| Welcome to Majesticwrestling. We hope you enjoy your visit. You're currently viewing our forum as a guest. This means you are limited to certain areas of the board and there are some features you can't use. If you join our community, you'll be able to access member-only sections, and use many member-only features such as customizing your profile, sending personal messages, and voting in polls. Registration is simple, fast, and completely free. Join our community! If you're already a member please log in to your account to access all of our features: |
| Madisyn Valentine vs. Freddy Skinner; PCT: Quarterfinals | |
|---|---|
| Tweet Topic Started: Aug 30 2011, 12:57 AM (142 Views) | |
| Allocco | Aug 30 2011, 12:57 AM Post #1 |
|
Majestic Owner
|
/Deadline: 09.09.11 @ 11:59:59 PM EST RP Limit: 3 Venue: Royale Majestic Casino, Las Vegas, Nevada Please post your RPS within the match thread. Freddy Skinner replaces the injured Nick Castellanos in the second round of the tournament, the winner of which will be crowned the first ever Majestic Premier Champion. Both Freddy Skinner and Madisyn Valentine were victorious week two, but who will walk out of this important contest to continue in the tournament? |
![]() |
|
| Chloe Street | Sep 9 2011, 03:48 PM Post #2 |
|
Sinfully Seductive
|
OOC: Sorry for my lateness. I haven't been feeling to great and I had a hard time getting motivated this week. But I hope you guys enjoy. Nothing Like A Little Drama.... Edited by Chloe Street, Sep 9 2011, 03:48 PM.
|
![]() |
|
| Deleted User | Sep 9 2011, 11:58 PM Post #3 |
|
Deleted User
|
So Salvation #1 had gone, well, even better than I could have hoped. Not only had I defeated Jimmy Bruno in the decisive manner I had planned, I had – in true Skinner fashion – spied an opportunity to benefit from somebody else’s misfortune and grabbed it with both hands. Nick Castellanos had been attacked, and there was a vacant spot in the Premier championship tournament...I had, both kindly and selfishly, offered myself to Aries Allocco as a replacement, and; albeit suspiciously, he agreed. I was on the road to mastering another promotion. Of course, I had noticed the accusatory glances from staff, and from the other guys in the locker-room. I didn’t bother protesting; nobody would listen to me, although the fact of the matter was that the only ‘underhanded tactic’ I had brought into play on this occasion was pure luck. After chilling out and changing out of my ring gear, I walk out of the Royale Casino, where I am met by a sight with equally displeases and amuses me. It wasn’t the few fans, clad in t-shirts from more popular promotions, or the drunk rich guys, trying to impress the faux-classy females that frequented establishments such as the Royale. No, it was the rather conspicuous, slightly overweight man standing, facing the entrance, dicta-phone in hand and a black t-shirt clinging to his XL frame, with the logo of a site by the name of WrestlingNewzHeat.net or some-such printed across the front. Clearly, he wasn’t here to try his luck with the female clientele. Even he didn’t look that stupid. I continue walking, making a feeble attempt to ignore his eyes, following me. I finally give up, stopping in front of him and rolling my eyes. “What do you want?” “Hi, I’m Mike from WrestlingHeat. I have some questions, Freddy.” I simply stare at him, waiting for him to continue speaking which, in a pleasant surprise, he doesn’t. In the same frustrated tone of voice as earlier, I say “Go on then...” “Well, everyone’s asking; did you attack Nick Castellanos?” “You guys really don’t rest, do you? The man isn’t even conscious yet! And no, I didn’t attack him. I saw a title opportunity and I went for it. Problem?” “Um, no...”, comes the awkwardly mumbled reply. “Good!,” I sarcastically smile at the ‘journalist’, before continuing on my way out of the Royale. “Hey, one more question Freddy!” I turn around and look him straight in the eye, and this time he gets the message and continues. “Were you surprised at the level of competition Jimmy Bruno gave you tonight?” I intensify my stare, basically burning a whole through his face. “Are you fucking serious?! I could’ve beat that fucker blindfolded and concussed, and don’t you ever try and insult my fucking abilities, or you’ll end up in the hospital bed right next to Castellanos...and this time, it will be my doing. Okay?” Not waiting for a reply, I turn and walk away without so much as a backwards glance at the ‘reporter’. Now, I’ve hardly been straight-edged throughout my life, but I’d managed to get my habits under control to the point where I wasn’t fighting any more coked-up death-matches than I absolutely had to, but one thing I never kerbed was my post-match routine – either as a celebration or to drown my sorrows, I’d find some local dive or another and drink. A lot. So of course, I awoke the next morning, feeling as rough as a sandpaper effigy of Courtney Love, to the sound of my iPhone bleeping to tell me I had a new email. I groggily flicked the touch screen until I got the desired result. The email opened – the subject header telling me that Aries Allocco had sent out the new match card for Salvation. I open the email, and read my way down to my match. “Madisyn who?,” I mumble to myself. After waking/sobering up a little bit, I find out who Madisyn Valentine is, and, as is quickly becoming the norm for me, take to my iPhone camera to record a message to my opponent. “Madisyn Valentine...possibly the very epitome of ‘WHO FUCKING CARES?’! “I’ve encountered people like you before. You think you’re a ghetto chick because you hang out with pussy-boy gangsters, and you have money and several hundred boyfriends, am I right? Scratch that, I know I’m right. It’s ridiculous that a respected competitor such as myself should be expected to face someone who’s more occupied with boyfriend trouble than a championship tournament. Madisyn, you need to learn something. Once you become a wrestler, everything else takes a back-seat. You have to live and breathe the sport. You can’t just take ten minutes out of your day to say ‘Lol I’mma kick your ass!’...you have to earn the right to say it. And I’ve earned that right. In my first six months pro, I won 5 championships. I’ve helped shut down every company I didn’t like and a few I did! I’ve ended more careers than Jimmy Bruno can count on his inbred hands, and you think that you can just talk a little smack and people will take you seriously? Maybe in a feud with Taylor Swift at the fuckin’ VMAs, but not in Majestic Wrestling. And before you pull the usual sexist shtick, I don’t care what’s in your pants...I’m gonna teach you these lessons. THE HARD WAY. There’s nothing more I can say. You can tell the whole world how lavish your apartment is, but you can not beat Freddy Skinner. “And you never will, little miss Street Chick, so why not tell your douche-bag fuck-buddies to come and fight me instead, you god-damned gutter-slut?” And with all I needed to say having been said, I end the video, send it and put my iPhone away, with the intention to get a few hours more sleep. |
|
|
| 1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous) | |
| « Previous Topic · Salvation[2] · Next Topic » |



/




2:58 PM Jul 11