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Thread: Fight Night Promo Thread 9/27/19

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    Fight Night Fight Night Promo Thread 9/27/19

    Please post your promos in here. The promo deadline is 23:59 PST on Friday, September 27th. This is 2:59 EST and 7:59 BST on Saturday, September 28th. 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 9/27/19




    The sun is shining brightly outside of the FedExForum in Tennesee. Ted is wearing a black OTE t-shirt and blue jeans while holding a camera in the parking lot. He is next to a large black RV. As he walks along the side of it we see three big letters that read OTE in white. Near the back of the RV we see Eyesnsane with his shirt off wearing black basketball shorts standing in front of a grill. He has a long two pronged fork in his right hand, and of course a bottle of Jack Daniels in his left. He looks up at Ted, having just turned over four steaks….


    Eyesnsane: Man, you and that camera. We will never miss a memory with you around.

    Ted: You know this is fun, I have a blast doing it. Now you should already know, Alana wants me to get some footage to edit through for the shoot.

    Eyesnsane: Yeah, yeah… All work Alana.

    Ted: So, wait I’m going to just ask before we get into it, I notice Killemall really does his own thing man, what’s up with that?


    Eyesnsane laughs a bit as he takes a swig from his bottle of whiskey.


    Eyesnsane: I’m sure by now you’ve come to realize he’s a bit different. The thing about him is this, he stays locked in if you will. It’s like a gun with the safety off all the time. He’s so serious that one time he told a joke in the locker room and we all did not know he was joking. I mean after the fact it was funny, but we all thought he was dead serious, awkward silence and everything.

    Ted: Alright, I was beginning to wonder if it was just me.

    Eyesnsane: Naw, dog. He just is his own person. He’s super competitive, and outside of the world of wrestling he is highly respected for his skill as a martial artist, among other things. Ever since we were little he has always wanted to be the best at everything, it literally consumes him. I convinced him to wrestle with me, it was never something he really wanted to do. I would say at one point he started to like it, but then again we were hitting our stride.

    Ted: Ah, back when you guys were FWA tag team champions?

    Eyesnsane: Yes, and no. We wrestled in another company at the same time actually, it was a smaller promotion that had a nice following and a few real gems of talent on the roster. The man became a multiple champion in his own right and had claimed and held every title the company had to offer except for the world title which he was closing in on before the company closed. I think between the two companies he felt a bit jaded toward the FWA. I know that he felt as though he was taken more seriously there. But that’s neither here nor there. I think the constant jokes about him being a ninja just push him harder to want to succeed and prove how good he is. Truthfully he was the bigger star there.

    Ted: But you have been the face of Over the Edge here in the FWA huh?

    Eyesnsane: I would not say that. All things considered it sorted itself that way, but it was never the point. We were all good wrestlers in our own rights. Every person who has been a member of the group is a former champion, everybody has had their moment and a few of us did it together. I mean come on we were so good we had a spin off faction called the Blackhearts. The thing most people don’t get is that we all have actually been friends and down for each other on our many years traveling the wrestling road. Hey bra, how do you want your steak?

    Ted: Medium broski… Ay, so this come back has not been such a good look for the record books, how you feelin bout that?

    Eyesnsane: Look, I’ve been in the business for a long time now. I came up in a very different FWA landscape and that allowed me to be around and learn from some of the best to really ever do it in an FWA ring. One of the very first things I learned, which you have been learning now is that there are valleys and mountains in this business. Now I’m just gonna keep it real. Over the Edge has been in a damn valley, but the thing is this. Just because we are there now does not mean we have to stay there and it sure as hell does not mean that we will not have our fair share of ups. Truthfully, I like it. I like the fact that we have gotten knocked in the head and beat. For one, the only direction we can go is up from here, and the other reason is that we have gotten a really good look at the new landscape here in the FWA. We came back and doing so painted a target on ourselves. We have built something so great that to get a win over us, means something and that says a lot.


    Eyesnsane takes a swig from the bottle and uses the fork to turn the meat over once more.


    Eyesnsane: They way I see it we’ve not really been that bad. It’s been years since Kills was last in a ring. You and him have never worked together, so it will all start clicking again soon. As a matter of fact I think we will look a lot better this week, I mean we have looked better each week we’ve gone out there.

    Ted: Yeah well there’s not too many folks in the back who would agree.


    Eyesnsane points the prongs of the fork at Ted.


    Eyesnsane: Now let me tell you this. Wrestling is one big ego trip and if anybody tells you it’s not about their ego then you are talking to one hell of a liar.

    Killemall: Oh God, words of wisdom from Eyesnsane.


    Ted turns around and as he does we see Killemall in all grey including his mask with his arms folded in front of him and standing just beside him is Alana Allure in cut off blue jean shorts and a white t-shirt. Her bronze skin seeming to glisten in the sunlight.


    Eyesnsane: Right on time. Alana I know you want your steak well done, how about you Kills?

    Killemall: I don’t care how it’s cooked as long as it is.

    Alana: That’s our ninja.


    Everybody laughs a bit, except Killemall. Ted zooms the camera in on Killemall…


    Ted: What do you think of how we have performed since we brought Over the Edge back?

    Killemall: First of all we, meaning Eyesnsane and myself, brought Over the Edge back. We just so happened to bring you along with us. Look, this business is unforgiving. It’s all about what have you done for the company lately. Frankly, lately we have embarrassed ourselves. I for one did not return to be a part of the.


    Killemall raises his hands to make quote signs in the air.


    Killemall: “Let’s give it our best shot club”. Ted you need to channel whatever it was that fueled your last title run. The FWA landscape is different then the ones we encountered in the past, but the way I see it. A lot is still the same. Swap a Bordeuax for a Cyrus, swap an Alexx for a David and you are essentially looking at the same set up as before, just throw in a Kennedy and his ex-wife. The only real difference is there seems to be a higher value placed on tag team wrestling and if nothing else there are more competent teams in the company now then back then if you ask me.


    Killemal folds his arms in front of himself once more, while shaking his head in disappointment.


    Killemall: I see why you two are friends and why you get along as you do. Both of you are very casual about our entire situation and how we look to everyone watching us.

    Eyesnsane: Hey, I’ve never been one to care what other people think of me.

    Killemall: Yeah until you did. You went through some dark times, so don’t try to paint yourself as this happy go lucky type now.

    Eyesnsane: It’s like I said we all have highs and lows. I never claimed I was perfect.

    Killemall: Far from it is more like it.

    Eyesnsane: You know that nobody forced you to come back to wrestling, right?

    Killemall: No one forces me to do anything. That’s all beside the point. I came back for the challenge. I came back to prove everybody wrong who said that we could not come back. To prove everybody wrong who doubts the destructive force I know we can be if you all would just start giving a damn if everybody around is looking at us as laughing stocks.


    Alana claps her hands as Eyesnsane finishes turning the meat on the grill once more. Suddenly there is silence that falls over the group as all eyes are on her.


    Alana: Focus on the enemy needs to be all of our concern right now. Eyes and Kills you two are about to get in the ring with new FWA wrestlers but you two will have far less experience than that of your opponents and far less time in the ring together than they have. They are only new to FWA after all. The two masked men you will face have a long reaching legacy and cannot be taken lightly. Honestly the odds are not good for us going into this. However, that does not mean you two can’t get the job done. We do need to see the old Eyesnsane. The guy that will do any and everything the man who made shock and awe a damn wrestling style. Meanwhile his partner, Killemall needs to remind this company that a skilled martial artist is to be respected and feared. Do what ever you have to, but I need you all to send a strong message.

    Eyesnsane: That’s fine by me, I’m always up for a challenge and these two will be as tough as they come. I’m sure we will all do our best and keep the fans on the edge of their seats.

    Killemall: No! Didn’t you hear her, she wants us to send a message, this is where we go out there and hurt somebody.

    Ted: I think you’re both right.

    Eyesnsane: Huh?

    Killemall: Impossible!

    Alana: I don’t need you all to worry about each other’s head space, I’ll take care of that. I need you all locked in on the challenges that await. You two need to worry about these opponents, they are not a couple of local hacks or some fly by night team on a trial run in the FWA. You know me I did some digging.


    Eyesnsane picks up a nearby platter as he sets his bottle down and retrieves the meat from off of the grill. Once he has the steaks on the platter he picks his bottle back up and takes a swig from it.


    Eyesnsane: Steaks are done, yall.

    Alana: Great we can go inside, I found some impressive footage of these two. I want you all to see it, to study it and be as prepared for what’s going to come your way as much as possible. Don’t let these guys get in your heads, oh and are they going to work the crowd. You know what, it’s going to be a lot like when you guys faced Duke Drazin and Anthony or was it DA? You guys remember that I’m sure. It won’t be the same in style but the experience, the psychology of this match will be along those lines. Either way, I’m telling you two here and now, focus all this argumentative anger out and at your opponents where it needs to go.


    Alana opens the door to the large motor coach as the three men follow her into it, the last thing we see is Ted closing the door.





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    Re: Fight Night Promo Thread 9/27/19

    "Alice and The Voice"


    Alice is seen walking into The Dark Forest she is alone as the moonlight shines through the big willow trees. She walks for a little until she comes to one giant tree in the middle of a clearing. There is nothing else around this giant willow tree which has a giant hole in the tree. A voice echoes from inside.

    The little girl just could not sleep. Her thoughts were just to deep. Her mind went out for a stroll and fall down the rabbit hole.

    We see Alice walk a little closer but when she does green eyes come from the tree. The eyes has a sinister voice as it speaks while Alice stares at the hole in a trance almost.

    ???: Little girl, The Dark Forest knows why you came. The answer to your question will come with pain. You are the champion of this realm you must battle the jabberwocky in their realm this is a war and just the first of the battles to come. Come closer to me now I am the Cheshire Cat I am your loved one.

    The voice echoes throughout The Dark Forest as Alice walks closer to the ominous voice. Her legs move closer as if by no choice. There is nothing but, the green eyes staring deep in her soul and the sound of laughter that is unsettling to the soul. Alice stops herself staring at the ground. The voice speaks more that sends shivers down the spine.

    Do you know why I choose you and your brothers to come to this place?

    The voice ask the question and there is a pause Alice pushes her skirt down looking at the ground as a tear comes from her eyes she shakes her head from left to right.

    The reason is right in front of your face.

    The voice becomes softer and almost with a kindness that makes Alice feel at ease. She still feels odd and her defenses are still up but, she goes on to listen.

    The Dark Forest needs to expanded and Alice needs to become the champion once again for all to be right in our realm that is why I choose for you not to be alone. The world is cruel this is true there is a New Breed who think that they will succeed in this new generation this new class of humankind but, know that this Dark Forest is eternal and endless a classic of the times.

    Alice stares at the hole as a claws dig themselves from the bark out and Cheshire Cat is seen. His teeth sharp his mouth big but, to he is tall and a human in a fur black striped jacket he has what looks like a top hat on his head. He looks at Alice staring down as a tail brushes against her shoulder.

    Spoiler:



    (Pretend the jacket is black he's got big green eyes and large sharp teeth with a tail almost looking little more unhuman)
    Spoiler:


    Cheshire: Tell me Alice, what is on your mind still is it this human form does it scare you is it not what you thought? No? It is something else why have I shown myself now? I know my children seem lost, battered broken when I was a voice with no body to be found. Alice, you know the words that I speak you see the world beyond these trees. You know that The New Breed are part of the reasons for this. You know that they are champions strong unbeatable and you feel like you and your brothers are weak. There is no need to hold your head down in shame. The words I said are true, we play the long game. We never hold doubt in our minds we gotta believe or all this is a dream a nightmare of your mind.

    Alice looks to her right seeing the tail on her shoulder and looking into his green like trance eyes. She tries to speak but, the words can form as Cheshire smile goes into sadness and he kneels to her so that they are eye to eye. The moonlight shines on half his face it looks like one side is evil the other a good father helping his daughter's fate.

    I know things don't always go our way but, the past, is the past, let it stay that way. The future can always change. There is always room for more in this place. Do you remember when you found Crowe and Nova? Two broken homes, Two very traumatic traumas. Crowe saw his family break lose themselves to the human race. Nova's mind was broken in time because they said he was strange and different no one understood him at the time. He would look upon the stars wishing upon every one to take him away because he felt disgrace and shame. Then there was you Alice left all alone I brought you here with a family I did it when no one was. Alice we all can't run from the thoughts in our own head. If we try they just rise to the surface and swallow us in.

    Alice looks at him like she's starting to understand as he places his tail to the ground and the moonlight shines off him again. It goes quiet for a few moments as if she was thinking about what he said. She then goes to walk away as he goes back into the tree the eyes shining from the distance. He speaks again as his voice trails a little.


    Trust in me I will show you the way. You may not know where your going but the road and me as your guide will lead the way. If you don't believe this all is for not like I said before you are my champion the leader of this flock. I understand your frustration. Trust me I do but, do not lose faith in me like I haven't of you or your brothers. The New Breed are the jabberwocky but you are Alice and you know how the story ends when you when the war and we all scream...

    Off with their head!

    Alice then awakens in her bed she has cold sweats as her brothers ask If she is ok. She tells her brothers that he came to her and spoke told them what to do. She tells her brothers she loves them and says shes ok. They exit the room and she goes to sleep she is asking herself was it a dream? However as she falls back asleep from the window we see big green eyes and a sharp teeth grin say it was not a dream as we fade to black.




    Spoiler:


    CWA World Heavyweight Champion
    Brayden Bridges




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    Re: Fight Night Promo Thread 9/27/19

    We open up inside a church where they are no people sitting in there and a coffin in the front of the pew. The doors open as a bunch of cameraman and women rush in and in a instances stop as soon as they see a coffin. The coffin is black and we see it is covered in flowers. A man walks out in a suit and we see that it is AJ Drake. He is wearing all black as the camera pans to a picture of Sterling Jagger.

    AJ Drake: You may all take a seat. We are gathered here today to lay to rest the man you knew as Sterling Jagger.

    Sterling Jagger in your eyes was weak...
    Sterling Jagger was useless...
    Sterling Jagger was a joke...

    Is that not what each and every one of you thought he was?

