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Thread: Fight Night 06/14/19 PROMO THREAD

  1. #1
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    Fight Night 06/14/19 PROMO THREAD

    Post promos here. Promo deadline is Thursday, June 13 at midnight Pacific time, which is 3 a.m. Friday, June 14 in eastern time and 8 a.m. Friday, June 14 in British standard time.

    Extensions are available upon request up to 24 hours prior to deadline, meaning Wednesday, June 12 at midnight Pacific time. Any extension request granted automatically issues an extension to that person's opponent(s) and partners, if applicable.


    "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


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    Re: Fight Night 06/14/19 PROMO THREAD

    The scene opens up with a shot of a figure sitting at a bar with their back facing the camera. This figure is the only one at the bar while everyone else is on the floor waiting as some band is about to perform, and the moment they arrive on stage the crowd goes wild and soon enough they play one of their hits to open the show. Meanwhile, the figure at the bar slowly raises their head up and slowly turns their head around to reveal the lone figure is none other than “The Wildcard” Jason Randall. The man that went through hell and back in a war with Dave Sullivan, only to come up short in the end. He wears his battle scars with pride as he turns himself all the way around in his seat and watches as the band performs. He then takes one last swig of his presumably alcoholic beverage and places money on the bar before leaving. The camera follows him as he walks through the crowd of people, not even paying him any mind as he pushes his way through them before reaching the exit and steps outside into an alley. He retrieves a pack of smokes and lighter from his jacket, lights up and then takes a long drag from it before exhaling smoke into the night air.

    “When you screw up; dust yourself off and try again. Another thing my father used to tell me when I would inevitably screw something up. I stand here right now not the X-Division Champion, no I did not earn that honor on that night at the University of Florida. Dave Sullivan, the self proclaimed King did what he promised to do and that was to defeat me and that he did. He was in fact, the better man on that very night, but let me promise you this Dave; when the time comes and you can bet that it’ll come sooner than later and we meet in that squared circle the result will not be the same. I will beat you; you can bet your ass on that.”

    He takes another drag from his cigarette and exhales; he then looks out at the night sky while the band can be faintly heard from inside the building that he now leans against outside.

    “I’m not here to reminisce on failed attempts, no that is not why I am here at this moment. I’m heeding the advice of my father; I’ve dusted myself off and I’m going to try again, only this time it will be against a man that fancies himself as some sort of rockstar. This man I’m referring to is “Rockstar” Randy Ramon. A man that has once again come back to the FWA, looking for that chance to prove himself once more. A man that has had massive amounts of success during his time with the FWA, and now he’s looking to continue that success.”

    Another drag from that cig.

    “Credit where is due; Randy is one hell of a performer whether it be in that ring or on stage as a rockstar. I respect the man for all that he has done, but once we stand across from each other in that squared circle and the bell goes “ding ding ding”, well then all of that respect means squat. I sure as hell hope that you feel the exact same way because I want the very best from you Randy; I don’t want whatever that was last week against Dominick Armistead. That’s not the Randy Ramon that I or everyone else is familiar with, that was a completely different person. I want the Randy Ramon that’s willing to do what it takes to win; that will threaten to knock my head off my shoulders with “The Remix” superkick!”

    He finishes off his cig and removes himself from against the wall, and starts walking down the alley.

    “Do you have that in you Randy? Do you have what it takes anymore? Can you still hang? No disrespect to you but from what I saw last week it doesn’t look like it. What I saw was a man that’s a broken down, shell of his former self. Too many years wasted away trying to avenge some sort of grudge against Danny Toner, and I get that I’ve tumbled with the man myself and I asked for his very best, yet I didn’t get it. He dropped the ball just like Danny Toner always does when given an opportunity. Don’t make that same mistake Randy, don’t be like him. Be better than that! Don’t walk away from this after a couple of losses like Toner does. I’ve lost more than my fair share of matches but you never once saw me walk away from this business, you know why? Because I love this sport more than anything! This is my life! I never once thought about giving, even when the going got tough and boy it sure as hell got tough I trudged along and stayed with it! I ain’t no quitter and I sure as hell hope you aren’t either Randy!”

    He reaches the end of the alley and stands outside the bar and listens as the rock band plays.

    “Where am I going with this? Honestly I haven’t a clue at this point, I’m just gonna keep rambling like a mad man until I lose my voice or until someone calls the cops on some lunatic wandering the streets yelling randomly at some camera. I digress though, I’m here to talk about you Randy. You see what you’ve done Randy, you’ve made me lose my mind and lose my train of thought and that doesn’t bode well for you. What does that even mean? I don’t fucking know but what I do know is that when we meet in Tallahassee at Florida State University is that I will beat the holy hell out of you like only I can but not before you beat the holy hell out of me because it’s only fair. You’re going to need to do a hell of a lot more than go to the wrong fucking funeral if you want to beat me…”

    People start piling out of the bar after the band finishes up and don’t even pay any mind to this mad man spouting off nonsense.

    “The only funeral there will be is yours after I’m through with you, and what the hell? While we’re at we should throw one for your career as well because once I’m finished with you it’ll be over. Honestly, it’s probably been over even before you came back. It’s been dead since you pissed it all away or should I say drank it away? Don’t worry though Randy, after this is all over you can go back to living your rockstar life and drown your sorrows into a bottle just like you’ve always done. For your sake though I just hope I don’t wake up the next day to the news that professional wrestler Randy Ramon has been found dead in a ditch due to alcohol poisoning because I actually like you Randy, it may not seem like it now but I do. I’m just saying all of this to wake you up and hope you don’t screw the pooch.”

    He takes a breath, retrieves a flask from his jacket and takes a swig.

    “Ironic, right? I talk about you and your alcohol problems but here I am drinking my sorrows away. Hypocritical of me? Sure. Do I care? Not really. Am I an awful person? Yes. It’s just who I am. I’ve embraced it just like you should embrace the fact that you will not beat me. Just accept it, then it won’t hurt as much. Don’t your pride blind you, pride only hurts. When it’s all over though Randy, dust yourself and try again…”

    With that he throws a hood over his head and walks off into the night as the scene fades out.


    Rest in power, Flock U
    Rest in power, TCON

    Team Cyrus T is Best for Business

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

  3. #3
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    Re: Fight Night 06/14/19 PROMO THREAD

    Intervention….





    Eyesnsane is walking down a hallway, the carpet is a dark blue color and the walls on either side of him are an off white color. His head is looking down toward the ground a bit and the scene is quiet. He has a look on his face as if he is deep in thought. There is a white towel around his neck, and he is holding either end of the towel with his hands, he is wearing a black tank top and black Adidas basketball shorts with his black and white Adidas gym shoes. After a moment he arrives in front of a door with the number 111 next to it. He reaches into his pocket and produces a room key and places the card into the lock, there is a loud click that can be heard as he takes the card out and opens the door. Stepping inside of the room he sees, Ted to his left and Killemall on a couch to the right. Killemall is seated with his arms folded in front of himself while Ted is standing next to a window with the sun shining on him as he looks at Eyesnsane. Eyesnsane stops in his tracks as he is surprised to see both of his friends in his room….


    Eyesnsane: Sup fellas? Is everything ok?

    Ted: Hey bro. We were talking and we thought it was time that we all talk. You know we should all be on the same page but even more important than that we should all know exactly where we stand with each other.

    Eyesnsane: Wait what’s going on, are yall good?

    Ted: How about you just listen for a minute.

    Eyesnsane: Cool bro.

    Eyesnsane sits on the opposite side of the couch from Killemall.


    Ted: Wrestling has not been my thing. Now you know I’m a fan and have been for a long time. I suppose that was the start. Then I started catching your shows, traveling with you when I could. Shit you remember how it was back in the day when you, Kills and Alana first got started. Somehow along the way I got hooked, I really got into it. I mean I’ve legit changed my life to be able to do this with you, all of you.

    See for me it was not just the travel and the stories and the moments fo fun. Whether you know it or not, you sold me on this. You made me believe I could do something I used to watch on TV as a kid and say to be a wrestler would be cool. Not only did you sell me on getting into this business, you helped and guided me. You took me as green as I was at the time. Trust me I get how hard it was to be my tag partner, especially here in the FWA. You never once complained, you never once was down on me for the mistakes I made and the times I dropped the ball, and you motivated me each and every step of the way. Bro you took me to a championship. I never have and I never will forget that.


    Eyensane smiles for a moment.


    Eyesnsane: Man breaking you into the business was something else. We had some great times and a nice run man.

