View Full Version : TEAM Super Show I: Russian Chain Match: "Phenomenal" Frankie Scott vs. Victor Molotov

07-02-06, 11:01 PM
Promo Deadline: Wednesday, July 12th, 11:59:59 PM

It's chain madness as the Phenomenal One looks to take out the Russian Assassin and TEAM Tourney runner-up.

07-06-06, 04:00 AM
Scene opens... [ Lake Arrowhead, California-- The extensive backyard of "Phenomenal" Frankie Scott's home. Large trees as far as the eye can see. The rustling of the massive oaks seemingly sounds like a crowd whispering in awe at the sight they are witnessing. A huge lake in the background is glittering from the immense sunshine that is heating up the whole lakefront area. Frankie Scott, clad in a Red TEAM t-shirt with the sleeves cut off and blue jeans. His jeans are taped around the knee area. His hands and wrists taped tightly as he swings a huge chain to be used in the match vs. Victor Molotov. The large chain connects over and over with the tree, ripping large pieces of bark away from the trunk with each swing and connection. ]

Frankie Scott: " The Russian Chain Match. A way in the past for men in the homeland to settle their differences. Beating each other...strangling each other until only one man was left standing or... until one man was dead. Victor Molotov, I'm not looking at death toward you. But, I am looking for respect. I'm starting a precedence in TEAM as of right now!"

[ Frankie continues to trash the enormous tree in front of him with the chain. Pieces of wood continue to fly off in every direction ]

Frankie: "Let me paint you a picture, Victor, my comrade. People filling up the auditoriums or arenas don't want to see a dance recital. They want to see a gimmick. Something that brings them back over and over again. Something that sets one match apart from another. So, take your catch-as-catch-can-can ballroom dancing mumbo jumbo and file it away in the trashcan. Forget your one point arm bars and your two point takedowns. Nobody cares! Don't get me wrong... you are a prominent figure in amateur wrestling. You are without a doubt one of the most solid technical wrestlers in the world today. But, so am I. But, do you seriously think a wrestling fan will sit through the first five minutes without chanting "Boooooring Boooooring!!" and then tossing a beach ball from the 99 cent store around to every other welfare scamming fan in the arena? The answer to that question is NO!! They don't want double breasted suits... they want double breasted women in outfits that are barely there... Gotta reach that 18 to 34 year old demographic."

[ After a few more swings, Frankie drops the chain to the ground and sits down in a lounge chair that overlooks the lake. Scott opens up a cooler and pulls out a bottle of water.]

Frankie: " How did I figure upon you for a match? Well, it's pretty easy. What hasn't been overdone in the last 10 to 15 years in the wrestling business? You see all kinds of Tables, Ladders and Chairs...all kinds of Cages and Street Fights. Even Lumberjack matches have made a comeback. Not only did I revive the only match left that hasn't been seen in awhile. I found the perfect person. You should be lucky that I gave you this opportunity. But, all you can whine about is how you don't need a chain to beat me. Well, guess what... you had better start remembering how to use it. Because this is where I start proving that you were nothing but a fluke to make the finals of the TEAM tournament and this is where I show that I am above you in the wrestling business."

[Frankie picks up the chain and holds it up in front of him.]

Frankie: " Embrace the chain and it's heritage. Because when this match is all over, said and done. And I have wrapped it around your neck and popped your head clean off your shoulders... This chain and I will be a constant reminder in your daily life. The night it was proven that you are nothing but a two bit propaganda spewing vodka swiller and I step over your prone, lifeless body on my way to the top!"

[Frankie gets up and walks toward the tree to survey the damage he did to the tree......Fade out...]

07-08-06, 09:39 PM
Scene opens... [ Lake Arrowhead, California-- The same extensive backyard of "Phenomenal" Frankie Scott. Scott wearing nothing but his red white and blue wrestling tights is carrying a gallon of Smirnoff Vodka and the same chain from the last promo. He walks around to each tree in his backyard and pours a few ounces around each tree.]

"Hmmmm.. If he's anything like the deer that come into my back yard. He should be able to follow this familiar scent. "

[Frankie drops the chain and then screws on the cap to the vodka and then sets it down in the grass. He lets out a loud elongated bellow...]

"Here Russian...Russian...Russian...Russian!! Here Russian..Russian! "

[Frankie picks up the chain slings it over his shoulder and then picks up the bottle and walks back into his house. Inside the house, he sits down at a table and begins to look at the contract that he had signed along with Viktor Molotov's signature on the line next to his. He pulls the chain off his shoulder and drops it on the contract.]

"Viktor! You are not embracing the chain, In fact, you are being pretty silent about this whole matter. A man of your stature and intelligence has never been at a loss for words. I'm awaiting this rage and fury that you had during the TEAM tournament. I'm awaiting you to purify me. But, I understand if you don't have it in you. You never really beat Dan Ryan and Beast anyway. You received the luck of the draw and got lucky that you got past two men who happened to not be on their 'A' game."

[Frankie grabs the remote control and turns on the television flips a few channels and finds nothing and then turns it off. He then picks up the phone and checks the dial tone and still finds nothing.]

" Not a thing. No promo of any kind telling me how much an american wrestler like me sucks. Not even a channel where you are guest starring on Pimp my Gustapo or cutting the ribbon at one of the new russian KFC's! Where are you Molotov? I really thought If I threw a challenge out there that you wouldn't turn down the chance to PURIFY ME! Give me a bre..."

