RUSSIAN ROULETTE: World Title - "Triple X" Sean Stevens (c) vs. Marcus Westcott

[DBrunkGXW]

RUSSIAN ROULETTE: World Title - "Triple X" Sean Stevens (c) vs. Marcus Westcott

For the EPW World Title.

Post all RP here.

 

[MarcusWestcott]

Re: RUSSIAN ROULETTE: World Title - "Triple X" Sean Stevens (c) vs. Marcus Westcott

(Marcus Westcott, in jeans, red-white-and-black striped EVH sneakers, and a red t-shirt with "The King is Dead" emblazoned on the front of it, stands in front of an EPW Russian Roulette '09 backdrop.)

Westcott: You know, if someone would have asked me a year ago about what I thought about challenging for the EPW World Heavyweight Championship, I may have just thrown that person under a bus. A1E and EPW were locked in a bitter battle, and there was - and still is - tons of bad blood between everyone over that war. I would have rather seen EPW burn to the ground than represent the company as its Champion.

Now, ask me that question a year later, and I would tell you... that nothing would satisfy me more than walking into Russian Roulette as the #1 contender to the World Title... and walking OUT of Russian Roulette the EPW World Heavyweight Champion. I don't mean to give you all the wrong idea. The water still hasn't completely flowed under that bridge yet. There's still some scars and wounds that haven't totally healed, but I'll get there, someday.

The fans have now seemed to get behind me once again, although I don't know whether I've changed, or the fans have realized what a complete and utter douchebag our World Champion is, so they'd rather cheer me over a guy that would rather turn his tail and run than face me one on one.

So no... while I appreciate that the fans are getting behind me instead of wanting to throw rotten tomatoes at me, winning this match at Russian Roulette isn't some grand plan to bring EPW "back to the light" or "give EPW a Champion everyone can get behind" and "I'll repesent EPW and be the flag bearer" and all that... if the people want to get behind me and cheer me, that's great. If they think I suck and want to boo me, that's just fine too. But, this match... this match is all about ME proving to MYSELF that I deserve everything I have. That after all the words, I still belong on top. That I've still got what it takes to climb the mountain one more time. That after doing it three times, I've still got enough in the tank for one more run and I can get back that which I never ever really lost all that time ago.

This match is about me walking into Russian Roulette and defeating Sean Stevens. That's it. That's all I'm focused on. And once I'm locked in, it's extremely rare that I don't accomplish what I've set out to do.

But you know all about that, don't you, Sean? I know how the deal works. You're going to come out here, and you're going to tell everyone that you're still the King, how you're the World Champ and you're the absolute best. You're probably going to take a couple digs at my name, how I changed it, or my gimmick in general, and tell everyone that I suck in about 400 different ways.

Spare us all the monotony this time, will ya? I mean, really, Sean, it's time for you to come to grips. You're NOT the King anymore. You've tried all this before, and all you got for your troubles was a Gore that sent you headfirst into the steel cage and knocked your ass OUT. You bragged on and on about how the Cage was YOUR home. YOUR domain. That you COULDN'T be beaten there.

And that's exactly what I did, Sean. I walked right into that cage... I stepped right into your home, and I beat you right on your own turf.
Really, I don't know how this match got made so easily. I mean, I didn't hear a PEEP out of you other than you running to Lindsay Troy to try and get OUT of the match and have her take my place. You can come out here this week and make any and all the excuses about you want, Sean, but come on... is that how EPW's "King" should carry himself? Is that how the Champion should carry himself? Running to the boss and crying about not accepting a challenge?

If THAT'S the sign of your "dominance" around here lately, Sean, then you're doing a piss-poor job of it. One week, you can't even beat Cameron Cruise. The next, you're pitching a shit fit outside the ring and you blatantly get our team disqualified. The week after that, you're begging dear old Lindsay to let you out of our match, and then when you got STUCK knowing you were going to lose your title, you had to come down to the ring and take a sucker shot against me. And then last week, when you finally decided to stand up to me, YOU'RE the one that got sent flying through the ropes and to the outside. When it came down to one on one, it was ME standing tall at the end of Aggression, Sean.

Although I'm SURE we'll hear some kind of excuse about how you got jumped earlier in the show. Tough cookies, sunshine. *EYE* just got done defeating a World Champion, something that you couldn't do just a couple weeks before. I can't WAIT to see how Cruise defends THIS one. "Hart distracted me!" Fuck you, Cruise, you took your eyes off the prize and got caught in your own mistake.

But back to you, Sean... I was right all that time ago when I labelled you as nothing more than a big, whiny, BITCH. It's great to see you haven't changed a bit.

But now, I'm going to turn this into a streak. Two weeks in a row defeating a reigning World Champion.

There's nowhere to run, Sean. Nowhere to hide. Four walls of an unforgiving steel Cage attached to that ring, with a lid on it to make sure you can't take the easy way out. We're GOING to beat the hell out of each other in that cage, Sean, but once we're in that cage, no one gets in, and no one gets out.

Just you and me.

You'd better be nothing less than ABSOLUTELY PERFECT, Sean, if you have any hope in hell of coming out of this match with your title. Lose focus for one instant... make ONE, TINY mistake... get caught in that cage just ONCE against me, and the match is over. Just ask Cameron Cruise. Just ask "Daddy" Jared Wells. But we both already know that you aren't flawless, Sean. You AREN'T perfect. You've already tasted the steel at my hands.

Hell, you haven't even wrestled in EPW in weeks, and you're about to head into the biggest match of your life.

I've already taken your crown, Sean.

This time, I'm going to take your belt.

(Fade out.)

 

[jayshort]

Re: RUSSIAN ROULETTE: World Title - "Triple X" Sean Stevens (c) vs. Marcus Westcott

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]A confident voice echoed: [/FONT]​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]"There's nowhere to run, Sean. Nowhere to hide. Four walls of an unforgiving steel Cage attached to that ring, with a lid on it to make sure you can't take the easy way out. We're GOING to beat the hell out of each other in that cage, Sean, but once we're in that cage, no one gets in, and no one gets out. [/FONT]​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]

Just you and me."​

[/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]The scene opened up with EPW World Heavyweight Champion, SEAN "TRIPLE X" STEVENS sitting, feet propped up on a beach chair, in the backyard of his palatial palace overlooking a large body of water, in sunny Orlando, Florida. [/FONT]​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]On one side, was a beautiful Hawaiian female, with a model-esque frame, long dark hair, and a golden honey complexion, fanning Trip with a large green leaf ... on his right, was his personal assistant, in a black and white, penguin suit, holding an umbrella over Empire Pro Wrestling's king with his left hand, while simultaneously thumbing through a thick stack of papers with his right.[/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]...it's a trick he learned in "lackey" school. [/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]"Now who is he again?" THE champ asked. A real look of confusion on his face, expressing his genuine lack of knowledge. [/FONT]​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]"Marcus Westcott, former EPW World Heavyweight Champion, I believe he was the second person to win the title. Also wrestled in A1E--"[/FONT]​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]"A1-what?" Stevens interrupted.[/FONT]​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]Undeterred, his assistant rolled with the punches, flawlessly. "A promotion based out of nowhere important, that you actually competed in once, that houses a bunch of wrestlers that you've never heard of, whose champion is Cameron Cruise--" [/FONT]​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]A large lightning bolt shot across the sky. [/FONT]​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]Yes, ladies and gentlemen ... lightning. In broad day light. In the middle of a ninety-seven degree, perfectly sunny day. In broad day light, in the middle of a ninety-seven degree, perfectly sunny day, that called for absolutely no rain, thunder, lightning or anything other than ... perfection, and sun. [/FONT]​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]The EPW Champion raised a hand in the air, silencing the potential storm, like he was Jesus. And, like it did for Jesus all those years ago – the winds, the rain, and the lightning obeyed him.[/FONT]​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]"Say no more, Benson. I got it from here."[/FONT]​

<---------------------------------------------------------->​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]"As tough as people talk, it's a wonder I can still walk, I've been running the sport of wrestling so long, I'm exhausted. And, bored."[/FONT]​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]FADE: SEAN STEVENS in an all white, "Long Live The King," t-shirt, with his photo on the front. His hair was tied into a neat pony-tail, with the ends braided. He had on a pair of Ray Ban wayfarers, and occasionally purposely blew smoke into the camera, distorting the image temporarily. [/FONT]​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]TRIPLE X: And, I'll call a spade-a-spade ... West--," he looked off camera for name reassurance, "--cott. If you factor in the law of averages, and the way the business has followed trends for the last decade or so, I'll be the first to admit, I'm due for a loss. And, I'm due to lose my title. [/FONT]​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]"I've been the man around here since ... late oh-six(?)," he shrugged. "I've lost a total of, what? ...five(?), six matches in three years. I came back to wrestling to reactions that rivaled the Attitude Era, with legions of people in the palm of my hand, buying my merchandise, and foaming at the mouth from my every word. I had wrestlers lining up around the block begging and praying for an opportunity to hop on my dick, and be my friend and I had enemies being flawlessly executed left and right, to the point where my name became notorious like it was before I left the last time. I made legends look like sissies, I made up-and-comers re-think their decisions to be professional wrestlers, and I became a bad guy that ended the careers of Lindsay Troy, Joey Melton, Rocko Daymon, and JA, because I wanted to.[/FONT]​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]"Mark, I completely changed the culture around here, and in being the trend setter, you expect certain problems to arise. People rally, they follow your blueprint, and think they can do things better if they had your position. They gather their homeboys(the BLANDthology), or find their missing courage(you), and their reasons why they'll do what no one else was able to do, and step out of line." [/FONT]​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]The same Hawaiian lady from earlier steps into the shot, totally disregarding the live promo, and brings the King of the Cage a nice, cool glass of Lemonade that he immediately took a sip from.[/FONT]​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]TRIPLE X: What's your sell again? That you beat me in a cage before? Well, I never said I was undefeated, nor did I imply that I was perfect, and to be perfectly honest, if you were to bore me into a coma with a speech similar to your last promo? You'd probably beat me again, so I know you can.[/FONT]​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]"But, will you? It's a lot easier to say it than it is to do it. I'm a cocky guy, Marv. I fuck a lot of bitches, and I talk a lot of shit that rubs a lot of people the wrong way. If it were, oh, I don't know ... easy to knock the crown off of my head, don't you think it would've been done by now?[/FONT]​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]"You have a great opportunity in front of you. You've got all the momentum on your side. You have everything to gain, and if you lose? Well, to be honest, nobody really expected you to win anyway, and I still don't know who in the fuck you are, so you really have nothing to be embarrased about, do you? And, then there's the image that this event puts in your head. Russian Roulette. I believe that by normal rules, and normal laws, and in normal situations, if I were to point a gun with one bullet to my temple, and pulled the trigger, each and every one of my thoughts would splatter on the pavement. I've been a winner my entire life, it just doesn't seem right that things that others work so hard to achieve, come so easy to me."[/FONT]​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]"But, here's the thing, Westlake."[/FONT]​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]Stevens snapped his fingers, as the lady returned, with a life sized, cardboard image of Marcus Westcott, and a hand gun. She places the cardboard in front of Trip, then hands him the gun, and leaves the scene. [/FONT]​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]TRIPLE X: The game of Russian Roulette has been great to me. [/FONT]​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]Stevens pointed the gun to his temple, closed his eyes, and pulled the trigger.[/FONT]​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]CLICK[/FONT]​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]TRIPLE X: Better men than you have tried to beat me at it, and they, too have failed.[/FONT]​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]Stevens pointed the gun at the Westcott cutout, and pulled the trigger.[/FONT]​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]CLICK [/FONT]​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]Pointing the gun to his temple again, the champ spoke calmly.[/FONT]​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]TRIPLE X: If you fear failure, failure will surely come. And, if you play by life's rules, you're subject to become the victim of the hand that life deals you. I don't play by normal rules. And, I don't follow trends, I set them. And--[/FONT]​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]CLICK[/FONT]​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]He points the gun in the direction of the cardboard.[/FONT]​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]TRIPLE X: ...if you think that I'm going to allow nature, the law of averages, and what people think should happen to happen just to make the world a sugary sweet better place, you're going into this match in the wrong frame of mind, which instantly makes you--[/FONT]​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]BOOM[/FONT]​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]TRIPLE X: ...a deadman.[/FONT]​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]The camera zooms in on the image of Marcus Westcott, laying on the ground, with a bullet hole in his head. [/FONT]​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]Talk about symbolism.[/FONT]​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]FTB [/FONT]​

 

[MarcusWestcott]

Re: RUSSIAN ROULETTE: World Title - "Triple X" Sean Stevens (c) vs. Marcus Westcott

(Marcus Westcott, in faded blue jeans, red-white-and-black striped EVH sneakers, and a black t-shirt with "Oh no, he did NOT just do that!" emblazoned on the front of it, stands in front of an EPW Russian Roulette '09 backdrop.)

MW: Just when you think you've seen it all, heard all the Cameron Cruise jokes, and just generally thought there was nothing left in this industry
that could surprise you any more...

Tell me something, Sean...