    Killemall: Eeh hmmm…


    Eyesnsane shifts into the corner of the couch allowing him to face his masked friend a bit more.


    Killemall: First things first. I am a better martial artist than you. Hell I am a better wrestler than you. As far as wrestling goes I would never have stepped foot in a ring had it not been for you. I would have never won all the titles I won in this business had I not decided to help you achieve some crazy goal you became obsessed with. That’s how I saw it at first, you just being completely insane and wanting to do this for some reason.

    Killemall’s tone sounds harsh as if he is aggravated by the conversation but then there is a notice shift in his tone, still firm and a bit condescending but….


    Killemall: I don’t mind taking every opportunity to prove that I am the best fighter in the world. Also it did not hurt that ultimately as I saw it, you were after the titles and that was something I could subscribe to. Proving everybody wrong as they doubted our abilities time and time again was somewhat satisfying. You and I achieved greatness we became storied legends as we tore down legends of old in this company. Then the time came for me to leave and I had no issue with doing so. I have a list of title reigns both with and without you as long as my arm. I left with no regrets. Time and time again you sought me out to make a comeback with you. To get back in the ring and recapture some old day of glory you resigned yourself to chasing. So it’s only right that you know, that’s not why I came back after all of these years. Frankly there are new challenges to face, there will be opportunities that will be forced my way because as it stands right now, everybody in the FWA thinks you are better than me and to me that is simply not acceptable. The fact is that everything you have done in this company, I could have done myself just with far more ease than you. So understand that my helping you both, serves to help my own legacy.

    Ted: Damn, are you sure yall are friends? Are you sure we’re all friends here?

    Eyesnsane: Ah, don’t trip. In case you have not noticed Kills is a different kind of dude, mask aside. He just talks like that. The fact of the matter is this man has always had my back. Not to mention he is as tough as they come in the ring. I saw him take off as a singles wrestler in one company, hell he was they guy who everybody hated because he was literally as good as he just said he was. The man is driven my gold and that along with his other reasons have always been fine with me, because this is also the most honest person I know. We have a past and I mean a past before wrestling.

    Killemall: As I was saying, you James need to get your head out of your ass. I’ve not returned to the FWA to waste time, effort, and energy. You need to take a long cold hard look in the mirror and grab a hold of that obsession you once had in this business, otherwise just like in that other company, you will be doing little more than watching me build a greater legacy than you could ever contemplate in far less time then it took you to build the slightly noticeable reputation you have now.


    Killemall unfolds his arms and reaches into his gy. After a moment he pulls out something rolled up and hands it to Eyesnsane. Eyesnsane grabs the item and realizes he can unroll it, he slowly does revealing…..







    Ted: Whoa, I remember that, you used to hang that in your locker everywhere you would go back in the day.


    Suddenly all three men look toward the door as they hear a woman’s voice.


    ……: Correction, that poster is autographed, the one that traveled the road with us is hanging up above the bed James’ son, Tyson.


    Wearing grey form fitting business slacks and a white shirt buttoned all the way up except for the top collar button with her jet black hair around her shoulders. We see Alana Allure has just walked through the door.


    Alana: Hello, guys.


    Turning her head she takes a moment to look at all three of them.


    Alana: Ted, you have been brought into Over the Edge. Kills you already know what it is. James take a good long look at that poster. I want you to look back and to think back to when we first got in this business. Even I have to admit that you got me to believe in your vision not just for your own career but the vision held onto and chased for so long. The greatest stable the FWA has ever and will ever know. Now I’ve been watching and talking to both Ted and Kills since you all returned and I’ve not liked what I have seen. All three of you know what it takes to be champions in FWA. Hell James if not for your training and pushing me I would have never become a champion in my own right. The biggest thing I’ve seen is that adjustments need to be made and they need to be made now. I arranged this talk James, because what we are not prepared to do is let you walk into a Fight Night main event as a shell of yourself.

    Eyesnsane starts to say something but she cuts him off.


    Alana: I want you to think long and hard before you say another word. Look around this room. Do you really want this? Do you really want to do this because we are all in.

    Eyesnsane’s eyes get a bit wide as he looks at Alana after what she just said.


    Alana: We have talked, we have agreed, we are all in. No half steppin but no living in the past or living off of the past. Damn it, Eyesnsane or James or both. We know who you are, Tyson knows who you are, the FWA faithful think they know who you are. We need to know right here and right now, which person do we have sitting here? Which person are we going to war with week in and week out? Are you the man prepared to build Over the Edge with us into the greatest stable the FWA will ever see?

    Eyesnsane looks at each one of them and then back at the poster in his hands. He places the poster down on a nearby glass top table and he stands up.


    Eyesnsane: I… I almost don’t know where to start. Thank you. I’ve heard you all and I get it. Not one of you has to be here. Not one of you had to stop what you were doing to come back to the FWA. I can tell you what I don’t want. I don’t want to fair, I certainly don’t want to be a shell of myself and by extension make us anything less than what we have fought so hard to become in this business. Killemall you and I have been to hell and back and I’m sure we will make that trip a time or two again. Alana I have to say training you to get in the ring and then watching you carve your own path to the women’s title was so special I don’t have the words right now and if I did they would not do the feelings justice. By comparison Ted, you’ve really only had a taste of this business.


    Eyesnsane looks down at the poster on the table as he pulls the towel from around his neck.


    Eyesnsane: You know I get it. From a fan to a man who finds himself in the ring with people cheering for him. A well trained fighter with a chip on his shoulder out to prove how great he is. A woman who is the walking embodiment of drive and determination. Thank you all because I can see now what I could not earlier today, last week or even last month. FSU is going to be rocking all night long. Because it will now be ground zero and the entire company will have no choice but to take note. Over the Edge is back! We are the greatest and we are going to do anything and everything to prove just that. We are not going to waste time saying it over and over, we are going to show it week after week fight after fight.

    The powers that be have selected me to represent all of you later tonight. They also selected me to give an accomplished wrestler a crash course in FWA fights. So everybody who shows up will get to not only see the greatest FWA stable ever. They will get to see the hardest working man who steps between those ropes week in and week out. All those fans not familiar are going to get acquainted with the pure insanity that I bring to each and every fight I have. I know what Krash is planning to do. His plan is to come and walk down that aisle representing himself as being the last standing pillar from a house he got to be the last to walk out of. I never stepped foot in CWA I can’t say what it was or what it wasn’t. What I can say is welcome to the FWA.

    Now he’s not going to like how I say it. Sportsmanship and handshakes aside. I’m hungry and that hunger means it’s time to go hunting. It’s my time to show up and to step up and I am by no means here to disappoint any of you in this room. I’m certainly not going to disappoint Krash, because he came here to challenge himself. He joined FWA to see just how he can stack up to the very best talent in the world. Well as the old adage states, be careful what you ask for because you may just get it and tonight Krash is going to get the best Eyesnsane walking this planet! Tonight he is going to get the Eyesnsane that is better than vintage he’s going to get the Eyesnsane that shows up when everybody doubts the fact that I am as great as I say I am. He’s is going to get the Eyesnsane that loves to fight for each and everything he gets. We’re back. I’m back and the Fight Night main event will be when everybody gets put on notice.



    The scene fades to black….






  4. #4
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    Re: Fight Night 06/14/19 PROMO THREAD

    September 30th, 2018.

    ‘At the end of the world,
    I will be there, with you
    And we’ll throw a party, to celebrate
    The things we used to do...’

    Somewhere, in the middle of nowhere, a man stood in the kitchen of his quaint, isolated home, and idly stirred a cup of tea. The stirring was less to properly mix the cocoa, and more to give his hands something to do, as he read the latest news and gossip from the most reputable wrestling insiders. And yet, nothing. No information, on exactly what he was looking for.

    The slim, lanky man let out a sigh of irritation, as he tossed his spoon in the sink and gave up on his fruitless endeavour. With how much everyone liked to talk, you’d think SOMETHING would’ve been leaked to the news by now. The unease was staring to weigh heavily on the man, something reflected in his appearance. His usual slicked hair was an unstyled mess, his moustache slightly frayed, a thin layer of stubble around his jaw. Even his clothes, typically fashionably suited, seemed somewhat off-kilter. The waistcoat unbuttoned, the tie hanging loose around his neck like a hangman’s noose, the scruffy trousers. Sure, he could try and hide his nerves with a false smile, a toothy grin, a song-and-a-dance, but that would be so transparent that there wouldn’t be much of a point to it.

