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Thread: Fallout 009 | Purple Incan Kush | Promo Thread.

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    Fallout Fallout 009 | Purple Incan Kush | Promo Thread.

    Post promos for Fallout 009 in here.

    The deadline is Sunday 28th November at 23:59 Pacific Time.
    That is Monday 29th November at 02:59 (3am) Eastern Time.
    That is Monday 29th November at 07:59 (8am) Greenwich Mean Time.
    That is Monday 29th November at 10:59 (11am) Moscow Standard Time.
    That is Monday 29th November at 17:59 (6pm) Australian Eastern Standard Time and Chamarro Standard Time.

    ! MOD NOTES !
    [1] Gauntlet Title matches are limited to 1,000 words, including all words in titles, quotes, images, etc. All words that appear in your post will be counted towards the limit.
    [2] The extension policy is available somewhere. Request them in the card/discussion thread (so long as your opponent hasn't promoed and it's >24 hours until deadline).
    [3] Please pay special attention to the deadline times - I believe I have sorted it out so they're all the same time, with 3 of the time zones doing DST and the other 2 not.

    EXTENSIONS:
    Jeremy Best (Dubb)
    Gerald Grayson (Jam)
    Danny Toner (Tig)
    Alyster Black (Rawr)
    Chris Peacock (Man)
    KDS (Sulley)
    Kayden Knox (OMB)
    Shawn Summers (CBK)
    Konchu Hao (Cyrus)
    Jackson Fenix (Jimmy)
    Gabrielle (ETE)
    Ryan Rondo (Shake)
    Last edited by SupineSnake; 11-28-2021 at 12:43 AM.


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    Re: Fallout 009 | Puple Incan Kush | Promo Thread.

    JOE
    BURR

    IS
    "PISSING WITH HIS MAKER"


    A jovial atmosphere engulfed the Fallout 008: CIBERNETICO! after party, which took place in the backstage area of the Arena México following the show's conclusion. Absent were some of the Fallout stars whose nights did not go according to plan. Krash and Randy Ramon were receiving the lion's share of the attention following their big victories on the show.

    In one corner of the crowded room was one of the night's victors; the FWA Gauntlet Champion, Joe Burr. Joe sat on a high stool with his championship placed on the table in front of him as he sipped a glass of orange juice through a straw.

    Joe had just as much cause to celebrate as anyone there; he'd successfully defended the title against Sauce Man and at the same time avenged the honour of Natalia, who had still not called him despite his many messages.

    As much cause as Joe had to celebrate, celebrate he did not.

    He looked around the room at the huddles of people gathered, drinking and enjoying conversations with each other. Joe convinced himself that the only reason that he was by himself was because he was from Meltdown; a cover for the fact that he had purposely chosen to exclude himself. Seeing so many people together made Joe realise that he had perhaps made a big mistake by challenging any and all comers to face him on Fallout 009.

    For someone who has developed a reputation for overcoming the odds, this felt like too much.

    Salvation, Joe hoped, when he saw Rupert Watkins enter the party. Before Watkins had even had a chance to remove his jacket, Joe leapt from his seat and stood in front of him.

    "Hello, Mister Watkins," Joe said nervously. "I was hoping to talk to you about something?"

    "Ah yes. Joe Burr... our visitor." Watkins looked down at Joe disapprovingly. "I suppose that you are here to ask whether I'd be willing to give you a pass. Make things a bit easier for your next match on Fallout?"

    Joe's face lit up, and Watkins's face somehow turned even more sour. "Forget about it. The match stands." Watkins removed his jacket and placed it on a nearby stand before walking into the masses. Joe turned to the party and saw a lot of faces looking back at him. He gulped and walked out of the party into the bathroom stationed just outside. He felt like he needed to throw up.

    He passed Jeremy Best, who was on his way out, and Joe ignored Best's friendly attempts to initiate a conversation. Joe entered the bathroom and saw that both stalls were either occupied or out of order, which frustrated him. Hearing the door swing open behind him, Joe quickly rushed to one of the urinals, to make it look as if he wasn't just standing in the middle of the bathroom like some sort of creep.

    As Joe pretended to urinate, he found that he actually needed to go, so a stream began. Although he found it hard to keep the Gauntlet Championship slung over his shoulder as he pissed. He felt a presence arrive at the urinal next to him (there was only two), and the user scoffed.

    "Usually, I take my titles off when I piss." Joe looked over to see that Alyster Black was the man standing next to him; one of the men that he and Saint Sulley were hoping to dethrone at Mile High. Black notices Joe looking across at him after a few seconds. "What the fuck are you doing? Always look straight forward! Jesus Christ."

    Black shakes his head and Joe quickly snaps his so he is facing the wall. "Surprised you can use the urinal, anyway."

    The comment annoyed Joe, so much so that he felt it appropriate to retort with a similarly stinging comment back. "Why are you at the party anyway? Didn't you lose your match tonight?"

    Alyster inhaled deeply through his nose. "If I didn't need my hands to hold my dick right now they'd be around your throat you little cunt. You don't have your buddy to back you up."

    "I will at Mile High."

    "You think I fucking care?"

    "You don't? Not even when people are coming after you, wanting to take your titles?"

    "No, that's not what being a champion is, dipshit. Oh, I know what this is about. You're regretting that little challenge you made, huh?"

    "..."

    Black laughed loudly. "Jesus, Sulley is really starting to rub off on you already, huh?"

    Black shook, finished. He walked over to the sink and washed his hands. Joe finished up too, almost dropping the Gauntlet Championship onto the bathroom floor. "What is that supposed to mean?"

    "You give it the big one, rack up a few wins until you end up falling flat on your face and losing to someone like Mike Garcia." With that, Alyster left the bathroom, but not before turning back to Joe. "Make sure you wash your hands."

    Joe stood alone in the bathroom, and looked down at the championship on his shoulder. Alyster's words, specifically the name drop, had made him realise something. With a purpose, Joe left the bathroom and walked back into the party. He climbed on top of a table and everyone turned to face him. A sudden silence fell over the room.

    "There's something that I want to say to everyone here. I am going to be the first person to make the five... and I don't care how many people I have to beat along the way to do it! I'm a champion and I'm not scared of anyone! So for Fallout 009... BRING IT ON!"

    Crickets.

    Joe looked around the room. Everyone stared for a couple of seconds, before the party resumed around him.

    Rupert Watkins appeared with two security guards.

    Fearless, Joe kicked one in the face and was subdued by the other who tackled him from the table.

    He may go down.

    But if he does, it won't be without a fight.

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    Re: Fallout 009 | Purple Incan Kush | Promo Thread.

    TENNESSEE.

    It felt fucking good to be back.

    Stu took in a deep, satisfying breath, the air of his continent filling his lungs and smothering him with memories. He was happy enough in Europe, but his travails in Asia had filled him with feelings of general unease. He liked the people well enough and they had been friendly to him on the whole. But the culture was alien, the climate unappealing, the food unappetizing. He had grown hungry and uneasy, and if Caesar hadn't been around to hold his hand it was unlikely he'd have made it through.

    He found Japan, in particular, distasteful. It was, after all, where and when things had begun to get cold.

    But here in Tennessee, things were good. He’d bought a ranch to the north of his hometown, Nashville, back in the early sixties, and although the land value had skyrocketed in the decades he'd been away or frozen, selling it had never been something he seriously contemplated. There was no substitute for the weeks he would spend here, riding his gigantic horse, Shadow, or mowing the lawns or drinking on his porch. The hunting was good, too, and it was for this purpose he took a detour to Tennessee between Mexico and Peru.

    "It's been a good season already," Otis said. Otis was an older man who'd never left Tennessee, and now lived on the ranch as Stu's help. He tended the land and controlled population numbers whilst Stu was away, and, of course, took care of Shadow. Right now, he walked a few paces ahead of the big man, his rifle over his shoulder and a wide-brimmed hat on his head. "Numbers are good."

    They reached the brow of the hill and set about their business. They lay on their front and watched the scene in the lowlands below. For now, all was quiet and still, the long grass blowing gently in the breeze. Otis preferred some of his duties more than others, and he'd placed greater emphasis on tending bird populations than fields in Stu's absence.

    "How long are you back for?" Otis asked. He had one good eye, which was staring down the barrel of his rifle, whilst the other was closed so as to not confuse his vision.

    "Not long. A couple days, maybe. Just long enough to do this. Visit the neighborhood. Then Peru."

    "What's in Peru?" Otis asked, stumbling through the pronunciation.

    “Another opportunity,” Stu said, keeping things vague. He was aware that Otis didn’t own a television, and kept abreast of local events via his transistor radio instead. As a result, he had no knowledge of the FWA, or Sauce Man or El Demente or the Gauntlet Championship. Or, of course, Joe Burr. “Something that’s eluded me in the past, when the odds were more in my favour. I’m not exactly sure who I’ll face in Peru, but it’s something that I have to do. Caesar…”

    Otis cocked an eyebrow at the peculiar name.

    “My friend… he tells me I need to put these things behind me. We faced some… mishaps in the early-goings here. We’re on the right path now, but those failures… they weigh heavily.”

    “Sounds like your friend doesn’t want you to rake up the past,” Otis answered, still staring down at the lowlands. There were the first signs of activity on the north-west edge of the field, and as such Otis had lowered his voice. “If things are good with this Caesar now… why complicate things in Peru? Why not stay here with me? In the evening, we sit on the porch, smoke cigars, work the grill… and in the day we hunt turkey…”

    As Otis finished his proposal, the first handful of birds wandered out into sight. Otis began to point his barrel towards the interloping turkeys, with Stu following suit. He’d come back to Nashville for the holidays, and would spend tomorrow handing out their quarry to the locals back in his neighbourhood. He only ate wild turkey on Thanksgiving: a real man hunts his own birds.

    “It’s tempting,” Stu admitted, as both men took a bird within their sights. He thought about staying here in Tennessee for Thanksgiving and Christmas and New Year’s, too. In his heart, it was what he wanted, but the thought of disappointing Caesar was too much. The Peruvian match, too, couldn’t easily be put to one side. El Demente haunted him, and winning the Gauntlet Championship would go a long way to laying those demons to rest. Sauce Man had been a common opponent, throughout Ground Zero and into their respective FWA careers. Grimes may have fared better in the tag division with Caesar, but in reality his singles efforts here had been as disastrous as Sauce Man’s. He expected that Sauce would be tempted by the Hollywood Invitational, and the idea of the masked man winning that gold before him would be a nail in the coffin of his credibility.

    And then there was Joe Burr. He loathed the little man. He sought to turn Stu Grimes into a joke at every turn, and Stu Grimes was not a joke. As if to prove it, he pulled the trigger, and Otis reciprocated at almost the same moment. Two birds fell from the pack: the rest waddled away.

    “But I have to go.”

    As the dust settled, Stu noticed that one bird had remained, steadfast in the face of gunfire. It hopped around the two fallen turkeys. It had one lame leg, which it dragged behind its body as it moved. It was small and malformed, and each moment seemed a pain and a struggle.

    Stu looked down the barrel of his rifle again and squeezed the trigger. The bird hopped more hurriedly, and the bullet missed it by a foot.

    The sound of ignited gunpowder echoed and faded, and as it did the cluck of the bird down in the lowlands was amplified, ringing in Stu’s ear like a laugh.


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    Re: Fallout 009 | Purple Incan Kush | Promo Thread.

    Jeremy & The Buddy System

    Fade in.

    JEREMY (v.o.)
    Hiya friends! It's me, your pal, Jeremy Best! As I'm sure you're all aware of by now, Team Friendship's team bonding proved to be the determining factor in Cibernetico as we walked out victorious. This is thanks in large part to our team captain Krash gutting it out to the bitter end as our solve survivor! But not before yours truly snuck in a surprise elimination of the Uncle Unit's captain, J.J. Jay himself!

    Our opening scene took us back to Cibernetico. Specifically backstage at Cibernetico after the event. The ultimate victor in the match, KRASH, was gathering up his gear in the locker room when was soon joined by JEREMY BEST.


    JEREMY

    "It would appear congratulations are in order."

    KRASH
    "Ah, thanks mate. Good showing out there yourself."

    JEREMY
    "I suppose all our team building actually paid off."

    KRASH
    "Aye, I suppose it did! And, hey, don't count yourself out just yet!"

    JEREMY
    "Oh, I know! I'm just glad we all got to come together as a team...as friends! And no matter what happens from here on out, we'll always have that."

    KRASH
    "Indeed! And I must wish you the best of luck in your qualifying match! I would certainly love to be able to see you again at Mile High - this time with one of us being able to walk out as FWA Champion."

    JEREMY
    "Thanks, it means a lot coming from you, truly. But it just absolutely stinks that it could come at the expense of Gerald. After all the bonding, this is quite the test of friendship so early on!"

    KRASH
    "My advice to ya Jeremy - don't worry yourself with these things. Gerald is a good guy who has gotten himself mixed up with the wrong kinda people..but at the end of the day, he's still a good guy. When you two meet at Fallout - there will be no bad blood between the two of you. It's all about the competition, my friend and may the best man win!"

    JEREMY
    "I sure hope you're right! Well - thanks again, for everything Krash - I hope our paths cross again very soon..."

    KRASH
    "Absolutely! Cheers, mate!"

    JEREMY
    "Actually - I'm kind of having a bit of a get together of friends for Thanksgiving back over in the States...I call it my Friendsgiving..if you'd like...

    KRASH
    "Sounds amazing, truly it does. I'd love to go but I do have some matters to attend to."

    JEREMY
    "Oh...well, yes, of course! Sorry, it was silly and on short notice! But! I'll definitely leave you a seat...y'know, just in case."

    KRASH
    "That sounds great, Jeremy."

    Jeremy reached into his locker and pulled out his sports coat, shaking it off before starting to put it on, right arm first.

    JEREMY
    "Well speaking of which, I best be getting on towards the airport, but..."

    As Jeremy was putting on his jacket, Krash had noticed a small white envelope had fallen out of the jacket pocket and floated down to the floor.

    KRASH
    "Looks like you dropped something there..."

    Krash reached down, grabbing ahold of the envelope before kneeling back up. Krash examined it on behalf of Jeremy, but it was sealed and unlabeled.

    JEREMY
    "Hmm...that's odd. I don't recall that being there before."

    KRASH
    "Well, it definitely came from your jacket. Here ya go! Check it out."

    Krash reached over, passing the envelope over to the curious Jeremy. Jeremy looked over the envelope, turning it over front and back before shrugging his shoulders and ripping the envelope open. Inside the envelope, Jeremy found a simple, small piece of paper.


    "Stay true to yourself.
    -B"


    KRASH
    "Friend of yours?"

    JEREMY
    "I have no idea, but it's not the first mysterious package I've received lately."

    KRASH
    "Well, whoever this "B" is...sounds quite wise. Advice I couldn't have given better myself, mate. I'm off but best of luck to ya, again. I'll be lookin' for ya at Mile High!"

    Krash gave Jeremy a nod and a smile before patting him on the back and walking off. Jeremy continued to examine the mysterious message before sliding the paper back into the envelope and inserting it back into his jacket pocket.

    JEREMY (v.o.)
    "It would appear my anonymous penpal has struck again. I don't mind a good mystery, but I've got too much going on to worry about it right now! With one big match in my rear view mirror and another one on the horizon...but it's also the holiday season and, as you know, it's no true holiday season without a Friendsgiving get together!"

    Dissolve out.


    Dissolve back in.

    It was the day after Thanksgiving, which in true Jeremy Best tradition, means it's Friendsgiving! The day every year Jeremy invites all his friends to join him for a festive harvest feast at a local dining establishment. This year, the chosen venue was the every classy Chili's Bar and Grill! Jeremy had reserved a table for 10.


    JEREMY (v.o.)
    "Ahh, Friendsgiving - one of my favoritest times of the Holidays! Don't get me wrong, I love Christmas as much as anyone - but there's nothing like sharing a meal with your closest friends! Some years I have more guests than others. Most years, my friends tend to have conflicts in their schedule. And, that's okay, because this is a very busy time of the year, after all! But, there's always one person I can count on to be at the table on Friendsgiving night..."

    Inside the bustling restaurant, we found Jeremy's reserved table almost completely empty. Though empty, each chair had in front of it the napkin wrapped silverware along with cups of water. Jeremy entered the Chili's and after a brief conversation with the Host, she brought him over to the table. As mentioned, the table was not completely empty as sitting at the end of the table was none other than Jeremy's agent, BILL SCORPANE.

    JEREMY
    "Mr. Scorpane! So glad you could make it!"

    Bill hadn't wasted much time as he was already working on an order of Southwestern Eggrolls.

    BILL
    "You know I wouldn't miss this...after all, I always get my commissions and a free meal too? Can't beat that! This is still on your tab, right?"

    Jeremy sat down at the table, directly across from Bill.

    JEREMY
    "Oh, of course, Mr. Scorpane! Friendsgiving is always on me!"

    Always on his best manners, Jeremy unrolled his napkin and neatly laid it down on his lap with precision. Not quite as interested in manners, Bill took another bit of his eggroll as he spoke.

    BILL
    "So, uh, where's the rest of the gang? Let me guess...everyone was too busy?"

    JEREMY
    "Yep! My buddy Krash couldn't make it...and who knows what weird things Konchu is up to tonight...Jackson probably is with his buddy Nate, and Grayson, well.."

    BILL
    "You mean the guy you're fightin' next week, right? You invited him?"

    JEREMY
    "Well of course. I also invited the Bad Boys Boy Band...but no one has seen them since they walked the plank. Boy, I sure hope they're okay..."

    Bill wiped away some residue off his mouth with the napkin before placing it haphazardly back down on the table.

    BILL
    "You continue to be somethin' else, Jeremy. You know that?"

    JEREMY
    "What do you mean, Mr. Scorpane?"

    BILL
    "Every year, we do this. Every year you invite all these people you THINK are your friends. And every year you show up with a smile on your face...completely oblivious that they're not! Sure, some years one or two people may show up, perhaps out of pity more than anything, but the fact remains that these people - the guys you teamed with last week - the guy you're going up against next week...each and every one of them want one thing..."

    JEREMY
    "Friendship?"

    BILL
    "No, you fool! GOLD. CHAMPIONSHIPS. WINS. That's what this business is all about. Hell, Jeremy - that's what LIFE is all about. Do you think that guy..Krash...really wants to be friends with you? He got what he wanted out of that team ya'll had. He's the one getting the guaranteed title shot! He got you to believe in him and be your so called 'friend.' And now you got this guy...Chi-Chi?"

    JEREMY
    "GiGi? Gerald Grayson?"

    BILL
    "Whatever. You think he's gonna be your friend? If you think that, he's already got you beat, my boy. He's got his eyes on that Main Event spot, just like Krash. And all these people you invite every year...these friends of yours aren't showing up because they have something else to do. They're not here because...they just...they just don't want to be."

    Jeremy hung his head down briefly before looking back up to Bill.

    JEREMY
    "That sure is an awful way to look at things, Mr. Scorpane. But, what about you - you're here every year."

    BILL
    "I already told you why I come. Look, Jeremy, I've told you from day one...I'm not here to be your friend. I'm here to take you to the top. I'm here to make you a champion. And I've done it at the lower levels here regionally, but you're on the big stage now. But what makes me different than all these other guys is that at least I'm not pretending to be your friend. This business is filled with assholes who will waste no time driving a dagger right into your back it if means they get what they want."

    JEREMY
    "I dunno about all that...Krash says GiGi is a good guy, he's just mixed up with..."

    BILL
    "There are no GOOD guys! G'damn it Jeremy, it's like I'm speaking fuckin' Latin here. You of all people should know by now you can't trust people. Hell, right before you found my info to become your manager...this exact thing had just happened to you? Had it not? I'm sure you remember Big Bryan Baxter?

    Jeremy sighed as he looks down at his plate...

    JEREMY (v.o.)
    "Well, of course I remember Big Bryan Baxter. How could I possibly forget?"

    Dissolve out.

    We fade back on the venue for Elite Wrestling Federation's event in Hickory, North Carolina titled "March Mayhem 2016." The poster for the event on the wall indicated the Main Event of the evening was the "March Mayhem Tournament Finals" putting former 3-Time EWF Tag Champions "The Buddy System" against one another. The two members of THE BUDDY SYSTEM: "Everyone's Best Friend" Jeremy Best and Big Bryan Baxter.

    As a small crowd began to find their seat for the event, backstage, a nervous Jeremy Best was pacing back and forth as BRYAN BAXTER, a stout, burley bearded man walked over and placed a hand on Jeremy's shoulder.

    BRYAN
    "Calm down, dude. It's gonna be fine."

    The re-assuring words from his long time friend and partner seemed to put Jeremy at ease as he has a seat down on a nearby bench.

