership, golden opportunities, you name it. Where Mike Parr is, I was already a triple-crown champion and a guaranteed hall-of-famer. I'm not making light of Mike Parr's impressive North American championship run but lets be honest, he kept himself in the North American championship scene because that's where he was comfortable, he knew it was another small pond for him to flourish in and he knew he'd never hack it in the main event scene. He fought tooth and nail to stay in the midcard because he was afraid of what was waiting for him. Mike Parr is just a less annoying yet much less charismatic version of Drew Stevenson. He'll never reach the heights established by his hype because he doesn't truly want to. When Mike Parr lost the North American championship to Wolf, it was a splash of cold water to his face. 'oh shit' he thought. 'Now I have to step it up'. That night at Mile High, he lost his championship to Wolf and I defeated a future hall-of-famer in Ryan Rondo. Since that night, my career has been on an upswing while Mike Parr continues to slip further and further in mediocrity, becoming less relevant every day. That's why Mike Parr won't defeat me in this tournament. As good as he says he is, as good as he thinks he is, he doesn't want this as much as I do and that's one of the many, many reasons that equates to him simply not being as good as I am. There is something I say from time to time that bothers everyone. I know it chaps Ryan Rondos ass to hear it, I know Ashley O'Ryan cringes when he's hit with the hard truth behind it, and Cyrus Truth is still trying to reconcile with this fact: Chris Kennedy is the greatest professional wrestler of all time. There is not a more decorated wrestler in the history of the Fantasy Wrestling Alliances. This is not an opinion, this is a goddamn fact, backed up by title histories and record books. Mike Parr can't compete with that. Mike Parr can huff and puff but I think he's proven that his words are as empty as can be. There is a big difference between dominating a lifeless midcard and breaking through the glass ceiling to walk with the elite. Mike Parr will never understand true glory because he wasn't made for it. He is a lesser man of lesser caliber. I truly believe that hell is wall-papered with the transcripts of bad Mike Parr promos, and even though hell goes on forever and ever and ever, you won't see the same promo twice. Many won't appreciate me shitting on Mike Parr or even the North American championship, but anyone with half a brain will appreciate me for calling it how I see it."

    Kennedy takes another drag of his spliff as he walks towards the Jacuzzi. He slides his unbuttoned shirt off of his back and then dips his feet in, testing the water temperature. He sits down in the jacuzzi, keeping his beverage elevated a bit as to not get chlorine in it.

    "Mike Parr is nothing more than the next rung on the ladder for me to climb. Cyrus Truth is and always has been the end-game. I know that Cyrus is over there sweating himself to the point of dehydration thinking about the fact that I've already advanced and will continue to advance in this tournament. Cyrus Truth has never faced anyone like me, and I know that scares him, because I see him for what he truly is; an impotent little bitch who hid away in CWA until the coast was clear and Kennedy was away. I know I said some pretty nice things about the guy last week when I was still pandering to the fans, but I'm done with that bullshit and I'm going to keep it real. I'll tell you exactly how this is going to go down. Each week, I'm going to continue to advance in this tournament, bringing myself closer and closer to the FWA championship, and each week Cyrus Truth's spine is going to slouch a little bit lower, his words will have a little less gravitas, and the fabricated exterior of an honorable warrior will begin to crack and we will all be exposed to the facade that Cyrus Truth has perpetuated. No man will stand in my way of achieving my goal. I am going to the win the FWA Championship, I'm going to main event Back in Business and I'm going to claw my way to victory by ANY MEANS NECCESARY. Mike Parr may not be willing to lie, cheat and steal like he stated last week, but believe me when I say that I have no problem getting my hands dirty. I say that I'm the greatest of all time because I believe it, and if someone was to ever have me questioning that, I'll do anything in my power to prove to them and myself that they are wrong and I am truly untouchable. Cyrus Truth has never faced me, and Mike Parr has never faced this version of me. After I decimate Mike Parr, I want Cyrus Truth to pay attention, though I already know that he will. I want Cyrus Truth to marvel at how effortlessly I put Mike Parr away, and I want him to come face to face with the reality in front of him. I'm his reality, and at the same time, his worst nightmare."

