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BattleBRAWL Rumble

TheOriginalSE

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All RP for the BattleBRAWL rumble match at New ERA BattleBRAWL 2 should be posted in this thread. Wrestlers "draw" numbers and enter the ring at 2 minute intervals ... with the winner not only receiving the BattleBRAWL Cup .. but also getting a World title shot at the show of their choice!

The competitors include:

- ALISTER HAYZE - CAMERON CRUISE -

- JOHN DOE - STEVE JOHNSON -

- TREVOR CANE - CHRIS McMILLAN -

- HAL - MR. ENTERTAINMENT -

- DAYMON - OZEKI -

- JR WHITE - TOMMY O'HAGAN-

- STEVEN SHANE - JOEY MELTON -

- COPYCAT - LUSCIOUS -

- MYSTERY ENTRANT - JASON PAYNE - MWG -

and... the man who will enter #1 ...

- SHAWN HART -​


RP and angles are due Tuesday, September 19th, at 11:59pm PST. All angles should be sent to secandido@san.rr.com ... enjoy!​
 

ShawnHartXXX

The Phenom
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Popping the BRAWL Cherry

FADE IN: No hype, no razzle dazzle or fancy sets... just a man and his microphone. The man is Shawn Jessica Hart, PhD., fresh off a loss to Cameron Cruise on Raucous. The reason for the season, New Era's second annual edition of BattleBRAWL and a chance for redemption. With the stakes raised and the intensity seemingly beaming forth from his eyes as a result, the Phenom brings the microphone to his lips and speaks.

HART: "Heh, so this is what it's come to, eh? I come back here to NEW all full of hope and ambition, flappin' my yap about how I was gonna drop on this place like a nuclear warhead and shoot like Peja Stojakovic straight to the TOP... and THIS is the dish I've gotta dip my lips into?!"

The Phenom pauses, then holds his right index finger to the camera.

HART: "Number one... First guy up... Just like the Houston Texans, I'm hog-tied right out of the gates with nary a hope lasting to the point where things start to get interesting. Hell, you can forget the win... I'll be lucky to make it past the first 5 guys out there. Not a snowball's chance in Hell, right?"

He licks the aforementioned index finger then holds it to the sky, as if to check the wind.

HART: "Maybe it's just me, but it suuuuuuuure is CHILLY in Hades today. Frigid like a nun's nickers, in fact! But hey, what can I say? I'm a gamblin' man... and when you're talking odds, nothing pays out like the long shot. That's what my bookie says anyway... so if Cameron Cruise wants to put me in a compromising position because he didn't get hugged enough as a child or his mama told him there was no such thing as Santa Claus or WHATEVER it is that's got his thong wound up like a clock, that's alright by me. After I beat his ass like I beat my meat to Lindsay Lohan flicks, I'll get my hands on Mercedes and make her nipples do tricks!"

The Muff Daddy simulates pinching with his hands.

HART: "Cuz I'm the Prime Minister of Gettin' Sinister, munchin' Marceau's muffin until I FINISH HER. The Heavyweight Champ of Northern Botswana, shakin' my stuff and rockin' yer MAMA. Sporting a sweet degree in PHENOMOLOGY, forget a sneak peak... your girlfriend wants ALL OF ME! Cuz I like it like that, I move like a criminal. A silent assassin, my barbs are subliminal. I don't care what you say, because these rhymes are SICK. If you ain't gonna hear 'em, then you can suck... my..."

He quickly makes like a Hitchhiker.

HART: "THUMB!"

Snickering ensues. SJH is thoroughly entertained by himself.

HART: "So I'll never be on par with Vanilla Ice... or maybe I already am. Either way, the one thing I'm sure of is that despite the fact that Beau Michaels' boy toy here seems to have some kind of some kind of axe to grind, and recent losses notwithstanding... BattleBRAWL is MY match for the taking. Hell, it's been 3 years since I've held gold in this sport, and if I'm ever going to graduate from ringside groupies to porn star girlfriends, I've gotta get me some more! Hoochies aside, I've been hankerin' for a heavyweight title as it is, so you can bet your bottom dollar that when I'm in that ring, I'm gonna seize the opportunity to grab one. It doesn't matter who's got the strap around their waist when I finally get my shot, cuz when it comes to SJH... if you try to go over, you're gonna go UNDER! Game, set, and match! My advice to all the rest of my opponents... find a nice comfortable seat somewhere and start takin' notes. Once this thing gets underway, I'm gonna show you ALL how to turn number one... into NUMBER FUN!"

Thumbs Up!

HART: "Call it an outrage, call it a MOCKERY, in the end... all you sorry ASSES are gonna be callin' me the NUMBER ONE CONTENDER, and that's the TRUTH! The Phenom has left the building..."

FADE OUT.
 

CandyPimp

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<i>Fade in on a deserted backroads highway, lined with trees and sun-browned grass. The air is thick and still, cooked to a gelatinous consistency by the high, mid-afternoon summer sun. There's the buzz of insects in the air, and maybe a slight breeze that sways the trees a bit, but for the most part there is silence.

That is, until an age-dulled, formerly red VW van comes lumbering down that stretch of highway. The windows are down, and we catch a bit of Hank Williams III "Nighttime Ramblin' Man" blaring out the speakers over the roar of the wind. The van rumbles out of view.

Cut to later that night. The van is pulled over on the side of an identical stretch of road. The camera pans around, then finds it's way to the door, which hangs open. A young man with shoulder-length blond hair is sitting there, leaning against the open door. He turns to the camera, and smiles.</i>

<b>ALISTER HAYZE:</b> So here we are...home again. And I'm not talking about the fair hills of Tennessee, even though I am for the first time in a long time on a long and winding road back to Memphis. I'm not even speaking of the good ol' U-S of A, even though I am for the first time back on American soil. I'm talking about this. I'm talking about the road, I'm talking about the job, I'm talking about the life. I'm talking about wrestling.

Over a year ago, I split. I vamoosed, left town, hit the road. Nothing new to my family and friends, really, since that's how I generally live my life. No, the big change was in the destination. I wasn't driving to another part of the country in order to pin some guy's shoulders to the mat. I wasn't hitting a convention to sell some 8 by 10 glossies or maybe a few vintage 901 T-shirts. I was hopping a plane, kids. I had had it. I was done.

Let me take you back, if you will, to my 15th birthday. I was standing at a crossroads, friends -- spiritually speaking. My best friend Cody had died three months prior to that, and I had continued life as usual. Which, for me, meant skipping school, chasing tail, and smoking a <i>lot</i> of grass. But my birthday rolls around, and I say to myself, "Al, you might be one damned fine-lookin' human being, but you're out of your head, man. Cody's dead, and all he'd ever been, and all that he's ever gonna be, is exactly what you are: a lazy pothead with nothing to his name. I loved the guy, but it's the truth."

So there I was, with a choice before me. I could keep up with Cody's memory, living my life so that I'd never been anything greater than the 15-year-old scumbag that I was...or, I could do something. It didn't matter what. Just something. And I was gonna do that something great.

At the time, the only morning that I got up early was Saturday, because Saturday was Wrasslin' Day. I would walk past my dad, passed out on the couch from too much wine and not a drop of women, and I would flip on the tube, and I would see some of the greatest athletic feats that I'd ever seen. And I said to myself, "Al, you handsome devil you, you ain't one for book-learning, and you ain't got no skills with your hands 'cept for fighting. Why don't you give this a try?"

I went out the next day, and I tracked down the greatest wrestler I had ever seen perform: Benito Mendoza. The man says to me, "You're too small, it'll never happen." And then I slapped him in the face. This man was 6-3, 250 pounds, and me, a snot-nosed kid that he could throw with one arm, had slapped him. He grabbed me by the throat and spit in my face and asked me what the hell I thought I was doing. I said, "Sir, I'm gonna slap every man that ever tells me that, and I just figured I might as well learn how to back up that first slap." He laughed and he let me go, and he told me to come back the next day for training.

So there I am, getting stretched, pummeled, getting my ass handed to me on a daily basis, and I keep coming back. He tells me that he's tried training other guys before, but I was the only one with the balls to hang in with it. He trains me for four years, five days a week, putting me through the most grueling torture he can devise. And when those four years are up, he tells me that he's taught me everything he can think to teach me. I'm a man. I'm a wrestler.

Right after that, boy, was I ever on fire. Got picked up by a company, main evented in my first match ever. Main evented my first pay-per-view ever. Fell twenty feet to a hard concrete floor and got up to finish the fight. Fought in two of the bloodiest brawls ever seen. Took a face full of fire and came back for the win. Took a backdrop driver onto thumbtacks and still came back for the win. I can brawl, I can fly, I can outwrestle anyone -- <i>ANYONE</i> -- that you put me in the ring with. I am Alister Hayze, and I am the best damn wrestler to never be the champ.

And then I came to NEW, and I got my ego bruised. My first match in this new company is a dark match -- A DARK MATCH! For me, Alister Hayze, the charismatic Reverend of 901! Juliet Marceau would rather make eyes at some new kid instead of me. And my big push is playing second fiddle to the champion, when that belt belonged around my waist. You knew it, Marcus LaRoque. The locker room knew it. The fans knew it. And I damn sure knew it.

So I split. Alister Hayze is not a second fiddle. Alister Hayze is a cham-peen, bay-bee! And when I got word that I'd finally get to prove it, well...I got on the first plane back to the states. Because it's BattleBrawl time, folks. One man is gonna outlast the whole roster and earn himself a shot at the NEW World Heavyweight champion, and that one man is most assuredly gonna be your ol' buddy Al. Bring on your computer geeks, your disturbed religious freaks, your sumos, your mental patients, your transvestites. Bring 'em all on. Alister Hayze is gonna stand in the middle of that ring, and he's gonna be standing there after every other man's feet touch the floor, and he's gonna be standing there after his World title fight, with his arms held up, and his title around his waist, and the New Era of Wrestling will finally -- <i>FINALLY</i> -- recognize me for what I am: the greatest wrestler in the world.

<i>Fade to black.</i>

<b>Woman's Voice:</b> This has been a 901 production.
 

GARTHIsTheLaw

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Don't stop me now

(Fade in on a fairly sizable crowd of wrestling fans standing outside in the night, presumably outside an NEW arena. Crowd noise can be heard in the background, but not so much that it interferes with the...)

Deep, Soothing Voice/Over: We now observe the wrestling fan in its natural habitat. We can tell from the distinctive markings on their T-shirts and signs that these are NEW wrestling fans. While this breed is by no means endangered, as of late, many have entered a stage of hibernation until their primary source of nourishment -- entertainment -- can once again be found in plentiful supply.

(The camera pans around the crowd somewhat, so as to show more of the people in it without actually showing what it is they're crowding around)

DSV/O: This particular group of wrestling fans, however, appears to be well out of hibernation and has amassed around a newfound and nearly limitless source of their preferred entertainment. Let's take a look at what they've found.

(The camera pans over to show the object of the crowd's affection: Copycat, who is right in the middle, signing autographs and talking to fans. His back is to a pickup truck and he wears jeans, his trademark beret and a Butch Walker T-shirt)

Copycat V/O: Oh, don't act so surprised.

(The camera zooms in on Copycat as he signs autographs for the fans)

Copycat V/O: Y'know, when I got my invitation to the NEW BattleBRAWL Rumble, there were a lot of reasons I could have given for declining to participate. I have a lot of commitments elsewhere -- some of them in the wrestling ring, most of them outside of it, associated with all the other hats I like to wear. Quite frankly, in terms of time, it's likely that the smart thing to do would have been politely refuse, go on with the full plate of commitments I've got already, tell NEW management, "I appreciate the offer, really I do, but it's just not a good time for me. Give me a call when the next one comes around and I'll do what I can to work it into my schedule." And even without that one, there are a myriad of excuses I could have given. But I'll tell you one thing.

(The crowd noise gets louder so we can actually hear what's going on out there. Copycat is heard speaking to the fans; he can be heard over them, so it's clear that he is wearing a microphone of some sort)

Copycat: Here's one for him. Sorry to hear your brother couldn't be here, my good man. But next time, tell him to just walk it off. You in the orange -- I keep seeing you out of the corner of my eye, so you've got to be next, right?

(The crowd noise fades into the background again)

Copycat V/O: The one excuse I couldn't have given was, "No thanks, I don't want to participate." I may be known for a certain tendency to...deceive when it comes to the psychological tactics I employ on my opponents, but that response wouldn't have been to an opponent, and it's not a lie I think I'd be capable of telling. Because there is nothing I wanted more than a chance to step through those ropes and soak up the cheers. Some guys can walk away from the ring when another opportunity comes their way, and it's possible that I'll eventually become one of those guys. But not yet. There's too much for me to gain in that ring for me to be done with this business at this point. Besting a longtime opponent, forming a new alliance with an up-and-coming superstar or a wily veteran, pulling off a huge victory, going home with a big ol' chunk of gold around my waist...these are all good motivators, and everyone who isn't too wrapped up in the foolish idea that all the coolest wrestlers have to be in it "to inflict as much pain as possible" or whatever would agree with me.