Do you have to work really HARD to be THAT ignorant, or does it just come really naturally to you? Are you *always* such a complete and utter
doofus, or are you only a first class douchebag on Wednesdays?

I mean really... Sean... buddy... you come out here and call ME boring, yet YOU'RE so desperate for material, so hell-bent on upholding this image that you SO badly need to project to cover up your own insecurities and lack of ability... you're showing off the big house, the fact that you had a few extra bucks in your wallet to pay the Hawaiian whore to look nice and take care of you for five minutes, and the guy in the same suit he's worn every day for the last ten years in a dead end job, but like you said, you fuck a lot of *****es, so he doesn't mind getting his ass rammed by the World Champ for the chance to appear on camera. You've got the big cut out of little old me.

You've got a lot of image, Sean, you want to make us think that you're actually WORTH something, that you actually BELONG here. That your shit don't stink and we should all be happy for the opportunity to take shelter from the sun in your shadow.

I'm no Dr. Phil, but dude... get a fucking GRIP. You're obviously overcompsenating. You're all style, all image, all talk...

BUT NO SUBSTANCE.

All you've got is the old tried-and-true "I don't know who you are" routine? And YOU are calling ME boring? I know it's tough, Sean, really, I do... I mean, you can't use your whole King thing has run it's course, especially considering that I beat you at your own game. You can't make fun of my name anymore, cause EVERYONE'S done that...

So THIS is what we get?

Christ, Sean... it might even be BELIEVEABLE if we'd never met in the ring before. I might even go along with it if everyone didn't know that I'd already beaten you inside a cage. You might be able to make a go of it if you hadn't SPENT THE LAST THREE CARDS trying to take *ME* OUT at EPW events. Who were you going after if it wasn't ME? Were you going after Cameron Cruise and just missed THAT badly? We all could POSSIBLY get behind you if you hadn't brought out A CUT OUT OF ME to put a bullet through.

You know DAMNED WELL who I am, Sean. You just don't want to swallow your stupid pride and admit it.

I'm the guy you thought was so beneath you I couldn't possibly survive in a cage with you.

And I beat you at your own game. Just like I'm going to do at Russian Roulette.

But I'm nowhere near your level, right? You've dominated EPW against people that I wouldn't even be fit to hold jockstraps for, is that it? Who are all these so-called megastars? Who are these bastions of awesomeness that are leaps and bounds above me, but yet so far beneath you?

Anyone that's anyone here in EPW, I've gone through them. I've beaten everyone that's ever held the EPW World Championship.

I may not use the fancy sets... I may not pay homeless people to be my lackeys in my segments... I personally don't care about "pizazzing" up my segments, cause I'll tell you something Sean, it's about what you've got inside that counts, and from the way things look from here, you've got no heart AND no brains.

I mean, for crying out loud, you bring out a cut out of me to put a bullet through, and you make this gigantic show of playing Russian Roulette for us... and while you're busy letting your brain smoke to come up with something that matches the name of the PPV - WOW, that's ORIGINAL AND EXCITING! I WISH I THOUGHT OF THAT! - and the cheese is flowing through your veins, you're trying to get me to notice the symbolism of it all.

Oh, I got it, Sean. I got it loud and clear.

I saw a guy that's so desperate to be innovative and exciting and new that you fucked up his own segment. That's right, Sean... USUALLY, when you play Russian Roulette, you SPIN THE CHAMBER before you take every shot. That way, it's totally random. It's totally unpredictable. It's truly taking your life into your hands. You're such a BIG MAN. ANY shmuck can put a bullet in the chamber, spin it and count four clicks back, and make it LOOK good, but those few seconds revealed everything about you I need to know, Sean.

You're not a man. You're a fucking COWARD.

That's the difference between you and I, Sean. You want it all. You need to have it all. But you *won't* put it all on the line, will you? You won't take that step and cross that line.

I have NO problem doing that, Sean.

I've built my career on putting everything on the line each and every night. I've made my name by continuing to get back up when others have stayed down, by taking on all challenges and overcoming them.

But you know that just as well as everyone else does, don't you?

And that's what scares the PISS out of you.

This has got nothing to do with trends. This has nothing to do with making excuses when you lose.

This has EVERYTHING to do with stepping into a cage alone with me, and trying to survive.

Except when you're in that cage, there's going to be no one there to set up that gun chamber for you Sean.

You're just going to have to dodge the bullets as they come.

And I rarely miss.

At Russian Roulette, the EPW World Heavyweight Championship comes home to ME.

(Fade out.)

 

[jayshort]

Re: RUSSIAN ROULETTE: World Title - "Triple X" Sean Stevens (c) vs. Marcus Westcott

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]The scene opened up in one of several locations – the living room of a middle class family, living a comfortable, suburban existence, in a relatively small three bedroom, one story, starter home, somewhere, in one of those safe neighborhoods where the neighbors don't lock their doors. A one bedroom apartment in one of those trendy college towns. A three story townhouse in a urban neighborhood. A two bedroom condo in the ghetto, where gunshots and police sirens are the norm. [/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]Seated, on a comfortable looking sofa is you – the viewer. Some of you are in your early thirties, flipping through channels while your wife cooks dinner. A few of you are in your late teens, or early twenties, bored out of your minds with nothing to do and no money to spend on illegal narcotics. The majority of you are in your early fourties, at home, relaxing after a long day at the office, excited about the possibility of spending quality time with your seeds. As you extend your arm around the neck of the young boy, to your left, you flip through channels on your television screen, with your free hand.[/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]Get your mind out of the gutter, people ... no man on boy porn here, this is strictly father and son bonding through wrestling. [/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]A wrestling promo, to be more specific.[/FONT]

Tell me something, Sean...

Do you have to work really HARD to be THAT ignorant, or does it just come really naturally to you? Are you *always* such a complete and utter
doofus, or are you only a first class douchebag on Wednesdays?

I mean really... Sean... buddy... you come out here and call ME boring, yet YOU'RE so desperate for material, so hell-bent on upholding this image that you SO badly need to project to cover up your own insecurities and lack of ability... you're showing off the big house, the fact that you had a few extra bucks in your wallet to pay the Hawaiian whore to look nice and take care of you for five minutes, and the guy in the same suit he's worn every day for the last ten years in a dead end job, but like you said, you fuck a lot of *****es, so he doesn't mind getting his ass rammed by the World Champ for the chance to appear on camera. You've got the big cut out of little old me.

You've got a lot of image, Sean, you want to make us think that you're actually WORTH something, that you actually BELONG here. That your shit don't stink and we should all be happy for the opportunity to take shelter from the sun in your shadow.

I'm no Dr. Phil, but dude... get a fucking GRIP. You're obviously overcompsenating. You're all style, all image, all talk...

BUT NO SUBSTANCE.

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]Suddenly, your television screen becomes snowy and the sound of static echoes until your ears feel like they'll bleed. You – the viewer – do what normal people in this situation normally do. You check your cable box, then your satellite dish. You storm out of your living room, in search of a phone, screaming profanities at no one in particular – not because you were eager to see a Marcus Westcott promo, because, well ... his second grade insults, and monotone presentation had you on the verge of hybernation. More than anything, it was the principle of the matter. You paid your cable bill, and no one was going to take away your right to watch what you want, when you wanted to. Even if what you were watching was God awful.[/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]But, as you dialed the numbers on your phone, something happened ... the static started to lower, the snowy screen became clearer, and standing in front of a plain white background, was EPW World Heavyweight Champion, SEAN "TRIPLE X" STEVENS in a small white "TEAM EQ: No Hype Necessary" t-shirt, cargo shorts, and Nike boots, grinning ear-to-ear.[/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]V/O: The following announcement has been paid for by: Planet Earth's Champion.[/FONT]​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]TRIPLE X: We interrupt your regularly scheduled, sleep inducing, mind numbing, generic Maurice Westlake promo for a Public Service Announcement by the 'Greatest Wrestler of this Generation', the 'Blue-Eyed Badass', ME, Sean Stevens."[/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]The EPW champ pounded his chest authoritatively. [/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]TRIPLE X: And, I know I'm not the most liked wrestler on the planet these days. I know that all of you watching at home, are clenching your fists, and gritting your teeth at the thought of someone with so much money, so much power, and so much arrogance ... that I'd interrupt another man's promo, because I do virtually what I want, when I want, to whom I want. Take my opponent at Russian Roulette for instance..."[/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]The magic of TV instantly changes from a blank, white background into an image of Marcus Westcott, with a bullet hole, dead in the center of his head.[/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]TRIPLE X: ...your name could be Susan, for all I care, little boy. You could've climbed Mount Everest, you could be a multi-time World Champion, and be seen by your peers as the Baddest Man on the Planet, and to me you'd still be boring as fuck. And, maybe it's true what they say ... maybe the great Sean Stevens doesn't have the respect for his opponents that the sportscasters and journalists think that I should have in order to be successful. Maybe my nose is too far up my own ass to see a real threat, when it's posed, and maybe someone needs to knock me off my pedestal. Maybe you're that guy, Marquette. But, more than likely, if history has shown us anything ... you're not. Maybe just maybe, the reason I can go twelve years in this industry telling no talent wastes of roster space, that they have no business being mentioned in the same breath as me, and not get hurt, is because that guy doesn't exist. Maybe I am as great as I say I am, and maybe there isn't a wrestler on the planet that can measure up."[/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]The champ took a deep breath, then continued. [/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]TRIPLE X: Bloggers, curtain jerkers, marginally skilled midcarders ... you're all the same, Westchester. You stand around in your little ciphers bitching and moaning about what you'd do differently. About what I'm doing wrong. About how you'd make a change, if you had my spot, but none of you have the heart to come and take it. Oh, you have the heart to try, and yes ... a match with me does more wonders for your career, than mine, by taking you places you've never dreamed you'd go, but none of you ever have what it takes to snatch that brass ring. [/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]"But, I hear your cries for respect, Morris. I see the," finger quotes, "determination in your eyes. It burns you up on the inside that once upon a time, you may or may not have beaten me in a match – I honestly can't remember – and was not able to use that victory over the best wrestler in the world to catapult your career into something much more spectacular than semi success in a fourth place promotion that no one cares about. It hurts your feelings to know that you thought you made an impression by supposedly beating Empire Pro Wrestling's number one guy, in a match that only you remember. That Gore that you say you beat me with had to be brutal in order for you to do what few have done, but you want to hear something even more brutal? Before I became aware that you were my opponent, you could've walked by me on the street, and I wouldn't have known you wrestled in the same company as me. ...and, that hurts your pride, Marvin. Because from the sounds of your diatribe, you've busted your ass in this industry, and despite all that you may or may not have accomplished, it pails in comparison to the barriers that I broke down in my rookie year ... and, to top it off ... I still don't know your name, or how in the hell you – of all people – became my opponent. [/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]"Not that it matters anyway. The who, what, and the why is of no importance anymore. This match will go down in history as one of the greatest of all time, just like every other cage match I've had in Empire. It'll be a Match of the Year candidate, and the record setting pay per view buys will allow you to make enough dollars to do something you're good at."[/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]The image in the background changes from Marcus with a bullet hole in his head – into Marcus in a chef's hat, and apron.[/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]TRIPLE X: Maybe you can take up cooking."[/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]The image then changes to Westcott in a pink leotard. [/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]TRIPLE X: ...or you can fulfill your life long dream of being a Ballerina."[/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]The image shifts once more, this time, Westcott magically transforms into Sean Stevens, standing triumphantly on the top of a steel cage, his EPW World Heavyweight Championship thrusted in the air.[/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]TRIPLE X: One thing you'll never be able to say again, is that you're EPW champion. Because, while it's easy to bass your voice up, puff your little chest out, and be a bad ass from recording studio, Mitch. It's even easier to be a tough guy in basic environments where cookie cutter wrestlers – like you – get a free pass by being in the right place at the right time. It's a totally different thing to defeat someone extraordinary, like me ... and, Worcestershire ... it's even harder when my EPW title is on the line. [/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]"So, instead of trying to decipher my promos for sentence structure miscues, to prove that you can hang intellectually ... instead of making us want to commit suicide with your tired cliches about this match being any different than my last match, against the last clown, spewing the same cliches from the same 'How To Cut a Promo' handbook ... spend your time wisely. Train. And, get to know your God. Because it's going to take previously unseen physical conditioning, and miracles of biblical proportions to take my title from me. [/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]"Because, I've been here before. You're just another face, on another body. I already know how this story ends. And, despite what your confidence tells you ... my stats show that I'm not built to break, but something tells me ... you are."[/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]FTB[/FONT] ​

 

[MarcusWestcott]

Re: RUSSIAN ROULETTE: World Title - "Triple X" Sean Stevens (c) vs. Marcus Westcott

(Marcus Westcott, in faded blue jeans, red-white-and-black striped EVH sneakers, and a black t-shirt with "Sean Steves: BLAH BLAH BLAH" emblazoned on the front of it, stands in front of an EPW Russian Roulette '09 backdrop.)

Marcus: That's absolutely fantastic. The guy that says he has all the money, all the power, and all the arrogance...

