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Thread: FWA Desert Storm Promo Thread

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    FWA Desert Storm Promo Thread

    Please post your promos in here. The promo deadline is 23:59 PST on Sunday, October 20th. This is 2:59 EST and 7:59 BST on Monday, October 21st. 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
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    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: FWA Desert Storm Promo Thread

    We open up inside The Dark Forest again with the a dim light shining in the back there is a slow fire building as Alice holding the hands of her brothers Nova and Crowe walk too it. There is hesitation by Crowe and Nova as Alice pulls them along. She smiles a little grin that seems to settle down her brothers as a voice with a cheerful creepy tone comes from the dim light. We can see a shadow of what looks like a man in a top hat and a tail that comes up in between. The shadow shows sharp teeth and a smile.

    Alice: It will be ok... We are family.

    The voice speaks again this time directed at Nova and Crowe who still walk closer to the light.

    ???: Nova & Crowe do not fear it is I the Cheshire Cat here to end your fears they will all understand. They will suffer from our hands. I am the light guiding you on your way I will light the path as long as you stay. I know things don't always go right but, there is a purpose, a reason, even if it doesn't shine bright. You see everything lead you to this moment. Where its time to stop playing make believe they think you are crazy make them believe.

    The voice echoes throughout The Dark Forest Nova is looking up at the sky counting the stars and cocking his head from side to side he doesn't seem focused at all right now just moving his head like he was chasing a fly. The voice speaks softly stating Nova's name once but, then getting a little more angry until it is almost a shout as Nova is paying back attention.

    Cheshire Cat: Nova, I know why you are here. Why I brought you to The Dark Forest its time to make it clear like the stars in the night sky you can shine the brightest at any time. You used to lay out in the grass staring up at the stars while screams were drowning the sounds of the bugs once again.

    Your family was broken mom and dad put you to blame made you go crazy or so that it seem.

    The voices in your head told you were not ok you didn't know what to do so lost you needed a way. You would go out away from the house and run away. Go to the woods stare at the stars until you heard someone call your name. You followed it to The Dark Forest and then found your real family. We see you for who you are you aren't putting the family in strain. Nova your journey has just begun you three will see the riches that the spoil has yet to arrive.

    Nova for the first time in awhile looked focused his eyes set on the shadow of Cheshire Cat as a grin appears on his face and Alice as they go to walk but, Crowe stops his face full of anger. Nova & Alice are up ahead of him now as Crowe screams at the shadow of Cheshire Cat who seems enraged at Crowe. He speaks as if he is talking down to Crowe.

    Cheshire Cat: There is a rage in you Crowe, one that cost you everything. The Dark Forest and I give you a second chance, this chance at redemption and you wanna piss all over it? I told you everything happens for a reason. I know your rage is just a mask, like that face paint you wear half on your face because you can't hide from the truth of the lie you created. We know that in the end that rage is fueled by sadness by misery. Do you remember that night you came to The Dark Forest?

    Do you remember the blood on your hands?

    Do you remember the glass in your skin?

    Do you remember the look in your eyes?

    Crowe's face looks confused as Cheshire Cat's voice carries through The Dark Forest. Alice & Nova turn to their brother both holding their hands out staring deep into the eyes of the big brother of the group. Crowe clinches his fist and then put's his hands in his face tears running down off his face.

    Crowe: Yeah, of course I do, it haunts me everyday. I couldn't save them.

    Crowe drops his hands from his face and then looks too the light his face paint smeared and the light drawing closer as Alice and Nova grab him and hug him. Cheshire Cat steps away from the shadow and into the light his hand extended out bringing them into the light. They walk in and we see that there is a room with clocks all over the place each turning rapidly as they all stop at midnight. Cheshire Cat walks them to a big clock standing in the middle of them room. He then opens it and inside there is another room with a glass floor and blackness underneath.

    Cheshire Cat: You couldn't save your family Crowe but, I given you a second chance and all you got to do is trust me.

    Cheshire Cat extends his hand out to Crowe who slowly grabs it as Cheshire Cat tells him to look over the edge. There is a two giant magnifying like glasses as a video like plays.

    Cheshire Cat: This is the Looking Glass and this is what has shown me everything that has come from the past, the present, and the future. It shows me what down is up and up is down. You lost your family, too that man because you couldn't beat your own vices. You had a problem. You dealt with it through alcohol and drugs.

    The glass shows Crowe in the bar drinking he is stumbling as he is thrown out. He is seen with scars across his arm as he stumbles of the picture. Then we see him at his home with police sirens going off and do not cross police tape around the area. Three body bags shown and Crowe drops to the ground sobered up to what has happen.

    His family had been killed stated the officer who helps him up. There is a man seen in the back of the police car. Crowe punches through the window of the car grabbing the guy through the window and beating him over and over his before slamming his head on the ground and the officers restraining him as the glass stops showing the memory.

    I am giving you a second chance.
    I am giving you a chance to protect your family.
    I am giving you a chance to right a wrong too protect this family and those trying to take it away.

    The glass play a memory again this time it shows Over The Edge as they are wrestling. It shows Cheshire Cat Clan fighting them with Crowe leading the charge and seen protecting his family taken damage a beating. The glass stops again as Cheshire Cat places his hand on the shoulder and then his tall body hunches over and whispers into the ear of Crowe.

    Cheshire Cat: Looking Glass sees all. I see you as the leader of this battle against Over The Edge we need that rage we need you to fuel that to protect us all. Over The Edge are no joke they are three people who shouldn't be taken lightly and they are people who if Nova and Alice faced alone they would perish they would lose and they would fall into that doubt that still subsides in their minds. Be the anchor, be the hunter, chasing that white rabbit until there is no place to go. I want you to be what you always could have been a protector of his family. Go out there and show them The Dark Forest can change you and make you better even far beyond the dreams of your own reality.

    Now go Crowe protect your family..

    Crowe is pushed by Cheshire Cat as the two others look down as he falls through the Looking Glass and everything starts to break apart as he wakes up outside The Dark Forest standing. There is a laugh from The Dark Forest as Crowe goes in as we fade to black.


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    Brayden Bridges

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    Re: FWA Desert Storm Promo Thread

    Storytime for XYZ

    AJ Drake & Kayden Knox are seen in what looks like a child's room the walls are baby blue and there is pictures of a XYZ smiling all throughout the room. AJ Drake in a black suit tucks his sunglasses in his suit and grabs a book from the floor. Kayden Knox sits next to him with a leather jacket and his hair down in front of his face not looking at the camera just staring at the floor not even moving.

    Drake opens the book and we see a XYZ inside the book in a child like drawing with a wrestling ring and XYZ on the turnbuckle holding the title.

    Once upon a time there was a great hero.

    This hero was brave, he was handsome, he was exactly the hero everyone should be.

    However... this is not that hero.

    This is an ignorant child.

    One that has not seen the world for what it is truly he is living in ignorant bliss. This though isn't a story about him. This isn't to take away anything from the boy. He is not the hero though he can try all he might and he can think he is the hero but at the end of the day he is just living in a fantasy. Our hero envy's that. To live in a world where he didn't have to see the evil that this world created.

    This story is about Kayden Knox FWA true hero.

    AJ Drake turn's the page and we see Knox as the former Sterling Jagger in a child like drawing with people laughing at him and as Drake turns the page we can then see the happy child like drawings turn for the worse we now see the page has a sad looking Sterling Jagger all by himself with a frown on his face. Knox still hasn't moved.

    Nobody liked our hero.

    The next page shows Sterling Jagger in a car at night with tears running down his eyes. We see that the next few pictures are of him all alone and we see him in the food court eating by himself as people walk by. We see him in the locker room as there are other's on the otherside happy talking to one another.

    Nobody thought he was anything.

    We see Sterling Jagger again on this next page looking at his cell phone and there are words written all around in air bubbles calling him loser, joke, stupid and so on.

    Our hero wanted to be like everyone else.

    He wanted friends.

    He wanted to be loved.

    We now see another page where there are fans going to all the wrestlers except for Jagger who again looks on sad.

    He wanted to feel like he was something in the end though.

    He was left heartbroken and sad.

    Sterling Jagger is seen trying to talk to Tommy Thunder who ignore him as each page gets a more sad Jagger until we get to another page. This next page shows an even darker child like drawing except it shows Sterling Jagger laying on the floor by his bed and empty bottles of pills all through out. There is X's carved in the eyes.

    AJ Drake looks to the camera his brown eyes staring as he holds the book. He looks angry but, instead of shouting he simply begins talking to the camera as if he was talking to XYZ in a soothing voice like a parent talking to a child. Knox again still doesn't move.

    Do you know how it feels to be left alone?

    Do you know how it feels to be forgotten?

    To have no friends, no one who would care if you live or die?

    Do you sit alone in a dark room watching as life goes by day after day, month after month, year after year?

    I don't think you do XYZ.

    How could you?

    How could your child like mind process it?

    AJ Drake holding the book looking to turn the page instead Knox gets up and he then goes behind the chair and with both his hands grasp the back. Drake though looks back at the book as he goes on to read.

    AJ Drake: Kayden has... He sit by himself suffering and no one gave a damn. He felt nothing. He felt hollow like an empty shell. He felt like he had no one to turn too.

    All of a sudden in a mid reading Drake looks as Knox throws the chair at the wall. Knox walks off as loud crashes are heard in the background and pictures of XYZ are being tossed at the wall behind Drake. Knox enters the frame again as he stands behind Drake his head still looking down hair long brown in front of his face. Knox voice is raspy and whisper with rage in it.

    Kayden Knox: What happens when you are so alone there is nothing left by the thoughts in your head? No light at the end of the tunnel? These walls start to close in and you feel like you got one choice. That choice you can't even do because you are too much of a coward to see what is on that otherside. There is a part of me that wishes I was more like you, XYZ because life would be so much more simple.

    The worries of the demon's my vices, boiling over leaving me with no choice but to release this somehow and you just happen to stand in my way. This right here is everything I have ever wanted to do XYZ. This right here was a chance for me to change my fortune to evolve from the person I was to the person I wanted to be. I just was never accepted.

    The thing is people like Tommy Thunder, people like Danny Toner and the rest of the FWA roster are not good people. They are wicked, They are vile, They are ticks. They are soul sucking ticks that will suck everything from you until you are left with nothing. Do you know what you do to ticks?

    Knox extends his hand to the camera and then rubs his pointer finger to his thumb.

    You take them in your fingers and you pop them like a zit.

    Knox stops talking and goes back to looking down at the ground as AJ Drake looks at the camera. Drake face shows sorrow as he begins to flip the page of the book and now we see XYZ and Kayden Knox in the ring. The picture inside the kids book shows XYZ getting beaten down by Knox. Drake talks again his voice back to normal as he stares directly into the camera as if he was talking again to XYZ as he turns the page we see it say the end.

    AJ Drake: Fairytale's don't exist there is no such thing. This world doesn't have a happy ever after XYZ and the quicker you get this the faster you will be thanking us. Desert Storm Kayden Knox is going to go into the ppv and show you the real world.

    There is no place for you to go XYZ and this maybe hard to watch from others as you are just set to be a victim of a senseless crime with Tommy Thunder and FWA to blame. We aren't writing you off XYZ we aren't overlooking you either we know that when that bell rings it is going to be a fight and we can give the respect to you that you have earned in the middle of that ring.

    Drake stops and then begins to stand up. He readjust his suit as he gets the wrinkles out. He looks for a moment around the room as he seems to be looking for the right words to speak. He then gets a smirk on the side of his face his white teeth glowing he then begins to speak as he looks at Kayden Knox who now holds a picture of XYZ in his hand. The picture is broken and blood rushes down the hand of Knox as it hits the floor. Knox doesn't move he seems focused on the picture.

    AJ Drake: We don't think you can find that place you need to go to defeat us. We don't think you can go to that place that fuels your heart with the stuff needed to do the most damage to break apart at the seems when there is no where to go.

    So you don't give a damn what happens to you or your body to pick apart someone even someone innocent so ignorant like a wings of a bug and sitting and watching as it suffers to try and even move until you take your foot and you stomp on it until it is nothing but a blood stain on the sidewalk. Desert Storm... FWA the blood of the innocent is on your hands.

    There is a quietness as Drake places the book back on the shelf in the broken child's room we see the damage that Knox did with the hole in the wall. Knox walks off as Drake is not to far behind and we now go to black.


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    Re: FWA Desert Storm Promo Thread

    Exile Chronicles: Volume 2
    Chapter 12: The Hanged Man

    Our scene opens in a rustic, medieval hamlet in the middle of a dreary downpour. The grey clouds overhead block out any light from the sun, leaving the surrounding area cold and damp. Very few people are walking the streets, and those that are are clearly the less fortunate: roughspun wools are their garb, and they are trudging through the muck and mire trying to find somewhere safe and dry for the evening as most people have as evidenced by the multitude of houses lit with candlelight or roaring hearths.

    Standing in the middle of the town square is a lone gallows, wood warped and soaked with the hangman’s noose swaying in the wind. Next to the gallows, a pair of men in ornate armor are wrapping a body in a blanket and putting in into a pushcart...presumably, the latest person to swing from this gallows pole. The guards themselves don’t seem bothered by fact, based on their expressions, this is a fairly regular occurrence mandated by their local lord or lady.

    The camera pans over and zooms into a nearby building, a gaol of sorts as indicated by the heavy steel bars. As we cut inside, we see that there’s only one resident of the cells. The figure’s face is obscured by the shadows, but we can tell he’s still alive as he appears to be humming something. The two guards from earlier enter the gaol, soaked to the bone as they pass by the cell and one takes his saber and rattles the bars.

    “Oi! You! Ye mind keepin’ yer gob shut?! I ain’t in no mood to be listenin’ to a dead man’s song.”

    Despite the best attempts of the guard to intimidate the prisoner, the condemned man doesn’t even flinch as he continues to hum his song, serving only to raise the guard’s ire as he gets real close to the bars.


    In a flash, the prisoner rushes the bar, but with the angle we don’t get a good look at his face. However, it’s enough to scare the guard as he instinctually backs up to the opposite wall, as far away as he can get from the cell. What indignation this particular guard had is now replaced with trepidation. However, his partner only chuckles as he shrugs.

    “Dumbass. That one ain’t one ye oughta be pokin’ or needlin’. Ye do know who that is, right?”

    The first guard regains his composure long enough to take a good, hard look at the prisoner...and his eyes widen in realization.

    “ that the fookin’ Vagabond King?”

    We pan over to the prison bars and we see that it is, indeed, Cyrus Truth. The FWA World Heavyweight Champion...but right now? He looks less a king and more like a mess. His hair is matted and tangled, his face gaunt and drawn, and his hands bound by a heavy rope. But the eyes...the eyes burn like the hottest coals, in spite of the predicament he finds himself in.

    “Yep, that’s him, all right. The Lord of Many Crowns found him and his little gang and busted them up somethin’ fierce. Scattered ‘em and brought ‘im here to hang.”

    “The Lord of Many Crowns? The fook’s he doing in the Divine Lady’s kingdom? I thought the two hated each other. Unless…”

    The second guard immediately cuts him off and shakes his head.

    “Nah, ain’t nothin’ like that. The Lord’s just here ‘cause he knows the Lady hates this one just as much as he does and wants to see ‘im swing. It’s an...understandin’. And the Lord prob’ly just wants to rub it in the Lady’s face that he’s the one who nabbed the Vagabond King.”

    “But they’ll both be at the execution tomorrow?”

    “Right. That’s bound to be tense, I bet. But that’s what happens when an outsider rebel-rouser like this one makes powerful enemies, ye know?

    The first guard regains his composure as a slimy smirk crosses his lips. He approaches the bars and looks Cyrus dead in his eyes.

    “Ye hear that, ye shite? Ye ought not to have pissed on the royalty. And now, yer gonna swing t’morrow. All ‘cause ye thought ye were above the law…”

    Without saying a word, Cyrus lunges forward just a fraction of an inch, but the intensity in his eyes and the general gutlessness of the guard is enough to make The Exile’s jailor jump and back off. His partner just laughs as he puts a hand on the first guard’s shoulder.

    “Aye, let ‘em be. He’s no harm in that cell, and he’ll be out of yer hair when he swings t’morrow. Come on, mate...let’s get a fire started and get this chill out our bones.”

    The first guard looks a bit indignant, but relents as he shoots Cyrus a dirty look and follows his partner to the barracks to dry off.

    Now alone, Cyrus backs away from the bars and has a seat on the straw-covered floor. All the intensity from before just melts away as the FWA World Champion looks at his bound hands with an expression of sorrow, of regret. As he looks at his prison, he mutters almost under his breath:

    “All I wanted was to have a moment with one of my only friends…”

    Of course. The events of last Fight Night seem to be weighing heavily on Cyrus. It seemed a simple enough task: defeat Chris Kennedy, Michael Garcia, and Dave Sullivan, and secure a title shot for Krash that Cyrus had wanted to give him...the title shot that’s led to rhetoric, anger, and warfare. Considering his opponents and their own personal greed, it appeared to be a simple thing to overcome them with a united front and defeat them.

    It should’ve been simple.

    ...But why didn’t they win?

    The team of Krash, Devin Golden, and Cyrus should have run through their opponents while they were bickering among themselves. Should have crushed them and put an end to their anti-CWA rhetoric for good.

    But that didn’t happen. Thanks to a chaotic finish, Dave Sullivan managed to sneak a pin on Devin Golden in the match’s closing moments, taking the title match for himself. Now, at Desert Storm, Cyrus Truth finds himself in yet another Triple Threat Match since starting this most recent title reign.

    To his right, the FWA North American and X-Division Champion, hungry to add a third crown to his head.

    To his left, his most recent challenger, who has managed to insert herself back into the title picture.

    Clenched teeth, somber eyes...everything that has transpired to lead to this main event at Desert Storm has become a great weight on The Exile’s shoulders, especially when this all started with a match that never was...a chance to see something through to its conclusion, a match between two friends who have strived to be the absolute best in the world. As Cyrus speaks, that sorrow is thick on every word.

    “This isn’t what was supposed to happen. This whole CWA-FWA feud, this match...none of this should’ve gone this way. For the last month, I’ve had to hear people talk about my offer to Krash as if I had committed some great sin, that I disrespected the FWA in giving Krash a title match. But that...that was never my intention. No, NO! I just wanted to see a match through to the end that was taken away from us so many years ago. What was the harm? I was the one taking the risk. I was the one who had everything to lose in that match. But you took it out on Krash, calling him “unworthy” despite him being thrown into the deep end and swimming with the sharks. His opportunity was stolen...not once, but twice.

    “I could blame Gabrielle for being in over her head as a referee. I could blame Devin Golden for not having his head on a swivel and falling prey to that vulture Dave Sullivan. But no...if I am the World Champion, the onus falls on me. I should’ve dropped Gabrielle on her head and gotten a properly trained referee out from the start. I should’ve been stronger and not had to rely on Devin Golden. And I should’ve taken out Sullivan when I had the chance many weeks ago. Because I wasn’t strong, I sit here. Awaiting an execution at the hands of a would-be queen and king.”

    Cyrus rests his forehead on his bound hands, clearly exhausted by everything that’s transpired since that Fight Night where he offered Krash an opportunity to face him for the World Title. However, the sorrow subsides, replaced by anger and disgust.

    “My challengers at Desert what right do either of them get to judge me as a champion?! In what world do people like Gabrielle Montgomery and Dave Sullivan get to look at me and tell me that how I conduct myself is wrong and abhorrent?! The last time Gabrielle held a World Title, she did everything in her power to ensure that she didn’t have to fight fairly to keep the belt in her possession. She wasn’t some great hero that took on all challengers. She didn’t stand on her own two feet and fight to keep her prize. No...she left that business to Thomas Princeton or her fuckboys in Executive Excellence. She ran the World Title through the mud because she was afraid to lose it...but no, me giving somebody a World Title shot is far more humiliating than everything she’s ever done as World Champion. CLEARLY.

    “At least Dave Sullivan never had to rely on a posse to keep his titles. At the absolute least, I can respect that Sullivan fights his battles alone. However, I find it sad and pathetic that Dave talks about how greedy and shady I am when he complains time and time again about having to defend his own belts. I actively welcome challengers to my belt. Dave Sullivan would rather keep his death-grip on his belts and not accept the responsibility that comes from being a dual-titleholder. What’s the matter, Dave? The weight of your gold belts getting a bit too heavy for you? And yet, despite the fact that you find it so abhorrent to have to defend your gold, you’re still insistent upon adding even more gold to your waste, like a hoarder. I know full well that I’m not going to get a shot at Dave’s gold if I somehow survive this match. It’s not the first time I’ve had to defend World Title gold against another champion, I know how this works. But Dave, like a spoiled brat who refuses to respect the toys he’s been given, rants and raves because he can’t stand for somebody to have something he doesn’t.

    “Are these the challengers who ‘deserved’ a title match before Krash? Are these the would-be kings and queens that ‘deserve’ to judge ME and MY title reigns? It’s abhorrent to me that people even give these two the time of day when they’ve constantly and consistently defiled the title of ‘champion’ far worse that I ever have or ever would.”

    Cyrus clenches his fists as he struggles with the bindings, getting nowhere. He’s all tensed up and indignant, as if this whole farce has worn thin his patience. Rain continues to fall outside as some starts to trickle into his cell from his open, barred window.

