GOLD RUSH Round 1 Roleplay Thread

[RStrawsma]

A family-owned pub in Tacoma, WA. The usual evening crowd.

In one secluded corner sits a man. We could go on into description, but what is important is that seated there is a man, and that tells us more than we need to know. Black clothes, aged features, brown hair and eyes. The eyes, now staring off into space, seem to tell a million tales of past and current glory. They are the eyes of a man who has seen it all and comes back looking for more.

This man has had many names in the past. These days he simply rolls with "Daymon."

His eyes travel upward, focusing on the television in the corner. It's playing the same thing that's been playing over and over for the past few weeks: Stephen Thomas' press conference, announcing the Gold Rush at CSWA's Anniversary 2006. The main event. The only event. Perhaps the only event that ever mattered in the professional wrestling industry, coming to form in one night.

"Not only is it a chance for the competitors to win one of the four CSWA championships, but it’s a chance for those who have always wanted a shot, always wanted to strap that gold around their waist, to come and throw their hat in the ring." This must have been listened to a hundred times by now. "The contract for the ULTIMATE GOLD RUSH match is an open contract. Meaning, you walk into the Auditorium on the 27th and you're in the match. It's open to ANY wrestler, in ANY promotion. I don't care if you've never fought before in the CSWA, or have been banned in the CSWA, or just plain don't like the CSWA. This is your night. This is your opportunity.

"Opportunity." There's the magic word. It's always fun to take a gamble to be somewhere where you aren't now. But then for guys like Daymon, one has to ask himself if, after being a professional wrestler of eight years spanning through various federations, if that "opportunity" is as good as it sounds. Is it really the chance of a lifetime? Or perhaps is he at a point where he can be perfectly content with his past accomplishments, and those in the near distant future, in smaller federations. Was being the very best in the world truly that important?

"...18 years ago we came through those doors with four men and a few hundred in attendance," the conference continues. "And if this is the last thing I ever do, we ever do, and it this stage, everything has to be considered as such, then I refuse to go out with a whimper."

At these words, the professional wrestling legends eyes draw to a close, as he understands what he finall must choose for himself.

Without a word, Daymon finishes his drink, rises from the table, and exits the bar. He leaves unnoticed, but knows that when the real end comes, all will remember him.

 

[GreggG]

FADE IN......

A large palatial ranch somewhere on the outskirts of Houston, Texas. The shot quick-cuts to the inside of a spacious office, with a mahogany desk front and center. On a leather chair behind this desk, lit by the sun streaming in a window behind him is a large man about six-foot-seven or so. He looks to be north of three hundred pounds, but we can't really tell exactly how much. Maybe 335 or so. He's wearing a mask, so we can't see his face. But this mask - this black mask - has the letters "DR" stitched across the front.

The man is dressed in a shirt that says "EPW" in very bold large font, as if trying to get someone's attention - in addition to blue jeans. On the desk, various paperwork is stacked in various heights and on the desk, suspiciously turned to be seen by the camera - is a photo of Alaina Troy and Dan Ryan, with Alaina holding an infant in her arms.

In the middle of the desk, in the front is a small nameplate, with the words "Dan Ryan's Alter Ego" chiseled into it. Curiously the " 's Alter Ego" portion of the plate seems more recently carved.

DRAE: "Interesting, the way things always seem to work out in this sport don't you think Troy?"

"I was watching that night - the night you proclaimed so loudly and arrogantly that you wouldn't defend your title against Dan Ryan or Mark Windham. And I was there too, watching as Stephen Thomas declared that he would grant your wish - that he would not allow either Mark Windham or...'Dan Ryan'...to enter this Gold Rush match at Anniversary."

"So so clever of you, Troy. So Clever."

"But hey, the way I look at it you aren't as clever as you might think you are. See, it's in the power of the proclaimer to designate the parameters of all stipulations when making statements like who you won't defend against or who is allowed to compete in a match. So you made your statement, laid out your parameters - and I thought to myself, I said self....what to do? What to do?"

"Believe you me, Troy. I'll be in the ring at Anniversary. There's really nothing you can do to stop that - and despite the amazing lengths I've gone to to make sure no one knows exactly who I am - I think by time the bell rings you'll have it all figured out. But you'll stand there in that center ring and watch...helpless....as inevitability takes over."

"And I don't care about all of these pretenders to the throne either. Not Jay Smash or JA or J. Crew or Jake and the Fatman or anyone else crawling their asses to the ring for a shot at the golden ring. The golden ring I might add that belongs to me, and will belong to me again."

"I wish I could be like you, Troy - able to take comfort in who you are and what you've done without having the need to defend what you hold most dear against the best that your profession has to offer. I couldn't look in the mirror and see myself content with that knowledge over my head."

"But make no mistake, Mr. W. You have to pay the piper eventually whether you like it or not."

"So no. I won't bore with backdrops and props and cutesy little stories on how tortured my childhood was. I won't read off my motivation like a hollywood script and pretend that anyone should give a damn. But I think you know what I will bring. Because you've been there before - you've seen it, you've felt it and you know...you know that at any given moment just like......."

"THAT"

"...Your belt is mine. Just like that all of your clever little parlor tricks, the urinating on people, forcing Lindsay to marry you, sneaking away from the match on the Cruise with the belt - it all goes down the drain in an instant."

"It only takes that moment, because yes...you've been in the ring with Dan Ryan before haven't you? You've been there, and you know how close you were. That's why you refused to face the one man who came closer to that dream of being the greatest of all time than anyone you ever met. You know who made you s*it your pants in the middle of the ring at the thought of a rematch."

"And me? That man's alter ego? Dan Ryan's Alter Ego?"

Smile....

"Well....I'm sure you know what I bring, too."

"Doncha?"

FADE OUT....​

(CUT TO: Troy Windham, with the NYC skyline lit up behind him.)

TROY: Wow, it's about time that someone around here can speak in complete sentences, even if he's some lunkhead with T-Rex arms.

Dan Ryan, you'd think,a ccording to your promo, that you spend five minutes tossing me around the ring until I tapped out and begged you not to make me your slave. Wasn't it, actually, just like THAT that I pinned your ass after 55 minutes in the Match of the Year? You're the one who went to he back and couldn't look at himself in the mirror, Dan. I was the one whose head got doused in champagne.

The reason I denied you a shot at the gold, Ryan, is simple. BECAUSE YOU DON'T DESERVE ONE. What would a rematch between us prove? That you can go 0-3 when we meet in the ring? I'm doing you a favor, pal, and letting you keep a shred of dignity. That's because of the little respect you gained in my eyes in our match, Danny.

So run with your mysterious Altar Ego angle, your way to try and sneak a victory out of this. I gave you a chance to still look like a main even star in the CSWA. But if you try and get in my business at Gold Rush, Danny, you'll never step foot in a main event anywhere in the world again. And this time, I won't even stow away in the luggage to show myself as your better.

 

[GreggG]

(CUT TO: Professor Tremendous, reclining in the CondoT hot tub with his CSWA Unified World Title Belt strapped around his waist.)

PROF: Wow. Who the heck is this schmuck thinking he can defend MY title with nothing more that a series of snippy rejoinders and simple one-liners? A handjob from a midget for whoever gets rid of this idiot before I arrive at the arena.

(CUT TO: Troy WIndham, in front of the NYC Skyline.)

TROY: Professor Tremendous! I loved you back in the Furious Five! You were my favorite in Breakin 3: Let It Be. I guess the cough syrup addiction must be pretty bad for you to degrade yourself like this. Oh well.

In all seriousness, Professor, it's good that your piss-ant promotion wants to get over at my expense. You really want my attention that badly? Well, now you got it. I'm not putting a bounty on your head. I'm just going to pull your lame ass out of the ring myself and toss you back to the gloryhole bathroom where you came from.

 

[GreggG]

Re: Feeling the Gold Rush

(He had caught wind of this CSWA Gold Rush Tournament from a friend of a friend, and he thought there was no better way to prove he was everything he said he was than by winning the Unified World Title. The ticking clockwork of his brain could scarcely be heard over the pounding of his heart as he tucked the CSWA Press Release in the inside pocket of his leather jacket. He had heard of some of his competition, mammoths in his eyes. This man however simply blended in with the crowd. Wes Ikeda stood at 6’4 and 254 pounds and while his last name suggests otherwise he isn’t Japanese. Actually the last name is a really long story, and it doesn’t matter much unless you really want to get to know him, and what’s better is that no one gets to really know The Rebel without a Cause. He had stepped out of the shadows of nearly all of the competition in the Extreme Measures Federation which was the federation that currently held his contract. It was time for something else. He ducked into a hole in the wall building. His senses were filled with aroma and sound. His eyes stung until they watered. The heat was comparable to the fiery depths of hell. He would have been better off outside.)

“You’re home. I guess I really shouldn’t be surprised you always come home before a big match. How’s the wife?”

“Which one?” Wes smirked. He’d only been married once and his old friend Steve Marsden watched as he slipped the wedding ring off of his finger and tucked it away in his gym bag. “How’s Detroit?”

“You’re sitting in it. Don’t ask me questions like that. This is where you grew up. This is where you come to unwind. You must have a huge match coming up if you’re sitting in my hole in the wall gym. At least that’s what you always say.” Steve sat down on a bench and he stared intently at the young man. He had been wrestling for almost eleven years. He knew Wes by now. “Funny thing is I’ve known all about your matches since you got your contract four years ago. I haven’t heard that you had anything coming up. You blowing off steam?”

