View Full Version : [REBEL vs. TEAM] FEAR and KRENSHOV vs. Funabashi and Edmunds

08-07-07, 07:20 PM
Floater matchup.

RP deadline is 8/15 @ 11:59:59 PM Eastern Daylight Time. All regular rules apply.

08-07-07, 09:51 PM

“Eli, for the last time, I need some (BLEEP) money,” the mammoth, Kenny Krenshov said with a lingering Jersey accent. “It’s been a month since you’ve dragged me down to Raleigh, and you haven’t gotten me a single match. If I don’t wrestle, I don’t get paid, and if I don’t get paid… well I’m already ducking my new landlord!” The beast wore a black wife beater, showing off his hulking arms, sleeved with various tattoos, and a pair of jogging pants.

The warm Carolina sun beamed down on them in whichever random park they were staging this meeting. Krenshov towered over his manager, Eli Potts, who was confined to a wheel chair. Potts simply looked up at him with a smile, “Aw, that’s just not fair, is it?” Eli was clad in casual business wear, as always, with a conservative blue button-down and black slacks. Oddly, his garb matched the parts of the wheelchair that were made of cloth.

“Don’t play these games with me Eli,” Kenny snarled. “You said you were pairing me and FEAR up a month ago. Now the first Rebel show comes around and you’ve got him wrestling singles matches. While I’m what, chopped liver?”

“Let me tell you what really isn’t fair,” Eli said with a condescending tone, “having the ability to walk taken away from you by the person you considered to be your best friend.” He rubbed his legs while shaking his head, “You should consider yourself so damn lucky, Kenny. You can walk, you can go up and down stairs, and you can bike, hell you can go to the bathroom with ease.”

Kenny looked down, gritting his teeth. There was no way out of this guilt trip that Eli always trapped him with, “Eli I—“

“I wasn’t finished Kenny. You should be so lucky that your ass isn’t back in jail. That third strike would have put you away for life. You’d be behind bars until the day you die. Instead you have to do what I tell you to… is that so bad Kenny?”

For a moment Kenny wanted to say yes, but he knew that would only make things worse. Less than a year ago Kenny went on a rampage in Canada, assaulting a fan and giving his manager, Eli Potts, one of the most devastating moves in professional wrestling, the Total Eclipse. Potts is a small man, and small men weren’t made to take bumps like that. Especially not near-seven foot giants like Kenny Krenshov. Eli became a cripple and Kenny was fired from the prestigious indy promotion, NAPW. Months later Eli and a lawyer showed up at Krenshov’s New Jersey residence, and offered him a choice; a law suit with video tape and physical evidence of the assault, or a contract that gave Eli full control over Krenshov’s professional life. “It’s just… I need some money Eli,” Krenshov said, trying not to sound too vulnerable, because that’s just not how tough guys function, “I won’t have a roof over my head if I don’t get some cash soon.”

“Alright, I’ll get you some cash. But when payday comes around, I’m deducting it from your check,” Eli said, and then smirked, “plus interest.”

Krenshov huffed, and his face turned beat red. With a temper like his, it was hard not to lose it on a prick like Eli. “Fine… but do you mind telling me just when “payday” is going to be?”

“Well, since you’re such a charming fella,” Eli’s voice was filled with nothing but sarcasm, “I guess I can share this with you. First of all, I got you and FEAR a match on the next Rebel show.”

“Against who?” Kenny said, seemingly much calmer at the prospect of work.

“The Blue Grass Mafia, you know, Chad and Mathew Kurtis,” Eli said, “they’re experienced, and if anything, they’ll show the two of you how to work together.”

Kenny huffed again, “As long as the little jumping-bean stays out of my way, I’ll take care of those two chumps.”

“You two are going to work together, as a team, whether you like it or not,” Eli demanded, “and if you chose not to, I have no problem with making sure FEAR gets all the bookings while you sit on the sidelines. Besides, Mathew Kurtis pretty much looks you eye-to-eye. It’s not too often that happens.”

“He aint ****!”

“Oh really? Well, that’s too bad, because your next payday will depend on how he performs,” Eli said with a smile.

Krenshov was confused, “What are you talking about?”

“Well, I pulled some strings, and got you into that TEAM Dupree Cup Tournament. It just so happens that Kurtis is on your team,” an even wider-smiling Eli said.

“Wait, I thought you said Garret dropped the ball on that, and that the TEAM thing wasn’t happening? And of all things, why did you team me up with that hillbilly?”

