Welcome to FWrestling.com!

You've come to the longest running fantasy wrestling website. Since 1994, we've been hosting top quality fantasy wrestling and e-wrestling content.

Blunt-Smoke & Mirrors.

Nova

Just Like Law-Jesus
Joined
May 15, 2005
Messages
528
Points
0
Age
39
Location
The wrong side of the bong slide.
Madison Square Garden – May 10th, immediately following the show

“GET YOUR F*CKING HANDS OFF ME…”

(FADEIN: Employees and hangers-on dart out of the way as a black-shirted security member is flung against a tower of precariously leaned metal piping, toppling it all over. (SFX: A woman screaming!) Moments later, a throng of black-shirts appear from the entrance to the gorilla position, struggling over a figure in their midst. NOVA shoves his way free of the pack, turning and pointing a bloody finger at them.)

NOVA: “…OR I CAN ARRANGE MORE AMBULANCE RIDES!!”

(The EAGLEstar turns away from the security team, his chest heaving. Blood covers his hands and the NFW World Heavyweight Championship hanging from his right; the coating grows thinner as it travels up his arms, to the point where a thin mist of it spackles his upper arms, one of his shoulders, parts of his chest, and his face. The hallway is lined with people, all of whom are silent now, their eyes frozen on the Starchild.)

NOVA (V/O): “It was an eerie feeling. I always loved the vibe backstage after a match where I knew I blew the house down, win or lose…talking sh*t with the tech guys, posing with fans, having a beer with the loading crew. I thrived on being someone who could plunge into the kind of post-game vitality of an arena during or after a show. This was different. This smacked more of the bad days, a little under a year ago, the days I walked the halls of PRIME with some of the most reviled and fear men in the history of the business…the days I said ‘F*ck You’ to everyone and everything I thought I’d ever stood for.”

(NOVA walks in silence down the corridor, people pressing themselves against the wall to make room for the superstar. As he passes, the hallway fills itself back in, people murmuring and whispering amongst themselves. CUTTO: Darkness. A tiny red coal glows (SFX: Loooong exhale) as smoke drifts into the air. Light is shed on the scene, revealed to be the parking garage, as NOVA shoves the door open and storms out into the warm summer air.)

VOICE: “Hey there, Psycho. Not bothering to clean yourself up, I see…”

(NOVA turns as CRAIG MILES steps out of the shadows.)

NOVA: “I’m getting the f*ck out of here…and I’m not in the mood for any of your sh*t.”

CRAIG MILES: “You know, as effortless as I make this whole ‘running a tier-one wrestling promotion’ thing look…it costs me a bucketload when you turn one of my employee’s faces into spaghetti sauce.”

NOVA: “Shouldn’t you be, like, hunkered over a Stratego board with Mayfield somewhere, knocking back Mountain Dews and trying not to wake up Mom with your Rush albums and Mid-South Tag Wrestling tapes?”

CRAIG MILES: (Exhaling smoke) “But I’d much rather be here, talking to you.”

NOVA: “Why?”

CRAIG MILES: “Does an employer need a reason to seek out his star employee? Let’s just say that Payne, Felix and Cruise aside – and Cruise barely counts – you are the ranking veteran member of this fledgling roster, certainly the only one not to flake like dandruff over the last year…and I’m just checking in on my investment.”

NOVA: “Yeah? Well, why don’t you protect the rest of your investments (pointing to the arena) and leave off any title bookings for a little while, okay?”

CRAIG MILES: “What, that sh*t with Pollard tonight? Pfffft. That limey’s got regenerative capabilities, he’ll be fine with a cup of tea and a handjob from Youngblood. In fact, I was thinking about a booking for Crash 45: Nova vs. Whoever Still Has a Face, with the NFW World Heavyweight Championship hanging above a ladder. First person to grab it and hold onto it for ten seconds wins! Whaddaya think?”

(The EAGLEstar shakes his head and turns to walk towards his car.)

NOVA: “I think you’re a prick. I’m going home.”

(The Dean of Thermodynamics watches NOVA walk away, stepping out into the center of the parking garage and lowering his silver sunglasses over his eyes.)

CRAIG MILES: (Laughing, arms outstretched) “BUT STARCHILD! YOU ARE HOME!!

(NOVA ignores him, shaking his head as he walks on. FADE TO BLACK.)

_________________________________________________________________________________________________

(FADEIN: Fingers delicately attempt to work a blunt-wrap around a wad of sticky, fine-ground ganja. After several moments, the wrap is dropped in frustration. The shot pans back to NOVA, seated at the kitchen table in his Appalachian lake cabin.)

NOVA: “I haven’t smoked a blunt in twenty days. Not a big deal…but you know what I miss most about those twenty days? It’s not the weed; it’s who I’m NOT smoking it with…the Kid. I miss that silly sonuvab*tch, with his outrageous ‘fro constantly getting tousled by ceiling fans, always with a blunt behind the ear, always ready to talk me outta some funk I was in, counsel me on the next step, listen to my bullsh*t above anything else…”

(The EAGLEstar shakes his head, tossing the wrap in the general direction of the garbage and pulling a joint paper out of his pack. He begins rolling up a doober.)

NOVA: “I don’t know what my deal has been here recently. Pollard, if you’re watching this…dude, MY BAD. I know that there’s this feeling I can’t shake that something is missing, incomplete, wrong even…and while there’s a darker element to it, a more insidious presence that I’ve yet to discover the source of…there’s another, more simple truth: I’ve got no one anymore, and that isn’t something I’ve felt here in the Frontier since before the Demolition Derby in Season Two, when the Kid drove out onto the literal battlefield in an ATV and flipped a blunt in my direction.”

(NOVA sighs and twists the joint up, sparking it and exhaling smoke through his nose.)

NOVA: “The Kid is gone. Lindz isn’t here, and she’s got her own problems. Eli’s retired. I have to face the reality of my isolation, and…”

(Suddenly NOVA is rocked out of his chair. (SFX: BOOOOOOOOM~!) The front door to his lake cabin explodes inward, sending chunks of wood flying all over his living room. NOVA reaches with one hand, pulling himself up, eyes widened and staring at the massive hole in his house.)

NOVA: “What the…”

(Through the charred crater in the wall and haze of smoke, clad in a spandex suit, Baby Bjorn, twin bandoliers of bullets across his bird-chest, and now-infamous mask. He is ADAM DICK, aka SCOOTER THUNDERCLAP aka STEEL LUNG EXPRESS aka THE ILLUSTRIOUS FACE-EATER.)

NOVA: “…Facey?”

ILLUSTRIOUS FACE-EATER: “COME WITH ME IF YOU WANT TO LIVE.”

(FADE TO BLACK.)
 

About FWrestling

FWrestling.com was founded in 1994 to promote a community of fantasy wrestling fans and leagues. Since then, we've hosted dozens of leagues and special events, and thousands of users. Come join and prove you're "Even Better Than The Real Thing."

Add Your League

If you want to help grow the community of fantasy wrestling creators, consider hosting your league here on FW. You gain access to message boards, Discord, your own web space and the ability to post pages here on FW. To discuss, message "Chad" here on FW Central.

What Is FW?

Take a look at some old articles that are still relevant regarding what fantasy wrestling is and where it came from.
  • Link: "What is FW?"
  • Top