thegr817deuce
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This is a NON-title Match.
The RP deadline will be Saturday, September 23rd at 11:59 PM.
The RP deadline will be Saturday, September 23rd at 11:59 PM.
Bryan Storms vs. Rob Franklin w/ Nakita Dahaka
- Thread starter thegr817deuce
- Start date
robishott
League Member
Wow.
We fade into Rob Franklin looking over some papers on his expensive mohagany desk in his home office. He thumbs through the papers and slides them aside to look directly into the camera. He rolls his eyes and sighs and begins to speak.
What in the hell is going on here?
Before he can elaborate on what he's talking about, he lifts up a paper from the stack and shows it to the camera. The paper reads "UCW" on it and looks like the card for Revolution.
You know, I had to stand here and try to wrestle as MCW went down like a freaking rock, and now I get to go to another second rate, nothing federation? Bryan Storms? Please, I mean, congrats on winning two titles in the two worst companies I have ever been a part of. Man, this is just my luck. I pray to God to get to go over to another company, and I get to go to the worst one possible? Please tell me that someone is going to make sure that the UC- dub fans take their freaking meds because I can't deal with all those screaming rednecks.
Another sigh, and a plop of his head as he drops it on his desk in disbelief. He suddenly lifts it though, as if he has another idea.
Am I supposed to be fighting for MCW's honor? Am I supposed to go over there and beat the new defect to UCW in his home turf and then restore the bounce in the steps of the MCW faithful, so that they can go home to their cousins with a smile? Am I supposed to be the underdog here? Because I'll tell you this right now, I AM NOT the underdog. Bryan Storms isn't even on my level. He may have gold around his waist...
Rob opens a drawer and pulls out his all too familar FTO title.
...But he's not the only one.
FADE TO BLACK
We fade into Rob Franklin looking over some papers on his expensive mohagany desk in his home office. He thumbs through the papers and slides them aside to look directly into the camera. He rolls his eyes and sighs and begins to speak.
What in the hell is going on here?
Before he can elaborate on what he's talking about, he lifts up a paper from the stack and shows it to the camera. The paper reads "UCW" on it and looks like the card for Revolution.
You know, I had to stand here and try to wrestle as MCW went down like a freaking rock, and now I get to go to another second rate, nothing federation? Bryan Storms? Please, I mean, congrats on winning two titles in the two worst companies I have ever been a part of. Man, this is just my luck. I pray to God to get to go over to another company, and I get to go to the worst one possible? Please tell me that someone is going to make sure that the UC- dub fans take their freaking meds because I can't deal with all those screaming rednecks.
Another sigh, and a plop of his head as he drops it on his desk in disbelief. He suddenly lifts it though, as if he has another idea.
Am I supposed to be fighting for MCW's honor? Am I supposed to go over there and beat the new defect to UCW in his home turf and then restore the bounce in the steps of the MCW faithful, so that they can go home to their cousins with a smile? Am I supposed to be the underdog here? Because I'll tell you this right now, I AM NOT the underdog. Bryan Storms isn't even on my level. He may have gold around his waist...
Rob opens a drawer and pulls out his all too familar FTO title.
...But he's not the only one.
FADE TO BLACK
CuseTroy
League Member
FADE IN...
Bryan Storms, in typical Storms gear of khaki pants, an untucked blue button-down shirt and mirrored sunglasses, stands in front of a UCW backdrop. Over one shoulder rests the UCW United States Title, over the other, the MCW World Title. Bryan flips the sunglasses over his forehead and focuses on the camera.
STORMS: Ooooooh, you've got me quaking in my boots, Bobby. You and your imaginary championship and your imaginary wrestling ability have gotten me in such a fright about our match at Revolution. Seriously, Bob, I can hardly get to sleep at night, I'm so damn worried about how badly you're gonna whip me at Revolution. I'm so scared that you'll embarass me, the MCW World Champion and brand-new UCW United States Champion. My knees are knocking, my teeth are chattering.
Wait, that's just because my damn air conditioning's set too cold. I should call a repairman about that.
But, wait a minute, if all my lack of sleep and shivering is because of my air conditioning, what is it that I think of you? Oh yeah, that's right.
