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| The Odds on Favorite; Johnny Amazing | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: May 7 2017, 06:19 PM (78 Views) | |
| Lita Maivia | May 7 2017, 06:19 PM Post #1 |
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Legend
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Fade in on the FIW Champion. Johnny is dressed casually in one of his Amazing t-shirts and a pair of jeans, along with quite an Amazing baseball cap turned backwards on his head. He's also got that aforementioned championship slung over his shoulder in true champion fashion. "Let me get this straight..." He's got a bit of a smile on his face, one that's amused at the dilemma he's clearly trying to sort out. "Jack Manson Jr. injuries Eversol's 'angel'..." Pause. Roll of the eyes. Johnny is not amused. "And then goes on to put Kim Coulter in a 'neck brace'..." Literal air quotes to denote sarcasm. Another pause and another roll of the eyes. Johnny ain't buying the neck brace. "And that prompts this whole campaign to get the son of a bitch fired. I get it! I hated that bastard, too. I mean, I wasn't crying for him to get fired and dragged away. I was asked for me and him in the ring so that I could settle our problems like, you know, men. Some people aren't interested in that, I suppose." Gee. I wonder who was asking for Manson Jr. to be fired. Johnny shrugs his shoulders and just lets the whole issue go. Jr. is gone, after all. "But what do I see his past week? I see the Coulter Crew, every single one of you opinionated little twats, in the ring trying to intimidate our Hellcats Champion. Seriously?" Clearly, Johnny forgot the "co-" prefix. I'm sure it was an honest mistake. "More than intimidate. At least, that was your plan. That was Kim's plan. All because... what? Because she was bored? Because she's feeling good now that she's not looking over her shoulder for Jack's boy looming in the shadows? You guys are pathetic!" Johnny practically spits his disgust for the Crew. He takes a moment to collect himself, adjusting the championship over his shoulder as he shakes his head. "You see, there's a whole locker room back there that is sick to death of all of you. They are sick to death of the garbage that you all spew. We're sick of games that you all play. And mostly, we're just sick of your faces. So yeah. I didn't have to look hard to find some guys and girls that were interested in coming out to make sure none of you did what you claim was so terrible of Jack Manson Jr. Worse! At least he handled his shit by himself. He didn't need an entire Crew to get stuff done." Praise for Jack Manson Jr. in some form. Johnny looks like he feels dirty. He shakes it off with a shiver down his spine. "And speaking of friends! The Amazing Best Friends..." Pause. Johnny looks into the camera and gives a wink. "Sorry, Dream. That rolls off the tongue better. Just saying." He shrugs his shoulders and gets back into business mode. "The Amazing Best Friends would have kicked your asses again if it wasn't for your new friend Freakshow. Not even a friend. He's just someone who dislikes you a little less than the rest of us, I suppose. Or maybe he just doesn't give two shits. All I know is, you should be sending the Green Goblin a fruit basket or a Bed, Bath & Beyond gift card or something. Because he saved your asses and you know it. Maybe... hm... maybe because the former Fighting Spirit Champion was too scared to get into the ring." Heavy emphasis on the "former" and heavy emphasis on pretending like he isn't sure if that's the reason. "I get it, Stephen. You're scared of me. It's cool." Johnny plays a big game right about now. He shrugs his shoulders a couple times and really puts on a show pretending like he's some big shot. Okay. Part of him pretends like that all of the time, but this time he's going over the top on purpose to really dig into the Crew. "I mean, why wouldn't you be? After the beating I put on your boyfriend at Rise of a Legend, you'd be an idiot not to be afraid of me. Because, you see, Stephen. I may not be the biggest guy in this company. Hell, I may not even be the most dangerous. I'm sure as hell not the most opportunistic. You'll always see me coming, I'll make sure of that. But! What I am..." Pause for dramatic effect. Johnny re-situates his title on his shoulder, glancing down at it. "I'm the FIW Champion. I'm the guy who when this is on the line will do things you've never even imagined possible. I'm the guy that gets it done in there and that's what you're really afraid of. Because you can and your buddies can blindside me every single day of the week. You can make your little jokes and you can puff on your cigars, but when the lights come on