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View Full Version : BOSTON 2nd: [3] Kodiak Vic Creed vs. [11] Foxx



TH
02-26-07, 06:52 PM
KVC defeated:
Thomas Young

Foxx defeated:
Jason Payne

Second round match to be held at the Pizzitola Sports Center in Providence, RI on Brown U's campus. RP deadline is Sunday, March 4th at 11:59:59 PM EST, give or take a second.

Foxx
02-26-07, 08:43 PM
Foxx sits on a plain hotel bed before a small television with a rather ancient VCR watching old Vic Creed matches. You know...studying up on her opponent and what not.

There are no cameras, this isn't being taped. She's actually waiting, actually make that dreading, but still waiting to begin yet another spot.

And then it happens, the dreaded knock on the door. She stares at the floor for a good few seconds before standing to answer the knocking, becoming impatiently insistent far too quickly.

She opens the door, putting on the best fake smile she can. Standing at the door...is the same pasty guy from her earlier Osama skit directed at Jason Payne.

He quickly looks her up and down. Jeans, loose t-shirt, brushed hair, nothing special whatsoever. He hesitates a bit before speaking.

"Ok... What happened to dressing up for this?"

He's decked out in black dress shoes and pants, a white dress shirt complete with pit stains under the arms and his scraggly hair is styled in a hilarious fashion. The kind of look you'd expect a mother to force upon her child.

Foxx crosses her arms, cocking an eyebrow in amusement. A small grin creeps across her face.

"I said dress nice, not dress up. We're going to Pizza Hut, not some fancy restaurant. BUT! You already took too long and the crew won't wait for us forever. You're just gonna have to go as is. Now get moving; I'm driving."

And with that he started walking off down the hall toward the stairs as she went back to the room to fetch her keys. With a severely depressed sigh, she started off after him.

Why oh why had she promised him that if she'd make it to the next round she'd cut a promo over dinner with him?..

And a little while later, our camera scene fades in. Foxx sits in the bench across from the guy. Her elbows rest on the table as she rubs her forehead with closed eyes. Pasty Guy grips his edge of the table in a white knuckle deathgrip as he's talking about something that could very well be Dragonball Z, then again there are a lot of things like Dragonball Z out there anymore...aren't there? Obviously neither know that the scene has already started, but the cameraman apparently does something to get their attention as Foxx suddenly jumps up and tosses her straw wrapper at her "date" to shut him up.

"First of all, ladies and gentlemen of the audience out there, I'd like to introduce you to the artist formerly known as Impersonated Osama Bin Laden. He's now known...as Mike. Take a bow, Mike."

He waves apothetically before turning back to take a drink of his cola, apparently being interrupted by a rolled up straw wrapper to the face didn't sit well with him. You never know what'll set people off these days...

"Anyhow, on to the matter at hand. I've read up a bit on this Kodiak Vic Creed fella. The booking committee in this fed are some real sadistic SOBs. First you stick me with Mr. Payne weighing in at two-hundred seventy some pounds at six and a half feet and now I'm stuck looking across the ring at Mr. Creed weighing in at three thirty-five and also six and a half feet tall."

"I think I'm beginning to see a pattern here, aren't you? I can only hope they don't get much bigger than this or sooner or later I'll be facing a genetically enhanced gorilla."

"Almost forgot, I'd like to get one thing straight. I am not, nor will I ever try to mimic Lindsay Troy. I joined this line of business cuz I enjoy a good physical challenge, NOT because I saw Ms. Troy on the television and gawked in awe, telling myself that if I could get into wrestling I could be just like her. And for the record, I joined Empire Pro before most everyone even knew the true identity of Dis, let alone before Troy took the world title. I didn't join because Lindsay Troy could do it so I could too. I joined because I wanted to."

"Now don't get me wrong, I have oodles of respect for the woman, but I apparently joined this business at the wrong time. Being in another's shadow? Just not for me at all and so far every man I've faced has tossed some reference to Troy at me in every single match I've been thrown into."

"From what I'm gathering you, Mr. Creed, have some...umm...anger management issues? Could you do me just one small favor and save me the ranting and raving about facing a woman? I already heard all that from Payne and we see where that got him. The eleventh seed scored the big upset over the sixth so now they toss me in with a bigger badass and the third seed to boot."