    ‘Like livin’ life, breathing air,
    Running your fingers through my hair,
    Oh, this isn’t fair.’


    It had been more than a week CWA’s In Exile PPV, a highly anticipated event in itself, was abruptly cancelled, and during that week hardly any news had been uncovered as to why.

    Oh, sure. People asked, prodded, demanded answers as to the status of the company he loved. But whoever they asked, couldn’t answer. The wrestlers didn’t know. Many of the personnel, such as the commentary team, seemed to have been kept in the dark. The only person who knew for sure what was going on, wasn’t talking.

    And that fact, the fact that no-one seemed to know what was happening, worried Krash more than anything else.

    ‘At the end of the world,
    I will hold you, so close
    So we won’t notice, the destruction
    Of all we used to know.’

    As he took a brief sip of his tea, Krash’s emerald eyes flickered to his email, where over a dozen emails waited, unread. Various promotions, expecting the worst news – or best news, for them – had reached out, offering various deals and contracts. From the high-paying grand allure of SWF, to the more comical ‘hey if you’re free give us a call’ lackadaisical federations such as ASPIRE, and even to one particularly vulgar message stating that he ‘owed them and VCAA’, the mere assumption that Krash was a soon-to-be free agent brought everyone and their wallets out of the woodworks. Even FWA had send an email to gauge interest. But that, like all others, sat unread for the time being.

    Until news came of CWA’s status, Krash would stay with his home promotion through thick and thin.

    ‘We will close our eyes, as the waters rise
    Float away and you will say,
    Oh, isn’t this nice?’

    A small, barely significant part of him wondered why he was so reluctant to move on, but as with his emails, that part would go unanswered.

    Suddenly, his phone chirped – the sound of The Weather Girls’ ‘It’s Raining Men’ jolted Krash out of his mindful stupor. He glanced at his phone’s caller ID, before raising his eyebrows in surprise. Turning down the sound of his stereo, he answered.

    “Michelle?”

    “Hey Krash.” Michelle Kelly, CWA’s Lead Backstage Interviewer and one of the few people who were more in-tuned with CWA’s ongoings more than him, spoke through the phone, her voice evenly-measured. “I’ve got some news about CWA. Like, yet-to-be leaked news.”

    “Is it good news?” Krash asked, daring to be hopeful as he looked out the window, his gaze falling upon the bleak, dry desert encompassing his home.

    The brief intake of hesitation in Michelle Kelly’s voice told him more than any words ever could, and he felt his heart sink before Michelle could even speak.

    ‘At the end of the world we’ll be together, be together,
    If I could spend it with you, then the end of the world don’t matter.
    At the end of the world we’ll be together, be together,
    If I could spend it with you then the end of the world don’t matter,
    At all.’


    ---

    June 10th, 2019.

    Many would consider his in-ring debut at FWA Fight Night a rousing success.

    A welcoming promo, warmly received, detailing the whys and hows and what-have-yous. A strong victory, over someone who had gone as an ‘unanswered question’ for years, albeit unintentionally. Really, short of winning a title of some kind – and what kind of journey would that be, honestly – it was the perfect follow-up to his unofficial debut at the previous show.

    And yet, something felt... off.

    Krash had watched from backstage, avoiding the curious questions of the various interviewers – three backstage interviewers! The variety, my word – and knowing full well that Chris Kennedy would be in action later that night. He had expected some sort of response, some verbal tongue lashing, some furious tirade from the Astonishing One about ‘how dare you put your hands on me’ or ‘you’re a nothing nobody from nowhere, get out of my company.’ That sort of thing.

    Instead, he got met with a wall of silence.

    Sure, Chris Kennedy jaw-jacked at the referee, at fans, at Starr. But it was nothing in response to Krash.

    It was as if he was attempting to act like Krash’s debut and subsequent attack during the show previously, never happened.

    Outside his home, in the desert country wasteland somewhere vaguely west of Melbourne, Australia, Krash stood, quietly contemplating. He wore a pair of white trousers, along with a purple short-sleeve, a grey waistcoat, and a black tie. Not the gear one would normally wear in a desert, but the gear he wore, regardless. A pair of aviator sunglasses sat over his eyes, shielding him from the harsh glare of the afternoon sun, as he gazed into the distance.

    “I’m not used to being ignored.” He spoke into the air, as he aimlessly walked. “When I talk, people tend to listen, for one reason or another. I just have that ‘aura’ about me, I suppose. So I find it curious, Mr. Chris Kennedy, that I can surprise you, attack you, then make it clear in a follow-up promo that you’ve made an unfortunate mistake that cannot be fixed until I say so, and you won’t so much as give me a passing glance. I’m almost insulted.”

    Picking up a long, thin, stick off the ground, Krash idly traced a path in the sand as he walked. “Tell me, Chris. Do you consider me that far beneath you that I’m simply not worthy of a response, neither verbal nor physical? Am I a mere fly on your windshield? A speck of dirt on the sole of your boot? It’s alright, you can say so. After all, if I were to list the people who once considered me as such, we’d be here all day. But that’s what I do. I change minds, one at a time. Yours will come soon. If you do so wish to refuse to acknowledge the grave error of judgement you’ve made, then that’s your decision. Just know you’re setting yourself up for failure. You’re not shielding yourself, you’re giving yourself a sword to fall on.”

    Krash paused, a new thought occurring, as he tapped a finger against his temple. “Or... Or perhaps, you’re more affected than you let on. Perhaps, I’m in your mind, poking and prodding with gentle reminders, setting you off your game to the point where you can’t defeat Starr. Sure, you didn’t lose to him, but you didn’t win against him either. Maybe it’s Starr and his growing skill and momentum being underestimated, maybe it’s me, whispering sweet curses in your ear. Maybe it’s both, maybe it’s neither. Who am I to say?”

    Casually sauntering over a dune in the sand, Krash stopped, adjusting his sunglasses. Written in the red sand before him, was the name ‘AARON KENDRICK.’ With detached bemusement, Krash traced a line through his former opponent’s name, striking it out as he continues his walk. “One down. Countless others to go.” He remarked. “I couldn’t ask for a better in-ring debut. Well, I could, technically speaking, but I’m quite happy with how it went, regardless. I’m glad I got some closure against Aaron Kendrick, and that unanswered question from the OWW days has been answered. It’s not the same Aaron Kendrick I once knew, but it'll have to do. But now, I move on, the prologue is over, and now it’s time for Chapter One. My next challenge, someone who I don’t have the history to look at. Mr. James Hughes, or more commonly known, as Eyesnsane.”

    Krash halted once again at another name in the sand, this one a somewhat misspelled ‘EYESNSANE.’ He observed the name with curiosity, eyebrows furrowing. “Eyesnsane. That’s quite the name, isn’t it? Though that’s a bit rich, coming from someone who calls himself ‘Krash’, I suppose.” He allowed himself a brief chuckle at this. “Extravagant names aside, there’s some similarities, between myself and Mr. Eyesnsane. We’re both highly successful competitors, with countless accolades to our name. FWA to you, CWA to me. And we’re both arriving in FWA after quite some time, are we not? However, for Eyesnsane, it’s a grand return to his land of prominence, with his Over The Edge allies Killemal and Ted. Again, quite the names. But for myself, it’s not a grand return to a land I once loved and considered home, flanked by some friends I can trust. It’s a long-rumoured arrival to a new land, a new world, full of the strange and the unknown, with no-one by my side.” Verbally trailing off, Krash took off his sunglasses, a glint of what seems to be sadness reflecting in his green eyes as he wiped the lens against his waistcoat. “I’d be remiss if I didn’t say I wasn’t a bit jealous. I have a soft spot for any tag team division, and the idea of winning some sort of trophy, together with someone I hold so close to my heart, is quite the appealing one. Hell, the only goal I had when I started out wrestling was to win tag team gold with my best friend. Which I did, multiple times, but those days are dead and gone. Alyster has moved on to a new life, a lesson I find myself unable to learn from. Perhaps one day I can find a suitable replacement for the hole in my heart, but until then, cementing my status as one of the top wrestlers in the land will have to do. But, I’m getting off track, aren’t I?”