and it's game time... you know none of that matters. None of that makes a single difference to me walking in and walking out with this." He grabs the title off his shoulder and holds it up for Eversol to see. "Nathaniel learned that at Rise of a Legend. Clay Krueger learned that at Nensai Senjou. Darian Gray learned it at Deadlock. And Caleb? Hell, he already knows it. You, on the other hand... you're the guy who has just seen it. You're the guy who's had to watch it happen to all of your friends and know that while you've never been the guy... that the title hanging over your shoulder will one day make you that guy that guys his ass kicked by me and has to go crawling back to Kim Coulter empty handed. That is why you really haven't cashed in that golden ticket of yours. You're waiting for a new owner to take over the factory, but it ain't happening." Johnny throws the title back over his shoulder, taking a calming breath. "Anarchy Draft sounds interesting. I gotta admit. Because if Kim Coulter gets first pick, I know I'm defending this against someone in the Crew. Heck, I could be defending it against the whole Crew. I don't know the rules of this Draft. But, you know, I like those odds. Because it's those odds, that allow me to be what I am and always will be..." Another pause for dramatic effect. Will it happen this time? "A deserving champion. A man who represents this company positively. Someone the whole world can look to and actually respect. I know that not one member of the Crew can say that." He shrugs his shoulders, well aware the Crew doesn't care about being respected so long as they're lauded in gold. "The odds this week, however. Damn these are good odds!" There's a huge smile on Johnny's face as he nods his head agreeably at the upcoming match on ReVolt. "So, I get the entire Crew across the ring from me. Not just the Blue Balls Boys. I get each and every single one of you, and I've got back-up to boot! Pretty damn good back up, too! The goddamn Alpha Wolves! And, man, do I know those two are just itching to sink their claws into the Crew. And Keith Williams..." Johnny sighs. This one looks heavy. "He and I rarely see eye-to-eye. He's not my favorite person. He's never been my favorite person. But... Amazing Gentlemen does have a great ring to it. I can't deny it. And as long as he keeps up his new and improved outlook on life, I don't mind watching him beat some Crew members up and down the ring any day of the week." To be fair, there's few people he wouldn't mind watching kick the crap out of the Crew. Just saying. "And last, but certainly not least, is my buddy The Dream. You gotta love this dude. His never-give-up, never-say-die, never-stay-down attitude even makes me feel like a chump most days! I couldn't ask for a better tag team partner, especially when going up against the Coulter Crew. So yeah. I'm liking my odds this week. Some might even call these odds..." Pause for dramatic effect. Johnny even looks side to side to make sure it's clear first. "Ah-Ma-Zing~!" There it is! Fade on that dazzling killer smile~! |
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| BleakInfinity | May 10 2017, 07:56 AM Post #2 |
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Bleak
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As soon as Johnny's promo has finished we don't fade out. We fade back in. We fade back in on Stephen J. Eversol, the man that was just addressed in Mr. Amazing's promo. Eversol is sitting in his locker room, holding an iPad. So, he must've just watched Johnny Amazing's promo. Eversol leans forward in her easy chair. "Fuck off, Johnny." Looks like Eversol is going straight for the jugular already. "It's called a strategy, Johnny Cock Smoker. Did I defend the title the way you wanted me to? No. I really don't give a shit which way you'd like me to defend the title. I don't give a shit which way anyone wanted me to defend it. The point is that I defended it a lot. Shit, I should still have it if it weren't for Stanton. And honestly? I think I've outgrown that title already. I mean, I rescued it from the depths of hell when Richlen and Riot were fighting over it like a bunch of bitches in a slap fight. I elevated that title to what it is today. Stanton can act like he's this "fighting" champion and act like I was this awful champion. Awful champions don't keep the title for more than six months, dumb fuck." Eversol shakes his head in disgust. "You may think I dirtied up the title, but didn't every single one of you clowns in that match last week just wanna kick my ass? Wasn't everyone just creaming their pants when I got beat? Sounds to me like I got that title over better than anyone has in a long ass fuckin' time." Eversol might as well pat