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 SANCTUARY VOTING & PROMO THREAD

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Abel Steele
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PostSubject: SANCTUARY VOTING & PROMO THREAD   Tue Mar 26, 2013 10:06 am

LIVE FROM THE BRIDGESTONE CENTER – NASHVILLE, TENNESSEE




GOLD STANDARD WRESTLING

Proudly presents

SANCTUARY


The scene cuts backstage to what is obviously the Head Office of Gold Standard Wrestling’s own Crusoe. Joining him in the room are GSW members including Matt Dunn and Drew Michaels.

Crusoe: Well gentlemen this is it! The night we have all been waiting for. The night Gold Standard Wrestling claims its rightful place.

Dunn looks quizzically at Crusoe.

Dunn: You mean by supplanting that cancer Full Me……

Crusoe: Matt! No one tonight is allowed to mention that name. Nick Bryson has made it very clear through his attorney that any use of the name of the company, its brands or any of the affiliated Championships is strictly prohibited. Any such breach would see this Gold Standard revival done and dusted after just one show.

Drew: Right, so if we can’t have any of the Championships defended then what the hell is our main event going to be.

Crusoe: I’m glad you asked Drew. This…

Crusoe holds up a sheet of paper and plants it on the desk.

Crusoe: Is a copy of the card that was sent over to me by that bumbling idiot Devereaux as a “suggestion” from…. That other company.

Dunn: And you’re going to follow it ?!!

Crusoe: Of course not. No one knows how to make this show a Gold Standard event like we do and just to prove it let me show you who I have managed to book after some recent mishandling by Amm…. Devereaux.

Crusoe hits his intercom buzzer.

Crusoe: Send a message down to Abel Steele. Ask him to attend my office immediately to discuss tonight’s matches.

Dunn: Wow, that’s 1 point to GSW already. I can’t wait to see what else you have in store.

Crusoe: Well then! If you can’t wait, why don’t I just show you now??

Drew & Dunn look over the card, eyebrows raising as they go along.

Drew: I though you said you couldn’t legally use any Fu… any of the existing Championships

Crusoe: No, I said we can’t use any of the names as that would breach copy right.

GSW “SANCTUARY”
Live from The Bridgestone Center in Nashville, Tennessee

Triple Threat Match

Stormmaster vs Trey Spruance vs Drake Parker

Singles Match
Leon Caprice vs Antonio Grimelli

”Rolled Gold Promise” Match
Seth Rotunda vs Alexiss Machine vs Jack Eastwood vs Butters vs Abel Steele

*Winner gets a contract jointly signed by Crusoe and P Thurston Devereaux for a guaranteed Title Shot at any Title able to be contested on any show run by either one of them.*

Tag Team Match
Hannibal Frost & Damien Inferno vs Anwyl & Leviticus

Main Event
**As yet Un-named** Championship Match
Dinner Suit / Evening Gown(s) Match

Santana Braxton & Sage Braxton (C) vs Daniel Prideman
*win by pin-fall or by undressing your opponent(s) to their underwear


Promo Only until midnight Wednesday 3rd April 2013 (EST)
Voting & Promo until midnight Saturday 6th April 2013 (EST)
Voting Only until midnight Sunday 7th April 2013 (EST)

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Antonio_G
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PostSubject: Re: SANCTUARY VOTING & PROMO THREAD   Tue Apr 02, 2013 2:34 pm

Today we arrive.

Little lion cub, you've left it in the hands of The Elephant Gun to fire the first shot...silly boy. You believe because you have done your research that you know me? Madness. I don't even know The Elephant Gun anymore. Reborn in voice, renewed in spirit, reinvented in blood.

The scene opens with Antonio, dressed in a bespoke three piece suit, sitting at a small table outside a cafe in Nashville, Tennessee. The tinny noise of guitar strings can be heard as he sips on his coffee and flicks glances over the local newspaper, the camera pans out to reveal an old radio sitting on a window ledge not far from where he sits. Grimelli taps his finger to the beat. As the song finishes he takes another gulp from his cup and straightens up. He nods toward the camera and it focuses in on his large frame.

Grimelli: I feel like we got off on the wrong foot, you and I. I, being Antontio Grimelli, The Elephant Gun, you being the FMW Universe. You see The Elephant Gun has been cast as a villain of sorts, and nothing could be further from the truth. He understands how it could happen, given the nature of his past, but today is a day to look ahead. Post-mortems are for those who profess over death, I celebrate life.

In another life The Elephant Gun was witness to his parents murder, he was fostered by their killer, his tongue cut out and his soul suffocated. Through time his mind was twisted, Stockholm Syndrome took hold of The Elephant Gun in his late teens through to his mid-twenties. The man he should have loathed was the one he idolized. A false idol. One who eventually met his end at the hands of the man he silenced all those years ago...

But no matter how much wrong was seen or done, The Elephant Gun still had a pure heart. His mind may have been clouded and his feet led down the wrong path many a time, but under it all a good heart still beat. The Elephant Gun isn't proud of his past life, only now through stepping away from it all has he been able to let the good breath within him...a good that is now trying to be stifled.

The Elephant Gun has been asked to fight against a little lion cub, Leon Caprice. The Elephant Gun won't try to pull the wool over your eyes, he knows little of the lion cub. What he does know of him neither impresses him or intimidates him.

He is easily agitated, a quality no one desires. The little lion roars, loudly and often, yet it bellows with no substance. If The Elephant Gun knew no better he would say these are the nervous ramblings of a confused and scared little boy. Thankfully he does know better, and he is sure that is what they are.

The little lion cub thinks I am simple minded, believing that is an insult is his biggest flaw. He pokes fun at The Elephant Gun...asking him does he think before words drool from his mouth...The Elephant Gun has only just had a new tongue attached...of course he drools.

The little lion roars, he tells The Elephant Gun how he will beat him. How he will out manoeuvre him, outsmart him, how he will outdo him at every turn. The little lion wants to out The Elephant Gun, unfortunately for him he is a ladies man and if he is looking for a hand out of the closet it should look somewhere else.

Our match is an exclamation mark on what will be a new dawn for this company. And if things are to move in a forward direction then The Elephant Gun must be helping to lead the charge. The little lion talks of reason why The Elephant Gun shouldn't hold the Abandoned Championship, and how he isn't in the same league of those that have held it in the past. Sadly, The Elephant Gun cannot argue. He hasn't had to move out of second gear to get to where he now sits with coffee in one hand, newspaper in the other and Abandoned Championship by his side.

What he can argue is that his ceiling is so high it cannot be seen. The little lion cub, his potential has been shown time and time again. He is limited. An above average tag competitor whose ceiling doesn't reach The Elephant Gun's knees.

Grimelli beckons the camera around and points at a picture in the local paper.


Grimelli: This is from a photo shoot I did when I arrived in this beautiful town. The Elephant Gun is an impressive specimen, no? The photographer thought so...she asked if she could pull The Elephant Gun's trigger...but that is a story for another day.

The Elephant Gun is a man of the people, happy to do what is needed for the company to bring it forward. For me, the past is just that, the past. Things that have been and gone, and gotten us to where we are today. In the stark cold light of day, that place could be a lot better.

So what do we do? Talk about the good old days? Complain about how things have went? how now isn't as good as then...

...No.

We be proactive. We move forward. We grab 'now' by the balls and squeeze everything we can out of it.

The Elephant Gun is a step forward...the little lion is a whimper backward. With limitless potential there could be no end to what FMW and The Elephant Gun does together. Give me an inch and I will make it a mile. An Abandoned Championship belonging to an Abandoned federation…not anymore. FMW, The Elephant Gun is here. He is ready to be your hero. He is ready to take you by the hand and lead you to the summit where you belong.

When The Elephant Gun fires everyone should take note…especially you…little lion cub.

Boom. FMW, today we have arrived.
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PostSubject: Re: SANCTUARY VOTING & PROMO THREAD   Wed Apr 03, 2013 8:19 pm

Prideman:It’s been a while since you heard from me. So I best let you know where I’m at. I met a girl. Jack and I were out partying, things got messy and I almost did something I’d have regretted. It was bad, really bad. But my senses got the best of me and I let her go. So I wallowed in my own misery for a while. Then she showed up. At The Asylum, my sanctuary. I was taken aback. I told her to leave. She did. But she stuck in my mind. I couldn’t stop thinking about her. All I could do was take a walk, I had to clear my head. I love wolves. I sit and watch them hunt, but I know the best distance to keep. She didn’t. They got her. I was overwhelmed with emotion. She needed saving. Was it guilt? I don’t know. But I got her out of there. Her leg had been bit but I now thank the Heavens that she is okay. And I fell for her. Head over heels in lo- I dunno. It’s scary but yet the best feeling ever.

So now you’re caught up. And this is how I got into the situation I currently find myself.


March 26th 2013.

Daniel stretched out and yawned. The sun was beating down as he looked out across the sea. To his left a diet soda, to his right a note pad and pen lay. Nothing had been written today. Nothing had been written in a while. His hand was outstretched, fingers entwined with the girl that lay next to him. She’d been his world. After that night all those months ago outside the club, when he felt at his deepest and darkest point, the brink of succumbing to the monster that lay inside; he never thought she’d be here with him. The happiest he’d ever been. Sarah. He looked at her, studying the curves of her body, her brown hair glistening in the sunlight, the scars on her leg. That scarring had haunted him for a while. An injury inflicted by wolves on the outskirts of the asylum, it served as a reminder of the viciousness that had once lived inside of him. But now, now they represented something else. They were a trophy of his new persona. A person he was happy to be. Sarah had made him see that.

Laying on the beach in Spain, watching the waves go in and out, Daniel wondered how he had ever become so unhappy. The holiday he’d had, he’d needed it.


Prideman: I love you. I hope you know that.

Sarah: I love you to. And how could I forget?! You tell me every day.

They share a smile.

Sarah: I’m heading back to the room.

Prideman: Why?

Sarah:Noticing a look of worry on Daniel’s face. Just for another book. Don’t look so worried.

Prideman: I wasn’t worried.

Sarah: You’re funny.

She smiles at him, leans over and kisses him before heading back to their room. Daniel watches her go, then turns back to the sea. Feeling inspired he picks up the notepad and pen. As pen is about to meet paper, his phone begins to ring. Picking it up he looks at the name flashing on the screen. A name he hadn’t even gave thought to in the last three months. “EASTWOOD”. He considered letting it go to voicemail, but a call out of the blue, that couldn’t be ignored.

Prideman: Hello.

Eastwood: We’re back!

Prideman: Eh?

Eastwood: FMW baby! It’s back. Well, not exactly FMW. There’s some shit going down with Bryson or something. But we’re wrestling again.

Prideman: That’s- errr- great.

Eastwood: Where are you at? How long til you’re back in the Asylum?

Prideman: Dude, I’m in Spain. I’ve been chilling in the sun for the last three months.

Eastwood: Right, well you can fuck that off. GSW are hosting a show, Sanctuary. We need to get you on that card.


Prideman: I’m happy Jack.

Jack makes retching noises down the other end of the phone.

Eastwood: You can spare me all that. Look, Daniel, I am happy for you mate. I have no reason not to be. Even if this relationship did start in some pretty dark circums-

Prideman: Jack I know. Please don’t remind me of that.

Eastwood: I’m just saying.

Prideman: So what do you want me to do?

Eastwood: Come back. Come back to the Asylum, let’s talk through our options. Things are kinda messed up in FMW, so we have a lot of options.

Prideman: Okay, fine. Okay.

Eastwood: You’ll be here.

Prideman: I will. Bye.

He puts the phone down, sighs and relaxes into his lounger. Sarah walks back down and takes her seat beside Prideman.

Prideman: Sarah-

Sarah: You don’t have to say it. It was Jack wasn’t it?

