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Post by C. M. Synthy on Apr 26, 2009 3:13:54 GMT -5
* John Cena stands in the ring, the canvas of which has been covered with a red carpet. He's wearing a T-shirt which has a large picture of the other John Cena's face on the front; the face has a large red "X" over it. After seeing WrestleMania XXV our John Cena is not a happy man. A large table with two microphone stands is set up in front of him. There is a clip-board with several sheets of paper attached to it in the centre of the table.* Cena: Ladies & Gentlemen, at this time please welcome the number 1 contender for the W*I*G World Heavyweight Championship, SYNTHY ERIS! *Otep's "Ghostflowers" ghoulishly floats out from the speakers, bringing out a somewhat cocky-looking Synthy Eris. She's wearing a white and red striped fedora, a red crop top with a usual black vest zipped halfway up, and white and red candy-stripe pants, giant skulls in black cover the bottoms entirely. She strides down the ramp, nodding and smacking a few knuckles, before bouncing over the top rope to the ring.* Cena: And now Ladies & Gentlemen, please welcome to the W*I*G-Sphere, the Wrestling's Innovative Genesis Heavyweight Champion of the World... COLTRANE! "I don't wanna be, I don't wanna be me I don't wanna be me... any mo-ore."* Coltrane strides out onto the ramp to the jeers of the audience, his usual trenchcoat sweeping along behind him like a cape. He doesn't look out to the audience, he never does. Coltrane holds open his coat to display his W*I*G World Heavyweight Championship belt which makes the audience boo all the louder. Coltrane marches directly on down to the ring. Pausing on the apron to look in at Synthy who matches his glare. Coltrane steps in over the middle rope & approaches the table.* Cena: Ms. Eris, Mr. Coltrane, you both know what this contract is for. It permits you to participate in the Dog Collar Chain "I Quit" Match at W*I*G's next Pay-Per-View, Attrition, on April 26th. And in your case, Synthy, if you prove unable to win, this will be your last chance for the W*I*G World Heavyweight Championship for as long as Coltrane is champion. Have either of you anything to say at this time? * Synthy is about to open her mouth when Coltrane leans forward taking the microphone up from his side of the table with a sweeping gesture. Synthy glares him down.* Coltrane: Contrary to popular belief I was not defeated when last we clashed, as Miss Eris & her supporters would have you believe. You see, my undefeated record actually remains perfectly intact. I was neither pinned nor made to submit. While it's true that I was unable to answer the 10-count as the match stipulated, neither was my opponent, who, incidentally, I defeated a month earlier. The result was not in any doubt two months ago, there was no reason for a second encounter on March 29th, let alone this third match. But, being the generous soul that I am, I have decided, against my better judgement, to allow Miss Eris this third & final opportunity to show the world how I outclass her in every conceivable fashion. Synthy: Class is definitely not a word assosciated for most of the WIG locker room, and probably best left off the map entirely when it comes to you. Denial, however, is. Coltrane, you proclaim to have an untainted record? I'm pretty sure hitting a tie with you is a bit of a spoil for that. Not as a demeaning hit to your pretty little pride as I'd've liked, but still. I'm not bothered by that really. As for your..."allowing" of me to have this match with you? Hon, I don't get permission for jack. Let alone from some irredeemably dull-setted man as yourself. Bring out someone else's best, Coltrane. Because for what I've got planned for you...you'll never be the same again. Your body will be tested, brutalized, attacked, and forever changed. Can you go the same endurance-testing distance as I? I highly doubt it. But...if you have a trick up your sleeve to somehow keep up with me...go ahead. I'll meet you head on. And then smash my way past you. Coltrane: Once again, Miss Eris, you prove yourself to be the undisputed queen of empty bluster. For all the talk you have put out with regards to me & our conflict over this Championship, you have yet to show me anything to truly convince me that you are a deserving recipient of as many title shots as you have warranted. You sought to prove that women can compete on an even footing with men, yet, in two successive months, you have failed to wrest this title from my grasp, thus disproving this "truth" which you hold in such high regard. You have let down the values which you prize so highly & have set your "noble" cause back. I offered a re-match not out of pride, but out of pity. *John Cena hands Synthy the metal clipboard. Without looking away from Coltrane, she flicks through the pages & signs her name on the contract.* Synthy: *For an agonizing moment, Synthy twirls the mike around in her hands, and the her eyes seethe a a dangerous flash as Coltrane completes his final statement.* Pity? Now that, Herr Coltrane, is a dangerous thing to be saying to be saying to ANYONE who is about to be chained to you. Let alone a person like me. You wish to know the one thing guarenteed to make me damn-near kill myself to take you completely out..it's pity. I need neither pity nor sympathy from you. And if I thought you really did pity me, I'd---! *We never get to hear her final statements. Coltrane suddenly swoops up beside her, taking the clipboard from her hands. He whacks her in the head with it & she reels back, covering her head expecting another blow. But Coltrane grabs her by the throat, trying to wrap his arm around her neck. He uses the sharp metal edge of the clipboard to cut open Synthy's forehead. He grabs the pen Synthy used earlier & begins to satb her in the head with it, opening her wound further. He then uses the bloodied pen to sign the contract. Coltrane exits the ring as his music plays again, he looks back to see Synthy seething.The blood trickling down her face contorted with rage. Synthy spits & swears that she will wreck retribution on Coltrane before we fade out.*
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Post by Highland Diamonds on May 1, 2009 8:28:23 GMT -5
*The extended intro to Rhapsody’s Emerald Sword cues up, expectancy growing in the crowd. The intro build until suddenly, it is replaced by the chorus of this, as the Highland Diamonds walk out onto the stage.* Tom: What a night W*I*G Attrition was! Numerous outstanding matches, hours of great wrestling action, and the entire landscape of W*I*G changed as not 1, not 2, but all 3 championships changed hands! Jeannie: And here come one set of those new champions now, the Highland Diamonds! They sure took their time in getting round to debut, but they sure did make a splash upon arrival. Tom: The Highland Diamonds’ wait to debut was almost as long as the White Boys’ tag title reign itself! *Angus and Warrior continue their way to the ring, wearing not just the W*I*G Tag Team Titles but the EWT Tag Team Titles as well, as the current, if not final, holders of the belts. Angus has the W*I*G belt around his waist, EWT belt over his shoulder, while Emerald Warrior wears one over each shoulder, holding them and swaggering as if they are suit lapels. They enter the ring and each request a microphone.* Warrior: HELLO, people of Pro Wrestling Wig! Tom: Audible boos from the crowd there, the Diamonds not a popular team amongst our audience. Jeannie: Maybe not but they sure were lapping up these 2 guys debut until they both tricked them, the fans got played, plain and simple. Warrior: Might I say….that it is SO good….so very very good, to be able to stand here and say……I TOLD YOU SO!!!! Haha! I told you so! We both told you so! Back in EWT, we said we would be the greatest team of 2008 and…newsflash, we were! A little video that you loveably simple folks might not remember, that aired here back on Christmas Eve, stated- Good things come to those who wait! And the wait was long, and boy was it GOOOOOOOD! Angus: We stand before ye as tha W*I*G Tag Team Champions, tha very best tandem in this company today. Yet we are more than jus’ tha best team here. We’ve always said we’re the best team in tha business, noo we got proof. We aren’t just tha W*I*G tag champions, but tha EWT Tag Champions as well. We won these… *he lifts the EWT Tag title from his shoulder* Angus: At EWT Seasons Beatings, tha most recent an’ what may well be final EWT show. We are twice an’ current holders of these belts, we are tha only team that currently hold 2 tag team titles simultaneously, an’ we are tha first team ta be tag champions both in EWT an’ in W*I*G. We had an undefeated run in EWT, we’re gonna have one here. Not because we want to, although I assure ye, we do, but simply because we can. Who here can beat us? Warrior: We’re invincible!!! We cannot be Vince’d! We are 100 percent safe from Russo, McMahon, Alice Cooper’s real name, and any such shenanigans that pertain to those organizations! No inappropriate splitting ups, no in-fighting, no Ultimate Swerves! We’re impervious to anything and everything thrown at us, be it other wrestlers, or be it conspiracies from the Wig Management! Angus: However, we ain’t gonna rest on our laurels. In EWT, we grew complacent an’ as such made mistakes. But noo any more! Noo more slip-ups! I’ve been goin’ ta clinics, buyin’ stressballs, takin’ pills ta get my temper under control, make it impossible fa anyone ta get under mah skin. Warrior: And I’m not doing anything but sitting and swigging Smirnoffs, cause there’s not much left for me to improve in anyway. Angus: In W*I*G, we’re gonna fight anybody an’ everybody. Be it scheduled defences, or ones we feel like doin’ fa the hell of it. An’ we will be offerin’ up these W*I*G title belts as prizes, so if ya think ye’ve got what it takes ta hold of our gold, step right up. Warrior: Not like it’ll get you anywhere anyway fellas! The thing is, myself and Angus, we are quite frankly winners. Winners in everything we do. As for the rest of the roster, and indeed you people here, Beck’s song “Loser” has NEVER been more appropriate! You all pay your money to watch us, we GET money to continue winning! What more proof do you need? As for the other Wig Wrestlers, well, look at the…..esteemed former champion Coltrane! Oh sure, he’s undefeated, he has some wacky mind-reading do-hickey going on, but what happens? HE loses the title, to a Bimbo with a nutcase sister! Neither are hardly pillars of quality to hold this promotion up on! But us, we don’t lose! We get what we want! And what we want right now….besides a nice and proper celebration party, which rest assured we will be having soon, with bigger balloons than in Katie Price’s chest….is a challenge. So we’re saying to any team, come one come all, step right up to the circus of delights that is The Highland Diamonds Open Invitational No-RSVP-Neccessary Championship Challenge!! Angus: Whoever accepts tha challenge, just be prepared for failure. But think of it as a learnin’ experience. We are actually helpin’ ye by beatin’ ye- you’re findin’ your weaknesses an’ learnin ta better yeselves. Don’t be too disheartened. Effort’s expected, but defeat is destined. *Angus drops his mic and turns to leave to considerable boos, but then Warrior quickly remembers something* Warrior: Oh oh oh! And 1 more thing! Coming soon, The Highland Diamonds, as dual champions of higher calibre than Clint Eastwood’s Magnums, and his other ice-creams too….present to you, our Wig State Of Address!! Wig, consider yourselves On notic-no no…consider yourselves, Fore Warned! *Warrior drops the mic and they now leave to their usual theme* Tom: They sure don’t mince their words, do they? Jeannie: Maybe not but I think mincing is an apt description of the Emerald Warrior. Bright green full bodysuit, can’t do wonders for your masculinity. Tom:…. Jeannie: What? I’m not the only one to have thought it, I’m sure. Tom: Putting self centered titleholders and effeminate spandex aside, we’ve got to take a commercial break, we’ll be right back! *cut to adverts*
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Post by Jawbreaker on May 1, 2009 13:52:08 GMT -5
-This scene takes place shortly after the Attrition pay per view has ended in one of the backstage locker rooms. We find Molly Ringworm with dried blood on her face, holding an ice pack against her forehead and noticeably wincing. She seems a bit loopy but you would be to if you attacked by 47 guys (maybe slightly less but who's counting?) Standing over her is Victor Trauma and Tommy Fright who look both disappointed and pissed, respectively-
Trauma: So let me see if I understand this correctly. It's not bad enough that Maeve can't wrestle without her daddy holding her hand the entire time. As pathetic as that is it gets worse.
Fright: It takes ALL of Team Ireland to beat a woman? ALL OF YOU?! Four men that take pleasure in brutalizing a single female?!