(Crowd noise moves to the foreground again)

Copycat: There ya go, honey. Tell your husband over there that I am using the word "honey" in a strictly platonic sense. I don't want to tangle with him. You, okay, I hear you -- send your little one over here and I'll sign his magazine.

(Crowd noise moves into background)

Copycat V/O: But anyone who knows me knows that isn't why I'm coming to the BattleBRAWL Rumble. Even people who don't know me well know it. Larry Tact called me a "glory hog," and I'm a little disappointed in Larry for thinking that term might offend me. Now, I might prefer a different word, but it's all semantics -- he's right about me. There's one thing that motivates me to return to the ring whenever I feel I've been away too long: the fans. They're the lifeblood of what we do in that ring, and not everyone appreciates them enough, but when you've accomplished everything I've accomplished, keeping those fans coming back for more is the greatest satisfaction I can achieve. It's the one thrill that never gets old, even as I do.

(Crowd noise to foreground again)

Copycat: Sure, Ma'am, I'd love to sign your baby. Yes! That is what it's a reference to. Hey, I appreciate all of you coming out here to see me tonight. If you're all up for it, I'd like to ask for your help on something. See, I'm trying to put together a motivational promo for the BattleBRAWL Rumble, and you can all participate if you will give me juuuuust a second here.

(Copycat turns to the truck and says something through the window -- there is someone inside but he/she is shadowed and cannot be seen. The sound fades into the background again)

Copycat V/O: There's a hell of a lot of competition in that Rumble match: older names like Cameron Cruise and Joey Melton, newer names like Ozeki and Tommy O'Hagan, even some folk I've faced in the past -- Trevor Cane, Shawn Hart, MWG. But I'm not worried. When my music hits in that arena and I make my way down to the ring, if those fans show they appreciate me as much as I think they do, there won't be a force in the universe that can prevent me from tossing every competitor over that top rope and walking out the winner of BattleBRAWL and the number-one contender for the NEW World Title. So for all of the fans who happen to be watching this, I implore you...I'm building momentum to walk into BattleBRAWL and win that Rumble match for you, so don't...stop...me...now.

(Crowd noise becomes prominent again as music starts from the truck)

Copycat: If you know the words, sing 'em. If you don't, just fake it until you can figure it out.

(Cueup: "Don't Stop Me Now" by Queen)

Copycat: Tonight, I'm gonna have myself a real good time
I feel aliiii-hi-hi-hiiiiiive


(Members of the crowd, starting to recognize the song, start chiming in)

Copycat & Crowd: And the worrrrrrld, turn it inside out, yeah
Floating around in ecstasy, so...


(More of the crowd is recognizing the song, or at least remembering the words to this part)

Crowd: Don't stop me now
Don't stop me...


Copycat: 'Cuz I'm havin' a good time, havin' a good time

(The crowd bursts into song, though it fades into the background as Copycat's voice/over comes in again)

Copycat V/O: No doubt, the 19 men I'll be facing in the BattleBRAWL Rumble are top-notch competitors. In a match like that, being 301 pounds is an advantage, but it's not enough. In a match like that, being the Smartest Player in the Game is an advantage, but it's not enough.

(Crowd noise)

Copycat: I'm burnin' through the sky, yeah

Crowd: Two hundred degrees, that's why they call me Mr. Fahrenheit
I'm trav'ling at the speed of liiiiiiight
I wanna make a supersonic man out of you
Don't stop me now


Copycat: I'm havin' such a good time, I'm havin' a ball

Crowd: Don't stop me now

Copycat: If you wanna have a good time, just gimme a call

Crowd: Don't stop me now

Copycat: 'Cuz I'm having a good time

Crowd: Don't stop me now

Copycat: Yes, I'm having a good time
I don't wanna stop at alllllll


(Back to background)

Copycat V/O: The advantage that I have, that will allow me to walk out of that match the winner after 19 bodies have gone over the top rope to the floor, is the momentum I get going into the match. It's going to take that -- in addition to all the physical, mental and psychological conditioning -- to ensure my victory. Out of all these competitors, I'm sure there are a few who are perfectly deserving of a chance to wrest the NEW World Title away from either Jonathan Marx or the Phantom Republican. And it's my hope that someday, they get that chance. But at BattleBRAWL, it's the Cat's time to shine.

(Crowd comes to the foreground)

Crowd: Don't stop me, don't stop me, don't stop me

Copycat: Hey, hey, hey

Crowd: Don't stop me, don't stop me, ooh ooh ooh
Don't stop me, don't stop me


Copycat: Have a good time, good time

Crowd: Don't stop me, don't stop me

Copycat: AaaaaaHHHHOW!

(Crowd goes to background)

Copycat V/O: I can see in their eyes that these fans want a hero, a champion they can be proud of. That's why I'm going to win that BattleBRAWL Rumble, that's why I'm going to become the number-one contender, and that's why I'm going to dethrone the NEW World Champion, whoever it may be, when I get my shot. People like Larry Tact can call me a glory hog, but that's exactly what I am, and if they had any sense about them, that's what they would be too. You're looking at -- and listening to the mediocre singing skills of -- the man who is going to take NEW by storm...

(Crowd to foreground)

Crowd: Don't stop me now

Copycat: I'm havin' such a good time, I'm havin' a ball

Crowd: Don't stop me now

Copycat: If you wanna have a good time, just gimme a call

Crowd: Don't stop me now

Copycat: 'Cuz I'm having a good time

Crowd: Don't stop me now

Copycat: Yes, I'm having a good time
I don't wanna stop at alllllll


(The crowd bursts into enthusiastic cheers as Copycat gives them all the thumbs-up)

Copycat: You guys are AWESOME. Okay, who was next in line?

(The crowd noise fades out entirely)

Copycat V/O: ...and that, my friends, is just all there is to it.

(Fade out)
 

thegr817deuce

League Member
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Jun 9, 2004
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We open to a shot of none other than The Sensational One, himself, Steven Shane walking down the street. He is attired in a “Putting You to Sleep” t-shirt with khaki shorts and a pair of silver and black Nike Shox. He strolls down the street before finally speaking.

Shane: Well, well, well…

It would seem as though faith has done nothing but throw me a bone right when it is needed.

You know, keeping a good work schedule is one thing. Business trips… going here, going there… they can really overwork a man.

I’m not trying to toot my own horn, but my trips around the block could really catch up to a normal person.

However…

Steven Shane is not your ordinary person. A wrestling schedule like Steven Shane’s would weigh down even the best of them.

But the Sensationalness of Steven Shane just can’t seem to ever find a way to stop itself.

Because now, right here at BattleBrawl, Steven Shane will be making yet another appearance for the millions and millions of guidos that so desire to see Sensational personified.

Shane takes a turn onto a side street, but the camera follows diligently.

Shane: Yes, New Era Wrestling is the latest stop for Steven Shane.

And wouldn’t you know it? They’re trying to make me the champ already.

Shane gives a chuckle.

Shane: Of course, it would look too obvious to simply place Steven Shane in a championship match in his first ever appearance in a new fed.

Therefore, the powers that be have decided that they would line Steven Shane up against a “who’s who of what have we ever done?” battle royal.

Now, make no mistakes, Steven Shane is not a battle royal expert.

My great attention to technical detail pretty much trumps any kind of “brawling” that you might see out of me.

But when facing off against names as big as Cameron Cruise, one can only help but wonder what type of obstacle could possibly get in the way of a man as Sensational as Steven Shane.

You see, Steven Shane was highly sold on NEW when the owners pitched this great roster and awesome fan support that the company had to offer.

Like any good man looking for a little bit more competition, I signed on the line.

I then went into the thoughts of the great matches I could bring NEW.

And now, I’m forced to sit back and absorb the punishment that is watching 19 other participants “wrestle” each other for a shot at the NEW World Title.

Shane scoffs.

Shane: Quite frankly, I’m disappointed.

I signed here thinking that I was going to establish myself amongst some of the best in the FW world, but I see no one that is even worth my time.

However, a contract is a contract. And I will honor my word.

I will compete for NEW. And I will do what it takes to win.

Unfortunately, I must do so by humiliating the “superstars” that plan to step into the ring with me.

This week, at BattleBrawl, will be exhibit A.

I will not only outlast over half of the roster, but I will also steal their title shot in one felt swoop.

NEW fans, get used to this face.

Next step, get used to associating this face with gold.

Because after BattleBrawl, I will only have one more step to take myself before I attain that gold.

Steven Shane is preparing to tear through NEW.

And that my friends…will be nothing short of SENSATIONAL.

Shane gives a smile as he takes another turn and the camera fades out.
 

JLevinson

Diva Tree
Joined
Jan 1, 2000
Messages
707
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Age
43
Systematic Failure

(FADEIN to a quiet basement we've seen before, almost entirely dark except for the overhead light and the colors coming from the laptop, which escape the massive, 255 lb. frame which sits in front of it, clicking away. Harold A. Lombourgh snorts and laughs to himself before speaking, to no one in particular.. )

HAL: "... like the Java runtime speed-ups somehow cover development costs and the open framework of RoR... c'mon. Just wait until the otpmized bytecode compiler comes out for 2.0... then we'll see who's laughing."

(He snorts again and giggles to himself before spinning his undersized plastic office chair around and grimmacing at the camera.)

HAL: "You'll have to excuse me, gentlemen... I know it's in the standard operating procedures for me to come out here, give some long-winded backstory about where I've been and, after a brief comic interlude or, perhaps a few catchphrases... I am to go on and tell you all about how I, unlike you, really AM going to win, and not only that, but that the fans will rejoice and, quite possibly, burst into blames from the sheer exhaulted joy they feel merely by my presence.

"Well... I don't think so, gentlemen. Unlike you, I am not an intellectual and philosophical weakling. No, I am an intellectual, sadly trapped in the body of a mongoloid, much like my fellow competitors.

"Perhaps you haven't heard of Chaos Theory. I'm sure they don't teach that in the mean streets, Mr. Haze. Nor did they teach it at your musical-singing-and-dancing school with the rest of the queens, Copycat. It's not the type of thing you discuss when you're trying to get the right sequence of dance moves to the Sound of Music, is it.

"Gentlemen, Chaos Theory essentially says... and, I assure you, I AM dumbing this down for you, Shawn... that in any finite system, there are too many unknown variables to systematically say with any degree of scientific certainty that we can predict a result.

"Sorry, Shawn. What I mean is... too much stuff... too hard to figure out... never know what might happen tomorrow. Get it?

"Now, given the obvious theoretical consequences of such a thing, my opponents have no problems coming out here and saying, with quite the degree of certainty, what will happen. In in every case, they arrived at a different conclusion. How... fascinating.

"Do you know, gentlemen, what we call someone with four different answers from four different people, all of which lack any sense of credibility, logical foundation, or even... cursory common sense... well, we call them fools. Or, if you can't stop gaming... noobs.

"You, gentlemen, are merely noobs in a man's game. Once, perhaps, a man of such towering intellect as Copycat, quite capable of hoodwinking a small child out of a piece of candy, could be considered... the smartest player in the game.

"Yet the rules have changed, as they are likely to do. And those of you who haven't studied your history... and, I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that between all of you, you couldn't name more than, oh, let's say, two... of the signers of the Declaration of Independence... well, you know how the saying goes. Those who do know their history...

"But gentlemen, this is not my concern. If it is your desire to run into the ring, screaming wildly with a blindfold to your own probabilistic predicament, then by all means... go ahead. I, however, will not drink the kool-aid.

"HAL has not come to tell you that he, alone, is capable of winning this Rumble. After all, you have all claimed the same, and at least 75% of you will have made incorrect assertions... that's three, Shawn... and so I will not jump on the merry-go-round of egocentrism, although I imagine those who have remained silent gladly will.

"I will, however, give credit to Copycat for managing to somehow raise the level of homoerotic overtones already prevalent in professional wrestling, and only say... Copycat, if it is the fans you rely on... the same ones who, tomorrow, will scream the names of their favorite Nascar drivers... ten seconds before they throw a beer bottle through their own television set... to prove a point, nonetheless... then, perhaps you are not as intelligent as you would believe.

"Perhaps, gentlemen... NONE of you can perform even CURSORY integrals on even the most simple exponential equation... perhaps none of you could even create a mirrored RAID with anything but a PROMISE controller... "

(At this, he bursts into laughter and, after a moment, snorts, then tears begin to come out of his eyes before he finally calms down his giggles and wipes the smile off of his face.)

HAL: "Listen. I'm not saying you guys are retarded. Really. But you're going to have to use that passion to make up for the mental handicap. Just something you might want to readjust for your strategy.

"Wait... readjust, I'm sorry, what am I talking about? You guys are all already sure you're going to win. Perfect.

"But here's the thing... the probability of any one entry, at 1 in 20, is at 5%. However, the probabilities must be weighted. Assuming each person has an equal ability and desire to win the match... The first fifteen men have virtually no chance of victory.

"Some of you, perhaps, think you are special. Some of you think that... yes, you alone, are the one who will buck the trend... who will outlast us all.

"Of course, anything IS possible. As we've said... Chaos Theory dictates that something could happen... Hart could hurt himself staring too hard into the mirror... Copycat could receive an STD from Freddie Mercury's choreographer...