    “I hope my opponents realize that, for all their talk about how they’re far better suited to wear this title over the other, at their cores? They are the exact same person. No matter what Dave or Gabrielle spews out of their sewer hole mouths, the Truth is that neither of them care about honor or legacies or prestige. All they care about is keeping their egos inflated, their weakness hidden and their blemished covered. Gabrielle has lived with this delusion that she’s above everybody who has ever laced up a pair of wrestling boots. Never mind her resume, never mind her tactics, and heavens forbid we bring up all the awful, cowardly actions she took to get to where she is. She’s a ‘Goddess,’ and we lesser mortals should be ‘grateful’ that she graces us with her presence. Gabrielle has had this mindset for YEARS, and someone should’ve knocked some sense into long before I did at the Anniversary Show. But even that humbling didn’t last.

    “Gabrielle was gifted a World Title shot for doing absolutely nothing. I hope you all realize that. Krash beat Chris Kennedy and I, as champion, granted him a title match. Such is my right. Gabrielle, however, took this whole CWA farce and did what she always does: make it all about herself. You think she didn’t pick a side because she felt the whole ordeal was pointless? Please. She did it because she wanted to take a holier-than-thou approach and pretend like she was above it all. Gabrielle spent the entirety of the last few weeks bashing everybody embroiled in this conflict as if we were unenlightened savages and bickering children...but the reality is that I bruised her ego at the Anniversary Show when I beat her, cleanly and decisively, in the middle of that ring. And because we...myself, Kennedy, Krash, Sullivan...allowed it, she took the spotlight and wormed her way into another title shot despite not having proved to me or the FWA faithful that she’s even capable of beating me.”

    More rain trickles into the cell, pooling at The Exile’s bare feet. He flinches a bit, but remains ever defiant.

    “Dave might have an edge on Gabrielle on that front, but ultimately he’s fighting for the same reasons she is. Hubris...pure, unadulterated hubris is much newer for Dave as it is for Gabrielle, but winning both the North American and X Division titles in a year’s time has allowed a lowlife to become a monster full of greed and envy. Dave spends his time spewing verbal garbage, disparaging everybody he has crossed paths with, insisting that we all should bow to him and call him king. And yet, he forgets that a king served the people he means to rule. As a champion, he’s the one who should be seeking challengers, emboldening his peers to match and surpass him one day. I think it’s safe to say Dave has done none of that.

    “Wanting a World Title match is not the problem. Insisting on one after beating the champion is reasonable. But Dave isn’t doing this to prove anything. He believes he’s already proven that he’s above us all and just wants the shiny golden trinket as a trophy. Another bauble he can wear and pretend it means anything just because it has the words “World Champion” engraved on it. Dave and I both have a hunger for new prizes and new achievements. But the difference is that I seek them to prove myself...whereas Dave believes that he is owed them by right.

    “Gabrielle and Dave are two peas in the same pod. Neither one of them has ever listened to anything I’ve said in the years I’ve been in FWA, the decades I’ve spent in professional wrestling. The World Title does NOT make someone a champion. It does NOT make somebody a legend. It is a means to that end. A symbol that a champion can make mean something. It’s not an accessory to bolster your vanity. It’s not a trinket to patch your ego. And it sickens me that these are the people who now have the chance to end my reign. You two are OWED NOTHING FROM ME. And yet, here we are.”

    Cyrus growls and spits, thoroughly disgusted by his challengers and what he perceives as their intentions when it comes to World Title gold. Cyrus has said on multiple occasions that he abhors those who sees the title belt as the be-all, end-all...but don’t appreciate just what it actually means to be the champion.

    “You want to know the worst part? The absolute most pathetic part about all this? While both Gabrielle and Dave crave the World Title like a starving beggar in a famine, there’s something else they want far more than that. They want to see me humbled...humiliated...beaten.

    “Neither one can deny that they despise me, feel nothing but disdain by the fact that I’m the World Champion and they’re not. Now, they’ll both tell you that it’s because I’m a ‘pathetic champion’ and ‘unworthy,’ but at this point we all know that’s not the Truth. Ultimately, they hate me because I don’t buy into their rhetoric. I don’t bow when they demand that I should. And they absolutely fear the fact that I can see right through the personas they built up for themselves and see the ugliness, the fears and insecurities they try and hide. Gabrielle and Dave hate that more than anything, because everything they’ve built for themselves relies on the personas they wear as armor against their weaknesses. I won’t be surprised if they decide to try and take me out early on in the match much like Shannon and Bell tried to do in that other Triple Threat title defense of mine...but even if they don’t, I’m well aware that this is by far the most perilous title defense I’ve had since regaining the World Title from Kennedy.”

    Low rumblings of thunder boom outside as Cyrus’s expression changes again. Intensity is still there, but it’s undercut by somber resignation.

    “Regardless of how utterly pathetic Dave and Gabrielle are as human beings, I won’t deny that they’re not talented. And despite being driven by the wrong reasons, the two are driven to beat me and take what I have earned, defended, and brought prestige to in order to satiate their greed and lust for attention. I have been forced into a corner against two opponents with talent and a desire to ensure their vanity and egos are preserved against scrutiny. And for the first time in a long time...I don’t see the path to victory.

    “Can I turn them against one another? Let them fight long enough to find my opening? No...I can’t rely on that. Rush in, take one out and even the odds? Maybe...but if they decide to work together, that won’t work. I refuse to sink to their level; otherwise, what would that make me? So what’s the win condition? How do I stop these two and keep the World Title away from them?

    “A false Goddess and a king seeking yet another crown...both see me as a wastrel invading their kingdoms, changing their laws, and challenging their authority. Desert Storm is not a’s my execution. It’s retribution for my ‘crimes’ against their ‘rightful’ reigns. At Desert Storm, I walk to the ring a man to be hanged and killed.

    “I will fight to keep what I have earned...but HOW do I win?

    “...Can I win? And even if I do...does this nonsense end? Why would it, when people like Gabrielle and Dave are allowed to walk and talk with impunity?”

    ...Holy shit. For the first time ever, there’s a hanging sense of doubt in the voice of The Exile. Everything that’s led to this match has worn on him far more than he has let on. The way Cyrus speaks? He senses this is a no-win scenario.

    ...and perhaps, that losing his title is inevitable.

    However, as a bolt of lightning flashes outside, Cyrus’s expression hardens as he mutters, almost whispering:


    Thunder and lightning boom as Cyrus’s voice raises, his eyes burning with that same defiant fire that has become a staple of his time in FWA.


    A multitude of lightning bolts illuminate the sky, as if sensing The Wayward Warrior’s rising determination. As Cyrus stands on his feet...resolute, not of the bolts seems to strike a tree in the distance, lighting it ablaze as Cyrus bellows out:

    “No, No, NO!”

    The townspeople seem to be startled as many of them brave the rain and walk out, bearing witness to the burning tree. Even the two guards head out, passing by the cell...not noticing the prisoner standing and watching out his window.

    The fire from the tree burns brightly in the dead of night, and even the rain can’t seem to quench it. As The Exile’s face is lit aglow by the fire, a burning resolve echoes through his voice as he says:

    “I am the World Heavyweight Champion. Not Dave. Not Gabrielle! I am the one who’s been in the trenches, fighting the very best and surviving their best attempts to expose me as a sham and an unworthy outsider...and I have beaten them all back, time and again, proving that I am among the very best that this business, not just this company, has ever seen. I’ve defeated Gabrielle. I know I can beat Dave Sullivan. If Desert Storm is to be my execution, then let it. Because I refuse to leave that ring ALIVE without my World Heavyweight Championship. Dave Sullivan and Gabrielle Montgomery had better be prepared to END me if they think they can just waltz into that ring and take what is rightfully mine!

    “If they want to pretend like I’m some devil ‘corrupting’ the old order that people like Gabrielle flourished under and Dave Sullivan, then let them endure the fires of hell as I show them exactly why goddesses tremble and kings kneel in the presence of the Truth. Let me take that which they so desperately crave and turn it into ashes in their mouths, and watch them choke on nothing but dust and regrets for EVER disparaging me when their own sins crawl on their backs like ants to a hive.

    “And if my words aren’t enough to crack the armor that is their arrogance, then I’ll simply tear apart that veneer with my own bare hands...piece by bloody piece! I refuse to let my championship reign end at Desert Storm! I refuse to allow either of these two pretenders to take hold of my World Title so long as I draw even a pained breath. Do you understand, Dave? Has it finally dawned on you, Gabrielle? At Desert Storm, I may be walking into an execution, but it’s going to take executing me if either of you have ANY hope of taking the World Title from me. A coward will die a thousand deaths before he breathes his last. A vain coward, a thousand more. But I am no coward, nor am I as self-absorbed and delusional as you two cretins. If Desert Storm is where I die, then I die knowing full well I went out on my own two feet, a better champion than either of you could ever hope to be.

    “Do you have what it takes? You will NOT pin my shoulders to the mat. I will NOT submit to your holds. You will have to KILL me if either of you actually, truly want my title. far are you willing to go? Do you have the will to put down a man that better challengers than you have failed to put down? Do you have the presence of mind and wherewithal to go that far, risking your own lives and images against a man, a champion, who is fully prepared to give his last breath, his career, and his very life to deny you that which you crave?”

    Cyrus stops as his eyes focus squarely on the fire, still defiantly burning in spite of the rain. There’s no smile, no smirk...just rage and resolve and a grim determination to do what must be done.

    “No, I think not. Rather...I know you don’t. Because to do so requires walking the hard path. The path that you both have refused, because you fear rightfully that it will reveal what you have tried to hide. Neither of you...Dave...Gabrielle...have the strength of will to abandon the path of avarice and vanity and travel down the path that must be taken. The Long and Winding Road…”

    Cyrus exhales. It seems he has said his piece, and much has been spoken.

    Cyrus Truth, since his arrival, has disrupted the natural order that has permeated FWA for years. He has struck hard and fast against the top of the card, and whether you love him or hate him? One cannot deny that he has done everything in his power to bring prestige and meaning back to the title of World Heavyweight Champion.

    And at Desert Storm, knowing full well that his back is against the wall against two power-hungry, ego-obsessed challengers, Cyrus Truth will fight until he can’t fight any longer and make them pay in blood and bone for disrespecting him and insulting him.

    The Exile sits back down as the fire continues to burn outside. Once again, he begins humming the same tune from before…


    The next morning, a crowd of peasants and townsfolk have been gathered around the gallows. On opposite ends of the crowd, two raised pavilions have been constructed for the two would-be monarchs, keeping them separate from the crowd...and one another.

    To the north sits a stunning woman with brown skin wearing an opulent, low-cut honey-brown gown with topazes stitched into the white trim. She is surrounded by servants and sychophants, waiting on her hand-and-foot and offering her vapid praise which she happily accepts.

    To the south sits a man in comparably more plain leathers and furs wearing a crown and circlet on his head. Unlike the lady, he is much more of boor and brute, drinking heavily from a goblet and barking at his attendants, insulting them and belittling them at every turn.

    The Divine Lady and Lord of Many Crowns glance at one another, and for a brief instance share a smile...but that quickly vanishes as the two glare at one another with contempt. However, before words can be said, a herald blows on a trumpet, announcing the arrival of the prisoner.

    Led by the two gaolers, Cyrus Truth is marched towards the execution site. And while both the Lord and Lady look absolutely ecstatic to see the Vagabond King brought so low and a handful of the common folk shout jeers at The Exile, a large portion of the crowd are silent, seemingly sad to see this man be forced to walk to his death...many seemingly sympathetic to his cause.

    Eventually, Cyrus is led up to the gallows and stood over the trapdoor. As the hangman grabs the rain-soaked noose, a priest walks up and shouts over the crowd:

    “Citizens of the realm! For the crimes of banditry and treason, it is decreed that this man should be hanged from his neck until he is dead as payment for his sins. You who are condemned...have you any last words before sentencing is carried out?”

    Cyrus, hands bound in front of him, wearing nothing but rags and tatters, stands up as tall as any king and turns his gaze to the Divine Lady.


    The Divine Lady seems startled at his pointed rebuke as Cyrus turns to the Lord of Many Crowns.

    “And you…”

    The Lord spits out some of his ale in surprise as Cyrus continues to speak, splitting his attention between the two of them.

    “You had better hope this kills me. Because what I started in this realm...the principles I’ve shared, the vision I’ve had? That doesn’t just disappear unless you kill me...and maybe,even that won’t be enough. So when that man flips that lever and that rope tightens around my throat, you had better hope that this noose strangles me or breaks my neck.”

    Cyrus glares at the Divine Lady. Stares daggers at the Lord of Many Crowns. And with the fire of a dragon, he growls out:

    “Because if it doesn’t? If this doesn’t kill me and I survive this...what the hell else can you do? So you better pray to whatever god or devil you worship that I die here and now. Because if I don’t...there’s not a damn thing the two of you can do to stop me from keeping what I have earned.”

    Cyrus closes his eyes as the hangman fashioned the noose around his neck...but as he does, he begins to sing the same tune from his cell, loud enough for all to hear:

    “I walk the path that must be taken
    On the Long and Winding Road.
    I know not where it will take me,
    But I know which way to go.”

    “Though the Road will have its perils,
    Boiling heat and bitter cold…
    The prize I seek awaits me
    Down the Long and Winding Road…”

    The camera zooms in on the faces in the crowd, all unsure what to make of what this condemned man has said. And while the Lord and Lady are trying their best to keep their composure, the eyes tell a different tale...they are unnerved, afraid.
    With the noose secured, the hangman heads over to the lever that opens the trapdoor. With a nod from the priest, the lever is thrown.

    The camera zooms in on the rope, never showing Cyrus’s body hang and twist...but the rope is taught, and Cyrus is surely doomed to perish.

    ...However, the rope is wet and rotted. The Lord of Many Crowns, the Divine of them, or perhaps both? They made a critical oversight.

    The rope starts to fray and unravel.

    But before we can see if it snaps or holds on long enough to kill the Vagabond King, we cut to black...

  5. #5
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    Re: FWA Desert Storm Promo Thread

    *TMZ Exclusive*

    In Atlanta, GA where the FWA wrestling promotion will be running it’s upcoming event titled Desert Storm, TMZ cameras caught some FWA stars in the flesh as they were exiting a restaurant. Jackson Fenix and Nate Savage, or better known as The Undisputed Alliance, and of course Fenix is accompanied by his lovely girlfriend Britney Adams.

    Fenix is dressed up for the occasion as usual wearing a black sportcoat with a dark red button up shirt underneath, along with a black slacks and black loafers. Britney Adams is wearing a nice black dress along with high heels, and Nate is also wearing a sportcoat with a black shirt underneath and dark pants along with black shoes. The trio is walking along the street to their black cadillac Escalade when they are approached by a few paparazzi.

    Paparazzi: Mr. Fenix, Mr. Savage how are you enjoying yourselves here in Atlanta?

    Fenix turns to Nate and chuckles with a smirk before turning to the paparazzi.

    Jackson Fenix: Normally I would just tell you to get lost but I’m feeling rather generous, actually we’re feeling generous so we’ll indulge you by answering some questions. You asked how are we enjoying ourselves in Atlanta? Well besides being interrupted by some nosey pests like yourselves, we were enjoying ourselves rather comfortably after a nice night on the town.

    Paparazzi: We’re terribly sorry Mr Fenix…

    Jackson Fenix: Don’t apologize, but like I said we’ll humor you because our night cannot be ruined, this weekend cannot be ruined, well unless we are unable to capture the FWA Tag Team Championships but I don’t see that result happening do you Nate?

    Nate Savage: Not at all, as a matter of fact I see us walking out of Atlanta tomorrow as the new FWA Tag Team Champions, and there not anyone that can stop us from achieving that

    Paparazzi: There is the champions The New Breed that may say differently

    Nate looks like he’s about to knock out the paparazzi but Jackson holds him back.

    Jackson Fenix: You think? Do you really think that they would say differently? They really haven’t said much of anything in regards to this match or us. Let me ask you something, do you really think that The New Breed stands a chance in defeating us? I’ll answer that for you quite simply, no. Did you see them on the last Fight Night? They couldn’t even defeat The Cheshire Cat Clan, so what makes you think that they even remotely have a chance against us?

    Paparazzi #2: Some would say their loss on the last show was a result of you guys being at ringside and distracting them?

    Jackson Fenix: Of course, blame us! We were just there doing our job that night and helping call the match with Rod Sterling. It’s not our fault that those chumps couldn’t keep their eyes on the ball

    Nate Savage: I know it sounds cliche, but it’s appropriate here when I say that The New Breed is old news. There’s nothing “new” about them, and they know that but they refuse to accept that. It’s clear to us and it should be to everyone else, that they are nothing without the guidance of their mentor Mike Parr

    Jackson Fenix: You could say that they just aren’t up to “par”

    Jackson chuckles at his own joke and Nate can’t help but smirk a little at it.

    Jackson Fenix: Seriously, there’s a reason why he’s stopped coming with them to the ring and has focused on himself again. He realized that they are a lost cause and he’s better off without them, and threw them to the curb like a bad habit and honestly I don’t blame him. Especially with their performance on the last Fight Night, you wouldn’t ever see Nate and I lose like that, hell you wouldn’t ever see us lose period because we are a well oiled machine

    This man Nate Savage, this man is my best friend. I think the world of him and I would do anything for him, and I’m sure he feels the same way. Can you say the same for The New Breed? I doubt it

    Nate Savage: He’s right, and I would do the same for him

    Jackson Fenix: You see, friendship. You won’t find a friendship like that anywhere else. We’re not just some run of the mill, thrown together tag team, we are the real deal. There’s a reason that we’re 2-0 in the FWA and are already in contention for the tag team championships. We are just that damn good, we are just plain better than everyone else in the entire company. Have you seen the ratings lately? As soon as we debuted in the FWA, the ratings for Fight Night skyrocketed to numbers that were never seen before. We bring in the ratings, people tune in to see us. We are must see, not some wannabe MVPs or luchadores, circus act, some over the hill nostalgia act, or some false New Breed. We are the must see tag team in all of the FWA and there is no one else that can say otherwise

    Nate Savage: I couldn’t have said it any better myself, you see that’s why I let him do most of the talking while I let my actions speak for me. This is our time, this will be our moment. We will show everyone else why we are that damn good, and why we are the best thing in this company. We’re more than just some catchphrase that you can mock, Jackson said we are the real deal and he’s right. The New Breed can make all of the jokes about us that they want to but at the end of the day we’ll be the ones laughing at them after we beat them and take their championships, and bring some prestige back to those championships

    Jackson Fenix: That my UNDISPUTED!

    With that the trio enters their vehicle and speed off into the night as the scene fades out.

    Rest in power, Flock U
    Rest in power, TCON

    Team Cyrus T is Best for Business

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

  6. #6
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    Re: FWA Desert Storm Promo Thread

    The scene opens up with an evening setting out in the woods in an undisclosed location. The sound of crickets can be heard along with the crackling sound of the campfire, and sitting near the campfire staring at it intently is Jason Randall. He watches as the flames flicker, the glow of the flames reflecting from his eyes as he watches them as if he’s almost in a trance when he’s startled by the sound of Penny returning with her dog, Hercules. They had adopted him shortly after Penny’s injury to keep her company around their home when Jason was on the road, Hercules is a small dog, corgi breed.

    Penny: We’re back, Herc had to take a tinkle

    Jason Randall: Good, hopefully he’s good for the night

    Penny: Hopefully, but doubtful. Who would have known that such a tiny dog would also have a bladder just as tiny?

    Jason Randall: It is ironic

    Penny sat down next to Jason while Hercules laid at her feet. Jason is back at staring at the fire and Penny looks at him watching the fire.

    Penny: I know that look

    Jason Randall: What look?

    Penny: The look when you have a million thoughts racing through your head, what’s up?

    Jason Randall: I make it too obvious, eh? Well, it’s this match at Desert Storm coming up…

    Penny: Don’t tell me that you’re nervous, you would be the last person I’d expect to be nervous

    Jason Randall: No, not nerves. It’s just that nagging thought in the back of my head that is always there whenever I gain an opportunity like this. Whenever I have a match with big implications coming up, I always feel like there’s some way that I’ll come up short and I always do

    Penny: I thought you were one to always believe in yourself?

    Jason Randall: I do but there’s that one thought in my head, ya know? It sets me up for failure every time

    Penny: You of all people shouldn’t let something like that stop you from achieving what you want, you’re better than that. Don’t let that voice tell you otherwise, ignore it and go in there and kick ass like only you know how

    Jason Randall: Hey, maybe after you heal up you could become a motivational speaker

    Penny: You think? I mean, my knee has been getting better so maybe there’s a chance…

    Jason Randall: I was kidding

    Penny: Oh, right, yeah I knew that. Way to crush my dreams of becoming a motivational speaker, jeez

    Jason can detect the sarcasm from her and smiles.

    Jason Randall: I just don’t want to blow it this time like I always end up doing, I want to make good on my promise to all of the fans that have shown me all of their support throughout this and not let them down…

    Penny: Trust me, win or lose, they’ll still support you. You’re their guy, you’re a man of the people as they say. Hercy and I will be watching at home and supporting you, Herc has become quite the fan of FWA I can’t wait to bring him to shows when I come back

    Jason Randall: When do you think you’ll be ready?

    Penny: I don’t know, as much as I miss being there at the same time I am kind of enjoying my time away. As much as I will never forgive Izzy for what she did to me, she kind of did me a favor in a weird sort of way. When the time is right, I’ll be back and when that time comes; Izzy will be greeted by me with a fist to the face

    Jason Randall: Sounds like I’m beginning to rub off on you

    Penny laughs at that and the two embrace a little as they enjoy the fire. Then Hercules acts like he needs to use the restroom again.