Molly tosses a fist skywards suddenly, mumbling somewhat incoherently
Molly: "...One...small step...for man...one...giant leap...for...guhhhh..."
-Victor lightly pats Molly on the head a few times-
Trauma: Easy there, darlin'.
Fright: Guess what, boys? We said we were looking for someone to beat up. You all just elected yourselves with that cowardly [BLEEP]!
Trauma: We're declaring war on Ireland! And some way, somehow we're going to get you in the ring. And when we do? Payback. You want to beat up on a woman? Try beating up on us.
Fright: And we're not just gonna..
All three: BEAT THE IRISH!
Fright: We're gonna rip the Irish's intestine's out and strangle them with 'em! Smear your blood on that mat like a whore's mascara! Lick out your brains!
Trauma Lick their brains out?
Molly: "Go with it. Ooey gooey brains."
Trauma: Fine. Point is you lot got an ass beating coming. Even you Maeve.
Molly tosses the ice pack aside and rests her palms on her knee's, staring into the camera
Molly: "Mortal as I am, I know that I am born for a day. But when I follow at my pleasure the serried multitude of the stars in their circular course, my feet no longer touch the Earth.
..Do you what that means? It means no matter what you do to me, Team Ireland, I will always get back up. If you thought that beating was going to change me or scare than you are dead wrong. All it did was make me more focused. Maeve, you broke my transmitter. And the next time I get into the ring you..you're going to be the one that's broken.."
Fade..
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Jack Jupiter
Local Talent
I'm the REAL Jack Jupiter!
Posts: 10
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Post by Jack Jupiter on May 1, 2009 19:17:13 GMT -5
*The camera fades into a locker room that resembles something from the past…something eerily familiar. Marble tiles make up the entire floor, with numerous luxurious pieces of furniture and pieces of art found throughout the surprisingly spacious locker room. Laying across a black leather sofa is Jack Jupiter, a bowl of dried apricots and a bottle of beer on a coffee table in front of him. With his knees bent and his face looking anxiously at an HD television screen, some mundane sitcom buzzing away, he grabs a piece of fruit and drops it into his mouth, chewing the pulp as if he were a cow with his cud. Suddenly, Jack gets up.*
Jack: That’s…that’s it! I’m getting REAL tired of this!
*He glances over his shoulder. From out of the bathroom area comes his bodyguard, Dreia Borbone, in her normal dress.... with a towel wrapped around her head, no doubt aiding in drying her very long hair. She, however, boredly looks out from the doorway at Jack as he stares back at her.*
Jack: ...well hello there.
Dreia: ...
*She doesn't blink as she looks back at him.*
Dreia: ...Yelling?
Jack: No, no, not what I'm talking about. I'm becoming a very anxious man. I mean sure, getting a contract here was great. As was transplanting this abandoned luxury room to here that went without a hitch. Everything preserved. But I mean...you know what the real problem is?
Dreia: *She stares at Jack.* You.
*Jack gets up, sitting upright, and takes a swig of his beer, before lifting the bottle up and examining it.*
Jack: Yeah, I sorta am...need to bring more beer with me. But no, that's not what I mean, Dreia.
*The Italian blonde rolls her eyes and walks over slowly to the couch.*
Jack: Take a seat right here...I'll explain.
*He sets the empty bottle down on the coffee table and pats his lap with his free hand. She says nothing, but her eyelids droop slightly.*
Jack: Or not. Let me explain anyway.
*Jack, gets up, spinning to his feet and nearly knocking the coffee table over, before turning around and stablizing it with his hands.*
Jack: Er...Dreia, I'm faced with a dilemma!
Dreia: Pepto.
Jack: That would've worked GREAT if this were yesterday. Alas, it is not, and alas, the REAL Jack Jupiter must contend with something most irritating. You see, Dreia, despite my arousing debut in W*I*G against the Korea Kid--that was his name, right?--and despite the fact I'm nice enough to stay around and give the other wrestlers here a chance to possibly even view my incomparable excellence, I'm not getting something that should've been obligatory the very MOMENT I stepped in here.
*Jack gets up, and walks towards a framed picture.*
Jack: You see Dreia, I'm shaping my OWN legacy here in W*I*G...
*Two muscular male figures, each with long hair and each with a blurred title belt on a shoulder, stand with a long-haired, voluptuous female figure between them, an arm over each of their shoulders. On all three of them is a picture of the face of an eager-looking Jack Jupiter, each with his eyes bugged out, grinning, with their hair colored blonde...most likely with a crayon. He presses his hands to it and looks at the portrait.*
Jack: And so many people have gotten something that I, Jack Jupiter, have yet to receive...and I cannot fathom why! Do you know what it is?! *he turns around*
*Dreia looks down at the portriat, more specifically the Jack photo on the woman.*
Dreia: ...title?
Jack: *he spins around, clapping his hand and pointing at Dreia with a look of mock-shock* BINGO! JINGO! JIZZ...er...JIZZAM! For some reason, those two lazy fools running the show haven't given me a title shot. And it's preposterous. Really, I've impressed EVERYONE. And I've demonstrated my skill. And everyone's gotten a title shot except me!
*Jack looks up at the ceiling, and leans his head back down, shaking his head as he thinks.*
Jack: Exner, Joshua, Jason Hereford....ergh...why him? Coltrane too, he won and had a successful reign after beating those three. Andy Duke, Chaz Stone...Synthy Eris, our new champ?!...just a few of the people who had shots at the top title here in W*I*G. And that's just the world title! Think of the tag gauntlet and that women's elimination match...9 contenders in each match against the defending champ. Seriously, what is all this?! Why do THEY get title shots? What about me? What about the REAL Jack Jupiter?
Dreia: Shame.
Jack: If only that dictator and that weirdo thought that way...this is TOTALLY not fair. Really...what do those other people got that I don't got? Total mega suckage to EXTREME is what.
Dreia: Protest.
Jack: You're right. But I know how I can get that leverage to guarantee a title shot...I'm gonna read the RULES TO CONTENDERSHIP that I got with my contract signing. Where'd I put that...?
*Jack walks toward a shelf, leafing through a stack of dubious magazines and books, before pulling out a binder. He opens it up, flipping through the numerous pages as he reads them aloud.*
Jack: "Dress code"...no..."Things to consider"...no..."basic grappling techniques"...no..."What to do if you fall in"...no..."Secret shower cam photos of the GNDs"...no...dammit! Where is it?! Ah! Found it!
*Jack pulls out a piece of paper and begins reading it*
Jack: "How to become a #1 Contender in W*I*G." Let's see..."To become eligible to be considered to be a #1 contender, one must participate in and win at least one match against an official member of the W*I*G roster."
*Jack throws the piece of paper down and looks up.*
Jack: WHAAAAAA?!
*Dreia looks over at the paper herself.*
Dreia: Simple.
Jack: But...but...but...this isn't right! Why can't they count decisive victories against non-roster members? Oh, whatever. That's it. Dreia...do you know what this all means?
Dreia: Quit?
*She ruffles at the towel on her head.*
Jack: It means...I blackmail the GMs into giving me a title shot! Say, do you think either of them were GNDs back in 2007?
Dreia: ...
Jack: Or we can go and call someone out to face me...that might be kinda hard since no one is up to my level, but oh well...their loss. Onward, Dreia. We shall meet outside and begin our campaign to obtain an opponent!
Dreia: Kit.
*She walks over and grabs a med-kit, showing it to Jack.*
Jack: Save that for them, after the match. They might need it.
*Dreia stares blankly at him but holds on to it, then shifts her eyes towards the door.*
Jack: But just in case...*Jack grabs the binder, flipping back and grabbing a stack of small cards, wrapped with tin foil and marked "XXX." He stuffs them in his pockets, before folding up the contender paper and stuffing it in another one of his pockets.*
Dreia: ...Charm.
Jack: Yeah, I know. I pack it in spades.
*Jack gets up, leaning to his coffee table and eating another dried apricot. He shifts his eyes back and forth before leaving out through the door of the locker room. Dreia follows him slowly, grabbing her jacket to throw over her shoulder as she walks out after him.*
Jack: Alright...you walk out in front and "take point." I'll...bring up the rear.
Dreia: ...No.
Jack: Always putting the burden on your OWN client, I see. Fine. Guess the REAL Jack Jupiter will have to expose himself to the elements.
*He shakes his head, slamming the door as he turns his head, and locks it as the two of them walk off-screen. On the door, reading "Jack Jupiter," everything but the first "J" is written on tape next to the gold letter in the center of the door. Slowly, a small piece of tape, to the left of the gold "J," peels off of the door to reveal a gold "T" of similar size. Fade out.*
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Post by Gigantor Maximus on May 2, 2009 17:32:56 GMT -5
* "China White" by The Scorpions begins playing & the W*I*G-Screen goes black as white letters followed by black & white images flash across it...* At Attrition
A legend was destroyed!
But a new challenge rose to face wrestling's true giant!
Timothy Barnes will be a sacrifice!
He will be slain & laid on the altar of
GIGANTOR MAXIMUS!
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Post by The Hardcore Disciple on May 5, 2009 0:08:26 GMT -5
*Backstage, we see John Cena, microphone in hand. With him is Charles W. Stone, looking rather peeved and pacing impatiently behind the reporter, like a hungry tiger waiting for meat.*
John Cena: Hi, I'm John Cena, and I may not be a multi-time former WWE champion, but I can still lock in a better STS than he can, so nyah! Anyways, I'm currently here with Chaz Stone, who is...really freaking me out with all that pacing around! Chaz, buddy, can you stop with all that? You're seriously making me nervous. What's got you so wound up, anyhow?
Chaz: Ah'm wund ap 'cause o' da las' pay-per-view, lad, but wudden ye be da same? Ah got cheated outta vict'ry dat was mine ta claim until dose wankers go' involved. An now 'ere dey are, strootin' arun like dey go' sumptin' ta be prouda! Remember, Team Irelan', it took all five o' ye--all five o' ye wee shamrock-lickin' prissies, wit' TWO *holds up two fingers on his right hand in a locally rude gesture* weapons, ta boot--ta take dun a single, solitary Scotsman! Ye best be glad ah dinnae 'ave mah family weapon wit' me at ringside, else ere'd be one less o' ye. Way ah see it, ye dun have ENNYthin' ta be prouda.
Cena: Well, I suppose that makes sense, but Team Ireland has made a reputation all their careers on cheating. Why are you so bent out of shape about this, I guess is what I really want to know.
Chaz: Aye've a bigger issue wit' cheatin' isself.
Cena: Erm, care to expand upon that?
Chaz: Gladly. Y'see, aye want ye ta hearken back ta when ye were no more dan a wee bairn. Come now, take a min' trip wit' me. Kin ye see it? Kin ye see yerself on yer mudder's lap or yer fadder's knee, learnin' from dere words o' wisdom? What're day sayin', lad? Iffen dey're ennythin' like mah ma, dey're tellin' ye dat if ye play by th' rules, ye'll get ahead in life. Yet what's da way o' da world? Who's on top o' da companies an' runnin' da world inta tha ground? Cheaters, tha's who! People who dun play by tha rules can get to a point in our society 'ere dey kin make da rules. Wha' kinda lesson is dat fer those af'er us? Tha kinda moral dissonance, ay simply canna stand. 'S why ah became an officer o' da law--ah like ta keep the playin' field even, so the people who actually work 'ard and' know wha' dey're doin' are th' ones who get ahead. Are summa da rules stupid, sure dey are, an' enforcin' dose ent mah department. But wit'out certain rules, the world falls inta anarchy. Das why cheatin' gets me so daffy, an' tha's why ah want anudder shot at Team Irelan'. It's time someone showed 'em cheaters ne'er prosper fer long, and people like me are da reason why! So if ye yella-an'-green weasels kin 'ear me, ah'm callin' ye to the ring fer th' nex' PPV!