    AJ Drake slams his fist on the podium that he is speaking from. Drake has an expression of anger on his face as he clinches his teeth. He looks over at the picture of Sterling Jagger while the camera crews look on some of them filming as he speaks others confused as to why they are there. Drake gains his composure his brown eyes looking around the room at everyone in the church. He looks as though he is talking to every person in this church as if it was a one on one conversation.

    A man so desperate so much in dire straits where he begged for a helping hand was lost in a sea of his own suffering a hell on earth. He begged for help, he plead for a chance to be just like everyone and what did you do? Every single one of you turned his back on him.


    AJ Drake his anger returns almost screaming and startling the first few people in the front row. Drake grabs the mic and begins to slowly walk down church row looking back and forth to all the people as he speaks. One of the camera crew members stands up a women with redhair and green eyes with a FWA pin on her clothes. She looks up at AJ Drake and goes on to speak.

    Female: Tommy Thunder we understand but, who else is Knox targeting?

    AJ Drake takes a few seconds possibly thinking about his answer he looks down at his mic then looks at her with an intense look and a serious tone.

    AJ Drake: Tommy Thunder is just on the top of the list but, don't kid yourself you each are held responsible for your actions each and every single one of you will pay.

    AJ Drakes words cut deep as the girl sits down. AJ Drake looks around the church ahain before walking back to the podium his eyes met the picture of Sterling Jagger and he stops dead in his tracks. His voice trembles a little as he speaks.

    Sterling Jagger in your eyes maybe a joke, but make no mistake about it. Kayden Knox is not. Kayden Knox is a man on a mission with nothing to lose and he will take his vengeance upon each and every single person on this roster.

    Another camera man from the crowd asks what about Kayden Knox next match against Danny Toner? AJ Drake turns back around looking back at the man who ask the question though he seems to be back to a serious tone.

    AJ Drake: It seems that Danny Toner is just the first of many to step in his way.

    AJ Drake sits down on the stairs of the pew he looks around the room then a coy smile grows from the corner of his mouth as he speaks.


    Danny Toner, I give you credit where credit is due you are a great wrestler you're an amazing story a true underdog but you got one glaring problem is that you leech yourself to these parasites like a man to his own vices and that will be your greatest downfall.

    AJ Drake smile turns once again staring at the people in the crowd he looks around the church. AJ Drake goes to the podium his arms rising as he speaks like a preacher to the many people in the church. His voice deep and serious.

    Take a good look at your future Danny, because you go down that path you play to these ingrates you are gonna be left disappointed when you need that helping hand. When you need them because these people just don't game a damn. Maybe we really shouldn't be shocked Kayden & myself because Danny you were one of the many who turned there backs on Kayden Knox.


    Do you think Kayden forgets?

    AJ Drake shakes his head from left to right? His arms still extended.

    Do you think Kayden forgives?

    AJ Drake points to a few member as he goes quiet for a moment.

    The answer is no.

    I look around this room and I see how everyone now wants the scoop now they want the story now they want to know what is next for Kayden Knox & AJ Drake? You don't deserve a damn thing. You know what I find rather odd. Everybody is so fine with letting someone suffer until it is in front of there face until it is on the news.

    Then they blame the one who suffered when they exact there revenge but they are punished. Do you blame the kid who was bully humiliated broken and beaten at school to the point where they have nothing left and shoots up the school? When each and everyone of them were the ones who loaded the bullets in the first place. The man I know as Kayden Knox the one you knew as Sterling Jagger felt that way alone.


    He felt like he was swimming trying to keep his head over the current as you sat there and watch his hand grasping out for each and every single one of your hands and there was nothing! You people want to paint the picture of my client as the villain of this story because he wants to get the payback the vengeances he rightfully deserves on guys like Tommy Thunder and Danny Toner.

    You people are hypocrites you're villain holding a magnifying glass on a hot sunny day over an ant watching as it is burned alive doing nothing wrong and you don't except to be bitten by the swarm that comes after.

    The fact of the matter is that you can't say you don't like the villain when you glorify them. You give them the spotlight, there faces all over social media there names in the movies where you watch the evil things they do you love it you know you do. Kayden Knox is a troubled man and he is dealing with things in a matter.

    So what comes next just know this the blood that will be spilled is not on his hands and not on mine hands it is on each and every one of you. Danny Toner will be made an example of a martyr for the future of FWA for the fates of those who dare to spite him and the voice of the forgotten a savior of the damned "The Afflicted" Kayden Knox will purge this place.

    The coffin opens up and out sits up Kayden Knox. He is wearing a black leather jacket with Afflicted on the back in red scratched cursive and rose petals falling from the letters. Kayden Knox face is worn out and you can tell the trauma he has been through. The room goes into a frenzy as there is shouting all of the people asking questions but, Kayden doesn't speak a word. He gets out of it and the black ripped jeans he has on with black combat boots as he stands next to the side of AJ Drake who states a few more words as the camera pans closer.

    AJ Drake: Kayden Knox refuses to acknowledge any one of you anymore. He doesn't need to waste his breath on any of you he has given up on the humanity of people he has given up on the spotlight. He has one thing on his mend payback and he will get it.


    They walk out of the picture as we fade to black.

    Spoiler:


    CWA World Heavyweight Champion
    Brayden Bridges




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    Re: Fight Night Promo Thread 9/27/19

    The scene starts with a car pulling up to the FedExForum in Memphis, TN, the home of this evening’s Fight Night. The door of the car opens and “The Wildcard” Jason Randall steps out wearing his usual leather jacket with a Motorhead t-shirt underneath, grungy jeans, and boots. The fans nearby waiting outside see him and start cheering, he looks over and waves at them before he’s approached by Katie Lynn Goldsmith.

    Katie Lynn Goldsmith: Jason, tonight you go one on one with the man that has defeated our world champion Cyrus Truth, “The Prodigy” Mike Parr, what is your game plan for tonight?

    Jason looks at Katie and thinks before answering.

    Jason Randall: I could just as easily tell you that I am not at all worried about Mike Parr and I’m ready for the challenge, and then leave it at that, but that would be cliche. You see, being “The Wildcard”, I gotta shake things up a bit. During my last match on Fight Night with James Hughes, I was referred to as “blue collar” by Rod Sterling. I never thought about it before but when he said that it clicked, I am a blue collar guy. I work hard each and every night in that ring, go out there and put on a show for those fans because it’s what I love to do.

    Katie Lynn Goldsmith: What are you saying?

    Jason Randall: What I’m saying is that I’ve changed over the years. Remember our history, when Penny and I did all of that awful stuff to you?

    Katie shudders at that memory.

    Katie Lynn Goldsmith: I’d rather forget that, but what’s your point?


    Jason Randall: My point is that I’m not that guy anymore. I never really was, I was trying to be something I wasn’t. Yeah, I have this wildcard moniker, because you don’t ever really know what to expect from me but I’m also a man of the people. A blue collar guy if you will, a man that works his ass off but I’m not doing that doing something I hate I’m doing that for something that I love. I love wrestling, I love this business, and I love to put on a show for these fans.

    Katie Lynn Goldsmith: That’s all well and good but what does any of that have to do with Mike Parr?

    Randall smiles at her.

    Jason Randall: Follow me Katie, please

    He walks towards the large crowd of fans, who begin to go wild when they see him walking up. He joins them and they are still cheering and going crazy. Katie looks beyond confused by all of this as she tries to get a word in with him.

    Jason Randall: You see Katie, these are MY people. These wild, crazy people are MY people. I do this for them. I put my body on the line for them. I kick ass each and every time I step in that ring...for them! Can you say the same for Mike Parr?

    The fans boo at the mentioning of that name.

    Jason Randall: Mike Parr used to be a man of the people, or so he acted as if he was but in reality he was a selfish man and now he’s fully embraced that. He’s accepted that just like I’ve accepted that that’s not who I am, I never was even when I tried, and I never want to be like that. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not your typical good guy kissing babies and shaking hands, oh no…

    As if on cue a fan hands him a beer and he gladly takes it, cracks it open and cheers the guy that gave it to him before chugging it. He finishes it off, not without getting some all over him but he doesn’t care.

    Jason Randall: I come with an edge. I won’t just sit back and take anyone’s crap, if someone pisses me off I’ll do something about it. Mike Parr hasn’t pissed me off, there is someone else that has in that locker room but that’s another story for another time I’m afraid. I ain’t worried about that guy right now, I’m focused on Mike Parr. Yeah, he hasn’t pissed me off but that doesn’t mean I’m still not going to kick the crap out of him in that ring tonight!

    The fans cheer at that.

    Jason Randall: He’s accomplished a lot and he’s coming off two huge matches, one where he came so close to defeating that pompous jackass Dave Sullivan and the other where he defeated the world champion Cyrus Truth. Now, I ain’t Cyrus Truth and I sure as hell ain’t Dave Sullivan, but I will put up a fight tonight like no other with Mike Parr. Just like I tell anyone else that steps inside of that ring with me, if you underestimate me and overlook me, you’re not doing yourself any favors and I will prove you wrong.

    James Hughes put up a hell of a fight in my last match but I managed to put him away, he didn’t have anything to say before our match but I took that silence from him as him not taking me seriously and look where that got him. If I were you Mike Parr, I wouldn’t make the same mistake that James Hughes made or anyone else that has made that mistake when they go into a match with me…

    I know a win over Mike Parr would be huge for me and I am going to do everything in my power to make sure I win tonight, not just for myself but for MY people!


    He takes another beer from the fan and cheers him as Katie walks away and 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.

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    Re: Fight Night Promo Thread 9/27/19

    FIGHT NIGHT – 09/06/12

    Our scene opens within the parking lot of the FedEx Forum in Memphis, Tennessee, shortly after Fight Night has gone off the air. After the chaotic trio brawling that sent the last image of that episode of Fight Night reeling through the internet, security had finally managed to separate the brawling teams of Cyrus Truth, Krash, & Devin Golden, and Chris Kennedy, Dave Sullivan, & Michael Garcia, whilst a contemplative Mike Parr watched from the sidelines. And now, long after the show, a lone Krash retreated to his car in the parking lot, flipping his car keys between his fingers. Dressed in his casual outfit, consisting of a pale blue shirt beneath a navy waistcoat and black trousers, Krash bid a goodnight to one of the security guards, before laying a hand on the hood of his car.

    “It’s not wise to walk alone nowadays, Heartbeat. Who knows what evil lurks in the shadows this time of night?” A voice in the darkness beyond suddenly called out, causing the Heartbeat to jump in surprise. Krash swore, raising his fists, before the owner of the voice stepped into view.

    “Violet?” Krash remarked, setting his hands down. “My word, you nearly gave me a heart attack.”

    Violet Dreyer shrugged. Dressed in a pair of blue jeans beneath a red hoodie, she trailed a finger on the hood of Krash’s car. “If it was anyone else, they probably would’ve given you something more severe than a heart attack. Except maybe Cyrus, or Goldstein.”

    “Golden. And how long have you been waiting for me?”

    “Not too long! Just, like, an hour, maybe?” Violet replied, in the tone of voice that suggested significantly more than an hour. “I didn’t have a backstage pass, those security meatheads wouldn’t let me in, so I figured I’d just... loiter around your car. Nice car, by the way. It’s got the perfect windshield for throwing someone through.”

    Krash let out a breath. “Please don’t throw someone through the windshield of my car. I only just had it fixed after the last time that happened.”

    “But it makes such a cool noise when I do that.”

    “Violet, why are you here? I assume you didn’t travel all the way to Tennessee to compliment my car’s windshield.”

    “I might have! You don’t know that!”

    “I suspect otherwise.” Krash’s eyes narrowed. “Is this about my meeting with Dreyer? I told him I’d think it over. Trust Murphy Dreyer to get impatient after less than a week.”

    But Violet shook her head. “No, it’s not that. At least, I don’t think so? As far as I’m aware, this is entirely separate to whatever meeting you had with dad. And I’d rather not discuss things in a parking lot where anyone can hear, so... Can we talk? Like, elsewhere?”

    Krash paused briefly, before sighing and unlocking his car. “Fine. Get in. I know a good bar that should still be open this time of night.”

    “Any bar open this time of night is a good bar.”

    ~~~

    “A thought occurred to me, Violet. Why is it, that I continue to give you my time?”

    Not too much later, at a bar that had clearly seen better days, the two sat at an empty booth, both nursing barely-drunk drinks of questionable content. Stirring his liquor with a straw, Krash arched an eyebrow as he spoke aloud.

    “Because you hate being alone and struggle to make meaningful connections in FWA.” Violet replied, as if it was all that simple.

    Krash fixed Violet with a sardonic stare. “Violet, I live in the middle of nowhere, halfway through a desert. My closest neighbour is at least an hour’s drive away. I’m not adverse to solitary. Besides, Cyrus is a friend.”

    “And yet you’re talking to me, not him.” Violet pointed out.

    Krash shrugged. “He had other things to do.”

    “Uh-huh, sure. Honestly, I think you like talking to me, even if you don’t like me, because I remind you of someone.”

    Krash blinked, leaning forward in his chair. “Someone?”

    Violet nodded, grinning knowingly. “Yeah. Someone you don’t want to forget, but man oh man, time and change wear heavily on our memories, doesn’t it?”

    Krash frowned, shifting in his chair uncomfortably. “Don’t psychoanalyse me, Violet. I get enough introspection by myself. Now, what’s so important you trekked all the way to Tennessee, just for me?”

    Violet was silent for a few seconds, mentally phrasing her question. “You’ve made a lot of enemies over the past few months in FWA, wouldn’t you say?”

    “None more so than usual.”

    “I mean, maybe in CWA, when you were home, you’re always have people willing to back you up. But this isn't CWA, and it's not your home. Who do you have in FWA to watch your back?”

    Krash sipped at his drink. “Myself and Cyrus have an understanding. He helped me in the past when I needed it, I helped him tonight when that disgraceful Mr. Garcia attempted to take things too far. I’d say we can count on each other.”

    Violet rolled her eyes, leaning back. “Cyrus is the reason why half of your enemies in FWA are your enemies, you know? But alright, fine. That’s one, one person compared to Kennedy, Sullivan, Garcia, Toner, and whoever else takes offense to you cutting the line, which realistically should be everyone.”

    “Mr. Golden-”

    “He’s a commentator, playing devil’s advocate.” Violet interrupted flippantly. “You can’t tell me half of his lines weren’t to rile Garcia up.”

