ONE-RP MAX: Nashville, TN

[jediPREZ]

RP Deadline: July 18th, 11:59:59 PM Astral Standard Time
Venue: The Sommet Center
RP Limit: One-RP MAXIMUM


PREZ NOTES: Fresh off the heels of the landmark Crash 'Colt' 45, NFW marches towards the impending Crash 46 that will set the stage for the Grand Prix stretch run as well as possibly start to flesh out the SUPERCrash 2 summer finale. ONE-RP MAXIMUM shows are designed as shows that handlers may want to use for storyline purposes as well with RPs. Or it may be used for a SUPERGRUDGE match. Its up to the handlers, as always.

Only RP in this thread will be counted. Grand Prix participants should NOT RP here.

 

[Rook Black]

(CUE UP: Canon in D)

(FADE IN: The Back of an ergonomic chair. Cardboard colored by crayon has created fake bookcases. An empty cardboard box has been likewise crayon'd into appearing similar to a desk.)

(The Chair Turns. Oh, it's the Uber Judge!)

UBER JUDGE: "Hello everyone."

UJ: "In times like these, we can lose our ability to focus. We can forget ourselves. We can lose sight of our purpose. We can forget why we're here."

UJ: "I can help you with that."

UJ: "For myself, I arrived for a secret purpose. But, that clever Craig Miles and friends went all `nuh uh!' and now I'm involved in such a deluge of nonsense that things can be quite confusing."

UJ: "I'd promised that I'd do your thinking for you though, I tonight I'm going to do just that."

UJ: "I invented Rook Black who invented Legion so that Rook could invent Teresa, but Legion read the script and called me out, which made Craig Miles and Eddie Mayfield go all `yes, you' and me go `but I don't wanna' but I did anyway. Felix Red was bored and so he stirred the pot while Miles pointed Mike Knox in our general area just to be disruptive. Meanwhile, Teresa invented herself several times over and wouldn't stop kicking everyone's ass. Rook Black and Luci4 accidentally did but didn't but did fall in love. or at least as much as people like them actually can, thought right now they're not speaking, which is probably for the best.

UJ: "But none of that is very important. What is important is that there's a match coming up. Knox, myself, and Teresa. It will not go well, and usually that means it will be enjoyed greatly by everyone but me. And probably Rook. Unless Teresa wins, and then he'll be happy."

UJ: "As for myself, who is only in this splendid position due to coincidental acts of fortuitous violence and the people in charge knowing my secrets, I'm left with no real choice but to win the National Title so that I can put an end to a certain disasterous chain of events that have caused this entire avalanche of bull****."

UJ: "Nothing can be planned so well that people near it won't fail to ruin it by shoving their penises in it."

UJ: "And that, was your penis for the day. Well, plus that free one by way of explanation."

 

[Legion]

"Rook created you? That's like saying you created me!"

(We see Luci and Legion in the usual basement setting)

LEGION: I know... people seem to think that I was created as a gimmick, that I'm the most hated man in NFW (aside from Varga... he's more a man-child)

Uber Judge... I didn't read the script... I contacted you and you decided to swerve the world like a bad script for that company in Orlando and i've still not got the revenge for what you did to Luci here..."

However Luci had an idea for revenge... the army of Judgeness or uberites that invaded, pick two of them and face us in a tag match but keep in mind that not only you can swerve the world but only we can make them feel the pain, taste my despair"

(FTB)

 

[DizzaHizza]

July 4th, 2008
2:00pm EST
NFW Press Conference

…Joined in Progress…

KIN HIROSHI: “Okay, I’ve answered this before, but let me explain it to you again. I am STILL the NFW World Heavyweight Champion. It doesn’t get any easier than that. I’ve told you this twice today, and I told the world June 15th at Crash 45.

“Kin Hiroshi never lost the NFW World Championship because Kin Hiroshi didn’t have the opportunity to lose the NFW World Championship, let alone finish competing for it! Dan Ryan was awarded the title because the NFW referee in charge of the bout between Mr. Ryan, Nova and myself was a tw@ at didn’t understand the NFW rule book.

“Of course, ‘those in charge’ seem to be changing the rule book each and every day. So, I’m going to reiterate what I said before: I am STILL the NFW World Champion. Dan Ryan and Nova have been safeguarding the title for me in my absence, and I appreciate their efforts to uphold the prestige and merits that come with the championship. However, it’s time that Craig Miles took it upon himself to strip Nova of the title, and hand it over to the man who never lost it: Kin Hiroshi.”

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

June 8th, 2008
Kin Hiroshi’s Seattle Apartment

It had been months, and neither “Wildfire” Johnny Rage nor “Mr. Irresistible” Johnny Styles could be certain that there would be any improvement. Still, the Johnny’s were enjoying their new found power over Kin Hiroshi. Ever since the title match with Dan Ryan and Nova, Kin had been in a daze. He would wake up in the middle of the night and wander from room to room; often with disastrous results when Styles would bring home a “friend” from the local massage parlor on Pike street.

Despite the random morning awkwardness’, Rage and Styles accepted that their boss had amnesia and they dealt with it the best they could. Kin hadn’t slipped back into his drug habits, and was going to the gym for the first time in years. Not only that, but he had forgotten that he was once a ghost, and his maniacal witch hunt of Felix Red had stopped. Though, Kin would often times walk into a room with a folding chair and blast Styles from behind, without ever really knowing the reason for it. He had hit Rage with the chair once, but after spending 30-ish minutes in a Wakigatame Armbar, Kin learned not to hit Rage with chairs.

Each day had been a different day though, and Kin’s “out-of-it” state seemed to worsen with every 24-hours. Styles thought that maybe Kin really was a zombie, and his human side was giving up the body. Rage had to reaffirm that The Muffin Man wasn’t a zombie, but he might be a reincarnation of Death. This did little to calm Styles who started wearing a cross around his neck, and carrying cloves of garlic in his pocket on the off chance that they were both wrong and Kin was a vampire.