Prideman: Yeah. We’re going back. I’m sorry.

Sarah: Don’t apologise. I can’t wait to see my man in action.

She feels the muscles on his harm. Running her fingers down seductively.

Sarah: Seeing you destroy someone in the ring is hot. Let’s go home.

She gets up excitedly, drags Prideman to his feet and skips off towards their room. Prideman follows, his mind completely muddled.

Two days later…

Prideman: I’m going to speak to Jack. Just stay up here okay?

Sarah: Okay baby.

Daniel left Sarah in his room. After so much time away, The Asylum now felt a bit strange to him. The cold once more bit his skin as it had before. He made his way back downstairs, nodding at all the brothers he had left behind. Rhino, Elephant, Mongoose, they were all there but it was back to the familiar room to have a now infrequent chat with Jack. He sat back in his favourite chair.

Prideman: I have missed my chair.

Eastwood: I didn’t let anyone sit in it. It’s been waiting for you. How’s Sarah?

Prideman: She’s fine. She seems to like it here.

Eastwood: And why wouldn’t she?

Prideman: Not really a place for a lady is it?

Eastwood: The Pack will wait on her hand and foot. If you like her, I like her.

Prideman: I really do.

Eastwood: Look, enough of the soppy crap. So FMW has been fucked recently. I don’t need to tell you that. Those bastards of GSW are giving us a place to go though. They call it Sanctuary. Who we going for?

Prideman: We should be looking for gold.

Eastwood: I agree. The Braxtons. They hold a title. Simple enough target. You’re booked against them. For the title.

Prideman: What? I don’t fight girls.

Eastwood: You want a title?

Prideman: Yeah but- there’s got to be another way?

Eastwood: No there’s not.

Daniel rose from his chair and headed for the door.

Prideman: I don’t think I can do it.

Eastwood: Get yourself down FMW headquarters tomorrow. They’ve been talking shit. I’m sure they’ll be there.

The next day…

Daniel and Sarah stood outside FMW headquarters.

Prideman: And this is where all the decisions are made. It’s been majorly quiet recently. I just need to go in and speak to someone. Make them change this match.

Sarah: Why? You’re a wrecking machine. You go through anyone. It’s hot.

Prideman: I’m not that guy. Not to girls. I would never do that.

Sarah: You could be a champion.

Prideman: At the expense of hurting two women? That’s not how I want it to be.

Sarah: Whatever.

Daniel and Sarah push through the doors. It really was a shell of the place it had once been. The main atrium was abandoned. Well then again, it was in no better shape than when Prideman had last visited with Eastwood and the rest of The Pack. Come to think of it, Daniel wasn't sure trashing the place had made an improvement to his career.

Prideman: Just wait here. I’ll sort all of this out. I won’t be long.

As he headed for the door he heard the two shrill voices call out

Santana: Hello Danielle.

Sage: Your Queens are here.

Prideman: You aren’t Queens.

Santana: But we are.

They wave regally at him.

Sage: The Queens of FMW.

Prideman: That’s because you’re practically the only women here. You could be hideous on the eye but in a room full of just blokes, eventually even the worst is elected Queen.

Sage: Those two talentless backstage interviewer bimbos would probably try and protest that.

Santana: Admit it Danielle. You are part of the Braxton Twin Fan Club.

Prideman: You girls have no place here.

Santana: Um, Prideman, you do realise we are champions in this company, right? How about you?

Prideman: Things haven’t been easy for me. But I’m on a winning streak now. No champion will enter the ring with me.

Santana: No champion is willing to step into the ring with you? Try me, Prideman. I could beat you and look absolutely stunning in doing so.

They both get in Daniel’s face. Pushing their frames against his. He could feel their warm breath on his neck as they stared up at him. The blood began to boil inside of him. Taken aback by this reaction, he stepped away, trying to calm himself.

Prideman:Breathe. Breathe. Regardless of what I think of you, I don't fight women. If you lay your hands on a woman it'll only end in a dark path. Find a surrogate or something, I can't wrestle you.

Santana: Because you know you can't beat me. My sister and I have been on a roll ever since we stepped foot into this company and it intimidates you how talented we are. You are a pathetic excuse of a man, Daniel Prideman. A bit sexy, but still pathetic.

Sarah stepped between them and tried to impose herself on the twins. As fair as Daniel knew this was out of character, and yet in this aggressivestate she seemed very comfortable.

Sarah: Hands off. He’s my man.

The twins grab Sarah by the hair and throw her to the ground. Daniel rushes over to protect her, standing between the battling women being very careful not to harm Sage and Santana as they try to scratch and claw.

Sage: Who’s the tramp Danielle?

Prideman: Leave her out of this.

Santana: She’s a mess. You could do so much better.

Daniel shoots the twins a bemused look.

Sage: Don’t get your hopes up, not us. Just better than that, thing.

Prideman: I won’t tell you again.

Santana: Fight us then.

Prideman: Look, ladies. Maybe there's an agreement that can be reached here. You have something I want, but I won't take from you. Let's be honest, I'm 6'4" 275 pounds and when I'm in that ring I'm a monster. I'd flatten you two. No disrespect. I won't fight you.

Sage: Prideman, your size means nothing. I beat that thing Stormmaster. Santana took Apostasy to his limit. What you're doing is underestimating us because of our size and gender, and I could take this to the higher authorities as sexual discrimination which could lead to your suspension. What I'm trying to say is, you have no choice: what the Braxtons want, the Braxtons get.

Daniel rears up. He extends to his full height and stands imposingly in front of the women.

Prideman: I TRIED TO TELL YOU! I WARNED YOU THAT YOU DO NOT WANT THIS MATCH! I WANTED YOU TO JUST LEAVE IT! ONE.........MORE........CHANCE. Is this...what you really want?

Sage: Unless I unintentionally just spoke Spanish, I'm pretty sure I've made it very clear that we want to face you, Danielle. Although, seeing as we are the reigning champions and your Queens of FMW, we will decide where it happens and what match stipulation.

Santana: What about a nice Evening Gown match, Danielle? I'm sure you'd look lovely in Valentino.

Prideman: Braxton's I accept. I'll beat you in this demeaning match up and begin to restore some pride to that title.

Sarah got to her feet. She walked past Daniel and dived on the twins. Ripping and clawing at their faces. Daniel follows pulling her off whilst her legs continue to flail wildly out towards Sage and Santana.

Sage: Keep that thing away from us.

Santana: It’s feral.

Sarah: Its name is Sarah. And it can’t wait to see her man tear you limb from limb.

Sarah spat at the Braxton’s feet. She linked arms with Daniel, at first holding tightly. She turned her head over her shoulder and threw the Braxton;s a manic smile before loosening her grip as she skips towards the door. They leave.

Sage: Have I got a scratch.

Santana: No it’s fine. You’re still beautiful. And me?

Sage: No Santana. We’re still perfection.

Later that evening…

Inside his bedroom, Daniel stared out at the vast snowy tundra the other side of his window. It was a stark contrast to the warmth of Spain he’d been enjoying. On the bed Sarah was putting aside her book she’d been reading. She got out from under the covers wearing just her underwear and made her way sexily over to Daniel. She ran her hand through his hair seductively, down over his chest resting it in the front of his boxer shorts.

Sarah: Come to bed?

He turned around, a smile over his face and kissed her deeply. She took him by the hand and led him to the bed. Both on their knees she continued to run her hands over his body and whispered into his ear.

Sarah: You were so sexy today. The way you dealt with those girls. It was so dominant. So sexy. I want you to hurt them. You’re going to beat them right?

Prideman: Yeah.

She grabs his hand and moves it to her hair. She makes him clench.

Sarah: You gonna pull their hair.

Prideman: Yeah.

Sarah: Pull mine.

Daniel pulled back on her hair. Forcing her head back and kissed her once more. She dug her nails into his back and scratched. Daniel let out a low grunt and sigh.

Sarah: Like that?

Prideman: Yeah.

Sarah: You’re going to hit them?

Prideman: Yeah.

Sarah: Hit me.

Prideman: I don’t like hitting women. I told the Braxton’s this.

Sarah: Just spank me.

He spanks her.

Sarah: Harder.

He obliges. She lets out a sexualised scream. Daniel feels his pulse begin to race.

Sarah: Harder!

Once more he spanks her. The cheeks reddening. His heart pumps faster. Adrenaline beginning to rush through him. She screams at him.

Sarah: HARDER!

Daniel goes mad. He spanks her several times each harder than the previous. His muscles tensed, fight mode. He spins her round onto her front and without a moment’s thought, hit her across the face, breaking her nose. He dives off the bed. Away from Sarah. His head spinning, confused and bemused by what he has done. Sarah’s face his buried in the pillow. He slumps to the ground in a heap.

Prideman: I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry.

Uncontrollably apologetic he is disgusted at himself. Sarah lifts herself from the pillow and looks at him. Blood streaming from her nose. Dazed, she smiles at him.

Sarah: Sorry? Don’t be. I loved it. You’re ready.

She pounces on him.


Last edited by Loins on Thu Apr 04, 2013 2:55 am; edited 2 times in total
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PostSubject: Re: SANCTUARY VOTING & PROMO THREAD   Wed Apr 03, 2013 9:12 pm

She’s the light at dawn,
She’s the cloud I’m on,
She’s amazing.
Mona Lisa’s smile,
She’s so innocent and wild,
She’s amazing, yeah.
She’s amazing.

The scene opens to a shot of Sage and Santana Braxton sitting on a pair of red thrones located in their own personal FMW locker room. Sage is wearing a short, black cocktail dress with glitter red pumps and Santana is wearing a short, red cocktail dress with glitter black pumps. In between the two throne chairs is a pedestal with their un-named championship belt sitting on it encased in a glass box.

Sage: I really think you should do it. If not you, then I will - one of us has to do it.

Santana: Why don’t you just do it then?

Sage: You’re better suited for a beauty pageant than I am.

Santana: Well, you just -

Sage: No! Shutup I’ve got it! We’ll both do it. You go for Miss Universe Australia and I’ll go for Miss World Australia, then our little Down Under country will finally have the royal ruling it so surely deserves.

Santana: I always knew you were the smarter one, sis. I think that’s a brilliant idea. Why don’t we -

Santana is interrupted again by the door loudly swinging open to reveal Crusoe. The girls politely usher him in and he stands next to Santana’s throne to speak to them.

Crusoe: I’ve got some good news and I’ve got some good news for you ladies.

Sage: We’re intrigued. Spill.

Crusoe: You know how you two have been hassling Prideman for a match in “your playground” as you so delicately put it? Well, he’s agreed and the match is set for Sanctuary.

Santana: I knew he would. We can be very persuasive when we want to be.

Sage: It’s because Santana has a massive crush on him.

Santana: I do not, I’m just saying that if a man like that crawled into bed with me I wouldn’t kick him out.

Crusoe: Ladies, we need you to focus. You girls are in the main event and you are representing Gold Standard Wrestling - we are the golden standard.

Sage: Crusoe, honey, don’t speak to us like that. We are very aware of the situation and we will guarantee our victory at Sanctuary and show the filthy men of Full Metal why we are exactly the golden standard.

Crusoe: That’s what I like to hear. I’ll be off to get the others prepared and -

Santana: Crusoe, we need you to do us a huge favour seeing as you’re, like, the head honcho manager of GSW.

Crusoe: Right... what is this favour?

Santana: Well, Sage and I have decided that we are going to start a new venture in our lives and get into beauty pageantry. I will be going for Miss Universe Australia and Sage will be pursuing Miss World Australia. We’re a shoe in for the crowns.

Crusoe: Are you sure that’s wise? You should be concentrating on the whole domination of FMW.

Sage: Of course it’s wise. Now, we need your help.

Crusoe: With what exactly?

