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All-Star Championship Wrestling vs. INFINITE Wrestling

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The REAL Funk U. T-shirt
Aug 26, 2008
First Fall:
All-Star Championship Wrestling vs. INFINITE Wrestling
Jack Harris & Kenjiro Ito vs. Max Hopper & Phil Atken

Second Fall:
Winning tag team from first fall face off against each other
  • If ACW win, Kenjiro Ito and Jack Harris will face each other
  • If INFINITE win, Max Hopper and Phil Atken will face each other
RP Stipulations?
  • 2 Roleplay limit per character
  • Deadline is Midnight May 26th Los Angeles Timezone (whatever that is)
Last edited:


The best handler ever since 2012: He is a gem
Jul 12, 2007
There's Some History Here

We find ourselves in the company of a man and an IGC back drop, who the back drop belongs to is of little importance to this story but the man certainly is and that man is one Phil Atken, current Infinite Competitor and a man who once believed himself to be raised in the most holy of viking traditions.

Atken: Ladies and gentlemen of planet Earth and indeed those outside observers watching, as after all this is the Intergalactic Championship, my name is Philip Martin Atken and for many a year I was actually viewed as a promising prospect in this little wrestling industry. Now? Not so much. My name has been as good as mud for year upon year. Which I suppose brings me to why I'm here, looking to win the shiny Intergalactic Championship, well simply put, I want to get my name out of the gutter.

You know, it's fitting that the IGC powers that be decided on this little tag team tête-à-tête as my new home of Infinite takes on one of my old homes, All-Star Championship Wrestling because really, it's thanks to ACDub that my name became mud in the first god damn place. This little contest that IGC has put together is surprisingly personal for me, I would have never thought that when I signed up upon the dotted line to join this little shindig but it happened and suppose now I have to deal with one of the biggest issues plaguing my career head on.

Atken begins to scratch the back of his head, clearly what he's about to get into is a slightly uncomfortable topic for the Scottish gentleman.

Atken: So, I guess I owe those of you sitting there with your cheeto encrusted fingers as you jerk off to the nipple slip you've found in the latest Taylor Swift video something of a history lesson to explain why I view this as a personal affair. Back in the carefree times of the year 2004, I was this rising star prospect and fresh off my run as Action! Wrestling Champion, I got a phone call from one of my friends at ACDub, it went something like this...

“Hello?” I quizzically said as I picked up my mobular phone

“Hey, you should join ACW you ****. You'll do great! We can fight with ladders!” said the encouraging and excitable voice on the other end.

“ACW has the budget for ladders?” I pondered

“You bet we do!” I was told

And so I signed the dotted line and found myself in shall we say... interesting... surroundings. Now, being the rising star prospect that I was, I was thrown the occasional title shot and on the 29th of April 2004, I won the Scorpion Fighting Championship. I won it, all proper and such. I was a winner, I was a champion. Sadly, sixteen days later that little belt was snatched away from me by the hands of a grubby little Irishman called Chris Messiah. God he was grubby. He kept on telling me he didn't need to bathe because his best friend has the last name Soap and that was as close as he was willing to get to hygiene. Weird dude.

Anyway, I was desperate to get my hands on a belt again, I felt that somehow, title belts validated my existence as a wrestler. That if I had that Scorpion Fighting title around my waste that somehow, I'd managed to fulfil the potential that so many had seen in me. I was desperate and I made the mistake that only a desperate man can make when he wants another shot at what he views as rightfully his. I agreed to a retirement match.

Phil's scratching of his head becomes more rabid, clearly his ACW history is a source of great frustration to the man.

Atken: I know, it's stupid, right? Willing to risk your career over a silly title belt but at the time, that belt was everything to me. It was how I could prove that I was still a bloody relevant figure in this god damn industry. So the time came, July 7th, Glory 2004. Myself up against Chris Messiah in a Career vs. Title & Career... I don't know why he risked it either but all I know but the time that pay per view rolled around we were bitter enemies and I was going to take him down and take him out of this industry from good. I knew I was better than him and god knew I was going end him.