himself on the back. Luckily for us, and for himself, he doesn't. "Now, Johnny. Do you miss ol' Fat Jack or something? Are you sad that he's no longer around? Are you a chubby chaser, Johnny?" Eversol chuckles at his joke for the FIW champion. "Because it sounds to me like you're just mad that the focus is back on you and not on him. See, no matter what you think. I'm really not scared of you, not even a little bit. I respect the fact that you've been a hell of a champion. I had respect for not talking about you when it came to your sister, my angel. My angel that sadly, has flown away. The one that I'm sure the world knows by now that we called it quits this past week. I'm sure the news just devastated you, Johnny." Eversol uses the word "devstated" as sarcastically as possible. "I still love that woman with all of my heart, but it seems we're just not going to work out for one reason or the other, at the moment. But now that she's no longer my girl, now that I can set me sights on your title. I no longer will hold back, Johnny. I will no longer offer any truce to you. This week will only be a preview of what the future holds for you. I have the Grand Prix that's just been dying to be cashed in. Hell, maybe the entire Crew takes out your weak-ass excuse for a team, we whip your ass and then I cash it in and go into Anarchy as the FIW champion." Eversol feigns an innocent shrug. "You can pretend that your team is something to fear all you want, but the matter of the fact is it's full of jokes. You have Stanton that needed the help of almost the entire roster to finally win a title and remind people that he used to be good at wrestling. You have a child pedophile that's married to a nasty fire-crotch that aches for me, you have another pedophile that drinks wine like a tool and you have the guy I've made my personal punching bag for the past few months. And of course...you. The only one on the team that isn't a total joke but the one that's got the future champ with his sights set on him." Eversol grins from ear-to-ear. "Three former Dual Crown champs, the tag champs, the greatest manager of all time and the Grand Prix and best Fighting Spirit Champ in years. Yeah, we'll be fine." Eversol grins at the camera again as we fade out. |
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| Mjölnir | May 10 2017, 04:25 PM Post #3 |
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Relic
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Or, so it seems! A second fake out! Something like that, because the screen is black. But then Joe Stanton peeks his head out from the side, glancing around with uncertainty. Cautiously he steps out proper into the black void, looking around at it with uneasiness. Hesitantly he reaches out his hand, unsure if he should touch anything. " [size0]Freaky." Joe mutters partially under his breath, looking around some more. Eventually he snaps out of it and he looks directly at the...camera? The Scarlet Speedster frowns, his brow furrowing and some confusion seeps into his features. "I'm not your opponent." Stated with as much confusion as what's on his face, Joe blinks. "I mean, sure, I'd love to team with the Super slash Amazing Best Friends again. And, the Wolves are lovely people. And, Keith Williams is..." Something strikes Joe, he taps his index finger against his chin in thought and he ponders whatever's on his mind for a while. "...A guy? I don't know him really, biblical or otherwise." Popping his eyebrows, Joe smirks at his joke and he shrugs his shoulders. "And, listening to most of the Crew find reasons to bemoan your stations in life is just the best. I mean, your lives really suck, doing your dream job, being featured on network television every week, making more money in a month than some make in a year. But god damn it, you said Mocha Ice Frap, not Vanilla Bean Ice Frap!" Rolling his eyes as slowly as he possibly can, Joe places a hand against his forehead at the horrors the Coulter Crew have to go through. "Though I wouldn't mind having another round with Clay, and Caleb just seems to be trying to get by." Stanton doesn't let that thought dwell, waving it off. "No, I'll be the guy kicking Robbie's ass." Placing his hands on himself, he emphasizes who he'll be and he gestures how it won't be Stephen but somebody else he'll be fighting. A smile overcoming his features afterwards. "It's flattering to know you're thinking about me though." In an over the top fashion Joe bats his eyelashes and giggles in a high pitched manner, acting like a blushing school girl. "Don't worry, Steve, Rob doesn't mean much to me. He's just a quick wham, bam, thank you ma'am. A tryst, a fling, a one night stand! If you're aching for it and neither Kim or Nate's satisfying you like they used to..." Cocking his right fist like a gun, Joe Stanton holds it up. "I'll save the fist for you." A big wink of the eye to the camera, along with a shit eating grin and Joe Stanton disappears into the ether like he was never here to begin with. |