Sage: We need you to use your contacts and acquire us the top pageant consultant this world has to offer.

Crusoe: I’d hate to break it to you ladies, but I don’t know any pageant consultants.

Santana: But surely you know someone who knows someone...

Sage and Santana get up from their thrones and approach Crusoe on either side; Sage flicks her hair effortlessly while Santana gently rubs his shoulder as Crusoe barely hides his excitement at being so close to the Braxtons.

Sage: Oh please Crusoe!

Crusoe: Okay, okay, I’ll help you ladies.

Santana: Yay! Thanks Crusoe!

Sage and Santana plant lipstick kisses on both of Crusoe’s cheeks and wave at him as he leaves their locker room with a surprised expression on his face.

Sage: Well, then it’s settled. Those crowns will be ours.


-------------------------------------------------------------------


Hey sis,

Gone out to spend the day with Jesse. We’ll meet you at Angelo’s at 1 for lunch.

Sage

Santana tosses the letter aside as she pulls a short denim skirt over her legs. She ties the halter around her neck and quickly spins her hair around and manipulates it into a messy bun. She admires her reflection in the mirror before dashing out of the Braxton’s penthouse apartment and down to her flashy purple sports car.

Santana speeds down the streets of Sydney and leaves her car in the valet parking section in front of the Louis Vuitton retail store. She arrogantly tosses her keys to the valet and walks into the store, immediately greeted by the security and professional greeters who were familiar with the Braxton family.


Greeter: Sage! Lovely to see you!

Santana: I’m Santana you idiot.

The greeter’s bright, practiced smile disappears as Santana glares at him and begins to look around the store for anything that catches her eye. She spots a scarf that she likes, motions for the shopper to grab it for her and then drags her around to carry more stuff for her.

Santana: Cindy, do you think this bag is too similar to the tote I bought last time I was here?

Cindy: No way! I love that one! Did you want me to get it down for you?

Santana: Do it.

As Santana watches Cindy get the tote bag down, she looks around and spots a man in a long beige coat standing away from the crowd, looking mysterious and dark as he keeps his head down.

Santana: Cindy, who is that over there?

Santana points at the mysterious man and Cindy follows her sight and sees the man. She squints her eyes as she tries to make out who he is and shakes her head.

Cindy: I don’t know, I’ve never seen him before. Why’s that, Miss Braxton?

Santana: He looks very familiar, that’s all.

Santana points out another handbag that she wants and Cindy goes up to fetch it; Santana looks over her shoulder and sees that the man is looking at her with a half smile on his face. She squints her eyes at him, half to scare him away from looking at her and half to try and figure out who he is.

Cindy: Excellent choice, Miss Braxton, is there anything else on this wall that you would like?

Santana declines Cindy’s offer and turns around to see that the man has gone from his spot. She quickly darts her gaze around the store and sees standing against the opposite wall, still looking at her with a half-smile on his face.

Santana: He keeps looking at me.

Cindy: Would you like me to ask security to escort him out?

Santana: Please do so.

Cindy carries Santana’s purchases to the counter and goes off to have a word with one of the security guards while Santana continues to stare at the man. His half-smile turns into a full smirk and he tips his hat to her, causing Santana to gasp and realise where she’s seen him before.

Braxton Catalyst Promo wrote:
Before Santana can attack someone else, Sage grabs her by the arm and drags her out of the hall as the sound of police sirens can be heard around the building. As the sisters leave, Santana spots a suspicious looking unidentified man standing outside in the dark with a lit cigarette in his hand. She stops and tries to figure out who he is and as he sees this, he laughs and flips her off before running away from the scene.

Sage: Santana! Let’s go before you get arrested!

Santana eyes the darting figure curiously before finally figuring out what was going on.

Santana: That little scumbag, they planned this all along!


Santana goes to call out to him but her view is blocked by the bulking security guards who have a few words with him and then escort him out.

Santana: No! No! Stop! I know who he is!

The security don’t hear her and leave the man outside of the store; Santana dashes out of the store and looks around to see if she can find him and spots him on the other side of the road. The man laughs and flips her off before darting down the street.

Santana: IT IS YOU! GET BACK HERE!

Santana attempts to chase after him and sprints across the street but her stiletto heel snaps, stopping any advancement in Santana’s mission to find out who is stalking her.

Santana: God dammit!

Cindy, who had watched and followed Santana out of the store, gracefully skips across the road and gently puts her hand on Santana’s shoulder.

Cindy: Is everything alright Miss Braxton?

Santana: It’s fine. I have to go now. Charge all of that to my account and deliver it to our apartment please. Have the valet deliver my car to Angelo’s.

Santana brushes Cindy off her, pulls her other shoe off and dumps the pair in the bin; she pulls out a pair of shoes from her handbag and slips them on. A short walk later and Santana walks into Angelo’s and sees her sister and brother chatting animatedly amongst themselves at their usual table.

Jesse: Santana! How are you?

Jesse gets up and hugs his sister as Santana looks over his shoulder at Sage who can tell that something had just happened.

Jesse: I was telling Sage before that you two look so different. Did you change your pic base?

Santana: Sorry what?

Jesse: I said did you change your hair?

Santana: Yeah, it’s a couple of shades lighter. Hey, did you want to go grab us a few drinks? Grab anything you want.

Jesse smiles at her and walks over to the bar as Santana sits across from her sister looking more stressed than ever before.

Sage: What happened?

Santana: Do you remember the stalker that ruined my Maxim celebration party? He’s back.

Sage: Wait... what?

Santana: He followed me into LV today, and as soon as he knew I recognised him, he got away.

Sage: So you saw his face?

Santana: Well, not clearly, but I am sure it was him.

Santana runs her hand through her hair in frustration and puts on a fake smile as Jesse approaches them with two Pina Colada cocktails in his hand and a bottle of water tucked underneath his arm.

Sage: You know us too well, Jesse.

Jesse: So, what did I miss?


-------------------------------------------------------------------


The bright incandescent lights shine down on the stage as top pageant consultant Dante Gregorio makes his way up the stairs and stands on the side of the stage. In the middle of the stage is half of a rollaway staircase and Sage Braxton stands atop it draped in a black Versace strapless evening gown. Santana sits in the front audience chair in a lemon yellow Valentino evening gown next to Crusoe who is visibly bored about being present at pageant practice.

Santana: You’ve got this honey.

Dante: I have to disagree with your sister there; you look kind of aggressive when you walk down those stairs. I do not accept failure. You have to descend gracefully.

Sage: I AM DESCENDING GRACEFULLY.

Sage begins to walk down the staircase, trying her hardest to look graceful and poised. Santana tilts her head as she eyes her sister and Dante watches her every movement as she reaches the bottom of the staircase and strikes a pose, waving to the imaginary crowd with a bright smile on her face.

Santana: Perfect.

Dante: Wrong. That was so wrong. You look awkward and rigid. With a walk like that, you would be lucky to make it passed the preliminaries.

Sage: Are you... are you kidding me? Who the hell do you th-

Crusoe: Sage! Maybe Santana should try now?

Sage shoots a glare at Crusoe before leaving to stand next to Dante as Santana makes her way onto the rollaway in centre stage. Dante squints his eyes at her as Santana puts on a big, fake smile and begins to descend the staircase.

Dante: Just stop. That was horrible. You girls have aggression issues you need to sort out.

Santana glances over at Sage who looks as if she’s about to lose it but a quick reassuring look from Crusoe calms both twins down.

Dante: Again!

Santana angrily stomps up the rollaway, spins around and puts on a big fake smile again. She holds onto the rail and slowly begins to descend the staircase, royally waving at the invisible audience in the auditorium. This time, Dante lets Santana reach the bottom of the stairs before making a comment.

Dante: Better, but nowhere good enough. I do not accept failure! Again!

Santana looks at Sage who gives her a twin telepathy look; Sage falls down to the ground and clutches onto Dante’s legs as Santana dashes across the stage and delivers a huge running big boot to Dante. Crusoe looks on approvingly, apparently fed up with Dante’s behaviour as well as both Braxtons stand over the fallen pageant consultant with smiles on their faces.

Sage: It’s time to make an example out of you. Crusoe, record this.

Crusoe pulls out his smartphone and begins recording as Sage and Santana parade around Dante who is barely recovering from his assault from the twins. Santana picks the fallen man up and shoves him into Sage who hits him with a knee to the gut; with the man hunched forward, the girls easily pull off his blazer and rip off his button-up shirt.

Santana: Enjoy this, Danielle.

Santana sweeps Dante’s legs and he collapses onto the floor on his back; she pins him down as Sage flicks her hair around and easily pulls off his pants over his Italian leather shoes, humiliating the man. Santana slaps him as he tries to scurry away from the twins as Sage and Santana look at Crusoe’s camera with grins on their faces, Sage holding up Dante’s slacks.

Santana: Ding ding ding.

Sage: This is your future, Danielle. Enjoy it. Get used to it.

Sage drops the pants onto the floor and both twins blow a kiss to Crusoe’s camera as Crusoe stops the recording with a nasty smirk.

Crusoe: You ladies are Golden.

Sage: By the way, Crusoe, we need a new pageant consultant. Handle that.

Sage and Santana stop to fix their hair and leave the auditorium with Crusoe trailing behind them, already on his phone searching for a new consultant.


-------------------------------------------------------------------


The scene opens to Sage and Santana back in their locker room sitting on their throne chairs in front of another video camera, each with a stunning, glittery tiara on their heads. Their untitled championship sits perched in its place as Sage and Santana check each others hair and make-up.

Cameraman: Are you ladies ready?

Sage: Looking this good takes time.

After touching themselves up, the Braxtons turn and look at the camera with dazzling smiles on their faces as the cameraman signals at them that the recording has started.

Santana: Hello GSW fans and FMW universe, I am Santana Braxton and this is my sister, Sage. We are your Queens of FMW.

Sage: We’d like to take the time out to address one Danielle Pridewoman - you have the privilege of being our experiment in our first ever title defense. You’ll be in our playground and you’ll be fighting under our rules, as we participate in the first ever “Suit and Tie Evening Gown Handicap match”.

Santana: The rules are rather simple: the winner, or winners as it will definitely be, will be declared via pinfall, submission or by stripping the opponent down to their underwear. You know what’s funny, Sage?

Sage: What’s that, sis?

Santana: We will be wearing high fashion evening gowns that can be restricting in a wrestling ring, and we will still beat that pathetic excuse of a man.

Sage: We’ve noticed that you’ve had issues getting physical with us because we are women. To that we say, bad luck. We are equal competitors with you in this company. If you have a problem with that, I’m sure Santana and I can talk to the higher authorities and have you fired for sexual discrimination so you can go to another company where you can stick with wrestling men, if that’s your thing. We always get what we want.

Santana: The thing is, Danielle, we’re going to beat you. You have the strength and weight advantage, yes -

Sage: But you’re not as smart as we are.

Santana: We’ll see you at Sanctuary, big boy.

_________________
WIN-LOSS RECORD
Sage: W - 3 L - 1 D - 0
Santana: W - 2 L - 2 D - 0
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Leon Caprice



Posts : 1154
Rep : -3
Join date : 2009-11-19
Age : 28
Location : Perth, Australia

Wrestler Profile
FMW Superstar: Leon Caprice
Championship: FMW Undisputed Tag Team Champions

PostSubject: Re: SANCTUARY VOTING & PROMO THREAD   Thu Apr 04, 2013 5:18 am

Straight From The Frying Pan Back Into The Fire.



Leon: It’s a simple question doctor, am I fit to return to wrestling?