“You heard about this?” Wes reached into his pocket and pulled out the CSWA press release. Steve took it and looked it over.

“And you think you can do this?” He asked. Steve didn’t sound so sure.

“What? You don’t think I can do it? Look, my brother doesn’t think that I can do it either, and my brother is the Legendary Badd Boy Tony Ikeda. Well, let me tell you something my star will outshine his when the Unified Title is around my waist.”

“You’re doing this to spite your brother? Now Wesley are you sure that’s such a good idea. I mean you’re going to unleash the Rebel without a Cause on an entire unsuspecting federation all because…”

Wes quickly cut Steve off.

“Amy thinks I can do it.”

“Your wife also thinks you can move mountains. It doesn’t mean that you can. The Rebel is a well trained animal. You can’t just let him go uncaged on wrestlers who don’t know who you are.” Steve was trying to talk some sense into his old friend.

“I try really hard not to live my gimmick Steve. You of all people know that…”

“What gimmick?” Steve laughed. Wes had always been known for being himself times ten in the ring. Some had even called him more of a stuntman than a wrestler.

“Shut up you know what I mean. Everyone who has ever crossed paths with me has learned why I’m the underrated, underappreciated, underdog. I don’t speak in catchphrases usually, but that sums me up in three words. Now are you going to shut the hell up and let me work out?” Wes was indignant.

“There’s no talking you out of this is there? It’s not enough to be the best where you are. You got to go tread on someone else’s territory. Troy Wi…”

“Will lose his title just like all of the others.”

“And if your dreams are smashed?” Steve asked.

“I’m still the best where I’m at.” Wes gave a crooked smile. “Now get out of here and let me workout. I got a lot to think about. The CSWA isn’t going to know what hit it.”

“Especially when IT’S TIME TO GO COAST TO….”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Wes stopped him. “Not yet buddy. Don’t get to ahead of yourself.”

(Steve Marsden shook his head and went toward a dingy corner office as Wes Ikeda decided to start his stretches. There was a lot to digest before he made his arrival in CSWA, but Wes Ikeda knew one thing for certain once he got there no one would forget his name.)

(CUT TO: Troy Windham, with the NYC skyline behind him.)

TROY: I caught the wind of a bad promo. Can someone in the league brass makes sure this guy changes outside the arena? He doesn't dare share an arena with me.

 

[GreggG]

A family-owned pub in Tacoma, WA. The usual evening crowd.

In one secluded corner sits a man. We could go on into description, but what is important is that seated there is a man, and that tells us more than we need to know. Black clothes, aged features, brown hair and eyes. The eyes, now staring off into space, seem to tell a million tales of past and current glory. They are the eyes of a man who has seen it all and comes back looking for more.

This man has had many names in the past. These days he simply rolls with "Daymon."

His eyes travel upward, focusing on the television in the corner. It's playing the same thing that's been playing over and over for the past few weeks: Stephen Thomas' press conference, announcing the Gold Rush at CSWA's Anniversary 2006. The main event. The only event. Perhaps the only event that ever mattered in the professional wrestling industry, coming to form in one night.

"Not only is it a chance for the competitors to win one of the four CSWA championships, but it’s a chance for those who have always wanted a shot, always wanted to strap that gold around their waist, to come and throw their hat in the ring." This must have been listened to a hundred times by now. "The contract for the ULTIMATE GOLD RUSH match is an open contract. Meaning, you walk into the Auditorium on the 27th and you're in the match. It's open to ANY wrestler, in ANY promotion. I don't care if you've never fought before in the CSWA, or have been banned in the CSWA, or just plain don't like the CSWA. This is your night. This is your opportunity.

"Opportunity." There's the magic word. It's always fun to take a gamble to be somewhere where you aren't now. But then for guys like Daymon, one has to ask himself if, after being a professional wrestler of eight years spanning through various federations, if that "opportunity" is as good as it sounds. Is it really the chance of a lifetime? Or perhaps is he at a point where he can be perfectly content with his past accomplishments, and those in the near distant future, in smaller federations. Was being the very best in the world truly that important?

"...18 years ago we came through those doors with four men and a few hundred in attendance," the conference continues. "And if this is the last thing I ever do, we ever do, and it this stage, everything has to be considered as such, then I refuse to go out with a whimper."

At these words, the professional wrestling legends eyes draw to a close, as he understands what he finall must choose for himself.

Without a word, Daymon finishes his drink, rises from the table, and exits the bar. He leaves unnoticed, but knows that when the real end comes, all will remember him.

(CUT TO: Troy Windham with the backdrop of NYC behind him.)

TROY: You know how you left that bar in Tacoma unnoticed? I'm pretty sure you're going to leave Gold Rush the same way.

 

[Peter Lenex]

Title: The Second Coming

[The scene opens up with a shot of The God of War leaning on the railing around his porch behind his Raleigh home. He has a water bottle in his hands as he looks off into the distance. His face is blank, with no emotion showing, his eyes looking blankly ahead.]

“So the Gold Rush is finally beginning to heat up. People from all walks of life are throwing their names into the pot, to test their hand at this ultimate chance. All of the men are speaking their peace, and as they do, one other man interjects EVERY time. One man pokes his nose into EVERYONE’S business. Granted, he is the current CSWA champion, but his appearance have gone to the extent of overkill.

“Troy, nobody wants to see your mug every time they turn on their television. Nobody wants to hear your little one liners to every single opponent. Sure, you have the pull of being the top dog in this place, but you need to learn a little something called self decency. A little something called respect.

“I won’t lie. I know NOTHING about you or this federation, in depth. But, to me, it seems as though you are the carbon copy champion that every federation boasts about. He has an ego the size of the moon. He has the skills to defeat anyone, but his cocky attitude holds him back. He wears the gold because we need someone to represent us.

“I was never like that. Whenever I had the top prize, I was always giving my opponents the respect they deserve. I was always letting them speak, and formulating myself into more then a one-line wonder. But wait! You say that we deserve what you give us, don’t you? You say that your little half-***ed appearances are all we deserve? Why? Because we are not the all high and mighty Troy Windham? Because we do not have gold at our sides?

“Give me a break, Troy. Give me a ****ing break. Your carbon copy self may be spewing the lines that only he can, but in due time, your little show will be put to an end when the God of War takes you apart for your little title. Consider Gold Rush your LAST and most unsuccessful defense.”

[He adjusts himself on the rail, and takes a drink of his water bottle.]

“But don’t get me wrong, in between the overkill I have managed to catch what others have been saying, and keeping tabs on just who we have entering into this battle. Because for every egotistical Troy Windham jack*** that walks in, there is his lap-dog follower, the one man who strives so hard to take over what the ego has done. And for ever follower, there are men looking to sneak in under the cloak and make a name for themselves. I won’t lie. To ALL of you here, I am one of those men who is sneaking in under the cloak. I am one of those men who is simply trying to get a start here in the CSWA.

“And there is no better way. Starting in the outer rings, those Battle Royals will determine the four men who will continue into the ring to face Troy Windham. Those four Battle Royals will crown champions, or a potential champion. United Stated. Presidential. Greensboro. All titles that would have a whack of respect following them. Three titles that ANY MAN would DIE to get a hand on. To get his foot in the door.

“But it is only the first step to a chance at becoming to Unified champion. A title that was, as some say, taken in a rather unfair manner. But, that is expected.”

[He slowly stands up straight, placing the bottle on the railing. He walks to the far side, and peers over the edge at a pond, the surface still and blue.]

“In this Gold Rush match, we have a chance to make history, and I’ll be damned if I let the cocky sons-of-*****es like Scott Riktor, Xias, Kevin Watson, and JA pull one over on me. I’ll be damned if the newcomers like Daymon, Troy Douglas, Xion or Jason Payne will get to where I want to be.

“My mind is set on one thing, and that s achieving what many people can only dream of doing, and what one many will only be doing for a short while longer. Everyone wants to make a legend for themselves, but only a select few really know how to go about that. A legend is made by a man who has done everything in his career. A legend is made after ever achievable dream has been accomplished. The only thing left for me, is this match.

“And after Troy Windham is left down and out, and after every other competitor has been sent packing, your’s truly will be left standing tall in the center of that middle ring. A King on top of the hill, looking down at his peasants.

“When the dust clears, I will be watching as the body count is tallied, and the name Peter Lenex is put into the halls of fame all around the country. Prepare yourselves for defeat, boys. It’s inevitable.”

[Lenex walks back over and grabs his water bottle. He then turns and walks to the back of the house, opening the sliding glass door and walking inside. He closes the door behind him as the scene fades to black.]

 

[ride the access]

(CUT TO: Troy Windham, NYC skyline behind him.)

TROY: Wow, glad to see my Best Of Troy Windham, 1997 tapes made it all the way to Japan! Way to rip off my old "sleep with the young chicks" gimmick. It got me over nine years ago, I'm sure it will do the same for you today. Well... actually, from your sensless dialogue on that airplane you dared show on national television... it probably won't. But I got some assless chaps in storage somewhere if you wanna rock that look.

A hotel balcony on one of those oh-so-wonderful private islands just outside of Los Angeles, overlooking the beautiful Californian sunset, is usually the opening scene for a Fox OC commerical. But not tonight. Tonight, it was the scene....of a wrestling promo.

