EAW Promoz! (Part 5 - Locked for posting...)

Posts : 7 Status : The Best There Ever Was

Here you can write promos about shows, Extremist, Vixens, matches, or anything else in EAW. Please do not spam, or put pointless things that aren't promos and DO NOT CHALLENGE ANYONE and remember, THIS IS ALL FAKE AND STORYLINE so please do not take anything serious. Thank you.

ALL CARDS POSTED ON THE HOME PAGE OF THE FORUM!

It is probably a good thing that you decided to take matters onto your own hands Scott Oasis. However, you have also made it quite clear to me that you are definitely not the most brilliant mind in the room mate. There are a ton of people residing on the roster who you can declare to obtain your reward from and I don't really care much for the rivalry between yourself and Hades but once you decided to step in the ring with myself present and then have the actual nerve to assault me, you made yourself an adversary. I think what you are not getting here is that the adversary you made at the last weekends' end is not just a simple swipe of the card like much of the fights you have been participating in for the past few months. I am the designated Elitist of the Year who has trumped each and every single human being who has stepped within the range of my eye sights. If such an award ever needed a definitive year then this year of mine would definitely be it because I have not even taken one misstep in the past year. You on the other hand have made it quite clear the kind of lackluster year you have lead in the past year yet you still had the audacity to interrupt my match and permeate your pesticide hands on my golden world title and try to claim it as yours. It is those kind of things that make me despise people like you, the ones who feign to be proud owners of titles they have no claims to whatsoever. I have seen it much too often, elitists who run out and strike with an unanticipated blow and then actually have the nerve to claim fallen elitist's title as if they actually believe it is theirs. It is a pitying move and something I have never had to honestly resort to because I do not feel the need to make such petty attempts of claiming a title, I cannot really bear to call myself the rightful world champion until I have rightfully won it from the champion - something I succeeded at doing at Pain for Pride and something I have so dominantly defended for the past few months. If I recall correctly, you have been part of that barrage I have laid out upon this roster in the past few months too. I know this was before I won my Answers World Championship and everything but it must be said that we faced twice before that and both times, we literally got the same result - one was a case in where I even pinned you in a triple threat to win the thirtieth spot in the Grand Rampage. Then I went on to Pain for Pride to ultimately win my world championship so if it must be said, my defeat of you was indirectly the outset of my reign as the contemporary dictator of this company. You named each and every one of my opponents and told us all how you have defeated them and how many times you have defeated them but you never actually got around to my name and telling us what your record actually is against me. If you are going to use those stats to add to your merit of being a worthy contender for my championship then you might as well go as far as comparing your record to the world champion and see how you have fared against him because the result will be no different when you face him the next time. But of course you did not do that because that would collectively demerit your whole argument and you would be stuck in between the pipe with nothing else to back you up. You people like to have a black and white narrow of things and pick out scenarios which only benefit your argument but decide to intentionally consign to oblivion anything that does not fit your agenda, much like propaganda. An acceptance of everything you have bullshitted on is the first step to going far, it took me much longer than it should have to figure that one out Oasis so I am going to be that guy here and give you this advice early on. However with that said, do not honestly expect any different of a result than our previous counters tomorrow because as I have said constantly recently, there is literally no one on the roster who has enough momentum to take me down right now. I know the word literally is exaggerated quite a ton in these parts but I am 'literally' being honest here because that is how self-assured I am this point.

You chose the wrong moment to mess with the momentum Scott Oasis and unfortunately, that is going to hurt you.
It's going to hurt you real bad.
May the reign of the amazing Answers World Champion Devan Dubian live forever.

Last edited by Carson. on October 18th 2015, 10:54 am; edited 2 times in total

BATTLEGROUND #2:

[The scene opens to a somewhat familiar sight, as a three legged empty chair is presented as the sole visible object in a room conquered by gritty darkness. The squeaking sound of what seems to be a door opening further urges the thought of reminiscing an experience of the same proportions that occured not so long ago.]

"Oh Mister Ecksssss..Where are youuuu??"

[That thought would eventually prove to be Justifiable as approching footsteps fade away into the revelation of a hooded person.]

"Oh Mister Ecks, what a pity. What an absolute disappointement."

[The hooded man proceeds to gently pull the chair his way before being seated, right in the center view of the camera]

"And no, as surprising as it may sound, I'm not talking about your career here. I'm referring to the silence behind which you've apparently tipped your head down and wished for the storm that you once dared opposing, to just pass you by. Or did you just pack your bags and called it a day for wrestling and just rode off into the sunset? While I'd waste time waiting for that question to be answered, I know for a fact that no one would be on the other end of the line, for now at least. It just sucks the life out of me, you know? To witness mere words of truth quiet down what seemed to be the will of a warrior, spirit of a martyr aaand the humor of a Big Bang Theory extra in the making. I'm not going to lie, 90% of what you said didn't tick the sense tab for me as it was a melange de merde from start to finish. But apparently, thanks to the glorious world of social media, people seemed to relate to what you said on various levels, they BELIEVED in your words. I might even go out on a limb and say that you my friend, have just created a cult. A following that will worship you for your 12 year old rhyming skills and used jokes, regardless of how irrelevant they, and you for that matter, are in terms of real life. So congratulations are in order, you've perfected the skill of brainwashing."

[The Hooded man apathetically puts his hands together in slow claps before continuing]

"Thing is though, ask yourself why exactly have you grown believers of you in such a short notice. It's not because you set out a good example, it's certainly not because you speak truth in your speeches, it's because you're the nearest hand they could reach. In other words, you're on their level. You share their degree of stupidity, of illusion, of cower to confront factual reality, of HOPE. There it is again. That faithful word."

[The person would then take off his hoodie to reveal himself, as if no one didn't knew already by now, as Carson Ramsay, who flashes a forced chuckle that would have him carry on afterwards]

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did I ruin that piece of good new for you Ecks? It's okay pal, that's called a reality check. You should come around that concept at some point before we meet Wednesday night, or else I'm willing to indulge you with it right now. See, having a herd of mindless keyboard fighters rallying behind you, especially in this day and age, serves your cause more harm than good. And while you don't stand a chance of leaving Sauget a triumphant man on Battleground in all case scenarios, at least you'd lose as a man who once had confidence in himself that he was going to succeed, and not have other people forcing it on you. But hey, that's not my business to discuss. What I'm entitled to however lies within a simple question; Where is Mister X? Where does he stand in this? How come he didn't retaliate against what I had to say not about him? He seems like a guy that could throw a few verbal jabs here and there no problem, what with his big mouth and all. But I guess he chose to wise up before time runs its course and it would be too late for him to back away. I don't blame him, I am just disappointed with how easy it is to scare the dog off. I'm even more disappointed imagining the look on the faces of those who chose to actually ride Ecks' cocktail over coping with the real world."

[Carson let's out a sigh as he glances at the camera in a judgemental way before tipping his head down and continuing]

"I guess I shouldn't though, Just like I shouldn't expose myself to feeling mercy upon Ecks when I pummel the bright red devil out of him come Wednesday, because people in the end don't change. And I really do not intend on trying to do something about it. If anything, I'm thankful for that. Because if there's one thing you need to know about Carson Ramsay ladies and gentlemen is that he THRIVES on your pitifully obvious imperfections, and he takes a great deal of pleasure in doing it too. Oops, I guess I just spoiled my gameplan. Just kidding, I don't have one. I never did. Ever heard of the phrase "You can never gameplan a guy with no plan."? Well for once, this isn't just some killer one liner used by Boxing commentator, you literally can't gameplan against me. Because I don't even know what I'm gonna do. And that's a scary sensation mind you, not just for the likes of Ecks who'll be experiencing the result from a second perspective, but for myself as well. Setting up an objective of winning at all cost and not even preparing for it correctly makes me shiver in all honesty. But they're good shivers, the ones that kind of ooze of worried excitement, if that even makes sense. Hey, at least now I know how Ecks feels. Nevertheless, speaking of the latter, he touched on it once and that's probaby the only point I'll agree with him upon; I will do what it takes to get the job done. Which means I will kick you in the balls, I will rake your eyes and I will make use of foreign objects IF that means me being the victor when the dust settles. I'm not ashamed of admitting it, because I pride myself on speaking the truth whenever I decide to open my mouth. I also pride myself on everything I clawed and fought for in my life that got me to the position I'm in today. I'm here to win, and if it means stepping on some toes, so be it. However, I strongly believe that when it comes down to the bell ringing and the contest between me and Ecks actually starting, I won't have to resort to such quote unquote unsportsmanlike means. Not to let my confidence cloud my judgement but from the way I see things falling into place, I think beating Ecks would just require some Faithful 89."

[The camera fades to black]

Shawn Hunter, you underestimated me, that was your first mistake. Then you thought that I would fight fair. However, it’s time for me to move on as now I finally have my chance to enter Showdown… I don’t plan on failing, I will fight until all my enemies lay on the ground, defeated. I will not lose, I will take my chance, I will be part of Showdown.

Maero enters his concrete room, the mirror on the floor reflecting his every move, Maero has donned his normal doctor's scrubs except without his normal mask. He is pushing a cart with different jars and cleaning supplies packed on its top layer. Maero walks over to a shelf lined with multiple jars containing some containing human organs, others are empty or just appear that way, he pulls down a set of kidneys and begins to dust them off with a rag he hangs over his shoulder.

Maero: “This will be different, I will have four new opponents. It will be a brawl, a chance at a contract for Showdown. This is my chance, I plan on taking it.” Maero places his now-clean jar back on the shelf, he then takes a jar with a lung inside of it and begins cleaning it. “Now then, it’s time I think about who I’m fighting. Let’s start with... Chris Starr.”

Maero puts the lung back on the shelf and wheels his cart over to an empty shelf and begins to place the jars from his cart onto the shelf. Every few jars he pauses and scrubs it with the rag that he then places back on his shoulder.

“You think that I’ve never fought for my life?” Maero stops and grits his teeth, “I lost it, I lost my life so don’t think you’re above me because you learned to fight on the streets. You believe that just because you fought for your life for a while that you can now be a champion?” Maero sneers and slams a jar onto the shelf hard enough to make every jar in the room rattle. “You don’t know the meaning of the word. that isn’t a title they give to fools like you. You have no idea what hell truly resides in this world. The only thing you have done is convince yourself that you fighting through the streets makes you stronger than the rest of us… The streets were child’s play. You have no idea what kind of fight you’re in for, everyone in that ring is going to fight harder than you ever have. You are going feel pain worse than anything you could ever dream.”

Maero finishes placing his jars and walks over to his collection of medical tools. He then begins to clean the blades on the scalpel blade he cut Shawn Hunter with.

“Now then, Collin Lightening, The Anarchist…” Maero pauses cleaning his scalpel and smiles, “You clearly don’t understand this. Who the hell do you think is setting up this match? There is a higher power ever in EAW. You think that everyone should fend for themselves? The strong don’t rise without someone stronger to guide them. You and I will have an interesting brawl. I, for one, am excited. But you should know that you will have nowhere to go when this is over, you have no reason to fight. Your version of liberation is not freedom, it will only hurt what you think you’re healing,”

Maero finishes polishing his blade and picks up a pair of scissors with blood caking them and begins to polish and clean that instead. After a few seconds of silence Maero slams the scissors into the table, gouging the wood.

“These tools are sturdy as ever, they know their place… However, there is someone that doesn’t understand where they belong… Isaac Zohar, do you think that your time fighting in small arenas has prepared you to fight in EAW? This is the Hell you've been warned never to enter. This is the place that you will go to die, to scream, it will make you quit. I will make you bleed,” Maero examines the scissors and places them back on the table, he then picks up a long, greying hand saw and polishes that. “This is not the place for a weakling like you. You have no idea what kind of people you’ll be facing in Showdown, and you won’t be ready for them.”

Maero places the saw down on the table and walks over to the middle of the room where he whips aside a linen sheet, revealing a table revealing a cadaver. Picking up a gas can from under the table he pours gasoline onto the limp body lying in the table.

Maero: “Now, for the person I really want to end… Taylor Cassidy, you believe everyone should think you a God?” Maero empties the last of his gas can, throwing it behind him. Above the loud clang as it smashes into his tool table, he continues with a slow grimace. “There is only one God, and it is not you. This will be a clash of the titans and I will be the Hercules of this war. I will cleave your head from your shoulders and make all others freeze into stone with it.”

Removing a lighter from his coat, he clicks it a few times before a small flame appears. Stepping back a few steps, Maero tosses the lighter onto the gasoline-soaked cadaver. Instantly a huge fireball envelopes the corpse before dying down into a controlled, reeking burn.

Maero: “You should feel honored to be my Medusa. You are the person I wish to defeat the most, I won’t let you take this victory from me. I will make God bleed, then you will have no choice but to fall from your false grace. Your broken promise of asylum will end as soon as you step into that ring.”

Maero watches the flames rise and fall before turning to his tool table and picking up a bag of popcorn that he tosses onto the flames. Maero watches the bag slowly catch fire and the kernels inside fall onto the flames and begin to pop.

Maero: “I am this world's new God, I will shatter this blackened world’s fake deities. You will all fall by my hand. Listen closely, Cassidy,”

Maero walks over to the still burning fire and catches one of the kernels that pops out of the fire. He places the burnet kernel into his mouth.

Maero: “This will be the first and last time we fight, I will be your demise. I am the God that is Dr. Maero.”