    Chris Kennedy flicks the spent spliff somewhere over the rail and into the ocean as he stands up from the hot tub. He takes one last swig of his beverage before walking to the edge of the boat, leaning over on crossed elbows.

    "Back in Business is so close I can taste it. I look at the competition in this tournament and my heart is filled with joy, because I feel as if FWA management have given me this thing gift-wrapped. You have turds like Wolf, Phillip A. Jackson and Eyensane, and I wonder how many times I have to flush the toilet before they finally go away. 13 losses to Chris Kennedy among the 3 of them. Jobber-class nobodies like Hanz Gruber, Tristan Galloway, Deception, Tommy Thunder and Ty Johnson, hopeless losers who won't even be on the roster this time next year. This whole thing would be embarrassing if I was actually concerned with putting on a great series of matches, but to be 100% I don't care about that shit, I care about winning, and the way this tournament is shaping up, I'll be doing a lot of winning. I promise you this, I won't stop. Many people don't know this about sharks, but they have to keep moving or else they die. I'm going to keep pushing forward, capitalizing on the momentum I've been building up because I can't afford to stop for one single moment, not until I've become the first ever FIVE TIME FWA Champion. Nothing will stand in my way and I'm going to do whatever the hell it takes. You people may not like me for that, but I don't need you too. The FWA Championship around my waist is all I need. My time is NOW, and I'm not backing down. Many people have a problem with that, but not a single one has the ability to do anything about it. As far as I see it, I have a date with Cyrus Truth. I'm already looking past Mike Parr, because Mike Parr is human dogshit. I'm not the hero you people deserve, I'm your GOD and you will all treat me as such. After the smoke clears and the dust settles, Mike Parr will join Jason Randall at the bottom of the rankings while my hand is raised one-two-three. Chris Kennedy wins. If you people haven't gotten used to hearing those three words by now, you better reconcile that quickly."

    Off in the distance, the same shark fin from earlier emerges from the water, near the front of Kennedy's boat. Chris Kennedy watches on with pure admiration as the magnificent beast graces our screen with a brief appearance. As it disappears into the ocean one final time, the screen fades to black.



  14. #14
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    Re: 04 May - World Grand Prix DAY 2 Promo Thread




    ==============
    Just as we have two eyes and two feet, duality is part of life. - Carlos Santana
    ==============


    We open from black to the scene of a pair of hands extinguishing a candle except it’s played in reverse, reigniting the flame. We slowly fade into more shots of burning candles. Light sitar music begins to play. The camera gets a low sweeping shot of the fiery pillars and in the background, out of focus we see a figure. He is sat upon a small pedestal, barely higher than the candles. A large black cloth is underneath him. The figure is sitting cross legged with his hands near his sternum. The large, cloke-like fabric on his body covers his face. The man pulls back the hood on his head revealing the “Interstellar Shaman” Starr. This doesn’t look like the usual place we would find him. Starr’s intense stare of malice and hate looks deep into the eye of the camera. The camera turns 180 degrees and on the other side is… another Starr??

    Indeed, except this one is dressed in all white. His expression shows no sign of ill-intent. His demeanor is soft and angelic. What in the world is going on here? Two Starrs? A baffling site indeed. The Starr in black speaks, quietly, yet intently to the man opposite of him

    Starr: “The duality of life. The Yin and the yang of every single human experience. Everything contains it. There are two opposite yet complementary energies. What does it all mean? Although they are totally different… opposite… they are interdependent. One cannot exist without the other and they could never be separated. Both create a totality, a complete whole.”

    “This inseparable relationship is reflected in the form of what I do in that ring. The small ticks, the sudden reactions. I remain focused, I remain calm. I maintain the proper balance needed to win in this tournament. No matter where you bisect the diameter of the whole circle, each half will always contain some Yin and some Yang.”

    The Starr in white smiles warmly, combating the fierceness of his opposite. His body language is more open as he talks much more with his hands. The smile on his face garners no reaction from the Starr in black.

    Starr: “Nothing is absolute with this relationship. The designation of something as light or dark is always relative to some other thing.”