“Like I said, I pulled some strings. You and FEAR are both in the tournament, along with two other Rebel wrestlers. The first round won’t get you too much money, but the rounds following that will definitely tally up some dough in all of our pockets. As far as Kurtis is concerned… well, you won’t be teaming with him as in tag-teaming, but you will have to rely on him. Each team in the Dupree Tournament has two members representing as a tag team, which will be you and Fredrick, a singles match competitor, Mathew Kurtis, and a special gimmicky match competitor,” Eli said, not sounding too thrilled about that last part.

“Who’s the last one?”

“Kyle Roberts,” Eli said grimly.

“F*ck that!” Kenny exclaimed, shaking his head, “I don’t want any part of anyone who was in that whole Man in Black conspiracy, I’ll lose my cool and beat his ass—“

“Kenny, let it go. That was so long ago,” Eli replied.

“So long ago Eli? Excuse me for not forgetting how it took ten men to hold me down and handcuff me… Kyle Roberts being one of those men,” Kenny hissed, “I’m not working with him!”

“Yes you are, and you’ll do it with a (BLEEP) smile if I tell you to!” Eli shifted his small body in his wheel chair, “I don’t like the idea of him being on the team either, but some things can’t be helped. Trust me, I tried to negotiate my ass off, but in the end, he’s on the team, and worse yet, he’s the team captain.”

“You’re kidding me,” Kenny laughed a depressing laugh.

“I don’t know what makes Roberts the golden child around here. For Christ’s sakes, FEAR pinned him, and suddenly he’s handed title shots and the chance to be the team captain,” Eli shook his head, “but at least he didn’t fight me on getting the two of you in. I figure he knows how scary of an opponent you can be, and Fredrick has already pinned him cleanly. So it’s a good move on his part, and on the bright side, you won’t have to worry about teaming with him. He’ll be in a completely different match than you.”

“Yeah, but I still have to rely on him, and that’s just something I don’t know if I can do,” Kenny said while cracking his knuckles.

“I know what you’re thinking Kenny, but give him a chance. If he screws up for all of us, trust me, I’ll be the first one giving you the OK to set things straight.” Eli twitched his nose, then pointed at Kenny, “BUT until then, hands off. Understand?” Kenny grunted, which was as good as an acknowledgement for Eli. “Now go back to your place and wait there. I’ll be sending someone over to drop off the money, so don’t get alarmed when you see a stranger knocking on your door. I’m going to go meet with FEAR and give him the rundown on this whole situation, and I’ll get in contact with you later.”

Kenny gave him a blank stare, and then turned and walked away. The whole time he couldn’t help thinking, What the hell have I gotten myself into?

08-07-07, 11:18 PM
'Mt. Tsuki ' to embark on new venture
By Haruhiro Ushiba, Yahoo! Sports Japan

Gifu - With a wide grin and a pair of sunglasses shielding his weary eyes from the adverse sunlight, Shin‘ya Funabashi held a press conference at the Ena Civic Center where he promise to unveil some major future plans concerning his wrestling career. When word got out that Japan’s wrestling pioneer was going to hold his first press conference since his return to the ring after a defamatory respite, it was only academic to see all of Japan’s media to be present. To break the ice, Funabashi open the floor for any questions surrounding his time away from the public.

Upon inquires about Funabashi’s alleged drug use and alcohol abuse, Shin’ya nodded and admitted that what he did was wrong, and that he didn’t expect anyone to forgive him. He also stated that those problems were behind him, and that he has over come his addiction. Though the grief of his be-loved Yuuka still lingers, the desecration of his body with lewd toxins were over.

Following some brief questions about his past and future, Funabashi announced he had come to some conclusions about the next step in his life, and without further adue…

Shin’ya opened up a briefcase and pulled out a slip of paper, raising it high above his head for the cameras that began flashing left and right.

"It is with great excitement that I announce..." he continued. "That I have signed a contract with the American based, TEAM to participate in the 2007 Dupree Cup, held in August!"

As cameras continued to flash, Funabashi professed his desire to fulfill a life long dream, and his constant drive to be better. The Dupree Cup Tournament would consist of three matches in the first three weeks of the tournament; including the dawning match of Team TEAM (Shin’ya Funabashi & Sean Edmunds) versus Team REBEL (Fear & KRENSHOV). After all three weeks of round robin play are over, the bracket winners will make the playoff round, which consists of single elimination meets. Advancement to the single elimination stage will depend on total accumulation of points.

Funabashi admitted that this tournament would indeed be hoarse, as the completion would be fierce - but he promised to make Japan proud, and deemed his prolonged debut in America would influence their wrestling culture.