Because standing in front of the sunset was the man of the hour. The man who had confused and befuddled the champ. The man they call Xias.

Now dressed in a slightly more casual attire, but still wearing nothing but white, he smirked towards the camera clutching a round glass in one hand with a very, ahem, pink liquid inside of it. He took a sip of his drink before finally beginning to speak.

"I got your message, 'champ'. I realize what you're trying to pull off here, but honestly Troy. A second-rate Ric Flair impersonation with the last name of 'Windham' is perhaps the funniest thing I've seen since Lance Knight tried to be a heel. You act like you're the guy who invented hitting on underage chicks to get over. Let's get a few things straight here. Ric Flair was making virgins bleed when the only breast you were looking to suck on was your mother's, nitwit. I ripped off Flair in 2006, you ripped off Flair in 1997, Shane Douglas has been ripping off Flair since 1992.....and Flair got his whole act from a guy named Buddy Rodgers! That's what they call the wrestling business, Troy. They say the statue of limitations on ripping off gimmicks is seven years. So I'm sure by 2013, you'll be standing there doing a crotch chop."

As Xias paused to take another sip from his drink, his business manager came rushing up the steps, gasping for breath.

"Xias! Jesus christ, hold on a second!"

"What is it?"

"Are you SURE you know what you're doing here? I mean, this Windham character sounds like bad news!"

"How so?"

"Well, I just did some research, and I found out that not only was he a member of the Four Horsemen, but he was also a LONE WOLF, a Blackjack, and a member of the West Texas Rednecks!"

"Oh yeah, didn't he used to sing a song with Curt Hennig about how much rap sucked?"

"RAPPPPPP......RAP IS CRAP."

"I think he died."

"Yeah."

Both stood there looking at each other for a second, before bursting out laughing.

"Okay, okay, let's get serious here Xias. There is one thing you need to think about." his business manager said.

"Really? What's that?"

"How you're gonna spend all the money you're making once you've taken Troy Windham's title!"

"Mmmmm....maybe I'll buy another yacht or two. And Troy, I hope you're happy in New York City. Me, personally, I like LA better. But this drink I've got here is a Metropolitan, just like they make in NYC, so here's to you buddy. See you in the Gold Rush match!"

Xias raised his drink up to the camera to toast Troy before drinking the rest of it, as the scene faded out the same way it faded in- on the beautiful California sunset.

 

[xionexodus]

The Rememberence of Pain

"...Hope is for the weak hearted. Determination, persistence, patience, and will are what drive the best. But these are the attributes of losers. Do not let your future lie in the arms of thoughts and feelings. Make something of yourself. Do what you have to to achieve what you want. Never give up. Never stay down. Never lose. Don't strive to be the best, be better than that. Let no one stand in your way. No one."

"What the..." Xion says to himself as he awakens out of a deep sleep.

The words of Xions former trainer, Bastian McGreggor, ring through his head. The only man to befriend Xion in his life spoke these words to him everyday. Bastian was killed in the ring by a would-be wrestler in a very bad mishap involving a table, and someone who was doing thier first turnbuckle jump of thier career. Xion never forgot the day. The nightmares he has now are the driving force behind what he does with his life.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The scene opens in Xion's flat. Only silence can be heard in the stillness of the morning.

'bzzt, bzzt'

"Who is bothering me at this point in the morning?" Xion wonders to himself. He walks to the front door and checks throught the peephole.

"What the?" Xion makes a double take and checks the door again.

"It can't be!" Xion says aloud as he opens the door.

"Bastian?!"

"Yes Xion, it is I. Now listen to me. You have entered yourself into a very important and difficult contest. The men or women that you may face are not what you are used to. They are seasoned and could care less about you, as I suppose you already do about them. Training is only the beginning. You must be clear of conscience, clear of mind. The better you are at controlling yourself, the better you chances are of winning. You're not going to be able to walk into the ring here and pummel your opponent into sumbmission or fall. You have to work hard and be better than the best, even if the best is you."

"Bastian, how can this be? I watched you die."

'bzzt, bzzt'

Xion awakes to find himself lying in his bed in a cold sweat.

'bzzt, bzzt'

Xion walks to his door and checks the peephole. He sees a shadowy looking figure with his back turned to the door.

"What do you want?" Xion yells to the caller.

"You seek what you cannot achieve," replied the voice.

"What business do you have here?"

"I have some information for you that can help you in the match you have coming up."

"I don't take advice from anyone. Leave now."

"Friend, Pain is only the begining."

"Why do you say that? Who are you?" shouts Xion.

"I am a man of great power Xion. I can help you train. I can help you win."

"I take help from no one."

"You will receive my help. I will make you better than the best."

Xion cautiously opens the door. The man removes his hood andreveals his face.

"I am Francis McGreggor. Bastian was my brother."

"That's a lie. Bastian had no family. He was just like me."

"On the contrary, Bastian has a large family. He was a free spirit, and the family disowned him. I followed your career in PWF with him training you. Once I learned of his death, I came to find you so that we may continue where he left off. Alas you had all but disappeared, until I heard of the GOLD RUSH match. I knew you would come here and enter. So now I am here, and I am offering you my services topick up where Bastian left off."

"Why should I believe you? How do I know that you won't betray me like everyone else?"

"Xion.."

"No you listen here old man," shouts Xion furiously, "I need no one's help. I will win a title at the Gold Rush match on my own. I trust no one and I don;t expect anyone to trust me. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going back to sleep, which you rudely disturbed me from."

"Xion, I don't expect you to trust me. My brother willed me to rake over and see you excel to the top, and I want to help you. Gold Rush will annihilate you if you don't let me help you. Three years is a long time to be out of the ring. You will not make it without help. Please, I implore you to heed my advice."

Xion ponders for a second. In his mind he is battling whether or not to trust another person like he did Bastian, or whether what the man claims is true.

"Okay. I will accept your help. But on one condition. If I happen to lose under your advisory, there will me no tomorrow for you life."

"I think I can handle that," replies Francis. The wo men enter the flat and begin discussing how Xion will win the Gold Rush Tourney.

 

[GreggG]

Title: The Second Coming

[The scene opens up with a shot of The God of War leaning on the railing around his porch behind his Raleigh home. He has a water bottle in his hands as he looks off into the distance. His face is blank, with no emotion showing, his eyes looking blankly ahead.]

“So the Gold Rush is finally beginning to heat up. People from all walks of life are throwing their names into the pot, to test their hand at this ultimate chance. All of the men are speaking their peace, and as they do, one other man interjects EVERY time. One man pokes his nose into EVERYONE’S business. Granted, he is the current CSWA champion, but his appearance have gone to the extent of overkill.

“Troy, nobody wants to see your mug every time they turn on their television. Nobody wants to hear your little one liners to every single opponent. Sure, you have the pull of being the top dog in this place, but you need to learn a little something called self decency. A little something called respect.

“I won’t lie. I know NOTHING about you or this federation, in depth. But, to me, it seems as though you are the carbon copy champion that every federation boasts about. He has an ego the size of the moon. He has the skills to defeat anyone, but his cocky attitude holds him back. He wears the gold because we need someone to represent us.

“I was never like that. Whenever I had the top prize, I was always giving my opponents the respect they deserve. I was always letting them speak, and formulating myself into more then a one-line wonder. But wait! You say that we deserve what you give us, don’t you? You say that your little half-***ed appearances are all we deserve? Why? Because we are not the all high and mighty Troy Windham? Because we do not have gold at our sides?

“Give me a break, Troy. Give me a ****ing break. Your carbon copy self may be spewing the lines that only he can, but in due time, your little show will be put to an end when the God of War takes you apart for your little title. Consider Gold Rush your LAST and most unsuccessful defense.”

[He adjusts himself on the rail, and takes a drink of his water bottle.]

“But don’t get me wrong, in between the overkill I have managed to catch what others have been saying, and keeping tabs on just who we have entering into this battle. Because for every egotistical Troy Windham jack*** that walks in, there is his lap-dog follower, the one man who strives so hard to take over what the ego has done. And for ever follower, there are men looking to sneak in under the cloak and make a name for themselves. I won’t lie. To ALL of you here, I am one of those men who is sneaking in under the cloak. I am one of those men who is simply trying to get a start here in the CSWA.

“And there is no better way. Starting in the outer rings, those Battle Royals will determine the four men who will continue into the ring to face Troy Windham. Those four Battle Royals will crown champions, or a potential champion. United Stated. Presidential. Greensboro. All titles that would have a whack of respect following them. Three titles that ANY MAN would DIE to get a hand on. To get his foot in the door.

“But it is only the first step to a chance at becoming to Unified champion. A title that was, as some say, taken in a rather unfair manner. But, that is expected.”

[He slowly stands up straight, placing the bottle on the railing. He walks to the far side, and peers over the edge at a pond, the surface still and blue.]

“In this Gold Rush match, we have a chance to make history, and I’ll be damned if I let the cocky sons-of-*****es like Scott Riktor, Xias, Kevin Watson, and JA pull one over on me. I’ll be damned if the newcomers like Daymon, Troy Douglas, Xion or Jason Payne will get to where I want to be.

“My mind is set on one thing, and that s achieving what many people can only dream of doing, and what one many will only be doing for a short while longer. Everyone wants to make a legend for themselves, but only a select few really know how to go about that. A legend is made by a man who has done everything in his career. A legend is made after ever achievable dream has been accomplished. The only thing left for me, is this match.

