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Thread: Fight Night Promo Thread 8/16/19

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    Fight Night Fight Night Promo Thread 8/16/19

    Please post your promos in here. The promo deadline is 23:59 PST on Wednesday, August 14th. This is 2:59 EST and 7:59 BST on Thursday, August 15th. Extensions are available on request up until 24 hours before deadline. Any request made after this WILL be automatically denied unless an emergency occurs. Extensions will also be granted to all participants in a match if one participant receives an extension.


    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.

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    Re: Fight Night Promo Thread 8/16/19

    "Man With No Mojo"

    Sterling Jagger is seen holding his head down after another Loss to this record. He doesn't have the same swagger or optimism he usually has as he enters the arena. He is greeted by a backstage announcer.

    Announcer: Sterling Jagger its been a really hard past couple months after showing so much promise in the beginning how do you feel watching it all slip away? You even tried to team up with Tommy Thunder and in the end the "Must See MVP's" were more like "Must See Duds".

    Sterling Jagger keeps his head down still talking towards the ground.

    Sterling Jagger: I don't know what to say anymore. Loss after loss time after time to come up short it really fucks with your head. Do you know what the definition of insanity is? Doing the same thing over and over and excepting shit to change. That's how I feel... I feel like I am going insane. I feel like why should I bother.

    I come into this arena I bust my fucking ass off and in the end I got nothing. I leave here tomorrow nothing changes they forget I am even here. Do you know how fucked up that is? Do you even know how much that screws with your head. I come out here give 150% and to literally feel like it was worth shit I cant even explain it.

    I lost it all.

    I have lost the fame, the fortune, the mojo. XYZ I know the outcome of this match before it even starts you are going to beat me in the middle of the ring clean and you will move on to bigger better things and I become the forgotten one.

    Why should I bother?

    What does it even matter?

    I am nothing but a failure. I see what Tommy meant I know what these voices backstage say. They didn't take me serious.

    They never have... They never will.

    Do you know what that does?

    It makes everything just seem worthless.

    Everything feels useless.

    XYZ....

    Sterling gets down on the ground on his knees. He has tears in his eyes as he pleas.

    Sterling Jagger: Put me out of my misery.


    Sterling Jagger walks off his head held down as this broken man makes his way down the hall.




    Spoiler:


    CWA World Heavyweight Champion
    Brayden Bridges




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    Re: Fight Night Promo Thread 8/16/19

    "Court Is Now In Session"





    “All rise for the honourable Judge Gabrielle”

    Everyone in the courtroom gets to their feet at the behest of the bailiff. Said bailiff almost wears the uniform you’d expect; a dark blue Police Uniform, though because this bailiff happens to be the Caramel Coated Goddess Gabrielle its not quite what you’d call official attire. A dark blue jacket that’s strategically unbuttoned to show off her cleavage. A very short pair of dark blue short shorts that barely conceals her ass. Fishnet stockings that cling to her thighs before her legs are wrapped in knee high black boots. It’s a Police Uniform no doubt, just with Gabrielle’s own touch to it, and the curves of her body barely contained by it. In steps the Judge…who is also Gabrielle, and thusly while you could say she is dressed like a judge, her outfit is so “Gabrielle”. The neckline of the black robe plunges lower than any Judges uniform ever has before, and shows off enough cleavage to captivate every man, woman and child who see’s it. The robe completely covers her arms, and her stomach, before barely making it past her waist, just low enough to cover her posterior but leave every inch of those long smooth legs of hers bare. Her Caramel Skin sparkles under the light as she gracefully saunters over to her seat at the head of the room, her dagger pointed stiletto’s never once betraying her gait. Judge Gabrielle takes her seat with that familiar smirk firmly pressed to her lips as everyone else in the room follows suit and sits down.

    Bailiff Gabrielle: This is the case of The Goddess V Krash.

    Judge Gabrielle: I appreciate that this may be a very…volatile situation so I ask that we immediately get to your opening statement defence council.

    The defence lawyer in a black suit and Caramel Skin gets to their feet. A suit that has the jacket ever so purposefully unbuttoned, and features a very, very short skirt. Gabrielle the Defence Lawyer has her long brunette hair tied back into a ponytail as she stands there looking all seductive and ever so slightly professional.

    Defence Lawyer Gabrielle: Let me say this to you all, this is all that you need to know here.

    My client did nothing wrong.

    My client Krash was offered the opportunity of a lifetime. A Mr. Cyrus Truth, the FWA World Champion offered a Title match to my client, and my client took it, as any human being would. Can anyone in this room say that they would turn down the chance to become a World Champion?

    The Defence Lawyer pauses as she looks over the individual members of the Jury. Another twelve Gabrielle’s. There’s a Gabrielle with a blonde wig, another with a red wig. There’s a Goth Gabrielle who’s black outfit contrasts her Caramel Skintone ever so well. There’s even a Nudist Gabrielle at the end of the Jury’s booth, though most of her Bare Caramel Complexioned Skin is hidden by some blurred pixels.

    Defence Lawyer Gabrielle: My client and Cyrus Truth have history together, dating back to the days when the CWA was still going strong. It was there that they faced off for the first, and what was until last week only time. So this was an epic rematch as well, that both men wanted, and the FWA audience, the Pro Wrestling audience wanted. Yes my client Krash was perhaps a little bit selfish here, but he did turn down this opportunity at first, until Cyrus talked him into it. He was offered the opportunity of a lifetime, an opportunity that he just could not in all reason turn down.

    The Defence Lawyer Gabrielle in her smart but provocative suit then turns her attention up to the Judge Gabrielle.

    Defence Lawyer Gabrielle: You yourself your honour in a storied and Hall Of Fame bound Career have still only received a handful of shots at the World Title. They do not come along often, and you must take them when they do. So I repeat to this courtroom, to this Jury, and to you; your honour; my client did nothing wrong.

    The Defence Lawyer glances around the room for a moment, before taking her seat.

    Judge Gabrielle: Now the Prosecution; your opening statement please.

    Another Gabrielle gets to her feet also dressed rather “professionally” but provocatively in a white blouse and black knee length skirt. Her hair is done smartly up into a bun and accentuated with a single yellow daisy resting amongst her brunette locks. She stares over at her opposing Lawyer and then smirks before addressing the courtroom which features no less than fifteen different Gabrielle’s as well as a bunch of other nameless people filling up the room.

    Prosecution Lawyer Gabrielle: Krash did nothing wrong?

    What a lie that is, he took the easy way to the top. He did not earn that Championship match, he was handed it, he was given it, he did nothing to deserve it and that is a travesty!

    That was wrong, that is something that we cannot allow. The FWA World Championship is reserved for the best of the best. It is something you must fight for, something you must strive for. Something that you must prove yourself to be worthy of before you ever step foot in the ring for it. It is not something that should ever just be given to you, not something that can be treated as some cheap prop that you can pass around to your friends. Your honour Gabrielle you yourself you had to fight, you really had to fight to get the few opportunities you have ever had at the FWA World Championship. You were never just handed a chance to be World Champion.

    Your very first shot at the FWA World Championship saw you have to defeat the current World Champion to even get that opportunity. And even then you had to compete against four other people in a Mile High Massacre match to win the FWA World Championship. You earned that opportunity, that chance and you made the most of it. Like you have earned all your opportunities in the FWA. Krash did not, his defence will continue to spin this narrative that he did nothing wrong…well he did nothing right either.

    That smug grin is still firmly pressed to her lips as she glances around the courtroom, nods at the Judge in her Caramel Hue and then sits back down behind her table.

    Judge Gabrielle: Very compelling opening statements ladies. Now do we have any witnesses that either council wishes to cross examine?

    The Defence Lawyer in her smart yet sensual business jacket and skirt gets to her feet.

    Defence Lawyer Gabrielle: I do your honour. I call upon the FWA World Champion himself; Cyrus Truth.

    The doors to the courtroom open and in steps a scrawny punk, there’s no other words to adequately describe him. Sporting several shitty tattoo’s and a haircut that looks like it was done with a chainsaw he brashly marches into the courtroom with a replica of the FWA World Championship casually slung over his shoulder. All eyes follow him as he steps up to the witness box and is quickly sworn in by Bailiff Gabrielle and her shorty shorts. The Defence Lawyer approaches “Cyrus” and as she does her expression changes to a scowl as she locks eyes with this visage to Cyrus Truth.

    Defence Lawyer Gabrielle: Cyrus Truth, the current and I emphasis current FWA World Champion. The man who offered a World Title match to someone who did not deserve it, someone who had not earned it. You coerced my client, you coerced Krash into accepting this match. He didn’t want it, he tried to do what was right by himself and by everyone in the back. I know you blame Chris Kennedy and Dave Sullivan for their actions, but you were at fault here Cyrus, you brought that beating down upon yourself and Mr. Krash who you pressured into being in that situation. How do you explain your actions? And please remember you are under oath, so the Truth please Mr…Truth.

    The scrawny punk doing his best to look the part looks around the courtroom before his eyes light up excitedly.

    Cyrus Truth: You cant handle the Truth!

    Even the Judge has a sneer on her face at that dumb comment and shameful re-enactment of an iconic movie scene.

    Defence Lawyer Gabrielle: Mr. Truth, that was not cute. This is a serious matter you put my client in harms way, you forced him into a situation he did not want. But you dangled that carrot, you dangled the opportunity to be World Champion in front of him and he couldn’t say no to that. Who could?

    The Defence Lawyer looks around the room, letting her last statement hang in the air and resonate with the twelve Gabrielle’s of the Jury. Professor Gabrielle with her cheap fake moustache and bald cap seems particularly enticed by the question as she nods her head up and down.

    Defence Lawyer Gabrielle: So I ask again, how do you explain the way you coerced my client into this situation? How do you justify handing out something that even YOUR Goddess has had to fight tooth and nail for?

    Once again the man portraying “Cyrus” eyes light up as he glances around the courtroom, he goes to speak but is quickly cut off.

    Defence Lawyer Gabrielle: No further questions your Honour.

    Judge Gabrielle: Your witness Prosecution.

    The Prosecution Lawyer checks her notes and then gets to her feet, adjusting the hemline of her skirt as she does before approaching the witness stand.

    Prosecution Lawyer Gabrielle: Cyrus Truth. You are at fault here, no one can dispute that, no one can adequately and fairly explain why you would just hand out a World Title shot, or how Ryan Rondo agreed to that match. But Krash is not guilt free. He could have said no, he could have turned you down. Krash is a big boy not some little child who has to be told everything.

    The Defence wishes to pin all of this on Cyrus Truth, and absolve Krash of any wrongdoing. I however am here to show you all that it is both men who are to blame, both men as well as the FWA General Manager.

    But I would like too put a theory I have out there Cyrus.

    At the Anniversary Show you were in the toughest fight of your life with The Caramel Coated Goddess. You came as close as someone can come to losing without actually losing. One single misstep would have seen you end that night watching Your Goddess raise her FWA World Championship above her head. This is fact, she was your toughest challenge to date and almost had you.

    So I put it to you Cyrus that come Fight Night you wanted, no you needed to remind everyone of how good you can be, how dominant you can be. So you handed Krash something that everyone else in that locker room is actually fighting to get. You handed him a shot at the FWA World Championship because you knew you could beat him, and you knew that his graciousness and joy would leave him weak.

    This is the truth isn’t it?

    Once more his eyes light up and he proudly exclaims.

    Cyrus Truth: The truth? You cant handle the truth!

    The courtroom goes silent as every Gabrielle shakes their head in disapproval.

    Judge Gabrielle: Get him out of my courtroom.

    The Bailiff grabs him by the ear and quickly escorts him out of the room.

    Prosecution Lawyer Gabrielle: He would not own up to his crimes, but I will still prove that Krash is equally to blame here.

    Judge Gabrielle: Your next witness.

    The two Lawyers exchange looks before the Prosecution steps forward gleefully.

    Prosecution Lawyer Gabrielle: I call on my witnesses David Sullivan and Christopher Kennedy.

    The doors swing open again and in marches a boy with a paper crown on his head, and an older man with a plastic shark mask over his face. The two of them quickly make their way to the witness stand where they’re sworn in by the Bailiff. When she turns and walks away they high five as they stare at her ass.