Styles knew this was ridiculous, because no one likes a vampire gimmick. Especially Holzerman. So the idea, and the garlic, was scrapped, but Styles continued to wear the cross because he had been able to pick up some good looking catholic school girls since he started wearing it. It was this particular necklace that helped Kin Hiroshi get his memory back.

Kin had just gotten back from his 5:00am jog and gym trip when he decided to get in the shower. Rage was already up, drinking a protein shake (which Styles made fun of every morning by saying “Need a little more protein, buddy?”) and had just finished reading the Sunday edition of the Seattle Times. Kin was getting in to the shower, and Rage quietly crept into his own closet to put the paper in the newspaper stack that had been accruing since Kin had lost his memory.

The shower water was quick to heat up, and Kin let the water run over his body before he ever thought about the soap or shampoo. He liked the water. He was never really sure why. Hell, he wasn’t sure why he liked anything, even Rage and Styles. After all, Styles used the apartment like his own private whore house, and Rage just loitered all day. Kin wondered whose apartment it was for a minute, but the thought passed, and he reached for the soap.

That’s when Kin’s memory came back. You see, gentle reader, as soon as the soap was in Kin’s hand, he realized that there was no wash cloth in the shower. So, Kin eased back the shower curtain, as to not let water spray all over the room, to see if there was a cloth hanging on the towel rack next to the sink. Indeed there was, and Kin reached out to get it, but couldn’t quite reach. That’s when he dropped the soap. Don’t worry, Beau Michaels wasn’t in the room, and neither was Styles (“You sure ARE Asian, boss!”). Regardless of the small penis and bi-sexual man jokes, the soap was now sliding around the basin of the shower and Kin was leaning precariously out to grab the wash cloth.

Something shined in Kin’s peripheral vision, and he saw Styles’ necklace on the sink. As we all know, amnesia is a mental issue and all retards like shiny and reflective things. Like the water-head who licks the glass at the candy store, or the hair-lip who plays with a marble all day. Retardation is a hell of a drug, and as Kin stopped reaching for the wash cloth and reached out for the necklace, he slipped on the soap in the shower and went Charlie Brown up in the air.

Rage heard the loud *THUMP* from across the apartment, and was sure that Styles had finally blown out his ass gasket. Then he remembered Kin was in the shower, and it took Rage three steps to clear the space of the living room, kitchen, hallway, two walk in closets, a camel and one a catholic school girl, who had been promised candy out of the back of a van. Rage threw open the bathroom door, and found Kin wrapped up in the shower curtain, water spraying all over the room, and a vicious cut over Kin’s right eye.

“Great,” thought Rage, “this could set us back another six months.” Kin seemed more out of it than usual, and Styles, who had been woken by Kin’s bathroom splashdown and had stocked his pj’s with garlic, was certain that Kin may have gone full zombie. Styles and Rage were arguing about restraining their boss in a chair when Kin finally spoke up.

KIN HIROSHI: “Listen, guys, I’m fine. I only, barely, hit my head. Worse has been done to me. Remember when Felix killed me? I’ll be fine.”

The Johnny’s sat in silence for a moment, realizing that Kin remembered something from the past year.

STYLES: “Kin. Are you sure that you remember that? Are you sure you didn’t hear one of us talking about that?”

HIROSHI: “F**k off, dude! I was the one with the punctured lung; you think I’d at least remember…”

Kin stared at Styles.

HIROSHI: “Holy sh*t. I remember everything. Wow. Is this what training in the Matrix is like?”

RAGE: “Except they don’t have that dumbass look on their faces.”

Hiroshi quickly hit Rage in the head with a chair, and Rage quickly slapped on the Wakigatame Armbar. Kin obviously had forgotten a few things. After an afternoon talking about the past five months, Styles and Rage brought out the newspapers so Kin could get caught up on the world that surrounded him. This really wasn’t much different than the world he left. Except that Bush’s approval rating had gotten smaller, and the Illuminati Lizard People were putting Obama into power.

Kin spent the next four days reading the papers and thinking about what he had to do to get his title back from Dan Ryan. He decided that the June 15th Crash was going to be his reintroduction to NFW. He knew that he was going to have to do something drastic and get in Miles’ face to get his title back. That’s when he read the biggest headline the sports section of the Seattle Times had printed all year…

HIROSHI: “DAN RYAN RETIRED?!?!?! How long have I been out?!?”

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

July 4th, 2008
2:10pm EST
NFW Press Conference
Part 2. Like a sequel to the first part…

KIN HIROSHI: “I realize that I’m not a major player in NFW right now. I realize that there are new faces that are forging their own path to the NFW World title, but the fact remains that I am the NFW World Champion! Dan Ryan is gone? Good, never liked him anyways. Nova claims to be the champion because he has the belt around his waist. Nova never beat me for the title! Nova beat Dan Ryan who falsely held the championship. Before I’m dead and gone, the annals of the NFW World Championship will read like this:

Kin Hiroshi
Dan Ryan *
Nova *
Kin Hiroshi

“There is no disputing who I am now, and there’s no discussion that needs to take place in a board room about what’s to be done with me. Nova is a liar, Dan Ryan is a liar, and, as far as I’m concerned, Craig Miles is a liar and a charlatan for allowing this charade to continue. Yeah, I said it! Craig Miles is running NFW into the ground because he doesn’t protect the company. He protects himself. He doesn’t care about the talent on the roster: not once did he come to see me when I was retarded…err…suffering from amnesia. Not once did I receive a phone call from him to check on my progress. All he wanted was Kin Hiroshi out of the way so he could forge a champion in his own image.