    “He came out of retirement to support myself and Cyrus. That’s a pretty big commitment just to rile someone up.”

    “And once this beef is settled, he’ll probably slide right back into retirement. Goldstein-”

    “Golden.”

    “Whatever. His thing is with Garcia. Working next to a man like that, I can’t blame him for taking a chance to take a legal swing at him, but you? You’re just his method to justify that.”

    Krash furrowed his eyebrows, taking another thoughtful sip of his drink. “So what, then? I’m not flush with allies, what’s your point? Nothing I haven’t handled before.”

    Violet hesitated, leaning forward as if she was about to discuss the great conspiracy. “Well... Maybe you could do with an extra ally by your side, is all I’m saying.”

    “I have Cyrus.”

    “Not Cyrus, damnit! Someone whose sole job would be to watch your back, maybe help you out when you need it. Y’know, do the things you don’t have the guts to do.”

    “I beg your pardon?” Krash said, eyes narrowing, but Violet continued, regardless.

    “Someone like me, for example.”

    “... Someone like you.”

    “Yes. Me. Great idea, right? You get an extra pair of eyes on your back, I get a free ticket to FWA television, everybody wins!”

    Rubbing a hand against his temple, Krash pushed his drink away. “Violet, with all due respect, I neither need nor particularly want a bodyguard. And even if I did, you wouldn’t be my first choice.”

    “Aw, come on!” Violet groaned. “You’ll need one at some point! Even if you have Cyrus and Golden to temporarily rely on, you’re going to be outnumbered sooner or later! Between Dave Sullivan, Chris Kennedy, Danny Toner, and Michael Garcia-”

    “Mr. Garcia is nothing more than a coward, peddling lies and untruths to present himself as the hero FWA needs.” Krash snapped, his tone suddenly harsh. “Mr. Garcia failed as a wrestler, despite being seven feet tall, and he had to settle for a commentary position, a position he abandoned the moment he realised this is his second chance as fame and glory. In doing so, he let down FWA management and insulted commentators and announcers alike in his callous disregard for sticking to his commentary duties and remaining out of the physical action. Take sides, verbally joust, that’s fine and dandy, to be expected really, but there’s a line between wrestler and civilian, and you CANNOT simply leap back and forth the moment it suits you! He’s a pathetically apathetic ape, and the second he realises he’s once again out of his depth, he’ll go slinking back to his seat by the desk, begging for his civilian job back.”

    Violet blinked. “... Christ.” She muttered, taking a long mouthful of her drink.

    “I don’t take kindly to those who eschew their agreed-upon duties for selfishness and greed.” Krash continued, carefully inspecting his nails. “I especially don’t take kindly to those who would threaten to wrap a chair around someone’s neck and snap it in half. Throwing hands post-match is one thing, but attempting to grievously and genuinely injure another competitor is an act only the lowest of low would consider. For those acts alone, I’m going to be very happy to show Mr. Garcia why retiring behind a desk was the smartest decision he’s ever made.”

    Violet smacked a hand on the table. “But he’s got Kennedy and Sullivan backing him up. Danny Toner too, if he’s still hanging around.”

    “I beat Mr. Toner in thirteen seconds purely by luck. If I wanted to, I could do it again in half that time without using the element of surprise. Mr. Kennedy already fell once before, no reason why he wouldn’t fall again, and Mr. Sullivan is biting off more than he can chew between his North American & X-Fly Championship duties and this entire mess with myself and Cyrus, gifted competitor or not.”

    “Now you’re just getting ahead of yourself.”

    Krash paused, then nodded in acquiesce. “Perhaps so, Violet. I do have a habit of doing that.”

    “What about Gabrielle, then? She’s not on your side.”

    “She’s not on their side either. Miss Switzerland, through and through. I can at least count on that.”

    Violet groaned in defeat, her head slumping on the table. “You’re really not open to this ‘bodyguard’ idea?”

    “I appreciate the offer, Violet, even if at heart it’s just an intention to get you some spotlight via attaching yourself to my person. But I got this, alright? Next Fight Night, this so-called ‘war’ will come to a satisfying conclusion. The lies and fibs of Mr. Garcia, swallowed hook, line, and sinker by Mr. Sullivan and Mr. Kennedy, will be put to rest. Perhaps, the initial point of ‘Krash accepting a title shot without earning it’ will be forgotten after I properly earn it with a victory that night, but who’s to say, really. Either way, I’ll finally get my match with Cyrus. Not the one-on-one singles match I’ve been waiting five years for, but that too will come, in time.” Krash rose, patting Violet on the shoulder. “Now, if that is all, Violet?”

    “One more thing, Montrose. Do you really thing this’ll end things? That Kennedy, Sullivan, and Garcia taking a loss in a six-man tag will suddenly make these claims of war go away?”

    “Honestly? No. I don’t. But I’ll make damn sure that they’ll think twice before trying to disgrace CWA again.” Krash said, nodding. Throwing some bills on the table, Krash took his leave, exiting out of the bar, into the cold night.

    Soon, everything that had happened since the moment he stepped into FWA, would reach it's breaking point. Worlds would collide, fates determined, destinies ripped apart. A war would continue, or would come to an end.

    And right in the middle of it, would be a man who simply wanted to share a gift with a friend.

    Such is the world we live in.


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

  7. #7
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    Re: Fight Night Promo Thread 9/27/19

    Exile Chronicles: Volume 2
    Chapter 11: Reckoning

    Flashback: October 2013

    “If you’re afraid of some competition, you don’t belong in this world.”

    Our scene opens six years ago, in a hallway leading from the former offices of the Clique Wrestling Alliance Board of Directors. Rumors have been swirling due to the implosion of the PWS Network and the fate of its prized wrestling promotion, the Fantasy Wrestling Alliance.

    CWA Owner Megan Anderson has already made it clear to her husband, CWA CEO Jimmy King, that she would do nothing to aid FWA and would be more than happy to pick the bone when the rival promotion was dead and gone, despite King insisting that FWA was better left alive.

    However, Megan didn’t count on a familiar face and oft-times adversary to approach her as she left her husband to stew. Irritation is evident on her face as she exasperatedly replies:

    “What the hell are you talking about, Truth?”

    The camera pans over, revealing the man to indeed be Cyrus Truth, a younger...less world-weary Exile, but unmistakably the man considered the very best in the Clique Wrestling Alliance. He will be competing in this year’s WrestleRoyale to try and earn a title shot at Five Star Attraction and return to the main event for the second year running.

    But it seems that the WrestleRoyale is the last thing on his mind as he gives Megan a smirk and casually leans against the wall, blocking her from proceeding.

    “You know full well what I’m talking about. While I don’t agree with what your husband has planned for FWA, he isn’t wrong in stating that the company is better off alive than dead.”

    “Excuse me? What the hell would you know about it?”

    “More than enough to have an opinion. And enough to know that you shouldn’t just let that promotion die.”

    “You expect me to divert money from CWA to save a promotion that saddled up with an unstable network? Why in the hell would I do that? What’s in it for me?”

    “Money? No, you wouldn’t even need to do that. You and I both know that all FWA needs is another channel, one suited for the pro wrestling business that knows how to promote it, advertise it, and is committed to the business. Like, say...the WC Network.”


    The color in Megan’s face disappears for a second as she angrily retorts:

    “The WC Network has an exclusive deal with the Clique Wrestling Alliance.”

    “No, the WC Network’s contract with CWA has an exclusivity clause, one that you as the owner could waive for the Fantasy Wrestling Alliance. You and I both know that Ed Mills and Chris Nash are more than happy to welcome more wrestling content for the WC Network to expand their portfolio. All you have to do is give them permission to offer FWA a timeslot different from yours and let FWA sort out the rest.”

    Megan closes the distance between her and arguably her company’s biggest talent. Getting right in his face with an expression of indignation, she growls out:

    “Nowhere in this hypothetical scenario of yours have you mentioned one good reason why I should do this.”

    Cyrus closes his eyes and sighs, as if he’s having to explain this to a child (which doesn’t help soften Megan’s irritation).

    “So you’re saying you ARE scared? If you are, just admit it and I’ll leave you alone. But I know you’re not. You weren’t scared of FWA back when they were on the PWS Network despite it being the closest thing to a rival to CWA, so you couldn’t possibly be scared of them if you allowed them to have a show on the WC Network. And besides...competition is good. Competition is what forces promoters to push the envelope, provide the best opportunities to showcase its talents, and prove why their wrestlers are the very best in the industry. Without FWA, what’s the incentive for you to try and constantly improve...to grow as the leading wrestling promoter?”

    Surprisingly, that seems to resonate with Megan. Regardless of how ruthless she is, much of that drive has come from a desire to match and surpass anybody who stood in her way.

    As Megan’s expression softens, Cyrus continues.

    “And you husband has a good point. There are some great talents in FWA who may want to look for a new home, and it’ll be a lot easier to convince them that CWA is a prime destination if CWA shows how secure they are in their spot. Conversely, CWA talents heading over to FWA? They could show the FWA audience just how truly great they are. Might spark some interest in CWA that wasn’t there before. And above all else…”

    Cyrus leans in close, almost whispering to his boss:

    “...You and I both know that you love it when you have something over someone. And FWA won’t ever be able to deny that it owes its continuation because CWA offered a hand in assistance.

    Now THAT gets Megan’s attention as she bites her lip and smiles for just a brief second...but immediately turns back to Cyrus and scowls.

    “If this comes back to bite us in the ass...if this leads to CWA falling behind…”

    “It won’t. Not if you do your job and make sure that this company has management committed to promoting the product and providing an environment that wrestlers want to wrestle in. If CWA should ever collapse, it’ll be because you failed. Not because FWA succeeds.”


    Cyrus cracks a smile as he stands up straight, while Megan seems to be in deep thought over what her former World Champion has told her.

    “Anyways, I’ve said my piece. Ultimately, you have to decide if you’re brave enough to walk a harder road. Now, as you so very pointedly reminded me, I have my own business to attend to. See you around, boss.”

    Cyrus takes his leave of Megan Anderson, who now seems to be contemplating something. Contemplating her own desire to ensure the security of CWA...but also her thirst to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that her federation is the undisputed best, and what the Exile told her she should do to prove it…

    ***************

    We cut to present day, as we see a furnished room with mahogany paneled walls loaded to the gills with wrestling memorabilia. Posters of previous major events from a variety of promotions, outfits that invoke memories of special moments and showdowns, and title belts and trophies galore.

    Attached to the wall are a pair of title belts surrounded by four others in a diamond shape. The two titles in the middle are replica CWA World Title belts, and the one at the top of the diamond was the FWA World Heavyweight Championship belt before the unification match between Ryan Rondo and Cyrus Truth at Back in Business XI. The last three belts are the new model FWA World Heavyweight Titles post unification.

    Sitting in a simple wooden chair next to a older-model box TV set is Cyrus Truth, wearing his ring gear from his first Back in Business, the ashen grey evoking the spirit of the Pale Rider. On the television set, images and clips play of FWA’s biggest hits and most memorable moments. The clips don’t seem to have any real pattern or connection to them save for one:

    All of these moments are from the past six years...ever since CWA surprisingly offered to waive their exclusivity clause, giving the WC Network permission to offer FWA a new home.

    The fate of FWA’s World Heavyweight Champion now rests on the result of one match...a six man tag that will determine who gets added to the title bout at Desert Storm. Gabrielle is already locked in as one of Cyrus’s challengers...but the second will be decided by who wins this match.

    If the team of Cyrus Truth, Krash, and Devin Golden win, Krash gets the title match that he was robbed of several Fight Nights ago.

    If the team of Chris Kennedy, Dave Sullivan, and Michael Garcia win, the one who scores the pin gets the shot instead.

    All of the treachery and rhetoric regarding the CWA-FWA conflict comes to a head this Fight Night...but in spite of Cyrus’s anger at this whole debacle, it’s hard to tell in his expression here and now. In fact, there’s almost a look of satisfaction in his face, as if the conflict has finally reached a certain point where he has control over it. As Cyrus speaks, it’s a tone of confidence, of command.

    As if the Exile feels for the first time in a long time that he’s in control of his own destiny and that of FWA.

    “For six years, the FWA has survived internal conflicts, the idiocy of Jimmy King trying to create a brand new CWA off the bones of this company, and the corruption of champions and management alike. And through it all, the FWA has had countless moments and matches that history will remember for ages to come. Stellar title bouts, outstanding feuds, and unforgettable conflicts that have helped this company survive and thrive in the wake of PWS’s death.

    “And FWA owes that opportunity to find a new network to broadcast their product to the world to CWA allowing them a spot at the table with the WC Network...and to a wrestler adding his voice to those insisting that CWA extend that hand.”


    As the clips play, Cyrus leans back into his chair, relaxed. The smile vanishes as his expression turns more stoic, taking a very expository tone as he continues speaking.

    “You wrestle for a long enough time with a promotion and succeed in it, it’s inevitable that you earn a bit of stroke. It’s not anything I like to use, as I always want my accomplishments and my victories to stand on their own because of what I do in the middle of a wrestling ring. But times and circumstances arise when one’s stroke has its advantages...like, say, convincing your boss to stop being a coward and embrace the Struggle.

    “I’ve never told anybody about my part in helping convince CWA management to allow FWA a time slot on the WC Network. I did it because my principles drive me to ensure that proper competition exists. And as I told Megan Anderson, CWA was never in any danger of falling to FWA as long as Megan did her job properly. But, as history shows us, Megan failed. With Isaac Richmann retiring, Megan got scared and fell for a bunch of would-be managers’ promises of bringing CWA to greater heights, only for each and every one of them to fail and run off when the Road got hard to walk down. Even if they wanted to, I can’t say that FWA should’ve returned the favor. After all, how can you save a promotion from itself, and what wrestler would want to compete for a federation that can’t keep its own house in order?”


    There’s a bitter undertone to Cyrus’s voice as he expounds on the fall of the Clique Wrestling Alliance...and perhaps, just a touch of wistful sorrow as well. However, that tone returns to that commanding, imposing voice as Cyrus continues.