    Prosecution Lawyer Gabrielle: Chris, Dave. You two were involved in this situation as well. When everything went down as it did, the two of you decided to take it upon yourselves to put an end to it. Some people consider you both Hero’s for that, some people consider you to be Villain’s. I do not lean either way, I can see why you did what you did, why you went out there and assaulted Cyrus and Krash, but I do not necessarily approve of it.

    However we all know Krash was no innocent party in this. The two of you did not go out there just to punish Cyrus Truth, you went out there to punish the both of them, because Krash was to blame for this situation as well.

    The Prosecution Lawyer smirks from ear to ear as she directs her gaze at the Defence Lawyer before turning back to the two witnesses.

    Prosecution Lawyer Gabrielle: Krash choose to be out there in the ring competing for the World Championship. You two did not approve of that and put an end to it. You made sure Krash and Cyrus both knew the folly of their choices to put themselves in this situation. You’re not the bad guys here, you were doing what you deemed necessary, doing what you deemed right in answer to something that was unjust. If Krash had of just said no then none of this would have happened. Do you agree?

    Little Dave sticks out his bottom lip and glances around the courtroom.

    Dave Sullivan: I’m the King, everybody has to treat me like Royalty because I say so. I’m not a little Boy Toy anymore. I’m growed up and I’m the King.

    The Prosecution Lawyer raises an eyebrow before turning her attention to “Chris”.

    Chris Kennedy: I’m the Shark from Jaws. Grrrrrrrrrrr!

    Now the Defence Lawyer raises an eyebrow, as the Prosecution Lawyer just shakes her head.

    Prosecution Lawyer Gabrielle: No further questions.

    Judge Gabrielle: Your witness Defence.

    Gabrielle in the tight white blouse and knee length skirt returns to her desk, as Gabrielle in the jacket and short skirt gets to her feet and approaches the Witness Stand.

    Defence Lawyer Gabrielle: You two assaulted my client, lets get that out of the way immediately. You attacked Krash during one of the biggest matches of his life. You act like you did this because Krash wasn’t worthy, but really it was all about jealousy. Krash defeated you Chris in just his second match in the FWA. He beat you in the middle of the ring in a huge moment for his career. He’s more worthy than you are Chris. And Dave you think it’s an opportunity that you are owed, and maybe you do deserve a World Championship match, maybe. But you stormed down to that ring out of jealousy. You attacked my client because he had what you so badly wanted.

    No questions your honour, they’ll just say something ridiculous anyway.

    Dave Sullivan: King Sully Sullivan!!

    Chris Kennedy: I’m Astonishing.

    The Defence Lawyer rolls her eyes as she takes her seat while Chris and Dave are quickly escorted out of the courtroom by the Bailiff.

    Judge Gabrielle: I will now take closing statements from the Prosecution.

    The Prosecution Lawyer gets to her feet once more and casually walks over towards the Jury, casting her gaze over Geisha Gabrielle and Cowgirl Gabrielle for a few moments before speaking up.

    Prosecution Lawyer Gabrielle: I have made one thing clear here today. Krash is not an innocent party in this, ultimately, he chose to put himself in this situation. He chose to bypass earning a World Championship match and accepted being handed one. Our Goddess Gabrielle has never been handed anything in her entire life. You might think being beautiful has made things easier for her, but no she had to fight even harder to prove herself, and she has many times over. Krash has not proved himself, he did not deserve what he was flippantly given.

    He should have never been in that ring. He should have never been out there. Krash was the one who confronted Cyrus Truth, Krash put himself in this situation and he got what he deserved at the hands of Dave Sullivan and Chris Kennedy. Now he will get what he deserves at the hands of The Goddess.

    He is not innocent, he attempted to get in the way of Divinity and now he must burn for it.

    Gabrielle the Prosecution Lawyer casts her gaze all around the room, there’s that flickering malevolent flame within them as she does. A fire that radiates upon her Soft Caramel Skin. She just lets her words hang in the air before she nods at the Judge and then takes her seat.

    Judge Gabrielle: And Defence, your closing statements.

    The Defence Lawyer gets up from her seat and takes the center of the room.

    Defence Lawyer Gabrielle: Krash did nothing wrong. I have said this many times today. He accepted what he was offered, the chance to become a Champion. He would be a fool to turn that down, and we would all be fools to accept him to do so. Krash is just a man whose moment of startling good fortune came with some bad luck. Krash is just a man who was put into a bad situation…and now has to deal with Our Goddess.

    The Defence Lawyer pauses as that familiar smirk kisses her full lips.

    Defence Lawyer Gabrielle: Krash…I cant defend you anymore…

    Prosecution Lawyer Gabrielle: Nor will I waste anymore time explaining your guilt.

    Bailiff Gabrielle: All rise for our Goddess, the Honourable Gabrielle.

    Judge Gabrielle: It is time…

    The Judge gets to her feet, and in an instant she is left alone in this room. The other people, the other Gabrielle’s are all gone, and it just our one singular Goddess Bathed In Caramel. She runs a hand through her hair and then pushes over the flimsy pedestal before her and marches towards that point where we have all witnessed this scene unfold. Her stiletto heels carry her with a poise and grace that you would think would defy the fiery gaze in her eyes. She reaches a hand up and grasps at the collar of her robe and then tears it away leaving herself standing there in a flowing white full length dress that divinely clings to her body. But she doesn’t allow us those seconds that drag on for an eternity to bask in the curves and splendour of her body. Her eyes don’t allow us that as her movements stop and she tilts her head ever so slightly.

    Gabrielle: I find you all guilty. Krash I find you guilty of stealing what is not yours, taking what should have never been given to you. Dave, and Chris I find you guilty of being petulant little children that can’t handle not being worthy of what you think you are owed. And Cyrus…I find you guilty of the most heinous of crimes. I find you guilty of defying your Goddess, of besmirching and undermining your Goddess. You do not hand out Title shots while I am around. You do not clap your hands and act like this is all done between us. I’m coming for you Cyrus…just watch what I do to your special little chosen one Krash.

    He will pay for your crimes.

    He will pay for your sins.

    Krash will burn for you, and it will all be on your head Cyrus. You brought this down upon him. You put him here before me, before His and Your Goddess. He will suffer for you, until we meet again…

    That wicked smirk, now more cruel than seductive haunts her lips as it all fades to black.
    Last edited by ETE; 08-14-2019 at 11:10 AM.





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    Re: Fight Night Promo Thread 8/16/19

    "Failure Isn't An Option"


    We open up with the three members of the CCC as they walk defeated into the edge of The Dark Forest. They look at one another before Crowe steps up and begins to speak his family right behind him.

    Crowe: We failed...

    We see that Alice peeks her head out from under Crowe arm. She trembles and speaks.

    Alice: We tried...

    Nova looks up the at the stars as he speaks.

    Nova: We failed though...

    Alice speaks up with the sound of her trying to get ahold of her self.

    Alice: In the end it doesn't matter...

    A voice comes from The Dark Forest.

    ???: You may have failed but, this fight is not over.

    ???: The battle has only begun.

    ???: Wars are never won within just a fight they are won in battles waged.

    Alice tries to talk to the voice.

    Alice: We failed you though.

    ???: It is alright our message moves on my children.

    ???: What is down only has one way to go and that is up.

    ???: They underestimate us. They think we are broken. We are lost..

    ???: We are in the driver seat.

    ???: They will never see it coming.

    Alice: Maybe you are right? Maybe we should pick ourselves up. Crowe you are facing Tommy Thunder you must beat him we got to defeat him.

    ???: Tommy Thunder is a parasite infecting the masses he is leeching onto the competition to keep himself busy until he fades into the darkness that is his career children he is not the man he once was nor is he the man he think it is now.

    Crowe lets a wicked grin form on the side of his face.

    Crowe: I wont let you down. Failure isn't a option. This world will hear your message Thunder will become another lost soul fed to The Dark Forest.

    Crowe and his family walk into The Dark Forest as an evil laugh is heard as we fade to black.



    Spoiler:


    CWA World Heavyweight Champion
    Brayden Bridges




  5. #5
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    Re: Fight Night Promo Thread 8/16/19

    XYZ finally agreed to meet Big Al on his home turf. When he exits the car, all he can smell is grease. All he can see is run-down apartments and single-bedroom homes lining the vacated, litter-filled streets and sidewalks. At this intersection connecting low-income housing to cheap strip mall laundry mats, XYZ zones in on the bright red and faded orange sign raised about 40 feet above his head.

    In white letters, "LOUISIANA KITCHEN" surrounds the central "P". Then, in a box shaped like a pill, "POPEYES".

    Before he sees any stranger, XYZ notices Big Al smiling at him through the fast-food restaurant's window. XYZ sighs deeply and paces toward the front door.



    "What took ya so long? Ain't no traffic out here!"


    XYZ has no answer. Big Al swiftly moves toward the ordering counter, and XYZ follows suit. The smell of butter and grease and seasoning nearly makes him vomit.


    "You ain't never had Popeyes before, right, X?"


    "X" is a new nickname Big Al has given XYZ, who doesn't mind at all. He shakes his head in answering the question, and then Big Al giddily turns back to the person taking the order. It's a white male of around 40 years in age. He isn't smiling, not one bit. Rather, he looks agitated at how energetic Big Al appears.


    "Alright, we'll take two 3-piece meals. Mild. Mixed meat. Red beans n rice for me. X over here wants mashed potatoes. And give us two extra biscuits. No ... wait ... make it three extra biscuits. My man over here ain't never had one before."


    XYZ is appalled by this display. But he still forks over the credit card when the payment total is announced and Big Al turns his body 90 degrees to offer XYZ a window.


    "Man, you gonna love it. The best, man. It's the best. Ain't nothing like Popeyes."


    Big Al takes a big gulp of his drink. Then he notices XYZ is looking a bit glum.


    "What's bothering you, X? You ain't said one word since you got here."


    XYZ has been a bit dumpy lately. He shouldn't be, in his opinion, since he defeated James "Eyesnsane" Hughes on the last Fight Night. His losing streak is over, and he should be renewed after ending the tag team with the AWOL Lord Dog.


    "I know not, Big Al. I am ... listless. Every man ... needs a purpose. But I feel ... like mine has yet to form. I'm ... like a just ... existing."


    In his animated way, XYZ pauses for long stretches and flails his hands around wildly to add emphasis when he feels it's appropriate.


    "I want to be a hero ... for the people ... who have been by my side. The dreamers, who've never let the dream die. They matter. ... They..."

    "Let me stop you right there."


    A Popeyes worker brings out the chicken-filled boxes of greatness — or early death, depending on your point of view — and Big Al digs in. He sticks the napkin in his shirt neck like he's about to have a five-course, four-star meal. But he foregoes the plastic spork and knife for his chicken and biscuits. XYZ has far less enthusiasm in starting his meal.


    "No one is looking to you to save them ... or lead them. First off, you gotta lead yourself. You gotta take care of YOU. Don't worry about them people. They on your side. They root for you. They ain't going anywhere. They fine, too."

    "Not ... internally. They're wrecked with emotional pain. They want someone to PULL the night sky down and replace their darkness with an EVERLASTING light."

    "Yo ... I have no unearthly idea what you just said. And no one else does, either. You gotta pull the sky down for yourself, though. Everyone is wrecked with emotional pain. Ain't no one right, man. But no one is expecting YOU to be a damn hero."


    XYZ tries to interject but Big Al is rolling.


    "Look, I get you have some past baggage. So does everyone else. I know you have this personality disorder thing going on where you go back and forth between this character you've created and the real you. And I know that at your happiest, you find some sort of middle ground with the two. And I'm cool with it. But this ain't about you bein all wacked out. This is you putting the weight of the damn world on yourself."


    XYZ is taken aback as Big Al just reams him a new one.


    "You right. You DO need a goal. A mission. You ain't the same without one. But that mission needs to be about YOU."


    Big Al points an end of a chicken leg drumstick at XYZ's chest. The piece is all bone now, with every ounce of chicken bitten off and devoured by the large black man.


    "Sterling Jagger..."

    "Sterling DAMN Jagger..."

    "Sterling Jagger ... is coming ... at an inopportune time for himself.

    By the time we face, amid the sea of wolves and the crashing thunderbolts ... I will

    I will have that goal in mind. I will have that picture. I will have the gods themselves speaking to me. Whispering in my ear. Telling me the way to the pot of gold."


    "Alllright, here we GO."

    "You eat that chicken. You eat those biscuits. Don't even use a spork!"

    "I won't."

