[ToC '08] Round 1 RP thread

TH · Oct 8, 2008

It's finally here... Please post your RPs in this thread and this thread only.

- Your task for this round: writing wrestling promo/trash talk/FW styled RPs. These RPs must be written as if they were to appear on television (ie, it must be in front of a camera), talking to a person or a group of people. The RPs must be topical to the Tournament of Champions and other competitors in the Tournament of Champions. You may write them in any style you'd like as long as you convey clearly that it is a wrestling promo being cut in front of a camera. You are free to set the promos wherever you please.

- You have an RP limit of 2, and the deadline is Wednesday, October 15th at 11:59:59 PM EDT, give or take a second. This is different from years past. The limit is increased for this round only.

- All normal rules apply; ie, if you use any other characters that aren't handled by yourself, you need explicit permission to use them. No shooting; keep everything in character. All work must be written by you and it must be an original piece (no recycling!). You'd think these would go without saying, but you'd be surprised. Also, you may not post both your promos consecutively. The idea here is to have one promo to introduce what you're saying and one promo to reply to what other people are saying about you!

- The Pre-Game Trash Talk thread will remain open during this time. Anything is fair game for material for your promo, especially what is posted in the TT thread.

Alright ladies and gentlemen... let the games begin!

theblayke · Oct 8, 2008

The crowd is buzzing as the TEAM Tournament of Champion competitors are assembled in one place, at one time to see who truly is deserving of the title: "TEAM Championship of Champions". The fans are itching to see Garbage Bag Johnny back in action, legends like William Gwynn and household names like Tyler Rayne. This is the one event wrestling fans from across North America and abroad do not want to miss. TEAM Tournament of Champions. Even in the backstage there is an atmosphere of awe. Every man who has arrived have accomplished something in the past year. World Champions, tournament winners, legends, and even the past TEAM winners have arrived in their own fashion. Some in stretch limousines, and others arrive alone trying to avoid attention.

It is this atmosphere of greatness that causes Myles Jake to feel extremely uncomfortable. He paces back and forth trying to calm his thoughts down. He has already perspired through his dress shirt, and his legs just will not stop shaking.

Come on Myles, you're 37 now, not a child - get with it.

The motivational talk to himself isn't working, because as the clock ticks down to his theme music kicking off an evening that fans have waited anxiously for, Myles gets more nervous. He checks his watch, checks his hair in the mirror and checks with the attendant to see if everything is okay.

Get with it Myles, you've been here before. You've won Ringside Championship in front of thousands at Madison Squared Garden. All you have to do right now is give a little speech... that's it, just a little speech.

Well, not quite. Even with Myles' futile attempts to calm his nerves by downplaying the importance of this moment, he knows that this could make or break his chance for the Championship. Somehow, Myles has to walk out in front of those fans and gather attention that causes the bookers to turn and look at him. He has far less exposure than anyone else in this tournament. He is the underdog, the black sheep of all competitors and nobody is really paying any attention to him. Considering the fact that Ringside Wrestling is struggling currently, and that he was thrown out of the ring to become third place for the JUST Wrestling title - things haven't been positive lately. This wrestling business is a "what have you done for me lately?" business and Myles has legitimate concerns that the fans just will not care about him.

One minute...okay... crap? I forgot my lines.

Jake scrambles to pull the cue cards from his pocket and begins reading quickly trying to cram as much information in before stepping out. Public speaking has never been Myles Jake's fortay. He hates talking in front of five, let alone ten thousand. The criticism of Myles Jake has always been his microphone skills, and it is what caused him to spend close to twenty years in the independent circuit, working school gymnasiums and shows that only paid $100 a night. But all of that is the past now, Myles Jake has been on the rise among the critics and this could be the chance to finally get him over once and for all.

Attendant: Mr. Jake? Your about twenty seconds from your theme music...

Myles Jake: Thank you.

Jake places the cue cards down on the table beside him and takes a drink of water before listening to "Unchain the Night" by Dokken play throughout the ringside area. He listens to the crowds response. While most of them are disappointed not to see someone else, they still are booing and jeering loudly. Myles Jake is still a bad guy in their books. The crowds still hate him. This causes Myles to smirk, as the guitar introduction is being drowned out by the crowd's reaction. Myles throws his blazer on over his shirt, checks his zipper on his designer jeans and then nods to the attendant. Here we go... Jake steps from the curtains and looks out to the jammed packed arena. Fans are on their feet booing loudly towards the former Ringside Champion. Jake looks around the arena at the fans that he has caused to hate him. He smirks at them and shakes his head and begins his trot to the ring. He stops at a group of teenage fans who are screaming Myles' name and using every curse word in the book. Jake stops and looks at them and then fakes a punch causing two of them to jump back instinctively. Myles flips them off, and makes his way to the ring. He grabs the microphone from the ringside attendant and walks up the steps, onto the ring apron and then through the ropes. His theme music begins to fade as Myles Jake steps to the center of the ring. He brushes his hair from his eyes, and then places that hand in his pocket.

Myles Jake: It's nice to see you all as well...

Crowd boo's at this sarcastic comment as Myles shakes his head.

Myles Jake: What are you disappointed or something? Did you expect somebody better? Did you expect Garbage Bag John-

Crowd interrupts this with huge cheers.

Myles Jake: Or John Adams?

More huge cheers as Myles Jake smirks at the crowds response.

Myles Jake: How 'bout Jesse Jameste-

Now the crowd erupts.

Myles Jake: So many names that this business has used as a headline for years - decades if you talking about the has-been William Gwynn and the night gets started with... Myles...Jake?

Jake gives a confused look as the fans begin a "You suck!" chant.

Myles Jake: Right... I suck? I suck? I'm the guy who came out of nowhere and has single handily succeeded in everything I placed my hands to. Go ask the Primetime critics and they will all tell you, I don't know who the hell this Myles Jake guy is - but he is everywhere. I suck? I'm a one-time Ringside Champion. And you better believe it, I'm going to walk out of this tournament as your TEAM Champion of Champions.

More boo's as Myles becomes a bit more comfortable in the ring, he adjusts from his relaxed stance and walks over pointing to the entrance way.

Myles Jake: You see it doesn't matter who is going to walk through those curtains tonight. It doesn't matter who makes their way down that entrance ramp and into this ring. It doesn't even matter who is the better talker, who is funnier or who you stupid fans actually cheer for. No! No that doesn't matter. It doesn't matter what Championship title the person held, for how long and if they still have an ugly gold strap still with them. It doesn't matter what organization they came from, or where they are going. If they've won a lot of matches, a rookie or a veteran. It doesn't even matter if they have no personality like Derek Barlow. Nope... the only thing that matters is this...

"My-les Sucks! My-les Sucks!"

Myles Jake: Shut up!!

Crowd boo's this response as Myles puts on the most frustrated expression he can, looking around at the crowd. On the inside, he is loving every moment of this. He found that he enjoyed having thousands hating him and cursing his name, alot more than thousands cheering him. Myles was the babyface of Ringside Wrestling and the main draw for the company and when he decided to turn in another direction the fans turned on him. Jake loved it.

Myles Jake: The only thing that matters about this whole tournament is that Myles Jake is here. I've put my name in the draw. I've signed the list and committed because the only true Champion of Champions isn't going to be the fan favorite. No... the Champion of Champions is going to be Myles Jake.

More boo's. Jake smiles and then shakes his head, he paces to the center of the ring again, and back into his relaxed position.

Myles Jake: So this is an open door invitation. I want to see what the rest of these guys got. I don't care about who you were and what organization threw a cheap title on your shoulder. I want to see if you really are the men that they claim you are. Show me why you are special. Give me a reason why I should even bother thinking of you as something other than just another wrestler. Because as far as I can see... this tournament is nothing more than a glorified event to include a bunch of has-beens and guys that never actually earned their spots.

Jake pauses to let that comment sink in.

Myles Jake: And nobody is paying any attention right now, but you d-mn well will be. Because at the end of the day, I'm going to shock every one of you fans, every one of the wrestlers back there and every one of the critics and writers. I'm going to show you who truly is a Champion. Because I am more than just a household name!

With that last comment "Unchain the Night" hits the arena and the crowd boo's loudly once again. The benefit of opening the evening is that the fans are loud through the whole segment and aren't getting tired. Jake looks around and smiles at the crowd, and begins to use his hands to motion that a title will be around his waist soon. Jake throws the microphone to the ground and exits the ring.

God, I'm glad that was over

Ravager · Oct 11, 2008

Ravager paces backstage, waiting impatiently for a TEAM Tournament of Champions Banner to be put up...

You know what? Screw the banner. I can tell people what I'm gearing up for. Get out of here monkeys!

He gets a few scowls from the workers, but Ravager meets their scowls with an icy glare that sends them scurrying.

It feels like only yesterday that I came up short against Mike Randalls in the TEAM Invitational. I was disappointed, but I figured I earned some respect. I figured that I added some prestige to the TEAM Challenge title. I figured that I had made it to the top.

Ravager smirks humorlessly.

I figured wrong.

Still no Challenge title defense in 2008. Even though I have offered to defend it any time, any place.

No promotions breaking down my door to get me to wrestle for them.

The fact that I made it to the finals is barely acknowledged.

What is a man to do?

Use the title I have for all it's worth, and get myself into the Tournament of Champions. Coming in second will not be satisfactory for me this time. I won't be content to please the fans. Or show my opponents respect and honor. I gave Mike Randalls all the respect in the world, and got nothing in return. Look where he is now. So I will follow his lead. I'll look past my opponents past accomplishments. Because in the end, all they got you was a spot in the tournament. It won't get you to the finals. Whoever you beat in the past? They're not here...

Well, that's not true for me. Larry Tact. Cameron Cruise. Olvir. You boys all fell to me at the Invitational. I'm sure you'll all be looking for payback. Just know one thing: The man you faced then wasn't nearly as angry as he is now. Any notion of being humble is gone. I was good enough to beat all three of you. I'm even better now. Because I'm not worrying about impressing anyone. The fact that I beat all three of you clean should be impressive enough.

And I see Shawn Hart is in here as well. My first challenger for the Challenge Title. Things aren't much different this time than the last. I still meet every challenge put in front of me, and I still beat people that everybody else says I can't. You went down once, and you will again. It's not personal. Just inevitable.

Going down the list some more, and who do I see but Fusenhoff? The man who scored a win over me at my first TEAM Invitational. The man who many pick to beat me for the Challenge title when I defend it next. Only thing is, I've been waiting for over a year to face you again, Fusenhoff. Your win over me was considered an upset, but I know better. It was a wake up call for me. That I need to take my opponents even more seriously. That I had to focus even more intently on my matches. You helped make me the man I am today. And I thank you. And everybody I have pushed aside and ground under my heel hates you. Deep down, in my heart of hearts, I hope we cross paths, because it will do my heart good to knock you out of the Tournament. Then maybe you can become a better man and thank me.

And then we get to a man who I know very well. Krusty Kid Paul. The NAPW World champion. A title I know well. Because I was the standard bearer for that championship. I am the measuring stick. Nobody since me has managed to match up, and nobody ever will. You are a pretender, Krusty. You got here through luck, and you'll only stay champion as long as you have your little friends behind you. The question you should ask yourself is:

Will Ravager get me in TEAM, or at an NAPW show?

The answer is: I'll get you when I damn well feel like it. All you're doing is keeping my belt warm for me. Once I eliminate you from the Tournament of Champions, it'll be a matter of time before I get my shot at my NAPW title.

But that's another matter. To the rest of the participants in the ToC. If I haven't mentioned you, don't be offended. The fact that you're here means that you're a somebody. A champion. You're worthy of my attention. Worthy of my best. But you're also worthy of my scorn. My fury. And the best I can offer in the ring. And when I'm in the ring, all In offer is pain. Look at this face. This face you see, is the last one you'll see before you're laid out center ring, counting the lights, wondering how you manged to get such a raw deal. Cursing fate that you wound up matched up against one of the faces of death. The White Collar Assassin. The Last Resort.

My name is Ravager. I am not the same man who fought at The TEAM Invitational. I am not the same man who preached respect and honor.

I am a better man than the one who placed second. And I am the last face you see before you die.

Fade to black.

MikeyMassacre · Oct 13, 2008

<o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com

ffice:smarttags" name="PlaceName"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com

ffice:smarttags" name="PlaceType"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com

ffice:smarttags" name="place"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com

ffice:smarttags" name="City"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com

ffice:smarttags" name="State"></o:smarttagtype><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w

unctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w

ontGrowAutofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--> Outside, a small high school in a small town just outside of <st1

lace w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Albuquerque</st1:city>, <st1:state w:st="on">New Mexico</st1:state></st1

lace>. The marquee out front reads: SEND MICHAEL MERTENS TO TEAM TOURNAMENT! Inside, a small gymnasium. Thirty-seven fans scattered amongst the bleachers. A wrestling ring, the ropes slightly saggy. Mikey Massacre, real name: Michael Mertens, is in the middle of the ring, wrestling in the main event of the show.
<o

> </o

>
Mikey is bald, his mullet having been shaved off by Manny X months before while trying to hold onto his Carolina’s title, but he has grown in a thick, black beard. He is wearing his short black tights with the words ‘REBEL 4 Life’ on one thigh in white. ‘MM’ is on the other thigh, also in white. In a headlock is his opponent, the ‘Original Sinner’ Adam Eves. Mikey looks out at the crowd, shaking his head up and down, smiling, trying to get them pumped up.
<o

> </o

>
But it’s a damn headlock. And the cheers are few and far between. He can see the disappointment on the faces. He imagines what they are saying:
<o

> </o

>
“I paid ten bucks for this?”
<o> </o>
“What happened to the Mikey Massacre I watched happily get bloody and bruised on those REBEL Pro tapes?”
<o> </o>
“I’m bored.”
<o

> </o

>
An intense wave of guilt passes over Mikey. These fans—his fans—paid ten bucks each for admission to this event. This event put on by independent wrestlers in the <st1:city w:st="on">Albuquerque</st1:city> scene, guys who never made it out of the area scene, never made it to the East Coast, to <st1

lace w:st="on"><st1:state w:st="on">North Carolina</st1:state></st1

lace>. But guys who wanted to see one of their own travel to San Francisco, to the TEAM tournament they had watched from afar, knowing they themselves would never be invited, or hell, even have enough money to attend.
<o

> </o

>
But Mikey broke his neck two months before. The doctors said he shouldn’t wrestle. But when the TEAM Champion of Champions opportunity came along, Mikey had only one thought: what an opportunity! For him, the forty-seven year-old, long-time jobber to the stars, this was less frequent than once-in-a-lifetime. He knew if he existed in infinite dimensions, doing infinite things, this was the only dimension he would receive this invitation in. Not to mention the fact it was his chance to represent REBEL Pro, to show the world what REBEL Pro had to offer. And the fans! How proud they would be, seeing one of the independent guys up against the best-paid and most well-known wrestlers in all of the world.
<o

> </o

>
So he had agreed to enter the tournament, knowing he wouldn’t be able to be his normal wrestling self. Unless he wanted to risk never walking again, he had to be careful with his neck. No tables or chairs. No jumping from crazy heights. But the guilt fought his rational self. And the guilt won.
<o