    Starr: “I am unique. My enlightened state, my gravity defying acts. Since I have tapped into this… this entity, I have been undefeated. My light side maintains my fun loving and happy experiences. And thanks to the dark and intense nature, I exorcised the demon known as WOLF that has been on my back for a very long time.”

    A cocky gesture from the Starr in black is shown. An odd site for the otherwise unemotional being. He stares quizzically at his opposite.

    Starr: “It takes going to a dark place to rid yourself of what holds you back most. You bring up many good points. Tommy Thunder has already been defeated in this tournament. He sits at 0 points. Imagine what I could do now that I have this wave of momentum after defeating WOLF. What I could do now that I have become the Interstellar Shaman. What I could do knowing Tommy Thunder can’t measure up to me. What say you?

    The Starr in White thinks the question over. He smirks and politely responds.

    Starr: “I think the ego of Mr. Thunder, convinces him of invalid truths. A division one athlete? Surely, he jests us. Sure, I fell before his ReStarrt, but I came back stronger than ever the next time. Now that we have the WOLF under our feet, we can easily dispose of Mr. Thunder and run through him.”

    The Starr in black smirks. That action sounds rather alluring to him.

    Starr: "You’re starting to sound like my side of this relationship."

    The Starr in white chuckles. He smirks back to his opposite force.

    Starr: “That’s our nature.”

    The Starr in black thinks the situation over for a minute. He responds.

    Starr: “Mr. Thunder is nothing more than a glorified has been that keeps getting opportunity after opportunity. For some odd reason, Mr. O’Ryan must enjoy seeing him suffer. The man is a do- nothing, a waste of dust and earth. He may have beaten Ty Johnson, but, quite frankly, what else has he done of note? Nothing! I’m half convinced to go into Thunder’s locker room and shove my fist down his throat! Any chance we can get to get an upper hand we must take it!”

    The Starr in white once again calms the savage beast. He blows out the candles at his feet. The beast slowly returns to its human form. He reignites the many candles with a simple, sweeping motion of his hands. He sits back down.

    Starr: "We must maintain a balance of ourselves. Letting your true reckless nature out is too dramatic of a shift for the psyche. If the balance was altered, we'd surely lose. I am the one who keeps his rage, you, at bay. You make him more serious drowning out what makes him happy. We are the Yin and Yang inside of him. This balance can not be shifted. We must keep him and his opposition in line."

    After a few deep breaths, the Starr in black calmly responds.

    Starr: "Understood. You lay out our plans, I attack. How else could we achieve what our goal was all along? The FWA World Championship..."

    The two smile. They each rise out of their seats.

    Starr: "Yes. WOLF might have been the devil on our back for a long time, but he’s only been a pup compared to the big picture. With the championship gold around our waist we would be the real example of the truth… the way… For far too long, people looked down on me. I was dejected, exiled, and now look at me, I’m one of the most popular stars on the FWA roster! That’s what happened when Ian finally balanced us out. With the FWA championship, we wouldn’t be separated anymore, we’d just be the Golden Shaman of this Galaxy."

    They advance towards each other.

    Starr: "Your idea is enticing. The forces of light and dark flow through this body. But ultimately, we could never be separated. A piece of me resides in you..."

    The two meet in the middle of this… dark, derelict sanctuary.

    Starr: "And a piece of me resides in you..."

    "The duality of life… resides in everything."

    "Namaste, the light in me sees the light in you."

    The two Starrs grab hands. A flash of light blinds the viewer. A crash of thunder. The light slowly fades and we see one, singular Starr standing in the room. The candles have all been blown out. One spotlight is beaming down on the figure present.