"When such hidden variables arrive, my brainless friends... hidden variables such as myself, lost in a shuffle of hear-me-now, watch-me-conquor cookie cutter hams with nothing better than do than entertain people like my friend, Irish Loop, who sits around, nerding it up all day on the Internet... well...

"Oh, right. The Internet.

"That's probably AOL to you... "

(FADEOUT to him shaking his head in disappointment... )
 
Last edited:

ShawnHartXXX

The Phenom
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Jan 1, 2000
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Salt Lake City, UT
Re: Systematic Failure

FADE IN: Disneyland. The Tiki, Tiki, Tiki, Tiki, Tiki Room, where all the birds sing words and the flowers croon. There amongst the enchantment we see the Prime Minister of Gettin' Sinister, Shawn J. Hart, sporting a pair of mouse ears and a Tinkerbell wand. With the camera fixed directly on his mug, the HAPPIEST mug on Earth, he waves that wand and begins to work his spell.

HART: "Heeeeeeeey now!! Shawn Jessica Hart here, live from the Magic Kingdom, with an EXCLUSIVE report on all the latest and greatest news bits from NEW; the naughtiest and most notable narratives needlessly used by any of a never-ending list of Neanderthals to needle their namby-pamby opponents en route to competing, NO HOLDS BARRED, for the number one contendership to the greatest title in all of North America..."

He pauses, seemingly paying homage to the strap in question.

HART: "New Era's Heavyweight Championship, nnnnnnnndaddio!"

The Phenom nods his head.

HART: "NOW... of the narrowminded nincompoops to put their names in the hat, it seems I've found a rather nefarious nemesis. A relative newcomer to the Muff Daddy's list of no-hope, no-talent HACK jobs. The nut-job known only as Harold A. Lombourgh. And though it may sound nonsensical to some, with Buddah as my backer, I'd give my last nickel to see this man NAKED! I mean, to question my vocal virility, to compare my verbal acumen to that of a vegetable, this guy really must have some set of testicles..."

Suddenly, Shawn's expression goes sour.

HART: "All alliterations aside, if Shallow HAL here thinks he can go all Jack Black on THIS Hart Attack, he can consider those fat nuts of his as good as CRACKED!"

He shoots an icy glare into the camera.

HART: "Seriously sister, you wanna come in here spreading words of conspiracy concerning my level of education?! I'll have you know that I graduated Summa Cum Laude for the College of COME GET SOME! So my advice to you, sir, would be to stick to the laptop and leave the smack talk to the superstars! Cuz if you don't, I'm gonna devise a virus to bring dire straits to your environment; Crush your corporations with a mild touch... trash your whole computer SYSTEM and revert you to papyrus!"

Having said his piece on the subject, he takes a deep breath and proceeds to his second target.

HART: "The NEXT item up for bid on the PHENOM OWNS YOUR ASS would have to be Alister Hayze. Or was that Man-Handlin' Gays... thumbing through the latest Playgirl to satisfy his Ass-Blaster Craze? Don't get me wrong, I'm all about sexual freedom and having an open-mind, but when you're wasting our time with wicked tales of your favorite teen-aged boy toy's death, you've obviously got issues a bit more pressing than rolling around that ring. So your buddy smoked himself to death-WAAAAAAAAAHH!! If you ask me, you just miss smoking his pole..."

Despite the crass and cruel nature of his comments, Hart finds himself chuckling.

HART: "Besides, you've quit on this place once already. And despite the fact that you probably think it's sexy, this company isn't one that wastes its time with sloppy seconds. SPEAKING OF WHICH, how's about that Copycat guy?!"

He scratches his chin pensively.

HART: "Call me crazy, but when you and I went toe-to-toe for the WWL Television title, wasn't it you who proved to be SECOND BEST? I guess that makes it all the more appropriate to see you singin' some classic Queen. Lord knows you've got a snowball's chance in Hell of taking my rightful spot as KING of this industry. Like it or not, you'll never be anything more than a lady-in-waiting. But hey, don't get all bent out of shape about it... I'm sure that Hayze character would be more than willing to give you the ROYAL TREATMENT. Just goes to show that COPYCAT is just another word for PRETENDER, and when you find your little ass in the Rumble with the rest of us, it's BACK ON THE CHAIN GANG for you, baby!!!"

SJH shakes his hips and wiggles his pelvis.

HART: "Dun-dun-dun... ANOTHER ONE BITES THE DUST! Now if you'll excuse me, some fat-bottomed girls are about to make my rockin' world go 'round, so I best be bouncin' on out of here. As for Steven Shane, here's a quarter.... call someone who cares. After that, you can head back to a1e where you came from. Sure, you're talking a big game right now, but as far as the Muff Daddy's concerned, this is a case of mind over matter. I don't mind and you don't matter. So uhhh, I'm gonna go give Jessica Rabbit some of my man juice and you can get back at me when you've got something worth listening to. If you wanna settle up before then, I'll be waiting in Mickey's Toontown. If you can muster up enough money on that jay-brone salary of yours, just grab a ticket and catch the Monorail... I'll go to infinity and BEYOND on your booty like Buzz Lightyear the moment you step off the train. Call it an outrage, call it a MOCKERY, call it old Walt's creepy, frozen corpse if you want. Like it or not, it's the TRUTH... and sometimes, the truth HURTS!! The PHENOM has left the building!"

FADE OUT.
 
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ShawnHartXXX

The Phenom
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Jan 1, 2000
Messages
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Breaking the Silence

The following RP may contain material inappropriate for sober people. Consider yourselves warned...
 
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ShawnHartXXX

The Phenom
Joined
Jan 1, 2000
Messages
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Age
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Location
Salt Lake City, UT
Breaking the Silence

FADE IN: Shawn Hart is speeding down the freeway in a Hummer.

HART: "SJH here, on the way to NYC in my new H2. If I'm driving erratically, it's because I'm watching the BBC on an overhead LCD. Thankfully I'm under .08, so if I run into the 5O, they'll have to 86 the DUI. If you're wondering why I'm doing 98 in a 65, it's because last night, at my niece's sweet 16, I had a 69 with one of her friends and may have given her the HPV, a rather infamous STD. To make matters worse, I think she may have been under 18, so if I don't get out of here quick, I could be looking at 5 to 10. Hopefully, they don't bring in the FBI or the NYPD. If those guys track me down, I'm SOL. The BattleBRAWL Rumble would come around and I'd be MIA, leaving some other joker would pick up the 1-2-3..."

He lowers his head and ponders the ramifications of this potential chain of events.

HART: "Heh, good thing I have a flying car!"

Suddenly, the rocket engines are ignited and Hart's Hummer is LAUNCHED several hundered feet into the air!

HART: "Bwahahahahaha!!! BattleBRAWL, here I come! COOOOOOOOOOBRAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

FADE OUT.
 
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Jason Payne

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Jan 1, 2000
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Great Mills, Maryland
In the back room of the Basham-Schultz Wrestling Academy, is a dungeon like atmosphere of moldiness, cobwebs, and faded paint. It is here we find Chris McMillan and Dave 'The Bear' Schultz, the mentor of McMillan and Jason Payne. In the backroom, several T.V.'s can be seen giving the room an eerie glow. Schultz has his arms folded over his chest, looking at McMillan with a concerned look.

Schultz - "Chris, are you sure this is what needs to be done? It looks and sounds pretty dangerous."

McMillan - "Look Dave, you don't understand how dire this situation is. I mean prancing around in Versace dresses? Feather boas? Is this what you want Jason Payne running around as? I mean, you have to see this to fully understand."

McMillan raised a remote and started a video of Jason's latest antics in the ring. Dave's face went long and a long sigh escaped him as if he were letting out some steam.

Schultz - "Jesus."

Dave looked back to he TV's flickering in the backroom.

Scultz - "Are you sure that he can handle that?"

McMillan looked at Dave for a long moment.

McMillan - "Well, I'm not sure. But this is the only thing that is going to bring him back I think."

McMillan leads Dave further into the room. As the near the television sets, it's noticed that there is a chair facing the three sets. On the leftmost TV, is the porn film 'Busty Backdoor Nurses', with a scene with the doctor 'sticking it' to the nurse in the only way he knows how. On the middle T.V. is the movie 'Rambo: First Blood Part II', where Rambo is being tortured by the Russian Army. The third shows a scene from the television show, 'Highway To Heaven' with Michael Landon. Dave looks over at Chris.

Schultz - "Michael Landon?"

McMillan cuts him off quickly.

McMillan - "Hey. Don't **** with Michael Landon okay? He's an angel and could **** you up."

Schultz held up his hands in a mock surrender.

Schultz - "Hey if you think it will do the trick, I'm all for it."

Chris made his way around the chair. In the chair was a bound Jason Payne with toothpicks in his eyelids to keep them open. He was motionless and transfixed by the television sets. He was bound at the wrists, and around the chest. As Chris made his way next to the chair, Payne turned his head towards him.

McMillan - "Want some thing to drink?"

Payne - "Yes. I'll have a mimosa please."

McMillan sighed and looked at Dave with an exasperated look.

McMillan - "This is going to take longer than I thought. Hand me that funnel."

Dave reached over and grabbed a blue funnel off the table and handed it to Chris. Chris took it and pulled a cooler over from behind the chair. Looking down at Payne, he stood slowly, the funnel in his left hand.

McMillan - "This is for your own good Jason."

McMillan hauled off and punched Jason square in the mouth, knocking him silly. Though his eyes were still open thanks to the toothpicks, he was out of it. McMillan put the funnel in Payne's mouth and opened the cooler, pulling out a six pack of Milwaukee's Best beer. Dave looked at McMillan skeptically.

Schultz - "What is that?"

McMillan turned and offered a sly grin at Dave, holding up a can for him to see.

McMillan - "It's the fricking Beast dude."

McMillan turned back to Payne, and crakced the tab on the can, and began pouring the Beast down Payne's throat.

FTB
 

AUMedina

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Jan 3, 2004
Messages
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Location
New York
The "Mystery Entrant"

The camera faded in to one of those dimly lit interrogation rooms that one has seen in those old crime shows. A single lamp hung from the ceiling and only illuminated, oddly enough, a wooden table and the bottom half of someone who sat behind this table. This person’s hands were rested on the table as they were clasped together with a lit cigarette in an ashtray next to him.

The only thing that could be seen as far as identity is concerned were long, black hair, lips and a clean-shaven chin.


??????: ”So, it has to come to this. This is what I’m reduced to. You know, when Julie Marceau first saw me walk into her office, boy was she both pissed and pleasantly surprised at the same time. It was like she saw a ghost but also a savior in her untimely need.

She had this big idea how upon my epic return to New ERA of Wrestling, she would disguise me as the ‘Mystery Entrant’ in NEW’s BattleBrawl II.

Let me just state for the record how utterly f***ing stupid that idea was. ‘Mystery Entrant’ – it’s like she wasn’t even trying. How many f***ing unknown wrestlers came in NEW, let alone in the history of wrestling?

’Mystery Opponent’, ‘Mystery Man’, ‘Masked Man’, ‘Mystery Masked Man’, and now…’Mystery Entrant’. I’m sure there are others but you know what? I don’t give a flying f*** what that c*** of a businesswoman wants.”

“Lights.”

The lights went on and sat behind the table, as he took a drag from a lit clove, was the man who once graced NEW’s presence as The Man, The Myth, The Legend himself…Suicide.

But, this man was no longer the Mysterious Wander.

The Prodigal Son of Wrestling, Ulysis Solian, leaned back against the wooden chair as he took another drag off of his clove. He released a cloud of smoke in the air as he looked sternly into the camera.


Solian: ”The whole ‘Mystery Entrant’ is so clique, much like the ramblings of most of you blowhards going into this BattleBrawl match. Now I can sit here and rant on and on how my life was full of trials and tribulations leading up to this point in time but quite frankly, none of you have even brain cells to absorb it all.

Instead, let’s get right to the point:

I don’t expect to win this match at all.

What? Surprised to hear me say that?

Why is that such a shock?

Let’s face it:

There are plenty of great wrestlers in this match – great mediocre wrestlers to be precise…most of them anyway.

Some I’ve faced, some I have never had the pleasure of facing, yadda yadda yadda.

We’ve got Copycat, who is bragging about how terrific he is, how important he is to this sport that he almost missed this match due to previous commitments with other promotions. Last time I checked, WFW was on it’s death bed, which was the only commitment Copycat ever had. Also, the last time this jackass wrestled was about a year ago. Yeah, way to make yourself out to be some kind of grand acquisition as if any of us really gives a sh**. The only thing you’re good at doing Copycat is choking in the big matches. You have had several chances to win a World Title and caved under the pressure each and every time.

What makes this match any different? Because you’re so ‘underrated’? Pal, to know what underrated is you’d have to be overlooked by your peers each and every time you enter the ring. People respect you and what you do, Copycat. No one ever gave me the time of the day when I needed it the most. So save the voice-cracking crooning for your ***** of a cat, IceKold.”

Ulysis Solian took another drag off his clove and scratched his chin.

Solian: ”We’ve got some computer nerd who’s rambling on about what book he’s read that he downloaded off a torrent site and what new words he’s learned from Dictionary.com like he’s some superior intellect.