    Penny: Already? I just took you

    Jason Randall: I’ll take him this time, I could stretch my legs a bit

    Penny: Okie dokie, don’t be gone too long

    Jason Randall: Don’t worry, you can’t get rid of me that easily

    He takes Hercules by the leash and the two walk a fair distance away from the campsite when Jason begins talking.

    Jason Randall: If you had one shot, or one opportunity to seize everything you ever wanted, would you capture it or just let it slip? A wise lyricist once said that and it rings true to me right now because at Desert Storm I do have an opportunity, I have a shot to capture what I want and there is no way that I’m going to let it get away from me this time like I have countless times in the past. This time it’ll be different, I’ll do everything in my power to make this different and get what I want…

    He stops in a place and lets Hercules sniff around while he continues to speak.

    Jason Randall: The challenge that awaits me at Desert Storm is a familiar one, well two to be exact. In one corner stands a man that has defeated me before and stands at an undefeated record in Nova Diamond, the other is a man that I scored a pin fall over on the last Fight Night. I’m coming off two wins, one from James Hughes, and the other is Mike Parr. The latter is one no one expected me to come out on top, but I did. Some even calling it an upset, those same people are probably still counting me out in this match Desert Storm. Those are the same people that think I’m just this hardcore guy that can’t get a win without a weapon, even though my wins over Hughes and Parr I won without the use of weapons but people still like to talk like they know what they’re talking about, but the thing is those people that do nothing but talk don’t know a damn thing about me and what I stand for

    I stand for the people that have been behind me for every step of the way. Those people have had my back since day one because I’m just like them, I’m just your every day hard working blue collar male. I do this for them because who else will? Certainly not Nova Diamond, a man that loves to run his mouth and to his credit he can back up his words, but sooner or later someone is going to shut him up for good and I plan on being that someone. Ever since Nova beat me in our last match he still has been running his mouth and he hasn’t been able to keep my name of it for some reason, but I’ve been listening. I’ve been listening and that’s unfortunate for you Nova because all you’ve done is piss me off even more. You’ve poked the hornet’s nest one too many times and now you’re about to get stung…

    Hercules finds a spot and begins to do his business.

    Nova Diamond you also happen to be standing in the way of something I’ve been working too damn hard for to let it slip away, especially to some punk kid like yourself. You sit there listening to your music like your Pink Floyd and even naming your finishing move after one of their songs, don’t get me wrong I like Pink Floyd but the only one that’ll be uncomfortably numb at the end of the night will be you after I lay you out for good and maybe, just maybe you’ll realize that you should have left well enough alone and stopped running your mouth about me…

    Hercules finishes up and Jason takes the baggie he has for it and picks it up.

    Just like this bag right here Nova, you’re full of shit if you think you have a chance in beating me. The same goes for you Parr, don’t worry I didn’t forget about you. It seems like your boys in The New Breed have forgotten about you though and haven’t had your back, where were they when I left you lying last week? No matter, with or without them you wouldn’t have a chance in beating me. I’ve beaten you before and I can do it again. I’m hungrier than you, I want this more than you. You’ve had your chances, you’ve had opportunities and you’ve blown them. You’ve had your time in the sun, this is my time and I ain’t about to let some punk like you take it away from me

    There’s a trash bin nearby where he tosses the bag.

    I look crazy right now because I’m out in the middle of the woods yelling at a couple jackasses while holding a bag of dog shit, if you think I’m crazy now just wait until you see me in that ring at Desert Storm. I need this more than anything else, this is just my one step closer to the top and I ain’t about to slip and fall all the way down to the bottom. I’ve climbed way too far for way too long to let this go to waste…

    With that he walks back to the campsite with Hercules as the scene ends.

    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.

  7. #7
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    Re: FWA Desert Storm Promo Thread

    "You don't know what you just did, Cyrus. You don't know what you just did."

    "You don't know what you just did, Cyrus. You don't know what you just did."

    "You don't know what you just did, Cyrus. You don't know what you just did."

    Those words play over and over again, the bitterly screamed cry of a wounded Goddess at the FWA’s Anniversary Show.

    And then we open upon nothing yet everything. A simple scene, a simple setting; a random field in a random corner of the World. But it will be made into something special soon enough by her arrival. But for now we simply appreciate the simplistic beauty of nature. The tall old tree’s, the bright multicoloured flowers. The grass that’s stretches out across the endless rolling hills, continuing on further than our eyes can see. The sun itself radiates warmth and brightly shines its golden rays upon everything. This is a scene of pure tranquil beauty. A scene of serenity and calmness. This is the sort of place a person could just sit and relax, reflecting upon their life, their dreams, their goals, their loves and passions.

    But pure overwhelming beauty often hides a darkness within…

    There’s a change in the air, and somehow someway we can all feel it. Its there…she is there. Her presence is always undeniable. And so our Goddesses sweetly spoken voice then dances in the air before we get to see her.

    You left me feeling naked Cy…

    Naked and broken…

    There’s something so warm and secure about the way she speaks. It’s so enchanting and mesmerising. She is gracing us all with her being, with her presence. Today…more than ever. Her words lead into something even more glorious than just mere thoughts and imagined images. The Caramel Coated Goddess, the former Goddess of the Mountain, the former two time World Champion, the Icon, the Revolutionary, the future Hall Of Famer known as Gabrielle Montgomery comes into view in a flash of Caramel skin and long brunette hair. She is indeed…naked. Her body, those celebrated curves of hers unencumbered by the touch of clothing. It’s a perfect little fantasy, with her perfect little body on display. Her skin looks so soft, and so warm to the touch. That Caramel complexion of hers is so inviting and mesmerising. Though the softness to her full lips, and the depth to her brown eyes are not to be outdone. They’re Competing for our attention as our Goddess stands before the World, stands before her followers, her subjects, and her enemies alike…naked.

    It would seem like a madman’s statement to say this moment is disappointing. But yet…somehow…someway it almost is. Call it a trick of the Gods, call it a Divine ploy but the way the golden sunlight sparkles and shimmers off her Caramel skintone somehow brightly hides so much of her from our sights. The physical being of Gabrielle might be naked…but the Spirit of a Goddess is different. A Goddess is never truly laid bare, a Goddess is never truly broken. This is a lesson far too many mere Mortals have yet to understand. The Fifteenth Anniversary was a heartbreaking moment for Gabrielle, but it didn’t break her, it didn’t break all of her.

    I was meant to win on that night, it was pre-destined for me to win on that night…

    I could feel the World Championship around my waist, I could feel the weight of it, I could feel it tightly wrapped around my hips. I could envision it once again baring my name. I could see my reflection in it…I could see my little Melly’s reflection in it.

    There were moments, so many of them, so many unseen by the World, and some that were seen by the World where I was left vulnerable by the realisation that I didn’t beat Cyrus Truth, and I wasn’t the World Champion. Mornings where I’d awaken and for those fleeting first few seconds I’d forget and I’d reach out for it…like a lovers embrace only to realise Cyrus Truth still wore it around his waist. This was a bitter truth that I had to embrace, that I had to accept and try to come to terms with.

    The Caramel Coated Goddess bathed in sunlight silently saunters across the landscape with a purpose. Each step threatening her modesty and raising the potential of the World witnessing her in all her glory, but it never comes. The sun’s reflective rays never dares to fully reveal her.

    But I accepted it, I moved on and focused upon the future, I focused upon earning myself another opportunity, on being the one to dethrone Cyrus Truth. I knew that I’d get there again, I knew that I’d face Cyrus again and he would have to try in vain to best me again. In my career there has been no one who can claim superiority over me, no one who can claim that they are better than their Goddess, and I refuse to allow Cyrus to lay claim to that.


    Her movements pause as finally she comes to stand before something unnatural, something more than just nature. It’s the Armour of a Warrior Goddess, the Robes of a Divine Being. Neatly laid out upon a Throne before her. This is a Battlefield after all, it looks so calm and peaceful right now…but soon enough that peace will be broken and a Battle for the ages will be waged. A Battle pitting Kings and a Goddess against one another, a Battle promising so much Eternal Glory. For now though Our Goddess casts her gaze upon the garments before her, then turns her attention back to us, but most importantly back to the “Vagabond King” with a fire dancing in her eyes.

    Cyrus is not worthy of that, he is not deserving of that. He is not better than me, and I will prove it. I will bring his World crashing down around his head, I will unravel all his lies, I will expose all his sins and I will leave him broken and naked…left with nothing and no one.

    She smiles that smile of hers, that Gabrielle smirk…only it’s a little more macabre than usual.

    Nobody can change this, nobody can stop this from becoming reality. Not Cyrus Truth, not Dave Sullivan…not anyone else who has been involved in all of this. Desert Storm is to be my night, my re-Coronation, perhaps even my grandest triumph as I once again will stand atop the World. The pair of Kings cant prevent this reality from happening. The pair of Kings cant defy their Goddess. The pair of Kings will be powerless before me.

    That smirk just grows on her face as she pauses for a moment.

    Cyrus…the false Truth isn’t alone in opposing me this time, he isn’t one man trying to achieve immortality against the Gods. He is one of two men trying to write their name in history against a Goddess. But these two delusional Kings don’t stand together, nor do they lead armies into Battle against their Goddess. One might expect me to feel nervous as these Kings among Men come for me, but this is where I thrive. This is where I excel, where I shine.

    This is what I do best.

    So come for me Cyrus, come at me Dave…but you will both fail. You will both have to slink back to your Kingdoms as Broken men. Being the North American Champion wont comfort you Dave. Being a self imposed Exile wont stop the hurt you feel Cyrus. Being the X Champion wont make you feel better Dave. Being the man who ruled while their Goddess was away wont give you any solace Cyrus.

    Another pause as she lets her words sink in and then casts her attention down upon a glorious Gold and dagger pointed Crown. It is a viciously regal looking headpiece. As she places it upon her head, gently resting it amongst her long brunette hair it carries this aura of demonic divinity. A Goddesses Crown, and the Devils Headpiece rolled into one. It suits her perfectly, it frames the wickedness of her smile like nothing else could.

    Cyrus and his false Truths…

    You always go on about my past, what I’ve done in the past as FWA World Champion. But I don’t owe you anything Cyrus, that’s none of your concern. The fans, the people who wildly cheer me every week, well they’ve forgiven me, and I appreciate that. Chris and I…we’ve moved beyond that chapter and leave it in the past. Even Drew…I’ve spoken to him a couple of times and I’ve made amends.

    She pauses as she takes a moment to slip into a stunning black and gold full length dress, that elegantly cascades down her body. It doesn’t tightly hug her curves, rather it simply adorns her figure. Our Goddess glances down at her stunning body, admiring her breasts for a moment as that wry smirk upon her face becomes less venomous, and more playful. More familiar to our eyes as her own eyes dance with a teasing wickedness within them.

    Not like that Sully…

    I’ve made peace with what I have done in the past, the people I have hurt have made peace with me. I don’t owe you anything Cyrus, in fact you owe me the World that you are trying to deny me. You owe me the vision of watching you beg for forgiveness and apologise to me for dragging my name through the mud.

    She pauses to let the weight of her words sink in, before a few graceful steps take her closer to us.

    And then there’s Dave Sullivan…the man who loves to attribute all my successes to my body, my curves, the softness of my skin…and the warmness of my thighs. And you are right Davey, but just not in the way you frame it. I haven’t slept my way to the top, I haven’t used my womanly wiles to get to the top. Instead I’ve turned my body into a weapon, a weapon that has got the better of so many people just like Dave Sullivan…including Dave Sullivan.

    Do you remember that last night we spent together, when I humbled you, when I broke you, when I made a mockery of everything you achieved while I was gone?

    A teasing and taunting laugh escapes her soft lips.

    These are the Kings, the two Kingdom less Kings that will oppose me and seek to deny me that which has always truly been mine. These are the Kings who think they are special, who think they can prove some kind of superiority to me. These are the Kings who seek to besmirch my name at every turn. The Kings who are so alike and don’t even know it. The supposed Kings who have spoken my name in vain and tried to undermine who and what I am.

    She stares into the World watching her, stares upon us all, into us all with a stoic expression upon her face. Unmoving, unwavering our Caramel Coated Goddess stands there in her Crown and her Dress letting the silence become almost eerie. Then she finally speaks up as she stares directly upon Cyrus Truth, wherever it is in the World he occupies.

    I need to get something off my chest Cyrus…

    It’d be understandable to expect Gabrielle to once again glance down at her…chest while she playfully smiles that familiar smirk of hers, but she doesn’t. Her expression has become cold and stone like, she never breaks eye contact, if anything she just gets more intense.

    I can’t stand you Cyrus, I…I hate you, I loathe you, I have come to despise you and your holier than thou attitude. I hate the way that you think you’re so right and so just. The way you think everything you do is perfect and respectful, because the TRUTH is Cyrus you are anything but. Week after week you sit there or stand there and drone on and on about how I supposedly haven’t earned the things I have achieved.

    And you say it with such confidence.

    You question my heart, my motives, my respectability and act like you’re so free of any sins.

    You have no idea Cyrus what it has taken me to get here. You have no idea how hard I had to work, you want to pretend you have it so rough. Oh boo hoo the American GI Joe had to win some matches. I had to revolutionise this entire Industry. I had to change everything. You were born with the opportunity to get to where you are now, I had to alter the way that everything had worked for thousands of years; Men don’t hit Women.

    She barks her last few words with an authority, before launching into her next tirade against the Sinful Liar know as Cyrus.

    I had to fight against the very culture of this Planet. You think you’re so special, you think you had to work hard and earned your way to where you are?

    You’re just another Man with a bunch of terrible tattoo’s walking the exact same path as thousands of others.

    And you know the worst part, while you look down your nose at me, you award your friend a World Title match. You talk about the past, an unfinished chapter in history. But still proudly proclaim that he’s your friend and you did it so you could both “finish something you never got to finish”.

    Gabrielle’s lips have curled into a disturbing snarl. That dagger tipped Crown upon her head frames her entire being in a terrifying way. It matches the way her fingers have curled, tipped by her pointed fingernails. It accentuates the curves at the corner of her mouth. There’s a bone chilling Demonic aura to our Goddess.

    You’re too stupid to realise it aren’t you Cyrus?

    You want to portray yourself as being so perfect and so humble, when you’re really nothing more than a greedy braggart. You don’t even see it though. Handing out World Title matches to your friends. How do you not see it?

    How can you not see how sinful, selfish and arrogant that is?

    You dare question who I am, you dare to try and lesson my impact on this Business and how hard I have worked to get here when you by your own words hand out a World Championship match to a good friend of yours. How can you be so stupid Cyrus? How can you be so false?

    You don’t even understand my take in all this. I had to EARN everything the hard way. There wasn’t even a Women’s Championship when I signed with the FWA. There was no expectation or promise of ever being able to achieve anything outside of a win here and there. I was expected to accept that I had no goals to aim for, nothing at all to achieve or accomplish. Yet now I am a future, guaranteed Hall Of Famer.

    And I got here by outworking everyone week after week, month after month, year after year. I had to be twice as good as the guys in the Main Event to even get consideration for any kind of important match. I had to earn everything the hard way. Every single step I took was harder than any mile you’ve ever walked. But you question this out of one side of your mouth while you hand out World Title matches to your friends out of the other side of your mouth.

    At this point Gabrielle is almost seething, it’s a side of The Goddess we have rarely seen in her thirteen years in and around the FWA. It is only now that we once again begin to appreciate and take in the scene around her, or rather the skies above her. They’ve turned black and grey and rumble with the sounds of thunder. There’s a storm coming…

    You are two faced Cyrus. You talk such a noble game, you say all the right things, you question the motives and character of everyone else around you. All just distractions, to get people looking away from you while you greedily stuff your face.

    I don’t want to ever hear YOU question anyone else’s work ethic, or drive, or how much they’ve earned anything. You don’t get to make those statements anymore. Not when you do what you did while simultaneously pretending I never earned anything. You don’t hand out World Title shots and pretend I haven’t earned anything. You have no idea just how hard I’ve had to work Cyrus, no idea.

    To get to where I am now I had to rewrite everything, I had to make history every step of the way. Perhaps you need a history lesson.

    Her words are a command, she doesn’t speak to simply speak or tear into Cyrus, she speaks so he can learn his place, and learn of his sins.

    I was the first ever FWA Womens Champion in history. I was the first ever two time FWA Womens Champion. I was the first ever female FWA World Tag Team Champion. I’m the first ever two time female FWA World Tag Team Champion…ever.

    I was the first woman to ever win a Mile High Massacre Match. I’m the first person to ever win two Mile High Massacre Match’s. I was the first ever two time female FWA World Champion…first EVER. I was the first woman to ever compete in three Trial By Fire Match’s. The first woman to ever Main Event Back In Business multiple times.

    There’s a loud rumble from above as the storm grows darker and darker.

    So you want to claim I haven’t earned what I have, that I don’t deserve what I have achieved. I’ve had to do things women weren’t expected to be able to do. I’ve had to do things that Women WEREN’T ALLOWED TO DO. I’ve had to climb Mountains that Women weren’t allowed to climb. All you have really done Cyrus is be born with a dick between your legs. You’ve been able to and been allowed too achieve all these things from birth.

    I had to earn everything. I had to become the Caramel Coated Goddess, THE GODDESS to get to where I am now. I had to change the way the World works, blaze my own trail, and create history week in and week out to get to where I am now. When this is all said and done my Legacy is as a game changer, a history maker, you Cyrus…you’re just another man who did things that surprised no one and changed nothing.

    Her final words escape her lips as more of a snarl than actual words. That intensity in her eyes has grown even more, her body actually trembles with rage. This is a different Goddess, this is that darkness within her consuming her. This is that side of Divinity that truly makes them special. Gods must be cruel, Gods must be vengeful, Gods must punish those who defy them…all of them.

    And Davey Boy, Dave Sullivan don’t try and crawl away now. I haven’t forgotten about you. I haven’t forgotten a single thing you have said about me.

    Another laugh escapes her soft but twisted lips, a haunting giggle that dances upon our ears…exciting and taunting the mind. Though the pointedness to her being softens. Her lips finally soften, her fingers relax, even the spiked Crown upon her head seems less wicked.

    Just look at how far YOU have come Dave, the little boy I first met, the boy I took under my wing, the boy who hung on my every word and did everything I told him.

    That’s the Dave Sullivan I remember. The fresh faced nobody desperate to please me, desperate to make me happy, desperate to satisfy my every whim and my every desire. Now look at you. Now look at how much you have changed, how far you have come…yet you still only exist in my shadow. Everything you have done and you are still beneath me. Everything you have achieved and yet you are still beneath me…just wishing you could be on top for a change…just once.

    Does that hurt Dave?

    You think you’re a King now, you think you’re special, you think so much has changed between us over the years. But while you struggled and you battled away, while you propped yourself up with as much gold as you can find I swooped back in and I hurt your ego. I crushed your spirits. I fractured that perfect record of yours.

    Its only against me that you have tasted defeat. If you had of bested me back then Dave then that victory you hold over Cyrus Truth would have given you the World Championship. Instead you faltered before me and the thing you crave and desire most of all is still out of your reach. Even now Dave…you have to go through me to get what you want, you have to defy me, you have to beat me Dave. The woman you worshipped, the woman you grovelled before, the woman you looked up too in more ways than one.

    Do you have that within you David Sullivan?

    As she raises an eyebrow, that darkness is back, that wickedness. The points of her Crown seem to actually grow and become more dangerous. Even the tips of her long flowing brunette hair somehow seems to match the pointed tips of her Crown. From there that macabre aura to her, that Divine aura to her just grows and grows. This is the Goddess that people fear. This is the Goddess that most of us pretend isn’t there. We all want that perfect, smiling, playful, loving Goddess…but she brings with her Wrath and Punishment as well.

    Do you have it within yourself to knock me off my pedestal?

    Or will you stand back expecting me too falter? Will you focus on those nights we spent together so long ago and keep thinking that is all I offer? You claim you couldn’t look past that when we last met in the Quest For The Best tournament, that the sexuality of your Goddess was all you saw. Are you passed that now? Or do you wish to keep thinking that I…screwed my way to the top?

    That is how you claim to see me. That is how you have decided to define my Legacy. That is what you attribute my success too.

    But Dave…all I did was have fun along the way, fun as I climbed to the top.

    I could have screwed my way to the top if I wanted too. I wrap men around my fingers and leave them powerless. I make men pledge their undying love to me. I ruin men for every other woman they’ll ever try and move on to. I could have Dave, I could have done things that way, and I could control the careers of everyone within the FWA with just one visit to Ryan Rondo’s office…

    Her tongue slowly crawls across her bottom lip as she leans forward ever so slightly, showing off her curves to the World. But the pointedness to her crown, to her hair, to the corners of her lips, to her fingernails…it all kills the spell, kills the illusion. She’s toying with us and mocking Dave Sullivan. She is a Banshee, her body is her siren song and her body is also what will tear Kings to shreds.

    But it was better doing things my way. It was better seeing and hearing so many people over the years fixate upon that part of me. So many people like yourself getting caught up in the rumours, the stories, the escapades…even the sex tapes…and stopping there. So many people saw and still see my body, my curves, my complexion and believe that’s how I got to where I am…then I drop them on their head and they have to deal with the fact that who they were so sure slept their way to the top just knocked…them…out.

    I love the look on a mans face when I’m done and I climb up off his body leaving him…dejected and disappointed. That moment when realisation hits. That moment when they have to accept that this woman whom they tried to pigeonhole as just a sexual deity has swiftly put them on their back and beat them.

    Its an incredible moment.

    Its an intoxicating moment.

    It’s a moment that burns people like you Dave Sullivan up inside. You’re meant to be too good, you’re meant to be able to best this caramel skinned woman who’s sleeping her way to the top, right?