    JEREMY
    "Thanks, Bryan. This is all so new to me. Two years ago I was just a wrestlin' fan with a dream and now I'm about to Main Event with a Championship match on the line."

    BRYAN
    "Hey man, you're preachin' to the choir, my friend. Two years ago I was a nobody in this company. Nothin' more than a jobber...never even won a match before. But you came along and you didn't see a loser...you saw a friend. And here we are now...multi-time tag team champions - and tonight...tonight one of us is walkin' out this building as Number One Contender. If it can't be me, I couldn't think of anyone who deserves that title shot more than you, Jeremy. So I wish you the best of luck."

    JEREMY
    "Thanks, and you too, of course. You are no loser!"

    Jeremy gave a sigh of relief as he reached down and began to lace up his boots.

    BRYAN
    "So, how's ya mama? She ever come around to what you're doin'?"

    Jeremy sat back up, his normally jovial face showing less emotion.

    JEREMY
    "Oh, she's fine. I don't think she'll ever warm up to the idea of her little boy out there fighting for a livin' - she just can't see me as anything but her little baby boy."

    BRYAN
    "You bring home some gold and I bet she'll warm up real quick. Success has a way of winning over any doubters. Back when I was losin' week in and week out, you know how many girls rejected me at the post match bars? But we brought home those tag belts and, man, I can't keep 'em away! I'm sure you see the same thing?"

    Jeremy shrugged his shoulders, indifferent to the notion.

    JEREMY
    "Eh, that's not really what I'm here for."

    Bryan chuckled and slapped Jeremy on the back.

    BRYAN
    "C'mon Jeremy! You're sittin' here so tense...so much anxiety! You're out here tryin' to make friends when it sounds like what you really need is to get laid!"

    Jeremy's face started to turn a little red.

    BRYAN
    "What about the broad you used to tell me about? The one from school? The one who used to show up in the front row each week to see you wrestle when you was startin' out?"

    Jeremy smiled a bit at the reference.

    JEREMY
    "Rebecca? Oh yeah, she's a great friend of mine."

    BRYAN
    "I dunno man, I used to see the way she looked at you. Those weren't friend-zone looks, no way - no how. Tell ya what, after we tear it down tonight - let's call her up and have her meet us the bar."

    JEREMY
    "Oh, no, we can't do that."

    BRYAN
    "Aw, c'mon man. Why not? Let's have some fun!"

    JEREMY
    "Last time I talked to her, she was engaged. Besides, like I said, we've always been just friends."

    BRYAN
    "Haha - everyone's 'just friends' with you Jeremy! Live a little, pal! Well, in any case...the offer stands, tonight we're gonna blow the roof off this tiny little buildin' - then we're gonna hit bar and live life up! Tonight is the first night of the rest of our careers, Jeremy! The Buddy System is never going away - tonight it's EWF but one day...one day, Jeremy - we're gonna be tearin' it up in the big times in FWA."

    JEREMY
    "Haha - now you're just delusional!"

    As both shared a laugh, Bryan got up to his feet.

    BRYAN
    "But, no, really! I'm serious! We can do this! Me and you. No matter what happens tonight - you're still my partner. No, you're still my friend.

    Bryan reached his hand out to Jeremy in an offer of a handshake. Smiling, Jeremy got up from the bench and accepted Bryan's hand.

    BRYAN
    "Let's do this, partna. I'll see you out there."

    Jeremy gave a smile and a nod to his friend as Bryan headed off.

    JEREMY (v.o.)
    "I guess Bryan was partially right. After all, I am in FWA now. There was no way for me to know it that night, though. Because that night, it seemed like he was 100% wrong."

    From Jeremy's reflective look in the dressing area, we fade to the match itself. Just as Bryan had said, Jeremy and Bryan put on a great show for the crowd. Jeremy had endeared himself to the local fans over the years and it was clear during the match that he was the one they wanted to see walk away with the win that night. Unfortunately, this wasn't sitting well with Big Bryan Baxter. The crowd actually began to boo him at points when he was in control. This was causing BBB to become more and more flustered as the match went on.

    It was Jeremy who looked like he may be on his way to victory when he lifted up his partner into the Fireman's Carry. The small crowd was on their feet in anticipation as Jeremy looked primed to put away Triple B with the BFF, but Bryan was able to fight free. He slid down Jeremy's back and SHOVED him in the back which sent Jeremy colliding with the referee!

    Ever the concerned sportsman, Jeremy turned to his friend and asked for Bryan to hold off so that he could check on the referee. Bryan nodded in agreement, but as Jeremy turned and knelt down to help the referee...Big Bryan Baxter reached into his trunks and pulled out...


    A PAIR OF BRASS KNUCKLES!


    The Hickory crowd tried to get Jeremy's attention as his partner slid the knuckles down across his fingers. With the crowd pointing, Jeremy finally turned away from the referee...RIGHT INTO THE LOADED PUNCH FROM Bryan!

    Jeremy dropped to the mat like a sack of potatoes as his friend quickly slid the evidence back into his trunks. Baxter made the cover as the referee was able to make the count. The crowd booed loudly as his hand hit the mat three times, officially awarding the match and the championship shot to Bryan Baxter.

    JEREMY (v.o)
    "I didn't know what had hit me! It all happened so fast. Even after the match, I was so dazed and confused...I knew Bryan had won and I had lost...everything else was so fuzzy. It was actually the fans at ringside that told me what happened after the match, but I didn't want to believe them. I couldn't believe my own best friend would resort to cheating to beat me."

    Backstage, after the match, Jeremy would seek out and confront Bryan to try and get some clarity into the matter. As Jeremy approached, Bryan seemed ready to defend himself...but Jeremy hadn't come to fight, he had come for answers.

    BRYAN
    "Easy! I can explain!"

    JEREMY
    "So...it's true? What? Why?"

    BRYAN
    "Listen, Jeremy - it's nothin' personal, okay?"

    JEREMY
    "I mean...it feels pretty darn personal to me."

    BRYAN
    "Did you hear those people out there, Jeremy? The fans love you! No matter what happens tonight, they still will. You have that goin' for you. I don't. The fans were never gonna support me. And as long as I keep sitting around here in the Buddy System, I'm always just gonna be Jeremy Best's tag team partner. The guy who is friends with "Everyone's Best Friend." Don't you want more for me than that?"

    JEREMY
    "Well...uhh...I...yes, of course I want more for you. But I don't think.."

    BRYAN
    "Listen, Jeremy...everything I said earlier tonight is true. If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't be here. And I'll forever be grateful for it. But ridin' the Jeremy Best train is what I needed then and now getting the fans to boo me is what I need now. I was never gonna make it to the top bein' the good guy - but by doin' what I did tonight..by becomin'...Big Bryan Bastard...that championship can finally be mine!"

    JEREMY
    "Big. Bryan. Bastard? Really?"

    BRYAN
    "You know it, baby. So, whattaya say, no hard feelings?"

    Bryan once again extended his hand out to Jeremy. Unlike last time, this time there was some clear hesitancy on the face of Jeremy Best. Jeremy was clearly confused. Both from the fact that he got clocked in the head with brass knuckles and the mixed range of emotions from the spin from Bryan Baxter. While rubbing his head with one arm, Jeremy reluctantly reaches out and shakes the hand of his own personal Judas.

    BRYAN
    "This means so much to me, Jeremy. This doesn't change anything! Look, I gotta go - let's catch up later!"

    Bryan started to leave as Jeremy reached back out.

    JEREMY
    "Wait! What about our hang? You still wanna....'hit the bar,' so to speak?

    Bryan laughed.

    BRYAN
    "Oh! Sorry, I just assumed it wasn't gonna be 'your thing,' y'know? This real hot chick, that blonde one up front, is buyin' me some drinks! What'd I tell ya about success, Jeremy?! Haha! Raincheck though! Maybe she has a friend, I'll put in a good word for ya."

    JEREMY
    "Oh, no - that's quite alright! Well..have fun, I guess."

    BRYAN
    "Now that I can do! Hahaha!"

    The new Number One Contender to the EWF Championship headed off to celebrate his big win, leaving Jeremy alone in the backstage area.

    JEREMY (v.o.)
    "There would be no raincheck for the Buddy System unfortunately. Big Bryan...'Bastard'...as he was calling himself now went on to win the championship. I called to congratulate him but he never returned my calls or my texts. But I WAS happy for him - really! He had gone from the bottom to the top..I mean that's a really inspirational story, right? Around that time is when I hooked up with Mr. Scorpane and well, EWF became a bit of a distant memory for me."

    Dissolve out.

    We dissolve back in to present day at Chili's, the main entrees had arrived and Bill was scarfing down some babyback ribs while Jeremy wasn't touching his Southwest Quesadillas.

    BILL
    "You gonna eat?"

    JEREMY
    "I do remember him."

    BILL
    "Remember who now?"

    JEREMY
    "Big Bryan Baxter."

    BILL
    "OH! Yeah, we still talkin' about that? That boy used and abused you, Jeremy. He saw an opportunity to take his career out of the gutter...he weaseled his way into being your tag partner...he enjoyed the success that came along with it and the MOMENT that he saw his chance to throw you in front of the bus in order to advance his own career, he damn sure took it, didn't he?"

    JEREMY
    "I guess I didn't really think of it like that."

    BILL
    "You gotta learn from this stuff or your damned to repeat it. Krash, Gerald Grayson, all them guys are always gonna put their own careers first and maybe..maybe you should start doin' the same. So next week, don't think that boy is gonna go easy on you just because ya'll connected over a few little man-dates - you go out there and show the world you WANT to win."

    Jeremy looked down as his plate silently before sliding his chair back and standing up.

    BILL
    "Something wrong?"

    JEREMY
    "No, I'm just not that hungry anymore. I'll go ahead and pay for the food...thanks for coming, Mr. Scorpane."

    Jeremy turned to leave.

    BILL
    "Jeremy. Wait."

    Jeremy's eyes grew wide before turning back around.

    JEREMY
    "Yeah?"

    BILL
    "My commissions?"

    JEREMY
    "Oh. Right."

    Jeremy reached into his back pocket and pulled out an envelope before tossing it down on to the table.

    BILL
    "Happy Friendsgiving to me!"

    JEREMY
    "Yeah...Happy Friendsgiving, Mr. Scorpane."

    A much less jubilant Jeremy turned and walked away from the mostly empty table. A table with many spots that he had left open and available for his friends that he had invited but only filled with one man who had no interest in being his friend. But, yet, seemingly the only man who wanted to open Jeremy's eyes to the world around him.

    JEREMY (v.o.)
    "Was Mr. Scorpane right? Is ole' Jeremy cut out for such a cut-throat business? I've heard those words before when I told people that I wanted to go into professional wrestling. People warned me of the type of people in this business. But, I don't know...teaming with those guys last week, I thought the bonding we had was real. But then again, I thought the same thing about Big Bryan Baxter. Mr. Scorpane thinks I should do whatever it takes to get ahead. Get that championship gold that has eluded me so far in my career...no matter what the cost."

    As Jeremy walked out of the Chili's and into the parking lot, the cold Fall air of North Carolina hit him, causing him to slide his hands into his jacket pocket. As his hand entered the folds of the pocket, Jeremy felt something.

    He pulled out the contents of the pocket and sure enough, it was that same white envelope he found with Krash.

    Once again, Jeremy opened it up and read the message it contained inside.


    "Stay true to yourself."


    The smile returned to Jeremy's face.

    JEREMY (v.o.)
    "You're right 'B.' Whoever and wherever you are. I got this far by being Jeremy Best, not by being Big Bryan Bastard. After all, I'm the one who made it to FWA! This week on Fallout, I'm going to step into the ring across from a man I now call my friend. And at the end of that match, one of us is going to have a title shot...and if it's me, I will have done it the Jeremy way. And that's the only way I'm ever going to do it."

    Jeremy slid the message from "B" back into his pocket once again before walking off screen into the parking lot.

    Fade out.

    Wait! Not so fast. We fade BACK in.

    Back inside the Chili's, Bill Scorpane was polishing off his last BBQ rib bone when his phone started to ring. Bill grabbed the napkin to wipe his hands off before grabbing the phone. We only hear his side of the conversation.


    BILL
    "You got Bill.


    Just had a VERY exciting 'Friendsgiving' dinner with ole' Jeremy Best.


    Yep, he's still doin' it after all these years. Pathetic, right? Hahaha!


    I'm glad you called me back, though. Remember that discussion we had a few weeks ago?


    Good, good. Because I think it's about time. Not yet...but soon.


    Trust me, he's still the same Jeremy he's always been.


    You're right, it should be you in the big times...and soon, it will be. Have I ever let you down?


    Hahaha, that's what I thought. Okay, look, I gotta go but I'll be in touch.


    You got it. Talk to you soon, Bryan."


    Bill laid his phone down on the table and leaned back in the chair, stretching his arms out with a big shit eating grin on his face.


    Fade out.


    Last edited by Dubb; 11-29-2021 at 05:32 PM. Reason: 15 minute grace period edit

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  5. #5
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    Re: Fallout 009 | Purple Incan Kush | Promo Thread.

    2nd December 2021

    We’re a day away from Fallout 009 here in Peru, and any confidence Gabrielle has gained through the course of recent weeks after her latest return to the FWA has dissipated. The ups and downs of her time away brought some feeling of worth and purpose back to life...but she can't even remember that. Neither can she remember the way Rupert Watkins has made her feel in the past week, or how a small moment with Alyster Black was almost cathartic as she stood up for herself. Even an endless internal conversation she had about being the disappointment among the ‘old guard’ barely registers now.

    She’s come to feel so hopelessly alone again ,even as she stares at him.

    He’s abandoned her, he won't speak to her, he barely acknowledges her...but still he’s here. That shadow, that creation of her broken mind that has been a twisted help to her. But now he too seems disappointed in her.

    “Why won't you speak to me? JUST SAY ANYTHING!” She bellows in his direction.

    No one will care about her screaming in this cheap Motel, no one ever does. Places like this, everyone just wants to be left alone and never acknowledge any noise. She knows this all too well.

    He doesn’t answer. This shadowy figure, with an unseen face somehow always blanketed in darkness just sits in the corner silently staring off into the nothingness.

    “Just say it, SAY IT! SAY IT! I know, so just tell me!” She’s almost pleading with him now. He, this thing, this figment of her imagination, this incarnation of her inner Demons, her inner Darkness has barely left her side. Always there, torturing her, somehow making her feel lonlier than ever before.

    “I failed you. I failed, I know. I failed myself. After everything...I came back and I lost...again. I choked again...I’m still not good enough…” She falls silent for a moment or two as a few tears roll down her cheeks.

    “It’s what I do...I think I can do great things, I think I can do something special...only to fail...every...single...time. You’re disappointed in me, I know you are. Because I’m disappointed in myself...I hate myself…”

    She falls quiet again. Those last few words just spilled out of her mouth, and even now, even after everything, after the mess and endless sadness that has been her 2021 she never thought she’d ever say those words. She never thought she’d feel like this. The Goddess is dead and buried...and now even the Demon that existed beside that divine being doesn’t seem good enough.

    Maybe she’ll never be good enough again, and in turn she’ll never pull herself out of this endless downward spiral, she’ll never win the support of her shadow back, she’ll never feel complete or truly happy ever again.

    Maybe this is her life now. A broken, lonely two time divorcee destined to fail again and again and again.

    Or maybe she has one more chance, it could be her one last chance. A final opportunity for any kind of redemption or salvation. Maybe he should have just let her jump off that bridge…

    “Why’d you have to save me...why? Why couldn’t you just let me end it all? Things aren’t better for me...they’re worse. All you did was prolong my suffering so I could feel more hurt, more pain…”

    “I can't bear it...I failed even you now...you shouldn’t have saved me…”

    Her every word hangs in the air, festuring, it's turning the air evil. It’s horrible, terrible thoughts cascading from her mouth. There was this brief promise, this brief feeling of salvation when this thing came into her life. She even felt excitement when she walked back down to the ring for the first time in months to a chorus of cheers from the audience.

    But none of that lasts, it's all so fleeting, it's all led her back to a point she keeps finding herself in. Alone, scared, sad, sick of crying, sick of hurting. She thought she was past all of this…

    She’s spiralling deeper and deeper, until that shadowy figure saves her from drowning in her despair, even if it’s just for now.

    “My dear...you see how much this means to us both now. You are the Queen of Mile High. You belong there...you HAVE to be there in that match. Think of what we can do if you win for a third time…”

    “You just need to take this first step, you have too. One more chance...one more. Take this one...or I may not be able to save you again. Make Rondo feel all your pain and misery, take it all out on him and then you can be the Queen of Mile High...our Demon Queen…”

    “Do this for us.”

    It’s everything she needed to hear, it's enough. This thing hasn’t left her...yet.


    26th November 2021


    Life is good for Rupert Watkins. He has exceeded his own and in turn the FWA Board of Directors expectations in his roles as the Director of Domestic Operations and Internal Development of the Fallout Brand. He’s helped to usher in one of the most successful and praised Era’s in the history of the FWA, and he damn well knows it. His turn in the Professional Wrestling industry has turned out really quite well, especially considering he knew nothing about the Business when he signed on.

    This has been another successful business venture for him. Fallout has been a smashing success with him and Cal Robinson at the helm. The recent Cibernetico match was a prime example of this. And Rupert’s business acumen was fully on display when his number one draft pick emerged victorious in that match.

    But now his attention is turning towards Peru and Fallout 009. Another stacked card, another new location, and the last stop before the FWA’s famed Mile High event.

    He turns in his chair to gaze outside the floor to ceiling window of his Office on the top floor of FWA HQ. A glass of bourbon in one hand as he considers lighting a cigar. But before he can follow that train of thought any further there’s a knock at the door which pulls him back to the here and now.

    “Come in.” He very matter of factly states.

    The door swings open and in steps none other than Gabrielle. It is instantly obvious that she’s in a much better mental state than she has been in recent months. There’s less weight on her shoulders, she doesn’t look quite as crushed or defeated. It is a welcome change to her demeanor, though there is plenty of tension in the room now between them.

    They just stare at one another. Rupert is unsure if she’s come here for a fight, and Gabrielle, well who knows which particular demons have brought her here today. Their last face to face encounter didn’t end well in Paris, and Rupert has been glad to not have to deal with her directly ever since.

    After several tense moments have passed she finally takes a few more steps into his office and closes the door behind herself. She hasn’t spoken a word, she hasn’t given any inkling towards why she’s here. Even as a playful smile finally crosses her lips Rupert can only wonder what has brought her here, a burying of the hatchet perhaps? That smile though does take some of the edge off, just as Gabrielle in one swift movement takes her jacket off, letting it hit the floor around her feet…

    And with that removed her body is left essentially naked…

    Just a pair of stiletto heels and a minuscule bit of red lace around her hips are all that adorns her skin. Rupert doesn’t know what to do, what to say, or how to react. He can't help but look though, and Gabrielle knows it. It’s this weird confidence boost for her at this moment. Her life has been so low, she’s been on the verge of ending it, yet still even a man like Rupert Watkins cant pull his attention away from her…

    She approaches him quickly, as he does his best not to crudely stare. Rounding his desk and then sitting in his lap, with her legs straddling either side of him. He greets her with an awkward smile, born more out of having no idea what to do as opposed to joy. He’s finding himself struggling for the right words, even though he knows exactly what she’s up too.

    Ruperts heard all the stories about Gabrielle. To some of the boys in the back she’s practically a ‘Legend’ in that regard. Hell there’s people in management that have found themselves in this position with Gabrielle before. Matthew Robinson, the former CEO of the FWA being of course the most infamous.

    So at least he knows why she’s here now, even if he still has no idea how to react to having an essentially naked Gabrielle sitting in his lap. A little giggle escapes her lips as she reaches out and grasps at his tie. She’s doing so many things right, its so hard for him to resist...but her eyes look almost lifeless. There’s nothing behind them.

    This isn’t like all the stories he’s heard, this isn’t that Gabrielle. This is a broken Gabrielle trying to be her.

    He looks at her properly now, not leering at her, just looking at her and he sees what she herself doesn’t see. That Gabrielle, that the Caramel Coated Goddess was so much more than sex and nudity. But she’s forgotten that now, she’s forgotten everything she used to be. So she’s here with him, with her Boss trying to recapture what made her great...but this is all she can remember of the old Gabrielle.

    She remembers Matthew, Julian and Thomas, and just how she forged relationships with them that she could use to her advantage. Rupert could join that list...and maybe if he was younger and more foolish he might have taken advantage of her, and definitely if he was as much of a bastard as Gabrielle thinks him to be he would.