Cena: You heard it here first, folks--the challenge laid out by Chaz Stone for any or all of Team Ireland. We'll be right back to the broadcast after these messages from our sponsors.
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Post by Mr. Faulkner & Fido on May 5, 2009 13:25:19 GMT -5
*The camera goes to the parking lot, as a limousine pulls up. As a member of the staff goes to open the door, someone pounces on him and knocks him to the ground. The man is then revealed to be Fido, as he snarls at the man. Then, the door opens, as Mr. Faulkner pulls his cane out and climbs out of the car.*
Mr Faulkner: Down, boy! Down! Save it for the ring.
*Mr Faulkner pulls Fido off the man, as he runs back. Mr Faulkner then walks inside, but not before looking at the cameraman.*
Mr. Faulkner: Oh, hello there. I'm not familiar with how you do things, but I think a proper introduction is in order. My name is Mr. Faulkner, and that charming beast with a temper problem is Fido. Although, I believe it's not fair to call it a temper, as he's more eager to step in the ring than anything. But enough about him. Let's talk about the man standing in front of you, acknowledging your meaningless existence by speaking with you.
You see, I come from a long line of successful people, men who came before me who clawed up their way through the muck and crap that the business world could throw at them. We survived wars, protests, presidential changes, and even terrorism. Now, I plan to expand into a different business entirely. You see, wrestling has always been considered a sleazy business, a carnie pastime making it to the mainstream. What some people call wild, I call a challenge. I plan to stand at the top of this organization, along wit those who share my vision and drive. So, to wrap this up, I represent a new face in wrestling, one that you should be afraid of. If you have any reasons to doubt that, then my associate will squash those doubts. Now, if you'll excuse me.....
*Mr. Faulkner walks toward the building. Fido follows behind him, until Faulkner hits his cane on the floor twice, as Fido hits a back kick to the face of the cameraman. The camera falls to the ground, as a thud is heard offsides. The camera catches Fido continuing to follow Mr. Faulkner as they both continue toward the building, until the screen fades out*
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Post by Highland Diamonds on May 6, 2009 8:38:15 GMT -5
*We cut to the arena.* Finkel: The following contest, scheduled for 1 fall, is for the W*I*G Tag Team Championships!! * The Steppe Squad’s music plays, and Qasim Nasirmayev and Mivkor Yukyukev enter to a mild round of silence.* Finkel: Introducing first the challengers, from the Eurasian Steppe, at a combined weight of 412 pounds, The Steppe Squad! Tom: Two of the many relative unknowns being given a chance on the big stage of Pro Wrestling W*I*G, not a lot’s known about the Steppe Squad which can only work to their advantage here tonight. Jeannie: I did a bit of a check on these guys, all I could find was that Qasim’s from Kazahkstan and Mivkor’s from Ukraine. Have to say I don’t see much resemblance to Borat. Tom: The complete lack of ability to scout them could be problematic for the new champions. *The Steppe Squad’s music dies down, and "Emerald Sword" by Rhapsody, the Highland Diamonds’ entrance theme, cues up, the boos beginning not long after.* Finkel: And introducing second, at a combined weight of 486 pounds, they are the current EWT World Tag Team Champions, and the reigning and defending Pro Wrestling W*I*G Tag Team Champions, Angus MacAngus & the Emerald Warrior, the Highland Diamonds! *The Diamonds enter to considerable boos. Angus ignores the fans while Warrior as usual taunts and pesters anyone within reach on his way to the ring.* Tom: The Highland Diamonds made a successful debut at Attrition, after almost 5 months of waiting they were able to claim the championships in their first match Jeannie: They’re talented wrestlers, and Angus isn’t too bad on the eyes either. Could do with losing the scruffy look though. But I’ve still got suspicions about his team-mate. Tom: Ahem….The Diamonds, despite the success of their debut however, may not have had a truly definitive victory, as don’t forget that the first team they faced in Team Ireland, had already been through a gruelling battle with The Latin Lovers. Jeannie: Oh….don’t worry…I’m not going to forget about the Latin Lovers. Tom: Not now! *The Diamonds remove their belts, and Angus removes his kilt. He eyes up Qasim, and tosses the kilt into his face to blind his vision, just as the bell rings!* Tom: Fast start! Jeannie: Smart start. *Angus quickly pounces on Qasim, barraging him with punches. He backs Qasim into his own corner and starts stomping at him. Mivkor tries to push Angus off, but Angus just looks up and quickly pops him with a jab to the chin. Angus drags Qasim out of the corner, drops a fast elbow, and covers.* 1….. 2…… Kick out! Tom: Early pinfall attempt, I think Angus wants this over quickly. Jeannie: Everyone wants to win quickly, keep themselves free of injury. Tom: And since nobody knows a thing about their opponents, the Diamonds don’t want to let these guys build momentum and surprise them. *Angus sits Qasim up and kicks him in the back, before applying a grounded abdominal stretch. Qasim’s body is being twisted in pain, but the 193 pound Kazahkstani fights hard, eventually battling to his feet. He tries to hiptoss Angus, but he is just too big. Angus goes to clothesline the exposed Qasim, but he surprises everyone by catching Angus’ arm and back-flipping over it, before hitting a drop toehold and going for an Oklahoma Roll!* 1… Kick out! Angus gets up with fury in his eyes and goes for a clothesline, but Qasim ducks, hits the ropes, and rebounds with a flying forearm that staggers Angus. He hits a different set of ropes, and hits another forearm, before rebounding a third time and going for a corss-body, but Angus overpowers and catches him. Angus hits a backbreaker, but keeps hold, and shows is power by tossing his smaller opponent with a Fallaway Slam! He quickly covers aggressively 1…. 2…. Kick out!* Tom: Great strength from Angus there, but Qasim caught the Highland Horror off-guard very briefly. Jeannie: It was pretty basic stuff, but the simple things can work a lot of the time. *Angus hauls Qasim up and buries a knee into his stomach, before throwing him with a gutwrench suplex! He grabs Qasim’s arm and stretches, putting pressure on his shoulder and elbow. Qasim tries to escape but Angus quickly smashes his elbow onto Qasim’s shoulder and grinds it. Mivkor tries to get the crowd rallying behind them with little response, but Qasim wriggles and rolls, finally breaking free and suddenly taking Angus’ knee out with a low dropkick! Qasim turns and tries to get to his corner but Angus catches his foot. Qasim turns, and goes for an enzugiri, but Angus casually releases his other foot as he jumps, causing the challenger to fall mid-move, nothing to spring off. Angus punts Qasim in the stomach then tags in Warrior. He picks up Qasim as if for a spinebuster but keeps hold, as Warrior eyes up the target. Warrior hits the ropes, then darts behind and hits a jumping neckbreaker on Qasim as Angus lets go. Warrior looks to the crowd and yells “Is this all Wig has got!?” before covering. 1…. 2…. Mivkor breaks it up!* Tom: The Steppe Squad not able to mount much offense, but they’re showing some toughness in them. Jeannie: I’m just wondering why Emerald Warrior insists on talling about wigs. Tom: I think he’s trying to say W*I*G. Jeannie: Well then he’s poorly dressed AND stupid. *Warrior pushes Qasim down with his foot each time the cruiserweight tries to get to his feet, before decididng to pick him up. He holds him by the jaw and talks trash, before he shoves Qasim away, paces back, and then charges in for an Emerald Gleam, but Qasim rolls underneath! Warrior turns only to be rocked with an uppercut, and Qasim goes for an Irish whip but Warrior reverses. Qasim rebounds and Warrior drops down, a cocky look on his face. He turns to meet Qasim again, but Qasim has jumped to the middle rope and connects with a springboard cross body! A surprised gasp comes from the crowd as the little-known contender leaps and makes the hot tag to Mivkor! Mivkor clambers to the top turnbuckle and dives with a double axe handle, the larger of the Steppe Squad hitting the ropes, dodging behind Emerald Warrior and performing a belly to back takedown into a knee-bar! Warrior cries out in a mix of shock and pain, before turning and using his free leg to kick Mivkor off. Yukyukev gets up quickly and performs a scoop slam on Warrior, hitting the ropes and scoring with a high jumping legdrop! He covers 1…. 2….. Warrior kicks out as Angus comes in anyway!* Tom: The tables have suddenly turned! It’s all unravelling for the Diamonds now! Jeannie: We talked about their issues with focus, if Warrior stopped primping and preening so much maybe they’d have won this by now! *Mivkor finds himself on the receiving end of a series of stomps from Angus, who then picks up the Ukrainian and connects with a hard overhead belly to belly suplex. He goes to continue but the referee forces him to back off, until Mivkor pushes the refree aside and connects with a Thesz Press on MacAngus! He pounds away until Warrior drags him off by the hair and snapmares him down, before quickly lifting him up by the arm and connecting with a deep arm drag. Mivkor rolls through and gets up slowly, and Warrior rushes him in the corner. Mivkor is able to duck and back body drop Warrior out onto the apron where he lands on his feet, when suddenly Qasim sprints across the ring and dropkicks Emerald Warrior off the apron to the floor! Mivkor goes for Angus , setting him for a Russian leg-sweep, as Qasim readies as if for a dive onto the prone Warrior, and jumps to the middle rope before changing direction and hitting Angus with a springboard back elbow as Mivkor hits the legsweep! Cover! 1….. 2….. Kick out!* Tom: This is NOT what any of us expected! Jeannie: I’m surprised! These 2 scrawny Eastern Europeans aren’t your average nobody. *Mivkor and Qasim then high five and point at the corner, as about 3 fans who have heard of them cheer. They both climb the same corner and Mivkor lifts his smaller teammate in a piggy-back, as they signal for a double splash! They prepare, but Warrior is back up, and launches Qasim off of Mivkor’s shoulders and into the ring! Qasim rolls through to absorb the impact, but Angus has already got up and grabs Mivkor, before pressing him off the turnbuckles into Qasim! Warrior re-enters, and the 2 teams charge each other! Qasim goes for a dashing armdrag on Warrior, but Warrior counters and chokeslams Qasim into the turnbuckles, his body crumpling into the corner! Mivkor clotheslines Angus down, before turning and going for a back body drop until Angus kicks him in the chin to stand him up, and then flips him 360 degrees with a huge lariat! Warrior picks Qasim up and slumps him in the corner, then backs off, charges, and hits his unorthodox Maceface Bulldog! Qasim staggers out of the corner as Warrior lands on the apron. Angus clubs Qasim, and lifts him in an electric chair as Warrior climbs the corner facing outwards.* Tom: The Steppe Squad went for what I believe is their double team finisher, but the Diamonds have got things in their favour! Jeannie: Either the green goof’s trash talking again, or the champions are going for something crazy here. *Angus holds Qasim, as Warrior shrugs to the audience and leaps, the Diamonds hitting an incredible Doomsday Moonsault! Angus makes the cover as Emerald Warrior presses Mivkor’s face into the mat, while yelling at him. 1…… 2…… 3!!! DING DING DING!! Finkel: Here are your winners, and STILL, W*I*G Tag Team Champions….The Highland Diamonds!! *Rhapsody’s Emerald Sword cues up again as the Diamonds reclaim their belts, Warrior looking brash as ever yet slightly irked, while Angus isn’t even trying to hide his annoyance at how the match went.* Jeannie: Something crazy it is! Tom; The Diamonds got the win and kept their titles, and for once without any real cheating, but they still are going to have their doubters as that was a less than convincing win against a very unheard-of team. Jeannie: Seems the 5 months ring rust is costing them. Hey, I wonder if Emerald Warrior has a rusty ri- Tom: WE’LL HAVE TO WAIT AND SEE if the Diamonds can still step it up enough against the top W*I*G teams! They have their fair share of history with a few of the roster, but have never really proven who is better. But first, let’s cut to commercial before anyone says anything else they might regret! *The camera starts to fade out as the Diamonds begin the walk back up the ramp.*
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Post by Team Ireland on May 7, 2009 16:54:01 GMT -5