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| ratedgdr | May 10 2017, 05:25 PM Post #4 |
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Superstar
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*Oh dear, did Eversol just say what I think he said? Judging from the appearance of one man, he did.* You brain-dead, tiny-dicked, disfigured, intestine-lacking, heart-deficient, puberty-ignored waste of reproductive energy. You're never going to learn, are you? You're never going to learn to not fucking piss me off! You're never going to learn that accusing me of something so horrible that I'd hunt down and fucking kill anyone who'd do that to anyone in my family is the best way for you to end up with my fucking boot compacting that tiny shred of cartilage you call a spine! *Did... did he just say he'd murder anyone who targets his family? Holy shit. Either he's dead serious, Eversol has him that furious, or both.* You're never going to learn that insulting or trying to steal the one person I care about more than anything else is a fucking death sentence! *Well, there IS a track record of what happens to those people. Maybe not so much in FIW as in NGIW... yet. Anyway, Richlen has officially been triggered.* You listen to me and you listen to me good, little boy. I don't care how many times your little toadies try to get in my way. I don't care how much a washed-up shell of his former self wants to insist that his legacy matters after all this time. I don't care about a pathetic little pissant who is the weak link of every team he's been a part of. I don't care about a vain loser that I've exposed as a failure in grand fashion. I don't care about a loudmouth who can't hang with the big boys. I don't care about someone who has been a choke artist in two different promotions. And I most certainly don't care about someone who needs a microscope to find his genitalia and takes his embarrassment out on anyone who he realizes is better than him. The only time I care is when I am beating the hell out of all of you, and trust me, there's going to be a lot of caring happening. Now let me tell you exactly what is going to happen to you, you pathetic little waste of oxygen. On Thursday, your team will lose. After that, I will hound your every step. Every time you so much as blink at Johnny Amazing, I'm going to be right there to keep you from using your Grand Prix. Every time you try to take any other championship, I will be right there to screw you over. You won't even be able to yawn without me taking notice. I am fucking done playing around with you or the rest of the Crew. Remember how focused I was, how deadly I got, when Riot put his career in my hands before Deadlock? All of you are going to get it so. Much. Worse. *With a growl like he has in his voice, you'd think he was doing his best Clint Eastwood impersonation. Not that that's exactly a bad thing, mind you.* It's not an unrealistic claim either, Eversol. I am the one who has control. I'm the one who can alter reality. If I say it will happen, I will make it happen. And there will be nothing you can do about it. There will only be one all-encompassing focus, and that is driving the Crew from FIW for good. Starting Thursday, Hydra dies! *And with that, he storms out of frame. The camera lingers, and then Shaelin walks into shot.* And now that he's said his piece. While you scramble, Eversol, to find some sort of answer to what my husband just said that would require you to reach even further down than you already have, let me congratulate you on the fact that you actually got a girl to touch you for once! *Sarcastic clapping.* I'd ask Brittany how disappointing you were, but I think we already know the answer to that. Which leads me- *She holds up a sign reading "VERY DISAPPOINTING" as she speaks.* -was it really all that mutual a split or did she get smart and dump your sorry ass? And if it's the latter as I have a good feeling it was, was it because you're probably worse in bed than a pile of soggy leaves, because you're targeting her brother and she decided that family was more important to her than being stuck with a scumbag like you, or was it maybe both? *She turns the sign over to say "BOTH," all the while looking like she's in thought.* So congratulations on actually having a relationship. I'll call the Vatican and see if it can be declared a miracle. You got a girl to touch you. Yay. Thursday is going to be your lucky day though, Eversol. For only the second time in your life, a girl is going to touch you! *More sarcastic clapping, this time mixed with fake enthusiasm.