    Starr: "I’m winning that gold, Tommy. I'm passing through you once again. On the grandest stage of them all... Tommy Thunder… The Division One Athlete… We’re both young, talented, our egos are through the roof, but when our cocky and brash attitudes collided, my career was never the same again. One in a Million vs Division One has been a rivalry for the ages. We are each one and one. At Fight Night, I finally put this to rest. Tommy, it’s been my dream for so long to be THE GUY around here. I’ve come so close after being so far. I'm going to beat Tommy Thunder, I'm going to beat Manson, and I will achieve what I've desired for so long, but more importantly I achieve enlightenment. I show the entire world what my true power is."
    𝖍𝖚𝖗𝖙 // 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖑



    x x x x x x x x x

  15. #15
    Hail To The King
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    Re: 04 May - World Grand Prix DAY 2 Promo Thread

    So I know I'm late I am sorry I forgot about this I am gonna write a promo here just because I respect Jimmy King and all of you too much to no show it.


    Coming to Grips

    Deception looks out a window a beer in one hand a pack of cigs in the other his clothes dirty he looks out watching the night sky. He is in an old building in the city and the only reason he even moves is because he sees a siren police lights go off . A officer pulls up behind him and tells him not to move.

    Officer: You know your not suppose to be here right?

    Deception: There is something about this place something calming about it. I was just off walking and this place it just spoke to me as if I was here before.

    Officer: Look, you aren't suppose to be here please will you just leave before I have to go and book you?

    Deception: Alright, I will but, let me ask you something. Have you ever lost something? I mean really lot something, I feel like I have I feel like no matter what I do no matter what I say I just seem to be walking and going nowhere. I make all these threats all these promises and all they do is fall short.

    Officer: Well maybe, you are in need of faith it seems like you lost it.

    Deception: Faith, you mean go to church go to the father ask forgiveness because faith makes everything better. Don't tell me you are one those guys who thinks that faith is always the answer that the big man above is going to save you and such.

    Officer: You ever think that maybe if you had this faith the faith that you mocked that maybe your life your faith or fate or whatever you wanna call it would change you ever think that maybe darkness is not the answer. Look even in the darkest of nights light will always come.

    Deception: Darkness is infinite. See in darkness you find yourself you really find yourself, I have been trying to follow this road on the grey path trying to mask the very idea you even said before. I played the hero, I played the villain but see that was where I went wrong that is where my deception came to light. See because even when you are on the right side of the light of justice darkness still comes in and it is a cancer it eats away at your soul until nothing is left until you are left broken bruised on your knees begging for your faith to save you and in the end it doesn't come but the darkness does. I must thank you because I know what I must do now. No promises no threats no words but just actions.

    Deception walks off looking deep into the eyes of the officer. He exits walking off into the night . A few days later Deceptions sits on the arena rafters holding a video camera as he begins to speak. The record light blinks as he speaks.


    Deception: There is a man they call Jason Randall and you and I aren't so different and I admit the very first time I tried to face you I was obsessed with saving Penny so my focus was not on you but was on her and that was my mistake. I am a man of principal and I can admit when I make a wrong and I can admit I took you lightly. That is something I have to live with that is the devil on my back and the thought that weighs heavy on my mind but do you know that sometimes we must fail over and over to get to where we need to be. Some people call that insanity I call that Deception some may even call it faith.

    Deception: In the end, whatever you want to call it you got to get it right. Jason you and I are there and it is time to admit that we are more the same then we are different so when you look across me in that ring it will be as if you are staring across into a mirror and you will have to go and find faith behind the close fist as it drives across your face leaving the ring looking like a bloody war where one man enters and one man leaves broken battered and bruised yet again. So can you come to grips with that.

    Deception pushes the record button off as the screen goes black.




    Spoiler:


    CWA World Heavyweight Champion
    Brayden Bridges




  16. #16
    Huggin' and Kissin'
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    Re: 04 May - World Grand Prix DAY 2 Promo Thread

    Beep beep beep beep. Beep beep beep beep. The shrill, horrible, high-pitched sound emits from the pitch black that is the picture we are presented with. A small, solitary light flashes in the darkness. Beep beep beep beep. Beep beep beep beep. A hand comes crashing down as the sound grows louder - the screech of the alarm stops and seconds later we have light. Sitting upright in a bed is Danny Toner. Danny is unshaven and is wearing a tight grey tank top which hugs his muscular physique. He swings his legs out of bed and plants his feet on the floor before walking to his ensuite bathroom, no clear thoughts forming in his head as he allows himself a moment to wake up. He enters the bathroom and shudders slightly as his bare feet touch the cold tile floors. He turns on the blue tap and lets the water run momentarily before splashing handfuls against his face, waking himself up and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He looks at himself in the mirror and focuses on his eyes. They look good. They aren’t dilated, bloodshot and other than the light bruising under the left eye (courtesy of FWA World Champion Cyrus Truth) Danny thought he looked fresh. He started at his reflection for a moment before speaking aloud, never diverting his gaze from himself.