Dr. Evan’s had been staring at the charts for what felt like the best part of fifteen minutes. Leon was far too impatient now to be enduring such suspense as he waited for the doctor’s word. The former FMW wrestler sat on the check up table wearing nothing but underpants that couldn’t have looked better on a playboy model given how much toning and muscle development Leon had been doing over the past few months. The medical room was as much a medical room as you would expect. Strange apparatus were lined up against the wall, devices that somehow managed to test your heart rate whilst you performed star jumps along with more familiar devices like running machines and other strange equipment. Leon Caprice was almost certain a lot of it was there just so the doctors could get a hard on watching toned men get sweaty. Apparently it was required to strip down as well whilst you jumped through hoops and performed doctor’s tests, a fact that only further proved Leon’s paranoia. He tried to think of the comical value of his own thoughts to help pass the time and ease his nerves whilst his doctor had a stare out with his chart. He wondered what had been taking him so long.

Dr. Evans had been his doctor since he upgraded his private health insurance due to his continual FMW performances, Dr Evan’s was funded by FMW with a ton of awards to litter his wall over the plain white surface to show off just how good he was at his job. He had a few wrestlers under his name, but Leon had to be his biggest name, especially in the wake of his achievements and publicity in FMW, and not forgetting his net wealth. When it came to a medical opinion, Dr. Evan’s word was law. It was his report that mattered to the higher ups in FMW when it came to booking a card. It was because of him that Leon had to now sit patiently and listen to the concerns over his health. He was a tall man, gaunt at the face and alarmingly pale and frail for a man who looked to be only in his late thirties. He stood watching through rectangle glasses at the results chart of Leon Caprice after his medical examination. Something that had gradually become a compulsory check up before each match.


Leon: Could you be any slower with this?

Leon was growing impatient. How long did it take to skim through a chart and tell him what he wanted to hear? The next words that escaped from the good doctor however where not words he had anticipated.

Evans: No. You’re not clear. I’m sorry Mr. Caprice but your still in no fit shape to wrestle. You can’t just take a break and then come back, your hiatus has stiffened your muscles and put a lot of pressure on your back. You still need about four weeks before I‘ll be confident in your fitness and muscle tone to wrestle…

***Yo-He-Va-He***

His fire had burned for years, surpassing all those that had began when his flame had first breathed its life. Many have sparked brightly, others diminished before they had a chance to start, Leon’s fire had endured harsh winds for many years, but somehow remained and endured until there was no others. Now it burned its brightest whilst it remained amongst new flames. Despite surviving through so many hardships, it now approached a place of little resistance, could it be the peace and reward due for the pain of the past.

The time of Leon returning was quickly arriving… For Leon Caprice, he had tried in FMW for so long now. With the end of his brief emotional hiatus approaching, he began to experience emotional stages that came with his change in occupation, that it was something that his fire would once again be fuelled by.

It could be detailed to five stages, each visible as reality began to daunt him… the first being…


***Yo-He-Va-He***

Denial of his Past
The inability to accept the harsh reality that Leon‘s family both in FMW and outside was a broken mess.

***Yo-He-Va-He***

Leon: That’s not what I want to hear Doc. I’ll be facing Grimelli in my return to FMW. I don’t have four weeks, I’ve only got a couple of days til the Sanctuary PPV.

Evans: Mr. Caprice, please understand that that your health is my top concern. Wrestling whilst your body is still in a state of redevelopment is very unwise, you risk permanent damage to yourself. As your doctor I cannot allow that.

Leon: It’s nearly been six months since I last wrestled. I think I’ve more then recovered. The bookers wont accept that I’m not ready and to be perfectly honest, neither will I accept it. I am ready to fight now.

Evans: Mr. Caprice…

Leon would hear no more from him. He stood up in the blink of an eye, fronting the doctor in his near naked form. For all the height of Doctor Evans, he was instantly intimidated by Leon in the sheer muscular width of his frame. He watched the doctor shrink before him, holding up the medical chart against his chest as if it would help to shield him against the defiant glare of Leon Caprice.

Leon: I said that I am ready to fight again. You write down what you need too on that chart of yours. Just make sure it reads out what I want to hear, and that is the truth. Leon Caprice is ready to wrestle, he’s more then fit enough to compete.

Dr. Evans was hesitant, but Leon could see a simple threat wouldn’t sway him over as simple as that. He knew how stupid doctors could be, they had their code to abide by, and their concern was always their patient before anything else. He watched the man gather himself, standing as tall as he could manage as he cleared his throat in a nervous manner. Credit to the man, he had balls, and Leon couldn’t help but respect that for what it was worth. The FMW board didn’t just hire crap. But Leon couldn’t let some doctors opinion stop him from what would be one of the most important matches in recent history.

Evans:: Sir. It’s not as simple as that… my job…

Leon: Is to make sure I’m fit and healthy and that I’m not putting myself in danger. Doc, I wholly appreciate your concern, but this body is mine, and I am telling you now that it’s more then ready to take a couple of boots.

Dr. Evans kept a stoic expression, it was clear he did not approve of Leon’s statement. But even he realized that essentially it all came down to the patient what he wanted to do with his body.

Evans: I don’t approve of this Mr. Caprice. You may feel able, but I assure you, you are running a terrible risk if you want to compete at Sanctuary. If you can wait four weeks, you can compete as normal.

Leon: What?! And then stick to your advice and wait another couple of months before I can fight again? Doc, I understand that my body isn’t getting any younger, but that chart of yours, it’s plain bullshit. Change it… it isn’t your call what I choose to do anyway. I’m going to be competing at Sanctuary and that’s final!

Dr. Evans was hesitant, that much clear by the silence that fell between them. Leon was well used to silence by now, his family had taught him that. With reluctance, Dr. Evans began to alter his charts, his expression speaking more than words ever could as no doubt he was cursing himself. Unfortunately the Doc could not possibly understand just what this match meant to Leon Caprice as he watched him make his alterations. Leon didn’t fully believe his report as it was. He had always been cleared to wrestle prior to a match, there must have been a minor error or the such. Whatever it was, it did not matter as Evans looked back up to the Leon Caprice, his expression telling a story as if he had done something wrong.

Leon: Thanks doc, you’re a champ.

Leon spoke out, gradually dressing himself back into his black silk shirt and grey suit attire. Evans had no more words as he retreated to his chair, slumping down at his computer system as he no doubt sent off his record to the people that mattered. Without anything left to say, Leon made his leave, walking out into the corridor. An amused smile spread itself across his lips as he shook his head, walking down the corridor towards the exit.

Leon: Unfit to wrestle? Clearly he doesn’t know what he’s talking about?

***Yo-He-Va-He***

The state of Leon’s denial was not just evident on the surface of his personality. Deeper than that he was still struggling to come to grips with the death of his daughter Joy, it’s twisted his perception and often left him floating in and out of realism. Leon Caprice’s own words of disbelief of what happened still lingered in the back of his mind when the next stage began to play its course.

***Yo-He-Va-He***

ANGER OF THE PAST
Denial is soon replaced with a bitter feeling when reality is finally understood. A bitter feeling that grows into fury over the grim realization that Leon’s first and only daughter was now buried in the ground and that his wife Sarah was on the other side of the world trying to deal with it by herself. It ate away at Leon, continuously

***Yo-He-Va-He***

Leon: Fuck!! FUCK!!!

All at once it all came toppling down around Leon Caprice as he slammed his fists against the wall. His attack against the plaster was almost gorilla like as he carried his rage into the strike. He wondered how the hell this could have happened to him, why it would happen. Doors along the corridor began to open up as doctors and patients alike stared towards Leon Caprice. He could only punch the wall again, carrying even more fury in this strike then the last, leaving a blood imprint against the wall where his knuckles clashed as the flesh split open. Another strike, and the blood became more clearer as the flesh on his other hand split open.

Leon: DO I FUCKING DESERVE THIS!

He stopped striking only after the pain caught up with him, forcing Leon to favour his knuckles as severe dents were left in the wall. He winced, sucking in air through his teeth as his face reddened with the pain. Deep heavy breaths ensued as Leon felt his knuckles sting as if someone had embedded a saw between each knuckle. When the worse of the pain passed, he looking to his knuckles, looking over his own bloodied hands.

Leon: Not cleared to wrestle?… What else will happen now!

Leon could only whisper to himself, looking around to see the eyes upon him. They began to shy away the moment they noticed Leon had become aware of their presence, but still they watched him, mostly scared eyes of the insignificant. None of them understood what it even was like to be in Leon’s position, none of them knew just what Leon was going through.

Leon: What the fuck are you all looking at?!

A simple shout, and all the eyes began to retreat, leaving Leon Caprice to his own despair. He dropped his head down, another wince as his left hand shook from both the nerves and adrenaline that ran through him in his rage. He began moving his fingers despite how much his hands complained, the last thing he wanted was to be unable to strike his opponent due to injury… he wasn’t even suppose to be wrestling after all.

***Yo-He-Va-He***

Make no mistake. Leon was dying from the inside out. His only lifeline seemed to be coming back to what once upon a time gave him a fresh start and joy, the status of being named a FMW superstar and a champion through that. If he lost such a status now before he began, he would be consumed by the void within him that cried out for more.

But coming back wasn’t something that just hung on the doc. It was something that would be tested by the crowds, management and his peers. It was actually the only thing now that had Leon in some doubt. It was this simple fact of this reality that brought Leon to the next stage.


***Yo-He-Va-He***

BARGAINING FOR THE FUTURE
In light of knowing that he was to once again begin the journey that gradually made him into the methodical man he was today, he turned back to the familiar faces of the past to reassure him of the future.

***Yo-He-Va-He***

Leon: God… don’t you dare think of making this into the biggest pile of shit I’ve seen in my career! You better have my fucking back with this!

When Leon Caprice was done blaspheming, he killed the engine of his Aston Martin V12 Coupe’ as it rested outside the arena Sanctuary would take place in. Leon had scarcely ever went to church since the death of his daughter, he didn’t really believe that God was a good God if at all real, but he was always quick to scream his name or that of his past daughter when a situation became tense. Joy had never been in the church, all for good reason as she spent the short years of her life travelling around the world with Daddy and Mummy. Leon always figured the outcome of actions of one individual is what turned him away from faith for certain. His father figure in Brian had been very different, he was a man of god and a pure example of that, he led Leon into the church in the first place and in doing so led him to Sarah his wife.

Leon remembered Brian quite fondly, he was a Christian through and through. He lost his life in a terrible fashion, leaving Leon initially wondering what to do, if only for Sarah’s direction and strength beside him in that moment. It didn’t stop him from falling though. Leon found it amusing now how Brian always cautioned him of not losing his morals while around non-christians and the egotistical bunch in the locker rooms, he was spot on with that assessment, but he never mentioned the threat of death around him. Leon wondered if he could endure what he was going through like Brian could of, to remain content and close to God through the hardest of days. Leon sought answers from a higher power, but still had no intention of going to church, his own luxury lifestyle which had quickly developed into his coping mechanism through the best and the worse of times was all the church he needed right now. God was easily represented by the small jarrah wooden cross that was strung on the back of his wrestling bag. Leon stared longingly at the cross which seemed to gain weight within his grasp, the finer look at it showed the grains of wood that showed it’s imperfections and design. It was always an expanding thought when Leon would rest himself to think of it.


Leon: What do you want from me? What do you expect me to do? Could we ever get back to where we use to me? All my life I’ve fought, good faith or broken faith I keep going, striving to do the best I can with what I have! But if you somehow thought that ruining my family was a growing moment then fucking speak up?! We are broken! Why didn’t you just put a stop to my journey and life when I was spiralling out of control instead of waiting for me to become the shell that I am right now! What the heck do I do now?! How do you expect me to keep going when not even a Doc will side with me to give me a chance?!