“And after Troy Windham is left down and out, and after every other competitor has been sent packing, your’s truly will be left standing tall in the center of that middle ring. A King on top of the hill, looking down at his peasants.

“When the dust clears, I will be watching as the body count is tallied, and the name Peter Lenex is put into the halls of fame all around the country. Prepare yourselves for defeat, boys. It’s inevitable.”

[Lenex walks back over and grabs his water bottle. He then turns and walks to the back of the house, opening the sliding glass door and walking inside. He closes the door behind him as the scene fades to black.]

(CUT TO: Troy Windham, with the skyline of NYC behind him, holding the CSWA Unified Title.)

TROY: So, a guy with a trailer outside Raleigh, drinking a bottle of water, calling himself The God of War is telling me that no one wants to hear from me. Listen here, bud -- I've never, once for a day in my life, cared what anyone wants. That's how I got to be in this position, holding the most treasured title in this sports history. You think my brother, Mark, wanted to see his care-free, obnoxious little punk of a brother get to the top? You think Hornet, the franchise of this league, was rooting for me? Or Eli Flair, the man who managed to break my neck but did not manage to tape me out?

Listen, moron -- I talk not because you want to hear me... but because you NEED to hear me. Because I am the cutting edge, the avant garde, the straw that stirs the drink. I have dozens of people gunning for me at Gold Rush, and I'm going to do my damndest to make sure the entire world knows that I am better than each and every single one of those people. So far, so good -- going tit for tat on the microphone with everyone is like Duke taking on your hometown NC State in college basketball... a rout of epic proportions.

Listen, God of Lame -- how about instead of pathetically coming out here and begging me to please stop slaying ya'll on the microphone, you try and shut me up yourself? It's been 10-plus years in my career, and not a single person has done the trick yet. I don't think some clown with bad credit is going to do it.

(FTB)

 

[GreggG]

A hotel balcony on one of those oh-so-wonderful private islands just outside of Los Angeles, overlooking the beautiful Californian sunset, is usually the opening scene for a Fox OC commerical. But not tonight. Tonight, it was the scene....of a wrestling promo.

Because standing in front of the sunset was the man of the hour. The man who had confused and befuddled the champ. The man they call Xias.

Now dressed in a slightly more casual attire, but still wearing nothing but white, he smirked towards the camera clutching a round glass in one hand with a very, ahem, pink liquid inside of it. He took a sip of his drink before finally beginning to speak.

"I got your message, 'champ'. I realize what you're trying to pull off here, but honestly Troy. A second-rate Ric Flair impersonation with the last name of 'Windham' is perhaps the funniest thing I've seen since Lance Knight tried to be a heel. You act like you're the guy who invented hitting on underage chicks to get over. Let's get a few things straight here. Ric Flair was making virgins bleed when the only breast you were looking to suck on was your mother's, nitwit. I ripped off Flair in 2006, you ripped off Flair in 1997, Shane Douglas has been ripping off Flair since 1992.....and Flair got his whole act from a guy named Buddy Rodgers! That's what they call the wrestling business, Troy. They say the statue of limitations on ripping off gimmicks is seven years. So I'm sure by 2013, you'll be standing there doing a crotch chop."

As Xias paused to take another sip from his drink, his business manager came rushing up the steps, gasping for breath.

"Xias! Jesus christ, hold on a second!"

"What is it?"

"Are you SURE you know what you're doing here? I mean, this Windham character sounds like bad news!"

"How so?"

"Well, I just did some research, and I found out that not only was he a member of the Four Horsemen, but he was also a LONE WOLF, a Blackjack, and a member of the West Texas Rednecks!"

"Oh yeah, didn't he used to sing a song with Curt Hennig about how much rap sucked?"

"RAPPPPPP......RAP IS CRAP."

"I think he died."

"Yeah."

Both stood there looking at each other for a second, before bursting out laughing.

"Okay, okay, let's get serious here Xias. There is one thing you need to think about." his business manager said.

"Really? What's that?"

"How you're gonna spend all the money you're making once you've taken Troy Windham's title!"

"Mmmmm....maybe I'll buy another yacht or two. And Troy, I hope you're happy in New York City. Me, personally, I like LA better. But this drink I've got here is a Metropolitan, just like they make in NYC, so here's to you buddy. See you in the Gold Rush match!"

Xias raised his drink up to the camera to toast Troy before drinking the rest of it, as the scene faded out the same way it faded in- on the beautiful California sunset.

(CUT TO: Troy Windham, with the NYC skyline behind him, holding the CSWA Unified Title.)

TROY: So does that make you a rip-off of a rip-off of a rip-off of a rip-off? No, I know what it makes you -- some punk kid with no clue how to work a microphone. Bring that name dropping **** to whatever hellhole you came from. This is the CSWA, the Primetime, the Big League -- and you obviously have no business here. I give you six minutes before you get tossed back into the world of bounced checks and toothless ring rats Woo -- nope. (FTB)

 

[GreggG]

Re: The Rememberence of Pain

"...Hope is for the weak hearted. Determination, persistence, patience, and will are what drive the best. But these are the attributes of losers. Do not let your future lie in the arms of thoughts and feelings. Make something of yourself. Do what you have to to achieve what you want. Never give up. Never stay down. Never lose. Don't strive to be the best, be better than that. Let no one stand in your way. No one."

"What the..." Xion says to himself as he awakens out of a deep sleep.

The words of Xions former trainer, Bastian McGreggor, ring through his head. The only man to befriend Xion in his life spoke these words to him everyday. Bastian was killed in the ring by a would-be wrestler in a very bad mishap involving a table, and someone who was doing thier first turnbuckle jump of thier career. Xion never forgot the day. The nightmares he has now are the driving force behind what he does with his life.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The scene opens in Xion's flat. Only silence can be heard in the stillness of the morning.

'bzzt, bzzt'

"Who is bothering me at this point in the morning?" Xion wonders to himself. He walks to the front door and checks throught the peephole.

"What the?" Xion makes a double take and checks the door again.

"It can't be!" Xion says aloud as he opens the door.

"Bastian?!"

"Yes Xion, it is I. Now listen to me. You have entered yourself into a very important and difficult contest. The men or women that you may face are not what you are used to. They are seasoned and could care less about you, as I suppose you already do about them. Training is only the beginning. You must be clear of conscience, clear of mind. The better you are at controlling yourself, the better you chances are of winning. You're not going to be able to walk into the ring here and pummel your opponent into sumbmission or fall. You have to work hard and be better than the best, even if the best is you."

"Bastian, how can this be? I watched you die."

'bzzt, bzzt'

Xion awakes to find himself lying in his bed in a cold sweat.

'bzzt, bzzt'

Xion walks to his door and checks the peephole. He sees a shadowy looking figure with his back turned to the door.

"What do you want?" Xion yells to the caller.

"You seek what you cannot achieve," replied the voice.

"What business do you have here?"

"I have some information for you that can help you in the match you have coming up."

"I don't take advice from anyone. Leave now."

"Friend, Pain is only the begining."

"Why do you say that? Who are you?" shouts Xion.

"I am a man of great power Xion. I can help you train. I can help you win."

"I take help from no one."

"You will receive my help. I will make you better than the best."

Xion cautiously opens the door. The man removes his hood andreveals his face.

"I am Francis McGreggor. Bastian was my brother."

"That's a lie. Bastian had no family. He was just like me."

"On the contrary, Bastian has a large family. He was a free spirit, and the family disowned him. I followed your career in PWF with him training you. Once I learned of his death, I came to find you so that we may continue where he left off. Alas you had all but disappeared, until I heard of the GOLD RUSH match. I knew you would come here and enter. So now I am here, and I am offering you my services topick up where Bastian left off."

"Why should I believe you? How do I know that you won't betray me like everyone else?"

"Xion.."

"No you listen here old man," shouts Xion furiously, "I need no one's help. I will win a title at the Gold Rush match on my own. I trust no one and I don;t expect anyone to trust me. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going back to sleep, which you rudely disturbed me from."

"Xion, I don't expect you to trust me. My brother willed me to rake over and see you excel to the top, and I want to help you. Gold Rush will annihilate you if you don't let me help you. Three years is a long time to be out of the ring. You will not make it without help. Please, I implore you to heed my advice."

Xion ponders for a second. In his mind he is battling whether or not to trust another person like he did Bastian, or whether what the man claims is true.

"Okay. I will accept your help. But on one condition. If I happen to lose under your advisory, there will me no tomorrow for you life."

"I think I can handle that," replies Francis. The wo men enter the flat and begin discussing how Xion will win the Gold Rush Tourney.

(CUT TO: Troy Windham, with the skyline of NYC behind him, holding his CSWA Unified Title.)

TROY: Y'know --

Mercy is for the weak in this dojo!

(Troy looks puzzled, having no idea where that came from. He shrugs his shoulders and moves on.)

Y'know, there's a Xion and a Xias, and I can't tell one apart from the other. All I know one is an assless chaps wearing Japanese retreat who can't rock a mic, and the other has some sort of film school helping him cut promos. It's all well and fine, until you realize that both of them are lucky this is an open contract, becase not one of them would last four seconds in the CSWA without it.

