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View Full Version : [SSVI] FREE FOR ALL~! Championship Match: Harley Douglas (c) vs. All-Comers



TH
07-18-07, 11:36 AM
The brash, outspoken FFA~! Champion looks to defend his gold for the second show in a row. With AWX, Jason Cruise, Link Van Haggard, Chris Casino, Stone Zellor and Dusk all throwing their names into the pool thus far and with more possibly to follow, can he escape Denver alive?

Venue is the Pepsi Center, Denver, CO. Match is battle royale rules. You're eliminated if you're thrown over the top rope and both feet touch the floor. Last one left in the ring is the winner. Stacking rules do not apply here, but remember, quality doesn't necessarily mean quantity. RP deadline is Sunday, July 29th, 11:59:59 PM, give or take a second.

King Bear
07-19-07, 07:22 PM
(FADE IN: The mountainous terrain comes into view as the camera pans back from the tree line to reveal the glorious Rocky Mountains, grand and amazing in their presence. The camera continues backward, revealing a man standing with his back to the camera. He turns around, revealing himself for who he really is – the Big Bear. Munson Monsoon.)

BB: After letting my first shot at the FREE FOR ALL~! Title slip right through my grip, it became quite clear; something needed to be changed. It shook me, deep down somewhere. That first mainstream wrestling match, losing in front of thousands of fans at the Yorilove.com Palace in Vegas and at Supershow IV; I watched the dream shatter as I flew out of the ring.

BB: But how history happens isn’t how it’s supposed to go. That entire match, I worked Payne into such a sweat he looked like a McDonald’s addict. Then, after all my hard work, this chump Harley Douglas blindsides me and then makes short work of the old man, Payne. Of course he made it look easy since then; I haven’t been here to make things hard for him. But, like a mountain hiker, Harley’s going have to get used to rough terrain, especially now that I’m back in this battle.

(CUTTO: Big Bear has one leg perched on a small boulder, scanning across the Rockies and looking down on the brilliant lights of Denver.)

BB: On the topic of battles, there are quite a few new faces in this one. Chris Casino, Van Haggard, AWX, Stone Zellor, Jason Cruise, and – the only one of these men I’ve come across before – Dusk. To the rest of you, I don't know much. You're busting will be swift, for the sake of politeness. As for the other, Dusk. I'm a man who gives credit where it’s due, and you deserve it, Dusk. However, if you think that’s going to translate into a walk in the park on your end; you’re about to have one hell of a hangover. If this is my one chance at beating Dusk and his legacy, then after the dust settles it’s going to be ONE to NOTHING – BIG BEAR.

BB: As for the rest of you, I welcome the challenge. If you thought you were going to have an easy time in this match, I don’t blame you. I didn’t know I was in this yet, either.

(FADE OUT: Big Bear peers deep into the camera, turning back to the amazing view of the Mile High City. He stays atop the mountain as the camera pans backward.)

(FTB)

Jason Cruise
07-20-07, 06:13 PM
.:: The scene fades in from black on the tarmac at Calgary International Airport in Calgary (dramatic pause) Alberta, Canada; the home of Northern Alberta Pro Wrestling (NAPW, for you abbreviation fans). It is almost one in the afternoon on a rather overcast and rainy summer day up, as Canada Air Fight 355 from Boston, Massachusetts’ Logan International Airport touches down on the runway. Having encountered some lingering thunderstorms in the area, the almost eight hour flight was about as smooth as a flight of stairs, and the majority of passengers are happy just to be on solid, stable ground again. Of course, that can’t be said for everyone… ::.

“That was the worst flight since Orville and Reddenbacher back in Kitty Hawk! Christ, can’t you Canadian do anything that doesn’t involve an ice rink?!”

.:: As we turn our attention to the terminal and the departing passengers, a particularly surly young man with a shock of curly blond hair braided into pseudo-dreadlocks, stands with a black duffel bag under each arm editorializing to no one in particular about his flying experience. Behind him, with one hand pulling a suitcase and the other holding an airline vomit baggy, is a shorter, older and portlier individual with greasy, balding jet-black hair pulled off into a tight ponytail. The color has been drained from the portly man’s face, as his jowls hang over the paper rim of the inadequately sized vomit bag. Between dry heaves he manages to spurt a few words out… ::.

“I’m… gonna die!”

.:: The man drops his suitcase in front of him and plops himself down on top of it, clutching the vomit bag protectively between his chubby hands. The young man places his bags down beside his travel companion and gives him a pat on the head. ::.

“It’s going to be okay, Mouth. Let’s go get a cab, get to the hotel, order up some room service…”

.:: The young man’s comforting is interrupted by Mouth. ::.

“BLAHHHHH!”

.:: Ew. ::.

“Oh grodey, dude! What did you eat?!”

“Tuna.”



“Damn, Mouth! That stinks like hot garbage.”

.:: The young man curls up his face, reviled by the sound and smell of Mouth’s illness. He hides his mouth and nose behind the arm and sleeve of his light blue dress shirt. The man’s powder blue eyes dart around the airport terminal for a reason to take a brief leave from his stocky, seafood spewing buddy. ::.

“Hey, Mouth, I’m going to go try and find you a bigger bag. Sit tight, dude. I’ll B.R.B.”

.:: The young man quickly scampers away from the heap of humanity parked in the middle of the terminal amidst a pile of luggage. He makes a bee-line for the nearest alcohol vending establishment, reminding himself to return with a bag. ::.

“Hopefully they’ll have some spare garbage bags around or something.”

.:: The sound of another dry heave can be heard in the background. ::.

“… or a dumpster.”

.:: As the young man reaches the front of the terminal’s bar, he is stopped by a quick tapping on his right shoulder. Jason Cruise wheels around quickly to stand face-to-face with a young man about Jason Cruise's own age (early twenties), though of noticeably smaller stature. The young man is dressed in a white button down Oxford shirt, dress slacks and dress shoes. Cruise gives him the quick up and down. ::.

“Mr. Cruise...”

“Yeah, yeah, hold on a second...”

.:: The abruptness of Jason's response silences the young man, as Cruise reaches into his pocket. Cruise whips out a black Sharpie marker from his pocket, and grabbing the young man's shirt collar, pulls the kid in close and begins signing his autograph on the nice dress shirt. Cruise finishes with a little swirl and a dot of the “i” against the young man's chest. ::.

“There you go, kid.”

.:: Cruise flashes him a million-dollar smile - that is as phony as the day is long – before turning back toward the bar. ::.

“No, Mr. Cruise, I...”

.:: Cruise stops and let's out a big, exaggerated sigh; obviously become exacerbated by the young man's persistence. He turns around to face him again. ::.

“Alright, fine. Smile!”

.:: In another blur of motion that catches the young man off guard again, Cruise has wrapped his arm around the kid's shoulder and flashed another million-dollar smile... almost as bright as the flash from a hand-held Polaroid camera that Cruise snaps at arm's length away. The bright flash startles the young man, who undoubtedly has made a very comical face in the picture. Cruise pulls the photo out of the camera and slaps another signature on it before handing it to the kid, who accepts amidst his bewilderment. ::.

“Make yourself useful, kid, and shake that puppy.”

.:: Confused, the young man obliges as Cruise returns the Sharpie and camera to his pockets.::.

“That'll be five bucks, by the way.”



“Uh, Mr. Cruise...”

“Alright, fine! Four.”



“Mr. Cruise, you don't understand. I work for the NAPW...”



“Well, why didn't you say so?”



“I tried t-...”



“Special discount then. Only two dollars for you. I'm a nice guy like that. American money though, kid. None of that crazy Canadian monopoly money, you dig?”

“No, Mr. Cruise, I'm Josh Reynolds.”

.:: Now its Jason's turn to be the bewildered one. ::.

“And...?”



“And I'm an interviewer with New Alberta Pro. I'm here to do an interview... with you.”

“Jesus, kid, why didn't you say so? If you're their best and brightest I should've stayed in the States. You're a bit slow on the uptake, aren't ya? Slow as molasses in January.”

.:: Josh Reynolds stares a Jason Cruise with a mix of puzzlement, confusion and frustration strewn across his features. Jason, of course, misunderstands this, and attempts to explain his analogy...starting off with a big sigh. ::.



“You see... molasses is a thick, slow-moving, syrup sort of thing, and back in America... that's Ahh-mer-i-cah... January is a month that's particularly cold...”



“I... I get it.”

“Okay, good. Because it's not funny if you have to explain it, you know?”



“I know.”



“Attaboy. So where's your camera at anyway, kid?”

.:: Josh Reynolds points in the direction of the camera/cameraman. As he does so, Cruise flashes another one of his smiles, and proceeds to adjust his hair in the reflection of the camera lens. ::.

“Shall we get started?”

.:: Still fixing his hair. ::.

“Sure, whatever you say, Jeff.”

“Josh.”



“No, its Jason. JASON Cruise.”



“No, no I'm... nevermind.”



“I though your name was John.”



“Josh.”

“Whatever. Do your thing, kid.”

.:: Josh Reynolds clears his throat and does his best to stand in a position that best hides the autograph adorning his chest. ::.

“Hello again, New Alberta Pro Wrestling fans, I'm Josh Reynolds, and I'm here today in Calgary International Airport with NAPW's newest acquisition: Jason Cruise. Jason Cruise comes to us from Boston, Massachusetts where he was trained in the famous Saints Haven. Jason is also the only son of independent circuit wrestling legend, Dustin Cruise. So, on behalf of New Alberta Pro, let me be the first to welcome you, Jason Cruise.”

.:: Cruise seems wholly uninterested in Reynold's long-winded introduction and is gazing off in the distance behind Reynolds. ::.



“Yeah thanks. Hey, Jack...”



“Josh.”

“Whatever, that's not important. Check out the blonde with the stems over your right shoulder.”

.:: Foolishly, Josh Reynolds turns to look, turning his back to Jason Cruise in the process. In one smooth motion Cruise snatches the microphone from young Josh's hand and slightly shoves Reynolds over a piece of luggage at his feet. Reynolds stumbles and falls out of the picture. ::.