    "Who is Sterling Jagger anyways? That's what we came to discuss here. You are my owl ears, Big Al. You are my sentar."

    "He ain't a thing. Dude lost last week in a tag team match. Dude lost in one at the big show. At one point, he and that Tommy Thunder dude were winning tag team matches. Now they aren't a thing? No one knows. It's like an episode of The Bachelor. Or Big Brother. Survivor maybe? One of them shows."


    Big Al pauses for a bite of a biscuit. He then groans in an orgasmic way, in pure delight.


    "I think the dude is gonna keep struggling. He doesn't seem to evolve."

    "Evolution. An interesting word to bring up."

    "Gotta do it! GOT ... to do it. No matter where you are in life. You gotta evolve if you wanna make it."

    "Humans MUST evolve."

    "Time for you to evolve, too, X."


    The scene fades as Big Al continues eating fried chicken and XYZ stares blankly across the small table, with raindrops now bouncing off the pavement outside.


    "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


  6. #6
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    Re: Fight Night Promo Thread 8/16/19

    Exile Chronicles (Chapter 2)
    Volume 9: A Seat at the Table




    We open our scene out in the middle of what looks to be a forest, populated by hundreds of conifer trees. The sun is out as a gentle breeze whispers through the needle-like leaves. Our focus shifts to a clearing in the middle of the forest, with a single log cabin in the middle of it with a worn dirt path the only way to and from this destination. This cabin is not some hastily-built hovel, nor is it one of those towering resort cabins used by families on holiday. It's somewhere in-between...modest, yet elegant.

    Up the dirt road, we see a figure walking up the path, and as it approaches we see the face of the FWA World Heavyweight Champion, Cyrus Truth. Cyrus is dressed very plainly, as if he's here on retreat to get away from the world, if just for a moment.

    And considering what went down last Fight Night, it's not hard to see why Cyrus would need some time to recuperate. After offering a World Title match to Krash and having that match ruined due to the interjection of Dave Sullivan and Chris Kennedy (not to mention the severe beating that followed) and having everybody and their mother chime in with their opinions regarding the assault and the match itself, even someone as stoic as Cyrus would need to get away from it all.

    However, it's evident that The Exile, the World Champion still has that on his mind, as evidenced by his furrowed brow and gritted teeth. Nevertheless, Cyrus continues his walk towards the cabin, with a backpack slung over his right shoulder and a white package in his left hand. As he gets within several feet of the cabin, he's stopped by the loud, excited barking of a dog. The dog, a boxer/pitbull mix with an earthy brown coat, bounds up to Cyrus with his tail wagging.

    Cyrus's grimace gives way for a smile as he extends his free hand and pets the dog.


    "Hey, Rufus. Hope I didn't keep you waiting too long. Who's a good boy?"

    Rufus barked as if in acknowledgement as both Exile and dog walk together, reaching the front door of the cabin. Stepping in, the interior is decorated modestly, giving the place an air of rugged comfort as Cyrus sets his backpack down and Rufus, seemingly content that his master was back, settles into a place on a throw rug. Cyrus, for his part, walks past a large hand-carved dining room table into a well-stocked kitchen, with a door leading out to a patio with a built-in charcoal grill.

    Cyrus takes the package he was carrying and unwraps it atop the kitchen counter, revealing it to a pair of prime steaks. Cyrus sets the meat atop a cutting board as Rufus looks up, seeing the meat...but does nothing, as he remains in place relaxing.


    With the meat out, Cyrus heads out the patio door to the grill and begins loading it with charcoal. He takes a charcoal chimney and, with a bit of newspaper, starts to ignite a bit of the charcoal, getting it nice and hot. As the charcoal starts to warm and turn grey, Cyrus speaks up, not even looking at the camera.

    "I just want to make one thing perfectly clear, because just about everybody else has been mistaken as to what happened on Fight Night was about. None of this...my match with Krash, Sullivan and Kennedy's very poor decision to interfere in that match...none of this has anything to do with the Clique Wrestling Alliance.

    "I realize my saying that ruins the narrative that those two blowhards are going to want to run with, but I never really cared about narrative. Truth is what matters, and the Truth is that Kennedy and Sullivan did what they did because something important was happening and it didn't involve either of them. They can cry foul that they deserved a title shot before Krash did, and while I'll admit that both have a case for one? What does that have to do with Krash? Why were they so upset that I chose to give a good friend of mine a chance to finish something we never got a chance to finish several years ago? Krash beat Kennedy. Sullivan had to deal with Maximus. Afterwards? Sure, give them their title matches. But that night was for me and my friend...and you just couldn't leave well enough alone. And now you'll spend your time talking about how it 'had to be done to keep CWA rejects in their place' or some other nonsense like that. But your words cannot hide the fact that the two of you acted out of a sense of desparation...out of fear born of bruised ego and arrogance."


    The coals in the chimney start glowing white-hot. Cyrus, seeing this, dumps the contents of the chimney out into the grill as the rest of the charcoal starts to heat up. Cyrus puts his hand over the coals, the heat producing drops of sweat from his outstretched palm.

    "It's not as if you're alone in this. Mike Parr isn't any different. Hell, our match's headline is a misleading narrative. 'A Rivalry Reborn,' they say. Funny, I don't recall it being a rivalry. In total, Parr and I had three one-on-one matches with a smattering of multi-man matches in between. The first match was a throwaway match as I was rolling towards my title match against Rondo at Red, White, and Bruised. I won. Then Parr scored an upset against me. And then he wouldn't stop bragging about it. On and on he would boast about that one win while conveniently forgetting the loss he had suffered. He'd crow about how much better he was than me, and how he'd be the one to expose me as nobody special. It's a song many have sung, and it ended the same way as all the others...with me crushing Mike Parr, and proving that he wasn't remotely close to ready to truly face me. Now, he might be thinking that, with all this nonsense going on, I'll be distracted enough for him to get another win.

    "Spoilers, though: he thought the same thing when we last faced off. How'd that work for you, Parr?

    "After I beat him last time, Parr decided in his infinite lack of wisdom that his best course of action was not to reassess his skills or his reasons for being a wrestler. No, he decided that he'd gain a couple of equally stupidly nicknamed lackeys, project himself as the mastermind behind them, and use them to bully and beat down his opposition. We see the brutal beatdown that Phillip Jackson suffered at the hands of Parr and his New Breed, and that's supposed to be impressive. But I'm not impressed. Am I supposed to be scared of that? In what world do you think that your little gangland beatdown of Jackson was supposed to unnerve me? You can't have forgotten just who the hell you're dealing with, Parr. What makes you think I'll LET you do to me what you did to Jackson? If you think your cronies make you stronger or give you enough of an advantage that you can surpass me, especially now that I've got a well of anger that I need to work through? You'd be better off standing in your boys' corner while they try to make some headway in the tag division. Because if you step into that ring with me on Fight Night, Parr? You won't leave. Because I know you. I know how you like to try and distract people from the Truth with your boasts and your rhetoric. And deep down, you know that none of that will make a damn bit of difference when you stand face-to-face with me. You do not matter, Mike. And I will run through you and make an example of you to those who REALLY need to be taught the same lesson I taught you so many months ago."


    The coals in the grill are now all white and fiery. With the grill now hot enough to cook, Cyrus returns to the kitchen where he had left the steaks on the counter, undisturbed by a dazing Rufus. Cyrus takes a couple of spices from a rack next to the stove as he begins to season the steaks.

    As he continues this and resumes speaking, the anger and indignation from what happened last Fight Night begins to resurface, his tone dripping with malice and a desire for retribution.


    "CWA is gone. I don't deny that, nor do I choose to ignore it. But as I said, nothing about what happened last Fight Night had anything to do with CWA. The reason I gave Krash a title shot was because I wanted to give a friend an opportunity that was denied the both of us years ago. I wanted the FWA fans to witness something that they never would've have believed they'd get to see. And I wanted an answer to a question that needed to be answered. The Clique Wrestling Alliance...what it was, what it is, didn't factor into my decision. As for Sullivan and Kennedy, they did what they did because they couldn't stand the thought that somebody other than them had the spotlight on them. And for that, they denied Krash an opportunity he had earned by defeating Kennedy. I've honestly never been so blisteringly angry at two men than I am with those two cretins. Just because they couldn't be patient, they had to deny the FWA fans a once-in-a-lifetime match? They had to deny Krash and me a definitive conclusion as that bastard Blight did that fated Adrenaline Rush?! Do they realize just how utterly dead they both are?

    "That would be bad enough, but now everybody and their cousin feels like they have to chime in about this manufactured CWA drama. At least with Sullivan and Kennedy, I can understand their frustration. By no means does that excuse their very poorly thought-out actions that will result in their evisceration, but I can understand it. But Gabrielle? Gabrielle Montgomery chiming in with her two cents, saying that it was wrong of me to offer Krash a title shot when she was more deserving. I'm sorry, but excuse you? Since when does a challenger who lost to the champion decide who's worthy or not? Kennedy has a claim to a shot due to a champion's right of a rematch. Sullivan has his two golden belts and a pinfall victory over the champion as his claim. What the FUCK has Gabrielle done to get another shot at me when she couldn't get the job done the first time? She wants to pretend that she somehow won something despite me dropping her on her head and pinning her clean as can be, and act like she's the supposed moral guardian of what's right and wrong and who deserves what in FWA. You lost, Gabby. You did not win. You accomplished nothing save for put up a good fight, and that's what you were expected to do AT A MINIMUM. Krash won his match. You did not. So please...for once in your life, keep your mouth shut and earn your opportunities and stop concerning yourself with how I conduct myself as a champion. All those hot takes of yours? Cram them into a box and bury it, because they worth about as much as some low-grade compost. And instead of saying that you deserve a title match, how about you try and prove you deserve one when you face off against Krash? Maybe if you can beat him, you might be allowed to contribute to the conversation. But considering Krash is as good a wrestler as I am, with more heart than you'll ever have? I don't like your chances."

    With the steaks properly seasoned, Cyrus grabs a plate from the cupboard along with a pair of tongs and puts the two steaks on the plate, carrying them out to the grill. As Cyrus puts the steaks on the grill and the sounds of sizzling flesh and fat become more and more evident, Cyrus's glare sharpens.


    "But even the inane and pointless chatter of Gabrielle Montgomery is world-class philosophy compared to one's man's pointless, baseless, insipid braying. Michael Garcia...Michael FUCKING Garcia has the gall to criticize ME? Where do I begin with this asshole? He sits at that commentary desk, chest puffed out and speaking with a voice of authority with the tone of a brain-dead mule, saying that it was wrong for a couple of 'CWA Rejects' to have a match for a title when more deserving, 'homegrown FWA talent' deserved it more. He went on and on with the same speech I heard countless times since I got here: "What you did before FWA doesn't mean a damn thing." And maybe, MAYBE Michael might've had a point if not for one very important fact he neglected to mention. All of those homegrown talent he wants to take pride in? Kennedy, Gabrielle, Parr, Shannon, Bell, St. Clair, KAIZEN, Rondo? I BEAT THEM ALL. Sullivan's the only one I haven't beaten, and I've made it no secret that I'm more than happy to face him in the ring again to show him just how difficult it is to beat me twice. But everybody else? They stood up to me, and they got knocked down. Some managed to get a win on me, yes. But even so, none of them have proven that they are superior to me.

    And lest we forget, Mikey, you've faced me before one-on-one...and you lost, too."


    Cyrus uses the tongs to flip the steaks, as the sizzling almost gets louder.

    "With one theory debunked, so too the other. And that is what irritates me the most about Michael Garcia and a lot of people in FWA...their shortsightedness. You want to know why I've been able to run roughshod through FWA? It's not because there aren't any wrestlers capable of stopping me. It's because idiots like Garcia seem to think that if it didn't happen inside your cozy little FWA bubble, it didn't matter. That arrogance has become part and parcel of nearly all of my opponents, who look at me and underestimate me because I don't have their FWA pedigree. Well, look at how well that worked out for all of them. Minor victories for them...four World Titles and three straight Back in Business main events for me. And yet, these braying mules will keep harping on and on about CWA's demise and how its wrestlers deserve nothing because of it. CWA died because of bureaucracy, not talent. That's the Truth of it. CWA was unable to survive because those in charge of the company couldn't accept the responsibility of ensuring that the promotion would be there for its wrestlers to showcase their talents for the world. And CWA produced talent. I'm proof of that. Krash is proof of that. And that just gets under your skin, doesn't it? Especially when you can't accept that you were all ultimately wrong."