> </o

>
Mikey turns the headlock into a bulldog, landing Eves hard on the mat. He signals the timekeeper/ring announcer to throw him in a microphone. Confused for a moment, the timekeeper finally throws it. The mic. has a cord, however, and it briefly gets tangled in the sagging ropes, before Mikey untangles it. “Are you bored?” he yells out to the thirty-seven fans. Some are too bored even to respond. A few nod their heads yes. A few others shake their heads no, not wanting to make Mikey feel bad.
<o

> </o

>
“You f[beep]ing better be bored! You paid your hard-earned money to come here and see me do f[beep]ing head locks all night? I don’t think so, brothers!” Some of the fans get to their feet, clapping their hands and cheering. “I apologize. I truly do. The docs say I have to be careful, can’t risk injuring my neck again. But I honestly don’t think I can do Pure Honor style for the rest of my career. God dammit, I am ashamed I just spent six minutes doing that! F[beep] the doctors! F[beep] my neck! I’m Mikey f[beep]ing Massacre!”
<o

> </o

>
Adam Eves is slowly getting to his feet, wobbly from the bulldog that was a little harder than expected at a fundraising event in front of a mere thirty-seven. Mikey looks at the microphone, shrugs, then slams it into the forehead of Eves. The fans pop as Eves drops to the ground. Mikey gives a thumbs up the crowd, smiles, then begins slamming the microphone into his own forehead while screaming. The fans begin clapping. A few, the ones who did not know of Massacre and were dragged here by their friends, are just confused.
<o

> </o

>
Mikey throws the mic. to the ground. He notices that the cord has ripped. He looks to the angry timekeeper/ring announcer, who had donated it to the event, and shrugs with an embarrassed smile. Mikey jumps up onto the turnbuckle and raises his fists into the air, soaking up the cheers. Meanwhile, the Original Sinner is standing slowly. Mikey moonsaults backwards and lands on him.
<o

> </o

>
“What else do you want to see?” he shouts out to the fans. A mic. was never really necessary.
<o

> </o

>
“Table!” a fan yells.
<o

> </o

>
“You got it, brother!” Mikey responds. He mumbles a ‘sorry’ to Eves as he pulls him to his feet and begins dragging him out of the ring. Eves falls to the ground as Mikey begins looking for a table. This fundraiser wasn’t really stocked for this type of match, so there is only one place he can get a table… the table the timekeeper/ring announcer is using.
<o

> </o

>
“What the f[beep] are you doing, Michael?” Jacob Iverson says, waving his arms as Mikey pulls the table away from him. “No need for that!”
<o

> </o

>
“There’s never a need, Jake, my man!” Mikey says, smiling and giving him a thumbs up as he drags the table away. He sets it up, then places a groggy Eves on it. Now Mikey is climbing back into the ring. Up on to a turnbuckle. Frog splash through the table to the outside!!
<o

> </o

>
The fans are popping; all thirty-seven of the m are to their feet. The TEAM cameraman zooms in close. Eves’ eyes are closed. Mikey is holding his abdomen and seems to be spitting up blood from a cut lip. The wounds on his forehead are still leaking. “Help me up!” he yells to the cameraman, who reluctantly extends his hand.
<o

> </o

>
Bleeding, Mikey enters the ring, dragging Eves behind him. He covers Eves for the ceremonial 1-2-3. Iverson angrily bangs the bell, which is on his lap now that the table is gone. Mikey slowly gets to his feet. “Thank you! Thank you!” he yells out. “Thank you for coming out here, spending your money to help send ME to San Fran to represent REBEL Pro, and to represent all of you, in the TEAM Tournament of Champions!”
<o

> </o

>
“All Right Now” by Free cues up on the high school’s lackluster speakers. Mikey begins singing along to it:
<o

> </o

>
There she stood in the street
Smiling from her head to her feet
I said "Hey, what is this"
Now baby, maybe she's in need of a kiss
I said " Hey, what's your name baby"
Maybe we can see things the same
Now don't you wait or hesitate
Let's move before they raise the parking rent
<o

> </o

>
Now Mikey talks over the music: “This tournament is going to be a chance forme to show the wrestling world what REBEL Pro is made of. I urge all of you to watch this tournament on the ‘Net, urge you all to buy the tape. Hell, if you can afford to get out to San Fran, by all means do it! This is US, the underdogs, the spit-ons, the jabronis, the bottom-feeders… this is OUR time! OUR chance! To prove to The Man, to prove to the millionaire wrestlers, the millionaire promoters, the corporate suits, to prove to them that at it’s core, this sport isn’t about money! Or drug-induced muscles! Or television networks! Or pay-per-view! Hell no! This sport is HEART. Pure f[beep]ing heart and we don’t got the buyrates or the big paychecks; no, no, but we got the HEART and we gonna show the WHOLE DAMN WORLD what we made of!
<o

> </o

>
“And, no, we don’t be doing it alone! You’re going to see the f[beep]ing Show, the motherf[beep]ing REBEL Pro Carolina’s champ, former multi-time world champion, Chad Kurtis! You saw him and I back at the REBEL Pro Birthday Bash doing our damndest to eliminate the Celtic Assassins, to entertain all you f[beep]s here and all you f[beep]s out at home. Well, we’re back together again, once again opponents, once again with the same goal in mind: putting on the best damn show we can for ALL of YOU!
<o

> </o

>
“Then they’ll be the NAPW World champ, another alum of the Birthday Bash extreme battle royale, Krusty Kid Paul himself! Now, he might be dressing up like Chris Casino and Evan Cartwright these days, acting like he has sold out or what not, but in a suit or out of a suit, this guy is gonna F[beep] some S[beep] up! You can take the dog out of the fight, but not the fight out of this dog!
<o

> </o

>
“Not to mention Ravager, the man who singlehandedly put the NAPW and their world title ON the MAP! SIX title defenses! A TEAM veteran, ready to tear it up and bring DOWN the HOUSE!


“I’ve heard a lot about this Myles Jake guy. I was in his <st1

lace w:st="on"><st1

lacetype w:st="on">territory</st1

lacetype> of <st1

lacename w:st="on">Massachusetts</st1

lacename></st1

lace> when I broke my damn neck. I remember hearing about this guy, people telling me to watch his tapes. So if chance puts us one-on-one Jake, let’s put on a show for these fans. Don’t go easy on me or my neck. I want to FEEL the PAIN, brother!
<o

> </o

>
“Chris Bagwell, your note got leaked to the Internet. I was at the <st1:city w:st="on"><st1

lace w:st="on">Albuquerque</st1

lace></st1:city> public library yesterday, going on that free Internet, and I read that s[beep.] But I want to thank you for your comments. They got me FIRED UP and READY TO GO! You are exactly the type of f[beep] that gets me heated, that pushes me forward, ready to represent REBEL Pro and the independent fans! I’m going to prove to you that I’ve got game, brother ! We HERE to PLAY!
<o

> </o

>
“Rocko Daymon, you half as entertaining in the ring as outside it, hell, you going to tear it up! Respect, my man! Let’s give these fans the knowledge their money was well spent, that we’ve entertained them, made them cringe a little, made them scared, maybe, but filled them up with something they can’t get elsewhere. This is professional f[beep]ing wrestling. We are the working man’s sport. We help people get through their days with the knowledge they can go home from their s[beep]ty a[beep] nine-to-five and relax in front of their TV with a cold one and watch men going at it in the most PRIMAL of the ARTS!
<o

> </o

>
“Thank you, fans, for sending me to <st1:city w:st="on"><st1

lace w:st="on">San Francisco</st1

lace></st1:city>! I won’t let you down! I WON’T let you DOWN!” The fans continue clapping and cheering. Mikey smiles and gives thumbs up to the thirty-seven gathered fans.
<o

> </o

>
<o

> </o

>
<o

> </o

>

CuseTroy · Oct 14, 2008

FADE IN...

A1E Cyber and EPW Intercontinental Champion Troy Douglas, wearing an unbuttoned Cole Hamels Phillies jersey over a black TEAM 2008 Tournament of Champions t-shirt, stands in front of the always popular TEAM interview set looking calm and self-assured.

DOUGLAS: This one...

This one's NOT going to be easy, folks.

A couple dozen of the greatest wrestlers on the planet, each one of them having held that big, bold title of CHAMPION in the last 12 months, all thrown into one arena for one night, with the best man, the man who manages to outlast each and every one of them, having the honor of hoisting that Harvard Avalon Memorial Trophy at the end of the night.

It's an honor that might just eclipse anything else in this sport that each and every one of us loves. It's the chance to say, unequivocably, that for one night, there wasn't a single wrestler on the planet better than you.

It's a chance that people will fight until their knuckles drag on the canvas out of exhaustion for.

And it's an opportunity that I wouldn't pass up for the world.

You see, just like Ravager, I came so very, very close to holding that Merritt Trophy, only to be derailed by an unstoppable force named Mike Randalls. But, like I said at SuperShow IX, when I was the very first man to throw my hat in the ring for this tournament, TEAM isn't wont for incredible opportunities.

So, here we go again.

One more night, one more dance, one more tournament. One more chance to finally break through after coming close time after time after time. I've been to the semi-finals of the Dupree Cup, the semis of the TEAM Invitational, and I helped train a kid named Bryan Storms who came out of nowhere to nearly take this whole tourney a year ago.

But, I've always been Mr. Close But No Cigar, right? I've been the guy banging his head against that glass ceiling to make some cracks, only to watch them get resealed again and again. It's frustrating, but call me stubborn or call me stupid, because as long as I know I've still got a shot at glory, I'm going to keep firing away until there's no ammo left.

But, this time around, I'm not coming back from out of the clouds. After my run in the Invitational, after my current eight-month undefeated run in A1E, after holding titles in three of the biggest companies on the planet in the past six months, everybody knows who Troy Douglas is now.

Everybody knows that I'm not some choke artist who got lucky a couple times, land that means nobody in this field is going to be ignoring the kind of threat I provide. Of course, it also means that I'm a guy with a big, fat target painted on my back, so I should probably have my head on a swivel the whole night long.

Just because I'm not the generic mystery man anymore, however, doesn't mean I don't have my own particular advantages heading into this tournament.

You see, no matter what anyone else says, there's not a person in this tournament who knows more about the people that make up this elite field than I do. There's nobody in this tournament who's been all the places I've been, who have won titles in all the companies I have.

A1E, Empire Pro and PRIME. A pretty lofty trio, to say the least, right? And in the history of those three superpowers in the wrestling industry, only two people have held championships in all three organizations. One of them is a name familiar to all of us as a pioneer of the last decade in wrestling, the Queen herself, Lindsay Troy.

The other one?

That would be me.

But, a little bit of trivia doesn't give me an advantage, does it? What gives me a fighting chance is the fact that I know more about the wrestlers in this field than I do.

I've shared locker rooms with them, I've traveled the roads of this country with them, and I've been in the ring and, yes, beaten, a hell of a lot of them. I guarantee you, folks, that you're not going to find another man in this tournament that's been in the ring with Fusenshoff, Chip Friendly, Xavier Kannon and Tyler Rayne other than myself.

So, unlike a lot of people in this tournament who are going to come out here and talk a big game about how they're so far above and beyond each and every one of us, when I step in front of a camera to say my piece, I'm the guy who actually has some perspective as to what he's talking about.

I know that Tyler Rayne's one of the finest wrestlers on this planet, that he's a guy with a vicious streak a mile wide and the talent to match. I know that Irishred's one of the toughest bastards that's ever set foot inside a squared circle. I know that Ken Cloverleaf is as slick a guy inside the ring as you'll ever find, that Cameron Cruise has the guts to run right through this field and that Ravager's not going to stop until he's got nothing left in the tank.

I know that James Varga is ... well ... James Varga, and nothing you do is going to change that.

I know that winning this tournament is going to match Edmund Hillary scaling Mount Everest as a Herculean, superhuman achievement to go down in the annals of history.

And I know that I'm up to the task.

I've waited nine long, sometimes frustrating, always painful years to get to a point where I can be considered among the greatest wrestlers on this planet. And now, on one night, in front of all the world, I've got the chance to stand up and make the case that there's not a man or woman on the face of this planet that can beat Troy Douglas right now.

Not Wraith, not Shawn Hart, not High Flyer, not Jay Phoenix, not any of the vaunted, first-ballot Hall of Fame names that'll be thrown out there on the marquee once D-Day rolls around.

For one night, a night that's going to stand FOREVER in the history of this sport, I'm going to leave no doubt as to who the best professional wrestler in the world is in the here and now.

I've got to go through 30 men to do so. Trust me when I said I'd go through ten times that if I had to, because nothing's gone to stop me from doing exactly what I've done for nine years as a wrestler.

I'm going to keep getting up, and I'm going to keep going forward.

And everyone out there better hope that they've got the heart to outlast a man with no breaking point.

One night for a chance to be remembered forever.

Seems like a pretty good idea to me.

Anyone who wants to step up and try to back me down, you're more than welcome. Because I plan on taking each and every one of you to the end of the road.

See you there.

...FADE OUT

Evil James · Oct 14, 2008

FADE IN: James Varga is standing in front of a black curtain with a TEAM logo on it. He has a microphone in hand and his 'Wrestling is Fake' black T-shirt isn't going to win him many friends. He's also wearing his TEAM Lethal Lottery Championship belt as well as he begins to speak.

James: Well, well, well. Look at what I have to survive now. Another tournament, this time the TEAM Tournament of Champions. And I'm stuck in this thing with another bunch of egomaniacs. My adversaries who have already run their mouths have proven that point already.

So this is what's happening, this is what's real. This is your TEAM Lethal Lottery Champion talking to you lovely fans out there watching on the Google machine on the Internets.

Now after everyone else comes on the television and explains to us their entire career history including ass raping hazing rookie incidents, I'll be the one who survives.

Why, you ask? Because I'm not going to do that. I'm not going to come on here and talk with a 'I think I'm the **** but I'm not' attitude like everyone else. I'm just going to go out there and kick people's asses, which is what I do best.

Everyone's on here talking about A1E and REBEL and all kinds of stuff from the long lost past. Hell, let me put it this way. All that stuff happened back around the same time Indiana Jones and Mutt were battling Russians in the fifties.

So once everybody's done kissing their own asses and kissing each other's asses, then we'll get down to business but I don't see that happening anytime soon. People like to toot their own horn too much around here.

With that said, now I can get down to business and start talking about some of my competition or, in some cases, lack thereof.

First off we got Troy Douglas talking about me. Now why is it that everytime I read your name I think that Lindsay Troy and The Franchise had a love child or something? Anyway, you suck.

Phil Atken, you suck worse than him. You lost your Free For All Championship to me. Yeah, you are beyond suck. You are a butt ****, which is two steps below sucktitude.

Ravager however does not suck because he's actually done something besides suck his own dick like some other people in this thing.

Cameron Cruise is a man I've had run-ins with in the past. Where's Kooter by the way?

Tyler Rayne is a bad ass. He's going to destroy some people in this thing. Same for Xavier Kannon, Dusk, and Phoenix.

Myles Jake is another guy I'm watching out for. We'll probably meet sometime in round two or three and I look forward to the challenge.

My partner in crime Larry Tact is in this tournament. Hopefully we're in the finals of this so we can show all these haters just how much ass we kick.

Jesse Jamester is in this too. We've fought before and we'll probably fight again in this thing too.

Shawn Hart is another guy I'm looking forward to facing.

Mikey Massacre is in this thing too. He won't win. He's mildly retarded. And talks more than most teenage girls.

Jay Terror is in this too. I can beat him. I was the future of GCW until I was held back by the Establishment. Well now it will be my turn to get some revenge.