... FAILED Wrestling Promos 101: Props.

The guy can't even work a remote control properly. How much did you pay the guys in the truck interrupt my segment?

Figures. Can't even do his own dirty work.

But that's the story of your life, though, eh Sean? Don't want to get your own fingers dirty, so you'll pay someone else to do the work for you. You don't want to face me one-on-one, so a backstage attack will have to suffice. You're shaking in your expensive boots at the thought of getting in the ring with me, so laying me out when the show is over is the best alternative.

And when "The Baddest Man On The Planet" FINALLY has his balls drop and he can FINALLY muster up the gumption to come down to the ring and stand eye to eye with me... he gets sent packing.

I don't blame you, Sean. Really. If I had to face me in the ring, I'd be shit-scared too. I'd be praying that I'd get to leave the ring with all my limbs still intact, let alone any title I may carry with me.

You think I'm boring, sean... well, that seems to be the only word in your arsenal this week. Marcus is boring. He's boring as fuck. can we beat that one into the ground a little more, Sean? I mean, really... you look for a definition of "beating a dead horse" and the first thing you find is Sean Stevens beating his meat.

So what, Sean. I may even, in fact, be boring. But, at least I'm honest. And at least, I'm ME. (Marcus holds his arms out wide.) What you see is what you get. But at least when you get me, you get the real deal. What you see in the picture is what you get in real life.

What I say... is what I mean.

I don't have to hide behind a half dozen nicknames like you - all of which you've stolen from someone else. That, or allowed yourself to be bested, even on nicknames. You're calling yourself Planet Earth's Champion. Isn't Shawn Hart calling himself The World Heavyweight Champion of the UNIVERSE? What's next? Oh, I'll start calling myself the "Interdimensional Heavyweight Champion".

There. I'm instantly better than both of you.

Alright, Mr. Baddest Man On the Planet... oh, wait... have you ever heard of Mike Tyson? Wait a minute... no... if there's ever anyone out there who's ever done something that could be construed as superior to you - like destroy you in a steel cage - you just brush it off and pretend you've never heard of the person.

Jesus Christ... and you accuse me of gimmick assassination. I thought JA held all the trademarks of ripping people off. Oh... I guess that means you've ripped off HIM as well.

Here's a bit of advice, Sean... you can't take what's happened in the past and just sweep it under the rug and pretend it never existed. If you want to insist that you don't know who I am that the match we had - that I WON - doesn't exist, hey, that's your hill of beans. *I* know it happened. Everyone ELSE that's ever followed TEAM knows it's happened. It's on video, preserved for eternity.

But that's just how stubborn and arrogant you really are.

But again, that's all fine with me. Do you WANT me to play the part of the underdog? I can live with that. Do you want to keep putting yourself up on this towering pedestal, seemingly out of reach, with me and everyone else beneath you? That's fine. I'll play along. If you want to downplay all of my accomplishments, the 14 titles I've held... hey, that's fine too.
Of course, whatever I've accomplished in my nine year career, you surpassed on your first night in the business, so it's really all irrelevant...

If all of this is what you need to tell yourself every night so that you can actually fall asleep, then more power to you. And Sean, really... if you're dreaming of me in a pink leotard while you're sleeping, then you've got bigger problems than I can solve. But I'll have fun cracking your skull open to try and figure it out. You see, Sean, I've already wrestled in a farmer's daughters' dress... and beat TWO World Champions in the same match while doing it.

Pink leotard. Hahaha. Do your WORST. And the chef hat?

Ask Jessica about my award winning Atlantic Salmon dish. It'll blow your MIND.

Speaking of cooking... hehehe... cookie cutter wrestlers being in the right place at the right time... isn't that EXACTLY what you said about when you won the title in the match against Lindsay and Melton? That you were just in the right place at the right time and took advantage of a situation?

But just keep this in mind, Sean...

I'm going to BE in the right place at the right time. You and I are going to be locked into a cage. And I'm going to take GREAT advantage to you, doing things to you that you could never dream possible until you feel the unbearable pain that those events cause...

You can't humiliate me. You can't break me.

You can't beat me.

The fall from that pedestal is going to be a mighty long one. The tumble down the mountain is going to be bumpy, brutal, and especially painful. And when it's all over and the sun rises and shines on the day after Russian Roulette, it's going to be YOU that's going to have to answer all the tough questions...

"Sean, how does it feel to be beaten by someone so far beneath you?"

"Sean, you said you didn't even know who Marcus Westcott was or how he became #1 Contender... how could a talentless hack like that possibly defeat you?"

"Sean... can you tell us what it's like to have lost your EPW World Heavyweight Championship to the most boring man in professional wrestling?"

"Sean Stevens, how does it feel to be beaten by Marcus Westcott - AGAIN?"

(Fade out.)

 

[MarcusWestcott]

Re: RUSSIAN ROULETTE: World Title - "Triple X" Sean Stevens (c) vs. Marcus Westcott

(Marcus Westcott, in jeans, red-white-and-black striped EVH sneakers, and a red t-shirt with "Wherefore is our King? shitting his pants." emblazoned on the front of it, stands in front of an EPW Russian Roulette '09 backdrop.)

Marcus: Funny... one moment Sean Stevens is RACING out here to INTERRUPT one of my segments, and then next, you couldn't find him with a team of trained sniffing dogs.

I don't know what the problem is... it shouldn't be TOO hard to find 'ol Seanny... you just need to follow the trail of PISS he's left behind after he realized there's no way in HELL he's winning this match at Russian Roulette. While I'm over here training like I've never trained before, watching all the video, determining all of his weak spots, and preparing like there's no tomorrow, Stevens is off trying to figure out what he's going to do with his life once the gold is gone.

But don't worry, Sean Stevens fans... all six of you. The "Blue Eyed Badass" will be back, don't worry about that. Most likely with yet ANOTHER nickname that he's ripped off to add to the list. When he comes back, he's going to have had his head shoved so deep into the thesaurus, he's going to come out with some big new words and ways to call me boring. He'll puff out his chest and tell everyone how he runs the professional wrestling industry, and then find an interesting new cutout to use to signify my defeat.

Ho-hum. Wash, rinse, repeat.

Last time out, I talked about some differences between Sean and I, and I realized what the biggest difference of all between us is. I mean, obviously, there's no doubt that Sean is threatened by me. Everyone else is supposedly so far beneath him, it doesn't matter.

I've BEATEN everyone else.

I've beaten HIM at his own game.

We need to get one thing perfectly clear, Sean. At Russian Roulette, it doesn't matter if I'm facing you, Cameron Cruise, Jared Wells, Lindsay Troy, that Hawaiian skank you had in your earlier segment, or your big fat mother... what MATTERS is the person I'm facing HAS something that I so badly WANT. You're not a THREAT, Stevens... you're simply an obstacle. A placeholder. You're an object that I must conquer to take what I want.

You're a THING that I can pick up, throw around, slam down, drive into the steel... a THING, Sean.

THINGS can be broken.

THINGS can be torn down, ripped apart, and smashed into pieces, Sean. No matter whether you're a KING or a JESTER, you're still a human, a human THING, and human bones can be broken and snapped, crushed into powder. It doesn't matter how blue your eyes are, or what celestial body you think you're Champion of... you can BLEED like any other.

A thing. Just a fleshy, human thing. You're not special. You may THINK you are, and you may WANT US to think that way too, but you're no more special than I am. I'm flesh and blood and bone too, Sean...

... but again, there's the differences between you and I. It's the LENGTHS that body, that mind will go through to get what it wants, and Sean, all you've shown me and everyone else in this industry is that you're a gigantic pansy with a silver spoon shoved too deep into that yacking, gaping hole you call a mouth.

You don't WANT this title, Sean. You don't WANT to win this match. You don't WANT to beat me.

You think you're ENTITLED. You think this is your RIGHT. You think you DESERVE this.

And there's that huge difference between us.

I am entitled to NOTHING that which I do not earn. Do you UNDERSTAND that, Sean? That means that if I want to become EPW World Heavyweight Champion, I have to step into that enclosed cage, and I have to beat you within an inch of your life. I have to break your bones. I have to drive your face into the unforgiving steel and bust it wide open like a freaking coconut. I have to beat you to the point where I can pin you for three seconds, or make you tap while screaming like a little girl.

And if that's what I must do, Sean...

THEN SO BE IT.

You may think that the World Title is your entitlement, Sean... that it's only meant for you and it's your birthright, or in your blood, or whatever...
But I am the working man, Sean. I am the guy that when he's so singularly driven to accomplish a goal, that once I've got my teeth sunk into your hide, I'm NEVER going to let go. I'm NEVER going to stop until you're down and beaten, and the EPW World Heavyweight Championship is once again around my waist.

I'm fully aware, Sean, that while YOU may think that because you call yourself King, that you THINK you rule everything, you think your time with that title is unlimited. That you will be King until the day you die. That's not quite how it works. I'm FULLY aware that my time is LIMITED, and Russian Roulette... that THIS may very well be my LAST shot at a World Title... my FINAL chance...

And I'll be DAMNED if I waste that opportunity on a PUKE like you.

(Fade out.)

 

[jayshort]

Re: RUSSIAN ROULETTE: World Title - "Triple X" Sean Stevens (c) vs. Marcus Westcott

FADE: Darkness, a full moon, with a certain business-like raucous below. The scene opened up on a random rooftop – more than likely – in EPW World Heavyweight Champion, SEAN "TRIPLE X" STEVENS' hometown, Orlando, Florida. ​

The Blue-Eyed Badass was dressed in all black. A black V-neck tee, black “Ralph Lauren” sweatpants, and a black mid-length leather jacket. ...his hair hung gently below his shoulders, blowing in the direction of the mild wind.

TRIPLE X: Is this how it's going to be, Miguel? Is this your plan? Before I said a word to you, you cut an entire promo telling me what I would say ... what I should say, like you – of all people – knew anything about me. You had your gun loaded, cocked, waiting with your pre-written return fire on the tip of your tongue. You came into this setting with preconceived notions, based on what people told you about me, and ultimately, the only thing you've succeeded in doing is looking like the idiot that *I* effortlessly made you look like."

The champ smirked.

TRIPLE X: ...They say worst kind of failure is the failure that thinks he's a winner. You obviously fit in this category, with your cardboard cutout accomplishments, your paper championship reigns in places no self respecting superstar of my ilk would ever care about, and your desperate pleas for my acknowledgment. You want to talk symbolism? Well, I never said I wasn't a human being, Captain Intelligence. Nor have I said I couldn't be hurt, or beaten in a match. I haven't been undefeated in a very long time, and I know as well as anyone, that if you mix the right ingredients with perfect timing, and the perfect situation that anything can happen to anyone. A person can, in fact, be broken, beaten, and battered, even if they're supremely talented, and better than his opponent in every conceivable way imaginable, like I seem to always be ... I just have a hard time believing that I will be broken and battered by a living, breathing, joke. I just refuse to believe that my title reign will end at the hands of a walking punchline, a sanctimonious jackass ... a retarded, imbecile so far beneath me in talent, intelligence, and social class that nobody can give me a straight answer as to how he got here. And, while I'm sure your special education teacher is golf clapping to all of your progress, with your generic," Trip lowered his voice, talking at one, monotone pitch. "This will be a hard fought match, surrounded by cold hard steel, where someone will be hurt," rolling his eyes, the champ continued, "revelations ... I have some comparisons of my own.

"Martinez, you're that retarded kid that rides home on the short bus, that jacks off to mannequin's in department stores. You're that geek in the gi-normous bifocals, sitting in his room imagining what it'd be like to be one of the popular kids."

Stevens snapped his fingers, as if he had an epiphany.

TRIPLE X: Even better. You're the incoherent, unrealistic, journeyman wrestler. The stupid son-of-a-bitch with no chance in hell of ever being on anybody's top ten greatest list ... the guy that will never be considered as anything but halfway decent ... a man so pathetic, so desperate to prove that he belongs in the same category as the superstars, that he attempts to get respect by trying to out talk his opponents to death with unnecessarily annoying, back-to-back promos filled with junior varsity diatribes, senseless drivel, cliches fit for elementary school children, that ultimately always say the same exact thing.

Finger quotes, "I BEAT SEAN STEVENS IN A MATCH!"... "PLEASE ACKNOWLEDGE MY PATHETIC EXISTENCE!" ... "I BEAT YOU BEFORE!" ... "THAT ONE TIME AT BAND CAMP THE FLUTE DIRECTOR TOUCHED MY PRIVATE PARTS THAT'S WHY I'M SO INFATUATED WITH HOMOSEXUALITY!"

"Wash, rinse, repeat?

"Pot.

"Kettle.

"Black.

The champion paused, collected his thoughts, then continued.

TRIPLE X: Or how about ... sniff, snort, smoke(?), because you are clearly high off of something very strong if you think there could EVER be anything about you that scares me, besides your breath.