“I was forged in another image, ladies and gentlemen. I was forged in the image of one of the most destructive men to step foot in an NFW ring. I was created from the ashes of his own work. I was forged in the image of Felix Red, and if Felix thinks that I’ve forgotten about him: he’s sorely mistaken.

“If anyone on the NFW roster thinks that I don’t have the chops to step into the ring anymore. They have another thing coming. Bangarang, Peter Pan. Rufio has left the building. No man can hold me down, no woman can hold me down, no ring will contain me, and I will tear down the walls of the NFW Administrative Offices to have my title handed over to me.

“Even if I have to destroy Nova for it. In the end, he will get on his knees and hand me my title.”

** FADE TO BLACK **

 

[Macc24]

On the brink of the Revolution getting it’s socks rocked… Brock Alyas hangs among the best in the NFW – only now, with a title shot soon to come. Brock has a decision to make and it could be costly to square-up with any given champion currently in the NFW. If only he really cared, in his eyes he was better than any current champion – when he was born.

We’ve all witnessed his killing spree here in the NFW, racking up a nearly unblemished winning streak and has yet to catch a loss in a one on one bought. Fortunately, Brock’s hard work has paid off and he’s been rewarded the opportunity at any champion in the NFW. It’s his decision and he must pick his poison.

At Crash 45, victory was sealed much thanks to Brock and his mystery bondsman thankfully getting Brock away from some of the grimiest criminals in the Tri-State. Brock didn’t really care… he fit in like a glove in there and actually misses the Chicken on a Stick inmates would receive on Thursday nights if he was on good behaviour. That’s totally irrelevant but he likes his chicken, aight?

Whether ESEN had to put a gun to Brock’s head or not… we have a recorded Press Conference session taken place in Memphis, TN on July 1st, 2008. There were some questions deserving of an answer and whoever forced Brock to show up barely did the job.

---

FADE-IN: To a loud amphitheatre filled with some of the spokes-people for NFW’s key sponsors. Brock Alyas is seated centre-stage with his head in his hands, slouched comfortably with a pair of Gucci shades dangling from the collar of his Sean John t-shirt. One of the men seated next to Brock leaned over before the press-conference began and asked him to put on his glasses and try and attempt to disguise the fact that he’s higher than ten hippies.

Once the theatre became quiet, a NFW spokesperson chimed in on his microphone piece connected to his suit pocket.

V/O: “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for attending. Tonight, we have the privlidge of finally being able to ask Mr. Brock Alyas some questions regarding his current standing in the NFW and on behalf of New Frontier Wrestling, I’d like to personally thank you Mr. Alyas for attending. Although it took a little too much effort…”

The room errupted in a brief chuckle and even Brock cracked a smile, thinking about what size bra the intern sitting in the front row wears. Nobody knew what the smile was really directed at.

ALYAS: “D-34… no doubt. Err, what? Oh yes. Yes. No problem. My pleasure,”

CUE-UP some big, fake cheese.

REPORTER #1: “Richard Lewis reporting for ESENTV… Brock after you’re victory at Crash 45 you’ve be awarded the opportunity to take on any champion of your choice here in the NFW. Experts predict you could give nearly any current champ a good go… what’s your opinion on this?”

ALYAS: “I’m going to have to say I agree. You don’t need to be an expert to recognize the fact that the only reason I’m not a champion is because I haven’t yet had a title shot,”

Mike Tyson had nothing on Brock when it comes to quieting a crowd. You could hear a pin-drop at that very moment.

ALYAS: “Next question”

REPORTER #2: “Tom Jones reporting for FW.com. Brock, any insight as to who this mystery man who bailed you out of the New Jersey D.O.C?”

ALYAS: “To be brutally honest, if I were to tell you who bailed me out… I wouldn’t need to worry about killing you because I think before I finished saying his name a bullet would be put through my head. So if that doesn’t answer your question – No.”

REPORTER #3: “Ryan Malone reporting for Channel 4. Mr. Alyas you’ve seem to develop a certain esteem here in the NFW, despite the fact you’re one of the newer members on the roster. Do you call it cockiness or confidence?”

ALYAS: “Defenitely cockiness. You’ve got to be confident to be cocky. Nobodies going to sit here and take anybody serious if he isn’t positive he’s the ****. I’m that guy. I’m the big deal. So I have room to be cocky. It doesn’t matter if I’m one of the newer members, look at who I’ve allready beat. I’ve allready got a couple of the veterans around here under my belt and I’m sure there’s going to many more in the near future.”

REPORTER #4: “Jake Girard. As we’ve established you’ve got an open invitation to any title here you hope to obtain. Any specific way you leaning as of right now?”

ALYAS: “I don’t want to ruin any surprises… I think I’ve made my decision who I’m going to face but I’m going to keep it quiet right now. What I can tell you is that I’d rather be belt-less than go a couple rounds with JTP. Besides, it’s gotta be in my contract somewhere that I don’t need to be anywhere near that filth.”

REPORTER #1: “Brock, what was the deal with the whole encarceration, anyways? Rumor has it that it was Professor Tremendous’ neighbourhood you were seen with a fire-arm and his house you broke into,”

ALYAS: “I don’t need to answer that question. Hopefully that answers it for you. I told you I cash my cheques. I’m not the type to let them bounce. I really like the new Beemer, though. It’s really smooth.”

The theatre broke into a brief intermission of laughter all around.

REPORTER #2: “How long were you held in custody?”

ALYAS: “Only a couple days. Nothing serious.”

REPORTER #3: “Brock do you see yourself becoming the NFW World Champion any time soon?”

ALYAS: “What are you talking about? I am the World Champion, I don’t need a belt to prove that. You see me week-in and week-out. But really? It’s all in the air right now, might as well go big or go home, right?”