    But he can't, he knows this isn’t really her, just as he knows he couldn’t abuse his power like this...and that every second she sits in his lap the more trouble he’ll be in with his wife.

    Even still he doesn’t push her away, he can't bring himself to do so. It's obvious she needs this. No, not that. But rather just what she has right now, someone to hold her, a heartbeat other than her own to feel beating. It almost feels like she’s melting into his lap, and into his arms. She came here chasing past glories that she remembers, instead she’s getting something far more simple, yet something she’s craved and needed for so long.

    Rupert manages to reach back and grab his Jacket off of the back of his chair. He quickly drapes it over her shoulders and pulls it around to cover her chest. This brings a more genuine smile to her face as she just relaxes into him and rests her head on his shoulder.

    Rupert still has no idea what to say, and Gabrielle still hasn’t uttered a word. But right now he just lets her be. He’s not the evil bastard she thought he was. He’s just a business man who saw Gabrielle’s broken mental state and the controversy that came with her as being less than ideal for the Fallout brand. And this meeting really just illustrates that point.

    They don't talk, and nothing happens. Gabrielle just sits there in his awkward embrace. Silently happy that he’s a better man than she ever gave him credit for. Silently appreciative to just feel someone again, feel another life within her life. She almost falls asleep there, but after an unknown amount of time she’d finally leave. A little embarrassed, but with a slight spring to her step now.



    19th November 2021
    It was better, and worse than she expected at the same time. The rush of the audience who were excited to see her back. The Adrenaline of competing. The feeling of having a purpose in life again, and having something to strive for was all so euphoric and all so healing for Gabrielle.

    After months in the ‘wilderness’ feeling so useless and empty. Careening down a path that led to her wanting to end her own existence, it was just what she needed. To feel like she matters again, to feel like she can do something with her life again.

    But it was a double edged sword. While Fallout 008 and the Cibernetico match presented so many endless possibilities and chances, in a fitting end to any recent chapter of Gabrielle’s life...she fell short. She couldn’t grab the opportunity that was right there in front of her.

    It hurts so much. It hurts to be back, and it has brought so many thoughts flooding back to her mind.

    Thoughts of worthlessness, thoughts of emptiness and despair. Doubts about why she continues to do this...when everything points to her not being good enough anymore.

    All made so much worse by the two moments that keep replaying in her head, moments she shared with the only people in that match she had any thoughts or cares about. Kayden Knox and Alyster Black.

    She’s sure that Kayden hates her now. In the short existence of Fallout as a brand she’s taken from Kayden two chances to compete for the World Championship. As for Alyster...well maybe she doesn’t hate him just yet. He refused to fight her...but then he had no problem taking her out from behind…

    Her karma for what she did too Kayden perhaps, but still a bitter pill too swallow. She ended a friends night, and then in turn had hers ended by a friend.

    “You cant count on anyone in this life.” She mutters to herself, and to her no truer words have ever been spoken.

    She has no idea where she goes from here, no idea what the next weeks will hold. No idea what she’s fighting for now, but at least she’s not hiding away. She’s just sitting out in the open in a random hallway backstage. People are just passing her by, many want to welcome her back, but this doesn’t seem like the right time the way she’s just sitting there staring at the ground.

    But there’s one person who won't just walk past her...Alyster himself.

    The Masked former tag team partner of Gabrielle who has enjoyed great success post-Black Caramel finds her sitting there backstage. She disappeared off the face of the Earth to him for months, and that was after months of somehow being nearly impossible to ever find backstage.

    He approaches her, somewhat awkwardly. Not quite knowing what to say or do, but knowing he has to do something while she’s there. “Gabs…” is all he offers up at first, not yet enough to gain her attention. “Gabs, you were great out there, ring rust be damned.”

    The situation just feels so awkward now. Alyster had become her purest friend but now it feels like neither of them have any idea how to talk or be around the other.

    “It’s great to see you back here, I’ve missed you.”

    She finally looks up at him but it’s nearly impossible to read the expression on her face, is it hurt or anger, or something else entirely?

    “What happened out there…” His words make her eyes narrow, her first unmistakable expression; annoyance.

    He crouches down in front of her. “You know that was nothing personal right, you got some shots in on me too…” He pauses, waiting for any kind of reply, but gets none. This encounter feels so heavy and still so awkward. As he keeps crouching in front of her, he reaches up and slides his mask up off his face, so only she can see him.

    “I know you Gabs, you’d be even more pissed at me if I refused to take you on. I know you too well, there’s nothing you hate more than when people won't take you seriously. Or when people act like you can't handle their best. I couldn’t just stand there and pretend you of all people were not up to the challenge and refused to fight you.”

    For a moment she looks up at him, it’s sweet as they lock eyes, but that moment is so short.

    “But Aly, you did that. You of all people refused to fight me...until I didn’t see you coming.”

    His head noticeably droops as Gabrielle’s eyes tear up. She springs up to her feet suddenly, wiping at her eyes. “Aly...I don't want to see you...not now...maybe...maybe not ever. Just please don't come look for me anymore.” Her words sting her just as much as they do him. She reaches a hand out and cups the side of his face for the briefest of moments, before rushing off in whatever direction gets her far away from here.



    27th November 2021


    She’s changed so much just in the days that she’s been back in the World of the FWA. She’d changed before then as well, finding a new confidence and even self belief again. But now she’s struggling to remember those things.

    Her relationship with Kayden feels like it's taken a hit before they even got to know each other properly. Her relationship with Alyster feels like it has come to an end. Any relationship with that shadow living in her mind feels like it's dead already. Her relationship with Rupert feels like it is something now. How is he the one person who has brought her any happiness these past couple of weeks?

    How’d she find herself turning to him for anything? When all he’s ever done before is make her feel worse and worse about herself.

    So all she has left, once again is herself.

    So she’s just staring at her own reflection, wondering for how much longer she can keep letting herself down as well.

    Wondering why it has to be her that finds herself struggling so much. Men like Chris Kennedy, Devin Golden and Ryan Rondo have only added to their legacies. They’ve all done incredible things in mere months...while Gabrielle finds herself years deep in a return to the ring...and she has nothing left to show for it.

    So she just keeps staring at her own reflection and wondering how it is that Ryan Rondo continues to achieve greatness while she struggles so much. She’d give anything to have experienced the highs he has, absolutely anything.

    It’s become a far too distant memory for her of what it feels like to be special, to be great, to be a Champion. She used to brag about every month of her life that she’d spent as World Champion...but those particular months are now so long ago.

    Ryans felt that recently, and he will again, she just knows it. As she stares at herself she just knows that he’s going onto Mile High where he may join this carousel of people who only need one chance at the World Title to make it theirs...even if it’s just briefly so. It doesn’t even make her sad, not now. She’s starting to just accept that it is how it is. Gabrielle used to be great, used to be one of the greats.

    But now, people like Ryan Rondo keep adding too much to their legacies while she falls behind.

    God how good it would feel to upstage him, to beat him, to take a moment away from him and make it her own, she silently laments. It would be so euphoric, maybe she’d recapture any kind of spark. Maybe it would wash so much of her pain away. Maybe it could heal her, help her...save her.

    Or maybe it’d just be a win, just a match, just another night. She’s had so many of those, empty matches, she wins those. A name, a face opposite her in the ring...but what do they ever mean? It’s impossible to know for her, it feels like so long since anything she did mattered. So long since she added to her Legacy. Is it really any wonder that people like Rupert have torn her Legacy apart?

    She needs this, she NEEDS Mile High. Just to feel even briefly that she can win the big ones, that she can be just as good as Ryan Rondo is. That’s all she wants now, to just be as good as Ryan, to be Ryan. To be anyone else other than Gabrielle...


  6. #6
    Sun Tuh-Zoo
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    Re: Fallout 009 | Purple Incan Kush | Promo Thread.

    [PROLOGUE]

    The scene opens in a dimly-lit office dominated by the large desk in the middle of the room. A backdrop of bookcases line the walls, with the main sources of light coming from the lamps on the desk. A man clears his throat and walks into frame; he wears a dark brown suit which matches his bushy moustache and slicked back hair.

    The man perches himself on the edge of the desk and looks directly at the camera. “Good evening. My name is All-“

    The man stops himself, before composing himself once again. “My name… is not important. What is important is the story which is about to unfold before you. The characters and stories that you will see are based on real life. Some of the language and imagery used in this production may cause offence to some. You have been warned.”

    “Now, I hope that you will join me and enjoy the story of how Shawn Summers and Kleio De Santos met their gruesome and grizzly ends at the hands of our stories’ heroes… Dr. Chris-P-Cock and Knocky Horror.”

    The man rises to his feet and clasps his hands together, before throwing his arms out wide.

    “Ladies and gentlemen, I give you… THE KNOCKY HORROR PEACOCK SHOW!”

    Dr. Chris-P-Cock and Knocky Horror in…

    ALLEN PRICE PRODUCTIONS PRESENTS:
    THE KNOCKY HORROR PEACOCK SHOW!


    [SCENE I]


    Half a mile down the road from the gates of Castle Boogie, a convertible finds itself struggling for grip on the wet road, as the rain pounds down on the soft top of the vehicle. The winds brought on by the storm cause a large branch to fall onto the road into the path of the fashionable car. The driver, a man with platinum blonde hair, reacts as quickly as he can to avoid the branch, but this only results in the car careening off of the road entirely and into a ditch.

    "Shit!" is the cry of the driver as he pounds his palms on the steering wheel, before he turns to his passenger. The woman, younger than the man, has a terrified look on her face following the crash. The man's tone softens after he takes a moment to read the girl's reaction and asks in an obligatory manner, "Are you okay, Kleio?"

    Kleio, clearly in shock, slowly turns to the driver and has to stifle back tears following the traumatic event. "I-I'm okay." Despite her response, it was clear from her tone and demeanour that the woman, not older than her early twenties, was not okay. However, for the sake of this man she was with, her date for the evening, it seemed necessary for her to put on a brave front. However, she shudders as the man attempts to leave the car.

    "Shawn, where are you going?"

    "We can't just stay here, can we?"

    "Where are we going to go?"

    "I don't know! Just let me think!"

    "Is there anything I can do to help?"

    "Just shut up, alright? Let me think!"


    Shawn looks at Kleio with a wide-eyed expression, clearly not interested in consoling her with the obvious concerns that she has. Shawn takes a moment to think and then begins voicing his thoughts out loud. "Let's find a house... ask if we can use their phone."

    "What if there is no one around?"

    "Stop it with the questions! I'm not your babysitter! Just do what I say and maybe we can get out of this."

    There is no further conversation between the young pair as Shawn pulls himself out of the driver side window and climbs from the ditch onto the road, where he looks around. He sees the outline of Castle Boogie in the distance against the dark sky through the rain. Deciding that it will be the closest and most viable option, he begins walking down the road.

    In the car, Kleio quickly realises that Shawn is not coming back to help her get out of the car herself. She manages to force open the door, climbs out of the ditch and follows Shawn down the road.


    [SCENE II]

    Rain patters against the windows of the laboratory where Dr. Chris-P-Cock goes about his work in his usual flamboyant style. Puffs of multi-coloured smoke billows from vials atop a steel table, and the mad doctor cackles gleefully as he admires the wonderful colours illuminating the room. He sings in a hushed tone as he performs this unknown experiment, “If only he knew of my plan… In just seven days, I can make you a man!”

    All of the hallmarks of your typical mad scientist are met. Lab coat, unkempt hair and a deranged look to the eyes.

    Chris laughs as he pours a final ingredient into the vial, and the potion bubbles as a result of this ingredient being added, with the potion turning a deep shade of purple. He glides gracefully across the stone floor of the lab and over to another table at the other end. This table is covered by a white sheet, and there is clearly a figure laying under the sheet atop the surface of the table.

    The doctor yanks the sheet from the table to reveal a man laid on top as the shape under the sheet would have suggested. The man’s body seems as if it was chiseled from stone; the perfect form. Muscles cover his body in every imaginable place, perfect blonde hair sits atop his head and his handsome face causes the doctor to blush at his creation. The model-like man’s eyes are closed as if he is locked in a peaceful sleep. Chris strokes the man’s face gently.

    “Oh, my dear Knocky Horror… Life has been such a drag.” The mad doctor allows his fingers to linger over his subject’s cheek for a second before he walks over to the long-paned window and looks out longingly into the distance through the droplets cascading downwards. “Setback after setback. Misery upon misery. Just how much more do we have to take?”

    Chris cocks his eyebrow towards Knocky on the table, and feigns surprise when a response does not come. He laughs brashly, brandishing the formula he has created in front of his face, and he looks at Knocky through the thin purple liquid.

    “The answer is “none”, my sweet little one. You see, if you stick with me, success you will begin to see!” The scientist giggles at the little rhyme, and approaches Knocky on the table again. He places his thumb on Knocky’s chin and pulls Knocky’s mouth open. Chris raises the vial above Knocky’s mouth and pours the liquid inside Knocky’s open mouth, and he wipes away the excess spilled down Knocky’s cheek.

    Chris watches intently as Knocky’s eyes slowly flicker open and the man rises up to a seated position on the metallic table. Knocky slowly turns his face towards Chris, who is almost beside himself with excitement. He places his hand on Knocky's chest, squeezing his pec, clearly impressed with how his creation has come out.

    The doctor walks back over to the window where he looks out to the front of the castle; he sees a pair of headlights struggling on the road ahead before eventually disappearing entirely. This brings a devilish grin across the scientist's face.

    "Dearest Knocky, you are just wonderful! Now, let's put some clothes on you... our guests should be here any minute now."


    [SCENE III]

    The very wet pairing of Shawn and Kleio finally reach the large wooden doors of Castle Boogie. It is seemingly of no concern to Shawn that Kleio is cold and shivering, dressed completely inappropriately for a jaunt in the pounding rain of the storm. Shawn moves his hand forward to knock on the door, but Kleio stops him with a hand on his wrist.

    "Wait... what if this place is home to a murderer or something?" There is genuine worry in Kleio's voice, but Shawn harshly moves her hand from his arm and raps his knuckles on the door. There is no immediate answer, so Shawn knocks again, louder.

    "Hello? Is someone there? I need to use your phone!"

    After a few seconds, the door is slowly opened in front of them, allowing them to look inside at the gloomy castle interior. A man then appears from behind the door. White hair falls from the back of his head onto his hunched shoulders. An eyepatch covers his left eye so he uses his right to scan both Shawn and Kleio.

    "Who are you?"

    "Hi... our car broke down on the road back there. Can we use your phone please? You know, to call for help?"

    "We'd really appreciate it, Mister..."

    "My name is Rick Rack."

    "What kind of name is that?"

    "You should really open your mind a bit more..." Another voice emerges from the shadows within the castle, and a man dressed in a maid's outfit stands next to Rick Rack. He smiles at Rick Rack and places a hand on his shoulder. "You can call me Magentino."

    "Nice to meet you both." Kleio pipes up and goes to shake Magentino's hand, but Shawn slaps her hand down.

    "None of this is important! We just need to use your phone! Can you help us or not?"

    Shawn is frustrated by the obstacles being presented by these strange characters who have greeted them. Rick Rack and Magentino look at each other for a second, and Rick Rack stands back from the door and beckons Shawn and Kleio forward. "Why don't you come in? I'm sure that we have everything you need inside."

    Kleio hesitates, but Shawn barges past the servant and into the castle lobby. He sees plenty of strange artifacts around the foyer, including what appears to be a sexual aid of some sort. Magentino approaches Shawn from behind and motions to the object, "That is Rick Rack's, although he will always deny it."

    Rick Rack holds the door open for Kleio, who walks in as Magentino leaves a confused Shawn with the object on his own. Kleio rushes over to Shawn and grabs onto his arm, but he shakes her off. "Can you get a grip? We're not going to be here long!"

    "Look, I'm cold and I'm wet and I'm just plain scared!"

    "I'm here. There's nothing to worry about!"

    The couple suddenly startle as a pounding beat is heard throughout the castle. They turn to Rick Rack and Magentino, who have perched themselves on a sofa near the door. They look up to the top of the staircase in the lobby and a figure emerges, illuminated from behind by the moonlight through the window.

    Dr. Chris-P-Cock observes Shawn and Kleio from the top of the stairs and begins to walk down.

    "How do you do?
    I see you've met my faithful handyman.
    He's just a little brought down, because when you knocked,
    He thought you were the candyman."

    Shawn has an appalled look on his face as the doctor struts down the stairs, with his lab coat swinging down to his knees.

    "Don't get strung out,
    by the way that I look.
    Don't judge a book by its cover.
    I'm not much of a man, by the light of day,
    But by night I'm one hell of a lover!"

    The doctor walks up to Shawn and throws his lab coat down onto the floor, revealing his outfit underneath; a bedazzled purple suit.

    "I'm just a Sweet Disco Dancer!
    from Boogie Wonderland!"

    Chris shoots off a couple of dance moves, and Shawn and Kleio watch on, mesmerised. The doctor begins prancing around the lobby, and Shawn follows him, with Kleio at his heels.

    "So let me show you around, maybe play you a sound,
    You look like you're both pretty groovy.
    Or if you want something visual, that's not too abysmal,
    We could take in an old Steve Reeves movie."


    "I'm glad we caught you at home, could we use your phone?
    We're both in a bit of a hurry."


    "Right."

    "We'll just say where we are, then go back to the car
    We don't want to be any worry."

    The doctor considers the proposal and turns on his heel to look Shawn dead in the eyes.

    "Well you got caught with a flat, well, how about that?
    Well babies, don't you panic.
    By the light of the night it'll all seems alright,
    I'll get you a satanic mechanic.

    I'm just a Sweet Disco Dancer!
    from Boogie Wonderland!"

    Shawn is taken aback by the directness of the doctor, which causes Chris to crack a smirk, which Rick Rack and Magentino mimic. Chris puts his arms around Shawn and Kleio.

    "So why don't you stay for the night?
    Or maybe a bite?
    I could show you my favourite, obsession.
    I've been making a man with blonde hair and a tan,
    And he's good for relieving my tension!


    I'm just a Sweet Disco Dancer!
    from Boogie Wonderland!


    I'm just a Sweet Disco Dancer!
    from Boogie Wonderland!"

    The doctor proudly struts to the bottom of the staircase, and turns to his guests one last time.

    "So come up to the lab, And see what's on the slab.
    I see you shiver with antici-"

    Shawn and Kleio wait with baited breath as Chris smirks.

    "-pation!
    But maybe the rain isn't really to blame...
    So I'll remove the cause, but not the symptom."

    Chris walks up the stairs and around the corner. Rick Rack appears behind Shawn and Kleio, ushering them up the staircase also. With hesitation and trepidation, the two young people follow the mad doctor up the staircase at the behest of his servants.


    [SCENE IV]

    Shawn and Kleio walk into the laboratory, where Dr. Chris-P-Cock is waiting for both of them following his invitation for them to join him. He motions for them to come closer to him as he rests against a cabinet filled with all sorts of different ingredients for use in his experiments. Shawn takes a harsh tone with the doctor as he approaches him. "Now, look here. I feel like you are wasting our time. We have dinner plans that we do not need you getting in the way of. Now, are you going to let us use your phone or not?"

    The doctor does not meet Shawn's antagonism with anything other than a curious look at the angry young man and his date. He points at them with a finger whilst holding his martini glass. "How did the two of you meet? You both seem like a terrible match."

    "That is none of your business. Would you please-"

    Shawn's eyes widen with fury as Chris cuts him off with a finger over his lips. The doctor turns to Kleio. "Always this serious, is he?" Kleio nods. "Yes... I think there is more than meets the eye with this one. Why such a strong-minded young woman such as yourself would need someone like this to succeed is totally baffling to me."

    The doctor removes his finger from Shawn's mouth and walks proudly across the room with his drink still in hand. He stands in front of a large casket which has been stood up, leaning on it. "Now, I promised that I would show you something. Well, let me introduce to you someone who I think is very special. A man who, with my help and guidance, can achieve many a great thing. To be let down no more, I give you.... KNOCKY HORROR!"

    Chris flings the swinging casket lid open to reveal Knocky Horror standing inside. Both Shawn and Kleio are taken aback by Knocky's appearance, as the rebuilt man is not fully at grips with his new lease of life. Kleio slowly approaches Knocky.

    "I feel like I know him... like he's someone from my past..." She turns to the doctor and points a finger in his face. "What did you do to this poor young man? You've turned him into... into a monster!"

    The doctor scoffs, and walks towards Kleio, looming over her. "Whoever Knocky Horror was before he met me, is no more. No longer will he be trodden on and mistreated by those who he thought cared about him. It is me. Only me."

    "You admit to just using him?"

    "Using him? No! If Knocky and I have similar goals - to simply turn our fortunes around and stop getting pipped at all of life's posts - is there a crime in helping Knocky in any way I can to ensure those goals are met?"