Absolutely nothing. You don't scare me one bit, Robert. Hell, you don't even present a challenge. You're not Adam Benjamin, Chris McMillan, Joey Melton, or Dan Ryan. You're not even John Doe, Robby. You're a nothing, a nobody, the exact same kind of spoiled little infant I was before I took a serious look at my life and got clean.
You think you've got some sense of entitlement, some belief that because you are who you are, you deserve special treatment, that you are worthy of wholly undeserved recognition.
Well, buddy, I can see exactly what you are, and it's not difficult to tell that you're far from what you blow yourself up to be. You're a petulant child, Rob, the kid who takes his ball and goes home when he doesn't like a foul called on the playground. You're the kid who sat in the corner, kicking and screaming for attention until mommy gave you the lollipop.
In a way, we were all that kid once, Rob. But the thing is, eventually we're supposed to grow up, mature, take responsibility for our own lives. Obviously, Rob, you're still stuck back in Mrs. McGillicuddy's kindergarten class at good ol' P.S. 136, pulling girls' ponytails and getting "time out" because you won't share the Flinstone Phone with little Billy O'Leary during playtime.
So, at Revolution, I'll bring you into the adult world real quick, Robert. I'll teach you life lessons a little prick like you has obviously never learned. I'll teach you that complaining about being denied your spot and making up badly ripped-off fake championships is not the way a man conducts himself.
You got problems, Robby? Fine. But don't whine about them, do something about them. Change them. Don't bulls**t your way around them.
At Revolution, you'll grow up, Robby. You'll learn hard and quick just how bad your problems can get when I send you back to your little dream world for good.
Get in a circle on the rug, Franklin. Teacher has a very important lesson for you. If your a good little boy, you'll walk out of Revolution with a shred of dignity, maybe even a gold star or a smiley face.
If you keep being the petulant little boy you are, who knows? Maybe a check minus, a demerit, detention, suspension?
Or maybe, it's time for you to be expelled from school altogether, Robby.
Grow up. Until then, I have no use for you.
...FADE TO BLACK
Bryan Storms, in typical Storms gear of khaki pants, an untucked blue button-down shirt and mirrored sunglasses, stands in front of a UCW backdrop. Over one shoulder rests the UCW United States Title, over the other, the MCW World Title. Bryan flips the sunglasses over his forehead and focuses on the camera.
STORMS: Ooooooh, you've got me quaking in my boots, Bobby. You and your imaginary championship and your imaginary wrestling ability have gotten me in such a fright about our match at Revolution. Seriously, Bob, I can hardly get to sleep at night, I'm so damn worried about how badly you're gonna whip me at Revolution. I'm so scared that you'll embarass me, the MCW World Champion and brand-new UCW United States Champion. My knees are knocking, my teeth are chattering.
Wait, that's just because my damn air conditioning's set too cold. I should call a repairman about that.
But, wait a minute, if all my lack of sleep and shivering is because of my air conditioning, what is it that I think of you? Oh yeah, that's right.
Absolutely nothing. You don't scare me one bit, Robert. Hell, you don't even present a challenge. You're not Adam Benjamin, Chris McMillan, Joey Melton, or Dan Ryan. You're not even John Doe, Robby. You're a nothing, a nobody, the exact same kind of spoiled little infant I was before I took a serious look at my life and got clean.
You think you've got some sense of entitlement, some belief that because you are who you are, you deserve special treatment, that you are worthy of wholly undeserved recognition.
Well, buddy, I can see exactly what you are, and it's not difficult to tell that you're far from what you blow yourself up to be. You're a petulant child, Rob, the kid who takes his ball and goes home when he doesn't like a foul called on the playground. You're the kid who sat in the corner, kicking and screaming for attention until mommy gave you the lollipop.
In a way, we were all that kid once, Rob. But the thing is, eventually we're supposed to grow up, mature, take responsibility for our own lives. Obviously, Rob, you're still stuck back in Mrs. McGillicuddy's kindergarten class at good ol' P.S. 136, pulling girls' ponytails and getting "time out" because you won't share the Flinstone Phone with little Billy O'Leary during playtime.
So, at Revolution, I'll bring you into the adult world real quick, Robert. I'll teach you life lessons a little prick like you has obviously never learned. I'll teach you that complaining about being denied your spot and making up badly ripped-off fake championships is not the way a man conducts himself.