It was all Leon could do to stop himself from flipping completely as he struck the steering wheel of his luxury sports car, his taped up hands still stinging below the white bandage strap from his previous outbreak. He glanced at the empty seat beside him where his wife and daughter should be sitting, such a hallowed feeling. It metaphorically represented everything that had been taken away from him, everything that was once his or a home to him. If home is where the heart lies, where was his heart now?

Could it now represent his future struggles as a lone wrestler, could it represent all the pain he had to endure when he lost family. Could an empty seat really represent the troubling times a man and his emptiness had to endure on the road in such an unforgiving career. Had it all been worth it? After the costs he had to pay, Leon wondered if it had really all been worth it. He would have rather had Sarah and Joy sitting beside him now, looking outside the window as Sarah used to when they drove down the highway.

Her trust, and her friendship and her love was all taken from him for what? God had nothing to do with it, it had all been the Leon.


Leon: Mute of a God you are!

***Yo-He-Va-He***

It is common fact that sacrifices have to be made if you wanted to grow and enhance your career in the wrestling business. Ties with friends and family all have to be cut away in some way. The massive strive to be a champion has to be done alone and can only be done alone to truly succeed.

A question was once asked of Leon Caprice however when he was starting out his career as the man he is today. A question asked by Brian, “Can true Joy be achieved without sacrifice?”. He spoke of his Christian faith at the time, but the question could still be applied to life and all that is. Leon discovered the answer at the hospital when Sarah went into labour, and the answer to such a question lead to the next stage of grief…


***Yo-He-Va-He***

DEPRESSION
The feeling of being numb and dead to the world and all you love in it.

***Yo-He-Va-He***

Now in the arena, the Leon was back in control. A enthused man even during what could prove to be his final stint in FMW. His wrestling attire remained unchanged for the better part of four years, a man clad with only his silver briefs, which had a brightly stitched cross on the backside of them. For Leon or for the crowds, not even he knew. For a while he stood in the darkness, his frame towered in the ring but his head lowered as the silver aviators he had resting over his nose all but blocked vision of the dark room he stood in. Sarah was on his mind, all the wrongs that he had done to drive her away. Over the last week he only caught a glimpse of her, sitting upon a decorative chair, staring at something he couldn’t see with a foamed coffee and croissant plated in front of her. He’d been too afraid to approach her since the funeral, even as the free-running Leon without FMW, Leon didn’t have it within him to face her. He would make it up to her somehow though, he just knew it.

His guilt aside, there was still much for Leon do to. Though his return was coming, it was not yet here. There was still time to make things right, correct the mistakes, but first came an important matter, a duty he still had to uphold as a promise to an old friend, and that was facing Antonio Grimelli at Sanctuary. He stood within his official private locker room, a room set aside personally for the man who intended to return to FMW or whatever cult decided to try and rule FMW now, they never last. Leon stood to lose everything he aimed for with his ambitions tonight, meaning this match meant more to him than anything. He would come at the returning rusty wrestler with everything he had… that was unless Leon could do what he did best, and break his resolve prior to what promised to be one of the toughest challenges, and potentially even the last of his entire career if it seemed that he wouldn’t be able to cope.

Light was shed into the room when the door opened, allowing for a casually attired Antonio Grimelli to enter the room. Darkness was still coating Leon as he watched Grimelli, setting aside his thoughts of Sarah and his etching legacy. The curtains brought light to the office the moment they were drawn, and Grimelli turned to look upon the clean locker room, taking a seat as he swiftly reaching into his pocket for his mobile phone. From where Leon stood, Grimelli didn’t look like the man he expected to face in his returning match, quite possibly the exact opposite. He was a towering man and a seasoned one too, in comparison to Leon’s prediction of a man simular size to him, but we have to play the hand we are dealt. It was only now when Grimelli became further immersed in his phone when Leon made his presence known, walking into the room with that methodical smile he had practised to perfection over the years of his career.


Leon: Well well… If it ain’t the Elephant Gun.

Grimelli didn’t stand from his chair, though a look of concern did form upon his face as he looked around before glaring at Leon.

Grimelli: Ahh the lil lion cub is finally here?

Leon: Lion cub… Do you even know who I am, or what I’ve done around here?

Grimelli: The Elephant Gun knows little of who you are.

Leon: Third person much? How did you manage to fool the bookers to letting you anywhere near a broadcast with that concept?

Grimelli’s patience was easily tested, but there was very little he could do about it as Leon had no intention of leaving. Rather than amuse Leon, he began to shift back to his phone, no doubt giving attention to the severely private life that he must live in outside the hallways of FMW. It was his way of trying to protect and sustain his solid charisma. Leon would not allow him even that however as he snatched the phone right from Grimelli’s fingers, walking to the open window before sliding it out to let the wind take it on it’s own adventure. Grimelli slammed his fist on the table, he had no desire to be mocked in such a manner.

Grimelli: Does the little cub want to face the Elephant Gun now rather than in the ring! The Elephant Gun would like to tame the lion cub.

Leon: Nah, I just want your attention, that’s all. No rules in the fed say that we can’t have a man to man before the match tonight.

Leon spoke out, walking to the front of his table once more as settled down in the leather chair opposite from Grimelli. He sometimes shocked himself on how well he could carry his own developed persona as Leon even with all the grim thoughts that floated in his head. His arms were folded over his chest as he leaned back, letting his feet up against the expensive oak as he stared Grimelli in the eyes from behind his sunglasses. Any despair was locked away in the firm shell of Leon.

Grimelli: The Elephant Gun thinks that you are here just to waste time and ramble on as you have been all week. The little lion cub is back in FMW and thinks he can do what he wants. The Elephant Gun doesn’t think so.

Leon: Are you sure about that? I barely know you from Sharkboy so I thought it considerate of me to come in and share some space with you before our match, beside it’s not like you have anything else to do in here other than talk to me, right?

Grimelli: The Elephant Gun understands that you must be nervous tonight little lion, and that after your week of talking with The Elephant Gun, you wish to talk down your chances and back away. Hearing that The Elephant Gun was the Abandoned Champion must have made you doubt.

Grimelli was not without his own ammunition it seemed, but Leon managed that smile of his as he always did despite the heavy blow to his pride. His last title reign was a disaster. He had hoped to win the crowd and keep the Abandoned title against Apostasy, but on his first defence he had lost it already, it was something that when he looked at Grimelli, he saw a second chance to now improve on the past. Now it was Grimelli who stood tall, leaving Leon and his potential legacy on the ground. Being reminded of the failure was a sharp sting, but he had to endure it.

Leon: I did hear that you were the Abandoned Champ, and I did find it quite amusing that it was you that I would face in my return, almost the symbolic return.

Grimelli was now looking Leon in the eyes instead of what texts had been spared from Leon’s hooligan ways. The symbolic comment was something he knew he would react to, and Leon knew exactly what words he would say next.

Grimelli: The Elephant Gun sees the little lion cub now and will see him again later tonight, there will be a difference. The Elephant Gun will show his power over the cub tonight.

Leon’s smile dropped now as he slammed his hand on the desk. The noise was so loud he could have swore he saw a slight jolt within Grimelli. Either way he certainly had his attention as Leon changed his posture to lean more forward, making sure Grimelli could hear every word.

Leon: You see that is where you show the line you have drawn about me, you don’t know who I am or what I can do. You don’t know that I’ve easily taken down bigger men than you, you don’t know that I am more respected by the crowds than you, you don’t know how easily I find a way to win and you don’t know how methodically I will beat you tonight.

Grimelli: The Elephant Gun is not impressed or scared by the lion cubs ramblings, the Elephant Gun is pure power and the lion cub would do well to not get up once he lies on the canvas tonight.

Leon: What are you getting at when you keep referring to yourself as an Elephant Gun! You are Antonio Grimelli, a 35 year old dated wrestler, you may be tall in stature, but you aren’t impressive in your physique.

There was a moment of pause as Leon let his words sink into Grimelli, or rather his insult about Antonio’s vocabulary. For all his “apparent” faults in the ring, Leon still had his way with words when he was up for playing mind games.

Grimelli: The Elephant Gun wonders when you’ll be done speaking?

Leon: You tell me Grimelli… When will it get into your thick head that I’m not just some random guy who wants to call you out. I’m bigger than you, not in size but in everything else. And tonight when you go out there and see me appear after you, I hope you realise that me coming back here, isn’t a small stint, you will be the first person of many to see why I came back.

No more words, not at this point. Only a stare from each man, a look that shot straight through the core. A moment passed, and it was Leon who finally made a move, standing tall before Grimelli before he began to take his leave from the very man he would be facing in the next few hours.

Leon: I will tell you one more thing Grimelli, that title that you hold on to, you don’t deserve it… not even for a second.

It was the final words Leon spoke to Grimelli before he took his leave. Leon slid off his glasses as he walked out of the office, a single deep thought coming into his mind as he stopped for just a moment.

Leon: … but I do.

The truth of the matter made him smile a little, for it was the nature of Leon to rise in such a manner, and it was the nature of Leon to eventually find a way to balance out … It was simply a question of who would be the man to knock him off his returning form… Such a thought led to the final stage…

***Yo-He-Va-He***

ACCEPTANCE OF HIS PLACE IN LIFE
When Leon came back to FMW. Anger, sadness and mourning all taper away, leaving the renewed flame to dwell with pride and stand tall in its new days. And now only time would tell how much this fire would rise. Would it consume more than it ever has, or will it die even before it lasts it’s first full night.

***Yo-He-Va-He***


_________________
I fight for justice, I fight for goodness and to all those that oppose me...

Know that I am no longer alone.
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Hannibal Frost

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PostSubject: Re: SANCTUARY VOTING & PROMO THREAD   Thu Apr 04, 2013 6:42 am

Monsters aren't real.
That's what they said.



I believed them.



Oh God, why?


Why did I believe them?



When I see monsters everywhere.




The night sky loomed above the streets of The City, a starless blanket of black. In truth, it was pure nothingness. Dead space. An empty void where birds never dared to fly. But then… why did it seem so alive? So intent on swallowing everything below it? Like an insatiable force, shrouded in jet black ether, feeding off the fears and doubts of the drones that have fallen ignorant to its ways.

The drones that hate, that kill...

The drones that complain, question, but never act...

The drones that cry, the one's who lose hope...

The drones that run blindly to ignorance...

And the drones that willingly serve that dark, spiteful gloom hanging above the heads of millions.

These are people, as they're more commonly called.

People littered the streets of The City. The place really comes alive after dark, because duh, and or duh. The place is filled with all the juicy after-dark types, each one setting their sights on the next big twisted vice that's rolled into town.

Tall, dark, and shady went the men. A villainous breed bent on the mass penetration of The City's population, either by way of political falsification or drug administration. So, basically, everyone gets screwed from every angle.

And the women were just fucking succubus's. Every single one of 'em.

A mixed bag of these fine people spilled from a bar on Highland Street, a wondrous place called The Darkside. A place that calls to all types, as long as those include, but are not limited to...

  • Hookers

  • Drug Addicts

  • Crime Lords

  • Strippers

  • Ignorant Scene Kids (Who are waaay too old to still be that way)

    and...

  • Politicians


The group stumbled together, drunk and disorderly, down the craggy sidewalk lining Highland Street. They were laughing, yelling, grab assing... you know, immature kid shit.

One of them tripped, slapping his face down on the concrete. The smack was loud enough that several people heard it, including Hannibal Frost... who barked a snide laugh.

Another of the group turned at the brash sound, and that's when Frost saw it again. The faces he'd been seeing since...

Frost turned, quickening his pace as that funny feeling settled in again. Like fire in his stomach, muted only enough as to not be painful. But it still drove him crazy, still took so long to subside. And the faces, sometimes... they had the faces of monsters. The ones they said didn't exist.

Frost could see them, though. In the people...

The people are the monsters.

Or, the monsters, they're the people.