(FTB)

 

[T. Waring]

The scene fades into a back drop of an office complex. The sun is beating down on the desk near the window and the room is brightly lit up. The wall, covered in EUWC titles, shines the sunlight all over the room. However seated behind the desk looking into the sunlight is EUWC wrestler "The Commander" T. Waring. Waring is looking smug as usual, with that glint in his eye. He as his "respect" T. shirt, jeans and his favourite white cowboy hat on.

Waring: So, for eighteen years, CWSA has stood has a wrestling company. I used to watch, but not for long. Other interests occupied my time. However, when i saw some of the old cards, little did I know, that sitting in my E-mail box, would be an invitation from CWSA, offering me the chance to fight there champions along with many other wrestlers around the states and the world.

Waring seems to be thinking about the offer. He smiles and types a seeming reply on his computer.

Waring: For almost a year, I have been busting my ass in EUWC, and twice i have captured the EUWC European title, once for another company. I look at this email and look at others who may be in the ring with me fighting for the same opperutnity and i look at Jay smash, Rocko Daymon and many others, and then I look at myself. And look at myself and say, can i really hold a candle to these great talents.

Waring sighs. He stands up and walks over to the mirror and stares at himself.

Waring: I look at myself here and look at all i have acheieved in my career. All the titles, the supporters, and all the ass kickings i have handed out. I look at myself, standing in the CSWA arena and fighting in front of thousands of people, and fighting many guys wih the same goal. I look at myself and know I can handle myself in that ring. "The Commander" will finally grace the CSWA shores and when itd all set and done, I look at myself standing in the middle of the ring, holding the CSWA UNIFIED title high in the air and standing over Troy Windhams fallen body as the next champion.

Waring stares directly into the camera. He smiles.

Waring: As for your invitation to come fight in the CSWA. I have only one answer.

HELL YEAH!!!

With that Waring pushes the camera out of his office and the scene fades into black...

 

[DBrunkGXW]

FADE IN...

Dan Ryan's Alter Ego sitting happily on the edge of the apron of a wrestling ring. Around the ring and all over the walls are mirrors.

Is this Joey and Lindsay's personal workout room?

shudder...

DRAE stands and slips into the ring and leans against the ropes.

DRAE: "Run an angle, Troy? Oh whatever do you mean?"

"Wait, I get it. You've figured me out already...."

DRAE snaps his fingers across his chest...

"It was the mask wasn't it? Too obvious? I know I know, they forgot to stitch the 'AE' after the 'DR'. It's a dead giveaway. But such is life, ya know? It makes it easier for us to converse this way."

"So, you planning on one lining a bunch of replies to every Tom, Dick and Xion that jumps on board this thing? I think we all know how this is gonna end up."

"You know too. And I know, Troy. You're the best, the greatest, the moneymaker. And, you beat me cleanly in yes, the match of the year - although I'm sure some version of wrestling that involves Michael Manson, an elephant or circus clowns armbarring Mr. Spock will take the trophy home ahead of us. OHHHHHH I mark for it all!!!"

"BUT - you know clearly I am the only one around here with a realistic shot of taking the gold away from you. The chance to go 0-3? I'll take the chance to go 0-15 if need be, because really Troy, I only have to beat you once. Just once. And then, the shoe is on the other foot."

"I know it can be done, and so do you. You were one knocked out referee from it happening the last time, and once again at any moment I can make it happen again - you know, when the stars are aligned."

"Now, I'm standing here..."

Ryan turns and looks around...

"...and I'm looking at myself in the mirror, and I see someone perfectly content with who I am and what I've done. I get my credit in this business because of not only what I've done in the ring, but what I've done outside of it. You're a star, and deservingly so I'm sure. Talented as hell with a mouth to match it. But where I've chosen to give back, you've chosen to take. And ya know Troy? That's your right. Far be it from me to tell you how to live your life."

"But me? Look at myself in the mirror? I can look just fine. But eventually, Troy - the looks fade. The parts are gonna dry up, and you're gonna be another over the hill superstar....dare I say it....teaming with Cameron Cruise. And they'll say what? 'Damn, that guy was Unified World Champion once upon a time'. They'll be in awe of what you once were and how far you've fallen."

"Me? I'll probably be ushering in the new era of wrestling superstardom, and be perfectly happy."

"Hmm, reminiscing with Mark around a campfire in Texas twenty years from now or still relevant to the industry? Which to choose?"

"You're on top of the world right now, Troy. That's undeniably true. But it all comes crashing down sometime."

"So let's not waste our time with the wall of ultimate confidence. You are a realist, and you let that side of yourself slip with that little speech you gave at the end of our match. The best you've ever been in the ring with, remember? You didn't tell me anything I didn't already know, Troy. And several months later? Nothing has changed."

"The only thing different is that I know you a little better than I did the last time we met, and if anyone knows anything about me, they know that as a counterpuncher I am at my absolute best."

"So let's dispense with the children around here and get down to the real business. I'm not wasting my time shooting off little insults at the wanna-bes because they're beneath me."

"If they address me, so be it. But otherwise I have no interest in them except in the sense that they are to be tossed over a rope before I can get my hands on you. If that isn't proof enough that I can dispose of them....then I don't know what is. Nothing could motivate me more than that gold around your waist and what it represents."

"The best wrestler in the world? Make that the two best in the world, about to be whittled back down to one."

FADE OUT....​

 

[GreggG]

The scene fades into a back drop of an office complex. The sun is beating down on the desk near the window and the room is brightly lit up. The wall, covered in EUWC titles, shines the sunlight all over the room. However seated behind the desk looking into the sunlight is EUWC wrestler "The Commander" T. Waring. Waring is looking smug as usual, with that glint in his eye. He as his "respect" T. shirt, jeans and his favourite white cowboy hat on.

Waring: So, for eighteen years, CWSA has stood has a wrestling company. I used to watch, but not for long. Other interests occupied my time. However, when i saw some of the old cards, little did I know, that sitting in my E-mail box, would be an invitation from CWSA, offering me the chance to fight there champions along with many other wrestlers around the states and the world.

Waring seems to be thinking about the offer. He smiles and types a seeming reply on his computer.

Waring: For almost a year, I have been busting my ass in EUWC, and twice i have captured the EUWC European title, once for another company. I look at this email and look at others who may be in the ring with me fighting for the same opperutnity and i look at Jay smash, Rocko Daymon and many others, and then I look at myself. And look at myself and say, can i really hold a candle to these great talents.

Waring sighs. He stands up and walks over to the mirror and stares at himself.

Waring: I look at myself here and look at all i have acheieved in my career. All the titles, the supporters, and all the ass kickings i have handed out. I look at myself, standing in the CSWA arena and fighting in front of thousands of people, and fighting many guys wih the same goal. I look at myself and know I can handle myself in that ring. "The Commander" will finally grace the CSWA shores and when itd all set and done, I look at myself standing in the middle of the ring, holding the CSWA UNIFIED title high in the air and standing over Troy Windhams fallen body as the next champion.

Waring stares directly into the camera. He smiles.

Waring: As for your invitation to come fight in the CSWA. I have only one answer.

HELL YEAH!!!

With that Waring pushes the camera out of his office and the scene fades into black...

(CUT TO: Troy Windha,the ocean behind him.)

TROY: HELL YEAH!!! Now we got a guy in a cowboy hat in this. Feels like some home cookin' for Sweetwater's favorite son. Commandant Lassard -- if you're worrying about how you rank next to Jay Smash or some other dude whose name I already forgot, you don't have any chance against me. I'm already in your head and I already own your ass. (FTB)

 

[GreggG]

FADE IN...

Dan Ryan's Alter Ego sitting happily on the edge of the apron of a wrestling ring. Around the ring and all over the walls are mirrors.

Is this Joey and Lindsay's personal workout room?

shudder...

DRAE stands and slips into the ring and leans against the ropes.

DRAE: "Run an angle, Troy? Oh whatever do you mean?"

"Wait, I get it. You've figured me out already...."

DRAE snaps his fingers across his chest...

"It was the mask wasn't it? Too obvious? I know I know, they forgot to stitch the 'AE' after the 'DR'. It's a dead giveaway. But such is life, ya know? It makes it easier for us to converse this way."

"So, you planning on one lining a bunch of replies to every Tom, Dick and Xion that jumps on board this thing? I think we all know how this is gonna end up."

"You know too. And I know, Troy. You're the best, the greatest, the moneymaker. And, you beat me cleanly in yes, the match of the year - although I'm sure some version of wrestling that involves Michael Manson, an elephant or circus clowns armbarring Mr. Spock will take the trophy home ahead of us. OHHHHHH I mark for it all!!!"

"BUT - you know clearly I am the only one around here with a realistic shot of taking the gold away from you. The chance to go 0-3? I'll take the chance to go 0-15 if need be, because really Troy, I only have to beat you once. Just once. And then, the shoe is on the other foot."

"I know it can be done, and so do you. You were one knocked out referee from it happening the last time, and once again at any moment I can make it happen again - you know, when the stars are aligned."

"Now, I'm standing here..."

Ryan turns and looks around...

"...and I'm looking at myself in the mirror, and I see someone perfectly content with who I am and what I've done. I get my credit in this business because of not only what I've done in the ring, but what I've done outside of it. You're a star, and deservingly so I'm sure. Talented as hell with a mouth to match it. But where I've chosen to give back, you've chosen to take. And ya know Troy? That's your right. Far be it from me to tell you how to live your life."