Didn't quite work out that way though. We fought to a draw inside a steel cage, an impressive feat by itself, as both of our feet hit the outside at the same time. Hey, we gave it out best, a draws a draw and fairs fair. Not if ACW was to have its way however, declaring that in the event of a draw, both of us must retired. Seriously, both of our careers up in smoke because ACW couldn't make a god damn sensible business decision in the same way a World of Warcraft player can't actually visit the toilet.




Atken: So ACW basically forced me into having a “retirement stigma” for the rest of my rather long career because of a draw. BECAUSE OF A ****ING DRAW. I was a joke for 8 ****ting years because I once didn't even lose but merely tied a hard fought contest. So yeah, I guess you might be able to infer from that that I may have a little axe to grind with the All-Star roster. You may even say that this little IGC company has given me a chance at redemption. A chance to put these bloody All-Stars in their place. A chance to shove the decision down their throats until they cough up blood.

So yeah, I guess this match is a little more personal to me than it is to those just looking for the glory to be the first Intergalactic Champion, maybe that puts me at risk. Maybe I'm not in the correct frame of mind for this little tag team affair. Maybe I'm going to take risks I shouldn't to send a message to the company that shamed me all those years ago.

Atken finally lets his hand drop, the awkward scratching ceases for a moment as he turns to face the camera directly.

Atken: Jack Harris, when I look at you across the ring, I'm not going to see this deranged English psychopath who wouldn't be amiss at the latest EDL meeting discussing how we need to rid the country of the “gypsies” because they make a lot of noises in their caravanning. Hell, I'm not even going to view you as the man that I should usually fear because god knows, I really should. No to me, you will stand across from me in that ring as nothing but the walking embodiment of ACW's power. The power they like to throw about, the power they like to use to turn men like me into walking punchlines. I had the embrace that fact that I was a ****ing joke or I'd have been out of a career seven years ago. I got a lot of frustration that's been building over those eight long years and your smug little mohawked thug face seem to me to be the best place to take out those frustrations.

Kenjiro Ito, the big Japanese man on campus, much like Jack Harris will represent ACW's power, you will represent their ego. You will be the living embodiment of the ACW ego that decrees to toss a man out into the wildness, branding him as “one of them wrestling who can't keep a retirement stip.” for years and proudly state on their website how great a contest it was. I'm going to enjoy smashing your little mug into a million pieces. I think I'll find it incredibly cathartic.

Harris, Ito to me, you aren't wrestlers, you aren't even men, you are the living embodiment of a corporate entity that I am rather displeased with. I want to see you both bloodied, I want to see your bruised. I want to see you returning to ACW with your tails tucked between your legs with a simple message.

“Phil Atken is still pissed”

Send that to your bosses. Whoever they may be. The suits change, the company's the same.

Atken stops to pause for a minute, almost as if he almost forgot something.

Atken: Of course, I've got so tied up in my little crusade, I almost forgot, this is a tag team affair. I am just one of the two representatives of the fine company that is Infinite Wrestling. Max, we're going to win, I can assure you of that. I would rather collapse dead on the mat than let ACW hold another victory over me. That's how much this little affair means to be. So I'm going to stand here and beg of you in front of all the IGC's viewing audience.

Please Max, please, don't let me down. I need this. I NEED THIS.

Phil simply walks off set and the camera fades to black


Active member
Staff member
Feb 4, 2005
Re: There's Some History Here

IGC Jack Harris Promo

“All-Star Championship Wrestlin'? And INFINITE Wrestlin'? Company pride, show team spirit?”

A clear of the throat.

“****in' cobblers...”

(FADE-IN: The camera flickers for a few seconds until it fades into... somewhere. That “somewhere” takes a few more seconds until the picture clears up a little more. Standing in the middle of a fancy-looking study – or at least some studio somewhere dolled up to look like a study because it's more classy than looking at a dry wall – sitting in a nice little... well, it's a big barcalounger because the guy in it is a near seven-footer and close to the three-hundred pound mark. And the guy happens to be taking a swig of Brandy. Why? Because f-bold tag-u-end bold-tag-ck you, that's why. The man in the ring, sitting at this time is a big lug by the name of JACK HARRIS. He feigns surprise when he notices the camera locked on him.)