Ready to depart, ‘Mt. Tsuki’ stood and bowed before leaving the stage with his entourage.

Now, the real question is - is America ready for ‘Mt. Tsuki’? The man has brought upon a revolution in one country, is he able to do it in another? Only time will tell…
-Source: Yahoo! Sports Japan

08-09-07, 09:42 PM

Fredrick Eglasies Armand-Romano, FEAR for short, the almost-overnight Rebel sensation, leaned up against his modest Subaru Legacy with an unlit cigarette in a random parking lot somewhere in North Carolina. He sucked the bitter-sweet tobacco stick, cursing himself in his head for forgetting his lighter, and the fact that his car lighter was MIA. As usual, the dark completed Hispanic man was clad in black from head-to-toe, and his hair slicked back neatly. Without his bandanna mask he looked a bit out of place, but dumping the cloth mask was not his idea.

His phone began to vibrate in the pocket of his black slacks. Fredrick was no psychic, but he already knew who it was, but still, he eyed his caller ID for confirmation. He was right, it was his manager, Eli Potts. FEAR opened his phone, “Eli, where are you? You said you were going to meet me here an hour ago.”

The devil’s voice rang through the other end, “Sorry, I just got off the phone with my doctor. He had to reschedule my physical therapy last minute, and I’m on my way there now. It’s not a big deal though; I still need you there for me.”

FEAR was slightly annoyed, “What for senor?”

“I’ll get to that in a minute. First I wanted to fill you in on the big news,” Eli said.

“What es the big news?”

“Well, I’m sure you’ve already heard, but you and Krenshov are going to be facing the Blue Grass Mafia on Tuesday,” Eli said, “but there’s more. A lot more actually, you see, I intend not only to make you and Krenshov icons of Rebel, but to blast your names out there to the entire world. Are you familiar with the TEAM promotion?”

“Si,” FEAR replied quickly with interest, “they hold all of those tournaments with wrestlers from all over the world.”

“That’s right. The Dupree Cup is up for grabs, and I’ve gotten you and Krenshov as a part of team Rebel. The both of you will be handling the tag-portion of this tournament, and we can only pray the other two can hold up their ends of the deal,” Eli said with spite.

“Who es the others?”

“Well, actually, one of them is your opponent this Tuesday—Mathew Kurtis. Hopefully you and Krenshov can learn a little something from him and his brother this Tuesday, because hardly anyone in this tournament is going to have as much experience as the Blue Grass Mafia,” Eli half-answered, “and you had better learn quick. I’m putting a lot of eggs into this one basket, and you better not let me down.”

“As long as Kenny stays out of my way, there es not going to be any problems Eli,” FEAR answered grimly.

“That’s hilarious,” Eli said sarcastically, “do you know what that’s hilarious?”

FEAR was hesitant to answer, “No.”

“Because that’s exactly what Krenshov said to me. And I’m about to tell him the same thing I told you… do you know what that is?”

Eli’s favorite thing to do was to ridicule someone over the phone, and that’s exactly what was happening here. “No,” FEAR replied, his temper rising.

“I told him that the two of you are going to work together, or else I’ll make sure the both of you don’t get bookings for the rest of your semi-useful existence! You two are going to go into your match Tuesday to get a crash course from one of the most experienced tag teams on the roster, and I’ll be damned if you take this opportunity for granted. Now I’m never one to give those two hillbilly rednecks compliments, but there is no denying that the two of you can use this opportunity to your advantage,” Eli yelled.

There was a long and awkward silence on the phone, then finally FEAR replied, “Fine. Who es the other person on our team?”

“Heh… the team captain is Stylin’ Kyle Roberts,” Eli gritted his teeth, “which, you’ve worked with him before. You’re quite familiar with ol’ SKR aren’t you Fredrick?” FEAR could feel Eli smiling on the other end of the phone, “You pinned him in that Carolinas contenders match not too long ago, then the two of you ended up teaming together in the NAPW/Rebel Supershow. Remember?” FEAR didn’t answer because he knew exactly where Eli was going with this. “In fact, right before your match where you pinned Kyle, you signed some papers.”

The papers… it was always about the papers. Fredrick was new, and the narcotic Eli Potts promised him fame and fortune in he signed a simple contract that would make Eli his manager. It seemed like a good deal at the time, but legalities can be confusing, and before Fredrick knew it, Eli was in full control of all of FEAR’s professional decisions. Eli’s wild visions of success were why Krenshov and Fredrick were thrown together in this unlikely tag team.