    Cyrus produces a knife and cuts into one of the steaks, showing that it has been cooked medium rare. Satisfied, Cyrus uses the tongs to put the steaks on his plate and heads back into the kitchen.

    Rufus's ears pick up as Cyrus grabs a second plate and heads for the dining table, seating himself at the head. For the first time, Cyrus looks directly at the camera, eyes burning with righteous fury.

    "Sullivan likes to call himself the King. As do I. But unlike Dave, I'm not the sort of king who wants to oppress and subjugate, nor do I demand they worship and venerate me. I'm the King of Vagabonds, of the outcasts and the marginalized. All I ever wanted in wrestling was to be recognized, to have a seat at the table. CWA didn't want that at first, and FWA and its wrestlers were no different. But I'm nothing if not persistent, so I decided to carve my own table. Here, all are welcome who would hold true to dignity, honor, and the desire for greatness. And any who would sit at this table would be more than welcome to challenge me for the right to sit at the head. But Sullivan, Kennedy...Gabrielle, Garcia, and Parr? They think it beneath them. They think the table they sat at, the table I shattered under my heel, is the one that I should be begging to sit at, and be grateful for even the slightest consideration. Haven't I told you before? Those days are done. FWA has changed...evolved past you. So you can either change along with it...or wait outside and starve while other, more worthy people have a seat and partake in the feast."

    A sharp whistle escapes Cyrus's lips as Rufus, as if on cue, rushes up and plops his haunches on one of the chairs. Cyrus takes one of the steaks on his plate and puts it on another, passing it to Rufus who starts to wolf it down.

    "Starve, Parr. Let your belly shrink in hunger, begging you and pleading with you for some sustenance that now will forever be denied you. Step into the ring with me, and I'll tear you apart. Butcher you, and feed your corpse to the mongrels. But take heart in the fact that your fate will pale in comparison to the apocalypse that will come crashing down on Chris Kennedy and Dave Sullivan. This is a matter of pride...of making the two of you fully realize the grave mistake you have made. For your impatience and your egos, you are condemned. You think that you can use the corpse of CWA to bolster you enough to survive what I am fully prepared to do you? Prepare to be rudely awakened...again."


    As Cyrus turns his gaze to his own steak, he starts to cut into the meat...but stops, as a small, thin smirk crosses his lips. It's as if an amusing thought crossed his mind.

    "You know, for all the talk and mocking of CWA's collapse, it rings somewhat ironically to me. Recall when I said that the hardest thing for folks in professional wrestling to do is to remember? Or perhaps a better question is...how real do you all want this to get? I know you recall six years ago. The strife and turmoil...the very real possibility of FWA's own implosion. Something that would have happened...had it not been for CWA extending a hand.

    "Ever wonder why a rival promotion would help FWA when it stood to gain rather little from it? Go ahead and chew on that for a while. I'll see you on Fight Night."


    With that, Cyrus begins to slowly eat his meal as the sun sets over the forest horizon, casting the cabin in dusk. It's a rather peaceful scene, undercut by The Exile's words and declaration. War is coming...blood will be shed. And retribution and scorched earth follows the World Heavyweight Champion in his wake...

  7. #7
    Chikara Trainee

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    Re: Fight Night Promo Thread 8/16/19

    Mike grimaces as the headache inducing sound of the buzzer granting access reverberates around its cold concrete surroundings for what must be at least the 5th time in the hour.The noise might’ve been able to shift the iceberg out of the path of the oncoming Titanic, as the teeth of those within a relatively moderate proximity rattle and clink together. So as you raise your hand to your ears in an attempt to mitigate the oncoming headache, you then have the clanging and the dull hum of the gate moving away from the adjacent wall and sliding back just enough, just enough for someone to get by. That’s all you hear over and over again unless you are up close and personal with who is about to join the party. The chains smack against the ground as his ankles are bound together, causing him to take cold meticulous steps towards his new home.

    Officer C. Struth “And ther’ we hav’ it fish, ano’her out the fish tank and into the sea…One foot in front of t’other now”

    Office Struth quickly, as it was the 17th time this week that he has had to do so today alone, removes the chains from his ankles and handcuffs from his wrists and gives him a shove into the the 8x2 cell that he is going to call his own. Struth laughs at his own sense of humor – that joke about the fish tank and the new inmates being fish hasn’t got old after 30 years – as the clanging and dull hum of the gate once again take precedence as it slams shut. That leaves Mike alone with his thoughts and, if you were being particularly picky and accurate, two bunk beds, a toilet and his new ‘mate’, who gingerly hops off the top bunk and by nature of the size of the cell that they are in, is therefore almost all up in his personal space already.

    ??? “Good to have you aboard, I’m Dev but the guys in here call me Gold Den. I’ve been here for years, so anything you need to know about this place just say the word and if I don’t know the answer then that answer isn’t going to be worth knowing.”

    Mike has a defining quizzical look across his face as the old guy offers out a hand. That was rule number one, not to trust anyone that you met here and certainly not to turn your back so as if they are at least going to stab you they will do so while looking you straight in the eyes – not your back.

    “How long have you been here?”

    Gold Den “Too long to remember at this point. I’ve been here since before it was built up to what it is today. I used to run the show, I use to be the guy around here that could get things done but these days…well….lets just say that the body doesn’t hold up like it used to and they got rid of the old guard. Guys like Struth that just walked you in here…he’s the new guard that is here to make sure that you stay in place. Whereas before, you just know the right people and you could make pretty much any wave you want. But I tell you something…….that C. Struth…he’s one to keep an eye on, rules with an iron fist. Takes no prisoners ha! He just keeps them where they are fish”

    Mike shakes his head, clearly disappointed as before he was put here he clearly had different expectations of what it was going to be like. He never wanted to end up boxed in and controlled by anyone – and nobody told him that there was anyone that was going to try and make him spend all his time in his assigned space. Gold Den continues to tell Mike all about life inside and his own experiences, even though he stays and watches now from afar…….

    Gold Den “And up there, is one of the armed guards, positioned there in case, you know, there’s any shenanigans. So keep yourself clear fish”

    The conversation had taken them through Parr’s first night and Den was now talking through their allotted time out of the cell with the general population, gen pop for short. Den had, all things considered, been quite useful in getting the information that you need to survive and to grow in here. Some people are happy just to keep their head down and work under the radar but some people want to make their mark. No prizes for guessing which one Mike feels that he is.

    “So you’re telling me that there is someone there who’s watching at all times, just waiting to stick their nose into our business?”

    Gold DenYou’re learning fast, fish. Can’t remember his first name at the minute, but his surname is Hughes. We’ve nicknames him Eyes, given that he has one of those rifles up there and is watching us all…..look for example….”

    Not quite as over the hill as he painted with his first impression, Gold Den takes one step backwards and shoves Parr hard in the chest. Parr stumbles back three of four steps and begins to cough, the ferocity of the contact slightly winding him. Gold Den doesn’t back up and shoves him again, creating more distance between the two, as Mike stumbles back before suddenly gun shots reign down on the gap created between Gold Den and Mike. Parr recovers his composure and breath and smirks, as his cell mate throws him a knowing look that tells you he got exactly the reaction he wants.

    “So he keeps a watching brief and he tries to take advantage when your focus is elsewhere?”

    Mike makes the remark but he also immediately recognizes that it has struck a chord as he knows exactly the type of individual to which is being referred. Unfortunately the commotion caused has attracted the attention of our best friend from the previous evening, Officer Struth, who has come marching across the gen pop area with a purpose, stomping so hard that it’s a surprise that his size 15 boot hasn’t sunk into the turf that he is blazing across. In his wake, the less impressive but ably competent deputy that Parr has not had any interaction with whilst in the fish tank.

    Officer Struth “Evry’ing OK ‘ere gentlemen, or is that you need a reminder of who’s in charge aroun’ ‘ere. A hint fo’ you both….it ain’t you two. So leave the bull for ano’er time or I may jus’ have to teach you a lesson myself. Understood?”

    Gold Den nods and shoots Mike a glance, so Mike follows suit. He’s not that tough, at least that’s what Mike is thinking. He thinks he runs this place but if the right person and the right opportunity comes along, he won’t be in charge for long. Struth and his deputy walk back to the dark hole from which they emerged, his deputy tailing behind.

    “Who’s the bitch with him?”

    Maybe this place is changing Mike. He certainly wouldn’t attribute that label to anyone without having got the measure of them first, but there was something about her that just rubbed him up the wrong way (and yes, when he thinks this he is aware that there is a joke in that sentence somewhere.)

    Gold Den “That’s his second in charge, another one brought in from the outside to try and make sure that everyone keeps out of their way, another one that was brought in to maintain the status quo. She’s a strange one though, she gets a bit full of herself whenever he isn’t around but she always refers to herself by surname first….you know, like that agent, that agent on the films, 007?”

    “Bond, as in James Bond??”

    Gold Den “That’s the one! Yeah she introduces herself, her surname is Eastern European. If I didn’t know any better I swear she was related to you-know-who but yeah, it’s something like Gabry, and her first name is so long she just abbrieviates it to L.”

    There was plenty within that last conversation to take in. First, it sounds like this Eastern European you-know-who that Mike doesn’t know at this point could be a problem. The second problem he has, of many, is trying to see what the deal is with this Gabry, L. The two continue to converse at the end of their time in gen pop as they make their way back towards the cell, with many interesting observations being extracted from the veteran and imparted to the new recruit. Gabry, L doesn’t seem like she will be much of a problem until Struth is out of the picture. However, those problems just got shoved down a few notches as when both turn into their cells and there are three men stood there, pawing through their personal belongings.
    Gold Den “Pete and John? What are you two doing here?”

    The question seems to be address from the veteran to the two smaller guys, the behemoth standing slightly behind them in the shadows, having to crouch slightly so as to ensure that he can even fit beneath the roof. P&J (as they are known locally) both leave it to him to answer.

    ??? “Just making sure that fish there knows how things REALLY work around here. Anyone trying to work their way up the chain of command….it comes through me. Not to Struth. Not to Gabry. Certainly not to Warden Ryan……NO, I run this place and you don’t take a shit unless I give you permission first.”

    There is a twang of an Eastern European accent in that sentence, and as Gold Den shoots Mike another look it soon becomes clear that this is the person that Gold Den was referencing…..since we left that point earlier in the conversation, Mike has since learned that he is referred to as Vik. Vik is one of those guys that is angry at life and is determined to prove something to everyone, probably because he knows deep down that he is a failure. He knows that he has never been good enough to cash in and achieve what he feels he is good enough to do, hence why he has ended up here trying to act like the biggest fish in one of the decent sized ponds.

    “How it works is you get the hell out of my place before I make you”

    Vik lets out a laugh, a hearty laugh but most definitely a fake laugh. Sensing danger, Gold Den steps a few feet away from the action as Mike swings for and connects with Pete and then John, sending P&J crashing to the floor hurt. A good hit, no doubt, but a mistake as he turns his head and looks up just in time to see one giant fist come flying straight towards his face……….................................................................................



    “Sticking to good habits can be hard work, and mistakes are part of the process. Don't declare failure simply because you messed up or because you're having trouble reaching your goals. Instead, use your mistakes as opportunities to grow stronger and become better.”
    The Prodigy jolts back into life, his quiet moment deep in reflection just leading him to an alternate universe inside his head. If only anyone could see what it looked like, they would no longer look at him in awe but with considerable worry. Mike rubs his eyes and ferociously blinks a number of times in order to try and clear that thought out of his head. But that, that is what happens when he comes back to this place.

    Physically, he is back home, where he called home for the formative years of his life, Ireland. There is something to be said about retiring from city life, high rise buildings and all of the hustle and crowds and to just retreat back to the very basics. What we see now is atypical of that, Parr is seated on one of the bollards made out of rock that are place sporadically across the dirt road that leads to the local village and the well. On each side of the dirt road, you can see nothing but farm animals and trees as the road to the village leads to what could best be described as a valley, not visible from this vantage point. The wind is gentle enough to only slightly ruffle his hair and temperature cool enough to wear a t-shirt but not need shorts to cool yourself down. And sounds, just the occasional cow or sheep doing whatever the hell they do out there (Mike doesn’t particularly care for farming – it’s more a family thing) or some of the birds making their presence known as they soar through the skies.