Maero goes back to tidying his workspace, the fire still raging and crackling in the background, shadows dancing on the walls as he slowly finishes his work. Turning, he walks to the exit. Maero extinguishes the lights and watches the flames dance until they die out. He leaves the door open for a long moment and stares into the black void that his lightless workspace has become.

Maero: “I’m ready to change my hunting ground. Showdown, get ready for Doctor Maero.” The loud door slam echoes through the room before, a soon-broken silence begins, Maero’s echoing voice is heard.

Maero:”I’ve been waiting for a challenge since Calvin Havoc... I guess I still have a while to wait.”

Darkness fully overtakes the room. The click of Maero’s shoes are heard as he exits the building into the cold shadowy night.

Voltage Promo

The Camera pans up to Lumen Gray who in sat in a coffee shop in Louis Missouri the location of this Sunday’s Voltage. She is sat on her laptop typing away. There are lots of leaflets on the desk in front of her about landing your dream job. Lumen pauses and looks up at the camera.

Lumen: Hi… Sorry… was just busy doing my bit to help out the little guy… or little gal I should say. Miss LeCava congratulations on qualifying so that you get the undeniable honour of facing myself this Sunday on Voltage.

But I am worried about your job satisfaction. You say having lost the Empress of Elite Tournament you are thinking about leaving? That’s really sad… and then we find out you have taken a part time job as a janitor to make ends meet? I feel for you miss LeCava I really do… (Lumen embraces herself in a patronising manner).

But I am here to help, I am here to help bring you out of your wallowing pit of shameful despair and bring you back up to a 10… well kinda maybe a solid 8.5 is more realistic… (Lumen stop mid-sentence, looks down and types a bit more on her laptop, moves the mouse and clicks)

DONE!

So Miss LeCava along with Laura from HR, lovely lady really cute kids, we have made a job satisfaction survey which should give us a better understanding of why you feel mopping the shit of EAW off the floors is preferable to actually competing in the ring?...

I’ve sent it over to you now: https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/SLBZH68

And be totally honest… safe space, safe space (Lumen makes circling motions with her hands)

So fill it in and I will get back to you on Sunday and give you some… constructive feedback (Lumen is obviously trying not to giggle at how funny she thinks her own joke is)

Hopefully we can get to the bottom of your general poor performance and lack of drive. Now you do say you have an interest in the specialist title and I commend that but I think we need to be realistic here and do what we call “Manage Expectation.” When I was a kid I was really disappointed that I only got an A in my Biology GCSE and I really should have got an A*, it was my only slip up but from that moment on I knew to always be realistic. Now Miss LeCava you have dreams… well less dreams more like mind farts about becoming the inaugural Specialist champion and I think I need to manage your expectations. You see so far in EAW I have left a trail of victims in my wake, and generally most of these are carbon copy brooding emos or street sluts. But you are different, you have a good heart and I want you to be happy, not at my expense of course but I think even you understand that.

As you want to be a specialist I have come up with, free of charge, some possible jobs for you should the survey not come out as one might hope and your performance related feedback be as bad as expected.

1. Toilet Attendant – You enjoyed being a janitor but maybe you could specialise in cleaning the gent’s bogs? I know Dark Demon can do some punishing Poos after a match.
2. Sandwich Artist – I hear Subway are hiring… plus… you know… weight loss.
3. Mash Tun Supervisor – I know lots of local breweries are looking for tiny people to crawl into and clear out the mash tuns between batches.

Either way I have booked you an appointment at the Job Centre Monday morning. You might need to put some make up on to cover up the bruises but either way I am sure it will get you some sympathy.

But what will I be doing I hear you say. You see after Sundays match I will be a mere gnats pube away from the specialist title. A title that was pretty much invented to be away around my waist.
I cannot wait till the latest jealous wannabee wants to hear what match I have in store for their loss each week… But until then Miss LeCava I leave you with some words of advice.

Sometimes in life things do not go as planned, but in your case that should not happen as you know they are going to end badly.

(A waitress comes over and gives Lumen a Caramel Macchiato.)

Thank you

(Lumen takes a sip as the camera fades to black)

[Camera opens when El landerson is Stretching in the hallway while Doug Douglas stops him]

Doug: Excuse me Landerson, but can I few moments of your time before your match this Sunday.

Landerson: Qué onda?

Doug:last Sunday you asked your Voltage GM to booked you in a Number No'1 Contender for the Answers World Champion at Shock Value PPV when you face Hades this Sunday on Voltage in a once in a lifetime match in two days on Voltage So any thoughts Landerson ?

Landerson: Well you see Douglas, the reason that I went to my General manager's office last Sunday was because i wanted to challenge someone else instead of Hades facing me in our Number No'1 Contender for Devan Dubian Answers World Champion this Sunday on Voltage until someone wants a shot of the Answers World title in that man is none other then Scott Oasis which he's not even ready to face Dubian for his Answer's World Champion whenever I defeat Hades this Sunday in our Number one Contender for the Answers World Championship in the person who should deserve's that Answer's World Champion at Shock Value PPV it's me because i want a shot against Devan Dubian for his Answer's World Champion because Scott oasis title is not even his first of all cause he has to defeat Dubian this Sunday in if he wins his match against him then Dubian might let him get a chance for his Answer's World Champion at Shock Value PPV whenever i beat some since less outta my Opponent Hades in our Number No'1 Contender of the Answers World Championship this Sunday on Voltage.

Doug: Landerson can you even defeat Hades this Sunday on Voltage.

Landerson: if it depends on hows the match gonna be cause once me in Hades faces each other for the first time on Voltage then i rather have a clean fight instead of him cheating but anyways back to our Number No'1 Contender Answers World Champion because i want this Opportunity instead of Scott Oasis in even Hades because both of them should not challenge Dubian for his Answers World Champion at Shock Value PPV in that guy is gonna be me when i destroy Hades this Sunday in our Number one Contender of the Answers World Champion on Voltage.

Doug: in landerson what about

your other match with Maddie for her Vixen's Champion on DCW last Thursday.

landerson: Well since you have brought it up I guest i can ask you about my match with Madison for her Vixen's Champion last Thursday on DCW i think it's gonna be a Draw cause she just got that Vixen's Champion at Territorial Invasion PPV because i don't want her Vixen's Champion cause i rather go for the Answers World Champion of Devan Dubian in challenge him at Shock Value for his Answers World Champion right after i get through with Hades this Sunday in our Number one Contender's Answers World Champion on Voltage.

Doug: Landerson if you can defeat Hades in your Number one Contender's Answers World Champion match then you might get to face Devan Dubian at Shock Value PPV.

Landerson: if they don't let Scott Oasis or Dubian interfere in my match with Hades this Sunday in our Number No'1 Contender of the Answers World Champion on Voltage this week cause whenever i beat him this Sunday then you all will see me become your first Eaw Answers World Championship at Shock Value PPV after my match with Hades this Sunday night on Voltage.

(Landerson leaves when Doug Douglas Continues talking)

Doug: there you have it ladies and gentlemen because this Sunday El landerson will be in action this Sunday when he takes on Hades in there Number one contender's Answers World Champion match on Voltage.

Doug: So we hope that Landerson can win his Number No'1 Contender Answers World Championship match this Sunday when he takes out Hades on Voltage this week until Shock Value PPV.

[Camera fades when El Landerson goes back to his Locker Room before Voltage even begins this Sunday]

    This close… Yet again, I was this close to staking my claim in this company, and it was once again ripped away from me. This time, there was no cowardice, no dishonor, just a fight I knew was going to be one for the ages. I knew Liam and I was going to be the match that made the impact this tournament needed, and did we deliver or what? Now, Liam moves on to claim the rematch he has so longed for, and I find myself back at the bottom looking up. My climb to the top has been a rather slow one, but I have nowhere left to go but up right?

    This week at Voltage, my road goes through what appears to be some kind of match made from the results of the Pure Tournament as I find myself facing off against the man who also suffered defeat, looking to use me to bounce back. Now this is where things get interesting isn’t it? At first glance, this individual’s name alone caught my attention as is to be expected. With a name like Zayn Christ, one would hope that there was something about him to be deemed worthy of such a moniker, yet, as he proved against J.D. Damon last week, what’s in a name right?

    So as I dug a little deeper into the rabbit hole, I came to realize that this man hasn’t been here long enough for a cup of coffee, a brief moment of ascension that began on the back of a friend of mine, Daniel Marshall. Now, I’m not going to berate you or attack you because of that match, it’s a part of the business. What I am going to take issue with is the way your mouth ran after that match. Your rage drove you to speak of Daniel as if your match with him had any lasting effect, even going as far as to claim to cripple the man. I don’t mind the language as much as I mind the false information. Zayn, from what you have shown, you have already displayed desperation and rage, two things that could cost you everything in this industry. With your big claims made in hopes of inspiring some kind of reaction out the window, your credibility is shot. Without that, nobody cares any longer what you have to say. You can climb upon your soapbox Zayn and preach your superiority over me to the heavens, but nobody wants to hear it.

No, I may not have been successful against a former Answers World Champion, but you lost to someone just random. J.D. Damon has built a small name for himself, but he has done so with arrogance, and what goes up, must come down, trust me, I’m living proof. The difference between you and I Zayn is the fact that your idle threats are nothing compared to the fulfilled promises I make every single time I step between those ropes. I may not always leave with my hand raised in the air, but I guarantee you that my head is held high because I know that at the end of the day, I did everything in my power to make sure that the people that come see us went home feeling like they got their money’s worth. I am not looking to impress you Zayn, I’m well past that point. No, at Voltage, I aim to make you the object of my redemption as I springboard from your shoulders and propel myself back on my quest to the top.

This week, because of the disdain and arrogance in the way you carry yourself, I have no reason to show you any sympathy, any respect, anything at all for that matter. You couldn’t destroy Daniel and you won’t destroy me. Maybe some other time, in some other world, Zayn Christ is a name that will be something of note, but if you continue the path you’re on my friend, I’m afraid obscurity is the destiny you must face.
When I went home after last Voltage, I had to look my family in the face knowing that I had failed on the quest I fought so hard for. Seeing the sympathetic looks and hearing all of their attempts at comfort, I quickly decided that is a feeling I never want to experience again. Thanks to them Zayn, your chances of victory went from slim to none. This is your only warning as I’m not a man who enjoys to repeat himself. When you climb between those ropes, leave your ego behind because I WILL send you crashing through the Gates of Eden, and I’d absolutely feel terrible if I shattered your pride and your chances of being somebody in this business all in one night, so please, for your sake, bring your best but expect the worst. The time for talk is dwindling Zayn… You better hurry, but don’t forget… Please don’t forget…

...Nobody’s listening...

Clark and Mario are chilling in Clark's St Louis hotel room listening to Lana Del Rey's new album Honeymoon.

Mario: All I wanna do is get high by the beach, get high by the beach, get hiiigh.

Clark: You don't even sound remotely like Lana, stop ruining the song.

Mario: And you sound better?

Clark: Remember last time we had a sing off?

Mario: Ugh, well played.

The song finishes and Clark pauses the music for a moment.

Clark: So, Fran... Um, yeah, Jay Omen finally replied.

Mario: Let me guess, more sob stories?

Clark: Bingo!

Mario: Shit, dude needs clinical help.

Clark: Seems beyond saving to me, a truly lost cause.

Mario: What a waste of life eh?

Clark: Where do I even start? Yes Jay, I do think I'm tough hanging with Ashten Cross. In fact, I don't think I am, I know I'm tough. You were floored with a simply hook to the jaw and yet you have the audacity to talk shit like you just went several rounds with one of the industry's greats and came out on top? Dear Lord, help this man.

Mario: The sob story though.

Clark: Ah yes, a real tear jerker. Fetch me some tissues before I cry a river of sympathy for poor Jay and his tough times as a child. Does every cat in this company have a troubled past or something? Just last week Calvin Havoc told me of the struggles he faced a while back. What is the correlation? Thick skin, is that it? Okay, so thick skin is pretty helpful in this business, but you actually need to be able to withstand a hell of a lot more, like a right hand punch outta nowhere. Maybe Jay saw his life flash before him. He must have been having some flashbacks of getting beaten up at a tender 8 years of age. Oh, my deepest sympathies, I'm sorry that it's all still so raw that you struggle to cope with it. That might explain why you're still a complete mess to this very day.

Mario: Shit Clark, calm down brother, you might hurt his feelings.

Clark: At least let me finish the ether, Mario. There isn't even much here to go on, but you know... this is what I do, making something out of nothing. Anyway, I'd love to know just how Jay could possibly stop Ashten Cross. I mean, apart from the fact that you're a laughing stock in this company and yet you call yourself the 'King of Battleground'... I don't even know what to say. Actually, how about me put that moniker on the line during our match on Voltage? After all, I was the one who received the royal treatment. I got a welcome. Who else has received such a reception? I'm a big deal. You? You're some guy that's literally hanging on to relevancy by a thread and who really is just... incompetent. I could be meaner, but you know, I can't completely demoralize a dude with such a sad past. It's kind of like teasing a handicapped kid.

Mario: Nup, you're done. Music is going on back on. I don't care. Leave Jay Omen alone. He might jump off a bridge or something if you say anymore.

Clark: Um, overreaction maybe?

Mario: CLARK, ARE YOU SERIOUS? THE DUDE HAS ISSUES AND YOU'RE LITERALLY JUST DRIVING HIM DEEPER INTO THE PIT OF SADNESS HE DWELLS IN.