Or... just, if Frost could only remember where he'd been. or why-

Gonna' Take you riiiiight iiiin tooo the danga' zone...

Halfway snapped out of his stupor, Frost reaches into his duster pocket, snatching for his phone.

riiiiight iiiin to the danga' zoooOOooOOOOOOo-


"What'd you want?"

"Uh..."

It was Damien Inferno.

"How'd you get this number?" Frosted asked, his tone coming off a little demanding than intended.

"You gave it to me..."

Frost closes his eyes, tries to remember... "Sorry. Been out of it lately."

"No shit," Even over the phone, Damien's voice carried with it a biting sense of "what the fuck?" concern over Frost's well being. "I need you bright eyed in Nashville. For your sake, and mine."

Frost nodded, the motion making him feel foolish when he realized Damien couldn't see it. "I know, I know. I'm catching a flight tomorrow. ...Now quit fuckin' calling me."

Letting out a yell, Frost pitched the phone into a near by telephone pole, ending the call with extreme prejudice. He wasn't really frustrated at Damien, but he was sure as hell frustrated with something.

Something...

Something...

Something... he couldn't remember.

Like, where he'd been for the last few months.

That was the one. The million dollar question for Frost right now. But, instead, at the moment, he had to figure out the situation he woke up into.

Why he had a call from GSW, a voice mail invitation to wrestle on their programming, and a match already booked in Nashville.

Or why Frost said yes.

Probably because wrestling was the only thing he could remember. The only thing familiar. So, maybe he could keep the faces away for awhile... for a time.... for a moment.

But, alas...

Another question looms now, one that Frost hadn't thought of.

Anwyl, Leviticus...

Do you have the faces of monsters?
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Abel Steele
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PostSubject: Re: SANCTUARY VOTING & PROMO THREAD   Fri Apr 05, 2013 1:03 am

There is one question that keeps me awake at night.... How?

How did it come to this?

It all started out for the right reasons. Help out a friend in need. A friend who couldn't help his family out.

A friend who is another example of what this business does to people. Professional fighting is a blood sport. Everybody knows that when they go in, but the bleeding is more than superficial.

The wounds go deeper than a broken bone. They break you apart on the inside.

I was one of the lucky ones, or so I thought. I stepped away before the toll had to be paid.

Once.

Unfortunately I was not so lucky the second time around. The things this "sport" does to you can play out in a million ways and mine was a bitter twisted experience.

One of blame and anger and desperation.

I got sucked back in by someone else's need, betrayed by my trustful nature and spat out by a system that is in place to protect everyone but the poor saps who put their necks on the line week in and week out.

I became something I was not proud of.

But now I have something very few in this industry get, a third chance. This time I go in knowing I have seen the abyss. Knowing I have already seen the worst of myself.

I know how to avoid that. It is simple really.

This time it isn't out of desperation. Desperation to achieve and prove myself, as it was in my youth as a boxer. Desperation to help out a friend as it was last time around.

This time I do it for one reason alone. The only reason I am convinced will spare me the pain that this place demands.

Pride.

I know, that sounds like a horrible reason. Open to corruption as one of the base flaws of mankind. I have criticised many before for their pride. For allowing it to dominate them, but now I see the fact.

Pride is not about anyone but yourself. That is why others, like myself previously, will attack open displays of pride. It is exclusive. It is only about me and what I want from this place, not what anyone else deems success or failure.

Only I know what my pride demands of me.

This time you won't see the desperation that is the festering sore, exploited by the blackness of this business.

This time you will see me, head held high in the face of whatever may come. Proud of who I am, what I have done, even at my lowest, and how I have faced those demons to come out with my heart in tact and my pride able to take any battering it can be delivered!



**********


Abel Steele sits down with a look of contentedness upon his face. All the angst that had built up for him leading to his dismissal by P Thurston Devereaux seemingly washed away.

Steele: Uh huh. Wow, I can't believe he had the balls to do that!

Abel shifts the phone to his other ear, nervous energy causing him to fidget in his chair.

Steele: Well sure I'll make an appearance. In fact I was going to eat some humble pie and ask for my job back anyway. This just saves me that pain. Send me through the details and I will be there.

Abel hangs up the phone, unable to believe he has once again been asked to represent Full Metal Wrestling. Well, sort of. Appearing on a Gold Standard Wrestling show concerned him a little, he felt like he owed himself to go back to FMW and if the place ended up being shut down he would never get that chance.

But for now he would take the opportunity he had and that meant going to Tennessee and performing in whatever match it is he got booked for.



**********


Rolled Gold Promise.... it sounds an awful like the match that built me. Back then as a relative no one I was able to emerge from a Gauntlet and claim the now defunct Gold Card.

This time if I manage to escape from that match I won't be burning the opportunity. I let fear stay my hand with the Gold Card. Desperately clutching onto it so long that it became a burden. Until it was taken from me.

This time if I win that contract I will make sure it is put to good use. At the very first opportunity I will take immense pride in cashing in my contract against whoever I may.

This time, nothing will hold me back.... NOTHING!



**********


The offices of Full Metal Wrestling are strangely empty. Where once a hive of activity this clost to a Pay Per View event, now there are a skeleton staff and virtually no vistors about. Down the hall is a journalist trying to get a scoop to update on the "Brysongate" scandal but that is about as much excitement as is to be seen ans Abel Steele makes his way down the halls one more time.

KNOCK, KNOCK.


Deveraux: Come in.

Abel shakes his head a little to himself. Turning up unannounced to the office of P Thurston Devereaux and getting a simple "come in" highlighted as much as anything how dire the current situation was at Full Metal Wrestling.

Devereaux: Abel Steel !? Didn't I fire you? If you are here to gloat you can forget it, I already have thought far worse than you could say in the past few weeks.

Abel waltzed casually into the room. Showing little feeling either way for the man who so recently seemed to have ended his career. Truthfully Abel didn't blame him for it. The man that got fired from Ammunition deserved it. He was a shell of the man who first set foot onto Ammunition and a million miles from the man he had reconciled himself to be since that moment he got sent packing.

Steele: Don't worry, I'm not here to cause trouble. I'm not here to be your best friend either but I respect what the fact you did what you had to do.

Devereaux: I di....

Steele: But.... between "Sir"

Abel near spat the name

Steele: Bryson tying up the board and you firing 3 of Ammunitions top talent this place is on its knees.

Devereaux: I thought you weren't here to gloat....Get to the point Abel, I know all this.

Abel holds up one finger, indicating for the other man to give him a minute to make his point.

Steele: Yes, yes. What you don't know is that GSW have asked me top appear at the Sanctuary event in Tennessee.

Devereaux's eyebrows shoot up at that and Able presses on.

Steele: They think after being fired they might be able to get me on board for team GSW by throwing me a bone.

The look on Devereaux's face tells Abel the man was already thinking that and so he decides to come clean and trust a man only weeks ago he considered an enemy.

Steele: I've changed since you fired me. I was not proud of what I had become, but now I have become a person, a man, that I can be proud of again.

Devereaux: And?

Steele: And now my pride drives me to stand up for this place. I have an idea to take out that pompous prick holding our board to ransom and to put GSW firmly back in their place but I need you to pitch my idea to the board. What I don't know is if I can trust you?

Devereaux stares hard and long at Abel, seemingly looking for some sign that this is all an act but after what felt like an eternity he nods to himself.

Devereaux: For better or worse you have my support Abel. I am out of ideas and frankly you couldn't make things worse. Tell me what you want and we will make it happen together.

Steele: That's good. I'll tell you my plan Dev... can I call you Dev?.... But first thing is first. I need you to get that beaten look off your face andfind that pride you showed when you faced down the top talent of Ammunition last show. I need you to display that pride for the world to see. Right now people look at FMW and see a broken company.

That ends today. Everyone involved with this company will stand tall. We have a proud history, we have a proud group of individuals and my pride will not let them or the fans down.

We go forward with pride and that needs t be displayed from the top. Stand tall Dev and lets not let the sharks think we are cowed. We will come out on top because we are FMW.


**********
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Damien
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PostSubject: Re: SANCTUARY VOTING & PROMO THREAD   Sat Apr 06, 2013 11:57 am

So. Here we all are. Unsure of where we will go from here. It would seem a new Full Metal Wrestling is soon to come about.

New ideas. New directions. All that bullshit. You'd think I'd be much more excited than I currently am. But I'm not.

I'm competing on a gods damned Gold Standard Wrestling reunion show for fuck's sake! GS-motherfucking-W! Fuck THAT!

We have no fucking World Heavyweight Champion because the last guy saw this sinking piece of shit ship for what it was and left while he had the chance. Ammunition is pretty much fucked. Both the C4 Championship and the (as-yet-unnamed) Championship are held by Gold Standard fucktards. Not to mention that the Skanktons are trying to defend a singles belt as a fucking unit.

Corruption and Anarchy aren't in any better shape either. Two fucking Ultraviolent Titles. Fucking stupid. Not to blame Apostasy. He's the only champion we have worth a damn. Who do we have to blame for this one?

Nick. Fucking. Bryson. And his little collection of retards. The bastards who took my buddy Nick Gray and put him on the shelf. The ones who took the Full Metal Tag Team Championships we worked so hard to elevate and shit all over them.

If I had any gods damned sense, I'd do exactly what Chris Austin did and walk the fuck out. If I had any sense.

As it turns out, I care about this hellhole too much to leave the fans with even less hope than they already have. I'm here until this place burns the hell down.

Full Metal Wrestling needs a man who will stand against all of this bullshit. Someone who will stand for the hope that this place will rise back into greatness.

I said before that the old Damien Inferno is gone, over with.

But the reborn Metalhead Damien Inferno will rise from the ashes and burn away the cancers that are festering in FMW.

It'll all begin with Anwyl and Leviticus.
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PostSubject: Re: SANCTUARY VOTING & PROMO THREAD   Sat Apr 06, 2013 12:45 pm

CAN ROTUNDA CRAWL THROUGH THE WRECKAGE?
Written by Michael Harry Kent, Wales’ Favourite Wrestling Journalist,

It was the sixth of November, the night after the British celebration of Bonfire Night. A young competitor swaggered to his destination, his name up in lights, the focus on him, and a sense of change in the air. But there were no fireworks for celebration as the up and comer was ruthlessly struck down by the unforgiving anti-hero and reigning champion, Chris Austin. The youthful competitor was bested and was immediately hunted down by medical teams in an attempt to fix the broken body and mind. This was the last televised appearance of Seth Rotunda, the man with a smile and a skip in his step that had his career shortened by a mindless and selfish act by the so-called “Student of the Game”.

Rotunda, however, did wrestle against the legend that was Monroe on an episode of Corruption. Results of the taping indicated that Rotunda had bested his foe in expert style with the renowned “Death of a Dream” right hook, the signature finisher of the former boxer. But Rotunda still showed the strain of his attack, clutching his neck and shoulder throughout the match and also showed his change in personality. His previous cockiness had been eroded and replaced by a man on a mission intent on winning and leaving without celebrating or acknowledging what had happened. Sources indicate that Rotunda’s legal team had the episode pulled due to threatening FMW with action for showing the crisis and pain that the once-proud Rotunda had gone through, just for entertainment. FMW complied, knowing what was good for them. However, the main question is: How can Chris Austin sleep at night with the thought of his maiming of such a talent?

Despite the global usage of social media, nobody has seemed to locate The Dream Killer since his last sighting at the Corruption taping. Reports indicate that Seth Rotunda has been booked for an GSW broadcasting of a PPV named “Sanctuary”, where the UK’s brightest talent is booked against the disturbing Alexis Machine, the irritating Butters, the man who lacks steel, Abel Steele and our lord and saviour, Jack Eastwood.

Please Seth, we are all concerned for your wellbeing. Please make an appearance in the near future.