The only clue he’d get is when someone knocks him on his CPU and trojans their way into his HDD to cause a BSOD and fries his motherboard.

See? I can talk all high-tech, just like someone who has never had the pleasure of eating a woman out let alone touching their lips against those of a female. And no HAL, your mother doesn’t count, though she probably does have the nicest, softest lips when it comes to bl…

We got a guy who has come back from the dead, like myself, and what does he do? He *****es, whines and complains how he’s not getting a fair deal thus far in NEW. Hey Hayze, instead of being given something to you on a silver platter, maybe try earning your keep? Hell, I had held five World Championships at the same time and you don’t see me walking around like the cock of the walk, even though it is pretty intimidating.

Save the melodramatic bullsh** for your ghost-writer so he can put it in your inevitable autobiography. Because let’s face it, if I asked you to write a dissertation on the state of professional wrestling today, you’d probably wouldn’t have enough crayons in your box to accomplish it. Leave the talking to the side and get down to what’s most important:

Actions.”

Ulysis Solian put out his clove after taking one last puff from it.

Solian: ”I’d address Payne except he’s too busy playing ‘Whose Penis Is The Smallest’ with Mr. ‘Forever Running His Mouth Without Saying A Single, *******, Meaningful Word’ Derecho and I don’t really want to take him from what’s most important to him.

Steven Shane? Cookie-cutter wrestler. Not worth my air.

But Shawn Hart? Definitely worth my time. Possibly the only man in this match I truly revere and respect.

What’s goin’ on, nnnnnnnndaddio? It seems as if it was just yesterday I saw you getting drilled into the canvas by Suicide. How you ever lost to such a sorry bastard baffles even me. With all due respect to the others, you’re probably my single biggest threat in this match and I wouldn’t mind being tossed out of the ring by you.

Whether you believe it or not, Hart, I have more respect for you than anyone in this sport. You’re one of the few men who can talk the talk and walk the walk. Eventually, you beat Suicide, as well as a host of top-level athletes in our sport and finally earned you some World Title gold along the way.

Hell, if I had it my way, I’d just walk out the match if it was just you and me left in that ring. I really believe you deserve to be the #1 contender to the NEW World Heavyweight Championship.

Unfortunately, since I’m one sadistic and deranged mother f**ker and like seeing others wallow in misery that I have created for them, you’re going to have to kill me before you throw me out of the ring.

But, like I said, I don’t believe I’m going to win and I’m not sweatin’ it. Why? Because I didn’t come back to NEW to become a champion. If it happens, it happens. That’s not really my primary concern.

I’m mainly here because the state of wrestling and NEW is abysmal at best. You’ve got idiots running around here like they own the place and then you have some middle-aged c**trag getting her ovaries off trying to make the lives of people, including my brother and best friend Larry Tact, unbearable to continue in this plane of existence.

But maybe I can change that. Maybe I can cause a disruption in the usual flow of things here in New ERA of Wrestling. Maybe I can make the difference that when the dust has settled, I will finally have the recognition and respect of my peers as I become one of the elite in this sport…

…or maybe I just don’t give a **** what anyone thinks and I’m just here to hurt people and maybe end a career or two.

Yeah…I think I’ll go with the latter.”

Ulysis Solian leaned against the table on his elbows with his hands clasped together and smirked sinisterly into the camera. He scratched his nose and leaned back into the wooden chair once more as he kicked up his feet onto the table. The camera then faded to black.
 

GARTHIsTheLaw

League Member
Joined
Jan 1, 2000
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345
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42
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Rogue's gallery

(Cueup: "Wanted Dead or Alive" by Bon Jovi)

(Fade in on what seems to be, from the look of things, an Old West sheriff's office. Probably-entirely-unnecessary desks with the odd sheet of probably-entirely-unnecessary paper are spread throughout the room, the walls feature crudely-fashioned WANTED posters, and a door toward the back of the room has a barred window, indicating that it likely leads to jail cells. A few assorted Old West-type deputies sit around doing a whole lot of nothing, most in the stereotypical "asleep-with-feet-on-desk-and-big-cowboy-hat-covering-eyes" pose. That all changes swiftly as the sound of doors being kicked open rouses the sleepy-eyed constables. A silouette appears coming from behind the camera, and the sound of spurs heralds the arrival of...)

Copycat: All right, you lazy slugs, listen up!

(The lawmen all do their best to make themselves appear alert and ready as Copycat saunters onscreen, dressed in full Old West sheriff garb: spurred boots, cowboy hat, long coat, cowboy hat, gun belt, all the best. He walks to the back of the room, then turns to face the camera)

Copycat: I know y'all have heard the rumors that a passel of outlaws is headed this way, intend on takin' over this here town. Now, I done just finished scoutin' things out, and it's true -- they're on their way, and I reckon they just might be here as early as two days from now.

(Hushed discussions fill the room. One deputy speaks up)

Deputy: How many are they, Sheriff?

Copycat (after pausing for the proper amount of effect): Nineteen.

(The discussions filling the room become less hushed, but audibly more worried)

Copycat: That's right, there's 19 of 'em coming this-a-way, each of 'em with murder in his eyes. And if any of y'all are sittin' there hopin' they just might pass on by and be on their way, yer gonna get a nasty surprise when they get here.

Other Deputy: Who are they, Sheriff? They been through these parts before?

Copycat: I'm glad you asked, pardner. Near as I could tell, 'round abouts 13 of 'em was just along for the ride, lookin' for whatever they can git by hangin' 'round that nasty crowd. But there's six of 'em got their sights set on provin' themselves the quickest shot in this here town. Clem, do me a favor and bring me them signs I asked for, wouldja?

(One deputy grabs a stack of WANTED posters from a desk and brings them up to Copycat. He spreads them out on a table before him as the camera zooms in on him. From left to right: Alister Hayze, Steven Shane, HAL, Jason Payne, Suicide and Shawn Hart stare at the camera, all sporting the closest things to menacing sneers as could be screencapped from their most recent promos)

Copycat: Take a good, long look, boys -- these rascals is some of the most notorious rustlers 'round these parts, and you'd best be ready to shoot on sight if you spot any of 'em.

(Copycat picks up the poster with Alister Hayze on it)

Copycat: This here is Alister Hayze. Now, don't none of y'all be fooled by that Vampire: The Masquerade fan-fiction soundin' name 'a his. This here varmint is a dangerous 'un, to be sure.

Still Anther Deputy: But I heard he was dead.

Copycat: A man like that wants you to believe he's dead, Clyde. Don't mean he's actually in the ground. He was last seen three cities over. I heard he left six men dead, and rumor around town is that all of 'em went at the same time.

Second Deputy: Dynamite?

Copycat: Dynamite is too dull for a man like Hayze. Now, I weren't there, so I can't tell ya just HOW he did it -- but word is, all six of 'em put bullets in their own heads after listening to Hayze describe his tormented past.

(The deputies gasp with horror)

Copycat: I know it's grisly, boys, but ya got to know what yer goin' up against, and knowin' details like that can save yer lives. If you spot Hayze, do NOT let him preface a duel with a monologue...'cuz there won't be no duel. Now, THIS varmint...

(Copycat sets down the Hayze poster and picks up the Steven Shane poster)

Copycat: ...This here's Steven Shane. You don't wanna let yer guard down on this one.

First Deputy ("Clem"): Steven Shane? Why, I heard he ain't killed but a single man in years, and that'n was plum accidental!

(The other deputies laugh)

Copycat: Yer right, Clem. He ain't got many kills to his name lately. But he don't need 'em. Those rascals don't keep him around for his kill count -- they keep him around for the way he acts. Y'see, Steven Shane's strength is that he sounds exactly like ever'one else. That's how he plays the game. You hear this boy a-comin', you'll think he's someone else...and while yer waitin' 'round a corner, gettin' ready to pop out and put a coupla chunks of lead in his hide, whoever he's workin' with will come at'cha from behind and kill ya deader than Jaleel White's career.

Third Deputy ("Clyde"): Jaleel...

Second Deputy: Hush, Clyde, you know the boss don't like it when you ask him to 'splain his pop culture references.

Copycat: Always watch your back out there, boys. If Steven Shane's around, ain't nobody's behind safe.

(Copycat picks up the next poster from the table)

Copycat: This here is Harold A. Loumbourgh, better known as HAL. He's a vicious sonuvagun, and he ain't afraid to let'cha know 'bout it. Billy, come read this here note he done left on the body of the man he killed last July.

(The second deputy, presumably "Billy," walks up to Copycat and takes a piece of paper from him and stares at it quizzically, turning it upside down several times before Copycat snatches it away)

Copycat: Daggone Old West stereotype! Sit down, Billy.

(Billy sits back down, looking dejected)

Copycat: Listen carefully, boys, 'cuz this message will chill ya to yer very bones.

(He clears his throat)

Copycat: "omg u r n00b. u r teh gay. u been h4x0r3d!!!!1111"

(The deputies gasp in horror again)

Copycat: He's a daring 'un, too. I heard he done accused me of bein' a hom'sexual just 'cuz I enjoy singin' Queen with a few thousand of my closest pals.

Billy: Aw, now that's just ridiculous in this here day and age.

Clyde: Why, if a man can't burst into song ever' now 'n then without bein' called names, what kinda world are we livin' in, anyway?

Copycat: He's a remnant of a bygone era, boys. Don't underestimate him. Up next...

(Copycat sets down HAL's poster and picks up Jason Payne's)

Copycat: This here's Jason Payne. This varmint...um...

Clem: I heard 'bout him! He done...uh...

Billy: I heard he...no wait, that'n was...huh.

Copycat: Well, I'm sure he done somethin' significant at some undetermined point in time. Keep an eye out fer 'im all the same.

(Copycat sets down Payne's poster and picks up Suicide's)

Copycat: This here is Ulysis Solian, better known by his more-pronounceable alias, "Suicide." He used to be one 'a the good guys, boys, and one 'a the best. He's been through more battles than all of y'all have even heard about. And while ain't nobody been able to put him six feet under, all them battles done took a toll on his mind.

Clem: Well, how're we gonna fight a feller like that? He's crazier 'n a pet coon!

Copycat: Well boys, he don't really have any idear what's goin' on these days.

Clyde: How d'ya mean, Sheriff?

Copycat: Well, think 'bout it, Clyde. I mean, feller clearly don't know that I just recently disproved all the critics who said I'd never win another World Heavyweight Title. Feller clearly don't know that I got a boomin' career outside 'a the ring, and it tends to keep me away from that ring for long periods 'a time. And feller CLEARLY don't know nothin' 'bout me if'n he thinks I consider myself "underrated."

Billy: Well shoot, Sheriff, I thought ever'body 'round these parts knew 'bout the amount 'a hype that follows ya around!

Copycat: So did I, Billy, so did I. But Suicide ain't got no clue, and that makes 'im dangerous. Finally...

(Copycat picks up the poster of Shawn Hart)

Copycat: This here's Shawn Jessica Hart. Near as I can tell, he's the toughest one of the bunch.

Clem: The toughest, boss?

Copycat: Well..."most dangerous" might be a better choice 'a words. And what makes him so scary is the fact that he just might be the only one outta the bunch of 'em that's as quick on the draw as yours truly.

Clyde: But yer the Smartest Player in the Game, ain'tcha Sheriff?

Copycat: That's right, Clyde. But Shawn Hart's a clever one too. I never told you boys this, but he actually beat me in a duel a few years back.

(The deputies convey shock)

Billy: Sheriff...you ain't sayin' he's...better than you, are ya?

Copycat: 'Course not, Billy! Now Hart, he loves to tell that story 'bout how he beat me all them years ago when a small prize was on the line. But what he don't like to talk about is the fact that just a coupla' years after that, with a much more important prize on the line, I was the one who done come out the victor. Ain't Shawn Hart, nor NONE 'a these rogues...

(Copycat brushes all the posters off the desk before him)

Copycat: ...Ain't NONE of 'em got the gumption to take me down in an ol'-fashioned knock-down-drag-out.

Clem: Well then, whadda we got to worry 'bout, Sheriff? I mean, if'n you can take all them rustlers down by yerself, then this here town ain't in no trouble a'tall!

Copycat: Now don't be jumpin' to no conclusions, Clem. I may be more'n a match for any of them scoundrels, but you can't be forgettin' that there's 19 'a them and only one 'a me. If I'm a-gonna win this here BattleBRAWL Rumble, as them fellers call it, I'm gonna need support.

Clyde: Why Sheriff, you know we'll be a-backin' ya up!

Copycat: I know, Clyde, I know. But as quick on the draw as you boys is, y'all just may not be enough. I'm a-gonna need the whole town on my side.

Billy: Well Sheriff, you know this here town loves you, and they'll stand behind you. Ain't nobody this here town would like to have as its sheriff, and -- I might add -- ain't nobody this here town like to have as its World Champion.

Copycat: I like the way you think, Billy. And yer right -- it's these townfolk that are gonna be the difference-makers in this battle. With yer support, and their support, I'm gonna run all 19 of them rascals outta town.

Billy: And then yer comin' fer Jonathan Marx or the Phantom Republican, right, Sheriff?

Copycat: That's right, Billy. This here Cat's gonna have his day, come that BattleBRAWL Rumble, and this here town ain't never gonna be the same again.

