Mr Main Event
League Member
For the Unified World Championship.
Miller vs. Hiroshi
- Thread starter Mr Main Event
- Start date
DizzaHizza
Official Unofficial FW Party Pimp
One day at a time
* Finally, Kin Hiroshi is a made man. It's been years coming to him, but he's finally in the big time. As he picks up the GXW Digest, he sees in big bold letters: For the GXW World Title: Kin Hiroshi vs. John Miller(c). Hiroshi reads it over and over on the plane ride. Hiroshi vs. Miller...Hiroshi vs. Miller...Hiroshi vs. Miller.
That's not what he cares about though. It's the opening statement of the headline that strikes home and makes his stomach churn with anticipation. For the GXW World Title....GXW World Title.
Hiroshi sets down the magazine as the plane lands, happy to be where he is: main-eventing the PPV of the year.
He's finally going to do it...win the World Title.
[hr size=2]
Hiroshi's limo pulls into the parking garage of a Marriot Hotel. Kin slides out after the driver holds the door for him. He slowly retreats up into his penthouse suite, and crashes on the bed.
Slowly the aches and pains in his body take over. Miller and Smallz put the hurt on him at Revolution, but next time, oh, next time...
Hiroshi fades out of consciousness and sleeps...
[hr size=2]
A phone call wakes the challenger from a dream involving Britney Spears, a jar of Vaseline, and a baker's dozen worth of muffins. The voice on the other line sounds distant. 'Great,' thinks Hiroshi, 'Another radio interview.' But the questions never come. Just the rambling of a woman with nothing better to do on a Saturday than harass the challenger to the GXW throne.
Kin hangs up; no reason to talk to a loony old woman. He's got to work on his strategy. Miller wants Kin dead and gone from GXW. After all, Kin did poison Chad Dupree, try to pin it on an innocent scapegoat, and then has been running free for weeks.
It's not Miller that Hiroshi is concerned with. No, what bothers Kin is a vengeful Chad Dupree, and the wrath that the Co-Owner can bring down....
Finally, Kin decides that he can't watch his back, dividing his attention from Miller. Everything for the title, even breaking through all barriers that may be put in his way, or that may run down the ramp.
[hr size=2]
After a quick shower, Hiroshi decideds to head to Ford Field for a quick tour of the facilities.
The guides point out where Hiroshi's lockerroom will be, and where Miller will be situated. Everyone seems excited for Global Warfare's presence, and are hoping to set new attendance records. Kin smiles, graciously, and bows out to work out.
Training has been tough lately. Two hour ironman lifting sessions followed by five hours in the ring. Stamina and endurance work, general ring work, and scenario work make for a long day. The Muffin Man isn't looking forward to hitting two-a-day workouts.
Then again, Miller does need a foot up his ass to keep his head company. Hiroshi rubs the sweat from his face.
The Muffin Man cometh. Doth thou knoweth he? *
**FADE TO GOLD**
* Finally, Kin Hiroshi is a made man. It's been years coming to him, but he's finally in the big time. As he picks up the GXW Digest, he sees in big bold letters: For the GXW World Title: Kin Hiroshi vs. John Miller(c). Hiroshi reads it over and over on the plane ride. Hiroshi vs. Miller...Hiroshi vs. Miller...Hiroshi vs. Miller.
That's not what he cares about though. It's the opening statement of the headline that strikes home and makes his stomach churn with anticipation. For the GXW World Title....GXW World Title.
Hiroshi sets down the magazine as the plane lands, happy to be where he is: main-eventing the PPV of the year.
He's finally going to do it...win the World Title.
[hr size=2]
Hiroshi's limo pulls into the parking garage of a Marriot Hotel. Kin slides out after the driver holds the door for him. He slowly retreats up into his penthouse suite, and crashes on the bed.
Slowly the aches and pains in his body take over. Miller and Smallz put the hurt on him at Revolution, but next time, oh, next time...
Hiroshi fades out of consciousness and sleeps...