*****

“I’m sorry Sir, put your card has been declined.”

“That has to be some mistake….”

“I apologize again bu-“

“Don’t you know who I am?”

“Sir, I-“

“Don’t worry.”

A dishevelled, bearded Seth Rotunda stared hard at the checkout girl. The Chip and PIN machine flashed a message that only irritated Rotunda and the que of shoppers behind him. The fresh-faced women lost her usual smiling appearance and replaced it with a rather uncomfortable expression and body language. After all, it looked like a homeless man had stolen a card, grabbed numerous things he couldn’t afford and had also imagined that he was somebody famous. Perhaps it was a time to press the security button, perhaps not.

“Look, I’ll try again,” Rotunda muttered as he pressed various buttons.

“It’s been declined,” said the girl.

“I can see that and look, I don’t have cash on me so could I just take the things and return with them,” Rotunda suggested.

“That’s unreasonable,” she replied.

“Can’t blame me for trying but is your supervisor a wrestling fan? I’m Seth Rotunda, championship materiel, I’ve main evented shows and-“

Now it was time for buttons to be pressed. A huffing, overweight gentlemen miraculously in the position of guard waddled over to Rotunda.

“I’m asking you to leave, buddy,” the guard gasped.

“Fine, I’m not hitting you, Joe Cobb,” Rotunda said as he pulled up the hood of his sweatshirt and left.

Life for Rotunda since the departure of Aldridge Clarke hadn’t been kind. Whilst under Clarke’s regime, Clarke had funded all of Rotunda’s expenses and even bought several properties. It was then revealed that Clarke had ditched Rotunda after he had failed to win the FMW World Championship and the properties were normally bought for all of Clarke’s clients, until he grew bored and fired them. Rotunda hadn’t enjoyed being a pedestrian either and catching the bus wasn’t the greatest experience either. It was always the people who smelled of pig shit left in the sun who decided to plonk themselves next to Rotunda.

“CLARKE YOU BASTARD!” Rotunda yelled as he dropped to his knees, causing the shoppers to press themselves against the windows to see a breakdown.

“Calm down, mate, I’m sure your boyfriend will come back,” a cheeky passer-by said.

“Carry on, twat,” Rotunda barked.

He certainly hadn’t missed Britain either. The weather, the accents and the ugly people all just dug away at him. He used to live in America where there was sun, vitamin D and women that didn’t look like a pork scratching. Seth staggered himself to a pole with a sign on it, a poor excuse for a bus sign. He slumped himself against the pole while an old woman focused her spectacles on him. Rotunda couldn’t fall more by his own standards. That was until his phone rang.

“Hello? Yes, it’s Seth Rotunda speaking.”

“……Yes, I’m still contracted to FMW.”

“…..Then I’ll be there.”

“Those four? But I team with one of them?”

“Oh, title shot at any championship, I withdraw my complaint.”

“All expenses paid right?”

“Yes, that’s what I like to hear, thank you and goodbye,” Rotunda signed off.

Maybe things weren’t so bad after all.

*****

The scene was swapped from a miserable British town to a sun-lit American metropolis of Nashville, Tennessee. A grinning Rotunda swaggered into the Bridgestone Centre.

“Steven! Jeremiah! Jason!” Rotunda shouted as he pointed at numerous background staff he had never met.

“Seth Rotunda, I presume?” asked an employee dressed in a shirt with a yellow tie.

“That’s me, pal,” Rotunda heartily said as he smacked him on the back.

“We here at Gold Standard Wrestling welcome you with great enthusiasm to Sanctuary,” grinned the employee.

“It’s already better than Full Met-“

“However, I must remind you that there should be no mention of THAT company otherwise we risk a day in court, thank you,” the employee finalised as he departed to greet another wrestler.

Rotunda strutted further into the halls of the arena, searching for a locker room while also looking for the usual signs of Eastwood and Prideman: Booze, blood and broken things. However, it still seemed that Prideman was infatuated with some tart and Eastwood was being Eastwood. Eventually, the Dream Killer had located a locker room and emptied this belongings onto the floor.

“This better be worth my time,” Rotunda muttered as he paced his room like a dog.

“There goes Seth Rotunda!” a voice called out from outside.

In no mood to make himself comfortable, Rotunda peered around the frame of the door and noticed a small crowd of people gathering, with some pointing at the room he occupied.

“I’ve haven’t seen him in months!”

“I thought he went back to Britain.”

“Wouldn’t you after losing to Chris Austin?”

“Don’t get me started on that.”

“I swear he was walking with a limp.”

“He did get the shit beaten out of him.”

“I heard he can’t move his neck to a certain degree.”

“And he gave up boxing in his spare time because his chin was broken in five places.”

“Who is he fighting?”

“Steele, Eastwood, Butters and that rookie, Machine.”

“We’ll he’s fucked.”

The crowd continue to swell and the conversations became louder as they continued to mock and jeer that Rotunda and his past and future displays. A now-sweating Rotunda silenced the voices with a slam of the door, the wooden structure cancelling all sound.

“Ignore that, ignore it,” Rotunda muttered as he once again began to potter about.

“You’re the Dream Killer and you’re here for the title shot. If you win, then it’s a rematch with Chris Austin, a second chance and you’re fucking capturing that championship,” Rotunda continued.

A restless stared through the door.

“I need Sanctuary”.

*****

I don’t need to reach the Gold Standard, I shine even brighter,
Seth Rotunda, Dream Killer, Pack Member, THE Fighter.
Return to competition once again, I’m swinging but not back in black,
Although you’ll be left breathless like in an asthma attack.
The human embodiment of insomnia as bang does that dream,
Precise and clinical, a Sci-Fi laser beam.

Abel Steele, I want to test your metal,
Name me a failure? Let the pot call the kettle.
We’ll meet in that ring, though there won’t be any rounds,
Constant gore and terror like a hare with hounds.
It’s an Olympic gold medallist against an amateur son,
However, like a girl in the horrors, you’ll be on the run.

I’ll fight Machine like a Bull on Parade,
I’d return you to the shop for you’re just a downgrade.
Fists like an explosion, a mushroom cloud on that jaw,
Ruthless and violent like martial law.
Can you understand these threats down in the big, bad dark side?
If you tangle with me, it’s career suicide.

The embodiment of Anarchy, he’s the number one pick,
But Butters, oh boy, you make me sick.
Son, I’ll be honest, your career is in the gutter,
Human garbage, constantly spilling, rat eaten, you’re basically just clutter.
You’ll be the first to be targeted; it’s the order of the day.
I’m sure everyone is focused to get the shit out of the way.

It how to come to this didn’t, old Eastwood?
And as you’re drugged out of your mind, I’ll make sure I’m understood.
Organised in The Pack, leaving rubble in our wake,
But when I lay you out, there’s no stopping, no emergency brake.
There will be no hard feelings, no apology card,
Forget me protecting you, I’m not security guard.
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PostSubject: Re: SANCTUARY VOTING & PROMO THREAD   Sat Apr 06, 2013 6:38 pm

Cut to Trey Spruance driving a open top lambergini, smoking a ciggarete and listening to Metallica blasting out of the car. He drives through a red light and comes to a stop at the FMW arena. Trey stumbles out of the car dropping empty beer cans on the floor as he opens the door.

His girlfriend Hesta is waiting for him.

Hesta: Trey I told you before not to drive!

Trey: I know baby but I fucking hate being in the passenger seat you know that.

Hesta: Did it go well?

Trey: Yeah I got the drugs. Deal was a peice of piss.

Somebody runs up to Hesta and tries to take her purse.


Trey: Hey motherfucker!

Trey pulls a magnum hangun out jeans and points it at the theif.

Trey: Drop the fucking bag if you want to continue living your misrable life...

The theif drops the bag.

Theif: Sorry man...

Trey: You wana buy some drugs?

Theif: I've got no money.

Trey: Then get the fuck out of here!

Trey is still pointing the gun at the theif who slowly backs away and then runs off.

Hesta: Phew. I'm so glad you had your gun.

Trey: So am I, I'm also glad he didn't have a gun of his own. I need a drink after that. Lets go inside.

Cut to static.

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PostSubject: Re: SANCTUARY VOTING & PROMO THREAD   Sat Apr 06, 2013 7:46 pm

Fade in. Nothing's really happening at the moment backstage for the Sanctuary PPV, you got your normal backstage runner running around like a headless chicken and you have cameramens positioning themselves to get the very best interviews going for the show which is going live in the next couple of hours or so.

We suddenly see STORMMASTER dressed up in his usual Stormtrooper attire walking ever so casually towards a camera which is conveniently positioned in front of the Sanctuary logo. Standing in an aggressive pose, STORMMASTER's eye flash up red for what would feel like an eternally. STORMMASTER is holding what appears to be a piece of white cardboard with some words written in black permanent marker on the front and the back. Holding the cardboard up towards the camera, the sign reads:


"LET STORMMASTER TELL YOU SOMETHING IMPORTANT!!!"

A few minutes later, STORMMASTER flips the cardboard over...

"STORMMASTER WILL WIN THE TRIPLE THREAT MATCH TONIGHT!!!"

Throwing the cardboard sign out of the camera's view. STORMMASTER then storms off leaving most of the backstage crew workers looking very puzzled indeed.
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PostSubject: Re: SANCTUARY VOTING & PROMO THREAD   Sun Apr 07, 2013 2:40 am

GSW “SANCTUARY”[/color]
Live from The Bridgestone Center in Nashville, Tennessee

Triple Threat Match

Stormmaster vs Trey Spruance vs Drake Parker

Singles Match
Leon Caprice vs Antonio Grimelli

”Rolled Gold Promise” Match
Seth Rotunda vs Alexiss Machine vs Jack Eastwood vs Butters vs Abel Steele

*Winner gets a contract jointly signed by Crusoe and P Thurston Devereaux for a guaranteed Title Shot at any Title able to be contested on any show run by either one of them.*

Tag Team Match
Hannibal Frost & Damien Inferno vs Anwyl & Leviticus

Main Event
**As yet Un-named** Championship Match
Dinner Suit / Evening Gown(s) Match

Santana Braxton & Sage Braxton (C) vs Daniel Prideman
*win by pin-fall or by undressing your opponent(s) to their underwear

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Hannibal Frost

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PostSubject: Re: SANCTUARY VOTING & PROMO THREAD   Sun Apr 07, 2013 4:20 am

Triple Threat Match
Stormmaster vs Trey Spruance vs Drake Parker

Singles Match
Leon Caprice vs Antonio Grimelli

”Rolled Gold Promise” Match
Seth Rotunda vs Alexiss Machine vs Jack Eastwood vs Butters vs Abel Steele

*Winner gets a contract jointly signed by Crusoe and P Thurston Devereaux for a guaranteed Title Shot at any Title able to be contested on any show run by either one of them.*

Tag Team Match
Hannibal Frost & Damien Inferno vs Anwyl & Leviticus

Main Event
**As yet Un-named** Championship Match
Dinner Suit / Evening Gown(s) Match
Santana Braxton & Sage Braxton (C) vs Daniel Prideman
*win by pin-fall or by undressing your opponent(s) to their underwear
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Braxton
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FMW Superstar: Sage and Santana Braxton
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PostSubject: Re: SANCTUARY VOTING & PROMO THREAD   Sun Apr 07, 2013 4:44 am

GSW “SANCTUARY”
Live from The Bridgestone Center in Nashville, Tennessee

Triple Threat Match
Stormmaster vs Trey Spruance vs Drake Parker

Singles Match
Leon Caprice vs Antonio Grimelli

”Rolled Gold Promise” Match
Seth Rotunda vs Alexiss Machine vs Jack Eastwood vs Butters vs Abel Steele

*Winner gets a contract jointly signed by Crusoe and P Thurston Devereaux for a guaranteed Title Shot at any Title able to be contested on any show run by either one of them.*