Chris Bagwell is an old friend of mine from there in the Movement. Well the Movement will stop in this tournament.

Garbage Bag Johnny's here too. This guy is going to destroy some of you. Be ready for it.

Chip Friendly is another familiar face. You won't be so friendly though after you end up in a bloody heap at my hands.

John Adams is another guy I know. Adams, I know you have your hands full in EPW with the FAKE Church of the Unholy called the Illuminati so you won't be much of a threat.

Olvir is here too I see. Don't bang too many hookers because this is going to be tough for you to win with weak knees and a limp dick.

Fusenhoff is a man I've faced in the past too. Are you ready to feel the pain? If not, I suggest you asked to be placed in the other bracket because I can and I will hurt you. That's a guarantee. That goes for everyone else in this thing as well.

See I'm not here to make friends or to lick other people's assholes or kiss my own ass. I'm here to kick people's asses and to hurt people. That is what I am here to do. Nothing more, nothing less.

So if you want to get hurt and end up in the hospital, then that's fine. Bring it on because I'll do my talking in the ring like I always do. I may not be the best in the business but what matters most is I know how to hurt people and you may just end up in the hospital.

Prepare for your dreams to die...

FADE OUT

TSiegel · Oct 14, 2008

(Fadein on a White backdrop with the company letters in blocked black lettering is one CSWA Presidential, TWW World Heavyweight and MWCW World Heavyweight Champion, Cameron Cruise. Dressed in black jeans and the Home Jersey of The NFL Jacksonville Jaguars Star Running Back Maurice Jones-Drew, Cruise stands, his back turned away from the camera as he stares at the company logo through his trademark Anarchy shades.)

CRUISE: TEAM. How coincidental and ironic this name is goes beyond the need for explanation but for this instance...tolerable.

The TEAM Tournament of Champions.

Fact is, save for A SELECTED FEW...there isn't a one of you in this tournament that I'd be willing to "TEAM" with as my tag team partner.

Sure, I've been in one of these before and I'm not afraid to admit, I've not done as well as I've wanted to.

But much like the Michigan Wolverines see things every year for the past five-plus years:

(Smirks)

It's a brand new ball game.

Ravager, make no bones about it what happened last time we faced each other is exactly what it is: You beat me.

Didn't exactly bode well for me, but I'm sure getting all the way to the Finals before falling to a Legend like Mike Randalls must've hurt that much more.

Suffice to say...

(Cruise pulls his shades down the bridge of his nose for a moment.)

You probably want this Tournament BAD.

(Runs a hand through his hair, brushing stray hairs out of his face.)

So much in fact, it's gonna take a man with an incredible sense of "Never-Say-Die" endurance or Heart to go above and beyond a man with your focus.

You don't have to be angry, hell, I could even care less if you're humble. Just do one solid while you're preparing for what quite possibly could be "Hell":

Consider yours truly, Exhibit "A" of said explanation because if you don't and we see each other in that squared circle...

Camera cuts to a momentary close up.)

I will BURY you.

Moving on, it seems that there's another man that just can't seem to be beaten lately, either in defense of his title or in general, Troy Douglas.

What's the name some call you?? "MEGATRON"??

(Smirks again.)

Right.

Fact is Troy, it is what it is in A1E.

You're doing your thing and to be honest...not that it matters of course, but it's starting to impress me.

I can't even remember the last man that's pinned your ass to the mat but we both know one man that HAS, and multiple times at that.

(Cruise pokes himself in the chest with both of his thumbs.)

Flip the script for a second, Douglas.

You've NEVER beaten me, not in one form or another and as far as I'm concerned, it's NEVER GONNA HAPPEN.

But for the sake of being a "Good Sportsman"...

(Gives two "Thumbs Up".)

All The Best.

(Cruise clears his throat a second and leans over as we hear him gather phlegm and discharge it

One more thing, Megatron...I've been to "The End of The Road" plenty of times and it's never been a pretty picture.

(Signaling a change...)

James Varga.

Really now....for a man that's NEVER won a match in NFW, I just got one question for you, son.

(Cruise shrugs his shoulders, "winging it".)

Who dresses you?? "F.E.M.A"?? I mean REALLY.

(Cruise flicks his fingers as if to swat a fly.)

Fusenshoff.

The last time we faced each other we practically tore the house down in a Four-way match that was secretly entered as a "Match of the Year" cadidate, but what's fair is fair, I got eliminated and you EARNED it, if anything, the "Hard Way". But ya know I gotta tell ya....I only know of only one man that can fight as well as you and still hold his liquor but I proved to him that I could take him just as well as anyone else back in the day.

I call him "Dad".

There's others also involved, even afew that I'm sure I've faced before but really kids...

Why waste the time when I could spend it better on preparing for those that are going to actually MATTER??

Sure, there's quite afew of you, but most likely all of you that thinks that I'm just full of **** and won't last five minutes longer than I did in the TEAM Invitational.

By all means please do, because I promise you, I promise you ALL one single, solitary thing:

It's going to be a Tournament of Champions REALITY CHECK that you just...won't like.

(Fadeout.)

The Wraith · Oct 14, 2008

[Fade in.]

[Scene opens to a rough unknown area that has a single light bulb flickering from above. The walls surrounding us are covered with dirt and the stained floors are not much better either. Cobwebs have formed in all different parts of the room showing that the area isn't visited too often. A clang of metal is heard followed by a huge creek and then a big clang. Dusts fall from the walls as the camera turns around to see a huge man stood right before us in front of a steel door. His long hair drapes in front of him as he throws it back to unveil the wicked mask of the A1E Triple Star Champion Wraith looking on with intensity with his championship gold resting over his shoulder.]

WRAITH: "Two years ago I had a vision... to head into the Tournament of Champions and show my worth. Two years ago I wanted to show my dominance to the world and the power that I have within me. To show just what I was all about."

"But... they wouldn't let me in."

[He sniggers to himself quietly and then composes himself.]

"They said I didn't deserve to be in this tournament. They said I simply wasn't good enough and that I had nothing to show. They said there was no need for me being there as I would just be another person to make up numbers in an event where they only want to see the champions and the best of the best. They wanted to see champions against champions, and the event was too important to just allow anyone to walk in."

"Simply put, they didn't think I fit into that category."

"But now it's my time to prove them wrong."

[He pauses for a couple of moments to allow what he has said to sink in.]

"They never gave me the chance to prove myself two years ago but that was okay, I knew one day I would prove them wrong. So now I stand as the long-reigning A1E Triple Star Champion I am taking down many victims along the way."

"The following year I began winning championship after championship and showing what they had been missing. In my mind my message was sent and that I had proved them wrong. That is why I left it as that, and the TOC last year I didn't bother showing myself because I just didn't think I needed to. I had nothing to prove, I had only proven them wrong."

"Fast-forward and nearly one year to this day I joined with A1E and from there I have received my biggest exposure yet. After completely obliterating anyone who stood in my way, I needed guidance to become the best that I can be. I needed a man to show me the way and someone I could put my trust in. That was when my master Anubis joined me by my side. He taught me to destroy and kill but in ways that will powerful get the message across. It wasn't long until together we got the Triple Star Championship and I've been holding onto it ever since. People began to take notice, he was a leader that would show me the way to greatness."

"Now that I understood his power, I couldn't let him down. I wanted to do everything right to please him and be proud. We had set a mission together and it was my job to do exactly what he requested. My only fear in that squared-circle was letting him down, but that was something that I refused to cross my mind."
"No longer could I accept failure or being beaten as I refused to allow it."

"After victory after victory, he entered me into the TEAM Invitational Tournament earlier this year as he knew that the time would be right. He said now that I have demonstrated my power in A1E, it's now important to publicize it more for the world to see. To gather a bigger audience and show them the monster they are missing. He felt the monster needed to be more known. I agreed to him and I headed into it with a mind-set to take down anyone who was stopping me from reaching the top."

"It was a disaster. I had failed and most importantly, I had let my master down. I passed the first round looking as dominant as ever, but at the next... the dream was all over before it had even begun. It was over quicker then a flash of light and my masters command was disobeyed. I needed to sort the problem out, but it has only been until now I have been given the chance to do this."

"This year I am entering the TOC in the hope of putting failure behind me and striding towards victory and greatness. This is where I put things right and prove to my master that I can compete amongst the best and more importantly, I can not only beat the best but dominate them. Failure will soon be all behind me and will be long forgotten as I step into the Tournament of Champions and show the real monster nobody here has seen yet."

"My decision to take part in this years TOC had nothing to do with my master Anubis, it was all my own doing. It was something I knew had to be done."

"It was an opportunity that couldn't miss... I had to be apart of it."

"SIX MONTHS... Six months I've had to hold onto this A1E Triple Star Championship just so I can compete in this tournament and put this misery and failure behind me! Six months I've been showing the dominant champion I am just so that I can be able to go into this years TOC and take out anybody who steps in my way. It took six months of beating everyone who challenged for my title just to get rid of this failure that glooms above me and my master."

"Now that I've accomplished that... it doesn't get any easier."

"Now I have made it here... I do not stop until my opponent cannot physically get up to make sure I'm secured to make it to the next round."

"If people think I have gone through all this just to make it here for nothing then they can think again."

"It's time to put things right."

[He stares into the camera with intensity for a couple of moments breathing heavily and then slowly turns around and walks back out through the cold steel door he came in through.]

[Fade out.]

irishred · Oct 14, 2008

Irishred leaning on the rail of an old snooker table. A cigar burns in an ashtray on the high bar table in front of him, next to that a cup of coffee gives off it's steam. A neon light flickers in the dirty window in the background signifying that this is the bar named after the owner...this is Irishred's. A man looking like the wrestler formerly known as Tha_Eliminat0r pushes a mop around the floor asThe Best of Van Morrison
(http://www.google.com/musicl?lid=BfOSGwf_tBD&aid=NenApYpmVrJ)
plays in the background.
Irishred pushes a cue ball around the snooker table while talking.

Nothing like the early morning quiet to set a man straight. The calmness of the midwestern air, the sound of the mourning doves, the freshness of the coffee...the world seems so perfect early in the morning. This is the time of day when I do most of my reflecting. When I can look back at the day, weeks, months even years prior and come to an honest realization with myself about what has transpired.

For instance my wrestling career. It's not near as great as I spin it to be. I mean I've had my share of nice runs and have gotten the duke on some bonafide legends; but on this beautiful morning why be anything but honest with myself and all of you? I have many more losses then wins and my championship runs have been short and disapointing.

I'll more then likely be remembered more for what I did outside of the ring then what I did inside. Forming the MidWest Mafia, taking over EPW, fighting for wrestlers rights against the bookers and agents and owners, starting all out wars over "on air" content, pissing off the "big names" and just generally stirring the pot; that's what I'll be remembered for.

A certain wrestler from Texas called me a "capable worker willing to do anything it takes to entertain". I suppose that's about as accurate a description as a person can get. Sure I'm a scrapper. I'll stand toe to toe with anyone in the business and not flinch one single bit. I don't mind bleeding and really what is one more aching muscle or broken bone this far into my career. My wrestling has gotten better over the years; I was after all a high school champion and a pretty fair collegiate wrestler until I flunked out. I really took to the ground and pound style after training at the Militech fighting system in Iowa during my last injury recovery. But there are a ton of better wrestlers in this tourney. There are a lot better fighters competing. There are technical masters and high flying acrobats that make me look like a stooge here in this prestigous event. I'm really nothing more then your average go out there and do his best type of guy.

But yet here I am 10 years strong in this business. Here I am a multi time champion. Here I am the guy who gets mentioned now and then on the list of all time greats. Here i am in the Team Tournament of Champion 2008.

Irishred takes a long drag from his cigar and a sip of the coffee before walking the bar with the camera following him.

That's damn fine coffee right there.

Why has a man like me succeeded? How have I managed to last this long in the business? Why do I remain towards the top of every card I fight on?

Good questions all of them. I guess it comes down to the simple fact of the immeasurables. Heart, toughness, guts, fortitude, charecter, bravery, stubborness...all those things that don't show up on tape but yet seem to win matches. All those little things you just can't put your finger on but yet always seem to come up in descriptions.

Irishred does his best imitations of broadcasters as he does each line.

(Cam Neely) "That Irishred sure is a tough SOB."
(BobbyR)"What heart shown by the Midwest Mafioso."
(Sal Scanlin)"He's just too damn stubborn to quit."

Another sip of coffee as Irishred sinks into a booth. The morning mail and newspapers sit there in front of him.

So what am I doing in this tourney? What chance does an over the hill guy like me have against all these young lions and legends in the making?

Well I tell you what folks...I'm not damn sure. That's as honest as it gets.

I guess every once in a while an old boy like me just has to step up and take his measure and see if it's really worth doing this 300 days out of the year. I guess there are some names here that I've heard and I just want to see if they are really as good as they say they are. I guess that this old dog just wants to see if he can still run with the pups.

I don't have to be better then all of you all night. I just have to be better then a few of you for 3 seconds. I figure it will all wash out. Many of you will do work for me; taking each other out...bringing blood fueds into this match, letting yourselves get all riled up because Wrestler A dared to call you a name in Federation Z, or Wrestler B pinned you in a tourney in closed federation 100 five years ago.

Me...I'm just going to walk out there under the lights like I have for years now and be my best. That's all I know how to do. I'm not going to learn any new tricks at this age after all. I'm 40 years old for Pete's sake. I've forgotten more about the business then most of these punks will ever know.

I don't care about most of you truth be told. It's not like I'm going to face most of you ever again once this tournament is over. It's not like beating you is going to push me right into the hall of fame.

Nope...I'm doing this for me. Just to prove that it's not the gold or the accolades that make you a champion.

It's the heart and the passion that make you a champion.

You'll all come to understand that someday...maybe on a morning just like this...

Irishred takes another sip of coffee and opens the Yankton Press and Dakotan as the camera fades to black.

Phoenix · Oct 14, 2008

The sound of a doorbell rings out behind the large double doors, echoing slightly before it fades away. The camera pans in on the pristine white panels, waiting for the doors to open.

"Are you sure that there is someone home?"

The male voice comes from behind the image, out of sight, as everything pans around to the left and the speaker comes into view. Not long out of his teens the man is dressed in an obvious attempt to make him look older than he is and, by default, hopefully be taken more seriously. Unfortunately the overall effect fails as he simply looks like a youth trying to be an adult.

"Normally it is the job of the reporter to check facts like that, Jimmy, not the camera-woman"

There is no attempt to hide the sarcasm that drips audibly from the female voice that comes from behind the image. The young man, Jimmy, doesn’t seem to ‘get it’, however, as he just stares into the screen.

"I did check, Jenny, and the word on the street is that Phoenix is back home now!" he said, enthusiastically, "and I prefer the term ‘investigative journalist’ instead of reporter."

"You may prefer that term, Jimmy, but a night class and ten dollar certificate doesn’t make it true!" retorted the unseen Jenny. "Besides which, what street are you talking about?"

Jimmy grins, sheepishly.

"Well I got a tip from a friend on the inside at PRIME about Phoenix’s return …"

"When you say ‘inside’," Jenny prompted, interrupting, "you mean in the audience just like you were meant to be last week, don’t you?"

"Yeah, but that doesn’t matter …"

"Of course it matters," she said, interrupting again, "you made it sound like you had an insider giving you hot information when what you really meant is that your friend SAW Phoenix return to PRIME just like everyone else in the arena did and who knows how many millions of people watching at home did!"