REPORTER #4: “Are you suggesting it may be Nova you’re thinking about challenging in your decision of who to face?”

ALYAS: “I’m suggesting that it’s a strong possibility. I don’t have any reason to disrespect the guy but I will take care of business if that’s what it boils down to. I was never told that my open challenge expires any time soon so I may just hold onto it. I’ve still got to wait my options and decide when I think it’s best for me to challenge for some gold. Just rest assure whenever it is that I finalize my decision… I’ll be leaving with that strap.

And if I have to man-handle a female en-route to get there,

…so be it.”

(FADE.)

 

[TSiegel]

(Fadein, the front porch of the Cruise home in Jacksonville, NC. Sitting on a rocker dressed in blue jeans an a white shirt, Cameron shakes his head. It'd been at least agood five-to-six years since he signed a contract presented to him by Craig Miles, and he was still not happy. Craig had become an ignorant TOOL, and even took on his own partner from "The Professionals; Eddie Mayfield, and since then nothing's changed at all except the ones he saw across the ring.

No longer staring at him were the likes of Hornet, Deacon, "Showtime" Shane Matthews, Steel Viper, even Jonathan Marx no longer cared to compete, and he won the Regular Season title in Season I. Kazuo Shizaki was no longer around, gone since the beginning of Season II, now only a memory as someone that he shocked the World for lasting nearly an hour while losing about 5 gallons of blood with Shizaki and Marx before getting put down by a chair shot from Jayson Payne.

Dan Ryan retired, which Cruise couldn't and wouldn't blame him if he was in Ryan's place as well, the only regret he had was maybe trying to improve on his status with one on one meetings in New Frontier terrirtory. Cameron knew deep down that he was more than capable of beating Dan Ryan, it was just a matter of gaining the opportunity.

Lindsay Troy isn't around, not that she really mattered so much when she was, but a Marketing Amateur, she was not. The "Queen" knew her stuff and was always there to inspire some of the Genius that brought forth the ideas Joey Melton and Cameron had, if even inadvertantly and at the expense of "Little Voltron", Troy Windham and Mexican Cornhuskers everywhere. Hell, for the first time since Cardigo Mysterian stopped showing up the local Dairy Queens to help ala Mark Cuban.

'Course that led to Melton, who on nights he wasn't scheduled to compete was guilt-tripped into going door-to-door selling Hot Tamales. Sure it wasn't fun to do, and to an extent he was right it DID help pay off the long distance calls Melton made to both Bangcock Bettie and Lindsay and even a few calls to Sunshine Del Payne, as they never really go that far before checking in with each other and family, no matter how badly a dick Calvin Carlton had become. But Joey's no longer around and Cameron's not only less than happy than he was before he signed the contract; it's been the majority of ten years of hard work, patience and following the rules and he's still not had any Frontier Gold around his waist let-a-lone shots for any opportunity has been slim to none. Cruise gets up and walks over to a mirror just inside of his house. Running his fingers over scars and surgeries he's had over the last few years, he grimaces over particular wounds he received, memories of battles and wars he waged. It wasn't so much for sake of the fact that they occured that it bothered him now rather than back then, but the fact that back then it had been for hopes and opportunities that had been stomped on and extinguished for those he knew were less worthy.

And there was nothing like it to him, nothing more painful, than knowing you were better than the man receiving the Praise and Glory of becoming the World Heavyweight Champion.

Pretty much no one leftover from five years ago was around to help Cruise, not that he needed it.

Melton was gone, along with Adrien Evans.

Troy, Dan Ryan.

Manson was gone, even Southern had retired.

Hiroshi was back but at what cost? If Felix had screwed him over before when they fought for the World Title...than there's no telling what capacity Kin was in, and Cruise wasn't about to take the time to find out.

His wife, Mercedes even left him. Without so much as a letter or a call back she had packed her things and moved out, neither one of his folks or his in-laws knew her whereabouts.

Everyone had either taken off and proceeded unto other endeavors or opportunities outside of New Frontier so for the first time in five years...

Cameron Cruise was on his own, and in some cold, weird way as he looked into the mirror, smiling, laughing:

Cameron was beginning to like it.

FADEOUT

 

[Nova]

Err'body Wants Some.

(FADEIN: NOVA sits at the flimsy circular “kitchen” table in the “living room” space of a hotel room, smoking a cigarette, his feet propped up on another chair and the NFW World Heavyweight Championship splayed across the tabletop. The ILLUSTRIOUS FACE-EATER paces next to the 24” inch television, wringing his hands.)

I.F.E.: “I don’t understand why we’re posted up in this SH*THOLE.”

NOVA: “You blew up my house.”

I.F.E.: “There’s that. You seem down for some reason. Wanna offer your boy any clues?”

NOVA: *Sigh* “Do you ever listen to yourself talk?”

I.F.E.: “Only mentally proofreading for ILLNESS. Sh*t don’t come out ma’ spout if it ain’t 100% Slap Yo’ B*tch-Worthy.”

NOVA: (Rolling his eyes) “I always wondered why your eyes flicker like that.”

(The EAGLEstar absently pours himself a shot of bourbon and stares off into space. This doesn’t jive with FACEY, who begins shaking for lack of an outlet for his explosive energy.)

I.F.E.: “Soooooo, whadaf*ckarewedooen? SOMETHING, right? I’m f*cking BORED, man. This hotel room’s CLOSING IN ON ME.”

(FACEY begins looking around frantically for something to break or a woman to denigrate. Nova puts out his cigarette and swings his legs around to the floor.)

NOVA: “Well, I’ve gotta cut a promo for a show coming up.”

