TEAM Super Show I: Kin Hiroshi and Rocko Daymon vs. Bryan Storms and Troy Douglas

[TH]

Promo Deadline: Wednesday, July 12th, 11:59:59 PM

The Muffin Man, challenged spurned by Dan Ryan, teams up with A1E's newest superstar Daymon to face the newly crowned MCW Champion Storms and A1E and CSWA superstar Douglas.

 

[RStrawsma]

SCENE BEGINS

(Fade from black onto a simple TEAM backdrop. Daymon steps into frame, wearing his usual wrestling gear and a black High On Fire t-shirt over his chest. He wastes no time in addressing the camera.)

Daymon
People haven't seen me here in TEAM in a while. Odds are, some people out there may not remember me, since I was evicted from the tournament by Dan Ryan. I guess I have to give respect where it's due... Dan gave me an excellent challenge, and I was disappointed to see he didn't go all the way.

But, the tournament is over, and now I must move on to other things...

I laid down an open challenge expecting to be paired against a worthy competitor. Instead, I find myself in a tag match, siding with Kin Hiroshi to go up against Bryan Storms and Troy Douglas.

I've heard much about these three men in other federations... but I regret having ever met any of them in the ring in any memorable matches. I finally get that opportunity now, seeing three great professional wrestlers up close in action, actually going up against two of them.

There's no personal vendetta in this equation. What does it mean when you pull together four well-known superstars from various federations who have little in common with each other into one big tag match? It means show filler.

Not that I have a problem with that. I neglected to personally challenge anybody because I merely wanted an opportunity to appear on TEAM again since my defeat in the tournament. I got that opportunity by being in this match, and I'm happy with that, even if it means fighting without any clear goal other than entertaining the fans in attendance and the viewers at home.

Even so, the four of us have a duty to show up and do what we naturally do best. When you boil it all down, titles lose their luster and the grand arena becomes a prison, and all that's left is a man's love for the ring.

That's why all I can offer the three of you tonight is a promise. To Hiroshi, I can promise that I'll stand at your side through this match. If we put the ego bull**** aside, we can work together and win this thing. To Troy Douglas and Bryan Storms, I can promise that I'll bring everything I can offer and more into the ring. I may not be a man known for great titles and merits through other federations, but then again, I'm not the man who seeks fame. I fight merely to win, not as a champion or legend, but as a mere man.

I wish all of you the best of luck when the time comes for us to fight. If we all do our part, the four of us will all walk out of that ring as winners.

(With a nod, Daymon walks out of the frame, and the camera fades to black.)

SCENE ENDS

 

[DizzaHizza]

* "Crazy *****" by Buckcherry slowly fades out and gives way to "Copacabana" by Barry Manilow over a portable iPod stereo system. The hookers on the hotel room bed barely notice, and the only thing that stirs is the quivering, and defiled, oyster ditch of each of the women.

Kin Hiroshi wipes an indiscrete powder from his lip as an inquisitive look spreads through his face. Popping his head out of the hotel bathroom, Kin gives his gums a good wipe as he pulls his bikini briefs back on. A faint knock on the door catches his attention, and he jumps a foot when he opens the door to reveal a TEAM camera crew.

Hestitently, Hiroshi opens the door and steps out into the hallway... *

KIN HIROSHI: "My bad, guys, I'm not used to this 'TEAM' thing yet, and for all I know, you might be cops. You're not wired are you?"

* Both men shake their heads, but it doesn't stop Hiroshi from frisking them. Once satisfied, Hiroshi, starting to feel the effects of the indiscrete powder, continues. *

KIN HIROSHI: "Now, you must be here about the match that I have, right? Right! So, I'm teaming with a man who thinks that Kin Hiroshi is 'filler'. Just because he beat Mr. T doesn't mean that Rocky Daymon knows s**t from crap. I mean, sure, EVERYONE has seen all of his movies, although Rocky-Vee sucked balls, but that doesn't mean he's smart. I mean, look at Muhammad Ali Babba. Daymon, you keep taking more shots to the face than Big Gay Bruce in UCW and you're bound to end up with the shakes.

"That doesn't mean that THE Muffin Man isn't in your corner, because I'm ditching Drury Lane to come kick some ass with you.