"But me? Look at myself in the mirror? I can look just fine. But eventually, Troy - the looks fade. The parts are gonna dry up, and you're gonna be another over the hill superstar....dare I say it....teaming with Cameron Cruise. And they'll say what? 'Damn, that guy was Unified World Champion once upon a time'. They'll be in awe of what you once were and how far you've fallen."

"Me? I'll probably be ushering in the new era of wrestling superstardom, and be perfectly happy."

"Hmm, reminiscing with Mark around a campfire in Texas twenty years from now or still relevant to the industry? Which to choose?"

"You're on top of the world right now, Troy. That's undeniably true. But it all comes crashing down sometime."

"So let's not waste our time with the wall of ultimate confidence. You are a realist, and you let that side of yourself slip with that little speech you gave at the end of our match. The best you've ever been in the ring with, remember? You didn't tell me anything I didn't already know, Troy. And several months later? Nothing has changed."

"The only thing different is that I know you a little better than I did the last time we met, and if anyone knows anything about me, they know that as a counterpuncher I am at my absolute best."

"So let's dispense with the children around here and get down to the real business. I'm not wasting my time shooting off little insults at the wanna-bes because they're beneath me."

"If they address me, so be it. But otherwise I have no interest in them except in the sense that they are to be tossed over a rope before I can get my hands on you. If that isn't proof enough that I can dispose of them....then I don't know what is. Nothing could motivate me more than that gold around your waist and what it represents."

"The best wrestler in the world? Make that the two best in the world, about to be whittled back down to one."

FADE OUT....​

(CUT TO: Troy Windham, with the ocean behind him, cradling the CSWA Unified Title.)

TROY: What do you want me to do, Dan? Applaud you for being better than this tripe? You and I both know that there's two people entered in this thing so far who actually have game. You and I both knew that, one day, our paths would cross again. And it's going to come at Gold Rush. You know, I know it, the entire world knows it. You should've taken my lead, Ryan. You should have let me string you along and then, when the time is right, you and I step foot in the ring again, this time in front of the biggest audience of all time. But I overestimated your business sense, Dan, a mistake I shouldn't have made since I've seen the prospectus of your promotion.

But that's neither here nor there. Dan Ryan, the last time we stepped foot in the ring was the Match of the Year. But you see, Dan, it may have been the best match of your career, but it wasn't mine. Hindsight's always 20/20, Dan, and reviewing the tape of that match... you really weren't much competition. Looking back, you're maybe in my Top Seven opponents. My brother's tougher than you. Eli Flair's tougher than you. Mike Randalls. GUNS. Hornet. Hell, even JJ DeVille has a clean victory over me, which is something you don't have.

So you think you're the best counterpuncher in the biz? We'll just see about that -- I think you got an up-close-and-personal look at who is the most versatile wrestler alive. Ryan, you're big and you're strong and technically well-schooled. But you don't have the all-around ring tactical BRILLIANCE that I have. You wanna go on the mat? you can put me in all the Japanese triangle chokes you know how, I'll find a way to break you down. You wanna try and outpower me? I'll get around you and end your night with the best finisher in the business. I can fly through the air and I can go toe-to-toe. You want to get into a slugfest with me, the Texan southpaw will knock you out faster than LL Cool J can say EYE CAN BEAT HIM.

That's why, my little short-armed friend, I've got what you want. And not just the wealth, not just the girls and not just the fame. That's why I have THIS (Troy holds up the CSWA Unified Title). And that's why you're wearing a mask trying to save face since you're a distant second.

 

[QueenOfTheRing]

The dregs and me

"You people peddling your wares are of little interest to me."

Fade-in: Sitting stoically in the comfortable confines of an oversized camel-colored easy chair is Lindsay Troy ... (Windham) ..., wearing a white T-shirt that reads 'THE HONEYMOON'S OVER' in black letters, blue jeans and custom-colored Nike Shox ID sneakers. Her curly hair is pulled away from her face and she regards the camera with the icy-sort of glare that is best reserved for those who talk in a movie theater and those who continually interrupt your glorious triumphs, drug you with ether and marry you against your will. Gee, who would we be talking about....

Stephen Thomas declares Open Season on the UNIFIED Title and is really giving us an exhibition at just how poor of shots some of these hunters are.

If it's not BUCK NASTY, whose only purpose is to get someone twenty-two points in a game of Scrabble, it's the fWo/jOlt World Rejects Tour with Eron and Xias.

****ing wonderful. Say, here's an idea, let me wave my magic wand and see what other ring-rust encrusted wastes of time I can dredge up from the bottom of the LAKE OF NO-PUSH.

Troy (Windham) feigns waving a wand in the air above her head.

I see that Kevin "Good God how the hell can I still find work?" Powers signed up for this thing too. Awesome. And Troy Douglas, excellent.

Rise...RISE my children and go forth to become enhancement talent in this match!

She returns her arm to the arm of her chair.

Douglas, save your emotastic bull**** ramblings for the local poetry group. They meet down on the corner of "My Girlfriend Left Me So I'm Going Behind a Tree To Cry" Drive and "Say, This Razor Looks Really Appealing" Way. This is your last chance? Great. After you fail THIS time, which you will and you might as well adopt the "Failure" moniker now to expedite the paperwork, I suggest looking into other options. Maybe, and I'm just dancing in the dark here, shooting yourself will make the population care more about you than they do now. At least you know you'll make headlines this way.

Or maybe you won't. Maybe you'll just fall to the back page of the Obit section of your local paper. At least you'd be used to the attention.

The problem with you louses is that you're making it WAY too easy. Too easy for Windham, too easy for me, and that's the sad part. JA with his infantile nicknames are nothing more than baby-talk to keep the children's demographic in the running for Nielsen ratings. The God of War and the Dog of War are off trying to find a Wife of War and Two point Five Kids of War and a House of War with a White Picket Fence of War to settle down in after their existence in this business is rendered meaningless and they have nothing else to do with their lives.

Keep playing right into the disease-riddled palm of Troy Windham's hand with your pedestrian banterings because you won't win.

For me, I've already made it infinitely easy for Stephen Thomas as far as my placement in this thing goes. Just put me in the fourth ring because the hardware in the other three are of zero interest to me. I don't want anything that Kin Hiroshi, JA or Phoenix are selling, and I don't care if I never step foot into the CSWA Auditorium again after this show is over, so long as I see that Troy Windham doesn't either.

I don't believe in complicating things anymore than they need to be.

Denis Leary said that there's No Cure For Cancer, but I beg to differ. Because when you've seen all that I've seen and you've experienced all that I have and are living in a hell created by THAT MAN...Troy Windham...then you KNOW that you're the only one who can eradicate the disease from the body of this sport.

You become the cure and you'll stop at nothing until the sport is healthy again.

And I'll thank Dan Ryan...or Dan Ryan's Alter Ego...to stay out of my way while I do so.

The best case scenario: Troy Windham leaves the sport. Or dies. Flip a coin, I don't care...I'm a supporter of either. It happens at my hands, I toss the UNIFIED title to whomever is left standing in the ring with me and I leave. The way things are panning out it looks like it will, indeed, be Dan Ryan.

Then again, I may just keep that bauble as a consolation prize for all the **** Windham's put me through for inane reasons that only seem to make sense to him.

The worst case scenario: One of you tries to stop me from getting what is mine and it is your career which will be in stasis.

I've got my glory already, unlike the rest of the 98% who want to make a name for themselves in an open-invite scenario, because Thomas wouldn't hire them otherwise. That's the problem with things like this: you dangle a pretty gold bauble in front of the rabble and you get whatever unfit rubbish the Earth coughs back up.

This isn't about you people, it's about me. And Windham. And settling this bull**** once and for all.

I expect a reply in ... twenty minutes.

Fade...

 

[GreggG]

(CUT TO: JJ DeVille, the former personal assistant to Playboys Inc, and a former Greensboro and CSWA World Tag Team Champion. He's put on a lot of muscle mass from his days as the skinny lackey running around -- well defined chest and measurable biceps. JJ is also wearing Rivers Cuomo nerd glasses and a "Snakes On A Plane" T-Shirt. He's carrying textbooks, walking in front of the NC State basketball arena in Raleigh.)

JJ: Y'know, it seems like yesterday, but it wasn't that long ago. Here I was, a college dropout who decided to try and live his dream. I grew up outside Greensboro and used to go to the Merrit Auditorium to see all the shows. Get all the autographs. The whole nine yards. All I ever wanted to be was a professional wrestler. I kept on going to CS Towers, and every time I got laughed out of the joint. Too skinny. Too small. No formal training. Not marketable with my then taste in hair metal. But eventually, I got my foot in the door. I could grab a prelim match, maybe a mic-spot or two.

I remember the first time I stepped foot in the locker room. All these guys I see wrestling all the time... and me. And then there was a buzz... a feeling of electricity... and a gaggle of the hottest girls you ever saw in your life. There I saw my two all-time favorites -- The Southern Dandy, The Hurricane, Eddy Love and his partner in crime, the Boy Troy, Troy Windham.

I mustered up my strength and steeled my nerves. I went up to them introduced themselves, and in front of the entire locker room, told them that they were my favorites, and I would do anything to be a part of their team.

They laughed at me. My permed hair. My really tight jean shorts. They started laughing at me like the rest of the locker room. But then they said 'Sure, kid. We'll give you a shot.' They wanted to prove a point to everyone else in the back -- that they could turn me, the most hopeless geek to ever enter a dressing room, into a star.