    Placing his sunglasses back onto his face, Krash twirled the stick in a hand. “I’d say we both are going well in our FWA arrivals. I’ve beaten Aaron Kendrick, Eyesnsane has beaten Lord Dog. His OTE friends didn’t fare as well against Cyrus and Gabrielle, but honestly, who can blame them? But nevermind that. If we consider your 2019 FWA return a fresh start, then you’re undefeated during this run, Mr. Hughes. As am I, as it turns out. Admittedly, an undefeated streak of one victory isn’t much to celebrate over, but we take what we can get, do we not? After all, every streak has to start somewhere, build up to something worthwhile. And I believe it shall, for one of us.” A brief pause, a shake of the head. “Not you, I’m afraid. No, despite your achievements upon achievements, I’m afraid I’m going to stop this streak of yours before it truly begins. And I do apologize, but rest assured, you still have a very important role in this story. You get to be the man that causes Chris Kennedy to take notice. If my victory over Aaron Kendrick doesn’t convince Mr. Kennedy that ignoring me is a mistake, then defeating someone as tenured as yourself, with more belts than he has pants, would surely be a worthwhile endeavour.”

    With that, Krash traced a line through the name in the sand, just as he did with Aaron Kendrick’s. “Best of luck, Mr. Eyesnsane. Bring your best. Bring your worst. Bring all of your Over The Edge friends if you wish. It won’t make a difference. At the end of the night I’ll most certainly have not my arm raised in victory, but the undivided attention of Mr. Chris Kennedy himself. And then, and only then... The story can truly begin.”

    With that, Krash tossed the stick a few lengths away, where it clattered onto the sand, right next to the name of Chris Kennedy, etched in the ground. Whistling a catchy tune, Krash crossed his arms behind his back, waltzing carelessly through the desert.


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

  5. #5
    #HEEL
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    Re: Fight Night 06/14/19 PROMO THREAD


    “So it goes like this. Little Jimmy had a question, so he searched all over the house to find his father.”

    The scene opens backstage in the Florida State University Arena, mere hours before the curtain is set to open for FWA Fight Night. One Randy Ramon stands by, leaning against a concrete wall via an outstretched arm. Tucked between his arm and the wall is a very attractive, young, stage hand wearing a Jason Randall T-Shirt. She seems into the conversation, but perhaps put off by the lack of distance between them.

    “He opens his parent’s bedroom door and finds his parents humping away on the bed. He says ‘Dad! What are you doing?’ His Dad collects himself and pulls away from his Mom for a second to answer. He says, ‘well Jimmy, I’m playing poker and your mother is the wild card!’ So…”

    The stage hand looks unsure of where this is going… but that’s typical for anyone who really listens to Randy speak for more than a few seconds.

    “…Jimmy still needs an answer. So, he goes looking for his big brother Tommy. He opens Tommy’s bedroom door and finds Tommy and his girlfriend, Emily humping away! He says, ‘Tommy! What are you doing?’ Tommy stops ramming Emily for a second and responds, ‘well Jimmy, I’m playing poker and Emily is the wild card!’”

    This girl is looking for any way out of this conversation as quickly as possible. Randy senses it and heads in for the punch line.

    “So, later that night, Jimmy’s Dad approaches his room to call him to dinner. He opens Jimmy’s bedroom door and finds him wanking it like it’s going out of style. ‘Jimmy!’ he says. ‘I can see you’re playing poker, but where’s your wild card?’ Jimmy stops for a second and replies, ‘With a hand like this, who needs a wildcard?!’

    Randy cracks himself up, feeling as if he just told the funniest joke he’s ever told. The stage hand, however, is not as impressed.

    “I get the joke, but, what’s the point? You had two minutes to impress me, and THAT’S what you went with?”

    Randy puffs his chest and smiles.

    “The point is… when you’ve got the Rockstar, you don’t need a Wild Card!”

    She shakes her head.

    “You know, Wild Card… Jason Randall…”

    She turns and starts to walk away…

    “…my opponent? Come on… tough crowd.”

    He stares off into the distance, watching her retreat as quickly as she can.

    “Maybe I need some new material…”

    He pulls his phone out of his pocket and checks a few things, then starts a Facebook Live chat session that will probably be seen by no one.

    “You know the thing about Wild Cards… is that at best, you’re second best. It means you’re not a winner. It means you couldn’t get the job done. It’s undeniable, incontrovertible proof that you’re not good enough to call yourself champion.”

    He takes a breath, then chuckles.

    “So, it’s fitting, I guess, that someone as undisputedly mediocre as Jason Randall would call himself the Wild Card. I guess he used to be a winner… until he choked, but now? At the very best, he’s the second best. At very best, he can slip into the Championship conversation, but he’ll quickly show, time and time again, that he doesn’t belong there. At very, very best, he’s another step for the ONLY true Randall of FWA, Randy Ramon, to conquer on his way to the top.”


    A thought pops into his mind.

    “…and before someone says ‘oh, Randy, you lost last week!’ Yes, yes, I did. But you know what? I had the flu. I shouldn’t have even been competing. I should have been in a hospital bed with an IV strapped in my arm, but I chose to get out there and give my best. Dominick Instead can call it a win if he so desires, but we all know the truth.”


    He brushes the hair out of his face.

    “All that to say that at the end of the day, Jason, you don’t have a GHOST of a chance tonight at Fight Night. You should do yourself a favor and put yourself in the ground now, so I don’t have to.”

    He smirks.

    “Hashtag buried.”

    He closes the app, tucks the phone back in his pocket and carries on with his day as planned.


  6. #6
    Hail To The King
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    Re: Fight Night 06/14/19 PROMO THREAD

    We open up in a bedroom. The colors scheme is trippy as everything blends in with pictures of different characters of Alice In Wonderland all over the walls. The camera pans to Alice laying in her bed under the covers. She is playing with her hair as she smiles.

    Alice: Nova!... Crowe...I am ready!

    The camera then pans to the door as out walk Crowe and Nova following suit.

    Alice: Come on guys ! Come on!

    Crowe: Did you brush your teeth?

    Nova: Did you put all your toys away?

    Alice: Yes! Now come on!

    Nova: Always so excited!

    Crowe: Alright, Alice! It's Storytime.


    Nova: Lay your head on your pillow look into the stars.

    Crowe: Don't forget to say your prayers to him.


    Nova: The Dark Forest has provided us with everything.


    Alice: I did! I did! Come on I want my story.


    Crowe agrees searching around the room before grabbing the book. It is a black book with red almost blood looking letters that say Alice's Grim Fairytales. Crowe begins to speak as Nova acts out the scenes.

    Crowe:

    Chapter 1

    The Loving Family

    Once upon a time, there lived a girl name Alice. She was always searching for a place to call her own. She was a beautiful girl she was smart. She was sweet. She loved to read. Her favorite book, Alice In Wonderland. She would read the story over and over losing herself in the pages in essences she was lost in Wonderland herself. She did this to get away from a home where family was none to be had. She one day decided family didn't have to be blood so she took her things her fav book some clothes and ran. She walked for what seem like hours until a voice called her name. She followed this voice as it lead her to a forest. She wasn't scared even if the forest seem dark and gloomy she felt at peace and like her fav character in her fav book she went into the forest like the rabbit hole.


    Crowe looks on as Alice has a curious look on her face as if she was replaying event of her life. Alice's eyes look in pain sad. Nova looks over to her placing his hand on her. Nova takes over the story

    Nova:

    Inside the dark forest, she walked following the voice until she found a little house. It was white it wasn't very nice looking it had broken glass shattered across the floor there was no walls the floors squeaked as you walked. However when she walked inside she heard the voice welcome her home. A few moments later two boys scared as well lost, broken looked up at her and smiled. Alice found a family. She found a purpose. She found love. You see Alice had found that she wasn't broken. No! She was just scared and alone. Time passed by and life was perfect a dream and there were times where nightmares crept in that they tried to make Alice and family feel like they were nothing. Losers, Rejects, Broken parts of a toy across the floor. So instead of standing by and watching them try and take their happy family apart they started to fight back.


    Nova goes onto explain how Alice and her family" took care of things" with very graphic and gory details. They all laugh getting off topic talking bout those who tried and take the family away. We pick up when they go back to the story.

    Crowe:

    Chapter 2

    A New Addition

    So we pick up our story with Alice and her family as they are told that someone will join our family he will become one of us the voice said. So they tried to welcome them to their family they tried to bring him in but in the end no matter how hard they tried he just was a bad seed and what do you do with a bad seed your pull it out and you crush it. You destroy it the thing is if your not fast enough it grows and tangles like vines. See Alice saw first hand the destruction that this boy cause she saw the pain in the eyes of her family her brothers. When they played games he never played fair even after they won he was a sore loser and that is not right.