    “Let’s make one thing perfectly clear: FWA had no knowledge of my part in helping them secure their WC Network deal, nor did they owe me anything for that even if they had known. The only thing I was ‘owed’ was the opportunity to compete that FWA offered. And on that same note, no wrestler in FWA owes me any gratitude for what I did, either. Ultimately, all I did was give this company a chance to sink or swim on its own merits.

    “But the reason I bring this up now is to make sure that everybody that has questioned my actions and disparaged Krash and the rest of the CWA transplants remember one very important fact. Not an ‘opinion,’ a FACT. The last six years of this company’s history, the last six years of championships, matches, and events...NONE of that happens if CWA doesn’t waive its exclusivity clause with the WC Network. And CWA doesn’t do that if a lone Exile doesn’t speak up.

    “‘The hardest thing to do is to remember.’ I’m sure Gabrielle remembers me saying this to her when she and I started this little feud of ours several weeks ago. FWA and its wrestlers have very short memories. After all, it’s a lot easier to disparage CWA for dying if you don’t remember how close FWA was to a similar fate. But now? The fools who have been belittling myself, Krash, and any other CWA transplant can’t claim ignorance.

    “So when Chris Kennedy wants to talk about how pathetic it is that a ‘god’ like him has to put down a bunch of CWA refugees? I want Chris Kennedy to remember that the company that made him such a legend would’ve died six years ago had it not been for me.

    “And when Dave Sullivan wants to bitch and complain about having to defend his titles while moaning about how he should get another title shot to add a third belt to his waist? I hope Dave Sullivan doesn’t forget that the only reason there’s an FWA North American Title and X Division Title for him to carry around to begin with was because a certain Exile spoke up to help keep this company from collapsing.

    “And when Michael Garcia wants to talk about how upsetting it is that CWA transplants are getting the spotlight while the FWA homegrown folks are left behind, I want him to sit and stew with the understanding that FWA’s existence for the last six years was due in no small part to a CWA transplant.”


    Cyrus cracks a slight smirk, clearly enjoying the prospect of Kennedy, Sullivan, and Garcia choking a bit on their words. However, the smile quickly vanishes, as if Cyrus knows that such a thought is just wishful thinking.

    “But of course, none of that matters in the end. Because as I’ve made very clear time and again since this whole mess started? This was never about CWA or FWA. This is the tale of several individuals who, for all their bragging and boasting and taunting, have been unable to keep up with the changing of the guard. The tale of men and women unsatisfied with their positions of power being swept from under their feet, unsatisfied with their past glories but unwilling to grind and claw like before. Men and women who feel entitled to something, just because they believe they are due to where they cut their teeth or what their name is. Kennedy, Sullivan, Garcia...not a single one of these men truly care about FWA. All they care about is ensuring that the spotlight remains on them...and heavens forbid it leave them for even a split second.

    “This six-man tag match on this upcoming Fight Night is a reckoning. Kennedy, Sullivan, and Garcia stand across the ring, with the opportunity to earn a World Title shot in the balance. This whole CWA-FWA malarky ends with this match. If they win, there are three outcomes. But truthfully, there should only be one...that is, if the real issue is with CWA.

    “Kennedy, Sullivan, and Garcia have to work together to win. If they don’t? They’re going to be crushed by Krash, Devin, and me. Teamwork and unity are the only ways any of them get what they want. So, if that’s the case and the issue truly is putting us CWA transplants in our place? The solution is simple: two must sacrifice their ambitions for the World Title so that one can score the pin against us.

    “And it doesn’t take a genius to see just how well that’s going to go.”


    The television screen changes, showing images of Chris Kennedy’s multiple World Title wins, his ever-smug expression of superiority plastered in among the clips.

    “Chris Kennedy has held the World Title more times than anybody in this company. He is undefeated at Back in Business and is the only person standing on that side of the ring that has ever beaten me for a World Title. In his mind, he’s the only logical choice to score the pin and take the title from me. After all, he’s done it before, right?”

    The screen changes again, this time to images of Dave Sullivan’s numerous X Division and North American title defenses...but also just as many images of his vulgar, obnoxious rantings.

    “But in the eyes of Dave Sullivan, Chris Kennedy has also lost the World Title to me. But Davey? Davey boy has beaten me and never lost to me. Now, we’ll just ignore the fact that it was only the one match that we had together for a minute, because oh my, look at all that ‘King Sullivan’ has accomplished. A record-setting reign as X Division Champion, an outstanding dual-title reign with the North American Title, and virtually untouchable for months? What the hell has Kennedy done lately? Nothing that can SURELY compare to the man who likes to remind us that he sees himself as the one and only ‘King of FWA.” So why the hell should Sullivan step aside and give Kennedy another opportunity to fail...right?”

    Once again, the images in the TV change to those of Michael Garcia, brutalizing and punishing opponents...and taking every opportunity to strike from behind.

    “But what about Mikey? What about the Carnegie Carnivore? Chris Kennedy has had his opportunities. Dave Sullivan already has his titles. Those two should step aside and let somebody else have a crack at the big time. The man did have a very close match against me last Fight Night...impressive, considering he’s spent most of his time behind a desk for the last few months. So why not Michael? Why should he have to wait behind a has-been former champion and a blowhard who should be more concerned with his own gold?”

    The clips cycle between the three of them. Kennedy, Sullivan, Garcia...the three who have a chance to earn a title shot by beating Cyrus and his team...but the images are showing them angry, bitter...arrogant.

    “You three idiots. You just had to perpetuate this delusion of a problem with CWA when it’s clear to anybody with any sense that all you want is attention. You want your spotlights, your accolades, and you can’t stand waiting for them or grinding for them. You can’t find glory in anything other than the accumulation of shiny golden baubles, and have blinded yourself to the myriad Truths of just how close all of you were to not having your precious FWA. But now, you know. And on Fight Night, you’re about to have everything you think you are owed taken away. The ego alone is going to stop you from being able to work together long enough to form a cohesive unit. The glint of gold will stop any of you from sacrificing your own ambition for the betterment of the team. You three will KILL EACH OTHER to be the one to score the pin and get the shot, and you think that such dysfunction WON’T stop us from beating you down and robbing you like you’ve robbed Krash? Do you morons NOT know who the hell you’re up against?”

    The TV screen goes blank for a minute, but surges back to life with clips of Krash’s most prolific moments and matches. Not only do we see images of his CWA World Title wins and defenses, but also clips of his tag team repertoire with long-time partner Alyster Black and even making his odd couple tag team with Dan Maskell work.

    “Krash...the Heartbeat, the White Wolf, a man who lives and breathes this business. A man who could’ve just as easily let ego and success fester in him into arrogance like our opponents, but instead chose humility and a desire to constantly prove himself. This man who was robbed of a shot will now have a chance to take it back, and will be the knife at your throat to teach you a valuable, final lesson as to why he’s not to be trifled with.”

    The clips change again, showcasing the FWA Hall of Famer Devin Golden. Once again, showcasing his World Title wins, his most stellar matches, and especially his tag team title runs with a variety of partners over the years.

    “Standing side by side with us is Devin Golden. The Hall of Famer. The Golden One. Another former World Champion and a wrestler who’s learned and forgotten more about tag team wrestling than either of you three blowhards could’ve possibly learned. For weeks, this man has been the sole voice of reason in FWA. He has put any personal pride in this promotion’s brand aside for the sake of sanity and righteousness. He didn’t have to step up and help Krash or me. But in the end, Devin Golden knew that justice had to be served...and he needed to remind his peers that when he speaks, the men and women of the FWA locker room should listen.”

    The TV shifts again, this time showing Cyrus Truth as both CWA and FWA World Heavyweight Champion. Countless matches, countless moments...and all ending with him rising to the occasion.

    “I am proud and humbled to be sharing a ring with Krash and Devin. I am honored to find such men to stand alongside me as I remind the three of you exactly WHY I have stood atop the mountain here in FWA ever since I got here. Not because FWA owed me and protected me. Not because of a lack of talent. But because when it comes down to it? I embrace the Struggle. I walk the Long and Winding Road. I have suffered and sacrificed for everything, everything, EVERYTHING I’ve been given and earned and will continue to do so prove my greatness to the world. To punish those who take what doesn’t belong to them, Garcia. To humble the braggarts who think they’re untouchable, Sullivan. And to bring low those who think they’re above us all, Kennedy.

    “On Fight Night, this farce ends. Myself, Krash, and Golden? We will strip away this veneer of home field pride and show the world exactly who you are at your core. Not men. Not monsters. Not kings or gods. Just a trio of squabbling children who can’t stand it when daddy doesn’t pay them all the attention in the world. But don’t worry, boys. You have my attention. All of it. And at the end of the night, you’re going to wish I had continued to ignore you. As you three backbite one another for the opportunity that you stole from Krash? My team will stand united with a single goal in mind: taking you down a peg and reclaiming what was lost. I hope you all have alternative arrangements for Desert Storm. Because after Fight Night, not a single one of you will be getting a shot at me or my World Title. What you could’ve had with patience will be robbed from you, just as you robbed Krash. But unlike then? You’ll have nobody to blame but yourselves for what’s to come.

    “Lift the curtain. Expose the ugly Truth. And let those three who would insist they deserve all before anybody else be left with absolutely NOTHING.”


    Cyrus stands up, emboldened and impassioned by the match to come. However, before he walks off, the images in the TV change again to those of Gabrielle Mongtomery. As if remembering something, Cyrus sucks his teeth and holds up a hand.

    “Oh, right. Because she’d get upset if I didn’t at least mention her by name, allow me to feed her ego and get this out of the way. Gabrielle, you have a very simple job and a punched ticket to Desert Storm. All you have to do is referee and call the match evenly.

    “If you attempt to throw this match out? I will drop you on your head.”

    The TV shows just that, the clip from Cyrus’s victory over Gabrielle at the Anniversary Show.

    Try to disqualify any of us without a damn good reason? I will drop you on your head.”

    The image repeats.

    “Try to do ANYTHING beyond counting the three or the submission? Do ANYTHING underhanded to favor anybody in this match? I will DROP YOU. ON. YOUR HEAD.”

    The Journey’s End repeats over and over again to punctuate the point Cyrus is making. His face is stony, his eyes those of a killer.

    “Ask your ex-husband what I do to special guest referees who try and twist the match to suit their own needs. And be grateful that you’re even getting another shot at my World Title to begin with.”

    Cyrus has made his point abundantly clear. He will not tolerate any devious attempts by Gabrielle in this match to alter the outcome, and he will do everything in his power to exact retribution upon the heads of Chris Kennedy, Dave Sullivan, and Michael Garcia.

    And in the course of that reckoning, show the world that all of their boasts and claims were a facade to hide their own greed and insecurity.

    As Cyrus walks away, the TV shows one last image...a quote, from Winston Churchill:

    The Truth is incontrovertible.
    Malice may attack it.
    Ignorance may deride it.
    But in the end, there it is...
    Last edited by Cyrus Truth; 09-28-2019 at 04:29 PM. Reason: Slight Coding Fix

  8. #8
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    Re: Fight Night Promo Thread 9/27/19


    CHRIS KENNEDY


    THE BURNING

    The sounds of crickets stridulating in trees, shaken by the late September wind. That's all we hear, but we see nothing. Nothing like darkness. Pitch black on a moonless night. Suddenly, a match is stricken and tossed onto a pile of lighter fluid-soaked logs. The logs become in engulfed in hungry flames. We then see Chris Kennedy sitting in front of the flames, now visible by the fire. He stares into the flames, his face expressionless, his eyes wide. The reflection of the flame dances in his eyes and it's almost as if he's staring into a void, not looking for anything in particular. A lit cigarette hangs from the corner of his mouth and the sounds of owls hooting can be heard among the symphony of chirping crickets.

    "Hate is ravenous, man." Kennedy says, tilting his head as he observes the fire.

    "Hate is like a flame that starts as a single spark, spreading and festering until it becomes a wild fire, an unstoppable wildfire that decimates everything in it's path."

    The stars shimmer as a wave of black clouds pass, revealing a half moon against the dark backdrop of the night sky. A wolf howls somewhere in the distance.

    "I hate Cyrus Truth. I hate him with a fiery passion that incinerates every other thought occupying my brain. I want, more than anything else, to be the man who takes everything from him. I want that more than anyone could ever know. What else do I have, man? The perfect life I always strived for? The love of a good woman? There is no Gabrielle Kennedy. Bell Connelly is a thing of the past. A perfect family life? My mother and father are long dead. Each day my daughter becomes less and less familiar to me. 5 years ago I stepped away from the FWA to fight cancer, a long and hard fought battle that I won. But what did I come back to?

    I came back to an all new FWA, on a new home. The dawn of the WC network era. And I was successful, yeah. Picked up a few world titles, broke some more records, made history, yada yada yada. But even though I was successful in this new climate, something felt different. I knew, just as well as Stu, Devin and Wolf did, that a big change was coming. The imminent collapse of the CWA, and the certain reality being that their refugees would flood our sacred home and we'd have no choice but to make room for them. I accepted it, I didn't put up much of a fight. I instead buy my focus on the likes of Gabrielle, Eyensane, Ryan Rondo, and so on and so forth. It wasn't until Cyrus Truth would have his run at the top until I properly addressed the situation. Here we are now. Shit man, really makes you think."


    Kennedy pulls a stack of pictures from his front coat pocket. They appear to be FWA promotional pictures. The first one is a picture of Michael Garcia. Garcia is grimacing menacingly, covered in sweat or possibly baby oil. Kennedy studies the picture for a bit. He looks at it like it's some strange insect he's never seen before, unsure of what to make of it.

    "Some of the most promising stars from the pre-WC netowork FWA had vanished from the spotlight, choosing to wage their wars on Twitter rather than in the ring, all the while maintaining that they were still somewhat relevant. Michael Garcia isn't a clown, he's the whole damn circus, and he's never been relevant. On Fight Night, he'll be one of my partners in the 6 man tag match. If ever there was a week link..."

    Kennedy contemplates throwing the picture into the flame but instead crumples it up and tosses it behind his back. The next picture is of Dave Sullivan, a smug look on his flat face.

    "Then there is my other partner. His career has seemingly taken a much different turn than Garcia's, hasn't it? King Sullivan, on top of the world. No one can touch him, right? He's beaten Cyrus Truth, just as I have, so that lends him credibility as my partner. Do I trust him? Absolutely not. But I certainly trust him to pull his weight in this match, and that's all I need."