(Copycat gets up from the desk and heads for the door, the camera zooming out and the deputies watching as he passes. As he walks past the camera to the door, his silouette can be seen stopping)

Copycat: And that, boys, is just all there is to it.

(The silouette walks offscreen)

(Fade out)
 

RStrawsma

Strawbot
Joined
Jan 1, 2000
Messages
1,512
Points
36
Age
40
Location
Indiana
(We begin with black.)

(Eventually, light and sound fades in. This becomes image and music. This becomes a scene: Daymon reclined on what looks like a wooden park bench outdoors, eyes closed and a slightly smile on his face as though he were happily dozing in the shade. A set of white earphones are in place. The only audio we hear is "So Did We" by Isis. Everything is calm.)

(But only moments after this image becomes clear, the calm is broken as a man's hand enters the frame and touches Daymon the shoulder. His eyes flip open and he looks up.)

(Cut to a shot from Daymon's perspective, showing a middle-aged man in a suit against a blue sky looking down at him, mouthing some words that go unheard behind the music.)

(Back on Daymon, the rising NEW superstar blinks at the man in a moment of confusion, and pulls the earphones out. Immediately, the music cuts out, and we can hear the depth of the surrounding world, complete with the sounds of wind and birds chirping and vehicles somwehere in the distance.)

Daymon
Huh?

Man
I said it's not very wise to lay there. You never know what's left behind on these benches...

(Daymon sits up and the camera pulls out, revealing the man standing over him and his green surroundings. He's in Central Park. It's a beautiful day in NYC, and the spot where Daymon happened to catch a quick nap is comfortably shaded from the sun. He scratches his head and looks on either side of the bench.)

Daymon
Like what?

Man
I dunno, a syringe? Wouldn't want to wake up on one of those, believe me...

(As though to check for himself, Daymon's hand slides behind his back. His eyes brighten as his fingers find something. With a satisfied smile, he holds up the flimsy rubber object to the stranger above him.)

Daymon
Nah, just a spent condom! That ain't so bad!

(With a half-disgusted shake of his head, the man walks along the path and doesn't look back. Daymon snickers quietly to himself as he tosses the rubber aside and stands up. His eyes find the camera as he stretches coming out of his nap. His hands find the earphone from his iPod fastened at his belt and jams them into his pocket.)

Daymon
On any other day, I suppose waking up to something like that would easily piss me off. But lately I don't think anything could hamper my day, with the way things have been going for me...

Career-wise, I mean.

It just so happens that I woke up today in my hotel room, and, while taking a nice, relaxing walk of the city, it dawned on me that things happen to be looking up for Rocko Daymon as of late. And, somehow, I get the feeling that if everything goes in my favor, there will be more happy days to come.

As it is, in a federation I'm currently signed to, I'm only a few steps away from solidifying myself as the federation's icon. The trials I face to become the World Champion, the man who stands above all the rest in talent and respect, will no doubt be challenging, but knowing my own abilities, I'm confident that I am capable of handling things in the ring. In a short period of time, I will overcome these trials and take the title. It would be my first big strap in six grueling years.

And then, of course, there's the matter in NEW...

(His smile broadens.)

Daymon
So yeah, I guess there's an extra skip in my step because not only do I realize that I have TWO great opportunities to become a World Champion in two seperate federations...

...but it's because I know if I stick to my guns, accomplishing those goals is only a matter of patience, focus, and time. Two things I never go into that ring without.

But ah, perhaps I'm getting a bit ahead of myself. In the case of NEW, for example, there is the challenge that awaits me to consider.

NEW's BattleBRAWL event... twenty men, one ring, and one reward to the one man left standing. Sounds simple enough, huh? But even I know in all of my experience that it isn't easy to walk out of one of these things with the win.

(Daymon takes a moment to light himself a cigarett, walking down the path into a more open area of Central Park where people are out enjoying the weather. A family is having a picnic. A few kids are playing frisbee. Daymon is in stark contrast to this scene, looking dark and foreboding, but his face still shines with an expression of confidence.)

Daymon
So why have I waited for so long to make my voice be heard? Is it, perhaps, because I don't have my heart set on this match? Well no, quite the opposite really. There are two reasons... the first being that I've been spending a lot of time working in other promotions. But that doesn't mean I haven't had my eye on the NEW airwaves. Which leads me to my second reason for holding off on speaking until now... I just wanted to see what people had to say. You know, see who will be a threat and who will be a pushover... who wants it and who could care less.

But I've seen and heard enough to know what I'm going up against, and now I will speak.

Over the past couple weeks, I've heard several names being dropped. But surprisingly, my own name hasn't popped up too much. Is it just a tad ego-centric of me to be disappointed? After all, with everything I've done in NEW since my debut, you'd think these guys would see one of the greatest threats in this battle rumble in the form of yours truly. But it doesn't seem like people are showing too much concern, either because I'm they think I'm that insignificant, or perhaps because they haven't even thought of it. Two big mistakes for a person to make going into this...

I suppose they figured, "Daymon? Well, he's not gonna promote this, so it's obvious he doesn't care about winning."

And I say, "Oh yeah? And what if you're wrong?"

And what if they are?

(His right eyebrow perks up as he says this.)

Daymon
You're looking at the man who has been on the most dominant streak of any other NEW superstar. Here I'm standing with an opportunity to blow through nineteen of the most prominent on NEW's roster and take a World Title shot in a single night--a process that's much easier and less time consuming than simply working my way there match by match.

In a match of this caliber, it would be a fatal mistake for any of you to disregard me as a threat.

You know why that is? Well, it's the one thing that seperates me from the other nineteen in this match... which is that I don't sit here and boast. I don't refer to myself in the third person, I don't use pervasive profanity to trash my opponents, and I don't organize an elaborate Western-themed skit. Simply put, I go out there and get results, and that speaks for itself.

But this is a twenty-man battle royale... a different kind of match, one that I'm no stranger to.

Most of you probably think this is just a matter of outwrestling nineteen other competitors. Doesn't sound too hard, especially when you think of yourself as God's gift to professional wrestling. But in all actuality it's a little more complicated than that. I mean, I could probably beat any of the entrants in this match in singles competition, but even I will admit that there's a possibility that I can lose if I don't have my head in the game.

There's a science to the battle rumble. There are many aspects you have to keep in mind as you stand alone amid a ring full of chaos. You have to have good conditioning... because you'll never have a moment to catch your breath or regain your strength. At the same time, you have to keep one eye peeking over your shoulder to make sure nobody jumps up on you from behind and eliminates you before you even know it's coming.

On top of that, you gotta know what your prey is. Eliminate the weak, and stay the hell away from the guys fresh out of the locker room. Trust nobody, even if at some point they help you out; there are no friends in this. It all sounds like common sense, but there's so much more that none of you probably take into account.

In my extensive career, I've been through MANY rumbles, and through them all, I've learned how to stand strong in a ring full of twenty--or sometimes even thirty or forty--other competitors. It's no wonder that the last one I had a part in, over in EUWC, I was the last man to be eliminated, and only by another man's cowardly interference.

And now here I am facing a similar challenge against a new set of opponents. Is it my day to hit paydirt, or do I face utter doom? Rather than give you some balony about how long I've waited, how much I want to win, yadda yadda... I just want you to look back over the past couple years of my career. Look at my work here in NEW. Look in other federations. Notice how hard I work to win each and every match I particpate in.

Then ask yourself... are you really ready to go head to head with something as unstoppable as THAT? Can you push yourself above the level of a TRUE professional wrestler?

Cause, in my honest and experienced opinion, I'd say the answer is NO for all of you concerned. I just don't see it from this kind of competition.

(Daymon stops at a newstand and throws his cigarette to the ground before stamping it out. He buys a wrestling magazine with NEW's BattleBRAWL featured on the cover, along with all twenty entrants' faces. Daymon looks at it and shakes his head as he continues walking, flipping through the pages.)

Daymon
You got guys on the list like John Doe and Mr. Entertainment... two wrestlers who I know can put on a hell of a fight in the ring, but still stand below my level.

I mean, when was the last time John won a match? Hell, when was the last time we even SEEN anything of him? It surprises me that he's been so quiet, especially since he has a reputation for incessant verbal bull**** on the airwaves. But who knows... maybe after laying his friend and mentor Jonathan Marx out on the anniversary show, he came to understand that DREDD is on its last legs, after I all but crippled it.

And, at the last Raucous, the world watched as I overcame the odds and beat Mr. Entertainment, the favored opponent, the Television Champion. Now I have a shot at his title, but I only intend to use it as a back-up plan in case things don't go my way at BattleBRAWL. A man with the face value and reputation of Mr. Entertainment would do well in this kind of match. But like I said to him before our match, I don't believe in "Mr. Entertainment"; I only see Stephen Forrester, simple man who thinks he's big because he can squeeze into wrestling tights.

Then there are the bright and shining few who have actually advertised their interest in the mach over the airwaves... guys like Copycat, Shawn Hart, and a few other nobodies.

But I guess they seem to think they're "somebody". Steven Shane? Man, watching a guy come in his pants as he strokes his ego on national television is about as interesting as watching an old man pick his nose. You might be tempted to think about what's running through his head, but then you'll realize that it probably doesn't mean anything in the grand scheme of things.

Sorry, Steven... maybe after you've spent some time here and taken a few names I might actually take you seriously. In the end, this comes down to two kinds of people: the ones that will make a difference and the ones that THINK they'll make a difference.

But speaking of making a difference... I guess that's the status quo for our "mystery entrant" Ulysis Solian. I'm sure a few idle threats about wanting to cause misery and crush dreams will make a few fresh faces life Shane and Hayze wet their pants in the locker room, but frankly, I've been in this game too long to be scared by anything anymore.

The whole "I wanna cause pain cause I like it, GRRR" shtick lost its originality when EPW sent Clapper packing years ago. Now, it's just a weak angle used by mid-carders who realize they can't turn any heads by talent, and need some sort of gimmick to propel themselves into mid-level title matches. Hence, the tough guy who doesn't care about winning, but just wants to make others lose.

And yes, I'm sure the truck driver's vernacular goes over well elsewheres, but calling everybody a "****rag" doesn't prove to me that you're the cream of the crop in this match. I've never heard of you prior to your promo, and frankly, I don't care. To me, you're just another man that I will need to throw out of that ring to get to what I want.

The fact that you consider Shawn Hart as your single greatest threat just goes to show that you're nothing more than a ****ing moron...

I'm sure you'll dish out the typical "buuuuhhhh, YOU DON'T KNOW THE CARNAGE I'M CAPABLE OF, RRRAAAAHH!" kind of rant, probably call me a "lowlife, untalented ****er", but in the same light, you don't know the carnage that I'M capable of. But what draws the line between us is that I'm after victory, and you're after blood. That's exactly where you'll fail, in that you can't visualize yourself winning this match. What good are you, then?

But, when it comes to being the apathetic guy who doesn't care about winning, at least you're above HAL. Don't know what I can say about this guy, except he really does reflect the image of a typical internet nerd.

You know, the guy who lives in his mother's basement, and sits on the computer all day, flaming all the fans of the Silent Hill movie on the AICN.com boards and picking fights, writing up on his blog about all these movies and actors and directors who are nothing but hacks while he himself displays no interest to show how it's done right.

See Ben Affleck's speech in Jay and Silent Bob...

Anyhow, HAL, like I told Solian... if you don't want to win, then what's the point of showing up? I'm the kind of guy who tries to grow with every match because I push myself to overcome challenges. But based on your lack of interest in winning, I come to think that maybe you won't present a challenge. You're stunting my growth, HAL, and that pisses me off.

Then there's Jason Payne. I don't know if what I saw could be considered "preparing for a match", but eh, whatever floats his boat. I'll stick to hitting the gym, studying my opponents, and opening my mind to the challenges that await me.

I look at guys like these, and I think, if these are the few that actually take the time to cut a promo for this match, what the HELL am I looking forward to? A bunch of egos that think they're better than the rest just because they SAY they are? It would hardly be worth bragging if I walked out of this as the winner, against competition like this.

(Shaking his head in dismay, Daymon dumps the magazine into a trashcan as he walks by.)

Daymon
But ah, all is not lost. At least we've got Copycat.

Cat, can't say I've had the pleasure to compete with you before, but I've seen your stuff, and you're not too shabby. That, and I like your mindset going into this match, doing it for the fans and all. Maybe causing a few blips to appear on the Gay-dar with the whole Queen singalong and the cowboy shtick... but eh, you're having fun, right?

You might have a lot of momentum going into this thing... but the truth is, Copycat, your focus and determination to become the icon of the fans isn't going to be quite enough to put yourself over me. I fight to win because there are days where I feel like I'm professional wrestling's last true professional wrestler... the incarnate of things that have since been forgotten, like respect, courage, modesty. And maybe you represent those things to, but for me, it's not about pleasing the ticket-buyers.

I want to be the last man standing in the ring not because the people WANT to see it... but because they NEED to. The people need to be reminded of what a true athlete is like. They need to see him stand tall and wear that belt like he earned every bit of it, and didn't just rob it like our current World Champion.

I'm a fan favorite and I'm the perfect example of what a champion should be...