“For those of you who don't know who I am, my name is Jason Cruise. Earlier this week I was signed to REBEL Pro Wrestling out of Raleigh, North Carolina. Before I even had my first match with the Rebels, their sister promotion NAPW saw the obvious talent that I possess and made a point to sign me up as well. But enough about the NAPW and REBEL Pro, let's talk about what you came to hear about... me: Jason Cruise. Now normally my manager Tony Mouth would be here to cover the formalities, but The Mouth is a bit under the weather and neck deep in a puke bag. So allow me to introduce myself. I am the epitome of excellence, the pinnacle of perfection, the prince of PWNage, the future of professional wrestling, the master of disaster, the fuhrer of fustigation, and the only son-of-a-legend in this business today... I am the Human Highlight Reel, Jason Cruise.”

.:: Jason pauses to beam with pride and his flawless recitation of his many monikers, smirking to himself. ::.


“I know you're begging for more. Let me tell you a little about myself. I was trained at the world famous Saints Haven by Isaac Bronco, and my dad: Dustin Cruise. All that training mixed with natural genetic perfection, makes me the ultimate wrestling machine. I'm stronger than the Hulk on steroids, I'm tougher than a three dollar steak, I'm faster than the your mom after three shots, and I'm gorgeous! I mean, just look at me. Dammit, I'm cuter than Shirley Temple holding a basket full of puppies under a rainbow in a field of motherf***ing sunflowers!”

<< Abbreviated version. NAPW specifics removed. >>

.:: As Cruise wraps up his piece, he hands the microphone back to a now-standing, Josh Reynolds.::.



“Well, thank you, Mr. Cruise, for the interview. It was… an experience.”

“Hold up there, Jimmy! While I have you here, I figure that I might as well kill two birds with one stone and talk about the TEAM Free For All Battle Royale next week at Supershow VI, right?”

.:: Reynolds, not having enjoyed the first half of the interview doesn’t seem too keen on “conducting” a second half. In fact, he looks downright dejected. ::.

“I suppose…”



“Great!”

.:: Cruise snags the microphone back away from Josh Reynolds and takes a step to his left, moving Reynolds out of the camera shot. Off screen Reynolds just throws his hands up in the air before taking a seat and waiting for his microphone and cameraman back. ::.



“Now I’m new to this business so I only know what I’ve been told. What I’ve been told is that TEAM is the big time, baby. Unlike “NAP-time” Wrestling and “Rubbish” Pro, TEAM is supposed to have the biggest, baddest mamma-jammas on the planet fighting it out. No, TEAM is where the money is. TEAM is where I’m going to make movies, baby… Or so I thought. Of all the hell-holes in all the world they’re sending me – ME! – Jason Cruise, son of a legend, the future of this business, the epitome of excellence… to Denver, Colorado. Obviously TEAM and TEAM’s quote-unquote “wrestling superstars” can’t manage to break into a real city; they’re stuck fighting in dumps like Denver. What’s next: Albuquerque? How about the talent roster? I use the word “talent” very loosely, because it’s chock full of has-been’s, never-were’s, and never-gonna-be’s.”

.:: Cruise struts around the airport a bit with the microphone in his hand. A few passersby in the background stop, or look up from their seats, to see this young man carrying on in front of the camera; either intrigued, annoyed or a combination of the two. ::.

“See that’s the big difference between all of them and the great Jason Cruise. You see, I am separate from the pack. I am far superior to the hodgepodge of hacks and frauds that lumber around the TEAM rings like drunken Clydesdales. No unlike these schmucks and punks, Jason Cruise has talent. Real, legitimate talent. I’m faster the Flash on an acid and red bull cocktail. There isn’t a damn competitor alive that can match my speed. My matches need ten referees and an extra five cameras just to make sure that they catch every awe-inspiring and spectacular move I make. Hell, I got the distinct feeling that half of the competitors in this Free For All Battle Royale will be eliminated by me before they even realize the match has started.”



“Beyond that, I’m smarter than these jokers and ignorant slobs that TEAM calls “wrestlers.” I’m a regular walking, talking Steven Hawking. But this match isn’t going to require a lot of math. No you only need to know one number, and don’t worry, Harley Douglas, it’s less than ten you don’t need to take your boots off to count on your toes. That number is 1. One. As in: there is only ONE man who will leave Supershow VI as the Free For All Champion; there is only ONE man with the skills to take TEAM to the next level; there is only ONE Jason Cruise… and you’re looking at him.”

.:: Cruise pauses for a moment. ::.

“That’s another thing I am: handsome. Hell, I’m downright gorgeous. Don’t adjust the contrast on your television sets, that’s just my million-dollar smile that’s making everything like brighter. Hell, my future is so bright, just being around me makes these dejected Canadian people think: “May be there’s something to live for, eh?” You’re damn right there is, Canada: the next Jason Cruise match! But this isn’t about Canada, and it’s not aboot Canada either. After I’m done handling my business up here in NAPW, and I’m heading back to a real country and I’m going to capture a real prize: The Free-For-All title. Of course, when – not if, but when – I am champion they’re going to have to rename that title. You see in America we believe in capitalism, and this free-for-all socialist B.S. has got to go. When I claim the FFA title, I’m going to rename it the PPV title: Pay Per View. Why? Because everyone should have to pay extra to see the work I put on in the ring. They should have to pay extra to stand in my presence and bask in my reflected glory. And they should have to simply breathe the same air as the greatest wrestler ever to walk God’s green earth. They should have to pay to breathe Jason Cruise’s air!”

.:: Cruise pauses to meander his way into the terminal’s bar. He pulls someone’s bottle of Molson Canadian off the table and takes a swig from it to soothe his throat from all the ranting. He strolls back out into the open of the terminal with the microphone in one hand and the beer in the other… ::.



“Now so far, only one other man has had the umption in his gumption to step up and speak about the big Free For All match. This man goes by the name of Big Bear, and from what I gathered from his little promo was that he's some hick from the sticks of Colorado, and a perennial loser in this match. That's strikes one and two against Ursa Major, and strike three is going up against the Human Highlight Reel, Jason Cruise. You see, Big Bear, you're another one of these surly and burly veterans that is clinging desperately to a pie-in-the-sky hope of regaining some of your faded and lost glory. Worthless chumps like you and Harley Douglas should just retire and save young up-and-comers like myself the trouble of FORCING you into retirement. So enjoy the fresh-air while you can, old man, because once they stick you in that nursing home its nothing but Jello, bingo and time at the staring window.”

“Speaking of old washed up has-beens, there's only one other man guaranteed to be in this match... and that is the paper Champ, Harley Douglas. Douglas, the way I see it... you've already lost. See I know you're not focusing on this Free For All match. You think that you've got bigger fish to fry off in the Lethal Lottery match, and you're not paying enough attention to the real fight. You've gone and got yourself booked in two matches on one night, Harley. Now a young stud like me with the talent of a thousand Harley Douglases could pull it off, but you, Harley, you're just one Harley Douglas. Not only that, you're not even the top model. You're old, out-dated and simply inferior. So, Harley, you aren't going to win the Free For All, even if I wasn't in it, because you don't have what it takes anymore. It's just fortunate for you that I AM in this match, so you can say everyone the time and effort and just get my name engraved on that title right now. Better yet, why don't you just have it shipped up to me here in Canada?”

.:: Cruise makes a sweeping gesture indicating the airport as a representation of all Canada. ::.

“You see, Harley, Bear, and all you other so-called “veterans,” you're on your way out. Your better days are long gone. It's time to step aside or be moved aside. Your legacies are ending, mine begins at Supershow VI when I become the youngest Free For All champion, the youngest TEAM champion, and I cement the cornerstone of what will be my own illustrious career as the greatest wrestler ever to grace this Earth. To all you other challengers...”

.:: Cruise abruptly snatches the camera from the cameraman's hands and places it on the ground. ::.

“Get used to this view. Its the last thing you're going to see before your broke hits the floor after I've tossed you out of my ring. End of story.”

.:: As Jason Cruise finally finishes his tirade, Josh Reynolds steps back into the picture. Cruise hands him back his microphone and rubs his head, messing up Reynolds' hair before walking off out of a view. As Reynolds stands their watching, Tony Mouth comes up with his arms and shoulders full of his and Jason's luggage. As he passes by Reynolds, Mouth places his used vomit bag in Reynolds' free hand before following Cruise off camera. The scene fades to black on a disgusted Josh Reynolds. ::.

King Bear
07-21-07, 01:02 PM
(FADE IN: The wrestling beast known as Big Bear stands alone in front fo a TEAM backdrop, set up somewhere inside the Pepsi Center. He sports a ‘BUSTED’ t-shirt and pair of mesh shorts. His brow is sweaty as he wipes a towel down his face and swigs down an orange Gatorade.)

BIG BEAR: Hey gang. There’s really only one thing that brings me into your homes today. As I figured, it would be one of these young punks who haven’t figured out the first thing about this event, let alone what to say about it. So, Mr. ‘Future Failure of Wrestling’, Jason Cruise – the Human Highrise Pile of Refuse – let me school you on a few things…

BB: First and foremost, you’re an idiot. I am a has been? ME? Look, idiot; where I come from, somebody as old as 55 can wrestle. North Carolina, I’m sure you have some bullsh*t rules for Grandpappy Flair in the DaddyDojo, but the point is – I’m 25. I don’t know, nor care, how old you are, but if you actually pulled your head out of your ass for just a split second – you’d learn Wikipedia is the best place for free info. The problem I have is that, if you actually thought I was washed up and old – that’d would be one thing; but the real kicker is that you are coming in here like every other jackoff who plans on resurrecting what I’ve already began resurrecting, without even doing some research!? And you, of all people, think you’re gonna steal my spotlight? It’ll be one Hell of a night if you make that mistake.

BB: Secondly, I guess I’ll throw you a bone. I am Munson Monsoon. I am from Bear Creek, Alaska. While you wrestle for RETARD Pro, I wrestle for PRIME. I have been in more epic matches than you could ever fathom. I’ve busted more impressive chumps than you for breakfast, walked my dogs, tasted some whiskey, and then when my day is done; I wash it all down with Bustified Chump Juice. Fresh from the squeeze. The only days I don’t fight are Mother’s Day and Easter. Regardless of whom I am, the only thing you should be worrying about is what I do to stupid little pricks like you who run into the ring, eyes closed, swinging for the fences. You can find out for yourself… so, there’s your bone, Cruise. The last one you’ll get, from me anyhow.