You got problems, Robby? Fine. But don't whine about them, do something about them. Change them. Don't bulls**t your way around them.
At Revolution, you'll grow up, Robby. You'll learn hard and quick just how bad your problems can get when I send you back to your little dream world for good.
Get in a circle on the rug, Franklin. Teacher has a very important lesson for you. If your a good little boy, you'll walk out of Revolution with a shred of dignity, maybe even a gold star or a smiley face.
If you keep being the petulant little boy you are, who knows? Maybe a check minus, a demerit, detention, suspension?
Or maybe, it's time for you to be expelled from school altogether, Robby.
Grow up. Until then, I have no use for you.
...FADE TO BLACK
robishott
League Member
We fade into a a dark base ball diamond and see Rob Franklin standing behind home plate. He brushes off his Eddie Bauer polo shirt and grabs an aluminum black bat. He points the bat at the camera and laughs.
Well, well, well. If it isn't Bryan Storms. Nice of you to show up buddy, I was starting to get worried. You know what? Nevermind no I was not. So, I saw that peice of crap sack of lies you sent me. Thing is, I think you're scared Bryan-scared of me-scared of what might happen when I beat you and expose your beloved UCW to be the peice of crap company it is. As much time as you took talking about NOT being scared, I think you ARE.
This isn't a game Bryan.
He swings the bat a few times and picks up a ball lying at his feet.
You want to threaten ME? Do you realize who the hell I am? I am a future World Champion, and you are just old news. You want me to "Grow up?"
Oh, I'll come of age at Revolution.
By beating you.
This place is mine, UCW will be mine just as MCW is and soon, that title that you hold so dearly will be mine too.
Do you know what happens when someone beats a champion in a non title match? I do. Then the challenger gets a shot at the title he so rightfully deserves. You are not but a stepping stone-a footnote in my book of greatness.
Rob tosses the ball into the air.
Come UCW Revolution...
He hits the ball and sends it flying over the fence.
...Home run.
FADE TO BLACK
Well, well, well. If it isn't Bryan Storms. Nice of you to show up buddy, I was starting to get worried. You know what? Nevermind no I was not. So, I saw that peice of crap sack of lies you sent me. Thing is, I think you're scared Bryan-scared of me-scared of what might happen when I beat you and expose your beloved UCW to be the peice of crap company it is. As much time as you took talking about NOT being scared, I think you ARE.
This isn't a game Bryan.
He swings the bat a few times and picks up a ball lying at his feet.
You want to threaten ME? Do you realize who the hell I am? I am a future World Champion, and you are just old news. You want me to "Grow up?"
Oh, I'll come of age at Revolution.
By beating you.
This place is mine, UCW will be mine just as MCW is and soon, that title that you hold so dearly will be mine too.
Do you know what happens when someone beats a champion in a non title match? I do. Then the challenger gets a shot at the title he so rightfully deserves. You are not but a stepping stone-a footnote in my book of greatness.
Rob tosses the ball into the air.
Come UCW Revolution...
He hits the ball and sends it flying over the fence.
...Home run.
FADE TO BLACK
Hell_Fighter
League Member
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Payback is F.A.T.E.
FADE IN...
[The scene opens inside an empty arena where the stagehands and other UCW employees have already set up the stage, ramp, and ring to help prepare the arena for UCW Revolution the week after all that has has happened during the Scars And Stripes Pay Per View which is now officially in the books.]
[Cut to: "The Dark Phenom" Nakita Dahaka laying on a lounge chair seated down at ringside just outside of the ring. The chair is all decked out and dressed up with all kinds of assorted Rob Franklin merchandise from like little pinups and flags with Rob Franklin plastered all over them to makeshift set up t-shirts, and models of his famed self-proclaimed FTO Championship title belts. Nakita sits in the chair snacking on a tub of popcorn and drinking beer right next to her from a small cooler next to her. Her sultry and beautiful manager, Delilah Demonik stands behind her all sensual and seductive.]
Nakita Dahaka: "Here I am! Ready for my ringside seat for when I see Rob Franklin whoop the hell out of that pissant Bryan Storms this coming week on Revolution. I'll play the role, but don't think of me as some sort of cheerleader but think of me as someone that is standing in line to rip Storms apart to shreds, limb from limb, and all that jazz."