On top of that, I'm an experienced and heavily motivated professional wrestler that strives to win under any circumstances.

So while I may give you the slightest tip of the hat--more than I'd give anybody else in this match--you gotta know, Cat, that I'm not going to let you walk over me at BattleBRAWL. I've come to far in my career to be denied of this opportunity, and it's been a long six years since I had a shot at a World Title. The fans will simply have to live with seeing you rise to the top at a later date.

And last but not least...

(He mocks a drum trill.)

Daymon
Shawn Hart... well, what can I say about you being in this match? You face perhaps the greatest challenge of us all, entering that ring as entrant numero uno. Yet somehow, you've been gaining the most attention out of everybody else involved in this match. People seem to think that this match isn't just the BattleBRAWL Rumble, but Shawn Hart vs. NEW.

Well, I'd be lying if I said I didn't respect you for your profound status as an NEW legend...

But the sad truth is, Shawn, that you're a joke. I beat you. Not only did I pin your shoulders once for the three count, but TWICE in the same night. Best of three falls, and you couldn't even get ONE over me! And suddenly you think you've got the gusto to outlast nineteen other competitors and reclaims your place at the top of the mountain?

That match still perplexes me to some degree. How is it that I BEAT you so easily? You, SHAWN HART, the favored man to win! How could you fail at the simple task of humbling an unstoppable new talent?

Could it be that you lacked the ability? Well, no, not possible. While you're still a few notches below my level, your rep sheet proves that you can at least get positive results when you put your mind to it. So you can't place the blame on lack of talent. Maybe you were just having a bad day? But then you're always so chipper whenever I see you on the air, and I somewhat speculate if Shawn Hart EVER has a bad day...

But then I realized the very reason why you allowed yourself to have your ass handed to you without me even breaking a sweat, Shawn. You didn't care enough to win. A match against me wasn't worth your time and commitment, so you blew it off, took the beating like an abused housewife, picked yourself up, dusted yourself off, and went on your merry way.

Ironically, here we are some time later, and now that there's a title shot on the line, we're hearing a lot more out of you through your promos than we did in the weeks preceding our little dance in the ring. Funny how that is, how you only show determination when it matters.

You see, Shawn, I'm not like you. I RESPECT this game. That's why every time I go into that ring, I do the one thing that a TRUE professional wrestler should. I fight with everything I have. I hold nothing back. I give all I can, and I find a way to give more. I refuse to fail, and when I fall, I pick myself up and keep on swinging. Victory is the only acceptable outcome.

So it's no wonder why looking back on the past year in my career, you don't see too many marks in the "Loss" category. Fewer than I can count on one hand, I'd imagine, and all of them insignificant and forgettable.

And, above all, none of those losses ever took place here in New ERA Wrestling. To this day, since my debut, I remain undefeated, even after the series of challenges I've faced in the likes of Shawn Hart, Mr. Entertainment, and even our own World Champion, Jonathan Marx.

This is why you will fail, Shawn... because for the bulk of your career, you sit back and step into that ring and go through the motions without a care in the world. It's not until you actually see a prize on the line when you decide to roll up your sleeves and WORK for your fame. Maybe this wasn't the Shawn Hart of past NEW fame... but I certainly see this in the Shawn Hart of today. Nothing but a hack who would rather sit back and wait for opportunities to come to him rather than seek out his own opportunities.

Not me, Shawn. When you come to cross paths with me in that ring, you'll find that I'll fight with just as much focus and energy as you saw firsthand in our last encounter. Only this time, I will give you more... just a little incentive to overshadow that pathetic boost of confident you think sets you above everybody else.

I will survive you because I am a professional wrestler, Shawn. You, sadly, don't quite fit into that classification anymore.

But don’t feel bad. Few do, these days.

(Daymon's attention wanders from the camera to his surroundings. He notices how clear the sky is. A flock of birds passes by overhead, and he takes a moment to bask in the sunlight.)

Daymon
So, in the end, it’s me against a handful of dedicated athletes. Will this be a squash for me? Oh, I hardly think so… in fact, I might go as far to say that it will be the biggest challenge of my career. But I really want that title shot, and I’m not going to let anybody stand in my way.

Like others, I won't promise a win. I'll simply say what I say every week, about how whenever I enter that ring, I give everything and more. I take punishment and deal it back in spades. I watch, adapt, and grow to overcome any and every challenge that faces me. I stride for excellence and focus, pushing for victory until my body is crippled and beaten and left lying on the mat--and even then, I will pick myself up and continue fighting. I walk the path of a man... the path of a true professional wrestler.

Funny how every time I say that I'll walk into a match with that mentality, I walk away with the win.

Hasn't failed me before, and none of you have given me any reason to think that it shouldn't this time around.

(Daymon reaches into his pocket and pulls out his iPod, putting the earplugs back on. The audio is again muted, replaced by the music of Isis. With a confident and relaxed smile on his face, Daymon continues along the path. The camera lingers on his departing form.)

(As we faded from black, the image begins to intensify in color. At the same time, the music grows in volume, until it becomes distorted and warped. The colors mesh and mix and the only thing we can see and hear is complete chaos until it finally pans out into a screen of white with a static in the background.)
 

Jason Payne

New member
Joined
Jan 1, 2000
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373
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Age
46
Location
Great Mills, Maryland
It's pitch black. Nothing but the sound of someone breathing in the background. With a loud CLICK however, a blinding light appears in the forground, shining directly on the unshaven face of Jason Payne. Payne looks up slightly and squints in the light, looking much more haggard than the last time we saw him. As Payne stares ahead, a voice comes over the loudspeaker. The voice is that of Chris McMillan.

C.M. - "State your name."

Payne blinks a couple of times into the camera before answering quietly.

Payne - "Jason Payne."

C.M. - "And what are you?"

Payne - "I'm the fashion standard to which New Era strives to achieve."

From out of the darkness, a bucket of water is thrown onto Payne, drenching him.

C.M. - "WRONG! You are the 'Dog of War'! Your currency is flesh and bone! You don't care about fashion. You care about hurting people! You care about winning matches and titles! Not what Gucci's new line is!"

Payne - "Gucci has a new line?"

Payne is rewarded with another bucket of water for this response.

C.M. - "Jason. You're booked in the BattleBRAWL match. If you come out there wearing Gucci dresses, and pumps, you're going to get your ass kicked. I'm trying to prevent that."

Payne - "They're all just jealous of my insane fashion sense. Especially that tawdry MWG. He wishes he could get the outfits that I do."

C.M. - MWG doesn't care about you. He hasn't cared about you for months since he beat you for the Television title. Now your prancing around like his biggest fanboi."

Payne - "You take that back!!!"

C.M. - "Listen to me you insane bastard, you're going into the BattleBRAWL this week, and you're going in as Jason Payne so help me GOD!"

Payne - "You're a big meanie! I hate you!"

C.M. - "That's fine, hate me all you want. But you're going to hate yourself when you see what you became. Do you think the people in this match give a rat's ass about your latest outfit? They don't."

Payne - "That's not true!"

There was a long pause. McMillan whispers to Dave Schultz who is also nearby. Getting an idea, McMillan comes back on the mic.

C.M. - "Jay. I didn't want to tell you this, but your opponents in this BattleBRAWL match, they killed Santa Claus."

Payne - "How stupid do you think I am? There is no such thing as Santa Claus."

Another long pause as McMillan turns aside to Dave.

C.M. - Appealing to his inner child didn't work. What next?"

Dave whispers something that isn't heard. Soon McMillan comes back on the speakers.


C.M. - "Jay, your opponents this card are responsible for all the starving children in Africa."

Payne - "You say I'm detached from humanity, but even I know that there are no African dictators and warlords in the BattleBRAWL."

There is a long pause as Chris tries to think of what to try next. Having tried his inner child, and his inner sensitiveness, Chris decides there is only one last thing to try.

C.M. - "Okay Jay, you got me on that one. But there is something that you should know. Your opponents this week, they're responsible for the death of Dale Earnhardt."

There was a long pause as Jason's face suddenly went blank. Dave leaned over and asked Chris what that had to do with anything.

C.M. - Inner child didn't work, and his inner sensitivity didn't work, so I appealed to the only thing that I knew would get through. His inner redneck."

Payne lip twitched slightly, and what appeared to be a single, and solitary tear streaked down his cheek. For a minute, he was totally placid. Then he blinked several times, and tried to get out of the chair, however he was tied too tightly. Squinting up into the bright light, Payne spoke.

Payne - "Who the **** tied me to this ******* chair!? And what's this crap running down my cheek?"

Chris chuckled over at Dave.

C.M. - "I think that worked."

Chris keyed up the mic again.

C.M. - "That's a tear Jason."

Payne's face contorted into anger.

Then what are you standing there for!? GET IT OFF ME!

From out of the darkness, another bucket of water drenched Payne.

Payne - "YOU SON OF A *****!"

C.M. - "Glad to see you're back Jason..."

FTB
 

ShawnHartXXX

The Phenom
Joined
Jan 1, 2000
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900
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Age
42
Location
Salt Lake City, UT
R-e-s-p-e-c-t

FADE IN:

EXT. SLIM JIM'S TAVERN - 3:08 AM

Resting against the establishment's front wall, we see the Phenom of NEW, SJH. The pale moon light and the neon signs in the tavern's windows are illuminating his face just enough to reveal the cocky grin that covers it. To his side, a leather-clad, middle-aged couple are groping and kissing one another. Hart watches intently as they go at it.


HART:

Wowzers, that's dirty! I need me a girl like that. A girl who would jump on a fat biker in the parking lot of a seedy bar. A girl covered from head to toe with cow-hide. A girl with an ass like a Ziplock bag full'a warm tapioca. A girl who...

By this time, the couple have ceased the make-out session and have been glaring at Hart for about the last 20 seconds.

HART:

Ehhhhh, you two like to party? Y'know... some salami to fill that sex sandwich? Grace Slick here on bottom. Ace Frehley rockin' the top. I could be the middle man as we negotiate some BOOTY??

The glaring is instantly halted. After thumbs up from the man, followed by a wink from the woman, SJH nods then turns his attention to the camera.

HART:​
And scene! Heh, maybe not the showbiz spectacular that you'll get from the Pretender... er... Copycat, but no doubt equally unsettling! Not that I'm any kind of stranger to bad booty calls, but bikers?! Give me SOME CREDIT. That's all I want from any of you, really. Just a little credit.

He begins to stroll down the moon-lit streets.

HART:​
Going aaaaaaaaall the way back to my debut in the biz, aeons ago in 1998... when the Spice Girls reigned supreme and Michael Jordan pushed off on Bryon Russell to win the NBA Finals, spanning the length of my illustrious career, it seems I've been locked in a never-ending battle for that credit, that RESPECT that I know I've earned. Don't get me wrong, I've had my moments of greatness... those times where my accomplishments have transcended the scene and my peers were all but forced to take a moment and pay homage to a man that had become a PHENOM in the sport. But the hard, coarse, SKANK of a reality remains that those fleeting occasions when the wrestling world was in my corner, have always been few and far between.

Suddenly he stops and strikes a pose before a statuesque street light. Out of nowhere, a spotlight shoots out and envelopes him.

HART:​
Yes.... despite my many victories, my ever-mounting list of main event matches, the spotlight has never truly been mine...

POOF! The aforementioned spotlight is quickly nixed, leaving Hart alone in the darkness.

HART:

And with nary a person in sight that doesn't hate my friggin' GUTS, it seems as if I've been left alone in the darkness, time and time again. Left alone to face the car shows, personal appearances, B-flick cameos, and top-right boxes on Hollywood Squares that a mid-level star in this business must face...

His dreams could practically be heard crumbling in the background.

HART:

Ulysis Solian, you said that I was the one man you feared and respected in this contest. For that, I thank you. It was the first time in a long time I felt that what I was doing made a difference... that my contemporaries really did care about what I've done in the sport. Enter Rocko Daymon and his heinous, wicked, evil, slandering ways. In a matter of moments, whatever small semblance of hope I had garnered after your sweet, inspiring speech was shattered to bits in an instant. Should I be angry at you for giving me that hope, only to have some willie-wigglin' WANKER discredit every word you spoke? Or should I rend Rocko ASUNDER for being such a big-bellied BASTARD?!

He pauses rather pensively.

HART:

Ehh, maybe I'll just kick the living CRAP out of the both of yas and call it good! Daymon wants to keep dreamin' that he's somehow got my number? I'll show him the old 1-2, toss his arse out, and ROCK the rest of those JACKHOLES like he never could. As for Solian, I'll remind him just why I'm the one he should be worrying about in the match. I respect the hell out of him like I love the heck out of some big booty, but if he thinks the fact the I love him in a non-gay way is gonna keep me from getting that CREDIT I want, nay... DESERVE, he is sorely mistaken. Sadly, I've come to realize that, even if you really deserve something... and Solian himself said I deserve this, nobody's gonna give it to you. Ya gotta BEAT the respect out of 'em!

Without warning, SJH stops in his tracks once again. He was standing before the 'Landing Strip', a gentlemen's club. His eyes grow wide as he gazes upon its grandeur.

HART:

Uhh, so.... ummm.... like, for this Rumble thing, I'm gonna.... beat some people and, uhhh..... respect... something something.... will be mine! Mine! MINE!!

