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 Corruption and Anarchy 15.2 Voting and Promo Thread

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the nick bryson
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PostSubject: Corruption and Anarchy 15.2 Voting and Promo Thread   Tue Dec 27, 2011 11:48 pm









The sold out crowd at the Staples Center in Los Angeles, California rises to their feet as the music begins to play, signaling the beginning of the broadcast. The crowd raises their voices as Superstar by Saliva blasts through the speakers and new acting General Manager of Corruption, Jack Boice, makes his way from backstage.

Boice: Good evening wrestling fans! I'm Jack Boice and tonight I am proud to bring you my first card! A card that is stacked with talent and one, I hope, will be remembered for the ages!

The crowd pops a little as Boice plays up the fans

Boice: Tonight we will see a bout featuring EIGHT FMW roster members in a HARDCORE TAG TEAM MATCH! Not to mention there is nothing more traditionally Corruption than our TWO title matches we're announcing for tonight! First we will see the reigning Abandoned Champion APOSTASY take on the surprising SON OF SHARK BOY as the two battle for the Abandoned Championship!

The crowd pops at the mention of the two favorites

Boice: Also tonight Ultraviolent Champion THE CELT! will appear, defending his belt against a Corruption draft pick, CHRISTIAN PARKES!

The crowd noise rises even higher at the announcement of the title defense. Their cheers quickly turn to jeers, however, as Boice is interrupted.


Naaaaaa, na, na, na
Wait till I get my money right.

Anarchy GM Nick Bryson makes his way to the stage, heralded by his theme music Cant Tell Me Nothin by Kanye West. He approaches Boice with a smile and a microphone in hand.


Bryson: Nice try, Boice. I see your desperate attempt at competition is already floundering. You see, you may try to pull out the big guns, but already I've got a line of talent at my door begging to appear on the A show.

The crowd boos Bryson as he winks.

Bryson: Yes, a long line. A line full of people ready to prove themselves, and sometimes try to do so once again. Like this LEGEND from Full Metal Wrestlings past. A legend that I am proud to announce tonight will face off against YNG's very own Mark Johansson! So, without further a-do! Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you

Its Not Easy Being Green by Kermit The Frog blasts through the PA system and out hops former FMW Talent Smoochy Da Frog

Bryson: SMOOCHY DA FROG! GIVE IT UP FOR HIM!

Some of the crowd show their appreciation for the former talent, while others deride Bryson. He applauds Smoochy, and Boice politely follows suit, before exiting backstage.




Corruption
Live from the Staples Center in Los Angeles, California


Singles Match
Sage Braxton (w/ Santana Braxton) vs Runihura De Valentine

Hardcore Match
Nicholas Gray, Damien Inferno, STORMMASTER, and John Andrews vs Jack Eastwood, Daniel Prideman, Seth Rotunda, and Ripper

Abandoned Title Match
Apostasy (c) vs Son of Shark Boy

Ultraviolent Title Match
The Celt (c) vs Christian Parkes

Anarchy

Singles Match
Callum Pullin vs Paul Brooks

Singles Match
Mark Johansson vs Smoochy Da Frog

Main Event
Tag Match

David GS and Matt Ashburn vs Ryder Strong and Butters


Promo ONLY until WEDNESDAY, January 4th at 11:59pm EST. Voting and Promo until FRIDAY, January 6th at 11:59pm EST

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PostSubject: Re: Corruption and Anarchy 15.2 Voting and Promo Thread   Fri Dec 30, 2011 3:13 pm

Part One - Chaos In The Work Place -



09:00 a.m.
The Mega Mall

Andrews sits in a golf cart sipping a coffee

New Guy: Yep another day in this carnival of sins...

Andrews: What?

New Guy: Oh it's from a song I heard on the radio just wanted to use it for something. So I heard you used to be with a private security firm that's awesome dude maybe you can tell me some war stories.

Andrews places his Styrofoam coffee cup in the cup holder

Andrews: Look kid you're anxious and I know this is your first big job... We've got a lot of weight on our shoulders. We protect the men and women that come into this mall that shop for themselves and their families... that eat from our food court. We are here to keep them safe no matter what. No mission is too big, remember that kid.

New Guy: Umm right...

Andrews radio crackles to life... Cart 5-4 we've got reports of a 214 in progress at the bookstore...

Andrews: Here we go kid sounds like it's starting early... Remember your training and you'll make it through today!

Andrews floors the accelerator picking up speeds of 15 miles per hour the new guy holds onto his hat so it doesn't fly off

New Guy: Hey! Watch it! You're going to kill someone you maniac! It's only a shop lifter!

Andrews: Not just any shop lifter kid... It's the Dragon. I've been trying for months to nail that bastard he's always one step ahead of me...

New Guy: The who!

Andrews: The Dragon... Pay attention kid otherwise this jobs going to overwhelm you..

Andrews pulls the golf cart to a screeching halt in front of the bookstore

New Guy: There he is! He's taking off!

Andrews: Alright you take him on foot... I will follow and call out the chase. Don't give me that look get after him kid!

Andrews gets on the radio, Cart 5-4 to base with an urgent we've got the 214 running towards the Food Court, clear the channel for a foot pursuit

Base: Cart 5-4 repeat

Andrews: My partners in a foot pursuit of a 214 running north to the Food Court I am going to attempt a PIT maneuver...

Base: Damn it Andrews that's not in our policy!

Andrew's partner jumped on-top of the shop lifter and flew into a table where several large body builders were sitting at the Food Court

Andrews: Gentlemen step away from that man... Officer's performing their duties step out of the way!

Muscle Guy #1: Your guy just spilled my drink all over me...

New Guy: I apologize sir, but its my job to protect the mall no matter the mission...

Muscle Guy #2: What the hell are you talkin about guy. I'll tell you what we'll settle this like men. My guy vs your guy right here right now!

Andrews: Sir we can't do that just take your seat and there won't be any problems here...

Muscle Guy #1 stands up and swings a chair at Andrews... The New Guy pulls out his Pepper Spray and doesn't realize he has the canister pointing in the wrong direction and sprays himself leaving Andrews to take on the two muscle guys while the New Guy rolls around screaming about the burning sensation of the Pepper Spray

Andrews: Alright asshole you just unleashed a can of whoop ass

Muscle Guy #2: Whatcha gonna do girly man throw your badge at me you're weak and pathetic

Andrews: You want hardcore!?! I will give you hardcore!! Andrews dodges a punch and leans down to pick up a nearby steel chair and hits Muscle Guy #2 across the head busting him open as nearby mall goers gather around and start chanting for the Security Guard

Muscle Guy #1: Come here punk! The man hits Andrews with his food tray and begins pummeling Andrews with it

The New Guy got on the radio... Cart 5-4 Officer's need assistance... Repeat Officers down!! Andrews grabbed at the Muscle Guys foot and pulls him off balance and to the ground. Andrews gets up and works the crowd of sight seers and gives them a "Woo" as he sets the Muscle Guy up in a figure four leg-lock as back up arrives to help detain the man

A voice shouts from behind Andrews.. JOHN WAKE UP!

09:05 a.m.
The Mega Mall

New Guy: Hey! We just got a call of a shop lifter at the Book Store what are you waiting for lets go!

Andrews: Right yeah... Andrews grins and begins singing to himself... "Comin to save the motherfuckin day! America!"

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Part Two - The Black Scorpion -



11:59 a.m.
The Mega Mall

Andrews is seen sitting in front of a chest full of money with his partner keeping a watchful eye out for any thieves

New Guy: Lady Gaga is here and we're stuck guarding this thing... Pure waste of talent...

Andrews: Relax kid... Keep your guard up, you never know what can happen...

New Guy: I'm just sayin I can be of more use on that close protection detail with Lady G

Andrews: You're not ready yet kid now settle down for Christ sakes you're making us look bad

Andrews sticks his ear closer to the radio listening to increased chatter on the radio... Reports of a 459 in Progress near the VIP! voices shouted into the radio

New Guy: See! You hear that a 459 and I am here guarding this useless piece of crap...

At about that time their replacements walk up and assume their position to guarding the money chest

Andrews: Alright kid, we're relieved, lets go kick some ass... Andrews sprinted in the direction of the autograph signing

Both men approached the autograph signing and saw nothing but madness there was even a John Cena look a like there doing his best "You can't see me" impersonation. Both Andrews and the New Guy waded through the bodies of unruly patrons

Andrews: Get back people... This is an unlawful assembly failure to leave the area will result in detention and arrest! Someone hit Andrews with a ketchup packet and Andrews lunged towards the person like Axl Rose vs a fan with a camcorder

Andrews: Alright wise guy you're done! New Guy grab his feet!

New Guy: But John...

Andrews: There's no time to talk... Grab his feet... I'll put him in an arm bar to secure him...So you think you can throw ketchup at me and get away with it huh...

New Guy: John he's just a kid... Probably about 14...

Andrews: That's besides the fact... He's the Black Scorpion kid... I know it!

New Guy: The Dark Scorpion... Who the hell is the Black Scorpion?!?

Andrews sits on the kid detaining him from any movement

Andrews: The Black Scorpion is the most notorious autograph signing crashers in Mega Mall history... Bastard knocked me unconscious and got away... I had him trapped just like now. Oh yeah Mr. Scorpion you're not escaping today...

New Guy: You let a kid knock you unconscious?

Andrews: He ambushed me from behind the coward... But i've got him this time...

Angry Parent: Hey! Get off my son!

Andrews: Sorry ma'am official business we're going to have to take him in for questioning...

Andrews Sergeant walks up...

Andrews: See Sarge I told you the Black Scorpion was real!

Sargent: Damn it Andrews! We caught the real perp two stores over, will ya get off the kid and knock it off about that Black Scorpion gibberish...

He's got my purse someone stop him!

Andrews: Out of my way! I'll catch him...

Andrews runs ahead of the purse snatcher and hides in a store front grasping a steel chair waiting for the would be robber to run by... The man runs by and Andrews jumps out and swings

Andrews: Home run motherfucker! That's the last time you'll ever mess with little old ladies....

A crowd gathers around as Andrews detains the man

Andrews: You see... No job is too big... No mission is too small. We're here to protect America and your safety. If you ever have a problem and want to use the head on approach just call John Andrews! Because I am the new All American Nightmare!

The small crowd cheers

New Guy: Sarge did Andrews just really cut a promo to a bunch of shoppers?

Sargent: He means well kid... Took a hockey stick to the head ever since then he has flashbacks of wrestling matches. You should of been here for the kid that was wearing the David GS shirt and Halloween mask... Andrews pummeled him with a baseball bat and demanded a Foot Locker employee do a three count. Don't worry he'll grow on you though...

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Part Three - Mental Asylum Grudge Match -





In your life you seem to have it all
You seem to have control
But deep within your soul
You're losing it
You never took the time
Assume that you're to blame
You think that you're insane
Won't you spare me

I know the breakdown
Everything is gonna shake now someday
I know the breakdown
Tell me again am i awake now maybe
You can find the reason that no one else is living this way

Yeah your lies
Your world is built around
Two faces to a clown
The voices in your head
Think there's four pawns down
Well in this unity
Fate has found the need
So you better check yourself
Before you check out


Andrews walks towards an old Mental Asylum with his gear bag in hand, his agent had booked him in an grudge match with a local independent wrestling organization in California as a warm-up match for his upcoming Hardcore match against The Pack. Andrews met with the Booker at the back entrance and the two walked to the area set up as a makeshift locker room, the wrestling ring was set up inside of the Mental Asylums long abandoned cafeteria.

Indy Booker: Alright, you're going against Rip Tide in a singles match, he's been on a roll lately and we're trying to put him over.

Andrews: Alright so how do you want to do this? Flip a coin?

Indy Booker: That isn't how we do things here, usually we will let you guys sort it out but in this case it will be full on last man standing wins.

Andrews: Sounds good... Anything goes right?

Indy Booker: Dude we're in a fuckin Mental Asylum what the fuck do you think? One last thing the title isn't on the line, other than that have a good match tonight and give the fans what they want

Andrews: Gotcha...

Andrews got into his gear and scouted the ring then handed his music into the disc jockey behind the sound system

- "The All-American Nightmare" John Andrews Vs Rip Tide in a Grudge Match -

Andrews peaked from the curtain and saw the room was surprisingly full with about two hundred and fifty spectators. A chant began filling the air... "Rip Tide... Rip Tide... Rip Tide"

"Wheres The Hood At" by DMX began playing over the PA while the crowd stood to their feet in anticipation

Ring Announcer: The following contest is a non-title match schedule for one fall with a twenty minute time limit! About to enter the Asylum... From Los Angeles, California. Weighing in at two hundred and thirty eight pounds he is your current Central California Wrestling Asylum Champion... RIP TIDE!!

Rip Tide: This is my house... My house! Rip Tide strutted confidently to the ring, sliding through the bottom rope and taunting the fans for more hoots and cheers as he stood on the second rope, then looked back towards the curtain and pointed

"Take Back The Fear" by Hail The Villain fills the Asylum and boos from the crowd made Andrews decision final...

Ring Announcer: His opponent! From Houston, Texas... He is the self-proclaimed "All-American Nightmare", weighing in at one hundred and ninety five pounds, here is John Andrews!

Andrews burst through the curtain screaming at the top of his lungs taunting the crowd, pointed his trusty baseball bat towards Rip Tide and then ran towards the ring

Commentator #1: Look Andrews isn't wasting any time! He's charging towards the ring baseball bat in hand!

Commentator #2: This isn't the first time we've seen someone charge at the ring and get met with a trusty boot to the face... Wait he's stopping short just as Rip Tide hit the ropes for a baseball slide to the outside of the ring. He just hit Rip Tide with that baseball bat in the stomach!

Commentator #1: John Andrews came prepared it looks like, dropping the bat he has Rip Tide wrapped up and is setting him up for a belly to back suplex onto the concrete. Both men still outside the ring, the referee just ordered Andrews to get the match back in the ring. Not taking the ref serious Andrews pushed him aside and is continuing to kick Rip Tide in the back of the head. The fans don't look too happy...

Andrews screams to the crowd, "You call this man your champion! He is nothing but a fake!"... As Andrews is taunting the crowd his eyes are off Rip Tide whom is struggling but manages to get back to his feet holding his ribs from Andrew's assault with the baseball bat. Andrews turns to take a right hand jab to the jaw...

Commentator #2: Both men exchanging punches now this reminds me of Christmas dinner at my in-laws... It looks like Rip Tide is starting to get the upper hand with the crowd starting to get behind him, he nails Andrews with a strong left hook and reaches down to pick up the wooden baseball bat at his feet. Rip Tide is setting Andrews up in front of the ring post... Lining up Andrews head... Oh my I can't watch this!

Rip Tide swings as hard as he can but Andrews ducks out of the way... A loud metal clank from the bat hitting the steel ring post is heard throughout the Asylum, the shock forcing the bat out of Rip Tide's hands, allowing Andrews to punch Rip Tide and roll him into the ring

Commentator #1: He missed! Rip Tide missed! Andrews is back in the drivers seat again, both men are finally inside the ring. Andrews is grabbing Rip Tide by his hair and is pulling him up off the mat...

Commentator #2: Don't be absurd... He's helping the poor gentleman up to his feet...

Once Andrews gets Rip Tide to his feet Rip Tide breaks free and pokes Andrews in the eye, forcing Andrews to turn away and lean over the ropes holding his eye

Commentator #1: Rip Tide with the rake to the eyes stalls Andrews attack sending the Texan leaning over the ropes. Rip Tide walking over now confidently proceeds to hit Andrews in the kidneys with his fists. Andrews is slowly going down... The assault is becoming too much for the Texan!

Commentator #2: You're such a Tidal Wave fan ya know... Andrews is merely playing possum!

Rip Tide gives Andrews a Swinging Neck Breaker then lifts Andrews off the mat and puts him in a perfect Fisherman's Suplex... 1... 2...

Commentator #1: I can't believe Andrews kicked out of that... Rip Tide is screaming at the ref now... We've seen him like this before, he isn't afraid to take out a referee or two for his own gain. Andrews is still slowly trying to get up from that Fisherman's Suplex, he's crawling to the ropes while Rip Tide is still arguing with the ref. Get your mind in the match champ!

Rip Tide performs a Reverse DDT to the Referee then throws him out of the ring

Commentator #2: He can't hear you ya know... Yes! Andrews is back on his feet... He's stalking Rip Tide who is still yelling at that referee... Here we go... Rip Tide is turning around. One right, two right, three rights... a left... a BIONIC Elbow! I haven't seen one of them since I watched old NWA videos of Dusty Rhodes on Youtube!

Andrews exits the ring through the middle rope and approaches a trash can filled with rubbish from the crowd and heaves it into the ring striking Rip Tide in the arm. Andrews searches the outside for more goodies, screaming at a security guard to get up off the steel chair he is sitting on, Andrews returns to the ring steel chair in hand only to get greeted with a drop kick to the chair which bounced back into his face sending Andrews falling out between the ropes

Commentator #1: Andrews is busted open lying on the outside, Rip Tide is clutching that arm that got hit with that full trash can that Andrews tossed aimlessly into the ring. Rip Tide now sliding outside and grabbing the baseball bat again, he is pummeling Andrews with his good hand. Andrews must be out cold from that drop kick!

Rip Tide throws Andrews back into the ring, Andrews who is bleeding from the forehead is laying motionless. Rip Tide works the crowd then gets Andrews into a Single Leg Boston Crab... Realizing Andrews won't tap out he throws Andrews into the corner... Stepping backward he runs full force at Andrews and jumps landing his left foot on the second rope and using his right to hit Andrews in the head performing a Shining Wizard and finishing it off with a Tornado DDT

Commentator #2: No! It cannot end like this! Rip Tide is going for the pin... 1... 2... 3... That's right there is no referee and it looks like no one is coming out from the back to give the champion his three count! His attitude and temper has caused the refs to rebel!

Rip Tide walks to the back and drags with him a referee whom is protesting and fighting along the way... That referee is punched and thrown to the side by Rip Tide. Andrews is finally showing signs of life using the ropes he sees Rip Tide turned towards the entrance way, the chair is near Andrews and Andrews lays back down beside it.

Commentator #1: Did I just see what I thought I just saw... Andrews is laying possum near that chair and Rip Tide doesn't even know it... Rip Tides walking back to the ring, he's going to walk right into an ambush!

Commentator #2: Serves the bastard right... In just one match he's already laid out two of our veteran officials! It's about time someone gave Rip Tide a dose of his own medicine. Rip Tides stepping in... Andrews is back up and Rip Tide is stunned to see his opponent back on his feet, Andrews leans back and nails Rip Tide right on top of the head. Andrews is looking to finish the match... He's stumbling towards the corner that much needed chair shot took a lot out of him!

Andrews is struggling to climb the ropes... He almost falls reaching the second turnbuckle... He reaches the top and taunts the crowd, crossing his forearms forming an X... Andrews leaps off the top turnbuckle to deliver an Elbow Drop

Commentator #2: Ghost Rider in the sky! Ghost Rider!! Andrews hit it! That has to be all she wrote for Rip Tide!

Commentator #1: Like the chair shot I think that took all of Andrews strength. Both men are down... The crowd is standing on their feet cheering both men on, this has been an unbelievable contest folks.

Andrews lifts himself and crawls the short distance to Rip Tide throwing his left arm over him

Commentator #2: The Texan's got it! We still don't have a referee out here... Someone from the back has to run out here... We need a ref!

A referee runs to the ring from the back and slides in and begins counting. 1... 2... The audience erupts in applause and boos

Commentator #1: Yes! Haha! Rip Tide kicked out! The champion kicked out of Andrews finisher! I can't believe it... The fans can't believe it!

Commentator #2: Both men are still down... Referee Jacobson is beginning the ten count if neither man gets back to their feet the match will end in a draw. Never has CCW seen such a roller-coaster of a match like this one folks. The crowd has been on the edge of their seats for the whole match.

1... 2... 3.. 4.. 5... Rip Tide is stirring, slowly getting back to his feet, 6... 7... Andrews is back up...

Commentator #1: Both men are on their feet exchanging lefts and rights we're right back where this started. It looks like Rip Tide is starting to gain the upper hand. Rip Tide with a punch to Andrews, he's going for the Long Board!

Commentator #2: Andrews counters!