Clark: Settle, petal.

Mario puts the music back on. This time playing is All I Do Is Win by DJ Khaled.

Mario: Aw yeah, dank song.

Clark: Never say dank again.

Mario: ...

There's a knock on the door, much to the surprise of Clark. He gets up rather perplexed as Mario jumps and runs to the door before he does.

Clark: Man, people need to learn I never lock doors. I always leave the damn things open.

Mario swings the door open and appearing in front of them is Aria Jaxon, Thomas Minns and Maxwell Dachs.

Clark: Hi?

Mario: So, considering how everything is coming up Clark lately, I took the liberty of organising a little party and...

Dachs: Free food, out of my way!

Maxwell Dachs runs in and grabs a box of pizza and sits quietly in the corner devouring it.

Mario: I may have to order more.

Clark: You do that. Anyway, come in I guess, this was sorta unexpected. But yo, Aria, while you're here, I gotta ask for your autograph. I can't simply let the Empress of Elite just turn up, party and leave and not get her autograph, plus you're my favorite Vixen!

Clark hands over a sticky note and marker as Aria signs it for him.

Aria: Aw, thanks Clark!

Minns: I'm here too...

Clark: I noticed.

Minns: I just have one question.

Clark: Shoot.

Minns: Why isn't Drake playing?

Clark: I don't listen to Drake man.

Minns: You what?

Clark: Never been a fan.

Minns: ...

Clark: Sorry to disappoint you.

Minns: I'm done.

Minns looks visibly upset as he walks out of the hotel room in a rage.

Mario: That could have been worse.

Clark: If you actually told me this was happening, I would have told you who to invite.

Mario: I was gonna invite Maria Gonzales.

Clark: ...

Mario: I kid.

Maxwell Dachs springs out of the corner, swiftly grabs another box of pizza and retreats back into the corner.

Aria: Uh, that happened.

Clark: Don't mind him.

Aria: Is he okay?

Clark: From what I've heard, he's normally like that.

Mario: Yo Dachs, mind sharing?

Dachs: Miiine!

Aria: Guess that's a no then, at least there are two more boxes to go around!

Clark: Man, imagine if Piff Fumador was here, we'd all be trippin' right now.

Mario gets some drinks and glasses, pours them and distributes.

Mario: Dachs, you want one?

Dachs: Piizzzaaa!

Mario: Anyway, a toast to all of Italia, the Empress of Elite and the true royal of Battleground and Voltage's 2IC... and whatever Dachs is affiliated with.

The three raise their glasses as Dachs dives over the coffee table, grabs the bottle and lands against the wall.

Dachs: It's empty, damn it.

Mario, Clark and Aria laugh as tries to shake any remaining drops from the bottle and the camera fades.

Promo #1 - Voltage, Battleground, Dynasty

Finally....the board of directors. The board of directors! THE BOARD HAS FINALLY APPROVED MY VISIT TO DYNASTY WRESTLING. At Territorial Invasion, all of Team EAW and the rest of the Dynasty locker room thought I was a joke. They thought I wasn't good enough so they tricked me into joining Team EAW but instead they threw me on the side of the road like a piece of garbage. But when I head to that disgusting....polluted state known as Michigan Jay Omen will finish what he should have started at Territorial Invasion and that's bury every single member of Dynasty Wrestling and put them six feet under then I will be the savior of Zack Crash and then Dynasty will feel what it's like to step into my shoes, what it's like to be in foster care. No one to talk to, no one to celebrate with and being surrounded in the depths of internal hell.

Mr. Clark Duncan, you think you're real tough hanging out with Ashten Cross and being his personal bitch? You said on Voltage this past week 'It's for the best?' Are you kidding me? You don't believe in me....you know what? I have been here before, back in foster care I was bullied, I even got the shit beaten out of me and was bleeding like a fucking pig and needed medical attention at eight years old. Do you know what the feels like Clark? No you don't so stop sucking Ashten Cross' dick because once I'm done with you on Voltage I'm heading straight to Cross and ending his reign of terror. But laugh all you want you fucking jerk offs aka the EAW fan base. Laugh all you want at me losing to Vance Tybull this past Monday on Battleground but guess what? Vance has been here longer then me so obviously he is going to beat me, I am still the future of this company and if you have problem with that I will sure as hell bury you in one of my graves...the plot continues to thicken and clouds are smiling down on Jay Omen....

Last edited by Hades on October 16th 2015, 3:10 pm; edited 1 time in total

Ever since the idealistic conception of the polarizing sport we all enjoy today, there have been the faces of many – wrestlers, sports entertainers, champions, and skilled fighters alike – who’ve come and gone; leaving us with the lasting memory of their most memorable encounters with fellow superstars and rivals. For nearly an entire century we as fans have witnessed the birth, crowning, and evolvement of the profession; it’s shift from a mere form of family entertainment to a well-oiled and well-structured business. The oil that keeps the gears turning, the cause and effect for its survival all these years, is seated around the ring and in front of their TV monitors every weeknight of a broadcast. What keeps them engaged? The over-the-top personas, characters, gimmicks, and match stipulations that have the intent to kill and/or cripple its competitors. Raging infernos, puddles of broken glass, cages cast from the coldest and most premium of steel; this definitely isn’t ballet nor is it a place for the weak. We urge everyone to never try this at home, before and after every televised broadcast for we are trained professionals who have come close to losing our lives for a sick thrill multiple times. As individuals some of us are to be admired, cheered, supported, and even diminished at times; but we ALL are to be respected. And the way to show that respect for what we do is by not attempting or impersonating it. We have enough pretenders here in the EAW with the likes of Scott Oasis and Devan Dubian running amuck, we just cannot afford the financial, mental, or emotional burden of having another number of deaths over our heads. Although their presence is crippling to our companies reputation and slightly hypocritical to the following message, I am obligated to say that we of Elite Answers Wrestling do NOT approve of domestic violence of any kind nor do we approve of violence against minors or those born of mental deficiencies, like El Landerson. But we are an equal opportunity employer, and we vow to be that way with any and all; in spite of race, religion, gender, sexuality, place of residence, height, etc.

We are aware and understandable of El Landerson’s many obvious conditions included but not limited to his speech impediment and delusions of deserving more in his career when he flat out sucks – or wait, maybe that’s Oasis again – which is liable to be a probable cause of incest; but being that equal opportunity provider we cannot nor will we ever bestow special treatment to him because he is in fact “special” in his own right. Please note and be understandable of the fact that I, Hades the Hellraiser, have a job to do; which includes pounding the stuffing out of this pint-size Mexican Chihuahua and shipping the remains of his distraught body south of the border. I acknowledge the challenge – or lack thereof – that is in front of me. El Landerson is an individual who has maintained separation from the rest of the pack; as there was everyone else, and then there was El Landerson. The Man; the Myth; the Icon; the Legend. He has never obtained an EAW Championship and lost more matches than anyone in recent memory, but still he remains a household name that is sure to bring in many viewers. People may mock, laugh, and ridicule the mere mention of his stage name, but when so ever he chooses to enter a ring or grab a microphone they are guaranteed to get one heck of a presentation. Both comical and absurd.

But needless to say, I as a professional aim to take this match as seriously as I’ve taken many others in the past in spite of my adversaries blatant handicaps, because that is the EAW; an equal opportunity, slightly bias, and often times hypocritical company of an egotistical tyrant which preys on the downfall of the hardworking and critically disabled.
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EAW Promoz! (Part 5 - Locked for posting...) - Page 24 The_more_you_know_nbc-1422842883

EAW Promoz! (Part 5 - Locked for posting...) - Page 24 The_more_you_know_nbc-1422842883

See, Ashten? I have a sense of humor also.

Voiceover: Work hard for what you want because it won't come to you without a fight. You have to be strong and courageous and know that you can do anything you put your mind to. If somebody puts you down or criticizes you, just keep on believing in yourself and turn it into something positive. - Leah Labell

Isaac: I was told I couldn't be a success in this business from day one. People would point out my every flaw. When I was younger. I was too young... When I weighed 190 pounds, I was too light... When I won my first title it was luck... When I successfully defended it against the hometown hero, I was the bad guy. But through it all I stuck to my mentality of "I'm better than the next man" and look where it landed me. Im in the big leagues now, the home of the elite, EAW! Come showdown, 5 different personalities will meet and the demised one will be victorious. Allow me, for those of you out there who are willing to listen, to give you a lesson in history. Not my personal history, mind you. As much as I'd like to speak of that I am still quite certain it would bore the lot of you, and thus I wouldn't bother. Nor is this a history of my matches, or EAW, or professional wrestling in general. No, I'm afraid this lesson does indeed go far deeper than that. This is a lesson regarding the history of unarmed combat, the history of sport itself. We must travel back over two thousand years to find the glory of sport. Not the gladiatorial events of Rome, who over millennia have grown embellished, stylized, and contorted until it is impossible to tell exactly what rings true, but instead something deeper and purer, the original Olympic games of Greece. Certainly they had many events to test the athleticism of their competitors, but nothing truly like the sport for which we can thank the creators and propagators of, for it's this sport that is the reason we stand in the ring today: Pankration. This great sport, pankration, literally meant “all powers” in the ancient Greek, and was exemplifed by the legality of many styles of combat, much like professional wrestling is done today. EAW, much like any wrestling organization worth its salt, showcases a bevy of different fighting styles within its ranks, and often even within its champions. In addition, pankration was widely renowned for its unique ruleset- or, for that matter, its lack of one. These competitions did away with many of the frivolities we have in other sports but seldom see in professional wrestling. There were no weight divisions and no time limits, two stipulations that in today's wrestling world are often the default. In addition, while there was a referee, his purpose was simply to declare an end to the match, and virtually anything was legal save a bite or eye gouge, and even then disqualification due to such an offense was extremely rare. This would then appear to have parallel to EAW, would it not? No weight classes, no time limits, no disqualifications. And yet the two are still very, very different. This is because of one singular attribute, one single aspect that pankration has which EAW lacks: honor. Of course there was emotion in pankration, far more than simply glory. There was anger, jealous, rivalry, even hatred. Yet above all else there was still respect. You may not like your opponent, but you respect them for getting as far as they have. After all, they are faced against you, and as such to insult their skill is to insult your own. Respect was therefore paramount. But do we see that here? Is respect here? No, not at all. In fact, in the EAW combatants were sent through time to compete in those glorious games then there would have to be quite a few more rules added to the book, as honor and respect prevented those ancient warriors from even considering techniques widely used today. There are no rules against bringing foreign objects into the fighting circle, as those combatants wouldn't even consider it. There are no rules against constantly leaving the circle to escape your opponent's superiority, as those combatants wouldn't even consider it. There are certainly no rules against ambushing your opponent before the match can even begin, because I am damn sure that those combatants would have far too much honor to even consider it. And the list goes on and on. Pankration, a sport renowned for its violence and the brevity of its rulebook only has its rulebook shortened by the idea of honor, which has since been so unceremoniously stripped away like wrapping paper on Christmas. Torn. Left by the wayside. Unneeded and unwanted. Or is it? I'm not one to impose rules, contrary to what people might think. I understand why EWA and for that matter many wrestling organizations adhere to the no-disqualification stipulation as the default. You don't want anything to get in the way of determining the superior fighter. And after all, both fighters are aware of it, both acknowledge it, so both fighters should use it to their advantage, right Pankration tournaments believed these same tenets, yet EAW combatants sent to those days would bring themselves both victory and shame. There were days when honor meant something, days I honestly wish would return. But they're not going to return. I don't have any misconceptions of that. We are long, long past the point where there is any hope that honor and respect are ever going to happen again. Furthermore, my time In EAW has taught me something. Something very important. Something that many of you have clearly learned a long time ago. Fighting with honor against a dishonorable man... is bringing a knife to a gunfight. Therefore, if all of you have decided that dishonor should be the way to go, why should I be any different? I want to be The Paragon. I desperately seek it. I want to guide the people, show them a better way. And I daresay that within those boundaries I have done well for myself. I have dominated matches, won titles, and am even now a number one contender all while showcasing a better way. However, despite this success I am still wondering. Are the tenets I have set up boundaries, or are they a cage? Despite my intellect, I can't answer that question. Yet. Time will tell like it always has and always will. Perhaps the pankration combatants were only honorable to each other because no one was brave enough, valiant enough to go against the mold and fight for himself instead of his family or his land. Perhaps they too would succumb to dishonor if forced to swim against the current. Perhaps glorious victory is not the end-all be-all that it could be or even should be. Perhaps the “better way” I've been wishing to educate the populace about has instead been dangling in front of my face, and I've been too blind to notice it. Perhaps. There can never be certainty, even in this. With all that said, I am here not to insult, not to demean, not to talk trash, but instead to issue a warning. all my opponents at Showdown. In fact, anyone on the roster who believes they have the mettle to cross me and emerge positively from it. I respect you. I may not like you, and in fact, I explicitly don't like you, but I do respect you. Chris, Victor, Colin and Taylor... the four of you have done great things in this business. No one can take that away from you. However, don't get complacent in your ability. Be aware of who you're up against, and more important than that, be aware of all that I've accomplished given the “better way” I wish to progress, given the boundaries I've set. Do you really wish to be the one that forces me to break them? Because I guarantee you, when all is said and done, they will not be the only thing that lies broken and worthless on the arena floor.