    Alice went into The Dark Forest and she went to him. She told him that he was not welcomed anymore that she would have destroy him because this was her family this was her home and just like in her fav book she must slay the jabberwocky and she would bring piece to her Wonderland.

    Crowe closes the book looking over at Alice as she wants more of the story. Nova shakes his head before speaking again.


    Nova:

    That was the final page of the book but, not the story because see Alice she has to write the end of this story and the ink must be in the blood of the damned.

    Crowe walks in looking at Alice with a smile.

    Crowe:

    It must be in the blood of the one who tried to take everything away. One more time, end this once and fall give the Happily Ever After story she deserves and the grim ending he has earned.

    Alice looks up nodding in agreement before they walk off leaving her in her bed to talk to herself as she stares into The Dark Forest.

    Alice:

    You know this is all a lot of pressure. My head hurts I wish they all could get along. It looks like I am wishing it was like a fairytale and we were off in a far away land. Where we weren't these monsters you decided weren't worth a damn. I as well as them have always been this lost toy. I never knew a home. I never wanted anything else but that. Why do you wanna take it all away? I am sorry because I am not the best with words and most of the time we screw up we try and learn from our mistakes but, the moment we make one you can never be forgiven are somethings so bad we cant be forgiven. Mac Michard is the villain of this story we are the heroes we deserve our Happy Ending!

    Alice screams throwing a fit smacking the floor until her knuckles bleed. She looks at it staring.

    We may not be blood Mac but, I tried to bring you into my family and you spit in my face. This blood now will be on your hands you hear me your hands!

    Alice gets up walking to the outside her brothers wondering where she's going.

    Alice:

    I got to clear my mind there are things I need to do. All this to protect my family.

    She keeps saying that as she descends into The Dark Forest.





    Spoiler:


    CWA World Heavyweight Champion
    Brayden Bridges




  7. #7
    Chikara Trainee

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    Re: Fight Night 06/14/19 PROMO THREAD

    “So, in conclusion, they are even named after a stupid movie”


    We join Sean Hughes, The Protégé, at the end of his report. He excitedly proclaims that finishing remark as he bounces around the much the larger Prototype. Whilst there is only 4 inches between them, Prototype’s frame certainly makes it appear as if he towers over his much younger tag team partner. Prototype’s facial expression has quickly transitioned from one that reflects focus to one of utter bemusement. Prototype jerks his head back, whipping his own hair out of his eyes in such an exaggerated manner that it becomes quite apparent to Sean that he has just received the cue to move things onwards from this point.

    Instead, he begins to elaborate.


    “You told me to do my research” Sean begins to say in a tone that falls in the more concerned/nervous ballpark than his initial statement. For someone with such a high ring IQ and intellect, he can really come out with some idiotic remarks from time to time. He knows what he is doing, he knows well and truly that he wasn’t asked for this type of research, but he also knows that Prototype doesn’t react well to that sort of ‘joke’ and gets a cheap buzz from being able to play off of that. He continues, “So I’ve concluded that there may some similarities that we can draw on. Have a seat!”.


    Sean gestures with his outstretched right arm to the bottom turnbuckle in the corner, wanting Prototype to drop to the mat and lean his back against it. In fact, the more that you look at their surroundings, the more you get the distinct impression that Prototype may not have asked for these findings at this time. Both are dressed casually in loose fitting clothing, there are a few weights discarded across the ring and there is still a single bead of sweat slowly making its way down Sean’s forehead. It may not require a full police investigation to determine that the two were likely mid-training when Sean decided to break out his impressive findings. Accepting defeat, he knows Sean after all, whilst shaking his head in silent protest he sits down in the corner. The only chance of getting some work done, he knows, is to let the youngster get whatever it is he wants to say off of his chest.


    “So, Warriors of Virtue, it’s a fantasy as such. A young boy is transported away to a mythical land, Tao they call it, where he finds himself in the center of a conflict between an evil lord and a group of animal warriors. His best friend is the owner of a Chinese restaurant who gives him the book relating to this world and oh, before, did I mention that he is lame in one leg?”


    “Why the f##k am I listening to you? How is this going to help?


    You can see the disappointment written across Sean’s face, or at the very least the feigned disappointment that he is trying to ensure Prototype picks up on to get that reaction he craves. But a part of you, looking at him, really thinks he genuinely wanted to share his thoughts on the movie.


    “Knowing about Tao? Not so much….but think about it…..it’s the perfect irony. The movie centers on being transported into the a fantasy world and as a consequence he manages to escape his rather depressing life. That is who they are named after, that is where they draw their inspiration? How do we then beat them? We understand what inspires them and we twist it, we use that to break them.”


    Prototype, his head now firmly in his hands, slaps the mat to at least make Sean draw breath momentarily so he can make the interruption.


    “If I wanted to break them before the match, I would have found one of them at Fight Night and smashed them in the face repeatedly until they are unable to work. Instead, you’re telling me, that a story about some sort of fantasy land that they probably aren’t aware of is going to be the difference…….”


    It may be phrased as such but it isn’t even a question from Prototype, it’s a statement. And it’s one that is delivered in such a downtrodden way that the only person that is broken at the minute is Sean’s partner. Protégé, however, is undeterred.


    “When we beat them for the titles this week, we don’t want them to stick around and come back at us over and over again. The biggest pitfall that champions face is getting trapped in that endless loop where you have rematch after rematch, recycling the same old garbage again until one party simply has enough. That isn’t what I want to do. I want to beat them and I want them to slide away into the darkness, never to step foot in the bright lights of the title scene ever again. And sure, beating their face to a pulp might help short term, but longer term its making sure that when they physically heal, every time that they hear the name of the New Breed they crap themselves a bit. That every time they think of the Prototype they break into a cold sweat. When they think of the Protégé that nervous twitch that they try to pretend doesn’t exist rears its ugly head.”


    Sean pivots the conversation back to its initial focus before he can be interrupted again.


    “So what we need to do is make them realize that there is no escape, that they are trapped in the reality that the New Breed are coming for them and taking their titles. There is no fantasy world that they can slip off to, in fact it’s the opposite in that instead of escaping to a fantasy world I am going to reach into that bubble in which they are currently operating under the impression that they are the best team in the world and drag them to the cold hard reality that has their shoulders on the mat staring in to the rafters while I hold what they consider to be their titles above my head.”


    In his excitement Sean had been moving erratically around the ring so as he turns back to face Prototype he is hit with a slap so hard that his head nearly rotates 180 degrees. As it is, it is closer to about 100 degrees and as he is facing the other way and the handprint of his partner becomes more visible on his face, you can see a wry grin. He broke someone’s resistance OK, he seems to have got his partner motivated.


    “So in this perfect reality that you’re describing, you’re holding the titles? Both of them? Well thanks for bringing me along for the ride you little shit. In your wonderful coronation you described, I would’ve thought that you might want to mention that mentally breaking them doesn’t get those championship belts in your hand, what gets them in your hand is this guy that is stood in your corner, that tags into the match and throws those two jackasses around the ring until one of them cannot answer the referee’s count any longer. I don’t care about fantasies or realities, I don’t care about evil lords. You know what you should be worried about, you should be world about Mike if we don’t end Fight Night standing in the ring with championship gold. He’s got his own stuff going on and we cannot take another loss. We are supposed to be the New Breed, the example of how wrestling will be going forward…what does it say for the New Breed if the only thing we are an example of is how the future cannot beat the past. What does it say for us that the two guys that Mike stakes his reputation on cannot even capture gold in a division that a single f#!#ing champion for months in matches that were designed to be competed in 2 on 2. We came here to have Mike’s back, to make sure those pissant’s slivered off back under whatever rock they peak out from behind off every few months, but now that we are here to stay what we need to do is make sure that people take notice. That people respect not just us, but him. That we are the topic of conversation on everyone’s lips. That starts with those belts. And I don’t need a shitting film review from you to know how to get that job done.”