*Dropkick Murphys' "I'm Shipping Up To Boston" cues up. Roughly 30 seconds into the song Coach O'Hare appears, getting booed like he'd just kicked an adorable little puppy into the path of an oncoming bus. He's followed scant seconds later by a beaming Sean McCann. Sean drops down on one knee & makes a double-thumb jacking gesture behind him. Maeve saunters out through the curtain rolling her eyes at Sean. The trio continue on down the aisle a bit. Maeve & Sean, once again, bickering as they go.* Jeannie: These guys are STILL arguing with eachother? Tom: Coach O'Hare may be regretting choosing them to represent Team Ireland in the Colvin Cup. But they'll be out to impress tonight. Remember when Sean & Aidan lost to Andy Duke & Vin Beverley at W*I*G Gives Thanks. Team Ireland will want retribution for that tonight. Howard Finkel: The following intergender Tag-Team contest is scheduled for one fall & is a Quarter Final match for the Colvin Cup Tournament. Introducing first, proudly representing their home country of Ireland, being accompanied by Coach O'Hare, at a combined weight of 414lbs, "The Don Juan of Donegal" Sean McCann & Maeve O'Hare... TEAM IRELAND! *Coach O'Hare steps in & gets them to simmer down. The Green, White & Gold pyro explodes at the top of the ramp. O'Hare raises his Hurley high & stretches the Tricolour out as wide as he can, Maeve poses Beth Phoenix style & Sean removes his shades, his arms spread wide. The three carry on down to the ring, Sean holds the ropes open for Maeve, she blanks him & enters at an adjacent set of ropes. Sean enters the ring & scales a ringpost, removing his shiny white waistcoat & throwing it to the crowd where a bunch of women scrabble to get it, he points out into the audience & winks. Maeve climbs the opposite post & gives a quick, elegant flex of her arms before jumping back into the ring. Maeve starts arguing with Sean again, but O'Hare steps in between them & has a few words of his own.* *A few seconds of strange guitar noise & then...* "I've got a date with the niiiiiight..."*Andy Duke steps out on stage accompanied by the King's Court's newest recruit, Abi Richmond.* Jeannie: Where the hell have these guys been at? Even The White Boys have had more matches then them in the past few months! Finkel: And introducing their opponents; representing The King's Court, at a total combined wight of 339lbs... AN~DY DUUUKE & ABIIIIII RIIIIIIICH~MOOOOOOND *Andy & Abi continue down to the ring, Duke slapping hands with a few ring-siders as he goes. He leans over to Abi & re-assures her that things will be fine.* Tom: Abi Richmond looks real nervous. Jeannie: Well, it's her first match & against an established squad like Team Ireland. Wouldn't you be nervous too? Tom: Let's hope that Duke gave her plenty of training in all this time they've been off-screen. DING-DING! *Sean McCann starts in the ring with Abi Richmond.* Tom: Oh... this is gonna be real fair! Jeannie: You think she should start against Maeve instead? Tom: Point... but you just know McCann's going to absolutely relish every second of this. Especially being in there with someone so inexperienced. Jeannie: Y'know I was once with someone inexperienced &... Tom: Oh, please, let us NOT go there! *Sean runs his fingers over his abs & flickers his tongue out at Abi, who really, REALLY isn't impressed. Sean lunges right for her. Abi side-steps to avoid him. Sean makes a move again Abi steps backwards, meaning Sean totally misses again. Sean gets frustrated, he brushes his hair back & rushes at Abi, backing her up into a corner. Sean removes his right glove & chops Abi harshly in the chest, then turns around to lick his hand in a sickening fashion. The crowd boo him loudly.* Tom: Oh, please. Do we really need to see this crap? *Sean is about to turn to Abi once again when she leaps on his back, trying to apply a Sleeper Hold. Sean manages to grab a hold of her head & Snapmare her over in front of him. Sean hits a Dropkick to Abi's back. Abi grabs at the area targeted by Sean & crawls forward a bit as Sean brushes his hair back again. Sean reaches out & grabs Abi's hair, turning her back around standing to face him again. Abi kicks Sean in the mid-section & he starts to loosen his grip. A second kick causes him to let her go completely. Abi hits Sean with a Knee Smash Face Breaker & "The Don Juan of Donegal" is on the mat moments later. Abi quickly makes it to her own corner & tags Andy Duke.* Tom: Abi makes the tag to Duke. I bet Sean wasn't expecting that. Jeannie: For a new-comer, Abi sure has alot of spunk... Tom: * Awkward pause* Jeannie: ... What? Tom: "Alot of spunk" what? "And it's probably Andy Duke's"? Is that what you were going to say? Jeannie: Jeez! Get your mind out of the gutter, Tom. Why is everything a sexual innuendo with you? Tom: But... wha'...? *Duke makes it over to Sean in seconds, aiming a punch at the blonde-haired Irishman. Sean ducks the blow & Dropkicks Andy in the knees. Duke drops down & Sean follows up with yet another Dropkick to Duke's face. Sean springs towards the Team Ireland corner & makes a tag to Maeve. Maeve steps in & Duke looks up at her from his seated position on the mat. Duke stands & the pair are roughly the same size. Maeve flexes one of her massive arms. Duke is unintimidated. Andy aims a chop at Maeve. She blocks his hand. Duke tries for a kick. Maeve catches that too. She clasps a hand around Duke's throat & hits him with a modified Chokeslam. Duke rolls back to his feet & aims a clothesline at Maeve. She tries to dodge the move & takes it right on the chin. Duke drags Maeve back up & whips her towards a corner. He tries to follow up with a Stinger Splash, Maeve steps aside & Duke runs only into the turnbuckle. Duke clutches at his chest. Maeve grabs Duke with a Waistlock & attempts to take him over head with a German Suplex. Duke manages to cinch his own legs in behind Maeve's. Duke then blasts Maeve with a series of elbows causing her to rlease the hold. Maeve stumbles backwards & Duke hits her with a Yakuza Kick, knocking her outside the ring. Maeve pounds the apron in annoyance. Her father tries to get her to calm down. Inside the ring, Duke tags Abi. Duke gets down on all fours near the ropes that Maeve & the Coach are standing at. Abi takes a run, steppin up on Andy's back & flying over the top rope, landing on both Maeve & her father!* Tom: WHAT A MOVE! Abi Richmond very impressive in her debut match here taking Maeve & Pat O'Hare out with that Flying Cross-Body! Jeannie: For a first-time team-up Andy Duke & Abi Richmond are displaying some great chemistry! *Duke rolls outside the ring & helps Abi to heft Maeve up & back into the ring. Before Duke can get back to his own corner, Sean McCann flies off the apron with a Hurrancanrana on Duke onto the floor. Back in the ring, Abi covers Maeve...* 1... 2... KICKOUT! *And a kickout "with authority", as they say, as Maeve virtually bench-presses the comparitively tiny Abi Richmond off her own hulking form.* Tom: This spells bad news for Abi Richmond. The inexperienced youngster left in there with one of the biggest members of Team Ireland while her Tag-Team partner is incapacitated on the outside. Jeannie: No, duh! *Maeve brings Abi back up to her feet, holding her at arm's length. Abi swings a few futile punches in a fashion that looks almost comical. Maeve grabs Abi by the head with both hands & almost flings her clear across the ring. Abi lands with a loud thud in the opposite corner. As Abi starts to regain her bearings Maeve rushes her in the corner, squashing Abi between the ring-post & her large muscular body, trying to squeeze as much air as she can from Abi. Maeve steps back & Abi collapses on the mat.* Tom: Is this strictly necessary? Yes, you're more than twice her size. We don't need such a brutal display! *Maeve picks up Abi again & lifts her overhead with a Military Press. To show off, Maeve pumps Abi up & down a few times before finally allowing her to drop to the mat. Maeve lays back, covering Abi in a lackadaisacal fashion. Maeve keeps one hand in the air counting along with the referee.* 1... 2... SHOULDER UP! Tom: That's what you get for such a lazy cover. Abi's alot tougher than Maeve's giving her credit for. *Maeve can't believe it. She scoops Abi up once again, this time preparing to drill her with the "Cooley Cattle Drive". Abi starts to fight back as Maeve tries to apply the Cobra Clutch with a few elbows. With Maeve slightly dazed, Abi attempts a Cutter, not quite hitting it right, but executing it sufficiently to keep Maeve momentarily out of her hair.* Jeannie: YEOWCH! That don't look pretty! Tom: For once, I agree. But it might keep Maeve down for a little while anyway. *Abi starts crawling towards her corner where Andy Duke, still a little wobbly from having his head hit the concrete, awaits with his hand outstretched. Abi keeps inching closer & closer to Duke. Her hand is nearly within distance. Maeve is getting closer to her own corner too. Maeve manages to make the tag to Sean. Abi is inches from tagging Andy when Coach O'Hare yanks Duke's feet out from under him. Duke hits his chin on the apron. He gets up rubbing his jaw & is about to give chase to O'Hare when he sees Abi, lying against their corner. Duke scarmbles back up onto the ring apron just as Sean McCann pulls Abi back to the middle of the ring. Duke pounds the top turnbuckle in annoyance!* Tom: The distraction from Coach O'Hare made Andy Duke miss the tag. Jeannie: Maeve & Sean may not be the best of plas, but Coach O'Hare is the glue binding Team Ireland together. *Sean holds Abi's feet in the middle of the ring. He leaps over & hits a Leg Drop across her neck. Sean begins taunting Duke, holding Abi's limp hand out in the direction of the King's Court corner. Sean drags Abi up standing again & indicates that he's going for the "Donegal Drop"! Abi blocks it, barely shoving Sean off to the ropes. Sean rebounds & Abi nails him with an elbow to the face. She tries to go for the "Scene Buster", kicking Sean in the gut, but Sean catches her foot, making a "no, no, no" gesture with his free hand. Abi leaps up, surprising him with an Enziguiri.* Tom: Both comeptitos going for their signature moves & failing , but now Abi Richmond has a sligth advantage. Jeannie: Not quite. I'd say she's still wrecked from Maeve tossing her about like a rag-doll & Andy Duke's probably still goofy from getting Hurrancanrana'd on the concrete! *Sean falls over face-first & Abi begins what must seem like a mile-long crawl towards her own team's corner. Sean is still dazed from the shot Abi gave him & isn't quite able to make it to his corner as quickly as Abi makes it back to hers. Abi makes the tag to Duke as Sean is still crawling towards Maeve.* Tom: Andy Duke is back in the ring! He's at least a little fresher than Abi... Jeannie: Are you saying she's... not fresh? Tom: STOP IT! STOP IT! NONONONONONONONO! *Duke enters the ring & Sean starts crawling towards his corner even quicker. Duke grabs onto Sean's leg the very second that McCann makes the tag. Duke ducks a Clothesline from Maeve & peppers her with a few strong jabs. Duke winds up for a big punch, but Maeve ducks it. Andy whips Maeve into the King's Court corner & follows up, successfully this time, with a splash. Duke tags Abi, who, a little shakily, steps in the ring. Andy urges Abi to head to the opposite corner, which she does. Duke gets on all fours infront of Maeve & Abi takes a run towards the corner, stepping up on Duke's back & aiming to hit a version of "Poetry in Motion" on Maeve.* Tom: More great team-work from the duo of Abi & Duke. Jeannie: Neither seems to be in the best of shape, but they might finally have this match in hand! *But just as Abi launches herself off Duke's back, Maeve catches Abi on her shoulders! Abi panicks, having not sufficiently recovered from the beating she took earlier. Maeve slams Abi to the mat with a Death Valley Driver as Sean sneaks in & whips Duke to the Team Ireland corner, where Coach O'Hare has removed the turnbuckle pads. Duke crashes into the exposed steel & then has the indignity of being crushed by his own Tag-Team partner, both of whom are Dropkicked by Sean & then splashed by Maeve. Maeve doesn't allow either member of the King's Court to fall as she picks Abi up on her shoulders in an Electric Chair position, leaning over slightly. Sean grabs Abi's head & runs up Duke's body, making sure to get a boot in his face, as they execute the "Electric Bread Slicer". Maeve rolls back into the cover on Abi, hooking the leg this time...* 1... 2... *Sean gets an extra kick in on Duke.* 3!!! DING-DING-DING! Finkel: Here are your winners, advancing to the Semi-Finals... TEAM IRRRRRRELAAAAAANNNNNNND!!! Tom: Team Ireland managing to turn things around at the last second! * "I'm Shipping Up To Boston" starts up again. Maeve leaps up to her feet, punching the air with joy. She turns around, ready to hug Sean... then has second thoughts & instead hugs her Dad when he enters the ring. O'Hare gives a final crack of the Hurley to the back of Andy Duke's head as Sean & Maeve continue to lay the boots in to both representatives of The King's Court. O'Hare produces two folded up Tricolours from his pockets which Maeve & Sean drape over the bodies of Abi & Duke respectively. Neither Alexa King nor Vin Beverley are anywhere to be seen as their team-mates are in peril.* Jeannie: And more humiliation with this "burial". Tom: Where are Alexa King & Vin Beverley at anyway? Jeannie: I'm sure they're... Tom: ZIP IT! *O'Hare holds up the arms of Maeve & Sean as they celebrate their victory. The three make their exit up the ramp to the jeers of the audience, not seeming to care how they obtain victory.*
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Post by Timmy Barnes on May 8, 2009 18:50:17 GMT -5
*John Cena is walking backstage, presumably looking for a scoop. Not like W*I*G has a bunch of other interviewers who might beat him to it or anything! We hear a clattering of feet, Timmy Barnes comes running down the hall, nearly running into Cena as he does.*
Cena: Hey, watch where you're goin', asshole!