    Mentally, he is back home, to where it began. To where he made his decision to follow a career in pro wrestling and move to North America and right back to where he said and held that piece of paper in his hand that was a contract that gave him enough money and security to provide back to those who supported him when he was younger. His parents, they wanted a change and Mike got them a house in another part of the country whilst employing the grounds staff and maintenance crew to keep the place where he finds himself currently up to date. Here, he sat across a table and told his parents about his first wrestling contract and what it could do for their lives.

    But it wasn’t all just good times. It was here that he made some of the biggest mistakes of his life, up to and including deciding to pursue a career in FWA. He isn’t likely to openly admit to that but it’s clear he is thinking it…it is clear that he feels shoehorned into a place where he isn’t comfortable and mistake number one responsible for putting him there was deciding to commit himself to this company. This contract, the FWA deal, he didn’t excitedly hurry home and tell his parents or buy him his house. No…he retreated back to this place, on his own, and he decided on his own to go for it and to do it for himself. Not his family. Not those who backed him. Not only for the money (though it helps) but to do it to prove a point and to succeed where many have said that he wouldn’t be able to.

    It was the first selfish decision of his life, and since that point in time, he has compounded that by making bad choice after bad choice. He took his foot off of the pedal – he was the longest reigning North American Champion in quite some but when he was robbed of it, he didn’t even try to get it back. He was fingertips away from the World Championship on the top of a ladder, but he never went back. He had Chris Kennedy throw him over the top rope and out of contention for the main event of Back in Business but he never went back. Mistake, after mistake, after mistake, all traced back to the one time where he came back here and put his name on the dotted line for the current prison sentence that he feels like being the FWA is.

    So what is it they say to do? They say to retrace your steps and think about what you would do differently? In his hand, he has his FWA contact. Don’t ask how, I’m sure it’s easy if you have the right connections or know the right people to do your bidding for you. Mike takes a deep breath and he holds the contract up in the air, one hand on each top corner of the paper as it shutters gently in the breeze and he………..lowers his arms once more.

    “A rivalry renewed?”

    Parr shakes his head ruefully, still staring into the contract he has grasped.


    “I don’t know what Cyrus is going to tell you, but this isn’t a rivalry with him. What this is, is an obsession. It’s an obsession that I have had from the moment I left this place in my teenage years to make it big in the wrestling business. It is an obsession to be the best that I can be. Somewhere along the line, that has morphed into being the best ever, but when I sit here and I think about what the younger me would say to this guy sitting here now……he would tell him to remember back to the time that it was a dream to get your name on a t-shirt or a dream to have somebody ask you to sign your name on something. He would ask him how that guy becomes somebody who hates getting any sort of attention outside of somewhere where he is paid to be and how having his name up with the best wrestlers that the business has to offer in the present day isn’t sufficient for kid raised in Ireland with OK money and a dream to succeed. That kid would ask me why I would sit here and think about destroying a cast iron contract that guarantees me enough money to buy a portion of this country if I wanted just to, what? Make myself feel better for a while?”

    “I would tell that kid that he knows absolutely nothing about what it’s like to live a life walking the road that I’ve walked. I would tell him that if he thinks it was difficult getting his foot in the door, think about how difficult it is to blast the door open and make sure it closes behind you. I would tell this kid that he would not be able to sit and quench this desire to be the best simply by being paraded around as a makeshift match for the true main event of the company. The main event of the company, the matches that should be putting asses in seats and that people should be paying the top dollar to see should have my name in it but instead I’m being placed in a position where the company will hopefully get a couple of good highlights to put in their video package to promote the main event of their next show. So no, this isn’t a rivalry with Cyrus, this is a rivalry with the FWA but it certainly isn’t one that has been renewed because from where I’m seated, it is a rivalry that I haven’t fucking stopped obsessing with since the day that I walked in the door.”

    Parr places his head in his hands and you can see him visibly shake with frustration, as he takes his left hand and slams it down in the shape of a fist onto the rock bollard on which he sits as he tries to regain some level of composure.

    “What myself and Cyrus have is history, a history of where we stood across from each other in the ring and faced off. A history where we have traded wins, and a history where I have made mistakes. But not this week. Not any more. I’m not here to be anymore of a footnote in the record breaking reign of the glorious Cyrus Truth any longer. I’m not here to be a bystander while everyone whips out their dicks and tries to work out if the CWA or FWA has a bigger one. I’m not here to watch this company, these bastards in charge of this company bring wrestlers from other companies or wrestlers who should have stayed retired to take the place that my hard work means that I should be in. I’m not going to sit here and listen to someone proclaim that they are the best champion we have ever had and be a bit part in their championship reign any more than I’m going to sit here and listen to someone call themselves a King or sit and watch a relic from a company I used to wrestle for try and set up his pet project as some sort of monster. I’m going to make a stand because I’m obsessed with proving to every idiot that makes any decisions back there that what they have, they are wasting. What they need, they cannot see. Nobody wants to see a dick slinging contest between FWA and CWA unless I closed my eyes a few moments ago and it became 2014 again. Looking at Gabrielle, Cyrus, Kennedy, Toner and Krash just to name some, I might have to go and make sure it is still f***ing 2019. The only thing I can be sure of is that it certainly isn’t 2017 because I saw that moron Sullivan parading himself around recently when he was pretty much AWOL because he got bored or whatever other bullshit he offered up.”

    Parr rises to his feet and takes a few paces to compose himself, with it only now becoming apparent that there is a trickle of blood going from his hand to the pathway below after smashing his hand on the rock earlier.

    “Enough talk. Enough getting lost in my own thoughts. Enough reflecting on what I’ve done wrong and time to focus on what I can do right. What I can do right is become the Mike Parr that walked into this company and made an impact, be the Mike Parr that took the North American Championship and held it for over a year. I’ll be The Prodigy, who beats the shit out of Viktor Maximus until every remaining part of his PAJs legacy is a ruin just like he is. I will be the man who makes the FWA sit up and think about what it REALLY knows, when I pin it’s champions shoulders to the mat and turn the conversation from one about allegiance and promotions to one about how the hell you get Mike Parr what he deserves and how the FWA have really shit the bed with this one.”

    "You don't know what you've done by putting me in this corner, keeping me squabbling with the tag team division and the Risky Jack's of this world for so long..........but you are about to find out and I'm obsessed by making you regret EVERY SINGLE SECOND OF IT."
    Fade.

  8. #8
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    Re: Fight Night Promo Thread 8/16/19

    The scene opens in a studio setting, no color besides black all around. Sitting in this studio is none other than Devin Golden and across from him is “The Wildcard” Jason Randall. Devin is dressed casually wearing a Guns N’ Roses t-shirt and jeans, while Jason is wearing a Metallica t-shirt and jeans along with black boots.

    Devin Golden: Well before we get started, right off the bat I’ve got to ask this right now, why me?

    Jason looks at Devin, puzzled by this.

    Jason Randall: What do you mean?

    Devin Golden: What I mean is, why choose me to conduct this interview with you?

    Jason chuckles at this and rubs his buzz cut head.

    Jason Randall: I think it should go without saying why I didn’t ask Michael Garcia, and no disrespect to Rod, but he’s not you. There’s something that people don’t know and that’s when I first came to the FWA I went down to developmental at nGw. Now I’ve been in the business for several years up to this point but I still chose to go to nGw in order to better myself, and it was there where I met you. I had heard about you and all that you had done, and I had a lot of respect for you, still do by the way, but I wanted to pick your brain a little and I wanted to ask you some advice...what you told me stuck with me that day for awhile, it was just basically you telling me to be myself in the FWA. I did just that, I was myself and soon enough I got the call up. Before that though you worked with me some more and I do appreciate that

    Devin Golden: I saw something in you that I don’t think no one else did at the time until they called you up. To be honest, no offense by the way but I didn’t realize my words and the time I spent with you meant so much but I honestly, truly appreciate that.

    Jason Randall: None taken

    Devin Golden: Alright then, with that out of the way let’s get down to business as cliche as that sounds. You asked for this time to speak, what’s on your mind?

    Jason leans back in his chair and lets out a sigh.

    Jason Randall: How much time do we got? I mean I could go on all day about what’s on my mind if I’m being honest with you, but the thing that’s been on my mind the most, well I guess I’ll circle back to your advice about just being myself. I did that but somewhere along the way, I just sort of stopped being myself and acted like someone that I’m not…

    He lets another sigh.

    Jason Randall: I hear the rumblings, I hear the talk, “oh he’s gone soft”, or “what happened to The Wildcard?”. The Wildcard, you think with a nickname like that I’m supposed to be unpredictable but lately I’ve become predictable because I always seem to talk a big game but when it comes down to it I drop the ball. I’ve become predictable to the point that people wonder to themselves, “how is he gonna lose this time?” or I hear, “oh, he came so close!”

    After a while you begin to get sick of that, and lately I’ve been thinking about how I can fix whatever this is that’s happening to me; and I went back to your advice: be yourself. It’s time that I stop being someone that I’m not and start being who I really am, and that’s The Wildcard. It’s time that I start living up to that moniker and start being this unpredictable son of a bitch that I know that I am capable of being…

    I want to be that guy that gives these fans one hell of a show each and every night all while raising some hell along the way. I want them to get their money’s worth each time they come to one of our shows, I want to give them something to remember for years to come. I ain’t going to do that losing matches left and right, yeah I came close to beating Dave Sullivan I took him to his absolute limit; I didn’t beat him though. Same with Gabrielle Montgomery, we tore the house down but I couldn’t get the job done because I wasn’t focused on the right thing.

    I never claimed to be some hero nor do I want to be seen as a hero, I want to be that anti hero. I want to be that guy that the fans can get behind just for being him and that will all start come this next Fight Night when I step inside that ring with a man by the name of Nova Diamond…


    Devin Golden: A kid that’s on the rise, came up from nGw, Michael Garcia’s biggest fan beside himself…

    Randall shakes his head.

    Jason Randall: That tells you all that you need to know about this kid. I saw what he said about me in his little promo last week, I heard him running his mouth talking about something that he knows absolutely nothing about. He thinks he’s hot shit now because he beat Mac Michaud in record fashion in his debut match on Fight Night, I’ll tell you what he ain’t shit because that wasn’t Mac Michaud he was in the ring with. I know Mac Michaud and that was not him. Mac and I had some wars last year, gave me some of the toughest battles of my career. The man that that young punk stood across from was a shell of the man that Mac Michaud once was.

    This kid he has the nerve to run his mouth like he’s some big shot and proclaim himself to be this “Crown Jewel”. You can polish a turd but at the end of the day it’s still just a turd. That’s what I think of this kid. He thinks he was smart running his mouth about me but all he did was light a fire underneath my ass that needed to be lit a long time ago. He struck a chord with me that he’ll soon be regretting once I step inside that ring with him.


    Devin Golden: That’s the fire inside you that I knew you had, I like that

    Jason Randall: Like I said, you can thank this sorry son of a bitch for bringing this out of me. You know this feels good, I should be thanking this kid. This feels good letting this out but I’m sure he won’t be feeling good when beating the snot out of him all across that ring in St. Louis. He’s gonna wake up feeling sore in the morning because I’m fixing to shove this steel toe boot right up his ass, he ain’t gonna forget this. He’s going to wish he can, he’ll regret it but he ain’t going to forget this and neither will anyone else for that matter.

    Devin Golden: This was fun, I gotta admit. Way more fun than spending the day with Michael Garcia

    Jason Randall: What a putz that guy is

    Devin Golden: You’re lucky you don’t have to sit next to the guy every week

    Jason Randall: I don’t envy you for that just like I don’t envy Nova Diamond. I hope he’s watching this somewhere. Shaking in his little boots, piss running down his leg. He doesn’t realize what he’s got himself into. He’s going to find out what I’m capable of, and like I said...he isn’t going to forget…

    End 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.