    Prototype pats Sean on the shoulder. Saying that, a pat from Prototype could dislocate your shoulder if you aren’t braced for it. As he walks across the ring and begins to shift some of the weights from the mat to the floor at ringside the door, to what is essentially a renovated barn that they are in, swings open and in walks two men, neither of whom would threaten you physically. Sure, they look after themselves and are clearly athletes, but that’s about all you can say for them. If you were to ask Prototype why these two, he would tell you that they were the best available for the task at hand. The two roll into the ring as Prototype stands on the apron. Sean, eyes firmly on his opposition, slowly retreats into the corner back first so he is within earshot of Prototype to whisper “give them 30 seconds then take them out.” Sean makes a sound that vaguely resembles a bell, which is the signal for him to approach the center of the ring


    The wrestler facing Sean refers to himself as Malevolent Mick, at least that’s what they are commissioned to put on his headstone should this end even worse than expected for him, and he approaches Sean and engages him in a collar and elbow tie up. You can see from Sean’s face that he isn’t really exerting himself, as a back and forth ensues. Probably, Sean thinks, the easiest way to give Mick the 30 seconds as was requested. The back and forth continues for the next 25 seconds before there is a break and, for the second time today, a hand slaps Sean across the face. This time, however, his head doesn’t turn anywhere near 180 degrees and there is certainly no wry grin. Before you could blink, Sean floats around and disorientates Mick before catching him with a superkick that sends him crashing to the canvas. He approaches the corner of Mick’s tag team partner and swiftly connects his foot to his chin before climbing the top rope and landing a picture perfect elbow drop. Sean pops to his feet and stares down intensely at Mick, before heading to his corner and tagging Prototype. Prototype hoists the fallen Malevolent one to his feet in a belly to back hold, allowing Mike to connect with one more superkick which transitions into a German suplex from the aforementioned hold.


    The New Breed rise to their feet and stare at the motionless ‘wrestler’ at their feet.


    “Ready to do this, Sean?”


    Prototype is now the one with the smile on his face. That’s why they work so well together. Sean started this by lighting a fire under Prototype to get the best of him and Prototype’s response is to engage Sean in the way that he knows he loves, physically. Protégé stares back at his partner.


    “You don’t need to worry about me, leave that to Lord Dog and XYZ to worry about. My biggest concern is that they won’t give me at least 60 seconds to enjoy beating them before we take their championships.”


    Prototype s******s but Protégé is fully engaged.


    “Reality is that standing in this ring right now are the next FWA Tag Team Champions”


    Prototype again with another one of his huge pats on the shoulder, as they both exit the ring and make their way towards the door.


    “So how does the movie end?” Prototype asks.


    “Turned it off, it was a load of shit.”


    Both of them laugh as the door swings closed behind them.
    Last edited by TheProdigy; 06-14-2019 at 11:14 PM. Reason: formatting

  8. #8
     
    Sully's Avatar

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    Re: Fight Night 06/14/19 PROMO THREAD

    King's Bedtime Story:
    The Lion and the Sheep



    Wolfson Children's Hospital is not always a fun place to be. Most hospitals are not fun places to be, but children's hospitals have just an extra layer of grim sadness to them. Wolfson has had it's own fair share of tragic stories. Just yesterday, a 10 month old baby died after being brought in from suspected child abuse. Broken bones, bruises, and internal bleeding. Earlier today, a 16 year old was brought in and told she had kidney disease...just weeks after her mom died in a car accident. Just two weeks ago, a 15 year old basketball star unexpectedly died after fracturing his foot during a pickup game with his friends. Just a handful of the consistent cases the doctors and nurses at Wolfson Children's hospital go through that aren't feel good success stories.

    The reason why feel good success stories are so coveted, is because in real life they just don't happen very often. So to make up for it, we tell fun fairy tales to our kids. Give them false hope that they are going to grow up in a world where everything is perfect and they always get what they want. A world where they aren't beaten as babies at 10 months old, or they don't get kidney cancer at 16 years old, or they don't die at 15 years old after a pick up basketball game.

    Denial. It isn't just a river in Africa.

    Nevertheless, it takes a strong person to come into this hospital and face the kids who are here. The kids that were forced to see the reality. The Make a Wish foundation brings celebrities and stars from all over to come and visit children who need just a little bit of motivation and love. For some reason, one small child requested none other than the double champ King himself to come visit him. To cheer him up while he fights off his illness.

    How is it, that after all his misdeeds, King Sullivan still manages to be loved and adored by so many? School teachers, soccer moms, and dying children all over still seem to be compelled to cheer for this man who calls himself King. What about him just gets people to follow his every word?

    Is it his cult-like personality?

    Is it his superb sense of fashion?

    Or is it his new godly level of success? His remarkable win-loss record since return last year, his record breaking X Championship title run, his newly acquired North American championship, the fact that he's holding two titles at once. The fact that he defeated World Champion competitor Cyrus Truth earlier in the year. The list goes on and on.

    People love to worship a King. Peasants. And children are no different. That is why King Sullivan gets many Make a Wish requests every day, but until now he has been too busy to fulfil them. Yet, tonight...Dave Sullivan has agreed to make one little boy's wish come true.

    Tommy Sanders, 8 years old, from Jacksonville Florida. He was diagnosed with leukemia almost a year ago today. This little blonde boy has not been to school, he hasn't seen his friends, and he has not even had an ice cream cone. His childhood is slowly fading away as he fights to stay alive. Yet each week on Friday night, as he grasps onto anything to make him happy, he watches his favorite show on TV. FWA Fight Night. And he roots for all his favorite wrestlers. He roots for Chris Kennedy, and he roots for Jason Randall and Penny, and he definitely roots for King Sullivan.

    Tommy told his mom, even though King Sullivan is a bad guy, he thinks his tattoos are cool. Tommy also thinks King Sullivan is cool because he doesn't lose much. Tommy wasn't even out of diapers when Sullivan first started wrestling in 2012. But since he has been watching, Dave Sullivan has been on top. Dave Sullivan has been King. And Tommy likes Kings. Kings are strong. Kings take control. People follow Kings. What Tommy didn't like, were Saviors. He had a savior once, and then Tommy got sick. Tommy stopped believing.

    But what he did believe in, was his King. And his dream finally came true. King Sullivan was here, and he was going to read Tommy a bedtime story. The night before Fight Night.

    King Sullivan is dressed to the nines in his Kingly attire. A velvet black and gold robe, with his gold plated crown on top of his head. In his hands, a leather book with no words or pictures on the cover. It looked quite like a journal. Tommy's nurse comes in to check on him, right before Sullivan gets ready to tell little Tommy his story.

    Finally...it's time.

    King Sullivan: Hello Tommy.

    I understand you've been looking forward to hearing me tell you a story. I have been looking forward to telling you a story as well. For you see Thomas, I have many stories to tell.

    But tonight in particular, I have a really special story. This story is called...The Lion and the Sheep.


    Are you ready to hear it?

    Tommy meekly responds...

    Tommy: Yes...

    King Sullivan: Good...

    Once upon a time, there was a very strong Lion. The Lion was not like any other Lions. For you see, he was the strongest Lion of them all. But yet, all the other Lions in his pride refused to accept that. Ever since he was just a cub, this strong Lion had to fight for everyone to respect him. For years, he had to work his way up from the bottom to the top.

    Fight after fight, this Lion did what he needed to do to survive. Every once in awhile, the strong Lion would get knocked back down. But then, he would get right back up...and do you know what he did? He kept on fighting.

    Finally, the Lion did it. He fought everyone around, until sooner or later, everyone was defeated.

    He did it.

    The Lion earned everyone's respect. The Lion then did what he had been waiting to do for the longest time. He got up on the highest rock, and he stood proud. He put his crown on his head, and took his rightful spot on the throne as King of all the other Lions and animals in the Kingdom. He deserved it. He fought hard, and he fought long, but he earned his crown. And everyone bowed down at his paws.

    But seem people did not like the success of the Lion. Some people were jealous of the Lion. Others thought maybe the Lion should share the wealth his earned. That he should share HIS throne. So they made the Lion keep fighting.

    First, they made the Lion fight a jobber. But the Lion won.

    Then they made the Lion fight a peasant. And again the Lion won.

    The Lion won again, and again, and again. The Lion just kept on winning no matter who they sent. So what do they do? What is their big smart idea to try and take down the King Lion? I'll give you a hint, it isn't a smart one. No they do not send a tiger, or a dragon, or anything else that would put up even a little bit of a fight against the Lion.

    No, instead...the send a sheep. They send a loud mouthed sheep, who every time it opened its mouth, shit came pouring out. And this sheep was quite unlike the Lion. You see the Lion had scars on it's face from all the battles he was in. The Lion was distinguished. The Lion had earned his spot on the throne. The sheep? The sheep did not earn a damn thing. He did not deserve to even be in the Lion's presence, let alone be in a fight with him.

    Yet here he was. The sheep. And this sheep was not a very bright sheep. For you see, the Lion had opponents in the past who knew what they were getting into. They knew the challenge they were up against when tasked with fighting the Lion. The sheep? The sheep had no idea. Do you think the sheep spent his time preparing for the Lion?