    Danny Toner: No messing, no press, no screwing up.


    Danny had repeated that phrase every morning in the mirror since his defeat in the main event of Fight Night against Cyrus two weeks previous. He’d put up a fight, sure, a small condolence but basically one day into the World Grand Prix and barring a minor miracle, Danny was as good as eliminated. It was the story of Toner’s career and it’s not as if anyone had expected anything more. Well, Danny himself had expected more - a lot more. Despite being fairly well polished, there were chinks in the champions game and despite battling hard, Danny didn’t turn in his best performance. Danny was firmly off the belief that if he could expose the couple of flaws in Truth’s game and couple it with him bringing his A-Game then he could pin the world champion. He genuinely believed that. Instead, he got pinned 1-2-3 in the middle of the ring. Cyrus had paid his respect publicly post match, crediting Danny, he said that he “showed up”. Danny scoffed and smiled at himself in the mirror. Cyrus Truth got first gear Danny Toner and if that worried him, then Danny knew deep down he had the beating of the champ. “He COULD have done it” oh how often that had been around by various media sources since the match. He’d been asked for comments numerous times since but frankly? Danny didn’t give a fuck about what people thought anymore. There had been nothing but silence from his camp. No messing, no press, no screwing up. Danny was done letting HIMSELF down and that was the mantra he adopted in the weeks since the defeat. Danny was laser focused on giving himself every opportunity possible to get back in the ring with Truth - he may not win the World Grand Prix but he sure as hell was going to do everything he could to impress and keep his name in the mouths of the powers that be. Danny was training his arse off and the there were three letters etched into the very forefront of his mind. Three letters that engulfed his thoughts and invaded his dreams regularly. Three letters he knew fuck all about and three letters that were somehow the only things that meant something to him right now; T ... J ... G. Danny hadn’t spoken to the media in two weeks and he knew by the letter of his FWA contract that he would be obliged to speak prior to his bout with Tristan James Galloway. And boy, oh boy, had Danny got a lot to say. Danny had been practicing, Danny had been thinking and a prepared, ready Danny Toner was the most dangerous entity in the FWA. Danny looks away from the mirror momentarily and then whips his head back holding a hairbrush to his mouth. He talks in a high-pitched voice sounding very slightly to the strained ear like Katie-Lynn Goldsmith.


    ‘Katie-Lynn Goldsmith’: Mr Toner, Mr Toner! We haven’t heard from you since your crushing defeat to World Champion Cyrus Truth in your return match in the main event of Fight Night a few weeks ago! How did it feel being in the ring with the champion and how are you recuperating from your devastating loss?


    Danny switches to his usual New York brogue.


    Danny Toner: I’m going to answer the second part of that question first Katie; usually after I lose or screw up or make a bad decision I say ‘fuck it’. I go and find the nearest dive bar, open up a tab for the night, drink bottle after bottle and rack up lines of cocaine in a filthy bathroom stall - don’t give me that look Goldsmith, you were at the Christmas party! But after Truth drove my head into the mat and pinned me clean in the middle of that ring I didn’t say ‘fuck it’, no, you know what I said darling?


    ‘Katie-Lynn Goldsmith’: No? What did you say Danny?


    Danny Toner: I looked in the mirror, I got up real close ...


    Danny mimics what he’s saying, getting up close and personal in the mirror.


    Danny Toner: And I said ... ‘fuck YOU!’. I said fuck you Danny Toner. I’ve let people down God knows how many times before but for the first time in my life, I really really let myself down. Truth was my chance to show everyone what I could really do and I made a mess of-


    ‘Katie-Lynn Goldsmith’: I thought you put up a good fight ...