    So keep thinking that’s what I bring to the table, keep thinking that I’ll screw someone backstage and somehow that will give me this win Dave. I want to see that look on your face when you stare up at me and see my hands holding the FWA World Championship high above my head, and high above your limp body.

    I want to see your face when that happens, I want to see the tears in your eyes. I want to see the shock and the horror as your beliefs are torn apart. You’re no more of a King than you are a Jester to me Dave. Maybe if you’re a good boy I’ll take you back and let you serve…under me again.

    Maybe that’s what you really want? Not the Title, but the Goddess who saw something in you when no one else did. The Goddess who gave your life a purpose and meaning.

    But maybe I don’t care.

    Its hard to tell if she does, the storm above has blotted out the once golden sunlight and the wickedness to her being doesn’t betray her for a moment.

    Maybe I don’t care what you want, just as I don’t care what Cyrus wants.

    You two self-anointed Kings, one putting himself in Exile, the other adorning himself in Gold. You two who appear so different…but ultimately are just two sides of the same coin. Two men who are so self-obsessed. Two men who claim to be greater and grander than what they are.

    Cyrus considers himself a Hero.

    Dave thinks of himself as a true Immortal.

    But you’re both just the same. Both liars, both braggarts. You hide behind these masks you wear, these fronts you put up. Cyrus wants to be the honourable, and respectful Champion. But he’s anything but honourable and respectful. Dave wants to be special, he wants to be Iconic, he wants to create history. But he just isn’t good enough.

    You can both lie to yourselves, and lie to the World but you cant deceive me. I see you both.

    I see past the Titles of Kings and I see you for what you truly are. I see two mirror images of one another. Both thinking you’re different and special but not realising you’re just the same person. The same tired and contrived liar. You have the same flaws, and the same sins.

    The same fate awaits you both…

    The same bitter taste of defeat.

    And neither of you can prevent it.

    Dave Sullivan you are powerless to stop this. I’ve taken your best…when you were my Boy Toy and even now when you have tried to become the Best and it was never good enough. You have never quite been good enough. Deep down inside yourself you probably know this to be true. You wish it was not so, you wish you could stand atop the Mountain with the Divine…but it is not within you. You’re too flawed, too simple minded, too greedy and self-serving just like Cyrus.

    I know you’re not above handing your friends things, what friends you have left. You so happily served me in the past, you would have given me anything I wanted back then. You’re not better than Cyrus, neither is Chris or Michael. You three raged against Cyrus and Krash because he was handed what you wanted to be handed.

    You know its true, all of this has just been about getting what you want. Just as Cyrus focused on getting what he wanted when he handed Krash that shot at the World Championship.

    Gabrielle’s focus then seems to shift. It was like she was staring upon Dave Sullivan somewhere in the World, and now just off to one side she gazes into the soul of Cyrus Truth as the clouds grow even darker and the wind begins to pick up around her.

    You had my respect before Cyrus, you earned it, you won it when you defeated me, when you bested me. But in the weeks since you have lost my respect. You continue to belittle my achievements every chance you get while you make a mockery of what it means to EARN a World Championship match. I refuse to lose to you again Cyrus.

    I refuse to allow YOU to go another day thinking that you’re better than me. I refuse to allow that, I REFUSE to allow you to lord anything over me.

    You’re nothing.

    You’re just another braggart, another sinner, another LIAR.

    Dressed for Battle she stands before us, our Goddess in her Demonic Caramel Aura, as a storm rages around her. Winds whipping at the ground and tossing trees through the air. Rain and hail now pelting down upon everything, but she stands stoic and untouched.

    You will pay for every sinful word. YOU WILL PAY FOR EVERY LIE YOU HAVE TOLD. You will suffer for the way you have used my name in vain, you will suffer for denying my Divinity, and denying what it has taken me to become Omnipotent, and Omnipresent.

    YOU THINK THESE ARE JUST WORDS CYRUS? I am a Goddess, I am revered, I am worshipped, I have changed this World for those who believe in me. AND I WILL NOT LOSE TO YOU AGAIN CYRUS. IT WILL NEVER HAPPEN AGAIN. YOU WILL NEVER EVER GET ONE OVER ME AGAIN. I WILL NOT ALLOW IT, I WILL NOT ACCEPT IT. I WILL NOT LEAVE THAT RING UNTIL I HAVE MADE YOU BOW TO ME, UNTIL I HAVE PROVED MY SUPERIORITY OVER YOU. This night that we will share with Dave Sullivan will not end until you are beneath my boots and that World Championship is around my waist.

    I promise you that. I promise you both that.

    And I promise you…there is nothing you can do to stop me…

    The storm is no longer all around her, it is inside her, it is within her, it IS her…

    And only now we see in the distance, two lonely Kings coming towards her. Kings that could seek to appease their Goddess or defy their Goddess. But she wont listen to their wants and desires…The Goddess in her Caramel hue has a Demon within her, has a raging Storm within her that no King could ever appease.

  8. #8
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    Re: FWA Desert Storm Promo Thread

    Nova Diamond proudly presents:

    Atticus Henley generally considered himself as a materialist. There were things he owned, things he felt and nothing much more of value. Perhaps that was why he was feeling kind of uninterested as he stopped before a large, purple tent in the city fair. The tent was one of the largest in the entire fair, looked very impressive and the sign in front of the tent was very ornate as well. Atticus could not help but roll his eyes when he finally read the sign.

    ''The Oracle of The Diamond! We welcome the most privileged guests who are looking to learn their fortunes!''

    It was just your standard fortune-teller tent, just a much more fancy one. Still, Atticus Henley was not very fond of fortune-telling. But nobody was as uninspired as he was, as he turned his gaze to the Asian woman who's holding his hand, with an ice-cream in her other hand. The woman was certainly very pleasing to look at, her face definitely making her look like younger than she is. The woman licks the top of her ice cream and looks at Atticus. She just smiles at him and moves her head to urge Atticus to enter, making obvious puppy-dog eyes which she knew Atticus could not resist.

    ''Alright, girl.''

    Atticus puffed as they both made their way into the tent.

    ''The things I do for my daughter's happiness...''

    Atticus had some expectations when walking into the tent but the man who greeted them was definitely exceeding those expectations, in a more absurd way, at least in Atticus' eyes.

    ''Mr. Henley, looking sharp as always! And the beautiful Min-Su! You are most welcome in my humble tent! Now tell me, how can The Oracle help you?''

    The man was certainly the greatest of all generations, Nova Diamond. There were really no doubts about it. But his appearance looked a little bit different, and by a little, Atticus meant a lot. Firstly, he had a black bob-cut wig on his head, the hairstyle certainly resembling one of the most powerful women in the world, Anna Wintour, though Atticus wasn't sure about if Nova was going for her look especially. His skin was even paler than usual, clearly he had done a fine amount of make-up on his face to get that skin tone. Not that Atticus knew much about make-up but Min-Su was an expert at it and he would not be surprised if she had taught Nova a thing or two about it. Additionally, Nova had one of that thick-framed, stupid hipster glasses on too. Atticus was not certainly a fan of that look, but he could tell that Min-Su was loving it, licking her lips at the unnatural sight of the boy Atticus still had mixed feelings about.

    ''This was not certainly what I had in mind when you told me that you wanted to meet. I'm really...surprised to see what where my money is spent on.''

    Atticus kinda feels bad when his daughter shots him a glare, he rolls his eyes and non-verbally promises her to play nice.

    ''It's alright if this stuff does not peak your interest, Mr. Henley. But I believe giving creative control to the artists is the best way to support them.''

    Nova takes a few steps back and sits on his table, which is holding a few interesting objects at the moment. There is a cup of coffee, couple of cards and a big crystal ball in the middle.

    ''Please, take a seat as The Oracle does what it does best, and that is to see everything and provide its customers the divine knowledge of this world we inhabit. But I must warn you, this session will not be one of the usual sessions The Oracle does with its regular customers.''

    Atticus is on the verge of rolling his eyes again as he endures this cheesy talk but seeing Min-Su smile and enjoy all of this gives him the strength to go along with whatever Nova's charade is this time. They both sit down eventually and continue to listen to him.

    ''The Oracle provides you with lots of options. It can look into your hands and interpret your palm lines, it can also do it with the coffee you drink. It can interpret the cards you choose, and of course, there is always its most trustworthy companion, The Crystal Ball. With such highly-esteemed customers like you two, The Oracle suggests that it does everything it can to ensure the most authentic experience, plus, free of charge, just for the both of you!''

    ''So, you normally get money from this?''

    ''Of course, for knowledge is not free.''

    Atticus does not say anything to that, instead, he watches as Min-Su extends her left hand to Nova with curiosity on her face. Nova seems the drop the character a little, as his voice sounds more sincere this time after he takes her hand on his. Atticus then gets the cup of coffee and starts to drink it.

    ''Okay, Min-Su, let me look at what I am dealing with here. Your hand is very delicate, but also very crafty and strong. Your life line is long and deep, heart line is very long and head line is deep.''

    Nova shows her the lines he is mentioning as he plays with her hand with his index finger.

    ''That means that you are a well-balanced, very healthy individual who has a perfect relationship. You are also very smart, very beautiful and have the most perfect people in your life. The person you cherish the most is going to have a chain of successes very soon, starting with Desert Storm where he will beat Jason Randall and Mike Parr to get himself a title sh-''

    Atticus bluntly interrupts.

    ''Is this what it is all about? A self-promotion for everyone to see? Do you tell all of your customers that?''

    Nova holds up one hand to reassure him.

    ''Just relax a little, Mr. Henley. I'm only interpreting. It is obvious that my Min-Su is the perfect individual, so is her beloved Diamond.''

    Nova smirks while Atticus finally finishes the coffee and puts it down to reveal some patterns for The Oracle to interpret. Nova takes the cup and stares at its inside.

    ''Okay, then, Oracle. Look at my coffee and tell me my future.''

    Nova puts down the coffee as well after staring it for a minute.

    ''I have good news, Mr. Henley. The shapes I have seen are all indicate future successes for you. I have seen a large hand, for example. That means that the things you give will return at least tenfold to you. Have you made any big investments recently?''

    Atticus does not even attempt to answer this rhetorical question.

    ''I do know about one. The man you invested in has a large road in front of him. A silken road from your perspective because all you should be seeing there is money, money and more money, for he will most certainly travel that road with success on his each step. Victories, titles, big matches, big paychecks and big money that will be returned to you. Because The Oracle can see this investment, he is more hungry than everyone in his field, he is more skilled, more athletic, more everything. Desert Storm will result in a huge victory, then will be bigger, more important steps, steps that will take him at the top of the mountain, make him the unquestionable top guy as he finally proves to every single one of his audience that he is indeed, the greatest of all generations.''

    Nova takes a peek at the cup once again.

    ''Oh, and I also see a heart with wings, which means long-lasting happiness for you and your family.''

    Nova grabs the deck of cards on the table, shuffles them up and lays them out in a certain pattern, making the whole picture look like a cross.

    ''The Oracle is going to be using Tarot cards in its next operation. As you can see, this is called a Celtic-cross lay-out. Ten cards, two crossing each other at the center, one at each vertex of the cross, and four in a vertical row going from The Oracle towards you at the side.''

    Atticus looked at least slightly interested this time, while Min-Su was looking at it with her eyes fully open, full of excitement.

    ''There are Major Arcanas and Minor Arcanas in a Tarot set. As you can predict, Major Arcanas have more of an effect than the Minor Arcanas. We will pick a few of these of which The Oracle set on this table to gain some insight and knowledge about our futures. Min-Su, please, go on and pick one of these.''

    Min-Su looks for a while and finally picks one.

    ''Okay, this one is for you, Min-Su.''

    He grabs the card she picked and it reveals the figure of a naked man and a naked woman, and an angel protecting them from the skies. Nova smiles at that.

    ''The Lovers. One of the Major Arcanas. It mainly partnerships, duality and union. It's almost like you have found your other half.''

    Nova and Min-Su both smile at each other upon that, while Atticus is clearly too old for this sappy shit.

    ''Okay, Mr. Henley. Your turn.''

    Atticus just randomly picks one without giving it much of a thought. Nova wastes no time and picks up the card, revealing another figure. A man standing on the edge of a cliff, holding one of the three wands around him.

    ''Three of Wands. One of the Minor Arcanas, this time. It symbolizes looking ahead, rapid growth and expansion. I believe that the moves you make are going to be successful, which we already established in your coffee. Your investment is going to make your business grow in his industry. Your influence will expand with him as he accomplishes every goal he sets out for himself.''

    It's time for another card and Nova picks one by himself this time.

    ''This is for...Jason Randall.''

    He picks one and reveals the figure once more, which is a man leaving eight cups behind as he leaves the scenery, but the picture is upside-down.

    ''Eight of Cups...but in reverse. One of the minors. Which means Jason is experiencing avoidance, fear of loss and most importantly, fear of change. But honestly, are these even news anymore? This is what Jason is, I've told his tale a dozen times and I can't be arsed about his recent fluke victories, he will never do them again, everyone knows that, unless he grabs his lazy ass and starts to realize what is he doing wrong. But he's afraid. He is very, very afraid. Afraid that I will humiliate him once again. Afraid that in the end, he will have no choice but to lose himself in order to continue on living.''

    Another rant about Jason passes and Nova picks another card.

    ''This is for...Mike Parr.''

    The figure of this card is a hand coming out of the clouds and holding a gold coin with a pentagram drawn on it, the image is once again upside-down.

    ''Ace of Pentacles. A minor. In reverse, once again. This means lost opportunities, missed chances and bad investments for poor Mike Parr. I think that one speaks for itself, just how many opportunities have Mike missed to become one of the top dogs around here? How many chances he had, then just blew it all away? Everyone believed that this man was going to be a world champion at some point, if not a triple champion, but he isn't even a champion anymore. Has he won the world title? No! Have he become the 'TRIPLE CHAMP! TRIPLE CHAMP!' like all of the fans shouted for him back then? I'll answer once again, no! Mike Parr failed, again and again. His memorable victories were all pointless, and he didn't win when it mattered anyway. What did he do? Went and find dumb and dumber, making them his cronies, The New Breed he says, how cute. They may be The New Breed, but I am the perfect breed! I'm no Prototype, I'm the final product! I'm not a Protege or I'm not a Prodigy. I have surpassed all of these stages. I am simply the best, the greatest! Something that Mike Parr will never claim because even when he becomes older and older and continues to fail to win the big one, he will still be prodigy by default, a 'young' talent who has potential to win the world title. Simply, nothing remarkable will become of him, and he will retire, still haunted by the times he failed to do it.''

    Atticus and Min-Su just continue to watch him as he continues to pick cards. Atticus can see the fire in his eyes, the main reason of his investment, while Min-Su just lovingly watches her man showing all of the passion he has. One more card appears on Nova's hand.

    ''This for our North American and X-Champion, 'The King' Dave Sullivan, the reason I am going to be facing Parr and Randall in Desert Storm.''

    He reveals the figure meant for Dave Sullivan, and fitting perfectly to his image, it's a King sitting on his throne, holding a wand, but this is also upside-down.

    ''King of Wands. Another minor. Another reverse. What this means for our King is practically that he is impulsive, he is overbearing and he has set some unachievable expectations for himself. As much as water is wet and sky is blue, Dave Sullivan is one arrogant bastard. He is aggressive in his pursuits, he can't show restrain, he is impulsive very much. All of these qualities will lead to his eventual downfall, and nobody is going to miss their 'king' and his tyranny. Maybe it will be from Cyrus' hands, maybe Gabrielle's. But I will do my part in that and after winning the triple threat in Desert Storm, I will go and take the North American title from his small hands and his weak grasp. He has done well for himself lately, that is because he has simply never faced anyone like me. He beat Viktor Maximus, I crippled Viktor Maximus. He could not beat Mike Parr, I will destroy Mike Parr, twice. And by the way, Dave also have that 'triple champion' craze that Mike Parr once had in the past. He has already North American and X titles, and he has the opportunity to win the world championship at the Desert Storm. But I know people like Dave Sullivan. They will eventually crumble under their weight, those titles are too heavy for him and it will eventually catch up with him. And quite frankly, the wrestling world has heard enough from him and his 'rise', when everyone should be talking about me and my rise. Four and o, soon to be five and o and six and o. Watch it well Dave, watch as you learn the usurpers of the throne always come when you least expect them to come.''

    He takes a breather once again, then proceeds to pick up another card, but that's when The Crystal Ball starts to fog and makes weird sounds. Nova gasps and looks at it with great excitement in his eyes. Atticus and Min-Su also look at it but they are confused rather than excited like Nova is. Nova finally speaks.

    ''The Crystal Ball have finally shown The Oracle what it wanted to see all along. The Great Prophecy!''

    That does not really help the confusions of Atticus and his daughter. But they let Nova continue with whatever the hell he is speaking about.

    ''The Great Prophecy is speaking about the one true wrestler that will do what the others could not. As it has certainly seen my path, the plan I have. And it is telling me that I will succeed.''

    ''What is that plan, then? What will you do that the others could not?''

    Atticus asks with genuine curiosity, the idea of Nova accomplishing something that were not done before sounds very good for both Nova and him actually.

    ''It's good that you asked, Mr. Henley. Because the people in my way, they have this obsession with winning as many gold as possible. Mike Parr tried it before, Dave Sullivan is trying it right now. The El Dorado of achievements. The 'triple champion'. I have the certain path in my head that I will successfully follow. Firstly, at Desert Storm, I will beat Mike Parr and Jason Randall to gain that North American title match. But before I follow on that path, there will be one certain event that would most definitely help me the most: The Carnal Contendership. The greatest one-way ticket to Back In Business, the chance to gain the FWA Heavyweight Championship. I will win The Carnal Contendership and go to Back In Business to get that world championship around my waist. But before I go into Back In Business, I will get North America back from Dave Sullivan's kingdom of bullcrap. And logically, that would also earn me a shot at X-Championship. And if the executives would not listen to logic, then I will have to persuade them. One way or another, I'm going to have that title shot too. I will win the X-Championship and finally, at the greatest stage of them all, I will win the FWA Championship in front of the largest crowd of wrestling. I will celebrate with all of my titles as I will be the one that finally became the 'triple champion'. Not Mike Parr and certainly not Dave Sullivan.''

    Atticus chuckles a little.

    ''It is good that you are ambitious, Nova. But, did that toy of yours really told you that? And do you believe that you will do it because it specifically told you so?''

    Nova starts to chuckle as well.

    ''I think we all know to the answer of this question.''

    He continues to chuckle, but that chuckle turns into a full-blown laughter. He wipes away some of his make-up, throws the glasses, throws the wig and reveals his usual self.

    ''Absolutely fucking not. I make my own fortune.''

    He gets up and pats both Atticus and Min-Su in the back, telling them to follow him outside of the tent. They go outside, as the tent is crumbling slowly.

    ''But if you are good enough, then lady luck will favour you as well. That's what I believe, Mr. Henley.''
    Last edited by Hermes; 10-21-2019 at 07:15 PM. Reason: Spacing issues
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  9. #9
    Mid-Card Champion
    Eyesnsane's Avatar

    Join Date
    Nov 2013
    Rep Power

    Re: FWA Desert Storm Promo Thread

    Atlanta, Ga.
    The Underground Mall….

    The sun is brightly shining and illuminating the day, we see Eyesnsane wearing his blue jeans and a black tee shirt that has two eyes on the front and reads “Nsane” across the back. The camera moves in closer to him as he stops walking and turns toward the camera.

    Eyesnsane: Michael Garcia, the man who likes to hear himself speak. For weeks on end we all had to hear this man bump his gums about this and that. Maybe he should buy the FWA so that way he can make the matches he wants to see. Let me be the first to congratulate Micheal for winning the FWA cheerleader of the year award. Now don’t get me wrong when Michael speaks, I stop listening and could really careless. Oh, one day he got on a nice little roll though, he was feeling good and sticking his chest out like a real tough guy and he decided to call people out. One of those people was me. You see Michael feels like I should be coming to the defense of this company. He seems to think I owe this company something, so let me address his little thought because as we all know he don’t get them too often.

    Eyesnsane places his hands on his hips for a moment as he looks away from the camera and then back at it once more.

    Eyesnsane: I get it Mike, you want to run around in your little FWA shirt, cause what? You think you see an opening; you think you see a quick path at your shot at the brass ring. You wanna paint yourself as some kind of savior of the company just so you can cash in and try to collect your reward? That much is obvious, hell painfully obvious. Now I don’t care what you think you know, but I am the last man to owe the FWA anything. Over the years this company has made sure to take more from me than it has ever given. As far as I am concerned my relationship with FWA is one way. I get in the ring and they pay me, and that’s the one way the relationship works. I’m not some poster boy for this company and I sure as hell ain’t a corporate ass kisser. If Cyrus or anybody else comes to this company and religiously beats the hell out of the usual suspects for the world title, well since it’s not my turn, it’s not my concern! That’s it, that’s all.

    Eyesnsane lifts his left hand to his chin for a moment and looks toward the sky.

    Eyesnsane: All that crap aside Mike, you and I go back a ways don’t we? Hell there was a time when we once saw eye to eye. Those days seem far away and long ago now. Our careers have gone on different paths, we have both accomplished things here and else where. Hell there are two men in the history of this company who have been tag team champions more than I have. I mean, and you did all that um fine work calling matches up until the time you found a couple of guys to help you to a win last week. I’ll give you credit where its due. Chris and Dave carried your ass, and you were right where you are used to being. Sitting outside the ring watching the superstars of the company further cement their legacies. Just like in the Blackheart days, eeh?