“You know...maybe it really has been too long since I’ve looked at myself to really understand what has been happening lately. I haven’t taken a step back to really come to terms with who I am as a competitor as of late. I don’t know if this is the truth of what I am feeling, or whether this is some other fleeting lie that is playing around in my head...but something is changing. I feel it in the air of EAW. The Vixen’s division is seeing a resurgence of people, and so many of them have plans for success over the rest of us. It isn’t always the one that brutally pushes her way through others that gets what she deserves however. Sometimes you have to be subtle, and just use willpower and persevere through everything around you. I’ve been doing that lately...using my will power in a way that I can push through all of adversity. I’ve grown to respect others...which is not something I had ever planned on doing. In the end, I learned humility I suppose. Something that this vixen apparently knows nothing about.”

(Alexis walks along the arena scaffolding, twirling a rose in her hand as she looks down at the ring. Her eyes wander around it before she takes a seat upon the iron of the scaffold and tilts her head back, gazing up at the ceiling above her. The windows above reveal starlight hanging over head and she smiles as she stretches back before leaning forward again and staring at the rose.)

“I don’t know what to make of you Erica. You were so joyful when I first met you, and had a drive to succeed and a will to do what needed to be done to win. Now? Dark. Foreboding. You lost all will to succeed through effort and now you’re just a dark thunderstorm looming over our division. I’ll admit, I was there once as well. The difference between the two of us, I fought my way out of it when I realized that complaining and moaning wasn’t going to get me anywhere in this business. I want to see you really struggle and roar when you come and face me, not be a sad little kitten that wants to snuggle up under my neck only to bite my throat when I hug her. Does that make sense to you Erica? We’ve both tasted loss, but I want to overcome that. I am going to rise back to my position as head of the pack of the Vixen’s division, and you are either going to keep laying there like a defeated puppy, or you are going to get back up and fight for the top with me.”

(She twirls the rose again before letting it drift down to the ground. Her eyes close in thought and she rolls her head along her shoulders before turning and standing up, walking along the scaffolding again with a smile on her face.)

“We, as women, aren’t looked upon with a lot of respect in this business. This is too be expected. However, I refuse to let myself play background to the males of EAW anymore. I know that the rest of our division feels the same way. I will prove that we can fight just as hard and readily as the boys can, and even surpass some of them. I’d rather not sit in the shadows all the time, and I know that you won’t do that either Erica. Let’s put on the show of our lives at Showdown...putting our blood in our fists, our tears in our eyes, and our sweat in the ring as we go all out because that’s what we are made to do! You and I! Let’s make this a night to remember, Erica!”

(She continues to walk along the catwalk, the camera slowly zooming in on the rose, as a single petal falls to the ring below, before it slowly fades to black.)

[A Cemetery -- Somewhere in Connecticut. It was a gloomy Thursday evening, where the sky is red right before the sun had completely set. The Heart Break Gal is seen with a smirk on her face as she walks in her black short dress, fishnet stockings, heels and a black veil over her head. She holds the hand of Y2Impact who is beside her, wearing a black suit with black tie and Italian leather shoes. They were both walking on the grass, passing by different tombstones that engraved the different names of unknown faces that have passed away and the mark they left in the world in their epitaph]

Heart Break Gal: Can you believe that he died? He had so much willpower to live on, but the strengths he believed he had betrayed him when he needed them the most. But I suppose we can only take so much pain, so much humiliation, before our minds give up and our bodies follow suit. And then one day he's left laying in his coffin, and his family, his friends would wonder why he'd choose to be a brave fool instead of giving up and walking out while still having a shred of dignity. It's inevitable.

Y2Impact: We can't say it's been a career without its pitfalls, but maybe in some far corner in the recesses of his mind, he thought everything was worth it. How sad; to work so hard... For so little.

[They both stop at an open gravesite where there's a coffin harnessed 6 feet above the bottom of the pit. It was open. The two peeked inside and saw the pale, cold, dead body of the person who passed. A man with blonde hair, wearing a black coat over his red wrestling tights and black boots]

Y2Impact: As I gazed into the eyes and stared into the soul of the most formidable adversary in my career at Territorial Invasion, I expected to see the same competitive fire that resulted in him defeating me at Pain for Pride 6 and digging into the reserves of his body's strengths to do it... But what I saw was an afterimage of the legend whose antics and trademark opportunism have inspired bedlam in audiences all across the globe; what I saw was a donut-packing, hotdog-stuffing, sluggish, sloth-like caricature of Mr. DEDEDE that had become fat and happy knowing he'd eternally be a pivotal figure in the lore of EAW. The Mr. DEDEDE would hit the gym on a daily basis, analyze his opponents in the film room until he fell asleep, and do anything to improve on such an acutely disastrous string of performances. He would acknowledge the disgrace he brought upon himself, he would readily admit to being ill-prepared, he wouldn't let his stubbornness and vanity blind him from the brutal truth because he'd be mindful of the fact that the bitter, hard-to-swallow truth is exactly the motivation he needs to reestablish his dominance and revert to the remorseless, unforgiving predator that discolored the flesh of his enemies and took a little piece of their souls along with him every time he walked away from the ring. The hunter has become the hunted, and the soul collector that toyed with his prey before leaving them laying motionlessly on the ground in a pool of their own blood and misery has been completely deprived of the spirit that made him the most recognizable figure in EAW history and separated his persona from the rest of these insolent sheep; now, he's no different than the rest of the flock. He's placed his confidences in Ryan Savage to a fault for the better portion of this year, and while I was curious why he'd make such a questionable decision in the week leading up to The Mercenaries' conquest for championship gold at Pain for Pride, I stopped scratching my head and that muddling confusion went away when I'd finally placed all the clues together and it dawned on me; short of being a masochist, I deciphered the only reason Mr. DEDEDE would ever allow a pre-show staple like Ryan Savage to ride his coattails is because he's realized he's no better than Savage at this advanced stage of his career. I know, it seems unlikely and I was in disbelief myself, but for an opportunist cut from the rarest type of cloth there is, it's completely uncharacteristic of DEDEDE to tolerate failure. During his tenure in The Savage Ryans, not only has Mr. DEDEDE tolerated failure; he's embraced it! And his sentiments earlier this week regarding his reliance on Savage serve as nothing but a confirmation of the truth that keen-eyed spectators have been painfully aware of ever since you dropped the World Heavyweight Championship to Tyler Parker. Of course Mr. DEDEDE needs Ryan Savage. Of course Mr. DEDEDE needs to rely on the strengths of his partner. Of course Mr. DEDEDE needs to herald the chemistry of he and Savage while essentially acting as the brown-nosing spokesperson of this roly-poly mute. You're not a Mensa member and Einstein likely wouldn't crave your friendship, but you're intelligent enough to calculate the variables of a situation and control the surface view of a circumstance in a way that blinds and misdirects viewers. You're in too deep with Savage, and you've been playing this game far too long to believe you could just abandon Savage and exile him in favor of one of those incompetent glory hunters you teamed up with at Territorial Invasion in a poor effort to thwart Hexa-gun's plans. Your journey is one for the storybooks, a silver-tongued devil that could gain almost anyone's allegiances with that snake oil salesman persuasion you've become famous for; but now you have no cards to play and you're locked in a tight bind with nary an escape. You could excommunicate Ryan Savage as quickly as you welcomed him with open arms, but impressionable young wrestlers like The Pizza Boy, like Brett Kennedy -- they won't trust their job security as a member of a team with you, and between Savage and them, you already know you're splitting hairs; it's redundant. You're an inveterate manipulator, and you've been reduced to a victim of your own greatest strength. I try to crack a smile and laugh at your expense while imagining sweat rapidly rolling down the face of a frail, apprehensive Mr. DEDEDE that's stuck between a rock and a hard place, but because of the undying competitive zeal within me, all I can do is weep and long for the return of the murderous assailant that thirsts for blood like it's water.

Riddle me this, Mr. DEDEDE. If the version of DEDEDE from which so much glory and grail was attained is forced to adjust or die, if the version of Mr. DEDEDE that spawned so many critically acclaimed main event matches is now thrust into a position where he's given the ultimatum to stoop to the level of Savage and drown in its unenviable depths or fend entirely for himself and get an answer to the question that's plagued him since he dropped the World Title... Are you not already dead? By prolonging the situation, are you just delaying the inevitable? Because as I see it, that Mr. DEDEDE died the moment he entrusted his fate in the hands of someone else. A single spur of doubt, a coveted title changing hands, and you turned your back on a wildly successful formula that virtually never failed you. You changed what wasn't broken, and now you're struggling to pick up the pieces. Now you're sinking in the bed you made.

You're not delusional. Your sense of reality isn't warped. You know you're not the Showtime Lakers, the goliath Yankees, or the any-means-necessary Patriots. You're the Patriots after Spygate, you're Alex Rodriguez after the steroid allegations and the 100-game suspension, you're Kobe Bryant after the achilles tear! You used to be an All-Star, a perennial candidate for Most Valuable Extremist... And now you're Derek Fisher coaching on the sidelines. It's time to pull the plug, nail you in the coffin, and do what you couldn't do; write the ending sequence to your illustrious career and let you die with some honor. Don't fret, I'll make sure to spot you a finishing line befitting of the countless heroic battles on which you've endeavored. You're carrying around this false notion that your fate rests in Ryan Savage's hands when the reality of the situation is that I hold the keys, I play the cards, I bang the drums, and I strike the last melancholic chord on the world's smallest violin as your relevant career meets its end. You live for the moment, I OWN THE MOMENT! And it'll be one for Kodak when I deliver a crushing, decisive Evisceration, lift my boot over your exhausted, lifeless body, and pin you in exactly that position while flexing muscles that I have no doubt will make me look like the Hulk himself in your glazed, bloodshot eyes.

[The Heart Break Gal takes a closer look at the dead wrestler, somehow smiling at his demise. She shakes her head, pretending to be disappointed]

Heart Break Gal: Tsk tsk tsk..

I've met my idol. We fought not long ago for a Championship that meant a lot to the both of us, whether keeping or taking it out of the other's hand. We've exerted our strengths as we lead fighters who come with varying styles to winning the battle, putting our pride on the line. Now we fight for the victory, for the bragging rights, to know once and for all who the better team is between us two. The Savage Ryans or The Mercenaries? And the more time I spend dealing with my idol, the closer I look, the clearer it becomes... That my idol is exactly that... Just an idol. Just an object I worshipped in hopes it would guide me to the right path, but really hasn't really accomplished anything revolutionary. Just a symbol of devotion and faith supposed to send signs and create miracles, but in actuality exists in this world holding no actual value. A "Gawd" that doesn't really speak to his followers, while it's been apparent each day that his teachings, his words, his guidance... They all mean nothing.

You know how ridiculous things have become once you see that Mr. DEDEDE himself has been pushed into an endless pit where even he doesn't know what will become of his fate as he relies on Ryan Savage to steer him on the right road and act like a guide dog for this blind man. You know Mr. DEDEDE has hit a very low point when he is only needed to sweep up scraps that others don't want, and achieve tasks less courageous competitors are too afraid of, all because he can no longer find his place in this company after shining so long like a new penny despite existing for many years. You have dedicated all your time and effort to getting rid of Hexa-Gun, you have expressed your disgust in our members and The values we stand by, you have told the same story of how you are better than Y2Impact, and how you'd get back at the Mercenaries because you couldn't let the story between us end the way it did at Pain for Pride. You just HAD to have the last word. You wanted your opinion to be heard the loudest, but incompetence allows everyone to catch wind of your charade, and your inability to defeat us has done exactly that. You know what I noticed, DEDEDE? I sense no power or emotion from you anymore, in your now-dull, uninspired existence. You used to have this fire within you that seemingly never could be extinguished, big or small. You used to have this spark that challenges me and makes me excited at the same time very nervous knowing that this seasoned legend is underestimating my capabilities, and your fire burned so bright it ignited mine just the same and I wanted nothing more than to prove you wrong and feel the vindication of knowing your criticism meant nothing. Now where the fuck is that DEDEDE? Where's the old yeller who screamed at my face telling me that I can never measure up against him? Where is the fighter with incomparable resolve who always told me I was never going to be his equal? He is rotting, he is decaying, insects feed off his flesh, worms feast at his body rejoicing at the fact that yet another one is decomposing. And at Civil War, not only was that guy not the sole survivor and the last remaining member of his squad, he put on a lackluster performance and was a huge afterthought... Other members of the Anti-Gun have more will and more fighting spirit than the team leader himself, because apparently he thinks that nobody, not even him, cares about Hexa-Gun. And somehow, that made you fools think it was a wise idea to handle your battle as poorly as you did, as though you were placing cans on top of large rocks for those who were holding the rifles, as though you were holding them as practice targets at the other side of the room until the moment when it was your turn to get shot, as though you had been possessed by a mental patient and failed in all aspects of strategy. They all walked out of Civil War, after their fifteen minutes of fame, in a worse place than they did when they entered. These were men hungry for competition and hungry for wins, but you put them out there, made them a living mockery of their blooming careers and jeopardized their existence only because you needed to prove a point to The Mercenaries, and you couldn't go down without taking them with you. It was a test of your credibility as a leader and a team player, DEDEDE. It was your chance to prove how great you are in leading an army to war. AND YOU FUCKING BLEW IT! I don't intend to recite past events, but come to grips with the facts and face the music: You're in no position to exalt yourself as one half of one of the all-time greatest tag teams when neither of you can pull your own weight.