(SCENE: Big Bear grins, rubbing his hands together and then pointing at the camera.)

BB: I hope you remember what I’ve told you Cruise. No matter how washed up you want me to be, no matter where I’m from, and no matter how little your IQ & brain are – you’re going to need the jaws of life just to make it out of that ring alive.

(FADE OUT: Lifting up a big ‘JASON CRUISE’ cutout, Big Bear ignites it. He then proceeds to pull out a cigar, lighting it with the flame from the cardboard. Big Bear lets out a deep, thunderous laugh.)

BB: INTIMIDATION! You’ll be afraid, sooner or later.

OFF CAMERA: HEY! I told you that was the original! It hasn’t even gone through production yet!

(FADING OUT: Big Bear looks off camera then back to the flaming mess. With a shrug, Big Bear walks off. Drinking Gatorade and smoking his cigar.)

BB: Oh yeah, Harles Douglas…yadda yadda yadda… BUSTED CHUMP!

(FTB)

StoneZellor
07-21-07, 02:18 PM
[The scene opens in front of a red and white NAPW back drop, where "Dynamite" Stone Zellor is sitting on a three-legged stool. His mousey-brown hair is wet and sticking to his forehead, hanging down as far as the pair of shades he's wearing. And even underneath his basic black tee, you can see the bandages he's sporting on his right shoulder after that fall on the 'Super Show' last Tuesday]

Stone:
We rollin'?

[Pause - presumably someone off camera nods or does something to signal the affirmative]

Stone:
Gotcha ... So, once more I get a chance to compete in TEAM. It ain't exactly like facing Yori Yakamo Jr. but I've learned a lot since then. I was younger, brasher and I've been told - more immature. But y'know, I've got somethin' to prove to the fans. The fans in Denver, the fans in Colorado ... Everywhere. I don't wanna be remembered as the kid who lost to Yori Yakamo Jr. - that shouldn't be the definin' moment of my career. I'll remember it forever, but that's me. I may have grown, but y'know, some memories live on.

That's why I'm comin' back to TEAM and competing in this Free-For-All battle royale. That's why, despite half of the named competitors being from NAPW or that trailer-trash sister federation of ours - REBEL Pro - this is damn important, man. Awesome Wrestlin' Xplosion, Chris Casino, Link Van Haggard and even Jason Cruise know who I am. They've seen the improvements I've made for myself since the last time I was here in TEAM - but you other guys ... 'Big Bear', Dusk, Harley Douglas and whoever else will be facin' the bunch of us in Denver ... It's you guys I's got somethin' to prove to.

[Stone takes a moment as he rubs his injured shoulder]

Stone:
Y'see, guys, I'll help you out an' explain somethin' 'bout myself. The last time I was here I was part of a tag te-- hell I can't be bothered wit' that. 'Cause I've heard some of the crap you people are spewin' an' I don't wanna give you no fodder. Jason Cruise, the man who hasn't even debuted in NAPW or REBEL and still has an ego the size of Simply Beautiful - and that guys thinks he's God's gift. You ain't done nothin' to prove yourself and bein' part of a wrestlin' family means nothin' - believe me. I'm a Zellor ... I mean, Jason, I'm not a cocky bastard like some of you, but you're no more a threat than The Bee. An' no, I don't wanna feel your 'sting'. I don't know what that means, but it ain't me, man. That ain't me...

An' 'Big Bear' Monsoon ... Hell I don't know where to start wit' you, man. You're just makin' idle threats and complainin' about how Harley Douglas took the belt out from under yo' nose. Blindsided? You really shouldn't let yo' guard when you're in the ring ... I did that last week at the 'Super Show' - some punk actin' as a hired gun damn well pushes me off the top rope! I was about to finish Rex Caliber off, instead I land on cold steel ... But I'll be fine. I'll be in top condition when I step into the ring against you lot - hopefully - as the reigning NAPW Provincial Champion, for what it's worth, y'know.

[Stone takes off the shades, because it's not that bright where he is - plus it adds some dramatic effect]

Stone:
An' the rest of you too. Dusk, Casino, Shadow, Nenji, Turancula, Bee ... And the reignin' and defendin' champion, Harley Douglas. You may have defended that title, but you can ask the TEAM Challenge Champion, Ravager - I bust my ass one-hundred-an'-ten-percent when there's gold on the line. Only it's yo' title this time, which should put you in most peeps's sights. As I said before, half of the competitors may be from NAPW or REBEL, but we ain't brethren or nothin'. I know 'em, I work wit' 'em - but it's you I'm gunnin' for, man. The guy who blindsided Monsoon an' - well I don't know who you beat after that ... It don't matter to me, man.

The Pepsi Centre will be the venue of my greatest triumph. Memories of Yori Yakamo Jr. will fade away an' those Denver fans will be cheerin' wit' me when I lift that belt above my head ... When I prove to everyone watchin' - I gots skillz, an' I will become the TEAM Free-For-All champion.

[And with that the scene comes to an end with the traditional fade to black]

Jason Cruise
07-21-07, 05:39 PM
Blah, Blah, Blah... Who Cares? (or A Day With The Youth)
Part One of The “Getting To Know You” Series

.:: It was a rough flight into Calgary, Alberta Canada for the wrestling rookie Jason Cruise and his manager, Tony Mouth. Having flown into Calgary amidst a thunderstorm, the small connection flight to Edmonton was delayed... and delayed... and eventually canceled. So the boys rented a car from one of the rental car vendors at the airport, hopped in the 1999 Buick LeSabre and began the three hour drive to Edmonton through the driving rain. That was yesterday. Yesterday sucked. ::.

.:: Today finds the city of Edmonton, Alberta in slightly improved weather conditions and the boys from Boston, Massachusetts in better spirits and better health. We rejoin Jason Cruise and Tony Mouth at a local YMCA in Edmonton. As part of their NAPW contracts – the part that Tony obviously didn't read close enough – they are required to do a few hours of community service and outreach. Enter: YMCA Summer Day Camp. If Socrates was guilty of corrupting the youth, I shudder to think what Mouth and Cruise will be able to accomplish. ::.

.:: It's a little before one in the afternoon, which means its free play time. Off in the far left corner of the messy, disheveled and brightly colored room is Tony Mouth, attired in a park of khakis and an unbuttoned dark blue dress shirt. His head is pressed against the wall, as he appears to be participating in a rousing game of hide-and-seek. As he counts, a pair of seven year old boys can be seen around his feet tying his shoelaces together. Meanwhile in the foreground is Jason Cruise. Cruise's long blond hair is held back by a black bandanna that matches his sleeveless, black T-shirt that hangs over long, dark blue jean shorts and white sneakers. Standing beside a crouched Jason Cruise is a small seven year old boy in a bright red Calgary Flames T-shirt and blue shorts. The little boy has a shock of messy black hair with streaks of paint over his face and clothes. ::.

“Alright, Timmy, you ready?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Attaboy. High Five.”

.:: The little boy slaps Jason a high-five. ::.

“Greetings once again, monkeys. Your hero and wrestling savior Jason Cruise here in Edmonton, Alberta Canada. I'm broadcasting to you today from the Edmonton YMCA, with a small portion of my legions of fans around the world. This here is little Timmy. Say 'hello,' Timmy.”

“Hi.”

“A man of few words. Now I'm here doing my service to the community on behalf of NAPW and REBEL Pro, unlike the slackers and so-called 'nice guys' of TEAM...”

.:: The background Tony Mouth shouts “Ready or not here I come!” only to fall flat on his face from his tied up shoelaces. Cruise and Timmy turn to look, but Cruise quickly launches back into it, ignoring his manager's plight. ::.

“Big Bear is one of these such characters. Now you may not know it, but Big Bear thinks all these kids here in Canada are stupid. How does that make you feel, Timmy?”

“Sad.”

“Sad. Look at that face. How could you, Big Bear? It's a good thing that Timmy here has a hero like me. Now Big Bear thinks that everyone should know and care who he is. Do you know who he is Timmy?”

“No.”

“Me either. How about where he's from?”

“Nope.”

“No? How about how old he is?”

“Uh-uh.”

“Well then, Timmy, according to Big Bear you're pretty stupid.”

.:: The little boy dips his head as if he's going to cry. ::.

“Hey, hey, hey. Don't cry, it's okay. According to Big Bear, I'm stupid too.”

“But you're not stupid.”

“Of course not! Neither are you, my manipulatable little friend. No, you see... we don't know about Big Beat not because we are dumb... but because we don't care. Why should we care? I mean who is Big Bear? Timmy and I went on Wikipedia earlier today and looked up Big Bear... you know what it said?”

“Who cares?”

“EXACTLY! Who cares? Big Bear, no one cares about you. No one cares about where you're from or who you wrestle for or how old you are. Which brings me to another point. Timmy, is 25 old?”

.:: The little boy starts counting up to twenty five on his fingers. Cruise stops him. ::.

“Let's try it this way. You're seven, right?”

“Seven and a half.”

“Okay easy there, math boy. Big Bear is so old that he's lived THREE TIMES longer than you have.”

“Wooooow...”

“Yeah, and a little more than that.”

“He's old.”

“EXACTLY! See, Timmy, you're not dumb. In fact, you're smarter than Big Bear.”

“He's a poopy-head.”

“He is a poopy-head, isn't he?”

.:: Cruise stands up to continue talking. ::.

“Now...”

.:: He stops as little Timmy tugs at his jeans. ::.

“Jason...”

“What's my name, Timmy?”

“Mr. Cruise.”

“Better. What is it, kid?”

“Will you be my daddy?”

“Ha ha. You've already got a daddy, kid... he's just a lame-ass. Don't worry, though, I'll still be your hero. How's that?”

“Cool!”

“That's the spirit! Now go run along and play in traffic or something. Mr Cruise has to make some money.”

“Okay.”

.:: Timmy runs off. ::.

“See? Raising kids is easy. Its amazing how many of these parents screw it up.”

.:: In the background Timmy drops a running elbow onto the head of a girl laying on her stomach trying to do finger paints. The little girl runs off crying. ::.