    No. He didn't. Do you know what the sheep did? The sheep spent his time talking trash. Talking trash to all the little blue birds down at the watering hole. Talking about how good he is, and how he is going to beat the Lion...despite not accomplishing anything worth bragging about yet. But still, like I said he was not a bright sheep.

    But the truth is...Lions do not concern themselves with the opinions of sheep.


    Tommy, although quite invested in Sullivan's story, finally speaks up.

    Tommy: Mr. King Sullivan Sir? Are you talking about yourself and Dominick Armistead? Are you the Lion?

    King Sullivan: Aha. You are a smart little boy indeed. You recognize a Lion when you see one. I hope you can recognize a sheep when you see one too. Because that is all that little punk Dominick Armistead is. He is like the Justin Bieber of the FWA to me.

    Do you know what I have had to accomplish in order to secure a match for the North American Championship, Tommy? 8 years! 8 years I have been fighting, and training, and crawling my way to the top. Four X Championship reigns. FOUR...

    And up until a couple months ago, that was all I had to my name. Do you know how many chances I had at the North American Championship before I got to face off against Starr for it at Quest for the Best? Do you know how many?

    ZERO.

    I had to win the X Championship more times than anyone else. I had to break the record for the X Championship's longest reign. I had to beat Cyrus Truth.

    And yet...what has that little sniveling Justin Bieber wannabe punk done? Do you know what he has accomplished? He beat Aaron Kendrick...Tommy Thunder...and Randy Ramon. Three absolute peasants. His other matches? A lost to Penny and her little boyfriend Jason Randall...who I just humiliated in his own environment last week in the main event of Fight Night. Two absolute scrubs he loses to...and then one...one legitimate match he has against someone, that he absolutely chokes away. He is like the 2017 Minnesota Vikings, who faced cupcake opponents all season long only to get killed in the NFC Championship team when tasked with playing a real opponent.

    He has not has not faced off against me for the X Championship. No, for some reason he gets a shot at the North American Championship? What has he proved? Absolutely nothing. Absolutely nothing at all. I mean, I know Jason Randall was a peasant and all...but don't you think even he is more worthy of facing off for the North American Championship that Dominick "The Sheep" Armistead?

    I do not know who's fucking dick Armistead is sucking, but Jesus Christ someone needs to be fired from the booking department.


    Tommy's mouth drops open at Sullivan's use of language. A nearby nurse appears shocked as well, wondering if she should end Tommy's Make a Wish early. She holds off for now, as Sullivan continues his rant.

    King Sullivan: Funny thing about that little sheep Armistead. Do you want to know the difference between him and me? Why even though he's so fresh and young, why he'll never be better than me?

    Dommie The Sheep had a website of his own when he first started. I have one too, it's updated every day with fresh news about your King. Anyway, little Dommie had a section for himself to showcase all his wins and losses. I guess a little tribute to himself so he can go on and jerk his dick every night to the matches where he fought and beat absolute nobodies like Aaron Kendrick and Tommy Thunder.

    But here's the thing...here is the big kicker...the first match he lost...he stopped updating it. He didn't add in that first loss. He just left it at 2-0, and completely gave up on showcasing that shit ever again. Me? I list all my matches for the record books. It is all there. I am as big of a cocky egotistical asshole as there is, but I take my losses on the chin. I lost to Gabby this year. I did. I have no shame in that. She's a big breasted slut who got lucky, but she beat me. She is a tough opponent. I have nothing to hide.

    The Sheep? The sheep always has something to hide. The Lion? The Lion is strong, and brave. He puts his chest out. Only sheep hide their misfortunes.

    What I find funny though...is that if The Sheep was that demoralized after just one loss to stop updating that...I wonder how demoralized he is going to be when he finally fights off against the Lion, and the Lion eats him alive.

    What Dommie Dom doesn't know is...I've been there. I have had those fights. I have had those nights where I look at the card, and I see my opponent, and I just know right away that it's going to be the biggest match that I have ever had in my entire career. You know it. The last time that happened for me was on January 21st...I don't think Dommy The Sheep even got his ID badge printed out yet.

    So you get the card, and you know you have the biggest fight of your life to prepare for. You train every single day. You get physically prepared, you get emotionally prepared, and you get emotionally prepared. You do your cardio, and you practice your punches and your kicks. And finally it's time for you to get in the ring. And you give it your absolute all. You throw at him the best that you fuckin' got, and you KNOW you won it. And then...then it slips right out of your fingers. The next thing you know you're laying on your back, and the match is over. You just missed it. You came up just short. All that work, all that energy and motivation...it's all down the drain. And now, your spirit is absolutely crushed. You have no more energy. You have no more determination. This is where the burn out begins. You don't want to be here any more. You're tired, you're angry, and deep down...you just don't believe in yourself.

    It's happened to me. And it's going to happen to Dom The Sheep. But the difference between me and him? When I had that challenge on January 21st...it was against Cyrus Truth, the world champion, and I won. I beat him. Armistead? He's going up against me. And I am going to win. And he is going to feel that deflating hopelessness. He is going to feel his emotional intestines get crushed by grape on the floor of a middle school cafeteria.

    My goal?

    My goal is to make him quit. To make him realize that his ceiling in the FWA...it's way lower than the match he's booked in tomorrow night. Because when it all comes down to it...he is the sheep, and I AM THE LION.

    Tommy seems to have almost fallen asleep, as Sullivan finally catches his breath after ranting about sheeps and peasants for long enough. Sullivan is about to leave, but he realizes that he has yet to officially finish the story of The Lion and the Sheep.

    Sullivan ponders on whether he should just let little Tommy fall asleep, or if he should tell the ending.

    It is a great ending after all...


    King Sullivan: Back to the story...where were we?

    Ah yes...so the Sheep...the cocky, Justin Bieber esque sheep...challenged the Lion.

    You see this Sheep was not ordinarily sheep. When it came in comparison to the Lion, he had almost just as big of an ego. But while the Lion earned his title of King, the Sheep did not earn the title he gave himself.

    You see like we said earlier, the Sheep was not a very bright sheep. This sheep thought HE was the savior the Kingdom needed. He thought the Kingdom needed saved.

    The truth is, The Kingdom was saved way before this, when the King took his throne away from those who ruined the entire prestige of the Monarchy. And now? Now the Sheep wants to try and steal the King's throne, and sent it's prestige down crashing again?

    Well the King refused to let that happen. But he also refused to back down from a fight...especially from a Sheep.

    So he agreed to fight the Sheep. In front of the entire Kingdom, with the entire throne all on the line. He told the Sheep to meet him at the watering hole at the fall of the sun, and he would get his fight. The King Lion was ready to destroy the Sheep in front of the entire Kingdom.

    And so there he was...the King...waiting at the watering hole. All he had to do was wait for the Sheep. And so...he waited.

    And he waited...

    And he waited...

    And he waited...

    The fall of the sun had came, and yet there was no sheep.

    The Lion had fought many challengers, but none as cowardly as the sheep. The sheep had talked all that talk, but in the end he did not have the courage to face the lion. From that day forward, the King ruled that he did not want to see any sheep in his Kingdom again. And IF there were to be any sheep in his Kingdom, there were to be taken to the Lion...where he would eat them on the spot.

    And so that was the end of it. Or so the King thought...until one day the Sheep did decide to show his face again...and so...

    THE LION FUCKING ATE HIM. The Sheep didn't stand a chance, as the Lion sunk his sharp teeth into the Justin Bieber looking Sheep. Eating away his punk attitude with every single bite. All that trash talking, all that strutting around despite no actual accomplishments, all being eaten away into the King's mouth. The King rips off the sheep's bloody arm, and chews it in his mouth like a steak until-


    Just then, the Nurse runs into the room.

    Nurse: I think it's time for Tommy to go to bed. Thank you for-

    King Sullivan: I AM NOT finished.

    Who are you? Are you reading bed time stories to dying sick children? No? Okay, then take a seat then and lesson to the story.

    I am a King, and I deserve respect. Yet constantly, I do not get it. I don't get it from you, and I don't get it from my opponents, and I don't get it from management! Well I have had enough of it. I have had enough of the constant disrespect that I've been getting day in and day out. If you aren't going to willingly get on your knees and worship me like I deserve, then I am going to force you too. You will get on your knees, and you will bow down god dammit!