Now you bore me, you bore everyone. Now you're here yet again using whatever cards you can play, acting vulnerable to these gullible audience you pander toward to get their sympathy out of desperation, when even they know that Mr. DEDEDE hasn't and will never change. He only cares about himself. You can tell me how much of a martyr you are, guiding a directionless monster who is still considered a rookie, leading him to heights of his career that would maybe take five years for him to do on his own. You can talk down on yourself telling us that your decisions could be a liability to everything you are and what you stand for as an individual. But DEDEDE, there is a BIG difference between an underdog and someone who is desperately clinging on the end of the string where his reputation is on the line. By being an underdog you are implying that you care what happens to you and your team. By being an underdog, you're saying that you've given a lot of efforts in these matches and you refuse to lose hope, despite losing them all. But it's like youre not even trying anymore, DEDEDE. The Savage Ryans have not done anything noteworthy as of late since The Mercenaries dethroned them at Pain for Pride. You have been downgraded into afterthoughts, who are embarrassingly thrust into contention for these titles out of pity for their bravery and virtue, not because they broke into that opportunity and proved that they're most deserving, but because they feel like its something they SHOULD be granted because they've failed over and over since the day they lost their titles. You don't want to look like fools. You want people to think you're noble, kind, decent, a good samaritan walking down the street with your fat handicapped little brother, fighting off bullies who make fun of him while the old ladies tell you how much of a saint you are for doing a kind deed, when we both know that you could do a better job in your career without the big fat weight on your back. Tell it like it is, DEDEDE. You're sick of losing. You're sick of the Savage Ryans. You're sick of Ryan Savage, cause heck, I'm pretty sure with how dead silent Ryan has been... EVEN RYAN SAVAGE IS SICK OF RYAN SAVAGE. Do you ever stop and ask him what he wants to do for once, or are you just caught up with the idea that he has to impress you before you cut him loose, afraid that day will never come? Are you really selflessly doing all this, or are you here to take credit for his recognition and counting how much HE OWES YOU and how he needs to repay you in time?

I've seen this before with teams that have come and go: no matter how close you are, there is still that lingering hatred and jealousy, and one of you always thinks the other is holding them back, and I don't blame you for it. But just know that if we're talking in terms of dynamic and working as a functioning unit, in terms of snapping necks and breaking backs in unison, The Mercenaries will always be two steps ahead of you. We are always honest with each other and our faith only gets stronger everyday. And in terms of loyalty, we stick to one another like it's the only thing in the world that matters. We strive to win. We continue to seek dominance because we realize how important it is not to simply win these championships, but to defend them, to honor them, to maintain them. And even if we lose matches here and there, we hold our heads up, and go forth to the next challenge, assisting each other every way we can and making sure we come out of the match with our hands raised in victory. All you can think of is how we've been living in a nightmare, running, falling, not realizing what the end has for us... But I've had worse dreams, DEDEDE. I've fought wild beasts in my nightmares, and I just take them out with my own fists. I have fallen from a skyscraper, only to realize I could fly after all like a fucking superhero. I get chased by demons that look like these Elitist flith that want nothing more than to ruin me... And I just keep running. Dreams are dreams. A nightmare is a nightmare. They're nothing but paths to our unconscious, opening the gates to the wonders of our minds, saying nothing more than the kind of person you are. I like being chased. I like running faster, running ahead because no matter how strong the demons are, I know they'll never catch me and that I'll always be rising back up even when they plant their claws across my back. It's difficult, but what is life without difficulties? It's a risk, but it's the risk I live for.

[They both take a handful of dirt from the ground. HBG rests her head on Y2Impact's shoulder, and he puts his other hand on her waist. Watching the dead man in the coffin. They both threw some dirt on the dead man in his coffin]

Heart Break Gal: We commit his body to the ground. Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust... in the certain hope of resurrection to eternal life.

Y2Impact: But let's not count on it at Showdown.

[HBG chuckles, as she leads the way out of the lot. Y2Impact "accidentally" hits the harness holding the coffin, making it fall six feet under, closing it shut in the process. End of Scene]

Last edited by Carson. on October 18th 2015, 10:52 am; edited 2 times in total

BATTLEGROUND #1:

[The once black screen fades into a scene of a locked steel door. The dust covering its handle gives away just how much time passed since someone last touched it and the rust eating away its paint would prove the same.]

~~"Hope is for the troubled.."~~

[However, the peacefulness of such eerie sight would soon perish to the echoey sound of footsteps slowly approching. The camera backs away to the chilling presence of a person in a black hoodie as he stands mere inches away from the door. Seeking for a clearer glance at his face, the camera pans upwards but the attempt proved to be a failure.]

~~"Hope is for the weak.."~~

[The individual would then proceed to take what seems to be a key out of his left pocket, inserting it into the handle to forcibly open the door, revealing a dark room. The hooded person raises his hand and presses it against a button that would spread the light throughout what was revealed to be a Gym, one that seems to have been closed for years.]

~~"Hope is what a desperate mind would seek."~~

[A squeaky noise of what seems to be an object being pulled against the ground reveals the hooded person grasping a three legged chair. With all that ruckus taking place, his croaky voice still manages to reach the ear]

It's laughable to me how some people function when it comes happiness, money, power and the oh so bright lights of what success in today's world presents itself to be.

[The noise dies out with those fading words as the hooded person takes a seat in the middle of the room, head tipped down and fingers swiftly crossed together]

The things they are willing to do, the sacrifices they are willing to take, in order to just get a glimpse of recognition, exposure, or simply the approval of others on the life path that they have to chosen to cross. I've seen them with my own eyes; families collapsing over pitiful disagreements, friends stabbing each other's backs for materialistic purposes, countries raging the bloodiest of wars upon one another over bounded natural resources and so on and so forth. And for what? So that the family man gets to have sex with a girl half his age, so that the friend can get that high paid job, so that the triumphant country can expand its territorial dominance all over the rest of the world. In a perfect universe, that may very well be within the reach of anyone willing. Thankfully however, we live on the most Imperfect piece of land ever created. Which would spell failure for most of those family men, friends and countries in their quest to fulfill their goals. Which begs the question; What would they do then?

[The man pushes back his hoodie revealing himself to be Carson Ramsay. A smirk brushes off his lips as he picks up where his last words left off]

Would they try again? No. They're too lazy. Would they try to forget that guilty desire in them ever existed? No. They're too greedy. Would they confront the ones they were willing to hurt in favor of realizing such desire? Hell no. They're too spineless.

So what DO they do?

They hope.

They hope that desire would somehow come to fruition by its own.They hope that happiness, money and power would come knocking on their door because deep down inside they know that Jesus descending from the heavens onto earth to play poker has a better chance of happening than them realizing their fantasies on their own. They choose to think out illusions of them doing it, try to convince themselves and any other person with a shred of logic in any of his brain cells that they're gonna do it, but in the end their ability to execute such "plan" doesn't live up to the hype of their ability to talk about it. In simpler terms, they talked the talk, but they'll never walk the walk.

Speaking of talk, I went on and on this matter for quite a while on a general basis. But if anything, I quite frankly can't see all of that talk propelling me to confront what my quote unquote opponent for next Wednesday night had to say earlier.

[Ramsay stops to give a small shrug before gently moving his fingers through his hair before and bursts into laughter. Trying to keep a straight face while thinking about his adversary seemed to be quite the task, but after spending a good couple of minutes chuckling, he managed to do so.]

Excuse my silliness, I was just reenacting the scene in my head and might I say, BRAVO MISTER X! Ignoring the fact that that sounded so 007 in the 60s, but congratulations are in order for you mate. That was a heck of a show! Really was, the humor in it was jaw aching. Only tiny problem with it was the realism aspect of it as it needs quite alot of work BUT HEY, don't be too harsh on yourself. I'm sure the likes of Kevin Hart and Katt Williams went through the same when their careers started out. So, with that out of the way, I may need your indulgence upon the answer to this question; WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE?

[The pitch of Carson's would suddenly level up to a somewhat of a shout that mixes confusion with frustration, then drops back to his normal tone as he carries on]

I'm not even Joking, why are you here? Last time I checked, this isn't Comedy Central's The Half Hour. People here are not some washed up assclowns who settled for telling jokes and making quote unquote puns in bars and cafeterias because they couldn't make it on the big screen. This is EAW, people here WRESTLE. You may not be familiar with the term and honestly I have better things to do with my time than explaining it to you, but all you have to be aware is as follows; You don't belong here. You don't. Thus, I strongly suggest that you take that little circus show of yours and play it somewhere else as soon as you hear this. But until then, I might still have some time to spare so let's shed some light on what you said in your claim of actually standing a chance against me in that ring come Battleground. Or you know what? Fuck that. Let's talk about the desire that you possess of beating me on Wednesday.

~~Desire~~.

Remind you of anything?!

God, I just love how everything falls into place at this exact moment. You see X, you're one of "those" people. You know, the "can talk the talk but too much of a coward to walk the walk" type. You actually believe in the chance of pinning me for a three count the night we meet, like it's a given, a flower waiting to be plucked. You think that, you HOPE for that but that's just you; hiding behind a shell of words and naive kid games instead of actually doing something about it. Usually in this case, it's either because you are scared of failing or you just CAN'T do it. And though as tempting as the first option is, I really think that the latter suits you best. That little scene you did was the first time I ever laid eyes on you, and unfortunately you offered nothing to the table other than the fact that you wear a mask and you're somewhat funny. And that is probably what you'll be remembered for by the time you're gone, which won't be long as there is a huge possibility that at Battleground, you'll get put to sleep.

ECCCKKKSSSpect that.

[Carson squeezes out a devious grin at the camera as the scene closes out]

Battleground Promo #1

"Warm Up Match"

Berwyn, Illinois

(The camera opens up to the iconic Berwyn Eagles Club sign, home to indy women's wrestling. The camera pans down to Cloud, who is wearing a gray hoodie with navy blue tights. She's looking up at the sign fondly.)

The Berwyn Eagles Club. One of my first gigs in this business, thanks to Diva All-Stars. I've had some of my best matches here (Looks at camera). Making that list depends on what you bring to the table Serena Ji. You're a luchadora, something I haven't faced in quite some time. I trained in Mexico for a short while, so I know what to expect.

(Puts her hands in her pockets and starts walking with the camera keeping pace)

But, I do wonder if you know what to expect Serena? Mexico and Japan trade talent regularly, so you could probably take on your average joshi. But I'm not so average my dear. I'm a hybrid 'specialist' of three styles. I was taught to hit like an American, fly like a luchadora, and grapple like a joshi. You say you're going to get the Specialist Championship before any of us? (Laughs) Honey, wait in line. You just got here and you already want to be the GOAT. Unless if you grow horns and start eating grass, I don't see how that's possible. Then again, underneath that mask you just might be that.

"And I would've gotten away with it if it wasn't for you meddling Vixens! Baaaa!" Wait, that's a sheep. What the hell kind of sound do goats make? I'll just ask you next time we meet Serena. Maybe you and Brian Daniels can trade fashion tips or something (laughs). That aside, I'm looking forward to our match Ms. Ji. I doubt you'll be a walk in the park, but more like a light jog. Something to warm up the muscles before my biggest match in EAW yet. One day you may become Specialist Champion, long after I've left the scene and moved on to the Vixens Championship. But right now? It's my Time to Fly.

(Walks off)

Could you be any more cliché if you tried Minns? Like really, using lines such as ‘He’s a has-been!’, ‘he’s washed-up’? Damn, you got me there, let me respond to that:

YOU’RE SAYING THE SAME SHIT EVERYBODY SAYS.

Am I really meant to be bothered with such a cliché and corny line like that? C’mon, I’ll give you some advice kid, go home and seriously think about you’re going to say to me and don’t come back until you say something suspenseful. Let’s be honest Minns, do you REALLY think I’m going to start doubting myself because you did some shitty rap remix? Or that I’m going to suddenly doubt myself because you called me washed up and a has-been, you know that’s the SAME THING everybody says to a veteran? Yeah, beating Cameron Ella Ava for this title is sure a pathetic accomplishment – I mean she’s ONLY beaten Jaywalker, Scott Diamond, Heart Break Boy in the past- and I am of course a washed up has been, I mean I’m ONLY undefeated since returning at Triple Threat, I mean Cameron Ella Ava, Heart Break Boy, Diamond Cage, Y2Impact and Heart Break Gal, Hades The Hellraiser and Zack Crash COULDN’T beat me but I’m just washed up right? Try a little harder here Minns. I’ll give you credit for beating Kevin Devastation and Diamond Cage, I mean who HASN’T beaten them since they returned – they both lose every week and truth be told, I don’t know if either has even won since returning but good on you for winning against them! But it’s funny to me that you actually think you deserve the ‘’limelight’’ because of those wins, how long have you even be in EAW? What the hell have you even accomplished here? Nothing. You haven’t done jack shit in EAW but try and fail miserably with vixens on social media and truth be told, if you didn’t even do that, NOBODY would even know you exist. You haven’t beaten anybody worthwhile, you haven’t won anything that makes you accomplished here, you haven’t stood out – you’re just the average run of the mill elitist who more than likely won’t even be here in six months and even if you are here by then, you won’t have accomplished anything, just living off those ‘’famous’’ wins you have on Kevin Devastation and Diamond Cage that nobody else will ever remember but YOU and nobody but YOU will even care about them. You like to talk a lot of shit towards Brett Kennedy and while I don’t care much for him, it’s just funny to me considering he’s …ya know …BEEN in title matches, BEEN in big FPV matches, have you even been on one FPV yet Minns? Let’s be honest right here, you’re not even going to make the Road to Redemption FPV, you probably won’t make the King of Elite FPV so …you’ll make your FPV debut at Grand Rampage? That’ll be a nice little spot for you, you can enter the Grand Rampage, talk A LOT of generic crap and get eliminated quickly and hey who knows, maybe you’ll get a nice little spot at Pain for Pride in the 24/7 Battle Royal where again, you’ll do nothing. That’s most likely your year plan right there realistically while ‘washed-up has been’ Dark Demon will continue to be undefeated, will continue to be the highest-paid athlete in EAW, will continue to hold onto this Hall of Fame championship, break all live-gate records, destroy the EAW Legends and who knows, maybe win back the World Heavyweight Championship and break the record once again for longest reign.