Long Pause. Drool.

HART:

The NEXT NEW Champ has left the BUILDING!!!

FADE OUT
 

TSiegel

I spoil things.
Joined
Jan 1, 2000
Messages
2,275
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43
Location
Merced, California USA
Re: R-e-s-p-e-c-t

"So this is what I've had to look forward to??"
(Fadein, Cameron Cruise in front of the NEW ERA Battle Brawl 2 backdrop.)

CRUISE: I mean...really folks....this time there's suppose to be more, and granted....there SHOULD BE enough to satisfy...but really...

If you people think that this is going to beat last year's effort, then I guess we're going back to the drawing board.

(Cruise shakes his head disapprovingly as he looks at a paper that which reads through the other side, the amount of people who have sent in promos.)

CRUISE: I knew Payne was going to be here, but whereever his girlfriends' OTHER boyfriend, is beyond me...but one things for sure....his ol' pal from back in the day will keep him company, that's for sure...

I suppose this was just too much nonsense for even Em-Dubya-Gee to even suffer through, and he WON the damn thing last year, you'd think he'd be the first off and running, but not him.

Not this year.

(Cruise reads down the list of names.)

HAL.

Don't know him, but it's not exactly a priority on my prep. list either.

The Dogs of War.

Who's to say that they won't take each other out?? They have in the past.

(Cruise looks up from his list at the camera for a split second.)

No offense boys, but the BOTH of you have done disappearing tricks on me in the past, and I don't trust EITHER one of you.

Then there's Alister Hayze.

(Cruise chuckles.)

Dude, you haven't shown your face since the LAST Battle Brawl....you REALLY think you're gonna pull it off that well, and on the first try??

Get REAL Alister.

You want your title shot?? You're gonna haveta step back into the kiddie pool just like all the other suckers who're still just waiting to mail their's in. Payne?? Em Dubya?? Guys like us have actually EARNED the right to contend for a free shot at our own free leisure.

As far as I'm concerned, you haven't proven jack sh*t.

(Cruise waves off the camera.)

Try again later...when I'm actually impressed enough to GIVE A DAMN.

(Cruise glances back at his list.)

CRUISE: Copycat. Ya know...apparently you and Dan Ryan had some kind-of-a-fling going on a couple years back, and people were really excited about it...

But yet...here you are spoutin' off the same thing as Hayze...

What have you done that's impressed me to give a damn 'Cat??

You've got respect for athletes like myself and Melton.

Awesome.

You're psyched about an opportunity to steal the stage and everyone else's thunder.

I've been doing that my whole LIFE, 'cat, and don't get me wrong...I'm all for Fan Support, believe me...

But how are 50,000+ going to help you frpm avoiding a Reality Check??

I'm taking on twenty-eight other competitors besides you who think that they've got what it takes to step it up for a shot at Jonathan Marx or the Phantom Republican, at the show of their choosing.

Fans cheering you on to the tune of Queen's "Don't Stop Me Now" isn't going to carry you through everyone that easy.

Especially if you're facing ME. Hell, 'Cat if I'm in that good of a mood...when I get back to that lockerroom, you might be lucky if I don't play "The Show Must Go On".

Because it will...with or without you.

U2 Reference, not intended.

Then again...for Shawn Hart...it just might be a "Sunday, Bloody Sunday".

What can I say, Shawn...I'm impressed.

It took a beating from yours truly and the unnecessary luck of you drawing number one as a result of me defeating you...to finally get a fire under you're ass. I mean really Shawn...you make an extraordinary-looking sister of Jonathan Marx take a train off a dirt road...but you may actually seem genuine about taking what's an ample opportunity to secure a comeback.

(Cruise golf claps)

Keep it up.

(Cruise stops clapping and crosses his arms with a look of intent to harm ANYONE can see through his black Anarchy shades.)

But you mention anything at ALL about doing something unwarrented and or unwanted to MY WIFE again...

You won't have a reason to see the Rehab Specialist again, at least not vocally.

But you will have it scarred into your forehead for the doctor to read instead. You could read it too, but you may need to stand in front of a mirror...which believe me...even KRIST BLUE wouldn't do with you.

Just ask Jason and Em....she'll do almost ANYTHING.

(Cruise crumples up the paper and tosses it off camera and takes off his camera for a close up.)

I'm in this for the REAL DEAL, boys and girls.

Half of you may have heard of me, while the other half are lucky to make it out of the monkey's ward on a weekend for a two hour break for tea.

I could give a damn less.

Because come Battle Brawl 2006...

I'm not only going to start off fresh, just like I did last year...

But I'm not leaving without that Trophy, and without an IMPACT driven through that ring.

Because that's a Reality Check...that not just anyone of you...but the MANAGEMENT TOO...it's one that the ENTIRE WORLD just...won't like.

(Fadeout.)
 

AUMedina

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Typical Cookie-Cutter Bad Habits

The camera faded in to a bottom-to-top shot of Madison Square Garden in Manhattan, New York. It was truly a sight to behold as it is one of the true modern Seven Wonders of the World and the epicenter of professional wrestling.

After a few moments of this awe-inspired spectacle, the camera cut to a set of black, low-cut boots that stepped one in front of another. The boots suddenly stop as the base of Madison Square Garden is shown blurred in the distance. A clove dropped down next to the right boot before it lifted up and stepped on it, putting it out.

The camera slowly zoomed back as the image of who was the individual who wore the black low-cut boots. Black pants were shown followed by a black leather bomber jacket. The collar was popped along with a white shirt on the inside; its collar was also popped up.

The full view of the individual is shown, but only the back is truly seen. Rested on top of the medium-length black locks of hair was a black Kangol hat worn backwards. The individual placed its hands in the pockets of the bomber jacket and stood silently as it took in man’s gift to modern architecture.


??????: “Truly breathtaking. No matter how many times I come back home and around here, I can never get enough of this place. I’ve had several memories that I was truly privileged to have growing up in professional wrestling. I won a few matches, lost a few matches, got my share of championship treasures and lost my share. But the one thing that never changes…”

The unknown individual turns around to face the camera with a platinum crucifix around its neck and a devious smirk across its face. That individual was indeed The Prodigal Son of Wrestling himself, Ulysis Solian.

Solian: ”…is the fact that I must once again show my peers, and particularly my opponents, why they are always just three steps behind me.

You know, it never ceases to amaze me just how cookie cutter most of you jackasses can truly be. Running the same bullsh** rhetoric over and over and over…and over again.

Really, most of the time, I just ignore it and roll with the punches because hey, I know I’m going to be criticized. I know I’m going to be ridiculed and slandered and double-standards are going to be used like toilet paper.

But there are three things that I have seen thus far that is typical of most of you that I will never get over. Maybe I’ll have to learn to live with it one day, but to be quite honest, I shouldn’t have to…and neither do any of you.”

Ulysis Solian pulls his hands out of his jacket pockets and with the index finger of his right hand lifts up the index finger of his left.

Solian: “One:

If you’re going to accuse me of using the old cookie cutter ‘death threat’ to get a point across, do yourself a favor and don’t try doing the same. It makes you look like a retard flapping his arms in the air as he’s running in the Special Olympics because no matter even if you come in first, you’re still retarded.

That’s directed towards you, Rocko Daymon. Hopefully that was obvious and if it wasn’t, I’ll be sure to draw it out in crayon for you in the future.

Blah, blah, blah you’re a threat, you can beat people up, you can win matches.

Save it. Just…save it.

Everyone’s a threat in this sport at any given moment in time. The reason I’m saying you won’t be much of a threat in this match is because what have you accomplished in your career that’s worth me noticing for just one second?

You beat Shawn Hart? Really!? Me too! About three f***ing times.

There’s a science to a battle royal? Really!? Well you sure as s**t ain’t a rocket science so let me simplify it for you so you understand what I mean:

Don’t get eliminated.

It’s as simple as that, kid.

Can I push myself above the level of a true professional level?

Kid, while you were in your room masturbating to Pro Wrestling Illustrated dreaming about becoming a true professional wrestling, I was out there already a true professional wrestler.

Comparing me to gonorrhea? Now that I’ll give you. That was original. But I consider myself more like herpes because no matter how many times I go away, when I come back, you take notice and when you keep picking at me and picking at me, because you seem like the impatient type, I’ll hurt you like a mother f***er.

You’re just like all those other kids who came into ‘the scene’ a few years back:

Adam Benjamin, Christian Sands, Steve Johnson, yeah I know he’s also in this match, and the list continues.

You come into this sport and you have to be hip and with the times. It’s the 21st Century and you need to show everyone you’re down with the ‘insider’ terminology.

That’s great kid that you want to shoot from the hip. But like all those other cats, what have you done that’s worth noticing? How many World Titles have you won? How many big names have you defeated? And even if you did all that, which you didn’t – I know, I looked into it, what does it matter to me?

You only want to hear what I have to say but you don’t want to listen. I never said I didn’t want to win; not once. What I did say is I don’t expect to win. Anything can happen you know. Even on one’s best night they can have their lights turned off like that.”

Solian snapped his fingers upon saying those words.

Solian: ”I really do not give a flying f*** if you never heard of me or followed my career. Just makes you like everyone else who wishes to look past me and at some other guy who’s ‘in’ now with the fans, someone who is popular and can sell merchandise.

I don’t sell merchandise – I put asses in seats and send them home completely satisfied. They don’t need a damn t-shirt or foam finger to remember what I’ve done. What does anyone have to remember you by, Rocko?

Maybe this never was with the ‘truck driver vernacular’ needs to show just how behind Rocko’s Modern Life truly is…”

Ulysis used his right index finger to lift his left middle finger along with the already extended left index finger.

Solian: ”Two, and yes, this is going to be another long-winded rant and there’s one more to come:

Some of you think because you have other interests other than wrestling that you’re above everyone else. Then, when you make fun of the situation, you view this sport as a joke and all who bust their asses in it night in and night out. On top of that, when you do show your face here and there, every so often, you need to red carpet laid out for you like you’re God’s gift to professional wrestling.

You know this fits you to a f***ing T, Copycat.

Don’t get me wrong, I respect the hell out of you. I’ve seen you in FWF, WFW, WWL, just to name a few respectable promotions. You’ve got the skills and the abilities to back up the crap you spew.

But to say that I have no clue about you…that hurts. It hurts me…”

Solian goes to pound a fist lightly into his chest, but instead grabs his crotch.

“…right here. You can save the witty retort for another time in regards to that. Let’s focus on what’s truly important.

You won a World Title recently, eh? Which one?

Obviously no the one from World’s Finest Wrestling. Hell, last I heard, the guy runnin’ the thing is still on is knees milking out a deal so that they can still show your Superbowl of Wrestling. So I wouldn’t go off and say it’s in the bag just yet, especially with my boy Tact in that match.

And I haven’t seen you in any other reputable promotion which leads me to believe the only World Champion you’ve become is the World Champion of talking out of your ass.

Now I’ll admit, I haven’t been around these parts in NEW and the band of other promotions it seems to associate itself with from time to time. Been doing my thing in Legacy of Champions and I’ve had my ass beat several hundred times. But in the end, I got my s*** together and got myself a pretty sweet title. May not be top of the world, but it’ll get there when I’m done with it.

Neverthless, this isn’t about LoC. It’s about NEW, BattleBrawl II, and kind of song you may be singing if you make one fatal error with me in our very first encounter…

Your swan song.

Save the gay porn skits for someone whose into that; I hear Jason Payne loves that s*** with the way he chases Derecho around like a priest does a young boy around a set of pews.

All you have to do is come to the show and show me what Copycat is truly about. That’s it.”

Ulysis Solian used his right index finger to lift up his left ring finger.

Solian: ”Don’t worry kids, we’re almost there and then you can have your milk and cookies…three:

It’s funny how some do not acknowledge me like I don’t exist.

I guess I can see their point because I’m who I truly and not some idiot dressed up like some b-movie detective with a stupid looking mask on getting all philosophical and s***.

But it really brings a smile to my ugly mug with Cameron Cruise can name drop wrestlers, which the only people who only care about them are the ones who are part of their circle jerk, but can’t address a man who he attacked from behind like the chickens*** he truly is.

Listen man, if that chair to the back of the head…repeatedly…was because Suicide snapped Rob Sampson’s neck and ended his career, well you need to get with that boring jackass and take it up with him.

Or you can finally be a man and come at me face to face and just give me what you have.

I know you have skills, man. I know you’ve been around the block. But until you can show me what makes Cameron Cruise one of the top wrestlers in our sport, you will never measure up to me. Your butt buddies may love you, but the fans and those who know who the true professional wrestlers are, know I’m the real deal and one of the few who can surpass that level every single time they step into that ring.

Yeah, almost done, about to wrap up this mother f***er.

NEW may have gotten itself some fresh new faces and some strong veterans, but it really dug itself into a whole when I dragged my ass in.

Before you can say the name ‘Turk’, just know I’m nothing like that guy. I’m not here with any agenda to help that **** of a president thwart the ‘do-gooders’. I’ve got my own mission; to earn the respect I deserve.