“Don’t worry, you don’t have to answer. All you and Krenshov have to do is go in, win your match, hope that Kurtis and Roberts can pull off their ends of the deal, and you advance to the next round. It’s money in our pockets as long as you two WORK TOGETHER.”

“Si, I get it,” Fredrick said with frustration, “who are our opponents?”

“I’ll fill you in on that when I get more information on who you’ll be facing, but from what I hear, it’s a team that has been just thrown together as a wild-card team. They probably have as much experience as a tag team as you and Krenshov do, so it will be a good breaking in for the both of you,” Eli said, “but we’ll discuss that later. For now I need you to go into the building I was suppose to meet you at and pick up some paper work regarding your entries in the TEAM event. You can drop it off at my place sometime after six.”

Click. FEAR was annoyed with Eli’s constant ordering, even more so when he ends the phone conversation so abruptly. Fredrick sighed and slapped his phone shut, and began walking towards the building. The only good thing about this venture is that someone in that random building must have a light.

08-09-07, 10:55 PM
Re-posted for Live&InConcert:

Shin’ya Funabashi, TEAM 2007 Dupree Cup
By Atsumori Kaga, Nippon Fight

‘Mt. Tsuki’, along with his entourage, retired to a quit retreat in the Nishi-ku ward of Kobe for a few hours of leisure time before preparing for the long flight to America- where he would participate in the 2007 TEAM Dupree Cup. After his unforeseen press conference a few days ago, it was expected to hear so many questions revolving around Funabashi’s decision to compete in the United States.

Today, Shin’ya made an appointment with Nippon Fight to address these unanswered questions and to explain the reason to why he would be leaving Japan for the time being.

Atsumori Kaga - Thank you for taking the time to see us, Mr. Funabashi.

Shin’ya Funabashi - The pleasure is all mine. I have some things I need to get out there, and I’m sure there are many question circulating my move to America, so why not?

Atsumori Kaga - Indeed. Let me first being with, that I’m sorry about the loss of Yuuka. I’ve met her on many occasions back when she was actually an intern at Nippon Fight. She was a nice lady, kind and generous.

Shin’ya Funabashi - … Thank you. She will diffidently be missed, especially by me. If you don’t mind, you think we can maybe skip pass this and get to the topic everyone wants to hear about? I really do not want to talk about my dead wife at this moment…

Atsumori Kaga - Yes, of course. I’m sorry.

Shin’ya Funabashi - It’s okay.

Atsumori Kaga - Okay. ‘Mt. Tsuki’ in America? Why? The last time you was there, you were being pummeled by tomatoes and stall popcorn. Why would ever go back to such a place?

Shin’ya Funabashi - Back when I first made my appearance in America, it was during a time when foreign wrestlers weren’t really appreciated, let alone being discriminated against. Now, times have changed. I’m getting too old to stay fumed over something so stupid from so long ago.

Atsumori Kaga - I see… so, tell me of this Dupree Cup. How exactly is it going to work?

Shin’ya Funabashi - Well, the Dupree Cup is basically tournament consisting of ten teams, all subsiding with four members. If a team happens to win the majority of their bouts, then that said team would go into the playoffs. Once again, if that team wins the majority of their matches, they would move on to the final fight with the team that has been doing just as good and has also made it into the finals.

Atsumori Kaga - What about your opponents? Do they seem like a threat?

Shin’ya Funabashi - Really, I see every soul abiding in this tournament as a threat. I don’t know of their in ring skill, I don’t know how they carry themselves ring-wise. But, I do know that they all are warriors; fore if they weren’t, they would be participating in such a tournament.

Atsumori Kaga - As for you teammates?

Shin’ya Funabashi - The same goes for them. I do not know of their skill level, but they are warriors. The four of us will try and work to together for one cause. And, that’s to win.

Atsumori Kaga - Interesting. Now, as far the future is concerned, where will ‘Mt. Tsuki’ lay his hat? America? Japan?

Shin’ya Funabashi - Truthfully, I have no idea. Japan is, and will always be, my home. But, you just have to understand that there is so much in the world besides Japan. America, Europe, Australia, Africa - there are just so many places to see and visit. For me to say that I will be stationing anywhere would be wrong. I plan on going anywhere and everywhere before the start of the New Year’s.

Atsumori Kaga - Alright, I think that’ll do it. Any closing thoughts?

Shin’ya Funabashi - No, I believe the fans have received all the information they wanted.

Atsumori Kaga - Alright, well thank you for your time, today.

Shin’ya Funabashi - No problem.

With that, Shin’ya Funabshi shook my hand and returned to the on-site facilities.