  9. #9
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    Re: Fight Night Promo Thread 8/16/19

    Nova Diamond proudly presents:
    'ANOTHER BRICK IN THE WALL'


    August 7, 2019 - Henley Enterprises US Headquarters, Los Angeles, California

    Being in Los Angeles made Nova feel pretty alive. It was a city of glitz and glamour, two things he was very fond of. A city where you had to be a predator in order to survive. And Nova always fancied himself a man willing to take up to that challenge. But he wasn't here in LA to compete against the whole city. His challenges couldn't just limited to Los Angeles, regardless of its beauty and its magnetic field that drew people like him to it. No, his challenge was the whole world. As a part of very successful and international professional wrestling company, he knew how big the stakes could be sometimes. Yet, a lot of times those stakes could also mean nothing to a lot of wrestlers that inhabited the company. That was a problem in FWA, but he didn't need to rant about it to himself, he did that plenty in front of cameras for people to listen and learn. His thoughts were cut short and he was brought back to reality when a dark-haired lady in glasses called his name. He recognized her as the personal assistant of the man who he was going to speak with today. The same man who called him after his match with Mac Michaud, telling Nova he wanted to speak with him.

    ''Mr. Diamond, Mr. Henley will see you now.''

    ''Thank you.''

    He stood up and slowly walked into Atticus Henley's room.

    ''Sit down, Nova. It's been a long time.''

    Nova did as what he was told and sat down. Atticus' voice was deep, his hair and beard were still scruffy like the time Nova's last seen him. With just a glance, you couldn't correctly guess who in the room was the CEO of a huge enterprise company between the messy-looking Atticus and well-groomed Nova. But Nova was aware years have taken its toll on Atticus, running an ultra successful business for years really could do that to someone. And he respected Atticus for that, he really was one of the few lucky people he respected nowadays.

    ''I have personally took my time to watch your debut in last Fight Night. Congratulations, to say you have done well wouldn't be exaggerating.''

    Nova gave one of the sincere smiles he could still pull off to Atticus. Hearing that phrase from him was something else.

    ''But I still yet to know what I should expect from you, Nova. Your debut match was decent, you went in, did a few moves and beat an opponent that has been losing fights to....a clown gang, to put it mildly. I still don't know what you're going to offer under certain conditions. Your victory over Michaud didn't tell me much. I'll tell you this, boy, if I don't know what am I investing in, then I'm definitely not investing in that. You have been negotiating with me for a while Nova, you certainly do know how I do business. I hope you understand my reasoning.''

    ''I can try to understand, Mr. Henley, but I really can't say that I do. There were certainly a lot of conditions under my debut match with Mac Michaud. Mac wasn't certainly the easiest opponent I could face. He was way past his prime, I can't deny that but he was still a monster back in the day. And as far as I know, monsters never lose their instincts. And that was my debut match as well. A very throughoutly advertised one, I think it definitely put a lot of pressure on me. But I thrived, despite the pressure. This is why I should think you should reconsider your stance against that match.''

    Atticus looked at him with blank eyes for a few seconds, Nova couldn't even comprehend what he was thinking.

    ''Do you want to know what am I hearing?''

    ''Please.''

    ''A bunch of bullshit excuses.''

    ''What?''

    ''You heard me right, Nova. You're trying to make excuses. This certainly doesn't make you look good since she specifically told me you improved yourself by not making excuses anymore. She told me about your passion, your desire to drive further. And from what I've seen from you before your venture on FWA, your level is far more higher than fucking Mac Michaud. I don't even think you believe what you were saying earlier either. You were just trying to get my sponsorship easier. This isn't you, Nova. This is what Andy Saturday would do, are you Andy Saturday?''

    The mention of his 'old self' brought some very bad memories into his mind, making him grit his teeth in reaction.

    ''Hell no.''

    ''Then stop giving me excuses. You go into that ring, do whatever it takes to win, and you do that again, and again, and again. That's how you're going to impress me, not with excuses. You understand me?''

    ''Yes. I think I do now.''

    His emotions took a huge swing during Atticus' pep talk, Nova must admit. Feeling sad, angry, prideful and fired-up, most likely in that order.

    ''Good. You can start that with Jason Randall in the next Fight Night. If you ask me, that's a pretty level up from Michaud.''

    Well, that was news to Nova. He didn't know he was going to face Jason Randall the next Fight Night. That shouldn't have surprised him though, a match between them was very possible and probable after the shots Nova shamelessly took at Randall while talking about Mac Michaud in a hot tub.

    ''I will most certainly do.''

    Nova was more confident now than he was when he entered Atticus' room.

    ''There isn't anything left to discuss now, boy. You shall take your leave.''

    Nova nodded, then slowly headed to the door. As he grabbed the doorknob, he heard Atticus talking to him again.

    ''And Nova...continue to take care of her.''

    His response came automatically after his request.

    ''I will.''

    Then he made his exit, with a lot to think about. The sponsorship with Henley, his excuses and of course, Jason Randall. Him versus Randall wouldn't be a match of two wrestlers just wanting to display their skills and see who the better man is. Nova wouldn't really be surprised if he saw Randall more motivated than ever against him, not that it would matter much, but still. His type could be more dangerous when they were provoked. And he thought he very much provoked Randall. Nova really couldn't help himself when he did that. Jason looked like a very easy target in his eyes. And well, an easy target in the ring as well. He smirked one last time to himself before hopping into his car and drive away, his black car blending easily with the darkness of the night.


    August 16, 2019 - Enterprise Center, St. Louis, Missouri

    Nova arrived at the arena early. As much as he hated seeing the hoi polloi of Fantasy Wrestling Alliance earlier than he had to, the atmosphere of an arena before the shows was strangely comforting to him. He was planning on retreating to his locker room and staying there until the time for his match against Jason Randall came, but it wasn't the plan of the resident interviewer Katie Lynn Goldsmith apparently. Katie approached him before he could get even near to his locker room.

    ''Excuse me, Nova. Can I get some thoughts from you?''

    Normally, he would hesitate before agreeing or just flat-out refuse it. But he was in a good mood, and he could use some self-expression now.

    ''Sure, why not?''

    He said with his usual winning smile.

    ''Okay Nova, first of all, the landscape of FWA has been shaken to its core after what happened at the last Fight Night. Some say Cyrus Truth gave an undeserving title shot to his friend and the match should never have taken place and some say Chris Kennedy and Dave Sullivan had no business being involved in that match. What do you think about that?''

    ''I'd like to think that I've been pretty vocal about how FWA needs the winds of change. So you can probably imagine what I am thinking about that. If I was in Cyrus' position, I would never grant a title shot out of the blue to anyone, not even to a close friend. But Cyrus did that and it was his decision. It managed to take place because he was the champion and the others weren't. Honestly, watching a fresh face like Krash compete for that title was a dozen times better than seeing the same guys go for it again and again. But what do I know, I'm just a recent arrival here enjoying my time, right?''

    He winked after that last sarcastic remark.

    ''So, after a pretty successful debut match against Mac Michaud, the stakes for you have been risen. Today, you will face Jason Randall, one of the most unpredictable wrestlers we have here in Fantasy Wrestling Alliance. Any comments about that?''

    He smirked this time upon being asked about his opponent of the day.

    ''Jason Randall, yes. I had a feeling this would happen pretty soon. I'm telling you Katie, I never pulled any punches with anyone. I just stated what it needed to be stated. So facing Randall right after I used him as an example of the complacency problem we have here isn't strange to me. Randall is a pretty hot-headed dude, I must say. He was the resident face of hardcore wrestling in this company for a while. Of course he took offence to my words pretty quickly. Maybe he went and asked authorities for a match with me to teach me a lesson. Or maybe just Ryan Rondo put two of us together to see if I can back up my words. But it was never personal to me. Jason Randall, as I said, was just an example I used. The textbook example, in fact. Because when people watch Fantasy Wrestling Alliance in recent years, they always see the same thing. Jason Randall, a man who claims to be a Wildcard, runs his mouth about how he's not going to lose again, then comes into the ring and just does that, loses. Then he goes and beats people like, I don't know, Paulie The Safety Parrot for two to three weeks and loses again when facing advanced competition. I've watched that same movie week after week Katie, I know you watched it, I know his little girlfriend watches it every week too. Yes, this time may be a little bit more personal for him. And I'm one hundred percent sure he will hear this words before we face today and it will get him more angry and angry. He will try to harness this anger inside of him and use it to make me eat my words Katie but as far as I'm concerned nobody could make me eat any words of my own.''

    He breathes for a few seconds.

    ''But Randall needs that anger. Randall needs that passion so bad. I've seen him last show, complimenting Gabrielle and shaking her hand like she wasn't aiming to humiliate him in center of that ring, just like his every opponent does to him. He could have bowed before Gabrielle and kiss her feet and it wouldn't be stranger than what he was doing in reality. That was a disgusting sight. Remember what I told everyone, 'complacency', Katie. Jason Randall is comfortable with his position, he comes in, he loses, he takes his money and returns home. Hooray, what a circle! Then some people from other companies came in, kick people like him out of their spots and everybody loses their minds. I'm here to teach those people a lesson. So that's why Randall needs those against me. Mac Michaud didn't have that and look what happened, one minute, bang bang, he's fucking dead and gone lady, he's dead and gone. Randall needs to beat me more than anything. He is desperate. He's losing week after week. He craves that victory against me. But will he beat me? Can you ask me if he will, Katie?''

    Katie asks him exactly that in a surprised and confused tone.

    ''Will he?''

    ''Oh, hell fucking no. Even if Randall was the guy with the most fire in his veins in the entire world, he still wouldn't be able to beat me at all. I am Nova Diamond, I am the greatest of all generations, I play this game better than anyone else. I'll tell you what's going to happen. Randall will arrive, maybe in his usual dead-inside self, or maybe more motivated than ever. Either way, he's going to fight me. As he tries to fight me, I will provoke him. Yes, even more than I do right now. I will provoke him and he's going to get more and more angry. I will lit a fire under his ass. He's going to be mad, he's going to be more dangerous. But he will be twice as reckless. More prone to making mistakes. I'm going to exploit every single one of his mistakes. Then, at the inevitable conclusion to our little fight, I will beat him. I don't know if his eyes will be opened after I'm done with him, maybe he will finally realize that he desperately needs to change. I really don't know if he will do that. But I do know that Jason Randall won't be able to beat me even in his wildest wet dreams. I will fight him, I will wrestle him, I will beat his ass! Tonight is my night, Katie. FWA is my ground. This is my world and you're all living in it. This is my story and I'm the hero, the protagonist of it. And today is no different. Jason Randall is no different. Ciao.''

    He winks at Katie one more time and finally retreats to his locker room, greeted by the fresh smell of the mint he specifically demanded from the board of FWA. Then he put his headphones on and opened up some Pink Floyd. He was continue to do that until the match time. All in all, Jason Randall was just another brick in the wall.
    Worker bees can leave.
    Even drones can fly away.
    The Queen is their slave.

  10. #10
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    Re: Fight Night Promo Thread 8/16/19

    The scene opens up inside of a small mexican style restaurant somewhere in St. Louis where Fight Night will be held for the FWA. The door to the restaurant opens and in walks the trio of Nate Savage, Jackson Fenix, and Britney Adams. The three of them stand in the entrance area, taking it all in.

    Nate Savage: Remind me again, why are we doing this?

    Jackson shakes his head and sighs.

    Jackson Fenix: Because we’re facing that father and son duo Los Maravillosos, wow I can’t believe I was able to pronounce that no problem

    Nate Savage: Coming here will help us with that how?

    Jackson thinks about it for a minute before shrugging.

    Jackson Fenix: To help with the setting? That’s not the point, the point is we needed a place to discuss our match with them and seemed like a good place given who they are and where they come from

    Nate looks unsure of how to respond to that as they are being taken to their seats. Once seated Jackson and Britney sit together in one side of the booth while Nate sits by his lonesome.

    Nate Savage: Alright, I’m going to say it. You do realize what you just said before came off a bit...racist

    Jackson Fenix: It did not occur to me, no

    Britney Adams: What Nate is trying to say is that maybe you could have worded it better, right Nate?

    Nate Savage: Exactly

    Jackson Fenix: I’ll try better next time but to be fair I wasn’t even trying to be racist, I wasn’t brought up that way. The way I was brought was to hate everyone equally, despite what nationality they are

    Nate Savage: We just live in a sensitive era now, so watch yourself next time before you cause us to get fined or something

    The waitress comes up to take their order before placing a bowl chips and dip down, along with three glasses of water.

    Britney Adams: I’ll take the taco salad

    Jackson Fenix: I’ll have that as well

    Nate passes and just chooses to eat the chips.