    Kennedy crumples up the picture of Dave Sullivan, just as he did with Garcia's picture before that. Behind his back it goes. The next picture in the stack is Devin Golden.

    "The one thing I used to appreciate about you, Devin, was your unwavering loyalty. When Crossfire was in it's prime, you bled blue. Years after it fell, you still touted it as the FWA's flagship brand and when Crossfire was just a footnote in history, you became the FACE of the collective FWA. You were someone I believed in and someone I respected. Here you are now, rubbing shoulders with Cyrus Truth and Krash. Do you know what you are, Devin? You are a traitor. A treasonous snake who is turning his back on everything we've worked together, as two of the most well known FWA superstars of all time, to build. It breaks my heart.

    Cyrus Truth comes in here, says "The FWA has never seen anything like me, not a single one of you can hang" and you say "Shit man, he's right. Sign me up for that." You are pathetic. You used to mean something around here. You used to represent the voice of those that had no voice, you used to stand tall and never back down. Now? All that time behind a commentary has made you soft, and you are playing cuck to Cyrus Truth as he fucks your one true love, the FWA. Whatever thing you've got going on with Michael Garcia, it's really unfortunate that it's led you down my path. I didn't have a beef with you, at least not before all of this. Head my words, Devin Golden. Stay the hell out of my way."


    Kennedy tosses the picture of Devin Golden into the fire and it turns to ash and cinder. Kennedy observes with a devilish smile before going to the next picture in the stack. It's Krash.

    "And now we have the bell of the ball. Krash. He's the man of the hour, isn't he? The one that all this is for. Yeah man, no surprise here that someone who is, for all intents and purposes, a ROOKIE in the FWA, is getting a world title opportunity while the Mike Parr's and Eyesane's of the world sit under the table waiting for the management to drop them any scraps. Who are you, Krash? What do you represent? What are you, other than the Diddy to Cyrus Truth's Donkey Kong? His little buddy that's getting attention at the new job because he rubs elbows with the employee of the month. Screw you, Krash. I hate you almost as much as I hate Cyrus. I am EASILY, without question, the greatest FWA superstar of all time. I am certainly the most accomplished. You know how long it took me to get my first FWA title opportunity? Over a year. 13 longs months of me busting my ass and beating the best that the FWA had to offer, and that was even after I had defeated the FWA champion, Rocky Creed, in my debut match. Management wouldn't give me a title shot. It wasn't until I beat 6 other people in a Golden Opportunity match and I had to TAKE that title opportunity, much to their chagrin, that I cemented myself in the FWA main event. That's why I hate you. Has nothing to do with you being a CWA refugee, it has everything thing to do with YOU and who you are. Go to hell, Krash.

    If I accomplish nothing else in this match, if I'm not the one to score the pin and we are faced with the hellish possibility of Michael Garcia getting an FWA title match, as long as I keep you from going to Desert Storm, then I've done my job. You aren't fit to be in the FWA title picture, that's the fact of the matter. How petty does that make me? The fact that I am no longer fighting to make sure i win, the fact that I am fighting to make sure YOU lose. If it was anyone else I'd thing it was funny, but the fact that I'm the one saddled with this sick, sad spite is no laughing matter. I am disgusted with myself, I won't lie. Once you lose this match and you fuck off to the back of the line, I hope this hatred I harbor for you subsides, Krash. I really do. It's unhealthy for me and I'd love nothing more than to move on from it.


    Kennedy tosses the picture of Krash's goofy, smiling face into the fire and it goes up in smoke. Kennedy takes another long drag from his cigarette and his eyes set on the final picture. It's the FWA Champion, Cyrus Truth.

    "It's like I said, man. Hate is like a flame. Cyrus baby, I'm burning up over here. I know that the only way to put this fire out is to put you out, once and for all. See, this isn't some FWA vs CWA thing, at the end of the day. This thing between us transcends that, man. You know that. So here we have it. You and I will meet in the ring, once again. It won't matter that you'll have Devin Golden and Krash at your side, and it won't matter that I'll be saddled with those two shit stains Sullivan and Garcia. All that matters, is YOU...and I. Nothing else. I am not going to talk about what I'm going to you in that ring on Fight Night. No sense in repeating words I've spilled ad nauseam. All you really need to know is this, Cyrus: Krash isn't going to Desert Storm. I can't even guarantee that I am going either, but that doesn't matter. I see this match for what it really is. Another opportunity for me to take something from you. Burn in hell, Cyrus Truth, but in the mean time, go wash up. We've got a date on Fight Night."

    Chris Kennedy throws the picture of Cyrus onto the flame and the camera zooms in on it. It slowly withers and crackles, the embers disintegrating into nothingness as we fade to black.


  9. #9
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    Re: Fight Night Promo Thread 9/27/19

    Professor Nova Diamond proudly presents:
    ''THE ORIGIN OF SPECIES''


    A dark room is not somewhere you would expect to see Nova Diamond, especially when he decides to grace you with his presence. But there he is, sitting in a leather couch in front of a big fireplace, which is the only source of light in the room that makes Nova visible to the eye. His expression bears nothing interpretable. The sounds coming from the fire makes quite the ambiance, especially when creating a duet with Erik Satie's Gnossienne No. 1.

    ''Please, make yourselves comfortable.''

    Nova does not change his expression, but his voice is soft and welcoming as it can be coming from him. The light also reveals that he is holding a thick, old-looking, black book.

    ''If you have been following Fantasy Wrestling Alliance for the last few months, then you certainly know that yours truly is a very outspoken man. I have my fair share of problems with FWA's landscape and I definitely made it well-known ever since the minute I walked into the company. A lot of people can shut their mouths and just accept the things happening around them, but I'm not one of them. And I would rather not be.''

    The light further continues to reveal the details about Nova's appearance, and it seems that he's gone for a very 1800's looking grey windowpane suit for today.

    ''Just like last week, I have decided to prepare for the occasion once again. Sitting in a dark room with a fireplace in front of me and a book in my hand is not my dream place to be, but I think we need to atmosphere to comprehend what I will talk about very well.''

    He opens up the book and starts to read the title.

    ''On the Origin of Species by Means of Natural Selection. Or the Preservation of Favoured Races in the Struggle for Life. By Charles Darwin.''

    He clears his throat, then continues to speak. This time, he is not reading anything from the book

    ''Charles Darwin gave years of his life to research every kind of animal he could and tried to make assumptions on what is required for the living species to do if they want to survive and thrive in this competition we call life. Our world is limited and it can't please everyone's needs. In order to maintain our world stable and habitable, we need to leave some species behind. How it is decided? That was the question Charles Darwin tried to answer and I think he really nailed it in its head: You either evolve and become better, or you stay the same and you perish. Because our world has its way of eliminating the unevolved and weak, and we call it 'the natural selection'.''

    He starts to read the book again, silently this time. While he does that, everything goes white and a hand-drawn image appears on the screen. The childishly-drawn image shows a stickman resembling Nova on a ship in the middle of an ocean. The image turns into a crude animation. The ship goes further and stops in a front of an island. StickNova and his crew leave the ship and look around the island. They study some animals they find among the way, like a brown bear holding his knee in agony and a beaten-up donkey in a wifebeater, obviously resembling Viktor Maximus and Jason Randall, respectively. Then, the animation disappears and we are back at the real Nova, who is once again looking at the camera instead of reading his book.

    ''Just like our world, FWA has also its own little ecosystem inside, and it's own hierarchy. It goes with 'the winners' at the top, 'the losers' are in the middle and 'the extinct' in the bottom. If you want to be a success in this system, then you have to be at the top and nowhere else. Being in the middle can guarantee you a paying job and some recognition, but believe me, if you stay there for too long, you fall straight into the bottom and no one will remember your name. And being in the bottom basically means you're dead and gone, nobody is even taking you into consideration for anything. But being in the top is not easy. You have to pack a punch, have lots of tricks in the bag and most importantly: you must have the ability to adapt.''

    It's time for another animation, this time StickNova is smiling in a ship with some pomelos, tangerines and oranges around him. Then the landscape changes and StickNova is suddenly in a desert. It doesn't matter, for he is prepared. Lots of water bottles appear around him and his dress changes into something very light and white to reflect the sun. Landscape changes once again and StickNova is now in either South Pole or the North Pole. But he is once again prepared, as he is now fishing and has proper eskimo clothing to keep him warm. Then StickNova teleports into a foggy wasteland, but he has a gas mask to protect him. The animation ends again and we are back in the real world once more.

    ''And by adapting, I mean having different plans for different kind of opponents. Sticking to them when they are working, creating new ones when they aren't and even improvising if you must. But you have to know what you are doing. That is the most important aspect of a wrestler, smarts. Being smart enough to know when you need to spice-up things a little. Eventually, it all comes down to the core problem I mentioned since the beginning of my FWA career: 'complacency'. Wrestlers are not willing to change things. They stay the same when they lose and expect to win all of a sudden. It doesn't work out, but the cycle continues on and on. And it creates a waste in the underbelly of FWA. Thus, you end up with lots of dipshits who can contribute nothing of value to the company they are employed in. And quite honestly, I am growing pretty tired of going through that huge waste every week. Mac, Jason, Viktor...and now XYZ?''

    He shakes his head in disapproval, after that we cut to another animation. The ship of StickNova ends up in another island. StickNova watches the island still in his ships. It seems this island is inhabited by...dodo birds. A calendar appears in the corner and it passes, and with every page of the calendar that is ripped, one dodo bird vanishes. They eventually end up completely extinct, saving for one special dodo bird who has a head that looks like XYZ's own head. StickNova leaves his ship once more to go and confront that last dodo bird, and the animation ends again before anything else happens.

    ''XYZ...certainly has his own unique flavour. He has his certain way of thinking. He has that peculiar way that differs him from the rest of the people we have here. But different does not always mean good. And quite frankly, if he was good, we would not be seeing him doing the same thing every week for what, three years?''

    Nova raises one eyebrow.

    ''He may sound, look or think different. But he is no different from the rest. They are here for the reasons themselves don't even know. They are not ambitious. They do not dream big. I don't know what XYZ's dream that he claims will never die is but I think that dream is already dead if all XYZ did in three years was winning the Tag Team Championships. Seriously, what is XYZ even doing? What does he want? Where is he going? I don't know. Quite frankly, I never cared to begin with but if I had to take off my feet from my expensive shoes and put them in your cheap ones, I still would have no reason to care about XYZ at all. Even if you are somehow this guy's biggest fan in all of existence, you must've given up after some point. And I would not blame you if you actually did that. XYZ is just there, just fighting every week for some reason he doesn't even know. He comes out, he loses, he goes back, he comes back, does it again, does it again, does it again. This kind of routine frustrates me. Fantasy Wrestling Alliance's quality is questioned because people who follow this routine without a hitch. As the premiere combat sport in the world, this company should only sign and maintain those who can keep up to that standard all the time. People like me, for starters. Not people like XYZ, also another example. The only thing matters is the top. Only the best is good enough. The middle and the bottom makes no difference. Jason is still in the middle, Viktor and Mac are extinct already after one encounter with me. XYZ can be like Jason and be a cockroach who still clings onto the fame and money even though his honor is not worth five cents. He can be extinct like Mac and Viktor, his body broken and no fight left in him anymore. Or he can finally change and make an attempt to get to the top. I don't know, I don't care. This will be another Fight Night for me, I will have only one goal, that's to go there and win. And that is exactly what I am going to do.''

    We cut to an animation for the last time. This time, StickNova is walking back to the ship, but the dodo bird with XYZ's head is on the ground, bleeding and dead. The figure of that dodo bird vanishes, while StickNova sails to another destination. We go back to real life, and Nova is reading the book again.

    ''Just like Charles Darwin states here:''

    He points to some part of the book with his index finger.

    'One general law, leading to the advancement of all organic beings, namely, multiply, vary,...''

    He closes the book.

    ''...let the strongest win...''

    He drops the book. The flames go out, leaving everything in the darkness.

    ''...and the weakest die.''

    Worker bees can leave.
    Even drones can fly away.
    The Queen is their slave.

  10. #10
    Striving for a B+ in life
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    Re: Fight Night Promo Thread 9/27/19

    A "new email" notification pops up in the bottom right corner of the computer screen. This event is typical, happening once every few months now. The frequency has dropped in the past few months.

    Devin Golden clicks the notification on his computer. The Gmail app opens up with his internet browser. The email is from a journalist with Pro Wrestling Insider.



    Date: February 17, 2017
    Time: 11:45:32 p.m.
    Subject: Interview Request for Article


    "Hello Mr. Devin Golden, aka "The Golden One" and "The Rotten Gold"

    My name is (redacted) and I'm asking if you're willing to conduct an interview with Pro Wrestling Insider. We would like to check in and provide an update for your fans. Additionally, we would like to ask if you have had any interest or thoughts for returning to wrestling. Even if not, people always ask and it would be beneficial for fans to know where you are at mentally.

    Thank you for your time. Let me know if you have any questions.

    Signed,
    (redacted)
    Pro Wrestling Insider content writer"

    Golden really only needed to read about the first five words. These emails all say the same thing. They all ask for the same thing.

    And Golden's response since he retired at the end of 2015, around a year and a half ago, has always been the same. If he responds at all, it's a "no thank you, I'm doing well." And he NEVER EVER refers to himself by "The Golden One" or The Rotten Gold." He simply signatures it as "Devin Golden." Because that's all he is now.

    And that's IF he replies. Most times, he doesn't. And he doesn't plan to this time.

    Golden closes the laptop and looks outside his bedroom window. He takes in the beautiful night sky with twinkling stars and a fingernail moon.

    Below them, there are dimmering lights of a Switzerland city some 5 miles from Golden's suburban house. The air is cold, but Golden likes it that way.

    So does his wife, who is fast asleep in the bed behind where Golden sits. He looks back at her, smiles sincerely, and then scurries over. His wedding band comes off his ring finger and finds its usual place on the nearby nightstand.

    As he crawls into bed, Golden wraps his arm around his wife and cuddles close together for warmth. Their dog, who had watched Golden the entire time with squinted eyes, lays at the foot of the bed and lets out a heavy, tired sigh.