Curtesy: Nippon Fight

08-10-07, 06:46 PM

The ravage beast, Kenny Krenshov, is in his small apartment, bench pressing an undeterminable amount of weights that can only be described as “a lot”. It’s an awkward set up, with his bench kitty-cornered facing the television and a lone recliner. There really room for much else in this ill-decorated living room before it branches off to only three other rooms in the entire place; his bedroom, the singular bathroom, and the kitchen area. He grunts as he pushes the massive amount of weights from his chest, and sucks in air as he brings the bar back down.

Krenshov’s arms are a mass of skin, tattoos, veins, and most of all, muscle. The monster’s arms bulge with each movement, looking like his triceps could explode. His bare chest looks like a separate entity, as if it was a living, breathing thing. As he brings the bar back down, his phone begins to ring from across the room. Damnit, he thinks to himself with the bar in the resting position. He doesn’t want to answer, but he knows it’s Eli, and Eli has information that Krenshov would like to know. With a solid thrust, and a load, “ARRGH,” the bar is back up in the air, and Krenshov sets it in place.

He sits up, grabbing a towel on the floor to wipe his face off, then finally gets up and snatches his phone. “Yeah?”

“Hey Kenny,” Eli said, his voice full of that indescribable tone that he has, that just makes anyone that hears it feel dirty. “What are you up to?”

“Well, I was in the middle of benching,” Kenny said as-a-matter-of-factly.

“Good, good. Wouldn’t want my meal ticket to lose any muscle,” Eli said, “So, this TEAM—“

Kenny hurriedly cut him off, “Did you find out who I’m facing yet?”

“Well, actually, YOU aren’t facing anyone. The team of FEAR and Kenny Krenshov are who will be—“

“You know what I meant Eli,” an annoyed Kenny said.

“Well then you had better stop cutting me off if you want to find out anything,” Eli said, letting an awkward silence linger through the phone line, “now, who you and Fredrick will be facing,” the sound of papers moving echoes through the phone as Eli sorts through his information, “this one guy, Sean Edmunds. I’m still looking into what he’s all about, but from what some of my sources tell me, he seems to be kind of a big deal.”

“What do you mean, ‘kind of a big deal’?”

“He’s a somebody, that’s what I mean,” Eli retorted.

“I never heard of him,” the beast growled with a hint of Jersey left in him.

“That’s not the point. Other people have heard of him, probably a whole lot more people that have heard of you. That means, you get one over on him, and your reputation shoots up. That equals more money in our pockets,” Eli said almost in an orgasmic trance. “Now this other guy is apparently from Japan… I don’t think he has a big following over here, but over in Japan they seem to hold him in high regard. I Yahoo!’d him, and got a bunch of Japanese sports interviews.”

Krenshov grunted, “Who is he?”

“Shi—Shin’ya—Foon—abooshy? Whatever, names aren’t important. What is important is you two getting through this match,” Eli hissed, slighted from his ignorance of the pronunciation.

“Is that all you have for me? No measurements, weights, stats?”

“When I get the stats, I’ll give them to you! It’s not easy trying to track guys down from all around the world, and besides, you should be glad I even got you in this tournament,” a defensive Eli said. “Now you just keep yourself in shape, and for god sake, work well with Fredrick on Tuesday. I’ve been pulling a lot of strings lately, and I need the two of you to come out on top of the Blue Grass Mafia. If you can do that for me, I may have something else for you.”

Kenny raised an eyebrow, “Something else?”

“Yes, something else! I can’t get into it right now Kenny, but win your damn match, and I’ll see what I can do. Remember, this Tuesday is not only a match that is detrimental to your and Fredrick’s success as a tag team, but it is also a learning experience. Take when the Blue Grass Mafia can give you in ring experience. You got me?”

“Sure,” Kenny said, and then all he heard was CLICK, Eli hung up on him. Krenshov tossed the phone onto the chair, as reality was slapping him in the face for the first time that Eli had brought him to Raleigh, this [i]was[/b] a real shot at success. He shook his head and went back to his bench.


Eli clapped his phone shut after finishing his conversation with Krenshov, and wheeled himself over to FEAR. They were in a close-quarters room, but Eli was far enough way so Fredrick couldn’t hear the conversation. FEAR was sitting in front of a black backdrop, with two unmanned camera on him. There was an empty chair across from him, presumably for an interviewer.

“I just got off the phone with Kenny,” Eli said as his squeaky wheel chair neared Fredrick.

FEAR seemed to be in his own world, snapped back to reality by Eli’s voice, “Oh?”