"Can't do my own dirty work? Bitch please. How about you stop grasping at straws for promo filler, in an effort to look like you have depth, and get a better study guide. How about you actually take your craft seriously – and not just talk about it. How about you really look at the tapes and see what I've done to every single person that's questioned or challenged my reign as Emporer. How about you honor and respect your king for standing up for this company any and every single time someone's risen up against it, while you and everyone else that claims to be better suited for my position toiled in obscurity.

"Make no mistake about it, I am the very best that this industry has to offer. But, I'm not just talking out of my ass when I say it. I say that with each and every one of my stats that can be matched up against any wrestler in this industry, and come out looking phenomenal. Go down the list of legends ... and, no ... I'm not talking about the phony tough, make believe pretenders you love to name drop. I'm talking about the Eli Flairs, the Hornets, Mike Randalls, Vince Jacobs, Dan Ryan, and Troy Windham ... I smacked each and every one of those over hyped motherfuckers down so hard, and convincing that they'd never be able to realistically say it never happened, like I can about our supposed confrontation. You want further evidence? Look at the careers I've ended. The people that I've sent packing. Lindsay Troy, Joey Melton, JA, and Rocko Daymon. And, that's just in this promotion. The list is damn near endless. From promotion to promotion, continent to continent, I have run roughshod over any and everyone they put in front of me, easily.

"Let me tell you what's ultimately going to be your undoing, Morgan. You see the long golden hair, the beautiful blue eyes, the money, the women, and the designer logos on my clothes and instantly typecast me as just another pretty boy, with a big mouth. You assume that the long title reign, the fame, respect, triple platinum selling t-shirts and international superstardom was handed to me. I worked for this. I rolled up my sleeves, put on my construction boots, and made my name in this industry by being the best.

"And, you have the audacity to insinuate that I'm afraid of you? Negative, Westcock. I'm still having a hard time figuring out who you are. Because in order for you to be in such a high profile position, you have to be more than the robotic, humdrum, pathetic little pissant that you appear to be in your promos.

"If you are? Maybe this will be more of a match than Las Vegas odds say it will be. If you're not? I'd strongly suggest you switching your focus from trying to WIN this match, to trying to actually COMPETE.

"Either way, I don't see you as my peer, because you'll never be. I don't consider you, I pity you. And, at Russian Roulette, I'm going to end you."

FTB

 

[MarcusWestcott]

Re: RUSSIAN ROULETTE: World Title - "Triple X" Sean Stevens (c) vs. Marcus Westcott

(Fade in... a talk show interview set. Think of the style of Jay Leno's new show. Just two chairs in the middle of the stage, and a colorful lighted background. A live view of the city of Los Angeles is projected onto a huge video wall on the left of the stage. The large seating area for the live studio audience is filled to capacity, and as they buzz in anticipation of the interview to start, the voice of the studio host comes over the PA.

SH: Ladies and gentlemen... Marcus Westcott!

The crowd pops as Saliva's "Ladies and Gentlemen" cues up, and Westcott walks out onto the stage wearing a crisp, black, Armani suit, waving to the crowd as he approaches his mark in the middle of the stage. The crowd's cheers and applauses finally dies down as Marcus waves them into their seats.)

MW: Welcome, welcome everyone to the big show. As always, I am your host, and NEXT EPW World Heavyweight Champion, wrestling's Marcus Westcott. As you all may have noticed this week, there's been a fair bit of bad blood running between yours truly and the current EPW World Champion, Sean Stevens.

[ Crowd boos heavily. ]

MW: Exactly. Now, before we step into the ring and I win back MY EPW Heavyweight title, I thought that I'd bring Mr. Stevens out here so we could clear the air and go into our match focusing on just being the better man in the ring. So if you could, please join me in welcoming my guest tonight, the temporary EPW World Heavyweight Champion, Sean Stevens!

[ The crowd immediately instinctively boos loudly again, but that soon changes to raucous laughter as a skinny young boy, perhaps eight years old, with long blond hair and blue eyes, wearing sweatpants and a leather jacket, struggles to walk across the stage with a replica EPW World Heavyweight Championship over his shoulder. He drops the title as he reaches out to shake Marcus' hand, but then picks it up and Marcus motions for him to have a seat, and Marcus does the same, unbuttoning his suit jacket, crossing his left leg over his right.

Come on, folks. Midgets are so... passe. ]

MW: [ adjusting his jacket ] Well, I gotta tell ya, Sean... you look... lovely... tonight. I didn't know anyone could ROCK leather and SWEATS together like that.

"Mini-Sean Stevens": You watch your mouth, Marko... NO ONE wears designer labels like *EYE* do.

MW: Hey, that's your call, I guess. I guess the elastic waist is SO much easier to yank down whenever you want Lindsay Troy to stick her PENIS up your ass and tell you how great you are, so whatever floats your boat.

MSS: Hey! I resemble that remark!

MW: We all know you do, Sean. But that's pretty much the story of your career, isn't it? You tell people how fantastic you are, and you surround yourself with people that repeat it back to you day in and day out, until your head gets SO damned huge and full of hot air that you have no concept of reality anymore? Hey, what the heck is that?

[ MSS has started to blow up a HUGE red balloon, huffing and puffing as the balloon gets larger and larger. ]

MW: Hey, that balloon is the same color as your face when you shoot your mouth off with over-exaggerated claims of your greatness.

[ MSS glares at Marcus a second, before he finishes blowing up the balloon. ]

MW: Is there a point to you wasting everyone's time being self-centered like you do in every promo you cut? Or are you actually going to DO anything?

[ MSS grabs the neck and opening of the balloon, and slowly opens it. Instead of the squeaky, high-pitched farty noises one might expect from letting the air out of the balloon... ]

MSS' B: "I'm the blue-eyed badass. I'm the most dangerous man on the planet. I'm better looking than you are. I have more money than you do. I screw more women than you do. I am the king. I make you look like an idiot. Effortlessly. I am entertaining, and everyone else is boring. I am smart. You are retarded. I own professional wrestling. I have amazing statistics. You don't. Pot. Kettle. Black. Wash. Rinse. Repeat."

[ Marcus looks on in shock. ]

MW: My GOD man! It's a Sean Stevens Promo In A Balloon! It's true! You ARE full of hot air!

[ MSS puts down the balloon. ]

MSS: And you're not, so that makes me better than you.

MW: Ok, ok, Sean... we get the point. You think you can do anything better than anyone else. ONE thing you can do better than anyone on the planet is whine. "Oh my God! You were ready for me to not say anything, so you put two promos up before I could say anything back to you! WAAAAAAAAAH!"

MSS: I had better things to do.

MW: And what could that have possibly been? You're the WORLD CHAMP. You should be WORKING to promote your match.

MSS: Nah, dawg, I was thinking to myself... should I bother responding to you, because I'm only going to no-sell everything you've ever attacked me on, and just turn it around and tell everyone how great I am. I mean, I do that all the time. OR... could I take the time to set up some elaborate set piece and make it look like my luscious blond hair was blowing gently in the
wind?

MW: Oh, it was one of those stunt pieces... you weren't on a rooftop, you were just on a platform in front of a green screen with a wind machine blowing in your face. I get it. Heaven forbid EPW should have your fall off a rooftop while cutting a promo.

MSS: Yeah, dude, I'm scared of heights. But I stood on that platform better than anyone else ever could.

MW: Really?

MSS: Yeah, I've got the stats to back it up.

MW: You're amazing.

MSS: That's what I keep telling everyone.

MW: Ok, Sean, let's get a little more serious now, alright? I love how you say that your accomplishments are so wonderful, yet anything anyone else has ever done is worthless and meaningless. How do you explain that?

MSS: Because. It's my gimmick. You know the old saying "Anything you can do I can do better?" There's nothing you've done that matches up to what I've done. The places I've been mean so much more than where anyone else has ever been.

MW: Oh, you must mean my World Title paper championship reign? HERE
IN EPW? The SAME FED YOU'RE IN?

MSS: Well...

[ But Marcus cuts him off. ]

MW: Nevermind, slappy. I want to ask you another question. If I'm just a joke, a walking punchline, so far beneath you in talent and intelligence... then HOW did I beat you in the cage in TEAM? How did I beat you once before?

MSS: I won't answer that.

MW: I know you won't. Why not?

MSS: Cause it'll make me look less important and great than I want everyone to believe.

MW: Figures.

MSS: I've got an image and gimmick to protect, you know.

MW: I understand. You just have a "hard time believing that you will be broken and battered by someone like me." Why is that so hard to believe that, especially when I've already done it before? Why is it so hard to believe, especially when you ranted for five minutes about how you know you can be beaten in a match? After you said that anything can happen to anyone?

MSS: I don't believe it cause it didn't happen.

MW: Oh, that lame old excuse again.

MSS: Come ON, Mark? What do you expect me to do? I have to tell these people SOMETHING!

MW: Would you believe it if I rolled the tape right now?

MSS: Of course I would. I believe it now, but I just can't tell anyone that.

MW: You just did.

MSS: Dammit!

MW: You know what I LOVED about your last promo, Sean?

MSS: What was that?

MW: I LOVED how you went on this gigantic rant about how I'm the journeyman wrestler. That I'll never be on ANYONE'S top ten list. Did you know, Sean... that I was the FWI #1 ranked wrestler out of 250? Then the very next year, I was #2 on that same list?

MSS: No, I didn't know that.

MW: Why not? You're supposed to study your opponents and know everything about them.

MSS: Well, it's obvious I don't do that, now, isn't it?

MW: So that would make the comment about me not knowing you...

MSS: Absolute bullshit.

MW: Hey, you shouldn't swear, you know. You're only... what, nine years old?

MSS: Eight.

MW: Ok, I want you to SIT there, and I want you to LISTEN. You got that?

MSS: Yessir.

MW: That's better.

[ Marcus gets out of the chair, and walks up towards the main camera, taking his suit jacket off, revealing a perfect white dress shirt and black and silver tie. ]

MW: You want me to take my craft seriously, Sean? I have taken this craft SERIOUSLY since DAY ONE of my career. You think I'm grasping for straws? I've WATCHED all the tapes, Sean! I've SEEN with my own two eyes what you've done in EPW lately. Do you want a fucking RECAP?

YOU'RE the World Champion, Sean. But when was the last time you were in a main event? Tell me who's been the main event the last three Aggressions? Me. Where have you been? Out letting your hair blow in the wind. Talk about taking your craft SERIOUSLY. You can't even be bothered to SHOW UP. The last time you were in a main event - the CHAMPION - July. And in that match? You couldn't even be bothered to GET OFF YOUR ASS and send in a single promo. What did you DO in that match, Sean? You were getting your ass kicked, so you took the easy way out and got yourself disqualified.

You're the WORLD CHAMPION, and you don't even get put in the mains anymore? Hell, the last time you were even IN a real match around here, you were getting your ass OWNED by Cameron Cruise of all people. Yeah, the guy you think is such a joke, regardless if he's a champion here, or elsewhere. Yeah, the guy I beat just last week. The one YOU couldn't get the job done against.

But that's the running theme around here lately isn't it? You getting your ass kicked? How about JA, the one you said you retired? Even though he was back in A1E after you supposedly "retired" him. The man was BEATING YOUR ASS SO BAD, you WALKED OUT ON THE MATCH and got yourself counted out. What kind of CHAMPION does that? A Champion TAKES ON ANYONE, ANYTIME, ANYWHERE. But not Sean Stevens? Respect your KING? FUCK YOU, SEAN. You don't get respect for pulling shit like THAT.

That's PURE DOMINANCE, Sean. You've been amazing! You've been beat for that very title you carry TWICE in the last year! Yeah, you're PERFECTION, Sean! You've been beaten more times than Cameron Cruise's COCK, and yet you keep getting thrust into title pictures, when guys like Wells and Hart are getting the SHAFT. You're SO FUCKING DOMINANT, you've missed having matches on more Aggressions than Lindsay Troy has missed periods. The only reason you even HAVE that title right now, is because your HEAD is so FUCKING HUGE, that it put you through that table faster, and your foot just HAPPENED to hit the floor before JA's.

You didn't EARN that title, Sean. You fell ass-backwards into it.

Yeah, THAT'S standing up for this company and and every single time someone's risen up against it.

My ASS.

You want to compare LISTS? Is that it? You want to get into a dick measuring contest? I've beaten my fair share of elite level competitors, Sean. Lindsay Troy. Joey Melton. JA. Cameron Cruise. Adam Benjamin. Anarky. Jared Wells. Housefly. Chip Friendly. Richard Farnswirth. Christian Sands. Cross. Suicide. Dan Ryan. Troy Douglas.

SEAN STEVENS.

Hell, you never even retired Rocko Daymon. The guy's going STRONG over in A1E.

But your list and my list are very similar, but there's one glaring difference between them. Your name is on MY list. You've beat an awful lot of talented people, Sean, but if I'm such a hack, such a waste of space... how come when it comes down to it, when you've looked me in the eye and we've gone one on one...

Why couldn't you beat me? It's supposed to be simple, according to you.
You want to know how I got here, Sean? I'll even give you the HONEST answer.