    Golden makes the effort to give three pets, getting the tail wag he wanted, and then covers up with a generous smile still on his face.






    An email notification popped up on his phone seven minutes ago but it wasnt noticed until now. Sweat falls off the brow and drops to the floor, where a pool of human liquid has formed.

    Just four seconds earlier, Golden landed the last of his punches into a padded bag hanging from the roof by an old silver chain in an empty gymnasium. He landed about 300 of them during the closing arguments of his tepid workout. It's tepid by his own standards, or at least what his standards were four years ago. But you can forgive him since he took four years off from his usual grueling routine.

    Golden looks at the email notification and reads through it. Pro Wrestling Insider wants an interview prior to the six-man tag team match.

    This time, Golden WILL respond.



    "Dear (redacted),

    I am not participating in interviews at this time. I will reach out following the match if I wish to conduct an interview. Thank you for understanding.

    Signed,
    "The Rotten Gold" Devin Golden"

    Because that's who he is ... now.


    "No interviews. No sitdown conversations. No cameras in my face. No documentaries showing my ... 'comeback'. No glamor."


    Golden wipes the sweat from his brow with the musty towel he had laying on a nearby bench. He sounds stern, harsh, even a bit brusk.


    "None except this one. I'll do one. Because I have to. Because the FWA requires it. Because ... I may as well get back into this whole promo'ing thing if I'm gonna step back into the ring. They go hand in hand, right?

    So this is it. Here we go. I'll answer every question people have for me."


    Golden sits on the bench where his workout bag resides. He wipes the sweat from his forehead again and slowly reduces his breathing as oxygen reaches his lungs.


    "For four years, I've done nothing. Nada. I stayed away from pro wrestling, and it was fine. The book was closed. I had an itch every so often but I knew ... I KNEW ... I didn't truly want it. I knew I was happy ... gone. I was getting older. And I knew coming back would... not work.

    Yet, now I'm not gone. So let's talk about this ... very briefly."


    Golden pauses for a second but ONLY a second. We notice that a wedding band is nowhere to be found. He hasn't had it or removed it at any point.


    "I was content. I was happy. But I was not alone. Then I became ... alone. That's part of why I became an announcer again. I put myself back in the spotlight. Not because I enjoyed the light. More so because I looked for a filler.

    I wasn't content. I wasn't happy. So I tried to find it."


    Golden takes a deep breath. He looks down at the old, dusty floor.


    "That's all I'll say about myself. Everything else is about what's more important."


    Golden finally leans back in the bench. His sweating has died down. His towel and workout bag are off to the side. He is touching nothing but himself, with his hands on his knees. He is more "alone" now than ever before.



    "I do not want interviews. I do not want spotlight. I do not want attention.

    I understand the backbone of this industry. I'm a Hall of Famer. I'm a three-time World Heavyweight champion. I'm recognizable. And my return is noteworthy.

    But we are here for one reason: Krash. Righting a wrong. Doing what should be done. Fighting for one goal."


    Golden looks up on the wall and we now notice he is jn a gym that includes FWA pictures on the walls. Behind him are pictures of himself. And not pictures of his individual accolades.

    First is a picture of Golden and Moira Crawford. Then a picture of he and Ashley 'O Ryan. Then he and Ryan Rondo. Golden is a five-time tag team champion and each one is represented on the wall.



    "We are in a tag team match with my favorite dynamic to talk about. It's fitting I return after four years ... to this type of match.

    Not just a tag team match but a tag team match where one team knows what they want from it and one team ... doesn't."


    Golden finally leans forward, with his elbows now on his knees.


    "I don't care about me. I didn't want to be involved in this because I don't care about me. I rejected interview requests for years. I stayed away from the spotlight and attention for years.

    I still want that. But I was brought into this because I know when right is right and wrong is wrong."


    Golden looks up to the camera. Then he scoops up his duffle bag and appears to be headed out the gym.


    "Krash was denied a World Championship match. He didn't ask for one. He didn't even want one. The World Champ himself offered it out.

    And Krash was denied that which he EARNED."


    Golden reaches the door of the gym and looks back. One final time.


    "This match energizes me. It invigorates me. Because I know what and whom I'm fighting for. I'm fighting for having what was necessary. And I'm fighting for Krash. If we win, he gets the title shot. That's all I want.

    If I can handle Michael Garcia to that extent, then I've done my job.

    That other team all wants their individual nut. They all want the title shot. They all want the pinfall.

    I just want to so my job.

    Perfect return match for The Rotten Gold."


    "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


  11. #11
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    Re: Fight Night Promo Thread 9/27/19



    BACK 2 BASICS

    Clarity.


    This is what Michael Garcia had longed for. A moment of clarity. He sat there in a single chair, in what appeared to be an abandoned home.

    Being an FWA superstar is quite the hectic life as any single member of the roster can attest to. Many of them are on the road 325 plus days a year with very little time to rest. They rarely see their families, many of them with children growing up hundreds of miles away. Men like James Hughes, Mike Parr, and Cyrus Truth, give their bodies to entertain strangers in Tucson, Arizona one night while their children are accomplishing milestone after milestone back in their hometown. And who dares to find out what their wives are doing…Sometimes, Michael wanted to start a family, but having come from a broken home himself, Michael thought to himself that if he brought a child into this world and was never around to see them, then he was every bit as bad as the prick that left him and his family 20 years ago.



    No…. Michael always worried about his family but he knew he was doing what was best for himself. Besides, he recently made amends with Malik and Malia for his past transgressions. Mike may be a self-centered bastard, but he had a weakness, he had a soft spot. He truly cared more about his family than he did about any of his own needs and desires. He grew up protecting them. He grew up raising them. It was an incredibly taxing struggle to keep his brother off the streets and on the straight and narrow. Much less his sister. Michael thought back to all the times that he and Malik would “wrestle” in the backyard when they were kids. He even smirked a bit when he remembered the time that he faked a knee injury to catch his brother off guard and score a sneaky victory. God, what a freakin’ genius he was. Maybe Cyrus was naive enough to fall for a move like that. Worth a shot one day, he mused to himself.

    But Mike knew that THAT had to change. He had spent so long, far too long, worrying about the others in his life, allowing other people and their opinions to dictate what he did with his life that he had gone completely off the rails. He never blamed anyone else for coming up short, but maybe there was some merit to it. Maybe it was about time that he started to take charge of his own life and stop letting everyone else's opinions control what he should have been controlling all along. Perhaps it was time to admit that what he knew deep down inside and denied to himself every day was the gospel truth. Perhaps it was time to admit to himself that he was his own biggest enemy. Chris Kennedy said it last week. His bruised ego was his achilles heel. He always had to project big and show bravado to make him feel better about himself, no one else. Because his prior failures...Cryos, Parr, Gryphon....never holding a singles championship in the FWA, they ate away just a little bit at his soul until he reached the point where he had nothing...absolutely nothing left. He exaggerated his accomplishments to the point that his claims to greatness were laughed off. His past needed to be erased. Forgotten. Left in the dust. It was all about his future. That match last week, against Cyrus Truth, helped him realize that for as much as his detractors were right about his issue, they were wrong about something else. They were wrong about his ability. Mike had spent the past week recalling that last match and the past few years of his active wrestling career and he arrived at one conclusion: There was nothing wrong with him physically. The problems were all in his head. All he had to do was remember just exactly who the hell he was. And what the hell he was. He needed to remember that the past can't be changed, but the future can. He needed to remember that the time to be talking about potential was over a long time ago. The time for results was now.



    “Potential”. Ugh, Michael hated that word. Loathed it. Ineffective people lived day to day with unused potential. You can’t afford to live in potential for the rest of your life. At some point, you have to unleash that potential and make your move. But unfortunately, even he recognized that he was currently just coasting on it. Time was running out for that though. There was no time left to be that guy that everyone thought could one day do great things. Chris Kennedy once said in an interview that he believes that one day Michael Garcia would be the FWA World Champion. Adrian Wolf has made similar statements. Ashley O'Ryan believed that he could as well. And as much as that meant to him, that those men who were cornerstones in the FWA…three of the biggest legends ever, there was one opinion, one man, who’s belief that one day the “Carnegie Carnivore” could one day be World Champion meant much more to him than any of them. Michael Garcia needed to believe down deep, in his heart, that he could one day rise to the top of the FWA mountain. And last week, the referee's hand being a quarter of an inch away from the mat, on more than one occasion had given him all the confidence that he needed to believe in himself yet again. He believed that he would reach elite status. With hard work, determination and focus, Michael Garcia could achieve anything that he put his heart into. And damn it, it’s time. Time for that journey to begin.



    There can’t be another failure. There can’t be any more second chances. Last week, against Cyrus, was the biggest night of his life. That match was everything. It was, what I believe, a turning point in my career.


    So as he sat there, in a plain wooden chair, staring into space, he finally got his moment of clarity. But it was short lived.


    “Hey, yo, Mikey! Listen up, bruh I….”

    Jeremiah Jones stopped short of completing his sentence, as he was taken aback by the….emptiness of the scene. He stopped and stared at his client, who said nothing, just waited for his agent to react.



    “I….I wasn’t expecting this, for sure.”

    “Yeah, I bet you weren’t.”

    “I thought we were shooting a promo for FWA.com, man. That’s what you told me in the text last night. What...what's with the emptiness?”

    Mike motioned over to the camera.


    “We are.”

    Jones began to settle in to his surroundings as he set down the backpack that he carried in.


    “What? No Mister Roger’s Neighborhood set? I’m disappointed. Is Mr. McFeely going to stop by for a speedy delivery? Where’s the fish tank? I know you, Michael, you’re a showman. You’re an entertainer at heart. I’m not buying it. Where’s the Neighborhood of Make Believe??


    “It’s not the time for that.”

    “Oh, I get it….I see it. I’ve seen it before, Mike. We’ve all seen it before. “You are Michael Garcia and you are REBORN.” Right? That’s what this is, right? Michael Garcia reborn. Or better yet, you’re gonna bust out a comic book, right? Start comparing yourself to Lex Luthor, Captain Hook, Jafar or Magneto? All heroes must die, right? Come on, Mikey, which one of those precious gems you got up your sleeve?”



    “You done mockin’ me, Jerry?”

    “Just admirin’ the genius, big guy. Just admirin' the genius.”

    “Yeah, Jerry. Ya see, that's just it... I've been doing' some real soul searching this past week and I've had what you might call an epiphany.”

    “An epiphany....Jesus, Mary and Joseph, well, this...this I gotta here. Go ahead, big dog. Lay it on me. What's on your mind?”

    “Look, the only reason you’re here Jerry is because I’ve got some shit to say, and you, along with everyone in the FWA universe, are gonna listen. So sit your ass down and don’t move a fuckin’ muscle.”

    Jeremiah looked at his client in disbelief. He brushed shoulders with the Carnivore, so Mike shoved him hard down into the chair and placed his gigantic hand against his much smaller counterparts chest. The calm nature that had once taken over his body was gone. A new fire had been lit.

    I SAID SIT.



    How dare you mock me, you little shit. Let’s get some facts straight. I’m sick and tired of people like you rubbing my recent failures in my face. I’m well aware of how many times I lost to Cryos. I’m constantly beating myself up for not being able to score a victory over Ghost Dog. I kick myself everyday for my losses to Parr. And every damn day of my life, I question just exactly how I could destroy Jason Gryphon every time I stepped foot in the ring with the Cosplay King and I come up short on the one time he puts that X Championship on the line against me. And in doing that, I've developed this massive complex that's caused me to defeat myself long before I ever set foot in that ring. Last week, when I squared off with Cyrus Truth in that very ring, I was consumed with anger. I wasn't thinking of anything else but beating that prick until he was nothing more than a stain on the mat...and I don't know if you watched the match, but I absolutely dominated Cyrus Truth. I could see....visibly see the desperation in his eyes, as I set him up for the Pendulum, and I got a bit over-confident. He countered out, I hit the Sixth Ring... and he kicked out. And at that moment, that very fucking moment, like opening up a floodgate, visions of Cryos, Parr, Gryphon..and my inability to put them away rushed through my mind.I took my focus off of Cyrus, and he took advantage. And so continues the life long story of Michael Garcia, so close yet so far away. However, gaining the knowledge of the truth far, far outweighs the loss of one match. And the truth, Jeremiah, is that I've spent the majority of my career being the joke of the locker room, because I allowed myself to be the joke of the locker room. When I talk about my numerous defeats, I always neglect to mention that they weren't my greatest enemy...nah, my greatest enemy is...me. But I’m done being the seven-foot loser around here. I’m done with the gimmicks, the taglines, the catchphrases…done with it all. All heroes must die? The only thing that’s dead is the lame ass, self=deprecating, braggadocios Michael Garcia that’s been hanging around here trying to convince everyone else that he really was as great as he says he is. You talk about Michael Garcia reborn? No…no. This isn’t some movie tagline. I’m not reborn. I’m simply going back to basics.”



    Jerry started to speak, but Mike put his hand up against his agents neck before bending down and looking right into Jerry's eyes.



    “I would think very carefully before you utter your next words, “bro”. You choose to mock me, but the reality of the situation is, you’ve been every bit as ineffective as “All heroes must die” was. While I am certainly a showman, you are nothing but a sideshow act out there encouraging my stereotypical behavior and acts of overbearing cockiness. Being cocky isn’t a bad thing, Jerry, as long as you’re winning. You've allowed me to get caught up in my own hype. You, Jeremiah, are a liability to my career. Now, I don't blame you for what I became...no no no, ultimately, I'm in charge of my own decisions and its time that I start making the proper ones. The first decision I've made is to stop telling people that I'm a dangerous motherfucker and start showing them. The second decision I've made is to eliminate all of the toxic people in my life. All of those people who've led me down every broken road, every weathered path that leads to failure. Every "Phillip" that I've ever encountered. Ya know...the kind of people that bring out the worst in you. The kind of people who are okay with you not achieving your goals as long as they help you achieve theirs. Like agents that turn you into a walking catchphrase and have you do goofy shit like 'Mister Rogers Neighborhood' instead of encouraging you to be the monster that you are, just because it sells a few more T-Shirts and gets you an endorsement deal! I've never been a champion, but you've certainly fattened your wallet, haven't ya?”