*Timmy ignores Cena's insult.*
Timmy: Cena, Cena... you HAVE to interview me. Gigantor Maximus just challenged me.
Cena: You have a contract yet?
Timmy: Yes. Just start interviewing me!
Cena: It doesn't work like that. You don't just run up & demand an interview on the spot.
Timmy: But I want to respond to Gigantor Maximus &...
Cena: There's a couple of different channels you have to go through. Frankly, I'm not even sure why there's a camera here recording this.
Timmy: All my loyal fans need to hear what I have to say.
Cena: Look, I don't have a mic on me... Just talk into the camera there.
*Cena looks at his watch.*
Cena: I gotta go. I've got a date with Jeannie Lawless.
Timmy: You as well, huh?
Cena: [Storming off] Son of a BITCH!
*Timmy looks right into the camera as Cena leaves.*
Timmy: Okay. Um... you listen here, Gigantor Maximus. You are a bad man. You like to think that you can, um, run roughshod over W*I*G & everbody in this company? Well, I'm... er, I'm here to tell you that you can't. Starting with me... erm... I'm going to beat you in the ring & pin you & then your reign of terror will be over & er... that's it.
*Cut to commercial.*
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Post by Team Ireland on May 9, 2009 17:31:41 GMT -5
Voiceover: The following announcement has been paid for by the friends & supporters of Team Ireland. * "Amhrán na bhFiann" begins to play over a clip of the Irish Tricolour fluttering in the wind. We then cut to a clip of Aidan Donnelly standing behind a podium; the podium has an Irish Tricolour turned sideways on the front of it. Another large Irish Tricolour hangs on the wall behind him. Aidan is wearing a Leinster rugby jersey, black Chinos & brown Dubes.* Aidan: RARGH! I'm Chaz Stone! Behold my thick Scottish accent & tremble! So, Chaz Stone wants to get his hands on Team Ireland again? Well, he can join the focking queue as far as I'm concerned. * A brief clip is shown from "Attrition" of Aidan driving Chaz's face into the chair with a "Guinness Hangover".* Aidan: Some people have said this was a really unnecessarily brutal attack designed to cripple you & possibly drive you out of W*I*G... Those people are absolutely RIGHT! The sooner you're gone the sooner more deserving, more talented people can move up the ladder here! Here, if you want a shot at us, why not join the rest of the hopeless tossers & take us all on at once, yeah? Trauma + Fright, Molly Ringworm & Chaz Stone vs. Maeve O'Hare, Sean McCann, Shane Malone & me... "The Giant Killer" Aidan Donnelly! * Aidan points & winks at the camera before we fade out to a shot of the Tricolour again.* Voiceover: The preceding announcement was paid for by the friends & supporters of Team Ireland.
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Post by The Hardcore Disciple on May 10, 2009 15:12:26 GMT -5
*The scene: A well-appointed apartment in Anywhere, USA. The decor and furniture lend a certain 60's flavor to the surroundings, but thankfully, said surroundings are devoid of the loud, obnoxious colors of the era, instead dyed in more subtle hues. Everything seems in order, and very tasteful...except, perhaps, for the apartment's lone denizen, a blonde man sprawled out on the angular couch. His face is angular, with a thick jawline and a thick moustache covering his upper lip. His idle frame is limber and strong in appearance. His eyes are slightly glazed as his hand loosely cradles a remote. His attention is fixed on the TV before him, and those in the know recognize the voice of Guy Fieri eminating from the box. It comes as a surprise, then, to see him react at all to the jangling of keys outside the door, much less with the speed he does. He slides to a seated position on the sofa and fetches a bottle of water off the floor. The door swings open, and an attractive young blonde walks in, a bag of sandwiches in her hand.*
Lady: Hey Cee, I'm home. Cee: Hey Katya, how goes it? Katya: It goes well. I brought Quizno's. Cee: Awesome.
*He tosses her the bottle in his hand and picks up one of his own. She catches impressively as she sits down on the couch beside him.*
Katya: Where's he eating now? Cee: Baltimore. Katya: He hasn't been stabbed yet? Cee: Nah, Duff's guiding him around. Katya: Ah, always good to have a native guide you to the non-sketch places. *Turning to Cee.* So Cee, I just did something so awesome that you're gonna hug me and kiss me and love me forever and ever. Cee: Is that right? This I have to hear. Katya: You remember that tape of your matches we put together? I sent that to an upstart federation south of here, and they want you yesterday. Cee: Wait, I thought you just wanted that for personal reference?! I didn't realize you'd be scouting me without telling me. That, and there are parts of Canada south of here. Katya: Neither of which is currently important, Cee. What IS important is that you'll have a job the moment you walk through the door, and you can come up with your own gimmick. Cee: Well, that's great! Excellent, even! ...except... Katya: What, what is it? Cee: Well, I'm still not sure I'm ready to do it all again...not after...y'know... Katya: *Exasperated sigh* Listen, babe. I love you, really I do, so I know you don't like this whole unemployed thing. Didn't you once tell me that wrestling was the only thing you ever wanted to do? Cee: Except for that period in time when I wanted to drive an ice cream truck for a living. Katya: You were eight, that hardly counts. What really happened, Cee? Where's the fire, the passion for the sport that you showed me when we first met? Are you really going to lie down and let one man, one villain, kill your childhood dream? He has no ability to do that, and certainly no right to what's yours. Almost two years now, Cee; that's enough time for mourning. Let the dead bury the dead...and let the living live on. Cee: Wow, Katya. That's deep...*shrugs* All right, I'll do it. Katya: Yay! *bounces happily beside him* Cee: Just one small problem--I need a gimmick, something far removed from what I was before. Katya: Hm...and you've no inspiration? Cee: Nope. If I had any, I wouldn't be up the creek right now, would I? Katya: I suppose not. *she glances over at the TV* Wrestling chef? Cee: Uh, no. I need something more...sustainable.