    "It's just not right!"

    "Not right? What's not right is that for all of the effort I have put into my work is that I have so little to show for it! The exact same could be said about dear Knocky here. So, on behalf of both of us, I have decided to do something about it! So please, tell me what my crime is!"

    There is a tense moment between Chris and Kleio, but it is broken by another scoff from the doctor, who seems thoroughly entertained by the heated conversation. Shawn interjects.

    "This is all truly riveting, but we must get going."

    "Now, now. I'm afraid with the storm outside and your vehicle in such a state of disrepair, I can't in good conscience allow you both to leave! What kind of host would I be to put my guests in such a dangerous situation? You'll stay here tonight. Separate rooms though, I am afraid."

    Shawn is irate. "Stay here? In this place? Have you lost your mind?"

    "Disappointment can do that to a person." The doctor says frankly. "Rick Rack will show you to your rooms."

    As if on command, Rick Rack shuffles into the lab and motions for Shawn and Kleio to leave with him. Chris grabs Shawn by the arm just as he is leaving.

    "I find you highly intriguing. You may have a visitor during the night." Chris gently releases Shawn's arm and winks at him before he watches his guest leave the laboratory.

    Knocky Horror walks up behind the doctor and looks down at him, as if unsure of his master. Scared, even. The doctor does not pay attention to this.

    "I believe our night is only just beginning, dear Knocky."


    [SCENE V]

    Shawn tosses and turns in his assigned bed for the night. He was surrounded by a thin veil on all four sides, leaving him to feel trapped as he tried to sleep. The events of the night so far play on his mind; this flamboyant mad scientist had basically kidnapped him and locked him inside of this room. The sounds of the wind and rain from outside were enough to prevent any sleep from happening, let alone all of the other oddities that he experienced.

    A crack of light emerges from the door. Through the veil, Shawn can see a figure in the doorway. He groans as he knows that this could only be one person and is suspicions are confirmed when Dr. Chris-P-Cock whips back the veil and presents himself to Shawn. Chris sits himself down on the edge of the bed, and Shawn bolts upright into a seated position.

    "What do you want?"

    "Well, I don't like to break my promises. I said that I'd come to see you and here I am. I'd hate to disappoint."

    "Well, whatever you want from me, you won't get it! I'm not interested!"

    "You think I'd be here for something as trivial and meaningless as a late night rendezvous? Even if that kind of thing did interest me... you? Hmph, don't flatter yourself." In an odd twist, it appears that Chris is actually disgusted by Shawn.

    "I'm in need of something much more important than your body, Shawn. I want... your mind." Chris raises his eyebrows as he utters that sentence, enthralling Shawn with his captivating tone.

    "Like I said before, I'm looking to turn my fortunes around. Before I can do that though, I had to think about where I was going wrong before. At first I thought it was the fault of those I'd surrounded myself with... but no matter what happened, the setbacks kept coming. So the true fault, the real common denominator, was me. Whatever I was doing before just simply wasn't working."

    "What does this have to do with me?"

    "Can I tell you a secret, Shawn?"

    "Does it matter what I say?"

    "I've known from the moment that you entered this castle that you had another side to you. Something inside of you that you let come to the surface from time to time. I want to understand it. I want to understand how you can allow your body to be taken over... because I think I have the same condition as you. Inside of me, there is a capacity for things that I never thought imaginable. You've allowed your other side to stay dormant, and it has led you to this point where you're just as desperate for success and acceptance as I am. Unfortunately, I need to put myself and my Knocky first... so I need to get inside that head of yours. I do hope that you'll forgive me."

    Before Shawn can react, Chris reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a handkerchief, and he puts it to Shawn's face. Within seconds, the young man is passed out on the bed.


    [SCENE VI]

    Kleio stares out into the night sky watching the stars through the rain and wondering to herself about everything that had just occurred. She would find herself then unable to sleep because her mind was restless and the thought of Shawn being by himself alone in this crazy house did give her pause. She hears the sound of the door starting to open as the light crept into the room enough to light up half her face and she started to sneak off into the rest of the house.

    There were paintings everywhere of odd faces and it felt like they were watching her as she made her way through the house. She follows a staircase and as it leads back up to the lab she could hear the sounds of a whimper in the dark. She would search around for a few more moments as then a light switch would light up the room to find Knocky sitting in his bed (being the casket back in its natural position), his hands against his face as she startles him. Knocky would hide behind the bed unsure of how he felt about Kleio as she would reassure him that it was ok.

    "Oh you poor thing... It's okay, I am not going to hurt you."

    Knocky would peek his head out from between the bed before his brown doe eyes look into her with a sense of fear. "I am not scared of you hurting me."

    Knocky would say this with a kind of a stutter as he is now fully standing from behind the bed.

    "Then what are you scared of, Knocky?"

    "I am scared of failing." Kleio looks back at Knocky stepping closer to him as he would go on. "I am supposed to be the perfect man; that is what the doctor made me to be. I am supposed to be this standard to every other. I just feel like I won't be able to live up to it. I get this pressure coming to me and this sense of dread; that all I am going to do is fail to live up to the doctor's expectations. I am just going to end up as a failed experiment and he will just throw me away just like the others. I see the look in his eyes. I see the pride he has in me. Everything he has built throughout the years has set up this moment right here."

    "Are you sure that you really want to live up to that? To be with the doctor?"

    Knocky would find the question pretty jarring as he takes a step back from Kleio and instead would start to make his way away from her towards the window looking up into the night sky looking at the very stars that Kleio had been in her room.

    "I want to be worth something. I don't want to feel like a failure. I don't want to let anyone down. You know, perfection is what everyone strives to be; that is what everyone wants in their life. You know something though? What they don't tell you is what this perfection does to someone when they are told they are it. You get this idea that you are unstoppable that you are unbeatable that no matter what you do you can't fail until you do. Then what happens? You are cast aside and forgotten. You don't know where to go and what to do because you aren't perfect. You are broken and you can search all around to find the pieces to put it back together be no matter what you do you are never the same. The doctor needs perfection, he deserves it. I can't let him down. I can't be that reason for his failures."

    Kleio would try to get closer to Knocky her soft voice would echo through the lab. "You just hear yourself? You said his failures. His failures are not your own... they are his. Knocky, what do you want? Who do you want to be?"

    "I want... I don't know. I guess I want to feel like I am not letting everyone down. I want to be able to be the man that he made me. I know that it's silly that I shouldn't worry about what people think but I do. I wish it wasn't the case. I wish it didn't keep me up at night. I wish I didn't have to feel these voices in my head scream at the top of their lungs with these doubts paralyzing me however it does. I mean where am I supposed to go if I am not here who would accept me? No one. I need the doctor. The doctor may have these high exceptions of me. I may have those doubts that will drive me to prove that I am worth it. I shouldn't feel ashamed of that, should I? I know that I am still young, that I am naive that the world shouldn't work like that however here we are this is what has become of it."

    "That sounds abusive... You shouldn't do that to yourself!"

    "Well, what about you?" There is a wave of anger to the voice of Knocky one of which causes Kleio to step back. She then goes to leave as Knocky grabs her arm. He has a tight grasp around her wrist as he goes on to speak.

    "You are telling me you don't feel the very things that I feel? You don't find yourself needing that approval? You don't want to be filled with that pride? You judge me because of it, yet your eyes still tell that very same story. You have someone in your life that you feel the very same over. You have someone that you strive to be perfect for. The doctor may have made me Kleio but we are two peas from the same pod. So don't you dare judge me for that."

    Knocky lets her go as she stumbles and falls to the ground. She goes to scream as Knocky grabs her and throws her over his shoulder and then starts to make his way through the castle letting the lights turn off around him.


    [SCENE VII]

    Knocky drags the screaming Kleio into the main dining room in the castle and her screaming only intensifies when she sees the scene that has unfolded inside of the room.

    The prepared dinner is strewn over the floor, with the only thing on the table being Shawn, who is shackled to the table at the ankles and the wrists. A rag is placed in his mouth to muffle his shouts. Dr. Chris-P-Cock sits at the head of the table, with another martini in his hand with his legs crossed. Upon seeing Knocky enter the room with Kleio, Chris gasps with joy and rises to his feet. "How kind of you to join us for our midnight feast, Kleio! Perhaps Knocky can help you to your space at the table?"

    There are more shrieks from the poor young girl as she notices that there is an identical set of restraints for her. Knocky does as the doctor wishes and forces Kleio onto the table and despite her best efforts to fight him off, she is also shackled to the table.

    "Well done, Knocky!" Chris exclaims over the sounds of Kleio's sobbing.

    "Why are you doing this to us?"

    "That... is an excellent question. You see, it was a conversation that I was having with your lovely beau that gave me the idea to kill you both. I told Shawn that I have a more sinister, violent side, lurking inside of me. I have done everything that I can to repress it... but I think it is time to give away some of the control. Had I done this sooner, I might have not experienced as many of those setbacks I mentioned earlier on."

    Kleio, as she did before, attempts to appeal to Knocky's kinder side. "Knocky, I know this isn't what you want! You said we were the same! I wouldn't do this to you!"

    "Maybe we're not so similar after all?" Knocky's reply causes the doctor to grin widely.

    "So... shall we eat?" Chris laughs and brandishes a knife from behind his back. However, before he can plunge it into Shawn's chest, Knocky puts his hand on his master's shoulder.

    "May I?"

    Chris pauses for a moment to proudly smile at his creation.

    "You may indeed!"

    The doctor stands back as Knocky stands over Shawn with the knife raised above his head.

    It lowers...


    [EPILOGUE]

    Back in the same office as the beginning, the man sits behind his desk and closes a heavy book shut. Dust particles fly from the book into the air as he does so. The man once again addresses the camera. "So, the story of two ill-matched lovers comes to an end with their demises at the hands of two men at the end of their respective tethers, united in agreement that drastic measures are required in order for their fortunes to turn around."

    "Questions do remain... however, one thing that I do know for sure... is that it is about time for Chris Peacock to wake up..."

    The scene shifts to the perspective of someone opening their eyes and looking up from the floor. They blink several times as their vision becomes less and less blurred to make out the face leaning over them.

    "Chris? Are you okay?"

    Chris Peacock sits up from the floor of the gym and looks around for a moment, allowing his vision to return to normal. Kayden Knox is crouched next to him, with a concerned look on his face.

    "What happened?"

    "You passed out. We were in the middle of a circuit, and you just fell down to the ground and were out for like a minute. Do you need me to call an ambulance?"

    "No, no. Just help me up." Chris reaches up and Kayden grabs his wrists and pulls him up from the ground and passes him a bottle of water. "Thanks, Kayden."

    "You sure you're alright?" Kayden presses, and Chris nods as he drinks from the bottle. "I know that things must be tough for you right now. It is hard to overcome all of these setbacks, especially when there are so many in such a short space of time. I know being forced to team with me probably doesn't help, either. I really don't want to let you down-"

    Chris stops Kayden by putting his hand on his chest. "No. My fuck ups are my fault. I can't go around blaming other people. If our match doesn't work out and we both get another loss, it won't be just your fault, either. I've been complicit in all of this shit that's happened to me lately. I chose to hang Sauce Man out to dry, I chose to try and run solo in the CIBERNETICO! and only try teamwork when it was too late. So, there isn't a weak link here, Kayden. You don't need to prove yourself to me. I know you've got it in you to do whatever it takes to make sure we can win this one."

    Taking on Chris's words, Kayden nods. "I'm not great at teamwork either."

    "Well, we can do that together then, huh?"

    "Sounds good to me."

    Kayden extends a hand, and Chris shakes it. Both of them at that moment agree that things are going to change for both of them...

    ...even if it would kill them.

    "Remind me to speak to Allen Price... I've got an idea for his next play."

  7. #7
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    Re: Fallout 009 | Purple Incan Kush | Promo Thread.




    Spoiler:

    This is the text that is in the image above


    The scene opens in a narrow backstage corridor of the shithole arena that FWA has decided to book for the latest episode of Fallout. The fans in the arena cheer in anticipation as the titantron comes to life with the shot of the corridor. They’re like feral animals. Attracted to anything bright and shiny – hence why they would get excited for a video of an empty corridor on the screen without knowing what the hell is even going on. The audience continues to buzz with trivial chatter that quickly turns to groans and “boos” as the wrestler that calls himself ‘Der Bastard’, Shawn Summers, turns into the scene. He is wearing a black muscle shirt with “Elite Division” written on the front in white and gold, sloppily tucked into his wrestling trunks (they’re not really trunks perse. They’re actually shorts but they’re the kinda tights that Triple H wore when he was fighting Goldberg that one time. You’re a wrestling fan, you remember the ones. I’m talking about).

    The usual smirk that would have adorned Shawn’s face is missing. Not because he’s “lost his smile” or any bullshit like that. The smirk is gone because this isn’t anything to smirk about. For the past four or so events Shawn has been standing firmly in his losses. And tonight, he’s prepared to stand tall in another losing effort because that’s what we do on Fallout. Anyways, back to the scene. The crowd continues to boo and sneer at the sight of Shawn as he takes a moment to soak it in – rolling his eyes at the response as he raises a microphone to his lips.

    Shawn Summers: “This is a wrestling show, yeah? Where the guys and girls go out to the ring and grapple, throw some open hand punches and kicks at one another in an attempt to either submit, knockout, or pin their opponents in the name of supremacy. That’s what this is, right? A WRESTLING show...where people come out and cut promos.”

    Shawn pauses as the boos from the crowd intensifies at the mere utterance of the word promo. He should be surprised but let’s be honest, the FWA crowd has been conditioned for years to hate a wrestling promo being cut by a wrestler on a wrestling show – a program that’s base is literally about professional wrestling.

    Shawn Summers: “Promos. Remember when wrestlers used to cut those for the fans? Remember when they used to come out and actually convince you that they gave a damn about the match? Remember when wrestlers used to come out and convince everyone that that they actually gave a damn about the match that they’re in and make you believe that they could and would to defeat their opponent? Remember when wrestlers used to go back and forth and have you chomping at the bit to see them finally get their hands on one another? Remember when wrestlers used to do shit like that on wrestling shows?

    Shut up, you don’t remember that shit. You don’t even like that shit in your wrestling anymore. No, you all wanna see characters (Shawn makes sure to emphasize the word characters). You long for the days of the 80’s where wrestlers were these larger-than-life characters that just so happened to wrestle. God forbid someone, like me, comes around and actually cares about the actual wrestling on a wrestling show rather than characters and the over budget segments that don’t do anything for the show but put an unnecessary spotlight on guys like Nova Diamond (insert eye roll), Uncle (insert an even bigger and more exaggerated eye roll), and the dude who’s head is literally a fucking tomato. You cheer for these guys. but boo me.

    And let me ask you, do any of you even know why the hell you’re booing me? The stuff I did in CWA, that doesn’t count because no one watches that shit so why do you fans feel the need to boo me? Is it because I come out here to wrestle and not play a character in your little fantasy worlds? Is it because I dedicate my life to this business and scoff at those who would rather use wrestling as a launchpad for them to get a feature film on the sci-fi channel - I’m looking directly at you, Uncle, Hao, and Yuna. Do you boo me because I’m a ‘bad guy’? What’ve I done that makes me a ‘bad guy’? I beat the shit outta Mike Parr? We all know Mike Parr doesn’t deserve another shot at a world title because he’s a choke artist. I was trying to stop us from having to see him lose another world title match and give you people something fresh. But, for some reason, they gave him another shot at the belt and we had to sit through the same outcome we’ve seen before from that guy. I give a damn about this business. I give a damn about wrestling and you all boo me for it.

    Shawn again pauses as the fans pelt him with “boos” and chants of “you tapped out”. Normally, this would get under his skin because these people are chanting “you tapped out” at him as if they wouldn’t have done the same thing. As if Krash didn’t do the same thing just a two weeks ago. Tapping out aint the end of the world anymore. It’s just a way to lose a match now. No biggie.

    Shawn Summers: “Let me ask you all something. Do you think Chris Peacock gives a damn about the matches he’s competing in? Do you think he cares about putting on good matches and ascending to the top of the business? Don’t answer, because the answer is he doesn’t. This guy is a character. He’s a joke character. His name, it’s a pun on the words Crispy and Cock. How hilarious. His claim to fame – participating (because he didn’t’ wrestle he participated) in a fucking wacky cinematic production that’ll probably win match of the year because…that’s where we are in this company. This guy is a character that’s living off the nostalgia of the 1970’s while ignoring the fact that the 70’s will filled with deaths due to the introduction of crack and cocaine into inner cities. Ignoring the fact that the 70’s was filled with unprotected sex that lead to the rise of prostitution and the introduction of the AIDS pandemic that ravaged the LGBTQ community. He ignores the fact that the 70’s was the time period where we had the most addicts and the destruction of familes all because it had groovy music and good vibes all around. That’s your hero (Dude’s not a hero, he’s your typical whitewasher).

    Oh, but if we talk about drugs and destruction of families we HAVE to talk about Kayden Knox. The guy that won’t shut up about overcoming his addiction…oope…let me correct myself. The guy that won’t shut up about overcoming his ‘demons’. I stopped doing drugs too, but you don’t hear me talking about it every chance I get. And do you know why? It’s because no one cares. If you can’t handle your drugs, get the hell outta the party because you’re bringing down the vibe. Just ask your tag-team partner. Oh, if you didn’t realize – Chris Peacock and Kayden Knox are my wrestling opponents tonight. It’s essentially a handicap match because if we’re being honest, Kayden Knox is side character on the creative side of things and he’s barely a wrestler so…

    The fans boo Shawn’s words about Kayden but deep down inside they know he’s right. Kayden beat Mike Garcia and all of a sudden, he thinks he should be main eventing shows and can go toe to toe with the real wrestlers. These fans are just booing Shawn because what he said isn’t necessarily nice but the truth sometimes isn’t.

    Shawn Summers: “Out of the four people in this match, I’m the only one who’s a wrestler first and a character second. I’m the only one that lives and breathes this business. And tonight, I’m the one that’s going to walk out of here as winner no matter the decision in the ring.

    Shawn drops his microphone and pushes the camera out of his way as the scene comes to a close.


  8. #8
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    Re: Fallout 009 | Purple Incan Kush | Promo Thread.

    Road to Mile High Massacre


    “I can’t believe that I was the first one eliminated! What the hell was that?! Was that hold that jackass used on me even legal?!”

    Jackson Fenix asks Doctor Smith, who is checking on Fenix after Fenix was eliminated from the Cibernetico match.

    “I’m certain that it was perfectly legal, Jackson.”

    “I’m certain that Shawn Summers is a punk ass bitch!”

    Dr. Smith shakes his head and can’t help but laugh at Fenix.

    “Well, despite a high probability of a bruised ego which I can’t quite fix, you seem good to go Jackson.”

    Jackson is watching the monitor while Dr. Smith was speaking to him so he wasn’t listening.

    “Look no offense, but I’d rather be anywhere else but here so am I okay to go?”

    Dr. Smith sighs and curtly nods at Fenix.

    “Sweet! Take it easy, Doc. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

    “Believe me Jackson, I wouldn’t even try.”

    Jackson smiles like a goober not realizing that the Dr. just low key burned him. He exits the room and walks down the hall until he reaches the locker room and turns on the monitor to watch the remainder of the Cibernetico match.

    **********

    The match is over and Jackson’s team scores the win as Krash is the sole survivor for his team, securing the win and ensuring his spot in the Mile High Massacre match, while the rest of his team will have their own opportunities to qualify in matches on the next Fallout.

    “Hell yeah! That’s right, Team Krash BAYBAY!”

    Jackson yells in elation at the monitor. He’s already out of his wrestling gear and dressed in his normal clothes, a Nate Savage t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. He pulls out his iPhone and searches through the contacts before hitting the dial.

    “Hey Nate dawg, my man! Did you see the match?!”

    Nate is on speaker, and by the sound of his voice, he doesn’t sound as pleased as Jackson does.

    “Yeah, yeah, I saw it. It’s too bad that you didn’t make it to the finals.”

    “I know, right?! That punk ass bitch Summers cheated, I know it! That was an illegal move!”

    “Anyway, I’m happy for you, but the rest of your team, not so much. Are you in the Mile High Massacre match now?”

    “Not exactly. Krash secured his spot in the match, but the rest will have qualifying matches against one another at the next Fallout.”

    “That’s kind of dumb and convoluted sounding.”

    “You’re telling me, I mean, I’m already a member of the Mile High Club, so that should be more than enough qualification to be in the match!”

    “I don’t think that’s how that works.”

    “Whatever you say, man, hey, are you going to be at the next Fallout in my corner?”