"OK, OK, that is true!"

"Investigative journalist …" she quipped, "I am glad that your money wasn’t wasted on that course!"

"Look, it doesn’t matter how I found out about Phoenix’s return, or how many other people know about it too," he pointed out earnestly, "we still have a scoop on our hands here!"

"Only if you are right about this?"

The doubt in Jenny’s voice obviously affects Jimmy as his face pales. His brow furrows in thought and he bites at his bottom lip in concern.

"If I had got to the PRIME show myself I would know for sure, but …"

"… but you have a crappy car that breaks down just coming out of the garage, let alone trying to drive a hundred miles to a wrestling show!"

"I know, I know, but Rick is sure that he overhead Cantrell, when he was leaving the arena, setting this up."

"Rick, the same guy who thought that letting you know that Phoenix had returned was a ‘hot tip’ – even though millions of people already knew about it – just manages to overhear the main power in PRIME setting Phoenix up in a tournament, a tournament that no-one else has announced Phoenix being part of, and you believe him?"

"Well, it isn’t that he simply overheard it … he was waiting backstage to get some autographs and Cantrell walked past him while he was talking on his cell-phone; even Rick couldn’t screw up hearing the words ‘Phoenix’ and ‘Tournament of Champions’!"

"I know, you are probably right," Jenny said, with a sigh, "it is just a bit of a stretch that you have got me out here, with my brother’s video camera and my dad’s car, on what could be a wild goose chase!"

"It isn’t a wild goose chase," Jimmy stated, vehemently, "it is …"

"… investigative journalism."

Jenny’s laugh rang out as she mimicked Jimmy’s own words at the same time.

"We don’t even know if he is here," she stated simply, "let alone if he really is going to take part in this tournament thing."

"No-one else in the business has reported this, Jenny," Jimmy said, eyes gleaming, "so if it is true, and if we can get it confirmed from him, we will be the first people to break the news!"

"C’mon Jimmy," Jenny pointed out, matter-of-factly, "as much as I enjoy this it isn’t a ‘business’ – we have a Youtube account and post interviews with indy-wrestlers and e-fed wannabes – we have never actually got an interview with a real wrestler!"

"I can see why - now care to tell me what the Hell you are doing on my property?"

One of the double doors behind Jimmy is open, slightly, and a muscled and tanned man is standing in the gap, arms folded across his chest, as he stares at the pair of bickering teenagers. The camera pans in on him, a sign that Jenny – at least – knows what she is doing, as Jimmy stands, open mouthed, staring up at the man in front of him.

"The gate was unlocked, sir."

The man’s green eyes flash with humour as his gaze flicks towards – and behind – the camera as Jenny speaks.

"Well, that is good to know – I will get my security company to sort that out, I pay them enough to protect my privacy after all – but that isn’t what I asked. I want to know WHY you are here, not how."

Jimmy finally collects himself and, with a deep breath, looks straight into the piercing green eyes.

"We wanted to ask you a couple of questions, Mr Phoenix, - for an interview" he said, trying to deepen his voice and blushing as it cracks slightly, "about your return to PRIME and your participation in this year’s Tournament of Champions."

"An interview for Youtube?"

A small smile plays across Phoenix’s face as Jimmy visibly blushes.

"Nothing wrong with Youtube, my friend," he points out gently, "everyone has to start somewhere after all!"

"So you will give us the interview," Jimmy asked, full of hope, "you will answer the questions?!"

"Sure thing," Phoenix stated simply, "but they won’t be want you want. The answers are simple … I have not returned to PRIME and I don’t have a clue about this tournament."

The camera zooms away from Phoenix’s face to close in on Jimmy as he almost seems to gulp for breath.

"I don’t understand," he breathed, "we saw you on PRIME last week!"

"You may have seen me there but, if you did, you must have seen me state, for the record, that I was not going to be blackmailed into working for PRIME … I never signed any contract with them and they have no right to try to force me to work there!"

"But when you were Ember …"

Jimmy’s voice trails off as he realises that he has made a mistake. Gripping the door with enough force to whiten his knuckles Phoenix leans forwards until his face is only inches away from the young mans.

"I was not Ember – ever!"

Turning away from Jimmy, Phoenix starts to close the door but, with a last gasp of bravado, Jimmy reaches out and pushes against it, slowing it down. Phoenix glances over his shoulder, one eyebrow arched at the audacity of the young man and this gives Jimmy enough time to blurt out another question.

"OK, sorry … but what about the Tournament of Champions? Cantrell said that you were going to be there, that you were representing PRIME!"

"Cantrell can say a lot of things, but there are two things to bear in mind here … the first is that I don’t have to do a damn thing that that man says and secondly there is a small problem if this is a tournament of champions – I haven’t been a champion since I lose the CSWA Presidential Title!"

A phone rings inside the house and Phoenix glances over his shoulder as the ringing abruptly cuts off. A faint voice can just be heard inside which seems to be taking Phoenix’s attention.

"What about …"

Whatever Jimmy’s question was going to be is cut off as a voice calls out from inside the house.

"Jay … it’s your lawyers, I think that you are going to want to take this!"

"I got to go guys, good luck with your career as reporters."

With a small smile Phoenix closes the door and the camera stays focussed on Jimmy’s face as he turns around and looks slightly awe-struck.

"I told you that this wouldn’t pan out." Jenny said quietly.

"What are you talking about?"

"He isn’t in PRIME sand he isn’t in the tournament … we wasted our time coming all the way out here and when my dad finds out that I borrowed his car …"

This time it is Jimmy that interrupts his erstwhile camera-woman.

"Wasted time?" he explodes with a laugh of triumph, "nonsense! We just interviewed our first professional wrestler AND broke the news to him that he is entered in a tournament!"

"A tournament that he isn’t going to show up to."

"That doesn’t matter," he stated excitedly, "when this clip goes on the ‘net we will be the first people to link Phoenix with the Tournament of Champions – we will have some real wrestling news on there!"

"I didn’t think of that."

" … which is why you are just the camera-woman and I am the reporter!"

"I thought that it was ‘investigative journalist’?"

"Well," Jimmy breathed, thinking back to Phoenix’s wishes of luck, "I have changed my mind."

Starbreaker · Oct 15, 2008

Round 1: The Message.

OORP: Thought I posted this earlier today, but it must not have gone through. My bad!

A Barnes & Noble bookstore might not be a place you'd expect an event conference to be held for a wrestling event. But circumstances dictate, and surprise surprise, here we are inside a NYC branch of the nationally-recognized chain. Now, one might ask, what twisted circumstances add up to this?

Enter the enterprising mind of LARRY TACT. Known more notably for his sharply honed wrestling mind and technique, Tact occasionally has delved into the entertainment world, and has a sordid background in business. To this end, today he is found sitting at a table in a brightly-lit, conference-styled room, with chairs occupied by patrons and passerbys twenty rows strong. It isn't an exceptionally large event, but the space allotted is full. Undoubtably, a sizable portion of those seated for this event are from the wrestling world: media, fans, and even detractors-- because don't people love to go see someone they can't stand, just so they can nitpick and criticize them later?

Focusing in briefly on Tact-- dressed in sandblasted blue jeans; a ribbed black shirt, and boots; his chin-length, golden blonde hair tied back-- we spot a DVD on the table, set on a stand next to him. The cover has been enlarged and printed on a poster, set on a canvas stand next to the table. It displays a snapshot of Tact, likely taken during one of his in-ring segments. Judging by the barking expression on his face, and the mic in hand, it's almost certainly a photo of Tact chewing out some poor sap who dared cross him. The DVD title below the photo reads, "Take a Stand, or Fall Back in the Pack!: Public Speaking Foundations and Inspirations of Larry Tact"

Tact has taken a pause from speaking, in order to take a drink from a bottle of water. The moderator sitting next to him pipes up.

MODERATOR: "Well, about ten minutes remain... and as part of our agreement to have Mr. Tact here today, we're going to give him some time to plug the upcoming wrestling events he is scheduled to appear at. (reading off a card in hand) There, you should be able to witness the same techniques, demeanor, and... uh-- tactilizing?-- (looks at Tact for a moment, who flashes a grin and a thumbs up)... yes, the same Tactilizing skills he teaches on the DVD, in action! So, Mr. Tact, if you would...

(Tact nods and stands up, taking the mic off its stand in front of him, and walking around the stage)

TACT: "Judging by the steady crowd I've had here, it seems like you're either wrestling fans, or I'm doing a really great job here! (people laugh, Tact smirks) Now I try to advocate for stressing the importance, and imperative need we have in this country, for education. And I strongly believe that every family should see to it that they put their children through a college education, at least..."

"But you know, there are some things you won't learn by sitting in a school classroom. There are certain elements of your personality that just aren't taught. They may be cultivated, initially, by what you find in academia... nurtured by knowledge... but to bring these elements to their fruition, and allow them to blossom into tools you can use to further your progress as a person, and in a career, you must go elsewhere."

"No school-- not grammar, college, or business-- that I attended really showed me how I present myself as a public speaker, today. True, I picked up some vocabulary and some presentation skills in the realm of academia. I learned how to give a mean presentation, without even needing PowerPoint! (crowd laughs) But seriously, folks, that doesn't teach you the way you present yourself to get ahead. Presentation skills are valuable... but the proof is often in your verbal construction."

"Take me, for example. I got bored giving presentations and using my oratory skills to swinging deals in the business world. I decided to persue a more... "exotic" career path. And in wrestling, you don't give presentations on oaktag, I'll tell you that much. Not unless you want to be wearing it like a collar after it's been smashed over your head, and you get planted in the ring and laughed out of the building. Which might still be a better fate than some of my opponents have endured."

(He smirks, the crowd chuckling a bit.)

"I have learned through experience, folks. I've gained a lifetime's worth of learning how to put a certain touch on my words, in order to maximize their effectiveness. People say talk is cheap, but that's not true. If you don't choose your words wisely in my line of work, then you talk up a pretty high tab with too many people... and I can assure you, after being in it for years, and seen things spanning the spectrum of experience... the price of your words can run quite expensive."

"One event that will probably be a great example of all I talk about in the DVD, is the upcoming Tournament of Champions, hosted by TEAM wrestling. With the winner getting a title shot at TEAMs most prized Champion, along with a SHINY TROPHY~!, and of course bragging rights... you're going to see a whole host of different personalities in that one night tournament. And you're also going to see a varying level of experienced and inexperienced competitors."

"Now some of you who are familiar with the tournament might do a double take at that remark, even object to it. For anyone who doesn't know... all of the competitors have one thing in common, as the tournament's name might indicate: they're Champions. That being the case, someone might wonder, "How can you be a Champion and NOT have experience?" See, wrestling's sort of like business, in that sense. You can shoot up in the ranks if you have the right skills. Sometimes you'll catch someone's eye, and from there you just have to keep their attention, and you can make it big. Say the right things, for instance, and you can make a name for yourself."

"But the other side to wrestling is this: there's always someone else out there. There's always hungry competition, and on any given night, you could run into them and be humbled. That's kind of how I've been running lately. Not really on the radar, so to speak; not really showcasing myself to all the big and shiny people and places. I don't really have to, though. I've been around the block, and I've earned a certain level of credibility."

"I know the limits of what I should say, at what time, and how. I don't go shooting my mouth off, and let others take aim at more. When I say something, you better believe I can back it up, because I've proven I can do as much. And when I set my sights on something, or someone... they'd better take their stand, get their footing... cuz you can bet I'm coming for them. And if they don't take my words, and the way I present myself, seriously... well, you remember what I said about the oaktag collar and being laughed out of the building, right?"

The crowd is amused, and Tact goes over the the table and retrieves his water bottle for a quick refresh, turning back his attention afterwards.

"As far as this tournament goes, I've got possibly as much experience in it as any other competitor. I've been in many tournaments, and almost all of the TEAM ones, to date. So I'm not sweating what's coming for me, because I've seen so much. I've got a huge pool of past experience to draw from, and plenty of preparation I've been doing."

"But there's one other thing I have-- and rightly so-- earned. There's one other quality I've harnessed, and learned to balance with those other skills, that makes me truly prepared for this tournament. That quality is bonafide, hard earned, validated confidence."

"My past experience fortifies that confidence, because I know I won't be surprised by much. And, in the instances where I've been taken off guard, more often than not, I've managed those instances to success."

"My confidence assures me through each point of my training, because I know the way I am, and what the best methods are to set me in position to succeed."

"My confidence is a fuel for my words, because unlike a host of others in this industry... whatever people may think of me, they know I'm going to follow through on my statements, or else leave a battered trail in my wake during the effort."

"Having said all that, can I guarantee victory at the ToC '08 edition? Sure, I could. But I won't go that far. You can't make a claim like that, and expect people will take it as anything but the equivalent of tabloid fodder."

"I'm going to go in, make a whole lot of people recognize who I am.. go through with my own plan, and see where it takes me. Other than that, I can guarantee you're going to get a show that is... Simply Tactilizing."

(The crowd applauds for the event as the moderator closes things up, and Tact sits for autograph signings. FADE OUT.)

Jesse Jamester · Oct 15, 2008

Re: Round 1: The Message.

<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CHP_ADM%7E1%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com

ffice:smarttags" name="place"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com

ffice:smarttags" name="country-region"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com

ffice:smarttags" name="PlaceType"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com

ffice:smarttags" name="PlaceName"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com

ffice:smarttags" name="City"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com

ffice:smarttags" name="State"></o:smarttagtype><style>  </style> Standing inside an empty arena, a camera is in focus from the front of a towering figure. Black tights from the waist down are captured in its frame. Panning around the figure’s well-toned and muscular thighs, white vines wrap up the legs in a cross pattern to the crotch where a laughing skull resides.
<u1

></u1

>
<u1

></u1

>V/O: Known by many names… (Whispering now) The Nemesis Warrior… The Jackal… The Only Legacy Left… the Kid.<u1></u1>

<u1

></u1

>Shifting up in its focus, the camera focuses on the abdomen where a bursting sun with a cross inks the pores around the belly button. Continuing to turn around the figure, the tattoos of the arms are seen, vines wrapping around the right forearm with thorns drawn to stab the arm, crimson ink beautifully depicted in the art.
<u1

></u1

>
<u1

></u1

>V/O: He hails from the great country of <st1:country-region><st1

lace><st1:country-region><st1lace>Canada</st1lace></st1:country-region></st1

lace></st1:country-region>! Raised a young lion in the <st1

lace><st1

lacetype><st1lace><st1lacetype>territory</st1lacetype></st1lace></st1

lacetype></st1

lace> of <st1

lacename><st1lacename>Calgary</st1lacename></st1

lacename>, <st1:state><st1

lace><st1:state><st1lace>Alberta</st1lace></st1:state></st1

lace></st1:state>...
<u1

></u1

>
<u1

></u1

>Camera rotating one hundred and eighty degrees to the left bicep area, showing a pair of crossed roses, one black, one white, linked by a banner at their stems’ bottom, with writing saying ‘In loving honor and respect” and then a banner underneath saying, “J.A.F.”.
<u1

></u1

>
<u1

></u1

>V/O: Standing six foot six inches, weighing in at an agile two hundred sixty nine pounds…

<u1

></u1

>Rotating around yet again, the camera catches the face of a half jackal, half man, inscribed in the pores of the right shoulder with black ink. The focus rises up from the tattoo to the bowing head of the man. His rough face shows a tale of enduring the worse of life’s gifts through every imperfection of the skin. His scruffy beard is only overshadowed by the long dark auburn hair that hangs a little past the collar line.
<u1

></u1

>
<u1

></u1

>V/O: A Prime Time Central GLOBAL Champion, one time Evolution Pro Wrestling Heavyweight Champion, two-time Lights Out Wrestling Extreme Champion, two-time Global Wrestling International Champion, and Global Wrestling’s 2005 Showdown in <st1:city><st1

lace><st1:city><st1lace>Tokyo</st1lace></st1:city></st1

lace></st1:city> winner…
<u1

></u1

>
<u1

></u1

>He leans his head up, opening his eyelids to reveal a pearly ocean gaze at the camera lens. Lips show a slight movement beneath the hanging, burly scruff of a beard.
<u1

></u1

>
<u1

></u1

>V/O: The name is Jesse Jamester.