Andrews spins Rip Tide around and gives him a snap kick to the stomach hooking Rip Tides head and signaling to the fans it is all over

Commentator #1: He's got him hooked! Outlaw Drop! Outlaw Drop! Andrews hit him with his patented jumping DDT drilling Rip Tides head into the mat. Andrews has the leg hooked. 1... 2... 3... Andrews wins!

"Take Back The Fear" by Hail The Villain fills the Asylum again as Andrews knelt on one knee as the referee raises his arm, standing back to his feet Andrews shrugs the ref's hand off of him and walks toward the trash can dumping it over Rip Tide then proceeded to hit him several times with the can before exiting the ring amid both approval and disapproval from the fans

Ring Announcer: Here is your winner by pin fall.... The All-American Nightmare... John Andrews!!

Commentator #2: Well that does it for us tonight folks... You'll have to excuse my partner he's a little emotional after his heroes loss to John Andrews. After a hard fought battle and three refs later Andrews prevailed over one of CCW's rising talent.

Andrews changed into his suit and placed a bandage over the cut on his forehead a cut that he hoped won't effect much of his upcoming Hardcore tag match. Andrews will have to give his agent props for setting this match up but still preferred limiting his appearances at other shows although the extra money was worth it and the bragging rights worth more... He still enjoyed the rush he'd get from an FMW crowd. He felt a shift in his personality tonight... A shift he hadn't felt in a awhile. Inside a monster wanted out... For one night only... That monster wanted a piece of the pack...
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Part Four - Monster You've Made -




I can't escape this hell
So many times I've tried
But I'm still caged inside
Somebody get me through this nightmare
I can't control myself

So what if you can see
The darkest side of me?
No one will ever change this animal I have become!
Help me believe it's not the real me
Somebody help me tame this animal


Andrews waits outside of his agent's office... Sitting on the couch in the waiting area reading a magazine on Mixed Martial Arts, Andrews thought of the recent match he had at the Mental Asylum. It was fitting... A monster was clawing deep inside him to get out and he is using everything in his power to tame it but the thought... The lust of power that came with having this deep within him worried him. He'd made a transition for Bethany, the monster had to go... But it was just one night... He could control it... The inner conflict ate at his mind.

Andrew's Agent: Jesus Christ John what the hell happened to you!?

Andrews: It got a little hairy but I got the win... They wanted me to do a re-match with the guy but for the belt at one of their house shows in San Francisco.

Andrew's Agent: And? You took the gig right?? Just tell me the date and I will clear your schedule. We will focus one hundred percent on it Champ...

Andrews: Relax Kev. I turned the offer down. My contract is with Corruption and Full Metal Wrestling, I am not after gold anywhere else. Corruption is my home, not there.

Andrew's Agent: I am disappointed John. You know you could of beat that kid again so why did you turn it down. If you ever expect to make a name for yourself in this business you have to start winning some titles and gain some sort of a fan base.

Andrews: Are you saying I can't do that in FMW or on the Corruption roster? You know as my Agent you are supposed to have my interests and thoughts not your own path to glory. So disappointed that you regret me as a client now?

Andrew's Agent: I didn't say that at all. Personally I just think you should keep your options open John. The only thing I regret is scheduling that damn match so close to Corruption 15.2 that freaking band aid of yours is going to be a target by the Pack and you know it.

The Agent pointed towards Andrew's forehead

Andrews: You let me worry about that one...

Andrew's Agent: Whatever you say boss. Does Bethany know about it yet?

Andrews: Yep. She's already said she won't be at the show because she knows what can happen and how bad it can get out of control. I tried telling her that it's apart of the business and we aren't really trying to kill each other.

Andrew's Agent: Letting the business slip huh... We both know she will most likely be there still cheering at ring side for you. I know you two have been through a lot and I mean that as a family friend not just your Agent.

Andrews: Speaking of which Kevin. It almost happened.

The Agent leaned in closer

Andrew's Agent: You're going to have to be more specific John. What almost happened?

Andrews: After the match with that Rip Tide guy... I felt a presence I have not felt in months. One that apart of me misses but apart of me fears. I can't explain it but it is digging at me to come out just for this one match. It is as if I am battling an internal demon and have made a deal with the devil.

Andrew's Agent: John we both agreed that this face turn was best for all involved especially your home life.

Andrews: I understand that. But what if it just happens and comes out... I mean what if something in the match triggers the old me to come out, it is after all the perfect match for it. You want wins. You want results.

Andrew's Agent: That is true I want wins. I want results but I don't want them at the cost of that. What happens if you can't shut it off and go back to the darkness? You lose Bethany. You lose me. You lose everything you've worked hard for the past few months John. Think about this...

Andrews: I think we should consider it... The Pack has been together for awhile whereas you have myself teaming with guys I have never worked. I am going to need every weapon I can get going into this match just to make it back out that I do know.

Andrew's Agent: Alright how bout this... If Bethany doesn't show up and the urge is there you can go Rambo; however if she is there or you seriously feel that you cannot bring yourself back down from that adrenaline rush and lust of destroying other people we will not even consider the option of you playing with fire do you get me?

Andrews: I am pretty sure I can control it Kev... Apart of it came out in that match and I was able to keep full control. Besides I wouldn't do anything I was unsure of.

Andrews shook the mans hand, the meeting was over, the next time the two men would meet it would be backstage at the arena. Andrews knew his agent was right and was looking out for his best interest. At the same time he knew he could control the thirst for blood and destruction that raged inside of him.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Part Five - Darkness Falls -




Time, it needs time
To win back your love again
I'll be there, I'll be there
Love, only love
Can bring back your love someday
I'll be there, I'll be there

I'll fight, babe, I'll fight
To win back your love again
I'll be there, I'll be there
Love, only love
Can break down the wall someday
I'll be there, I'll be there

If we'd go again
All the way from the start
I would try to change
The things that killed our love
Yes, I've hurt your pride, and I know
What you've been through
You should give me a chance
This can't be the end
I'm still loving you


Andrews drove cautiously in his red and black 1968 Chevy Camaro SS as he navigated his way through the entrance to "Darkness Falls". A mansion that was once home to one of the best wrestling trainers and technicians alive, it was named Darkness Falls by the students due to the fact the mansion looked like something out of a horror movie at night time. Andrew's fiance gripped his hand strongly as they approached. Andrews got out of the car and opened the door for her.

Andrews: This is where it all began babe... This is where I got my start. We used to run small shows in this large recreation room Tom had set-up, we were all so green we would of done anything for his approval.

Bethany: It looks... Well different then what you said it would be. I was almost expecting maintenance for a mansion.

Andrews: That's because the old man passed a few years back no ones really wanted to buy the property because they think it is haunted.

Bethany: John I am sorry... If I would of known I wouldn't of...

Andrews: It's alright. I wasn't one of his favorites. He would always tell me that even though I gave my all it still wasn't good enough to impress him. At our graduation we would all have to have a match with him and I won, he simply rolled out of the ring and walked off. No statements of improvement or good job.

Bethany: And that really bothered you? Having that man's approval?

Andrews: Not really that much, it's just that I would like to of known where I stood as an upcoming talent.

Bethany: You ever figure he didn't want to really say anything to hurt the others feelings, how many matches did he put you in?

Andrews: That's the thing I was always going against his star pupil, it was about even with who went over who...

Bethany: See if he didn't think of you as a worthy enough wrestler he wouldn't of put you against his star nonetheless let you win any of the matches against him.

Andrews: You've got a point there...

Bethany: You know Kevin told me about your little visit with him a few days ago

Andrews: Glad to know he can stay quiet... So how much did he tell you?

Bethany: He said that you were happy being with this federation you're with and that you seem to be having a tough choice on how you're going to act at the show.

Andrews: That would be true to both... I know I am going to be honorable to the team I am tagged with. What I don't know is how far I am going to slip back into my old self.

Bethany: John, I love the man you've changed into... I know you did it for me. I know you did it to get me back. I want to keep this man you've become. I don't want you going back to your old ways.

Andrews: I can control it this time babe I know it... Just this one night...

Bethany: Listen to you... You sound like a junkie in need of a fix...

She stared into Andrews eyes and saw the fire burning in them deep below

Bethany: It's already back isn't it...

Andrews: Yeah...

Bethany: God damn it John we've made it so far without this... I don't want you getting hurt...

Andrews: I know dear... But I can control him this time. I can control this monster that lurks deep in me, with him I know I can get a guaranteed victory and at least begin dismantling the Pack

Bethany: I don't know John... I can see it in your eyes... I've never seen it like that before, I have never seen that much rage and hatred built up and stored away in one man. I am afraid if this happens you're going to lose it entirely

Andrews held her close

Andrews: The monster inside is just another part of me... It is all mind over matter, just like weightlifting. Those power lifters tap into whatever form of aggression that will help them in their competition well it's just like that. Except my craving is to seek and destroy the Pack... Even if I only get one of them I can still get the others at a later date... One by one... The Pack will fall.

Bethany: Alright John... I trust you... I know you... I love you...

Andrews: So that means you'll be at ring side?

She smiled

Bethany: Where else would I be dear?

Andrews gave her a bear hug

Andrews: We should buy this place you know... We can fix it up and it will make a nice home for us. Plus I could build a ring and put it in the old rec room

She laughed

Bethany: As long as we can afford it and I get my art studio we can

Andrews walked over to the Real Estate sign in front of the large Mansion and fumbled through the tube attached to it pulling out a piece of paper with a contact in it. Andrews dialed the number and began talking figures, they would indeed have enough to purchase the Mansion and still be able to live comfortably. The Real Estate guru said he was on his way up to sign the papers, the Mansion was theirs

Andrews: Remember I always said I would buy you a big house one day....

She nodded, he noticed tears beginning to stream down her face and he held her close again

Andrews: The Mansions priced low because of how long it has been sitting, it will be a fixer upper but the way I figure it once we're done with it we should be pretty comfortable and have enough money after the fact.

Andrews stared deep into the heart of Darkness Falls with a sense of calm now... Something inside him clicked. The monster that demanded out was calm finally... Could it be because the monster has returned home or could it be because he's truly learned how to control it. Andrews felt a sense of pride knowing that whatever it was he had still full control, knowing that once he stepped in the ring he could still keep the monster on it's leash.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Part Six - Monster Unleashed -




Get out of my head cause I don't need this!
Why didn't I see this? I'm a victim - Manchurian candidate
I - have - sinned - by - just
Makin' my mind up and takin' your breath away!

I felt the air rise up in me
Kneel down and clear the stone of leaves
I wander around where you can't see
Inside my shell, I wait and bleed
I felt the hate rise up in me
Kneel down and clear that stone of leaves
I wander out where you can't see
Inside my shell, I wait and bleed.

You haven't learned a thing
I haven't changed a thing
My flesh was in my bones
The pain was always free


Andrews was working out at a local Gold's Gym when his cell phone rang, looking at the caller i.d. he saw that it was his Agent and answered the phone...

Andrews: Balls on your forehead...

Andrew's Agent: Hey John... What the... Ah whatever, anyway I know I said I wouldn't set you up on anymore random matches but I have found your Black Scorpion

Andrews listened on the other end

Andrew's Agent: He's doing a show in Los Angeles at a YMCA. I've got you booked, I know you wanted to rest up before your match but come on Champ this might be your one and only chance at the Black Scorpion

Andrews accepted the match and said he was on his way to Los Angeles. The next day Andrews arrived at the YMCA and again walked into another unknown independent organizations premise. He was greeted at the door by a security guard who pointed him towards the locker room. Reaching the locker room he felt the buzz in the air, he decided tonight he would do a tribute to his father's wrestling days. Putting on his black vest and black trunks, lacing up his black boots that had OJA stitched into the sides for one night he would again have "Outlaw" in front of his name. He gave one of the interns his music and began stretching for his upcoming match.

"Immortal" by Adema began playing over the speakers and the bell rung three times

Ring Announcer: Good evening ladies and gentlemen and welcome to tonight's semi-main event! The following contest is scheduled for one fall with no time limit! About to enter the arena, from parts unknown, weighing in at one hundred and sixty-eight pounds, he is the Black Scorpion!

The crowd cheered as Black Scorpion stalked silently down the aisle to the ring

"Perfect Strangers" by Deep Purple filled the gymnasium and the crowd became quiet

Ring Announcer: His opponent and challenger! From Houston, Texas... Weighing in at One Hundred and ninety-five pounds, he is the All-American Nightmare... OUTLAW! John Andrews!

Andrews allowed the song to build before bursting through the curtain... At the 0:49 mark Andrews roared through the curtain with authority and yelled at the crowd to show some respect... The crowd booed him in response

Commentator #1: The Outlaw doesn't appear that loved here at the YMCA as he's walking confidently to the ring. Here we go folks we're underway... Both men circling each other, they go in for a Collar-Elbow Lock Up and Andrews ducks out of the way dodging the Black Scorpion and spinning around with a devastating Short-Arm Clothesline spinning the Black Scorpion inside out!

Commentator #2: That knocked him out of his boots! Andrews not letting up on his assault is reaching down for the Black Scorpions arm... He's putting him in a Cross-Face, working the arm now... Andrews might be a little too close to the ropes.

The Black Scorpion reached out for the bottom rope after several tense moments from Andrew's Arm Bar.... The referee began the five count... 1.. 2.. 3.. 4... Andrews let go. Putting the boots to the Black Scorpion

Commentator #1: Andrews has the Scorpion up, he's whipping him into the ropes, Andrews lifting him up for a Back Body Drop... wait no... Andrews holding onto the legs performing a catastrophic Flap-Jack. The Scorpion is down... Andrews has him back up he's got his head hooked we've heard about this move before

Commentator #2: You're right about that... Andrews is going for his Outlaw Drop, wait Black Scorpion countered whipping Andrews off into the ropes, we might see some signs of life from the Dark One now folks.

Andrews bounced back off the ropes and jumped into the air catching Black Scorpion's head then pulled him down for the Outlaw Drop...

Commentator #1: He got it... He hit the Outlaw Drop, he's going for the pin... 1.. 2.. 3... Andrews has beat the Black Scorpion... ending his 10 and 0 streak!

"Perfect Strangers" by Deep Purple filled the gymnasium again amidst boos from the crowd

Ring Announcer: Here is your winner... OUTLAW JOHN ANDREWS!!!

Andrews continued putting the boots to the Black Scorpion then set him up for a devastating Power Bomb almost landing the masked man on his neck

Commentator #1: Come on now the match is over! Someone get the Black Scorpion some help out here he's not moving! He needs medical attention!

Andrews left coldly out of the ring and walked to the back

Commentator #2: Did you see the look in that man's eyes! They were pure red! I've never seen anything like that in my life. It's as if something in Andrews changed during that match...

Backstage Andrews changed out of his gear and was proud... He had won two bouts... The one against Black Scorpion and the one against the monster inside him. Although the monster was slightly unleashed, Andrews was still able to keep control of it... The Pack, Andrews knew, now had something to fear...
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Part Seven - Don't Fear The Reaper -




You've seen life through distorted eyes
You know you had to learn
The execution of your mind
You really had to turn
The race is run the book is read
The end begins to show
The truth is out, the lies are old
But you don't want to know

Nobody will ever let you know
When you ask the reasons why
They'll just tell you that you're on your own
Fill your head all full of lies

The people who have crippled you
You want to see them burn
The gates of life have closed on you
And now there's just no return
You're wishing that the hands of doom
Could take your mind away
And you don't care if you don't see
Again the light of day


Andrews rolled in his sleep... His thoughts drifting back several years when he was a force to be reckoned with. His dreams becoming a nightmare of outlandish proportions for he was talking to death himself.

Grim: You're back again I see... I would of figured you would of found a way out of here by now.

Andrews: Where am I?

The black robed figure laughed and pointed to Andrews with a boney hand

Grim: Why Mr. Andrews you're right here... Don't allow yourself to be enveloped in your own sub-conscious, you were always my greatest collectors.

Andrews looked around trying to make sense of the dark figure

Andrews: I was never a collector for you or anyone else I am my own man... You're not real!

The dark figure placed his hand onto Andrews shoulder

Grim: I am as real as you Johnny... I know what you have living inside you and it will overwhelm you! You're playing with a force you do not understand...

Andrews shook in the bed. His fiance began trying to awaken him

Andrews: That's where you're wrong you sorry bag of bones, I have paid my dues I can control this monster. I will destroy what I have created! I will not let it assume its control once again!

Andrews heard a voice calling deep in the distance... Finally awoken from his nightmare he looked at his fiance Bethany who reached out to console him

Bethany: Johnny what were you dreaming... Where were you... Didn't you hear me calling your name?

Andrews: I don't want to talk about it...

Bethany clicked on a light

Bethany: Oh no you're not getting off that easy... Start talking... Now...

Andrews rolled to face her

Andrews: I was in a forest of darkness and talking to the Grim Reaper Beth...

She looked at him like he was crazy

Andrews: See my point exactly you think I am losing it

She wrapped her arm around him and laid her head on his chest

Bethany: No John I don't think you're losing it or close to losing it. I think you have a lot on your mind with this upcoming match that your mind is fighting back. We all have nightmares, that is what makes us human, the problem is some people see their dreams as a premonition while others crumble under their nightmares and lock themselves away...

Andrews: Then how come I don't ever see you tossing and turning at night?

A giggle escaped her

Bethany: You never see that because I have no reason to have any nightmares... I am happy with what I have and am also blessed with knowing the fact you would never let anything happen to me. You see you're always in my dreams John... That is why I am able to sleep so sound and calm

Andrews: Still...

She gave him a kiss

Bethany: Johnny you're going to be fine... You control your destiny in life, nobody else... Not even me. We're going to go to the Staples Center and you're going to wrestle and put on one hell of a show with me cheering you on at ring side and we're going to leave together and return back here and do it all over again at the next show.

He returned her kiss

Andrews: You're right... I can't let a silly little nightmare bother me... I am stronger than anything especially with you at my side. I feel as though I can take on all the evil in the world...

She smiled again and turned off the light

Bethany: That's the man I am marrying... The good in you will always over power evil... You're heart and determination is stronger than anything else in this world John.

She noticed he had fallen asleep

Bethany:Remember you are the protector of good... The guardian of the weak... You will know how to react when the time is right my dear
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Part Eight - Lost But Found -




Gather 'round young warriors now
Saddle up your steeds
Killing scores with demon swords
Now is the death of doers of wrong
Swing the judgment hammer down
Safely inside armor, blood, guts and sweat

The Horsemen are drawing nearer
On leather steeds they ride
They've come to take your life
On through the dead of night
With the Four Horsemen ride
Or choose your fate and die


Andrews was at work at the Mega Mall when his phone rang... Realizing it was his Agent he answered the call

Andrews: Chicken Lickin...

Andrew's Agent: Hey Jo... What the hell is wrong with you

Andrews: Oh come on grow a sense of humor Kevin... I'm at work your going to have to make it quick

Andrews propped his feet up on the front of the golf cart

Andrew's Agent: I got to thinking about our last conversation... That monster conversation...

Andrews: Yeah what about it...

Andrew's Agent: I don't know it just has me a bit worried that's all... I heard what you did to the Black Scorpion...

Andrews looked around

Andrews: Look Kev there's nothing to worry about here the old me isn't making a come back... I was pulling a bag of tricks out of dad's move set and was simply playing off the crowd.

Andrew's Agent: Are you sure there is nothing else?

Andrews: One hundred percent positive my man... You'd be the first to know if there was something else. I know I can pull this one off without the old me... I am confident about it now. I am comfortable with who I am, that small hiatus after that feud with that crazy canuck was what I needed to help my transformation... These past two matches have shown me my path of destiny. I can do this...

Andrew's Agent: Good John. I am glad to hear you're able to handle this without having to ruin someone's career or slip into your evil ways.

Andrews: I am going to give the fans what they want Kev... I will play this match by ear... I might have to almost go borderline heel/face on this one. I like to think of this as a battle of wills... The four horsemen of the Apocalypse versus four noble men. The noble men being us of course...

Andrews noticed the New Guy walking back towards the golf cart

Andrews: Um yeah... I've gotta go. I will see you at the show and remember what I said... Good versus evil... Four Horsemen... Not THE Four Horsemen... You know Ric Flair, Tully Blanchard, Double A Arn Anderson, Ole Anderson, and J.J. Dillon... But them Apocalypse fellers.