“I think he’s coming around, just hopefully he can come around before Tuesday. I don’t need an embarrassment loss right before the first round of the Dupree Cup Tournament,” Eli said.

“Why es that an embarrassment? The Kurtis’ brothers are highly skilled, there es no shame in losing to either of them, or both of them for that matter,” FEAR stated.

Eli twitched his nose at that statement, “Look, I’m going to tell you something. I’ve been hyping up the whole you guys need to learn from them your first match as a team… but really, when it comes to the Blue Grass Mafia, this match is going to teach the both of you what not to do. I was frustrated enough when you lost to Chad in that Carolinas title match, and I don’t want a repeat of failure, understand?”

FEAR sat in his chair, tight lipped and angry. While he and Chad had their words, there was no respect lost from Fredrick’s end. Trying to advert the subject, “Why es Krenshov not here? I thought you said that we need to start doing things as a team?”

“Why are you questioning me? I call the shots,” Eli informed, “but since you’re so interested, and I’m such a nice guy, I’ll tell you. The reason Kenny isn’t here is because of his sparkling personality,” Eli grinned sarcastically. “People don’t forget the things he has done, why do you think everyone refers to him as a monster or a beast? He doesn’t come off well on camera, and questions about his past would only piss him off. You on the other hand, you’ve got charisma, you’ve got charm. People like you because they can relate to you. Kenny doesn’t have any of that, the only thing he knows is chaos, and that’s not what I’m trying to project. If I’m going to make the two of you stars outside of Rebel, I’m going to at least need to fake that the two of you are a presentable team.”

Chet Whettleson, Public Relations Representative for Rebel Pro, and two camera men enter the room. Eli instantly silences himself, and FEAR stands up to great all the men.
“Hola,” he says as he shakes Chet’s hand.

“Hello Fredrick. I regret to say that I don’t have a whole lot of time today, Garret has me running all over the place lately. I wish there was some time for some chit-chat prior to this interview, but if it’s ok with you, I’d like to start this right away,” Chet said politely. “I trust that you’re already mic’ed?”

FEAR smiled and shook his head yes as both men took their seats. Eli rolled up next to Fredrick, and in the camera view. He tapped FEAR on the shoulder and signaled him in for a whisper, “Careful. I don’t trust this guy already.”

Fredrick shrugged him off as Chet informed, “I’m sorry Eli, you’re in the shot.”

“Yeah, I am in the shot,” Eli shot back, bluntly.

Chet and FEAR exchanged a look like there was a giant pink elephant in the room that no one was aloud to talk about. The camera man signaled to Chet that they were rolling, “Hey there Rebel fans, this is Chet Whettleson, and I’m here with Rebel Pro wrestler, Fredrick Eglasies Armand-Romano, or as you all know him, FEAR. Now FEAR, this Tuesday you’ll be facing the established team of the Blue Grass Mafia, Matthew and Chad Kurtis, with your partner for the first time, Kenny Krenshov. Now I have to ask, why of all people, Krenshov.”

Eli shot Fredrick a look, one that told him to answer this question carefully. While Fredrick wanted to scream from a mountain top that he was being forced into this situation, he reserved himself, and answered, “Well, it makes sense. He es one of the strongest wrestlers I have ever seen, and he had accomplished a lot in our sister federation, NAPW.”

“Yes but with his reputation,” Chet said with a look of worry, “and after you were on the promise of such singles success, there seems to be something gone very awry about this situation.”

Fredrick chuckled nervously, “Well, tag team wrestling as always been a passion of mine,” which was a fragrant lie, “and Kenny Krenshov es an ideal partner,” an even bigger lie.

Chet shook his head, “If you say so Fredrick. Now, after your match with the Blue Grass Mafia, win or lose, the two of you are going to compete in the TEAM Dupree Cup, along with one of your opponents this week, Mathew Kurtis, and Rebel World Champion, Stylin’ Kyle Roberts. This is an event that holds much prestige, and I can’t help but wondering, how confident are you entering this event as a team with only one match under your belts.”

“Chet, you have a lot of doubt en myself and senor Krenshov,” FEAR said, slightly insulted that Chet was insinuating failure, “we are going to do REBEL proud. It starts this Tuesday, and then en Minnesota when we defeat our opponents in the first round of the Dupree Cup challenge.”