Let’s be honest here, you’re only in this match for the same reason Franchise Demon got to face me and Diamond Cage. I just want to prove I can do whatever he can do and do it better. You beat Cage last week, congratulations but you fought like a pussy and got your ass kicked all throughout the match. You landed ZERO moves. You got NO offense in on him, all you managed to do was get a lucky roll-up on him. Our match is going to work out more or less the same, I’m going to march forward right towards you, I’m going to LET you throw your best shot at me and I’m going to throw my hands up and laugh right at you and whoop you all around that ring. I’m not going to give you a moments rest and when I throw one jab at you, you’re going to wobble and do the chicken dance and then I’m going to destroy you – like I’ve destroyed everybody else. What do you REALLY think you’re going to do to me that nobody else has been able to do to be able to beat me? Is your game-plan really going to fight like a pussy again and try and get a fluke roll-up on me? You might want to change that because when I hit you and I hurt you, you don’t get back up. You can talk about how I’m known for petty insults and then do a crappy rap song filled with horrible petty insults but there’s a huge difference between me and you – I don’t insult people, I just speak the truth. I come at people with facts, I’ve won titles in EAW as a rookie at a faster rate than you, I’ve won more matches in the same time frame as you have since you debuted here against BETTER opponents than you’ve faced, I’ve made far more money than you’ve made – my last FPV pay cheque was bigger than any cheque you’ve ever made in your life combined. I’ve made EAW the money-maker that it is, EAW wasn’t doing Pain for Prides in stadiums across the world like they did this year before I came along. I had enough money after ONE YEAR in EAW to buyout this company. And you know why? It’s because I’m actually successful. I’ve got employees who earn money than you or most people in EAW. I win matches in dominant style, when I say I’m going to tear the shit out of somebody, I go ahead and do it. I don’t win matches by roll-ups after getting my ass kicked all through the match.

All I’m going to do is whoop your ass and collect my pay cheque, you’re just another opponent. You’re just another light jog for me before I go to face the big money fights that I bring to EAW.

And if you really think I’m not a ‘’proper opponent’, I’ll ask you if feel the same way after your nose is plastered on the other side of your face after Showdown.

Re: EAW Promoz! (Part 5 - Locked for posting...) October 16th 2015, 4:43 am by -

Showdown Promo #1

The camera pans to JJ who is in the dimmed lighted hallway of the arena leaning against a wall. His head is tilted down as he is where a Iconomy t-shirt in combat style shorts wearing his wrestling boots. He has a very interesting smirk on his face as he just leans off the wall walking front and center to the camera view. His smirk disappears as his expression becomes more serious as he then begins to speak.

JJ: You know, maybe the simple minded Hexagun bunch has misinterpreted exactly why The Iconomy is motivated to beat them. It doesn’t have much to do with what you stand for, but it has everything to do with the fact that you guys pulled pure luck against us the last time we stepped into the ring. Call it what you will but we had it won, not once, but twice. Be that as it may, a win is still a win. You guys can make all the assumptions that you want but you’re not better than us. Go ahead, exploit that fact that Cailin and myself aren’t on the same page but no matter that, we still share the same hatred for Hexagun to put those differences aside to put you in your place. We’re far from ignorant, Impact. To put this as plain as possible, we’re realist. Hexagun is far from untouchable like you try to make them out to be. The experience difference is great, but the skill level is not. Impact, you’ve played the underdog your entire career acting as if EAW has made an act of injustice upon your greatness. Well, let me be the one to break it to you that you’re not what you masquerade out to be. You’re far from the underdog in this day and age. Y2Impact is just as much a franchise piece as he was back in the day.. but it’s coming to it’s end. It’s only a matter of time before you’re gone and just a memory while the individuals of The Iconomy rise past what you’ve left behind. In due time your memory will fade into the distance until you’re the nothing you deserve to be. One thing I’ve noticed is that each and every member of Hexagun is making me out to be the bad guy. That’s more than a fair assumption considering I pride myself in being one of the more brutally honest in EAW. Allow me to embrace my inner bad guy as I join the “road less traveled by” and clear it myself. I’m not going to sit back and listen to Hexagun bash The Iconomy in the manner that they’ve been doing. We’re not below you. To be honest in the very highest point, we’re your successors. There is not a damn thing that is going to stop me from stepping in that ring and kicking each one of your asses! I’ll step face to face with the “genetic wonder” Luzmala and kick his ass.. then I’ll walk over to one Mr. Drake Jaeger and completely demolish his pathetic ass. After that.. I’ll go through Tiberius, I don’t think I have to continue you going because I’m sure we know where this going. There is nothing that will stop me from going to the head of Hexagun with my brothers at side and we will end this.

You keep talking up this new strategy we’ve been working up as if it’s going to be a factor. Truth be told, The Iconomy doesn’t need a strategy to beat you. While yes it’s true we never go into something without a plan, but right here and right now we have more of a drive than ever to fight. I’m not trying to impress anyone of you or anyone in the back. The Iconomy is going to win by any means necessary. To us, this is one of our biggest fights we’ve ever had as a united front and there is not a chance in hell that we’ll fall to the likes of you. When I hear the name Hexagun.. my skin crawls. It makes me think of everything that’s wrong with EAW and it makes me sick. I despise all of you. There are approximately 1 million, 13 thousand and 900 words in the english language but none of them could explain how much I want to hit each of you in the face with a chair. But let’s not forget Impact’s queen, The Heart Break Gal. A pretty crappy queen if you ask me, so many options and he choose the one with a gender disorder. That goes to say a lot about the life and times of Y2Impact, someone make that a display on EAW advertisements. Nonetheless, I’ve seen you consistently target Cailin with the same bullshit that you’ve done from the very start. Are you struggling with some originality as not only that but you’re using the same dried up product that the entirety of EAW are saying about newer talent these days. I mean we can tell you’re aging but damn, I didn’t think you’d jump on the sell out train. Look I may be a young buck but I’m more than willing to fight. If you have a problem with The Iconomy then there’s no more than I can say other than bring it. It’s no secret that Impact carries the entirety of Hexagun so allow me to turn my attention back to him for a moment. Now I realize you aim to please your mistress over there but if you could take your balls out of her purse for a moment I’d like to say one last thing before I leave here. Showdown is definetly be a night in which Hexagun will be remembered.. but it’s not because Hexagun won their match. no no.. It’ll be because Hexagun looks like they just got torn to pieces because The Iconomy just annihilated all of their pathetic asses!

We’ll see you on Showdown.

Divided We Stand, United We Conquer.

*Fades to black.*

(The cameras open as the Heart Break Boy is shown walking into a bar with a “Jesus” hat on. The bar also had a club lounge. HBB is stared at throughout the night by everyone in the room. Some actually compliment him on the Jesus gear. Some even question his desire to be there as he sits at a table by himself. A female bartender comes near him and begins to speak….)

Female Bartender: Can I get you anything? Nice hat by the way!

HBB: Thank you. I would like to take a glass of water on a rock. Also, are you serving that delicious pizza that I like back there?

Female Bartender: Haha, that’s new and yeah, of course. I’ll get ya hooked up. Your total will be 10.99.

(HBB hands the bartender her money as a group of two women approach his table.)

Woman#1: Hi, you mind if we sit here?

HBB (chuckles): Go ahead, be my guest.

(The girls take their seats across from him with drinks in their hands. They are jokingly laughing for a moment then stare at HBB and find it awkward that he’s just drinking water at the bar/club. They also spot the Jesus hat on his head.)

Woman#2: You’re a minister?

HBB: How did you know?

Woman#1: Well the hat on your head and the reason to have water on a rock, haha.

HBB: You got me. I’m not an ordained minister though. I just love to tell people about Jesus and what he did in my life and will be able to do for yours. Now, I’m actually a professional wrestler for a company called Elite Answers Wrestling. I have wrestled there for almost seven years.

Woman#1: Ohhhhh…. My son watches that show like every week. So why aren’t you training or anything?

Woman#2: And why are you here? Your hat is throwing us all off, tonight. (She giggles)

HBB: I’m sorry madam, but I just wanted to let girls here know that I’m taken by Jesus. I’ve only come here for the delicious pizza as well and to kick back for a moment. I love being around people, no matter who they are.

Woman#1: I see… well, I need a lot of help with my life. I’m a complete mess.

HBB: That’s okay, we all are. But the Lord says come as you are and he will shape and mold you into the reflection of Jesus himself.

Woman#2: We are actually a homosexual couple. Do you believe that we were born this way?

HBB: If you believe that. But you need to become born again, just like I have.

Woman#1: Wow, I never actually had someone say that to us.

Woman#2: So are you like… celibate?

HBB: Yes.

Woman#2: How do you abstain from sex? That’s really tough to do. Have you ever fallen into temptation?

HBB: Of course, plenty of times but God is faithful. He has forgiven me many times for he knows the path of your life with what you’re going to do ahead of time. Many people go through it included pastors and such. It’s just not a good thing to hide sin. How do you expect help if you’re going to hide your sins? That’s why I liked it when you told me, “I’m a complete mess,” because I still feel that way. There are people even in the church that aren’t bold enough to say that. Now I think it’s time to tell a story on temptation if you don’t mind.

(The women turn their chairs completely around and are full attentive to the Heart Break Boy’s story)

“Temptation”

----

“There was a boy, who was very blessed. He had his own apartment, his own vehicle, and a great friend to go along with. This boy was following the Lord, indeed. However, what the boy didn’t know was that not every moment in his new life will be comfortable. He completely forgot about the enemy called the devil. Therefore, the boy lost his car, fell back on financial wages and didn’t exactly find it peaceful living with a great friend in Christ. On top of that, he started missing the wild living and horseplay that actually led him to Christ. The boy had no purpose, and did not yet discover it which also led him into a night of turmoil. Now the boy abstained from sex or anything immorally for almost a year. Suddenly the boy had enough money to buy himself a new car during a very bad winter with snow everywhere. He couldn’t rely on his roommate and friend, who had two jobs so he had to get a used car. The boy went back to where his mother stayed. She helped him get back and forth to work and then eventually offered the boy a used car in her possession. It was a very nice car that the boy liked. He knew it would have been a distraction with his walk in Christ but he tried his best to learn from it.

The boy was going to purchase the car for 3,000 dollars but didn’t have the money yet so he had no choice but to stay with his mother for a while until then. He still drove it for a while before actually purchasing it and the for first time that he drove it, he went around parking lots, showing off that he was young with a very expensive car. Later the boy would find himself over his mother’s house spending a night with his bible on his right side and phone in his hand. He would be on his phone staring at friends profile on a social media site. These are friends from the church. Suddenly, his sexual hormones got the best of him when he saw a girl on the site. He didn’t know her but lusted. It kept growing and growing throughout the night. At the last moment before getting sleepy, he caved in. He opened up the bathroom door, sat on the toilet, pulled out the lotion and began to masturbate throughout the day. Afterwards, he felt guilty to where the boy wanted sex. He got it, which eventually led to backsliding with the main factors of stress, financial disputes, finding his identity and temptation. “

Woman#1: Wow. So what if he didn’t go back and relied on his mother?

HBB: Who knows? Maybe he wouldn’t have fallen. Maybe he would have had an opportunity to do more in his life. Obviously the boy was tired of the tough road he was walking on, which he realized later was a test. God was making him and now he knows what to do to not do it again.

Woman#2: Ohhhh… so the boy came back?

HBB: Let’s just say that he’s very loved by God. I would call him “The Prodigal Son.”

(As the camera almost fades away, the female bartender comes back to HBB's table with the other half of his order.)

Female Bartender: Here you go sir... your pizza.

HBB: Thank you. (HBB gives her a huge tip of 100.00 dollars)

(The camera fades to black)

'FEAST your eyes and FANTASIZE!'

[Those words echoed throughout the darkness. Smoke engulfed the scene as a man walked out from the darkness. Dressed in all black, a mask shrouding his face. The mystique of it all was genuinely enthralling to watch. His arms were outstretched and his head was held high. The music in the background was of an orchestra that was softly playing in the background. He started chuckling maniacally and his evil laugh was echoing off the walls. He stopped near camera view and took a deep breath inward, exhaling through his mouth in a very egotistical way. He laughed crazily again, but this time, he spoke and even though his voice was a bit muffled through his mask, his words were still audible.]