    I don’t dislike you Mike. Truthfully, I generally give you little to no thought, but boy do you seem hell bent on making a point. Take the other day for example when you decide to walk into Club Camelot and talk all that s*** to my manager. Talking down to my friends in my place. Talking crap about Over the Edge and oh how funny fate is. Because there is a truth that say what you will deep down inside, in your heart of hearts not even you will deny. You know what’s coming. I hope while you’ve been wrestling with your words and that microphone you’ve kept yourself sharp, kept yourself in the gym.

    I hope you are ready for war, because that’s what I am bringing you at Desert Storm. I’m going to show you what I fight for. You are going to have a clear understanding that when I get in that ring. I fight with everything I have. No surrender, no retreat. I fight for my friends, I fight for my family. Those friends you talked down to at my club, the family and friends that got my back and ride with me that you talked crap about. I fight for three letters just like you. My letters are O.T.E! I owe Over the Edge and I owe Tyson Hughes-Redgrave! I’m not just trying to catch a quick break to check some box off just to say I won this title or that one. When the day comes when I can’t get in a ring and whip somebody’s ass, people are going to remember me and love me or hate me, they will talk off all the things I have done in my career because the accomplishments will be many.

    Eyesnsane folds his arms in front of himself and tilts his head from right to left for a moment.

    Eyesnsane: Every time I come to Atlanta, I stop here at the Underground Mall. It proves a point and that point is that time changes everything. Mike look around this company you love so very much. Take a real good look. I see a completely different company from when I signed my first contract.

    He laughs as a smile appears on his face.

    Tell me something, did you guys talk about the good old days? Hell that’s what I find more ridiculous than anything else. Guys like me, you, Chris and Devin. We are all products of an entirely different era in FWA. We were like this mall 8 years ago. Now, just look at what time does. Things change, people change and given enough time, everything changes, nothing stays the same. Just like five years from now the FWA landscape will be different. Frankly Mike, even if I gave a damn about your side of the argument which I just can’t. You, a flipping commentator is mad cause some guy slides in here and gets a title shot, because he did not wait his turn in line. Tell me something Mike, where’s the line? Who’s in front? Kennedy, Sullivan huh? Oh, wait maybe it should be Golden or Gabrielle, huh or do you have next? Will you be a good little happy FWA camper when the next title shot goes to anybody but you? Oh, but let’s face it you won’t be answering these questions. You and I both know that. You talk Mike. Hell, you may be the best ever to run your mouth in the company.

    Here’s the thing about what’s coming. I know you are going to bring everything you have to try and back that crap up that you have been talking. You are going to come down to the ring wanting to prove you are at the top of your game. You are going to want to come out and show everybody that you can be a superstar too. I understand why you feel as though you need to win this fight. More importantly I understand why I will shut your mouth and beat you half to death. It’s not because I don’t like you or anything like that. It’s not personal and you should know that too. Just like the rest of this business we find ourselves in. You and I don’t get to pull the strings.

    I hope you’re ready. There will be no time outs. No tags. If you fall on your face outside of the ring, I will find you. When that bell rings, I will fight you and I will keep coming at you over and over again no matter what you do. I will do everything I can to, one make sure you understand to keep my name out of your mouth, and me out of your petty arguments. Everything you came around that announce table to fight for is worthless. It is all for not, but you’ll see that soon enough for yourself. I mean what do you really think the FWA is going to do for you other than offer you that same old seat and microphone when you’re done playing wrestler again. Oh, but hey, after I beat you at Desert Storm, I really do wish you the best in your future endeavors…

    Eyesnsane starts laughing and unfolds his arms….

    Eyesnsane: Wait are you still recording? F*** it, we’ll do it live! No edits, no retakes. I’m good if Alana does not like it she can fix it or have Ted edit it. Whatever man, come on there’s a Hooter’s in here we can get some wings, catch a game or two and have some drinks my treat.

    Eyesnsane does not move but the picture nods up and down.

    Eyesnsane: You see that, even the camera man knows what’s up. The company sent him here to record me talking, mission accomplished, job done. He turns off that camera and he gets his check and owes the company the footage. Learn from this man Mike. Instead of letting your heart bleed for nothing how about you stand up for something with real depth and substance, or at least be real enough to do it for your paycheck. Either way after I get my hand raised and you watch the replay of it once you wake up from me knocking you out, do yourself a favor. Go your own way and stay out of my way, off my radar, and out of my business..

    Fade to black…….

  10. #10
    Friendship King

    Smooth Jazz Wolf's Avatar

    Join Date
    Apr 2011
    The Pillow Fort
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      Country                    Australia

    Re: FWA Desert Storm Promo Thread

    Cliquecast #49
    Jim Taylor, Tim Coleman, Daniel Oakley, Michelle Kelly
    108k listeners, uploaded 2 days ago

    After a snazzy royalty free music intro, we fade into the warm and comforting voices of Jim Taylor and Tim Coleman, former CWA announce team. It's the award winning podcast - though exactly what award no-one is sure - known as the Cliquecast! With reoccurring guests such as Daniel Oakley and Michelle Kelly, along with the odd former CWA in-ring talent, the Cliquecast resides as a way for former CWA to catch up, remain within each others lives, shoot the gossip and drop hot takes on the latest news and shenanigans within the wrestling world.

    Jim Taylor: Good evening everyone, and welcome to the Cliquecast, the number-one podcast on the internet made up if CWA alumni!

    Tim Coleman: Number one by default is still number one!

    Jim Taylor: I still don’t like this tagline, Tim. Regardless, I’m your host Jim Taylor, CWA’s lead announcer for most of its tenure, and joining me, as always, my broadcast colleague and good friend – yes Tim, we’re good friends, if you admit it while drunk on New Year’s it’s true, those are the rules – good friend, Tim Coleman.

    Tim Coleman: I maintain that such an event never happened. I would rather be considered an abject failure of a human being, than I would be considered a friend of Jim Taylor.

    Jim Taylor: Oh Tim, you’re such a catch. How’s the ex-wife?

    Tim Coleman: She still misses me, but her aim is getting better.

    There is a brief pause. In the distance, someone coughs awkwardly.

    Tim Coleman: Daniel, laugh track no.3, please.

    A sigh is heard in the distance, before several seconds of canned laughter play. Still with as much chemistry together as they did in CWA, it would seem.

    Jim Taylor: How long have you been sitting on that one, Tim?

    Tim Coleman: Three days.

    Jim Taylor: Worth the wait. This week’s podcast is brought to you by MeUndies and Sherry’s Berries, and we’ll tell you more about them later. For now, I’d like to introduce a very special guest to our show, someone people have been clamouring to have on our show for at least a year now.

    Tim Coleman: We’ve been known to have special guests on this podcast from time to time. Sometimes it’s a friend of ours, or someone who caused a buzz recently in the wrestling scene. But more often than not, it’s a fellow alumni of Clique Wrestling Alliance. And tonight’s guest is synonymous with the idea of CWA.

    Jim Taylor: Ladies and gentlemen, our special guest is a former CWA World Heavyweight Champion, CWA High Voltage Champion, CWA Pure Champion, CWA Tag Team Champion, a man who has won and done everything there was to do in CWA and kept coming back for more. He’s got more accolades in other federations but if I started listing them, we’d be here all day. A three-time cover star of Moustache Monthly, a certified Pro Wrestling Hall of Famer, and recently, FWA’s latest superstar. He’s been called the White Wolf, the Moustache Maverick, the Heartbeat, but folks worldwide know him unanimously, as Krash!

    More canned applause from a soundbyte, as a third voice joins the group, that of FWA Star Krash.

    Krash: You really went all-out on the intro, huh? Lovely to be here Jim, Tim, I’ve missed hearing your voices. Yes, Tim, even yours.

    Tim Coleman: Absence makes the heart grow fonder, I’ve heard.

    Krash: It’s been more than a year since I’ve seen either of you. Jim, you’re looking great, I dig the salt-and-pepper hairdo.

    Jim Taylor: I’m trying to age gracefully, whilst Tim over there desperately clings on to his youth like it’s a liferaft in a storm.

    Krash: That explains the toupee.

    Tim Coleman: It’s not a toupee! I’m just having a bad hair day! I regret having you on this podcast already.

    Krash: Ah, I missed you too, Tim. How have y’all been? After CWA went into limbo, I figured you two would find a way to land on your feet.

    Jim Taylor: We’ve been worse. The first month was the hardest, I figured I’d just relocate to another promotion, do another few years of commentary gigs, then start winding down. Turns out I couldn’t do that with the lawsuit going on, so I had to find something else to make a living with.

    Tim Coleman: And that’s where I came in. I was doing great, fantastic even, but I was starting to get tired of not hearing my voice. So I got the idea – a podcast! Those are all the range nowadays, just got to find a theme, a topic, a partner, a sponsor or two, and we’d be set. And who better that my own partner in commentary, Jim Taylor?

    Jim Taylor: See, I told you we were good friends.

    Tim Coleman: No, just that you and I have a chemistry when it comes to this. I don’t like you, Jim.

    Jim Taylor: I have a Christmas card that says otherwise.

    Tim Coleman: But enough about us! Krash, what’s going on? CWA is sent into the shadow realm, and you up and vanish. Radio silence for more than a year.

    Jim Taylor: We were starting to think you died.

    Tim Coleman: Or worse, got hitched to a broad and retired.

    A derisive laugh fills the air.

    Krash: I don’t think either of those things are happening anytime soon, but I appreciate your concern.

    Jim Taylor: But what did happen, is you returning to wrestling earlier this year, making your long-awaited debut in FWA! Which we covered in episode #40 of the Cliquecast, available on iTunes, Spotify, and many other podcasting platforms. We discussed what your FWA future may hold, what rivalries and matches we’re looking forward to the most, and what FWA means for your career.

    Krash: How lovely. What was the consensus?

    Jim Taylor: To keep it brief, I’m optimistic and about your future, but admittedly worried that you might not be in the right frame of mind or without ring rust to be as successful in FWA as you want to be.

    Krash: I suppose between CWA entering the void, so to say, and at least a year without being an active competitor, would be some cause for concern. But I like to think I’m doing quite well despite those setbacks.

    Tim Coleman: Not well enough, clearly.

    Krash: Ever the positive one aren’t you, Tim.

    Tim Coleman: In sharp contrast to my colleague, I feel as though your heart isn’t quite into it as much as it should be. Which is ironic coming from someone who refers to himself as ‘The Heartbeat’, don’t you think?

    Krash: You sound like my therapist.

    Tim Coleman: I mean, let’s be honest, the Krash I watched dominate CWA years back isn’t the Krash that’s sitting before myself and Jim. What happened to the Krash that held the CWA World Heavyweight Championship for 214 days? The Krash that carried the tag division single-handedly? If THAT Krash was here, he’d already be FWA World Champion, and wouldn’t have to resort to teaming with a retired commentator – and losing, no less – just for a shot.

    Jim Taylor: Play nice, Tim.

    Tim Coleman: This is me playing nice.

    Jim Taylor: Play nicer.

    Krash: That commentator has a name, Tim.

    Tim Coleman: Kevin Golden, whatever.

    Krash: Devin.

    Jim Taylor: Despite himself, Tim does have something of a point, Krash.

    Krash: Come now, Jim. You of all people should know that giving Tim some credit means you’ll never hear the end of it.

    Jim Taylor: I mean, he’s not 100% right, mind you. I think, much like his usual hot takes, Tim brushes against a good point on his way to a bad one. There’s something different about you, Krash. I can’t put my finger on it, but your... vibe, just feels so different than what it used to be. And I think this is perfectly demonstrated by the closing moments of last week’s Fight Night. Daniel, play the tape, please.


    Krash is unable to prevent the pinfall from happening, and he's left kneeling with his head down and hands on his thighs, knowing he was oh-so-close to getting a World Championship match at Desert Storm. Golden remains down on the canvas for a few seconds after the bell rings. Then he stirs and sits up. All he can do is lock eyes with Krash, who looks at him and simply shakes his head. Cyrus Truth enters the ring and immediately senses tension. Krash sighs deeply and Golden retaliates the disappointing glare by shrugging. He then says, 'Hey, I was here. You had no one else.' Krash simply pounds his balled-up fist into the canvas twice and then shakes his head once more before turning away from the scene.

    Rod Sterling: Devin Golden must feel lonely right now.

    Krash exits the ring but then turns back and faces it. With his partner looking on from inside, Krash says, 'You're not a hero just because you wrestled with us.' Golden doesn't know what to say, and the scene ends with Krash walking away while Golden watches from inside the ring. Cyrus Truth looks around and sees Gabrielle staring into his eyes, while Sullivan watches from the rampway.


    Krash: You didn’t need to replay the footage, guys. I was there.

    Jim Taylor: Still, though. In all my years of knowing you, you’ve never said something like that to anyone. You were always so... so kind, so respectful, especially to those like Devin Golden, who are considered to be legends of the business. What happened?

    A brief pause ensures.

    Krash: ... Is that a legitimate question?

    Tim Coleman: Something must have happened in the year between CWA vanishing and you joining FWA that caused such a subtle but noticeable change.

    Krash: Am I not allowed to be frustrated?

    Tim Coleman: Of course you are, but Kevin-

    Krash: Devin.

    Jim Taylor: Devin came to your aid when no-one else did. You and Cyrus were outnumbered, and he answered the call, when he didn’t have to. Yeah, you lost, but you’ve lost at higher stakes and didn’t lash out like that.

    A sigh is heard.

    Krash: Alright. Allow me to make something crystal clear, okay? I need you to understand that I regard Devin Golden with nothing but the highest amount of respect and admiration for his many accomplishments. The man’s a three-time FWA World Champion, a triple crown winner. Hell, the guy’s kept NGW in as best shape as it can be. Anyone who looks out for the wellbeing of our future stars is a keeper in my book. Real recognizes real, to borrow a phrase. But, I never asked him to come to my save. I never asked him to be on my team. Rod Sterling may have put the pressure on Mr. Golden to do the right thing, but all I did was give him a choice. A choice that he chose, of his own accord. If Mr. Golden had chosen not to even the playing field for myself and Cyrus, yes, that would’ve been a setback, but it’s nothing myself or Cyrus haven’t worked through before. But the fact of the matter is, Mr. Golden chose to return to the ring. Mr. Golden was the cause of my team losing that match. Mr. Golden is responsible for me not fighting Cyrus for the FWA World Championship at Desert Storm. Now, I’ll acquiesce, the fault is not entirely on him. He took the pinfall, but I should’ve been quicker to break it. I’ll accept that. But I need you to understand, that despite the admiration I have towards Mr. Golden, he is the reason why I’m not battling Cyrus. And for that, I-

    Jim Taylor: ‘You’re not a hero just because you wrestled with us.’

    Krash: ... I’m sorry?

    Tim Coleman: That’s what you said, wasn’t it? ‘Not a hero just because you wrestled with us.’

    Krash: ... We all say strange things when we’re frustrated, don’t we? Can you really blame me for choosing not to view Mr. Golden as my hero when he is the reason why I’m not fighting Cyrus at Desert Storm?

    Jim Taylor: Usually a simple insult will do. But those words are unusual. What’s your take, Tim?

    Tim Coleman: The layman will take those words at face value and assume Krash here is calling Kevin Golden-

    Krash: Devin.

    Tim Coleman: -out on a self-imposed ‘Hero Complex’, that he’s using the opportunity to come to the aid of the outnumbered to ultimately make himself look like a do-gooding hero. Beneath the surface he doesn’t give two shits about the situation, and only sees it as a chance to be the hero.

    Krash: I don’t think it’s quite like that, Tim.

    Tim Coleman: No, I didn’t think you would. Which is why I’m leaning more towards the analyst side.

    Krash: Which is?

    Tim Coleman: You were talking to yourself.

    Krash: ... I don’t follow.

    Tim Coleman: Picture this: You’re Krash. The worldwide star of wrestling. A multiple-time champion. You’ve won and done everything in every company you’ve worked for. You’re a hero across all nations. Except to FWA. To FWA you’re just a stranger. The company that rose up from CWA’s self-destruction, the ‘Hot New Thing,’ and to them, you’re just another name in the wind. And I think that burns you, to know that the promotion that replaced CWA doesn’t consider you to be anything more than a ghost of the past. So, eventually, you show up in FWA. Make a few waves, create a few enemies, nothing new. Use the excuse of ‘Cyrus’ to cover for you being here, when realistically, you just want to be the hero again. The inspiration to all. But just being there isn’t enough. That’s the bare minimum and hardly enough to be considered a success. Lots of people are in FWA, but few could be considered the hero. You need to find your way to the top of FWA, win the gold just like you did in CWA, OWW, APW, and then, only then, you can be the hero battling for CWA, the hero of a company again, like you always want to be.

    Krash: You really have been talking to my therapist, haven’t you?

    Tim Coleman: But that’s the thing, isn’t it? You want to be the hero, oh so much, don’t you? But since CWA died, you’ve changed in ways that only people like myself and Jim, people who knew you, could pick up on. And I think you’re getting frustrated, getting worried, because you’re starting to realize you’re missing something inside you. A part of you that died when CWA did. All that’s left is a hollow imitation, vainly throwing the fault at others like Devin Golden, when inside, inside you’re starting to worry that you can’t be the hero you want to be anymore.

    Jim Taylor: So you’re theorizing that, last Fight Night, Krash didn’t mean ‘Devin Golden isn’t a hero just because he came to the aid of Cyrus and you.’ He meant ‘Krash isn’t a hero just because he signed up with FWA’ in some sort of frustrated slip.

    Tim Coleman: But then again, I’m just a pumped up ex-commentator on a podcast, not a psychoanalyst. Maybe I’m looking too far into it and you’re just pissed that a retired wrestler is the reason you’re not challenging Cyrus Truth for what should already be yours at this point. Who knows. What do you think, Krash, buddy?

    Krash: ... I don’t think I missed you as much as I said I did earlier.

    Tim Coleman: Yeah, I have that effect on people. Jim, do we have an ad read to do?

    Jim Taylor: Thanks for the segue. We’ll re-join our interview/catch-up session with Krash in just a few minutes, but first, let me tell you all about MeUndies!


    Our scene opens within the red sandy desert, somewhere west of Melbourne, Australia. Sitting in the sand, a finger idly tracing circles in the dust, is none other than Krash himself. The man who, if the balance of the universe had been slightly different, could’ve been challenging Cyrus Truth for the FWA World Championship at Desert Storm. But that’s not what the cards of the universe dictate. He wore a pair of white trousers, along with a lavender shirt beneath a grey waistcoat and a black tie, hardly sensible uniform for sitting and playing in the sand, but a uniform he rarely, if ever, derived from. His hair slicked back, his moustache well-kept and neat, he was the perfect picture of class. In his free hand, he held a phone, setting it beside his lap as he tapped a finger on it.

    “Mr. Golden.” Krash began, staring off somewhere in the distance. The words hung in the air, and Krash tapped another finger on the phone.

    ‘I need you to understand that I regard Devin Golden with nothing but the highest amount of respect and admiration.’ The phone played, echoing Krash’s statement on the Cliquecast a few nights ago.

    Krash’s fingers worked, rewinding the soundbyte.

    ‘I need you to understand that I regard Devin Golden with nothing but the highest amount of respect and admiration.’

    ‘Understand that I regard Devin Golden with nothing but the highest amount of respect and admiration.’

    ‘-Devin Golden-’

    ‘-respect and admiration-‘


    ‘I need you to-’

    ‘-Highest amount of respect and admiration-’

    ‘-Devin Golden-‘

    ‘-Devin Golden-‘

    ‘-Devin Golden-‘

    “Mr Golden.” Krash finally repeated, jabbing another finger onto the phone and ending the soundbyte loop. “I have said and heard a lot of things over the past few days, so if you were to be so kind, I’d like for you to focus on that sentence in particular. It may not look, nor sound like it, but I genuinely mean my words.”

    Reaching a hand up to his face, Krash gently removed the sunglasses, revealing a pair of sunken, tired eyes, heavy purple bags beneath them. “If nothing else, I want you to hold on to those words, and know how... disappointed I am. In you, in me, in all of us, I suppose. If it is of any consolation, I would be equally disappointed in Cyrus if he were the one who took the pinfall to kick me out of the Desert Storm main event.”

    He falls quiet. Krash lets the sunglasses slip from his hand into the sand as he gazes into the void. His tired eyes close, and for the briefest of a second a hint of a smile is at his lips, before he reopens his eyes and the smile vanishes. “I’m aware of the position you’re in, Mr. Golden, coming back to in-ring competition after a long absence. You feel so much... pressure on your shoulders, to prove to everyone that you made the right choice in risking your legacy for another round in the squared circle. Trust me, I know the feeling. It’s an unpleasant one. It’s one that motivates you to perform better, fight harder, but one that weighs heavily upon you like no other.”

    Another pause. Krash glances down at the sand, scooping a small amount into his palm, stirring it between his fingers. “You have my deepest sympathies that I cannot help you erase that feeling with a victory at Desert Storm. I can only hope you can forgive me for tarnishing your one-on-one return with a loss.”

    He shifts the phone around in the sand, pushing it forward. “In the meantime, take the words I’ve said. I mean them from my heart, as barren as it is. Find solace in them, hold on to them as you would a firstborn, and know that ultimately, while I’m frustrated and disappointed by recent events, my opinion on you is still the same as it was when I joined FWA.”

    Krash taps a finger on the phone, before he gets up, stretching with several audible cracks. “Best of luck, Mr. Golden. You’ll recover from this loss, I know you will. Take care.” With that, Krash slowly begins to walk away, his shape vanishing into the evening sunset, as the phone replays it’s soundbyte into the empty desert.