“I see, well, I’m glad to see confidence,” Chet said with a smile, “but I do have some questions about your partner.” This was a bad place to go, “I mean, he comes to Rebel, with the man he put in a wheelchair as his manager,” Eli stared at Chet as he spoke, digging a hole into his sole with his eyes, “after punching out an NAPW fan at one of their shows. How can you justify team—“

“Let me stop you right there,” Fredrick said, “Kenny has a history, this I am aware of, however, I am not the man to speak of it. The only person that can speak for Kenny, es Kenny himself.” FEAR surprised himself that he was sticking up for his new partner, “Now if you want to talk about something else, fine, but if this es going to be all about Kenny’s past, then you can consider this interview over.”

Chet seemed a bit taken back by that comment, and Eli was actually smiling, pleased with Fredrick’s retort. “Well, how about your opponents for TEAM?”

“I do not know much about them, but TEAM es a widely known organization, and we can only expect the biggest of hurdles to jump over. However, I believe that with the Rebel fan’s support, that we can succeed.”

Chet shook his head, “Now during this time with TEAM, can we expect the two of you to run for the Rebel World Tag Team Championships?”

Fredrick chuckled, “Si, if there es one thing, you can expect that amigo.”

“Well, I wish we could have gotten into more, but due to the limitations you’ve put me in the position where I’m already out of questions,” Chet said, regrettably, “So the best of luck to you and Mr. Krenshov. I can’t wait to see the two of you perform on Tuesday, and I’ll be following you in your endeavors with TEAM.”

The cameras cut, Fredrick and Chet both stood to shake hands, and Chet turned to leave abruptly. As the crew and Chet disappeared from sight, FEAR sat down with a sigh, glad that they were gone. It was a short interview, but still mentally exhausting. “Hm,” Eli said, smiling at FEAR.


“For a minute there, you had me believing what you said,” Eli smirked.

“Well,” FEAR said, chewing on that thought, “maybe I meant it.”

08-12-07, 06:29 AM
"You have got to be kidding me."

Sean Edmunds looked up from the letter in his hand. The envelope, neatly opened from the top so not to ruin the contents, falls to the floor as he tosses the whole thing to the side. Edmunds grabs the Diet Coke on the countertop and takes a swig.

"Tag team match in the first round? What the hell is this?" he asks, obviously unamused. "There must be some misunderstanding. HAS to be. I should be headlining the damn team."

He takes another swig and slams the empty can on the counter, the force causing the can to crumple somewhat in the center. He bends over and swiftly grabs the letter back into his hands from the ground.

Glancing it over he shakes his head in disbelief. "Solian," he says as he starts patting his jean pockets. "Where the hell is my cell. I'm going to give him a piece of my mind," he says, once again dropping the letter as his hands begin an extensive search of his jeans. "I bet he's the one who did this to me."

Unable to find the cell phone in his pocket, he looks over to the counter where a landline used to sit. He sighs when he remembers that he got rid of the corded phone months ago. "There goes my whole f*cking day. Down the tubes."

The man known to the wrestling world as "Simply Sensational" Sean Edmunds walks around the brown leather couch that rests on the dividing line between the kitchen and the living room in his summer condo. The camera follows him as he drops to his knees and reaches his hand under the couch. Wait. Make that his entire arm. He sweeps back and forth with his arm underneath the couch, and pulls out ... nothing.

"RMmmmmmmmmmmm!" He lets out the exasperated grunt as he flips over and sits back to couch. He taps his closed fist on the carpet as he tries to remember where he put his cell. His eyes scan the condo; not on the coffee table, nor the fireplace. His breathing gets more and more heavy as he continues to telegraph what he would say to Ulysis Solian should he find his phone.

"I knew this was a piss-poor decision on my part," he continues, not caring about the fact that he's talking aloud to himself and no one else. "I'm going to give Wink a call, too. Let him know that he needs to get on the f*cking ball and schedule more shows before I go out of my mind."

Placing a hand on the cushion, Edmunds props himself up and gets to his feet. He finally sighs, resigned to the fact that he's misplaced his phone. "Whatever. I'll do it later." He pauses, his mind turning as the thoughts start to flow in logical patterns again. "Who am I facing, anyway .. hell, who am I teaming with?"

Edmunds looks down at his hand, half-expecting the letter from TEAM headquarters to still be there. Alas he's disappointed. He looks over at the counter where his Diet Coke can sits, damaged, much like his career has been over the past year and a half.

"I'm losing it. I really am."

He starts towards the kitchen and steps on the letter he was looking for. Instead of looking down, he blows hard through his mouth. He's not had a good go of it recently, losing in the TEAM Invitational Tournament to Beast after sending Adam Benjamin packing. Then losing his longtime manager recently. Edmunds uses his other foot and drags it next to the one standing on the letter ripping it in half.