<u1

></u1

><o

></o

>
<u1

></u1

> And pop the introduction fades out as a camera gazes on the face of Jesse Jamester inside the soon to be ring of the TEAM Tournament of Champions making his televised promo to the world.

<u1

></u1

>Jesse Jamester: For those honored enough to know the name welcome to the TEAM Tournament of Champions. This is the battleground for the elite, the home of the primitive males and the warriors of wrestling. (His tone is stern as his eyes stare darts through the camera lens and into the viewers’ eyes) We have men of all calibers coming together for one great prize… and a great prize it is! While some mutter about the weakness of competition, they overlook the mass variety of challengers from all sorts of wrestling circles. Not for a second have I underestimated one of these men. For I know the feeling of being considered an underdog, the unknown variable in this sort-a gig… I just so happen to know that it feeds the mind a dangerous and daring conscious that will have the pumped and self-claimers doubting every word they spit as they hype themselves!
<u1

></u1

>
<u1

></u1

>His eyes daring to scare the viewer with a piercing pain of needles one with such phobia may get. Without being aware of it, his eyes blink and the Nemesis Warrior raises his clenched fists to his waist line, staring down at them.<o

></o

>

Jesse Jamester: I am NOT someone to overlook gentlemen! I have squashed names like Seymour Almasy! I’ve out-played the cerebral generals of the ring such as the likes of Chris Storm! I have fought tooth in nail in the wave of talent that was once known as Lights Out Wrestling! Hell I roam from the underbelly of a beast that calls it self EVOLUTION-PRO-WRESTLING!
<u1

></u1

>
<u1

></u1

>Teeth now clenched, a sense of buried fortitude and honor being stressed in every word said.
<u1

></u1

>
<u1

></u1

>Jesse Jamester: While the groomed pups of this tournament like Xavier Kannon, Troy Douglas, Irishred, High Flyer, and Jay Phoenix, just to name a few. While they’re getting the silver spoon treatment from the public with all the media attention, the props and popularity votes as usual I’ll be preparing and prowling in the shadows of the backstage until it’s my turn to tear the roof off the joint! And no… it’s not one of those sorts of jays either. (Snickers)
<u1

></u1

>
A panning three hundred and sixty degree turn of the camera captures the soon to be war zone for TEAM’s Tournament of Champions. Empty seats soon to be full of rambunctious and eager fans who will cheer until their voice-boxes fall dead silent.

<u1

></u1

>Lights shimmer as they rotate in circles from the rafters to the balconies. The smell of sweat stings the air as the Nemesis Warrior takes a deep breath through his nostrils, raising his head as he takes it all in.
<u1

></u1

>
<u1

></u1

>Jesse Jamester: Just as Nova did in two-thousand-seven and D did in two-thousand-six, I’m gonna leave the room in stale hopes and foggy memories! You see, a warrior is always up for a fight. A jackal is always rearing its devilish and daring soul. While two-thousand eight rolls on as it continues to let me show just what I came back to wrestling to do! I shake things up, I shill the ****t that people don’t get, and I put power in those fans’ hands when I make them gasp at the slightest move! I set down one goal this year, and that was to make an impression! To lay down the ground work for a Legacy that shall be glorious! I set on taking this TEAM event with no-friends in my agenda, no pals to have my back, and no feeling but ruthless and reckless aggression!
<u1

></u1

>
<u1

></u1

>Smiling at the camera with an intent-to-kill stare in his eyes he cracks his neck. A pair of chapped pale lips purse at his next words.
<u1

></u1

>
<u1

></u1

>Jesse Jamester: This years Tournament of Champions winner…
<u1

></u1

>
<u1

></u1

>Cracking a sneer of a half smile, Jesse Jamester looks on at the camera and winks.
<u1

></u1

>
<u1

></u1

>Jesse Jamester: You’re lookin’ at ’em, Jesse Jamester. (Pause) The one...
<u1

></u1

>
<u1

></u1

>Raising his arm to shoulder length, his torso contorts as a single crooked index finger of his taped right hand points into the camera.
<u1

></u1

>
<u1

></u1

>Jesse Jamester: the only…
<u1

></u1

>
<u1

></u1

>Raising his thumb to gesture that his hand is a gun, he makes a trigger clinching sound with his mouth before pulling his hand back and performing a shooting act at the camera.
<u1

></u1

>
<u1

></u1

>Jesse Jamester: True (Pause) legacy (Pause) LEFT!
<u1

></u1

>
<u1

></u1

>With a blink of an eye, the shutters close on the recording camera feed. Blink. End Scene.<o

></o

>

QueenOfTheRing · Oct 15, 2008

(Posting this for O'Mac, because of the board's "first three posts have to be admin approved" thing...)

Credit where credit is due, kids. Tom Holzerman knows how to host a tournament. Now, we couldn’t tell you exactly where this tournament is being held. Hell, we don’t even know what country we’re in. What we do know is that these locker rooms are stocked to the mother f*ckin’ nines, yo. Someone has been taking notes.

Tyler Rayne has all the amenities he could have ever asked for. Comfortable black leather couch? Check. Flat screen TV with the HD capabilities and an Xbox 360 jacked to the back? Check. Fully-loaded mini bar? Double check. Fridge full of Code Red Mountain Dew? You better believe. Box of blue Pixie Sticks and a stack of Playboys on the coffee table? You gods damned right. Thick ol’ length of rope the reigning PRIME 5-Star Champion could fashion into a noose? Most certainly, good sirs and madams.

Wait. Say what?

“F*ckin’ years since I’ve done this Boy Scouts bullsh*t. Never even got a damn merit badge for knot tying… or whatever the f*ck. Seriously. I could kill a man with a limp noodle and q-tip. Tie a noose? Apparently f*cking not. Ha! Knot!”

The Underground Pimp triumphantly raises the rope above his head, shaking the freshly tied noose in celebration. The 5-Star Champion hops to his feet. Eyes turn toward the ceiling. Scanning. Looking for something strong enough to bear the load. His face scrunches with disappointment. Inadvertently, the Golden Boy (got more nicknames than Jay-Z’s got rhymes!) strikes a superhero pose. Hands on his hips. Black t-shirt stretched tight across a well-defined chest. White letters printed across the tee present to us the universe’s greatest mystery. The question of our times.

Who the f*ck is Troy Douglas?

Military issue boots tap impatiently against the locker room floor. Tyler sighs in disappointment and throws the noose back onto the couch.

“Son of a b*tch. This Holzerman asshole can provides me with everything I could ever ask for. Even a goram rope to hang myself with. What’s he forget? A pipe or a ledge or some bullsh*t to hang it from. What good’s a f*ckin’ noose if I can’t use the gods damned thing?”

Another sigh. His eyes turn to the camera. A twinkle of mischief in the corner of those dirt brown orbs.

“You. You can f*ckin’ help me. Get your ass over here.”

The camera tilts to the left before righting again. An uncomfortable cough comes from off the screen.

“Uh… me?”

“Yes. You. Monkey holding the camera. Come help me.”

“I, uh… I don’t know if I should be doing that.”

“What? Are you f*ckin’ kidding me? I can’t do this by myself. Don’t be such a p*ssy.”

“Look, man, they just pay me to hold this camera and tape some sh*t. I didn’t sign up for no assisted suicide.”

“Oh for the love of Hoyt. How the f*ck am I supposed to kill myself now? What… you want me to call Devin Shakur and have him bring over a pack of his used razor blades? That f*ckin’ emo bastard didn’t even drag his ass into this gods forsaken tournament. Probably the only time he’s done somethin’ smarter than me. This. Is f*cking. Bullsh*t.”

“C’mon, man. Don’t bust my balls about this. Aren’t you just supposed to, like… cut a promo or something? I mean that’s what you guys do, right? I hold the camera. You talk to it like I’m not here. Everyone goes home happy.”

“What the hell’s your name, camera monkey?”

“Uh… Doug?”

“Doug? Are you sure?”

“Yeah. It’s Doug.”

“Awesome. Doug, have you been paying attention to this sh*t Holzerman’s been airing?”

“Um… no. I actually don’t really like-“

“This is like… alright, Doug. Check this. You know why I’m trying to kill myself? Because I did watch this sh*t. I’ve been here all day, sitting on that f*cking couch, watching that f*cking TV… and all I wanna do is blow my goram brains out. Unfortunately I forgot my gun today. So I find this rope. I tie a noose. Now I’ve got nothin’ to hang it from. It’s all… look. I don’t know how many of these things you actually, ya know, film in a day, but I’ll tell ya something, Doug. If you were holding the camera for any of those pathetic ass excuses for promos… I … props to you, bro. I know you’re getting paid, but… god damn. That was some brutal f*cking sh*t.”

Tyler plops down on the couch, obviously frustrated. He drops his head down to the right, admiring the 5-Star Title hanging over the arm of the couch.

“I didn’t even wanna do this f*ckin’ tournament. But Uni… she talked me into it. Said it’d be fun. Good for the company. All that bullsh*t. And me, man, beautiful girl comes up and asks for a favor… I can’t say no. So here I am. This supposedly epic and prestigious TEAM Tournament of Champions. These guys are supposed to be the best, right? Champions and title holders the world over. Where in the seven circles of Hades did this kids win championships? I mean, who the f*ck are these chumps facing for competition? Jimmy Bonafide? Leonard Aarons? James F*cking Varga? Oh… right. Well… see my point.

“I mean… Jesus f*cking Christ on Sunday. I’m afraid to go take a piss, Doug. Do you believe that? Me. I am terrified of pissing alone. Because I f*cking swear the moment I pull my pants down one of these little ass kissing sons of f*ck will be tryin’ to swallow my cock. I’ve got girls lined around the block to do that sh*t. These guys? Sweet Hoyt. I’m listening to this sh*t, right, and I can’t f*cking believe it. Seriously. I gotta… we gotta… yeah. Ya know. F*ck it. Let’s do this. TEAM participants… strap yourselves in. It’s time for a sorely needed lesson on smack. Here we go. Promo 101. Take notes, kids.”

Tyler Rayne stands to his feet. Rubs his hands together. Rolls his shoulders. Loosen up. Find the groove. Ah yeah. There it is. Make sure you’re rollin’, Doug. Sh*t’s about to get good.

“I honestly cannot believe what I’m hearing out here. The lot of you… a bunch of f*cking pussies. You’re all supposed to be champions of some sort, right? How the f*ck did any of you get a gods damned belt? Other than maybe bending over and takin’ one for the team. Cause you sure as f*ck didn’t do it with that raw and edgy material you’ve been layin’ out on these airwaves. I’ve been to nursing homes that talk a more intimidating game than you c*nt drip mother f*ckers. You… assholes march out here and spew out this ridiculous cliché and trite bullsh*t. And the worst part is… you f*cking believe it. You twats actually buy into this crap you’re shilling. I’ve never seen such a collection of panty wastes in all my…

“Let’s just get this sh*t out of the way real quick like. James Varga. You nancy bastard. I was making fun of you years ago. Long before it was the cool thing to do. Before any of these motley f*ckers learned to laugh at your name, MDK was embarrassing you and mopping up my ring with your no talent ass. Years ago. I walk into PRIME and hear you’re still haunting around these parts. Shocked the sh*t out of me. People still hire James Varga? Strange f*ckin’ world we live in. Anyway, you’re supposed to be some sort of big shot now, right? You’re like… The Man or something somewhere. Right? Maybe? Whatever. And the worst you can come up with is… I’m a bad ass? I’ma destroy some sh*t? Well… duh. That’s what I do. What is it that you do, exactly? Kinda looks like you’re standing in line, waiting to suck my balls like the rest of these punks. Which’ll bring us right around to Troy Douglas.”

This is where Tyler releases that infamous smile. A patented (no, seriously) grin filled with beaming confidence and just the smallest hint of cockiness. There are rumors, though totally unfounded, that the very sight of this smile has been enough to incite women to near orgasm. Not full orgasm, mind you (we’re not Jason Snow, after all)… but close.

“Who the f*ck is Troy Douglas? Oh. Right. He’s that guy I beat last week on ReVolution. Another so-called champion who’s feeling frisky enough to sing my praises on national television. You’re right, kid. I am one of the finest wrestlers on the planet. Any other biting remarks you wanna add to that? What next, Troy? You gonna come over and do my laundry for me? Maybe bake me some cupcakes? You might’ve had a few good matches, kid. But you’re no Tyler Rayne. You held that Intense Title for, what? A month or two?”

Tyler snatches the 5-Star Title from the couch and slings it over his shoulder. Cue the smile again.

“Nine months and counting. Most of you out there have won belts in the last year or so to qualify for this tournament. Good for you. I’ve held my belt for nearly that long. Now yeah. I heard what some of you kids had to say. How past achievements don’t matter. How what belts we may have held or what other champions we may have beat don’t pertain to the here and now. To this tournament. I say to you, friends… you must be f*cking retarded. You’re telling me that entry into this tournament requires you to have won a championship in the past year… and yet none of our past accomplishments are relevant? You’re joking, right? You know what kind of people say some stupid bullsh*t like that? The kind that don’t have accomplishments to talk about. Though, while we’re talking about accomplishments…

“Tyler Rayne is the winner of PRIME’s 2008 Dual Halo. Now for those of you who didn’t enter the tournament, because I know for a f*cking fact that a good half dozen or more of you did… the Dual Halo goes something like this. Sixty some odd wrestlers from promotions all over the world are locked in a giant cage… dome… thingy together. Two rings. Elimination rules. Last man standing walks away the victor. Who was that, you might ask? Well, it sure as f*ck wasn’t Troy Douglas. It wasn’t James Varga or Jay Phoenix or any of you other chumps I’ve never even heard of. I walked through sixty of the world’s best. In one evening. In one match. I outlasted them all. I outlasted some of you. You really think thirty so-called champions spread across a three round tournament is going to make me sweat? Squirrel, please.