I wasn't too proud of what I did. The self-degradation. The chores. The lawsuits and the constant humiliation, all done to obsequiously please Eddy Love and Troy Windham, my mentors. I carried the bags. I washed the cars. I took shots from their opponents and got tossed on my head. I tried using karate as a weapon, and the entire time, I was the biggest laughingstock in the sport.

But along the way, Eddy and Troy taught me well. The training sessions with the two best wrestlers alive. How to get a girl's panties off. How to do an interview. How to get over. How to conduct yourself as a champion, as an elite member of this industry.

I gained courage and learned how to wrestle. I picked something up from anyone I ever faced until the man who was laughed at as he called himself The Lethal Weapon became JUST THAT -- a bonafide force to be reckoned with, and a man who scored the pinfall victory procuring the tag team titles with Troy Windham.

Troy, you remember that, don't you? It was finally my time to shine, and you no-showed a card to tend to your family business. I can respect that. But you broke your commitment to me and I had to face the <> Cutters by my lonesome, two skilled ring technicians capable of really hurting me. Which they did, rupturing a disc in my back.

I battled through it, just like you taught me, and called you out the next week. I wasn't going to let you push me around and chump me anymore. You slapped me in my face, and then we had a match. You played around, not taking it seriously... and then I MADE you respect me. I pinned you, 1-2-3, in the middle of the ring in front of the entire world. I handed you the last loss you've had in a CSWA ring. It was my name getting chanted, it was me leading the singalong to Weezer and it was me who stole the show.

That's where my story ended. I had surgery and decided to head back to school. My mom, she always wanted me to get a college degree, something she never had the opportunity to do. And here I am, the Big Man On Campus at NC State, invited to all the parties, dates every night, and I even made Dean's List.

But I got wind of this open tournament and decided to cast my lot. It wasn't just my dream to be a CSWA wrestler... it was my dream to be the champion of this promotion, to be the best damn wrestler on the planet.

So here I am. Troy Windham, my old friend, you've got the Big Gold, and the right to call yourself the best in the world. I don't care who steps in my way -- any of these jokers and clowns who have no idea what to expect in a CSWA ring, the greatest promotion in this sport. You're all going to get to know me real quick. The kid who didn't go to the prom. The kid who never had a date. The kid in the Daisy Dukes and with the Andrew Ridgley perm... He's moved on and has become The New Original, The Big Man On Campus. I'm the ultimate Cinderella story, the George Mason of the field. And I'm going to walk out with everyone chanting my name one more time, as I become a World Champion.

(FTB)

 

[GreggG]

Re: The dregs and me

"You people peddling your wares are of little interest to me."

Fade-in: Sitting stoically in the comfortable confines of an oversized camel-colored easy chair is Lindsay Troy ... (Windham) ..., wearing a white T-shirt that reads 'THE HONEYMOON'S OVER' in black letters, blue jeans and custom-colored Nike Shox ID sneakers. Her curly hair is pulled away from her face and she regards the camera with the icy-sort of glare that is best reserved for those who talk in a movie theater and those who continually interrupt your glorious triumphs, drug you with ether and marry you against your will. Gee, who would we be talking about....

Stephen Thomas declares Open Season on the UNIFIED Title and is really giving us an exhibition at just how poor of shots some of these hunters are.

If it's not BUCK NASTY, whose only purpose is to get someone twenty-two points in a game of Scrabble, it's the fWo/jOlt World Rejects Tour with Eron and Xias.

****ing wonderful. Say, here's an idea, let me wave my magic wand and see what other ring-rust encrusted wastes of time I can dredge up from the bottom of the LAKE OF NO-PUSH.

Troy (Windham) feigns waving a wand in the air above her head.

I see that Kevin "Good God how the hell can I still find work?" Powers signed up for this thing too. Awesome. And Troy Douglas, excellent.

Rise...RISE my children and go forth to become enhancement talent in this match!

She returns her arm to the arm of her chair.

Douglas, save your emotastic bull**** ramblings for the local poetry group. They meet down on the corner of "My Girlfriend Left Me So I'm Going Behind a Tree To Cry" Drive and "Say, This Razor Looks Really Appealing" Way. This is your last chance? Great. After you fail THIS time, which you will and you might as well adopt the "Failure" moniker now to expedite the paperwork, I suggest looking into other options. Maybe, and I'm just dancing in the dark here, shooting yourself will make the population care more about you than they do now. At least you know you'll make headlines this way.

Or maybe you won't. Maybe you'll just fall to the back page of the Obit section of your local paper. At least you'd be used to the attention.

The problem with you louses is that you're making it WAY too easy. Too easy for Windham, too easy for me, and that's the sad part. JA with his infantile nicknames are nothing more than baby-talk to keep the children's demographic in the running for Nielsen ratings. The God of War and the Dog of War are off trying to find a Wife of War and Two point Five Kids of War and a House of War with a White Picket Fence of War to settle down in after their existence in this business is rendered meaningless and they have nothing else to do with their lives.

Keep playing right into the disease-riddled palm of Troy Windham's hand with your pedestrian banterings because you won't win.

For me, I've already made it infinitely easy for Stephen Thomas as far as my placement in this thing goes. Just put me in the fourth ring because the hardware in the other three are of zero interest to me. I don't want anything that Kin Hiroshi, JA or Phoenix are selling, and I don't care if I never step foot into the CSWA Auditorium again after this show is over, so long as I see that Troy Windham doesn't either.

I don't believe in complicating things anymore than they need to be.

Denis Leary said that there's No Cure For Cancer, but I beg to differ. Because when you've seen all that I've seen and you've experienced all that I have and are living in a hell created by THAT MAN...Troy Windham...then you KNOW that you're the only one who can eradicate the disease from the body of this sport.

You become the cure and you'll stop at nothing until the sport is healthy again.

And I'll thank Dan Ryan...or Dan Ryan's Alter Ego...to stay out of my way while I do so.

The best case scenario: Troy Windham leaves the sport. Or dies. Flip a coin, I don't care...I'm a supporter of either. It happens at my hands, I toss the UNIFIED title to whomever is left standing in the ring with me and I leave. The way things are panning out it looks like it will, indeed, be Dan Ryan.

Then again, I may just keep that bauble as a consolation prize for all the **** Windham's put me through for inane reasons that only seem to make sense to him.

The worst case scenario: One of you tries to stop me from getting what is mine and it is your career which will be in stasis.

I've got my glory already, unlike the rest of the 98% who want to make a name for themselves in an open-invite scenario, because Thomas wouldn't hire them otherwise. That's the problem with things like this: you dangle a pretty gold bauble in front of the rabble and you get whatever unfit rubbish the Earth coughs back up.

This isn't about you people, it's about me. And Windham. And settling this bull**** once and for all.

I expect a reply in ... twenty minutes.

Fade...

(CUT TO: Troy Windham, smirking, sitting on a lounge chair, cradling the CSWA Unified Title in his right arm, his ring finger showing his wedding band.)

TROY: Well, well, well. It's about time. I had a feeling you'd show up, hon.

Lindsay Troy Windham, let me first say that you have quite the glow about you. You're as beautiful as a bride can be. It must be a great feeling, to be lawfully wed to the man of your dreams. I already addressed this in that bankrupt promotion you're the champ of... but since we have a new audience, I'd think they'd enjoy it, too.

How old were you, Lindsay? 13? 14? Is that when you first saw me on CSWA television? Is that when I took off my shirt and threw it into the crowd... and you started to feel a sensation. Moistness. A swelling of a small part of your bathing suit area you never felt. And that's when you took your index finger... then your middle... and you started probing yourself, and seeing how good you could feel when you looked at me. It was exciting, wasn't it, Lindsay? The joy of masturbation? It's not something I know much about, myself, since I usually just have sex. But it must have been amazing for you. In fact, you got so good at it, you soon could stick your entire fist up your hole.

Lindsay, we've been through this before. Why did I steal your gimmick? Why did I kiss you and throw a fireball in your face? Why did I have my lackey shove an ether rag down your throat, have you dragged to the back and then married you, allegedly against your will?

Well, one, largely because I could. But Lindsay, you know the truth. When you were running around in a mask, the EPW announcers consistently speculated that it was I who was doing the evil business of Dis. I know I'm a popular figure. I know that lesser promotions love namedropping my name in a desperate attempt to get ratings. But sometimes, Lindsay, you have to draw a line in the sand. The entire world saw you steal the EPW World Title, and the entire world started saying that it was the greatest angle of all time. And all because of me.

Well, Lindsay, I've already made you pay the piper. I've burnt your flesh and taken your dignity. No matter what you do for the rest of your career, you're going to be remembered as the woman Troy Windham married. Your angle is forgotten. You being the first woman to hold a major wrestling title -- which, actually, means it's not so major a title -- is over.

You are now my property and you WILL do as I say. And Lindsay Troy, some day you'll learn to accept that... and learn to like it.

Lindsay, you're really cute when you're all angry. Hot and bothered. I know you're going to do whatever you can to get at me at the Gold Rush. But even if you do, Lindsay, it won't be good enough. If you make it that far... and I may see to it that you don't... I'm going to simply sidestep you and then laugh when you fly over the top rope.

Lindsay Troy, you'll never escape me. I will DESTROY you if need be. Unless you come to realize that you're Mrs. Lindsay Troy Windham... and surrender to the fact that I own you for all of eternity. (FTB)

 

[DBrunkGXW]

FADE IN.....