    With that, two security guards come into the room. They grab Sullivan by the arms, and drag him out as he continues to rant. Little Tommy watches his hero get dragged away, but yet unlike the rest...he still worships his King.

    Tommy admires Sullivan. He is a Lion after all. He is a fighter. Tommy could be a sheep. He could just lay down, give up, and die like Dominick Armistead. But he won't. He isn't like Armistead. He doesn't need a Savior. He needs a King. He is a Lion, and he is strong. Just like Sullivan. And tomorrow night he is going to watch The Lion eat the Sheep, and he couldn't be any prouder.




    "It is better to be a lion for a day, than a sheep all your life. " - Elizabeth Kenny



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    Re: Fight Night 06/14/19 PROMO THREAD

    Played Out in My Head




    "He flies off the top rope...

    Leg drop! Right to the chest! The crowd is on their feet!"



    The person behind the voice tries to find a balance that walks the line mixing a scream and whisper. It's almost like a voice that lost its power and turned hoarse. But it's a forced hoarse. And with the only light in the room coming from the dresser nearest the bed, and the pitch-black view coming from the nearby window, the reason for the diminished volume is obvious.

    The clock on the wall shows the small hang pointing between the 10 and 11, and the big hang is hanging directly over the 6 at the very bottom of the circular shape. It's close to 10:30 at night. The rest of the house has turned off, and it's time to go to bed. But not for Jansen, the sandy blonde-haired kid who got super excited all night to play with his favorite toys. The 12-year-old boy grabs one action figure laying within his miniature ring and toyishly bounces it toward one of the corners. This figurine, a pale-skinned wrestler with big bug eyes and a green cape, moves forward with the guidance of Jansen's hand and bumps into another, a figurine sporting a suit.

    The voice returns, mimicking the sounds of the FWA announcing team as if they were calling a real match.



    "XYZ takes down The Protege again! He's rolling!

    "Oh, this is just temporary. (then, in a sarcastic tone) I'm Michael Garcia and I think I know everything."

    "Shut up, Garcia! You suck!"



    The boy has XYZ go for an awkward superkick, which he has The Protege dodge. Then he drops The Protege figurine and grabs The Prototype one, which was laying on the outside of the ring, down on the carpet next to Jansen's thigh.


    (Again using a hushed-screaming voice) "HERE COMES THE PROTOTYPE!"


    He has The Prototype boot the XYZ figurine in the face and then puts XYZ in position to be powerbombed. Jansen smashes the XYZ figurine into the toy ring and makes a loud SMACK sound. Then he has The Protege lay on top and presses down on the sensor in the middle to have the referee count.


    "ONE! TWO! THREE! *DING, DING, DING*"


    "OH MY! THE NEW BREED WINS! THE NEW BREED"


    "Jansen! ... Quiet down! It's time to put your toys away and go to bed!"


    Jansen's face drops as he lightly tosses his XYZ figurine to the side. He then turns to his right and sits up on his bed. But just as he reaches to his left to turn off the table lamp, a voice breaks the silence.


    "So ... you had us lose?"


    Jansen immediately goes into a defensive position. He backs up onto the bed as a shadowy figure comes from one of the room's darkest corners. As he emerges into the light, Jansen's face changes from fear to excitement.


    "I ... It was just the non-title match!" Jansen replies.


    XYZ stands before him with the green cape tied around his neck and the white wrestling pants fitting snugly down to his ankles. His brown string-like hair dangles over his ears and cheeks, down to his neck. He looks friendly, even if he has just committed trespassing and broken the law. Who cares in these things anyways?


    "As long as it wasn't for the championships."


    Jansen sits up as XYZ plops down next to the toy ring and the FWA action figurines and begins setting them up for another match. The little boy crawls to the edge of the bed and watches from a kneeling position. Suddenly, he grows curious.


    "Are you ... are you real?" Jansen replies.

    "Why wouldn't I be?"

    "I don't know. It's like Santa Claus. Everyone at school said he isn't real, and they all make fun of me for still believing in him. But my mom and gran-ma say he's real."

    "Well ... I'm definitely not Santa Claus. But I would like to stay a while and see how the championship match goes."


    Jansen smiles. With the light shining a little more on his face, we can now tell that he's got almond-shaped eyes that slant, and a flat face, particularly at the nose. Jansen likely has down syndrome, which is certainly tough for a 12-year-old boy who attends special-ed classes at an otherwise-normal middle school and spends time around people without this condition.


    "Alright, well we have to send you and Lord Dog through the tron for your music."


    Now we see a large bin off to the side of the room. In the bin, there are tens of other FWA action figures. From a cursory glance, we can see Chris Kennedy, Cyrus Truth, Shannon O'Neal, Dave Sullivan, Phillip A. Jackson, Jason Randall, Danny Toner and many others. All of them are in a pile on top of one another, in no real rhyme or reason. Beneath them, where Jansen is reaching, is a miniature entrance way. A magnetic strip on each figurine's foot connects with another strip on the plastic entrance path, which then plays that wrestler's entrance song.


    "We have to be quiet, though. We don't want your parents to get upset."


    Jansen immediately nods and then does a "shhhhh". Instead of having the song play, he brings the figurine from the side and hums the tune to each song. The New Breed figurines are already in the ring, laying down.


    "You're a big FWA fan?"

    "Yeah. My favorite is Chris Kennedy, but I like you and Lord Dog a lot, too. I always have you two win tag team matches. That's why you're the champs. But you two won them earlier than in real life."

    "Well ... glad to know someone out there thinks good of us. A lot of people probably think we are toast when we face The New Breed again. Since they beat us just last week."

    "Yeah ... I don't know about that.

    Where is Lord Dog anyway? And whatever happened to that other guy with the Popeyes? Big Al?"


    XYZ smiles and looks around the lightly lit room.


    "Uh ... I don't really know where Lord Dog is. He's off doing something or another. I can't keep a hold of him too well. And Big Al is in the car out front, waiting for me. He'd make too much noise. I'm sure you can see why. He's a loud guy."


    Jansen laughs as XYZ chuckles a little bit. Then he does a "shhhhh" sound and Jansen quiets down. Now it's time for the match.

    Jansen maneuvers the figurines around the ring as XYZ watches with a smile. The Lord Dog action figure takes a bump from The Prototype but Jansen has the XYZ figure make a save on the pinfall. XYZ, the real life-size one, finally breaks up the silence.



    "So ... you mentioned kids at school. Do you have a lot of friends there?"


    Jansen momentarily pauses playing with the figurines and his face sort of drops.


    "Not really. Some kids ... they make fun of me. For how I look and talk."


    XYZ wishes he never asked that question. His face drops as well.


    "And my mom ... she gets mad easily. It's tough for her, I guess. She doesn't want me to know that ... I am like this ... but she gets mad."

    "What about your dad?"


    Jansen pauses again.


    "I don't have a dad."


    Shit. This isn't going well. At all.

    XYZ thinks of what to say in this moment, but nothing seems to make sense. So he just silently watches as Jansen plays with the wrestling figurines. Jansen teases in his announcer voice that the XYZ figurine is about to do a moonsault from the top rope. Before he does it, XYZ puts his hand in the way to pause Jansen.

    Finally, he knows what to say.



    "You know ... the secret to a great moonsault ... is just doing the flip and hoping you measured it right."

    "Yeah right. Everyone knows you practiced that for years."

    "Nope. Everyone thinks it's tough but it's not. I could teach you right now how to do one, but we'd be too loud. So I'll show you with the XYZ guy."


    XYZ takes him and does a flip from the miniature wrestling ring turnbuckle. It doesn't really show anything valuable about doing a moonsault, but it does make Jansen smile. That's enough.


    "So how was the match supposed to end?"

    "I don't know. Do you think you and Lord Dog would win?"


    XYZ pauses and smiles.


    "Yeah. We're tougher than them. We have more camaraderie than them. And honestly ... we're hungry. Or at least I am. I want to prove to people that we'd defend our titles. I think that's important, you know? I don't want to just be a footnote or something.

    I don't care about the first match. We lost. That happens. Then you win. When you're evenly matched, you lose some and win some. We aren't pushovers, though. We're the tag team champs. The New Breed is tough. The Prototype is really big. But I think we'd find a way. And I think Lord Dog would get it done.

    But I'll let you handle deciding the winner in your room."



    XYZ gets upright and does one more "shhhh" hand gesture and sound as he's set to leave Jansen's room. Before he does, Jansen has one more question.


    "Can I tell everyone at school about this?"

    "Yeah. Go for 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


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