“Now look, maybe y’all should stop sharing the textbook and take some hints from an actual professional. Myles Jake, it’s true. You do suck. ‘Tween you and Varga… you boys read the first, what?, three chapters of Heel 101 and figured you’d learned enough to get by. There was more original material in those stupid ass f*ckin’ Scary Movies than the two of you have managed to cobble together. Ravager? Mikey Massacre? Even you, Troy Douglas. You boys studied real hard on how to make a proper face, huh. Watched all those videos from the 80’s. Learned how to pander to the crowd. When to say the right things. Show the proper respect and tell everyone that it’s not about the money. F*ck that bullsh*t. And f*ck your pansy asses, too. Cameron Cruise, Irishred… the rest of you no talent sacks. Don’t think that I forgot about you. I just… never knew who the f*ck you were to begin with. I fell asleep through half of your promos. The other half I was trying to figure out how to tie that f*ckin’ noose. Way I figure it… either I kill myself for being dumb enough to enter this pitiful excuse of a champion’s tournament and having to watch that collection of molded ass clippings you lot call promos… or I off myself as a sort of community service. Hoyt knows me being dead is the only way you pitiful little f*cks have a chance of walking out of this tournament. Speaking of… I think I’ve finally figured out how to do that proper. Ya know… really end the misery and suffering of having to watch these gods forsaken promos. Doug, you’re gonna have to bounce. This is going to be horrendous. Atrocious. Probably some sort of form of torture. Might even be against the Geneva Conventions. Thanks for uh… hangin’ though. If I don’t make it out tell Uni… just tell her she’s got a wonderful ass.”

The scene lingers for a moment. Tyler Rayne. The 5-Star Title. That infamous smile. Then it breaks. Fade to black.

Seconds pass.

A minute.

Two.

Static. Snow on the screen. The camera comes back into focus. Tyler Rayne’s face consumes the camera. His hand plays outside the scene, trying to adjust the focus. He looks honestly into the camera. Sincerely… and speaks one final sentence for the TEAM hopefuls.

“This is Claire Bennet and this… is attempt thirty-seven.”

The PRIME 5-Star Champion turns to the flat screen TV in the room and watches with resolve. Ignores the pain. The agony. Oh the agony.

“Well, well, well. Look at what I have to survive now. Another tournament, this time the TEAM Tournament of Champions.”

theblayke · Oct 15, 2008

No crap this time, just straight up trash-talk from the 37-year old Superstar. Myles Jake. He watched and listened, and after listening to Tyler Rayne, he could not take it anymore. Luckily, we were able to catch his rebuttal all on camera.

"Wait a second, there is a book called Heel 101? After living, eating and breathing this business for seventeen years, I can't believe I never came across such a textbook. Maybe that is the reason it took me so long to turn heads. If I would have had that book I would have become an infamous Heel a lot younger. And considering I only got through the first few chapters, Rayne, there is so much for me to learn. And considering that you are a 5-Star Champion and PRIME's prima-donna, I figured I would check you out and see what the other Chapters outline."

"This is great, you are basically the Cole's Notes of this 101 book..."

"Chapter number four, somewhere in your nickname, include the word Pimp. I mean nothing screams originality like sticking that word into your alias. In a parellel universe, the only idea as original as "Pimp" within the Face universe is taking some red and yellow trunks and screaming whatcha-gonna-do. Atleast you were intelligent enough to throw underground in front of it, so you do not have to walk around in silk shirts and colorful hats."

"Chapter number five, say f*ck every second word. F*ck this. F*ck that. F*ck the business. F*ck Varga. F*ck tournaments. I'm the f*cking PRIME 5-Star Champion. Everybody in the f*cking primetime community pays the most f*cking attention to me, because I'm f*cking Tyler Rayne and you can't do any-f*cking-thing about it. There is nothing more annoying than hearing a 28-year old man using the same four-letter word every sentance to make himself look tough. If I were Tyler Rayne, I would try to intimidate with my accomplishments and the pure wrestling skill that obviously got me an inivtation to this tournament and the accolades by all my peers."

"But clearly I am not Tyler Rayne. No, I am alot older and clearly alot more mature. I am not a pimp, instead I am a husband in a struggling marriage and a father of a son that seems to rebel for the sake of frustrating me. For 16 years I thought I would make a better insurance salesman than wrestler and instead of being given titles and accomplishments because of my charisma, I have had to claw and scrap to getting any attention in this God-forsaken business."

"Mr. Rayne, do not confuse me with the run of a mill wrestler you normally compete against every week. I'm not textbook. I'm so far against the grain, that half of the viewers of this tournament expect for me to be defeated in the first round. But go ask William Gwynn or Derek Barlow what Myles Jake can do when he is focused. They'll tell you the story, that no textbook can tell you. I'm more than just another opponent."

"I'm the guy that is going to embarrass you, and everyone else in this tournament."

Promo 101 would give some sort of description as to what Myles Jake is doing right now, but instead he stares at the camera. Nobody ever said this guy cuts good promo's.

"Clearly I am not the right choice to win this tournament. Jesse Jamester knows the history of this tournament - I don't. Starbreaker claims to be a trendsetter - I clearly am not. Pheonix has some happenin' face painting going on - I have no fancy ring attire. Varga has been around for God knows how long - I just got here. Cameron Cruise carries two World titles - I have yet to win one. Mikey Massacre has shown dedication to keep wrestling after a broken neck - I probably would have retired."

"And Irishred... well I'm better than Irishred."

"But in case you think that because I know that I'm the least likely to succeed in this tournament, that I'm going to back down and not show up like some 28 of the other competitors in this tournament? You're wrong. I've never backed down from a fight, and will never back down from a challenge."

The end.

Phoenix · Oct 15, 2008

"Seventeen thousand hits?"

Jay Phoenix stares into the screen, beyond and above it to be exact; one eyebrow raised as he voices the question.

"Well, that was this morning, a few hours ago; it is probably more than that now."

Phoenix relaxes back in the black leather armchair that surrounds his body and smiles a little self-consciously, his eyes flashing with humour. The reply to his question, in a young masculine voice, comes from somewhere behind the camera – the speaker unseen.

"For a retired wrestler doing an impromptu interview on Youtube, Jimmy," Phoenix shook his head incredulously, "that sounds like a lot of people to be checking out my words."

"It is all about the keywords, Mr Phoenix," a female voice, also unseen, clarifies, "we tagged it with your name and the Tournament of Champions and the hits just kept on coming."

"Did you also ‘tag’ it" Phoenix said with a wry grin, "with the words ‘not happening’ too?"

"Well, no," the voice laughed out, "but I think that you made it pretty clear that you were done with PRIME and not interested in taking part in the Tournament itself so I didn’t think that we needed to do that."

"… and if we had posted an interview letting people know that you weren’t going to be there we wouldn’t have got people to check us out anyway, Jenny!" the male voice interrupted.

"Glad to see that you learned something at the journalism course!"

Before the bickering can escalate any further Phoenix leant forwards, arms rested on his knees, and cleared his throat with a deliberate cough. Behind the camera both of the young, erstwhile reporters – Jimmy and Jenny – realised where they were and who they were arguing in front of and settled down.

"Sorry about that Mr Phoenix …"

"Listen, guys, call me Jay, please."

"OK, Jay, sorry about that," Jimmy said with a rush of excitement, "but, c’mon, you have to tell us why you called us back here?!"

Relaxing back into the chair once more Phoenix runs a hand through his long, auburn hair – brushing a loose strand away from his bronzed face – and smiles ruefully before choosing his words.

"Well when you broke the news to me yesterday that I had been entered into the Tournament of Champions," he stated simply, "I was a bit taken aback, to be honest."

"I can understand why, Jay," jimmy acknowledge, "considering you told us that you don’t even want to wrestle for PRIME, let alone any tournament, I can see how finding out that your boss at PRIME – C.P. Cantrell – booked you in something like that could be a bit of a bombshell!"

"He isn’t my boss, Jimmy," Phoenix pointed out, a little curtly, "he is nothing more than a scum who is trying to blackmail me into doing something that I simply don’t want to do."

"… wrestle?"

Phoenix smiles, his teeth flashing, before answering.

"If you had asked me that yesterday I would have agreed with you," he acknowledged, "but I had a long talk with someone about this last night and I realised that it isn’t that I don’t want to wrestle anymore, it is just that I don’t want to be forced to wrestle."

"What do you mean?"

"Simple. Cantrell can do make all the threats that he wants but he cannot make me wrestle for PRIME … not now, not ever. He also can’t make me wrestle for this tournament either …"

"There is a ‘but’in there," Jenny asked from behind the camera, "isn’t there?"

"Well spotted," Phoenix nodded, grinning, "the ‘but’ is simple. Cantrell didn’t get me into the Tournament of Champions, he was simply the messenger – it seems that my invite came through PRIME but wasn’t by them … if I wanted to take part in the Tournament I could just as easily class myself as a free agent."

"’If’ you wanted to take part?"

"Listen guys," Phoenix sighed, looking serious, "until a couple of weeks back I was content with slipping into retirement with no fanfare and, to be honest, no real conscious choice; it was just happening."

" … and another ‘but’ is on its way!" Jenny laughed.

" … but," Phoenix continued, "it has been brought to my attention that if I really am going to leave this crazy business behind me I should do it on my terms, I should do it my way … I should do it by taking part in something that I love doing – a tournament!"

"Does that mean that you are going to be in the Tournament of Champions?"

"What it means, Jimmy, is that I am keeping my options open," Phoenix admitted, "I am not saying that I will be there but the idea of retiring after taking part in a Tournament I have never been in before … facing people like Troy Douglas, Xavier Kannon, Hornet and all the other legends that may be part of this things is something that I would be a fool to turn down!"

"Those are some big names to stand up against." Jimmy pointed out then gulped his words into silence as he realised how it sounded.

"You are right, Jimmy," Phoenix acknowledged with a smile, "the tournament is for people who have been Champions or tournament winners; that isn’t me – not anymore."

"… but it was, Jay," Jimmy pointed out with fanboy-esque enthusiasm, "you were the CSWA Presidential Champion, you have held six different PTC World titles, you are a grand-slam champion in two of those feds and in three of their Hall of Fames, you are the only man to be in all six GTTs and be in the final of two, and …"

" … and that was all in the past, Jimmy," Phoenix interrupted, ruefully, "I haven’t wrestled competively in such a long time that I am not even sure that I remember how, let alone if I want to …"

"Another but?" Jenny asked, easing the tension that had built up.

"Indeed, Jenny," Phoenix laughed, his posture at ease once more, "and this will be the last one. ‘But’ I know that I have to seriously think about this tournament and if I want to go out on a high or with all the lows of the past two years as my last memory … or lack thereof … of wrestling."

"Do you mean the stuff with Ember …"

Before Jimmy can finish his question Phoenix holds up his hand, interrupting him with a pained expression on his face.

"Sorry, my friend, I don’t want to go there!" Phoenix stated, brusquely, "so, if you don’t mind, I think that I will leave it there for now."

"Sure thing Jay" Jimmy said, "and thank you!"

"You going to post this on Youtube too?" Phoenix asked with a smile?

"Damn straight I am," Jimmy nearly shouted in excitement, "with this one we are going to get millions of hits, not thousands!"

irishred · Oct 15, 2008

Irishred sits in front of a Vizio 32" flat running the remote. He leans forward from time to time with intensity watching closely. Then he leans back with the occassional laugh. The founder of the MwM notices the red light on the camera indicates taping and pauses the DVD. He leans back comfertably and begins to address the camera.

Just was watching some of the past TEAM tourneys I was in. Jesus that Lindsay Troy is a first rate b*tch. All these years later and I still can't stand that hag.

Can't belive that I lost to some hack named the Poet. But if I can quote a cliche'...any given wrestler on any given day...la di da di da.

I miss my buddy James Irish. That man made everything more interesting. Plus that Erin Flannagan girl is quite the little hottie pants. James and I took bizzare to a whole new level with our little animated promos. We had fun doing it no matter if the crowd was enjoying it or not.

Mr. Amazing and I damn near stole the show in one of the TEAM tourneys. He and I were the fued to watch a few years back. No matter what federation or what the stakes he and I put on classics in the ring. He was one of those that just brought out the best in me. Amazing is gone too.

Speaking of bringing out the best in a person; it was a joy to work with the men that I had the honor of competing with in my first stint as a professional wrestler. Good MBE, although gone for many years ran clear to the finals a couple years back. Spoiler, Hida, Whitenoise...all in some form of retirement...

It's sad when I look at most of the wrestlers that I came up with, that I had glorious fueds and partenrships with and realize that I am one of the last standing. I guess I'm one of those idiots that just doesn't know when to quit.

The thing is though, I just can't seem to let go. I can't just turn off the competitive button inside of me. I can't quench the fire. I love doing this for a living. It is getting harder and harder to go out on the road all those days and harder and harder to get out of bed in the morning...but what am I going to do? I have more the capable managers for my bar and charitable orginizations, I'd just end up getting in their way. My wife and son travel with me whenever they want to and I fly home between shows. What's an old boy like me to do?

I know how to fight...that's it. That's what I do best. From the time I was a young boy fighting for survival on the Santee Sioux Indian Reservation, to organized wrestling, bar fights, tough man competitions and finally professional wrestling...this is what I know how to do. This is as much a part of who I am as anything I guess.

So here I am...ready to refind that glory. Ready to revel in the battle. Ready to steel myself against insults and blatant lies, no longer wondering if this is the right thing for me to do but rather ready to take on all comers.

I take a look at that list and there are men that I have battled before like Douglas, Ravager, Hart, Cruise, Cloverleaf and Friendly. I've stood toe to toe with these men and taken their measure. There are no surprises coming from them. each one of them has the ability to win this tournament.

There are men that I am very familiar with like Phoenix, Fusenhauff, Mr. Entertainment, Tact, Garbage Bag and Olvir. These guys are household names for a reason. Each one of them oozes talent. Each one of these guys could win this damn thing.

All of the guys I have mentioned have the pedigre for sure to take this tourney by storm and become the biggest name in the business. And I'm sure that those I am not familiar with are just as big in their little ponds. I'm sure all of these guys could win this thing.

I just don't see it happening though.

You see the more I have thought about this tourney the more I have realized that I want to win this thing. Honestly my original plan was to come in and compete and just let the chips fall. Win or lose...no big deal.

But now...

Now...I've decided that I'm going to win this thing. I think that TEAM Tournament of Champions Winner 2008 sounds like a nice little coda to a career.

Now how can I state so boldly that I am going to win this thing? Well boys when I put my mind to something...it happens. Period.

Ask Dan Ryan about that. I told him I was going to take EPW from his crooked hands and I did.

Ask the First how dirty I am willing to get. He laid in a hospital bed after I decided that I wanted to take the UCW World Title from him.

Ask Mr. Amazing how it feels to fall 20 feet from a scaffold after I decided that enough was enough...there would be no more head games. He hasn't been back in the ring since.

Ask Chip Friendly how it feels to walk around without the A1E World Title around his waist? The mafia wanted the belt and I made sure that Marcus was wearing that gold by the end of their match.

Troy Douglas and I are about to have a match in the semi-finals of the best of A1E tourney, a tourney that no one thought I would get out of the first round in. Troy wishes he was facing anyone but me in that match.

When I want something I will go to any lengths to achieve that goal. I've sold out family, I've turned on my friends, I've desecrated the memories of dead family members...I've crippled and maimed just to get what I want.

I know no boundries. I feel no remorse. Each and every one of you knows the risks when you walked into this business. When you are lying in recovery wondering what happened...just know that you were told this was coming.

I want this glory. I want this badly. I'm going to show each and everyone of you what age and treachery will gain you. The 2008 TOC WILL be mine.

See you in the ring kids...pray you don't draw me.

Irishred hits play once again as the camera fades to black.

theshow · Oct 15, 2008

Camera crew catches up with Rebel's Carolina champion, 'The Show' Chad Kurtis backstage of Rebel's 'Blood Wars' event in Knoxville, TN. Chad has done gone 1-1 in the event once again doing double duties successfully defending his Carolina championship while losing in the three way tag team match.