*And thus the hunt for a gimmick begins! To be continued...*
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Post by The Hardcore Disciple on May 14, 2009 23:51:15 GMT -5
*Bagpipes rip through the arena, and the crowd roars, for they know who is coming out now. The music switches to "School's Out" by Alice Cooper, and Chaz Stone parts the curtain with force. He looks out at his audience with a hand in his trouser pocket. A familiar grin crosses his face. His other hand, untaped for now, currently envelopes a microphone at the handle. He starts down the ramp, and if Aidan's job on his knee is still hurting him, he's doing a good job not to show it. He's modeling his first ever T-shirt tonight. It's a blue shirt with white ink. The front bears an image of Chaz leaping off the top rope onto some hapless ponce laid out below him. The back reads "Accept no Limitations" in bold print, with his name underneath that in smaller print. It seems, however, that not all sizes are ready to go--Chaz's shirt is far too small for him, looking more like it was painted onto his chest, arms, and torso. Coming up behind him are W*I*G Women's Champion Fannie Package and erstwhile companion Lana de la Croix. Chaz blows a kiss into the crowd, then takes note of someone with a camera and two young fans in front of him. He asks to borrow the camera, then poses with the two young fans. The shot is taken, if the flash is to be believed, and Chaz returns the camera to its owner.* Tom: Chaz Stone not too displeased about his loss to Aidan Donnelly of Team Ireland last PPV, if appearances are to be believed. Jeannie: Given the nature of his last promo, I guess he's got the vitriol out of his system...for now. That's good--I like him a lot better when he's happy and smiling like this. *Chaz and his posse enter the ring. Chaz takes up his position behind the increasingly cluttered desk, now in possession of a potted cactus on its top. Chaz's companions take their seats, and the show gets underway.* Chaz: Walcome, lads an' lasses, t'anudder installment o' Stone's Quarry! *Cheers from the peanut gallery.* We've a grea' guest lined up tha nigh', bu' before we get ta tha', as you may've no'iced, we 'ave some news. *He gestures towards Fannie, proudly displaying her newly won belts comprising the W*I*G Undisputed Women's Championship. Fannie smiles a little shyly & gives Chaz a slight punch on the arm.* Chaz: Here, lass, s'nothin' t'be embarrassed aboot. Ye won, fair an' square. We shud be oot celebratin'. Fannie: Okay. I'll have to admit, yeah, I'm pleased I won. I just wish I didn't have to go through one of my best friends & other competitors I respect to be standing here as the champion. Chaz: Aye, bu' how good di' it feel to finally make that waan Rosie have to shu' her big gob, innit? Fannie: Well, if nothing else, at least we can now say that there's finally a Women's Champion in W*I*G that people can be proud of. I worked hard to get to this point & after The Innocent screwed me out of getting the title twice, I really felt the need to go out & show everyone just how much I deserve to be holding these belts right now. That's why, when I was out in that ring, it was all business. I didn't want to be taking on my friends, but I was left with no choice. *Fannie turns to Lana.* Fannie: But, by means of an apology, I'd like to offer Lana the first shot at my Undisputed W*I*G Women's Championship. People may be saying, "Hey, Rosie deserves a rematch." or "What about Yketrina Milosanova?" or "Cyberonix Excess deserves a shot." or "Juri Sadamoto has what it takes to challenge you.". I'll give them their due, all of the women in W*I*G are great competitors. Hell, after that match at Attrition, I think every one of them would agree, this is probably the toughest Women's Division in wrestling right now! And each & every one of them is deserving of a title shot. But, what it boils down to is that while they're all fantastic, there's nobody I'd rather be standing across the ring from than a woman who has become one of my best friends in this company. So, Lana, I'd be honoured if you would be willing to step up & face me for this championship. *Lana seems taken aback by the gesture of goodwill from Fannie. She looks up at the larger woman, as if attempting to judge her sincerity. Lana is by nature a trusting individual, and it’s obvious she wants to believe her.* Lana: …Well, Ah have ta say dat it hurt mah feelin’s a lot mo’ dan ennyt’ing else when you pinned me like dat. But Ah kin undahstan’ what you mean abou’ doin’ what you had ta do. So Ah ain’ holdin’ dat ‘gainst you. As fo’ yo’ offah—Ah’d be honored ta step intah de ring ‘gainst you fo’ yo’ title. Jus’ de fac’ dat you t’ink Ah’m ready fo’ it means a lot ta me. *Lana gives Fannie a warm smile and extends her hand. The women shake while Chaz looks on with a grin, obviously pleased that the two women in his locker room have mended their fences.* Chaz: Well, folks, tha's one big announcement I wasnae expecting. Fannie Package vs. Lana de la Croix fer tha Undisputed W*I*G Weemen's Championship a' our nex' Pay-Per-View! Jes remember, folks, ye heard it 'ere first! Nah den, our guest fer dis evenin' is a returnin' wrestler tha' a lot of ye lot should knu well--ye fans love 'im, an' Toby Nicholas Tucker prolly 'ates 'is guts. Any way ye slice it, 'ere he is, 'eaven's Mariachi, L. REY! *L. Rey’s music plays. www.youtube.com/watch?v=QoQdLJt--kE L. Rey comes out to a loud pop. He is wearing a black leather coat, trendy shirt, blue jeans, and black boots. He is also holding his trademark guitar. L. Rey runs down to the rings and slides in under the bottom rope. Then, L. Rey gets up, jumps up onto a corner facing the Colvintron, and points the neck of his guitar at the Colvintron. Then, pyro goes off in a rapid-fire machine gun-like motion as L. Rey moves his guitar back and forth. L. Rey then jumps off the corner once the pyro goes off. He then walks over to Chaz, Fannie, and Lana, shaking hands around. L. Rey leans the guitar against the desk and then sits down.* Chaz: Welcome to da show, lad, 'ave a seat. So, Ah heard 'bout yer bro'er. Is he okay now? L. Rey: Oh, he’s fine. The infection went away, and he’s doin’ wonderful now. Thanks for askin’. Chaz: Wha's yer plans upon return? Are ye gonna kepp 'anging 'round wit' Magnum? L. Rey: If Magnum needs any help from me, all he has to do is ask. As for my plans, I don’t really have any. I yust like ta see what happens. Ju know, go wit the flow. Chaz: D'ya reckon dere may be gold in yer future? Tag team, World mebbe? L. Rey: I dunno. I would love to hold a title, but I’m yust gonna work hard and prove that I deserve to be given a shot at a title. Chaz: *Looking around somewhat concerned, as if waiting for something more to happen.* Cor, lad, ye're a man o' few words, ent ya? It's a talk show, lad, ye kin say more dan two sentences. L. Rey: Well, what else do ju want me ta say, mang? Ju wanted ta know when I was back. Well, I’m here. Chaz: Eh, awight. Wha's yer thoughts on our new champeens across da board? Who d'ya t'ink'll have the longest run 'ere? L. Rey: They are good competitors. That Synthy is one tough girl. She should be World Champ for a long haul. Chaz: Ah reckon ye've 'ad a good run s'far 'ere in W*I*G, includin' a goodly nummer ah wins o'er TNT. Ye t'ink ye're abou' ta finish up wit' him an move on? L. Rey: Not really. Ju see, I’ve beaten him twice, mang! I have my victories over TNT! I’ve proven that I’m the better man! I don’t need to wrestle him! Besides, he’s proven himself to be a coward. There’s no honor in beatin’ a coward. Chaz: Awight, lad, suffice ta say ye're nay from arun 'ere. Why nay tell us where ye call home, an' how ye ended oop in W*I*G? L. Rey: Well… *Suddenly, TNT’s music starts playing. www.youtube.com/watch?v=WCX8gDW4YS0 TNT comes out, wearing a blue Western-style button and collar shirts, black jeans, and black cowboy boots. He also has on that black nose guard and is holding a microphone. He walks down to the ring, talking all the while.* TNT: Hold on! Hold on! Hold the phone, right damn now! What in da blue blazin’ hell is goin’ here? *TNT walks up the steps and onto the apron and enters the ring. He walks over to L. Rey and Chaz. Chaz steps toward the new presence in the ring, clearly trying to avoid a confrontation.* Chaz: Well well, innit dis a surprise? Walcome ta Stone's Quarry, lad! Errybody, let's all walcome Toby Nicholas Tucker to da show! *The audience gives a hearty boo to the reviled man.* Chaz: Ach, that's no way ta treat a guest. Ah suppose it's nay undeserved, but still, it's rude. Ennyways, wha' brings ye oot 'ere tonigh'? TNT: Well, I was backstage watchin’ this show. Not because I like it! Frankly, it bores! Hell, it cured da bout of insomnia I was havin’ lately! By the way, thank ya fer that, Stone Age! *The crowd boos.* TNT: Anyway, I was watchin’ this particular episode here because I heard the Midget Mariachi was gonna be on the show! And, lemme tell ya! Da thought of you two speakin’ in your thick than mud accents and havin’ anyone understand a single word y’all are sayin’ was funny as hell ta me! *laughing* I mean, y’all goin’ *in a horrible Scottish accent* Aye, ah’m Scottish! *in a horrible Mexican accent* I’m Mexican, mang! *speaks an incomprehensible gibberish amalgam of his Scottish and Mexican accents* Damn! I nearly pissed myself laughin’ hearin’ y’all speak! *The crowd boos.* TNT: And, I was enjoyin’ mahself…until I heard muchacho over here *points at L. Rey* call me a coward! Needless ta say, I took offence! So, I just had ta come out and ask you, Stone Age! What kind a biased rassler-bashin’ show ya runnin’ here!? Chaz: Heheheh. Awight, lemme see if'n ah heard all dat righ'. *Tone growing more incredulous with each sentence.* Ye come doon 'ere ta mah show, ye jabber aboot how ye're watchin' it, likely wit' yer t'ree possibly brainwashed wenches at yer side, git yer panties in a twist aboot somethin' mah guest says, then make yer way doon 'ere, a'ter tellin' the lasses Daddy'll be back soon. Ye den proceed ta shoot aff yer mout' aboot us, insultin' da show an' our accen's, which ye've nae enny bidness lecturin' enny damn body aboot, what wit' yer painful drawl makin' da White Boys sound like a chorus o' fackin' angels, all ta prove ye nae a coward? Is dat aboot da sum o' it? *Toby hesitantly nods his head, noticing that Chaz has walked ever closer to him, nearly chest to chest with him. Toby still puts on a brave face though.* Chaz: *Strokes his goatee, then begins laughing his ass off, head in his hand. L. Rey starts laughing too, as do Fannie and Lana, albeit uncomfortably. Toby starts laughing uncomfortably, as well.* Rey, Rey, ha HA! I thin' ye go' dis guy wrong. 'es got some great courage ta do alla dat wit'out flinchin'. Dat said, heeheeHA! *Pointing at Toby.* Toby, ye've gotta be about the dumbes' bastart Aye e'er did coome across in me life! *Toby stops laughing, but the crowd now joins in, along with some cheering.* TNT: First off, ya’re callin’ me “Toby.” Now, that is my name. But, da thang is…we ain’t friendly. We ain’t pals. We ain’t cordial. We ain’t drinkin’ buddies! We ain’t NOTHIN’!!!! Now, only my friends can call be “Toby”! And, since I done pointed out that we ain’t friends, then…well…you can’t call me “Toby”! So, fer now you will address me as T…N…T! Second…what is a…um…dum…mess…bass…tart!? What are ya sayin’!? Speak clearly!!!! Chaz: *Offering a hand* Awight, since yer bein' a dumbarse, ah'll put it in words e'en yer teensy brain kin unnerstand. Firs', this is MY SHOW. Ah'll call ye Turd Ferguson if'n ah please. Callin' a yella-tailed twit like ye by yer given name is much better dan ennythin' ye deserve ta be called, in mah book. Naw den, ye've gotta be da only person 'ere 'avin' trouble wit' mah accent, so lemme spell it out fer ye, seein' as yer apparen'ly behin' da res' o' da class. Ta come in 'ere actin' like ye own da place, ye've gotta be one o' da dumbest baw hairs ta e'er step in a ring. D'ye unnerstand now? TNT: Look, pal. I’m sorry. I mean…I hate to be this guy…I do…I really do…I don’t wanna be this guy…I don’t…but, I can understand like half da words that are comin’ outta yo’ mouth! *The crowd boos.* TNT: So, we can’t really talk. I’m sorry. However, I didn’t even come out ta talk to ya! I came for him! *points to L. Rey* So, why don’cha get outs the way now!? C’mon! C’mon! C’mon now! Move! Chaz: Awigh', fine. Ah was gettin' tired o' runnin' intellec'ual circles 'bout ye, ennyhow. King, why dun ye take it from 'ere? *Chaz steps back to his desk, letting his two guests deal with their issues.* TNT: Thank ya! Now, fer you, Midget Mariachi. Now, like I done said, I heard a lot of things. Some of which I couldn’t understand! But, I did understand a few words—“He’s a coward.” And, that he you be referrin’ to done be me! Now, I understand how ya might not be familiar wit our American ways and our American culture. Now, ta you, coward probably means somethin’ nice like handsome warrior or beautiful stallion. But, here in America, it means someone who is yella. It’s offensive! So, I done come out here so that ya can apologize ta my face fer yo’ egress error. Go ahead. L. Rey: First off, “egress” means “exit.” I think ju mean “egregious.” TNT: Whateva! Give me my goddamn apology! L. Rey: Second, ju need ta calm down, mang. Ju should try learning some Brazilian yuyitsu and brethin’ exercises. It will really help wit jur anger issues. Third, I’m apologizin’ for notin’, mang! I meant what I said. And, ju are a low down, mangy, good fer notin’, jellow COWARD! *The crowd cheers loudly. Chaz, Fannie, and Lana just laugh at TNT. TNT looks like he might cry.