JACK HARRIS: Oh, dear me. Quelle su-preeze. Didn't see ya there. 'Ello to everybody out there watchin'. For those of ya, the lowly pieces of ****e pollutin' the Earth lookin' up at the stars right now... I'm Jack Harris. Let me tell you a little about meself... Lover sparklin' witty repartee... yer mom's a ****head and I used her tits as me personal earmuffs last night...

(He stops to grin at the camera with his crooked and yellow-toothed smile.)

JACK HARRIS: I'm quite a party guy, and as you can see with this Brandy and this set, I've automatically got more class than you. But I've a good mind for business as well. In me spare time, I take money from the highest bidders and snuff out whoeva needs to be snuffed out. I break faces and cash cheques – that's with a 'qu' you uneducated wanks – I stomp on so many heads and collect so much money I'm often confused for one of the Mario Brothers. I'm the Chancellor of Excellence and as such, I have quite a complex lexicon to better ameliorate your dullard minds. Want to test me? Here's a word that sounds smart and hilarious... fiduciary... Haha... that has “douche” sounds in it. Just like Phil Atken's last queef he tried ta pass off as a cinematic masterpiece.

Resume includes some ACW Tag Team Titles and this brief spell that involved me holdin' a... ugh... United States Title... a low point in this Englishman's career... but that's neither here nor there. As of right now, those are drops of piss in the ****in' bucket.


Now, it's all about a new toy for me ta play with... The Intergalactic Championship...

Oh, would you excuse me one sec? No? Too ****in' bad.

(Harris pours himself another drink. And why does he do that? Well, because he's thirsty. And Brandy is good. And see previous f-bold tag... ah, you know the rest. After swishing it around in the cup like some kind of aristocratic oaf, he continues on.)

JACK HARRIS: Sorry. Parched. But anyway, ta the matter at hand... there's a series of qualifiers ta get a shot at this new title that folks from all ova the world are competin' for... and in me lucky draw, I get ta team with me fellow ACWer, Kenjiro Ito and we're supposed ta be representin' All-Star pride 'gainst a pair of total knobs... smilin' 'appy-go-lucky uphill gardener, Max Hopper, and that gormless tit, Phil Atken. It starts with four, then to two and only one shall stand tall.

But why? Why am I bein' such a ****e about just teamin' up with me buddy, Kenny? I should be proud of where I come from, right? Any other time, Ito and I would probably be hittin' up the strip club seein' some nipple. He seems like a good drinkin' buddy. But friends? Companionship? Camaraderie? Overrated. I'm not here ta engage in a battle of fed versus fed for company pride. I'm not all 'Bugs Bunny, Bugs Bunny, Rah Rah Rah'... though for me own personal stance on this, ACW against INFINITE is like uh... well, one is a mega-millionaire world-travelin' conglomerate... the other is some guy startin' his own business in his basement hopin' ta make enough to cover rent for the month. It's like... uh... yer ****in' American Yankees up against a fifth-grade little league team. That's as American as I'm willin' ta get in this promo... Ew, give me a sec to shed me skin now.

(Thinking to himself, Harris collects his thoughts... or enjoys another buzz of Brandy. You pick. But it's probably the latter, just so you know.)

JACK HARRIS: I don't care about all of that bollocks. I'm here for meself. See... people often lose sight in this business 'cause they got their head either buried up their arse and lose sight of tha goal in front-a them. They pick some drive to motivate them then get their ****e all tossed up in it. Atken's gone and made this all personal because he went from being hot ****e to just regular soft-serve chocolate ice-cream-like ****e, now he's sittin' in front of a camera confusin' a look-a determination for a look-a constipation.

Max Hopper... never too sure about that wad. He's probably somewhere starin' at the sun lookin' for the mothership ta take him back home... and Kenjiro needs the money ta take care of whateva slanty-eyed bastard kids he's got runnin' around... hi, Keiichi... Just remember, Ken, if the woman comes a-knockin' for her child support payments, toss the ***** down a flight of stairs. That's what I would do! Not speakin' from experience... no, sir...

(Shifty eyes all around.)