Andrews hung the phone up and placed it back into his pocket. He was ready to show the world that he didn't need the monster inside him to be a superstar, no he did not need that crutch at all, but the heart and determination that he promised to the fans of FMW is what he was ready to prove to everyone. He knew he had the talent to stand toe to toe with the Pack... After weeks of searching his soul Andrews finally had the answer he had been searching for... An answer provided through a dream translated by the woman he loved. He had the power to control his destiny... Corruption 15.2 would be the full re-birth of John Andrews.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Last edited by John Andrews on Thu Jan 05, 2012 3:11 am; edited 33 times in total
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PostSubject: Re: Corruption and Anarchy 15.2 Voting and Promo Thread   Mon Jan 02, 2012 5:03 pm

Animal Within


Yep, I’m back to narrating my own promos again. The Deep Sea Sensation needs to tell you something right before I go into ring to face Apostasy for the Abandoned Title. StormMaster and I are a pretty great team, but when Paper Bag Man was drowning, I ended up doing something that was… well… you got the picture. Oh, and Apostasy… you’re welcome.

Let’s get started with something that happened in between training sessions, I was brought to a secluded yet pretty sandy nude beach that reminded me of something akin to Santa Monica with some elements of an Island in the Pirates of the Caribbean movies. I wanted to get in touch with nature after a friend of mine suggested I should take a journey into my psyche through a Native American Spirit quest. But to keep me supervised, he had Reggie and Peyton come with me while he kept an eye on StormMaster in their place.


Peyton: Why did you choose a Nude Beach of all places, fuckface?!

Reggie: This is so we can get our rocks off while Shark Bitch here is doing his spirit quest shit, Nigga. And I see a bunch of chicks a few minutes away. Man I can’t wait to see how those bitches like to freak!

Peyton: What about SoSB? The Linguist told us not to let him get too carried away.

Reggie was already in the proper attire, and hearing the talk about our task made him lash out at his best friend out of bottled up tension. Like Mentos in a two-liter bottle of soda, his anger was ready to erupt.

Reggie: Ya know what? Ya can get off on that cunt all ya want, Nigga! I ain’t controlling no damn urges for whatever ya like, Cocks or Pussy… It makes no difference to me, fool! Either ya can join me or not, all I know is that I was to see some bitches with their jugs bouncing!

I found that he was being quite rude to Peyton since my costume change, and I wasn’t too happy about that, so when he turned his back, I gave Reggie the ‘you take it up the ass’ gesture. Peyton didn’t bother to chastise me for it, and smiled.

Peyton: Don’t worry about that fucker. He hasn’t had pussy in over a month… go ahead. I’ll keep watch.

Honestly, I admit that I didn’t want to be naked at a nude beach, but since Peyton and Reggie had no qualms about going with the flow, maybe I’ll get in touch with nature, so to speak once I found a great spot. I found a spot, and Peyton kept watch from his spot near a big piece of driftwood.

Once I was able to sit down, I closed my eyes, tuning out the sounds of the beach and listening to just the sounds of nature. Now how long did I stay this way? Fifteen Minutes? Over an Hour? It was hard to tell the passage of time when I was tuning out the sounds of a typical day at a nude beach. As listened to the sounds of the ocean. I was starting to have the feeling that I was freer than I ever was; my helmet felt as if it was fading from existence with the gentle assistance of the coastal winds. It was now like I was becoming one with nature itself in my unrestrained state. Then I started to hear something surfing through the winds to go through me.


~~^~~


Here we go again
I kinda wanna be more than friends
So take it easy on me
I'm afraid you're never satisfied.


Being unable to narrate in this state, Son of Shark Boy was annoyed that Peyton might be playing Reggie’s boom box. He tried to zone it out like he did the other sounds of the beach, but it kept going on without waning to the Young Shark’s will.

Here we go again
We're sick like animals
We play pretend
You're just a cannibal
And I'm afraid I won’t get out alive
No I won't sleep tonight.


Thinking that Peyton had no regard for silence, he opened his eyes, only to see his surroundings as the open sea. He was alone, with nothing to keep him from being a part of the ocean he emerged from years ago.

SoSB: What the… where are the other fishes?

???: It is only you and me, young one.

Surprised by the voice, the Deep Sea Sensation looked around, bamboozled by the sound of a voice within the confines of the oceanic void.

SoSB: W-who’s there?

???: I am the spirit… of a bee!

SoSB: Wha…?!

He heard the voice laugh all around him. SoSB was looking around to hear where the voice was coming from. And it only took him a moment to realize. The voice was within his surroundings.

???: Just kidding. I am the spirit of the species you are a part of, the one that is called ‘Son of Shark Boy’ by the land lovers.

Suddenly, from the deep blue haze of the sea emerged a shark of the great white variety, its teeth like jagged, yet serrated vorpal blades lined up in his predatory grin.

SoSB: You know of me. Yet I don’t know of you.

Shark Spirit: If this is a question of trust, I wouldn’t come to you unless you called upon me.

SoSB: But how…?

The Shark Spirit swam around SoSB, his grin turning into a stern gaze.

Shark Spirit: It is not for yourself to worry about at this time. Do you remember how you freed yourself and Paper Bag Man from that underwater tank? Do you remember the moment the tank’s top blasted off from the glass confines?

SoSB: Yes, but I don’t remember going into the water, though. How did I get in there.

Shark Spirit: The latent abilities from a previous incarnation are starting to resurface from the deepest waters of your psyche. Your subconscious unlocked the ability to free your ally from a water-bound fate, and as an afterthought, made an effect that left the land-lovers impressed.

SoSB: Latent abilities? Does that mean I’m… supernatural?

The shark spirit remained quiet for a moment, then nodded for his answer. SoSB was really confused now; he is the Deep Sea Sensation, but being discovered as supernatural? That was a seahorse of a different color.

Shark Spirit: You are at an impasse in your destined path, young one. A shadow is blocking your way, and it was fated that the both of you would meet in a field of combat. And he has something that has the potential to reveal a truth to you. In the realm of the physical, this item takes the form of what you call a championship.

SoSB: What do you call it?

Shark Spirit: *grins* Bits of cattle between my teeth.

Both the spirit and Son of Shark Boy had a small laugh over that shark joke, but this was short-lived, as the shark spirit cleared its throat and gills.

Shark Spirit: I know you are feeling burdened by your identity being an instantaneous association to a land-lover. Should you prevail, that may be the key to unlock your true identity. You are on the right path, young shark… continue on it, and your destiny shall be revealed. Until the next we meet, farewell.

Before SoSB can react to the abrupt departure of the shark spirit, he was hearing the music start to fade away, as the ocean became murkier and murkier, as if an octopus released an ink screen from below.

I wanna run and hide.
I do it every time
You're killin' me now
And I won't be denied by you
The animal inside of you.


~~^~~


Coming out of the fog of my trance, I opened my eyes, revealing nothing of my spirit quest. I could see that the sun was pretty low, as if it was starting on a sunset. While I started to become more aware of my senses, I was more determined to face Apostasy and lay my claim to the Abandoned Title. Becoming that champion will show me what I should become should I achieve that greatness.

As my other senses slowly came back to me, I noticed that Peyton was closer than he was when I closed my eyes. I got up, and dusted off the sand, which alerted the least mean of the duo to my presence. It was either that, or my stomach growling loudly.


Peyton: Wow… that was a good few hours, SoSB. Reggie evicted me from the towel so he can fuck the skirt he managed to seduce. Lucky motherfucker. I wonder how he always gets the best pie?

Seeing that he was in need to be consoled, I simply patted him gently on his exposed back. I apologized in the way he couldn’t hear, since I was still keeping quiet for the sake of my friends, He then turned to face me, and handed me a tuna sub.

Peyton: Thanks, Sharky. I think I needed that after Reggie kicked me in the head for suggesting a threesome. Fuck, he's an whiny-ass cunt when he gets that way. (Something came to his mind just then, something I didn’t think he’d suggest.) Look, I hate being indebted as much as I hate that bitch right now, so why don’t I do something for you in return?

Though I didn't know what he had in mind, I shrugged my shoulders as if to say 'why not' to him. I would say what I found out about his ideas, but it would be something better left to the imagination. In the end, I will become Abandoned Champion

Hush Hush the world is quiet
Hush hush we both can't fight it
It's us that made this mess
Why can't you understand?
Woah I won't sleep tonight.
I wont sleep tonight.


Last edited by The Blurpedo on Fri Jan 06, 2012 12:17 am; edited 1 time in total
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PostSubject: Santana Offers "Sage Advice"   Mon Jan 02, 2012 6:29 pm

Loud screams and other noises are heard as the Interviewer opens the door to the Braxton's training dojo. He enters to see Santana Braxton standing on the ring apron in a dress watching her sister Sage practice on an Unnamed Male Opponent in an exhibition match. Sage has the upperhand, locking in an armbar after an armdrag. The Interviewer approaches Santana who sighs and hops off the ring apron and approaches him.

Interviewer: Santana Braxton, your twin sister will make her in-ring debut for Full Metal Wrestling in a singles match against Runihura De Valentine. What are your thoughts on this?

Santana: I think Runihura is a stupid name to be honest.

Interviewer: What are your thoughts on Sage's actual match, however?

Santana: (looking at the Interviewer in disgust) Don't use that tone with me, you sexist bastard. I'm not appreciating this apparent attitude problem of yours. (clears her throat) Regarding the match, I'm not worried about it one bit. Sage is a tough cookie, and from what I've heard, has a bigger set of balls than this Runi dude.

Interviewer: Are you not at all concerned that your sister will be facing a male?

Santana: Your blatant sexism strikes again. No, you son of a bitch, I am not concerned; like I said, Sage will make Runi wish he had never stepped foot in the ring with one of the Braxton Twins.

Sage hits a Braxton Buster on the Unnamed Opponent and whips her hair around arrogantly, calling out to the Interviewer to pay attention to that.

Santana: She's impressive, isn't she?

Interviewer: What about you, Santana? What are your thoughts on your debut for Full Metal Wrestling, albeit in a non-wrestling position? Do you think your role as her sister at ringside will play a part in Sage's debut match?

Santana: Well, it's about damn time that the Braxton girls have arrived here. I don't mean to be a bitch but some of the guys here are complete eyesores so I am taking it upon ourselves, Sage and I, to beautify this place up a bit. As for Sage's match, I will only be there to cheer on my sister and congratulate her in her inevitable victory, that is all.

Unnamed Opponent whips Sage into the ropes but Sage ducks his attempted clothesline and hits a running Mafia Kick, which she calls "Bye Bye Beautiful".

Santana: Amazing, isn't she? We've been honing our craft for years and we have no problem facing whoever is thrown our way, whether they be male or female, fat or skinny, ugly or uglier.

Sage locks in a side headlock on Unnamed Opponent, jumps and springboards off the top rope and hits her finisher, Sage Advice. She hooks his leg and the referee counts to three. Sage rolls out of the ring and joins her sister.

Sage: Did you see that? Did you mother-effing see that? Runi better say his prayers, drink his glass of warm milk and kiss his mother goodnight because he has a whole new thing coming to him.

Interviewer: I must say, Sage, that was very impressive. What are your thoughts on your impending debut match?

Sage: I'm excited. It's about time Full Metal Wrestling witnessed the inevitable movement of the Braxton Twins. We are here to accomplish things that females have never accomplished in this company.

Interviewer: And what would that be?

Santana: I tell you, Sage, this son of a bitch is a sexist bastard.

Sage: (laughing) You'll just have to wait and find out, won't you?

Interviewer: Now, what are your thoughts on your opponent, Runihura De Valentine?

Sage: No comment.

Santana: He's not at all impressive, to be honest. He's not even good looking either. If you're gonna be a shit wrestler, at least back it up with looks. My dog pumps more attractive things out of his asshole than Runi's face.

Sage: I'm not worried. My wrestling skills are far superior than his and, female or not, I will take him out.

Interviewer: Where do you see yourself down the road in Full Metal Wrestling?

Sage: Champions.

Santana: Champions.

Interviewer: Wow, I must say, you two ladies are very confident.

Sage: (glaring at Interviewer) What's that supposed to mean?

Santana: He's being sexist again, I tell you.

Sage and Santana slowly close on him while the Interviewer begins to back up, not knowing what is on the mind of the sultry duo.

Interviewer: N-n-no, I'm not being s-s-sexist, I-

Santana leaps down and holds his legs together with her arms, trapping him to the spot. Sage thrusts her kick up and hits a devastating roundhouse kick to his head, knocking him out instantly. Santana gets up, brushes the dirt off her dress and fixes her hair up. Sage takes the Interviewer's phone out of his pocket and snaps a picture of him lying crumpled on the floor.

Sage: Make sure you show Runi this picture.

Sage throws the phone down at him and the Braxton Twins leave their training dojo, pinkies linked.

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


Last edited by Bunny Boiler on Sat Jan 07, 2012 7:21 am; edited 4 times in total
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PostSubject: Re: Corruption and Anarchy 15.2 Voting and Promo Thread   Wed Jan 04, 2012 2:19 pm

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Music: Sabi – Wild Heart (Zeds Dead Remix)
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Alright, alright. Let me start off by saying: I love people. Civilization cannot exist without people. So while we are on this Earth, I feel the urge to learn something from everyone. I surround myself with different people with different thoughts, principles, morals or lack thereof. I crave knowledge from everyone to help me become and sustain this well-rounded sexy God that I have become. I normally accept people for who they are and not what I would want them to be. It’s a flaw of mine but one I willingly take on. I don’t feel the need to change the way people act and think to get my point across or succeed in this world.

But when is it enough to say “screw you people” and not do whatever they would like me to do?

Nicky Simpson is trying once again to ruin me and I don’t get why she is trying to do this. I thought at the pep rally of Occupying Ryder Strong, I got through to her but as of recently, I think not. She sends me this long email, again, about how I’ve changed and how she can see the beginnings of a “capitalistic monster”. Whoa, ho, where did you get that from? Even after pouring my heart out to her and explaining what my goals are with this FMW “thing” (her words, not mine), she’s still out to get me. I’m starting to run out of ideas to make her and the other hundreds of other CULT members that I have affected feel at ease with the new direction my life is taking. I would like to think I am doing this for everyone else here. How many times do I mention THE CULT? How many times do I mention our mantra of enjoying life? You know, Live. Laugh. Love. Hell, I’m still trying to make sense of why everyone around here hates each other when if they only looked in the mirror, everyone in FMW is exactly the same with the same mindset. As far as I’m concerned, everyone should be playing hackey sack with each other instead of wanting to dismantle each other.

Speaking of “dismantling”; can we quickly talk about how Corruption has been split into two “shows”? Yeah…I’m not sure what’s going on with that. Moreover, I get drafted to Anarchy. ME! Normally, that would be an exciting exclamation point but it was more of a…ME?!? Like…seriously, why me? I don’t want to get myself involved in the jockeying for position of power in FMW and that’s where I am. I would have rather just…stayed with the rest of the roster under the established Corruption name. Now, it’s like:

Them: oooohh, you’re eating my celery stick
Me: But, it’s a stick of celery.
Them: So? Don’t you see that most of that stick is on that side? Don’t be an effing thief!
Me: Ummm…K?

And the “them” is YNG telling me not to eat “Corruption’s food”. When did it all become so petty? Oh, I’ll tell ya. When you get money and power involved. This is not me. This is not what I have become. I don’t care what anyone says. The day I act like any of these people around here is the day I off myself. That’s right. I’d rather be dead than become like any of these people in FMW.

I used to think that I was starting to finally fit in around here. Now I’ve realized I don’t want to fit in. I want to be:

Ryder Strong.

Not, FMW’s Ryder Strong. Maybe not even “The CULT’S” Ryder Strong.
















…who am I kidding? I’ll just go with the flow and ignore the problem like I always do. Put on a happy smiley face and just…dance like a puppet for the people but deep down inside, and I mean wayyy deep down at the core of Ryder Strong: I will never lose sight of myself. Ever.




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Subject: Spread the Word, CULT! Your Messiah is Coming to L.A.!
Mood: bounce
Music: Sabi – Wild Heart (Zeds Dead Remix) (Yes, I am still listening to it. It’s a damned good dubstep mix. WAH!)
Settings: Private: ___ Public: X

What’s up, CULT? How is everyone doing on this glorious day in L.A.? Good? I knew it. You guys are always good.

Come on out tonight to see me and my partner Butters (no, really, that’s his name!) take on YNG’s David GS and Matt Ashburn (BOOOO!!!!) in the MAIN EVENT on Anarchy! The YNG are still running roughshod all over FMW; dominating it is more like it and yet, here I once again find myself standing across the ring from them. Why? I don’t know. I’m starting to believe they have some weird obsession with me. Trust me, I don’t want any problems with YNG. No seriously, if this is the last time I get to compete against an YNG member, I would be perfectly fine by that. I’m neither scared nor intimidated by them but I know there are other ways to get ahead around here without having to co-mingle with a gang of donkies. But, be that as it may:

Your leader will (try) not let you down! Myself and Butters are going to start chipping away at the egotistical band of nitwits and slowly but surely YNG will fade away into obscurity.

What?

That’s what normally happens to stables who try to have absolute power over an organization. NWO and the Original Sin anyone? BOOM! Gone. Poof. Just as they steam rolled their way through the company, they were outcasted and branded unnecessary within a year.

Absolute power corrupts absolutely.

Think about it.



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Ryder Strong
L.A. doesn’t know what will hit them when the powers of Love and Light blind their eyes tonight!

Ryder leaves the computer for all of 15 minutes just to begin packing for the flight to L.A. After what seems like 20 more minutes in front of the computer, Ryder runs to the bathroom to grab some more items. The camera focuses in on what seems to be a lengthy conversation on his Facebook wall.

Ryder Strong
L.A. doesn’t know what will hit them when the powers of Love and Light blind their eyes tonight!
22 minutes ago

Matt Ashburn
You won’t know what hits you tonight.
21 minutes ago

David GS
Yes he will. It will be our fists and boots against the side of his and his partners head!
20 minutes ago

Matt Ashburn
That goes without saying. Why he or anyone else thinks they are going to stop us is laughable to say the very least.
18 minutes ago

Tim ‘Strong’ Brown
You tards have no idea who you are messing with. Ryder Strong and my man B-Butters are going to smoke you guys!
17 minutes ago

David GS
HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Shouldn’t be behind the camera and not on the interwebs? Highly embarrassing that Ryder has his bitch camera cousin to fight his battles.
15 minutes ago

Nicky Simpson
This is nothing new. Ryder goes nowhere without Tim. Too bad he doesn’t realize Tim is a mooch and wants nothing but to suck Ryder dry.
14 minutes ago

Tim ‘Strong’ Brown
Bitch, that’s you. Too bad you’re too dick-notized to realize he doesn’t want you whore!.
12 minutes ago

Matt Ashburn
Hey! You people want to fight about who wants Ryder’s schlong more, go do it in the proper forums. This status is for YNG to proclaim to everyone in The CULT that their leader will fall like everyone else at our feet tonight. I don’t care about you people and your petulant arguing.
9 minutes ago

Ryder Strong
I KNEW I should’ve gone on a deleting spree! That’s what I get for accepting any and every FMW’s superstars on my page. Look, you YNG guys need to stop. I am not your enemy. I am your opponent. I did not eff your mom on your childhood bed so I don’t know why the hostility. But I will tell you one thing: when I enter that ring, I will fight for sport. Fight to compete. And at the end of the match, whoever is left standing will deserve it. I will gladly shake the hands of YNG if you guys win. I don’t care. Just…keep your bashing off of my page.
5 minutes ago

David GS
Weak. So weak. But, you’ll play a nice pawn in our game on Anarchy.
4 minutes ago

Butters
We are no one’s pawns. This game is ours to lose and we will not LOSE!
3 minutes ago

Ryder Strong
LOL. OK, Jigga.
2 minutes ago

Butters
Jigga who?
1 minute ago

_________________
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FMW Superstar: Christian Parkes
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PostSubject: Re: Corruption and Anarchy 15.2 Voting and Promo Thread   Wed Jan 04, 2012 11:26 pm

OOC: Very very very little internet access. This is what I got. Might add to it if I can get on a computer soon.

We see the inside of an investigation room in Philadelphia. A man sits on his chair against the wall, playing with his hands. His long black hair covers a majority ofhis face, the rest being slightly illuminated in the light. He turns his head to the left, with the hair parting for his eyes to see. He looks at the window, which is just a reflection of his appearance. On the other side of the window is Investigator Marc King. He is seen conversing with his boss, Robert Green. Bing sighs, and runs his hand through his thick grey hair.