“Shut up and rub some dirt on it! I'm working over here! Damn kids. Anyways, back to the topic at hand. Big Bear, you seem to have the same problem that a lot of these other no-talent ass-clowns have... you don't want me to take your spot. Tough luck, kid, because I'm taking it whether you like it or not. Just like the Free For All title, I'm taking it whether you like it, whether Harley Douglas likes it or whether the fans like it or not. It's plain and simple, because no one can stop me. Now you think you're clever with your little nicknames for me? Bravo, jack-ass. It doesn't change the fact that you're a nobody. You're washed up before you've ever even accomplished anything. How pathetic is that? How pathetic are you? You want to brag about epic matches... blah, blah, blah... who cares? Every match I'm in is epic by the sheer fact that I'M IN IT!”

“Now you think I'm here to steal your spotlight, but nothing is further from the truth. You see, you don't have a spotlight. You have a dim 12-watt bulb through a toilet paper tube. No you're quote-unquote “spotlight” isn't bright enough for me. Don't worry though, I'll get my own spotlight... bright as the sun... and you can bask in the reflected glory as one of the endless number of wrestlers to fall at the feet of the amazing Jason Cruise. Hey, Timmy, come over and bring that picture.”

.:: Cruise goes back into a crouch and reaches into his pocket and pulls out a Zippo lighter. The little boy, Timmy, scampers back over holding a piece of white paper in his pudgy little hands. ::.

“Let me see that, Timmy.”

.:: The little boy sheepishly hands Cruise the picture, and Cruise turns it to the camera. ::.

“What we have ever is a picture by the miniature artist to my right: Timmy Van Gogh. This is a picture of you, right Timmy?”

“Uh-huh.”

.:: Cruise flicks on the lighter, holding near the piece of paper. ::.

“Now, Timmy, how would you feel if I set this on fire?”

.:: The little boy's eyes go wide with fear as he stands on the verge of tears, too paralyzed to say anything in protest. Cruise holds the lighter closer to the picture... before snapping the lighter closed and handing the picture back to Timmy. ::.

“Relax, kid. I wouldn't do that. But you know who would? Big Bear would.”

“He would?”

“Yeah. He did it to me. He burned a great big picture of me.”

“That's mean.”

“You're damn right it's mean. How would that make you feel?”

“Sad.”

“And angry?”

“Yep.”

“Well not me, Timmy. You see, Big Bear is just jealous of me. Jealous of my talents, my charisma and my good looks. He has none of those things, and he's afraid of being embarrassed in the ring by Jason Cruise. So he tried to make me scared by burning a picture of me.”

“That's mean.”

“Yeah... you said that already, kid. Tell you what, here's a dollar... go kick Tony in the shin.”

“Okay!”

.:: Timmy takes the dollar and runs off again. ::.

“Now, Big Bear, I don't know why a guy like you would want to get in a “war of the words” with a guy like me. It's quite obviously I'm smarter than you, I'm more clever than you, and I'm more eloquent and articulate than you. All you're doing is shortening your own career by making yourself look like a fool, and trying to get under my skin. See I'm already going to make you look like a fool in the ring, why not try to save a little dignity outside of it? Hey, it's your pathetic life and your pathetic career. If you want to let me end it, fine. If you ask me, it's long overdue...”

.:: In the background, we hear... ::.

“Ow! My leg! You little bas-”

“MOUTH! LANGUAGE! And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the end of story.”

.:: The scene fades to black as Cruise goes to assist an aching Tony Mouth. ::.

King Bear
07-24-07, 12:47 AM
In the crisp, cool breeze blowing over the street of the <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" /><st1:place><?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-comhttp://www.fwrestling.com/fwc/ /><st1:PlaceName><I style=<font face=" /><st1:PlaceName><I style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">Mile</I></st1:PlaceName><I style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"> </I><st1:PlaceName><I style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">High</I></st1:PlaceName><I style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"> </I><st1:PlaceType><I style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">City</I></st1:PlaceType></st1:place><I style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"> (that’s </I><st1:City><st1:place><I style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">Denver</I></st1:place></st1:City><I style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">, Harley), we find the illustrious wrestling newcomer, Munson Monsoon – the Big Bear. He was dressed in blue jeans and a white and black pinstriped </I><st1:place><I style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">Rockies</I></st1:place><I style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">’ jersey. His eyes are covered by sunglasses as he walks down the sidewalk in the city, the camera moving with his motion.<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /><o:p></o:p></I>
<o:p> </o:p>
Big Bear: Afternoon, TEAMusses. It’s been a long time since I’ve been to <st1:City><st1:place>Denver</st1:place></st1:City>, a <st1:place>Rockies</st1:place>’ game to boot. I love this town, so rich and full of heritage. Like the Capital. Standing on those steps means you’re exactly one mile above sea level, thus the city’s nickname. I’m sure you <I style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">all </I>know that, though…<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
<I style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">Big Bear glances off camera here and there, taking in the sights himself. He tosses a vendor a few bucks and in turn receives a bottle of orange Gatorade. His favorite.<o:p></o:p></I>
<o:p> </o:p>
Big Bear: Something you may not know, though, is that right here in <st1:City><st1:place>Denver</st1:place></st1:City>, at the <st1:place><st1:PlaceName>Pepsi</st1:PlaceName> <st1:PlaceType>Center</st1:PlaceType></st1:place> – TEAM Supershow VI will go down as possibly one of the biggest events in TEAM history. The Main Event highlights four legends of the sport and many other greats will square off throughout the night. One match, though, may need some explanation…the FREE FOR ALL~! Title <st1:City><st1:place>Battle</st1:place></st1:City> Royale. Follow me as I give you a breakdown of the FFA~! match at Supershow VI. Come on, gang.<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
<I style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">Big Bear rounds a corner while motioning for us all to join his tour of Denver, passing by some babes and giving them the BAD ASS MUSTACHE~! wink. One girl faints as the Bear Creek Brawler spins around, facing the camera once again and shuffling off.<o:p></o:p></I>
<o:p> </o:p>
Big Bear: First of all, the rules are simple: Battle Royale rules apply, both feet touch the floor you’re done. Simple enough? Good. Because the rest of the match is even easier. It’s pretty much a ‘rinse & repeat’ process, like this.<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
<I style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">Big Bear stops in his tracks, spots something off camera, and then suddenly drives his shoulder into another man, dressed in all black. Police sirens are heard along with a ringing bank alarm.<o:p></o:p></I>
<o:p> </o:p>
Big Bear: Down…<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
<I style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">Monsoon lifts the robber by his belt, tossing him into the back of the Paddy Wagon. Big Bear looks at the camera, sun reflecting off his sunglasses, with a big smile. He ‘dusts’ his hands off, signifying a job well done.<o:p></o:p></I>
<o:p> </o:p>
Big Bear: Then out. See? It’s simple. So, down to the nitty gritty - Jason Cruise. <o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
<I style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">Big Bear stops, pauses, sighs, shrugs, and then bounces back into stride.<o:p></o:p></I>
<o:p> </o:p>
Big Bear: The guys’ obviously never been through this kind of thing before, because if he had; he’d quit wasting all his sparring time getting beat up by little Canadian girls and start preparing himself for the match – and beating - of a lifetime. My point is; Jason Cruise is going to get torn to pieces in this match. Whether I’m the one to do the honors or not, is another story. Cruise, if you’re watchin’ this sittin’ there on your couch and drinkin’ your sweet tea, listen hard and close: at SUPERSHOW VI, I may not end your night but I aim to make sure you have a lump the size of <st1:place>Chapel Hill</st1:place> on your head before you leave. One big enough to make sure that the next time your slackjaw hangs down and some words fall out, they at least might, <I style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">just maybe</I>, make some sense.<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
<I style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">Still walking around, Big Bear swigs down some more Gatorade. He tosses the bottle over his shoulder and into the trash can while looking to the opposite sidewalk. He holds up a hand, jogs into the street and crosses. Still pursuing the Big Bear, the camera follows into the street.<o:p></o:p></I>
<o:p> </o:p>
Big Bear: Now, as for the rest of those ringrunts – Casino, AWX, Zellor, and Van Haggard – there’s only one way to come into this thing and that’s clear of me. I’m bigger than you, I’m stronger, and the most important thing to remember – I’ll bust you down like a cardboard box, chump stacked on top of chump. At the <st1:place><st1:PlaceName>Pepsi</st1:PlaceName> <st1:PlaceType>Center</st1:PlaceType></st1:place>, how many ever of you decide to show – I’ll be ready and waiting to give you the grand tour, from in the ring to out of the arena.<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
<I style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">Big Bear rounds a corner and walks into Hammerstein Bier Garten. Walking by waitresses, customers, and angry German drunks; Big Bear still focuses on the camera as kind of shrugs while talking. <o:p></o:p></I>
<o:p> </o:p>
Big Bear: And then, there’s Dusk. What can I say, really? I think the guy speaks for himself, relatively well. A PTC Champion. A PRIME Champion and the UEF Wrestler of the Year. I mean, he got shot – by a gun – yet he still wrestles. You’ve got to say something about that… and I do, I totally commend that. But on the other side of things, this is my chance at busting the biggest chump in my life – who’s not a chump at all, <I style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">in fact</I>. One of these chumps that people tend to notice, people remember, when you beat ‘em. That alone right there sets all respect and politeness out the window and brings out the real nature of this match – survival. So, when I see you in that ring, Dusk; don’t think for one second that I’ll hesitate piling you on that chumpstack, too, on my way to being crowned the newest FFA~! Champion.<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
<I style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">Still walking, Big Bear swerves down an alley out the back door of the bar & grill. He walks about thirty yards in and then begins climbing the fire escape. He motions for the camera to follow with his head, still climbing toward the top of this high-rise apartment building. Big Bear finally reaches the top and lends a hand to the cameraman. The whole city can be seen from here, from Invesco Field to Coors Fields to the Capital to the </I><st1:place><st1:PlaceName><I style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">Pepsi</I></st1:PlaceName><I style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"> </I><st1:PlaceType><I style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">Center</I></st1:PlaceType></st1:place><I style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">. Big Bear perches his hands on his hips as he stands at the edge of the building.<o:p></o:p></I>
<o:p> </o:p>
Big Bear: Last, and certainly not least; our current, Class-D champion – Harley Douglas. The last time we met it took him, Ramey, and Payne to throw me out. <I style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">Three men</I>. There won’t even be three left by the time I get to <st1:place>Douglas</st1:place> and his fake championship. (<I style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">Pointing to the camera</I>) The fact is not somebody else holds the belt, it’s the fact that the person whose doing so is a fake, coward, and chump. Such a chump, even, he’s taking the back roads to <st1:City><st1:place>Denver</st1:place></st1:City> so nobody can see what he’s doing or where he’s doing it. I want to make it clear, Harley Douglas, wherever you are – this won’t be SUPERSHOW IV. It won’t be SUPERSHOW V, either. Those were chump change compared to this time. When you walk into that ring at Supershow VI - the soon-to-be-busted-ex-champ-chump – that rotten, sick feeling is gonna hit you right in the gut. That’s fear, Harles. Anxiety…because, let’s face it, you had it easy before. But this time…<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
<I style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">Big Bear turned to the camera, straight on. Removing his sunglasses, Big Bear stands in front of the vast view of brilliant structures and golden sunshine.<o:p></o:p></I>
<o:p> </o:p>
Big Bear: You’re far from it… 5,280 feet to be exact.<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
<I style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">Big Bear puffs his chest out and sets his clenches fists on his hips, glaring into the camera. The scene fades out as the Munson looks back out across the city of </I><st1:City><st1:place><I style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">Denver</I></st1:place></st1:City><I style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">, TEAM’s stomping grounds for SUPERSHOW VI: Lethal Lottery. <o:p></o:p></I>
<o:p> </o:p>
FTB<o:p></o:p>