JACK HARRIS: As you might've learned from me... greed is me love. It is me darling, it is me mistress and it is me passion. I enjoy it so I turned it inta somethin' of a hobby as a hitman of sorts for ACW. But only so much money can be made by waitin' in the parkin' lot with a lead pipe and an opportunity. I've got me eyes set on that sparkly little trinket called The Intergalactic Championship. It gives the wearer the ability to lord their greatness from place ta place, swaggerin' wherever they damn well please... well, I was kinda doin' that before anyway, but now I got meself anotha reason ta do just that.

I'm not fueled by something stupid that's gonna cloud me mind. I've got nothin' to prove to anyone. I'm bigger than all of you... yes, and I do mean me rod, too. It was actually the basis that Vince McMahon guy was gonna use for Glen Jacobs' willie in that turdbullet called See No Evil. Go ahead, I'll give ya a second ta get that reference. But I digress. I'm stronger than all of you... I've most likely rearranged more facial features than all of you. And while the rest of ya are all cryin' 'bout lost opportunities, recapturin' glory and all that whiny garbage, I'll be standin' over your corpses, whistling the whole way to the Intergalactic Championship, makin' that cash.

I'm not here ta justify me meaningless existence like Hornet appearin' outta nowhere, embarkin' on his fiftieth retirement tour...

I'm not like that ponce, Max Hopper, who will probably not even bother showin' up because he saw a sparkly quarter on the ground. Don't worry, Max, ye've got yer fans that'll continue ta love ya in that same way ya root for Jimmy ta clench the gold in the Special Olympics...

Kenjiro hasn't been worth ****e since 2005 and now's probably off lookin' for some munter ta get his next dick fix...

And Atken...

(A smile crossed his face as The Man In Demand let out a guttural laugh.)

JACK HARRIS: Oh, Phillip. At least he had the good sense ta try and get his name out there. He tried, he really did. He spent a lotta time whinin' and pissin' for ten minutes because ACW had the good sense ta get rid of his useless arse. And since then, hee's achieved a grand pile of nothin'. Your name turned to mud? Please. Here's a news flash for ya, pally... you've been a joke for a lot longer than eight years. Time's passed you by and time had itself a nice little giggle fit when you tried ta raise yer voice. In fact, I'd go so far as to say you've been a joke for so long, you made your mom giggle when you were nothin' but a trickle-a love juice in the back of her throat.

Don't mistake me apathy for overconfidence. I hear your message loud and clear. But the point is nobody, least of all meself, cares why you've failed time and time again. But I shouldn't look past-a man with nothin' ta lose and everythin' ta gain. I mean you COULD possibly beat me... if I showed up with both me kneecaps broke, beaten within an inch of me life, clingin' for me last breath. Maybe then you might beat me... but then reality sets in and your career might just go out like David Carradine... You choke. Then it dies.

(Harris shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly.)

JACK HARRIS: Me and Ito will be civil because Hopper and Atken are sweats off me ball-sack. Then when the tide is turned... Ito ain't gonna see it comin'... I knock him out... I move on and I secure me shot the Intergalactic Championship. Thanks for spendin' a few minutes with me and getting' to know all about the first Intergalactic Champion. I look forward ta securin' me rightful place on top of the Intergalactic... uh... mountain? Planet? Asteroid? Eh... there's lotsa books here and the right word is probably in one-a them... eh... look it up if you care that much...

(And FADE TO BLACK... but not before Jack Harris throws a couple fingers up just because he can.)


El Gringo Loco
Feb 27, 2008
Re: There's Some History Here

Somewhere staring at the sun...

Max Hopper stood, waiting for the mother-ship to bring him home. The sun was abnormally large - like, incredibly, VASTLY huge - as if he were standing right in front of it. The fire from the sun fanned and waved about in all of its HOT, gaseous glory. There was someone else with him, standing about fifteen feet behind our hero. Both of them were decked out in super-cool, black, modern day Marvel movie style tactical uniforms.

Max: "Gee, guy. I really hope little Jimmy wins the Special Olympics this year. He's such a great kid and he really deserves it."

Tyke: "My name is JOHN, Mate. John Harvey. Oh wait, you meant..."

When suddenly...


An ominous red light started to flash and make warning noises.

Tyke: "Holy red warning lights, Maxy Pad! It's a distress signal!"

Max: "DAMN IT, Guy! You know I don't like it when you call me that. Anyway, triangulate the signal. Bring it up on the screen."