Ice Tre interfered in a match and got me the win. But since then, I've beaten Jared Wells, and a World Heavyweight Champion to SHOW that I BELONG in this match.

Let's see if you can be that honest with yourself. You can't, because if you were, your whole image would explode, and you'd be no more important than I am. In reality, you already aren't.

You wouldn't be Sean Stevens.

And that's really too bad, because Sean Stevens is a ****ing CANCER on professional wrestling. A DISEASE on the hearts of EPW.

At Russian Roulette, I'm going to CURE that disease. After it's over, Sean, and I've defeated you - AGAIN... NO MORE will we have to listen to all of your egomaniacal BULLSHIT. I'm going to PROVE Sean, that lightning strikes twice. END me? And you're calling ME high?

I will bet you ONE MILLION of my hard-earned dollars that I'll still be here after Russian Roulette.

Sound familiar?

You're right about one thing though, Sean...

I'm NOT your peer.

I'm MILES above you.

And when Russian Roulette ends, I'll have the EPW World Heavyweight Championship to PROVE it.

("Ladies and Gentlemen" plays throughout the studio again, and the crowd POPS as we fade out.)

 

[jayshort]

Re: RUSSIAN ROULETTE: World Title - "Triple X" Sean Stevens (c) vs. Marcus Westcott

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]FADE: The scene opened up where the last promo left off. A makeshift interview set, albeit a tad bit different. Unlike the last studio, this set was completely destroyed. Ruined. Desolate. Surrounded by complete and utter darkness. There was no audience, no canned applause, no cheesy announcers with a bad toupe.[/FONT]​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]The wooden desk, used primarily by the host was broken down the middle, and the video wall had a gigantic hole in the center of it. [/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]Are you afraid?...[/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]A monotonous voice echoed from the shadows.[/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]Fear is a state of mind that weak minded individuals choose to allow to guide the course of their lives. Some people thrive on that emotion ... that feeling ... others allow it to cripple them from taking risks, in fear of danger, even if the danger could result in great reward. [/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]I do not know fear. I learned a very long time ago, that nothing in life is to be feared ... only understood. People perish from lack of knowledge, and they are scared of what they don't understand. [/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]So, I need to ask ... did you understand that with every action is a reaction, and a ramification?[/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]A masked figure steps from beyond those very shadows, as the camera zooms in closely, getting a clear shot of his masked face.[/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]The masked individual took steps in the direction of the camera, large kendo stick in hand, before pausing, and raising his free hand in the air, signaling the process of illumination.[/FONT]​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]Right on cue, the set began to glow. A spotlight shined center stage, causing several obscure images and sounds to be seen and heard very clearly... [/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]... starting with a disturbing sound. A mixture of painful groans, whimpers, sniffles and tears. As the camera zoomed in even further, the source of the noise became distinct, as a discomforting image hung before your eyes.[/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]A young boy – roughly 8 or 9 years old – hung from a cross, where his arms and legs were bound. The young boy had a similar ... look to him. With his golden locks, and robust good looks – although frail – he resembled someone very familiar to the EPW audience. [/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]You – the viewer – knew him even if you didn't know him. Regardless, the young boy hung from the cross, his neck hanging uncomfortably to the left, as blood trickled down the left side of his face, and his eyes rolled in the back of his head.[/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]The masked antagonist swung the kendo stick with all of his might, crashing it into the ribs of the child, as the young boy screamed in agony.[/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]You hang there, a broken little boy ... and a shell of yourself. Your youthful exuberance from the night earlier, while funny at the time, put you in a position your body was not capable of dealing with. And as you hang there, praying to your God, cursing the day you made the biggest mistake of your life, as you suffer due to the consequences of your actions ... you need to understand one very important thing. [/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]In wrestling, I am the Alpha and the Omega. I am the Creator and the Destroyer. There is non higher. To disrespect all that I have accomplished in this sport for the sake of entertainment is a punishable offense that cannot be overlooked. And, it is my duty as your King to teach you the harsh realities of commiting treason in my world. [/FONT]​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]Another full fledge kendo stick shot to the child's neck, causing a loud, ghastly squeal. The young man was clearly on his last limb.[/FONT]​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]Was it worth it? Is it funny now? Am ... *I* ... a fucking comedian?[/FONT]​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]The masked assailant slowly removed the mask, revealing what most of the world already knew. In his regular tone, the EPW World Heavyweight Champion, King of the Cage, 2007 & 2008 Wrestler of the Year, SEAN 'TRIPLE X' STEVENS turns to face the camera, leaving the inpaired little boy to hang, and collect his thoughts.[/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]TRIPLE X: Call me a coward. Call me a punk. Call me abusive. Call me dispicable. But, you will respect me, Milhouse ... because unlike you, I've earned it. I'm not the product of the perfect situation. I kicked, scratched and clawed to get to where I am, and the process to being considered a legend has been a Gift and a Curse. A gift because I did exactly what I set out to do. I came back and established myself as the best wrestler on the planet, bar none ... and, a curse, because I did it so flawlessly, that people think it was handed to me, like I didn't pay my dues. [/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]"Make no mistake about it, I've never claimed to be a saint, and I'll be the first to tell you, I am not a good person. I don't help old ladies cross the street, I don't kiss babies, and I'd superkick my grandmother if it meant keeping my EPW World Heavyweight Championship. I don't give a flying fuck about your comedy act, your moronic insults, or your pathetic whimsical skits. I don't lose any sleep over your redundant threats, I laugh at your false bravado, and I could care less about a match in a promotion that has nothing to do with Empire Pro Wrestling and the EPW title. [/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]"If you've beaten me, you beat me. I never denied it. But, what did it get you? I am a uniquely unparalleled enigma. A loss to me can change your life for the better ... and, somehow you managed to fuck up an apparent victory that I can't recall."[/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]Triple X walked out of the frame for a moment, returning seconds later with his World Heavyweight Championship, draped over his shoulder, glistening as bright as it's ever glistened. [/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]TRIPLE X: You wanna know WHY I don't roll around on the mat week after week on Aggression, Malik? It's because I don't have to. You want to know why I can wrestle a match against Cameron Cruise and company and not cut a promo to promote the match? Because, unlike you, I don't talk to hear myself talk, and my actions speak louder than words. And, I was probably at a fashion show in France, sipping fine wine, screwing even finer women, and representing this company in ways you could never imagaine. Your biggest mistake is assuming we're supposed to live by the same set of rules, when I'm clearly better and more important than you in every aspect of life. I sell the most t-shirts, for the last three years, I've been the reason for the sell out crowds, and the big house show payouts, that have allowed you to exist comfortably. And, I'm the reason our pay-per-view buys can compete with any Mixed Martial Arts company on the planet.[/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]"In a day and age, where cartoonish characters like you have ruined people's perception of professional wrestling ... I am it's savior. I've returned this sport to prominance, and have taken EPW from a company known for having a woman as it's world champion to the most respectable promotion on the planet. And,*I* did that, Marvin. [/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]"Not you. [/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]"Me. [/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]"And, while I'm sure you think you're ready for the rigors and responsibilities of being champion of a popular EPW, in the green, that actually turns a profit – unlike when you were champion years ago – I'm just not ready to relinquish my title, and watch all of my hard work and sacrifice go to waste, because a pitiful, delusional embarrassment became it's champion. I love Empire Pro Wrestling too much to allow it's name to go down the drain. [/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]"My promotion deserves better than average. My promotion deserves better than you. [/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]"So go ahead, carefully craft another corny response. Figure out fifty more ways to rehash you entire 'I beat you in a match' shtick, as you exude faux machismo, with your uneasy smiles, and transparent angst. You need it."[/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]Stevens turned his attention to the young boy, who was now starting to come to. The blue-eyed badass slapped him directly in the face, causing him to slump over, as his hand print became visible on his face.[/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]TRIPLE X: The blood of this child is on your hands. And, at Russian Roulette ... you'll learn that certain things, and certain situations are not meant to be made into laughing matters."[/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]FTB[/FONT]

 

[jayshort]

Re: RUSSIAN ROULETTE: World Title - "Triple X" Sean Stevens (c) vs. Marcus Westcott

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]FADE: The lights dimmed, as the electricity of the audience's anticipation sent chill bumps up his spine. EPW World Heavyweight Champion, SEAN ''TRIPLE X'' STEVENS stood at the gorilla position, prepared for war, in black and green – army fatigue – tights, with his trademark X in various places, and a sleeveless, ''King Me'' t-shirt. The champ's hair was tied back into a wet ponytail, as water from his ritual pre-match shower dripped on the floor below him. The EPW Heavyweight Title belt – buckled around his waist – sparkled ever so brightly.[/FONT]
[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif][/FONT]
[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif][/FONT][FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]Suddenly, a gladiator's voice echoed, followed by thunder, lightning and chariots ... which only served as a prelude to...[/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]CUE UP: ''KING BACK,'' by TI. [/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]...as the ''blue-eyed badass'' stepped through the curtain, in search of immortality, as light bulbs flickered. [/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]<-------------------------->[/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]Earlier in the week… [/FONT]
​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]The camera sat on a tripod in the corner of an empty locker room … the flashing record light signaled that it was live. [/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]SEAN ''TRIPLE X'' STEVENS sat on a bench in the cold, uncomfortable room, staring at the ground. [/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]TRIPLE X: I've had enough of these types of matches to be able to say that I know, first hand, what it feels like to bleed profusely … to see your skin torn from your flesh … to have a broken nose, wrist, or finger and have to fight through the pain. I know what it's like being bound, like a caged animal, in situations where the only way you survive is to kill or be killed. And, I know what it feels like to be so tired, so winded, that your chest feels like it's going to explode. [/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]''I know these things, because I've lived it. I haven't had the luxury of wrestling in half-assed promotions where its world championship holds little to no value. I haven't competed in places, where competition is non existent, and anybody can be a champion. I don't believe in padding my stats … I don't believe in making statements for the sake of making statements, and I don't believe in sugar coating anything.[/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]''I had one of my personal assistants do a little research and I'm happy to say that I now know who you are, Beast. And, I now know what your disdain for me is all about. You're resentful. You were the second man to win the EPW World Heavyweight Championship that Lindsay Troy and *I* made famous and you hate us for it. You were a major player in Empire during a time when Empire was known for one thing – being average. You were an average champion that ruled over an average company that got dethroned by a swerve that you made look legendary, against a woman that, I made look about as run of the mill as she made you look.[/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]''And, that just burns you up, doesn't it? Naturally, you thought the entire thing was a fluke. Being the EPW's marquee guy, you just knew your time as champion would come again. But the days turned to weeks, the weeks turned to months, and now here we are damn near five years later, and you have nothing to show for your hard work and sacrifice. And, I get it, Beast. [/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]''Nobody likes to be overlooked. No one ever wanted to be the guy in the poster that Michael Jordan dunked on. Your name – just like mine – is synonymous with Empire Pro Wrestling, but for two totally different reasons. I – like Lindsay, have also made my mark on Empire Pro Wrestling. I am the first two time World Heavyweight Champion, I have been this company's standard bearer for the last three years, and outside of a really brief intermission, that I rectified very quickly, I have been the face of this company as it's champion. And, that also upsets you, doesn't it? Because when people scroll down our profiles … I'm the first ever to climb the mountain twice … and, you're the stupid son-of-a-***** that got Dis'd.''[/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]The EPW champ shook his head shamefully. [/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]TRIPLE X: Damn… [/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]"You and I, we're infamous for two different reasons. Me, for systematically breaking down each and every individual this company promotes, markets, and lines up to dethrone me, also for defending a title that – as a result of MY doing – is currently the most prestigious in our industry. You, for setting civilization back another hundred years by allowing a woman to become a World Heavyweight Champion.''[/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]Golf clap. [/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]TRIPLE X: Congratulations, Beast. I'm sure your dad is somewhere proud of the gentleman his son has become. [/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]Sarcasm. [/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]TRIPLE X: And, that's why you're so quick to insult Lindsay in totally uncalled for situations. Like calling her a slut, or a man, or talking about her having a penis. You would know, wouldn't you? It's because you were in love and she used you for your status as champion, stomped on your heart, played you for a fool, and went on to have one of the most impressive reigns of all time – and you allowed it to happen. [/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]''How does that make you feel, Beast? Better yet, if Lindsay has male genitalia … doesn't that make you gay?'' [/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]Stevens frowned. [/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]TRIPLE X: That'd explain your obsession with homosexuality and penises, but I digress. [/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]''And, now everything makes perfect sense. Now I know the motivation behind our match – which you claim we had. If you did beat me, it was you all adrenalized with something to prove, against – I'm assuming – the EPW champ who had no idea who you were. That was your moment, to prove to yourself that you weren't the washed up has been, everybody had been saying you were. That was your night to prove everyone that said you could no longer compete at a high level wrong. And now, here you are, all these years later, trying to finish the job to something that's haunted you since it happened. You're now trying to right all of your wrongs, and change your legacy, and the final piece to the puzzle is my title. Right?[/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]''Am I right? Well, I have some good news, and some bad. The bad news is you'll definitely see your face on the unflattering side of another EPW poster. The good news? Well, I just saved a bunch of money on my car insurance by switching to Geico.''[/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]Stevens shrugged. [/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]TRIPLE X: But, it's going to be a lot different than what Lindsay did to you. There will be no masks, no secrets, and no mysteries. Your newfound infamy won't come in the form of embarrassment because your opponent made history. It will come in the form of embarrassment due to the beating that I give you. You see, I'm not going to bat my eyes, I'm not going to hold your hand, and I'm sure as hell not going to kiss you in order to get you to drop your guard, so I can get the job done. I'm just going to give you an old fashioned ass whipping. No outside interference, no tricks, no frills, no games. [/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]''It's going to be Beast versus Sean Stevens – the scrawny little pretty boy, with the blue eyes, and the flawless golden locks. But, when that cage door shuts, things are going to change, and I am going to transform into the monster that you wanted people to believe that you were, all those years ago. The monster that beat your little mini Sean Stevens senseless in my last promo. The monster that raped Caitlyn Daymon in her hotel bathroom, and dared her husband to do something about it. The same monster that threw Caitlyn's husband – Rocko – out of a three story arena window in hopes that he'd die, for this very same EPW Championship that we're about to go to war for.''[/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]Stevens paused, calming himself. Breathing heavily, he continued. [/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]TRIPLE X: You see, you no longer have the benefit of surprise at your disposal. I know exactly who you are. And, at Russian Roulette, you're going to learn exactly why I am the most feared and respected wrestler in the world – and, why you're not in mine or anyone else's top fifty.''[/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]FTB [/FONT]​