    Garcia's voice escalates as he slowly rises from the chair and begins to circle Jeremiah.

    “Whaddya want, Jerry? You want me to sing and dance for the cameras? You want me to talk about how I'm the Pittsburgh Player and Steel City Slayer? You want me to create some over the top theme or light a fire and talk about how I've been reignited....well, you can fuck right off with that shit. It's taken me five LONG years, Jerry, FIVE LONG YEARS, but I finally see what needs to be done. So, Jer, get your enabling, toxic, selfish capitalist ass on out of this room and out of my fuckin' life cause your ass is fired!


    Jeremiah is physically shaken as the newly confident but not cocky Garcia squats down in front of him and stares him dead in the eyes with a disturbing smile on his face. It was obvious that Jerry wanted to say something, but he knew now was not the time. Instead, Jerry, trembling hand and all, scrambled to reach his briefcase before stumbling backwards and out of camera shot. Garcia waited until he heard the door shut before turning back to the camera. He took a seat in his chair before leaning into the camera with a very focused and determined look on his face.

    Cyrus, Devin, Krash...I hope that you all now have a clearer idea of just who exactly you're doing with, at this point. Part of me though, doesn't think that you do, and hopes that you don't. Please, Devin, pleeeeaaaaasssseee, I'm absolutely begging for you to think that I'm the same man that chokes in the big fight. I'm begging you to come into this match with that same passive aggressive arrogance that you always seem to exude. As a matter of fact, I can almost hear you now telling the hicks that I'm a lifelong failure and that I'm the weak link. You have NO IDEA how much I want you to feel that way. For months, Devin, I had to sit there at that announce table and listen to you spit out the same tired, redundant, stale criticisms that Chris Kennedy shoots out every damn time we cross paths and for months, I had to just bear down and grit my teeth and pretend...pretend to them and pretend to myself that this words weren't cutting deep but they were. I let the thought of me putting you through that very announce table almost heal those wounds every time, but they never really did. Just as much as any loss ever did, those words chipped away at my psyche, but you know what? None of that matters anymore. Devin Golden, I will be whole again. I will eliminate the toxicity in my life and you...are the next step. For as much as this match is about my emergence as the top guy in the FWA, it's also about taking that next step in completing The Michael Garcia Project.

    Cyrus, bro, maybe you can tell them, though. Maybe you can try to make them understand just what exactly their up against on Fight Night, because if I'M the weak link, and I'm not, then you bastards better prepare for the worst night of your lives. But you and I, we both know that that is not true... after all, I fucking tortured you last week. I saw the fear and the desperation...in your eyes, but Cyrus to your credit...you are mentally tough. You're as stubborn and determined as they come. The trouble though, Cyrus, is that for as mentally tough as you are...you are physically weak. As that match went along last week, I'd watch ya land, and I'd watch ya cringe and you'd keep getting back up. Kinda tells me that your strong from the chin up. You're head was telling' ya to get up, to keep fightin', to finish the fight....but your body was telling you to stay down. The worst thing that could have happened to you, Cyrus, was for you to face me last week because now...now I know that the invincible, unbeatable champion, can be beaten. And that I can be, and that I WILL BE, the knight that you slays the dragon known as Cyrus Truth.

    And don't think I've forgotten about you, Krash. You're the cause of all this, after all. The man of the hour. The outsider that has divided the whole damn company because he just didn't know his damn place. Funny how you've sort of gotten lost in all of this, even though you're the root cause of it. All you had to do was just say no, just admit that there were better, more deserving challengers that came before you instead of shoving your way through the like you were a overweight Memphis Hillbilly at the Golden Corral. And now, you've got Devin fighting with Kennedy, Cyrus fighting with me, Sullivan crying out for attention, and Gabby obsessed with...herself...can't really blame you for that one, I guess...but while all of this is going on, you've quietly faded into the background, which ironically is what you should have done in the first place. However, you decided to cut off everyone else at the pass and take something that you had no business taking!


    Garcia leaned back in his chair, and eased up on his tone.

    But you know something, Krash, there is something that I need to thank you for. Whereas Devin Golden has been the toxicity in my career, you, my friend, have provided me with the antidote. You lit the fire. You set the wheels in motion on a train that has now left the tracks If it wasn't for you, none of this would have happened. Cyrus wouldn't be the focal point of an absolute mutant. People wouldn't finally be seeing the truth about Devin Golden and the turncoat that he really is. And I would have never realized the true monster that lies within. The sleeping giant thats been awakened. Thank you, Krash, for giving me the opportunity to right every wrong turn I've ever taken. Thank you, Krash, for setting the wheels in motion. Thank you, Krash, for awakening the very monster thats going to end you. So, in conclusion,I hope that we all have come to an understanding. Fight Night is where everything changes. This week, on Fight Night, Cyrus Truth, Chris Kennedy, Devin Golden, Dave Sullivan, Gabrielle Montgomery and some bitch named Krash, will set foot in that ring, but the only person those Memphis Hillbillies will be talking' about when they go home to their sister wives will be Michael Fuckin' Garcia and how this match changed the very course of his career forever and began the descent of those that awakened the wrath of a beast that they themselves have unchained. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust. Your descent has just begun.


    Last edited by Sayer; 09-29-2019 at 01:14 AM.

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    Re: Fight Night Promo Thread 9/27/19

    King's Inferno




    When it comes to preparing for an important match, Dave Sullivan does not take anything lightly. He starts his day by waking up, and going for a ten mile run. Then he goes to his training gym, and completes a rigorous workout that would make crossfitters want to amputate their own limbs. Between his gym workouts, he is spending time watching tape on his opponents in his own personalized film room. He dissects every possible move that they have, and learns how to counter it. His trainers then spar with him as practice. He has a trainer that knows how to fight like Cyrus Truth, and another that knows how to fight like Krash, and another that knows how to fight like Devin Golden. When it comes to being prepared, Dave Sullivan is the King of it.

    But heavy is the head that wears the crown. King Sullivan's rigorous workouts take a toll on the body. And they take a toll on the mind.

    And that is why on this late weekday night, King Sullivan has put himself and his body at risk. He started this day like any other by waking up for his 3 AM morning run. He spent the entire day doing his work out and training routine in the gym. This continued until 11pm, when he decided it was time to drive home.

    If you ask King Sullivan, he would say he was indestructible. But the truth is, nobody is indestructible, and he was soon going to learn that. Sullivan's eyes began to blur as the yellow lines on the road started to move back and forth. His eyelids grew heavier and heavier. The King knew he just had a half a mile until he would be at his house, and he knew he could make it there if he just pushed a little bit longer...

    But before Sullivan could finish that thought, his eyes shut closed for just a moment. And in that moment, Sullivan felt peace and relaxation. That peace and relaxation came to an abrupt end, as seconds later Sullivan's eyes jerked open to a sound of a loud car horn.

    But he did not see the blurring yellow lines of the road.

    All he saw was bright light shining into his eyes.

    And then...nothing.

    __________

    King Sullivan's eyes opened yet again, but he was no longer in his car. He no longer felt tired and fatigued. Sullivan felt at peace. "Am I dead"? Sullivan thought to himself.

    He looked down, and was no longer wearing the workout clothes he was driving home with. Instead he wore a black three piece suit, with silver pinstripes. King Sullivan had never seen this suit before, but he found it lovely.

    The King looked around to gather his surroundings. Was he in heaven? It didn't look like heaven. In fact, it looked like a hotel hallway. The walls were all black, and the carpets were red. On the walls were strange demonic paintings. Portraits of what looked like demons and monsters. Sullivan got himself to his feet, and started to walk down the hallway. And then, it hit him...


    King Sullivan: This...this is hell!

    A clapping sound can be heard from behind him.

    Sullivan turns around, and sees a woman. This woman is dressed almost a nice as he is. She's wearing a sexy red dress, and a pair of shiny black high heels. She walks up to Sullivan, and extends her hand...but Sullivan refuses to shake it.

    King Sullivan: Who are you? Where am I?

    Mysterious Woman: You know where you are. And you know who I am.

    King Sullivan: No...

    Mysterious Woman: Yes. Now, where should we begin? For starters, you can call me Lucy.

    King Sullivan: I don't belong here, Lucy.

    Mysterious Woman: Ah, but yes you do. This is exactly where you belong.

    King Sullivan: I can't be dead. I...I have so much going on. I am a double champion! I am fighting to compete for a World Title shot. I am at the top of my game! It can't...it can't all be gone.

    Lucy: Relax...you're not dead. I brought you down here for a reason. There is something here, that you need to see.

    Lucy walked King Sullivan down the hallway.

    And at the very end, was a pair of bright red double doors. Above those doors, a golden plated sign.

    The sign read very clearly "The Seven".

    King Sullivan: What is this? The Seven? What does that mean? What is in there.

    Lucy: Go see for yourself.

    King Sullivan went on to open the double doors that led to The Seven, but he wasn't prepared for what he'd find inside.

    __________

    Sullivan opened the doors, and inside he found a much larger octagon shaped room. Inside this giant octagon were eight doors, the eighth being the door he just entered. The other seven doors had a sign above each one. One door read "Lust", another "Envy", "Greed", "Gluttony", "Sloth", "Wrath", and lastly "Pride".

    The seven deadly sins.

    Sullivan looked around at all seven doors in confusion. What was he supposed to do? Go through each one?

    Which one would he choose first?

    Sullivan didn't know. And so...he picked one.



    Lust

    Sullivan entered the room. It looked like a hotel room. There were candles lit all around, and slow calming music was playing in the background.

    Suddenly, a lady entered from the bathroom. But what Sullivan has yet to realize is that this was no lady at all, but instead it was a demon. But, she reminded Sullivan of someone...he just couldn't place his finger on it.

    This woman was dressed in beautiful lingerie. She was unrecognizable to Sullivan, but that doesn't mean he wasn't reminded of anyone. The sexy woman went up to Sullivan, and grabbed his tie...pulling him closer to her. She gave him a soft peck on the forehead, with her cherry red lipstick staining his skin.

    Sullivan appeared to be aroused. He tossed the woman on the bed, and began to accept what she was offering...when suddenly, he had a realization.


    Dave Sullivan: I know who you remind me of!

    I know what this is.

    I won't be fooled. Lust...there is only one person I think of when it comes to Lust, and it's not me.

    No, it's Gabby The Slut Montgomery.

    She is the poster child for lust.

    Gabby has slept her way to the top of every organization she has been apart of. Every movie role, every photo shoot, and every title shot. Everything. She has not earned one thing in her entire career, and I can say that with confidence.

    And now...now she is the special guest referee in MY match. My match that I have to fight against five other men, yes that's right five, to earn a place in the triple threat match that SHE IS ALREADY IN.

    Explain to me why the woman who had her shot at Cyrus Truth and lost, gets an automatic bye week to get into another title match...when unlike her I beat Cyrus Truth, and yet I have to compete against a bunch of other people to yet again earn what I'm owed.

    This room is not about me.

    It is about someone who has slept with nearly every guy on the entire roster.

    As a rookie, I may have been her boy toy. But I've grown past that. She hasn't.

    If I got the chance to still fight in that tag team match, she better use her position to make she I don't win...because I will beat her. Unlike last time, I will not let my lust get in the way. Lust is what costed my the match against her in the first place. The match that could have won me a shot against Cyrus Truth's title way back then.

    This room...this room isn't me. I will not let lust control me.


    Sullivan leaves the sexy woman, and leaves the room. Slamming the door behind him.

    He yet again finds himself in the octagon room, and chooses another door.


    Envy

    Sullivan enters another hotel looking room. The sign above this door read "Envy". This one is a little different. It has a more tense feel to it. On the walls are words...words painted on the walls in blood.

    "Resentment" is one word.

    "Should Be Mine" another.

    "Belongs to Me".

    Sullivan thought to himself the same thing he thought when he entered the Lust room. This has no relation to me.


    King Sullivan: I have no one to be envious of. I AM A KING. I have two titles. I have a nice car, and a great house. I fight for one of the greatest wrestling promotions that exists. I am the best.

    Who do I have to be envious of? Cyrus Truth?

    My desire to take Cyrus Truth's title is not envy. It's not! I already beat Cyrus Truth. I know I can do it again. But his title...me wanting his title...it's about saving something that doesn't belong to him...but it's not envy...

    No, the person who belongs in this room is...


    And just like that, some big loud stomps can be heard, as the next demon enters from the room's supposed bathroom door.

    This demon appeared over 7ft tall. He looked big and strong, but not very smart.


    Envy Demon: MINE!

    He yelled, pointing at Sullivan...

    King Sullivan: Oh shit...

    Sullivan backed away, and tried to open the door he came in through, but it wouldn't open! It was locked. King Sullivan was locked away with this giant looking beast.

    Envy Demon: MINE!

    The demon yelled again, and began to charge at Sullivan. Luckily for Sullivan, this giant demon was not very fast. Sullivan was quickly able to dodge out of the way, but it was a small hotel room.

    Sullivan jumped across one of the two beds in the room, trying to avoid the demon.


    King Sullivan: No! I know who you're supposed to be. It's not me!

    Michael Garcia is the only one that belongs in here. He is envious! Not me.

    I have accomplishments to my name. I'm not some washed up announcer who needs to insert himself into a feud that has no relation to him at all. I didn't lose to Cyrus Truth on Fight Night, I beat him.

    Michael Garcia though, all he does is run his mouth. Have you seen his twitter page?

    He is the Antonio Brown of the FWA. Getting into twitter battles with the likes of Gabby, and Zachary Kazadi. He probably has CTE like Antonio Brown too. All that man wants to do is earn something, and the truth is he hasn't. And it eats him up inside.

    He is NOT me. He wants to be me. He wants to be the bad guy who despite being so edgy and mean, is still loved and adored by fans. He needs that.

    Michael Garcia is envious of everything I've done. And he's envious of everything Chris Kennedy has done as well.

    Having him on my team is a handicap that is quite unfair. Krash gets the world champion for a teammate, and a Hall of Famer for another. Who do Chris Kennedy and I get? Michael Garcia.


    Sullivan continues to try and avoid the chasing demon. He dodges out of the way again, and ends up with his back against the door he entered.

    Michael Garcia needs to stay out of the ring and stay out of the way. If he gets himself pinned with his envious personality, and costs me MY shot at MY world championship....