FACEY: “Oh, TRUE. That reminds me of this GENIUS idea I had, peep this: We take your sack of that Stank-A-Lank bud your buddy Pablo Boner drove down from Kennebunkport, and we twist it ALLLLL up into one massive blunt…”

NOVA: “That’s an ounce of weed.”

FACEY: “…that’s why I said ‘massive,’ are you listening? THEN! We get all up in the camera’s face, right? You stand in front with the strap all flossin’ like ‘WHUT, B*TCHES KNOW WHO DA CH4MP IS, IT AIN’T TAME WHEN THE EAGLESTAR SPITS GAME!’ And I’ll stand behind you with the blunt, just CHIEFIN’ on it, dude, it’ll be hilarious, everyone’ll be like ‘Damn, Facey is CHIEFIN’ on that blunt, we can’t see his face through all the smoke…’”

NOVA: (Laughing) “Yeah, and then you’ll pass it to me…”

FACEY: “YEAH, only you’re, like, really busy verbally thrashing everyone so you don’t really smoke it, and it’s funny because the whole time I’m just IRON-LUNGING that sh*t while you do your thing, ‘till the sh*t’s like a NUB, you know, like f*cking VANQUISHED…”

NOVA: (Eyes narrowing) “Yeeeeaah, that sounds like…fun. I’ll get everything set up in the other room, and you go in my bag and find my Belgian Waffle-Maker, alright?”

(FACEY nods and NOVA walks into the bedroom – two twins, blessedly, they aren’t THAT good of friends. The EAGLEstar wastes no time shutting the door behind him and locking it. He sits down on one of the twin beds in front of a camera positioned in the corner, and pulls open the bedside drawer, removing a small lockbox. He removes a rope necklace from around his neck, at the bottom of which is a key, and unlocks the lockbox lid.)

NOVA: (Turning to the camera) “Yes, traveling with Facey has forced me to put my ganja under lock and key. Sad, but unequivocally NECESSARY if I want anything out of my sack besides the whiff of yesterday’s second-hand smoke.”

(He removes a cloudy plastic bag and plucks several frosty white nuggets from it, laying them on the night table. He holds one up to the light.)

NOVA: “CRYSTAL BOMB…(falsetto) oh yes, I need you now, tonight…and I need ya mooooore than ever…”

FACEY: (Through the door) “Dude, what the f*ck do you have a Belgian Waffle-Maker for? This thing weighs like thirty pounds, it’s stupid to carry it in your…what the f*ck? HEY! THE F*CKING DOOR’S LOCKED!”

(NOVA deftly twists up a joint and sparks the end of it, closing his eyes and smiling a little as twin jets of thick smoke shoot out of his nostrils. He looks at the camera, ignoring FACEY’s thumpings on the other side of the bedroom door.)

*WHOMP*

FACEY: “AAAAAGH!! MY F*CKING SHOULDER, IT’S DISLOCATED! CALL SOME HOOKERS!”

NOVA: (Exhaling) “What a treat. Looks like the job description for ‘World Heavyweight Champion’ these days reads more like a campaign spokesman: respond to other people’s bullsh*t all day. But whatever, it wouldn’t be very becoming of a Frontiersman such as myself to sit idly by while a few random turds disparage my name, would it?

“HI, THIS IS YOUR HOST FOR FRONTIER RADIO’S ‘TIME TO HUMBLE MOTHERF*CKERS’ HOUR, AND WE’LL BE TAKING TWO CALLERS!

“Joe the Plumber. Joe, I’m truly flattered you haven’t forgotten about me. Unfortunately I had almost forgotten about you, and now memories of SUPERCrash I are flooding back like the sh*t around my ears when I found myself bobbing for apples in your bucket of plumber juice. Just another Day in the Life for ol’ JTP, though, I’m sure, but…*shudders* F*CK, that was the nastiest thing that’s ever happened to me, and that’s actually saying something, because I got a blowjob from Mercedes Cruise backstage a few years ago and when she opened her mouth afterwards trying to be all sexy or whatever, the surface of her tongue resembled the skin of a Gila Monster.

“You’re petitioning for your shot, Joe? Yer shot at the olllll’ EAGLEstar? F*ck it, I won’t argue that you deserve it, which turns my stomach a little to say. But just know that when you come after me THIS time, I’ll be ready. And they’ll be callin’ me the STREAK-BREAKER when it’s all said ‘n done, ‘cuz NO ONE around here will have a goose egg left in the ‘Loss’ column.

“Kin Hiroshi. You think your amnesia’s all fixed up right as rain? WRONG…apparently. Let me give you a little history lesson, Kin, from the perspective of someone who, ya know, was AROUND this whole time and DIDN’T flake like a cherry turnover fresh from the local bakery. That match you keep referring to? That infamous Hiroshi/Ryan/Nova showdown from last year? Yeah, that never happened. Let me take you back to Crashmas 6. December 29th, 2007. Dan Ryan vs. Kin Hiroshi vs. Felix Red. See, you’d think YOU of all people would remember that it was him in that match and not me, because it was none other than Felix who made a necklace out of a steel chair by double-stomping it onto your face, which led to you crawling comically around the ring and then sprinting back up the entrance ramp. Meanwhile, Ryan got a questionable pinfall over Red, and then Mayfield came down and ran off with the belt. Good times.

“Where was I in any of that? WAR GAMES earlier in the night, leading Team Starscream to victory over Joe the Plumber and the Darlings Cruise, Cammy and K. Michaels. Just look on ESEN Classic!

“If you’re still following me down Memory Lane, next up was SUPERCrash I: Coronation on February 28th, 2008, where Ryan DESTROYED a borderline drug-comatose Felix Red and then defeated Mayfield in the night’s Main Event to legitimize his ‘World Champion’ designation. Where was I in any of that? My head in a bucket of COSMIC SLOP, wasting my shot at the TV title.