[hr size=2]
A phone call wakes the challenger from a dream involving Britney Spears, a jar of Vaseline, and a baker's dozen worth of muffins. The voice on the other line sounds distant. 'Great,' thinks Hiroshi, 'Another radio interview.' But the questions never come. Just the rambling of a woman with nothing better to do on a Saturday than harass the challenger to the GXW throne.
Kin hangs up; no reason to talk to a loony old woman. He's got to work on his strategy. Miller wants Kin dead and gone from GXW. After all, Kin did poison Chad Dupree, try to pin it on an innocent scapegoat, and then has been running free for weeks.
It's not Miller that Hiroshi is concerned with. No, what bothers Kin is a vengeful Chad Dupree, and the wrath that the Co-Owner can bring down....
Finally, Kin decides that he can't watch his back, dividing his attention from Miller. Everything for the title, even breaking through all barriers that may be put in his way, or that may run down the ramp.
[hr size=2]
After a quick shower, Hiroshi decideds to head to Ford Field for a quick tour of the facilities.
The guides point out where Hiroshi's lockerroom will be, and where Miller will be situated. Everyone seems excited for Global Warfare's presence, and are hoping to set new attendance records. Kin smiles, graciously, and bows out to work out.
Training has been tough lately. Two hour ironman lifting sessions followed by five hours in the ring. Stamina and endurance work, general ring work, and scenario work make for a long day. The Muffin Man isn't looking forward to hitting two-a-day workouts.
Then again, Miller does need a foot up his ass to keep his head company. Hiroshi rubs the sweat from his face.
The Muffin Man cometh. Doth thou knoweth he? *
**FADE TO GOLD**
tylerdurden
League Member
The Eve of Warfare
Fade in: An old, familiar face... nighttime. The large frame of John Miller leans against a rusted lamp post somewhere on the streets of Detroit. Wearing what looks like an old, olive green jacket that could have been purchased at an Army surplus store, Miller stands with one hand in his jean pocket. Pulling his hand up to meet the cigarette that dangles limply from his lips, he sparks up his Zippo lighter. From this angle, it's hard to discern whether it's smoke escaping his mouth or his own breath permeating into the cold autumn air. As the camera draws closer, the glow from his cigarette casts a slight tint on John's face, allowing us to see more of his features.
Miller: Well, well, well. Here we are, perched on the eve of proverbial armageddon... Global Warfare. The number one event in the industry, the one where superstars are made and dreams become reality... for some. For others... the nightmare unfolds.
Miller shifts his gaze to the camera, addressing it from directly underneath the harsh street lighting. His determined stare is almost eclipsed by the shadows that play on his face, his ball cap cloaking his eyes in darkness.
Miller: Hiroshi, for you, this could be the chance of a lifetime. This could be the day your dreams of superstardom are realized... the day your efforts are rewarded. This COULD be your day in the sun, Kin... but it won't be. You see, there's only one thing in this business that could have inspired me to do the things I've done... and that's the GXW Unified World Title. For years I've bled, for years I've endured pain that other men would have succumbed to. And for what? For the right to call myself the best in this business. And now I HAVE that right... and I'm not going to lose it. Not to you, Kin, or any other {beep}stain who thinks he's somethin' special. You know, Hiroshi, you and I took two completely different paths on our way to the top. I did my thing... and you.. well... you decided to start a muffin company. And then, for some reason unbeknownst to me, you decided to start poisoning several members of the GXW contingent. Maybe it was a plea for attention, maybe it was just complete insanity, either way, it made an impact on the wrestling world. And I'm guessing it's all working out great for ya', Kin. I mean, after all, you DO have a shot at the World Title, don't ya?
John takes a drag off his cigarette and smiles slightly.