The sun changed to outer space. Deep, DEEP outer space. Deeper even than Max Hopper had ever been inside Frank Harris's mother's love tunnel. The stars appeared as dots, with some nice views of different nebulae and galaxies.

A little blue box expanded and contracted as it scanned from planet to planet and star to star, while the entire universe spun around the room. Eventually the blue box landed on one planet, contracted around it, beeped, and turned green. The planet was magnified on the wall in front of Max Hopper and Tyke, collectively known as Pure Style. The origin of the distress signal was a mostly blue planet, with spots of green and some white swirls floating about above it. It was... THE EARTH! DUN DUN DUUUN!

Max: "OH NO! That's... That's... Wait, where is that, Guy?"

Tyke: "It's the Earth, Mate."

Max's tongue drooped from his mouth and he scratched his chin in deep thought, obviously trying to remember which one was Earth.

Tyke: "It's HERE, Maxy! HERE!"

Max: "This is terrible, Guy! Something is threatening the planet where I am currently? We have to do something! Zoom in."

The wall zoomed in closer and closer. Eventually birds, then landscapes, then buildings became clear. Eventually, a man was visible. That man was...




Suspenseful, isn't it?



Phil Atken: (on video) "
Please Max, please, don't let me down. I need this. I NEED THIS."

Max: (shouting at the screen, as if Phil can help him) "Don't worry, Guy! I won't let you down. In the name of all things INFINITE, this Intergalactic Championship WILL NOT fall into the wrong hands! When it comes to the fate of the universe, there is one man for the job. And that man... is... "

Tyke: "Jack Bauer?"

Max's eyebrows squished down behind his SeX-Ray Specs. He was not amused.

Max: "No, Guy. That man is ME! You know that I don't get along with that 24 guy..."

Tyke, on the other hand, obviously WAS amused.

Tyke: (chuckling) "Right, Mate. Sorry."

Max: "Anyway, I always knew this day would come. The day that hyper space aliens came to Earth to hold a tournament with the fate of our very planet, solar system, and galaxy hanging in the balance. The entire universe swings on the whimsical hinge of who controls this Intergalactic Championship. What are our obstacles?"

Tyke taps a few keys on a keyboard and up pop the bios
of Frank Harris and Kenjiro Ito.


"Snidely, I know what's in this for you, and I know how to stop you. You were always trying to tie people up to railroad tracks and the one man who stopped you... each and every time... was DUDLEY DO-RIGHT. It appears as though you have a weakness for men in Mountie uniforms.

"What I don't get, though, is what is in this for the producer of Pokemon. Has Snidely promised to make you Emperor-elect of Japan so you can take over Shimada Enterprises, the Japanese parent company of INFINITE Wrestling that specializes in cybernetics, advanced genetics, and inter-dimensional travel research, whose classified experimentation may or may not have been the cause of multiple tsunamis and temporal vortexes? The same Shimada Enterprises who recently purchased another major wrestling promotion in Japan, the global economy, and Jack Harris's house? Does he have a complaint about the rent?

"Maybe he has a point... Maybe the rent IS TOO DAMN HIGH! And yes, yes I did hear that child's stomach just growl. But I still can't let the fate of the fate of the universe fall into the hands of Snidely Whiplash and the producer of Pokemon."

Max bent down to pick something up from the floor.

Max: "Hey! I just found a shiny quarter. It must be a clue..."

The End...

For now.



The best handler ever since 2012: He is a gem
Jul 12, 2007
Re: There's Some History Here

We find Phil Atken once again standing his own lil body in front of a gloriously shimmering IGC banner. Phil is standing up and facing the camera directly. By Phil's side is a small table where a tumbler glass and a bottle of whisky sitting right next to it. Phil begins to pour some of the whisky into the tumble as he begins to talk.

Atken: I've always been more of a whisky man, to me brandy is the domain of old church going ladies to prove they still have some life left in 'em. Either that or what people suffering from the cold use as an excuse to drink during the morning. Seems they've found a new spokesperson though. I'm sure your local congregation are very proud of you Jackie.

Phil takes a swig from the tumbler, not letting eye contact break from the camera for even a second.