    “Yeah, man, I’ll be there. Don’t sweat it. I’ll meet you at the airport wherever the show is.”

    “I’m going to be honest, I can't even pronounce the name of the place where the next show is. Macho Pikachu, I think, is the name of the place.”

    “That doesn’t sound right, but wherever it is, I’ll see you there. Until then, try to stay out of trouble please, I’m not there to bail you out if you wind up in jail or something.”

    “What are you, my Mom? I can take care of myself!”

    “Whatever, man, just take it easy until the next show.”

    The call ends, and Jackson leaves the locker room to join the rest of his team in celebration when he receives a text message from an unknown number.

    “Hey there, stud! I saw your match and want to get to know you better. Meet me outside of the arena.”
    Jackson reads the message with confusion but also a slight hint of curiosity.

    “Who is this?”

    “Konstantina, you don’t remember?”

    “Babe, I talk to a lot of women. You’re going to have to be more specific.”

    “We met at the nightclub a few nights ago. I was the bartender that you were hitting on.”

    “Oh yeah! Wait, how did you get my number?”

    “You slipped it to me, remember?”

    “Sure, I think.”

    “Anyway, I watched your match tonight. I was near the front row and saw that you got eliminated early on. I felt bad for you, so I wanted to cheer you maybe up and show you a good time.”

    “Hey babe, you don’t have to ask me twice; I’ll be out soon!”

    “See you soon, stud!”
    “Stud.”

    He liked the sound of that name.

    “Stud Muffin.”

    He liked the sound of that even better. Now he wants a muffin, so he stops by catering on his way out.

    **********

    Later on that night, Jackson waits for his date outside of the arena.

    “Where is this broad?! She said that she’d be here!”

    Right as he says that to himself, a car pulls up at the curb. A 2008 Toyota Corolla. Jackson scans the vehicle before getting inside in the passenger seat.

    “I was beginning to think you weren’t going to come, but now I can promise you that there will be plenty of that later tonight!”

    Jackson tries to go in for a makeout session, but she shoves him off.

    “Not so fast there, stud!”

    She motions towards the backseat, and Jackson glances back to see a young boy that looks to be about five years old.

    “What’s with the kid?”

    “That’s my son!”

    “What? Why’d you brought your kid? I thought you were going to show me a good time!”

    “I am, jeez! I brought him with me to the show tonight. I’m going to drop him back off with his Dad for the night, and then I promise I will show you that good time!”

    Fenix smiles as she says this, and she drives off away from the arena. Fenix glances back at the kid and notices a plush toy of Big Bird. Suddenly, bad memories of his trip to Sesame Street with Jeremy Best start flooding his head.

    “I didn’t start that fire; I promise you, Big Bird!”

    “What are you talking about?”

    Jackson comes back from whatever that was and looked at Konstantina.

    “Oh, uh, nothing. So, uh, should I call Konstantina or….”

    “You can call me Konnie. Konnie Hu. My son is named Edwin.”

    Jackson looks back at Edwin and awkwardly smiles.

    “Hey kid, did you have a good time at the show tonight?”

    Edwin nods happily.

    “Hey, alright, who was your favorite?”

    Edwin speaks some sort of gibberish that Fenix can’t understand.

    “His favorite tonight was Krash.”

    “Oh, figures. I guess he’s not so bad.”

    “He also liked that masked man you teamed with Konchu Hao.”

    “Oh yeah, that guy. I guess he’s not so bad either, even though he wears that stupid mask!”

    Konnie pulls into a gas station and shuts the car off. She takes the key from the ignition and exits the vehicle.

    “Can you watch him real quick? I’m going to fill up before I drop him off with his Dad.”

    “Yeah, sure.”

    Konnie goes into the gas station to pay as Fenix sits in the car and checks his phone. He receives a notification that at the subsequent Fallout, he’ll be facing Konchu Hao in a Mile High massacre qualifier.

    “Heh, guess what, kid? I’m going to be facing that masked weirdo you like so much at the next show! I hope you don’t mind that I wipe the floor with him so I can book my ticket to the Mile High massacre!”

    Konnie comes running back to the car in a bit of a rush and struggles to get her keys in the ignition to start the vehicle.

    “Hey babe, calm down! I sure hope that you don’t have as much trouble getting my motor going later tonight!”

    Konnie ignores him as she finally gets the key in the ignition and speeds off.

    “You must want to see how big it is. I don’t blame you; I’m amazed at it myself.”

    In the distance behind them in the rearview mirror are the flashing lights of a police car. The police car gets closer, and the siren starts to go off.

    “Hey, what’s with the cop?”

    “I think now is a good time to mention that the gas station back there, well I robbed it.”

    “What?!”

    Jackson looks back at the cop car, and Konnie speeds up.

    “Why would you do that?!”

    “I needed that money to pay that bastard ex-husband of mine child support!”

    “So you rob a gas station?!”

    “Do you have any other ideas?!”

    “Yeah, not robbing a gas station, for starters!”

    “Not everyone is a millionaire and makes bank like you and your buddies do in wrestling! Besides, you wanted to have a good time, isn’t this good enough for you?”

    “This isn’t what I had in mind! I’ve done enough crazy things over the last several weeks like skydiving, visiting Sesame Street, going to Krash’s house in Australia, and something with that freak Konchu that I can’t seem to remember, but this trumps them all!”

    Konnie runs a red light, turns a corner down into an alley, and puts the car in park.

    “What are you doing? Why are you stopping?”

    “Hiding out. The cop got stuck at that red light back there, and I don’t think he saw me make the turn down here.”

    Sure enough, Konnie was right as the cop car whizzed past the alley.

    “I thought that only happened in movies.”

    “What was the other thing you did with Konchu?”

    “I can’t remember, but knowing that freak show, it can’t have been something normal.”

    “Why did you guys do all those things in the first place?”

    “Team-building exercise.”

    “Did it work?”

    “We won, so I guess it did. Now I have to face that weirdo to qualify for that Mile High Massacre.”

    “I hope this little adventure prepares you for whatever you have to endure with Konchu.”

    “I don’t know if it did, but I do expect the unexpected with that guy. You never know what you’re going to get with him even though I’ve faced him before, and now I’ve teamed with him. I didn’t know what to expect getting in this car tonight, but here we are.”

    “Expect the unexpected.”

    Jackson turns back and notices Edwin is fast asleep.

    “Hey, the kid slept through the whole thing.”

    “Good, he can sleep now and be awake for his bastard father later and keep him up all night.”

    Konnie starts the car and drives out of the alley. She waits her turn before entering back onto the street.

    “Just like I’ll be keeping you up all night.”

    “Don’t be making promises that you can’t keep now, stud.”

    **********

    Later on, that night back at Konnie’s place after she dropped off Edwin with his Dad. Konnie and Jackson are lying in her bed, and their clothes are strewn about the floor, and they lay in bed with the sheets over their naked bodies. Konnie turns over and lays her head on Jackson’s chest.

    “You weren’t kidding; it IS big!”

    “I told you!”

    Konnie rubs his chest with her hand as Fenix begins to close his eyes.

    “You think that you’re ready for Konchu? What is a Mile High Massacre match anyway?”

    “Of course, I’m ready for him; I was born ready. I’ve got a superkick with his name on it! He beat me once before, but I’m not going to let that happen again. Not this time. No way! This is my moment. This is my time! I’m not going to let some bozo in a mask take this away from me!”

    “What’s a Mile High Massacre match? I’m not even sure, to be honest. All I know is that I’ll have a shot at the World Title. It’s something I’ve dreamed about, you know? Wrestling for the world title. Now all that stands in my way from achieving that dream is some Harry Potter wannabe dork!”


    “You know, all this talk from you is getting me excited; you think you’re ready for a second round?”

    “Babe, as I said earlier, I was born ready.”


    Rest in power, Flock U
    Rest in power, TCON

    Team Cyrus T is Best for Business

    Letterboxd

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

  9. #9
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    Re: Fallout 009 | Purple Incan Kush | Promo Thread.

    Devious Productions Presents:


    Konchu Hao in...


    "The Power of Rebirth! Fiery Passion Towards The Prize!!!"



    "Oh, I don't know...I personally think things went almost perfectly, don't you?"

    "Rezekki volutwak!"

    "I mean, I didn't ultimately end up the last man standing for the team, but the team won and I outlasted most of them. Opportunities have presented themselves and I have a bit of a feather in my proverbial cap for being the man who lasted longer than everybody except for Krash on the team. All in all? Could've been a bit better, but I can't be terribly upset with the results of the Cibernetico."

    We find our dynamic duo of Konchu Hao and his trusty sidekick Epsilon traversing a thick, lush jungle in some undetermined part of the world. It's been a couple of days since the massive Cibernetico match at Fallout 8, where Team Krash ended up victorious over J.J. JAY! and his team of misfits. The Mad Wizard himself lasted almost until the end, only being eliminated by a fluke-like second wind from both Alyster Black and Chris Peacock after their entire team ended up getting eliminated with little stopping Konchu and his temporary compatriots.

    Still, it did provide Konchu another opportunity to earn a shot at World Championship gold. While Krash is automatically entered into the Mile High Massacre, the rest of the team must compete against one another to earn their own spots and an opportunity to liberate the World Title from new champion, Randy Ramon.

    The prospect of being a World Champion has both enticed and haunted Konchu for months, at one point threatening to consume him into a deeper and darker madness. Thankfully, due to the support of Epsilon and a verbal evisceration by Cyrus Truth, Konchu has been able to maintain the balance in his madness that has captured the hearts of the FWA faithful, and continued to provide him many opportunities to scratch that particular itch.

    Cibernetico was no exception, and while he wasn't the ultimate victor? The team still managed to work together and, one could argue, dominated the entirety of the match up until the end. Thinking about smashing El Demente's skull with Rasputin's Revenge and providing Ryan Rondo the opening to eliminate Kleio de Santos fills the Mad Wizard with the kind of mirthful glee that he's been missing ever since Back in Business.

    Almost as much glee at the thought of fighting Jackson Fenix again to earn his spot in Mile High Massacre.

    Konchu and Epsilon, decked out in full cartoonish safari gear, continue to trudge through the dense foliage, with the Mad Wizard using a machete to clear his path while Epsilon consults a map and offers directions, pointing out very obscure landmarks and signs. The two of them make their way through the rough terrain until they reach a most curious sight.

    Larger, wider, and more imposing than anything else in this forest stands a massive tree, one that could rival the world's tallest skyscrapers. It's almost unnaturally large, towering over the forest and sticking out like a monolithic beacon for any travelers who know where to look. Epsilon chitters some sort of affirmation as Konchu walks towards the trunk of the tree, unslinging a large backpack and rummaging through it.


    "Excellent! I was a bit worried when we bought that map off that sketchy vendor in Tijuana, but it seems that she was as good as her word! What a delightful change of pace, for once. Now let's just hope that the REST of her story was as legitimate as her wares were. Do you have your climbing equipment, Epsilon?"

    "Tavoyaz!"

    "Good! Hope you're ready for this, my dear friend. From the looks of it, we're in for one hell of a climb. Kehahaha!"


    Konchu and Epsilon produce a series of ropes and climbing claws as the Mad Wizard takes point, using the climbing claws to securely, but carefully, begin climbing the massive trunk, making sure to take time to tie off security ropes to ensure that neither he or his minion were at risk of completely plummeting.

    Admittedly, Konchu could have just as easily used a teleportation spell or summoned a winged shadowbeast to elevate him up. But whether he's feeling like doing this the old fashioned way on a whim or to secretly one-up that repugnant little thrillseeker Gerald, Konchu seems to be finding some sort of joy in the simpler approach.

    Besides, it was good exercise. Far better than lifting weights or running mindlessly on a treadmill.

    It takes a couple of hours for Konchu and Epsilon to make any headway, but slowly and surely the duo manage to climb up above the rainforest canopy and find a knotty hole in the middle of the trunk. Konchu is the first to reach it, and it opens into the tree itself. It's a tiny cubby, but large and spacious enough for Konchu and Epsilon as the Mad Wizard enters and lends Epsilon a hand up.

    The hole, upon closer inspection, has all sorts of various arcane sigils and markings carved into the tree's trunk walls. These carvings are old, older than most civilizations and predating any official written language. The sigils alight, as if recognizing the presence of one who can harness their power after being abandoned for so long.

    Curiously, sitting in the middle of these sigils is a large oval-shaped stone, sitting in what appears to be a massive...nest? Konchu sees it and immediately smiles with wicked glee as he approaches it and inspects it as Epsilon asks something in his garbled tongue.


    "Oh yes, my friend...this is most certainly what that shrew told us was here! I honestly can't believe it. This kind of discovery is one that practitioners of magic over the millennia dream about and will never come close to. How very fortuitous...but..."

    Konchu looks over at the glowing runes and furrows his brow, half in concern and half in irritation.

    "It would seem that at least SOMEONE had the foolish idea to use these runes to seal this away and petrify it. How utterly absurd! Seems like they wanted to preserve this for some nefarious purpose, but apparently they went and got themselves killed or forgot about it. What a waste. Still...the runes are quite strong to have survived this long. I have quite a bit of work to do, my friend. So...get comfortable, I suppose."

    Epsilon nods as he reaches into his goblin backpack and pulls out some dried foodstuffs, spreading them out as Konchu brings out a couple of notebooks and scrolls and begins studying and jotting down notes and formulas.

    The duo is pretty quiet as Konchu continues his tedious arcane work, copying runes from the walls of the tree and comparing them to other runes from his study materials. Epsilon doesn't seem to mind as he happily munches away on some dehydrated dates, humming to himself as he patiently waits for his master to complete his work.

    However, as hours pass, Epsilon does start to get a bit restless. He grabs a bag of some kind of jerky and waddles over to Konchu, offering it to the Mad Wizard. Konchu graciously accepts as he takes a bite while pouring over one of the dustier, older-looking scrolls. Epsilon looks at the Mad Wizard and, as if he doesn't want to be a bother, cautiously speaks up.


    "Jubakara?"

    Not sounding annoyed in the least, Konchu turns to his faithful friend.

    "Hmm? What is it, Epsilon?"

    "...Cabakel vesqu polix?"

    "My 'fight?' Oh, you mean my upcoming match against Jackson Fenix? What about it?"

    "Ulaz irokuj?"

    "'Concerned?' Not in the slightest. Not even a little."


    Konchu turns his focus back to his papers, notes, and scrolls; however, he continues to talk to Epsilon, who has a seat cross-legged next to him.

    "I will admit, my obsession with becoming World Champion and my first match against Jackson did lead me to overreact a little and send the Twilight Cabal on a one-way trip to obliteration. Not that I regret them being gone, mind you...the world of shadow is better for their destruction. Still, the very thought that I had to face such a miserable little cretin with absolutely no redeeming qualities just to maybe earn another match to earn another match ad nauseum towards a title opportunity was...well, it was maddening.

    "But...time offers insights that aren't readily available in the moment, in the heat of the conflict. And now that Cibernetico is over and I've basically had to spend nearly a week in his company...I see Jackson somewhat differently than I did before. Something more than just a crude Neanderthal obsessed with his own external organs."


    Konchu pauses as he looks at one of the sigils in the tree and notices a similarity between it and one of the runes in his scrolls. He scrambles for a pencil, which Epsilon notices is near his feet. Konchu's minion picks it up and hands it to the Mad Wizard, who gratefully accepts it as he continues speaking and writing.

    "Curious last name, Jackson's. 'Fenix.' Invoking the legend of the fiery phoenix, a creature whose death always results in a blazing rebirth, stronger and wiser than before. It's ponderous to try and figure out why a sleaze like Jackson would ever have such a surname. At first, I thought it was just some stage name intended to make Jackson appear to be more interesting than he is. It's nothing new to professional wrestling, after all.

    "But whether he's conscious of it or not? I think there's something more to it."


    As if a flash of inspiration hit him, the Mad Wizard smiles widely as he jots some notes down, quickly and precisely.

    "After that whole series of team-building exercises that Krash insisted we partake in, I was able to see different sides to the men who were my partners. Well, aside from Ryan Rondo and Gabrielle, but that's not important. Jackson may appear to be little more than a meathead who thinks only with that worm between his legs...but there's something else there. A seed of potential to become something...more. I think a small part of Jackson exists that wants to be reborn like the phoenix whose name he's mimicking.

    "Jackson wants to prove he's more than what he's shown himself to be. He took pride in the fact that he wasn't chosen last for Krash's team. By the Aspects, the man slew a succubus when we went on that vampire hunt! Clearly he's far more than what he has chosen to be so far. If he becomes aware of how much potential he has, and ever gets the will to truly embrace greatness...I dare say, he would be quite formidable."


    "Erit...wavarek tuzap?"

    "Well, that's obvious, Epsilon. The reason I'm not concerned is simple: because I'm the exact wrong opponent for Jackson to face if he wants to level up, as it were.

    Konchu, as if remembering something, starts to draw some correlations with the design and alignment of the sigils and starts drawing out a map of sorts to arrange his own thoughts.

    "As much as I see potential in Jackson, he's not nearly ready to burn and die and rise again. Mostly because I'm simply going to grind him down as I have before. Because I want that blasted World Title. I want it more with each passing day. Not because I need it to prove my greatness, as I thought I did. But because it's a prize and I am worthy of it, and it is worthy of me. Jackson has yet to fully realize the power inside him, and isn't willing to die in order to fuel that fire. Not that I blame him. He's mortal, after all. Doesn't realize that his limitations are meant to be shattered, broken, and reduced to ashes so that he can fly.

    "It's why he's doomed to fail, Epsilon. He has a lot of failing left to do before he can truly spread his wings. And the beatings aren't about to stop for Jackson especially if he dares to stand against me and try and stop me from claiming my rightful prize. I have a lot of work to do, my friend...in FWA and beyond. The World Title and Mile High Massacre holds the key to unlocking my own destiny, and I step forward unafraid. Jackson...he still FEARS. He has not realized what he fears, and not what it will take to immolate it.

    "So, I'm going to dismantle him. Because I can, and because it's my destiny to do so. And through that, Jackson may yet rise from the ashes of his failings and become something greater...but I? I am the Mad Wizard, and I have achieved the understanding of my place in the world! KEHAHAHA! I am the man destined to rule the world, Epsilon. By force or by cunning, the world is mine and so, too, is the World Title. Jackson may possess a kernel of possibility that could blossom into something great, but Fallout 9 is not the night that kernel sprouts! The flame of possibility, of unlimited power has been fueled inside of me. Cibernetico has inspired me to push even FURTHER beyond what even I thought was possible. Despite Jackson's name, it will be KONCHU HAO that rises from the ashes, into gloriously magnificent brilliance!

    "Now...let's see if we can start a bit of a fire out here..."


    With a bright glint in his eye and a wicked smile on his face, Konchu starts to trace his finger in a seemingly random pattern across the sigils on the tree; however, as he does this, the sigils start to glow and pulse in unison with one another, creating an arcane heartbeat in this massive, ancient tree. The oval stone begins to heat up, as cracks form on it and small gouts of fire start to shoot out from the splinters. As Konchu finishes his tracing, the oval stone starts to glow white hot as it burns away...

    ...revealing a small bird with orange plumes and unnaturally beautiful feathers. The creature, a baby phoenix, squawks and coos as Konchu, absolutely enraptured by the creature, holds out his hand as the tiny little phoenix chick hops into his hand. Both the Mad Wizard and Epsilon stare in awe of this creature of elemental fire, a fire that warms but doesn't burn. That soothes, but doesn't scalds.

    Konchu, gently, holds his hand out to the opening in the tree as the phoenix, as if it already knew it could fly, leaps out and starts to soar, circling the tree that had been its home and prison for so long, now set free by the machinations of a madman.

    As Epsilon watches in rapturous enthrallment, Konchu turns back towards what's left of the egg. There, he finds several small flecks of phoenix down, which he picks up with a pair of tweezers and stores away in vials for future study. He then joins Epsilon in watching the newborn phoenix fly, saying:

    "It's time for something new. And Jackson Fenix will not stop it..."
    Something Witty!

    Cyrus Truth
    4x FWA World Heavyweight Champion
    1x FWA North American Champion
    Carnal Contedership 2016 Winner
    2x CWA World Heavyweight Champion
    1x PnH International Champion

    Konchu Hao
    1x FWA X Division Champion
    Ground Zero Winner (Season 2)

  10. #10
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    Re: Fallout 009 | Purple Incan Kush | Promo Thread.

    Gerald Grayson in…
    “Doing What’s Best”

    The hiatus I took from FWA was much needed. I was in a terrible place mentally as I suffered through a concussion, arguably the most difficult time in my life - and that’s saying something. I’ve been at the lowest of my lows but nothing compares to my time in concussion protocol. But I made it out of that and was ready to take on all challenges. I surprised Uncle and the rest of the Nephews at Fallout 006 - and it was awesome to reunite with them. The Nephews were complete once more. We were ready to take over.