"Who's ass? Bryan Storms, of X-Men fame, and, that bastard, Troy Douglas.

"Now, I'll keep my coments about Storm to a minimum, but the fact that a chick has to fight us is SOOO cliche at this point thanks to Lindsay Troy. Personally, I think Storm needs to focus on Wolverine so the kids don't grow up resenting mommy. *cough*LINDSAYTROY*cough*.

"Ever wonder what happens to a Muffin Man in a lightning storm? He kicks the lightning back into the clouds and wipes his ass with the thunder.

And Troy Douglas, the one person I am familiar with. I first heard about Troy when he...when he...

* Hiroshi's eyes start rolling around in his head, darting all over the place... *

KIN HIROSHI: "...when he was known as Geraldine Ferraro and tag-teamed with Walter Mondale to claim the Democtratic World Title in 1984, only to lose it to an actor later that year.

"*****.

"I voted for Mondale. I mean, any man nicknamed 'Fritz' is a winner in my book.

"Your nickname isn't Fritz, is it, Troy?

"Cause that would really freak my s**t out right now.

"Anyways, guys, I gotta jet and let my 'meat steeple' bust up some 'biddle coves' that I paid top dime for, and smoke the dime that I paid top dollar for."

* FADE TO BLACK *

 

[CuseTroy]

FADE IN...

Open on a booth at the Sports Depot in Allston, MA, where TEAM Super Show teammates Troy Douglas and Bryan Storms sit, enjoying a lunch and strategy session. Bryan works on a caesar salad, Troy is halfway through a cup of New England Clam Chowder. The two put down their utensils for a moment and look to the camera. They seem to be ignoring the rather raucous early afternoon noise in the background and focusing only on what lies ahead of them.

TD: Now, normally I wouldn't have called a camera crew here in the middle of the day and interrupt the goings-on of this fine establishment, but I realize my friend and I have been a little lax in addressing our opponents for the upcoming TEAM Super Show here in Boston.

BS: So Muffin Man, Rocko, this one goes out to the both of you.

TD: Now, while my esteemed partner and newly crowned MCW World Champion may not have any experience at all with either Rocko Daymon or Kin Hiroshi, I certainly do. Daymon, while we may never have had the chance to meet man-to-man in the center of the ring, we certainly have spent enough time working for the same men that I've become quite familiar with your work. I've got to say, I like it, and I've looked forward to getting in the ring with you for some time now.

But, not as much as I've been looking forward to getting another shot at you, Kin Hiroshi. In the state you're in, you may not remember our first encounter, but I certainly do. It was almost two-and-a-half years ago, and that night, you got the better of me. I would've asked for another shot at you right then and there, but I never got the chance. So for 30 months, through injury, through semi-retirement, you were one of the opponents always stuck in the back of my mind. I knew if I ever got a shot at you, I'd take it. Now, thanks to TEAM, I've got it, and I intend to show you why I am far better than I was two-and-a-half years ago.

BS: Now, that's all well and good, Troy, but, as you said, I happen to lack any personal history with either you or our two opponents at the Super Show. However, the one thing I do not lack is a world championship around my waist. That makes me, even if I lack the experience or the overall accolades of the three men sharing the ring with me at the TD Banknorth Garden, one of the standard bearers in this industry. It means that every time I go between those ropes, I put on a show for all those watching at home, and I do it as well as anybody you'll find.

Which means, Rocko, that when the four of us step into the ring, it will most assuredly not be show filler. We may not have the prestigious billing of some of the other matchups on this card, but we are every bit as capable of putting on a classic as any other man who will be in the arena for the show.

Kin, Rocko, that means you two better come in guns ablazin', because the two of us will sure be ready to blow the damn roof off the building, and if you don't bring it to the ring, you'll just be left dazed and beaten in the aftermath.

That's no bull, that's just the gospel truth, straight from a world champ.

TD: So Rocko Daymon, Kin Hiroshi, we're looking forward to getting you in the ring at the Super Show. There may not have been a personal vendetta or a challenge behind this match, or even much hype or history, but that doesn't mean that Bryan and I won't come to the ring with the same intensity we do every single night of our careers.