Miller: But that's just the thing, Kin. That's as far as your ridiculous little plan is going to take you. It's certainly not going to get you anywhere at Global Warfare, and it's sure as hell not going to get you the World Title. I'm gonna' let you in on a little secret, Kin... I hate muffins. Maybe Dupree and Ryan were fair game for this agenda of yours, but don't expect me to be chompin' at the bit for a chance to taste your baked goods any time soon. When push comes to shove, you're going to be stepping into the ring with a man on the top of his game... a man on top of THE game... the Unified World Champion. No poison's gonna' be runnin' through these veins, chump... just pure adrenaline, harvested straight from a grade A Kin-Hiroshi ass whoopin'.
John lifts a hand and points to a spot off-screen.
Miller: You see that?
The cameraman pans around to reveal that the building in the background is Ford Field. The place seems ominous in this dark parking lot, the giant structure prepared for the wrestling event of the year. The camera pans back to Miller, who is taking another drag off his cigarette.
Miller: Get a good look at it, Kin. This is as good as it gets. In a few days, 70 some thousand people are going to be screaming their frickin' heads off while you and I do battle before their very eyes. But rest assured, Muffin-man... as great as you feel right now... sittin' on top of the {beep}in' world... it's gonna' feel a hell of a lot different when I'm choking you out in the middle of that ring. YOU'RE GOING TO WIN THE WORLD TITLE? No, Kin, you're not. The only thing I'm sendin' you home with is a nice big slice of humble pie. Maybe you can start servin' that up at your little muffin shack.
John tosses his cigarette out of view and crosses his arms in front of his chest. He spits off screen and continues to speak.
Miller: I can give you a little comfort on one thing, Hiroshi... Chad Dupree and Dan Ryan are the LEAST of your {beep}in' worries. The only thing you've got to focus on is right here, in front of your {beep}in' eyes. Come Global Warfare, Chad Dupree isn't going to run his ass down to the ring and plan any surprise attack. Dan Ryan isn't going to try and stop the proceedings. Everybody already knows what I have planned for ya' Kin, and that's just the way it's goin' down. You step into the squared circle, you challenge me for the World Title, and I lay your ass out. There's no if, ands, or buts about it. And no matter what anybody tells ya' Kinneth, that's as simple as it {beep}in' gets. All the hooplah, all the crap that surrounds this event, as big as it is, doesn't mean SQUAT when you and I step in that ring. It's just you and I, one on one. No more tricks, no more bull{beep}.
Miller unfolds his arms and asks the cameraman to toss him something. Suddenly, the Unified title comes sailing into view, falling perfectly in John's arms. He tosses it up over his shoulder.
Miller: You want this, Kin? It's gonna' take a lot more than last minute twoadays and a new training routine. It's gonna' take a lot more than a batch of {beep}in' tainted muffins. What it's going to take... Kin...
Miller walks closer to the camera, looking directly into the lens
Miller: ...is for you to beat ME... and that's just not going to happen.
John walks out of the camera's view, the scene fading to black. A promo for Global Warfare begins to play through.
Fade in: An old, familiar face... nighttime. The large frame of John Miller leans against a rusted lamp post somewhere on the streets of Detroit. Wearing what looks like an old, olive green jacket that could have been purchased at an Army surplus store, Miller stands with one hand in his jean pocket. Pulling his hand up to meet the cigarette that dangles limply from his lips, he sparks up his Zippo lighter. From this angle, it's hard to discern whether it's smoke escaping his mouth or his own breath permeating into the cold autumn air. As the camera draws closer, the glow from his cigarette casts a slight tint on John's face, allowing us to see more of his features.
Miller: Well, well, well. Here we are, perched on the eve of proverbial armageddon... Global Warfare. The number one event in the industry, the one where superstars are made and dreams become reality... for some. For others... the nightmare unfolds.
Miller shifts his gaze to the camera, addressing it from directly underneath the harsh street lighting. His determined stare is almost eclipsed by the shadows that play on his face, his ball cap cloaking his eyes in darkness.