CraigM
07-25-07, 12:57 AM
The camera fades in slowly, the blackness starting to disappear. In the shot you see a man, hunched over, with a tissue in his hand. He sniffles ever so slightly, obviously depressed about something, but what that is you don't know quite yet. He sits there, silence filtering into your homes, as he sits there and wipes his eyes with his tissues. Then, he looks up, and smiles at the camera. At the mere sight of his red eyes, it gives it all away, and your heart skips a beat. You know it's all good now, because he's here to save the day. He's here to save the day from severe monotony and boredom. The boredom that is the Free For All.

Dusk: I'm sorry, I'm just so --sniff-- heartbroken at this respect being shown to me by "Big Bear" Munson Monsoon. It's just so, beautiful, so heartwarming, so -- oh grow the **** up! What the **** is this, Sesame Street? Do I have to ****ing hear you blowing my dick every five seconds about how you respect me and know that I'm your only challenge in that ring? Trust me, it's nice to hear. It blows up my ego, but who the **** do I look like, Nova? Do I need my ego boosted up time and time again, hearing about becoming the Wrestler of the Year every other ****ing day? Seriously, save the blowjob for someone who cares. While it's all nice and stuff, I'm starting to get emails from my agent wondering if you're gay and if he should worry about you leaking a news story out about us getting it on in Blaire Blaine's office. Calm the **** down, Big Bear.

Dusk then wipes his face with the tissue and he throws it to the ground. You can't help but smile as he trashes another wrestler in a way that many would come off heel-ish while he comes off sounding like a face. How does he do that you ask yourself, but push the thought out of your head, wondering if you have a moment to go get some water as you find yourself dehydrated from just simply watching him, and wishing you were him. Yet, you think better of it. Instead, you know you'd have to kill yourself if you miss a second of all this, the beauty of him.

Dusk: "Big Bear" Munson Monsoon. ****, I keep having to Alt+Tab to make sure I spell your ****ing name right. Try saying that five times. It's almost like trying to say if peter piper picked a peck of pickled peppers then where’s the peck of pickled peppers peter piper picked five times fast. Except Monsoon wouldn't be able to say it because Peter Piper's pickled pepper is firmly inserted into his mouth. Whoops! I made a homosexual joke, minus five points from me for unoriginality. You know how sad this is, Munson? I've heard more from you in the past week then I have in the entire time you've been in PRIME. Shouldn't that tell you something? I mean, you would think that the federation where you've been for a few months now would give you more notoriety then you've gotten. Doesn't that make you ill? I mean, people look at you and just wonder who the **** are you? Doesn't that make you feel dark? If you don't catch the hint, I'm trying to get you to ****ing kill yourself so I can stop hearing your incessant rambling. Could you do that for me, big bear?

You laugh. You can't help but to laugh. It's impossible when you look at Dusk, spewing eighty words a minute as he just lays into a wrestler knowing that he says it all in a joking manner. Quickly, you glance up to your DVR just to make sure it's recording. Thankfully, it is.

Dusk: You know, in PRIME's quest to make me their next biggest superstar, they told me that I should compete in another TEAM event. After tying for 8th place in the TEAM Tournament of Champions, they thought they had hit a gold mine. Researching hit a ****ing goldmine they told me and fans were buying my **** up left and right. Good for me I guess as I'm able to just spend it on more useless **** that I don't need. I'm thinking of buying a pot farm for Nova and having Yori Yakamo Jr. build me an army of ****ing robots. How hot would that **** be? Maybe I wouldn't even have to show up for matches anymore except for the big ones. Can someone get me Yori's phone number so I can get a robot to wrestle for me in this waste of match? Please, get it to me soon before I put the shotgun in Jason Cruise's mouth.

The mere imagery shakes you a little bit as Dusk sits up more and more in his chair with each passing word until he's sitting upright, glaring at the camera in front of him as if it's an intrusion into his daily life. Then, you think about the way he just casually slipped Cruise's name into the sentence and want to applaud him. Instead, you remain silent, hanging on the every bit of silence that there is, just waiting for him to speak again.

Dusk: Yep, I'm being tossed into a match against the almighty Jason Cruise. Sorry, that was a joke Cruise; I don't want you to start thinking you've made a name for yourself. Look man, can you do me a favor, and stop boring me with this **** about what you've eaten and what not? I mean between Monsoon giving me a blowjob every other hour and you putting me to sleep, well, I'm not being able to enjoy my ****ing blowjob! You name yourself the Human Highlight Reel. BORING! Because, you know, four million people haven't used that nickname before. ****, they're starting to call the Iraq War that. Wait for it. Wait for it. And there, Cruise got it. I think. We'll have to wait for him to put down his tuna sandwich for him to answer. You know what, **** it, I don't have time to wait on some worthless never was to respond to my jokes. I know my **** is funny so **** him. God, I hate this censor. Don't you? Good, let's move on.

You hear a door slam. Your mom walks in. She yells after you to come get the groceries. You tell her to **** off. Then, you hope she didn't hear you as your eyes refuse to move from the television screen. It's almost as if Dusk is watching you and telling you "good boy! Now give her the finger!" and you do so without even thinking about it.

Dusk: Then, we've got "Dynamite" Stone Zellor! Whoo, boy, that's another one of them original nicknames right there! I mean hot digitty damn, he must be like on fire, like whoa son! You know, I thought it was so cute hearing him talk about me as if I'm in the same crowd with everyone else. "An' the rest of you too. Dusk, Casino, Shadow, Nenji, Turancula, Bee ... And the reignin' and defendin' champion, Harley Douglas. You may have defended that title, but you can ask the TEAM Challenge Champion, Ravager - I bust my ass one-hundred-an'-ten-percent when there's gold on the line." Tell me; how pathetic did you feel after those words escaped your mouth. Mama, I busted my ass out in that ring for some gold! But, anything else and I'm just a ****ing lazy-ass mofo that can't scratch his own ass for more than two seconds, and lord help me that I actually pronounce some ****ing words instead of like a ****ing hick! Jesus, make me sick you hapless son of a *****. Listen, go sit in the corner, and bust out a book or something. Not Mark Twain because you'll be speaking all ****ed up for the rest of your life, and God knows we can't have that or something.

Pause.

Yeah. So, show us your "skillz" and all of that, and then when your time comes and all of that, I can put your ass in the back of the line like the other retarded boys on the short bus.

You smile. You can't help it. But, why should you try to help it? You should be proud. The anxiety should be rising in your chest as you watch him crescendo with each word, growing closer and closer to the end. So, sit there, stay the **** quiet, and just listen. You might learn a thing or two. Unless you're a retard. Like Zellor. That was probably uncalled for.

Who gives a ****?

Dusk: Now, we've gotta focus on the champion here because, well, he does have the title and all of that. I mean, even if the champion no shows, you have to be ready for him right? Pfft. **** that. You think I'd prepare for a race against the gold medalist of the Special Olympics? Well, Harley Douglas might, but he's also an asshole from what I hear. Then again, I've never met the guy, much less seen him so what do I know? So Harley, your competition is here.

Out walk five clowns. Dusk stands up and looks at the camera.

Dusk: Have fun with them.

Dusk then walks away from the camera, the fire still burning in his eyes. You feel a frown coming on. Just like that, he's gone. Yet, instead of getting sad, you reach for the remote. You pause it. Then, you rewind it to the very second he came on the screen.

And you watch it again.

King Bear
07-26-07, 06:44 PM
“I said you deserved respect, Dusk… I didn’t say you wee gonna get it.”<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /><o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
The camera fades in as PRIME’s very own Big Bear Munson Monsoon stands in front of a TEAM backdrop, covered in a black PRIME t-shirt and his wrestling trunks. With a look of resolution on his face, Big Bear glares into the camera.<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
Big Bear: I know you’d let it get into your head and make you become the guy who brings out the gay jokes, but the fact of the matter is simply – you’re just like Harley, just like Cruise, just like the rest of ‘em, mister ‘PRIME’s next big thing’ – you’re just scared of the Big Bear.<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
Chuckling a bit, Munson laughs to himself and continues on his rant.<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
Big Bear: As much as you may want to think it, Dusk; this match will not be handed to you, not even close. I’m going to make sure that you’re time in this match makes you feel like a terrorist in <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-comhttp://www.fwrestling.com/fwc/ /><st1:State><?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = <st1http://www.fwrestling.com/fwc/ /><st1:State><?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = <st1http://www.fwrestling.com/fwc/ /><st1:State><?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = <st1http://www.fwrestling.com/fwc/ /><st1:State><?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = <st1http://www.fwrestling.com/fwc/ /><st1:State><?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = <st1:place>Kentucky</st1:place></st1:State> – hard, hot, and hurts like Hell. If you think just showing up to this thing is a guaranteed win, you’ll end up being mauled by more than just the Big Bear; but all these other chumps who I’ll have to eventually put down. The only thing they’ll be calling you after the match will be PRIME’s next big flop, while I’m claiming my FREE FOR ALL~! gold belt.<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
Another adjustment in posture, this time pointing to the camera; he’s serious.<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
Big Bear: So listen up, Dusk – you walking cliché – you can churn out all that bullsh*t about being the rising phenom in the sport, the top newcomer in the business… but I’m gonna let you in on a little secret. The real newcomer has yet to make his name heard. He’s six-foot-four, two-hundred and seventy-eight pounds, he’s got a mean streak longer than your bloodline and a mustache your ancestors would envy. He’s the Big Bear…<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
“And when there’s gold on the line, there’s no chump that can’t be busted.”<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
FTB<o:p></o:p>

Starbreaker
07-29-07, 12:31 AM
[V/O]: "Disappointment comes like a wave, washing over you. If you don't keep your head above it, there's a chance you can sink under it, never to reemerge and move on."