EAW Promoz! (Part 5 - Locked for posting...) - Page 24 XG35ys7

EAW Promoz! (Part 5 - Locked for posting...) - Page 24 XG35ys7

ECKS: 'From the back of your mind, deep within your nightmares and most certainly not Baton Rouge, Louisiana-- that place sucks I heard... it is I... ECKS!' [Laughing hysterically, he quickly snapped his head back toward the camera.] 'Oh, you haven't heard? You haven't heard that Ecks is indeed the word? FOOLS!' [He screamed that last word and clinched his fist together. The orchestra music continued to play within the background.] 'Carson Ramsay, you poor, innocent child. You have drew the short straw this Wednesday night! YOU have been given the task that is IMPOSSIBLE to accomplish! You have been given the unfortunate task to go against ME! The last poor soul that went against me? Well, we don't talk about that. It's a sad story indeed... BUT NEVER THE LESS... you, my dear Carson, must have been on God's bad side because now, with the entire on your shoulders, Carson, YOU must face the consequences! YOU MUST BE MADE AN ECCKKKKKSAMPLE OF! HAHAH!' [Puns for days, puns for days. His forced laughter was almost cringe-worth. Obviously forced and obviously embellished, and obviously out of control. It was obvious that I overused the word obvious. Annnnyway, let's continue. His hysterical laughter echoed off the walls; the smoke was starting to clear as Ecks pressed forth.] 'The Battleground that you and I will be competing on will forever show who deserves it more! Carson Ramsay, you may try your best. You may give it your all, but my dear boy, you will FAIL! You will come up short and you will be disappointed because you will understand that it is ECKKKSSSStremely unlikely that you will be able to defeat me! As a matter of a fact, my dear boy, I must say it is a GUARANTEE that you will not beat me! But yet, you will swallow your pride and you will walk into that ring, step through those ropes and you will succumb to your untimely defeat! You will understand that you, my friend, are ordinary while I am ECCCKKKKSSSTRAORDINARY! And when you put an ordinary civilian such as yourself against deity such as myself? You understand that you are simply too small to box with God! AND CARSON, MY DEAR OLE' CHAP! I AM YOUR GOD! HAHAHAHAHAH! ' [Once again, that forced laughter was echoing off the walls. Through his lips it squeaked out like a whisper that you wanted to keep to yourself, but everyone heard anyway.] 'Carson! You call yourself the cursed saint, but in a world where saints are out-numbered by the sinners, you shall perish six feet under ground! I will grab the shovel and I will scoop mound of dirt, after dirt until the hole is filled up with the soil! Carson, my dear boy... it is your demise! I am your reaper! I AM YOUR CONQUEROR! I AM YOUR NIGHTMARE! I AM YOUR DEMISE! I AM... well, you get the idea! '

[The laughter continued. The smoke was still filling around his body. Ecks was in a trance it would seem; engulfed with his own thoughts within his head. It seemed his thoughts were jumping around in his head like a young child on a trampoline. Up and down, back and forth, left and right, all over the walls. Ecks rubbed his chin with his thumb and index finger, as if he were in deep thought. He used his index finger to signal that he had an idea. Gee, I wonder what this could be...]

ECKS: 'EUREKA! It has come to my attention that young Carson Ramsay will do whatever it takes to take me out. HE will kick me in my nether region! He will rake my eyes! He will use the dreaded foreign objects. FOREIGN OBJECTS?! YOU FOOL! HAVE YOU NO DIGNITY?! HAVE YOU NO SHAME?! WHATEVER HAPPENED TO HONOR! WHATEVER TO RESPECT! THROWN AWAY LIKE COMMON GARBAGE BECAUSE OF A FOREIGN OBJECT! DESPICABLE! [His anger was growing like a crescendo. He stopped the yelling and took a deep breath. In and out through his nose. Oosefraba.] I apologize. It seems my lack of faith in you, Carson has taken over my judgment. Perhaps you will surprise me. Perhaps you will show dignity. Or, perhaps, you shall prove me right. But understand this, my dear boy... if shall choose to go down the road that leads to those despicable actions, then you have left no choice to do ECCCKKKSSSactly what I need to do! To put you away, to put you down like the puppy dog that you are! Wait... puppies don't get put down. Puppies are adorable. So... fluffy. So cute... YOU ARE NO PUPPY DOG, CARSON! YOU ARE AN OLD YELLER! AND I AM TRAVIS COATES! And if you do not get that reference, then I suggest you read a book, you filthy casuals!' [Obvious reference to the book Old Yeller. If anyone did not get that, then they must be stupid. Carson, I'm looking at you, buddy.] Carson! Look at me! Look beneath the mask! Look into the fabric that which is my eyes! You will see not a man, not a myth, but a legend in the making and that is ECCCKKKKSSSACTLY what I am! And in the ring Wednesday night, the Battleground is a fitting name because you and I, my dear boy, WILL indeed go to battle and I will come out on top! And YOU will be the first victim in the long, long line of more to come! Just like the Roman empire, Carson... YOU. WILL. FAAAALLLL! HAHAHAHAHAH! '

[He would place his hands together and bow before the camera. The smoke would fully engulf him as he disappeared into the cloud of fog, almost as if he were never there. Clever camera tricks, I must say. Clever indeed!]

Voltage #1

"The Anti-Vixen"

The scene begins with an overview of the EAW Headquarters as the night sky hovers above it. The scene changes as Eris LeCava appears on the screen wearing a black beanie, black sweater, and black jeans to tie it all off. Eris is crawling through the hallways as she arrives to a door that has the plaque “CHAMPIONSHIPS” attached on the door. Eris slowly opens the door as a high-pitched creak is heard throughout the building. Eris bites her lip as she successfully opens the door with no interruptions. She gets up on her two feet as she is astound by all of the previous and current EAW championships displayed before glass. Eris slowly passes by each title, observing every curvature, detail that the title displays. The Undisputed Hardcore title, the EAW WHC, amongst many others. She reaches a specific title with a display all on its own. She looks inside and her eyes widen with excitement.

Eris: So this is it, huh?

Large footsteps are heard behind her and Eris begins to panic. She turns around but it’s too late – a large, daunting man wearing a police uniform is standing in front of Eris.

Man: Girl, you best get yourself outta here!

Eris is silent. After a few seconds, she gets up and brushes off dust from thighs.

Eris: Hm, um…

Man: The HELL you doin’ here at 4 A.M?

Eris: Well, I, was just looking at.. I’m a janitor?

Man: (The security officer gets closer to Eris as the shine from his bald head begins glare from the light.) I know for a damn FACT that you ain’t no janitor, honey.

Eris: (Eris steps back) Okay, okay! Fine! I’m just here to take a quick sneak peek at the title, that’s all!

Man: (The man raises his eyebrow as he looks behind Eris) you do know that’s the new title that was added to the Vixens division, right?

Eris: Oh, of course! I actually qualified for the scrambler-thing and I may have a shot to win this bad boy! (Eris begins tapping her finger on the glass.)

Man: (The man slaps Eris’ finger away from the case.) You BEST not be touchin’ that thing! I don’t care if you the damn president of EAW, I had specific message from the officials to not let ANYONE get near that damn thing.

The man begins to speak into his police radio scanner as Eris begins waving her hands.

Eris: No, no, no wait! Listen, the reason I was here is because ever since I lost the Empress of Elite tournament, my motivation to continue in Elite Answers Wrestling has gone to an all-time low. Every time I take a glance in the mirror, I see nothing but disappointment. I can see anger, embarrassment and failure in my eyes. I’ve never felt this bad about my in-ring performance especially seeing how things played out. The woman who beat me eventually lost the tournament, yet she’s the new reigning champion. It doesn’t make sense, but after weeks of being down in the dumps, I’m done trying to make sense out of it. This new title could open doors for me, doors that would never be opened with the Vixens title. Don’t get me wrong – The Vixens title is a prestigious championship that has been in EAW since day one. It has been held by many greats, mostly HBG, of course. But, ever since Madison got a hold of it, the prestige of the Vixens title has diminished. There is no such thing as a good Vixens champion anymore. The pride that I had towards being a Vixen has decomposed to its final variable. The Specialist championship will enable me to show my competitors that Eris LeCava isn’t some wackjob who relies on her cunning linguistics to get around. I have many skills that the girls of this division haven’t seen yet, and I’m willing to unleash every single trick I have up my sleeve in order to prove that I am worthy of this championship. I am worthy of being named the face of this division. And I’m sure as hell that I’m worthy of being called a champion. I just needed to take a good look at this championship to get me amped up for my following matches. I hope I didn’t cause too much trouble…

After hearing Eris’ emotional speech, the man gives half a smile.

Man: That’s very sweet. But you still can’t be comin’ around here sneekin’ on these premises especially at 4 muthafuckin A.M!

Eris: Right! I got it! It probably wasn’t the wisest decision to come here in this time, but I NEEDED to see what that championship looked like. I want to envision myself wearing that beautiful piece of gold around my waist. I want to envision myself being on top of the turnbuckle showing off my championship while hearing the roaring from the fans throughout the arena. I had an immense amount of self-doubt seeing that I was going against Lumen Gray on Voltage, I’ve seen what that gal can do in the ring. And to say that I was nervous is definitely an understatement. Although, my confidence is throughout the roof. This is finally my chance to shine. And while Aria has to deal with the dumbass Maddie, I’ll be facing real competitors who don’t rely on drama in order to have their names in everyone’s mouths. The Anti-vixen is hungry and –---

Man: Ooh,girl stop right there. You know, I’m feelin’ a little hungry myself! Want to go get some waffles from that diner across the street?

Eris shrugs as her and the man exit the room as the camera fades to black.

Battleground #1 (10/19/2015)

"Are these rats serious?"

"C'mon now, future Specialists Champion?"

"Hahahahaha"

The scene opens with Serena in her own personal dressing room. She would have her ring gear already on, but her glove, knee pads, and boots were laying in front of her.

"You are a complete idiot. Like honestly. I don't know how things operate in Miami, but where I come from, a champion is a leader and makes his or her own destiny and doesn't just stand in the shadows of someone else. Sorry sweetie, but you're just not cut out to be a champion, not even in life, let alone here."

Serena would then start to put on her knee pads and paused before beginning to speak again.

"You are right about one thing though. You are a future Specialist Champion. That means that somewhere down the line, you will eventually win the Specialist. However, that won't happen if you continue to play as someone's hencewoman or lapdog or whatever the hell you want to call yourself now."

Serena would now start to put on her boots before lacing them up and talking.

"I could go on all day about you, but you would love that, won't you? It just gives you an excuse to go on and on about how you're not a follower and that you will be Specialist Champion and then you'll throw it some petty ass obscenities towards me. Yeah, I know the routine. But this isn't just an ordinary vixen."

Her boots were now laced up and Serena would flip her hair back before looking into the camera.

"This is Serena Ji...aka the Deranged Luchadora..aka Canada's Greatest Export...The NEXT Specialist Champion. And tonight when I face Cloud, I will show you why you're the future Champion and I will be the next Specialist Champion."

Serena would then get up and jump up and down a few times to get herself pumped up before leaving the dressing room before the camera fades to black.

God Works In Mysterious Ways

Showdown Promo

Did you think I was just going to go away?

That I was going to crumble under the weight of defeat?

Shame, shame will never get the best of me.

I should congratulate you. Through all the idioms and the clichés I seemed to forget one; a leopard can’t change its spots. I people have criticized you, criticized your little buddy but surprisingly I won’t, I put everything on the line only setting myself up for a fall that you wise enough; I don’t think there’s anyone else on this earth who would have done it any differently. Territorial Invasion could have been the glorious moment in the sun instead it became a nightmare, a ghost that’s always going to follow me. No matter what I achieve, no matter how long I hold that title – and you can bet your fucking arse I’m going to rip it away from you – no matter the moments, the memories, the legacy I leave behind I’ll always be remembered as one of two men to fail to cash in. I’ll always be mentioned in the same breath as Eddie Mack as a failure of Cash In The Vault. The game I talked at Pain For Pride, the one I talked leading into that match might keep me awake at night but they can be put to rest, they can die. History…history can’t be rewritten. This is where people break. When the shame, the disappointment and the reality of failure sets in only the strong, the determined, the ones who go on to forge whatever career they wish survive and I won’t be another “could have been”.

It’s actually a shame really you had to go ahead and destroy a quality match but then again I don’t think I’ll ever be able to see it from the perspective of someone so talentless. To be a fly on the wall when you begged God himself for an answer to your troubles. The tape speaks for itself, I’ve got nothing to prove to you or anyone else heading into the rematch and if you wish to fall on the “fact” you still have that belt, then by all means, it’s not like someone has clutched at straws before to remain upbeat. November 7th really isn’t going to be remembered as the day you fall. Nah. I won’t use that same, tired line again and again. Instead, how about the idea of November 7th being remembered as the day my boot sends your fucking head into the Allegheny River? The EAW championship is just a bonus to the more satisfying reward of seeing you defeated, bloodied and broken in the middle of the ring. No longer do I care about your weak claims, your arrogance…none of it matters. You left me with scars I simply can’t get rid of, Redmeption is a rather fitting name but in the end I can think of a dozen more names that would accurately describe what’s going to happen. This time? You can’t run. A beast hunted into a corner, nowhere to turn, no escape. Our story, our matches will twist and turn but in the end there is one…single…inevitable result and that’s what should have happened at Territorial Invasion.