    Jackson Fenix: Wow, Nate turning down food. I never thought I’d see that day

    Nate Savage: First off, fuck you. Second of all, I’m not even that hungry but I’ll admit that these chips aren’t half bad

    Jackson Fenix: Hey, hey calm down big fella I was just joshing you. We don’t want to happen like what happened in CWA

    Nate Savage: We didn’t want that, they did. They wanted to break us up so bad but we were against it and they finally gave in and stopped trying to break us up. Instead of reminiscing about bad times, how about we focus on the now and how I’m pretty sure we caused the break up of a team in our debut win over The Must See MVPs

    Jackson Fenix: I must admit, we were pretty impressive. Those two goofs didn’t have what it takes to beat us even on our best day

    Nate Savage: Yeah, but this father and son team, Los whatever isn’t as much of a joke as those two are

    Jackson Fenix: Fair point, they are family

    Nate Savage: There is that, there is also the fact that the old man is bat shit crazy

    Jackson Fenix: Crazy isn’t an issue for me, you should have seen some of the chicks that I had to deal with…

    Britney glares at Jackson, causing him to stammer.

    Jackson Fenix: Uh...um, before I met you of course babe

    Britney’s glare vanishes and is replaced with a smile.

    Nate Savage: Smooth

    Jackson Fenix: Can it

    Nate Savage holds up his hands.

    Nate Savage: Hey now, I was just joshing you…

    Jackson makes a face.

    Jackson Fenix: Real funny…

    Nate Savage: Look, these two are family, yeah they got that going for them but how long have they actually been a team?

    Jackson Fenix: Last Fight Night was their first match together, right?

    Nate Savage: Yes it was, and compare that to how long we’ve been a team. We’re practically more of family than an actual family team...that made more sense in my head

    Jackson Fenix: I get what you mean. We’re a well oiled machine, we know what it’s like to work together. The old man and his kid don’t, they got lucky with one fluke victory in their debut. They aren’t going to be so lucky this time because they’re running right into an alliance…

    Britney: That’s undisputed…

    Both Nate and Jackson nod in agreement.

    Nate Savage: Exactly, the way I see it, we got this one in the bag. We win this and then we are one step closer to becoming the FWA tag team champions and running this division. It doesn’t matter if we have to go through Los whatever or Over the Edge or even the champs The New Breed, it’s only a matter of time before they all fall to us and this division is ours

    Jackson Fenix: That’s not just a fact my friend...that’s undisputed

    With that their food arrives and they begin to eat and discuss more strategy 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.

  11. #11
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    Re: Fight Night Promo Thread 8/16/19

    James Hughes… The Straight Shooter, 1.


    Extended Stay hotel parking lot…
    St. Louis, Missouri




    It’s a clear day, the sun is shining and there is a light breeze that can just slightly be heard in the microphone as the camera approaches a man with his back turned, he’s bent at the knees looking at something in front of him. Suddenly there is a wisp of smoke that come from in front of the man who is in the middle of two yellow lines of a parking space, with each space on either side of him empty. He stands up and we can clearly see he has on a simple white t-shirt, and navy blue basketball short and a pair of black Adidas slides, as he turns around we also see he has a fifth of Jack Daniels in his left hand and as the camera gets closer we see the face of Eyesnsane.


    Eyesnsane: What’s up FWA universe, welcome to grillin and chilling with Eyesnsane. I’m coming to you live from the parking lot of this fine hotel I am staying in until it’s time to hit the road and move on to the next stop on our whirlwind FWA tour.


    He smiles brightly and in a bit of a cheesy manor as he lifts the bottle to his lips taking a swing of his drink.


    Eyesnsane: You know, they say nothing in life worth having is easy. This return has been one hell of a rock road to travel. More downs than ups. More people who think I should just pack it up and head off into retirement and for good this time. I hear more and more voices saying I should just walk away with the little bit of dignity my past accomplishments would allow me. You see I’m making these points in large part because of my upcoming opponent, Viktor. He thinks he is a man who can humble people at will, he is a man who thinks he really knows and understands humility. Well I’m here to tell you, each one of you right now is looking at the walking, breathing, living embodiment of humility.


    Eyesnsane coughs a bit as he raises the bottle once more, this time after his swig, he wipes his mouth with his arm.


    Eyesnsane: This has been the most trying time in my entire wrestling career. Humility is the reality check I’ve been given match after match after match since my return. This is not the FWA I left, but you see I’ve come to understand that the fault all lies with me. I returned the same, I thought I could just stroll back into this company and turn the page like I never left. It’s funny to even hear myself say this, but I get it. I’ve had to do some soul searching and I’ve spent some time taking a good long look in the mirror. Make no mistake, this is not a parking lot pity party. No, no far from it. This is me getting back to bare bones basics. You see those who fail to adapt become lost in the shuffle. Come here, take a look at this….


    Eyesnsane moves over to what we now see is a grill, he reaches down and lifts the lid. A plume of smoke rises off the grill and we can three cuts of chicken breast and two skewers of tomatoes, onions, and green peppers. Eyesnsane sits hit bottle of Jack Daniels down next to the grill and uses his fingers to roll the food on the grill over. Once the last piece is turned over he licks his fingers and replaces the cover on the grill and picks up his bottle.


    Eyesnsane: I have to get back lean and that starts with diet. I need to be stronger and faster in today’s FWA. I need to regain the focus I had back when I first broke into the business. Let me tell you the hunger is there. I don’t just want to win. No that’s not enough, I want to chase down things I’ve not been able to do, the things that people think I won’t be able to do. Of all the things I have done in the FWA. I’ve never held the X Division Championship. Now I for one think it’s about time, no it’s past time to change that. Don’t get me wrong, the present is nowhere near lost on me.

    Eyesnsane lifts his bottle and takes a longer drink that is more in line with a gulp. As he lowers the bottle one of his eyes are closed as he makes an ah sound..


    Eyesnsane: Oh, yeah! That’s the burn right there!! Now, little children watching this at home, don’t drink, but if you do don’t get caught because neither is good for you. All you parents out there, just remember drink responsibly. Like me. I’m not driving and I’m not going to drive, I’m just out here in a parking lot as the sun is beginning to set cooking over an open flame, what could go wrong? Eeeehh….


    He waves his free hand at the camera.


    Eyesnsane: You all get what I’m saying. Anyway, 7”1’ 350 pounds of Viktor, it’s pounds right, or is it whatever is? Either way, I’m not looking past my opponent, I couldn’t if I tried. He is literally one of the biggest and baddest men in this company hands down, he was brought up by a great wrestler in his own right. He is coming off one of the toughest fights he’s had with one of the best in this company right now. Viktor earned every bit of the shot he got. I’ve seen the tape, I was there and I saw the fight, and I saw the big man give as good as he got. I have a very good idea of just how hard it will be for me to come out the winner of this match against one of FWA’s rising talents. That’s just the truth, because I’m taking this time to be straight up real with all of you. Viktor is going to walk down to the ring, and he is going to bring it! He is going to throw everything he has at me and then some. He has his eyes set on being the next person to humble me in the ring, I get it, I understand it, and I realize it. I see the chip on the big man’s shoulder.


    Eyesnsane turns back to the grill and lifts the lid to make adjustments to the food once more, although this time he stands toward the side of the grill so it can be seen clearly by the camera as he sits his bottle down. The sky in the background has an orange hue to it as time has progressed toward sunset, as the big yellow ball in the sky has begun its disappearing act. Replacing the lid on the grill once more. Eyesnsane picks up his bottle and takes another swig from it, while turning toward the camera.


    Eyesnsane: I understand, probably more than your ego will allow you to admit Viktor. I understand where you are in your career right here and right now in this very moment. I get it because I have been there before. Not only that, but I’m right back there now. I’ve earned nothing. Anything I have done means nothing now. The suits, the FWA fans, they all are asking the same damn question, what has Eyesnsane done lately? The facts, the cold hard ugly truth is I’ve done nothing but disappoint. However, what my experience gives me is the ability to understand and accept the adjustments I need to make.

    Victor you are a great competitor. Maybe better than you give yourself credit for. Tomorrow you and I are going to be in an FWA ring. In front of the greatest wrestling fans this world has been blessed to have. We both are going to write another page in the books of our careers. I will not let you down, I will not let these great fans down, and I will not make management regret bringing me back home! Victor, now I want you to hear what I am saying. I’m leaving it all in the ring. You are going to have to not only be a monster, but you are going to need to be the destroyer that got kicked out of the Russian strongman competitions, and leave me broken and destroyed in that ring.

    I’m not walking into that ring as a former Young Lion, Tag, or North American champion. I’m walking into the ring as just James Hughes. As a mere mortal man that has been blessed with the opportunity to live his dream. As a man who is not ready to let go of his dream. I’m a man who still has miles and miles to go before this career is over. I am a man who since his return has learned one of the lessons that has escaped me thus far and that is humility. The kind of humility that does not break me down, but builds me up, and fortifies me and makes me stronger. I am a man who saw you have the fight of your young career and I am ready willing and able to fight you just as hard if not harder than you fought Dave, because while I may be a stepping stone to you. I am fighting for the rest of my career and I will not go out quietly and broken, if I have to go down. I’ll forever be remembered as having fought till the end. Viktor, come get me! Here I am!


    The camera zooms out as he drinks once again from his bottle and we see more of the parking lot, more cars have fill the nearby spaces and the tall lights are buzzing and slowly coming to life to add illumination to the area, before the scene fades to black...





  12. #12
    Friendship King

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    Re: Fight Night Promo Thread 8/16/19

    “All of humanity’s problems stem from man's inability to sit quietly in a room alone.”

    ~ Blaise Pascal


    ---

    A vicious thunderstorm raged across the desert, the wind howling through the wastes. Violent, vengeful, wrathful, the storm powered on across the sand, claps of thunder and strikes of lightning bringing forth a most unwelcoming aroma.

    Two figures dart through the front rows and hop the guard railing! It’s "The Astonishing" Chris Kennedy and "The King" Dave Sullivan, coming into the ring area from either side! Undetected, with no time for warnings, they enter the ring and immediately level Krash and Cyrus to the canvas with a duo of rough forearms!

    Inside his cozy home in the middle of nowhere, a man watched the storm rage on through the thick glass windows of his living room. His face impassive, carefully neutral, unreadable, but the flicker in his emerald eyes, a relapsed twitch at the corner of his mouth, betrayed the inner turmoil clashing within him.

    The assault continues! A rainfall of strikes, fists and forearms, relentless and merciless! The unlikely pair of Chris Kennedy and Dave Sullivan leave no room for error with their attack, giving their unfortunate victims no time to catch a breath or lick their wounds! But Chris Kennedy, always willing to take it a step further, leaves the ring for a brief second – only to return with a steel chair! A foul ‘SMACK’ echoes throughout the arena as steel connects with the forehead of Krash, before doing the same to Cyrus Truth!

    His normally slicked and styled hair was a haphazard mess, the luxurious moustache frazzled and unkempt – and an unsightly purple bruise on his forehead, just above his left eye, completed the look. With one hand clasped around a cold glass of whisky, Krash brought the cup to his mouth, before reconsidering and pressing it against the mark on his forehead. It wasn’t the worst mark his career had given him, but they never really get any easier to deal with.

    As Chris Kennedy stomps his footprint into Cyrus Truth’s spine, Dave Sullivan grasped the fading body of Krash, not even taking any time to look him in the eyes before levelling him with not one, not two, but three connected suplexes – The Three Rivers! Krash’s body landing on the steel chair with every suplex, his face contorting into silent agony!

    Though he wore a pair of brown slacks, he was shirtless - the flames of his fireplace flickering at the exposed spine of his back, where an uncomfortably ugly trio of welts and bruises had formed, courtesy of a completely unnecessary and yet painfully pointed assault by a duo of cowards and miscreants.

    SMACK! Sweet Chin Symphony to Cryus Truth! Cyrus falls to the mat, joining the limp body of Krash as the fans boo and jeer at the assault! Chris Kennedy and Dave Sullivan, an unlikely partnership but one with a share goal, share a brief high-five, finally, mercifully ending the assault, their message almost certainly felt.

    Thunder clapped, lightning struck, and Krash’s scowl deepened.

    “THIS IS FWA!” Dave Sullivan shouts, looking dead on into the hard camera, seemingly addressing not only the fans watching at home, but the scores of FWA athletes doubtlessly watching from the back. “THIS IS OUR HOUSE!” The phrase, under normal circumstances should’ve spread a sense of camaraderie and togetherness, instead seemed intent in splitting things asunder.