Green: So…you’re telling me that Mr. Parkes was killed by his own son?

King: That’s exactly what I’m saying! He was pushed, by his own son!

Green: Well…that seems highly unlikely, King. Highly unlikely.

King: Sir. I know what I’m talking about.

Green: Fine, fine. Go in there, and get some sort of evidence.

Green sighs under his breath, and stands close to the glass, as King heads for the door. As he opens it, the man sitting against the wall looks up, and then straight back down.

King: Off the wall, now.

The man on the fall laughs to himself, and continues to play with his hands.

King: Did you not hear me, Mr. Parkes, off the wall. Now.

Parkes: That’s Christian to you. Mr Parkes is Christian’s father. Not me.

King: I can call you whatever I want, punk.

Parkes: Oh, you cops make Christian laugh. It’s like you’re trying to…intimidate me or something.

King: I AM trying-

Parkes: That was sarcasm. And a rhetorical question. You really need to learn about these things.

King pauses and gazes at Parkes, then shakes his head, before sitting down on the opposite side of the table. King flicks a switch on the recording equipment to his right, and picks up the piece of paper sitting on the table in front of him.

King: Marcus P. King, investigator for Philadelphia Police Department. The time is currently…9:39 pm on Tuesday, 29 November, 2011. I am currently interviewing one Christian L. Parkes about an incident that occurred during Janurary of this year, where his father Michael L. Parkes was found dead in an alleyway on Roman St. Now, Mr-

Parkes raises his eyebrows, before King takes a big gulp.

King: I mean…Christian….where were you at approximately 11:30 pm on Monday, 3 January, 2011?

Parkes lowers his head and closes his eyes. He begins to think back to that night.

Parkes: You don’t understand what I went through.

King: Wait, did your voice just change?

Parkes: Every day, my father put me through touture. He wouldn’t let me go out and play. He wouldn’t let me watch TV. He wouldn’t let me play video games. I had to train. Every single fucking day. I was the mirror image of him as a child. When my father was young, he was involved in a car accident. He suffered severe fractures to his spine. He was never going to be able to play sport again.

King continues to take down notes, occasionally looking up at Parkes.

Parkes: He wanted me to live his dream. I didn’t want to live his dream.

_________________

[B][ COLOR=#d4af37]Parkes:[ /COLOR][ /B]
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Damien
FMW World Tag Team Champion
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FMW Superstar: Damien Inferno
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PostSubject: Re: Corruption and Anarchy 15.2 Voting and Promo Thread   Thu Jan 05, 2012 3:59 am

Damien stomps up the staircase of the Los Angeles hotel where several FMW superstars are staying for the Corruption/Anarchy 15.2 show. Rage colors his face with a rabid scowl. He walks through one of the doors to enter the third floor and clenches his fists as he approaches the room belonging to Jack Eastwood. Without hesitation, Damien slams his fist against the door a few times.

"Who the fuck is it," Jack replies from within after a moment.

In response, Damien bangs on the door a few more times without a word. Jack curses within the room and can be heard walking to the door. He swings the door open just as Damien pulls his right arm back and launches his fist directly at his former friend's face, connecting with his mouth. The punch knocks Jack off balance and as he turns to try and regain it, Damien slithers into the room, shuts the door, and locks it.

"What the fuck is your problem, Jack," Damien yells as he turns back to Eastwood.

Eastwood faces Damien with a grin despite the fact that his upper lip is bleeding slightly.

"My problem? You're the one who just assaulted me, pal."

"You're challengin' me n' Nick for the tag titles after we form a fuckin' alliance? We're supposed to be on the same gods-damned side here, envy boy! What, did ya get tired of Apostasy and Celt whippin' your ass all the time?"

"You just aren't looking at this from the right angle, Damien," Jack says, shaking his head. "You always were a bit absent-minded."

"Then enlighten me, Jack. 'Cause I'd love to know how we could possibly work together if we're at each other's throats."

"That is the point, dumbass. You think this bloke Joseph you're after isn't watching you on tv?"

"You're point?"

"My point is that if he thinks we're fighting each other, it won't be easy to see we're teaming up to take his arse down."

"Knowing you, that's not the only reason," Damien says, his voice low. "I'll tell you this now, Jack. You fuck me over, in the ring, or otherwise, immortal or not, I'll cut you open and hang you by your small intestines."

"There's the Damien that was in Danse Macabre. The ruthless fuck that did what it took and more. If we're gonna get your brother back, that's who you need to be. Not the push-over bitch you've been since you got back.

"You let Dunn kick your arse three fucking times before frying him. You got yourself and Gray eliminated from that tag battle royal that same night, then had to have him drag you on top of Omega for the win. You couldn't beat Slegna at 14.1 without a chair. You backed out of your match at 14.3 for undisclosed reasons. Then Gray had to save your arse at 15.1."

"What about Death Row?"

"What about it? You beat out a couple of guys who think they're a shark and a cyborg or some other shit. S.M.U.T. aren't worth mentioning, and beating them isn't an accomplishment worth noting."

Before Damien can respond, a loud banging sounds from the door. The banging increases in force and volume before the door cracks and falls inward. In rush Daniel Prideman and Seth Rotunda. They each grab one of Damien's arms to restrain him. Damien doesn't even try to struggle as Prideman turns to Jack.

"One of the room service ladies told us a big goth guy forced his way into your room. Pretty stupid considering his little bitch of a partner isn't around to save his ass this time. What do you say, Jack? If we kick his teeth in now, things will be that much easier down the road."

Jack seems to contemplate his choices as the rest of the Pack and Damien look on.

"What's it gonna be, Jack," Damien asks, his voice calm in spite of his predicament. "Ya'll have a golden opportunity here. What're ya gonna do with it?"

Jack sighs.

"Let him go, boys."

Rotunda and Prideman stare at their mentor in shock as Damien smirks.

"Jack," Rotunda begins. "What about-"

"You heard me! Let him go."

Both men reluctantly release Damien, who makes a show of jerking his arms away once his captor's grips have loosened. As he turns to leave he reaches into his jacket pocket and retrieves a small wad of cash which he tosses back over his shoulder.

"That oughtta cover the damage to the door. And try teaching your boys some manner's Jack. Otherwise, they're gonna get themselves hurt."

Jack's lips twist into an evil grin as Damien leaves.

"Sucker."

* * *

It's a chilly night in the City of Angels. Damien breathes in deep, replaying the scene at the hotel in his head over and over in his head as he walks along the sidewalk of an empty street.

Jack surprised him, to say the least. When Damien had paid off that hotel employee to send Rotunda and Prideman up to the room, he'd known he was taking a pretty big risk. But it had turned out better than he'd expected. Jack had let him go.

Damien knows, however, that blindly trusting Jack is a mistake. After seeing inside the psychopath's head, all the bodies of potential victims who would stand in the way of his goals, Damien can not allow himself to be so naive.

A chill snakes its way down his spine, causing him to stop in his tracks. That only happens when something bad is about to happen. Damien rubber-necks up and down the street, finding nothing. But, he knows better than to trust what his eyes alone tell. So, he shuts them and presses his palm to his forehead, focusing his mind on opening his Third Eye.

His vision opens to the Spiritual World that runs parallel to ours. In this place, nothing is hidden from sight. He looks back again to find a large gray blur seemingly hovering in place many yards away. He focuses deeply upon it, and after a moment it clears to reveal a human figure in a white suit covered in a pattern akin to red blood-spatter. The face seems to be a demonic caricature of human and beast. Its eyes are too big for its sockets, bulging out far beyond normal. There is no nose to speak of, only thin slits where one would be. And the mouth is more akin to that of a shark, always grinning, showing off sharp, pointy teeth, perfect for feeding.

"You impress me, mortal," the thing hisses, a laugh behind the words. "Not many have sensed my presence before I wanted them to, wizard or otherwise."

Damien continues to stare at this monster, for once genuinely frightened, if only a bit.

"What are you?"

The thing's grin seems to falter slightly.

"I'm insulted. So uneducated is the youth of today, and equally without manners. You ask what and not who. But I suppose I expect too much from cattle."

The thing bows its head as a sign of mocking respect.

"I am Darion, one of the vampiric Enlightened, which you sheep call the Infected."

"And what do you want," Damien asks through clenched teeth.

Darion's grin widens impossibly.

"You have quite the bounty on your head, little pig. A bounty I intend to collect."

"Whatever the price is, I'll double it."

Darion emits a hissing laugh from deep in its throat.

"Money means nothing to me, little pig. The favors promised by this wizard, however, are quite enticing. And after seeing what you did to his face, I understand his hatred of you wholeheartedly."

Damien takes a step backward, readying himself to run, while simultaneously readying to sling the most powerful fire spell he can at this monster.

"Yessss. Please run. I do love sport in a hunt."

Just as that last word escapes Darion's lips, Damien unleashes a bright red pillar of flame from his hand at the vampire, and then immediately turns to run. Darion screams in pain.

"Run, run, little pig! Let the game begin!"

As Damien sprints away from the vampire behind him, he hears the monster howl in glee as it gives chase. Damien turns a corner and catches a glimps in his periferral vision of Darion crawling on all fours like a beast at impossible speed.

Suddenly, Damien feels his legs swept from beneath him. He falls face-first onto the pavement, luckily only hitting his cheek. Before he can push himself back up he is flipped over and pinned down by Darion. Damien tries to struggle, but Darion's grip is far superior to his prey's strength.

"I win," Darion gleefully chortles. "It 's a pity the wizard wants you alive, little pig. Otherwise I would gladly take you to him as a drained corpse. Alas, I shall have to settle for a mere sip."

Damien's eyes widen in hopeless panic as he continues to struggle in vain. Darion slowly lowers its monstrous teeth toward Damien's throat.

Seconds before contact would be made, the vampire is torn from atop his intended meal by some invisible force.

"Ye'll not take a drop of that lad's blood, ya walking disease!"

Damien scrambles to his feet and, using the fear and rage the vampire had caused him, he raises his arms toward his would-be kidnapper and unleashes a stream of fire at Darion's legs. The vampire screams as his legs are set ablaze, still held in the air by whoever had saved Damien.

His emotions now calmed, Damien lowers his arms and head and closes his eyes.

"Robert," he breathes out without looking toward his savior. "Thanks for the assist."

* * *

Robert pours himself a glass of liquor from his bar as Damien looks over the room, bewildered.

"How's this fuckin' possible," he asks the old man. "Your mansion's on the other side of the Atlantic from here. How is it here in California?"

"Technically," Robert begins, shaking his head and smiling, "it's not even in the same dimension as our world. One of the perks of being the avatar of a god."

"Uh. . . ."

"Nevermind."

Robert takes a sip of his drink.

"Joseph is getting sloppy. That happens when you disfigure a man as opposed to killing him outright."

"I ain't a killer anymore, Robert," says Damien, his voice deathly low. "I haven't killed anyone since the exorcism. And it's gonna stay that way."

"And what about Joseph? He's not just going to stop if you beat him again. He's going to keep attacking you until one of you is dead."

"I have a plan. But first. . ."

Damien reaches down to his belt and pulls a nine inch blade designed with a dragon etched along the blade.

"I've got me a vampire to torture. So, if you'll excuse me. . . ."

Damien turns to leave, but Robert grabs his shoulder.

"Wait," he says and pulls a knife from his own belt. "Silver plated, and enchanted so that it never chips off. The pain will be excruciating to it, but non-lethal."

Damien takes the knife and leaves the room and heads for the basement. He pulls Robert's blade from its sheath as he descends the stairs. He finds Darion chained to a slab in the middle of the room, surrounded by various blades and implements of torture, but most useless in this situation.

"I'm going to kill you, little pig," Darion rasps when he sees Damien. "I'm going to suck your veins dry."

Damien looks over his handiwork. Darions legs are all but gone, what's left a blackened, burned mess. With his Third Eye closed, Damien notes that Darion almost looks normal, if a bit pale.

"You'll have to break those enchanted silver chains first, bud. Now, I'm gonna ask you some questions, and it'll be a lot better for ya if you just be honest with me. Now tell me. . ."

Damien raises the blade above his head and vaguely aims for the vampire's stomach.

"How does this feel, bitch?"

To be continued. . . .


Last edited by Damien on Fri Jan 06, 2012 7:03 pm; edited 1 time in total
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FMW Superstar: Apostasy
Championship: Abandoned Championship

PostSubject: Re: Corruption and Anarchy 15.2 Voting and Promo Thread   Thu Jan 05, 2012 6:01 pm

Abandoned

So… this match.

Ech.

I’m not the most motivated person ever. Some days, it takes me a good hour to convince myself that I really ought to do the things I ought to do. Get up, eat a good breakfast, get some exercise, make progress… just going forward is an awful chore when you’ve already got a lot to your name. Some people don’t debate… they just go. They have almost a possession in them, a feel of perpetual incompleteness that drives them to seek out more.

I don’t have that. Not by a long shot. I look around at my place, and I realize that what I have is wonderful. I have friends, I have a nice television and a video game console that can occupy my time for hours. I have a nice computer hooked up to the internet that similarly fends off boredom whenever it is experienced. I have this title, and I’ve had it for an impressively long time. Nobody can reasonably deny that I’ve experienced some success here.

I look at someone like Chris Austin, who continues to push. He’s held the C4 title, been Superstar of the Year, won the Hayabusa Cup… and he’s still not satisfied. He has the respect of every non-sociopath in FMW, but it will never be enough for him. He’s pushing now to get his hands on that vacant FMW World Title. Perhaps he thinks it will complete him, but I know his type too well. It won’t complete him at all… it will give him something to say to all of his detractors, but they’ll simply change their arguments. There is nobody reasonable that thinks that Chris Austin is only okay. There are sociopaths in this business like Jack Eastwood and Harlequin… they’ll try to tear him down for their own amusement. But mainly, the person who tears at Chris is himself. That won’t stop when he wins the FMW Title, no matter how long he holds it.

You see, that’s the difference between me and Chris. He’s so determined to prove that he’s damn good, and he’s going to do everything he can to prove it. I know how good I am… and I can just look at my title reign and know it. I can look at the landscape of Full Metal Wrestling, and know that I’m the best champion in Full Metal Wrestling today. It’s just a fact. The C4 and World titles are vacant. The TV championship was just awarded to a guy who LOST his match at 15.1. The only person the Celt has beat when the UV title is on the line is Jack Eastwood… something I’ve done just the same. And I still have several other names to claim victory against.

So while Austin wants to earn that World Title to prove that he’s the best… I just bought a replica and declared myself the Interim Full Metal Champion. Oh, I know that this won’t be acknowledged by the FMW record books. But I know it to be true. I am the best champion in Full Metal Wrestling today. And until a new world champion emerges from that tournament at Lethal Injection… there won’t be a better champion. You might ask why the new World Champion will be better than the Abandoned Champion at that point.

Simply speaking… because I won’t be that champion anymore. Even if I still have that title. Because if nobody has bested me at that point… I’m just going to retire this belt. At that point, I am no longer a champion. A champion is a fighter… a man who defends a prize constantly. At that point… I’m just a man with a trophy on the wall. So… you might ask why I’m done with this here belt…

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

We go to a time long since past. A young Heath Yates sits in all-white living room, on a white leather sofa. Heath is dressed in a suit that looks too small for him, exposing most of his wrists and ankles while puckering at the chest. Amusingly, he wears black and white Chuck Taylors with his black suit and blue undershirt. Heath, with little expression, watches the muted television, as images of ESPN’s Sportscenter roll by. In the background, Pastor Rick Yates, the adoptive son of Heath, fusses with his thinning grey hair in the mirror. He wears the traditional black shirt and white cleric’s collar.

Pastor Yates: What ever happened to those black dress shoes I bought you?

Heath Yates: They’re a size 10

Pastor Yates: What are you these days?

Heath Yates: 12 wide

Pastor Yates: I’m sorry, kiddo. My mistake. But do you have anything a little more… respectable?

Heath Yates: The Chucks are all I have that fit me.

Pastor Yates: We’ll have to fix that. What time is it?

Heath glances at the cable box, which displays the time as 7:06.

Heath Yates: Five after

Pastor Yates: Goodness… we’ve got to get going.

Heath Yates: Why? The banquet hall is only fifteen minutes away. Isn’t the ceremony at 7:30?

Pastor Yates: Yes… but we should be there a bit early. It makes a good impression.

Heath Yates: Pastor… you’re getting an award. I don’t think you’ve got to make a great impression on them. I think it’s safe to say you already have. Hence the award.

Pastor Yates: Heath… when a community like ours gives you something, there’s a certain debt it creates. They’re giving me this Distinguished Member award… that’s a title I have to live up to. I can’t have them regretting their choice.

Heath Yates: I don’t think they’re going to regret giving you an award if you look like you’re balding.

The pastor smiles, and retrieves his keys from a wooden table in front of Heath. Heath pulls a remote from the couch cushions, and turns off the muted television.

Pastor Yates: Ready to go?

Heath Yates: I’ve been ready.

Pastor Yates: After this, I’m getting you something decent to wear.

Heath Yates: When will I need a suit next?

Pastor Yates: You never know when you’ll next need to look your best.

Heath and the pastor head out the front door. The pastor locks it, as Heath heads towards their car – a 1980s Toyota of some sort.

Heath Yates: So what’s the point of getting awards if it only means you have to work harder?

Pastor Yates: You don’t work for awards, son.

Heath frowns as he enters the passenger side door. He buckles in as the pastor enters his side, buckles up and starts the car.

Heath Yates: So why work hard?

Pastor Yates: Because the lord requires it. The world goes nowhere without hard workers.

Heath Yates: Right… but I thought that Heaven was sort of the ultimate award. Just like you raise my allowance if I raise my grades… you do something good to get something good.

Pastor Yates: Son… you’re getting to the age where you have to see that that’s not how it works. You can’t expect to be rewarded for every good thing you do. At some point, you’re going to be on your own, making your own money and maybe raising your own kids. You aren’t going to be rewarded for every good thing you do, just as I’m not rewarded for every good thing I do. The reason you do good things is that they’re good.

Heath Yates: So why do awards even exist?

Pastor Yates: Well, for kids like you… they exist to sort-of get you associating good deeds with good things, so maybe you’ll learn to just do the right thing out of habit. But whether you follow the good habits or go for bad ones… that’s up to you.

Heath Yates: But what about your award?

Pastor Yates: Well… it’s a sort of thank you from the community. I’ve helped their cause by collecting donations from the church, and they feel obliged to thank me, just as I would be obliged to thank anyone that donates to the church.

Heath Yates: So… why do people keep trophies and certificates.

Pastor Yates: I can’t speak for all adults. But you’ll notice that all of my accomplishments are down in that recreation room, where nobody looks at them. Everyone’s too busy playing pool and watching TV to notice them, but if anyone comes over to the house, they can’t complain that I don’t display the thank you I gave them. If, say, Jerry Andrews… the guy who gave me my degree from my parochial school, came over and couldn’t find that degree… he might be mad. He has to know that I value the degree, and with it all the things that his school taught me. If he thinks I threw it away or put it in storage… that doesn’t show that I care.

Heath Yates: How does keeping that certificate up show that you remember his teachings?

Pastor Yates: It doesn’t really prove it, but it just re-assures him… hypothetically. And that’s what everybody likes to know. They want to know that the good that they do lives on…

Heath Yates: That it’s preserved.

Pastor Yates: Exactly, Heath. There’s this old quote from Shakespeare… “the evil that men do, lives on; the good, often interred with their bones”. That’s from Julius Caesar.

Heath Yates: So… everyone thinks that their good deeds will just sort of fade away if others don’t care for it… sort of like that garden outside the church?

Pastor Yates: Exactly.

Heath Yates: Hmmm….

Pastor Yates: Which reminds me, while we’re at Wal-Mart, let’s pick up some seeds and fertilizer. Along with some decent shoes for you.

Heath gazes out from the moving car, pondering something.

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

I didn’t want to tell the Pastor my next thoughts. If people know that god exists… then why would they worry about their good deeds slipping into the ether? Surely they must know that God preserves such good. But I realized that not everyone believes in god the way the Pastor does. So while he seemed to understand that such prizes and trophies were ultimately meaningless, others didn’t. He knew as much. And I began to understand something about faith.

Almost nobody has it, at least not the way I understand it.