    ‘I need you to understand that I regard Devin Golden with nothing but the highest amount of respect and admiration.’

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

  11. #11
    Mid-Card Champion
    Eyesnsane's Avatar

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    Nov 2013
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    Re: FWA Desert Storm Promo Thread

    Atlanta, Ga.
    Life Time Athletic

    Ted and Killemall are walking side by side through the gym. Ted is wearing a white tank top and black basketball short, while Killemall is dressed in his trademark all black attire. The camera is following them through the gym as they walk….

    Ted: Don’t you get hot as hell in that outfit working out man?

    Killemall let’s out a loud slow sigh.

    Killemall: No, I don’t. I’m always cool.

    Ted: Uh, yeah about that.

    Killemall: Look you asked the question…

    Ted: Chill bro, I’m just messing with you. Hey but I do have a question.

    Killemall: Surprise, surprise…

    Ted: Look, I know Alana is a former Women’s champion but well I’m wondering did you or Eyes train her?

    Killemall stops walking and laughs out loud, as Ted stops a couple of steps after and turns to look at Killemall, shocked that the ninja is laughing.

    Killemall: Well, at least you finally asked a question I don’t mind answering. Alana is the eldest daughter of an accomplished boxer, who only had two girls. So, she is a skilled striker. Once she was about twelve she was trained in kickboxing. She has also spent several years training under master Lilly learning Wushu. I say all that to say she can handle herself but anything wrestling she got from Eyesnsane.

    Killemall resumes walking and walks past Ted who turns after a second or two to follow him.

    Ted: Damn she don’t talk about none of that.

    Killemall: Not really her style, she is not one to brag, she constantly seeks to prove herself.

    Just as they turn another corner a ring comes into view and we see two people in a boxing ring. They each have on protective head gear along with boxing gloves and their feet are padded from there knees down. Just then the one with the red gear lands a stunning right hook followed by an uppercut that drops the one in the blue gear!

    Ted: Damn!

    Killemall: Yeah, yeah… boxing.

    The two men stop as the one in red steps between the ropes and as they stand on the ring apron, an attendant takes off the boxing gloves and then we see Alana remove her headgear while another attendant is tending to the knocked-out man in the ring. Alana steps down off the ring apron and walks over to her Over the Edge mates, wearing a red tee shirt and red shorts.

    Alana: I hope you two can keep up at Desert Storm

    Killemall: I know you’re talking to him.

    Ted: Same team, same dream guys, jeez.

    Killemall folds his arms in front of himself.

    Ted: Um so Alana about that hook. I mean I knew you wrestled but I did not know you had those hands.

    Alana: Well, you know a woman must be able to take care of herself. I’ve never been one to play the damsel in distress role. I’m not some through the looking glass type of girl to wander around lost trying to find my way while depending on the kindness of ninja’s and madmen.

    Killemall: Kindness is for the weak.

    Ted: I’m looking forward to this match. It’s going to be a free for all but it’s a great chance to really show what we can do.

    Killemall: Ha. They already know what we can do. I’ll tell you what, you can learn a lot from us. Just try not to get yourself beaten and stay out of our way. Alana and I will ensure we win the match.

    Ted: Hey man, look. I don’t mean no disrespect but I’m tired of you always talking at me like that. Let’s get something straight from this point going forward.

    Alana places her hands on her hips as Ted continues while she pays attention to the conversation with a smirk starting to appear on her face.

    Ted: I get it, I’m not your friend and I don’t know you. Thing is you don’t know me either. While you were off in the world doing things that ninja’s do. I was in the FWA rolling with Eyesnsane and watching his back. Now you and I have something in common. As far as the FWA goes we are both former tag team champions, so you ain’t no better than me when it comes to the ring. Man look if that’s not enough proof I belong rolling with you guys I don’t know what is.
    Alana: He has a point Killer. You have been quick tounged in his direction. I just figured it was cause you like him. Ya know, you finally warming up to him.

    Killemall turns his head towards Ted and then after a moment toward Alana.

    Killemall: To be clear, I care about being taken seriously. I care to win fights and shut the mouths of all the idiots who would write us off as jokes. With both of you, with one of you or alone that goal does not change. I am a highly skilled and trained fighter and capable of beating any fighter that comes my way. I see no reason to not walk into Desert Storm and leave all three of our opponents broken and rethinking their choice in career. There’s no reason why we should not be able to simply take the tag team titles at will. When I first arrived, they said APAB was the best. We beat them, we not only beat them but every team standing just to get to them. I don’t care who the best is supposed to be currently, the fact that we are here now means that we should be. That what drives me in this company, even besides martial arts. I’ve found my own success time and time again in wrestling. I have become a proven commodity and I fully intend to continue to build on that legacy. I do not join wrestling companies waste my time and job to those without half as much talent.

    Ted nods his head and places his hands in the pockets of his shorts.

    Ted: I want to show my skills in the ring each and every time we go out. I want to carry my own weight. I don’t want to be the guy who is being brought along. Back when Eyes and I won those titles it seemed like that was all I heard. Not how he and I won but how he carried me to the tag titles. I mean sure he did that whole tag title thing alone but that’s neither here nor there. There are fans that clap and cheer for me every time I hit that stage and go down to the ring. I want to prove to them that their faith and their belief in me is warranted. I want to prove that I can hang with the best wrestlers in the world and yes. Just like you I have a chip that I carry on my shoulder. I get it I really do maybe even more than you realize. I owe all of you now I’ve said it before and I will again. I ride with all of you and I got yall backs till the end. So I say we go out there and we show the world why Over the Edge is the greatest, most world renown stable the FWA has ever seen and will ever see. I say we separate our selves from all the Johnny come lately groups that have sprung up.

    Smiling, Alana moves closer to the two men standing in between them while placing an arm around each of their necks.

    Alana: This was good. Last week was good. Desert Storm needs to be better. Now did I envision being back in the ring, no. Especially since there’s no longer a women’s division. I gave crossing over into other divisions the old college try and well it could have been better. Although leave it to me to raise a few eyebrows with some wins. Be that as it may, that was then, and this is the here and now. I did not seek this out, but we are going to make the most of this moment. We need to leave our mark on the show. We need to send a message to this roster that does not know us while at the same time we remind our old friends from various eras that we are not only back but that we are stronger. That we are more seasoned and that we are better than we have ever been. I am with you all now, this is not just going to be a fight I am involved in. This is my returning match back to full time action. Our team is built, and we are not going to ask for anything. We are going to be the takers in this company. I don’t care who is placed in our way or what obstacle winds up ahead of us.

    She lets them both go and steps away while turning to face them.

    Alana: Same team, same dream! We just need to go out there and make it happen. They want one of us solo, it does not matter. They want two of us as a team then that’s what we send out. They want to lead three lambs to slaughter against us well then, we band up. We look out for each other; we have each other’s backs and we go get in that ring and we kick ass. The has come gentlemen, it’s time to get the hell up off the mat. We will not be known as the stable that just talks the talk. We are going to be the stable that walks that aisle. We are going to show the FWA and the whole world that we are the best of the best. Did we get knocked down? Maybe but does that mean we stay down, hell no. Hell, no we don’t stay down! At Desert Storm, we seize the day and we seize the moment. Yes, this is a new day and a new era in the FWA. Just like we are a new and much improved Over the Edge. Oh, and when they see us, we will be proving that not only are our opponents not ready, but the whole of the FWA is not ready. It’s time to declare war gentlemen. If they are not with us, then they are against us and the time is at hand to show the world. Now, let’s get out of here. We have to get ready and talk strategy. We are leaving Desert Storm with our hands raised and another victory under our belts.

    The scene fades to black as they walk away……

  12. #12
    Striving for a B+ in life
    The Golden One's Avatar

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    Nov 2013
    Orlando, Florida
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    Re: FWA Desert Storm Promo Thread

    A whistle blows and the muffled voices from a far distance mix in with claps and cheers. A slight breeze wishes past you as you watch from a corner of the large grassy area. Colorful-shirted kids jog to a halt in various positions around a rectangle-bordered field. The white lines forming the box are just half of it. A white line runs through the center, and then a smaller rectangle on each of the short sides of the rectangle. Two white soccer goals are on either side with beautiful white nets and clean white posts.

    "It should be Devin."

    The 13-year-old boys surround the scene of the crime: A player wearing a purple shirt with white short was tripped
    by a kid wearing a red shirt and white shorts. The parents echo the first person's thoughts.

    "Devin is the best at penalty kicks."

    "Yes, he'll do it."

    The players have formed sort of a line just outside of the smaller rectangle. The red team's goalkeeper stands just inside of the goal he's protecting. The referee picks up the soccer ball and walks to about 15 yards from the goal line. You look to your right and there's another team watching from the corner.

    "It's 2-1 and the team about to take the penalty kick is losing."

    The kid whom was fouled understandably raises his hand to take the penalty kick. The coach for the purple team shakes his head and shouts, "Devin!"

    An audible cheer emerges from the crowd. Devin is a scrawny kid who's no taller than 5 feet, 4 inches. He's wearing big, nerdy glasses and has messy black hair.

    He himself raised his hand right after the referee's whistle, but he did so in a subdued manner. He knew the coach would pick him. He's perfect on the season taking these kicks. He's made 15 in a row. He's the best bet on the team.

    Sorry, Not Sorry

    Or Maybe ...

    A beautiful evening sky hovers over a similar-looking grassy field. This one is also a soccer field, although the goals doesn't have nets to collect any theoretical shots from players. The aftermath of a setting sun lingers with a purple hue in the sky and an orange lining. The thin, scattered clouds form a perfect scene just above rows of trees on the south side of the field.

    One figure, a man in his mid to late 30s, stands in the middle of the field with no one joining him and no equipment. No soccer ball.

    The panned-out view shifts to a close-up look. The man standing in the middle of the field — directly in the center of it — is "The Golden One" Devin Golden. The last time we saw him was at Fight Night, in the middle of the ring, feeling sorry for himself. Everyone else wasn't feeling so sorry for him, though. They were all let down by him. And they were staring at him.

    "The Golden One" — or "The Rotten Gold", whichever you want to call him — remembers the eyeballs on him. He'll likely never forget it.

    "Do you think this was the first time I've ever felt that way? It's not. I've let people down before."

    Golden is wearing blue jeans and a plain blue t-shirt. His black hair is longer, coming down to the back of his neck and nearly his shirt collar. His hair begins to curl up in the back of the neck and over the ears. The bangs are dropped down past the eyebrows and nearly covering his eyes. The purple tips on the ends of his hair and the black eyeliner and bright black eyelashes finishes the appearance of "The Rotten Gold."

    "When I was 13 years old, I missed a penalty kick that ended my soccer team's season. Right after I missed it, I fell to my knees and cried. I felt horrible.

    When I was 16, I struck out to end my baseball team's season. When I was just a few years into the FWA, I had already lost multiple tag team matches.

    So do you still think I feel bad or guilty over what happened at Fight Night?"

    Golden looks down at the ground and kicks the uncut grass.

    "I was called on to help two people who were outnumbered. I didn't ask to come out of retirement. I didn't ask to be in a wrestling match for the first time since 2015. I didn't raise my hand to take a kick.

    I was told ... that I would be wrestling a match, at Fight Night, alongside Krash and Cyrus Truth. I was told I'd be wrestling a match against Chris Kennedy, Dave Sullivan, and Michael Garcia."

    Golden begins walking to one side of the soccer field, toward one of the goals.

    "I didn't really have much of a choice. I simply stood up for people who were being singled out and ridiculed and treated unfairly. I guess being the good samaritan has its drawbacks.

    But I didn't care. I went with it. I came out of retirement. I ended my happiness. I ... sided with people who were outnumbered. So OK."

    The sky's purple hue begins to fade a bit as Golden continues on. He smiles as he looks around the field.

    "Everyone knows what happened. Our team lost. I got pinned. Krash lost his World Championship shot. Dave Sullivan got the pin and now the implications and fallout means Cyrus Truth faces Gabrielle and Sullivan. I apparently 'let the team down' and now Krash is out in the cold from what his potential was. This whole hubbub started because Krash was handed a World Championship match by Cyrus. This all started when Kennedy and Sullivan got upset at that and interrupted the match. This all started when Krash's title shot was ruined, something I felt bad about and defended him over. That's where everything unraveled and why I was involved.

    Had it not been for me stepping up, the match would've been 3 on 2. Sure, I got pinned. Sure, we lost. But there was NO ONE else. So now I'm the bad guy?"

    Golden reaches the goal and leans against the post with a massive amount of ennui. The scene is rather dramatic for him, but he's feeling himself quite a bit.

    "I'm not sorry, Krash. I'm not sorry about getting pinned and losing a match. I've lost many matches before. Maybe even 100 of them. I'm not going to apologize for losing, for making a mistake. I'm not going to say sorry for that.

    I WILL say sorry for one thing, though.

    I'm sorry that you lost your shot at a World Championship match. I'm sorry that you have to watch Dave Sullivan wrestle in the main event instead of you doing it yourself. I'm sorry that this happened in this way. You had a title shot, and people got upset and ruined it. Then you never got the second shot you were owed, the one you deserved. I'm sorry it turned out this way. I can feel for you with that.

    But I'm not going to assume responsibility for it. It doesn't all go on my shoulders. I won't feel bad personally for it. So ... now we are going to wrestle 1 on 1. You're going to use it as an opportunity to release some frustration. You're going to focus on me and put the blame on me. That's your grieving process. I get it. It's fine. But you won't get a sorry from me.

    You won't get me saying sorry for losing the match. You'll just get a sorry for how it all ended up for you."

    Golden is looking right into the camera as he says this, like the cameraman is Krash himself. Golden's intensity is palpable as his eyes stay wide open and his facial expression remains stern. "The Golden One" then points his finger to the camera.

    "Krash, we are going to wrestle at Desert Storm. We've never wrestled before. I honestly never thought it would happen. I sat in the announcer's booth and watched your debut. I watched you beat Chris Kennedy. I watched you beat Eyesnsane. I watched it. I know you are a talented wrestler. I know your history outside of this company.

    But here we are, about to face and with some tension between us. This isn't some thrown-together match. You likely will vent your frustrations on me for what happened at Fight Night. You'll likely blame me for the team's loss, even though you're part of that team, too.

    I'm not going into this for anything except to win a match. I'm back in the FWA. I don't intend for this return to be some failed experiment like so many other retirement returns have been for others. I'm 'The Golden One.' I'm 'The Rotten Gold.' I'm a three-time World Heavyweight Champion, a five-time Tag Team Champion and once was the longest-reigning X Champion ever.

    I've gone toe to toe with Ryan Rondo, Stu St. Clair, Wolf, Phillip A. Jackson, Ashley 'O Ryan, Moira Crawford, and many others. The list is too long to remember.

    So this isn't some half-baked match for you. This is the real deal. I'm the real deal. I didn't intend in 2019 to return to wrestling. That wasn't a plan. But you know what? I did it. I'm here. I'm back. And I intend to re-rise up the rankings and add to my legacy, not hurt it.

    I'm here to win. I'm not here for nostalgia."

    The wind blows and "The Rotten Gold" changes his tune yet again.

    "For me, this match is about me, not you. But as someone who watched you these past couple months, I have advice for you, Krash.

    I know you're salty about what happened. I know you're probably looking at me, just like you did on Fight Night.

    That's fine. But remember this: What happens next is on you, Krash. You can earn another title shot. You can go make the future better for yourself. That's on you, not me. So whatever you blame me for, whatever you feel bad about for yourself over what happened, fine. I'll let it pass.

    But you won't get any sympathy afterward. Not from me.

    Pout for a little bit and vent. Then grow up."

    Golden walks off the field as the sky turns entirely black and last sight is a dark silhouette moving about on an unlit grassy field.

    "The Golden One" Devin Golden

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

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

  13. #13
    Chikara Trainee

    Join Date
    Jul 2015
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    Re: FWA Desert Storm Promo Thread

    Hughes: I hate it so much. Who even talks like that? It’s like they set up every single conversation just to somehow fit in a line about being undisputed when there is nobody disputing it. What gives with that?

    Sean is starting at his own reflection in the face of the FWA Tag Team Championships. He has a cloth in one hand wiping the face of the belt despite the action making no discernible difference to his reflection in it.

    Prototype: You HAVE heard Prodigy speak before haven’t you? The whole new breed of professional wrestler thing that he does. It’s sort of the same thing?

    Hughes: What are you talking about?

    Sean still hasn’t stopped focusing in on that tag team championship. If you could find someone that looks at you the way that Sean looks at that tag team belt, you would be a very lucky person. He has now progressed from just wiping the face of the belt to blowing on it and wiping the face to try and shine it somehow.

    Prototype: What in the hell are you doing, Sean?

    Sean stops himself. Probably losing himself for a moment, this is the type of thing that he usually keeps behind closed doors. Partly because obviously it’s embarrassing and partly because he knows that not only would Prototype (or Mike for that matter) not approve but that would use it as a crutch to beat him with. In a scene that could come straight out of a sketch, he has sort of frozen with cloth in hand in the hope that if he just stops moving, maybe Prototype won’t see him or will forget. Unfortunately for Sean, that crutch is about to be snapped across his back.

    Prototype: Maybe if you weren’t so concerned looking at yourself in that belt, we wouldn’t have lost last week to those jokers?

    Sean turns and faces up Prototype, and thinks very carefully before making his next comment. You can tell there are a number of thoughts about to pass his lips, but for once, maybe he lets his head rule his heart and he keeps those musings to himself for the time being. Prototype obviously senses that his point has been made and the matter dealt with, so he moves the conversation on before Sean’s heart has a chance to overrule the correct decision of his head.

    Prototype: We can’t change that now, can we? What we can do is win this joke of a tournament to..keep our belts? I still haven’t really gotten my head around it. If the tournament is for our belts, does that mean that we had to win them back or retain them? Either way, I don’t plan on having those two idiots march around and further tarnish these championship belts. They’ve suffered enough…I still cannot believe they let Eyesnsane claim that he was a tag team champion for so long, I think people are just about forgetting about that…..

    Hughes: And that’s undisputed!!

    If looks could kill. Prototype stares a hole straight through Sean, who clearly thinks he can moonlight as a comedian. He can’t hold in a chuckle at his own joke, despite the fact it was by anyone’s standards absolutely pathetic. In what is probably a couple of minutes too late, Prototype swings a giant slap and connects with Sean on the side of the face, sending him staggering back a pace or two, a combination of the force of the hit itself as well as the surprise element of it.

    Prototype: If you don’t start taking this seriously, we are going to have some serious explaining to……

    Even though he didn’t say his name, the cell phone on the desk starts to as Sick by Adelitas Way fills the room.

    Hughes: How long have you had his ringtone as his theme song?!?

    The interjection has clearly diffused any potential tension following the slap, as Prototype reaches over and answers, putting the call on speaker.

    Hughes: Hey Mike, how was your trip away?

    There is no answer. Mike is clearly there on the other end of the line, but he is surprisingly mute for somebody who just placed an outgoing phone call.

    Mike: I know we haven’t spoke in a few days so I’ll just get it out of the way. YOU LOST TO THEM?

    Ouch. The New Breed have had a lot on their collective plates lately so probably haven’t touched base as frequently. Clearly Mike had his own problems from last Fight Night but he isn’t going to be pleased, this group is a reflection of him and that, coupled with his own loss to Jason Randall, really didn’t make it a solid showing at Fight Night last week.

    Mike: Nobody going to say anything? Sean, can you hear me or are you too busy looking at your own reflection in that championship again?

    If looks could kill, again. Prototype shoots Sean a look somewhere between ‘I’m going to beat the shit out of you’ to ‘I told you so.’ At this point, Sean takes the right decision and puts down the championship belt. If it’s out of sight, there is no surface to be caught looking at your own reflection in.

    Hughes: I know, but we’ve still got the belts and all we need to do is beat the Undisputed Alliance and people won’t give it a second thought. Everyone has an offday, I mean you didn’t exactly come up smelling of roses against Randall did you?

    Sean’s problem with heart over head once again. The minute that sentence left his mouth, you can tell he knew his mistake. Prototype has his head in one of his hands whereas the phone call has gone eerily silent once more. Prototype lifts his head out of his hands and connects again with a slap, this one not knocking Sean back as far as he thoroughly expected it this time.

    Mike: Anyway guys, just checking that you were all good for this PPV. I’ll be in town in a couple of hours and we can run through a few things. Just making sure that your head is in the game because we can’t really afford to lose to belts or else people are going to start to talk. Will see you both when I get there. Oh….and both of you…..that is undisputed.

    Mike chuckles to himself as he hangs up the phone, as Sean looks over to Prototype with a dopey grin spread across his face, this time his turn to say ‘I told you so.’

    Prototype: DO NOT even say it. Instead of making jokes about it, how about we sit down and talk about what we are going to do because there are a few things that can be disputed here. That if we don’t win, that loss last week becomes less of an anomaly and more a problem. I don’t want to lose these belts and see them bastardized again. We turn up to Desert Storm and we beat them senseless and nobody remembers about last Fight Night. Then we march through anyone else that thinks that this tag division is still the joke that It was years ago. Do you have any problems with that?

    Sean nods in the negative and follows up with his next comments being a significant change in tone.

    Hughes: They’ve been here, like, two minutes? I can barely remember them having a match before they were chucked in the tournament for our tag team championships. So yes….I think it’s about time that we showed them that this is our division now. And I plan on beating them so bad that Chesire Cat Clan, Over the Edge or anyone else thinking of taking a pot shot at us thinks twice when they see that these two will never be the same again. I’m too quick for them, and you’re too strong. The only real question is to we tear them apart and send them running back to whatever hole they emerged from or do we a leave a tiny part of them alive so the rest of the tag division can see what happens when you pick a fight with the New Breed. Because me and you focused…nobody can handle the new breed of professional wrestler.