    Then came Fallout 007 where Krash and Uncle were tasked to choose their teams for the upcoming Cibernetico match taking place on Fallout 008. I knew Uncle would be up to some shenanigans and I was right when he chose Alyster Black as his first pick. Krash countered by choosing me for his team, breaking Uncle’s heart in the process. As the draft came to a close, the teams were set. Me, Krash, Konchu Hao, Ryan Rondo, Jackson Fenix, Jeremy Best, and the surprise return of Gabrielle made up Team Krash. Making up Team Uncle was Uncle, Alyster Black, Shawn Summers, El Demente, Kayden Knox, Kleio De Santos, and Chris Peacock.

    Seeing Uncle as an opponent this time around was weird to me. Sure, we’ve faced off in the past but knowing Uncle the way I do now, a lot has changed. After everything he’s done for me, I don’t think I can picture Uncle as an adversary ever again. Luckily for me, we never butted heads in the Cibernetico match. In fact, Uncle was surprisingly eliminated early by none other than Jeremy Best. More on him later.

    The Cibernetico match was one for the history books as Team Krash prevailed over Team Uncle. Krash secured the victory for us when he last eliminated Chris Peacock. With Krash being the last man standing, he automatically moves on to the Mile High Massacre match. For the rest of us, we were put in qualifying matches. The matches were Gabrielle/Rondo, Konchu/Fenix, and myself/Best. Any of these matches could main event a Fallout. However, that honor went to myself and Best.

    One down.

    One more to go.

    That was my mentality after Krash secured the win for us at Fallout 008. Despite being part of the winning team, I didn’t feel as though I did anything of note to contribute to the victory. But that wasn’t something I planned to dwell on. With the win, I was that much closer to joining Krash in the Mile High Massacre match to determine the next #1 contender to the FWA World Title.



    After the Fallout 008 show, I did something very uncharacteristic of me… I went to the bar. Seems Michelle’s habits are rubbing off on me after all. After surviving a night out with Team Krash at some Mexican nightclub, I’d be fine going to a Mexican bar alone. Same thing, right? I wouldn’t be out long anyway, maybe for just an hour or two. Before I knew it, I was at the bar. “Three Amigos” was the name of the bar I went to and it was your typical Mexican bar. Seems I came on a busy night as it felt like we were a pack of sardines in there.


    I approached the bar and took a seat. The music was loud and blazing through the sound system. It was quite pleasant actually as I bopped my head to the beat. I looked to my left at the dance floor and it was popping. It was like I was watching an episode of “Dancing with the Stars” as everyone was moving like they did this as a profession.

    I raised my hand, getting the barkeep’s attention.

    “A rum and coke please,” I said, looking around to see if I’d recognize anyone.

    No one. I’m surprised no one from Fallout is here. After another great but stressful episode, I’d think someone would want to come down here to unwind. Oh well. I was actually glad to be here. I can now understand why Michelle frequents bars. There’s an appeal to them that needs to be appreciated.

    After a few moments, my drink order was in front of me. I took hold of the slender straw it came with to mix my drink before taking a sip… then another. I kept the slender straw in my mouth and chewed on it like it was a piece of hay.

    Michelle came into my mind. She’d be happy knowing I was doing this. Not sure if she’d approve of my drink order but she’d be proud nonetheless.

    Speaking of Michelle, I miss her. Michelle isn’t everyone’s cup of tea but once you get to know her, she’s really not that bad. We had a dynamic going and it just worked both in the ring and out of the ring. Even if she brought a lot of chaos in my life, I was able to get by. Right now, she’d probably be talking about how at-home she feels at this bar. Then I’d contradict her by saying something dumb. Dumb in her opinion at least.

    Taking a look around the bar, I spotted a pool table that had a bunch of mischievous-looking guys surrounding it. However, after only a sip of rum and coke, I was feeling all the confidence in the world. With this new found confidence, I took a swig of my drink and downed it all before making my way to the pool table.

    “Hey guys,” I said, a little too happily. The five guys surrounding the table looked my way menacingly.

    “Can I play?” I asked, garnering a glare from all five guys. A big, muscular guy, dressed in a way too tight long-sleeved, white, buttoned-down shirt approached me.

    “Get out of here, pendejo,” the man said, garnering laughs from his friends.

    “Whoa. No need to get aggressive here. I just want to play one game,” I said, putting my hands up in surrender.

    Just then, I reached into my pocket and pulled out 300 dollars.

    “How about now? Someone play one game with me and if you win, you can keep the cash,” I said, pointing to the cash I set on the table.

    One of them told the big guy to calm down as he stepped up to me, the leader, I’m guessing. He was dressed in a gray suit and brown wing-tipped shoes. He stroked his neatly-kept beard as he looked at me, pondering his next move. His slicked back hair was shining in the light on account of too much product being used and I could smell his cheap cologne because of how close he was to me.

    “I’ll play jú,” he said in an accent, rolling up his sleeves.

    “Perfect,” I said, racking up the balls and rolling them within the pool triangle, setting them up right on the line.

    “You can go first,” I said, offering him the stick and cue chalk. He casually grabbed both items from my hands and looked at me as if I was trying anything funny. All I could offer him was half a smile, motioning him to take his turn.

    After adding some cue chalk to his stick, he positioned himself on the table. With full force, he broke the formation of the balls and one blue solid ball went into the pocket, garnering some applause from his friends. He was feeling good about himself. He assessed his next step and decided to try and sink the green solid ball - and he was successful with his friends cheering for him once again. I broke a little bit of sweat, thinking I made a mistake. For his next move, he went for the orange solid ball. This time, he was unsuccessful - his friends groaning at the missed shot. He took a seat and motioned sarcastically that it was my turn.

    I assessed the current situation, looking at all the different angles. I was definitely taking my time here and the guy I was playing was getting impatient, and so were his friends.

    “Ah, c’mon man!” he said, using his pointing finger and thumb to massage his temple.

    Finally, I shot my shot - sinking the blue-striped ball. I could feel the glares on me but I couldn’t break the momentum I had. After a few moments, I knew exactly what my next shot would be - and I was successful in sinking the purple-striped ball. It was cruise city from there as all I had left to sink was the eight ball. Probably not the smartest idea, but I whistled towards my challenger, getting his attention immediately. The whole time, I was looking at him and sunk the eight ball for the win. In what was undoubtedly the dumbest move of the night, I began celebrating in front of all of them as if I had won the lottery, gloating in their faces that I had won. They surrounded me immediately and began shoving me around. But before things could get worse, security guards were there to break up the situation. One grabbed me by the arm and escorted me out as I had my hands up in surrender.

    I don’t know what happened to the rest of them, but I was the one escorted out of the bar. Wow. I didn’t play that situation very well but still, I was the one escorted out? Really? Whatever. I looked at my watch and saw it was nearing midnight.

    “It’s past my bedtime anyway,” I said, grabbing my phone to call an uber. Just then, I realized the 300 dollars I had put down wasn’t in my pocket. It probably got lost in that scuffle. Fuck. I was wrongfully escorted out of the bar and out of $300? Great. Serves me right for wanting to have fun, I guess.

    After a few minutes, a navy blue Hyundai Accent arrived.

    “Hello, sir. Where can I take you?” he said, in a concerned tone. He probably noticed how unkempt my hair and clothes were, already assuming I got into trouble at the bar. I handed him a card with the address to my hotel.

    “Thank you, sir. We’ll be at your destination soon,” he guaranteed and proceeded to drive.

    The Uber driver played Mexican hip-hop as we drove away from the bar. I could only make out some words but I was feeling the song as I nodded my head to the beat. The Uber driver noticed me and cranked up the volume as he started to rap the rap part of the song.

    “Aww yeah!” I said, giving him props.

    Dude killed the rap section of the song ending with an invisible mic drop. I applauded him soon after.

    “Thank jú. Thank jú,” he said, smiling as his eyes focused on the road.

    “What’s your name?” I asked suddenly.

    “Rico,” he replied.

    “You’ve got bars, Rico. Good stuff,” I complimented him.

    “Thank jú, sir. Thank jú. I did my best,” he said in response.

    At the sound of “best”, I thought about Jeremy.

    “Your New Best Friend”
    Jeremy Best.


    What a guy.

    After going through various team exercises that included visiting a Mexican nightclub, journeying through Sesame Street, whatever the hell Konchu made us do (I’m still hazy on the specifics), and Krash wanting us to beat the hell out of him, I grew fond of Jeremy. His moniker of “Your New Best Friend” fit him perfectly as I considered him a close friend by the end of it all.

    However, once I saw the Fallout 009 card pitting us against one another, I had to dial things back for my own good. I had to get in the right mindset because it’s not everyday you get a chance to be in a #1 Contender’s Match for the FWA World Title. This is too big of an opportunity. I’m sure Jeremy felt the same way.

    Since Jeremy stepped foot in the FWA, he’s been someone I’ve kept my eye on - and for good reason. He’s pretty freaking good. To my knowledge, there’s only been a handful of rookies who have made a bigger impact than he has in such a short amount of time. Eliminating Uncle from the Cibernetico Match was huge for Jeremy. Getting rid of the leader of the team definitely gave our team an even bigger advantage. He bided his time and when the opportunity came, he pinned Uncle’s shoulders for 1 - 2 - 3.

    The glimmer in his eyes each time he goes out there to perform for the fans - I had that same glimmer in my eyes once upon a time. However, that glimmer slowly faded away as my FWA career continued on. Don’t get me wrong, I still go out there and give it my 100% for the fans but it’s just the nature of the business.

    I worry for Jeremy.

    Will he continue to be the sunshine he is on a cloudy day? Or will this business eat him up and spit him back out like leftovers nobody wants? Even though I worry for Jeremy, I can’t be the one to break it to him. I can’t be the one who takes his light away. I dread the day darkness enters the heart of Jeremy. All I can do is play along with his fantasy that everything is sunshines and rainbows. Hopefully whoever teaches him the difficult lesson of life itself is a merciful one.

    It all happened so suddenly too.

    One day, I looked at myself in the mirror. Gone was the young, cheery, upstart I was once and present was the dark, feral nature that consumed my inner being, looking to pounce, always ready for the next thrill. But I chose this. I chose to change, to adapt to my environment, so that I would not be left behind by the current cream of the crop.

    For Jeremy, it is best that I win. It is best I win because I’ve seen the devilish things that can happen to a person when a title opportunity arises. It is best I win to protect Jeremy, to protect him from the real world. It is best I win, so that he can stay himself - to stay as “Your New Best Friend” Jeremy Best.

    “We’re here,” Rico, my Uber driver said, when his car came to a stop, snapping me back to reality.

    “Rico, thanks for the ride man and thanks for the great taste in music,” I said, reaching into my wallet.

    “Here,” I pulled out $300 to pay for the ride and left the rest with him as a tip.

    “Huh? No no no,” he said, giving the change back to me.

    “No, I insist. Thank you, Rico. You’re the best,” I said, offering him a smile, holding out the money before he finally accepted it.

    “Thank jú, sir. Thank jú so much,” he said with a smile. We exchanged goodbyes and he went on his merry way.



    “You know, nothing ever goes well when we meet up at a bar,”
    I said, looking around at any possible trouble that could come our way.


    Around us were a number of unruly biker gangs - I counted at least five different groups. However, the rowdy behavior these groups exhibited was the norm around these parts and was welcomed with open arms.

    Michelle just shrugged by way of response.

    “Actually, nothing goes well when we meet up outside the ring in general,” I said, insisting this was a bad idea.

    “I’m not really sure what you’d consider a successful meet-up,” she said, grabbing her Heineken bottle by the neck and draining it. “To be honest, I’m not really sure I remember most of what we do.”

    There was a short moment of silence between us as I pondered the answer.

    “I guess,” I said, still unsure of this whole situation, taking a big gulp of my orange juice.

    After wiping my mouth from the nourishment of orange juice, I looked at Michelle - like really looked at her. Her hair… Her eyes… Dare I say, that underneath all that toughness was a beautiful woman.

    “What?” she questioned, irked at my gaze. She shuffled uncomfortably in her chair before returning my eye contact, sort of daring me to continue.

    “Oh nothing, sorry,” I apologized, looking down at my orange juice.

    “So,” I said, quickly changing the topic. “We haven’t done one of these in a while.”

    “One of what?” she said, uninterested. She motioned to the bartender to repeat her drink order.

    “You know, one of these,” I said, motioning with my hands as if advertising a product like one of those “Price is Right” models.

    “Ah, yes. One of these,” she said, accepting her Heineken from the barman and bringing it to her lips in one fluid motion. A smile came onto her face for a moment, her features emphasized once more. She took a larger, greedier gulp from the bottle before slamming it, half-full, down onto the bar.

    “Rough day?” I asked, noticing Michelle’s body language has been off from the beginning.

    “You could say that. More like a rough couple of months,”she replied, looking at me then back to her drink. She seemed at ease, and almost surprised at that fact. The former tag team partners sat there in silence for a bit.

    “Jeremy Best,” I said.

    “What?” she questioned in a confused manner.

    “He’s my next opponent. I beat him and I’m in the Mile High Massacre match,” I said.

    “Then beat him, I guess,” Michelle replied nonchalantly.

    “I mean, I’m going to try,” I said with no confidence behind my words. Michelle glared at me.

    “I don’t really know anything about Jeremy Best. Is he new? He must be new?” she said. “I thought that perhaps, in all this time I’ve been away, you might have at least become a little bit more self-aware…”

    I sort of blinked at her, not quite following her meaning. She continued to drink but now looked straight ahead, not quite willing to make eye contact at this present point.

    “You know, a lot has happened since Back in Business. That was the last night we were together, wasn’t it? Paris. I don’t just mean for me. For you, too, I’m sure. I don’t know what you were doing in all that time that you were away. Where you were. What you were thinking. I guess that’s up to you whether you want to talk to me. But you still seem pretty clueless as to what you can do… as to what you have…”

    She paused, as if thinking about where her strand was taking her. I looked at her intently, but she went on staring at the row of spirit bottles lined up behind the counter.

    “I’ve done my best to not keep up with goings on over on Fallout… but it’s difficult to remain completely ambivalent. I know that you’re one match away from the Mile High Massacre match. You remember what we were doing this time last year?”

    Of course I remembered. It was at Mile High that we lost our chance at the FWA World Tag Team Championships against Golden Rock in The Elite Tag Team Classic. It still stung. Stung the both of us.

    “And this year, I believe that you’ll go one better. Past Jeremy Best, past Krash, and past Ryan Rondo or Gabrielle or whoever else qualifies from that overly-convoluted pool…”

    She halted to order another drink.

    “Seems like you have been keeping up with Fallout…” I said, surprised.

    “I’ve kept an eye on you, Gerald. You know, at the start, after Paris…”

    She bit her lip. Her hesitance was clear.

    “... I convinced myself that this was a good thing. That I didn’t need you, or anyone else from Peacock. When I was riding that ferris wheel in Pripyat, truly alone in every sense of the word, I felt that this is what I needed. To be alone again. But since then… I’ve lost a lot, Gerald. Not just my championship.”

    A deep, heavy sigh, as if the world lay heavily upon her.

    “But that’s enough about me,” she paused and cocked an eyebrow. She said, motioning with her hands as if imploring me to get on with whatever it was we were here for. “You obviously wanted to meet to discuss something.”

    “Oh, well. Uhm…” I said, scratching the back of my head. I paused and took a sip of my orange juice. “Looks like a lot has happened since we last teamed up…

    “You’ve already alluded to my match against Jeremy Best to qualify for the Mile High Massacre match. You know me, I’m going to give it my all. But if things don’t go according to plan, how about we run it back?” I said casually, garnering Michelle’s interest as she perked up and looked in my direction.

    Run it back?” she questioned with confusion in her tone. Her English was good, but sometimes she struggled with idioms. The sorts of phrases you got to know by spending time with people.

    “Yeah, I feel we were really hitting our stride then our team ended abruptly - and that was no one’s fault. Our desired paths were different at the time,” I said, looking at Michelle to try and convince her. “But now, it seems the stars are aligning for the Grayson and von Horrowitz Connection to make a return. The singles titles aren’t going anywhere. We can go after those at any time. But those dreaded tag team titles have eluded us once before and that loss really stung for me,” I said, turning somber suddenly.

    “Not only did I lose my tag team partner, I lost my best friend…”

    I looked away from Michelle, too scared to see her reaction to all of this.

    Before she could reply, a tall, burly man, twice my size approached Michelle. He was fair skinned with tattoos until his neck. I spotted a particularly peculiar one that said “The Ragtag Club.” The reason it caught my eye was because of the red hue filling in the black outlined letters with exhaust pipes on both sides seemingly spewing out blood. He motioned for the barkeep to bring over some drinks as he took a seat between Michelle and I.

    I tried to look over the man towards Michelle but his immense size was blocking any visual I had of Michelle.

    “What’s a little lady like you doing at a place like this drinking all alone?” he asked flirtatiously, looking over to his biker gang friends, who are all smiles, as if telling him he’s doing a good job at this flirting thing.

    “I’m not alone,” Michelle said, looking towards me, as the barkeep came with their drinks.

    The biker man’s face became sour as he turned around. He wasn’t too pleased when I hit him with a cheeky wave. He looked at me from top to bottom and let out a scoff, choosing to ignore me as he turned his attention back to Michelle.

    “You can’t be serious. How about I show you what a real man looks like?” he said, flexing his muscles.

    Michelle looked uninterested as she asked for another drink from the barkeep but that didn’t deter the biker man. No, he was persistent.

    “Listen, maybe we started off on the wrong foot,” he said casually, coughing a bit as if getting ready for a speech.

    “Name’s Hank. I noticed you from across the room and decided someone as pretty as you should not be alone,” he said, flashing a smile, raising his eyebrows up and down.

    “Oh, you decided that? All by yourself? Very thoughtful, tulip. But like I said, I’m not alone,” Michelle said, annoyed, pointing towards me.

    I offered Hank a shrug and chuckled at the situation.

    Hank was not pleased as his demeanor changed quickly. He grabbed Michelle by the arm, and she wheeled around to face him.

    “Oh now I have your attention, huh? Let’s go, missy,” he said, stepping off the bar stool, still grabbing Michelle by the arm.

    Before Michelle could react, my right fist had already connected with Hank’s face, knocking him out. That wasn’t good news for us though, me especially, because Hank’s buddies were all headed my way. Michelle started to run but noticed I wasn’t following.

    “What the fuck are you doing?” she screamed at me.

    “Don’t worry, I got this,” waving her off. Just then, another biker gang joined the fight as they brawled with some of Hank’s friends. It was like a domino effect as all five biker gangs were now brawling with one another. All of this went on with no one going for me.

    “C’mon! Let’s go!” Michelle said, commanding me to follow her.

    “No. This is the next thrill. I have to chase it,” I replied, looking Michelle in the eyes, hoping she’d understand.

    “Thrill? What the fuck are you talking about? Don’t be an idiot please. Let’s go, Gerald. Now,” Michelle said, her eyes lit up, demanding me to heed to her warning.

    All I could do was offer her a smile as I ran into the middle of the brawl.

    Lefts. Rights. Jabs. Uppercuts. Straight punches. I felt every bit of the punches that connected on me. But I wanted this. I wanted this fight and here I am taking a beating. This must be how Krash felt during his team building exercise. Suddenly, I felt a part of me enjoying this whole ordeal. I felt that same high last time when I went skydiving with Team Krash. Ahh pure bliss.

    It was time to go on the offensive. I dealt my share of damage, using my speed to outsmart and outmaneuver people, making them look silly in the process. I utilized a 1-2 combo to down anyone who stood in my way. That’s one down. Two. Three. After that, I lost count after numerous bodies kept flying at me. One by one, I downed them. Before long, no one came at me anymore. I was doubled over, my hands on my knees, breathing heavily from what transpired. I looked at my knuckles, they were bloodied and bruised. I looked around the bar and the floor was covered with biker gang members either laid out or struggling to get up. I spotted Hank, the man who tried to flirt with Michelle in the far corner of my eye, laid atop a pile of bodies at a booth table.

    I let out a smirk but even that was painful to do as I felt a pain on my side. I limped my way to the exit and much to my surprise, Michelle was there, waiting for me, as she leaned on her motorcycle.

    “Are you quite finished?” she asked sarcastically in an angry tone.

    “Yeah,” I said, struggling to walk towards her.

    As soon as I got close to her, Michelle punched me on the arm.

    “Ow!” I held my right arm in agony, shaking it out to get some feeling back into it but even doing that motion hurt me.