FADE IN: on interchanging clips of the Tournament of Champions intial elimination round.

"You sense it coming, once the fall has come and passed. You know there is nothing you can do because it's too late to avoid. You tried your hardest, and failed. There isn't anymore that could have been done, within your power. So when that wave eclipses you, and you're trapped in the bonds of failure... you make a choice."

Focusing on Larry Tact, the clips show him avoiding elimination in the match, and fighting on to try and survive to the next round.

"Just as there is a choice to put your all into a match, and risk facing the fact you weren't able to get the job done that night, or not doing so and giving yourself an out... there is the choice of whether to get back up and jump right into the fray again, or not."

A shot of Tact being eliminated.

"At the Tournament of Champions... I had every intention of giving my all, showing I could be the best of the best. But, by some perverse twist of fate, I was hit by an elbow not even intended to come my way... and eliminated. A fluke shot did me in. And although it was disappointing... it will not set me back."

CUT TO: a shot of Tact looking up at the ring, after being eliminated, watching the others continue fighting on.

TACT V/O: "I was eliminated... but I was not beaten. They, and everyone else... they still have yet to see the Larry Tact who has been dormant... lying in wait... waiting to be unleashed!"

"And I... am done... waiting!"

CUT TO: various cuts of Tact training in the gym.

"For months, it seems... I have been struggling against myself. I have become complacent, at times; waiting... waiting... for something to spark me. And when I was pushed to my absolute limit... I found it. The spark that awakened a side of me that has been dormant for years."

"I found that dormant piece of me, again."

CUT TO: Tact in his ring attire-- black tights with gold trim, 'LT' imprinted across the waist in cursive, white-taped fists, black boots-- looking up at an empty ring in a darkened arena, save for a cone of spotlight cast down upon he and the ring.

"I didn't get where I wanted to in the Tournament of Champions, but I'm not about to relent. And in fact, there is a match coming up at the next SuperShow... one that is quite like the one where I was unceremoniously halted in the ToC. This Free For All match has caught my eye. It's a bit off the beaten path, perhaps, for some. But then again, maybe that's more the image it's garnered from who has participated. You see, though it is open to any and all who would step into the ring... it seems many of the 'celebrated' stars have shied away. Whether that is out of fear of having their pride hurt, from being tossed over the top rope... or a feeling that the match is somehow 'below' them... I don't know. Quite frankly, I don't really care. For me, this match is here, now, for me to take part in if I want. And so, a choice:"

"Shy away, back down as so many have, from this match, and wait for the Dupree Cup..."

"Or step up to the task, get in the ring, and find out what this match is made of."

Tact turns, now, and looks at the camera with a stony expression, running the fingers of one hand over the other taped fist.

"Looking at the previous matches in the Free For All Championship's history, it seems cluttered with igorant and presumptuous bastards. People who think they've got all the answers, and can walk right to the winner's circle here. I must say, it was a souring experience watching it all."

"I mean, the 'greatest' Champion this belt has had thus far is... Jason Payne. A man who may very well have balls where his brains should be. I see he's managed to squeeze his way into a Championship of Champions match, and that doesn't really matter much to me..."

"What does is that, in the process, he cheapened the Free For All Championship in order to get what he really wanted. He used it, then dumped it, like a cheap whore. He couldn't be bothered to earn his way to the top, the way the best inevitably do-- perhaps because the man TOO HOT for TEAM... fears where that would land him, if he tried. So instead he dove in with the true filth of this industry, and raped a title to get ahead."

Turning his head, momentarily, he spits out onto the floor.

"It's disgusting."

"There are times you gotta get your hands dirty to pave your way in this sport. I know that, and I don't exclude myself from the list who have. It's the way things operate in the industry. But one thing that is never necessary to get your way, one thing you never should do... is taint a Championship. To do that is to show, no matter how physically gifted you may be, or how clever... it shows how weak you really are."

"It's pathetic."

He shakes his head.

"And what about the current Champion, Harley Douglas? I thought he at least felt some sort of committment to the title, but I've become increasingly doubtful about that, as this week has progressed. He's in the Lethal Lottery, gunning for tag gold, and suddenly his committment to the Free For All Championship has... withered. Wilted. Maybe Harley feels like he's got something more important to attend. If that's the case, then he isn't worthy of this Championship, either. He's just contributing to the degradation of the belt, no better than Payne. He just wants to use it and lose it, no different. Well, Harley, if you think you can step into the ring at this show, for the FFA~! match, with that attitude... you're going to find your a** on the floor, because that attitude isn't going to cut it any longer for the FFA~! Champion... Ace."

Leaning back against the ring apron, he pauses in thought.

"Because this time we've got some true competitors, some challengers ready to put in the effort this title deserves. For instance, there's Jason Cruise, a man who only needs mention his lineage, and put down whatever promotions he is in, and wrestlers he faces, to assure victory; "Big Bear" Monsoon, who will run over all of us... as long as we don't try to stop him; Dusk, who seems to have a good grasp of basic computer skills, but maybe not how to use a TV... so he can read over the all-important words of "Big Bear," rather than just watching a promo reair. He even has the courtesy to double-check he's got the guy's name right. That good ol' PRIME grooming really makes sure they focus on the important things. I can tell you're a great depiction of PRIME talent, and going to be the 'next biggest superstar' over there, and certainly a threat here... just like the long line of self-proclaimed 'next biggest superstars' in wrestling. No doubt."

Pauses, rubbing his chin.

"Waaait a minute... those self-proclaimed 'superstars' don't really seem to pan out! And speaking of outdated, how long has it been since someone tried pulling the "I'm a third-generation wrestler, bow down to me!" line out? And why can't I just dodge out of the way of "Big Bear" and continuously make him look like a tard, before he gets so frustrated he ends up eliminating himself from charging right over the top rope? Or some such ignoramis mistake..."

Suddenly, and with INCREDIBLE SHOCK dawning upon him, Tact seems to have had an epiphany!

"For all the great talk there's been from all of you... it looks like the only 'top guys' this title might being hunted after... are some of the top b**chers and posturers of wrestling! A not-so-eclectic group of personalities, all of you seem to enjoy flinging petty insults and stroking your egos. And when that's got you all hot, what next? Maybe you'll go measure your d**ks with one another's, to see who's really the 'biggest and best' to get the title? Is this what the 'Awesome Xplosion' of AWX is? Is this what NAPW is letting loose from their ranks? This is what passes for talent north of the border, these days?"

He looks anguished as these thoughts cross his mind, and quickly shakes his head.

"Well, then... I guess Harley Douglas doesn't fall too far from what might await the FFA~! Championship, if he relinquishes it. That is, if I wasn't stepping in. See, unlike all of you... I'm not here to try building my career, or further boost my name, off of this title. I'm going to show up to that match, quite simply because, at the Tournament of Champions, I didn't get enough. I was eliminated off an errant elbow, and the part of me that has only recently begun to reassert itself is screaming to be unleashed. And I won't... I can't... just sit on my laurels, here, waiting for the Dupree Cup to cut it loose. So I'm going to take full advantage of this match, instead."

Zooming in from his upper torso and above, his words come cold and sharp.

"But now... I've got a little added motivation. Looking over the past of this match, and then hearing the rest of you talking... or, more accurately, stroking yourselves while churning out put down after unoriginal put down... I feel inspired to put an end to the utter crap this title is having slopped on it."

"I don't need to stroke myself erect in order to prepare myself to enter the ring for this match. But sooner or later, the FFA~! title will be mine. And as you sail, limp, over the top rope, maybe you'll realize that I can say that not because I could insult you more... not because I was necessarily bigger, stronger, faster, or quicker than you. It will be because I don't relent. I don't half-a** it in the ring. I put in the effort to fully prepare, and don't expect to give anything less in a match I'm in. It just isn't worth it to do things any other way. And really, that's the kind of Champion this title needs right now, to pick it back up out of the taint it's engulfed in."

"In this match, perhaps you'll realize that Humbling truth, as you hit the floor. And then you'll have a choice to make, yourselves, as I did: keep away from this match... or step back in, and see if you're up to the task, and willing to put in the effort. If you're worthy of being a TEAM Champion."

"And don't mistake my words. This isn't about proving any of you wrong. Perhaps "Big Bear" can, indeed, run roughshod over unmoving targets. It's completely possible Jason Cruise can intimidate the likes of those in NAPW to believe he's got some kind of 'bloodright' to greatness. Perhaps Dusk really doesn't know how to use TiVO or DVR, or is an internet junkie who likes to print out his opponents' promo transcripts. But if you think any of that is going to save you against me, well... it will only make your Humbling that much swifter. Don't worry, though, because as much as your ego-stroking, insult swapping talk may horrify viewers, this week it'll be worth it for them to suffer through it. Because when bell time comes, it'll just make them appreciate what I do all the more... because I'll make this match..."

He nods.


"... Simply Tactilizing!"


Fade out.