[Nakita turns and faces directly at the camera. She brushes her long firey red hair out of her face just enough so that you get a full look of a bandage on her head from where Bryan Storms nailed her in the head with the belt and laid her out at Scars & Stripes turning on MCW and siding with the UCW. A creepy, sadistic grin appears on her face.]
Dahaka: "I'm not doing any of this simply because I all of a sudden like Rob Franklin or that I have some unfound love for the MCW and I must defend its honor. In fact, like I have been saying I could give so much as a blueberry muffin F(FCCbeep)k about about what the MCW was and what the UCW is! They can all die for all I care. I only care about one person and that's ME, 'The Dark Phenom' Nakita Dahaka. I am the HARBENGER of FATE and DEATH, and all who are in my path will meet their's in the end."
"What I'm doing is nothing about honoring the MCW its about a simple little fact about how you choose ME to be your official sacrificial lamb as you unveil your so-called true colors and hop on the UCW bandwagon. You never tough me, and for that you will suffer a fate far worse than death. By the time I'm don't with you, you'll be begging me to end your torture."
Delilah Demonik: "You ridicule my little sex toy saying that he doesn't stand a chance in hell against you Bryan. All though I agree with you that you no longer needs to hold onto imaginary things, but one thing about Robby Franklin is that he does have a limitless potential that you could only dream of. You know what's funny about Rob Franklin? He's only 19 years old and the things that he can and will do in the ring will far exceed anything that you could of ever dream of. Although this match maybe a non title match, if he defeats you, it will be truly be a taste of things to come when he defeats you for real and takes those precious titles that you hold OH SOoooooooo dear!"
Nakita: "As much as I don't like Rob Franklin, I have to give him credit he has guts and he has determination, but I am especially fond of the boy's potential, and that potential is the destiny that he has within him to defeat you in the center of that ring this week on Revolution. Then while he takes your titles, I'll be claiming your fate and collecting it, adding it onto my trophy shelf. You will truly make a nice addition to my soon-to-be ever-so-growing list of lives that have all fell victim to The Dark Phenom.
So long Bryan...see you on Rob Franklin's Revolution, and your final resting place...
So it is said...
Let it be known...
So it shall come to pass...
Let it be written in your blood...
And become another chapter in MY GOSPEL...
[The scene slowly fades out.]
FADE IN...
[The scene opens inside an empty arena where the stagehands and other UCW employees have already set up the stage, ramp, and ring to help prepare the arena for UCW Revolution the week after all that has has happened during the Scars And Stripes Pay Per View which is now officially in the books.]
[Cut to: "The Dark Phenom" Nakita Dahaka laying on a lounge chair seated down at ringside just outside of the ring. The chair is all decked out and dressed up with all kinds of assorted Rob Franklin merchandise from like little pinups and flags with Rob Franklin plastered all over them to makeshift set up t-shirts, and models of his famed self-proclaimed FTO Championship title belts. Nakita sits in the chair snacking on a tub of popcorn and drinking beer right next to her from a small cooler next to her. Her sultry and beautiful manager, Delilah Demonik stands behind her all sensual and seductive.]
Nakita Dahaka: "Here I am! Ready for my ringside seat for when I see Rob Franklin whoop the hell out of that pissant Bryan Storms this coming week on Revolution. I'll play the role, but don't think of me as some sort of cheerleader but think of me as someone that is standing in line to rip Storms apart to shreds, limb from limb, and all that jazz."
[Nakita turns and faces directly at the camera. She brushes her long firey red hair out of her face just enough so that you get a full look of a bandage on her head from where Bryan Storms nailed her in the head with the belt and laid her out at Scars & Stripes turning on MCW and siding with the UCW. A creepy, sadistic grin appears on her face.]
Dahaka: "I'm not doing any of this simply because I all of a sudden like Rob Franklin or that I have some unfound love for the MCW and I must defend its honor. In fact, like I have been saying I could give so much as a blueberry muffin F(FCCbeep)k about about what the MCW was and what the UCW is! They can all die for all I care. I only care about one person and that's ME, 'The Dark Phenom' Nakita Dahaka. I am the HARBENGER of FATE and DEATH, and all who are in my path will meet their's in the end."