* TNT: Well…well. Isn’t this a fine how-do-ya-do!? What da hell is wrong witcha, boy!? WHAT IN DA BLUE GODDAMN HELL GIVES YOU DA RIGHT TA SAY THAT I’MA COWARD!!!!? L. Rey: I tell ya! Ju brought a dragon into our happy little kingdom! A dragon we all know as Damien Blood! This dragon has done some terrorizin’ of late! And, some of that terrorizin’ hit jur girls! He attacked and bullied jur girls! And, what did ju do!? Did ju stand up for them!? Were ju their knight in white armor!? No! Ju didn’t do shit! Ju yust let him go around and scare da crap outta jur girls so that ju and Damien could be all buddy-buddy! Ju put some partnership wit a muchacho de loco, who would probably stab ju in the back yust wit’out any fore thought, over jur girls and their safety! Now, I’m not a big fan of jur girls, but I don’t like seeing women being bullied and terrorized by some villain! And, that gives me the right to say that ju are a low down, mangy, good fer notin’, jellow COWARD! *The crowd cheers loudly. Chaz, Fannie, and Lana applaud L. Rey.* TNT: Alright, alright, ALRIGHT! I admit it! I was a coward. I did some things I shouldn’t have had. BUT…I stress this, I made up fer it! Did ya not see me take out Damien Blood after his match with Magnum, P.U.? Yeah, I did! I took him out! I stood up ta him! So, what do ya gotta say now, muchacho!? L. Rey: Ju attacked him with a steel chair AFTER he had yust wrestled a match. And, ju attacked Magnum as well! TNT: So!? L. Rey: *sighs* Ju know what? I give up. In fact, now that I think about…maybe…yust maybe…ju are right. TNT: What!? Chaz: What!? Fannie: What!? Lana: What!? The audience: WHAT!? L. Rey: Jeah. I shouldn’t have called ju a coward. TNT: Ya damn skippy, ya shouldn’t have. L. Rey: So, I’m sorry. TNT: Thank ya. I accept yo’ apology. *starts to leave* L. Rey: However… TNT: *turns back around* What? L. Rey: I should have called ju somethin’ else. TNT: It ain’t anythang bad, is it? L. Rey: No! Of course not! TNT: Well, then…what should ya have called me? L. Rey: Since ju have a propensity for initials, I should have called ju P…A…B. TNT: PAB? What does that mean? L. Rey: Punk…Ass…Bitch! *Suddenly, TNT unleashes a flurry of punches onto L. Rey. L. Rey punches back, and the two men are furiously beating each other up. Chaz and Fannie rush in to break both men up. At that moment, the W*I*G security staff runs down to the ring and enters it. They help to pull TNT and L. Rey apart. After a few minutes, they are finally able to get them both apart from each other. Chaz and Fannie hold back L. Rey while the security staff pulls TNT out of the ring. Then, they drag him up the ramp, all the while TNT yells out, “LET ME AT HIM!!!! LET ME AT HIM!!!! I’M GONNA KILL THAT MIDGET MARIACHI!!!!” Soon, TNT is gone; and L. Rey is alone in the ring with Chaz, Fannie, and Lana once more. Lana helps L. Rey dust off a bit. L. Rey: Thank ju. Chaz: Dun mention it. Some people canna take a joke. Naw, we were 'bout ta discuss where ye're from a'fore we were so rudely innerrupted-- *Just then, the ring bell sounds, ending the segment. Everyone looks a little puzzled...* Chaz: Erm...ah guess dat's alla time we 'ave today. Join us nex' week fer anudder episode o' Stone's Quarry, featurin' da likes o' Vic Trauma, Tommy Pain, an' a special gues' yet ta be announced! *"School's Out" by Alice Cooper plays, and Chaz Stone shrugs as he places the microphone on the desk, looking to his partners for some explanation. Fannie seems to be straightening things out with him. All of a sudden, TNT bursts back out to the ring, with the security guards following him. Suddenly, L. Rey runs to Chaz’s desk in the middle of the ring, leaps onto it, jumps onto the top rope, and crashes on TNT and the security guards with La Empujón del Angel Que Disparando (Springboard shooting star plancha). The crowd cheers wildly as L. Rey starts punching TNT. TNT punches back, and soon both men get up and slide back into the ring. Chaz and Fannie try to break it up again, and W*I*G security gets up and enter the ring. The two men are separated once again but not for long. TNT breaks free of the security, charges at L. Rey, and hits him with a hard clothesline that sends them both tumbling over the top rope. The two men continue their confrontation on the outside, L. Rey trying gamely to come back. He finally gets some separation from TNT with a toe kick and a drop kick that sends TNT staggering back. L. Rey charges his foe. However, TNT grabs a steel chair from the timekeeper’s area, swings it around, and blasts L. Rey with a shot that sends his head bouncing off the concrete upon impact. TNT raises the chair up again and bashes it onto L. Rey’s head again. Then, he raises his hands, making two guns with his hands, points them at L. Rey, and yells “BAM!” as the crowd boos him relentlessly. TNT picks up the chair again and looks to be ready to give L. Rey another hit with it when he feels a tap on his shoulder. Instinctually, he swings the weapon around, only to have it blocked by a rather large Scotsman. Chaz Stone rips the chair out of TNT's hands and sends it scattering to the side. TNT initially tries to beg it off and then suddenly charges the bigger man, hoping to catch him off guard. Instead, Chaz shoves him into the air and clocks him with a European Uppercut as the crowd roars. TNT, not felled by the shot, staggers back and up the ramp from whence he came, Chaz and Fannie in hot pursuit. Lana stays back to help L. Rey to his feet as we fade to black.*
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Post by Team Raft Shack on May 15, 2009 2:24:18 GMT -5
Finkel: The following tag team contest is scheduled for one fall! Bailey: And we're getting ready once again for another match featuring our... rather unusual visitors from this past month or so. Lawless: Another one? This is getting ridiculous. Did Ripley and Fernandez hire EVEN ONE competent wrestler?! Bailey: Well, one of them was actually Damien Blood... Lawless: Doesn't count. The lights begin to lower in the WIGSphere, as the crowd looks on with anticipation, curious to see what's going on. Soon enough, the Colvintron lights up, as the sounds of Foreigner's Double Vision begin to emit. Soon, a pair of well tanned looking young men emerge from the backstage, looking to be identical twins. They both have long flowing straight bleach blonde hair, matching emerald green eyes, and identical muscular well toned physiques. Both men are the same height, looking about six foot four each. They are both clad in a pair of deep blue cloaks, the names "Sean John" and "Ron John" embroidered across the back in gold thread, matching deep blue tights, elbow pads, knee pads, and boots, the latter with gold lace. The two of them make their way down the ramp in perfect synchronization, stepping in perfect rhythm with one another. Finkel: Introducing first, from Winston-Salem, North Carolina, at a combined weight of 625 pounds, Sean John and Ron John Johnson! Lawless: Hot damn! Two for the price of one. Bailey: Interesting. If I didn't know better, I'd say those two were like mirror images. Lawless: Well, some twins do have a way of knowing exactly what the other is thinking. Sean John and Ron John both continue to make their way to the ring, before the both of them stop in front of the ring apron. They then give a quick glance at one another, a pair of rather bored expressions present upon their face. They then turn back towards one another, leaping onto the ring apron again in simultaneous fashion as well as entering in this same manner. Both men then step into the center of the ring, slowly raising their arms, before letting them drop back down to their sides. The two of them then step over towards their corner of the ring, again in perfect rhythm, as they await their opponents. They don't have to wait long, as Apache picks up next on the Colvintron. The lights once again dim, though this time darkening the arena even further. Soon enough, a number of lasers begin to shoot all over the arena, as a cloud of purple smoke billows from the top of the ramp way. A pair of familiar figures immediately emerge, the crowd cheering loudly as they spot them doing so. Immediately the pair begin to sprint down towards the ring, speedily approaching it, then propelling themselves underneath the ropes, sending them sailing across the ring! Faboon stops himself just near the edge of the other side, quickly rising back to his feet and back hand springing away from the ropes, a rather maniacal grin on his face. Zeleke however seems to have overshot his target, sliding clear across and through the ring, crashing on the outside of the opposite side of the ring. He however quickly gets back to his feet and cackles, seemingly amused by his own folly, then simply turning back around and returning to the ring. Finkel: And their opponents, from Foreign Alien Island, at a combined weight of 399 pounds, Zeleke Ekelez and Faboon Noobaf, Team Raft Shack! Bailey: And here comes the ever popular Team Raft Shack. Definitely one of the most bizarre duos I've ever seen in my entire wrestling commentary career. Lawless: They're both total nut jobs! And not only that, I don't have a damn clue about anything they say! Bailey: Are you sure that's limited to these two? Lawless: Shaddap! The two of them quickly spring up to their feet and peer quickly at one another, banging their head together in a stereo head butt! The Johnsons kind of stare at this display, a pair of puzzled expressions forming upon their faces at the same time. The two crazier men of the match then stagger back a bit, before shaking off the feeling and turning their attention back towards their opponents, as the music fades out. The Raft Shackians quickly back up to their side of the ring, then gazing at one another, trying to decide on who should start this bout off. The Johnson's meanwhile discuss this themselves, as soon enough, we come to the decision of Zeleke and Sean John to begin. The Johnson's quickly shed their capes, draping them across the top of the ropes nearby, once again in perfect rhythm. Sean and Zeleke then start circling the ring, the bell sounding for this match to begin. Sean immediately lunges in, Zeleke soon to follow, as they both engage in a lock up. Sean then immediately switches behind, grabbing his smaller opponent by the arm and forcing him into a hammerlock. Zeleke grimaces slightly, feeling the pressure of this hold, as he quickly begins to fight back with a series of elbows to the side of the head. Sean grimaces slightly, as Zeleke quickly does a go behind of his own, escaping the hold, then immediately rolling Sean John into a school boy! 1....2... Bailey: Nice school boy there by Ezelez. Lawless: Perfect example of underestimating someone there. This guy may be a... a Zeleke, but he is also pretty damn agile in that ring. Slippery bastard. Bailey: If the Johnsons think they'll win this one just by size advantage, they've obviously never heard of Team Raft Shack. Sean quickly kicks out, as Zeleke rolls back to his feet, then placing his hands on his cheeks and sticking his tongue out in a taunting manner. Johnson does not seem amused... or any other emotion actually, as he immediately stomps back over, swinging with a clothesline at his opponent this time. The spry pink haired man however ducks underneath, then grabs ahold once more, pulling Johnson down once again into a small package! 1.....2.... Johnson once again frees himself, as Zeleke pops back up to his feet once again. Sean John looks on with fury, stomping the mat with frustration, as he charges full bore once more at Ezelez. The young man immediately leaps up high as he comes close, bounding over him with ease! Johnson keeps propelling forward, bouncing back off the ropes and coming back, swinging with another clothesline. Zeleke however bridges backwards and avoids it once again, as Johnson once again rebounds on the other side. He then stampedes yet again towards Zeleke. Immediately, he instinctively bounces back into the air, only to be caught this time, as Johnson stops beneath him, catching him in mid air for a scoop slam! However, before he can finish the move, Zeleke quickly wraps his legs around the throat of Johnson and takes him into a quick hurracanrana, yet again taking him into a pinning position! 