CraigM
07-29-07, 09:48 PM
You hear a laugh and it's followed by another laugh. The laughter continues for a few seconds as you watch the television. The blackness that is there slowly disappears and is replaced by a plain white backdrop with a stool sitting in the middle of the shot. Yet, you still hear the laughter, and wonder where it's all coming from. Then, a man walks into the picture, but not just any man. It's Dusk. He stands there for a second, nearly doubled over from the laughter before he sits down on the stool, still chuckling to himself. As he looks up at the camera, he is nearly overcome with another set of laughter, but is able to restrain himself. He tries to look seriously into the camera, but is unable to.

Dusk: You'll have to excuse me, but I'm just having the hardest time here trying to be all serious. You see, my agent had the NERVE to call me and ask me if I was going to respond to the Big Bear himself. Of course, I didn't have the slightest clue as to what he was talking about so of course he referred me to YouTube where I found a video of Munson Monsoon all of a sudden start bashing me. I guess he was tired of sucking my dick or something because he just went all postal on me! Of course, I had to call my agent back and ask him if he was joking, as if I would actually have a response to this. But, I figured it would be the generous thing to do so that the Bear himself feels like he's actually being noticed around here.

Then, the smile disappears from his face and you can tell he's all about business now.

Dusk: You said that I deserved respect, yet I wasn't going to get it. Do you know just how backwards that sounds Big Bear? Listen, while you were giving me your verbal blowjob, I was a little busy main eventing at ReVolution and preparing for my co-main event spot at Colossus IV, you know, that big PPV that is coming up. I believe you have a spot on that card as well, somewhere near the beginning. You claim that I deserve respect, but why is that? Why do you feel like that I deserve it, but I'm not going to get it? Is it because I hurt your feelings? Is it because you thought I was going to be your friend? Because, for a hot minute you were just praising me up and down as if I had just dinner with you and gave you a compliment. So, why the sudden turnabout? Because, I made you look like a fool, that's why. While you had were just slobberin' my dick up, going up and down it like it was a candy cane, I was putting you in the spotlight and you didn't like it one bit. Well, guess what? Grow the **** up. This business isn't about who deserves respect and who doesn't, it's not about who you're going to give it to and who you're not, it's about stepping from behind that curtain and making something of yourself. I could care less if you respect me because I know that I've done my job when I'm part of the three co-main events while you're curtain jerking and people will have forgotten that you even wrestled by the second hour.

Dusk then reaches down and a water bottle enters the picture. He takes a swig of it, obviously not done with his comments towards the BEAR!

Dusk: Now, I have to ask you about this whole being scared of the Bear thing. Do you really believe that? Do you go to sleep at night and just think about all of the people that're scared of you? Because, believe it or not, you're nowhere on my map of **** I have to worry about. Let me explain it to you, and I know when I explain it to you that you're going to talk about me having a big head and being this so-called "superstar" thing, so try not to go down the "clichéd" road that you mentioned me going down when I brought out the gay jokes. Oh, and about that, **** you. It's not as hurtful when I've already dissed myself about it, so think about it makes you look like. But, you see, when you're climbing to the top, and I'm sure it's something that you'll never experience, but at least you'll be able to live through me, you've got people pulling you left and right, match here and there that you just let things pass you by. Being in a match like this, it's nothing big for me, but you're treating it as if it's going to be your big day. You know, it might be. I mean, you'll be able to step into the ring with me Big Bear and be able to tell your grandkids that you once fought the biggest man in wrestling. You'll be able to tell them that you lost. So, keep hyping yourself and this match up, because when you fall, it'll be so much better for me.

Then, he takes another swig from the water bottle.

Dusk: But, enough about you Big Bear. I think I've made my point with you. Let's move on to another competitor, Larry Tact. If I had a nickel for every time I heard someone talking about they're just waiting to be unleashed, well, I would have ten cents just from this match. You and Big Bear should form a tag team called the Not Quite Unleashed. Seriously, Big Bear wants to call me clichéd? You're a walking book of clichés. You mention your time in ToC and how disappointing it was for you, but what makes you think this is going to be any different? If you don't have the talent to step your game up when everyone is watching you, when you have a chance to make something of yourself, then what makes you think you're going to do any better in this match? Let me answer that for you. You're not. You talk about how you don't need to boast yourself up, but that is exactly what you're doing talking about how the others in this match is just flinging crap at each other, nothing better than **** insults. Wow, you're just a walking contradiction, the biggest ****ing hypocrite this match has to offer. You know who you would fit right in with? Pat Robertson and the entire right wing. So, sit down, shut the **** up, and walk away before you embarrass yourself some more.

Oh, wait. Too late.

Dusk then grabs his water bottle and is about to walk off when something strikes him. He pauses in mid-step and turns back to look at the camera.

Dusk: Oh, one last thing, Big Bear.

Then out of his pocket, he pulls out a fake mustache and slaps it on his face. It resembles the one that is living on Monsoon's face.

Dusk: What now?

He then walks away and the scene fades to black.

King Bear
07-29-07, 11:34 PM
(FADE IN: The scene opens in an empty apartment that overlooks the downtown city of <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-comhttp://www.fwrestling.com/fwc/ /><st1:City><?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = <st1http://www.fwrestling.com/fwc/ /><st1:City><?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = <st1http://www.fwrestling.com/fwc/ /><st1:City><?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = <st1:place>Denver</st1:place></st1:City> around sundown. The only light in the dim 9<SUP>th</SUP> floor residence blinks on the answering machine like a bright, red beacon in the middle of the night. Clothes are scattered everywhere, the sink is full of dirty dishes, and the coffee table is covered in trash. It is safe to assume nobody has been here for quite some time. Then a knock came to the door. No answer. So, a twist of the knob. The door ope- hey, what the!?)<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /><o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
KJL: Hu-hello?<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
(CUTTO: Kendra Jade Lawrence – yes the TEAM bombshell! - pops her head into the door peeking around into the mass carnage that lies at hand. She takes a few steps inside, looks at the piece of paper she is holding in her hand, and then looks back into the darkness. Flick.)<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
KJL: What a dump.<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
(SCENE: Almost on cue, “Big Bear” Munson Monsoon leaps up out of the trashy rubble, charges Ms. Jade Lawrence, and tries to bust her down with his running lariat. She, however, didn’t think anybody was home so she closed the door..)<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
BB: You the chu- <o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
*CRASH*<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
(Kendra opens the door again, seeing the wreck that made that loud crash.)<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
KJL: Big Bear?<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
BB: (lifeless and seemingly dead) …<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
(CUTTO: Kendra drags Big Bear into his apartment from under the arms, looking down the hallway like a paranoid crackhead as she does so. She seems quite strong, moving that beast with such grace.)<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
---<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
(CUTTO: Holding his head, Big Bear sits up and looks around. The apartment has completely transformed into a HOSPITAL!)<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
BB: WHAT THE FU-<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
KJL: Big Bear! You’re up!<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
BB: -CK! What the hell happened while I was out, you let the Queer Eye for a Med Student come into my apartment!?!<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
(SCENE: The curtain jerks back as a doctor stands there, first glancing at Big Bear, and then at Kendra. He raises an eyebrow and then looks at the chart, returning his eyes to Big Bear shortly.)<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
BB: What are you doing in my apart-<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
Dr.: (pointing at Big Bear, looking at Kendra) Head injury?<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
KJL: I think. He ran into the door and-<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
BB: C’mon, babe; I’m the Big Bear. A wrestler further more. I take hits harder than that day in, day out! Didn’t have to bring me to a… hospital.<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
KJL: (shrugging) What, I didn’t know. I panic easy.<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
Dr.: Well let me have a look see, mister wrestler.<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
BB: Look, doc, there are plenty of things I should be at a hospital for, but m’noggin’ ain’t on that last. (looking to Kendra) Great, now I got some doctor checking out my head with one of the most important matches in my life just days away!<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
KJL: (under her breath) Someone needs to…<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
Dr.: Don’t worry, Mr. Munson. You’re head looks fine, just some slight swelling. I’m sure you’ve heard it before, but just throw some ice on there and it should be good in no time.<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
(SCENE: The doctor smiles at the young blonde on his way into the waiting area. She grins then looks back at Big Bear, who was using the stethoscope as a microphone.)<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
BB: Listen up TEAMusses! The Big Bear’s cranium cavity is AAAAAAAAAA OOOOOOOOOOOO KAAAAAAAAAYYYYY!<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
KJL: (rolling her eyes) Oh my God…<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
(CUTTO: Kendra Jade Lawrence is sitting across from Big Bear, now both back at his apartment. She has a camera crew set up around them.)<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
KJL: Big Bear, now that we’ve got the chance to talk; let’s get down to business. In just days you’ll be facing off in the FREE FOR ALL~! title match in quite possibly one of the most anticipated events of the year – SUPERSHOW VI.<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
BB: Ahh yes, anticipation. I know the feeling, baby. Because, y’see; I’m so excited about bashing and busting chumps right down to the bone and then that thought of winning my first major title creeps into my head and whammo! I get the heebie-jeebies just saying it.<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
KJL: You’ve got a lot of work cut out for you, though. Stone Zellor, Jason Cruise, Dusk, you, and now there’s confirmed reports of Larry Tact getting in on this crack at Harley Douglas’ belt. It’s not going to be easy.<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
BB: Sure won’t, miss.<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
KJL: Wha- you’re agreeing?<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
BB: Yep.<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
KJL: But- I’m not, it’s just…<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
BB: Where’s the fun in poundin’ down Jason Cruise’s crown if he’s just gonna let me? You haven’t ever been huntin’, have ya sweetheart?<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
KJL: Uh.. no.<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
BB: No matter. But if this match was set up to be easy, we’d let people like Jason Cruise and stone Zellor run around with this belt all the time – weak, simple minded nobodies who think that just because they give themselves a nickname they deserve a belt. It’s not that simple and it never will be. I’m going to be the guy standing in front of the belt, every single time, ready and willing to whoop anybody’s ass for the rest of its existence if that’s what it takes to keep it out of the mitts of a scumsucker like Cruise.<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
KJL: You’d be willing to do all that just to keep Cruise from a championship?<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
BB: (leaning in) Darlin’… I’d be willing to do that for just about anybody.<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
KJL: Well what about Dusk? The PRIME Intense Icon! He’s so, like…<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
BB: He’s about to become the biggest busted chump there is, that’s what he is. On top of that, he’s the one busting out the gay jokes. I think he is tryin’ to tell us somethin’ with all that wang this and boner that, don’t ya think?<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
KJL: I don’t think we need to-<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
BB: Oh, but we do. We need to examine this guy that calls himself Dusk and how exactly in the WORLD he thinks he can get away with calling me out and get away with it. We need to take a look at his EIGHTH place finish in the Tournament of Champions. More importantly, Kara-<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
KJL: Kendra<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
BB: -sorry, I have a thing with names. More importantly, we should look at his size and strength against mine. I mean, can he do this?<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
(CUTTO: Big Bear is holding the recliner, Kendra Jade still seated in it, above his head and spinning around. He drops the chair causing a loud, thunderous boom. Kendra fixes her hair and looks at the Big Bear.)<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
BB: There, now you can take that to Dusk and tell him to shove that up his pre-superstar ass.<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
KJL: Well I don’t think I’m going to be seeing him before you do, so you can do that if you want him to hear it.<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
BB: Oh I will. Trust me, Karla.<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
KJL: It’s-<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
BB: Oh, right, Kendra. You know it’s the name thing, my bad. Speaking of names, how about Larry Tact crawling out of the archives for a return tour? Look at that, would ya? I gotta give it to the old guy, goin’ strong longer than a triceratops, but gotta give him some credit. The other thing I’m gonna give him is a nice, big shiner for thinking that he stands a chance against me in the ring. The only thing tainted thing about this match is the mere fact that Larry Tact is in it and we’re letting the standard lower, once again.<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
KJL: The FFA~! Battle Royal is an open challenge, Munson. That’s how you got in, that’s how everybody gets in.<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
BB: Well…it’s a shame more competitors can’t be more educated.<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
KJL: Educated? Well, you're gonna have to be a bit more specific since we're talking about wrestlers here. Who are-<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
BB: Yeah, educated. You know, the amount of knowledge and wisdom one holds inside their head? The reason I bring it up is because of Jason Cruise. He’s probably still under the same impression all these other idiots are under; this match is designed for chumps, only chumps win this match, therefore any chump has a chance at becoming… well, a nonchump.<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
KJL: …<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
BB: But I’m here to set that myth to rest. I’m here to clear out the chumpastry that has been the FFA~! title and match of the past and now, I’m bringing it into the era of GREAT SCOTT, THAT ROCKS! The first way is by taking down Cruise, Dusk, Tact, and the other chumps if they decide to show – typically, chumps back out of their commitments, Kendra. Chumps, much like Cruise did, often jump the gun and get in waaaaay over their head and then get pounded in their first TEAM outing.<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
KJL: Another solid point, Herman. (snicker snicker snicker)<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
BB: Watch your ass, Blondie. T<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
KJL: Sorry.<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
BB: It’s okay. But back to my point: the real thing to watch, Kendra-<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
KJL: OH MY GOSH! You-<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
BB: -isn’t how many chumps I’m gonna bust, or how hard I’m gonna do it, or what I’m eating for dinner on Tuesday; the thing to watch will be how bad Harley Douglas gets it compared to those chumps.<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
KJL: Why Harley?<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
BB: Because he’s the biggest chump of all! He’s the whole reason we get the fifth tier talent – or opposite of talent – crap that we get in this gig. I’m here now to end it, and if I have to take down Harley’s ass in the process- then so be it. Its time for a real champion. Not Larry Tact, not Dusk, not Jason Cruise, and especially not Harley D. It’ll just be one massive chump busting, you just wait lady. You just wait.<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
(SCENE: Kendra Jade chews on the tip of her pen for a second then jots some notes down on her steno pad. Big Bear sips on a water and then glances at his watch.)<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
BB: Oh fiddle sticks! I missed Entourage.<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
KJL: You don’t have TiVo?<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
BB: Hayeearright!<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
KJL: Well… I do.<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
(SCENE: Big Bear and Kendra catch each other’s gaze and then share a brief stare.)<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
(CUTTO: Big Bear hops into the car next to Kendra, and then shoots the camera a thumbs up before closing the door.)<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
BB: See you later, TEAMusses. I hope you stick around the <st1:place><st1:PlaceName>Mile</st1:PlaceName> <st1:PlaceName>High</st1:PlaceName> <st1:PlaceType>City</st1:PlaceType></st1:place> for the busting that’s gonna go down at SUPERSHOW VI! Maybe Harley will show up and get what’s coming to him.<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
(FADE OUT: Big Bear smiles and then ducks his head down and dives into the passenger seat of the ’06 Accord. The scene fades out as the car pulls off.)<o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>
FTB