Tag Team Match
Hannibal Frost & Damien Inferno vs Anwyl & Leviticus

Main Event
**As yet Un-named** Championship Match
Dinner Suit / Evening Gown(s) Match
Santana Braxton & Sage Braxton (C) vs Daniel Prideman
*win by pin-fall or by undressing your opponent(s) to their underwear

_________________
WIN-LOSS RECORD
Sage: W - 3 L - 1 D - 0
Santana: W - 2 L - 2 D - 0
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Loins

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PostSubject: Re: SANCTUARY VOTING & PROMO THREAD   Sun Apr 07, 2013 7:04 am

GSW “SANCTUARY”
Live from The Bridgestone Center in Nashville, Tennessee

Triple Threat Match
Stormmaster vs Trey Spruance vs Drake Parker

Singles Match
Leon Caprice vs Antonio Grimelli

”Rolled Gold Promise” Match
Seth Rotunda vs Alexiss Machine vs Jack Eastwood vs Butters vs Abel Steele

*Winner gets a contract jointly signed by Crusoe and P Thurston Devereaux for a guaranteed Title Shot at any Title able to be contested on any show run by either one of them.*

Tag Team Match
Hannibal Frost & Damien Inferno vs Anwyl & Leviticus

Main Event
**As yet Un-named** Championship Match
Dinner Suit / Evening Gown(s) Match
Santana Braxton & Sage Braxton (C) vs Daniel Prideman
*win by pin-fall or by undressing your opponent(s) to their underwear
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Seth



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PostSubject: Re: SANCTUARY VOTING & PROMO THREAD   Sun Apr 07, 2013 10:43 am

GSW “SANCTUARY”
Live from The Bridgestone Center in Nashville, Tennessee

Triple Threat Match
Stormmaster vs Trey Spruance vs Drake Parker

Singles Match
Leon Caprice vs Antonio Grimelli

”Rolled Gold Promise” Match
Seth Rotunda vs Alexiss Machine vs Jack Eastwood vs Butters vs Abel Steele

*Winner gets a contract jointly signed by Crusoe and P Thurston Devereaux for a guaranteed Title Shot at any Title able to be contested on any show run by either one of them.*

Tag Team Match
Hannibal Frost & Damien Inferno vs Anwyl & Leviticus

Main Event
**As yet Un-named** Championship Match
Dinner Suit / Evening Gown(s) Match
Santana Braxton & Sage Braxton (C) vs Daniel Prideman
*win by pin-fall or by undressing your opponent(s) to their underwear
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Easty



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FMW Superstar: Jack Eastwood
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PostSubject: Re: SANCTUARY VOTING & PROMO THREAD   Sun Apr 07, 2013 11:54 am

Had anotha Red Bull
Everybody's burnin', baby
Let me come and get a pull
Isn't it incredible
That I'm even still awake?
Still alive, still I take
Poison that debilitates


I am an addict.

I am an addict to alcohol and nicotine. Cocaine, heroin, paracetamol, ketamine, caffeine, Night Nurse. You name a substance that has the potential for abuse and I'm probably crashing from the effect.

I am an addict to pain and loss. The adrenaline I get from my assaults is marred only by the beatings I receive in return. The feeling of anger coursing through me is enough to make me want to scream. The envy within is only fueled more by my own suffering.

Addiction is a terrible thing. Almost like a Cancer...

A crippling, debilitating feeling, gnawing within your chest and the pit of your stomach. Draining you when you give in to it. Killers both.

But what happens when it comes up against something invincible?

Lest We forget... Sin never truly dies.

There are two of you there tonight, in this piss-coloured federation. Piss-coloured cowards.

Win or lose my match, I don't care. This one is a write off. The work starts after.

Because you know who you are, and I'm coming for you. To save my federation.

The Origins are coming back.

_________________
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sixxisking



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FMW Superstar: Alexis Machine
Championship:

PostSubject: Re: SANCTUARY VOTING & PROMO THREAD   Sun Apr 07, 2013 7:04 pm

10...

My name is Alexis Machine. My friends call me Machine. Everyone else calls me sir. I was known by another name once, but that was a long time ago. That man is dead. The Machine lives forever in his stead.

Some would call me a man of primitive desires, while others would call me things less flattering. I suppose they’re all correct. There is nothing quite as pleasurable to me as feeling the impact of my boot against someone’s skull, or feeling a bone snap as I choke the life out of them. I can’t help it. It’s in my nature.

9...

Nature vs. nurture. It is a timeless debate. Are we all just wired to be what we will be, or can we be steered in the right direction? It’s a little of both, I think. My parents are good people. Kind people. Caring people. They raised me to be the same, and I was…

Until I got out on my own. It started innocently enough. A bit of anger here and there. Then I got into a fight. It was like I was reborn. The feel of my fists on someone’s face or my boots in their ribs was a euphoria that I had never known. Eventually I was fighting daily… Then several times a day… Finally, I decided to make a living doing what makes me happy.

8...

The training… Some would call it hell. Hour after hour in a basement. No air conditioning. The middle of August. Somewhere between ten and twenty people in the room at all times. I however, saw it as my haven. My land of peace. Body after body to bludgeon and break.

After a few days, I was asked to leave. My trainer said I was enjoying hurting the other students too much. That I was a danger. That he wouldn’t be responsible for making me even more dangerous. So I broke his arm… Then I broke his ankle… And then I broke 3 noses and 2 jaws when the rest of the class tried to restrain me… They eventually did, but they still got the worst of it.

7...

A lost man… A man without purpose… I was broken. I had lost the one thing in life that brought me joy. Then I realized that I didn’t need anyone’s help. I had already crippled the man I tasked with teaching me to cripple others. What could he teach me?

So I fought… And fought… And fought… And then I found myself in front of a judge. He talked of anger management and other such nonsense. When he saw the injuries I inflicted he asked me what weapons I had used. The prosecuting attorney informed him that all of the damage was done with my bare hands… He paled a little at that… It was decided that rehabilitation was the route for me. Hour after hour of questions and answers from various head shrinkers. They wanted to nail down the source of my anger…

6...

The problem was… I wasn’t angry. The shrinks soon figured that out. In fact, I was classified as “unnaturally” calm. They even tried to induce my rage, to no avail. They took to calling me the Iceman. Eventually I was given a clean bill of mental health and sent on my merry way. Temporary rage is what they called my earlier bouts with violence. I let them think what they wanted…

The fighting hadn’t stopped… I had just found a way to hide it and get paid for it. Underground pit fighting has taken a step back in recent years due to the MMA boom, but you can still find a good underground fight if you need to… I needed to. I fought and I destroyed and I made money… But not enough money. I needed a break. I needed to hurt people on a national stage. I needed to hurt people who could hurt me back. My anger management was over… So was my time in the underground.

5...

Butters… I don’t know you. I don’t know your accomplishments. I don’t know your accolades. Why? They don’t matter. I’m going to hurt you. And I’m going to enjoy it. I will break your bones and bruise your skin. I will bend and contort your body in ways you currently think are unimaginable. Then I am going to dispose of you like a sack of garbage and move on to my next victim.

4...

Jack Eastwood… You too are a mystery to me. Your name suggests an innate toughness that few can match. The reality is that you are not facing someone who must match toughness with you. You will be in the ring with a Machine. A freak of nature. I am no mere man, I am far more than that. I am the sum of all fears. I am the thing that goes bump in the night… You are just in the way.

3...

Seth Rotunda… You, I am familiar with. I saw your battle with Chris Austin. I came away impressed, though not with you. You gave everything you had to give… And came up short. A warrior is only as good as his last battle, and in your last battle you fell on your sword. You will be disposed of accordingly.

2...

Abel Steele… There seems to be a bit of an enigma about you, Mr. Steele. An aura, so to speak. That is why YOU are my target. There seems to be new life springing from you, and I plan to take it away. I plan to make you pay for having it. I plan to make you suffer for embracing it.

1...

I don’t care what company this ends up being. Full Metal Wrestling… Gold Standard Wrestling… Either way, I will get paid to hurt people, and that is what I do be. So everyone in this company should rise to their feet, and be grateful. Be grateful that you get to witness, first hand, the greatest destruction machine ever created. Be even more grateful when I am destroying someone else… The countdown has completed… What were we counting down, you ask? This was a countdown to extinction. Whatever you want to call the is company, the way things were are extinct. There is only one way now. My way. The Machine’s way.
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Leon Caprice



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FMW Superstar: Leon Caprice
Championship: FMW Undisputed Tag Team Champions

PostSubject: Re: SANCTUARY VOTING & PROMO THREAD   Sun Apr 07, 2013 11:52 pm

Triple Threat Match
Stormmaster vs Trey Spruance vs Drake Parker

Singles Match
Leon Caprice vs Antonio Grimelli

”Rolled Gold Promise” Match
Seth Rotunda vs Alexiss Machine vs Jack Eastwood vs Butters vs Abel Steele

Tag Team Match
Hannibal Frost & Damien Inferno vs Anwyl & Leviticus

Main Event
**As yet Un-named** Championship Match
Dinner Suit / Evening Gown(s) Match
Santana Braxton & Sage Braxton (C) vs Daniel Prideman

LOOK FOR THE EDIT WITHIN AN HOUR- FEEDBACK TO COME

_________________
I fight for justice, I fight for goodness and to all those that oppose me...

Know that I am no longer alone.
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The Dude

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FMW Superstar: Trey Spruance
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PostSubject: Re: SANCTUARY VOTING & PROMO THREAD   Mon Apr 08, 2013 12:05 am

Trey Spruance
Leon Caprice
Seth Rotunda
Hannibal Frost & Damien Inferno
Santana Braxton & Sage Braxton (C)
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Braxton
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FMW Superstar: Sage and Santana Braxton
Championship:

PostSubject: Re: SANCTUARY VOTING & PROMO THREAD   Mon Apr 08, 2013 12:15 am

Because I'm confused with American times and daylight savings also confuses me, voting time has been extended. Y'all have 45 minutes left to vote so get dem chickadeez in!

_________________
WIN-LOSS RECORD
Sage: W - 3 L - 1 D - 0
Santana: W - 2 L - 2 D - 0
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sixxisking



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FMW Superstar: Alexis Machine
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PostSubject: Re: SANCTUARY VOTING & PROMO THREAD   Mon Apr 08, 2013 12:23 am

GSW “SANCTUARY”
Live from The Bridgestone Center in Nashville, Tennessee

Triple Threat Match
Stormmaster vs Trey Spruance vs Drake Parker

Singles Match
Leon Caprice vs Antonio Grimelli

”Rolled Gold Promise” Match
Seth Rotunda vs Alexiss Machine vs Jack Eastwood vs Butters vs Abel Steele

*Winner gets a contract jointly signed by Crusoe and P Thurston Devereaux for a guaranteed Title Shot at any Title able to be contested on any show run by either one of them.*

Tag Team Match
Hannibal Frost & Damien Inferno vs Anwyl & Leviticus

Main Event
**As yet Un-named** Championship Match
Dinner Suit / Evening Gown(s) Match
Santana Braxton & Sage Braxton (C) vs Daniel Prideman
*win by pin-fall or by undressing your opponent(s) to their underwear
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Abel Steele
Head Writer
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FMW Superstar: Abel Steele
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PostSubject: Re: SANCTUARY VOTING & PROMO THREAD   Mon Apr 08, 2013 1:09 am

Given where we are at in just getting back off the ground I'm going to accept the later promos. If anyone wants to change votes accordingly you have an hour from the timestamp on this post to do so.

EDIT: AAAAAND locked.

Thanks all for your efforts. Good to see at least two promos for every match. Not bad for the first effort after all those delays.

Raters it is over to you now. Go, go go!
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