“Ah, but then there was WRESTLESTOCK 2: Double or Nothing, the show Management had been hanging over my head for a YEAR, ever since I was informed following Wrestlebowl 2 that I was due for a stab at YOUR belt, Kin. Dan Ryan lost the World Heavyweight Championship…and where was I in all that?

“STANDING DIRECTLY OVER HIM, hoisting that sh*t to the heavens.

“MY belt.

“MY reign.

“MY company.

“You left your own title defense, you dumb SH*T. This is NFW, where Rules send their girlfriends via faulty GPS systems to teach them a lesson gangbang-style. And you’re b*tching about being COUNTED OUT? And stripped? Like it matters? This isn’t Greensboro. Half the time the refs can’t count as high as five, much less break a choke. You ever see anyone checked for weapons before a match? Yeah, me neither.

“Oh, and Mr. ‘Hey Everyone, I’m Back, Please Care Now?’ You can take a steaming DUMP all over my legitimacy as World Heavyweight Champion, but don’t entertain even for a moment the idea that you’re gonna waltz back in here because “WHOOOOOAA NOW YOU CARE AGAIN” and be handed a shot at me, not by Miles and El Cabrón, and DEFINITELY not by me. In 2007 I emerged victorious over not one but TWO NFW rosters – Night One of Wrestlebowl go F*CK yourself – and I still had to wait a f*cking YEAR before I got a shot at this belt. There are people in the back who will probably suffocate you in your sleep before they see you given preferential treatment. Teresa Q deserved it. Lord Coyner Pollard – God Rest His Face – deserved it. They sweat it out every show trying to climb NFW’s formidably steep and hierarchical ladder. You…(sneer)…you come back shilling yourself like the return of the Prodigal Son, throw a few potshots at the Champ and a guy who ISN’T HERE ANYMORE, and expect there to be some kind of chemical reaction, the product of which is another RIVETING Kin Hiroshi headlining event.

“That was sarcasm, for anyone who wasn’t around last summer…because let me remind the loyal ‘Dubbers out there just exactly what we had to look forward under the Muffin Man’s historic reign. I swear this sh*t makes me sitting on the TEAM Championship of Champions look like a never-ending Gauntlet match. Our buddy Kin REFUSED to defend the belt, and we were all privy to such CLASSIC Frontier moments as “Kin Bails on His Only Allies in Glasgow,” “Kin Ruins One Perfectly Good Match at Crash 40 While Refusing to Defend the World Heavyweight Championship,” “Kin Starring in ‘The Best of Lame Roles’ as Referee Yawnold McDonald at Crash 41,” “Kin Establishes Total Legitimacy as Champion By Defending Against Cameron ‘ONSLAUGHT’ Cruise at Crash 42,” and…wait…holy sh*t, that’s IT. That’s all you did before fleeing the ring – and YOUR belt – at Crashmas 6. Even I thought you had more appearances as Champion than that. Hell, man, the New VD had more of an impact on post-Season Two NFW than you did, and that’s kind of like saying the Brawl-reporting Interns had more of an impact on post-Season Two NFW than you did.

“By the way, not that I have anything against Felix Red – I VERY MUCH enjoyed engineering a full-scale riot with him at Crash 42 – but you’re not exactly gonna send chills up the competition’s collective spine by saying you were created in the mold of a guy currently wasting away in the midcard in true nihilistic fashion next to a mound of coke with a Walkie-Talkie connected to KMC held up to his ear.

“Time to lace up your boots, Kin…‘cuz if you want any respect around here, I have a feeling you’re gonna have to earn it the old-fash-”

(CUT TO: FACEY leaping through the door, leaving a Man-Boy cut-out in the wooden frame. He’s looking around frantically, nose sniffing the wind.)

FACEY: “I smell reefer. You were smoking in here without me.”

NOVA: (Stealthily pushing his lockbox under the bed with one foot) “Yep, sorry, man, all gone. Smoked it up.”

FACEY: (Tears welling up) “I WAS GONNA BREAK OUT MY BATTLESTAR GALACTICA SEASONS! WELL F*CK THAT!”

(The FACE-EATER storms out of the room, and NOVA turns back to the camera.)

NOVA: “You get what I’m saying. Joe? Whenever you’re ready. Kin? Go f*ck yourself.”

(FADETOBLACK)

 

[Frozen Atlantic]

Do The Panic, Part Three / Zero

His hands hung limply over his knees. A pool of blood fell

- from his nose -
​

- downward -
​

and splashed on the tile below.

And slowly, his face rose, staring at the imperceptiple darkness in the alley. He knew he was there, of course, he always was, but there was no sound, no outward indication that he was there. He grunted, looked back down into his blood, and cleared his throat. How long had it been since he'd said anything at all? He lived alone, and Lord knew Teresa spoke enough for both of them. And he spoke when... he'd always believed in doing exactly what was neccessary. No more. No less.

The darkness would demand to hear him. He understood that much.

"She turned me out. Violently."

For the longest time, there was nothing. And then, the darkness spoke.

"Yes." A small photograph drifted from the shadow, down to the pavement between them. "No need to worry about their safety anymore. They have what they're after."

He bit his tongue and said nothing. This wouldn't have happened if he hadn't been so weak - honestly, Teresa hadn't been that bad. One of the more... interesting... people he'd worked for, yeah, but his regreat came more from the big (and mostly safe) paycheck.

Something flashed in a corner of his mind.

"You... in Las Vegas... you weren't expecting me to actually beat her, were you?"

The voice laughed. "Of course not. You don't kick down a skyscraper. You remove.. the foundation."

*~*~*~*~*​

“Nobody can be so amusingly arrogant as a young man who has just discovered an old idea and thinks it is his own.” - Sydney J. Harris

*~*~*~*~*​

A voice speaks from the darkness.