I had grown up with the pastor, and I believed that his faith was only somewhat extraordinary. He had many friends that were just as devout, and some even more so. He would go on about his days at the school, and just how devout some of them were. I had lost some perspective on the matter. Which is why it kills me to see politicians and pundits talk about American Christians as if they are one solid mass of true believers. The truth is that very few of them are the kinds of crazy that truly start all rationale from the existence of god like… say… Michelle Bachman. Because most people understand that there is a sort of questionability in that existence.

Which is why I find it the ultimate irony when a singer or athlete praises god for their accomplishments. It’s not just that it’s absurd that god should care about Tim Tebow succeeding as an NFL quarterback before tending to starving African children. It’s that praising god for your accomplishments is attributing your reward to god… something that it seems very clear to me that god does not do. God, if he exists, clearly does not reward people for being good. Partially because, as an atheist, I see no evidence of god interacting with us directly and find such an idea silly. But it’s also because if god exists… he does not give rewards to you for doing his will. He perhaps allows you into his kingdom if you prove your worth. It’s not just silliness to praise god for your accomplishments… it’s foolishness. Worse than that, it’s disrespectful. It disrespects the thanks that you’ve been offered by others to then claim that your rewards belong to god… it shows them that you don’t value those rewards in the way they want you to.

If there was one thing that I could agree with Pastor Yates on, it’s that. Rewards and accomplishments are expressions on behalf of someone or a group. And that is how I view this championship. I have worked hard to get it, but it is not any greatness in me that makes it worthwhile. What makes this belt worth anything is the belief in it. It is FMW as an organization expressing their thanks for my effort… it is the fans expressing their belief in me as a champion. You may think that’s odd coming from a non-believer. But while I don’t believe in god, and I don’t believe in things like fate and greatness… I do believe in the will of man. I believe that free will is the most powerful force in existence, and when tasked with this sort of prize, I understand that there is a staggering amount of will from many people that empowers it. I understand that responsibility.

And I cannot shrink from it.

To be honest, a part of me hopes that Son of Shark Boy takes this belt from me. He’s an entertaining young lad, and a hard worker to boot. But I cannot falter in giving my best efforts to retain this belt. It would disrespect all of those whose will went into making this championship worth something… and that is the one thing that I respect most. So while may start to feel a certain burden in holding this thing… I will never give less than my best. Because without god, there is no value in this world… save for the value that we make through our will. And I can’t, in good conscience, undermine that value.

There is only one value that matters in this world, and that is effort. Without it, the planet is merely a rock in space, abandoned to its uselessness.
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PostSubject: Re: Corruption and Anarchy 15.2 Voting and Promo Thread   Thu Jan 05, 2012 6:07 pm

Corruption
Live from the Staples Center in Los Angeles, California


Singles Match
Sage Braxton (w/ Santana Braxton) vs Runihura De Valentine
Runi was good last week, but I'm not voting against the guy that's actually shown so far

Hardcore Match
Nicholas Gray, Damien Inferno, STORMMASTER, and John Andrews vs Jack Eastwood, Daniel Prideman, Seth Rotunda, and Ripper
The Pack could honestly use the win more, but I mark for Stormy and the Gray Inferno.

Abandoned Title Match
Apostasy (c) vs Son of Shark Boy
Sharky has earned it, methinks

Ultraviolent Title Match
The Celt (c) vs Christian Parkes
I know he hasn't shown yet, but given that Christian isn't going to be able to put up much and that Celt hasn't really gotten a chance to shine as UV Champ yet... I'm going with the champ.

Anarchy

Singles Match
Callum Pullin vs Paul Brooks
Coin flip

Singles Match
Mark Johansson vs Smoochy Da Frog
I do mark for Smoochy... but YNG is on a roll and should stay that way for awhile

Main Event
Tag Match

David GS and Matt Ashburn vs Ryder Strong and Butters
See above reasoning
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PostSubject: Re: Corruption and Anarchy 15.2 Voting and Promo Thread   Thu Jan 05, 2012 7:28 pm

Corruption
Live from the Staples Center in Los Angeles, California


Singles Match
Sage Braxton (w/ Santana Braxton) vs Runihura De Valentine

Hardcore Match
Nicholas Gray, Damien Inferno, STORMMASTER, and John Andrews vs Jack Eastwood, Daniel Prideman, Seth Rotunda, and Ripper

Abandoned Title Match
Apostasy (c) vs Son of Shark Boy

Ultraviolent Title Match
The Celt (c) vs Christian Parkes

Anarchy

Singles Match
Callum Pullin vs Paul Brooks

Singles Match
Mark Johansson vs Smoochy Da Frog

Main Event
Tag Match
David GS and Matt Ashburn vs Ryder Strong and Butters

Promo to follow in a while.

_________________
Full Metal Wrestling's -NUMBER ONE- Draft Pick.
Butters' "Best Of..." Tournament Series - Tournament Two - Best Of... Villians



theomega311@gmail.com 11:51 pm
(11:51:32 PM): Buffalo is nowhere near New York.
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PostSubject: Re: Corruption and Anarchy 15.2 Voting and Promo Thread   Thu Jan 05, 2012 10:07 pm

Singles Match
Sage Braxton (w/ Santana Braxton) vs Runihura De Valentine

Hardcore Match
Nicholas Gray, Damien Inferno, STORMMASTER, and John Andrews vs Jack Eastwood, Daniel Prideman, Seth Rotunda, and Ripper

Abandoned Title Match
Apostasy (c) vs Son of Shark Boy
May the best wrestler win.

Ultraviolent Title Match
The Celt (c) vs Christian Parkes

Anarchy

Singles Match
Callum Pullin vs Paul Brooks

Singles Match
Mark Johansson vs Smoochy Da Frog

Main Event
Tag Match

David GS and Matt Ashburn vs Ryder Strong and Butters


Last edited by The Blurpedo on Fri Jan 06, 2012 1:56 am; edited 1 time in total
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PostSubject: Re: Corruption and Anarchy 15.2 Voting and Promo Thread   Thu Jan 05, 2012 10:32 pm

Singles Match
Sage Braxton (w/ Santana Braxton) vs Runihura De Valentine

Hardcore Match
Nicholas Gray, Damien Inferno, STORMMASTER, and John Andrews vs Jack Eastwood, Daniel Prideman, Seth Rotunda, and Ripper

Abandoned Title Match
Apostasy (c) vs Son of Shark Boy

Ultraviolent Title Match
The Celt (c) vs Christian Parkes

Anarchy

Singles Match
Callum Pullin vs Paul Brooks

Singles Match
Mark Johansson vs Smoochy Da Frog

Main Event
Tag Match
David GS and Matt Ashburn vs Ryder Strong and Butters


Last edited by John Andrews on Fri Jan 06, 2012 1:08 pm; edited 1 time in total
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PostSubject: Re: Corruption and Anarchy 15.2 Voting and Promo Thread   Fri Jan 06, 2012 12:02 am

(OOC: More to the promo will be posted depending what time I get home from work.)

PRESS CONFERENCE

FMW President: Thank you all for coming. We're having this press conference to bring some exposure to our low-mid card wrestlers. Joining us today for this is former MMA fighter turned professional wrestler Paul Brooks and his opponent Callum Pullin.

Media member: There's only two people though? We see you and Brooks but where is Pullin at?

Brooks: He's probably getting ready for our match.

FMW President: That's most likely it. I doubt he would no-show a press conference for something that would essentially put more money in his pocket.

*crowd laughs*

Media member: So Paul, what's your gameplan coming into this match?

Brooks: I'm showing up. Kicking ass. Leaving.

--

Singles Match
Sage Braxton (w/ Santana Braxton)

Hardcore Match
Nicholas Gray, Damien Inferno, STORMMASTER, and John Andrews

Abandoned Title Match
Son of Shark Boy

Ultraviolent Title Match
The Celt (c)

Anarchy

Singles Match
Paul Brooks

Singles Match
Mark Johansson

Main Event
Tag Match
David GS and Matt Ashburn
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PostSubject: Re: Corruption and Anarchy 15.2 Voting and Promo Thread   Fri Jan 06, 2012 10:55 am

Delusions of Grandeur.


It’s New Years Eve, a time of year where anything can happen but often doesn’t. It is regarded as being one of the biggest let downs in the calendar year. This year was different, why because Mark Johansson was doing something that he never had to the chance to do.

Looking out the ceiling to roof windows looking over the beautiful New York skyline at the most exclusive bar in the Upper East Side. A marble bar top is served by the most professional cocktail makers in America with nothing but top shelf spirits lining the wall behind them. Hanging from the roof were opulent chandeliers the illuminated the blush couches that surround the dance floor.


10…

9…

8…

7…

6…

5…

4…

3…

2…

1…

The sky is lit up with the joyous clapping of fireworks, illuminating the faces of New York as they eagerly bring in the new year.

Crowd: Happy New Year!!!

To bring in the New Year the entire membership of “Your New Gods” cheers and take a sip of their Cristal which is routinely topped up by the beautiful waitresses.

Bryson: Raise your glasses gents.

The four men clink glasses.

Bryson: Happy new year brothers, tonight marks the start of something great. 2012 marks the dawning of a new age, the age in which Your New Gods will reign supreme. This year is our year.

Simple. Direct. And true, we are now complete and ready to take FMW for a ride that they will never forget with Anarchy having its official relaunch this show it is the first step of many that will see us reign supreme.

Bryson: Gentlemen, we all have equally important matches this week.

Ashburn: Ryder Strong and Butters? They are nothing.

David GS: We will systematically destroy them.

Bryson: Of course you will, if I doubted your ability to do so you would not be standing here.

Mark: It isn’t a matter of you beating them, it is a matter of making an example.

Bryson: Wise words from the old man, this is the first main event for Anarchy. We need to make everyone remember what Anarchy stood for. [/I]

Ashburn: Blood sport.

Bryson: Exactly. And Mark –

Mark: How do I defeat someone who thinks they are a frog.

David GS: Try kissing it.

Ashburn spits out his champagne in laughter.

Mark: Excuse me?

Ashburn: He looks like your type.

Mark: Gay jokes, classy.

David GS: Look… kiss him… turn him into a prince then read him his Miranda Rights.

Bryson: Brilliant, Matt and David will destroy Ryder Strong and Butters. Mark will go gay to beat a frog.

Ashburn: Good plan, time for a new drink.

The three other members of YNG depart on their own individual errands, Bryson to go shake hands and kiss babies, Ashburn for a new drink and David GS to the bathroom for most likely a piss.

Mark: I’m not going gay to beat a frog.

???: That’s not a great reason for turning gay.

Mark turns around to the stranger to see a beautiful girl, wearing a long black gown with a lace up back and a million dollar diamond Bvlgari necklace. Her skin was white as snow, her lips as red as blood and hair as black as ebony.

Mark: It’s a good way to dip your toe in to test the waters. Mark Johansson please to meet you.

Mark puts his hand out, which the stranger limply shakes and pecks Mark on both cheeks.

???: Ludovica Gagitano. The pleasure was all mine. I’ll see you around Mark.

And like a gust of wind she was gone, disappeared into the mass of people dancing to the underground piano house.

Dopey: Dat ass…

Mark looks down to see a glassy eyed man sinking into the couch, barely able to keep his eyes open.

Mark: Your friend’s asleep.

The man rolls his head slowly to his left to see his friends is passed out with a trickle of drool coming from his mouth.

Dopey: He does that… nothing serious really. Just a nap… just a disco nap, he’ll be back in a few minutes…

The man seems to still be talking but lost his train of thought, seconds tick back before he finally rolls his head back to face Mark.

Dopey: … Stronger than ever.

He closes his eyes briefly before jerking his head back and hitting his head on the wood frame of the couch.

Mark: It was good meeting you.

Mark makes his way through the crowd before spotting Sir Nicholas Bryson who beckons him over.

Bryson: Marky Mark, I trust you know Kim Kardashian?

Standing in front of his is none other than one of the biggest earners on American television for being famous simply because they are famous.

Mark: One of the most talked about TV stars, how could I not know who she is.

Bryson: She was just telling me about her new line of fashion, just for men. In fact we are wearing her suits.

Kim starts to babble on when Mark’s eyes start to drift away, as the crowd parts he notices the lovely Ludovica dancing with someone suddenly their eyes meets and she gives him a wink, Mark quickly downs the rest of his champagne just to have it instantly refilled.

Mark: Excuse me.

Patting Bryson on the back and getting a kiss on the cheek from the number one Kardashian he saunters over to where Ludovica is dancing.

Ludovica: Happy New Year.

They clink glasses as she turns away from her dancing partners, whose wide eyes, large pupils and grinding teeth is evidence enough he doesn’t really notice as he is happy in his own little world.

Ludovica: You need to loosen up.

It was true, Mark can’t dance, spending his adolescence and early twenties as part of the mob meant that the part of his life that most spend being disco bunnies was spent with hardened criminals and hardened criminals don’t dance.

Ludovica: Start with moving your feet.

She grabs Mark’s hips and his heart skips a beat.

Ludovica: Just the man shuffle, step left, step right… repeat. And just feel the beat.

It was basic dance moves but it didn’t seem to matter she wanted to help and Mark wasn’t going to stop her.

Suddenly Ludovica stops and turns to slap the “Happy” dancer, with her back turned Mark can see that the lace up had been loosened.


Ludovica: Dam pill poppers… excuse me while I go fix myself up.

So, Mark was left alone on the dance floor. Left alone with no moves he stood out like a sore thumb. To the side he sees another two men that stuck out in Matt Ashburn and David GS.

Mark: Boys. Hope I’m not interrupting anything.

Mark cheers them both and takes a seat next to them.

David GS: Just talking about how a party like this is not us.

Mark: Trust me it isn’t me either, but there is no reason you shouldn’t live it up. Bryson has chosen you for your potential and to live a life you wouldn’t ever of been able to lead. For me, this is chance to revive my career and not deteriorate into a lonely retirement. He led me to a championship but he will lead you to many. Your careers are about to take off.

Mark’s words hopefully sink in but being New Years Eve one is unable to help but to review the year that has passed and their hopes and dreams for the year about to begin.

David GS: Thanks mark.

Mark: Enjoy your night guys, it’s a start of a new beginning.

Mark walks back to the bar to get a smooth single malt whiskey where he is greeted by one of the most grumpiest bartenders.

Mark: Glenmorangie, neat.

With a hint of reluctence the grumpy bartender goes to fetch Mark’s drink when another patron comes to the bar.

Sneezy: Sup *sniff*, enjoying yourself?

Mark: Can’t complain.

Sneezy: *sniff* You know that chick you were talking to? I’m going to take her home.

Mark: Really?

Sneezy: Really, starts with buying her a drink.

The bartender returns with Mark’s drink and before he can ask the stranger what he wants he shouts his drink order.

Sneezy: Apple Martini.

The bartender scoffs and walks away.

Sneezy: *sniff* bitches love appletinis.

Mark pushes a cocktail napkin in front of his sniffling competition.

Mark: You have a bit of snot hanging mate.

With a nod to the bartender who is trying to hide his smirk Mark takes his drink and begins to look for the Italian mare that has taken up residence in his mind.

Bryson: This is living isn’t it.

Bryson puts his arm around the shoulder of Mark and steers him to look over the New York skyline.

Bryson: I can’t give it all to you, but if you work with me we can have it all.

Al Pacino: Sir Nicholas Bryson.

Bryson: Excuse me Mark, we are talking about the next blockbuster hit.

Mark barely notices Bryson departure, he had seen his girl… on the couch with another guy stroking her hair. Once again their eyes met and something about her gaze screamed for her to be saved.

Ludovica: Mark, still thinking about going gay to beat a frog?

Doc: Excuse me?

Ludovica: Sorry, this is Doctor Steve. Doctor Steve this is Mark.

Doc: So, is this frog some kind of meta-four for something?

Mark: No… it’s exactly how it sounds.

Doc: You have to go gay to beat a frog?

Ludovica: No, but it’s an option.

Mark: And I’m just trying to think of other options.

Ludovica: And how is that going?

Mark: I really don’t want to gay to beat a frog.

Doc: I’m confussed.

Ludovica: That’s ok…

Ludovica jerks her head away from the creepy doctor stroking her head before jumping up and leading Mark back to the dance floor. Right on cue the sniffling jerk returns with his appletini, apparently bitches love appletinis…

Sneezy: *sniff* bought you a drink beautiful.

Ludovica: Ugh… no thanks.

Mark steps in to save her as he spots a small tablet at the bottom of the glass.

Mark: Sorry to break it to you sniffles, appletinis not so popular.

Rejected the man walks away but all is not lost he tries to pawn off his drink to another one of the plethora of beautiful girls at the party.

She leans in gently and whispers softly into Mark’s ears which causes Mark’s pupils to grow wide. Leaning back she bites her lip softly and grabs Mark’s hand leading him away towards the door. Straight past a young looking guy with spiked up hair and a horrible fake tan.


Douche: Did it hurt when you fell -

Bryson: Corny lines work in Jersey buddy, maybe you should head back to your slum.

The Jersey shore rip off starts to blush, visible even through his orange tan.

Bryson: This is our year Marky Mark.

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

Sorry, no velvet oasis for everyone. Sometimes things are better left unsaid.

It wasn’t a disappointing night, it was quite possibly the greatest night that Mark Johansson had ever lived. Your New Gods has given him a new lease on life, a chance to be something more than a washed up undercover cop who in his two years in FMW never reached the heights that he reached in two months of being a part of YNG.

2012 is the year of Anarchy.

And Anarchy is Your New Gods.



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PostSubject: Re: Corruption and Anarchy 15.2 Voting and Promo Thread   Fri Jan 06, 2012 3:13 pm

Singles Match
Sage Braxton (w/ Santana Braxton)

Hardcore Match
Jack Eastwood, Daniel Prideman, Seth Rotunda, and Ripper

Abandoned Title Match
Apostasy (c)

Ultraviolent Title Match
The Celt (c)

Anarchy

Singles Match
Paul Brooks

Singles Match
Mark Johansson

Main Event
Tag Match
Ryder Strong and Butters


SERIOUSLY, FMW PEOPLE YOU HAVE GOT TO DO FUCKING BETTER THAN THIS.
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Loins

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PostSubject: Re: Corruption and Anarchy 15.2 Voting and Promo Thread   Fri Jan 06, 2012 4:57 pm

It was the top of the mountain, Prideman had hit the peek. He stood head held high, his arm raised in victory and holding the title above his head. It had been a gruelling match, he was battered, bloody and bruised but here he was, champion. He stared out into the crowd his mother and younger brothers faces smiling back at him. Then suddenly, the lights began to fade. The colour drained from his surroundings and total darkness was taking over. He was clutching at the title in his hands but soon he felt that disappearing as well. All his dreams, all his happiness was disappearing from around him. It was like he'd never be happy again. He looked up from his hands where the title had rested moments earlier and noticed a tall, hooded man stood 5 metres from him. He was a huge man, almost 300 pounds and nearing 7 foot.

Prideman: Who are you? What are you doing here? Where's everyone, everything gone?

The hooded figure spoke back, the voice was somewhat familiar but it hissed at him.

Hooded Figure: I know all about you Daniel. Everything you desire, all your loves, your hates. I know them all.

Prideman was more than spooked by all of this. He'd just become champion and now he was faced with a truly surreal moment.

Prideman: What do you want from me?

Hooded Figure: You. I've been watching over you. I know all the answers to all the mysteries in your life. I have you in the palm of my hand and I will continue to do so until the time is right.

Prideman: Right? Right for what?

The hooded figure turned and began walking towards Prideman. His face was still shrouded in darkness; as much as Prideman was looking he couldn't make out any features.

Hooded Figure: Your anger. Your fury. It's what I am watching. Your life decisions. You have sinned. When I decide it's time, I'm coming for you and I will kill you.

The hooded figure pulled a knife from his pocket and lunged at Prideman, he braced himself for the contact, knowing now was his time to die...

Prideman: FUCK!

Prideman sat bolt upright in his bed. He was drenched in sweat and shaking. He got up and went to the window, opening it and sticking his head out to feel the fresh air. He needed to wake up and shake this off. At that moment the door swung open.

Eastwood: What the fuck is up with you? Why are you so sweaty?

Prideman was silent, taking a deep breath and trying to get his heart rate back to normal.

Eastwood: Oh I get it, danger wank right?

Prideman: No Jack. I was not having a danger wank. It was just, just a dream yeah. Leave it out.

Eastwood: Awww did you have a bad dream? Ickle Danny got scared?

Prideman: I said fuck off.

Eastwood: What was it about then? You gonna tell me?