* Only this girl is going to drop you on your hollow skull just like I dropped cigarettes. Hard. *Cue evil smile.* I've already pinned a legend, Eversol. I know I can make you, who will never be a legend or anything else in that vein, suffer the same fate. And then I'll go back with my husband to our hotel room and bang like a couple of rabbits while you cry into your pillow, alone. Granted, it will not be much consolation for us considering that your little bitch manager will deny us our rematch for the tag titles, but what Ricky and I have and will have will always be more than what you have. And hopefully when Coulter makes that decision, she suddenly feels a pain in her throat that feels like my legs are wrapped around her neck again. *She chuckles. That's something that she has no intent of letting Kim live down.* And then we'll win whatever match we get at Anarchy In The UK, go back to our hotel, bang like rabbits again, and you'll still have nothing. And that cycle is going to repeat for a while. A long while. But hey, you'll always have a Grand Prix that you'll never be able to use, right? Golly gee willikers, Batman, you sure showed us. And knock it off with calling my husband a pedo before I rip your stupid ugly face off, got it? *And her smile is gone now as she makes her exit.* |
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| Craig | May 10 2017, 07:39 PM Post #5 |
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Scope
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Backstage watching proceedings on a rather modest television monitor is Clay ‘Chainsaw’ Krueger, who is taking a vested interest in what happens with Amazing, Eversol, Joe Stanton and the Richlen’s. Heavy footsteps strike the ground behind him as Dimmu Borgir approaches. Borgir: “Clay.” Clay: “Dimmu.” Borgir: “Anything of note?” He motions towards the monitor, where the image of young Shaelin remains. As per his previous observation of Mercedes, the Dark Lord spends a moment admiring her female form. Clay: “Usual guff. Mr. Richlen has declared his intention to be FIW’s avenger to stop Eversol from cashing in his Grand Prix Championship, a vigilante if you will.” Borgir: “Maybe he’s Batman.” Of course, FIW does have its own Dark Knight… Clay: “I wonder if he’d have been so forthright had he won the Grand Prix, I suspect not. Surely it then would have been just a confirmation and celebration of his brilliance. But I can tell you, it is nice to be referred as a legend and as a ‘washed-up shell of his former self wants to insist that his legacy matters’ by two halves of the same marriage.” Borgir: “I can only imagine.” Clay: “You’ve done well for yourself.” Borgir: “So I’m informed.” Clay: “You went from taking my money to pairing up with a woman who I’m fairly certain will be FIW Hellcats Champion.” Borgir: “You should be careful talking about her, she’ll kick your ass.” Clay: “Probably.” Borgir: “But you don’t seem to exactly be hanging around the breadline yourself.” He refers of course to the FIW World Tag Team Championship belt resting on Clay Krueger’s shoulder. He takes a good look at it too, since he himself was one half of the third-ever FIW World Tag Team Champions. Clay: “Noticed, did you?” Borgir: “Hard to miss. Any plans for the ten man, with all your friends?” Clay: “You know me, I always have a game plan. Shaelin will try too hard surrounded by better wrestlers than her, Gustav will compromise himself to protect her, Williams can’t be trusted, who knows if Dream will even show up… and that just leaves the FIW Champion. He’s good, as a matter of fact he’s very good - but he’ll be alone in his focus. He doesn’t really want Richlen getting involved in his business, not when the title could be at stake, he already said that he and Williams don’t see eye-to-eye and as for Dream, as good friends as they are I just don’t think he can rely on him.” The Dark Lord purses his lips in thought, he offers one single nod of the head. Borgir: “And what of you? What side are you on?” Clay: “Same side I’ve always been on, you know that.” Borgir: “I love this shit. This shit gets me hard.” Clay: “Then we’ve both been warned. Look after yourself, Dimmu.” Borgir: “Oh, I will. I got a meeting with the GM, apparently Suzanne Schwartz wants to see Xenia on ReVolt and there are some ground rules to cover.” Krueger gives the old Dark Angel a wry smile at the sound of his meeting with his former friend and taps him on the shoulder before departing the scene, Borgir takes one more lasting look at the Tag Team title belt before he too makes his exit. |
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