Axl: Chad, you know I am more then just your trainer I am also your friend and with that in mind are you sure you want to do this TEAM. After all you are already the hardest working wrestling in Rebel and NAPW and know from the Carolina to Canada.

Chad: Oh hell yeah I am sure. This is a chance to compete against the best of the best. Hell you have to be one of the best in the sport just to get an invite. I want to prove to all the people in the big feds such as A1E, Empire Pro, and Prime that Rebel is a force to be reckoned with. Also I felt as the 2X Rebel world champion and well as the current and 3X Carolina champion it was my duty to represent Rebel and the Rebel fans in this tournament.

Axl: I understand all that but just think about the condition of your body and what you put it through for this sport. And add it the fact that you have done double duty for Rebel 3 events in a roll included in that streach is probably the match of the year against Nick Everhardt and the debut of you and Billy Kryneik as 'The Time Warp Duo' as well as match against KKP and Dan Ryan.

Chad: I appreciate the concern but Jack 'Attack' Jones once said while calling one of my matches that if I don't slow done I will be in a wheelchair but the time I am 30. And if those are the cards that are dealt to me so be. 'Cause 'The Show' only knows one speed and that's fast forward. Anyway this is the right time for 'The Show' to try his hand at the Team tournament of champions. I am on a hot streak with victories over Dan Ryan, D!, Rebel world champion, Everhardt, etc plus the only reason I don't have the NAPW world title right know is due to a little help from KKP friends Casino and Cartwright. So, I got to ride the momentum and see where it goes.

Axl: Let's talk about some of your opponents in the tournament you are going to be going up against the likes of Troy Douglas, Jesse Jamester, Shawn Hart, Chip Friendly, Irishred, not to mention those your are fimilar with like Mikey Massacre, Ravager, and KKP. How do you prepare for such a stocked line-up?

Chad: Damn! What a list of wrestlers. It reminds me of when I was back in school and everyone want to make the who's who's list. Well, guess what 'The Show' made it and to answer your question on how I prepare for such a stocked line-up. I prepare for the tournament like I prepare for all my matches. I didn't earn my reputation as having hte hardest training reginime in pro wrestling just by playing XBox. So, I am going to say my prayers and eat my vitanims, never mind that someone else saying. Truth is I am going to train for every round of this tournament like it is do or die laying everything on the line. The superstars of this tournamet such as your Troy Douglas, your Jesse Jamester, your Shawn Hart, and so on are going to find out exactly why I am known as 'The Innovator of Offense', 'The Last Action Hero', 'The True PTPer', the 'THEN NOW NEXT', 'The Show' Chad Kurtis!

'The Show' Chad Kurtis and his entourage exit the building and are greeted by a make shift prep rally gathered to send 'The Show' Chad Kurtis off to the tournament of champions in style. 'The Show' takes notice of a few of the signs including one that says CK is Rebel and ticket to Blood War = $15, 'Maybe you are just better...' T-Shirt=$20, getting to take a picture of the next Team tournament of champions winner=priceless.

Chad: Wow! I knew Rebel fans were the best but for you guys to still be out here almost two hours after 'Blood Wars' that means a lot to me. I just wanted to take this time to let you know I will respresent you all to the best of my ability and let them know that Rebel pride runs wide all through the south!

Fans are chanting, 'THEN NOW NEXT' as the scene slowly fades away and 'The Show' continues to address the crowd.

doubles69 · Oct 15, 2008

The camera's begin to roll, picking up exclusive footage in the Global Championship Wrestling New York City Headquarters, only a few hours before their bi-weekly radio broadcast is about to air. Sound technicians scramble around the studio, attempting to make sure that everything is in perfect working order before their 'big boss' arrives in the building. It's a new staff with a new studio and is under the guidance of a new production company, all a direct result of the GCW split with Primetime Central.

The in-studio camera pans around in a circle until finally being focused on a face not so familiar to those outside of the Global Championship Wrestling realm.

"This thing on?" David Yale is the color commentator for all of GCW's Television Broadcasts. His duties this afternoon, however, won't involve calling moves inside the squared circle. Instead, David Yale has been given the opportunity to set down and speak with undoubtably one of his most favored superstars on the current roster.

"Come on guys, we've got to get this thing rolling. Chris Bagwell will be here any minute and he's not going to want to sit around and waste time." It's no secret that Yale is a huge supporter of Chris Bagwell and was very gracious to GCW President Steven Caldera for giving him the chance to sit down with Chris. Normally, these types of jobs go to an interviewer you've probably never seen before.

And probably never will see again.

Inside the studio, there's a small backdrop set up that mimics the look of a set you'd see on 'The Tonight Show with Jay Leno.' Two leather chairs are angled towards each other only a few feet from the backdrop and are separated only by a small coffee table.

David gets himself comfortable in the left most chair. He scrambles through his notecards, making sure they're in order and that he won't mess up. For a man who spends his weeks calling shots on live national television, he seems particularly nervous for his upcoming encounter.

"Here he comes," shouts a staff member. David smiles and nods his head. Lifting himself from his chair, David repositions his body so that it's on a slight angle towards the camera. A second staff member guides Chris Bagwell along the side of the set and holds him there until his cue.

The camera technician holds his fingers in the air, signalling a countdown until they go live.

Three fingers.

Then two fingers.

One fingers.

We're live.

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen, I'm David Yale and tonight we're bringing to you a special edition GCW Wrap Up Show! With Dangerous Games on the cusp, our superstars have been engaging in a number of extracurricular events to prepare themselves for it. While most superstars are spending their time in the weight room or resting by their bedside, my first guest has decided to take a completely different approach." David shifts his eyes in the direction of Bagwell, cueing the second staff member to lead Bagwell in.

"There's no sense in me giving away any more, so let me welcome probably the most controversial star ever in the history of Global Championship Wrestling, Chris Bagwell!"

Chris steps into the camera's view with a smirk plastered across his face. He's dressed extremely well, wearing a white Diesel Sonstig long sleeved button down shirt, complimented with a pair of straight legged Diesel Zatiny jeans. His designer appearence throws David off for a moment.

"Welcome, Chris! Its good to have you here." David extends his hand in a friendly gesture.

"Ah," Chris says with a sigh. "It's an absolute pleasure, David."

David shows Chris Bagwell his chair while reciting, "Why don't you take a seat and we'll get started!" The two gentlemen make themselves comfortable, sinking deep in the leather cushions. David thumbs through a few notecards and gets himself situated.

"As I said before your introduction, Chris. Dangerous Games is literally right around the corner and is perhaps one of the single biggest events the GCW holds...period!"

Chris nods his head as an agreeing gesture, "Absolutely, David. I've read so much about this event and I've even gone and rented some of the video tapes to try and come up with a strategy. It'll be my first Dangerous Games and I'm beyond excited to be able to square off against the likes of guys such as Andy Murray, LeStatt Knight, Chris Storm, and Digital Mortality."

David's eyes light up in surprise that Bagwell, for once, actually has something decent to say about his fellow GCW co-workers. "Wow Chris," he says. "I think that's the first time I've EVER heard you actually compliment anyone in GCW... or anyone at all, for that matter!"

Chris responds with a chuckle, "This could very well mean the end of the world, David!" Chris and David share a quick laugh while David thumbs over to his next index card.

"Now Chris, I also mentioned that you've come up with a completely unique and somewhat radical approach to prepare yourself for this match. While others are resting or endurance training in the weight room, you actually went ahead and enrolled in some sort of inter-promotional tournament?"

Shaking his head, "You're certainly right. I got the invitation and it sat on the top of my **** pile for a couple of weeks before I decided I'd give it a read. Next thing you know, I RSVPed and got added to the list."

"The question on my mind, and I'm sure everyone else's mind, is why you'd even bother jeapordizing your health on the eve of Dangerous Games with something like this?" David shows a genuine concern in his question.

"It's simple Dave," Chris reples. "As I said to you, I sat there and watched hours and hours of tapes from past years and the one theme throughout that I noticed was endurance. It's pretty much a no-brainer that the guy who's got the most endurance is going to walk out of that match as the winner.

To me, endurance isn't something you strengthen by simply going to the weight room a few extra times or by getting a good night's sleep. Endurance is something that is built by pushing your body to the limit."

"Chris, you sound somewhat contradictary of yourself. You're claiming that endurance is the key to winning the match but yet you're going to tire yourself out only days before. I don't see your logic."

"What's lifting weights make you good at, Dave?"

David looks at Chris baffled. The answer seems obvious, but Chris is clearly looking for something a bit more deep, "I'm not sure. I guess it can help with a lot of things. It can make you stronger or keep you healthy. Those sorts of things."

"No," Chris says abruptly. "Lifting weights makes you good at one thing and that's lifting weights. You're training your muscles to perform in certain motions and they're going to ultimately memorize those motions. Now I'm sure I'm going to get five billion muscle-heads trying to tell me that it makes them some superior athlete, when it fact it doesn't. I mean, when's the last time you saw Mr. Universe compete in the NBA or the NHL? They're a mass of muscle. Sure they may be strong, but they've got no skillset."

"I get what you're saying, but I'm not seeing where you are going with this," argues David.

"My point is... is that the reason I got myself involved in this Tournament is because I'm going to be exerting myself in a fashion similar to the way I will be at Dangerous Games. I'm going to be taking punches, eating kicks, sucking up suplexes, and dishing out a whole helluva lot of abuse to my body.

But it's all going to be practical abuse. It's all going to be the kind of abuse your body cannot get by lifting up a dumbell five hundred times while looking at yourself in the mirror and trying to admire that tiny vein that just started to pop out of your arm."

David smiles and responds ecstatically, "Ha! I never looked at it that way! Well you touched a pretty significant point that I don't think has really been emphasized on yet. This is, in fact, a tournament. As a matter of fact, it's been titled the Tournament of Champions.

And, ironically enough Chris, you aren't and haven't been a champion in GCW of any sort. What are your thoughts about the caliber of athletes you're goign to be facing going into this thing? Do their accomplishments get you at all worried?"

"I think you're asking the wrong question, Dave," Chris says sternly. "You hit the nail on the head when you said this was a Tournament of Champions. You nearly put the final nail in the coffin when you made the remark that I have not even so much as held a championship belt at all in GCW. But your hammer broke when you asked me if their accomplishments worried me."

"With all do respect, all of the other entrants are all current or recent former champions of their respectful organizations."

"Precisely. And I'm not. Hell, I've only gotten a single title shot in my entire GCW career. So, to be perfectly honest, shouldn't these so-called Champions be worried about MY accomplishments?"

Chris pauses as if giving David time to think. Sensing the rhetoric in Chris' voice, David makes it a point not to interject.

"You see, Dave. As far as these guys are aware, I've never held a belt. Yet I still managed to get invited into the same EXACT tournament as the rest of them. So it's not their accomplishments I should be worried about, because we already know them. Each and every one of them are champions.

It's my accomplishments that need to be worried about. Every man, woman, or thing (and there are certainly a couple of those signed up) should be scratching their heads and wondering... WHO THE HELL IS CHRIS BAGWELL?"

David speaks up, "I'd take that as a negative connotation, wouldn't you?"

Chris shakes his head vigorously, "Absolutely not. Not in the context. Sure, it may be negative in the sense that my star value isn't as great as theirs. But the point is -- they know nothing about me and nothing of what I can do. But there is SOMEONE who does. And that someone came to me because he knew I had something to offer. And my guess is that he knew you couldn't name a champion of champions... without having the absolute BEST superstars on the card."

David can't help but smile while nodding his head, "I'll tell ya, Chris. You sure know how to take what seems like such an innocent conversation and just encompass it with your ego and your confidence."

Chris responds with a laugh, "It's what I do!"

"Well despite your apparent glowing background that we still don't know much of anything about, you cannot deny some of the talent that will be involved in this Tournament of Champions. Do you mind if I quickly run through a couple of names?"

Shrugging his shoulders, Chris answers, "Sure. That's why I'm here."

"Well I guess the most appropriate place to start will be with a guy who recently leaked an in-ring promo with his independent organization. In it, he had a few choice words that were aimed in your direction. Being the first and of the few who've actually mentioned you're name, I'd like to see if I could get your comments on Mikey Massacre?"

Bagwell starts laughing again. "It's actually really funny you bring his name up. My agent sent me an e-mail the other day with a YouTube recording of this guy's little rant. I guess the kid was in the audience or something. Anyway, I don't know how to work that whole YouTube thing so I made him burn it onto a disc and I listened to it in the CD player on the way over here."

Bagwell pauses to laugh a bit more, showing little respect for Mikey Masscare. "I mean, I don't really know what to say to the kid. It seemed like every other word out of his mouth was F this or F that. To be honest, the kid sounds like he's trying to be some high school bully because he was tormented all his life.

Now I don't have the slightest clue what the guy looks like, because like I said -- I only listened to him on the CD player. But my guess is he can't be older than seventeen with the way he runs his mouth. I mean, seriously. He pulled out every teenage 'I'm going to kick your butt' rendition there is in the book! And, to top it all off, his overuse of the word brother made me picture him wearing an 80's Hulkamaniac shirt."

David breaks out in laughter.

Chris throws in just a few additional words, "Seriously! I think the only thing that would've made his little interview, or whatever it was, any more insane would have been if he closed by saying 'And That's The Bottom Line, Because Mikey-whatever Said So!'"

Yale continues to laugh, trying to slip out his next question. "Well, I guess there isn't much else you can say about Mikey Massacre. I was able to actually see the video and I will say this: I feel very sorry for whoever is in charge of promoting his organization. There couldn't have been more than forty people there. And it definitely did look like it was inside of a high school gymnasium."

"Could've been his high school musical!" Chris adds.

David smiles, still shaking his head. "Anyway, moving on. The next guy I wanted to bring up is a man quite familiar with the TEAM scene, Ravager."

Bagwell throws his hand up in the air, "Whoa! Nope. Stop right there. I know exactly who you're talking about. That was actually one of the first interviews I was able to watch. I swear to God, I almost withdraw my contract from the tournament went I heard this guy ramble. I mean, he almost reminded me of the Ultimate Warrior back in the early '90s the way he'd just go off on some wild rant about nothing. [ In a mimicing tone ] BLAH-BEE BLAH BLAH SHOE-BEE-BUH-DEW-BEE-BOO-BLAH YOU'RE ALL GOING TO DIE!"

"Oh dear lord," says Yale.

"And his NAME," Bagwell continues! "It sounds like some cheesy B-rated horror movie or something."

Yale butts in, "Actually, I believe there was a film by that name released in '97. From what I remember, it didn't do so hot."

"Why does that not surprise me!"

Yale non-chalantly thumbs through a few more cards until finding one that strikes his eye immediately. "Boy do I have a good one for you! On the topic of guys who are quite familiar with the TEAM scene, I've got a got who's also quite familiar with you!"

Bagwell waives his hand, motioning for Yale to stop. "Don't even have to say it."

Yet Yale continues anyway, "JAMES VARGA!"

Bagwell rolls his eyes, almost at a loss of words for his former co-worker, "I mean, I really don't know what else to say about this guy that hasn't already been said. Varga is a tournament whore. Don't get me wrong, I love these promoters who put together these types of events because you really do get to compete with new superstars you may have never known existed. But James Varga, my God.

Does he even still have a steady job at any one company anymore? I feel like he makes a living on bouncing back and forth between these inter-promotional events. It's actually somewhat annoying."