Prideman: It was weird alright. There was a figure; he said he was coming after me. Something about me being angry, watching over me. I don't know.

Eastwood: Hmmm, interesting. Well how about we chill out, have a fag, a beer and see how it goes.

Prideman: It's fine Jack, I just want to get more sleep.

Eastwood: Do you want me to tuck you in and check under the bed and in the wardrobe for the boogeyman?

Prideman: You utter knob! It's fine. I'm off to bed. Night Jack.

Eastwood: Night mate.

Prideman rolled over to get to sleep. The dream had been strange and now he could just feel eyes searing into his flesh. He was under serveilence, someone was watching, and they were coming for Prideman.


Last edited by Loins on Fri Jan 06, 2012 5:06 pm; edited 1 time in total
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PostSubject: Re: Corruption and Anarchy 15.2 Voting and Promo Thread   Fri Jan 06, 2012 5:05 pm

Corruption
Live from the Staples Center in Los Angeles, California


Singles Match
Sage Braxton (w/ Santana Braxton) vs Runihura De Valentine

Hardcore Match
Nicholas Gray, Damien Inferno, STORMMASTER, and John Andrews vs Jack Eastwood, Daniel Prideman, Seth Rotunda, and Ripper

Abandoned Title Match
Apostasy (c) vs Son of Shark Boy

Ultraviolent Title Match
The Celt (c) vs Christian Parkes
Anarchy

Singles Match
Callum Pullin vs Paul Brooks

Singles Match
Mark Johansson vs Smoochy Da Frog

Main Event
Tag Match
David GS and Matt Ashburn vs Ryder Strong and Butters


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PostSubject: Re: Corruption and Anarchy 15.2 Voting and Promo Thread   Fri Jan 06, 2012 6:16 pm

I want to tell you a story.

Or, rather, I want to tell you a few stories. They're small, don't worry, I know that with each passing year the global attention span rate drops. But you should listen. I'll only tell them once. You should feel honored. I don't break the embargo frequently.

The first story takes place in what you'd call “a long time ago,” 21 years ago. 1990. He was eight. Not a smart child, not a dumb child. Just a child, average to everyone who taught him. They saw a mask. Even that young, the mask was there. What they saw was a happy child. One who liked reading, and computer games.

What I saw, was what was under the mask. A confused child. An angry child. Over what? How others treated him. Some saw fit to use him as a means of making themselves feel superior. Bullying, I believe is the term. One of them in particular enjoyed it very much. Perhaps because his father drank, or because his mother was a whore, but either way he enjoyed trying to make our mutual friend's childhood suffer.

There wasn't any kind of huge lead to it. It just occurred. The boy was doing the same routine he did every day with our friend, but on this day. The mask snapped.

He hit the boy in the face with the binder he carried. And when the boy went down, our friend continued to hit him with it. He was able to break the boy's nose before a teacher pulled him off. Three days suspension, and medication. An incident like that did not occur again, so they were placated. They believed it a one time occurrence. I think we can see that is most certainly not the case, yes? That was the first time the mask cracked, but it wasn't the last, or the worst.

Then we'll move forward, 9 years. Japan. Training to follow this dream of wrestling fame. That was a special time for us both. At that point, the mask was weak. The weakest it has ever been. A faint attempt at a mask was there, and even it was dark. Angry at everything he saw wrong with the world.

Well, someone did try to make the mask deepen, and erase the bond he and I share, but that's...a story for a different day. A very fun day.

He was training with an old, broken down wrestler. He wasn't the only one, there were a few others, a mixed bag of races all chasing the dream of being broken day in and day out. Inspiring, really, if you're into that kind of thing.

One of the men he was training with, a man named Tobias, was a very arrogant man. Tobias believed that training was not important for him to follow, as he thought himself a naturally born athlete. Not only that, but he spent a large amount of time insulting the other students for not being as great as he was.

As an aside, Tobias was an abhorrent performer, who had no understanding of the word “selling.” Quite boring to watch.

In particular he singled out our mutual friend. Perhaps because he was young, perhaps because of the mask. Perhaps he merely had a wish to never wrestle again.

One night, they were being put through the paces, which concluded with a practice match between our mutual friend and Tobias. The old man would shout out moves for them to do, and they were expected to do them with the appropriate amount of selling and psychology.

Tobias did not feel like doing so.

Tobias felt like taking what our mutual friend did and immediately leap up, laughing.

The mask was weak, like I said, and on this night it didn't take much for it to break.

Our mutual friend, instead of doing the suplex he was told to do, kicked Tobias in the skull. Tobias went down, and he started kicking him. Ribs. Chest. Head. And he didn't stop until two of the other students got in and dragged him out. Tobias was carted off to the hospital, and would not return to the school.

He wrote it off as stress building up, and when it didn't repeat itself the old man continued training him. Of course, we know the real reason why. He was angry, and he took it out on Tobias. That's how he, what he really is, works. A simple beast.

Last one now, I won't be keeping you much longer.

Let's go forward more. To July 24th, 2009. That was when the Ultimatum II event occurred. And tucked away in the pre-show, in the opening match, was our mutual friend. He came into it a “changed man.” Supposedly having improved his mind since his...unceremonious last passing through. He came into it a “more intelligent, more focused performer.”

I think by now, you can see where these tales are going.

He tried. He tried very hard. Even though it was to be an ultraviolent match, he tried to keep his mask on. But one of the men in the match drove a meat hook through his shoulder. And the mask fell in a flash of anger. He grabbed a bag, which he knew before picking it up what it held, and he slammed it into a man's head.

The bag held thumbtacks, and a brick.

And then he drove the man down onto the thumbtacks, and pinned him.

The man never wrestled again, and our mutual friend most certainly enjoyed doing that.

Now his mask is different. It's better dressed. He professes a new outlook on life, says he's a “detective,” tries to be friends with old foes. A better performer. A champion.

But it's still a mask. Masks crumble.

It's happened before. It will happen again. Such is fate.

And when it does, he will most certainly enjoy his actions after.

If you're still listening, or indeed if this message even reached you through the skies, there is a reason I told you these stories. Not a warning, because let's be honest I don't care about your well-being. Indeed, if you managed to force it out, you'd be assisting me greatly.

Let's call it a “friendly” tip then, shall we?

Do be careful, little ones.

You've no idea what you might unleash.

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thenickbryson 7:13 pm
do you ever wish you could lick your own balls
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Nicholas Gray
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PostSubject: Re: Corruption and Anarchy 15.2 Voting and Promo Thread   Fri Jan 06, 2012 6:18 pm

Singles Match
Sage Braxton (w/ Santana Braxton) vs Runihura De Valentine

Hardcore Match
Nicholas Gray, Damien Inferno, STORMMASTER, and John Andrews vs Jack Eastwood, Daniel Prideman, Seth Rotunda, and Ripper

Abandoned Title Match
Apostasy (c) vs Son of Shark Boy

Ultraviolent Title Match
The Celt (c) vs Christian Parkes
Anarchy

Singles Match
Callum Pullin vs Paul Brooks

Singles Match
Mark Johansson vs Smoochy Da Frog

Main Event
Tag Match
David GS and Matt Ashburn vs Ryder Strong and Butters

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thenickbryson 7:13 pm
do you ever wish you could lick your own balls


Last edited by Nicholas Gray on Fri Jan 06, 2012 10:52 pm; edited 1 time in total
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Easty



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PostSubject: Re: Corruption and Anarchy 15.2 Voting and Promo Thread   Fri Jan 06, 2012 6:39 pm

Tenant The First

The strength of your allies pales in comparison to the strength in your allies.


Saturday, 31st December
2359 AST

10!

9!

8!


Sunday, 1st January
1132 AST


Jack rises from the carpet he made for his bed just two hours ago, shaking his lanky dreadlocks out of his face, grimacing as what appear to be small flecks of vomit shoot off it. He scratches his rear lazily, almost pointlessly, and stalks his way to the kitchen. He pushes on the door hard, but it refuses to budge and, with a small, annoyed grunt, draws his fist back.

A pock-mark-esque hole appears above the handle on the other side of the door, chipboard and Eastwood’s fist streaming from it. He reaches down, feeling what he assumes to be hair. He starts to poke the scalp of its wearer, unamused, until they too awaken from their drunken haze. As the person gets up Jack takes his hand out of the door and stands, waiting. The former sleeper opens the door to a surprised Eastwood.


Jack: Why the hell are you asleep in the kitchen, Elephant?


Saturday, 31st December
2359 AST

7!

6!

5!


Sunday, 1st January
1136 AST


A steaming mug of strong whisky-laced coffee in one hand and a piece of toast in the other, Jack stares across the kitchen at the impossibly tall African man, who sits at the table, head in hands, shaking. He takes a bite out of the toast and speaks whilst chewing.

Jack: So let me get this straight. You’re annoyed at yourself because, at a New Year’s Eve party, where it’s pretty much the rule to get absolutely off your face, you had a couple of drinks? What’s wrong with that?

Elephant: You do not understand, Mr Eastwood! I am a man of God!

Jack: Right, and nobody’s denying you that, El. But you had a couple of drinks to ring in the New Year! Is your deity going to disallow you the ability to enjoy yourself for once?

Elephant: It is not a question of whether or not He will allow it. He allows all things, as He must, for He is omnipotent and allows for our fall into temptation. But I swore to myself that the demon drink would not take me, for I owe my life to Him!

Elephant stands up, casting his chair to the floor with a smack. It’s rare that Jack has to look up to meet a man’s eyes, but Elephant’s shadow towers over him. Jack slowly puts down his coffee and looks up at the big man.

Jack: Elephant, please try and understand me when I say this. You are not an alcoholic. You had a drink or two, something that you’ve never, and I can appreciate that, something you’ve never done before. With that said, all you are suffering from is a hangover. You’ve seen the people that wander these halls and you know what alcohol can do to people. People have killed themselves because of their alcoholism, El. Do you feel like killing yourself?

Elephant: The Bible forbids-

Jack: No, El! Don’t consider the words of a book for a second. Contemplate your own mind. Are you feeling a little hungover from your drinking or are you feeling like you could place a bullet between your eyes?

Elephant: …I feel… I feel ashamed.

He drops his head and sinks to the floor, resting his back against the wall. Eastwood drops to his haunches, looking at him.

Jack: And there is nothing wrong with that either. But do you know something, El? I really don’t think that your deity would be upset either way.

Elephant: How can you say that, Mr Eastwood?

Jack: Let me tell you a story about somebody that I know. His name’s Simon… but you probably know him best as Peter…


Saturday, 31st December
2359 AST

4!

3!

2!

1!

HAPPY NEW YEAR!


The party at The Asylum is in full swing as they ring in the New Year. Daniel and Seth are in the spirit, trying to make their way through the Scottish Highlands of whisky. Panther dances with other females of the Pack, her dominance never said or acknowledged. Other men and women walk around, laughing, screaming, kissing and living. And then there’s Jack.

Jack stands on the balcony above the main hall of the Church, watching the party take place on the floor below with a large glass of clear liquid clutched in his fist. He nods at a few people, wishes them well as they pass, cracking the occasional smile. But mostly, he just watches. Because he knows that come summer, three-quarters of them will be gone.

A loud voice calls out to him from the teeming crowds on his level. He turns and catches Snake, whom he beckons over. Snake staggers over, obviously the worse for wear.


Jack: How’s it going?

Snake: Best. New Year’s Party. Ever.

Jack: That good, huh?

Snake: Better than. You know something, Jack? For a filthy, grumpy asshole you sure know how to throw a good party.

Jack: Was that supposed to be a compliment?

Snake: Didn’t it sound like one?

Jack: Not really.

He pulls out a cigar, drawing it under his nose and smiling.

Jack: Ah… you know, despite all the illegal substances I take, sometimes there’s nothing finer than the things that can kill you even worse.

He lights it, proferring one to Snake, who obliges.

Snake: Not like dying matters to you.

Jack: Oh, but it does. It hurts, mate. Dying fucking hurts.

Snake: You big pussy, you.

Jack: Again with the insults?

Snake: Yeah, but aren’t you meant to be like, grrr, I dunno, He-Man or some shit?

Jack: Disaster of the Universe more like.

Snake: Hehe. Hahaha! That’s funny, man!

Jack: I’m glad you think so.

He sighs, turning around to look over the crowd once more.

Snake: What’s wrong?

Jack: It’s nothing.

Snake joins him, looking over the balcony… at one person in particular. Jack catches him staring and smirks.

Snake: You sure?

Jack: Don’t worry about me, worry about where your eyes are drifting.

Snake snaps his head up guiltily.

Snake: What? What?

Jack sniggers.

Jack: You fancy Panther, don’t you?

Snake: …maybe.

Jack: You do, you sneaky fucker!

Snake frowns.

Snake: Is it a problem?

Jack: A problem? Why should I care?

Snake: You… you’re not…

Jack: Not… what?

Snake: Well, you know… fucking her.

Jack: Are you serious?

Snake: Yeah, I thought-

Jack: You thought wrong.

He turns away, feeling uncomfortable.

Snake: Wait, are you gay?

He turns back instantly.

Jack: How much have you had to drink?

Snake: Well if you think you can take advantage of a drunk guy, I can tell you right now that I don’t-

Jack: Woah woah woah… what gave you the impression I was that way inclined?

Snake: You’re not fucking Panther and it’s obvious she really wants to fuck you.

Jack: So?

Snake: So… she’s evidently hot.

Jack: I’m not really after anything right now.

Snake: Oh come on, you’re a guy! Guys have needs!

Jack: Not this one. Got what I need in my two fists.

He sips the liquid and takes a drag from the cigar to punctuate his point.

Snake: Was Panther lying, then?

Jack: What d’you mean?

Snake: Do you even have a dick?

Jack: Want me to whip it out and beat it across your face?

Snake: No-

Jack: Then stop asking. I just… did something shitty to a girl in the past and ever since then… it’s not felt right. Satisfied?

Snake: Well… no, but… fuck man, I’m sorry.

Jack: It’s cool. You weren’t to know. I don’t really like to talk about it. Now come on, let’s get you two hooked up!

He starts to move but Snake grabs his shoulder.

Snake: What? No man, no!

Jack: Why not?

Snake: I can’t… I can’t do it.

Jack: Now who’s the pussy?

Snake: This isn’t fair man, not cool.

Jack: Alright then, how about this?

He shoves his drink into Snake’s hand.

Jack: Get drunk, see what happens. Kay?

Snake quaffs the drink senselessly.

Snake: …kay.


Sunday, 1st January
1152 AST


Jack: …and that’s why we, as human beings, have free will. Because we can choose to believe whatever we want to believe. I, for instance, admit that there’s a higher power, but I don’t necessarily worship them in any way because they are, in my opinion, morally oblivious. And do you still believe that your God is the one and true God?

Elephant: …yes. He protected me when all else around me shunned me, so I must thank Him, at least for guiding you to me.

Jack: Well, that’s cool. Not gonna say otherwise, because I don’t know. Maybe they did. You just do what you want inside your own head, El. I’m not gonna stop you. Not like I can stop a man’s thoughts, anyway.

Snake scrabbles through the kitchen door, hair messy, eyes bloodshot. He fails to notice Jack and Elephant on the floor until it’s too late, when he trips over Eastwood’s outstretched legs.

Snake: What the fuck?

Jack: Do you mind? Serious philosophical conversation happening here.

Snake: Ah… I… what?

Jack: Ooh, too much to handle? Here, have one of these.

Without getting up, he slides open a drawer full of pain relievers. Snake picks out a blister, takes two tablets and swallows them, washing them down with Jack’s coffee instinctively.

Jack: My coffee!

Snake peers down at the mug and processes Jack’s words, before shoving it away from him in horror.

Jack: Woah, what’s up with you, fella?

Snake: You… your drinks… kill me!

Elephant: Is he an alcoholic?

Eastwood gets up, smiling.

Jack: Nah. Just far more hungover than you are. Snake, sit down, mate. I’ll get you a bottle of water. Unopened. Kay?

Snake: …right…

As Jack opens the fridge, Snake moans and lays his head on the worktop.

Snake: What did you give me last night…?

Jack: Just a non-lethal dose of ethanol.

Snake: But you said that stuff was legal!

Jack: And it is… just a bit dangerous if you have too much. You’ll be fine.

Snake: I feel like death.

Jack: Relax, you weren’t even at the point where you could have died.

Snake: I could have died!?

Jack: No, you couldn't have, that’s what I just said.

He places a bottle of water in front of him and sits down.

Jack: So how did it go?

Snake: …how did what go?

Jack: You know… with…

He leans in, gritting his teeth.

Jack: Panther.

Snake shakes his head.

Snake: To be honest, I don’t remember. I went blank after I had that drink. Do you know what happened?

Jack: I saw you going over to Panther and that was it, didn’t see either of you for the rest of the night. I assumed you got your end away.

Snake: Well she wasn’t there when I woke up. By the way, you know the reading room?

Jack: Where Prideman goes?

Snake: Yeah… well… I may have thrown up on the chair.

Jack: You’re fucking kidding.

Snake: I wish I was.

Jack: In there, clean-up, now.

Snake hurries off, pressing the water to his face as he moans.

Jack: El, if Daniel asks, it was me. I know he won’t believe me, but he won’t question me either.

Elephant: I understand, Mr Eastwood.

Jack: Why do you keep on calling me that, anyway?

Elephant: Respect.

Jack: You respect me? Honestly? I’m not a nice man, El.

Elephant: True. But you are a good man, at heart. You have made mistakes which you are trying to forgive yourself for.

Jack: I’ll get there in the end.

Elephant: Or the end will come to you. Either way, it is all the same.

Jack: …the end will come to me?

Elephant: It is an old family saying in my village.

Jack: No, but… that sounds… worryingly familiar…


Sunday, 1st January
1426 AST


Jack stands with the Trinis Oculus in his hands, dark eyes poring over the text. The reddish-brown, leathery casing pulsated under his hands as he read, a deep-set worry forming. Daniel came into the room, face furious.

Daniel: I know you’re lying.

Jack looked up, dragged out of his reverie.

Jack: Hm?

Daniel: You’re covering for someone. Someone fucked up my favourite room, now, I’m not going to ask who it was-

Jack: Shut up and look at this.

He shoves the Oculus under Daniel’s face.

Jack: What do you see?

Daniel: Nothing, I… it’s just… meaningless red scribbles – Jack, what the fuck is this about?

Jack: You can’t see the words, the letters?

Daniel: They’re hazy, indistinct. Like I’m looking at them through broken glass.

Jack: Are they blueish-green?

Daniel: No. Red, like I told you.

Jack: …fuck.

Daniel: What?

Jack: We need to pay a visit to Gold Standard.

Daniel: Oh god, those pricks?

Jack: Well, one prick in particular. Don’t worry, I’ll agitate Jon a bit, get him to come to Corruption.

Daniel: But what do they have to do with this… thing?

Jack: It’s not just a thing, Daniel. A while ago, an old friend used this as a means to an end. But the end was where he began. In essence, the end came to him before he could come to it.

Daniel: That makes fuck-all sense. Have you been drinking?

Jack: Stone cold sober.

Daniel: Explains a lot.

Jack: Shut up, you sarcastic tosser, this is serious!

Seth pokes his head in the door.

Seth: Pack meeting?

Jack: Come in, close the door behind you.

Seth slams the door shut.

Seth: So what’s up?

Jack: Look at this.

He passes the Oculus to Seth, who glances at it briefly.

Seth: All I see is black paper.

Daniel: How can you not see the red ink?

Jack: We all see something different. That’s what troubles me.

Daniel: So what does that mean?

Jack: It means… that this device… the Trinis Oculus… holds more than one prophecy in it. I never considered it before, but, when we first stole this, it felt… alive. And a voice spoke in my head when I made contact with it.

Seth: Slightly disturbing…

Jack: Yeah, I thought I was done with that shit.

Daniel: Well, what did it say?

Jack: “The end will come to you, my child.”

Daniel: Very disturbing.

Seth: Sure you weren’t just imagining things?

Jack: No. I remember now… it’s all coming back to me. Memory flashes, I… I don’t…

He gasps, dropping to the floor. The Oculus snaps shut and skitters away across the ground. Daniel and Seth pick up Jack and take him to the lounge, where he slumps on the sofa, unconscious.

Daniel: Jack? Jack! Wake up!

He slaps him across the face, unsuccessfully.

Seth: Leave it, Dan. He’s out for the count.