Atken: Of course, I'm not playing pretend either. Really though, I have to thank you Jack. It delights me to the nth degree that you decided to open that inexplicably large mouth of yours. Took me a while to figure out what you were saying given you have decided to affect an accent that would cause Guy Ritchie to turf you out for being too over the top. I suppose the old saying is right, why bother having a personality when you can just have an accent instead. Much easier, isn't it? And you have the nerve to call my little interview a “cinematic masterpiece”. Any critic worth their salt would walk out the minute they heard your god damn voice.

Now, of course, you must be wondering why I'm standing here in this little room here standing in front of the camera and thanking you. Well, we'll get to that in due course, first I feel like I need to provide the fine folk at the IGC a little bit more of a history lesson.

As if by magic, Phil produces a small monitor and a DVD player and plunks them down on the small table right next the whisky.

Atken: You see, as shocking as some of you may find this, Jack's right. I've been far too soft, yeah you could say ****e flavoured ice cream soft, for a very long time. At some point I chose a fork in the road and decided I no longer cared for the glory, I just wanted to entertain the fans, to amuse them, give 'em something to talk about on the ride home. There was no longer any drive to be a dominant force, no lust for gold, no legacy to cement. A pay cheque and a microphone was enough for me. Probably still would be if the last year hadn't happened.

I gots me a call last year, an invite to return to NFW and I started tossing out all these weird and wonderful ideas, some people would call them idiotic but I was sure the fans would love them, that they'd get a kick out of them. I ended up running with the idea of having a bucket as a my manager, eh not the best idea but good enough, I thought, it'll be funny enough. There I was, ready for my return to NFW, a chance to get a steady income again not to mention the opportunity to connect with the fans once more. Time for my big return...

CUT TO: Fan footage of NFW's Brawl 35 event in Greely, Colorado. Jack Bryant has just made Phil Atken submit with the Southern Cross but refuses to let go.

CUT TO: Phil Atken being wheeled out the arena on a stretcher. He gives the cheesy thumbs up on the way out but the crowd appears to have already went out for pop corn.

CUT TO: Current day Phil Atken, back again, smashing his great clunking fist down upon the DVD player, cutting out the replay as he does so.

Atken: Didn't quite work out that way, one match in and I was already on a trip to the hospital. Turns out this Jack Bryant character wanted to use me to send a message because hey, who cares about Phil Atken? He's expendable! Turns out that this other Jack, he got a little bit too excitable. Locked in the hold a little too tightly AND ALMOST BROKE MY DAMN BACK.

Still, time heals us all. A few months in hospital and a good year sitting around my apartment and finally I'm fighting fit again. The only problem is, that was a lot of free time to have on my hands. Some would say a dangerous amount of free time. Of course, I ended up doing what many a person with free time does, I started to google myself. I'm willing to admit it, I'm that shallow a man, I wanted to see how I was being remembered.

Turns out I wasn't being remembered, I was already cast into the dustbin of history, no one was wondering where I was. I didn't even get me one of them quirky “Where are they now?” features that so many of us get when we step out of the spotlight.

Atken begins to unscrew his bottle o' whisky and begins to pour away at at it again, this time almost filling up the tumbler to its brim.

Atken: So I suppose I got a little tied up in this little google search of mine, no one wants to leave this industry as a forgotten joke. We all want to be remembered but only few are. I'm back to ensure that I'm one of those select few. I'm here to claw, scratch, bite and bugger, if it comes to it, to be a champion once again. In fact, I'm going to ensure I'm the first Intergalactic Champions, that in the annals of history, Phil Atken is recognised as the IGC's first face. I'm going to prove that this little joke has a lot of life left in him.

Phil downs his filled up tumbler, almost choking as he does so.

Atken: So once again, thank you Jack Harris, thank you for putting me down, thank you for swatting me off like a fly. I shall get down on bended god damn knee to thank you for treating me like a joke because now I get to be your biggest humiliation. After all, who could dream of getting beaten by a joke like Phil Atken, he could only win if his opponent was severely handicapped, isn't that right Jack Attack? It would really be stinging to be put down by a man like that, wouldn't it? I'm sure it'd be hard to even show your face back in ACW going down at my hand.