"I'd like to keep this clean and friendly and I can only hope you do as well. It would appear our food is here so I'll wish you good luck and say goodbye."

Apparently Mike has recovered from his pouting as he leaps out to grab the camera and shove his face into it to share his opinion with everyone.

"Foxx is gonna rock your WORLD! WOOOOO!!!"

Foxx grabs him by the neck of his shirt and yanks him back to his seat, bumping his half empty cola. It wobbles before Foxx reaches a hand out to catch it as the scene fades to black.

Donzilla
03-03-07, 07:57 PM
“Oooohhhh...”

At first glance, it would appear that something almost obscene was afoot. The noises emerging from within the tiny airplane bathroom were primal, animalistic. Despite the ample First Class accommodations, the bathroom still wasn’t as large as many would have liked. Especially when someone was in the bathroom... with company.

Janice, the head stewardess, stood outside the bathroom door. She leaned close, trying to hear the familiar sounds of passion that usually accompanied the Mile High Club members who tried to make use of the facilities on these long flights. After several moments of silence, Janice considered knocking on the door to make sure everything was alright. Or at least, prompt the Mile Highers to finish up sooner rather than later.

A grunt. The door rattled. “Guess he’s just about done,” Janice muttered with a knowing smile. She’d met her husband on an international flight much like this one, and the sounds coming from the bathroom brought back pleasant memories. She knocked on the door twice. “Sir? Everything okay in there?”

The door swung open and Janice was assaulted with a stench best described as resembling old sewage on a hot day. She gagged and held the back of her hand against her mouth, backing away from the door. A huge man stepped out of the bathroom and coughed himself. “Hey honey,” Kodiak Vic Creed said to the stunned stewardess. “You might want to light a match or something in there.”

“Are... are you okay?”

Creed made no effort to close the door, allowing everyone in First Class to enjoy his bowel bouquet. Two of the closest passengers looked back at him to see what the cause of the smell was. The scowling Alaskan staring back at them was enough to make them turn their attention elsewhere. “No I’m not okay,” Creed said to Janice. “Does it smell like I’m okay? That stupid limey food doesn’t agree with me.”

Janice felt her burning eyes start to tear up. “The cuisine wasn’t to your liking?”

“Kidney pie, that disgusting battered fish and chips, Yorkshire pudding, that stuff just went right through me.” Vic lifted the front of his shirt and grabbed Janice by the wrist, forcing her hand up and down his abs. “Feel that? They’re not quite as washboard as they were when I left the States.”

“Maybe some rest might help?” Janice wished she was back in the States. She tried to pull her hand out of Creed’s iron grip, but it was like trying to pull her arm off.

“Lady, I’ve got no time to rest. After kicking butt all over the UK, I have to head back to America to slap around some dame.” Janice looked horrified and felt the strength disappear from her limb. “It’s not like that, toots. This isn’t some domestic dispute. The chick is a professional wrestler. Or at least, as professional as a woman can get.”

Between the biological tear gas creeping through First Class and the muscled monster squeezing the feeling out of her wrist, Janice was quickly losing her desire to protest the situation. “Y-you wrestle women?”

Vic shrugged. “Men, women, bears, a Foxx, I fight anyone they put in the ring with me. I’m an equal opportunity kind of *ss-kicker. I treat everyone the same – just like sh*t.”

“That’s... fair of you.”

“Isn’t it though? This broad, Foxx, she seems to think she’s got the stones to get in the ring and do the suicidal – hang with the Main Man. She’s been hoping that I’d stay vanished, stay off her radar and not show up for her match. Well I’ve had a good dump, and I’m ready to take another one right on her head once we get in the ring.”

Janice coughed. “It’s that kind of wrestling, is it?”

Creed sneered. “After I’m done teaching her her place, she might prefer a little scat wrestling to what I'll do to her. She’s barely a speed bump to me, and she’s going to find out in no uncertain terms that I have a tendency to let myself take full advantage of weakness. She can’t stand up to me, she can’t withstand me, and she can’t stop me.”

A second stewardess came back to where Janice was standing. “Is there a – Oh lord, what is that smell?!”

Creed shoved Janice’s arm away. “That smell?” He inhaled deeply. “That smells like victory. Big, brown, sh*tty victory.”