"What I'm doing is nothing about honoring the MCW its about a simple little fact about how you choose ME to be your official sacrificial lamb as you unveil your so-called true colors and hop on the UCW bandwagon. You never tough me, and for that you will suffer a fate far worse than death. By the time I'm don't with you, you'll be begging me to end your torture."
Delilah Demonik: "You ridicule my little sex toy saying that he doesn't stand a chance in hell against you Bryan. All though I agree with you that you no longer needs to hold onto imaginary things, but one thing about Robby Franklin is that he does have a limitless potential that you could only dream of. You know what's funny about Rob Franklin? He's only 19 years old and the things that he can and will do in the ring will far exceed anything that you could of ever dream of. Although this match maybe a non title match, if he defeats you, it will be truly be a taste of things to come when he defeats you for real and takes those precious titles that you hold OH SOoooooooo dear!"
Nakita: "As much as I don't like Rob Franklin, I have to give him credit he has guts and he has determination, but I am especially fond of the boy's potential, and that potential is the destiny that he has within him to defeat you in the center of that ring this week on Revolution. Then while he takes your titles, I'll be claiming your fate and collecting it, adding it onto my trophy shelf. You will truly make a nice addition to my soon-to-be ever-so-growing list of lives that have all fell victim to The Dark Phenom.
So long Bryan...see you on Rob Franklin's Revolution, and your final resting place...
So it is said...
Let it be known...
So it shall come to pass...
Let it be written in your blood...
And become another chapter in MY GOSPEL...
[The scene slowly fades out.]
CuseTroy
League Member
FADE IN...
Bryan Storms sits cross-legged on a chair in front of a UCW backdrop. As always, he pulls his sunglasses from his face and secures them in his front shirt pocket before tilting his head up to look at the camera.
STORMS: Like I said earlier, Bob, I'm still just trembling in my Nikes. You've got me so worked up about this match, so worried that a guy like me, MCW World Champion, UCW United States champion, one of the premiere young stars in the wrestling universe, is gonna fall to a punk like you, whose greatest accomplishments are an unwatchable series of snipes with a she-male and her nympho manager and the creation of an unrecognized, unimportant, unnecessary and altogether pointless imaginary championship.
Man, Rob, the tale of the tape really tilts in your favor, doesn't it?
You want to call me old news, Robert? I'll dispute that, refute that, and I'll prove to you just what kind of breaking news I am when we meet at Revolution. You'll see that it's a bad idea to disregard a man who's as focused as I am, as talented as I am, as accomplished as I am. Especially, Rob, when the man doing the talking is a petulant, overcompensating little baby who has done exactly squat in his month-and-a-half long cosmic joke of a professional wrestling career.
I'm taking you seriously, Franklin, because I take everyone seriously. Because I've learned through my ordeals not to take any man lightly, because what you've got can be taken away in the blink of an eye. So, no matter how much I know you're nothing but a walkover, a pre-game layup, a tomato can sparring partner who gets me ready for the big fight, I'll come to Revolution with the exact same intensity you saw from me when I beat Chris McMillan for the MCW championship and Adam Benjamin for this US title. You'll get no relaxed attitude from me, Rob.
I'll come into that ring just like I always do, and I'll take care of my business. Then, I'll send embarassed, humbled little Robby back home to cry to She-Man and Delilah and whatever other crazed sexual and social degenerates you choose to associate with.
I won't be your stepping stone, kid. I'm no-one's footnote, I'm no mere mark on the path of your nonexistent destiny. I'm as real and as tough as you could hope to encounter in this company, no matter how much of a joke you think this place is. At Revolution, all of your delusions will be brought into the light, as you stare up at that ceiling and realize your defeat.
Sorry, buddy, but's that's the pure, simple, undiluted reality of the situation. On your best day, with all the help in the world, you wouldn't hold a candle to me when I was shacked up in rehab. The way I am now, you'd need God, the Devil, Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny to unleash their terrifying magic powers upon me in order to have the chance for me to maybe even get myself disqualified.
Sadly, even if Nakita and Delilah draw a pentagram on the ground and dance to gothic techno rave music while drinking the blood of mountain goats from the high plains of Micronesia, the chances of that happening just aren't that good.
So come to Revolution and bring your very best, Rob. Try and hit that home run. Except this time, you won't be serving it up for yourself. You've got a flamethrower with a nasty slider staring you down, and this closer never, ever blows a save.