Now, why am I bothering even explaining this? I’m sure you and your buddy have a plan in place to leave the match with the false idea that you’re actually capable of hanging with me in the top tier. You can keep making plans; keep finding ways to hold onto the belt, push your days as champion along until you take that top spot, your reign is merely a prequel to a much grander reign and that is one thing your plans will not manage to overcome.

I really wish it isn’t going to end in such a disappointing, humiliating fashion. I wish defeating you at Redemption could be anything but the revelation that I am just a cut above you and so many more that strive to hold that belt. I wish…oh I wish. Sadly you took that away. Throwing you off the stage, diving from the scaffolding into that mess of wires and equipment should have sent the message that I will send you head flying but I have this feeling it wasn’t enough. It isn’t going to be enough. That’s where this lovely situation presents itself nicely; because I’m going to do the same thing. And again and again and again until that night rolls around, that bell rings and when I do it once a-fucking-gain It will be the end of everything you’ve worked for. This time, it isn’t so much about getting a good match out of you Xavier, I can’t really say I care for your health as long as you can crawl your near-lifeless body to the ring then I’m happy. I made threats, I made promises I simply couldn’t fill…they’ve become my motivation. People who fail tend to overlook what they mentioned, they try to ignore the empty promises and simply move on but I can’t. I simply can’t.

Speaking about failure, it brings me to your rather forgettable and lackluster partner who just wishes, just wishes people would remember him for something. Here he is thinking he’s found that one achievement, that one bit of success that will make people take notice of him…only it hasn’t but I guess that’s what happens when your career has been in shambles, isn’t that right Chuck? That’s right, the pathetic fuck up that nobody really cared about the first time has somehow scurried under the doorway like the rat he is. The tough guy trying to fill the void of compensation with a belt, feasting on the breadcrumbs off success in order to satisfy this silly and self-inflected degenerate delusion that you actually matter. Spoiler Chuck, not only do you NOT matter today, you’ve never mattered then and you’ll never matter well into the future. It people like you whose bones lay the platform for people like me to achieve the greatest things this business has to offer. Your Interwire reign is cute, congratulations for achieving something, but in what reality do you live in where THAT is enough to make me think you’re worth a second of my time? Let alone someone that I should actually be cautious of? It’s actually a perfect match, you and that belt. Like, when was the last time anyone cared about the Interwire championship? Fitting achievement, me thinks. I don’t really give a damn if you’re an ally or an enemy, standing across that ring all I care about is taking my foot and ramming it down your throat hoping and praying you choke on whatever teeth shatter if for a second you think you’re going to stop me from getting my hands on Xavier Williams. I will drop you to your knees, I will set a fine example of what I strive to achieve in just a few weeks.

They say God works in mysterious ways. I suppose…maybe after Saturday night the saying will go God massacres in every way.

This, this tantalizing shiver down my spine...I can't help but fall victim to its command. It's like..It's like I'm alive again. Or more like alive for the very first time but still..Is this how normal people "feel"?

Feelings.

Uttering that word, rolling it in my mind; trying to look past the letters, that's a first for me. Before this point in my life, I saw feelings simply for a bunch of desperate Illusions that a selection of naive people built to bury all their wrongdoings because they're too spineless to actually admit that the fault is engrained in them. "I have feelings." No, you don't. What you have is your desire to fuck things up overpowering your ability to make something good out of yourself, out of the world in which you reside. What you have is choice, what you have is control. Control over what transpires before your eyes, yet even with that amount of influence and potential within your grasp, YOU still manage to choose the wrong option. YOU still manage to poison your already fading existence, every single day. And then, when shit hits the fan, you cower behind your "feelings" of regret, of shame. You FEEL like you shouldn't have done this and you should've gone with that. Thing is, YOU DIDN'T DO SO WHEN IT COUNTED. When the bells tolled for you to make your decision, you could've changed things for the better. You don't "feel" regretful as a natural sign of reacting to such circumstance, no, you're just too much of a wimp to confront your guilt. That's it, that's the be-all-end-all of your ultimate flaw. You don't feel anything, because simply put; there's nothing to "feel".

That quite covers up all the basis of a belief I once had, but that belief has been fading away ever since I stepped foot into Extreme Answers Wrestling. It's fading away right now as I speak, and in its place grows a whole different, dare I even say, opposing perspective that's been consuming my entire train of thoughts for a while now.

Feelings may very well exist after all.

I know what the public knowledge would lead anyone hearing this to believe, that I'm contradicting myself, and in a way that may be true but I'd like to think of it as a sudden revelation. You know, the sort of matter that would wake you up at night and force you to think over what you thought was right and what you thought was not. I've had that. I now actually feel a certain way. Because it dawned on me that feelings are not just graves in which people lay their wrongs in, they're just as Important in presence on the occasion of ticking the right choice. Happiness, it's what that's called if I'm not mistaken, and I'm happy. I'm happy because I chose to be in this place, I'm happy because this place is right down my street, and quite frankly I'm happy because I'll be doing a favorite hobby of mine for a shit ton of money. These all fall down the line of an unusual sensation to me, because I never felt this way before, ever. My upbringing may or may not have a hand in that but regardless, I'm compelled to smile at the fact that I, at least, tasted that fuzzy vibe at the end.

Now, as I'm spewing these final words, I can feel that happiness and Joy slowly fading away themselves and for once it's my own doing. Because I've come to terms with the fact that nothing lasts a lifetime, and thus all smiling aside, I shall begin to focus on the real reason for me being here. Although the money is good and just being in EAW satisfies me to an extent that I didn't even know existed, my greatest pleasure lies within the misery of others. That sounds too devious I know, but hey I wouldn't say it if it wasn't true. I like hearing people scream, cry, and see them bleed under my mercy. It's like watching a Shakespeare play I like unfold in front of me, and I intend on attending a lot of them plays during my stay in EAW.

So I really urge the entire cast to be at their absolute best, I want a good show.

*Chuck Scene is standing in a prison cell, dark and grey with cracks in the walls and spiderwebs along the ceiling. There is a small window at the top with bars over it, and the only light is coming through that window. There’s a bed low to the floor and a brown toilet with rust all over it. Chuck is dressed in dirty, tattered clothing, ripped up jeans and a dirty Hanes Chuck Scene Wife Beater, holding the Interwire Championship on his shoulder.*

Chuck: Do you see where I am? Do you see this place I’m in? Once again, in this prison cell. Once again, locked away, tucked away where no one can find me. No one can see me, hear me, or even know if I’m alive or dead. You know why I’m here? Because James Shields wants me here. I haven’t been on Showdown since the day I won this title and that is no coincidence. It isn’t just a classic case of “we have nothing for you,” I’m the Interwire Champion, that technically makes me the second best on this roster, even though the man holding the EAW Championship is a man I have beaten to a bloody pulp, but that’s not my point here. The point is, as The Interwire Champion I should be on every show, every episode, I shouldn’t have people like The Franchise Demon approaching me on Battleground, I should be on Free Per View. I am the meanest, nastiest, toughest, roughest, most thuggish ruggish bone dawg to ever hold this Interwire Championship but because of personal vendettas and the spite held against me by James Shields, I’m stuck right here, in this prison cell. This isn’t some kind of metaphorical representation of what James is doing to my career, no. You see, this is my home. When I am not in that ring, I am here. James Shields is afraid of what I have done, everything I’ve put the people of EAW through and the last thing he wants is me back in that ring. He throws out fines, suspensions, all because all I want is a little equality around here but will I EVER get that? No. Because all you people who think you have some kind of moral high ground above me don’t understand the word equality, yet go running in the streets screaming for it. Begging and pleading for “EQUAL RIGHTS FOR ALL! EQUAL RIGHTS FOR EVERYONE!” I’ll tell you one thing, you’d make Dr. King a proud man but me, I’m not ignorant. I know what equality is and I deliver that, as per request. You people want equality where it’s beneficial, and that’s not equality. I target a male on this roster, say Jamie O’Hara, for instance, and do everything I have done to get at him as I have to get at Eris, and people would PRAISE me. They would commend my dedication, they would praise my boldness and willingness to stand up for what I BELIEVE IN. But instead I’m called a misogynist and a criminal, kept out of the limelight because of my “controversial views” but that’s not happening anymore. I have decided to insert myself into the Showdown picture. I have decided to take it upon myself to declare that Showdown is now MY show. Because I have yet to meet anyone capable of stopping me from declaring that it’s my show, so until then, IF that ever happens, I do what I want, when I want. And if someone wants to stop me, then this is your invitation to step up and do so.

*Chuck walks over to the window and peeks out, seeing nothing but more grey concrete.*

Chuck: Times like these I like to look back on life. More specifically, my EAW career. I’ve never been in the ring with Jamie O’Hara or Lannister, but the last time I was in the ring with Xavier Williams? It wasn’t pretty. It was one of the most lopsided, brutal, disgusting displays in EAW history, but through outside interference that Xavier has has grown so accustomed to, he walked out the winner. I used to think to myself that Xavier Williams was, well, a bitch. I used to look at Xavier Williams and I saw a loser, standing where he is because of dumb luck, and assistance from other people but really Xavier is just playing the game. He’s one of the smartest men on this roster. There are two ways to get to the top, Way 1, which is my way, is to be able to beat the living hell out of everyone else that wants to get to the top, and way 2, is Xavier’s way, and that’s be smarter than everyone else who wants to get to the top. As far as I can tell, Xavier and I might be the most dominant tandem EAW has ever accidentally put together. Jamie O’Hara, you will never be EAW Champion, Lannister, you will never be anything more than a wanna-be king. You know nothing about the concept of royalty or collecting debts. You are a disgrace to the word King and on Showdown, I am going to put you both down.

RUN.

*The camera zooms in on Chuck’s cold, lifeless eyes and quickly fades to black.*

~~Showdown Promo #1~~

The scene opens up with Raven just sitting in what seems to be the arenas boiler room. She has candles lit all around her in a circular design and she is sitting Indian style with her head draped down. The camera approaches her as a very evil laugh is coming from her in the distance. As the camera nears her, she raises her head very slowly until her wide eyes and a smile from ear to ear are looking directly at the camera. She just begins to laugh and seconds later it ends in more of a angered grunt.

" Each and every vixen.. weather they be new or complete veterans come in with the same thing in mind. They want to become the vixens champion. The only thing that separates them from each other is the paths they choose to take on their way to obtain said goal. The simple mind of a vixen is they get their mind wrapped up in some simple tournament created by the creative producers and think that it makes them greater than life but I will not be side tracked like the rest of these absent minded vixens. I'm on a mission and I will accomplish it no matter who or what decides to step into my way. I have not one, but two wins over Maddie. The current vixens champion so that say a lot in itself. I have no need for the Vixens Champion when I already know I can beat the champion. It's time I move on and start targeting those who are on the surface to drown them in their own desires. Now just like anything in life, this begins with a single step.. that step will be taken on Showdown this week as I step into the ring with Venus Matthews."

Raven leans back and rolls over staring into the fire of the candle. The camera follows suit and repositions to capture her from a different angle. Raven places her finger into the fire and just rotates around the fire taking in the heat. She lets out a soft blow to the fire to where the flame takes shape and moves around but doesn't go out.

" A simple flame can say so much. It could easily be beautiful and comforting.. but still have all the tends and purpose to destroy anything. When dealing with a fire the most common thing to do is throw water on it. However, what happens if the fire is simply to strong.. wild and untamable? Venus when you step into that ring you're stepping into my realm. Your reality becomes completely transparent and the darkness ends up taking over. The darkness looks to manifest itself into the weak and it seems that you've been the chosen one. You may be strong, you may even be fast but it takes far more to beat me, Venus. You need mental and spiritual strength to even come close to a girl like myself. I don't just say. I do. Venus I will break you down beyond belief and leave you in a broke pile of your own desires pondering why exactly you are even making the attempt to step into the ring with The Motor City Reaper. I'm collecting the souls of the vixens division.. and I'm going to do the work of the devil. There's no stopping fate, and sadly for you fate has come to stop you.

The Vixens division believes they are on a up rise from where they stood in recent months. The Vixens division much like the males division is never destined to reach extraordinary heights. The ceiling that some claim to pass is nothing short of lies. There is a cut point in which the wheel begins spinning and once at the top the only way to go is down. I'll be exactly that for the vixens division. I'll be the that wall that separates the vixens from reaching new heights. If any other vixen decides to challenge my word than I will break them in two ending leaving them in ultimate silence. This is not rambling, it's the truth of my existence. Everyone will remember the day, where the reaper claimed their career. I am Raven Lee, and the end is here."

*The Camera Fades To Black.*

(Post Showdown Promo)

"As Expected"

(After giving high fives to her fans, Cloud makes her way backstage where she's approached by Stan Lawson, EAW interviewer)

Stan: Cloud, you just defeated Raven Lee-

Cloud: (grabs mic) Woo! I feel amped Stan! I'm on fire right now! (Steps towards the camera) I just qualified for the Specialist Scramble, something I already knew would come to pass. I told the world I would defeat Raven Lee and it happened. Now, it's an after thought. Haruna Sakazaki, you was the first of us to qualify for the Scramble. I wished our first encounter was a one-on-one, but we don't always get what we want do we? Just like you and the rest of the opposition will be denied the title of "Inaugural Specialist Champion".

(Puts her hand out, literally drops the mic, and walks off)

Stan: ...

Camera Guy: I like her.

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