Daniel: Bad pun.

Seth: Wasn’t meant to be. You know Jack’s meant to be invincible. I’m genuinely worried.

Daniel: Yeah. Look… do we take him upstairs?

Seth: To his Tower? He hates anybody but himself going in there.

Daniel: We can’t just leave him here.

Seth: And we can’t do anything to piss him off; you know he’s volatile.

Daniel: Heads or tails?

Seth: Oh no. We don’t do chances.

Daniel: We took a chance when we joined up with Jack.

Seth: And our luck hasn’t been fantastic.

Daniel: Well maybe we’re due a change.

Seth: Hopefully.

There is a groan of pain behind them.

Seth: Speaking of which…

Jack sits up, clutching his head.

Daniel: You ok?

Jack: Fine. Just… an overload of information.

Seth: That… thing… gave you information?

Jack: I realised something, Seth. I need to find someone.

Daniel: Who?

Jack: I need to find my son.
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Seth



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FMW Superstar: Seth Rotunda
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PostSubject: Re: Corruption and Anarchy 15.2 Voting and Promo Thread   Fri Jan 06, 2012 6:49 pm

Thank god I finally got rid of that retched, penny-grabbing mongrel of an agent, Rotunda thought to himself as he stared across the office desk of his future agent, Aldridge Clarke. He had finally found someone who would appreciate his talents and steer him to becoming a glorious champion. Clarke was no saint for penny pinching of course; he had high demands for pay, which were met by his clients obviously due to the lavish surroundings of the office.

Clarke: Drink?

Clarke motioned to a nearby glass cabinet, filled with dusty liquors and curvy, oddly shaped glass bottles. Rotunda thought about how he too could soon have a cabinet like that. He didn’t need it though, but showing off and bragging were brilliant.

Clarke: Would you like me to open the window? It’s very hot outside.

Clarke gestured to the stained glass window behind him that depicted various bible scenes with each picture more rich in colour than the next.

Clarke: Bought that from an auction in France. It was only a couple tens of thousands of pounds. Such a bargain!

Rotunda: Yes…yes.

Rotunda grumbled as he thought of how even a window cost more than his car and maybe even his house. But, one day, he too could have all this.

Clarke: Perhaps my gourmet cook could get you something? Is the white Bengal tiger fur on the chair comfy? Or perhaps we could scrap this and go to a football game. If we fly to the UK now, we could see Manchester United against Blackburn Rovers at Old Trafford. I have tickets in the director’s box.

Rotunda: Haha, I support Swansea, sorry…but if we could change the topic so we can continue our negotiations?

Clarke: Ah yes. Tell me, is there much money to be made in wrestling?

Rotunda: Yes.

Clarke: But my sources indicate that at the moment, you aren’t one of the “stars” of the circus. I could have the pick of your fellow competitors. Why should I tarnish my legacy by helping somebody like you?

Rotunda: I’m on the cusp of greatness.

Clarke: A big ego. I like it.

Rotunda: Well, that’s a good start.

Clarke: But by saying you’re on the cusp of greatness doesn’t actually mean that you have filled your potential yet.

Rotunda: I’m close to it.

Clarke: You know how I’m so successful with my clients?

Rotunda: Steroids?

Clarke: No. I pick those who are just one good performance away from being a legend. You’re quite far from my expectations.

Rotunda: C’mon Clarke, don’t ditch me now, I mean, I made an effort to be here.

Clarke: I wouldn’t be able to take you on or my reputation will take a hit and you’ll be my first client to end up on the street.

Rotunda: Oh.

Clarke: So as you can see, you’re no use to me.

Rotunda: Please, Clarke, I need this!

Clarke: Beg.

Rotunda: Don’t be unreasonable.

Clarke: You need this more than I do. Beg.

Rotunda: I have dignity.

Clarke: And when you lose it by begging to me, you’ll have a good chance of being a winner.

Rotunda: Fine. How should I beg?

Clarke: Great, I’m working with an idiot now.

Rotunda: I’m just not used to this.

Clarke: Go on your knees.

Rotunda: Uh yeah, as much as I want this, I don’t want it to end with me questioning my sexuality.

Clarke: Terrific. Such great people skills you have.

Rotunda: On my knees then.

Rotunda left his chair and dropped to his knees with an uneasy look on his face while his brain questioned if his dignity was worth ditching for the measly price of fame. Meanwhile Clarke grinned, knowing that his every demand Rotunda would bow to. Rotunda clasped his hands together to beg, only to Clarke to beckon Rotunda closer, who promptly waddled on his knees towards Clarke.

Rotunda: Please Clarke, would you take a pathetic excuse of a wrestler and man and turn him into a glorious champion that will earn you a shit load of money and the chance to buy a fourth home and laugh at your other companions at the fact they are so poor compared to you?

Clarke: That’ll do.

Rotunda: Can I get off my knees now?

Clarke: Nah. You know, Mr.Rotunda, this could be the start of a beautiful friendship.

*******

Eastwood: Morning bastards!

The leader of The Pack entered the locker room swigging from a bottle of scotch and throwing a cigarette on the floor and extinguishing it with the heel of his boot.

Eastwood: How are you bastards feeling?

Prideman: Violent.

Rotunda: Like shit.

Prideman: Why?

Rotunda: It involved a lot of kneeling to get something in return.

Eastwood: Sucking cock for drugs will do that to you.

Rotunda: How do you kn-? Never mind. I didn’t suck any dick, I just had to beg to achieve something.

Prideman: Try being bullied during your childhood.

Eastwood: Or shot.

Prideman: Fucking hell, I remember that.

Eastwood: Yeah, didn’t hurt.

Rotunda: Fuck you all.

Eastwood: Hey, I’m not the one who tried to suck a cock.

Rotunda: Look, fuck it, forget it.

Prideman: I won’t.

Rotunda: Hold on a second, I’ve just remembered something. You lot are going to love it.

Eastwood: *Cough* Cocksucker *Cough*

Rotunda fished into his locker and pulled out two wrapped present and passed one to Prideman and the other to Eastwood.

Rotunda: Here.

Prideman: It’s bound to have glitter and soap in it, right?

Rotunda: Don’t make me beat the shit out of you and make you look like a chavy wife on the Jeremy Kyle Show.

Eastwood: You’re present…is wine. Do I look like a poofta?

Rotunda: I’m just trying to make you look sophisticated once in a while. Next Christmas I’ll get you a top hat or something.

Prideman: You got me…a wig.

Rotunda: Remember when we shaved Monroe’s beard?

Eastwood: For the lolz.

Rotunda: Yeah, I turned it into a wig, so while you keep pulling your hair because you can’t win a match, you have something to cover the bald spots.

Eastwood: Ouch.

Prideman: You’re a twat.

Eastwood: So now that’s the en d of that, what we going to do about this match?

Prideman: Fuck shit up.

Rotunda: Knock someone’s jaw out of place.

Eastwood: Just the response I was after.

Prideman: That wizard fuck is going down.

Rotunda: Easy now, you may need that wig. I choke that cowboy with his own lasso.

Eastwood: I’ll just smash a bottle over that Storm Troopers head if needed.

Prideman: Ripper can have Nicolas Gray.

Rotunda: Bout time we win a match also.

Eastwood: It’ll come in good time.

Rotunda: But even longer for Prideman.

Prideman: Fuck off cocksucker.

Eastwood: Catchphrase time?

Prideman: Consider yourself on notice.

Rotunda: Who me?

Eastwood: Fuck sake Seth.

Rotunda: Dream killed.

Prideman: The timing's all wrong.

Eastwood: Hold up a second.

Eastwood fishes into his locker and pulls out a block of a film camera and throws a variety of weapons out of the locker. Eastwood picks up a barbwire 2X4, Prideman tosses around a lead pipe and Rotunda puts on a loaded boxing glove.

Eastwood: And we’re filming.

Prideman: Attention FMW dickheads.

Rotunda: We, The Pack, are going to prove a point to FMW by battering your American cowboy, your glorious world tag team champions and a Stormaster.

Eastwood: It’ll be by any means necessary. We’ll go to the ends of the earth to maim and bleed these bastards.

Prideman: You understand? We’re done fucking about.

Rotunda: We’ll be the ones covered in glory.

Eastwood: And we’ll be the ones standing tall by the end of the night.

Prideman: Consider yourself on notice.

Rotunda: Your dreams are about to be killed.

Eastwood: We’re The Pack…. And we are here.
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Seth



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PostSubject: Re: Corruption and Anarchy 15.2 Voting and Promo Thread   Fri Jan 06, 2012 6:51 pm

Corruption
Live from the Staples Center in Los Angeles, California


Singles Match
Sage Braxton (w/ Santana Braxton) vs Runihura De Valentine

Hardcore Match
Nicholas Gray, Damien Inferno, STORMMASTER, and John Andrews vs Jack Eastwood, Daniel Prideman, Seth Rotunda, and Ripper

Abandoned Title Match
Apostasy (c) vs Son of Shark Boy

Ultraviolent Title Match
The Celt (c) vs Christian Parkes

Anarchy

Singles Match
Callum Pullin vs Paul Brooks

Singles Match
Mark Johansson vs Smoochy Da Frog

Main Event
Tag Match
David GS and Matt Ashburn vs Ryder Strong and Butters


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Easty



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PostSubject: Re: Corruption and Anarchy 15.2 Voting and Promo Thread   Fri Jan 06, 2012 6:53 pm

Corruption
Live from the Staples Center in Los Angeles, California


Singles Match
Sage Braxton (w/ Santana Braxton) vs Runihura De Valentine

Hardcore Match
Nicholas Gray, Damien Inferno, STORMMASTER, and John Andrews vs Jack Eastwood, Daniel Prideman, Seth Rotunda, and Ripper
Attention FMW dickheads? Are we chavs now?

Abandoned Title Match
Apostasy (c) vs Son of Shark Boy

Ultraviolent Title Match
The Celt (c) vs Christian Parkes

Anarchy

Singles Match
Callum Pullin vs Paul Brooks

Singles Match
Mark Johansson vs Smoochy Da Frog

Main Event
Tag Match

David GS and Matt Ashburn vs Ryder Strong and Butters

_________________
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Damien
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PostSubject: Re: Corruption and Anarchy 15.2 Voting and Promo Thread   Fri Jan 06, 2012 7:09 pm

Singles Match
Sage Braxton (w/ Santana Braxton) vs Runihura De Valentine

Hardcore Match
Nicholas Gray, Damien Inferno, STORMMASTER, and John Andrews vs Jack Eastwood, Daniel Prideman, Seth Rotunda, and Ripper

Abandoned Title Match
Apostasy (c) vs Son of Shark Boy

Ultraviolent Title Match
The Celt (c) vs Christian Parkes
Anarchy

Singles Match
Callum Pullin vs Paul Brooks

Singles Match
Mark Johansson vs Smoochy Da Frog

Main Event
Tag Match
David GS and Matt Ashburn vs Ryder Strong and Butters
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Braxton
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HWU
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FMW Superstar: Sage and Santana Braxton
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PostSubject: Re: Corruption and Anarchy 15.2 Voting and Promo Thread   Fri Jan 06, 2012 7:18 pm

Corruption
Live from the Staples Center in Los Angeles, California


Singles Match
Sage Braxton (w/ Santana Braxton) vs Runihura De Valentine

Hardcore Match
Nicholas Gray, Damien Inferno, STORMMASTER, and John Andrews vs Jack Eastwood, Daniel Prideman, Seth Rotunda, and Ripper

Abandoned Title Match
Apostasy (c) vs Son of Shark Boy

Ultraviolent Title Match
The Celt (c) vs Christian Parkes

Anarchy

Singles Match
Callum Pullin vs Paul Brooks

Singles Match
Mark Johansson vs Smoochy Da Frog

Main Event
Tag Match
David GS and Matt Ashburn vs Ryder Strong and Butters

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



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PostSubject: Re: Corruption and Anarchy 15.2 Voting and Promo Thread   Fri Jan 06, 2012 8:58 pm




The scene opens to reveal a green mask, standing motionless in the center of view. After moments that feel like hours pass, you begin to wonder exactly what peers behind the black glass visor. Is this an amphibian ninja or just a deranged man in a Power Ranger costume?

These possibilities and more begin to cycle through your mind, and eventually something happens. The humor dies away, replaced by underwhelming confusion and eventually frustration.

What exactly is this all about, and why is this idiot still staring at me? Is he even staring? Is there even anyone in there? Perhaps this is a statue that simply looks like a person. Perhaps someone's in there, but they're watching television on the other side of the reflective glass.

More, now grueling moments pass, until you're completely fed up with the charade. You're here for business, not a children's show. A fight is scheduled, and a fight is going to happen whether this goof wants to take it seriously or not.

For God's sake, why won't he speak? Why is he just standing there??

And then it hits you. You haven't spoken either. In all this time of wonder and confusion, you've completely forgotten to introduce yourself. The mere idea concept of this meeting has overwhelmed you, and you remain absolutely speechless.

Well, this is awkward. What do you say at this point to a man that looks like a giant frog humanoid? Do you ask him how he likes his flies? Do you ask him for an autograph? Do you mock his visage and threaten to destroy him? If so, why? He's done nothing to you. In fact, you have zero history with, and perhaps even less knowledge of this being's existence.

I suppose the least you could do is introduce yourself.




Mark Johansson. There is no need to speak. This encounter is far from personal. This is merely business. Forgive me for the mental intrusion, however. I am communicating telepathically, because my audible speech merely translates to your ears as a random assortment of ribbets. The only alternative is to provide you with a babel fish, but I used the last one I had to buy lunch at the local mall. Boy, was that an interesting exchange. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to convince a teenager at Arby's to insert a live, miniature fish into their ear? But I digress...

You surely know nothing of my past, and I know very little of yours. In fact, I have absolutely no idea who you are. The only information I was given is that you affiliate yourself with a group called Your New Gods. This offends me to a point, as I spent much of my early years fighting against a group that believed themselves to be gods. These 'gods' took it upon themselves to enslave and slaughter all of my kind - women, children, elders... none were spared. Not only were they ruthlessly murdered, but raped, skinned, tortured.... The worst part was the experiments. My race was foreign to them, even supernatural in many ways. Their leader became obsessed with cracking our genetic code, and stopped at nothing to achieve his goals.

I, of course, was taken prisoner by these 'gods.' Many awful things were done to me - so awful that I will not repeat them to you, as I would feel responsible for the ensuing nightmares they would cause. Unfortunately, I cannot escape the nightly terrors. In many ways, I never truly left their prison.

I was the last to be caught, however. In fact, I had every opportunity to escape without incident - to roam the earth in search of a new life without life-damning memories and scars... but I had to return. You see, I was young at the time, not many years removed from a tadpole. I was an idealist and believed I would live forever. I thought metaphysical concepts such as truth and pride could overcome any obstacle. I believed that the good guys always won. I believed that love could conquer all.

I was very, very wrong.

I returned to fight for my people, to avenge my slain family, but mainly to save the only thing I felt I needed in the world. You must understand, my race is very different than yours. At birth, the gene pool matches each male with a female. They are inherently compatible at the genetic level, and no one else is a sexual option. Beyond this, the bond between these two beings is unbreakable, and not fully understood, even by our most intelligent brethren. Humans have it much easier. If a relationship doesn't work out, you simply move on to another. We do not have such an option. My female was mine and mine alone. The catch is that you do not know who your match is until you reach what humans call "puberty." It is at that moment, that you begin searching for your other, and hopefully find her. At the height of my hormonal confusion, I finally discovered mine. I immediately watched as they took her, but in that one moment of eye-contact, we both knew. Nothing would stop me, I thought. As I said, I was young and naive then. I dreamed of barreling through the front lines, tearing guards limb from limb until I found my precious mate.

Things didn't quite go to plan. I was captured. I was brutally beaten, and disfigured. That is why I wear this mask. They did other... things to me. Things that enhanced my abilities. I was naturally what you would call "super-human," but these experiments awakened further abilities within me as well. The unfortunate side-effect was the nightmares, but also an uncontrollable rage that seems to come and go at random.

To make a very, very long story relatively shorter, I will jump forward and explain that I escaped and was taken in by a strange, hooded mystic in the Himalayas. He trained me in the ways of the ninja, and taught me how to sync my body, mind, and spirit. Though he was blind, he could see things that no other could see, and understand what no other could fathom. He was like a father to me. He encouraged me to go back and save my people, but when I returned to the compound, everyone was dead.

I try not to think of the unspeakable things I did to the soldiers that remained. It is good that I wear this mask, because I could no longer look myself in the eye. I had become the very thing I hated. I had allowed myself to become a 'god.' I had taken lives - brutally, and without prejudice. I destroyed every one of them until no trace of their existence remained. In my rage, few thoughts were born that remain within my cerebral cortex to this day, but I vividly recall contemplating whether I should destroy all of their race as well - scouring the entire earth until I had hunted every one of them down and watched their final breaths.

But I remembered the kindness of the blind one who helped me. The most compassionate and understanding being I had ever encountered taught me the concept of forgiveness, and how to cleanse oneself of the rage awakened by those who have wronged me. It is a fortunate turn of events, for your sake.

You see, the 'gods' who destroyed my race...





looked just like you.
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Ashburn



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PostSubject: Re: Corruption and Anarchy 15.2 Voting and Promo Thread   Fri Jan 06, 2012 10:47 pm

The past few months have been a blur.


When I first joined Your New Gods, the initial weeks, I don’t think it had truly sunk in the extent of my influence, simply for associating with these men. Sure, I bought flashy cars, dined at gourmet restaurants and wore designer clothes… but it was obvious. I wasn’t thinking outside the box. I wasn’t realising what else I could do with my newfound power. Some of which I am not able to discuss at this point in time.


Since then, I’ve been investing some of this cash into stable businesses. See, I know how quickly things can change in wrestling. One minute you’re on top of the world and the next, you’ve been turned on and forgotten, left to rot in the undercard. Not saying I don’t trust my cohorts, but it’s wise to save just in case the money dries up. With my influx into the stock market, I am now making even more cash through my own ventures, rather than relying solely on Sir Bryson’s hand-outs.


Some people have called me a whore, with Bryson the pimp. He tells me to lie down in a match and I make some profit. But isn’t every single one of the FMW roster a prostitute? Hell, isn’t every single member of society one too? They all do as they are told, by a higher power, in exchange for profit. Management books people into matches, we don’t choose who we face. Sometimes those matches may include hellacious stipulations that knock years off our precious careers, but we just carry on regardless because at the end of the day, we need a paycheque to get by.


Just because the demands for my paycheque involve giving up a “championship” doesn’t make my apparent prostitution any more demeaning than the way the FMW roster does whatever it’s told – especially when I receive FAR more in return than any employee. When I couldn’t care less about the “value” of a piece of tin and leather, handing it to Marky Mark is no problem whatsoever anyway. Some of these sentimental types couldn’t manage it, but I’m a different breed.


I’ve never really cared about this business. It’s never really meant a lot to me. A lot of this roster has probably dreamed about being here since they were kids. They probably watched Hulk Hogan and Randy Savage years ago, imagining themselves in their position, lifting up a championship as the fans chant their name. They probably tear up like a bitch when they watch their heroes get inducted to the WWE Hall of Fame and other such cringe-worthy faggotry.


Not me. I never even watched wrestling as a child. I just know I can fight, and saw this as a way of making money. It’s an interesting career, I suppose; the adrenaline, the release. I never expected to make quite as much cream as I have though. Thanks to my questionable morals, I’m now in possession of more wealth than I could have possibly imagined.


In the process, I have alienated myself. Other than Sir Bryson, I am perhaps the most hated in Full Metal Wrestling at this point in time. It’s only because I’m not on television to the extent of Bryson that I’m not as loathed. People only have to put up with my smarmy demeanour for a chunk of Corruption… well, Anarchy now.


Speaking of which, it’s nice for Your New Gods to have our own brand away from the general populace of filth and discrepancy. Honestly, it’s about time. It gets old fast having to explain yourself to Chris Austin when the self-styled “teacher” decides it’s time for a lecture. Joining us on Anarchy is Ryder Strong, who is essentially just an attention whore like all these fat scene bitches who post carefully angled pictures of themselves on MySpace hoping some horny virgin will lust over them.