"Well despite being annoying, Varga IS the Lethal Lottery Champion in TEAM."

"I'm not completely knocking the guy's talent. He's a good guy. He's got some skill and he's sort of entertaining. But I mean, the guy gets old FAST! Let me give you an example. Did you ever see that spoof movie, Scary Movie?"

"Yeah absolutely," says Yale.

"Hilarious. It literally ripped apart every aspect of a poorly written Scream, with some added bonuses from other movies. Then came along Scary Movie 2. Again, the movie had a ton of laughs and was still pretty entertaining. But for whatever reason, it just wasn't as good as the first one.

Next thing you know, you've got Scary Movie 3, then Scary Movie 4, and THEN they start spoofing other genres with superhero spoofs, chick flick spoofs, etcetera. You get the picture."

"Yeah, yeah. I know what you mean."

"That's how I look at James Varga. At first, the guy was a riot. I couldn't get over the fact that this guy was some crazy satanic Church-goer who pledged his loyalty to his lord, Tioneb. Which, if you didn't know Dave, is Benoit spelt backwards."

David is taken back, "No, I didn't realize that at all! That's pretty creepy."

"Regardless, I thought it was a bit hysterical. And I got to know James a bit in GCW. But the crazy Chruch of the Unholy thing got old and boring. And the less people started paying attention to him, the more over the top he started to get with things. I mean, for Christ's sake, the guy was bringing in animal guts into the GCW locker rooms and playing with them like they were little dolls. Some people were nuts, but James Varga was just craving attention."

"Yeah, his days in GCW were definitely some of the weirdest," adds David.

"My point is, his whole 'unholy Varga' thing got stale, much like the Scary Movie series, and he jumping to something new. Now he's calling himself The Violator. Or maybe it's Darth Varga. Or whatever it is he calls himself these days... it's not really important. The fact is that I'm just tired of seeing the same old crap from this guy Varga. And yeah, I'll say again that the guy has some talent, but he isn't THAT good to where he should be going around and picking fights with every guy he comes in contact with."

"Well Varga did make a reference to you in saying that your 'Movement stops here.'"

"See, this is a perfect example of what I was just saying. I faught for Varga's job in GCW countless times and I made sure he kept it. Even after Axel Action beat his ass at Warpath, I approached Caldera and convinced him to give Varga one more shot.

Varga, of course, goes and runs his mouth and then declares his retirement. Fine. We all want to retire at some point for whatever the reason may be. But to come around now and try to smack talk me when only three months ago you were banging on my door for a spot on my group? Like... is this guy really serious?"

"Would it be safe to assume that you're ruling out James Varga for a victory in this tournament."

Bagwell laughs and shakes his head no, "Unfortunately, I can't. You know how bizarre this guy is. For all I know, he could come down to the ring this week and put some voodoo spell on all of us. Then maybe he'll use Ravager to summon the powers of all the Little Warriors in the World to massacre everybody. But if Varga decides to play fair and keep his magic powers at bay, I'd say its fair to rule him out of the big double-you!"

"Well Chris, in the interest of time," David notes with concern, "What do you say we do some name association. I'll spit out some of the other names on the official participant list and you tell me what comes to mind."

Smiling, Chris answers, "I can't promise I'll be able to keep it all censored if we're doing this spur-of-the-moment shooting."

"Now THAT'S the Chris Bagwell I was hoping to get in this interview."

Bagwell leans back in his chair and a sudden glaze comes over his eyes. The uncharacteristic calm and collective persona that we've seen thus far visibly slips away into distant memory.

David thumbs through a few more index cards until finally bracing himself, "Ken Cloverleaf."

"Leprechaun," Bagwell spits out.

Yale continues, "Irishred."

Bagwell looks baffled, "Ughh.. Ken Cloverleaf's wife?"

"Tyler Rayne."

"Tyler LAME!" Its evident that Bagwell was itching to mention the name of Ryan Rayne, infamous manager of "Stunning" Scott Stevens. Yet he seemingly found it unappropriate to do so.

"High Flyer."

"STOP!" Bagwell shouts.

Yale looks up from his cards, "Huh? Why?"

"Who are the other ones?"

"Other who," inquires Yale.

"The rest of the so-called legends... High Flyer and who else?"

Yale scans through the list of names, picking out those he'd consider the top tier athletes. "Well aside from High Flyer, perhaps you're referring to Xavier Kannon, Jay Phoenix, or maybe even Jesse Jamester."

Chris rolls his eyes. He leans his chin into the palm of his hand, as if dabbling in thought for a brief second. "You know it really makes me sick when I see these old, washed up has-beens trying to still live up to some astranged past accomplishment they once achieved. Xavier Kannon. Do you remember me, professor? Of course you don't. I was the guy they asked to THROW the semi-finals in the Diamond in the Rough tournament so they could offer me a contract in OSW.

They didn't want me stepping on toes and tackling some of their 'bigtime' talent such as Xavier Kannon. He was already a PRIMETIME heel and they didn't want someone else coming in and making him look second rate. But perhaps that memory slips your mind. Perhaps you remember me as the guy Five Star Wrestling screwed? Or the guy who screwed Five Star Wrestling right back? Oh, I'm sure those memories were erased.

So how about remembering me as the guy who SAVED RUSH Wrestling from a complete collapse when I appeared on Adrenaline instead of Glory that week."

Chris lifts his chin from his hand and glares deep into the camera. "I was around then, too, Xavier. I did just as much as you. The only difference is that I don't get invited to tournament because of the things I USED to do. I get invited to tournaments because of the things I'm still doing."

Chris edges forward a bit on his seat. "And lets shift back to HIGH FLYER. Is this the same High Flyer of fWo fame? The same fWo who shut their doors to practically EVERYONE and ANYONE who ever tried to get a job at the place. That organization was one giant cluster****.

Nobody left and nobody was let in.

They claimed to have the greatest talent in the world. Yet their talent hadn't even battled anyone outside their doors. And I guess not much has changed for you, High Flyer. Where were you working now? PRIME? Yeah, exactly. Another joke of a company. But I need not to get into that conversation right now."

Yale repositions himself with his shoulders pointing in Bagwell's direction. He leans back with a smirk on his face, absolutely loving Bagwell's anguish seeping out.

And since Bagwell loves to hear himself talk, he naturally continues, "You know what the problem is with a lot of these guys, David? They like to sit here and boast about victories that have no pertinance to greatness. Take this guy Jesse Jamester, for example.

Jesse, you sit there and scream bloody murder over how you defeated Seymour Almasy and Chris Storm and how that makes you a big favorite to win the Tournament of Champions. Not for nothing, Jesse, but what the hell did you accomplish? Chris Storm is a man who spent his last year in GCW as one half of the Tag Team Champions. That's TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS, Jesse, NOT World Champion.

In Storm's first breakthrough as a singles wrestler, he got destroyed by LeStatt Knight. You're supposed to be some uber-World Champion, yet your biggest accomplishment is beating a guy who's spent his entire career in the tag division?

Please.

As for Seymour Almasy. That's a guy who plays one too many video games. He spent the last few years dressing up as a character from Final Fantasy. He almost makes James Varga look normal. As a matter of fact, he and James Varga are a lot alike in a number of ways. Specifically, the both of them were OPENING SHOWS for ME during their time in Global Championship Wrestling. That's right, Jesse.

You beat a guy who's latest accomplishment was losing the opening match at a pay-per-view! That's like me saying I defeated Rich Rollins in 4 seconds... by pinning his casket.

Next time you decide to shoot your mouth off, Jamester, why don't you remind everyone how you lost the Seven of the Best Tournament. You remember, the one where you had to represent your respective organizations. The one where you were eliminated in the first round. Forgot about that, did we?

If I were the owner of EPW, I'd be ASHAMED of saying that you were representing MY company."

Bagwell throws himself back into his seat and remains silent.

Yale gives him a few moments to spit out anything else he may want to say, but an obviously fired up Bagwell refrains to comment any further. Yale decides to speak up, "Anything you want to add about Jay Phoenix? Or any of the other competitors in this match?"

Bagwell nods his head. But doesn't say anything. David merely stares at him, waiting for some sort of comment.

Finally, he mutters, "All I want to say is this. The only people I'd even remotely have a concern about in this tournament are Jay Terror and Garbage Bag Johnny. Jay and I are far from friends, but we see eye to eye on a number of things. THAT right there is a respectable champion. But unfortunately for the people in attendence at the Tournament of Champions, they will not be seeing Jay.

Jay has the biggest match of his career at Dangerous Games and I just can't see him risking it all on guys like Larry 'The Thumb' Tact or 'Chocolate' Chip Friendly. And Garbage Bag Johnny... well the sonuva***** squeezed a victory from me a few weeks ago. Despite being a dirty, grimey, filthy scumbag -- he's someone to watch out for. Not Jay 'River' Pheonix."

"Welp, there you have it folks! Be sure to check out the TEAM Tournament of Champions and root on your favorite wrestling mega-star! I'm David Yale and I thank my guest Chris Bagwell for appearing this afternoon. For more Chris Bagwell, make sure you listen in to GCW Radio!! Chris, any closing comments."

Chris stands from his chair and approaches the camera. He puts his face almost pressed up against lens and speaks in a soft tone. "Let it be known.. let it be sworn.. at the Tournament of Champions.. SOMEONE.. WILL.. BE.. TORN!!!!!"

The camera's stop rolling as the GCW logo flashes to the screen. It's followed by an advertisement for the Tournament of Champions, presented by TEAM!

Ravager · Oct 15, 2008

Mockery. Mind games. Ego stroking. A champion needs none of this...

Fade in on a TEAM Tournament of Champions Logo. Ravager stands in front of it, with a smirk on his face.

I keep finding myself in this position. Having to introduce myself to a newer generation. One who thinks that they can knock me down a peg, or take me off my game by mocking me. It's worked before, but it takes a special class of person to do it. And that person isn't in this tournament. Chris Bagwell. You can run me down. You can run down your opponents. That's all part of the game. Just keep in mind one thing. Even if you were a champion, it would make no difference from here on in. The belt gets you an invitation. Once the bell rings, we're all equals. Well, not all of us are equal. I've proven enough times in TEAM that I am head and shoulders above the rest. I will prove once again that I deserve to be among the elite, when I win the Tournament of Champions, and get my shot at the Champion, whether it be Nova or Randalls or whoever. I just want my shot.

I could sit here and list each competitor in the tournament, and how I am better than them, and how I will crush or maim or kill them. But really, why waste your time, or mine? By now we've heard how Wrestler A is the champ of his fed, the best fed in the World, and there ain't nobody who's going to stop him. But wait, Wrestler B is the champ of his fed, and that one is the best in the World. And so on and on until we run out of letters and start using numbers. I don't need to be reminded of how good any of you are. To hold a title belt means something, no matter what hick town you wrestle in. If you want to impress me, stand in the ring with me. Look me in the eye. And try not to flinch when I chop you. Better yet, try not to yell out in pain when I headbutt you. Hey, you want my respect? Don't pass out when I lock in the Garrote. Stay conscious after I hit you with Instant Karma. You want me to notice you? Hey, if you're on the list of competitors, I already have. I just haven't deemed you worthy enough to speak your name aloud. Or you haven't tried to call me out. Whatever. You step in the ring with me, you'll be guaranteed to be in the best match of the night. But I won't make you famous. You won't gain any "cred" by beating me. There will be no upsets. There will be no underdog stories here. I have worked my ass off for three years, and I have yet to get the proper respect for my efforts. I'm done playing nice.

You want to get to the top? It won't be at my expense. You try and stall my progress, you try and take what's mine?

You will leave in a body bag. TEAM can throw anybody they want at me, and I will pile the corpses to the sky until I get my shot at the Champion of Champions.

I don't care about what you've done. I don't want to know what you plan to do. All I want is for you to die a quick death so I can claim what should have been mine a long time ago.

Fade to Black.

Evil James · Oct 16, 2008

FADE IN: James Varga is sitting on a couch with a chart next to him and a microphone in hand. He's wearing a black T-shirt that says "I knew Lindsay was a Man" on it. He also has a big grin on his face.

JV: So I see some loud mouths have begun speaking. Not surprising considering how many ****ing egomaniacs are walking around here. This is why wrestling ratings suck so bad now days. All the wrestlers for the most part talk and act in the same way so it's repetitive to watch. After watching most of my competition, I'd say that to be true.

First off let me address Lindsay Troy. Lindsay...you have balls? Seriously, I thought the man hands were a bit strange at first. See you seem to think that you have this all in the bag just because of name recognition. Well you need to realize that you may think you are the **** but you aren't. You're just another trash talking retard walking the hallowed halls of TEAM. Heels 101? Look who's talking, *****. You run you're mouth thinking that you're all that when what you really need to do is shut the **** up and quit acting all high and mighty. You're not the end all, be all of the wrestling world. And there were people making fun of me before you so you're nothing special in that regard. So, in closing, pull that bloody tampon out of your vagina and go hump somebody else's leg.

Next up is Chris Bagwell. First off me and Darth are two seperate people. I beat his ass back in GLOBAL so that should've ended that comparison long ago BUT NOOOOOO! People are still thinking we are the same person. We are both members of the Church of the Unholy. Well, he is but I'm not anymore. Nope, I'm just their Entertainment Liason slash Booker. I however am not associated with those retards anymore. Secondly Axel beat me once ever. That is no consequence. Truth is I wanted out of my contract because that place was filled with a bunch of brown nosers and dumbasses who suck more than some hookers around here, right Lindsay? Bagwell, you have a shot at winning this thing but you have a shot a losing too just like everybody else.

Now I have to talk about...

[James starts to speak but then stops himself and shakes his head.]

JV: Well, **** it. I'm not going to ramble incoherantly for no reason whatsoever like my competition. I'm better than that. Besides, as I know and as everyone else knows, there's going to be a massive conspiracy to keep me from winning anyway so there's no way I will win. See this is how it works. Nobody wants me to win so I get ****ed over all the time and end up losing. Not anymore. I have something in mind.

I have a plan to win this whole tournament. I'm going to just let everyone else put their foot in their mouth while I just back and watch. But first I have to train for this by facing...

[James pulls out a pointer and points it at the graph he made.]

JV: I will face a Championship level star. Someone like Koopa Troopa and Chester Cheeseburger. That'll work out fine.

[James then points to the next part of the pie graph he made.]

JV: Next I will watch footage of all my competition. Then, after that, I will die and be reincarnated as a zombie. Just kidding. I have to win this to make a statement, so...

[James points to the third part of the pie graph.]

JV: I will next win the TEAM Tournament of Champions. This is why I must do this. Everybody wants to treat me like **** so this is what I'm going to do. I'm going to win this tournament to make a statement. I'm going to win this and end someone's dream by winning the TOC. By winning this, I become TEAM's identity. And when you become the identity of something, you become that thing. I will be a hot commodity in this business again and rest assured I will unleash pain upon you all. Varga's revenge and your worst ****ing nightmare.

[James walks over and turns off the camera angrily.]

FADE OUT

Welcome to FWrestling.com!

[ToC '08] Round 1 RP thread

Active member

League Member

League Member

New member

League Member

League Member

I spoil things.

League Member

League Member

New member

Member

League Member

AKA Mom

League Member

New member

League Member

League Member

League Member

League Member

League Member

About FWrestling

Add Your League

Support FW Creators!

What Is FW?