[Scott stops the promo long enough to look out his sliding glass door to notice that a huge deer has walked into his back yard. The deer looks around and then proceeds to graze on the foliage around the trees. Soon after, the deer licks the bottom of the tree and runs away into the woods seconds after. Frankie turns back into his chair.]

" Well... Hmm, Must not have been a russian deer. Anyway, As I was saying.. I watched some of your old interviews. While you come off as the world's savior. You are really nothing but a big parody of yourself. A sham... A complete travesty. You talk so big but nothing substantial ever comes out of your mouth. You call yourself a warrior and an athlete..then an artist. Well, paint me a picture. Paint me something than shows you are worth my time. You don't even act russian. Your homeland gets no credit for who you are. I thank God every day that I have freedom and the way of life that not many people have. Show me some heritage. Be proud of who you are. Not all that you are going to do in your Brave New World!"

[Frankie grabs the bottle of vodka and the chain and opens his front door. He proceeds to open the vodka and pour it along the outside of the facing. ]

" Vik, I'm sending you help to find my house. I'm leaving this outside. You can have first crack at it...and at me."

[ Frankie drops the chain right in front of his door.]

" You keep saying you want to make this world a better place... How? You don't even show up to get your free 2 piece meal with 2 sides after cutting that ribbon. Viktor Molotov, you are a russian wrestler. There has never been a time where a russian was truly adored by the american fans. I don't even think russian fans liked them. If I played the game right I should come out before our match in red, white and blue tights, jacket and bandana. All the while, waving an american flag all the way to ringside. But, I'm not playing a game. I can't concern myself with that and how you see things through your distorted view. While the fans want the same kind of view. They want the good american to prevail over the evil russian. They want you to bleed and be sent out on an american stretcher. I will be glad to give them that. Then..and only then will I wave that american flag in every single corner on top of every single ringpost in the arena. I hope you like the taste of steel. It's going to be the last thing you remember."

Fade Out...

07-10-06, 11:07 AM
(A dimly lit, seedy, old gymnasium somewhere in America: Victor Molotov sits on the turnbuckle of a dingy looking ring. His hands are taped and there is no chain anywhere in site.)

MOLOTOV: Frankie Scott. You are a fool.

If you wanted my respect, why in the world would you come at me like a clown?

Do you truly think that making jokes about my homeland and pouring vodka on trees will earn you my respect? Do you truly think that giving me a treatise on the appropriate behavior pattern of the "foreign enemy" archetype in American profession “wrestling” is supposed to act will earn you my respect?

Do you truly believe the ability to hit a man with a chain is something even close to being worthy of respect?

Any man can hit another man with a chain, Frankie Scott. There is nothing special about that. It is common thuggery - nothing for humanity to honor or respect.

But to enter the ring armed only with your bare hands and defeat such a chain wielding hooligan without having ever to resort to his base tactics. Now that is a feat worthy of the utmost respect and glory.

And that is the only reason that The Purifier even bothered to dignify your “challenge” with a reason.

You are nothing to me, Frankie Scott. Less than nothing. To be quite honest, you were not even on my radar as someone worthy of purification until you opened your fool mouth and thought to “call out” Victor Molotov.

You see, Frankie Scot, there is a big difference between you and I.

You look for respect - and I take it.

You seek to play to the masses. To entertain them. To make them “care.” You want nothing more that no have the sheep all stand up in unison and chant your name just like it was some big Hollywood “feel good” movie and you were the hard-luck, All-American “underdog” finally making good on all of his spunk and grit and defeating the mean and nasty alien foe.

I, on the other hand, am not burdened by such unwieldy cargo. I true do not give a damn what the people think of me. Whether they cheer or boo. Whether the chant “boring” from even before the time arrive. Whether they storm out of the arena and demand their entrance fees be return. None of that matters to me in the least.

Because I am not fighting for them, Frankie Scott. I am fighting for something far bigger. I am fighting for the continued existence and purity of my sport. I am the lone crusader staving off the barbarian infidels who seek to stain her. I am a missionary. I am The Purifier. And I answer to a higher calling than the ticket buying rabble that infest your nation’s arenas like fleas on a dog.

You see, Frankie Scott. You are not Rocky and I am not Drago. You are not Braddock and I am not Baer. This is not some silly America entertainment. And I shall not feel obliged to conform to your image of what I am supposed to be.

You are not fighting a caricature of the Evil, Cold War Russian this week, Scott. And if you truly expected some expected to be facing some Pidgin English grunting, chain-wielding Soviet Brute or Bear, then your fall this week shall be all the more satisfying.

You see, my heritage is immaterial next to my mission, Frankie Scott. I could be any citizen of this Earth that looks at the blight of American culture that infects it like a cancer and seeks to remove the disease. That I was born of Mother Russia and arose through here intensive and expert athletic system is simply a lucky happenstance.

But like any great warrior for a higher calling, I have risen above all national boundaries.

I am not just some stereotype of what you would like a Russian to be. I am not merely the “foreign enemy” that you find it most facile to wrap your feeble mind around.

I am the Purifier.

I speak your language and I know your ways because I have been taught that you cannot truly destroy an enemy until you know that enemy. I refuse to go into battle unprepared and ignorant.

I refuse to be like you, Frankie Scott.

And that is why I need no chain to conquer and America Infidel the I meet in the ring, ever.