Starbreaker
07-29-07, 11:59 PM
Fade in: on a plain and simple royal blue backdrop, with the TEAM logo emblazoned on it. Sitting on a stool in front of the backdrop is Larry Tact, wearing a pair of stonewashed blue jeans and a grey, sleeveless shirt; one leg propped up a rung higher than the other on the stool. His eyes are covered by a pair of blue lensed, silver-framed sunglasses and his chin-length blonde hair is tied back. He looks a bit... distressed?

LARRY TACT: "Oh, my! What a definitive response! I do believe I should turn around and go home. Pack my bags up, take up my choice of first-class flight back home, and curl up in a ball on my bed, and absolutely bawl... because... b-because..."

"Dusk called me a name!"

He pauses, bringing a finger up to the corner of one eye, and tracing a 'tear' down his cheek.

"Boo hoo... oh, no. Whatever shall I do?"

He removes the sunglasses, slipping them in place between the top of his shirt, before looking composed, and claps his hands together a few times, before speaking in his usual firm, bass tone.

"Very nice, Dusk. I wasn't sure exactly what you, or anyone else, may draw from my words, given that this is, really, a relatively fresh crop of competition for me. I was half expecting you to start calling me a greenhorn, or some such ignorance. But you went for a bit of the good old fashioned, instead. The hypocrite line. Always a sure fire thing, ain't it? It seems to come off so well, so... smoothly. It just makes you feel instantly reassured, doesn't it? Like a final, condemning spike into the heart of your opponent. Because who wants to be known as a hypocrite, in this world we live? It's like saying... like saying... that boxing is corrupt! It's ridiculous!"

"So who would ever think hypocrisy exists in wrestling?"

He chuckles, shaking his head.

"I'll say again... this is what is being allowed to seep outside other promotions? This is the type of thinking that's going on? (snorts) Do you all live a couple decades behind over in PRIMEverse?"

"Well it isn't my job to bring you up to speed, Dusk. Or anyone else who is in this match, for that matter. But I will give you this tidbit... since you seem to know very little, if anything, about me. I don't give a **** what any of you think of me. Because if there's one thing I've long since resigned to with regards to this sport, it's that there is barely anybody who is clean anymore. There may be a scant, rare anomaly that crosses by... but for the most part, everyone has their dark days. Everyone has gotten a bit filthy. And that's fine... so long as you don't deny it within yourself."

"If you do... then you're even more ignorant than even I give you credit for."

He shrugs.

"You want to condemn me, Dusk? Go ahead. Sling your insults my way... make your claims about how I'm not morally sound, as if you know anything about that. But who knows, maybe you can scrape and claw and find something."

"But all I've said is not intended to sting you, or anyone in this match. If it has, then there is a different reason for that. I have no need to cut anyone down with petty insults, though. And I don't need to boost myself up, either. If you believe I sound haughty, then maybe you just don't grasp who you're dealing with. Sound like another line to you? Well, the funny thing about those are... these days, when they ring true about a person, you tend not to realize until it's too late."

Another chuckle.

"I already said it before... I am only speaking about choice. There will be a choice you will have to confront, whether you want to or not, when you step into that ring. A choice to believe, or disbelieve. You see, whether you listen to my words or not... you still either believe, or disbelieve. But you have already chosen... you reject my words, and that is fine."

"Now you will find out whether you are strong enough to uphold your own convictions... or just as weak as the rest, and in need..."

"... of a humbling."

CraigM
07-30-07, 12:00 AM
"Is that thing rolling?"

The voice lingers for a minute as you see a camera turn on and the shaky moment nearly makes you vomit. Then, the camera rights itself as it's pointed at the superstar known as Dusk who you just saw recently. He has a smile on his face as he is driving down the street.

Dusk: You all must be getting tired of this back and forth between the Big Bear and me. Trust me, it's all about to be over soon enough. Now, Big Bear, you're going to have to excuse me as I'm on my way to the airport when I got yet another call from my agent. Thankfully, I have a camera with me at all times now that I've signed on a deal with NBC for them to broadcast the Life of Dusk. So, while you think your little comments would be the final ones in our competition, you will have to settle for being mistaken. But, seeing as how I haven't got long, I figured I should get right to it so don't expect this to be a J.K. Rowling novel.

He then glances around and seems to be changing lanes. Then, he glances back over at the camera and smiles once again.

Dusk: Let me teach you something. For a minute, I'm going to be a professor and you're going to be the student here. Well, not just for a minute because I've been schooling you for the past week. Yep, another 1948 joke coming from me. It should fit in perfectly with your vocabulary since you're using the word chump which hasn't been used this much since easily the 1800's or the 1980's. Take your pick. Now, what is the course I'm teaching today? We're going to call it Common Sense 101. Why is that? Well, because quite simply you have none. Rule number one, and this is the most important rule. Never mention something which you haven't done better at. You want to make mention of my 8th place finish at the Tournament of Champions. A tournament, which you weren't part of, correct? Why is that? Well, because this tournament only accepts CHAMPIONS. Now, ask yourself this, why would you try and attempt to insult me when I was in a tournament that not only did I qualify for, but was given an automatic berth to because of my achievements.

Do you see where your flawed insults have become just that, flawed? You, a nobody, a person who has been in the business all of five minutes, is in a losing battle. A battle that you continue to fight with not one lick of common sense. So, please, spare yourself and the rest of us of your pathetic strength competitions. You can lift up a recliner with a woman in it? Big ****ing whoop. If you ask me, PRIME should be testing you for steroids right about now. Nice knowing you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to be on my way as I've got to fly down to Los Angeles for a press conference. Oh, and the gay jokes? Come on, how clichéd is that?

Then, the camera fades to black.