By the way, Nakita, the so-called"hArBENgeRerererer of fAtE", you're so completely and utterly ridiculous and unimportant that I don't even need to regard you beyond this train of thought. Just thought I'd let you know that, you cult freak whacko.
But Rob, back to you. At Revolution, you'll look to hit it out of the park and make your mark. Problem for you is, you're gonna pull an old Casey at the Bat and go one...two...three strikes, you're out, Robby. You'll be exposed as a man who doesn't have enough ability to play in the big leagues, someone who's nothing but a fifth-rate ripoff of me two years ago.
At Revolution, Rob, there will be no joy in Mudville. You're no Mighty Casey, but you're still gonna strike out.
...FADE TO BLACK
Bryan Storms sits cross-legged on a chair in front of a UCW backdrop. As always, he pulls his sunglasses from his face and secures them in his front shirt pocket before tilting his head up to look at the camera.
STORMS: Like I said earlier, Bob, I'm still just trembling in my Nikes. You've got me so worked up about this match, so worried that a guy like me, MCW World Champion, UCW United States champion, one of the premiere young stars in the wrestling universe, is gonna fall to a punk like you, whose greatest accomplishments are an unwatchable series of snipes with a she-male and her nympho manager and the creation of an unrecognized, unimportant, unnecessary and altogether pointless imaginary championship.
Man, Rob, the tale of the tape really tilts in your favor, doesn't it?
You want to call me old news, Robert? I'll dispute that, refute that, and I'll prove to you just what kind of breaking news I am when we meet at Revolution. You'll see that it's a bad idea to disregard a man who's as focused as I am, as talented as I am, as accomplished as I am. Especially, Rob, when the man doing the talking is a petulant, overcompensating little baby who has done exactly squat in his month-and-a-half long cosmic joke of a professional wrestling career.
I'm taking you seriously, Franklin, because I take everyone seriously. Because I've learned through my ordeals not to take any man lightly, because what you've got can be taken away in the blink of an eye. So, no matter how much I know you're nothing but a walkover, a pre-game layup, a tomato can sparring partner who gets me ready for the big fight, I'll come to Revolution with the exact same intensity you saw from me when I beat Chris McMillan for the MCW championship and Adam Benjamin for this US title. You'll get no relaxed attitude from me, Rob.
I'll come into that ring just like I always do, and I'll take care of my business. Then, I'll send embarassed, humbled little Robby back home to cry to She-Man and Delilah and whatever other crazed sexual and social degenerates you choose to associate with.
I won't be your stepping stone, kid. I'm no-one's footnote, I'm no mere mark on the path of your nonexistent destiny. I'm as real and as tough as you could hope to encounter in this company, no matter how much of a joke you think this place is. At Revolution, all of your delusions will be brought into the light, as you stare up at that ceiling and realize your defeat.
Sorry, buddy, but's that's the pure, simple, undiluted reality of the situation. On your best day, with all the help in the world, you wouldn't hold a candle to me when I was shacked up in rehab. The way I am now, you'd need God, the Devil, Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny to unleash their terrifying magic powers upon me in order to have the chance for me to maybe even get myself disqualified.
Sadly, even if Nakita and Delilah draw a pentagram on the ground and dance to gothic techno rave music while drinking the blood of mountain goats from the high plains of Micronesia, the chances of that happening just aren't that good.
So come to Revolution and bring your very best, Rob. Try and hit that home run. Except this time, you won't be serving it up for yourself. You've got a flamethrower with a nasty slider staring you down, and this closer never, ever blows a save.
By the way, Nakita, the so-called"hArBENgeRerererer of fAtE", you're so completely and utterly ridiculous and unimportant that I don't even need to regard you beyond this train of thought. Just thought I'd let you know that, you cult freak whacko.
But Rob, back to you. At Revolution, you'll look to hit it out of the park and make your mark. Problem for you is, you're gonna pull an old Casey at the Bat and go one...two...three strikes, you're out, Robby. You'll be exposed as a man who doesn't have enough ability to play in the big leagues, someone who's nothing but a fifth-rate ripoff of me two years ago.
At Revolution, Rob, there will be no joy in Mudville. You're no Mighty Casey, but you're still gonna strike out.
...FADE TO BLACK