"And now, I would like to ask a few questions."

CUEUP: "Do the Panic" by Phantom Planet. Teresa Quaranta, National Champion, in her childhood room, wearing a shirt and jeans, belt, pratically as always slung across her shoulder.

"FIRST. I wanna know why Nova can smoke dope and I can't! Is it because I'm the only person here dumb enough to actually listen to the rules of the company and take this drug testing policy stuff seriously? Or is it because he's NFW Champion? Because honestly, that's the best motivation for a rematch I've seen in a very, very long time."

She grins - for someone who's just blown a world title match and gotten herself busted up but good, she seems in high spirits.

"It's been a very chaotic couple of weeks here in the New Frontier. And by chaotic, I mean "a lot of losers have popped out of the woodwork and laid claim to things they aren't even remotely entitlted to," and it leads me to another very important question - if Kin Hiroshi is still the NFW Champion, does that mean we suck again? Because it was really hard getting laughed at by the workers in every other fed. My conversations went something like -"

ME: Haha, your fed has Nikita Damalama and Ice Tre in it!
THEM: Kin Hiroshi is your world champion!
ME:

"- and I really don't wanna go down that road of constant shame again. Kin's never ending mission to seek out new ways to embarass himself never gets old, but strangely enough, it never gets worth watching, either. And while I'll always feel a little bit of gratitude for letting me verbally destroy him somewhere inside the blink of an eye he was NFW Champion, I think if he wants to show us how great is is, he'll have a nice and EPIC 4 year feud with Joe The Plumber, preferably in a fed that isn't this one."

What had been missing during that match with Nova? A vision, a master plan. And right now, the vision was... admittedly, a shallow one. But a sweet one, and one worth working towards. But in order for it to happen, she would have to -

"Let's focus our attention on the National Title match in a few weeks. It'll be myself, the winner of a triple threat match, and the person who didnt lose said match. I won't completely sweep your achievement under the rug. Rook beat the last top contender, and rumor has it he knows a thing or two about professional wrestling. I'm not completely sure what the deal is with this Uber Judge person, although I have some interesting theories. As far as Steve Knox goes... you certainly are a professional wrestler, and yu certainly do think highly of yourself, and you certainly would like to be National Champion, so uh, congratualtions on that. I know this guy named Dusk you should introduce yourself to. I can't guarantee a victory in my next defense, but it's highly likely."

Cut to black. A voice speaks from the darkness.

"Things are changing, catching up with me. But I manage... to stay ahead of the curve."

*~*~*~*~*
​

And meanwhile, somewhere else, a man lowered his head, defeated, and the blood fell.

 

[CraigM]

Introducing David Noble

Zzz...

Zzz...

Zzz...

Peaceful sleep. A rarity in today's society; the hustle and bustle of the never-ending movement of life wearing you down until you're nothing more than a corpse resting in a grave covered in aging soil that'll eventually whittle your body into nothing. Our main character in this story, David Noble, just lays there comfortably unaware of the sudden curve awaiting him around the corner. Namely, a train, but not just any train. The train that would change his entire life.

Clickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclick

It doesn't take much for David to wake up so with the simple sound of a train blowing by his bedroom window in the middle of the night, he's wide awake startled by the noise at first until he settles down and lies back down in the bed. His eyes are shifting from side to side trying to hold onto the elusive sleep but it proves to be futile as it slips away and he finds it incredibly difficult to slip back into the state of REM that he desperately wants. David glances over to his right to see his girlfriend of seven months sleeping peacefully as if nothing ever happened. With little hope of falling back asleep, his head hits the pillow, and he begins cursing under his breath.

As he looks around the room and sees the decaying state of the walls, the paint peeling, and the general ****tiness of the condition that everything's in he wonders to himself what the hell he's doing with his life. Had this been what he always wanted? Was he happy with everything? To be honest, he wasn't. His life had become a monotonous symbol of what not to do. The sad part? He had just realized this. David sits up and slaps his girlfriend in the arm softly.

"Get up," he says quickly before rolling out of bed and desperately looking for a pair of pants. She rolls around slightly, but doesn't wake up. Underneath the bed, he finds a pair of dark blue jeans that he slips on over his boxers before walking around the edge of the bed and tapping her again.

"Wake up, Charlene."

Her eyes flutter open and she glances over at him, wandering why the hell he had waked her up. A few moments pass as she attempts to wake up, and while she does, he throws on a white shirt over his bare torso. His eyes wander around the room, trying to figure out if there's anything that he really wants from here, but just shakes his head.

"What's goin' on?" she asks him while rubbing the sleep out of her eyes with the back of her hand. David looks over at her and sticks his hands in his pocket while he just stands there looking at her with this goofy grin on her face. A few awkward seconds pass before he pulls his left hand out of his pocket and brushes it over his buzzed cut hair, antsy and nervous in his approach.

"I'm out," he tells her rather simply. Her eyes narrow as she tries to understand what he just said. David then notices his cell phone sitting on the nightstand and eagerly grabs it, "Gonna need that."

"What the hell do you mean you're out?" she asks groggily, still not quite comprehending everything that's going on. As she talks to him, he grabs his wallet and his keys out of another pair of pants, and then contemplates whether or not he should take the pants with him. Deciding against it, he throws them down on the ground, and then turns his attention back to her.

"I'm done. I'm going back home. We're through," he says without much emotion from his voice. A look of shock washes across her face as she doesn't remember any kind of fight or argument, or even the sense that this was coming. Frankly, the two had had a pretty good relationship with each other.

"What the hell, David?!" she shrieks at him, fully awake now. He just shrugs his shoulders before walking to the bedroom door and pulling the door open. He steps into the oddly shaped and small living room with a smile emerging on his face. For the first time in a while, he felt free, and he could feel it in each step he took. He strides to his front door, but Charlene follows up behind him looking for answers.