No, there's nothing tangible on the line between the four of us. Just pride and respect. But if you know me at all, you'll know just how much those two things mean to me, and how hard I'm willing to fight to prove that I belong in the upper echelon of this profession.

BS: Count me in on that.

TD: Come the TEAM Super Show, the two of you will find out just how dangerous a team of two focused, dedicated men can be, even if this is just filler. Padding or not, we'll be there to fight...

BS:...mutant superhero comparisons notwithstanding.

TD: Now, if you'll excuse us, we'll get back to our lunch.

BS: You stay classy, kids.

...FADE TO BLACK

 

[RStrawsma]

SCENE BEGINS

(Backstage, perhaps a few hours before TEAM's first ever Super Show. An air of sobriety fills the arena, the typical pre-match mental conditioning that every wrestler goes through before going out and facing his destiny.)

(The door promptly opens, and entering is Daymon, wearing his customary cut-off jeans and a Neurosis t-shirt, a gym bag held in his right hand. Without a word he goes to the bench and gets to work, removing his shoes and shirt and opening the gym bag to pull out his knee and elbow pads. In silence he gears up, lacing his boots and strapping on his gloves, then sits in silence, eyes focused on the air before him.)

Daymon
To me, it's just another match... but something still doesn't sit quite right in my stomach, going into this.

I don't get it. It seems every week, I'm going someplace new to square off against a new opponent. Usually, it's over nothing... just an exhibition against a fellow competitor, the both of us just looking to move up a little in the industry, one win at a time, while elsewhere drama and feuds unfold.

Yet every time I come here into the locker room and get ready to face off, the same feeling washes over me like an relapsing H addict.

(With squinting eyes, he looks up into the camera.)

Daymon
You know what I think it means?

Maybe it's just a natural reaction for someone of my standing. Maybe it's the knowledge that whatever is coming, no matter how trivial or tedious, is my calling. Like a duck takes to water, I get the same vibe every time I know a match is just around the corner.

I've had matches that the experts might call "important" or "career-deciding" or some other fancy lingo... then I've had matches like this, where I step into the ring with a group of strangers, and whether I win or lose makes no difference; I walk away a better wrestler than I did going in, and I move on to other things.

Yet I still get the same feeling, regardless of what kind of match it is.

So what does that tell you, Troy Douglas and Bryan Storms? Do you think that I'm insinuating you two, who I know merely by reputation, are suddenly the azimuth of everything I've ever worked for across all the feds I've been in?

No, I'll flesh it out for you...

I look beyond names and titles. I see underneath all the reputation that most wrestlers carry with them as if it was all they had to offer to their career, and I see the man that exists beneath. I look into his eyes, and I judge whether or not he has the talent and motivation to go head to head with me.

You guys could be the world champions you are or just the basic jobbers looking for a weekly paycheck... I'll approach you the same way, no matter who or what you are. I'll calculate how close you come to being at my level, and I make the necessary arrangements to defeat you.

You two aren't my destiny, I'm afraid... but when that bell rings tonight, you'll be my only concern in the world. That's the way it works for everybody that inevitably falls into my path.

Douglas, being the only man I'm remotely familiar with, I can give you just respect on the account that you won't take me lightly. Perhaps more than I give my own tag partner. Reputation and titles aside, the very spirit you carry with you into the ring is the one thing I admire most about you.

It's not every day I cross paths with another true professional wrestler... one that cuts through the bull**** and realizes that the deciding factor is one man's mettle against the other's.

Pride and respect is all it's about for you. I couldn't have said it better myself. Unfortunately for you, you're still in the phase of trying to make it to the big game. I've moved beyond such ambitions; I merely fight and win, and see where the game takes me. A little less glamorous, perhaps, but I could care less what people think about me fifty years down the line when I'm gone. I'm in this for right now, and right now, I'm in it to put you and your partner on your backs.

Storms, you seem to know to give credit when it's due, but when I compete, I fight beyond the boundaries of "credit." It's just four men in the ring... that's all it is. Let the victor be decided by the killer instinct within us all.

A world title hangs around your waist, but I've seen enough of them on enough waists to know that being Champion of the World, at least these days, isn't quite as glorious as it once was. But accomplishments aside, rest assured, I'll come in with "guns a'blazin'," as you put it.