    There is an awkward silence as Sean is fully aware of what he has just done, and is waiting for Prototype to smash the Undisputed line out of the ballpark.

    Prototype: Not a hope in hell.

    Scene fade.
    Last edited by TheProdigy; 10-22-2019 at 12:06 AM. Reason: formatting

  14. #14
    Chikara Trainee

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    Re: FWA Desert Storm Promo Thread

    Days before he sets off to travel to the site of Desert Storm, Mike is sitting on his own and in a move that is very much out of character, he is reflecting. On what you ask? I’m not even sure if he knows what he has to reflect about. It hasn’t been the greatest couple of weeks. He still thinks he had a victory stolen from him in the Dave Sullivan match and then last week against Randall…..well, let us just say that the less said about that particular contest the better it is for everyone involved. Not really Mike’s style to keep quiet though, so we will see how long that lasts.

    He ruffles his hands through his hair as his gaze remains locked out of the window into the distance, and as we catch sight of the same view you can see what it has him transfixed. It would be doing it a disservice if you were to describe it as something befitting of one of those generic Christmas cards – the sort that you don’t want anything tacky or any text anywhere so instead you just get a snapshot of nature – but that’s pretty much what it is. It is why Mike chose one of these places as one of his retreats. He likes the expensive cars and he LOVES the fame and attention but there are moments when you just need to take a step back and you need decompress. This is his place for doing just that, and this is the time of year that is perfect – the leaves are turning various shades of yellow and red as the drop to the floor, the breeze is bitter enough to be refreshing but not so bitter to as to keep you locked inside – it isn’t a whiskey sour in one of the swanky downtown hotel bars or nightclubs but it has its own perks.

    On that note, he picks up one of the recently chopped logs of wood and throws it on the fire keeping him warm. As he swivels back to once again to return to his view, the door just across the room catches his eye. He shakes his head, almost in disbelief, that it didn’t catch his attention sooner. He makes his way over to said door, almost cautiously, as the wood floor creaks with every step closer, before pushing the door ajar and switching on the light. If you were that way inclined, the aforementioned scenery might have been your thing but now, if wrestling is your thing, this is quite the impressive view. The room is narrow, and despite the light being switched on is still dimly lit, and there are shelves upon shelves of memorabilia/keepsakes and replica championships which could probably do a fairly decent job of telling the story of Mike Parr.

    He reaches out and lifts a photograph that is nearest to him, someone with such attention to detail of course means that everything is going to be ordered chronologically here. He wipes some dust with his right hand from the face of the picture and it looks like Mike from, at best, his early teens. He is cutting one of those flexing poses that make you cringe for years later as your parents proudly show it off to anyone who walks through the doors. This was around the time that he started to display the natural ability that made it clear he could become one of the greatest wrestlers in the world.

    “This kid right here…whilst quite a lot has changed, at the same time, a lot of things have stayed the same. If you were to get a snapshot into his state of mind whilst this photo was taken, you’d be surprised. The stupid pose was there to compensate. Compensate because I was questioned and doubted. I was a kid growing up in Ireland, of course being a wrestler wasn’t a career for me. I wasn’t particularly big at the time, I had a growth spurt relatively late in my teens, and all people really wanted me to do was to stick with school and get an education. Go to college. And hell, even if I got the grades to go to college, there was wrestling there if I got into one of those American schools if I wished? They didn’t understand me. I didn’t want to be a wrestler because I thrived on competition…..I know that’s not the popular thing to say but it’s the truth. I couldn’t care less about competing. I could care less about the rewards of sporting excellence. I wanted to be the best. And to me, being the best wasn’t wearing those ridiculous singlets or stupid skull caps, trying to wrestle somebody into submission. Being the best, for me, was coupling those skills with the bells and whistles, the bright lights and the pyro. And competing for a school or university…I didn’t like team games then and I certainly don’t like them now. I didn’t want to represent the university of whatever. I wanted to represent me. I wanted to wrestle for me. I wanted all my successes to be attributed to me and I wanted to reap the rewards of what I was to achieve. So I cut that stupid pose. To make myself feel bigger. To project an image that I was confident when in fact I was, to be blunt, pissed off with life. Pissed off I had to still develop physically, pissed off that I was being mentally worn down by being told that I couldn’t do something that I KNEW I would be able to do.”

    “And I know what you might be thinking……why would I keep this here? Because it never does me any harm to remind myself once in a while of where that younger me started and where he is now. I can be my own worst enemy at times, I could take my eye off of the ball with Jason Randall because my focus is on beating the tar out of Dave Sullivan the next change I get. I could sit here and stew on the fact that, for some unknown reason, I’ve been chucked in the middle of Nova Diamond and Jason Randall’s beef and the only prize on the line is to defend my rightfully earned title shot?”

    Uh oh. Maybe the picture isn’t enough of a reminder because that certainly feels like Parr has some frustrations that he could certainly express given the right medium. Mike sits the photo back down in his rightful place as he runs his hand along the ledge holding other assorted keepsakes. There is the printed version of the first card that he wrestled on, his first main event card, the first pair of boots he wore when he debuted as The Prodigy. You get the idea. Then, of course, come the championship belts. This is the bit that probably hits Mike the hardest, that collection hasn’t become as vast as he would’ve hoped in the last number of years. You can see the North American Championship replica in the distance.

    “I detest social media. I think that fan interaction is highly over-rated and serves no long term benefit. What I want them to do is pay their money to see me. Whether they want to see me win or see me get my ass handed to me is irrelevant as long as they are putting money in my pocket. I don’t want them to @ me in a video that made them laugh or to listen to the illiterate attempts to insult me. I’m far too clever for that. But I do have people in my life that read that sort of stuff for me and give me the highlights. There are weeks that you couldn’t pay me to sit and listen to it, like this past week, I don’t need to be told how embarrassing it is to lose the likes of Jason Randall when you just spent weeks telling people you are better than Cyrus Truth and Dave Sullivan. I already know that myself. Thanks for the input though you bunch of jerks.”

    “I also don’t need my social team to tell me that for my entire FWA career to, at this point, be reflected in that one North American Championship…..that’s just not right. So while Randall caught me cold last week on Fight Night, he’s not going to get so lucky twice. Why? Because the powers that be have decided to try and screw me over just one more time for good measure. Just like they do the New Breed, it must’ve been something we said or something? I thought that putting them in a tag title tournament for their own pissing championship belt was bad, but now you are putting me in a match where I have to defend a championship shot that I earned? REALLY. What has Nova Diamond done to even deserve to share a ring with me? By your backward, nonsensical logic, should I not be getting a shot to insert myself in Cyrus’ match because I beat him? I wouldn’t think so. One rule for everyone else, one rule for me I guess. Or is it the fact that everyone is too busy pandering to the likes of Michael Garcia and Devin Golden these days to care about anything else? It’s bad enough I had to listen to Garcia for months on end but now I have to pretend that he is some sort of returning legend worthy of the main event slot that he has been shoehorned into?”

    “I’m bitter. I don’t need to tell you that because it’s quite clear by my words and that exasperated look that you’ll find spread across my face if you even take the time to check. But I’m not bitter because I lost to Jason Randall. I’m bitter because that kid in the picture over there spent years working towards something that he was told he would never achieve only to achieve more than anyone but him would’ve thought possible and YET, that kid is still unfulfilled. He would’ve bitten your hand off for a North American championship but when that kid grew up, do you know what? He knew that he was and is better than that? And instead of giving me what I deserve, a rematch for the championship that I never received, you go and throw obstacles in my way. You go and make it unnecessarily difficult. Dave Sullivan claims that one win a number of years ago is evidence that he is better than me? Well if he could beat me years ago and couldn’t get the job done weeks ago, maybe Dave should start thinking about how he either isn’t as good as he was back then or maybe I’m just better than I showed him all those years ago.”

    “I’m bitter because I have to sit here and watch opportunity after opportunity be handed out to anyone who basically just shows up to work. Garcia just sat at a commentary bench for MONTHS for God’s sake. Nova Diamond just gets a chance to make a bigger name for himself off of my back for just REASONS. The whole place is a joke, it’s corrupt and it stinks. And you know what? I came up here to clear my head but maybe….maybe this is just what I needed. I need to stop looking at me, looking at what I can do better or what I can change because its unfortunately become quite apparent that whatever the hell I do, I’m just going to screwed over. Look at where I am, an afterthought on this card, sneaking in near the bottom when I just went unbeaten against two of three people in your main event? Can you justify it, can you rationalize it?”

    Out of nowhere, the fire burning deep inside of Mike has been reignited, borne from a sense of injustice. He marches back towards that picture he had in his hand initially, staring at that young kid looking back at him.

    “He was told he couldn’t achieve it and now you are telling me that I can’t get to where I want to be. Well…he proved everyone wrong and guess what? I’m about to do it all over again. So whether it’s taking Dave’s North American championship and busting his undefeated streak or it’s smearing parts of Nova Diamond or Jason Randall all over the arena in Atlanta, you’re going to regret stoking that fire deep within me. If there is anything more dangerous that Mike Parr full of confidence and belief in himself, it’s The Prodigy ready to prove every son of a bitch who doubts him wrong.”

    With that, Parr throws the picture back on its ledge, kills the light and slams the door shut behind him, making his final preparations before setting off to Desert Storm.

  15. #15
    The Mayor of Slamtown
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    Aug 2014
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    Re: FWA Desert Storm Promo Thread


    Pure Darkness. Nothing. All you an hear is a few muffled creeking sounds in the background.

    And then a voice. A deep baritone voice, eminating from the center of the scene. Nothing overly dramatic. No wrestler promo voice. Just spoken like an average joe.

    “Tree Shadows.

    Those damn tree shadows."

    You remember the kind….from your childhood. And if you’ve never experienced them in real life before, surely you remember them from your favorite kids television shows or an extremely cheesy horror film. They appear on your bedroom walls, always on dark, stormy nights, when you feel at your most alone. Your most vulnerable. To a petrified 6 year old, who was at an extremely vulnerable time in his life, seeing those waving shadows on his bedroom wall as he was trying to sleep at night was terrifying. Still, all that a young Michael Garcia could do was roll over, tuck his head under his covers, and try to feel some sort of protection. It wasn’t just the tree shadows though, some nights it was the hallowing wind, a loud roll of thunder, or those strange night noises. You know, monsters under the bed. That sort of shit.

    There were other nights, in which Michael would hear a car door close late at night. With his heart pounding, the future Carnegie Carnivore quickly rolled out of his bed, climbed on top of a nearby toy chest that he had positioned next to his bedroom window specifically for times like these, or for whenever he decided to close the curtains on nights when it might storm. As Michael peered over the bedroom window, he instinctively glanced down to his own driveway. Nothing. Not a single car. His family only had one car, a 1990 Ford Country Squire, and his dad had taken it to a business convention, or so he had been told. But you can only believe that for so long. Nobody goes on a business convention for two months. Sadly, the noise Michael heard was from his neighbor, returning home after along night at work. One night…Michael thought…One night, he’d come home for me and everything would be alright. At first, Michael would head back to his bed in disappointment, “When was Daddy coming home?” he would wonder…but eventually, the disappointment turned to tears as Michael slowly began to realize that something was very, very wrong. Eventually, Michael stopped paying attention to those car doors.

    But those tree shadows.

    Those damn tree shadows.

    I mean, it’s heartbreaking to go through life knowing that your father was a low-life piece of shit that never gave a damn about you. A “man” that couldn’t pick up the phone to call his damn child and wish him a Happy Birthday. A man that wasn’t there to see his son’s first home run. To watch his first football game with him. To catch his first fish. Hell, Michael never did learn how to fish. How could he? No one was there to teach him these things. No one was there to teach him how to become a man. No one was there to teach him how to overcome those fears. No one was there to protect Michael. No one.

    But the worst thing of all for Michael, was that at the age of 6 years old, Michael grew up on the streets of Homewood, PA…and anyone who’s familiar with Pittsburgh, PA can attest to the fact that Homewood isn’t a place to raise a family. With Theresa working two jobs just to put food on the table, this now also became young Michael’s responsibility He had to do it on his own. Without anyone or anything to protect him and without anywhere to go when something frightened him. Michael had to learn to put any and all fears behind him or else there was no survival. Homewood would have eaten him alive. But the struggle wasn’t going to end there.

    In just a few years, Michael would have to learn to protect his younger brother and sister. Malik, was always a rebel rouser and a cause of concern for Theresa, but Malia was quite the opposite. Straight A Student up until the 8th grade where she got her first B. You’d have thought she lost her best friend. Malik, as we all know, is flirting with the possibility of gang membership, despite Garcia’s best attempts to keep him on the straight and narrow. As much as Michael would like to protect Malik,himself and everyone around him, there’s one fact that Michael Garcia cannot deny to himself. That, for as much as he wants to believe and to tell himself that nothing scares him, he knows that he’s scared shitless. Scared of the unknown. Scared of what he can’t control. Michael has never had anyone in his corner.

    "So now….hopefully, you understand…”

    “Why I am the way I am.”


    Michael reaches from his oak rocking chair and pulls on the chain of the lamp next to him.The light from the lamp reveals Michael to be in a child’s room. A sports pendant hanging in the corner of the room suggests that this might be Michael’s room when he was growing up, well, mainly because the pendant said Michael on it. Another giveaway was the toychest that Michael had described still placed in front of the window, which had now been boarded up. No more tree shadows. No more disappointments.

    The walls of the room were painted a very delicate sky blue. Sports memorabilia adorned the walls. Posters of Bobby Bonilla and Jerome Bettis were plastered on the walls, but in the middle of the room hung a giant banner commemorating the Pittsburgh Steelers 6th Super Bowl victory. But what was most notable on the walls were the pictures of his family. Several youth football and baseball pictures of Michael were placed on the nearby shelves, but hanging on the walls were pictures of what we could only assume to be Malik and Malia. Also hanging on the wall were pictures of Michael and Theresa at his Kindergarten graduation, celebrating his first little league soccer game, a picture of his birth and an old family portrait. But the pictures weren’t complete. In each picture, a figure was cut-out. His father? Except for one. An older picture of a Hispanic man that seemed tattered, as if it had been scrunched up and picked out of a garbage can b efore being framed and hung up on the wall.

    “There’s only so many times in a man’s life when he can look at the mountains of adversity in front of him and tackle those problems with a can-do attitude. Especially when you look at guys like Devin Golden, who have been handed everything in life, and still bitch and complain when life hands them a lemon. You poor bastard. There are
    people in Homewood that could wash their clothes with the tears that you shed over your precious loss last week. I was screwed out of my championship match last week, by a cheap shot from a midget. I came closer to beating Cyrus Truth than you ever could,just to have him pull him out a sneaky but clean victory Did I cry? Did I bitch? Nope. I came back better and owned my failures, used it to fuel my future. You? You chose to sat their and sulk. Kind of like my opponent at Desert Storm, James Hughes, ain’t it? Rather sit there and wallow in his own mediocrity, claim he’s not getting the opportunities, all the while refusing to acknowledge that the problem with James Hughes is James Hughes, You say you won’t stand up for the FWA because it doesn’t give you the opportunities? ”

    “Opportunity has never presented itself to Michael Garcia. Never! You know what has constantly come knocking on my door? Not opportunity, not a Daddy wanting to play with his son, NO….heartbreak, poverty, welfare, a big fucking kick in the balls….THAT is what waited at the doorstep of Michael Garcia. A big fucking box of disappointment. So forgive me, if I don’t just take what life gives me, and smile. Nope. I made changes in my life. I figured that if life was really just gonna push me in the ditch, and not give me a damn thing, then something was going to have to change.”

    “Ya know what’s changed, James? My outlook on life. That’s what changed. Ever since I returned to the ring, I’ve had a “No Mercy” mentality. I haven’t made any friends and I don’t intend to. Dave Sullivan? Just a working relationship. I don’t care who I hurt and I don’t care about any repercussions. No one gave a FUCK about me…except for one person.When I was in the hospital at 7 years old, you know who came to visit me…my Mom. You know what day that was and why that’s so special to me? It was my birthday. And she brought me a special present that day. I only had one prized possession in my life at that point. My Easton Stealth that I had won from a radio contest in ’94. For my birthday, my ‘Maw she brought me my Easton Stealth. She didn’t have no money, couldn’t afford no gift, I’m not even sure how she afforded the hospital visit, so when she walked into that room with my hockey stick, all covered in wrapping paper and a great big bow on it….It nearly brought me to tears. And as I unwrapped it, I noticed that….this woman had it signed by Jaromir Jagr. Nothing has ever meant more to me in my life than my family and this stick. And nothing ever will. But my mom…she was the only one who came to see me on my birthday. Not even a phone call. That rat bastard…Never there for me. Never gave me a damn thing. ”

    Garcia’s fist clenched around the lamp to his right as he began to stand. He glared at the broken family portrait as he continued on.

    “ I’ve spent my whole life on my own, fighting for my spot, fighting for what’s mine…so I’ll be damned if I’m ever gonna let anyone take it from me. That’s why it pisses me off when I see people like you stand by and do nothing when someone else cuts in line without earning it! That’s why it pisses me off that Cyrus Truth prances around with a belt around his waist, bragging about how he conquered the mountain that he had no right to be climbing! So your damn right I spit your name out of my mouth! And I’m not a damn bit sorry if it hit you in your feelings. I don’t give one single shit if you’re bothered with how I talk about you. Go cry in the fucking corner to your lackeys, have ‘em threaten me at the pub, go bitch about it to Katie Lynn again…if you’re that upset about it. Well, I hope you got a drawer full of tampons, babygirl, because I’m about to unload a whole lot more on ya, right here right now. First things first, you were on the originals, James. You’re one of us. The Old Guard. So when the hoodlums come in here, and sit at our table and eat our food, yeah, if you have a damn sense of pride in where you came from, you defend what’s yours. I get it, though. You don’t think of the FWA as yours because you’ve never been anything but a footnote in it’s history.. You just didn’t want to get involved in a fight you were clearly overmatched in.. But for an FWA veteran like yourself to stand there and allow a hostile takeover….to allow some cockroaches to come in here and get chances that you and I have both spent YEARS fighting for, well, that says quite a lot about you.”

    “But personal feelings aside, please understand Eyes, that Fight Night, is an opportunity for us both. It’s a chance for me to continue to show that my star is shining brighter than it ever has before and for you to continue to prove yourself to be the never-was that you’ve always been. I mean, come on,you have to know that the entire point of The Blackhearts was to make sure that I got where I belong. Who was it that held gold during that time period? Me. Who was it that beat Chris Kennedy during that run? Me. While you were off trying to prove that you were still relevant, Malik and I were accomplishing our goals. You’ve carved a nice little niche for yourself right now as talent enhancement, haven’t you? Riding off the coattails of those that are far superior to you, looking back on a time when the talent pool wasn’t quite as deep as it is now, and even talentless hacks like you could find a way to succeed. There’s a reason that guys like Mac Michaud and Drew Stevenson only stayed for a cup of coffee before running out that door. There’s a reason why guys like Clay Reitmeier and Shane MacLean aren’t here anymore. It’s because the FWA has changed and you either step up your game or get shoved out the doors. We may not be the most popular guys,well,anywhere, but Dave Sullivan, Chris Kennedy, Michael Garcia…hell, even Gabrielle, have elevated our games to where we can compete at an elite level. Take the hint, Eyes. I’m not the smartest guy in the world but if I were losing match after match after match….and a bunch of god damn baked out of their minds cat people were outperforming me on a weekly basis, well, I know that I’d understand that maybe it’s time to hang up the boots. But not you… James, you’re just all too happy to show up and collect a paycheck, make a name off of me yet again, and take what doesn’t belong to you. I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you take this opportunity from me, Eyes. This is my time. This is my shot at my redemption. And just like no one handed it to me, I’m going to make damn sure that no one steals it out from under my nose. Because it doesn’t matter if you’re Cyrus Truth, Dave Sullivan, or a life time midcarder, NO ONE is going to TAKE from me, ever again.

    With that, the Carnegie Carnivore arose from his chair and grabbed his Easton Stealth before walking over to where the pictures were hung on the wall. He took one long look at the picture of the Hispanic man before taking a deep breath, shaking his head, pursing his lips together tightly, and graspin the stealth with what looked like an unbreakable and delivering one swift strong swing right to the center of the portrait, completely shattering it and knocking it to the ground. Garcia lowered his head and stared at the broken shards of glass before taking a step back...and then completely losing it, taking shot after shot after shot at the frame, the glass, and the image of the man that none of us knew, not even Michael. He let out one final roar before tossing the stick to the side and walking out of view of the camera, pulling back at his grown out hair as he steps out of view.

  16. #16
    Sully's Avatar

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    Nov 2013
    Pittsburgh, PA
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      Country                    United States

    Re: FWA Desert Storm Promo Thread

    Detective King and the Case of the Stolen Championship

    Oklahoma City, Oklahoma

    October 17th, 2019
    11:28 PM

    The rain pours hard onto the cement ground outside of a hotel in Oklahoma City. It isn't a light rain, as the drops fall from the sky faster than tears from a toddler's face right before naptime. The sky is dark, with not a single star in sight. Even the moon, which is full tonight, is not able to be seen through the dark clouds.

    A year ago, this particular hotel had been thriving with success...

    Now the doors are all locked.

    Windows are all broken.