But that's what's going to happen. It's not a bad thing really, you and Ito, you need this. You need to learn from my mistakes of the past. That hubris only gets you so far, that being the big loud voice only works as long as people care what you have to say. For me and Max to beat you, for us to take down ACW is really a small mercy on my part. It's better you learn from history than repeat it and this piece of history is going to smack you two across the face.

You see, Infinite may be trying to get up off the ground at the moment but we're going to plant a flag at Fly Me to the Moon, and I'm going to ram that flag up your arses and salute it. That's what I'm going to do. Jack, Ito, you're representing the evil empire, going up against the scrappy underdogs, god knows Max is a scrappy chappy. If you were even a little bit well read you'd know how that one always ends.

Phil this time around decides to bypass the tumbler entirely and begins to swig directly from the bottle.

Atken: Of course, IGC seems to be slightly twisted. It seems they want to tie people to a company banner then turn against each other after the first fall. That me and dear old Max will have to go up against each other after the empire crumbles. I suppose it's someone’s idea of big old joke. To watch two men build up trust and celebrate in victory and then make them turn against each other mere seconds later. Still, I want that belt, I want to be the first champion of IGC, I want a god damn legacy so I have to play this stupid little game.

Max, you're like I once was. You're an entertainer, you're cute, you're a joker, the fans love that over the top side of you. Sooner or later you're realise the minute you leave the arena, they forget about you. I'm going to do you a big favour at Fly Me to the Moon, I had to go to hospital to learn my lesson, you're just going to have to go down and accept defeat to learn yours.

That belt will be mine, I will be remembered. I WILL BE REMEMBERED, DAMN IT!

Phil sweeps the entire table and the last sound heard is that of smashing glass as be fade to black.


El Gringo Loco
Feb 27, 2008
Re: There's Some History Here

Deep within the Bermuda Triangle...

or a chalk-drawn triangle with "Bermuda" scribbled in the middle, Max Hopper straddled a horse... backwards... and upside down. He was draped in a Mountie uniform, surrounded by Pokemon cards. He muttered as he scrambled around, picking the cards up from the ground.

Max: "Gotta... catch them... all..."

Max put the cards he had "caught" in a pile. He then straightened himself up and cleared his throat.

Max: "So, my partner thinks I'm a joker. A joker!!! Well let me tell you something, Guy, I NEVER joke when it comes to the fate of the galaxy! While you're out there drinking and partying it up like Snidely Whiplash, who will be across the ring from us, I'm here training my SWEET, SWEET BUNS off so we can get the upper hand against the stereotype cartoon villain and the Pokemon King. If I was the Joker, I'd look like this."

Max held up a picture. Where he got it, nobody knows...


"Anyway, I didn't really want to let on that I knew you would eventually be one of the baddies I'd have to face, because then they would know that I know that you know that I know. But now that you've let it out of the bag, I know that you know that I know that they know that I know that you know. But before you think you've ruined my whole plan to prevent the Earth from falling into peril, you should know that I'm always - prepared - for anything."

Max Hopper shook the reigns and the horse trotted over to some fishing equipment, including but not limited to sonar and a large net, with Max still hanging upside-down from the horse.

Max: "I do have to say that I'm disappointed it's come to this. Max Hopper vs. Nessie, the Loch Ness Monster. But I somehow always knew this day would come...

"Many people have scoured the loch with sonar equipment, searching for you. But I tracked you right to the Intergalactic Championship. And now I'll not only prove that you're real, but stop you from swallowing the planet whole."

Max dismounted from the horse, landing on the ground below with a loud "THUD!"

Max: "The irony is that you say people won't even remember me when I leave the arena, having successfully averted world crisis YET AGAIN and keeping the galaxy out of the wrong hands... But they won't even KNOW you're there in the FIRST PLACE! While I'm giving these fans thrills and chills, you'll be a big, fishy onlooker on the ring apron. And that's only until I punch you in the gills and then pin YOUR FINS - or whatever those are that you propel yourself through Loch Ness with - to the canvas for the count of three.


"The extra dimensions...

"The Hop...

"Exists in."

Max went back to work catching the Pokemon cards. Once he had caught them all, he cocked his arm in a "YES!" fashion. One last look over the fishing equipment, and he was good to go.
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