Dan Ryan's Alter Ego, sitting on the porch of Dan Ryan's ranch outside of Houston - still relaxing at Mr. Ryan's house. The man is relaxed, calm, legs crossed at the ankles and leaning back on a lovely swing while peering at a coming storm in the distance.

DRAE: "Oh Troy. Troy Troy Troy Troy Troy."

"Look, six name drops in one sentence."

"Do you know what that means? If this promo is successful it will be all because of you. Because I said Troy Windham. Windham-comma-Troy. Maybe it's Troy. Maybe it's Troy Windham. By God, this could be the greatest promo of all time."

"I like how it takes only the mentioning of your name by an announcer in what you call the minor leagues to get you so riled up that you'd dive into a company beneath you and make yourself the spotlight. Truthfully? I had a feeling it would happen. That's why when Mike Neely said your name on my television show, I winced inside. I knew...right at that moment...that you'd be coming along shortly."

"It's that need for the spotlight, you see."

"I'm afraid your name never came up in meetings before that, Troy. And when it started coming up after that, it was in reference to what we should do once you showed up. It was, of course my idea that we finally went with. What do we do if Troy Windham (that's twelve times I've said your name now for those keeping track) shows up on our TV show? We let him run with whatever he wants. Come on, Troy (13) ....I wasn't making money before you? I don't get a hundred phone calls a week because Troy Windham (14) might be there. I get the calls because the best and the brightest of the future generation of wrestling knows that I provide a place to grow and excel. Give me a cookie for that. Please. Please do."

"Lindsay pulled the swerve of the decade over a major title that you wanted so badly, elevated as it was by your megastar shananigans...errrrr....her amazing run to it and with it.....that you've done nothing since but campaign for a run with it. When that was becoming clear that it wasn't gonna happen, you threw up a retirement speech and ran off until the next possible occasion came along to inject your aura-slash-ego into the proceedings."

"Do please stop taking credit for things that have nothing to do with you. You can quit Empire Pro right now, on the spot in the middle of promo week for Gold Rush - and I won't stop you, won't give a damn, won't cry, BUT - won't stop selling off your merchandise because believe it or not, there are still enough marks in the world who will buy your foam fingers and your 'Cable Ace Award Winner 1995' t-shirts - and you were too stupid to realize that signing your contract gave me those rights."

"Pssh, no business sense."

"Polish up your listening ear while you're working on your next little segment as well if you don't mind. I never said you were the best match of my career. I said match of the year, just like you do. You'd like, you'd really really really like to make up phrases to help your case - but using a false statement to build a point leaves you looking like more of a dumbass than the best wrestler in the world."

"I don't need you telling me how tough I am to know who and what I am. And none of that hindsight bulls**t either. Battle is the ultimate truth serum in this business, Troy (15). And when you said what you said...when you said it, well...I need go no further. Your brother is so much tougher than me that I've beaten him, in his element...on three occasions. The only thing GUNS can outdo me in is sticking needles into his ass and in still being able to ride the kiddie rides at Six Flags. Hornet? Tough, but I believe I have a pinfall on him, too. Mike Randalls I never faced in his prime - but while I'm not sure if he's tougher than me or not, I'm absolutely positive that he's tougher than you. Because as opposed to him, I have been in the ring with you, and you...you aren't all that tough - not anymore. What you have is a great finisher that you can hit out of nowhere."

"And, you're no tactician. Because nine times out of ten you get your ass kicked leading into a big Slacknife out of nowhere. And good for you, it's served you well. But don't talk to me about brilliance, because I'm not giving you the props that you're giving me - the same props that you'll probably take back next promo, right? - your brilliance is summed up in the marketing of the Troy Windham (16) the brand."

"And a slugfest with me? Wow. Delusions were Felix Red's gimmick but I guess you're taking it up as well. You want to test that theory out though, Troy (17)? Let's go toe to toe and see who goes down first. Texan southpaw my ass. I was born and raised in the same neck of the woods, Troy-boy (18) - and I've had more difficult fistfights after Cowboys games than I had with you."

"So no, Troy (19) - I don't take my leads from you. I'm not interested in your opinions on my business acumen and I'm not interested in reacting to your ridiculous assertions on stringing me along. I know exactly where I am and what I'm doing. I don't give a **** about making money for you or for this company, I'm only interested in what I want and what it takes to get it. So f**k you and your opinions, Troy (20)."

"My 'business' is doing just fine."

"After all, I just named dropped the great Troy Windham (21) into a promo twenty-one times. That's five star territory right there, baby."

"FIVE STAR"

FADE OUT....​

 

[MrWest]

(CUT TO: Troy WIndham, in front of the NYC Skyline.)

TROY: Professor Tremendous! I loved you back in the Furious Five! You were my favorite in Breakin 3: Let It Be. I guess the cough syrup addiction must be pretty bad for you to degrade yourself like this. Oh well.

In all seriousness, Professor, it's good that your piss-ant promotion wants to get over at my expense. You really want my attention that badly? Well, now you got it. I'm not putting a bounty on your head. I'm just going to pull your lame ass out of the ring myself and toss you back to the gloryhole bathroom where you came from.

(CUT TO: CondoTremendous. The Good Professor sits in his pleather recliner watch The World Trampoline Champioships on some ESPN Digital sub-channel. His head lackey (and TeamTremendous Member) , Tuss, enters the room.)

TUSS: Professor, I am sorry about interrupting, but...

PROF: No need to apologize, peasant. At least, not until the ad is over.

TUSS: Actually, I think you kicked Peasant off the Team right after the whole "goat milking" incident. I'm Tuss.

PROF: Right right. So spit it out.

(Tuss spits a mechanical mouse out on the floor. It skitters away unnoticed)

TUSS: So it appears that Troy Windham has honored you with a response.

PROF: Pardon me. But who in sweet tarheel nation is Troy Windham.

TUSS: He's the CSWA UNIFIED World Champion.

PROF: No. I am the CSWA UNIFIED World Champion*.

TUSS: He's the officially recognized one. No asterix.

PROF: Phah. I defeated the officially recognized CSWA Champion months ago in what the Brazilian Wrestling Press is calling the greatest match to hit Rio since the Rock N' Roll Express won* the tag belts from Manny Fernandez and Rick Rude.

TUSS: Really? The Brazilian Wrestling Press said that?

PROF: Yep, right there in black in white.

TUSS: Cool. Can I see the article?

PROF: It wouldn't make any sense to you. It's in Portuguese.

TUSS: Strangely enough, I am completely fluent in Portuguese.

PROF: Well in that case, I leant the article to All World to show his mom and he spilled coffee on it and then Tyrone used it to line the goat's cage.
(beat)
And then it caught on fire

TUSS: Oh. I guess that wouldn't work out then.

PROF: I guess not. But anyway you were telling me about this imposter guy and his "response" to me?

TUSS: Yes, that's right. Troy Windham.

PROF: So what'd he say? Did he admire my long and luxuriant raven-hued hair?

TUSS: Actually he said he loved you with the Furious Five.

PROF: Wow. He saw that tape? And here I was thinking that Grandmaster Flash had all of those things destroyed after the judge said I needed to stop selling them on Time Square and turn over their possession.

TUSS: He also said you were obviously craving his attention. That you were addicted to cough syrup. And that your pissant promotion was nothing put a gloryhole bathroom trying to get over at his expense.

PROF: Shows what he knows. I don't have a promotion.

TUSS: At least none that will offer you a long term contract.

PROF: No. No. I have tons of offers. In fact, if I were to grab the mail one of these weeks I am willing to bet that there would be at least 15 or 16 offers in the bunch.

TUSS: Credit card offers don't count.

PROF: 2 or 3 offers then. The point is that the Good Professor is a REAL CSWA Unified World Champion. You know the kind of World Champion that actually travels the WORLD defending his belt. Like a real WORLD CHAMPION should. Like I have done several times since I won* the belt. And I refuse to limit myself and My CSWA Unified World Title by locking us into just one single promotion.

Now if the if the official CSWA sanctioning body would rather recognize some ne'er do well schmuck at only defends the belt maybe once a year (if ever) and then only does it in their own private and "exclussive" promotion in some goofy caged stip match, I guess they are more than welcome to do so. I, on the other hand, will continue to bring honor and dignity to their belt by actually - you know - defending it against any and all comers wherever I might find them {and a four figure "one night only" paycheck}.

Hell, I have half a mind to actually show up for this "so called' Goldrush Match and re-Unify my UNIFIED World Title again (even though I know I do not have to), just out of the kindness of my heart and to show this Toy Windmill guy what it's like to actually step into the ring with Tremendousity.

And if you see him, you can tell him I said that.

TUSS: Why don't you tell him yourself?

PROF: Because I don't do direct address.

TUSS: So does that meant I should load up the goat cart and tell the guys were are headed to Greensboro.

PROF: Greensboro? I thought my court date for the whole "Grasshoppers Mascot" incident had been postponed until my lawyer got released from county.

TUSS: Actually Greensboro is the home of the CSWA Auditorium & CS Enterprises.

PROF: Gotcha. Sure, let's head on down. I guess it would be nice to let the hometown fans see their REAL* CSWA UNIFIED World Title before I head off to tour Asia with it.

TUSS: Great. I'll start making the arrangements.

PROF: Very good. And tell the midget to run on in here with the cough syrup. I think I'm just about ready for another bottle.