 

[DBrunkGXW]

Re: RUSSIAN ROULETTE: World Title - "Triple X" Sean Stevens (c) vs. Marcus Westcott

Posted for Jarret:
----
(Fade in... something white, no... off-white fills up the screen. Whatever it is, it seems to be moving a little bit, like something attempting to hold themselves perfectly still, but you can still see the minor, minute movements. Slow, rythmic, heavy breathing can be heard. The object in view shifts a little bit, and we can see a couple black circles, no, holes, in the white object.

The camera starts to pull back, and we see more and more of the white object. The heavy breathing continues. We see the holes we previously saw, but now, there's three perfect holes in a straight row, now we can see what looks like eyeholes... IT'S A MASK! More heavy breathing, followed by a little bit of coughing... then the heavy breathing returns again. Pull back more, and it's a huge man wearing a Jason Voorhees mask and and carrying a machete, with thick, red lquid dripping off of it.

Somewhere off-scene, an eerie voice is heard.

"Are You Afraid?"

"Jason" spikes the machete into the floor, removes the heavy coat and drops it on the floor, revealing a white t-shirt with "Sean Stevens = QUALITY ENTERTAINMENT". "Jason" then pulls off the mask, and you guessed it...

...it's the two-time A1E World Heavyweight Champion, three-time A1E Cyber Champion, five-time A1E Tag Team Champion, A1E Triple Star Champion, A1E Survivor Champion, EPW World Heavyweight Champion, Canadian Wrestling Federation World Heavyweight Champion, FWI #1 and #2 on the top 250, 2008 Winner of the Pier Six Brawl, and #1 in your hearts, Marcus Westcott.

{See? I can list off accomplishments too! And look! My list is BIGGER!}

A curtain raises, and we're in front of an EPW Russian Roulette backdrop.)

Marcus: Whoa, there, Sean... did I strike a bit of a nerve with that last segment there? I mean... "something" must have hit home for you to go off the 'ol deep end there and whip up THAT monstrosity.

"Blah blah blah Alpha Omega... blah blah King... blah no higher... blah blah respect me... blah blah scratched and clawed... blah blah legend... blah blah best wrestler on the planet... blah blah laugh, blah Empire Pro good, everywhere else bad... blah blah actions, words... blah fine wine... blah blah tshirts blah blah sell out blah blah payouts... blah blah cartoon, blah blah prominence, blah blah my promotion..."

Dude... please... for all our sakes... SHUT THE FUCK UP.

KAAAAAAW-HRIST... and you call ME boring?

You're supposed to be the best in this business? You're supposed to be the epitome of entertainment, the killer of boredom... and THIS is what we get? A grade school rendition of a horror flick where some kid is getting beaten?

I thought this was WRESTLING, Sean? Not a casting call for the next demonic possession scene in Days Of Our Lives. I learned two things from that bit... One, you're a HORRIBLE horror film maker, and Two, you're at the very least a child beater, but, knowing you, you had to be the BEST, so you probably molested him too. (Marcus smirks.) You've got a reputation for wanting to split open virgin asses, Sean, but this... this just goes a little too far.

Oh well, all the better so that you get some experience in what's going to happen to you in prison after that abortion of a promo makes it's rounds.

Let me in on a little secret, Sean...

I've done things... horrible, violent things to men that's made them shit themselves and quiver in their boots. After I've seen the carnage I've caused, I realized that I'd be shaking too if someone could do that to me. I've also been known to make some of the ladies quiver in their panties.

But... never... never... EVER...

Will I be afraid of YOU, or that steaming pile of donkey SHIT that you just sent in and called a wrestling promo.

I've been hit with kendo sticks. I've been hung on a cross. None of it matters, Sean. I've seen it all. I've done it all. I've done it all to OTHERS. There isn't a single thing YOU can do - no matter HOW far you stick out your chest... no matter HOW great you SAY you are... that will keep me from getting into that ring and tearing you limb from limb and beating you silly with them.

Hell... I'LL superkick your grandmother FOR you... and I'll use YOUR leg to do it!

Respect, Sean?... that all went out the window when I destroyed you in that cage. Because at that moment, I realized that you weren't even CLOSE to being in my league. There's other men in this business that I DO respect... no matter how much I dislike - or even hate them, because those men were able to do what very few HAVE been able to do over the course of my nine-plus years in this world, and that's defeat me CLEAN, defeat me by EARNING it.

Speaking of which... Big Dog... Paul... it's great to see you back, if only for one more night.

But Sean... no matter how far you stick out your chest, no matter how great you think you are, no matter how loud you scream it, how much you think you've scratched and clawed, how many grandmothers you superkick in the face, or how much of a legend you THINK you are...

I will NEVER respect you.

I won't respect you, Sean, because you make all these false claims. You claim you're a legend. You claim you're a King. You claim you're the BEST.

You claim you've beaten everybody.

SON...

You AIN'T BEAT ME.

And until you DO...

YOU. CAN'T. CLAIM... SHIT.

Quite frankly, I don't care if you're ready to lose your title or not.

YOU DON'T HAVE A FUCKING CHOICE IN THE MATTER.

You don't love EPW. You love yourself. You love what EPW GIVES you. No... you love what you can TAKE from it. Without you on top, EPW means NOTHING to you.

Me? Whether it's EPW, or A1E...

I just want to be the BEST.

You can make all the excuses you want, Sean. You could have been in France playing hide the weenie with your bum-buddy Francois for all I fucking care... but I don't NEED this either. I don't need the EPW pay day. I don't care whether it's you or me or JA or Daymon or anyone else that's beaten you that's leading this company... EPW is another car, or jet, or month in Japan...

No Sean, I don't need this...

I WANT THIS.

Do you want to know why I keep parading my win over you in that cage in TEAM, Sean?

Because deep down, no matter how hard you work at never bringing it up... no matter how you'll never admit it... I'm in your head.

You can't deny it. You just can't.

You have to step into the ring at Russian Roulette, and put everything you hold dear on the line - your reputation, your face, your body, and most importantly, the EPW World Heavyweight Championship - against a guy that's already proven he's your superior.

No matter how much you boast, no matter how loud you proclaim...

You know you've got to get it done against a guy you've never gotten it done against before.

And no matter how deep the false bravdo runs... as an athlete... as a HUMAN... the questions start swimming around...

"Can I really do this? Why couldn't I beat this guy last time? What do I have to do different to beat him THIS time? What if he's really just better? What if he's just too big? What if he's just too strong? What if I do my absolute best and I just can't win?"

No WONDER sports psychologists makes MINTS off of guys like us.

Of course you'll never admit it... but the questions, the doubt, the worries, the hesitations... they're all there.

And when we've beaten each other to hell and back inside that cage, when we've gone to war, and you kick me square in the face with that pathetic little superkick of yours {christ, there's something ELSE you've ripped off of others} and knock me to the canvas, and you pin me for the one, two... but the three never comes, Sean. The bell never rings, the crowd EXPLODES, and I get back up to my feet... in that moment, Sean... in that moment when you just don't know what to do... in that moment of shock, in that moment of weakness, in that moment of desperation...

In that moment of fear...

YOU'RE MINE.

When the Beast wells up, when the animal SENSES the hesitation, the doubt, when I SMELL the fear, when I SEE it in your eyes, Sean... that's when I'm going to pounce.

And that's when you're going to become my victim.

All over again.

 

[jayshort]

Re: RUSSIAN ROULETTE: World Title - "Triple X" Sean Stevens (c) vs. Marcus Westcott

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]''In my head, Marcus? That's a definite negative. You don't even believe that bullshit. I have social events, public appearances, speaking engagements, exotic women, photoshoots, and all types of commitments that come along with being an international wrestling superstar in my head. Two days ago, I didn't know your name, and wouldn't have been able to point you out in a crowd of two people. [/FONT]
​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]''Scared of you? Um, yeah. I'm gonna have to go with false on that one also, kiddo. And, while you're tallying my score, try not to make me laugh. I am afraid of mice, rats, STDs, and Lindsay Troy's breath. I don't fear punk bitches.''[/FONT]
​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]FADE: Current and only two time EPW World Heavyweight Champion, former two time CSWA Presidential Champion, current Number One Contender to the CSWA Unified Heavyweight Championship, former two time fWo Internet Champion, fWo World Tag Team Champion, four time SCW World Heavyweight Champion, two time SCW International Champion, two time HEW International Champion, HEW North American Champion, two time SCFW International Champion, EPWF World Heavyweight, 2007 EPW Wrestler of the Year, 2008 EPW Wrestler of the Year, and the #3 Fwrestling.com Wrestler of the Year ... SEAN ''TRIPLE X'' STEVENS stood in front of a Russian Roulette backdrop, in a white V-neck tee, and faded blue jeans.[/FONT]
​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]TRIPLE X: And, you really need to give it a rest. You're not harping on a match that we may or may not have had, God knows how long ago, because you think it gets to me. You keep bringing up a match that apparently wasn't in EPW, had nothing to do with the EPW or my EPW title because it's all you have left. You're grasping at straws for material to stay afloat, in the deep end of the pool, where you're clearly in way over your head, and that one minor detail is your right of passage. You don't have a problem with me because of a match we had a very long time ago, that I don't remember. You have an issue with the fact that I don't remember it, because I've moved on to bigger and better things, and you remember it in vivid detail because you've done nothing worth mentioning since. [/FONT]
​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]''For some strange reason, you keep missing the part where I never claimed to be undefeated. I never claimed to have never had a bad night, and I never said that you didn't beat me. If you did? You're in an elite fraternity with only a few members, and I applaud you for it. Good job. The match obviously meant more to you than me, but it still doesn't mean it didn't happen. But, you keep ignoring that. Because you're looking for me to validate you, to give you a stamp of approval that you could never earn for yourself. Sure, you can list your accomplishments and talk a good game, but nobody respects you, or sees you as anything more than a halfway decent midcarder. Upper midcarder if we're being generous. But, you don't get one tenth of the respect, reverence, or appreciation that I get. [/FONT]
​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]''Truth of the matter, you had very strong talking points, but the catch was, I had to play along. I had to make fun of your Beast gimmick, I had to brag about myself ninety percent of the time, and I had to make a bunch of excuses about you beating me. And, when I didn't, you had two options. Option A ... pretend as if I did and ramble on and on about your talking points, or Option B ... tell a bunch of corny jokes, make a bunch of contradictory statements, and laugh at yourself before others laughed at you, in hopes of making the sting of you not belonging hurt less. And, you did a bang up job of doing a mixture of the two, but it doesn't make you any less confusing.[/FONT]
​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]''Fact of the matter is this, you can call it overconfidence, arrogance, or narcissism ... but, I am currently the best big match wrestler in the world today. I can take a bum off of the street and carry him to a Five Star Match of the Year candidate. [/FONT]
​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]''You wanna talk about JA? Rocko Daymon? Well, considering they're the only two people to be able to say that they beat me – and one wasn't clean – I figured as much. Rocko had the match of his life at Blackdawn and did something that nobody thought he could. He avenged his loss to me in the King of the Cage tournament, and beat me after I systematically broke him down. The next week? I put his career on pause, and he's never been the same since. Instead of granting me my automatic rematch, he opted to forfeit the title, because as prestigious as the title is, and as much of an honor as it was being the EPW champion, it just wasn't worth going through another night of getting his ass kicked by the best that's ever done it. [/FONT]
​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]''Instead of giving me my title back, EPW's marketing and promotion machine decided to give it's golden boy – JA – a King of the Cage rematch, and with the help of oodles of interference and a baseball bat wielding maniac, he stole my title from me. In my rematch – at Unleashed – one on one, with no outside interference, and all the momentum on his side, I beat him to become the first ever two time EPW Heavyweight Champion ... and, because everyone said it was too close for comfort ... and, that I cheated Rocko out of an opportunity to actually defend the EPW belt, you know what I did? I took both on Wrestleverse III, and beat their asses in the center of the ring, with no outside interference. [/FONT]
​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]''How could you attempt to tarnish that? How could you put a negative spin on anything that I've done in the EPW, when I've done it all the right way? I didn't cheat to win this championship, I beat Joey Melton and Lindsay Troy in the center of the ring, fair and square. And, I haven't cheated to keep it. [/FONT]
​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]''When that other company tried to take over the EPW, who was the first in line to invade it and fight for EPW's freedom? Me. [/FONT]
​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]''When Craig Miles came here boasting about the NFW, and how this was the minor leagues, who was the guy that stepped up to the plate, and defend our companies honor? Was it you? No, it couldn't have been, because it was ME.[/FONT]
​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]''Who is currently going to war in New Frontier Wrestling's Crash 50 against Joe the Plumber and an entire company full of people that think they're better Empire Pro Wrestling? ME. [/FONT]
​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]''Don't TELL me I don't give a shit about the EPW, when every single time something or someone comes up against it, you're somewhere twiddling your thumbs, nowhere to be found, and I'm the only person on the front line. Don't you EVER insinuate that I haven't given my blood, sweat, and tears for this company, and this championship when I was the man to keep it afloat when Lindsay jumped ship, Joey lost his smile, Troy Windham disappeared, and you and your friends were busy trying to put it out of business.[/FONT]
​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]''I am EPW. You're just a wrestler trying to add another title to your collection for validation. [/FONT]
​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]''You think I give a flying fuck about another wrestler using one of my finishers? You think I'm staying up at night, thinking about what I'll tell reporters if I don't beat you? Think again. I can't process not being the EPW Champion, and can't think of any situation in which you'll beat me at Russian Roulette. Because, when I nail you with that unoriginal Superkick, that still hurts like hell, no matter who uses it, and you kick out at two? I'm not going to lose my cool, because I've been here before. I'm going to stand your bruised and broken carcass up, and kick you again. [/FONT]
​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]''And, again.[/FONT]
​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]''And, again if that's what it takes. Because I'm walking out of Russian Roulette as EPW World Champion, and I will be EPW World Champion until I say it's time to stop. You? You're just like everybody else who was once in your position. You have hope, you have a prayer, but ultimately, you're nothing more than another witness to my greatness, that tried and failed.''[/FONT]
​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]FTB[/FONT]
​