    “Serves you right,” she said, turning around to her back.

    I winced, looking down, defeated.

    “Get on. Let’s get out of here,” she said, revving up her motorcycle.

    Without hesitation, I got on the bike and put my arms around Michelle’s waist.

    “You’re the best,” I said, struggling to get the words out because everything hurts, as we drove away from the bar.

    Tough times don't last, tough people do.

    >>> Check out "IMPACT! Wrestling 2019: On The Rise" in the BTB Section <<<

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    Re: Fallout 009 | Purple Incan Kush | Promo Thread.

    Nuances of Wrestling

    An Interview With Kleio De Santos




    Written by Ty Johnson
    Head Writer

    November 30th, 2021

    It has been over a year now since Kleio De Santos debuted in the FWA on her 18th birthday. Now 19 years old, she has gotten off to a 6-3 singles record (9-5 overall), and also holds the distinction of being a 24/7 Champion.

    Today I sat down with the young star to discuss her FWA career, her upcoming tag team match, and her future plans in the FWA.


    Q: Now that you're over your one year hump as an FWA star, do you feel like you've settled into your role on the roster?

    KDS:
    I don't know, it's hard to say really. There have been a lot of ups and downs this year. Teaming up with Kujo and Saint Sulley with the Saints and Sinners, winning at Back in Business against Lizzie Rose, and then being the last person to be drafted to Fallout...no I don't think I have actually settled into my role yet. I think once I am a champion, I'll have settled into my role.

    Q: What was it like working with Saint Sulley in the beginning, and what is it like now that you've pulled away from him and have been working on a different brand?

    KDS:
    There were pros and cons to both situations. I think it was good to me to have my coach by my side at the very beginning and showing me the ropes, but I also think that...he sort of has this big personality, and it's easy to get buried if you're next to him. I would never have had a chance to define myself as an individual wrestler had I stuck by Saint's side. At the same time however, it's been hard since breaking off and being on my own. It's like, there is no safety net anymore. I was 5-2 when I was with Saint Sulley, and since having him as my coach I have gone 4-3. I guess when it comes down to it, that isn't a huge difference is it? But still, it's a lot harder...being by yourself.

    Q: A lot of people have questions regarding the "Kujo" character. Can you explain him at all? Why for example he was pretending to be me? Did you know he wasn't me?

    KDS:
    I really can't explain that. You'll have to ask Kujo and Saint Sulley honestly.

    Q: Alright, let's move on to your Fallout career. You were the last one drafted. You've said before you have a chip on your shoulder...but after upsetting Krash and winning that match, is it still there?

    KDS: Being the last pick of the draft and then beating cleanly the guy who was taken first overall, it was huge. Because before that, while I had a chip, there was part of me deep down, a voice that said that I deserved it. That I didn't deserve to even be a wrestler, and that I didn't have what it took. But winning that match proved to me that I did belong, and it proved to me that the Fallout executives were wrong to draft me so low. Whether or not I proved it to everyone else though is yet to be seen.

    Q: The very next round in that tournament, you went on to lose to Shawn Summers. What was that like for you after?

    KDS: Disappointing. My goal was to prove everyone wrong, and after that I lost to someone who...truly wasn't even as good as Krash, nor will he ever be. It gave everyone the impression that my win against Krash was a fluke, like I caught him on a bad day. But what people don't realize is, Shawn Summers is the one who caught his opponent on a bad day.

    Q: Why was it a bad day for you?

    KDS: I was going through a lot at the time. My serotonin levels were quite low, and I was just lacking the energy and motivation. We all go through it...but I took steps to regather myself and get it together. I actually studied for and passed my GED exam, and it gave me a lot of self confidence.

    Q: Now that you have your GED, are you planning on going to college?

    KDS: I might. I'm focusing again on this career right now, but the fact that I could really do or be anything I want to...it's encouraging to me. It's motivating. But right now the one thing I want to do is to be a champion.

    Q: So, losing to Shawn Summers was the beginning of your slump some might say...do you blame Shawn for that?

    KDS: I wouldn't say I have a slump. I've gotten two wins since losing to Shawn. One against that piece of garbage El Demente, and the other against The Undisputed Alliance. Did I win at Fallout 008? No, but that match was a total crapshoot.

    Q: Let's talk more about your match at Fallout 009. You were booked with Shawn Summers to fight Chris Peacock and Kayden Knox. All four of you were on the same team in the Cibernetico, all four of you lost. You and Kayden have teamed up together before in the past, and obviously as we already talked about you have your history with Shawn. What dynamics do you think will be in play for that tag team match?

    KDS: First of all as someone who has teamed with Kayden Knox twice now, it's safe to say that he is more of a detreminent than he is any assistance in the ring. I carried him to a victory against The Undisputed Alliance, and all he did was get in the way against us in the Cibernetico. So, the biggest question is whether Chris Peacock will be able to carry Kayden to a victory or not. Chris is really good, I'll admit it. He was the last one standing for us in the Cibernetico, and he did amazing in the tournament. While teaming with Knox is a handicap, it's one I think he can overcome.

    Q: So you've given your thoughts on Kayden and Peacock, what about your teammate Shawn Summers?

    KDS: Shawn is a handicap, but in a different way. Similar to Kayden, he has made no efforts in trying to work or plan with me. I was spoiled in my first couple of tag team matches, because Kujo and Lizzie Rose both met up with me and we prepared. So when I first teamed with Kayden, it was a little surprising to me that he had no interest in actually working together...in a tag team match. It was less surprising with Shawn Summers. Shawn is a least sharper in the ring, but his ego gets in the way. I worry that not only will we not be on the same page, but that he'll be a glory hound to the point where he'll make a mistake in the ring. Honestly this match might as well just be me against Chris Peacock one on one.

    Q: You've given thoughts on everyone in the match now, except yourself...what's your own self assessment going into this one?

    KDS: Honestly? I wish I could say I was ready to go out there with the same energy, the same motivation, the same chip on my shoulder as I did against Krash or against El Demente, or even in the Cibernetico...but I can't. In my four last booked fights from Fallout management, three of them have been tag team matches. It's frustrating. I'm not a tag team wrestler, that's Saint Sulley's thing over on Meltdown. Me? I am looking to prove myself as a singles star. And being booked week in, week out in tag team matches makes me...well quite honestly it makes me not care.

    Q: So why show up? Why keep going? What is motivating you right now?

    KDS: I've been promised that if I keep showing out and keep winning, I'll get a shot at the X Championship. That is the prize in sight right now. I'm assuming that the four of us in this tag team match are all in that picture, so I can understand the booking decision, but yeah...that's what I am working for. One thing this match will do, win or lose, is give me a good chance to scout who I'll be facing.

    Q: Why is winning the X Championship important to you?

    KDS: Winning any championship is important, but the X Championship is what's there in front of me right now. That's the opportunity I'm being given. If I win a title, it'll make it seem like my career wasn't a bust you know? I had an accomplishment. And plus, Saint Sulley's first title was the X Championship...Saint Sulley actually has every important record involving that title. I feel like if I win that, he'll be proud of me, maybe?

    Q: So, without having planned with Shawn Summers, what's your strategy for this fight?


    KDS: Don't get pinned.



    And thus my interview was concluded. Kleio gave a lot of opinions about on going things in the FWA. Including her thoughts on Shawn Summers, her distrust of Kayden Knox, and her desire to win the X Championship. She also went on quite a rant about being booked in three tag team matches out of her last four fights.

    Will De Santos and Summers win at Fallout 009?

    You'll have to tune in to find out.





  12. #12
    Huggin' and Kissin'
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    Re: Fallout 009 | Purple Incan Kush | Promo Thread.


    My name is Danny Toner. I am 35 years old and have been wrestling for 8 years. I’m pretty good at it. I might not be able to lock up and seamlessly run through an exchange of counters for thirty seconds, but I’ve got stiff right and I ain’t afraid to throw it. I won’t win any awards for Match of the Year, but you best believe everybody remembers my matches. Everybody remembers me. Hell, you probably knew who it was the moment I opened my damn mouth. Anyway, that’s me.

    Wearing a light-grey colored, cotton Under Armour tracksuit and stretching out on a black, leather couch is Danny Toner. The room containing the small couch and two single beds is a slightly familiar one. Thick-looking books line the shelves and there is a Lenova laptop charging on a wooden-desk. Danny is twisting a red, metal grinder in his hands as he looks absent-mindedly around the room.

    People have this tendency to act like I’m an uncontrollable, unpredictable enigma who is likely to go off at any given second but in reality? I’m really quite simple, there ain’t all that much to ol’ Danny Toner. What you see is what you get and I very rarely deviate.

    Danny begins quickly rummaging through his pockets and a crestfallen look appears on his face as he realizes they are empty. He sucks air through his teeth and tuts aloud.

    “I could’ve sworn I got Coney to pick me up some papers when he was grabbin’ this kush.”

    Danny allows his eyes to wander around the room that he is currently in. He very much doubted that he would find a pack of Raws lying around TC2 and Owen’s college dorm but he had a gram of Purple Incan Kush sitting in his grinder and good to go. He needed something. Danny finally lets his gaze rest on the nondescript, black Nike schoolbag propped up against the wall.

    Then again, I have always been a genius.

    Danny unzips the bag and begins rifling through the contents before producing an A4-sized pad of sorts and flicking it open from the back. The paper was slightly thicker than Danny expected and had a sort of crumple to it. Danny stokes his chiseled chin as he muses.

    “I mean… I mean it could definitely work.”

    Danny shrugs his shoulders in a nonchalant manner and rips a section of the page out before returning the book to the schoolbag. He opens up his grinder and pours the contents into his make-shift skin and begins crafting a joint. He pokes the product down towards his roach before shaping it.

    Rolling joints and punching cunts in the mouth… the two things I do best. I had been PARTICULARLY looking forward to this joint. I have no Godly idea how, but Traffic Cone #2 had somehow manages to get his hands on some Purple Incan Kush and had willingly given it all to me. He’d said he’d got it for me as a victory present for 007 but, eh… anyway, this stuff is the shit. You wanna trip, then you need this. This is the best damn strain you can get your hands on.

    Danny holds a lighter to the end of his fat and quite misshapen joint.

    The moment of truth.

    Danny sucks hard on the end of the joint and his eyes widen a little in pleasant surprise as the smoke appears to travel through his crafted vessel with a minimum of fuss. He inhales deeply before slowly blowing the smoke outwards. He takes a second to steady himself but then just flops onto the couch and closes his eyes.

    “God-damn! I forgot how motherfuckin’ lit this shit was!”

    “Sure glad you like it, Danny!”

    Danny cracks one eye and looks at a man dressed as a Traffic Cone standing in the doorway.

    Coney. Good guy.

    “Likes what?”

    Danny shifts his look towards the fresh-faced, young man who has entered behind Traffic Cone #2.

    Owen. Intern.

    “I was just saying that I’m glad Danny here is enjoying the Purple Incan Kush I got for him!”

    “The fuck did you get this, Coney? Been meanin’ to ask.”


    TC2 looks at Danny innocently.

    “I just went down to that corner like you said, Danny. The guy down there gave me it, I didn’t even know it was Purple Incan Kush until you said so! I’m not really a drugs guy. I like rap music with easily changeable lyrics!”

    “Wait, Purple Incan Kush?”


    Danny beams at Owen proudly.

    “Why, Owen! What’s this I hear? Have you actually developed somethin’ resembling a personality? You’re smoking weed now?”

    Owen’s face turns an impressive shade of red as he quickly stammers a reply.

    “Wh-wh-what!? No! This is meant to be a smoke-free campus!”

    Narc. What is this? The fucking Uncle Unit?

    “I just think that it’s a little crazy, no? Even I know about the Purple Incan Kush… didn’t you and Ryan smoke the last of it.”

    Danny sighs aloud and takes another puff of his joint before passing it towards Owen who holds his hands up and shakes his head.

    “Lesson time, Owen.”

    “Awesome! I love when Teaching Assistant Toner takes a class!”

    Danny curtly nods his head at TC2 for showing respek.

    “You never ever turn down a hit of Purple Incan Kush. If it’s offered, you toke, no questions asked.”

    “Even if I don’t smoke weed?”

    Especially if you don’t smoke weed.”


    Owen looks at the joint in Danny’s outstretched hand and then back up at Toner. The worry is evident on Owen’s face, and he seems unsure of what to do.

    “But how come Coney isn’t being made to smoke it?”

    “What *inhales* are you talking about, Owen?”


    Owen’s eyes bug out as TC2 exhales smoke through the top of his cone. His color scheme has inexplicably changed to green, yellow, and red and his eyes are extremely bloodshot.

    “Coney’s cool, Owen… are you?”

    Owen shakes his head but he holds the look of a defeated man. One expecting bounce of Danny’s eyebrows was enough to get Owen to crumble and break. He reluctantly takes the joint off TC2 and stares at it.

    “Fine… but just one hit.”

    Owen takes a small, sharp pull of the joint and immediately begins spluttering like an old and overworked car engine. Danny slaps Owen hard on the back and soon after the coughing subsides. A watery-eyed Owen hands the joint back to Danny and takes a seat at the edge of the bed. TC2 begins speaking to Danny.

    “So, you’re still staying here, Danny? I thought you’d have joined up with the guys by now! I wonder how Ryan and Nova are getting on?”

    Better than me, bud.

    Danny offers nothing more than a shrug of his shoulders as a white-faced Owen tries to regulate his breathing.

    “Hey, I know! Let’s give Danny his present!”

    “You guys got me a freakin’ present?”

    “Sure did, Danny!”

    “You two fuckin’ rock, where’s it at?”

    “You finished it, right Owen?”


    Owen nods weakly and juts his head towards the schoolbag propped against the wall. He looks a little worse for wear following his puff of the joint and he clutches his stomach with his eyes tightly closed. TC2 waddles over and unzips the bag before producing a book. He sits down beside Owen and pats the space beside him with his hand. Danny is quick to oblige and the trio hunch over the book on Owen’s bed.

    “So Danny, it’s nearly the end of the year and we got to thinking – what a great year you’ve had!

    Yuuuup. That’s what they’re saying. My best year ever.

    Danny nods his head at TC2, encouraging him to go on despite not actually saying anything.

    “So, I got some of my old photos from my camera-roll and I got Owen here to make you your very own – see what I did, there Danny?”

    Name pun. Tight.

    “Your very own scrapbook!”

    “Well then what the hell are you waiting for? Open that bitch up!”


    TC2 beams and as he flips open the first page of the scrapbook, Owen weakly groans.

    “I don’t feel too good...”


    “The fuck just happened?”

    Danny looks at TC2 and Owen as they try and figure out just where the hell they were. They were no longer in the dorm room – they were unmistakably in a completely different building. Danny’s eyes dart around at the white-washed hall walls. He whistles lowly.

    “Nawh… we certainly ain’t in Kasnas anymore, Cone-Cone.”

    “The University of Conerville isn’t in Kansas.”


    Danny shoots Owen some violent side-eye.

    “If you’re going to ruin every bit, this will be your last mission with me.”

    TC2 imparts his wisdom upon Owen.

    “You don’t want that, Owen.”

    Owen purses his lips and shakes his head lightly as Danny paces up and down a little. He’s not too sure what’s going on. He can’t remember what happened and he racks his brain as he looks at Owen and then at TC2. Coney is clutching the scrapbook tightly and Danny eyes it momentarily. Before Danny’s thoughts develop any further, a door suddenly comes crashing open with a bang causing all three to yelp and jump. Slapping his face and roaring gutturally… Danny Toner emerges from the room.

    “Danny! Danny, are you seeing-”

    Danny holds a hand up to wave off TC2’s sentence.

    “I see it… I see it.”

    Danny is staring at himself slamming the walls and hyping himself up, but that version doesn’t seem to be aware that he has company. Danny takes a moment to appreciate just how fired up he is and suddenly it hits up like a bolt from the blue.

    “I know where we are! We’re in Oklahoma.”

    “Oklahoma?”

    “100%.”

    “But… how do you know?”


    Danny points at himself rounding a corner at the end of the hall.

    “Because I’m about to fight Devin Golden. I’ll never forget how pumped I was to have that match. To win that match. It meant absolutely everything to me. It was a prelude to… well to everything. This match is where it all really started for me. I knew how big of a chance it was and I went straight to Blackbird and asked him to put the match on straight away, first match of the night. I couldn’t wait. This was my freakin’ chance to finally announce my arrival. I was going to make sure I was the name on every single person’s lips at the end of the night and I was… but I wasn’t alone.

    The scene begins to glitch out a bit and we see a delirious Danny Toner return around the corner. He is glistening with sweat and has large red welts on his chest from his match with Devin but seems ecstatic as he enters the locker-room. But Danny wasn’t the only man who had his hat feathered that night. Kurt Harrington’s booming voice announces Alyster Black as NEWCOMER OF THE YEAR and Owen and TC2 immediately look at Danny who carries a sour expression on his face.

    “What?”

    “You don’t look very happy.”

    “This was meant to be my night, my moment to breakthrough, but I couldn’t shake that bastard Black. Him getting the spotlight reminded everyone that he had beaten me back at The Anniversary Show, not to mention twice as Black Caramel. Oklahoma was the launch-pad for my year, but it also served as a stinging reminder that Alyster Black was still out there.”

    “I wasn’t around back then… why was Oklahoma so big for you?”

    “Without Oklahoma, Desert Storm doesn’t happen.”

    “And you know what happened there, right Owen?”

    TC2 flicks open a new page in the scrapbook.


    “Jeez, it happened again!”

    “Where are we this time?”


    Danny ignores Traffic Cone #2 and Owen the Intern. As soon as their surrounding steadied and focused, Danny immediately noticed two men dressed in leather skulking around the gorilla position. Danny’s face goes beet-red and he marches up the two of them with steam coming from his ears. TC2 tries to stop him but Danny aggressively pushes his hand out of the way and goes right up to the duo. The Leather Boys.

    “You two really are fuckin’ somethin’, huh? You may have pulled the freakin’ wool over everybody else’s eyes but not freaking mine! Danny Toner doesn’t forget. Tonerville never forgives. The moment you two made your move out onto that stage at Desert Storm, you effectively signed your own death warrant. Krashy-boy, Aly-baby, you two might think that all is well and that it’s been so long since it happened that you needn’t worry yourself about little ol’ Danny Toner but with God as my witness, let me fuckin’ swear to you – I ain’t forgot, I’ve just been waitin’. Krash, you’ve got a little breathin’ space, you get to enjoy your life for just that little bit longer, though I imagine you’ll be spendin’ most of it greivin’ after I put your little side-bitch Alyster in the fuckin’ ground where he belongs. You’ve got a death-wish, huh? I’m only happy to oblige, fuckin’ fuck you, fuck you, FUCK YOU! Method of execution: Equalizer. I’m gonna ram my knee so fuckin’ hard into your skull that if it doesn’t kill you, you’ll wish it had. I’m going to leave you fuckin’ paraplegic, I’m going to leave you brain-dead. Your mother can sob and cry and play Mr. Brightside over and over but it won’t make one iota of a difference because much like there’s nothin’ going on under that mask of yours, there’s not gonna be anythin’ goin’ on in that big, fat head of yours. You’re fuckin’ finished you son of a bitch. Bring blood angel, bring murder death cunt, bring Black Jesus. I want it fuckin’ all, I want you fully with it and completely present. I want you to be aware of your brain cells diminishing as I bludgeon you over and over and over again. I want you to taste the blood in your mouth and feel the warm trickle of piss running down your leg. I want you to feel that panic engulf you. I want you to hear how loudly I chop you before I burst your freakin’ eardrums for good. Alyster Black, I hate you like no man I’ve ever met before. I’m going to do irreversible damage to you. And I’m going to mean every last bit of it."

    Danny finally stops for a much-need breath and spits right on the ground in front of Alyster. Owen and TC2 look at each other and Owen whispers.

    “He knows they can’t see him, right?”

    “I don’t think it matters…”


    Danny turns on the spot as “That’s Not Me” by Skepta begins blaring through the arena, indicating that The Toner Brothers had just beaten Golden Rock. The Leather Boys stiffen up and share a quick look and shrug. Their body language suggests surprise. Danny knows what happens next. Everybody does. No point sticking around.

    “Coney, what’s next?”

    TC2 turns to the next page of the scrapbook.

    “That’s good work boys, really good work. Michelle’s going to be up the wall when she sees what happened her precious Toner.”

    Mike Parr laughs loudly and throws an arm around the then-named Prototype and Sean Hughes. He has a broad smile on his face as he leads his stablemates away past Danny, TC2, and Owen. Danny wheels around to look at TC2 and Owen. He quickly averts his gaze, he’s unable to look at them. Unable to look at his friends. He’d hoped they hadn’t included this night in his scrapbook but when you’re talking about big moments in a year – they don’t come much bigger than beating a motivated New Breed in a steel cage match. Of course, it’s what followed after the match that was the real reason Danny was finding it difficult to be in this place.