And if that means I have to beat it out of each and every one of you nineteen sacks of s***, most of you not even worth gagging over the stench you emanate, then I’m getting my hands dirty.

This is my home turf and whether I’m going home a winner or empty-handed, I am sure as hell I’m not going home looking like a puta.

Wanna prove me wrong?

Just show up and show me.

That’s it.

That’s that.

The Prodigal Son has spoken.”

Ulysis Solian walked out of the camera’s view as it turned its focus toward Madison Square Garden once again. The camera then faded to black.
 

EpyonMarx

New member
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And the girl in the corner said boy I gotta warn ya it'll turn into a Ballroom Glitz!

[FADE IN… and cover your eyes!! The set is so glitzy, so glittery, that there are stars that aren’t as bright! Disco balls hang from the ceiling, glitter papers the walls, and the floor is carpeted with something VERY reflective. Vari-coloured lights flash, rotate, shine and illuminate, and an oil-wheel creates a very hip, psychedelic feeling. There’s some trippy music playing – something about how fishes can’t fly fishes can’t fly fishes can’t and neither can I neither can I. Whatever. There are dancers, jesters, partiers – there are monsters of all shapes and sizes. There are all kinds of wild animals in cages – no expense has been spared to put on this show. And the man responsible for such an OTT, lavish burden on the New ERA budget is standing on a balcony, over-looking the throng below]

ME: I thought we could all do with some glitz, some glamour. NEW ERA IS BACK ON PAY PER VIEW!

Crowd: WOOT!

ME: NEW ERA IS LEADING THE CHAD DUPREE CUP!!

Crowd: WOOT!!!!

ME: And Rocko Daymon still talks total crap!

Crowd: Oooooh….

ME: Talk about dead weight. The guy was harder ta carry ta an impressive outtin’ than Joey Melton’s gonna be, and he really IS dead weight. I’m not sure if it’s my skills as an actor or what, but Crocodile thinks he beat me because he’s better than me. Now THAT – that’s a hoot. Honestly, does he not remember that I care abou’ ratings? What good is havin’ him chase the title if he’s seen as the wimp he really is? But let him keep strokin’ the ego. It’s the only strokin’ he gets after all.

Crowd: Oooooh….

ME: Come on – he spent all that time talkin’ ‘bout how good he is an’ how other guys are just strokin’ their egos – when all he was doin’ was strokin’ his! The guy’s a no-talent wash-up who every so often gets a paycheque in front of him because promoters feel sorry fer the guy. They pay guys ta lose to him, feed him jobbers, then, as soon as they put him against someone who can beat his ass, he goes off an’ cries in the corner.

Awww… diddums.

But he must be great – he makes points by talkin’ ‘bout even BIGGER losers than he is. Talkin’ ‘bout Crapper, the Crimson Falling, an’ Stephen Two-left-feet. The guy relies on making references to people who no-one cares abou’ ta put himself over or say “I wasn’t the only one” but completely misses the point that he’s the whiney little b!tch being talked about.

Then again, the guy seeks out used condoms ta sleep on, so we know he ain’t that smart.

But enough ‘bout him.

Music: Everybody say… YATTA!!

ME: Next up, because me bein’ on screen equals increased ratings instead of Crock-o-****’s plummetin’ ‘em, we got a Randy Savagely bad rapper named Keith Higgenbottom… nope, less said ‘bout him the better. He’s an even bigger weirdo than MWG. Luckily he’s gonna be outta the match six seconds after the bell rings, so the two won’t meet. Two seconds if I’m in there with him. But they’ll be the best two damn seconds of wrestling he’s ever been in.

Speakin’ of ol’ MWG – I know he’s havin’ trouble enough concentratin’ on Shane Steven’s in TEAM, but come on – you can’t still be miffed that I beat ya fer the Now On TV Title? SAY SOMETHIN’ DAMNIT!

HAL, on the other hand – congrats on admittin’ you ain’t got a chance against ME

Mister Entertainment

in this match. Ya see, there’s a no-talent loser goes by the name Doug Williams who stole my finisher from me, and he calls it…

The Chaos Theory.

Since you said Chaos Theory rules, that means OUT CHA GO! Bye bye, thanks fer playin’, don’t forget ta pick up a goodie bag on the way out.

Not that I’m sayin’ yer hopeless in the ring. You’re one o’ the four top guys on the roster, with the guts ta stick their neck on the line fer the company. But ta quote Crocko, ya ain’t in my league.

But all the fans’ll think ya are.

NEXT UP – Mr Nemo. The ‘mystery entrant’. Nemo suits ya quite well, don’it? After all, Ulysses gave that name on his odyssey ta stop from bein’ squished by the cyclops’ because they thought he was nobody – an’ Solian IS nobody. He’s doin’ the whole Proppet thing of

[Proppet’s voice pipes up from out of nowhere]

Proppet: I... want to hurt people...I'm good... at hurting people... I... can't wrestle... BUT I CAN HURT!! I AM THE GREETEST...

huh? GREATEST!! I ARE THE GREATEST!! I CAN HURT PEOPLE LIKE NO-ONE ELSE!!! I AM PROPPET!!

PROPPET KNOWS WHAT PROPPET CAN DO!! YOU ALL KNOW WHAT PROPPET CAN DO!! IF YOU DON'T CARE THEN PROPPET HURT YOU!! PROPPET ARE THE GREATEST!!! THE GRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE ETTTTTTTTTTEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT TTTTTTT!!!!

[*splat*]

ME: An’ we all know what happened there. He lost. Miserably. Ergo, no matter how ‘roided up ya are, you’ve lost already. Nemo will indeed be sailing home – Nemo, let go.

Camero… nope, said enough ‘bout him in the past. I hold a win over the guy now, so his theory ain’t gonna hold any water, but I’ll still eliminate him the second we’re in the ring together. Confident? Yes, because I’ve got the power of ENTERTAINMENT on my side.

Am I missin’ anyone? I seem ta remember a XEROX machine sayin’ they were in this match, but XEROX won’t even be able ta get inta the ring without help, so there’s no worries there. Anyone?

No-one worthwhile.

Of course, I’m not gonna go out an’ say the match is definitely mine. I might take pity on Doe’s-A-Deer, Akebono, or any of the other losers, an’ throw myself outta the ring ta give them a more sportin’ chance – kind of guy I am. Because just like this place is the glitziest you will ever see, I’m the glitziest, the supreme Entertainer on the PLANET. An’ win lose or draw, BattleBRAWL is all abou’ one thing.

ME.

The Now On TeleVision Champ.

Mister Entertainment.

[CUTTOBLACK]

ME: No matter who Robert DeLion sees or is, he’s still a loser.

[END]
 

TSiegel

I spoil things.
Joined
Jan 1, 2000
Messages
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Age
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Location
Merced, California USA
Re: Typical Cookie-Cutter Bad Habits

"(Fadein, Cameron Cruise in front of a the same Battle Brawl 2 backdrop as before.)

CRUISE: Well...well...f*cking well. Look what the neighbors' dog sharted on my porch.

The same piece of sh*t who was too much of a P*ssy to face me...what...two-to-three YEARS AGO...when I gave him a REALITY CHECK that sent him pissin' his pants out the building and out of this part of the Indy Circuit.

Sui-****ing-cide.

Hey.

Jackass.

If you wanted a piece of me...you should've signed the dotted line to take what was coming to you back THEN.

BEFORE I hit my stride.

That's right, irritant. Before you got scared, I never had the success that I have now.

I never performed in front of Hugh Hefner and the Playboy bunnies one night and then have to wrestle Gators for the Victims of the Hurricanes that hit Florida, just for the sake of charity.

I never had to go visit the Royals over in Europe, meet the Secretary of Treasury to make a deal for a performance for the kids', so as to save Melton an extra few days on his taxes.

I never had to do a DAMN thing, other than to come to a booking after a couple of promos...beat the hell out of a chump, and go home to the local Motel 6.

But then you came along, and I had to do what I had to do, and say what I had to say.

Next thing you know...it's like Criss Angel in this motherf*cker.

EVERYTHING IS CHANGED.

People started to see that once I said that I was going to make an IMPACT....and I did....people started to recognize the hard work I put in to proving why I am who I am and why I do the things I do.

Because I mean it.

You recognize that I've got skills?? Since when do you give a sh*t about me Solian?? I've been here busting my ass since DAY ONE.

(Cruise snaps his fingers)

Bingo, I start making things happen and then all of a sudden....the world doesn't revolve around you as much as it did anymore does it Solian??

Which reminds me...it you're such hot sh*t punk, if I have to measure up to YOU...which isn't the first time I've had to prove myself against a thick-headed loser...

Then where the **** were you for the past three years to get it over with??

You wanna reason not to **** with me Solian?? I'll give you FOUR.

One: Dan Ryan.

Two: Joey Melton.

Three: Beast.

Why would I pick those three names??

Because those are the names of athletes who've actually PAID their dues, and won World Heavyweight Championships, and given the fans a reason to come see them.

Wanna know somethin' else??

I beat ALL THREE of them...in the span of a MONTH.

Melton has 16-17+ World Championships to himself, Beast has taken himself to UNIMAGINABLE LEVELS, Dan Ryan shouldn't have to be explained but the fact of the matter is, is that he started out in EPW AS a wrestler and then just straightout BOUGHT the company.

I GAVE you a chance three years ago to go face to face with me in the ring.

You BAILED.

BATTLE BRAWL is your chance at redemption, though Solian, so make what you've got anything but wasted.

Because I promise you this:

If you EVER...mention Chad Dupree's name again around me in ANY sort of negatory comment...either opinionated or as a response...you won't NEED a reason to take another 'breather' from NEW ERA or any other company that rests their good name in this part of the wrestling circuit.

Because you'll be looking right at him as he shoves it right back up your chickensh*t carcass.

I've been waiting for you to step up and take your beating like the bull**** you represent for THREE YEARS.

And I'll be damned if I don't give you and the other remaining wrestler's in this contest more than you bargained for.

Because it's who I am.

It's what I've BEEN through.

You think you're hot **** and that I've got to measure up to YOU??

Fine.

Just remember, when I'm through...you're going to be just like the other half-MILLION who said the same thing and ended up heading to the monkey ward, while I head home to my wife with the Battle Brawl Cup and a shot at the NEW Heavyweight Champion of The World.

Speaking of chimps...where is John Doe??

If there's ANYBODY I'd rather argue with it's THAT guy...it beats the HELL outta anything else right now...

Especially since MISTER CORNHOLIO WON'T SHUT THE **** UP!!

(Fadeout.)
 

ShawnHartXXX

The Phenom
Joined
Jan 1, 2000
Messages
900
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0
Age
42
Location
Salt Lake City, UT
Re: Typical Cookie-Cutter Bad Habits

FADE IN: SJH is standing by with Alf at Dairy Queen.

HART: "Heh, betcha don't have Blizzards on Melmac, do ya?"

ALF: "Yeah, but don't you think it would be ALOT better in cat flavor?"

HART: "Geez Alf... you sure love the p(FCC)ssy!"

ALF: "It's a Melmacian delicacy! Besides, Mrs. Tanner never gave it to us... so I've gotta craving you wouldn't believe, guy!"

The Phenom is befuddled.

HART: "Never gave WHAT to you??"

ALF: "P(FCC)ssy!"

HART: "Oy vey! I bet Willie didn't like that too much..."

ALF: "As crazy as it sounds, he didn't seem to mind."

HART: "You mean he didn't want the p(FCC)ssy?"

ALF: "NO! But I guess we can't all be cat lovers."

HART: "I guess not."

ALF: "Thankfully we still have the Rolling Stones and moon pies."

HART: "What is this, the 70's?"

ALF: "C'mon now, Shawn! You KNOW that ALF was an 80's show!"

HART: "Psshh... you wanna talk about a cheesy 80's show, look at Cameron Cruise. He's like a cheesy 80's wrestler."

ALF: "You're telling me! He totally peaked around the same time I did. If you ask me, he should ditch Kate and baby Suri and get back with Nicole!"

HART: "No no, Gordon! That's TOM Cruise. I'm talking about Cameron Cruise here. Besides, everybody knows that Penelope was the best of the 3!"

ALF: "Well then maybe HE should get back with Nicole!"

HART: "Puh... it's too late for that. She just got married to Keith Urban."

ALF: "Urban?! You wanna see URBAN? Here's how we get urban on Melmac!!"

CUE UP: A PHAT beat.

ALF: "I'm gonna knock you ooooooooout!!! Moooooomma said knock you oooooooout!!!"

HART: "Oh... OH!! You bettah believe I'm gonna knock Cameron Cruise out!"

Alf scoffs.

ALF: "Come on... War of the Worlds wasn't THAT bad! Historically inaccurate for sure, but not bad for a summer action flick."

HART: "All I'm saying is that he needs to STOP worrying about his wife and START worrying about what I'm gonna do to his LIFE!"

ALF: "So he IS thinking about ditching Kate and baby Suri!"

HART: "Say what??"

ALF: "I guess she isn't giving him any either."

HART: "Any what?"

ALF: "P(FCC)ssy!!"

HART: "Ooooooooh ALF!! You really ARE a cat lover!!!"

The two break out into spontaneous fits of laughter. The live studio audience applauds.

FADE OUT.
 

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