    He lowered a trembling hand to chest level, the whisky shaking in his glass as the muscles in his hand tightened.

    Chris Kennedy takes center stage, gesturing at the carnage behind him and Sullivan. The lifeless bodies of Krash & Cyrus Truth, who had been wanting and waiting for one match, for nearly five years, who made the sole error of daring to do something they both wanted for once and assuming it would go off without a hitch. “WE’LL NEVER LET THIS MATCH HAPPEN!”

    CRACK. Raising his eyebrows in surprise, Krash glanced at the glass in his hand. The now broken glass, cracked under the sheer fury of a normally jovial man, a thick stream of whisky now trailing down his hand, dripping onto the carpet. Krash huffed, dropping the ruined glass into the bin. Great. Kennedy & Sullivan were now responsible for ruining two of Krash’s treasured things – the Cyrus/Krash match he waited five years for, and a cup he stole from Murphy Dreyer.

    “I won’t forget this.” Krash spoke quietly, into the night. “And rest assured, I won’t forgive this.”

    The rain continued to fall.

    “Not anytime soon, and not by a long shot.”

    ---

    KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

    A rapid trio of knocking tore Krash from his slumber. Groaning, Krash pressed the pillow over his head in hopes to either go back to sleep, or suffocate himself to death. Either or. Alas, the knocking continued, and would likely continue regardless of whether or not he managed to suffocate himself, so with a defeated mumble Krash sat up, glancing at his clock. 3:38 in the afternoon. He really needed to stop staring dramatically out into the night if he wanted to have some sort of regular sleeping schedule. But that was a job for Future Krash, and right now Present Krash was more concerned with who was knocking at the door to his home, and how quickly they would leave.

    Krash rose, groggily making his way to the front door, stopping briefly to ensure he was wearing clothing. Same brown trousers as last night – the habit of monologuing into the dark until exhaustion overwhelmed him is a tough one to break, but it’s a habit he’s had for years now, an-

    KNOCK KNOCK.

    “I have a doorbell! Use that!” Krash shouted, painfully aware of the hangover residing somewhere in his head.

    There was a brief pause, as whoever was at the door contemplated the doorbell. “You’re not the boss of me! Answer the damn door!” They yelled back, before resuming their loud knocking. The voice sounded vaguely familiar, but in his sleep-deprived state Krash couldn’t place it.

    Krash eased the door open partially, the chain lock preventing it from opening fully. “Yes?” He queries, peering through the thin crack at what appeared to be a woman of some kind. Caucasian, with black hair beneath a blue beanie, dressed in a white leather vest that didn’t seem very comfortable, a red blouse, and a pair of black jeans. Again, she looked familiar, but he couldn’t place it-

    His eyes widened, and he groaned in dismay.

    “Jeez, way to make a lady feel wanted.” The woman deadpanned, crossing her arms. “You gonna let me in or what?”

    Krash paused, considering. “Nope, no can do, sorry. I’m not home.”

    “Your car’s parked out front.”

    “It’s a decoy.”

    “You’re talking to me right now.”

    “Voice recorder.”

    “I can see you through the crack in the door!”

    “Hologram.”

    “Alright, you want to be that way? Fine, I’ll kick your door in!”

    “Sure, knock yourself out.” With that, Krash closed the door, taking a step into the kitchen to retrieve a bottle of whisky. A loud ‘THUD’ came from the door, shortly followed by an equally loud rapid series of curses, as the door completely and utterly failed to budge.

    “It’s fun to mess with you.” Krash called out. “You still drink whisky, right?”

    His guest stopped her foul language after a brief moment of consideration. “At three pm? Sure, who doesn’t?”

    “That’s the spirit.” Unlocking the door, Krash allowed it to swing open. His guest had now adopted a rather displeased expression, for some reason, but stepped inside, all the same.

    “Was all that really necessary?” She asked, immediately grabbing the bottle of whisky out of his hands and pouring herself a drink.

    “Since you didn’t use the doorbell, yes.” Krash replied, shrugging. “What brings you here, Violet?”

    Violet Dreyer threw back a mouthful of whisky, instantly coughing. A sixth-generational wrestler with all the charm of a cockroach that refuses to die. Known worldwide for... Actually, no, she isn’t really known worldwide at all. Barely nationwide. Slightly statewide, sure, we’ll go with that. Known statewide as yet another Dreyer loser in a long line of Dreyer losers, she had a large legacy of losing to uphold, one of which she has done so to an astounding degree. Of course, she and her entire family had no-one to blame but themselves, but good luck making them see that.

    "You look like shit." Violet remarked, glancing at the war wounds on Krash's forehead, stealing a glance at the bruises on his back.

    "Thanks. Again, why are you here?"

    “What, I can’t go visit an old friend?” She eventually replied after the brief coughing fit ended.

    Krash leaned against the kitchen bench, crossing his arms. “I would hardly call us ‘old friends’, Violet. Unfortunate acquaintances, maybe.”

    “Well, since your buddy Alyster left you in a ditch and Cyrus got you tied up in a beatdown, I’m probably the closest thing you have to a friend right now.” Violet stated, with the amount of inaccurate confidence one could only expect from the lack of self-awareness the entire Dreyer Famly held.

    Krash arched an eyebrow. “Uh, no? Even now, both Alyster & Cyrus outrank you by far. The rattlesnake that lives underneath my house outranks you. I stepped on a scorpion last night and the gunk that remains on the underside of my shoe ranks higher than you.”

    “See, now you’re just being facetious.”

    “No, he’s a great listener. The dead scorpion, I mean. The snake’s just an asshole.”

    Violet threw up her hands in frustration, sending half of her drink splashing onto the floor. “Alright, fine, Christ. You got me. I was sent here as an envoy. Or ambassador. Whatever.”

    “By who?”

    Now it was Violet’s turn to arch an eyebrow and fix Krash with a sardonic stare. “Who do you think?”

    After a short pause, Krash let out a sigh. “Murphy Dreyer’s come collecting, has he? And he can’t come himself because...?”

    “Because his wheelchair doesn’t do well in sand.”

    “You say that as if it’s somehow my problem.”

    Violet shrugged. “He really wants you back in VCAA. Seems to think you’ll help boost us back into a respectable market. Or something, I don’t know. I tend to tune out whenever he goes on one of his ‘my old students owe me, why won’t they return my calls’ tirades.”

    “Has he considered that he’s likely a pain in the backside to deal with and his ‘students’ would rather put him in the past?”

    “He could watch videos of himself acting like that and it’d never occur to him.”

    “Darn. Well, tell him that the response is, as it was last time and will be next time, a solid and resounding ‘no.’”

    “Yeah, I assumed you’d say something like that. But hey, if you want to turn down my help so easily, no harm done to me.” Violet smirked, a smirk that said she knew something Krash didn’t, oh boy, and if he wanted her to spill the beans he’d have to-

    “I’m good.”

    Violet blinked. “... You’re supposed to stop and inquire about my ‘help.’”

    “Yeah, nah, I’m good.” Krash shrugged.

    “Fine, be like that. But only one of us – a number that is unlikely to increase unless you decide to cooperate - in this room has a victory over Gabrielle.” Violet boasted, the arrogant smirk someone growing bigger.

    Krash’s eyebrows wrinkled. “... FWA Gabrielle? That Gabrielle?”

    “Do you know any other Gabrielles?”

    “Several.”

    “Oh. Well, yes, that Gabrielle. And the knowledge of how I defeated her shall remain a mystery, since clearly you’re not open to talks with VCAA.”

    “You did not defeat Gabrielle. Gabrielle’s Gabrielle, and you’re... You’re a Dreyer. There’s crackpot conspiracy theories I’d sooner believe before I believe that claim.”

    “I did!” Violet protested, as Krash carefully pried the bottle of whisky out of her hands. “It was in the Women’s Classic thing a few years ago! With Black Widow!”

    Krash squinted, considering. “... Does that count?”

    “Yes it counts! It’s canon! Damnit, Montrose, don’t take this away from me. You know I don’t have much else to hold on to.”

    “Alright, alright, it counts. Fine. So, talk to me then. Gab-”

    “Nope!” Violet interrupted, shaking her head. “You want my valuable insight, you’ll go talk to dad about VCAA, then he’ll finally shut up about you.”

    “Fine! I’ll return his blasted calls! Now tell me about Gabrielle.”

    “She’s got huge ti-”

    “Tell me something else about Gabrielle.”

    “You’re no fun. See, if you were straight, you'd be more receptive.”

    Krash fixed Violet with a disappointed stare. “Violet-”

    Violet sighed. “Gabrielle is... Intense. Like, behind her beauty masks a cunning competitor who will leave no window of opportunity if she can help it. She thinks so many steps ahead that it’s borderline impossible to get anything by her. It’s easy to dismiss her as a soft model, but godamn she strikes like she’s trying to bludgeon your very soul. She’s the best on FWA’s roster – not you, not Cyrus, not Sullivan. Her. You dismiss her because she’s a woman? You’ve already lost. Your mind is busy with Sullivan, Kennedy, or Cyrus? You’ve already lost. If you underestimate her at any point, based on what you think she can’t or won’t do, then you’ve already lost.”

    Krash nodded, slowly. “You’re never one for giving a competitor their due. How’d you defeat her in the Women’s Classic?”

    “I got lucky. She took her eyes off the ball for one second, and that was just enough for me. Now? In FWA? Not an offshoot tournament that might not be considered canon? With the likes of you instead of me? Ain’t gonna happen.”

    “Marvellous. And yet, unsurprising.”

    “What were you hoping to uncover? Some sort of Gabrielle kryptonite?”

    “Would’ve been nice.”

    Violet shrugged. “Eh. Unless you decide to start packing a pair of brass knuckles, I don’t have much else to say. Call my dad so he’ll get off your back about VCAA, then you and him are square.”

    “Somehow I doubt a simple conversation will make things ‘square’, but sure.”

    “Worth a try, at least. Oh, I’m taking the rest of this bottle as payment, by the way.” Violet remarked, swiping the bottle of whisky back.

    “Payment?”

    “Yup. My wisdom don’t come cheap, y’know.”

    “Charming.” Krash deadpanned. “Always a delight talking with you, Violet. I believe you are already well-acquainted with the door...?”

    “Is that a subtle suggestion for me to leave?”

    “As subtle as a trainwreck.”

    “Fine. Oh, by the way – your whole spat with Kennedy & Sullivan probably would’ve been avoided if you and Cyrus had a non-title match instead.”

    Krash’s eyes narrowed as Violet took another mouthful of whisky. “... Go home, Violet.”

    ---

    @MoustacheMaverick – Dear Miss Gabrielle.

    It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Although I wish we could do so without this myriad of controversy surrounding myself, Cyrus, Sullivan, and your unsightly ex. Regardless. I’ve been looking forward to facing you in between the ropes. As far as my competition goes thus far in FWA, you’re right up there with the best, of the best. A rung down from Cyrus, granted, but still a highly respected athlete at the top of their game.

    I must admit to not being in perhaps the proper mental state of mind for our upcoming match, much to my own determent. I had one goal, one mission, when I joined FWA, and that was Cyrus. Now, I need to clarify – the goal itself, is Cyrus. The FWA World Championship, whilst something I’d be stupid to pass up, is secondary. For five years, I’ve wanted the rematch of my dreams. A rematch that is unlikely to happen anytime soon thanks to the efforts of Mr. Kennedy – who at this point should know better than to throw hands with myself – and Mr. Sullivan, who simply couldn’t deal with people not paying attention to him.

    Oh dear, I’m getting off topic, aren’t I? Mincing words about the likes of Sullivan and Kennedy when I should be more concerned with yourself, Miss Gabrielle. Luckily, I’m very good at multitasking, but I assure you – once our match at Fight Night begins, once that bell rings, once you and I meet in the centre of the ring, you have my full, undivided attention. Anything less would be downright disrespectful.

    I look forward to battling you underneath the bright lights. This, too, has been a “dream match” inside certain circles, and I’ll do my utmost to ensure it lives up to the hype. I’m certain you’ll do the same. One can only hope that Mr. Sullivan and Mr. Kennedy know better than to keep their noses out of it, but history has suggested that to merely hope such is a flawed concept.

    Best of luck, Gabrielle. Violet says hi.

    Regards,
    Krash.


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

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