    Danny Toner: Spare me the FWA propaganda. I was shit. I was nowhere near the level you need to be at to beat Truth. I battled hard? Sure I freaking battled hard - it’s Cyrus freaking Truth! If you don’t battle like your life depends on it you ain’t leaving that ring with your life. I didn’t fight Cyrus Truth, I SURVIVED Cyrus Truth and that’s the most embarrassing thing I’ve ever said. I’m Danny fucking Toner, I don’t survive people, I knock their freaking teeth in! As far as recuperating goes? I’ve been training my damn ass off for the last couple of weeks. I vowed to myself that I’d get Truth again, whether he be the champion or not, and that when I got Truth the second time, the result would be different. I promised myself that I would not lose one more match until I got to meet him again, not one. Unfortunately, it has to start somewhere and unfortunately for him, it’s starting with that pile of Polynesian piss, Tristan James Galloway.


    Danny does an audible gasp in the mirror.


    ‘Katie-Lynn Goldsmith’: Pile of...? Danny! That’s the X-Division Champion!


    Danny Toner: And I personally cannot think of a better person to begin my journey of redemption against. I’ll give my dues to the kid, he’s one of the hottest commodities in the freaking business right now; he’s one of the youngest guys in the business, he’s already fought the likes of Wolf on pay per view and hell if he wants something to hold over me then it’s real simple - it’s around his waist. He’s the freaking X Champion and I can give him nothing but props for that, nothing but respect and you know why? Cause being a champ ain’t easy, it ain’t freakin’ easy. Look at me! I ain’t ever been a champ by myself, not freaking once in what? Four years? I think this kid was here four months and he had gold. It’s impressive and that alone, on paper, makes Tristan James Galloway better than me. I’m sure he’s thinking the same thing but listen here Tristy-pie, here’s the thing - you don’t freakin’ fight Danny Toner on paper. Oh no, you fight Danny Toner on canvas, and in the confines of that squared circle? Every single thing you think you know about how this shit works ... goes right out the freaking window. You think you’ve had some tests? Ask any freaking body in the back; if you wanna check yourself, if you wanna show the world that your tough, if you wanna show your freaking self that you aren’t some over-hyped, ‘double-champ’ gimmick then you step through those ropes and you come and dance with Danny fucking Toner. You take off the mitts and you wrestle, NO YOU FIGHT, Danny Toner. You’re acting cool as a cucumber after your big win against Hans Gruber, momentum’s in your favor, you’ll roll through Danny Toner and go on to face Cyrus in the final match of the World Grand Prix group of death to see who goes on to the semi-finals. You’ll brush by me and take one step closer to main eventing Back in Business.


    Danny shakes his head in the mirror and raises his two fists.


    Danny Toner: Well unfortunately for you, Tristan, these two sons of bitches got something to say about that. You’re in the pampered generation buddy, you came into the FWA at the right time and you’ve been afforded opportunities I wouldn’t get a year after I started. Freakin’ funny to say but I’m practically one of the old guard now and that in itself means something. You’re a starry eyed blue chipper who still ain’t figured out that the tough bit is only just beginning. When you a champion? You a target. When you in Danny Toner’s group? You a target. When you across the ring from me? You damn well better believe you’re a freaking target.


    Danny laughs in the mirror before looking dead set at himself.


    Danny Toner: You like poetry Tee Jay? Let’s be poetic for a second here buddy. Why don’t you raise that X championship up from your waist and wear it across the big freaking jaw of yours cause I’m sure you’ve heard the old saying ‘X marks the spot’ and I got a right hand and a loaded fucking knee just ready to smash your pretty Polynesian jaw into pieces and send all six and a half foot of your fake ass back down to fucking reality. I’m sorry for you bud, I really freaking am but hey, at least you get the distinct pleasure of being number one. That won’t ever be forgotten when they document my comeback to the top. You’re in for it now kid, buckle up ...


    Danny smiles one last time.

    Danny Toner: Welcome to Danny fucking Toner country.
    Last edited by Tig; 05-08-2018 at 03:00 AM.

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