1.....2..... Bailey: And it looks like Zeleke is in full control here. He's riled Johnson up and things don't look good for him and his twin brother. Lawless: Damn it! Is it that hard to squash that pink haired gnat?! Johnson frees himself with fury, quickly rising to his knees and pounding the mat with his bare hands. Zeleke pops back up before him and looks on with glee, offering a rather innocent wave towards his opponent. Ron Johnson though has had enough this time, as he immediately charges into the ring, seeming to be on the same wavelength as his partner. He aims a big boot right at Zeleke's grinning face, only for him to almost immediately sense him doing so, rolling underneath it, sending Ron stumbling forwards instead. He quickly recovers, just in time for Faboon to springboard off the ropes, then leap at him with a high cross body! Ron goes down with ease, as Zeleke meanwhile leaps up himself, cracking Sean John in the side of the head with a lightning fast enziguri! He immediately drops to his knees, grasping the side of his head, giving the pink haired loon enough him to charge, bounce back off the ropes, then deliver a low dropkick to the back of that aching skull! Sean John falls forward, landing face first on the mat Ron meanwhile pushes back to his feet, throwing Faboon off in the process, as he sits up with an angry scowl on his face. Faboon however lands on his feet, then leaps back over, hitting a front dropkick right between those angry eyes, putting him flat on his back once again! The crowd cheers, Ron rolling out of the ring to recover. Sean meanwhile begins pushing back to his feet, grasping that face of his in pain, as he staggers back to his feet. Faboon however seems ready for him once again, springing atop the nearby turnbuckle, then immediately leaping off with a Missile Dropkick, cracking him right in those features once again! He drops flat onto his back once more, as Zeleke notices this and grins, immediately sprinting towards the turnbuckle himself, springing high atop of it, then leaping off with a seated senton splash, landing right across the Johnson's complexion! Bailey: Beautiful Chair Breaker by Team Raft Shack! These two are making complete fools out of the Johnsons! Lawless: Don't remind me! The man gasps in pain, quickly rolling off to the side once more as he rubs his nose. The two Raft Shackians then turn their attention towards the outside, as Ron pushes back up to a vertical base, a similar angry expression now across his own. He heads towards the ring, only to be cut off immediately by a twin 619 by the Raft Shackians, taking him off his feet once more, grabbing yet again at his features. The two men then land on the apron, turning their attentions back towards Sean John who is once again back to his feet, though looking quite dazed. Immediately they both vault into the ring, charging full speed, Zeleke then quickly aiming a low dropkick at Johnson's knee, connecting perfectly and taking him down to a kneeling position, grabbing at it, as Faboon then charges in full speed, connecting with a lightning quick shining wizard! Bailey: A new double team move there. They apparently call that one the Silly Bullet. Lawless: The what?! Bailey: Hey... I just read em. Johnson once again drops down to his feet. Zeleke and Faboon then surround him, both looking on with eager eyes, the two dropping down on all fours as they lie in wait. Eventually, Sean pushes once more back to his feet, looking absolutely out of things. Immediately, the Raft Shackians leap up and connect with their Halt Grinder, taking him down one more time. Faboon then charges back towards the outside, diving between the ropes at the rising Ron and taking him down once again with a suicide dive! Zeleke meanwhile slips over, straddling his opponent in... a pin of sorts, as he leans down to plant a big wet one on his rather unconscious self. 1.....2.....3! Finkel: Here are your winners... Team Raft Shack! Lawless: KEEP THOSE UGLY LIPS OFF MY MEN , YOU SICKENING SACK OF VOMIT! Bailey: WOW... anyway, Team Raft Shack caps off the victory in a rather dominating fashion. Even after that brutal match at Attrition, it seems these two aren't hurting too badly. At least, from what I noticed. Lawless: Well, it has been a few weeks since the conclusion of Attrition. Obviously, those bastards are rested up by now. And the Raft Shackians easily deal with the Johnsons. Zeleke quickly pushes back to his feet and licks his lips rather satisfied. Faboon soon joins him, though rubbing a bit at his neck from that last move he attempted. The crowd cheers rather loudly, as Apache once again begins to play on the Colvintron. Immediately, the two of them begin to dance to the beat of the song, at least what they might consider a dance. However, Faboon abruptly stops, as the music halts as well, with the white haired weirdo raising a hand. Zeleke however doesn't seem to notice, continuing to dance about. As he does so, his partner reaches over and takes Finkel's microphone, then turns his attention towards the entrance ramp. Faboon: ... Celebration is inallowable! For our victory... it has creeped away from our possessing and into the hands of another allignment. Though I am not at all sickened by this predicament. The better duo managed to slurp upon the savory golden shake of greatness at this Attritioning. Despite our efforting, our securance of those tag team titles was fully denied, even with our great fortuitiliness upon drawing that final spot. Additionatively... we were also granted Blanche's Cart and allowed to unleash whatever wonderous weaponry we settlized upon! But alas, we blew up that bulbous bubble of boarishness! And it burst and soaked us with it's failure. Faboon bows his head, then reaches over to smack the prancing Zeleke, who immediately stops and nods, bowing his own head as well. Faboon: But tis no shame in failure upon your first attempt. After all, that was the reason why the sacred rematchening was created! Oh Diamondic Highlanders... on this eve of our latest victory, we have realized that you are the first to cast us a defeat here in W*I*G* And not only that, but before we arrived, you also vanquished yet another pairence. Thereforely, it seems quite presumious of us to beseech you for a second opportunity to do battle twicely with you both. After all, on more than one occurence did we come close ourselves to smiting ya and snapping up those championations for our ownsome. Zeleke: ACCEPT WHY DONCHA?! Faboon: Well putly put. Until your repliance flows between our earholes, we shall lie in wait. Once you have done this, it will commence and our horns will once more lock upon another, as we do more glory filled battlings in this sacred squared sircle! Zeleke: Fail to comply... and you shall be likened to the putrid surrenderance swans! Faboon: Words have emerged from our mouths! With that, another puff of purple smoke immediately forms in the middle of the ring, as the crowd looks on in a bit if surprise. When it has cleared, Team Raft Shack has vanished once more it appears. The crowd however cheers them anyway, perhaps simply excited for this possible tag team match that lies in the future. Lawless: Glad that's over. Hopefully, those Highland Diamonds kick their ass and send them back in bodybags to... whatever the hell Foreign Alien Island is. Bailey: The Raft Shackians have thrown down the gauntlet. Now I guess we'll see if the new W*I*G* tag team champions are willing to accept. We quickly fade to commercial.
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BR Juri Sadamoto
Opener
Just your average, scarred Japanese-Irish American girl next door.
Broken Rose
Posts: 30
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Post by BR Juri Sadamoto on May 15, 2009 3:39:36 GMT -5
“Ichirin no Hana” by High and Mighty Color hits the PA.*The ring bell rings as the crowd becomes alive with excitement, looking for one Juri Sadamoto.* Finkel: The following match is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first... Now residing in Osaka, Japan.... Weighing in at 142 lbs... BR Juri Sadamoto! *The crowd cheers as Juri is shown on the screen, having already made it down the arena steps. Noticing the disappointed faces, she holds up her hands then takes a few steps backward. Both hands fall to her sides as she stares back and forth at the audience. Then, as if conducting a hand sign choir, she does her trademark point which results in a crowd of pointing fans. A few slaps of the hands later, and she's over the barricade. She rolls her neck a few times before entering under the bottom rope in a slide.* Tom: And after a much needed commercial break from the fan favorites, Team Raft Shack, we have another fan favorite in Juri Sadamoto! Jeannie: And still no hot dudes that I can sink my teeth into.... Any winning hot dudes that is. Tom: It's not all about winning. Jeannie: I'd like a steak on a date, not a value meal. Tom: ...Yes... Well... This is Juri's first appearance since her participation in that epic women's match that saw Fannie Package crowned the new champion. While that was quite some time ago, it would seem Juri's neck is still bothering her. Jeannie: I don't see how she's walking. She was dropped right on her neck! Don't people like... DIE after that? Tom: Maybe death fears Juri? Jeannie: After that Chick match, I'm not so sure they aren't the same person. *Just about ready to finish for stretches, Juri's music abruptly ends. Her eyes look up in shock for a second before shrugging. Now she waits for her opponent but she doesn't have long before some odd music plays.* *Juri immediately looks confused by the music playing, as does Finkel who looks over his card again. Meanwhile the audience is groaning over the singer's “vocal talents”. Before too long, a spot light focuses on a tall blonde woman with a confederate flag kimono standing at the top of the arena. Immediately the music cuts out.* Tom: What the? Jeannie: UGH! My ears! ...AND WHO THE HELL IS THAT BROAD?! Tom: I think that's Juri opponent... “Kinky” Kristy Krystal. *In a stereotypical Asian voice*: Oh, me so cuuuuute! I know kalrate! I like sake! I do quickie for thlree fifty! Jeannie: We are so sued. Tom: Class, your name be not “Kinky” Kristy Krystal. Jeannie: Dur! Look at the name. I think even Skanky McHobag sounds more classy than that. *The crowd immediately boos this highly un-pc act. But the blonde looks on in glee down at Juri as she continues.* “I'm sowrly... Me thought this was Amelrica, not Chinatown.” *The blonde drops her accent and tosses off her kimono to show off a white tank top and shorts.* “And saying that, I'm now going to kick your sorry, Oriental, A-cupped, tiny ass back to where you came from! PLAY MY CORRECT MUSIC!” Jeannie: And we're going to be sued for copyright infringement as well! Is there any other way this Southern whore can cost us money? Tom: I think we can perhaps add slander too? Jeannie: Looks like we aren't being paid again. Finkel: ...And from Badstreet Atlanta, GA.... Weighing at 156 lbs... “Kinky” Kristy Krystal... *Kristy continues her smug saunter down to the ring, taking the same path that Juri had. She even mocks Juri's pre-match stretching. For her part, Juri as taken to narrowing her eyes at her opponent. The blonde responds with making her eyes narrow and pulling a Miley Cryus by making herself look Asian with her fingers. Sadamoto only blinks once as this “Kinky” Kristy Krystal continues to mock her heritage. Finkel looks over at Juri then Kristy then quickly exits the ring. Kristy immediately walks up to Juri, pushing her back towards the ropes. Sadamoto holds up her hands innocently as Kristy continues to push her into the ropes. As soon as Juri's back hits the ropes she holds against them, almost sighing at her opponent. Kristy takes this as a sign of weakness, lifts up her arm and points at it.* Kristy: A CLOTHESLINE FROM BADSTREET, ATLANTA, GA, AMERCIA! Jeannie: Oh. Real smart. Why not say “I'm going for a clothesline, duck!” Tom: I don't think smart is in her vocab.... Wait, what's Juri doing with her right glove? Jeannie: Maybe she wants to challenge the KKK poster girl to a duel? *She runs backwards, rebounding off the ropes, then charges at Juri. Just as she reaches the redhead she's mocked so unmercifully, she's surprised that Juri has ducked under her. Krystal whips around to see Juri right behind her with her bare knuckled right fist... And that's the last thing she sees.* POW! The sound of bone hitting bone is heard! Jeannie: HOLY DAMN! Tom: WHAT A SHOT! *Kristy falls to the ground like a dead body. As the referee checks on her, her eyes have started rolling into the back of her head. He instantly calls for the bell, awarding the match to Juri. Sadamoto looks at her quivering hand briefly before putting her thick, padded glove back on. She goes to leave but looks backward at Krystal. Juri walks to her downed opponent, then grins as she leans down against the white washed eyes of “Kinky” Kristy Krystal.* Jeannie: Hey Kristy... You just got knocked the FUCK out! Tom: You're going to get us sued too. Jeannie: Oh come on... Everyone was thinking it! Juri: A punch... from Milton, Mass.... BITCH. *She then bows to her opponent with a coy grin and climbs out of the ring. She mimics Michael “PS” Hayes as she walks to the back. Meanwhile, the EMTs have descended upon the ring to try to pull the KOed woman out of Happy Happy Land and back into reality.* Tom: While she may not be 100% nor the Women's Champion, I think this message is clear... Juri is still as dangerous as ever. Jeannie: Remind me not to ever mock her freckles.... Or even breathe next to her. Tom: ...More on the way after this commercial break. *Cut to a video package featuring the four new champions: Synthy Eris, Fannie Package, and The Highland Diamonds.*
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