 

[MarcusWestcott]

Re: RUSSIAN ROULETTE: World Title - "Triple X" Sean Stevens (c) vs. Marcus Westcott

"Wow... yet another promo where Sean Stevens artifically over-inflates himself.
Who would-a thunk it?"

(Fade in... Inside the arena where Russian Roulette is just days away from taking place. The arena is empty, but the symbol of professional wrestling - the squared circle - sits where it belongs, in the center of the arena under a spotlight, where men and women have fought and bled, sweat, and cried - the rightful center of attention.

Above the ring hangs the specially designed cage he demanded built for this match.
The camera pulls back, showing a lone figure seated about halfway up the first section of seats, just staring at the ring and the cage, leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his hands intertwined in front of him, his chin resting on his hands. Marcus Westcott. Dreaming, perhaps? Reminiscing? Focusing?

Perhaps one, perhaps all.

Marcus finally lets out a long breath, leaning back into the seat, and crossing his right ankle over his left thigh.)

Marcus: Congratulations, Sean. You've been in a few nasty matches. It's like you've tasted it. You call the cage your domain, a place where you excel. But in reality, it's a place where you stop in once in a while, visit, and you do some extraordinary things. You come in, have a really nice cup of coffee, and you move on.

I would expect that one that speaks so highly of the cage to be its Master. It's owner. A place where there are no superiors.

A place where a man is undefeated.

But that's what you want us to believe, isn't it, Sean? You come out here and you rattle off a list of injuries you've sustained in the cage, a list of things you've done to other people, and you expect it to IMPRESS me and everyone else. You expect it to scare us off.

You may have had a few cups of coffee in a cage, Sean, but I simply call this...

HOME.

Come on, Sean. It's not like you're the only person that's made a living in dangerous situations, or been injured while you've done them. You make it seem like you're special for doing it.

I've busted ribs, Sean. I've got my fingers hooked in the mesh of the cell and listened to them snap. I've caught my hand in the steel of the cage and listened to the crunch of my wrist as it was taken directions it wasn't meant to go. I've hurt knees, almost lost an ear, wrecked a knee, smashed a nose...

... all part of the territory.

I've been in submission matches, Hardcore matches. Martial arts matches. Ladder matches, TLC matches. I've been in I Quit matches, last man standing matches, Parking Lot Stairway to Hell matches, Sean. I've been in matches where our fists were wrapped and had glass glued to our knuckles. I've been in cage matches. Hell in a Cell. I've been in a match in an octogon hanging 20 feet above the ring, but could only win in the ring below. I've been in streetfights. I've been in Pier Six Brawls in a ring surrounded by barbed wire with 30 opponents.

And with one exception, I've won EVERY. SINGLE. ONE. OF. THEM.

Hell, Sean... I defended a title where you either had to be knocked out or submitted for almost a year, so you coming out here to talk to me about the few little battles you've been in really doesn't carry a lot of weight with me. I've been there. I've been beaten. I've been battered, bloody, bruised. I've been destroyed to within half an inch of my life, times where I just should have thrown in the towel, but I didn't, Sean.

I got back up to my feet and I won the damned match. Win, lose, legend, lame-o, whatever people have thought of me along the way, they've all agreed on one thing about me, and that I will never, ever, until the blood has either stopped flowing through my veins, or the last breath has left my lungs, will I ever give up.

That's the main difference between you and I. You think you're just so FAR ABOVE everything that you don't appreciate the litte things about this sport, this industry, this business... you think you're entitled.

You ignore everything anyone can ever say about you. You have this huge sense of bravado... in one promo you claim that nothing that happens outside of EPW and the World Championship matters, or heck, even EXISTS to you, and then the next you rattle off a list of titles from a federation that everyone took a gigantic DUMP on years ago in a fantastically hippocritcal attempt to further inflate yourself. Hell, you could challenge four men, get justifiably beaten, and then no-sell it better than anyone and proclaim it never even happened because you know, Sean?

You're not a man. You're a rich little teenage BITCH asshole that will say, or DO anything to maintain his image.

Me? I'm a farm-fed country boy that has worked every god damned day of his life for what he has, and win or lose, takes what he gets and has NEVER made an excuse for anything. Have I lost a match? Fine, I got beat. I don't sweep it under the rug and pretend it never existed, because unlike you, Sean, I can take it.

You can't suffer the blow to your fucking HUGE ego, or the scratch to your armor, because once that scratch is there, once that chink is in the armor, once the word gets out, the walls come crumbling down faster than a fat chick jumping on a Twinkie, and you're no longer Sean Stevens.

You're just a scawny little bitch that spew out a lot of words that ultimately mean nothing to anyone else but himself.

You're just a man.

No longer larger than life. No longer miles above anyone. Like it's been said a hundred times before, Sean, you put yourself so far up high on that pedestal, and the fall that I'm bringing to you at Russian Roulette is that much farther and that much more painful.

I could never resent a man like that, Sean.

As much as you THINK you know me, Sean, you couldn't be farther from the truth.
For me to resent you the way you speak of, that means I would have had to be similarly resentful of JA, and of Rocko Daymon. You know those two guys. The guys that defeated you for your title inside of a year.

Whoever's Champion doesn't matter to me. Like you, Sean, they're just a person. An object. Something to blow through on my way to my rightful spot as Champion of this company.

I don't resent whoever holds the title. I don't resent you. I think you're a gigantic ASSHOLE, but I certainly don't resent you. Because you hold that title just means that you're the one I have to beat to get what I want. Nothing more, nothing less.
Of course, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't pissed off at Lindsay. No, I'll do something you could never do, and that is being honest to a point that makes me look fallible.

But if your (finger quotes) personal assistants had really done their job, then you'd know that my disdain for Lindsay Troy runs far deeper than the events of Empire Pro, but that's because you're a moron and you don't realize that there's an entire universe that exists outside of this company.

No, that's wrong to say that. You KNOW there's worlds that exist outside of EPW, but you're just too arrogant and egotistical to admit it.

No, Sean, my hatred for Lindsay is miles deeper than my hatred even for you. That's why I make fun of her. That's why I crack the jokes about her, say she has a penis, all that kinds of stuff. She betrayed me long before you even came on the scene to pollute the air with your incredibly poor attitude, and that is something that I'm going to carry for a long, long time. So I take shots when I can. If you'd seen Jessica, you'd know I'm the farthest thing from gay - not that that's a bad thing - but of course, that's just another testament to your ignorance. Yup, I rode Lindsay Troy like Seattle slough, and while I didn't get the cock out of it, I certainly got the crabs and that made me a very angry person.

Lindsay punching me in the balls and taking my World Title certainly wasn't the high point of my career, but unlike you, I'm not going to bury it, and while I got Dis'd, and I HATE Lindsay, I'm certainly don't have YOUR attitude that women shouldn't be near a ring. There's enough of those people around this circuit who's heads are shoved so far up their asses they've gone back in time to the 1800's.

But it's just another testament to how much of a gigantic blowhard megalomaniac you are.

It's time to back to the Golden Ages... when Champions FOUGHT every week and actually APPEARED on more than one show on the way to defending their belt at a PPV. Gone are the days where giant blowhard CUNTS like you pollute our business. It's time to go back to where we had a FIGHTING CHAMPION.

Yeah, like the days when I held the belt.

EPW is popular now, Sean, but if it wasn't for guys like ME and Christian Sands to provide the foundation for this company, people like YOU wouldn't have the platform you have today. WE carried this promotion on our backs when the times were tough and we were fighting to gain ground against all the other federations out there today - the ones that you claim don't even exist - and build this company to the point where assholes like you swoop in to cash on the payday, have a cup of coffee with the business, and get out while the gettin's good. We fought and left our blood, sweat, and tears on that canvas for PUNKS like you to have a spot in this business today.

You're nothing but an ungrateful PUNK that needs to be slapped around and shown how things REALLY are out here in the REAL world.

In MY world.

You? Step in line when WHO was trying to take over EPW?

What, you're into revisionist history, now? It was EPW trying to take over A1E, you MORON.

But, we never claimed you were intelligent.

Actually, no... I take some of that back.

I DO resent you, Sean. Just a little bit. Just a teeny, tiny bit. While I went on a Championship tear for 10 months, and then did my part to make history when Lindsay won the title, I never got my payback. I got a clusterfuck shot in a five-way match at the busiest time in my life and career where I couldn't focus as much as I wanted to, and I got beat, and Sean, you heard it first... that's the ONLY excuse I'm EVER going to make. But I never got the one on one shot I'm getting now. And I had to sit back and watch contender after contender get shot after shot, some like you get two, while I got tied up with losers like Craig Miles.

But that blame can't be totally placed in your hands. You're just the end result. You're just the one standing there with the title around their waist. As I said before, you're just the one I have to beat. MY problems lie more with the EPW Executive, and you of all people know who holds that position, don't you, Sean?

Maybe NOW you'll understand just a little more.

So yes, Sean, while you were the FIRST man to climb the mountain twice, you certainly aren't going to be the LAST, and that, along with all your other mediocre accomplishments will be just one MORE thing that you can't claim as your own and I will have taken from you.

You're just LUCKY that it I didn't take it from you last time I beat you in TEAM. The only thing is that belt wasn't on the line, but my motivation, Sean, was to beat you and take A1E to the top of the TEAM tournament. You're right, I had something to prove, but it sure as hell wasn't beating Sean Stevens. My motivation was to elevate A1E in eyes of all the beholders, to show all of those that hadn't even seen A1E and were looking down on us to show us exactly what was going on and exactly what we were capable of.

You, Sean? You were just the guy I had to beat that night.

Sound familiar?

The goal then, as it is now, is something much bigger than you could ever become. It's something much bigger than even you can make yourself in your own mind.

That belt, Sean... ANY World Championship belt, even the ones that exist outside this company - are bigger than any one person, and it's really a shame that you haven't learned that lesson yet.

And Sean...

You may be proud of kicking the crap out of an eight year old boy, but you're about to find out VERY quickly that I'm no eight year old boy. I'm not Caitlyn Daymon. I'm not Rocko, either.

I am that which you have not beaten. I am that which you cannot beat.

I never needed the element of surprise to beat you before, Sean. I've beaten plenty of guys that I had no idea who they were, but apparently, you need to KNOW someone before you can beat them.

Yup. That's a real Champion for you.

Your pathetic reign is over.

Hail to the new King.

(Fade out.)