    The parking lot is empty.

    On July 4th, 2018...a man was arrested here. Since then, crime checked into the hotel and never left in the morning. Grand larceny, murder, and prostitution all made this hotel their home. But those crimes were not the crimes that sealed the deal for this now abandoned hotel. No, the crime that took place here was far worse.

    Now the only person outside of this hotel, is one eager detective in a three piece suit. The rain is bouncing off his all black Mercedes-Benz as he approaches the hotel, notebook in hand. His custom made license plate reads one four letter word...


    Detective King was known for his hard work in the field. He was the ace of every department he worked for. Now? He's in charge of a brand new division for the Department of Justice. The C.A.C...

    Crimes. Against. Championships.

    The only problem tonight? King appears to be in the wrong spot. His perp is nowhere to be seen, yet again.

    Detective King puts his car in park, and picks up a leather bound journal from the front seat. Knowing he has time, he decides to review his case notes. Maybe he missed something? Maybe there's a clue that will point him in just the right direction?

    Detective King opens up his journal, and starts from the beginning...




    IF FOUND PLEASE CALL 412-291-9176


    Pg 1

    November 8th 2018
    Pittsburgh PA

    The Justice system is anything but just...and it's definitely no system. I found that out today, as I start a new journal to help me along yet another case. Journaling all me case notes helped me vastly with the Cromwell case. Kevin Cromwell, a nobody from Nowhere, UK came into the FWA and swiped with his grimy paws the X Division Championship that I held so dear.

    With my usual detective work, I was able to gather enough evidence against the suspect to take him down. This one didn't stand a chance. It was a classic case for us in the Crimes Against Championships division. Jobber scrub wins a title that he didn't deserve to win, and disrespects it all along the way. My team and I, with the help of a signed warrant from a judge, were able to go in and rightfully terminate his rights to the title. It was taken in my department's custody for the safety and protection of all.

    But as all bad guys do, he refused to admit he did anything wrong. He appealed his case to the courts...and so last night I spent my entire night defending this beautiful X Championship once again from scum bags on the streets who don't deserve to look at it.

    All championships need a voice. They need an advocate to speak for their well being, for their right. Often times we get too caught up in the drama fighting with each other, that we forget about what the title truly deserves. I advocated for the X Championship, and I advocated for it well...I defeated Cromwell in court and his appeal was denied. The X Championship would stay with me.

    But little did I know, a much more heinous crime was about to take place. A much more serious crime. Me defending the rights of the X Championship was like preventing a small town bank from being robbed by a couple of Home Alone thugs. But the crime that took place that night? Well it was as if someone broke into the National Reserve, and stole all of the gold.

    Last night, while I was too preoccupied, Cyrus Truth, a non member of the FWA, stole the FWA World Championship right out of the hands of future Hall of Famer Chris Kennedy. A night that was supposed to be a happy night for me in my hometown...sending the criminal Kevin Cromwell packing off to prison...became a night I'll now officially remember as tragedy. A night where people where look back and think what they were doing on this solemn day. Like on 9/11, or the JFK Assassination, or the OJ Simpson white Bronco chase. This night will live in infamy. And until we get justice, I will not rest.

    Now typically, all's fair in World Championship matches. I had no reservations in my position as head of the Crimes Against Titles division to Chris Kennedy being champion at this time. Chris Kennedy was the poster boy of the FWA after all. But, Cyrus Truth was a different poster boy.

    Cyrus Truth was a poster boy for traitors.

    Cyrus Truth was a poster boy for deviants.

    Cyrus Truth was a poster boy for the CWA.

    But when it came to the FWA, Cyrus Truth had no place. Yet, once again, he has stolen the FWA World Championship from the hands of a true FWA superstar. That is Class A Felony in my crimes code, and as of this day I am making a vow.

    Cyrus Truth will be caught. The FWA World Championship will be commandeered.

    It will be advocated for.

    It will be saved.

    And I am going to be the detective to do it.

    Pg 2

    February 9th, 2019
    Tampa FL

    I was SO close. Over the last few months, I have put quite the case together against Cyrus Truth. The evidence of his misdeeds was there. I had the warrants I needed to take him down. Here in Tampa, I had him cornered. So it would be just me and him...alone. I would have the chance to put him in cuffs, and reclaim the FWA World Championship. Bring that pure and innocent title to safety. Just last month, I actually went toe to toe with Cyrus in Jacksonville, Florida.


    I had him on the ground. Defeated and helpless. For the first time, I had this guy beat. I proved I can beat him. But, there was one problem...he didn't have the FWA World Championship on him. He had it stashed away. Before I could track it down, he scurried off and away. And my lead was gone. But right there, right there was a huge confidence booster for me. As an investigator, I needed to know that he was catchable. And I proved it. Now I just had to catch him again, with the title next time.

    And I was right on track to do that when.

    But then...then my biggest rival got in my way. Yes, that's right. She is an independent investigator now. One of the best detectives in the business back in her prime days. If there was a case to be solved, she was the one solving it. Gabrielle Montgomery. You see Gabby and I, we have our history. Back as a rook, she even took me in under her wing. We solved a few cases together. I got to see with my own eyes her taking down crooks like MC Fromage and the infamous Ryan Hall.

    But as much respect as I have for Gabby and her work as a detective, her time has passed. She was a great detective in her day, but she's long since turned in her gun and her badge. She's been doing some private investigation work to keep her teeth wet, but Cyrus Truth? She has NO business being on this case.

    No business at all. Yet there she was, last night, getting in my way!

    I was right there on my way to getting a key clue to the Cyrus Truth Case, and Gabby snuck in there like the snake she is to swipe it right out from me.

    Now, do not get me wrong. My biggest goal here is justice, and if Cyrus Truth gets taken down then I will be happy with justice. But if Gabby isn't able to close the deal, then I won't forgive her for this one.

    Pg 3

    March 3rd, 2019
    Atlanta, Georgia

    With Gabby getting ahead of me in the Cyrus Truth case, I decided to step aside and trust that she has what it takes to take him down herself. She is so cocky and confident after all. She's always making snide remarks about MY ego, but yet there she was, thinking she could handle this case all by herself. Thinking she's still the queen that she once was years ago.

    Gabby got a reality check, and found out this perp isn't like the ones she went up against back in the day. Believe me, if I thought we were going up against some Shane McClean type of crook, I'd have taken him down long ago. But we're not. The criminals today are quicker, stronger, and smarter than they were back then. And Gabby's old school style of detective work just isn't going to cut it.

    I made a mistake back in February when I let Det. Gabrielle Montgomery get an edge on me. I have no issue admitting it. I slipped up, and she took advantage. And I am happy that it happened. Because my mistake I learned from. Having Gabrielle Montgomery edge me out that night taught me a lesson. What's in the past is in the past, and there's no changing that now. It is every investigator for themselves. Gabby only cares about getting another notch in her belt. Another winning case.

    Me? I care about justice.

    Which is another reason why I am happy with the way things turned out back in Tampa last month. Because of me stepping aside for Gabby, I was able to focus on other criminals running rabid.

    I admit, I've been pulling my hair out late at night chasing after Cyrus The Virus. So going up against another perp for a little bit was a nice refreshing confidence booster, and there was just as much on the line. This time, the North American Championship was being abused. Yet again, by another predator who had stolen the title from someone who deserved it much more.

    Now as Head of the Crimes Against Championships division, I had recaptured the X Championship from scumbags off the streets many times enough. But the North American Championship? Well that was a fish that was often considered above my paygrade. Some agents back at HQ didn't think I deserved to be going after a whale like Cyrus Truth if I couldn't even close a case for the North American Championship.

    Starr was the predator this time. And I was not going to let him get away for his crimes. Not only his crimes against that title, but his crimes against society. He needed to be put away, and put away for good.

    What some people don't realize about championships is...they have a very fragile prestige to them. The championship is only as strong as the person who holds it. Since I had recaptured the X Championships months before, I had made that championship look stronger and more respectable than ever before. While I was making a lower division title look strong, Starr was going around making the North American Championship look weak!

    Can you believe that? And yet despite all the hard work I had done to save the X Championship and bring all of it's prestige back, I had to fight tooth and nail to get a chance to take down Starr. Nobody trusted me. Unlike all of the scumbags who have captured these titles undeservedly, I've had to earn all the chances I've had.

    And so I refused to let Starr get away with his crimes. In just one night I had enough evidence to take him, AND his crony Kevin Cromwell down.

    Now on my resume as a detective, I've saved TWO different championships from predators.

    But, I still can't feel satisfied.

    I won't feel satisfied.

    Not until I know that all three championships are safe from harm's way. Safe in MY hands.

    Detective Gabby got ahead of me last month in the Cyrus Truth Case, and she fumbled the ball on the goal line. She let him get away, and now because of her that criminal walks free to continue to abuse that title. We can't keep letting this happen.

    Pg 4

    September July 27th, 2019
    OKC, Oklahoma


    NO. NO. NO.

    This is not how it's supposed to be.

    Cyrus Truth WILL not get away with this. Not this time. Not again.

    Something is wrong. Someone in my department is not to be trusted. I have been getting sent case after case to defend the two championships I have saved from crooks.

    Dominik Armistead, Jason Randall, Starr. All of them have been coming after the titles that I am tasked with protecting. All the while, the crimes being committed against the FWA World Championship are getting more heinous and more evil than ever before.

    Why are so many people OK with this?

    How am I ever going to take down Cyrus Truth, when week after week I'm tasked with busy work. Someone is trying to keep me away. Someone is intentionally trying to keep Cyrus Truth away from me. But they know I'm getting closer.

    Just last night, someone sent a giant after me. Viktor Maximus. I don't know if this was an attempt to try and slow me down or take me down, but neither was successful. I will not be taken down, I will not be slowed down. I am closing in on Cyrus Truth as every minute passes.

    To make things worse, Gabby seems to still be one step ahead of me. And how? Explain to me how Gabrielle Montgomery has yet again gotten closer to Cyrus Truth than me? She got an edge on me before, I will give her that. But she got outsmarted! She got outplayed! Cyrus Truth proved that Gabby is a washed up investigator who has no business fighting the big dogs. I went toe to toe with Cyrus earlier this year, and I took him down! Gabby went toe to toe with Cyrus, and she got embarrassed. Yet supposedly, with no expectation, she's closer to seeing Cyrus again than I am.

    But that is not the worse news from last night.

    The worst news, is that yet ANOTHER crime against the FWA World Championship has taken place, and yet another CRIMINAL has surfaced in the FWA.

    His name is Krash, and he is even slimier than Cyrus Truth.

    Cyrus brought him into his little crime organization, and tried to set it up so that KRASH would get to fight for that FWA World Championship. That's right...another CWA superstar, walking into the FWA and getting a shot at a title he doesn't deserve? Sound familiar? It's become a very outplayed song on the radio of this detective's career.

    I won't forget the year of 2016, when I was on my second and third run as X Champion, saving the title from criminal scumbags way back then. The momentum I had as a detective was just as strong as it is today. I had a chance to save the FWA World Championship way back then, and all I had to do was win at Carnal Contendership. But then...non FWA vagrant by the name of Cyrus Truth walked into the FWA instead.

    Did he have to win the X Championship four different times to get a shot at the FWA World Championship? NO.

    Did he have to win the North American Championship before getting a shot at the FWA World Championship? NO.

    Did he have to hold BOTH of those titles simultaneously for a total of six months and counting before getting a shot at the FWA World Championship? NO.

    Instead, he walked in and he was handed the shot like a little kid in a Halloween costume.

    I came into the FWA seven years ago, and I still have not gotten a shot at the FWA World Championship. Despite only having 7 career losses. Despite breaking records for the X Championship left and right. Despite being one of the biggest stars in the entire business. I did not walk into the FWA from being a CWA refugee and get handed an FWA World Championship shot. I did not come back from retirement and modelling for Playboy on Miami beaches to get an FWA World Championship shot.

    I have had to work, and grind, and work, and grind....all the way to where I am today. And still...STILL...I have no FWA World Championship title shot.

    But instead, Krash, another CWA refugee coming over the wall, walks in just like his buddy Cyrus, and gets a shot at the FWA World Championship right away.


    I will not let that happen.

    That is a crime against a championship if I ever saw one.

    Justice will be made.

    People will bow down.

    Pg 5

    September 28th, 2019
    Memphis, Tennessee

    Rejoice in the bliss.

    The fight is almost over.

    Things had gotten worse than ever. Cyrus Truth brought in his crony Krash to join in his syndicate. And worse of all, a man I trusted and admired, joined them both in an act to commit terror across the FWA. Terror to all championships I respect and love so much. These three vigilantes attempted to allow not only the FWA World Championship's prestige and legacy get even more tarnished, but to let the entire FWA's legacy get destroyed as well.

    Devin Golden was perfectly fine with allowing the FWA to become the CWA. The CWA is a brand that failed.

    The FWA came onto the Network many years ago, and it took things over. The viewers for CWA failed, and organization crumbled like an oreo that slipped from some fingers and fell in the glass of milk.

    Cyrus Truth was not able to keep the CWA alive, but he was a big enough star. The star power of the FWA like Chris Kennedy, and Ryan Rondo, and Michael Garcia, and Devin Golden were all too strong. Cyrus Truth, Krash, and whatever other CWA losers existed were just not entertaining enough to keep the fans.

    But instead of dying with the CWA, Cyrus Truth and Krash thought they'd come to the FWA. And despite many failed attempts, they BOTH were not able to become stars. Not yet.

    But as I write this, Cyrus Truth still walks a free man. Cyrus Truth still attempts to become the Poster boy of the FWA. And why? Why do we still allow this to happen? Why do we want to see the Poster Boy of the FAILED CWA become the poster boy of the FWA? His leadership is what failed his own brand.

    The longer he remains champion, the more risk we run at having him yet again run another brand to the ground with his stale personality.

    But just as his organization was at its strongest, was the exact moment that I was able to SINGLE HANDEDLY take it down myself. I say single handedly, because I had no help from Chris Kennedy, no help from Michael Garcia, and certainly no help from Detective Gabby. In typical fashion, I was able to take down and arrest Devin Golden for conspiracy to commit treason against the FWA. I chased Cyrus Truth's right hand man away, as Krash went running for the hills.

    And all that was left...was Cyrus Truth.

    I'm coming for you Cyrus. And I refuse to let Detective Gabby get in my way this time.

    Pg 7

    October 16th, 2019
    Atlanta, Georgia

    Here we are again. Atlanta. The same place Detective Gabby cornered Cyrus Truth back in March, and let him get away. This time, I'm right here with here.

    Cyrus Truth is cornered again, and unlike Gabby, I WON'T let him get away. But that woman is more of a hindrance than a help. She did nothing to stop that almost take over that occured last month in Memphis. Private Investigators, pfft...they only care about themselves. Gabby does not care about justice. She DOES NOT care about saving that championship. All she cares about is herself, and having a third championship reign.

    And so I came to the realization...Detective Gabby is just as much of a criminal as Cyrus Truth is. She does not deserve to win that championship. If she does, that title will not be saved.

    It can only be trusted in the hands of one man. Me.

    It is finally official. With my win last month, I am getting my match against Cyrus Truth for the FWA World Championship. For the first time, I have a chance to save the FWA World Championship. I have a chance to hold all THREE titles, and keep them safe from all those who abuse them. That includes Mike Parr, that includes Cyrus Truth, and that includes Gabrielle Montgomery. Whether it's the X Championship, the North American Championship, or the FWA World Championship...I will do whatever it takes to keep them safe.

    Cyrus Truth and Gabrielle Montgomery have had their chances at success. They have had their title reigns. It is time for them both to step aside, and allow someone who truly deserves that championship to have their reign. Someone who's fit for a reign...someone like...

    ...a King.


    Oklahoma City, Oklahoma

    October 17th, 2019
    11:42 PM

    Detective King looks over his notes, but he has found nothing. He has to be close...he knows he's close.

    The rain continues to pour down outside this abandoned Oklahoma City Hotel. This was the city where Cyrus Truth almost handed Krash a FWA World Championship match.

    Perhaps this is where he needs to be?

    Detective King takes a deep breath, and he gets out of the car. The pouring rain quickly begins to dampen his suit, as Detective King holds his flashlight and his gun with both hands.

    The Detective makes his way to the locked front doors of the abandoned hotel. Near one door, he sees a smashed window that he is able to crawl his way through.

    Inside the hotel are open suitcases and tossed over luggage carts. The furniture appears ruined and old. For a hotel only abandoned one year ago, it looks as if it's been gone for thirty years.

    The Detective looks around the lobby, and just as he's about to give up...he hears a noise coming from upstairs.

    Detective King tries the elevator, but it doesn't work. The power is off. Thunder can be heard from coming outside, as Detective King opts to take the stairs.

    He goes three stories up, as the sound of the noises gets closer.

    And just as Detective King opens the door for the third floor, he begins to get a sense of Deja Vu.

    That Deja Vu feeling gets stronger and stronger as Detective King walks down the hallway. He reaches the room where the banging is coming from. Is this his suspect? Has he finally caught him?

    Detective King: You can either come out or I will come in. This is Detective King, Head of the Crimes Against Championships Division. You are UNDER ARREST. Now please exit the door with your hands up!

    He opens the door, and just as he does...Detective King gets smacked with a hard right hook to the face.

    And everything goes black.


    Detective King's eyes begin to blur open. The thunder can still be heard from outside.

    As Detective King rubs his eyes, he is shocked to see a figure standing over him.

    But that figure is not the suspect he has been looking for all this time.


    This figure is the person the last person Detective King has wanted to see.

    And suddenly...the Deja Vu that hit Detective King as he walked through this hotel all came back to him. He was not drawn to Oklahoma City because of what happened here with Cyrus Truth and Krash.

    No...his ties to Oklahoma City go back way further than this. Because on July 4th, 2018...Dave Sullivan's protege Ty Johnson was arrested for possession of narcotics. Arrested because he was framed, by Dave Sullivan.

    And now, in the very hotel where that occured, stands Dave Sullivan...and the very man he betrayed.

    Dave Sullivan: Ty...I...I...

    Ty Johnson gives Dave Sullivan a hard kick to the chest.

    Ty Johnson: NO.

    You do not get to talk right now, you son of a bitch.

    Right now, it is my turn.

    Dave Sullivan looks shocked, but he does not have a witty comeback this time. Instead, for once, he stays silent.

    Ty Johnson:

    Fifteen months betrayed me.

    YOU planted drugs in my room.

    YOU set me up to go to prison.

    YOU destroyed every ounce of trust I ever had or could have for any human being for the rest of my life.

    And now? Now you walk around, acting like you're the person who's saving these championships from people who disrespect them? What about you? What have you done that's been so honorable to those championships? Huh? Betrayed the only person who ever looked up to you?

    Back in July, you visited me in the prison YOU sent me to. And you taught me my final lesson. That you do not win as the good guy.

    Well guess what, I learned it.

    And now I'm going to teach that same lesson to you. You costed me EVERYTHING. I lost my job, I lost my friends, and I lost my life. For over a year, I was eating prison food. I was looking over my shoulder afraid I was going to get shanked. I was afraid to shower, afraid to go outside, afraid to do anything. Because of you.

    And now, here I am...look at look like you're terrified that I'm going to exact my revenge.

    But here's the truth. I am not. I am not looking for revenge. Because your lesson got through to me loud and clear. That move you did? I respect it.

    You absolutely destroyed me, and with no remorse at whatsoever? And for what? To further your career? Well it's pretty clear to me now, over a year worked. What you did to me has completely relaunched your entire career to heights you've never reached before. And let's be honest, they're probably heights that I never had the potential of EVER reaching.

    Because of what you did to me, you got yourself into that X Championship match, and you DID what you said you'd do. You won that title for the record breaking 4th time. And THEN, then you went on to shatter the record for longest X Championship reign. And still have that title to your name.

    And then, then you did something even better Dave. For the first time in your career, you won the North American Championship. And now you're on pace to shatter that record for longest reign. Just a few more months to go, huh?

    And just when you thought you hit your ceiling, just when everyone thought you hit your ceiling, you defied your odds once again Dave. You got yourself into your first FWA World Championship match. And now you have a chance to do what I couldn't do, what Gabby can't do, and what Cyrus Truth can never do...what NOBODY has even done before. You have a chance to hold all three FWA singles championships at the same time.

    Is that all worth what you did to me? What you taught me is. And the truth is, I know you can do it. Because all this time in prison, I've been watching. Not only have I been watching you, but I've watched your opponents.

    And let me tell you, you can beat them. Cyrus Truth is a choke artist. You said it back when you beat him in January, and I'm saying it right now. Every big match, he has lost. While you are undefeated at Back in Business, he doesn't have a win there. He's lost his title every time it counted, and right now it counts more than ever. You not only beat Cyrus Truth once, you beat him twice. Each time you have defied the odds. Every week you have had to defend your championships, and every week you walk out with the titles still over your shoulders.

    I am not mad. I am filled with respect.

    But here's the deal...once that respect runs out, so does my mercy.

    If you don't beat Cyrus Truth for that FWA World Championship, Dave...if you don't make what you did to ME all worth it. Then I'm coming. I'm coming after you, and I'm coming after you hard. Because if you ruined my life just to choke in the biggest match of your career...well that's something I can't respect.

    So go ahead, King...

    Make them Bow Down.

    “In my life long study of human beings, I have found that no matter how hard they try, they have found no way yet to prevent the arrival of Monday morning. And they do try, of course, but Monday always comes, and all the drones have to scuttle back to their dreary workday lives of meaningless toin and suffering.”
    ― Jeff Lindsay, Dexter in the Dark

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