"I don't have time for this nonsense," his voice gets lower. "I need to regroup. Come out strong." He nods his head as he attempts to persuade himself with the mini-peptalk. The light from the setting sun begins to filter through the open blinds. It focuses directly on Edmunds' face. He brings up an arm, shielding himself.

"I've waited too long," he mutters, the volume of his voice so low that it was almost undecipherable. "This Dupree Cup. This is.." he stops short. He drops his arm letting the rays of the dying sun illuminate his face. He squints, but doesn't shut his eyes, as he walks to the window. Staring out he glances at the water from the Pacific as it crashes on the beach.

"This is it," his eyes no longer squinting as his mind finally comes together. "The world has been too long without Sean Edmunds." He turns, his face rejuvenated. Edmunds walks to the closet on the far side of the room. Grabbing the bronze knob he pulls the door open and plunges in. "F*ck!" Seconds later something crashes to the floor inside. Edmunds comes out with the top half of a bottle of Don Perignon.

"Eh, who cares," he shrugs, "I should probably finish off the tequila anyway." He walks over to the trash barrel and steps on the latch. Like the well oiled machine it is, the top of the trash pops open allowing Edmunds to dump the dripping broken champagne bottle into it. Releasing the latch Edmunds looks up and smiles. "Damn right!"

He turns and hops over the couch, landing on his feet. He drops down in front of the entertainment center and opens the cabinet door that houses the blu-ray player. Sitting on top of the blu-ray player, next to a copy of his favorite of the last year, Casino Royale, sits Edmunds' cell. He flips the top of the Krazr and looks through his missed calls. "The bastard actually called me. Ha!" The truncated laugh quickly replaced with some sort of humming as Edmunds hits the green dial button.

He sits there admiring his reflection on the 50" Samsung DLP television as the phone of the person on the other end continues to ring. He winks at himself and blows himself a kiss before flexing. He rolls his eyes as we hear a voice on the line... then a beep.

"What. Is. Up." he begins, considerably more cheerful than the conversation would have gone only ten minutes ago. "This is me. Edmunds. I got the letter from TEAM about the tag match and the Dupree Cup. Just wanted to let you know that I'll be there." He stops, seemingly expecting the other person to pick up the phone now .. even though deep down he knows that with cell phones that is impossible.

"Alright. Well. I have tons of training to do. Don't worry about me one bit. I may have been on the shelf for a while. But I'm still .. "Simply .... Sensational."

He flips the phone shut and laughs at himself, hoping that the person on the other end would appreciate the goodbye as much as he did. Edmunds grabs the remote from the cabinet and shuts the doors. With a quick back roll and a jumping back elbow right into the couch pillow, Edmunds lies down and flips on the television .. once more ready to get into the ring .. this time, perhaps, more permanently. Fade.

08-12-07, 11:26 PM
‘Mt. Tsuki’ On Flight to America
By Nobuo Honda

Tokyo - Well, it’s about that time. Puroresu legend, Shin’ya Funbashi has successfully boarded his flight destined for North America. Upon receiving word ‘Mt. Tsuki’ had stepped foot in Haneda Airport in Ota, Tokyo - reporters and journalist alike buzzed around the scene in hopes of getting word with Funabashi before he departed to a totally discrepant country. In the mist of all the chaos, Fighting Spirit was right there to bring you Funabashi’s final words.

“Tokyo - I love you; you are my heart. You’ve been there with me, through it all. Thick and thin, bad times and good times; you have been there. And, in return, I have been there for you. Therefore, I truly hope that you all accede my decision to rebound my appearance in America. I know that there has been a lot of disarray revolving around this decision, but I want you all to know that this move is all for the best - for both Japan and America. I hope in time that those who oppose my move, would soon realize that I was doing this for them.”

Upon voicing his thoughts above the clutter, Funabashi let go one last statement before setting off.

“While I’m here, I would also like to announce that once I return, there will be a HUGE news release that I will leak on my return to the television broadcasting of Battle Station. This announcement will diffidently be one that will rock the very foundations of which puroresu stands. That is all.”

With that final statement, Shinya bowed and proceeded to boarded the plane; ignoring the questions following his cryptic statement.

What is this future announcement Funbashi was speaking of?

I don’t have the slightest clue, but when we find out - you will diffidently be the first to know.

Until next time, this is Nobuo Honda signing off…

Courtesy of Fighting Spirit

EDIT: Please regard the timestamp on this RP as 8/13/07 @ 6:26 AM EDT. Thanks - TH