I've never experienced a moment in my career where I didn't do just that and more. If I didn't come into that ring every night with the intent to win through any means necessary, then hell, I shouldn't have wasted my time by coming to the ring at all.

Don't hope for anything special from me... just expect it. The only hope you should have is if you're fully prepared for what I have to bring.

Good luck to the both of you, tonight and in future paths. But know that I strive to make myself the incarnate form of wrestling spirit, every night I step into the ring, whether my opponent is my mortal foe or a complete stranger, as are the both of you. Where we go from here is up to you...

But for me, complete and absolute victory is the only thing on my mind.

(Daymon's head lowers as he goes into a mode of thought. We fade to black.)

SCENE ENDS

 

[CuseTroy]

Stream of Consciousness

Is this really what it all comes down to?

Is this the summit? Or is there much more waiting to be found?

Rhetorical questions. Hate 'em. I prefer solid, honest truth, spoken or unspoken. That's what we got from Rocko Daymon. Sure, it was wrapped up in layers of backwards philosophy and doublespeak, but it was there. He's a man who wants to fight, and who am I to deny him the opportunity?

Damn. Now I'm the one asking the f**king rhetorical questions.

Where was I?

Oh yeah, Daymon. He spoke about a lot of things, many of them very close to my heart. He's a fighter, a survivor, which I know a hell of a lot about.

I've been through too damn much not too.

He said he comes to the ring every night with the very same attitude, no matter who he's facing, no matter what's at stake. Every single night, the men across the ring become nothing but faceless opposition in the way of victory.

What I'm sure Rocko understands, is that for me, every single, solitary night is exactly the same for me. When I step through that curtain, there's no pretenses, no illusions, just a man standing across from me who is yet another obstacle in my way. I train, I study, I focus, and when I step into that squared circle I give everything I have, every time I'm out there, no matter the result.

If I lose, I lose. I've lost enough in my life to realize that three seconds face up on a canvas mat isn't the worst thing that can happen to you. But I go out there, every damn time, with the intention of walking out of the arena the better man.

Because it's not about ego, it's not about size, it's not about ability. It's about combining your physical talents with all the heart, guts, and willpower you can muster. A year ago, I didn't think I had any of that left. I thought I'd just whither away and leave this godforsaken career behind, get into something that wouldn't leave me in search of a good chiropractor every other week. Go home, settle down, live a normal life away from the road, from the pain, from the isolation I felt the last six years of my life.

Especially the last three.

But, it wasn't quite so easy. This is in me, flowing through my blood, ingrained forever in my soul. I don't just want to do this. I don't just like to do this.

I need to do this. It is not what I do, it is who I am. I need to go out there every single night, not for the fans, or the fame, or the money, but for the satisfaction I get in going out there each and every night and giving everything I have to come out on top.

It's something I just can't get away from. A year ago, I would've hated myself to admit that. Now? I've accepted it, I live with it, and I relish it. It is my addiction, my personal high, and what lets me escape from the thoughts that can occupy my mind the rest of the time.

So tonight, I'll go out and do what I do best. Bryan and I won't see Kin Hiroshi and Rocko Daymon in the ring across from us, just two more men in our way. Just how they'll view us, I'm sure. This is a time for men with heart and courage to step forward and declare themselves the leaders of this profession. I may have been away, but I will make sure tonight that what I did before will not be forgotten. Because my life will not be in vain.

That's my story, I've told it before, I'll tell it again.

Do I really have a choice?

Oh, man. There's that rhetorical question again.

His inner monologue over, Troy Douglas turns away from the white cinder-block wall of the TD Banknorth Garden's locker room, and to his tag-team partner, Bryan Storms, who is pulling a TEAM Super Show I t-shirt on over his torso. The duo each checks their boots, and Storms grabs his MCW World Championship belt and they prepare to head out the door.

"You ready for this?" Douglas asks.

"Been waiting my entire life." says Storms.

"Good. Then let's go show them why it doesn't mean a thing if you don't leave it all on the floor."

"Give it all away."

"Expect nothing in return."

The two walk out the door into the corridors of the arena's bowels as the scene, at last, comes to it's conclusion.