    “Wait, if that’s New Breed this means that this is the show where…”

    Danny nods his head solemnly as Traffic Cone #2 trails off. He didn’t have to say it. They all knew, hell, even Owen knew about the night Randy Ramon snapped and ended Christian Quinn’s career. Danny felt that no matter what he had done since the incident, it was something he would always be responsible for and something that he could never truly make amends for. Professional wrestling is something that we all love and to be able to compete in the greatest company in the world… well, despite Danny’s many problems with the company, he had to admit, it was an honor. It was a dream come through. Through Danny’s negligence, he’d ripped that dream from Christian Quinn. Now, Quinn might say he was finished but Danny had reason to believe otherwise. Firstly, it was on this night that he had shared a ring with him. Steel City was no carry job. It was a steel cage match with nowhere to hide and Christian more than held his own. Secondly, as recently as Lights Out, Quinn had gotten into the ring – injured and all – and once again, won. Quinn could say whatever he likes to make Danny feel less guilty but Danny knew the truth: there was life in the old dog yet and Danny was responsible for taking that away from him.

    Or was he?

    Maybe it was because he had just seen Mike Parr and his trademark weapon is a pipe or maybe it was because being back at this show made him remember the Randy Ramon interview from the same show. Ramon warned that tonight he was coming for his revenge on Christian Quinn. Danny remembers thinking that Randy was completely bugged out and that was exactly what he wanted, that was the plan with the Quinn bait-and-switch, after all but he remembers being absolutely stunned at how far Ramon went. Ramon was buoyed on by the fact that recent attacks had reminded him of his own near-career ending injury suffered in 2016. Recent attacks carried out by…

    “It wasn’t my fault…”

    “What wasn’t, Danny?”

    “Ramon snappin’ Quinn’s leg… it wasn’t my fault.”

    TC2 and Owen share an uncomfortable look with each other, but Danny continues with his though process.

    “It wasn’t my fault… it was Alyster Black’s fault! That little indy-trash, piece of shit! Ramon got fuckin’ triggered by Black and Krash attackin’ him with a fuckin’ pipe all the damn time and he took it out on my friend, Christian. Black’s the man behind the attacks, he just fuckin’ cucks Krash and that guy is more than happy to go along for the ride. He’d follow him into battle blindfolded. Alyster Black is a scummy piece of shit and don’t let his recent endeavors fool anyone. He tries to make out like he’s freakin’ sufferin’ and doesn’t really care but still he plots and plays in the shadows, advancing himself and bringing down everything that gets in his way. He’ll do it to enemies, he’ll do it to friends, he’ll do it to innocents like Christian, and he’ll do it Krash too. Mark my words, when the dust is finally settled, it’ll have been Black that delivers the fatal blow to Krash. And if I know anything about that scum-bucket, the method of murder will likely be a knife plunged into the back of Krash. The guy is fucking trash.”

    The now-infamous Steel City “Rise!” hits and Danny grimaces as he remembers hanging on the cage staring at one of his closest friends laying there completely destroyed at the hands of one of his oldest enemies. But now, for the first time ever, his anger at this moment was being directed elsewhere.

    “Turn the damn page.”


    Danny takes a moment to register his surroundings and then groans as he sees the Eiffel Tower in the near distance.

    “Why the fuck did you make this one of my moments?”

    TC2 looks genuinely surprised.

    “This is like the biggest moment of them all, Danny.”

    “I know what you’re saying, really, I do. I am so God-damn proud of Back in Business. I truly mean that from the very bottom of my heart. I honestly doubt that I’ll ever be prouder of anything I do in this business, even if I wrestle for the next fifty years!”

    “Gosh, Owen! Imagine if we got to hang around with Danny for the next fifty years?”


    While Owen looks suitably horrified, Danny doesn’t seem to pick it up and throws a misplaced arm of comradery around the young intern.

    “Listen kid, you’re only startin’ out in this business, and I know you’ve got your own hopes and dreams.”

    “I really, really don’t. I don’t know how to wrestle. I’d really like if I didn’t have to-”

    “Don’t be silly, Owen! You’ve one hell of a flip piledriver!”

    “Yeah, Coney’s right, don’t worry about it Owen, you’ll get better.”

    “It’s not about getting better; I just really don’t want to wre-”

    “And you will get better, Owen. Maybe we need to work on your stats some but trust me, it’ll click for you one day and who knows? Maybe you’ll get to kinda-but-not-really main event Back in Business one day!!! And if you do? You’ll know what I’m talking about, you’ll know why I’m so proud of dragging that feud to the main event, of making tag team wrestling relevant again, and of showing the whole world just how good Danny Toner is. You’d think after doing all that, I’d get some kind of reward, right?”

    “I’d certainly hope so, Danny!”

    “Wrong. I lost. Here’s another lesson Owen; life isn’t fuckin’ fair. You scratch, kick, claw, fuckin’ CRAWL to the motherfuckin’ top and you know what’s waitin’ a size 13 Remix to send you hurtlin’ all the way back down. It’s fuckin’ tough to get back up and dust yourself off but you have to do it. There ain’t no use complainin’ or stickin’ it to the powers to be, it just doesn’t work. All you can do is get up and try and show them once again why you’re the best. I ain’t gonna pretend like Back in Business didn’t kill me, because it absolutely did but I was somewhat expectin’ it. See, deep down? Deep down I always knew that shit isn’t fair and that wrestlin’ doesn’t always reward those who deserve it. Want any further proof? That shit-stain Alyster Black got his fuckin’ moment. Despite all the shit he’d fuckin’ pulled in the first half of the year, they managed to find an even bigger bastard in Dan Maskell, and Black got cheered on by tens of thousands of fans to victory in the biggest spotlight of his career. I was already an asterisk from the night before.”


    Even Owen looks a little moved by Danny’s clear passion.

    “That does sound a little rough. Maybe the next moment is better, lemme see.”

    Owen takes the book from TC2 and flips a page.

    “Oh! This looks like a happier moment!”


    “I’m sorry!”

    Danny is absolutely seething as the trio find themselves at ringside. In the ring, Danny Toner and Ryan Rondo give each other a knowing glance and subtle smile as the opening bell rings. Remember when Danny was just talking about things being unfair, right? Well, here you go. In their very first match since their harrowing loss in the 3 Stages of Hell match at Back in Business, Danny Toner and Ryan Rondo had to face… each other. Danny had a lump in his throat even thinking about it, it nearly seemed too cruel. His eyes gloss over as he re-watches the match he fought and won in from a ringside perspective. Danny’s grip tightens so much on the barricade that his knuckles turn white and this once again draws the attention of the deeply apologetic Owen.

    “I really am sorry, Danny. I just seen Rondo’s name and thought it would be you guys tagging. I didn’t know they made you fight.”

    “That’s what happens in wrestling. You fight. The better you are, the better the people you fight. It was a World Title Contendership Eliminator. Rondo would have had to beat me, and I would have had to beat Rondo at some stage if we were going to win it. It’s just a pity it was the first round. But the fight itself? I guess that was inevitable.”

    Owen looks a little confused.

    “Well then if you were okay with it… and you won… why do you look so angry?”

    Danny sighs in a somewhat awkward fashion. He didn’t really know how to put it.

    “This was the night I lost my way.”

    “You lost your way? But you won?”

    “Aye, I won and funnily enough… Alyster Black lost. Gerald Grayson beat him. That was the problem.”


    A perplexed Owen persists with his questioning.

    “How was that a problem? I thought you’d be happy to see Alyster beaten.”

    “I was, truly I was, but… it lured me into a false sense of security. It made me forget about him. What he’d done to me. What he’d achieved over me. What he held over me. I’d just beaten the most successful professional wrestler of all time and he’d just been pinned by a fellow hot up-and-comer. In my head, it was chalk and cheese. There was no conversation. No more comparison. Fallout 002 spelled the end to any notion of Alyster being a better man than me – how could he be? He’d crashed out in the first round, and I was about to ride my wave of momentum to winning the whole Eliminator. I smelled my own shit, I bought my own hype, and I forgot my past. If I’d have kept my head screwed on maybe things would have turned out different but I’d be a liar if I said anything other than what I really felt.”

    “What did you feel, Danny?”


    The question is asked in an earnest tone but Danny’s response is completely flat.

    “I made the mistake of thinking I’d overtaken Alyster Black and that he wasn’t on my level.”

    “Mistake?”


    A dark look momentarily crosses Danny’s face but when he looks up at his two friends it’s gone.

    “Let’s move on, yeah?”



    As soon as the wind hits Danny he knows he’s in Inisbofin. The wind cuts on the small islands surrounding Ireland like nothing Danny had ever experienced before – he knew it instantly. That is not the only thing that is cutting him, being back in Ireland fills him with a near uncontrollable rage. It matches the rage he felt when he flew off the handle at The Leather Boys earlier on. A battered and bruised Chris Peacock stumbles out from the ringside area. He’s after undergoing three hellacious matches probably not equaled by anybody else on the roster this year. Cosmic Playground, Golden Opportunity, Danny Toner. Danny’s ego led him to believe that he was the stiffest of all three tasks despite the particularly demanding parameters surrounding The Playground and The G.O. but his ego ebbed just enough to take in and appreciate what Peacock had done.

    There weren’t many people that came close to matching what Danny had achieved in 2021 but if Toner was to be a man of truth, he’d find himself admitting that Chris Peacock came mighty close. He’s not quite Danny Fuckin’ Toner but he is in his league. Peacock’s well able to dance and he puts it up to Toner more than most are able to. Toner respects Peacock even if his comments in the build-up to this match seemed to indicate otherwise – that’s mostly mind games, but Toner does always believe in what he says. However, the fact remains, Toner does respect the hell out of Peacock, and he knows Peacock’s worth. If anybody ever asked Danny for an off-the-record, unfiltered view on Peacock, he’d happily tell them of his value and how highly he rates him.

    But fuck me, it’d be nothing like Devin Golden’s incessant fuckin’ raving about Randy Ramon and inexplicably – on this particularly windy night on the small island of Inishbofin – his ranting and pumping up of Alyster Black. Sure, Danny had expected it a little – Alyster was after just beating Golden at The Anniversary Show so Danny knew Golden would attach himself to Alyster and position himself as having given Black a “rub” from being in the ring with him. Danny wasn’t even paying attention to the seven-minute annihilation of Peacock that took place in the ring earlier on, he was too busy thinking about the Devin Golden show-closing segment that took place later that very night. As nauseous as undue Ramon praise makes him, listening to Golden rattle on about how Alyster was this and that and how The Gang Stars were their stiffest ever task sickened Danny.

    Maybe he was jealous.

    Maybe he was jealous that Devin Golden was standing there putting over Alyster Black instead of him. Maybe he did care what Devin Golden thought of him and it was annoying him that Golden seemed more preoccupied with Alyster Black than with him. Why? Because Black beat you once? Danny had beaten Golden too.

    Was he fucking jealous that Golden carved “FWA” into Alyster’s chest and not his? Can you be fucking jealous of something like that? He wasn’t sticking around to have Golden’s soundbites replayed to him. He knew them by heart anyway.

    Without so much as a single word uttered between the three, Danny takes the scrapbook from a knowing-looking Owen and TC2 and turns the page.

    Danny doesn’t care what Devin Golden has to say.

    I fucking told you so.


    “Really?”

    “You don’t think Lights Out deserved a spot?”

    “I mean… it was just Price and Sauceman, really.”

    “And Peacock!”

    Danny shrugs and pricks his ears up as he hears “Money, Power, Fame” by Don Bronco segue into “That’s Not Me” by Skepta from the arena PA system. Danny eyes TC2 a little bit and bounces his eyebrows.

    “Somethin’ tells me that you just wanted to revisit Japan.”

    “But I didn’t know this was going to happen, Danny! It sure is strange though, right?”


    Danny looks down at the scrapbook. It certainly was strange but not something he’d really thought on. He looks at the picture of the Tokyo Dome, the event and opponents scribbled in black hand-writing at the bottom and the date scribbled in…

    “Yo, what the fuck is going on with the dates?”

    “What do you mean?”

    “Why are they in white ink?”

    “Oh! That was me! Teehee. It was my new gel pen! Owen forgot the dates, didn’t you Owen? So, I just threw them in real quickly! And I couldn’t find my black pen for whatever reason! Isn’t that right, Owen? Uhhh… Owen?”


    Owen is standing slack-jawed, staring beyond Danny and TC2.

    “Wh-wh-who is she?”

    The two boys whip their heads around to see Fallout’s own Natalie Rosenberg hanging backstage speaking loudly on the phone. Danny slaps Owen on the back and laughs loudly.

    “That’s Natalie, you got the hots for her or somethin’?”

    Owen goes bright-red as he tres to hide his obvious affection.

    “Ask her out, Owen! Rule 69!”

    “She doesn’t know that we’re here, dummy. You know this, are you sure you aren’t playing stupid?”

    “I’d never play stupid, Danny.”


    Danny eyes Traffic Cone 2 with an even higher level of suspicion than usual but cautiously continues.

    “Anyway, I could try hook you up with her Owen, if you like?”

    “I mean…”


    Owen looks sheepishly at the ground and then back up at the strikingly beautiful Natalie.

    “If you think I have a chance I guess there’s no harm in try-”

    Danny moves quickly to clasp his hand over Owen’s mouth, comically shushing him.

    “Shhh, shhh, shhh! The fuck’s the broad sayin’?”

    Danny strains to listen but can hear Rosenberg on the phone.

    “Honestly Dad, it was incredible. I wish you could’ve flown out to be here. I can’t BELIEVE I got to call Krash and Alyster ending Golden Rock. Here are your winners and NEW FWA World Tag Team Champions! It was amazing. Surreal. I can’t believe it happened. All I could think of was my birthday in 2011. We were in Egypt and CWA came through for their Meltdown PPV. Alyster hit Kenenth LeBlanc with Satan’s Spike and ended The Brotherhood’s reign. Best birthday ever. Nobody ever thought The Brotherhood would end but The Gang Stars did it. Ten years later and they did it again tonight with Golden Rock! There’s no doubt in my mind – they’re the best team ever. Anyway, I’ve got to go – I have to announce the winner of this stupid trios match. Love you, Dad. Call when you get this.”

    As Natalie hangs up and takes her leave, Owen gulps nervously and looks up at Danny.

    “Uh… should we just go?”

    Danny’s thunderous look tells him everything he needs to know, and Owen quickly plucks the scrapbook off the floor and very, very swiftly turns the page.



    It is pitch black and near impossible to make out anything but through the little light we are afforded we can just about make out that Danny, Owen and TC2 are sitting in a wrestling ring in what appears to be (and sound like) an empty stadium.

    “This is different.”

    Owen’s comment hangs in the air as Danny eyes the canvas of the ring. There appears to be red and gold confetti and streamers and he lazily brushes his hand through some of them. He stares at a spot on the canvas and then slowly turns his head to face TC2 and Owen.

    “Whose idea was this? You guys legitimately picked 007 over 006 as my final moment?”

    TC2 and Owen both return Danny’s look. It hadn’t taken him long to work out where he was. Melbourne Cricket Ground wasn’t very subtle. Danny, for the first time in quite a while, cracks a smile at the two.

    “You two really do know me then. This is the biggest moment of my whole entire career, not just the last year. To stand here in front of 100’000 people with my life-long rival and the man who is more synonymous with the World Heavyweight Championship than anyone else… that’s something I can be damn fucking proud of. To come so close, to show that I belonged there… that’s something nobody can ever take away from me. I fought until the fuckin’ end too and I’ll go to my deathbed saying I was the best man in that match… it just wasn’t to be. I stopped Randy Ramon tapping out not just for me, but for him. I meant what I said. Don’t ruin this for us. I can’t help but respect Randy Ramon after all we’ve been through the last seven years, after all we’ve achieved.”

    Danny fumbles around his pocket and is happy to see he still has half the joint from earlier. He lights it and tokes on it before offering it to the boys. Purple Incan Kush or not, they refuse this time – Danny’s on to something.

    “But I can’t say the same thing for Alyster fucking Black.”

    Danny puffs hard as his face hardens.

    “I don’t want anything for Alyster Black. I don’t want him to achieve anything else. He has enough. He’s had enough. I’m fed up with this idea that Alyster Black has the drop on Danny Toner but do you know what I’ve realized? It might be true. I don’t think it is… but it might be. He’s beaten me three times already and I’ve never beaten him. Why wouldn’t you assume he’ll go four and oh? Cause every dog has his day?”

    Danny stands up in the ring and stares at the same spot on the canvas.

    “Well then old yeller: you definitely need your fuckin’ day to come at 009. I don’t care what the records show or what the history books say you’re still the fuckin’ dog in this situation and deep down you know it, you know that’s what you are. You’re the scummiest cunt I’ve ever met in my whole entire life and I fucking hate you with every fiber of my being. More than I hated Golden. More than I ever hated Ramon. At least he had the dignity to fuck me over to my face, you’ve skulked around in the shadows leeching off whatever you can and still getting these big opportunities. I know the real Alyster Black. The real Alyster Black is the one that ain’t buoyed by Krash and ain’t propped up. The real Alyster Black is the one who got turned inside out by Gerald Grayson. The real Alyster Black is the one who couldn’t get near the Tag Team Championships until I decided I was done with them for a bit. The real Alyster Black is a dirty dog and Alyster knows right well what fuckin’ happens to dogs.”

    Danny stamps his foot viciously on the ground as if to emphasize the point.

    “See, there’s a big freakin’ problem with this idea of my wonder fuckin’ year. One year doesn’t define me. Nothing defines me. You can’t analyze one year and try and get the full picture, the shit goes much deeper than that. Why am I so angry all the time and why do I hate Alyster Black? It’s because he beat me three times in a row in 2020. It’s because he is the last man to pin me. It’s because for all the talk of Danny Toner’s career year I have fucking nothing to show for it and Alyster is sitting there with three pieces of hardware. The only thing I have left is the fact that nobody has been able to pin or submit me this year, but you know what? That’s a hell of a thing to have. Not one person can put their hand up and say that they are truly a better man than me. That’s why I say I’m the greatest. That’s why I think I’m the best in the world. But… can I really say that? Just because it happened in 2020 doesn’t mean that it didn’t happen. It can’t be ignored or framed a certain way in a scrapbook. How can I sit here and proclaim to be the best of all time if I’m sharing a locker-room with a man that I’ve never even beat?”

    Danny takes a long drag from the joint before continuing.

    “The simple answer is - I can’t. I can’t make that claim and from this moment onwards I won’t. Not until I beat you. Not until I prove to everyone that Danny Toner is better than Alyster Black. You have no fuckin’ idea I need this and I need you to come with everythin’ your slimy self can muster up because I need to beat you at your best. I need to beat you to truly stand by my claim. If you’ve listened to me at all this year you’ll know that the only thing I truly care about is being true. True to myself and true to the fans. Give me your best Alyster because I promise you they’ve taken absolutely everything away from me and if my best is all I have left… then you’re getting fucking mine.”

    Owen and TC2 immediately start clapping in the ring and Danny cracks a wry smile, the emotion breaking through his fiery demanour.

    “Aight, now how the fuck do we get out of here?”

    “Uh… the last page is missing guys?”


    Danny guiltily looks down at the joint he is smoking and then at the torn page of the scrapbook TC2 and Owen are holding. Danny chuckles a bit.

    “I uh, I think I know how we ended up in this mess. Uh… guys?”

    Danny looks up and TC2 and Owen are gone. Slowly the stadium and ring begin to fade and are replaced by burning mounds of ashes and thick smoke.

    Forgot about me, did ya? That was one crazy trip, eh? It’s funny, you know? I thought they took freakin’ everything from me, but I realized there is ONE thing that they can’t take. No matter what. They can’t take ME away. Sometimes I do well to remember that.

    Danny coughs loudly into the arm of his tracksuit and it feels like he is surely going to die from smoke inhalation.

    Career year? Hell nah.

    Danny hardly believes his eyes. The smoke begins to clear and for the first time in months in Tonerville, he can make out something other than ash.

    Best in the World? Maybe one win away from that being true.

    Danny focuses on the shape in the distance and through the smoke he can make out the foreboding structure of The Warehouse. A solitary shooting star flies over it.

    Aight. Maybe there’s TWO people I have to beat.


    Attached Images Attached Images
    Last edited by Tig; 11-30-2021 at 05:07 AM.


    3X World Tag Team Champion (w/Christian Quinn, w/Randy Ramon & w/Ryan Rondo)
    1X Gauntlet Champion



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