It’s not that I hate Ryder Strong. I just don’t care about him. He’s been whinging through his tiresome blogs that YNG is hating on him and blah blah blah, the usual victim card bullshit that fame skanks like him play at any given chance. He should know by now that I’m apathetic to most things – including his existence. There’s very little that evokes genuine emotion out of me these days. My immense wealth has numbed the effect of the world. Little seems impressive or intimidating to a man who can buy anything, do everything.


Now that I am a multi-millionaire with unmatched potential, I don’t even need to compete for money anymore. Adding to my fortune isn’t the main goal, I’ve already attained well over what I expected. I now wrestle as a little hobby, something to do every now and then when I feel like it. It’s kinda pathetic that these over-zealous clowns end up losing to me when I don’t even care and they put their heart and soul into every punch.


That’s why Austin hates me so much. He trains so hard; studies tape after tape of his opponents, making sure he knows their every move so he can work on reversals and counters. He spends hour and after in the gym, lifting heavier and heavier weights, running more and more miles. Austin takes wrestling deadly seriously. This is his entire life, nothing matters more and he will always give 100% each and every time he steps into that ring.


Me? I just show up without a care in the world and proceed to decimate whoever’s put in front of me. Honestly, I don’t even know who Ryder’s teaming with. I work out just to look good but that’s the extent of my training. I certainly don’t focus on how I’m going to defeat the opponent. This shit doesn’t mean enough to me that I would me waste hours studying for it like a damn test. I’m here to make some cash, crack some skulls and have some fun. That’s all it is to me.


But the fact I’m so successful yet care so little makes these try-hards like Austin lose their little minds. Oh well, too bad. Some people have good genetics. Life’s a bitch, right? We all know, we’re all looking for a scapegoat to blame our miserable lives on. I’m an easy target for your hate. I don’t adhere to your morals or standards. I don’t even try to. I don’t even want to. I don’t act as you do. I don’t think as you do. I don’t show you the respect you think you deserve.


Ryder Strong… whoever else… inspire me, because wrestling is becoming less and less meaningful to me every day. It doesn’t matter to me, but it clearly does to you from the frequent insults thrown my way for my nonchalant attitude. Last show, I took it easy and still won, Ryder. I don’t think you lived up to the hype your virginal smark following proclaims on an incessant basis.


So step your game up, or I’ll leave you more ruined than Eva Angelina’s pussy.
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Ashburn



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Age : 25

PostSubject: Re: Corruption and Anarchy 15.2 Voting and Promo Thread   Fri Jan 06, 2012 10:49 pm

Singles Match
Sage Braxton (w/ Santana Braxton) vs Runihura De Valentine

Hardcore Match
Nicholas Gray, Damien Inferno, STORMMASTER, and John Andrews vs Jack Eastwood, Daniel Prideman, Seth Rotunda, and Ripper

Abandoned Title Match
Apostasy (c) vs Son of Shark Boy

Ultraviolent Title Match
The Celt (c) vs Christian Parkes

Singles Match
Callum Pullin vs Paul Brooks

Singles Match
Mark Johansson vs Smoochy Da Frog
Stable vote but I loved your promo, cYn

Main Event
Tag Match
David GS and Matt Ashburn vs Ryder Strong and Butters
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David GS
FMW Anarchy Ultraviolent Champion
FMW Anarchy Ultraviolent Champion


Posts : 897
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Age : 27
Location : Omaha, Nebraska

Wrestler Profile
FMW Superstar: David GS
Championship: FMW Television Championship

PostSubject: Re: Corruption and Anarchy 15.2 Voting and Promo Thread   Fri Jan 06, 2012 11:16 pm

---

WHY

---


January 1st
Something Else

David and Matt stood off to one side, watching disdainfully as the New Year's Eve party Bryson had drug them to slowly burned itself out. Marky-Mark had set up shop with a fair-skinned, ebony-haired woman, and the two youngest members of Y.N.G couldn't help but share a laugh as she tried to teach him how to dance.

Ashburn: Poor guy.

DGS: You mean poor girl.

They shared another laugh, but were forced to stifle themselves as the woman took her leave from dancing with Mark, who in turn headed over to their table.

Mark: Boys. Hope I'm not interrupting anything.

DGS: No, no, no. We were just, uh ...

He glanced over at Ashburn, smiling wrly as Mark toasted them both and took a seat next to them. The man who'd beaten him for the Television Championship returned the grin and put a finger to his lips, discreetly shushing him.

DGS: ... just talking about how this isn't really our kinda party.

Mark: Trust me, it isn't me either, but there's no reason you shouldn't live it up. Bryson has chosen you for your potential and to live a life you wouldn’t ever have been able to lead. For me, this is chance to revive my career and not deteriorate into a lonely retirement. He led me to a championship but he will lead you to many. Your careers are about to take off.

Neither Matt nor David responded right away; instead, both men looked into their drinks, swept away by the truth, weight, and gravitas Mark's words carried. He was right, of course. They'd all been chosen because Nick Bryson, the first and only two-time Full Metal Champion in history, had seen in them the potential for greatness. The fact that he'd chosen them to lead lives similar to his own - lives of luxury, of grandeur, of wealth and power and fame and dominance - was humbling beyond compare.

DGS: Thanks, Mark.

Mark smiled and nodded at the pair of them.

Mark: Enjoy your night, guys - it's the start of a new beginning.

Mark left them right then, going over to the bar. David and Matt sat without talking for a while, staring into their drinks before the latter finally broke the silence.

Ashburn: He's right, you know.

David looked up from his Cristal, having only partially heard Ashburn through the fog of his own reverie.

DGS: Hmm?

Ashburn: This is big. Bigger than anything that's come before. We gotta celebrate, Dave - 2012, it's gonna be our year. We gotta celebrate, and we gotta celebrate right.

David nodded slowly, and Ashburn looked around the bar.

Ashburn: Speaking of celebrating, where's that wife of yours?

DGS: She's, uh ...

He stopped talking and looked around himself. Where was Rachel? She'd come to the party with him, been with him for most of the evening, and gone off to the ladies' room a couple minutes before midnight. That had been nearly half-an-hour prior ... but David wasn't all that surprised by it.

Rachel had been acting weird ever since he'd joined Y.N.G. She disapproved of him associating with men like Bryson, Johansson, and Ashburn - she'd made no bones about that and had told him such several times - but that wasn't all. Something else had been nagging at her; David had seen it day by day. She'd become increasingly despondent in a way that David had never before been privy to. It worried him.


Ashburn: Oh, hey.

David turned to see Ashburn pointing. He followed the line of his finger over to the bar's huge windows, where Rachel was standing and gazing out over the New York skyline.

Ashburn: There she is.

DGS: Thanks, man.

He got up from his seat and crisped the folds of his suit. Picking up his Cristal, he took one last swig of it and nodded to Ashburn.

DGS: I'll catch ya later.

Ashburn: Later, man.

David left the table and made his way over to Rachel, carefully threading his way through the crowded dance floor. Earlier he'd noticed Marky-Mark getting irritated with some of the bar's other patrons, and now he understood why; they were stooges. Every single one. There wasn't an ounce of dignity to be found among the lot of them as they jostled and flailed about in vain attempts to impress and/or attract the women they desired, and David found himself wanting to punch one of them out for no reason at all. He didn't, though, and eventually got over to the windows without incident.

Rachel was standing alone, arms crossed over her abdomen. She'd worn black heels and a black-and-white strapless cocktail dress to the affair; her hair was curled and her makeup had been expertly applied, and David couldn't help but marvel at her beauty as he approached her. The only things out of place were the distant expression on her face and the faraway look in her eyes - David felt inexplicably sad when he saw them. He went up behind her and encircled her waist with his arms. She seemed surprised but didn't jump, instead grabbing his wrists and keeping them from pressing too tightly against her stomach. David set his chin on her shoulder, joining her in looking out the window.


DGS: Hey.

Rachel: Hey.

For the time being, that was all that was said. David kept waiting for her to say something - to reprimand him for having a good time with his stablemates, or perhaps ask him to take her back to the hotel - but she didn't. So he contented himself with observing the festivities in the streets of below. He'd never experienced NYC on New Year's before: the city was one great grid of light and sound and motion, and it wasn't hard to see why Rachel had been drawn to the windows instead of back to him.

DGS: You okay?

Rachel: You never kissed me.

David blinked, turning his head slightly so he could look at her.

DGS: What?

Rachel: When the ball dropped. You never kissed me.

He thought about protesting, thought about reminding her that she had been the one who'd ditched him with a mere five minutes left in 2011. He even opened his mouth to vocalize those facts, but thought better of it at the last second. Instead, he spun her around, took her in his arms, and pressed his lips to hers hard enough to create an airtight seal.

The kiss left Rachel breathless; she was breathing hard when he pulled away, and though it looked like she tried to suppress it, a soft smile slowly spread across her face. It didn't spread to her eyes, though; they remained dark and thoughtful. David's own smile quickly became a frown, and he studied his wife's face closely.


DGS: Are you okay?

Rachel looked at him for a moment, then cast her eyes downward.

Rachel: ... yeah. Yeah, I just -

DGS: Rachel.

She looked at him, caught off-guard by the force in his voice. David stared a hole in her, refusing to look away or even blink.

Rachel: I ... can we go? There's ... there's something I need to talk to you about.

David didn't answer right away, continuing to study her until she began to squirm under his gaze. Finally, he let her go and nodded.

DGS: Yeah. Yeah, we can go.

Rachel smiled, grateful. David took her by the hand and led her around the dancefloor, towards the foyer containing the elevator that would take them down to the street. They passed by the bar, where Nick Bryson and Mark Johansson were chatting. The two senior members of Y.N.G smiled and nodded at him, and Bryson even gave him a knowing wink. David nodded back as he and Rachel passed them by, but nothing more; he had more important things to deal with.






January 1st
Distractions

David opened the door, standing off to the side as Rachel stepped over the threshold and into their hotel suite. It was, quite frankly, a nicer room than either of them had ever stayed in, and had been paid for by the check David now regularly received as a member of the Anarchy roster - a much larger sum of cash than he'd ever received while a part of Distortion, Ammunition, or Corruption.

Rachel went over to the bed they shared and plopped down on it, haphazardly kicking off her heels. David stepped out of his own shoes and sat down beside her, loosening his necktie as he did so. She avoided his eyes, instead looking down at her own feet as they hovered just above the carpet. David tried leaning down, tried peering around to meet her eyes, but she turned her head further away from him.


DGS: Rayche ...

She neither moved nor spoke. Something was bothering her - that much was clear. On the way back from the bar, David had experienced a nightmare-revelation that she could've found out about his transgression with Anna. That was impossible, though - David had since cut off all contact with Anna, and he'd done everything he could to cover his tracks. There was no way Rachel could've found out ... unless Anna had told her. David gulped, and fought to keep himself from shaking.

DGS: Rayche ... come on, babe. Talk to me.

Rachel: I ...

She took a deep breath and pressed her lips together.

Rachel: I ... I've been acting weird, these past few days.

David nodded slowly but didn't respond.

Rachel: I've been weird, and I know I've been weird. But David ... baby, you have to understand, I'm ...

She shook her head.

Rachel: I'm worried. About you.

David leaned back a bit, furrowing his brow and frowning at her. He'd hoped it wouldn't end up being a conversation about this, about him allying himself with Ashburn, Johansson, and Bryson. Yeah, she didn't like them, and yeah, she didn't like that David had chosen to run with them.

DGS: About me, huh?

Rachel nodded.

Rachel: Yeah. We talked about this before, back when you joined the Sons of Attrition. You swore to me that this would never happen, that you would never let this wrestling business corrupt you the way it's corrupted Matt Ashburn, Mark Johansson, and Nick Bryson. Remember that, David? You promised me that it would never happen. You swore.

DGS: Yeah, I remember. I told you I wouldn't let the business change me, and I haven't.

Rachel: Yeah, you have.

DGS: No, I haven't.

The words came out of David's mouth more harshly than he had intended. Rachel's eyes widened and she paused, taken aback. He got up from the bed and went over to the window, further loosening his tie with one hand and running the other through his hair. It was getting close to three in the morning, and the lights of New York City had dimmed considerably.

Rachel: You have.

David winced; she sounded hurt, scorned.

Rachel: Those other three, they're all about making money. They're all about power, and influence, and all that stuff. All they want to do is call the shots and pull the strings; you're just a tool to help them do those things.

David crossed his arms over his chest and didn't answer. Rachel was wrong. She was wrong, and he wouldn't take her being wrong for much longer.

Rachel: They were your friends, and you betrayed them. For a bigger paycheck and a more powerful group of running buddies, you betrayed them!

That was more than David was willing to stand for; he suddenly rounded on Rachel, eyes blazing, teeth bared.

DGS: That is NOT WHY I DID IT!

Rachel shrank back against the headboard, actually frightened by the outburst. Realizing his error too late, David took a step back from the bed and dug his fingers into his hair, breathing hard. Rachel was only the latest to do this, to accuse him of going from SoA to Y.N.G because of such petty things as money, as power, as influence in Full Metal Wrestling. He was sick of it. He was damn sick of it.

David got onto the bed and crawled over to Rachel, bringing his face within inches of hers. She was surprised and a little frightened - that much was obvious - but she didn't cry out or shy away. She just looked at him with wide eyes.


DGS: It is not about the money, and it is not about the power. Not for me. If you really think I'm that petty, then that's your problem to deal with, but I turned on them for us.

He leaned in even closer, so close that their noses touched.

DGS: I turned on them for you.

With that, he pulled back and jumped off the bed. Not giving Rachel a chance to respond, David stormed into the suite's bathroom, slamming it shut behind him and locking it. He fell back against the wall opposite the vanity, staring at himself in the mirror. His face was drawn tight; his eyes were sunken back in their sockets; two high points of color had risen on his cheeks. Sliding down the wall to the tile floor, he ran his hands through his hair before burying his face in them. He hadn't expected this. He'd expected the fans to turn him, and the locker room to turn on him ... but not Rachel. He'd expected Rachel to stand by him.

His phone suddenly went off in his pocket, vibrating incessantly to signal an incoming text message. David pulled it out and looked at it, but the name he saw on the sender ID only made him bang the back of his head against the wall.


Sender: Anna Ortega

David, we need to talk. You've been ignoring me ever since we ... well, you know. I get that you regret it, and I get that you're scared Rachel will find out. But you can't ignore this. WE can't ignore this. I have feelings for you, you have feelings for me, and we have to talk about them. Whether you want to or not, we have to talk about them. Get in touch with me - I know there's a part of you that wants to.


David set the phone down on the floor and shoved it, sending it skidding across the tile and slamming into the outer porcelain lip of the shower. He buried his head in his hands and massaged his temples slowly. It was too much. It was all just too fucking much.






January 4th
Like Me

The camera opened on simple-enough scene: David GS sat in a steel folding chair against a featureless, slate-gray backdrop. The Phenom was decked out in full ring attire: black tights with swirling white and silver designs, black boots with white kickpads, and - in a departure from his usual fare - a blindingly white trenchcoat. Leaned back in his seat, with hands folded in his lap, he stared into the camera with an expression that belied an inner weariness, an inner exhaustion. His eyes were the exception, though; they blazed like a pair of blue candles, lending an unnatural light to David's face.

DGS: This, um ...

He briefly glanced down at his feet before looking back up into the camera.

DGS: This isn't something I do very often. This, uh ... this whole talking thing hasn't really ever been my cup of tea. But hey - I thought I'd give a whirl this time around, and who knows? Maybe I'll do a good job. Maybe this video will find its way onto YouTube, and give Ryder Strong's Cult something else to rage about. But anyway ...

The Phenom gave a wave of the hand, dismissing all talk of the internet for more important matters.

DGS: That's not what I wanted to talk about. What I wanted to talk about is this ... this idea that my moral fiber has been somehow compromised since I joined Y.N.G. All of a sudden, everybody's all like, "Waaahhh, DGS has gone over to the dark side! Waaahhh, DGS has become a bad guy! Waaahhh, DGS has betrayed everything he and Leon Caprice and the Celt and Hannibal Frost once stood for! WAAAHHH!"

An awkward silence followed the rant, punctuated by David sniffing loudly and rubbing the bridge of his nose with his finger.

DGS: Lot of people seem to be thinking like that ... including one of my opponents on the upcoming Anarchy taping, Ryder Strong. If I recall correctly, he - like everyone else, it seems - has fallen under the impression that because I run with Nick Bryson, Mark Johansson, and Matt Ashburn, all that matters to me in this business now is money and power. Now, I want you to think about that for a minute - I was with the Sons of Attrition, and my motives were pure and wholesome. Then I switched over to Your New Gods, and all of a sudden I'm a petty, materialistic son of a bitch. Think about it - since when have anyone's priorities shifted that dramatically, that quickly?

He tapped his temple and shook his head.

DGS: Never, that's when. I don't blame Ryder Strong, though - he's just doing what most ass-sucking crowd-pleasers in this business like to do, and that's to make our match at Anarchy a good-versus-evil type of affair. He wants it to be the valiant and noble Butters and Ryder Strong against the evil and corrupt Matt Ashburn and David GS ... but it's not going down like that. Not this time. Ryder ...

David leaned forward in his chair, resting his arms on his thighs and looking into the camera through a thin veil of blond hair.

DGS: You and I, we aren't all that different. At least, not on the moral level. You want the same thing I do - to be the best. You want to rise to the top of this business, to win the Full Metal Championship, and to have your name inscribed up there alongside guys like Christian G. Smitten, John 'Doc' Derrick, TyranT, and Alex O'Rion. I know, because I'm the same way - I'm with Nick Bryson and friends because I want to be the best, and with them, I'll be able to reach that level.

The Phenom's face underwent a change right then and there. His eyes narrowed, becoming slits through which blue light seemed to shine; his mouth became a thin line that twisted itself into a knowing sneer; and his entire posture tightened, somehow becoming more aggressive and intimidating.

DGS: That's the difference between guys like you and Butters, Ryder, and guys like me and Matt Ashburn. While we may all want to be the best ... only guys like Ashburn and myself know what must be done to be the best and are willing to do it.

David nodded slowly, as if affirming his own words.

DGS: Pandering to the web will only get you so far, Ryder. Will it get you a main event match against the two hottest properties in the business today? Sure it will. But all that cyber-sucking-up doesn't amount to much if you can't win the match, and trust me ... you can't win the match.

The camera panned backward as David got up from his chair and began methodically pacing toward it.

DGS: While I can't speak for my partner, there's more to my career than what lies on the other side of a computer monitor. Unlike you, Ryder Strong, the nuances of my career - the things I say and do, the decisions I make, the company I keep - they all have greater repurcussions for me than the opinions of a couple web-savvy nobodies. That's what makes me stronger, though - the repurcussions of my actions may be greater than earning me the disdain of the web, but the rewards are greater than the empty admiration of Twitter and Facebook.

Approaching the camera, which was still geared to chair-height, David dropped into a crouch in front of it. His face filled the shot.

DGS: You can't live life on the internet, Ryder. That, I guess, is the main thing I want you to take away from this little promo of mine. If you're anything like me - and I know you are - then you want to be at the top of the mountain. You've gotten a good start on your climb, true enough, but the real peaks worth summitting are the ones in between the ropes. And on Anarchy ... when you and Butters go up against Ashburn and myself ...

David chuckled to himself.

DGS: Well, just prepare for a fall. A long, long fall.

Still smiling, David took a step back and reached towards the camera. He flipped something on the side of it - a switch or a knob - and the feed abruptly cut out.



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David GS
FMW Anarchy Ultraviolent Champion
FMW Anarchy Ultraviolent Champion


Posts : 897
Rep : 6
Join date : 2010-01-18
Age : 27
Location : Omaha, Nebraska

Wrestler Profile
FMW Superstar: David GS
Championship: FMW Television Championship

PostSubject: Re: Corruption and Anarchy 15.2 Voting and Promo Thread   Fri Jan 06, 2012 11:20 pm

Singles Match
Sage Braxton (w/ Santana Braxton) vs Runihura De Valentine

Hardcore Match
Nicholas Gray, Damien Inferno, STORMMASTER, and John Andrews vs Jack Eastwood, Daniel Prideman, Seth Rotunda, and Ripper

Abandoned Title Match
Apostasy (c) vs Son of Shark Boy

Ultraviolent Title Match
The Celt (c) vs Christian Parkes

Anarchy

Singles Match
Callum Pullin vs Paul Brooks

Singles Match
Mark Johansson vs Smoochy Da Frog

Main Event
Tag Match

Late-shit GS and Matt Ass-bum vs Ryder Strong and Butters
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