Miller: Hiroshi, for you, this could be the chance of a lifetime. This could be the day your dreams of superstardom are realized... the day your efforts are rewarded. This COULD be your day in the sun, Kin... but it won't be. You see, there's only one thing in this business that could have inspired me to do the things I've done... and that's the GXW Unified World Title. For years I've bled, for years I've endured pain that other men would have succumbed to. And for what? For the right to call myself the best in this business. And now I HAVE that right... and I'm not going to lose it. Not to you, Kin, or any other {beep}stain who thinks he's somethin' special. You know, Hiroshi, you and I took two completely different paths on our way to the top. I did my thing... and you.. well... you decided to start a muffin company. And then, for some reason unbeknownst to me, you decided to start poisoning several members of the GXW contingent. Maybe it was a plea for attention, maybe it was just complete insanity, either way, it made an impact on the wrestling world. And I'm guessing it's all working out great for ya', Kin. I mean, after all, you DO have a shot at the World Title, don't ya?
John takes a drag off his cigarette and smiles slightly.
Miller: But that's just the thing, Kin. That's as far as your ridiculous little plan is going to take you. It's certainly not going to get you anywhere at Global Warfare, and it's sure as hell not going to get you the World Title. I'm gonna' let you in on a little secret, Kin... I hate muffins. Maybe Dupree and Ryan were fair game for this agenda of yours, but don't expect me to be chompin' at the bit for a chance to taste your baked goods any time soon. When push comes to shove, you're going to be stepping into the ring with a man on the top of his game... a man on top of THE game... the Unified World Champion. No poison's gonna' be runnin' through these veins, chump... just pure adrenaline, harvested straight from a grade A Kin-Hiroshi ass whoopin'.
John lifts a hand and points to a spot off-screen.
Miller: You see that?
The cameraman pans around to reveal that the building in the background is Ford Field. The place seems ominous in this dark parking lot, the giant structure prepared for the wrestling event of the year. The camera pans back to Miller, who is taking another drag off his cigarette.
Miller: Get a good look at it, Kin. This is as good as it gets. In a few days, 70 some thousand people are going to be screaming their frickin' heads off while you and I do battle before their very eyes. But rest assured, Muffin-man... as great as you feel right now... sittin' on top of the {beep}in' world... it's gonna' feel a hell of a lot different when I'm choking you out in the middle of that ring. YOU'RE GOING TO WIN THE WORLD TITLE? No, Kin, you're not. The only thing I'm sendin' you home with is a nice big slice of humble pie. Maybe you can start servin' that up at your little muffin shack.
John tosses his cigarette out of view and crosses his arms in front of his chest. He spits off screen and continues to speak.
Miller: I can give you a little comfort on one thing, Hiroshi... Chad Dupree and Dan Ryan are the LEAST of your {beep}in' worries. The only thing you've got to focus on is right here, in front of your {beep}in' eyes. Come Global Warfare, Chad Dupree isn't going to run his ass down to the ring and plan any surprise attack. Dan Ryan isn't going to try and stop the proceedings. Everybody already knows what I have planned for ya' Kin, and that's just the way it's goin' down. You step into the squared circle, you challenge me for the World Title, and I lay your ass out. There's no if, ands, or buts about it. And no matter what anybody tells ya' Kinneth, that's as simple as it {beep}in' gets. All the hooplah, all the crap that surrounds this event, as big as it is, doesn't mean SQUAT when you and I step in that ring. It's just you and I, one on one. No more tricks, no more bull{beep}.
Miller unfolds his arms and asks the cameraman to toss him something. Suddenly, the Unified title comes sailing into view, falling perfectly in John's arms. He tosses it up over his shoulder.
Miller: You want this, Kin? It's gonna' take a lot more than last minute twoadays and a new training routine. It's gonna' take a lot more than a batch of {beep}in' tainted muffins. What it's going to take... Kin...
Miller walks closer to the camera, looking directly into the lens
Miller: ...is for you to beat ME... and that's just not going to happen.
John walks out of the camera's view, the scene fading to black. A promo for Global Warfare begins to play through.