 

[jayshort]

Re: RUSSIAN ROULETTE: World Title - "Triple X" Sean Stevens (c) vs. Marcus Westcott

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif][FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]''Hail to the new king? We call that false advertising where I'm from, Beast. I'm not going anywhere.''[/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]FADE: EPW World Heavyweight Champion, SEAN ''TRIPLE X'' STEVENS on the steps of the O-rena, in his hometown of Orlando, Florida. [/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]TRIPLE X: For you to be such a veteran, with so much big match experience, it's surprising that you were never taught that things change. People adapt. And, learn from their mistakes. Granted, I don't remember ever wrestling you, so I don't really know what mistakes I made in our supposed match, but If you did beat me, which I'm not denying, rest assured ... it does not, and will not guarantee that it will happen again. [/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]''A few nasty matches? Bitch, check my catalog. In fact, you don't even have to go that far. You already know the mark that I've made on this industry, and your newly discovered obsession with the cage, and being king is just a testament to you following my lead. [/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]''And, yeah ... I know, I know. Before you bore us with all the details again. You've been in all the best cage matches. All the best table matches. Your scaffold matches were legendary. And, that time that you went to Never Never Land to take on the notorious Captain Hook blows any of my match of the year wars out of the water, even if I did win the actual Match of the Year award the last two years. The fans voted, the people voted, and I won, but we all concede that yours were better, because you said they were, and any and everything that you say goes. [/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]''But, for someone so annoyed by my arrogance, by my decade of dominance, you sure do go out of your way to give examples to suggest that you are the exact same thing. In fact, you criticizing me for all of my accomplishments, only to turn around and list yours in an effort to impress me, and prove that you can keep up tells me more than I need to know about you. [/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]''You'll never admit it. You'll laugh when I suggest it. But, the reason you're so obsessed with a match that we apparently had, the reason you seem to insult, then ape each and every one of my promos, the reason why you seem to go out of your way to study my every word for a mistake is because you admire me. You admire my intelligence. My fortitude. My adaptability. My courage. My ability to take whatever this company throws at me, and thrive. You'd like to think that if I lost the EPW title that I'd disappear, because that makes you feel better about what you did, but you know better.[/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]''And, you can spin this next statement any way that you want, but you're f'king stupid if you think the person holding the title has nothing to do with it's prestige. A professional embarrassment like Cameron Cruise winning the A1E World Heavyweight Championship instantly made that title's pawn shop value ten bucks. And, I restored credibility to the EPW World Heavyweight Championship after it was initially passed around like a hot potato when Lindsay lost it. [/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]''You see, you can say it's about the title only, but we all know what this is about, hell you even admitted it. It's about your insecurities. About the fact that a simple mind game was all it took to remove you from the top of the mountain, and place you in midcard purgatory. And, while you toiled in mediocrity, I took my place as this company's champion, as this company's king, and did things you could only dream of doing. I became the face of Empire Pro Wrestling. Any and everything that ran through the EPW ran through ME. When I lost my title, I didn't sit around and bitch about the situation and call the person that dethroned me a bunch of names. I rolled up my sleeves, put on my construction boots, and went to work. I proved the doubters wrong. I shut the bloggers up. I silenced my critics, not by what I said, but with what I did.[/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]''I did the unthinkable. I laughed at the things that they called the impossible. Difficult took me a day, impossible took me a week. One loss to Lindsay Troy under a mask took you five years.[/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]''And, you really want to talk about the difference between you and me?[/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]''For all of your talk, you're the coward. A tuck-you-tail-between-your-legs coward. You're the punk ass bitch that returned to his farm for R&R after you were tricked out of your title, and you're the guy that made a bunch of excuses as to why you couldn't get it back. I know other places exist, I made my name in other promotions, but I don't need to dwell on my accomplishments in other promotions because my EPW resume is impressive enough. Is yours? Can you say the same thing? Yeah, you were champion, but you were weak. You were given the ball, and you did absolutely nothing with it, and your impact in this promotion is, was, and will forever be non existent. You wish you could be me. You wish you could wrestle in a heated contest one day, and turn around and attend a fashion show in Milan the next, but because you can't, you criticize me for it, and claim that my heart isn't in it. [/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]''Well, Marcus ... I've been on top for a very long time, for someone who's heart isn't in it, and if I've been half-assing it for the last three years, to this level of success, then maybe just maybe I'm even better than I thought I was. I'm better than you in every conceivable way, and when we step into that cage at Russian Roulette you will learn that. Because, I'm not going anywhere, Marcus. And, if Russian Roulette history has taught us anything, it's you that'll be disappearing after another bout with heartbreak. And, you can try to motivate yourself, you can try to tell yourself that I'm not better than you, that I'm only a man, and to the latter, you're right.[/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]''I am just a man, but I'm the better man. And, if I didn't prove that the last time we met, I will definitely make my statement in a couple of days.''[/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]FTB[/FONT]
​

[/FONT][/FONT]

 

[MarcusWestcott]

Re: RUSSIAN ROULETTE: World Title - "Triple X" Sean Stevens (c) vs. Marcus Westcott

(Inside his locker room early the day of Russian Roulette, EPW World Heavyweight Champion #1 contender Marcus Westcott is seated near the back of the locker room, still in street clothes; red/white/black striped EVH shoes, blue jeans, and a Detroit Red Wings fall jacket. Marcus is seated on a bench, leaning back against the wall, kind of staring off into space, the television in the background showing a pre-hype show for Russian Roulette.

As the highlight clip ends, the programming changes to show Sean Stevens' latest promo, and that gets Marcus' attention. He turns to watch the offering, and as he does, his eyes roll back into his head several times. In the middle of the promo, Marcus walks over to a stack of DVD's on a table, flips through them and selects one, and puts it in the DVD player and hits play. Marcus' voice comes over the camera

"Blah blah blah Alpha Omega... blah blah King... blah no higher... blah blah respect me... blah blah scratched and clawed... blah blah legend... blah blah best wrestler on the planet... blah blah laugh, blah Empire Pro good, everywhere else bad... blah blah actions, words... blah fine wine... blah blah tshirts blah blah sell out blah blah payouts... blah blah cartoon, blah blah prominence, blah blah my promotion..."

(The video cuts out, and we're left with Stevens' smiling mug. Suddenly, a sledgehammer comes swinging in from off-screen, SMASHING the Stevens visage square in the face. The TV explodes, and pieces fall to the floor everywhere.

Marcus drops the sledgehammer amongst the ruins of the TV, and leaves the locker room as we fade out.)[/I]

 

[jayshort]

Re: RUSSIAN ROULETTE: World Title - "Triple X" Sean Stevens (c) vs. Marcus Westcott

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]FADE: The scene opened up inside of the dressing room of EPW World Heavyweight Champion, SEAN 'TRIPLE X' STEVENS. It was almost go time, and Stevens was dressed for battle, in a black, sleeveless ''King of the World'' t-shirt, and black and green tights. [/FONT]
​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]In the background, via backstage monitor, was Marcus Westcott's latest promo.[/FONT]
​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]WESTCOTT: Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, Stevens is better than me, blah, blah, blah, Triple X is more of a man than I ever could be, blah, blah, blah, blah, I get a little tingly feeling down my pants whenever Stevens enters a room, blah, blah, blah, blah, Sean was right, I am nothing more than a talentless midcarder that can think of nothing else to say so I'm forced to continue saying, blah, blah, blah."[/FONT]
​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]Or atleast, that's what it sounded like to the champ.[/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]Sitting on a bench, Trip arched his neck in the direction of the camera.[/FONT]
​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]TRIPLE X: Ladies and Gentlemen, this is coming from a guy whose promos this week were like watching paint dry. [/FONT]
​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]''Oh, and Beast, monitors don't hit back. Nice try, though.''[/FONT]
​

[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]The incredibly handsome, rich, and accomplished champion slash legend smiled, puffed out his chest, batted his beautiful blue eyes, then walked to the nearest bathroom to take a shit.[/FONT]


Similar to the way he's shitted on Marcus Westcott this entire week.


[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]FTB[/FONT]
​

 

[MarcusWestcott]

Re: RUSSIAN ROULETTE: World Title - "Triple X" Sean Stevens (c) vs. Marcus Westcott

(Fade in... Marcus Westcott in his locker room, still in his street clothes minus his shirt, talking on his cell phone.)

Marcus: Yeah, you wouldn't have believed it. He actually took a dump on camera. What's that? Yeah, no kidding. He ripped THAT off, too. Dan Ryan did that YEARS ago when it was still cutting edge. And hell, I ripped it off of HIM once. Nice to see Stevens coming up with new material. He's so exciting, and everyone else is so boring. Yeah, man, I'll talk to you later. After this week, I feel like grabbing a good book and sitting on the throne to take a giant, greasy, steamy Stevens myself. See you at the show.

(Marcus hangs up the phone, and starts unlacing his shoes.)

Marcus: Change, Sean? You want to stand there and lecture me about change? You're absolutely right, Sean. People change. Circumstances change. Match situations are always evolving and changing, and if you don't adapt and keep up, you're gonna get left behind. You're spot on.

Problem is, Sean, while I beat your ass in the cage, I'm not the same guy I was back then. I'm not the same guy I was back in 2004 when I picked this company up, put it on my shoulders, and turned EPW into THE PLACE TO BE in professional wrestling.
I've been through wars. I've been through life changes. I've been through personal situations, and I've come out a different man.

When we step into the ring at Russian Roulette, Sean, you're not wrestling the same guy that beat you in the cage. You're not wrestling the same guy that YOU say was toiling around the mid-card while you were in the spotlight. The Beast may be an animal, but even animals evolve and change. If you think you're wrestling the same guy you already faced, then this match is going to be easier than I thought.

You, on the other hand...

... are still the same big-mouthed, big-headed, arrogant, egotistical, loathesome, hippocritical, delusional, blow-hard, air-headed, sack of monkey shit you've always been.

And I've BEATEN that Sean Stevens.

And I'm going to do it AGAIN to prove that I was right all along.
I never said I was in all the best matches, Sean. That's your territory. You're like Oprah Winfrey... you fart, and suddenly people around you feel better. I simply said that I've been in some brutal matches in my day, so you talking about the cage like it's the end-all be-all really doesn't scare me in the least. You want to puff your chest out and talk about your "match of the year" awards? That's all fine and dandy with me, pal. I've been in a lot of great matches, and I'll go so far as to say that you have too, but at least unlike you, *I'm* happy enough with myself and what I've accomplished that I didn't have to bribe all my friends with blowjobs to vote for me like you did to earn some award that in the grand scheme of things is ultimately meaningless.

And this is the kinda stuff that you think makes me ADMIRE you?

Let me get one thing perfectly clear.

Guys like you? Scrawny little pretty boys born with the silver spoon so far up their ass your mommy had to wear surgical gloves every time she fed you, that think their shit don't stink?

Go fuck yourself, Sean Stevens.

That right there is exactly that attitude bullshi[/i]t I've been talking about all along, and I'm going to smack it right the fuck off of your smug, ugly face when we get into that cage at Russian Roulette, and I'm going to take the EPW World Heavyweight Championship right off of your pimply shoulders. I watch every tape... I study every motion... I hang on your every word so I can look for a chance to show you exactly how fucking STUPID you sound each and every time you open your mouth. I LOVE dissecting every little part to throw it ALL back in your pre-pubescent teenager FACE, just to show the WORLD what a hopeless, desperate, petty little man you really are. So desperate to display your dominance... you're just a scrawny little fuck that's trying to hang with the big boys... your little speeches trying so hard to overcompensate for your lack of... size.

You know what you really are, Sean?

You're the tiny little puppy walking down the sidewalk next to the big bulldog, so desperate to prove that you belong, your so-called "decade of dominace" capped off by a title win that you can't even claim as your own. The little puppy fell ass-backward into the EPW World Title, and you haven't had a contender worth their salt to challenge you for it.

I BEAT all those challengers, Sean.

I've BEATEN all of EPW's World Champions.

Some decade of dominance.

You haven't even beat ME.

Oh, by the way... I love your little pot shot at A1E. The guy holding the title makes it worth ten bucks.

Well Sean, that's about $7.49 and a Cheeseburger Happy Meal MORE than the value of the EPW title since you've gotten your greasy, grimy, worthless little hands on it. When *I* had that title, it meant the realization of a dream. It meant scratching your way up the mountain and finally overcoming obstacles. I LOST the first ever match I had for that title, Sean, and then I came back the very next month and WON IT.

IN A CELL.

So don't talk to me about "putting your construction boots on", pal. You're just ripping me off again. I did it YEARS before you ever did.

And at Russian Roulette, I'm going to climb that mountain again, and I'm going to throw you the fuck right OFF the top of it and send you crash landing right at the bottom of the pile where you and all your bull**** belongs.

And there I will be, standing on TOP of the mountain...

Once more... rightfully...

EPW. WORLD. HEAVYWEIGHT. CHAMPION.

And you can fuck off back to Wonderland where you're the greatest thing since sliced bread and jerk off to posters of yourself and the mirror above your bed, while the rest of us live in the REAL world.

Under the NEW Monarchy.

(Fade out.)