"David!"

Yet, he ignores her as he grabs the handle to the door and just walks out, leaving her there all alone and by herself. She glares at the door, wondering if this was all a dream or if her boyfriend that she cared about had really just left her as simply as he did.

Outside, David walks into the frightening night and looks around as if he had just won the lottery. Freedom, at last, he tells himself. A vibrating sound comes from his left pocket, and he quickly pulls out his cell phone expecting it to be Charlene. Instead, it's his best friend Chuck. As he glances at the time, he's certain Chuck's calling him to have a drink, and decides to answer the phone.

"Chucky!" he yells into phone as he walks down the street, wondering to himself what's next.

"I told you I hate that name," the man on the other line says dryly.

"Yeah, well. Let's have some drinks."

"Drinks? You're normally not ever down to drink, especially at 12:30 in the evening."

"Chuck, we live in New York City. Let's enjoy life!"

"Sounds good, I'll meet you at Hops."

"Got it."

And just like that, David hangs up the phone, slides it back into his pocket, and turns the corner to head down to the subway.

~!~!~!~!~!~

"Damn dude, that's rough. You just dumped her like that?"

Set the scene. Large bar in the middle of Brooklyn. People all around as two guys, one that we already know in David, and his best buddy in the entire world, Chuck. Two beer mugs half way gone as the two have been talking and drinking for the past 30 minutes. Obnoxious music in the background and hot girls all around. And go!

"I don't know what happened, Chuck. It was just like I looked around and asked myself, 'what the **** is my life about'? You know? It was an epiphany that just hit me all of a sudden. I came here to wrestle and what am I doing now? Nothing. I'm not wrestling. Three years of training and then I just quit," David tells his buddy, nearly shouting over the racket and noise around him. He takes a drink from the mug before glancing around and lands his eyes on a pretty blonde in the corner with some of her friends. Slowly, she glances over, and he smiles at her, eliciting a smile back.

"So, what're you going to do now?"

David sits there for a moment before taking a sip from his mug, contemplating that question in the back of his mind. He had left his girlfriend and seemingly his home. Where to now? He didn't have money saved up to do anything else and he certainly didn't have a bevy of friends he could go to and hope that they'd take him in while he got on his feet. The job he would be leaving behind didn't matter to him either.

He then looks over at Chuck before opening his lips, "I'm going home." At the mention of those words, Chuck's eyes get really large as he can't believe what he had just told him.

"Going home? Are you sure that's a good idea?" he asks in this soft, hushed tone. David though just nods his head before looking back at the smoking hot blonde and winking at her once. He wanted to take her out back for a moment, but something just felt wrong. As if he needed to head home now. He leaps off of the stool and looks at Chuck with this small shrug.

"You gotta go where life takes you. I can take the hits Chuck; I know that much for sure. I need to find myself. Find who I am. Find what I'm supposed to do! I lost who I am, and I'm determined to get it back. Life is full of opportunities, Chucky my boy, you just have to make something out of them! Now if you'll excuse me, my home beckons to me, and I'd very much like to see the looks on their faces!" he yells out before slapping his hand across Chuck's back. He then walks over to the beautiful blonde and she's mesmerized with his walk before he grabs her by the back of her neck and kisses her on the lips for several seconds as her friends look on shocked. As he breaks the kiss, he smiles at her, before walking out the door full of vigor.

The trio of girls just laughs as she can't believe he just walked out of the bar like that, not even taking her number or taking her with him. Chuck just shakes his head, having taken in the entire scene, and looks back at his nearly empty mug of beer.

"So would I, David, so would I," he whispers, feeling lonely all of a sudden.

~!~!~!~!~!~

Arriving in Buffalo, New York had taken a tad bit longer then David had imagined. Three evenings later though, he finds himself staring at the palatial house he had lived in for as long as he could remember until he hit the road to be a wrestler. He could recall the condescending remarks his father had made as he left the house, determined to make his family proud of him even if his father thought differently. It had been three years since he left home and he was slightly nervous to just walk up to the front door and ring the doorbell. Mainly because he also hadn't talked to anyone for nearly three years. At first, the conversations were light, but as he found himself being sucked in by the city he had lost contact with them. After a while, he became scared to just say hey.

As he stands there, he notices a car pull up to the driveway and sits there. David looks over to the car suspiciously before noticing a guy sitting in the driver seat and a girl in the passenger seat. He glares for a moment until he notices the guy moving in and kissing the girl on the lips. The two hold their position for a few moments before breaking it off. David shakes his head before the guy moves in again and the two start going at it hot and heavy. David can't believe the sight he's seeing as the girl's shirt begins to come off. As he sees that though, he loses it as he sprints down the street and towards the guy's car. Before anyone in the car knows it, David yanks the door open and drags the guy out of the car!

"Get off my sister, asshole!" he yells at the guy before punching him flush in the jaw! The guy takes the shot hard as he stumbles off the concrete and into the grass! David is relentless as he walks over to him and turns him over before punching him again in the face. "I don't want to ever see you near Samantha again, you hear me?! Because if I do, I'll kick your ass, much like I'm doing now! Got it?!"

As he punches the guy again, lights flicker on in the house, and seconds later, the front door opens up!

"DAVID!"

He looks up and sees his older sister standing there, looking bewildered.

"Samantha?!"

David backs up a few steps before looking behind him to see who was in the car. With her shirt now firmly back on, he sees it's not Samantha at all, but his younger sister.

"Sarah, what the--"

As he looks back to the front door, he sees another woman standing there, a little surprised and shocked at what she sees. He looks down at the guy before walking over to the front door.

"Hey mom, I'm home."

To Be Continued.