    That championship belongs to me, and Michael Garcia will not...wait a minute.


    And suddenly, it hits him. The demon that is. The Envy Demon catches up, and knocks Sullivan right in the face with a big large slap of reality. Sullivan is knocked backwards, through the door he entered in and back to the octagon. The door closes behind him, as Sullivan gets to his feet.

    He realizes, just like with lust, envy has controlled him. He DID have envy for Cyrus Truth's title. He wanted it more than anything else. But as long as he had that envy, like Michael Garcia, he was never going to win. He has to push this demon aside, and win without it.


    It was time for Sullivan to choose yet another door...and he picked...


    Pride

    This room was quite different than the others. It still looked like a hotel room, but instead of words written on the walls or candles burning in the room, this room looked like a hall of fame.

    There were awards all on the walls.

    Trophies were in cases towards the back of the room.

    And championship belts were all laid out on the beds.

    An X Championship with the date "May 17th, 2009" written on it. And another with the date "September 4th, 2015" on it.

    A World Heavyweight championship with the date "November 11th, 2010" on it, as well as two more from 2015. And three tag team titles, all from 2010.

    Dave Sullivan knew who this room belonged to, and it became even more clear once the third demon came out of the room. This one had a golden glow to it.


    King Sullivan: I know who you are. You're one of the few I actually have respect for...or, well had respect for. I admired you man. I looked up to you as a young wrestler when I started in the FWA all those years ago. You were a future hall of famer then, and you're definitely a hall of famer now.

    Your career ended so well, with that farewell match against Ryan Rondo.

    That could have been it. That could have been the end.

    But then...you had to get involved. You HAD to be the peacemaker.

    Just like Michael Garcia, who I know you're better than, you stuck your nose where it didn't belong. But unlike envy with Michael Garcia, it was something different with you. That's why you are in this room.

    It was your ego...it was pride. You just couldn't handle being out of the spotlight anymore, huh? Sitting at the table every show and calling the action, but never being apart of it...that was too much for you to handle, wasn't it?

    That's why you're in here.


    The Pride Demon looks at Sullivan, and shakes his head.

    He lifts his arm up, and points at the King.


    Pride Demon: You.

    Dave Sullivan: Me? No, I don't have any issues with...okay. Who am I kidding. I get the point. Lust, envy...they both related to me. But Pride? How is Pride even a sin? Pride is a good thing. It's good to have confidence.

    Right?


    The Pride Demon bellows once more.

    Pride Demon: Ego.

    Dave Sullivan: EGO? I don't have an ego! I have confidence. And if I do have an ego, it's earned. Everything I have is earned, because I earned it. Unlike anyone else in this match.

    You know who has an ego? All of those CWA entitled twits, coming into MY show.

    But me? I have not one, but TWO championship belts with my name on it.

    I won the X Championship for a record breaking fourth time. Nobody has won that title as many times as me. And nobody has held it longer either. I won it over a year ago, last July. It's now been one year and nearly three months since I've held that title. The last record for longest reign? Kaizen held it for 8 months. Just 8. It's been 15 months since I've had it now. I've nearly doubled the record Kaizen set. DOUBLED.

    Just like I'm a double champ. I won the North American Championship way back in March, and despite the attempts from management to get me to lose it every single week, it still belongs to me. Starr, Broken Armistead, Randy Ramon, Jason Randall, Viktor Maximus, and The Brown Nose King Mike Parr all tried to take it off of me, and they couldn't.

    So yes, I'm prideful! Sue me...on second thought, don't.

    But how is pride a sin? My ego has fueled me! It hasn't costed me...


    The Pride Demon tilts his head, and gives Sullivan a firm look.

    Okay...so I haven't won the World Championship yet. Are you saying it's because of my pride?

    With that, the clicking sound of the door unlocking behind Sullivan can be heard. Sullivan gives the Pride Demon and acknowledging nod, and exists the room.




    Wrath

    Now it is time for Sullivan to enter his fourth hotel room. This room is in much rougher shape than the rest. The pictures on the walls are shattered. The furniture in the room is broken. The pillows and blankets from the bed are thrown across the room, and there are fist holes in the walls.

    It looks like a steroid junkie came through here right after losing a close game in Madden.

    Just then, the bathroom door busts open, and a demon with a fiery glow comes out.

    He has the body of a demigod, and long brown hair.

    And he is not angry.

    But he does not try to attack Sullivan like the Envy Demon did. No, the Wrath Demon seems to be on Sullivan's side.


    King Sullivan: I know who you are. And you have every right to be angry. I'm angry too...

    You and I, we are the only two that have earned the very right to be in this match competing for this championship. But the others? What has Krash done in the past year that I did? Did Krash defend win and defend an X Championship countless times? Did Michael Garcia win the North American championship? Has Cyrus Truth held two singles titles at the same time?

    Everything that I have done to be in this match, and yet all of these guys are standing right next to me in the same exact spot with the same exact opportunity to fight for the World Championship.

    That is not fair...and it pisses me of!

    And you...you have every right to be just as angry. That title...that title that is around Cyrus Truth's waist every night he comes out, that belonged to you. It didn't belong to some guy from CWA who wasn't a true FWA legend, it belonged to a future FWA Hall of Famer...and then...you lost it. On November 7th of last year at the Aftershock pay per view, when I was retaining my North American Championship against Kevin Cromwell, you were defending your title too...but unlike me, you didn't win. You lost it to a guy you absolutely despised.

    And since then, the FWA World Championship has belonged to a guy that has no business holding it. Not a true FWA Hall of Famer, but a guy from CWA who walked right into OUR company, and won OUR title.

    You have ever right to be pissed.

    I'm pissed too...

    I've been pissed.

    But I can't be. Because it's not about you anymore. And it's not about them.

    Thank you for making me realize that.


    Sullivan walks out of the door, leaving the Wrath Demon at a loss for words. He finds himself once again back in the octagon, where he's forced to pick yet another door. Three doors remain. Sloth, Gluttony, and Greed. He looks at Gluttony, and heads inside.


    Gluttony

    King Sullivan enters the room. The first thing that hits him is the smell. It smells like rotting old food, and that is exactly what it is.

    This time, the demon is not hiding behind the bathroom. Instead, he is sitting right in the middle of the room. He has a bucket of chicken in his arms, and proceeds to shove drumstick after drumstick down his throat.

    This is the Gluttony Demon.

    On his head is a crown.

    But unlike King Sullivan's crown, this one is different. This crown is designed for a Vagabond.


    King Sullivan: Look at you...

    You are absolutely disgusting.

    I know who you're supposed to be. You're Cyrus Truth. The biggest glutton in all of FWA. I can go on and on again about how in the only time we fought against each other, I humiliated you by beating you in the ring. I can go on about how when it comes to big matches at Back in Business, you have lost them all. I can talk for days and days about how you're winless at Back in Business, and I am undefeated. About how all of that makes me better than you.

    But do you know my biggest gripe with you? It's like you're the New England Patriots of our organization. You are a one man dynasty. In three years, you have won the FWA World Championship three times. There's been six championship reigns in that time period, and you make up half of them. You have held that title for roughly two years worth of days.

    That is why you're here. You are The Glutton King.

    And it's time for you to move over. There is so much more talent that deserves a chance to fight for your title. But instead, you think you've earned the right to pick and choose who you defend it against. You think you can pick your weak little buddies like Krash to defend against, and get an easy win? While me, someone who has earned the right, is still denied a shot? Even in this match...look at what you're fighting for. Who you are fighting with...what's on the line. Have you looked at the stipulation? You probably designed it.

    If you win, you get to face Krash for the championship. You are fighting in this match in an attempt to NOT have to face one of the three of us for the title, and instead have a much easier opponent. That is absolutely pathetic. Do you have no standards? The fact that you have to fight in a tag team match to not have to face someone...

    If your title was on the line when we fought the first time, your reign would've ended way back in January. Two months after it started.

    And I would have three titles!

    All three singles titles would belong to me.

    The X Championship.

    The North American Championship.

    And the FWA World Championship.

    Not only would I be the double champ...the Champ Champ. I'd be the Triple Champ. Champ, Champ, Champ.

    And...Jesus Christ...and that would make me no better of a glutton than you, wouldn't it? Heavy is the head that wears the crown, and we both know wearing the crown isn't easy. Being the Double Champ has put me in a position where I have to defend my titles every single night.

    But the target that you have on your back, being the world champ? I can respect that.

    But still...how can I put my gluttony aside? I want to become a Triple Champ. It would be historic. I really want it...

    But...I want to be a World Champion more. And if I had to give up both of these titles just for a shot at the world championship, I would do it in a heartbeat?

    Would you?

    The Glutton Demon continues shoving food down his face, as Sullivan exits the room back into the octagon. It's become pretty clear to Sullivan why he is here. What he is meant to see and learn.

    But he still had two doors left.

    Sullivan slowly opens the door that reads "Sloth", and enters inside.



    Sloth

    This hotel room is very different from all of the others.

    There is no furniture.

    There are no paintings on the walls. The walls are white and unpainted.

    No beds.

    And no carpet on the floor.

    There is nothing, except the Sloth Demon...who is lying lazily against the wall.

    King Sullivan: Look at you. You are pitiful...Krash.

    You have earned nothing. You haven't earned the right to be in this match. You didn't earn the right to face Cyrus Truth for the FWA World Championship in that first match, not over me. Look at everything I've done in this past year, and yet I still haven't gotten a shot for the FWA World title. Not once in my career. And yet you...you walk into the FWA, and you get it in one of your first matches.

    You get it with no accomplishments.

    You get it with no effort whatsoever.

    How is that fair?

    It was an absolute nightmare for me when Cyrus Truth debuted from CWA years ago, and walked right into the main event. Meanwhile, I was stuck still in the X Division. I put forth the effort of a lifetime to win that Carnal Contendership match way back in 2016...and instead it become one of the worst nights of my life. I temporarily lost my title to Thomas Jordan, and then...I had to see a guy who didn't even belong to FWA, win a shot at the world title that I still haven't gotten the chance to fight for yet.

    And now? Now it's happening all over again. The Walmart Brand version of Cyrus Truth has come into the FWA, and is getting handed world title shots over me who's worked so much harder.

    It.

    Is.

    Not.

    Fair.

    And do you know what makes it worse? What makes it even more unfair?

    For me to earn a chance to fight for the FWA World Title for the first time, my team not only has to beat the other three guys on the other side...but I also HAVE to be the one to get the pin. Do you know how difficult that is in a tag team match?

    But meanwhile...meanwhile all Krash needs is for his team to win it for him. Cyrus Truth and Devin Golden can literally do all the work while Krash sits back and drinks a diet Pepsi, and he go right into a World Championship match, leaving me yet again down below despite being so much better.

    It isn't fair. But you know what? I won't let Sloth get in my way. I have earned everything I have been given. And I will keep earning it by fighting the odds. Because when I do earn it, it will be so much better. Your team might win Krash, and you'll get the lucky break of fighting against Cyrus Truth and Gabby in the triple threat match. But you won't win that, because you don't belong there. You'll probably get pinned by Cyrus Truth, and that'll be the end of it for you?

    But mean, I'll still be getting stronger, and working hard.

    And I will get my shot. If might not be at Desert Storm, but I will get it.

    And unlike you, I'll have earned it.


    With that, Sullivan opens up the door, and slams it behind him. Leaving the Sloth Demon still lazily lying against the wall. Sullivan returned to the octagon yet again, but he was confused. There was still one more door...but Sullivan had already been through a sin that represented each of him opponents.

    The last door...was Greed.

    Sullivan opened up the door, and was shocked at what he saw.


    Greed

    Inside this hotel room, was only one thing...

    A mirror.

    Sullivan looked straight at it, and saw only his reflection.

    In the reflection, he stood tall.

    He stood with his crown on his head.

    He stood with his X Championship on his left shoulder.

    He stood with his North American Championship on his right shoulder.

    And he stood with his FWA World Championship around his waist.

    But suddenly, the mirror began to crack. The pieces of glass began to shatter, and fall to the floor.

    The mirror was broken, and Sullivan's reflection was gone.


    King Sullivan: What is this supposed to me? Is this me? I am Greed?

    Shocked, Sullivan runs back into the octagon, and back out through the double doors.

    __________

    Waiting for Sullivan on the other side of the doors is Lucy, with a sly smile on her face.

    Lucy: How was it?
    King Sullivan: I get it...I get it okay...

    The seven deadly sins...Lust, Envy, Pride, Wrath, Gluttony, Sloth, and Greed...they're not my opponents, are they? They're me? Right? There has been a point in my career where I had indulge every single one of these sins. It costed me. So much so, that I put an innocent kid in prison!

    But if I continue to live this lifestyle of sin, I will never win an FWA World Championship will I?

    So fine. I will put them all aside. I can squash all of these sins.

    I can be a better person!

    Lucy begins to laugh hysterically. Sullivan looks on in anger.

    Lucy: You silly boy.

    That is not what the message was supposed to be at all.

    Look at you. Look at what you've become since you threw that little turd of a protege under the bus last summer. You are more successful than you have ever been! This sins aren't costing you your matches. They're winning you them.

    Don't suppress them.

    Embrace them.

    Embrace Lust, and Envy, and Pride, and Wrath. Use that and the energy you get. Gluttony and Greed? You should have all three of those titles! You would become the greatest ever.

    This is hell my friend. You belong here...

    But not yet.


    With that, Lucy snaps her fingers.

    The King yet again sees that same bright light in his eyes that he saw before he crashed his car.

    __________

    Dave Sullivan jolts awake.

    He is back in the gym, laying on the couch in his trainer's office.

    It was all a dream.

    Sullivan lets out a sigh of relief. He isn't in hell.

    He looks out at his car, and decides that maybe tonight isn't a good time to drive home. He decides to stay at the gym, and rest there.

    But what did that all mean? Those seven sins?

    The King has to make a royal decision. Should he cast those sins away, or should he embrace them?



    All the seven deadly sins are man's true nature. To be greedy. To be hateful. To have lust. Of course you have to control them, but if you're made to feel guilty for feeling human, then you're going to be trapped in a never ending sin-and-repeat cycle that you can't escape from. - Marilyn Manson

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