[SSX] CoC Three-Way

[CuseTroy]

Due to his recent injuries, Nova was forced to relinquish the CoC, unfortunately ending a year-plus reign outside a TEAM ring. TEAM officials were forced to scramble for a main event, but what you get is three of the world's finest wrestlers vying for this prestigious title. Reigning A1E World Champion Marcus Westcott, the one and only TEAM Challenge Champion Ravager and recent Tournament of Champions runner-up Fusenshoff will go at it, elimination-style, for TEAM's top strap.

RP Deadline: February 6th at 11:59:59 p.m.

 

[MarcusWestcott]

(Static occupies the screen for 5 seconds... then the static slowly degenerates until we see a home-video style cam black and white shot of Marcus Westcott, standing in front of a TEAM backdrop. Marcus is decked out in designer shades, a black (at least in black and white) Armani suit, and dress shoes. Over his left shoulder is the A1E World Heavyweight Championship belt.)

MW: You should all consider yourselves lucky. Your savior is here.
That's right. If it wasn't for good old Marcus Westcott, this whole TEAM event would be just a little less stellar.

Well, I guess you could thank Nova for being a big fat p*ssy as well.
Jess Chapel came crawling to me, begging, and Jess said "Marcus... my Champion's down. He's left me hanging. I don't have a TEAM main event unless I have a giant name headlining the card. Would you do me a huge favor and come take a shot at the Championship of Champions?"

Jess Chapel was down and out, and when he needed the biggest name there was to come and bring some life into this sorry card, he came to ME. Chapel could have went to a lot of so-called superstars, legends, and giant names in this industry...

(Marcus shrugs and adjusts the title on his shoulder.)

MW: ... but he came crawling to ME.

You see, folks... Ravager... Fusenhoff... Chapel KNOWS where it's at. He KNOWS who he can count on to deliver a huge match at a huge event. He knows who he can count on at the drop of hat, and who's not going to disappoint on any night on the calendar.

There's a reason that Chapel didn't just let you two clowns go at it alone.

You're just not good enough to headline on your own.

Your stars don't shine anywhere NEAR as bright as mine.

While anything Ravager's done in TEAM - other than losing to Dusk, losing to Randalls, just plain LOSING - hasn't really amounted to a hill of beans, otherwise I would have heard about it, Fusenhoff, your claim to fame is a countout win over myself where if you hadn't been SAVED by a fan throwing beer into my face and restrained by EPW Security, the EPW Television Title would have been added to my list of conquests.

How IS that shoulder, anyway?

Face it. You two just don't belong in my league. Hell, you don't belong in this match.

But don't worry. When it's all over, Ravager, you can fade back into obscurity where you came from, and Fusenhoff, you can go drown in another beer while you're watching the big screen at whatever watering hole you puke in regularly, all the while watching ME defend yet another Championship belt.

At Supershow X, the star that is Marcus Westcott will shine even brighter as I lead TEAM into a new age, and my legend will grow that much bigger.

(The scene scrambles and dissolves into static for five more seconds, then the screen blinks out.)

 

[Fusenshoff]

Fade in to Fusenshoff sitting on a stool in front of a TEAM backdrop. He has his usual black leather jacket on over a wife beater with black jeans and black boots. His hair is matted and hangs around his face while his goatee looks like it hasn’t been trimmed in a week. A bottle of blackjack is gripped in his right hand and sways between his legs.

Fusenshoff: “I thought we might see Mike Randalls, winner of the 2008 TEAM Invitational Tournament. I thought we might see your favorite buddy in the whole world, Lindsay Troy, who still hasn’t received a rematch she’s owed for holding the Championship of Champions. I thought we might see Tyler Rayne, who can thank the moron James Varga for his devastating finisher, the one that left me a three-count away from the Harvard Avalon Memorial Trophy this year.

“Nope, instead it’s Marcus Westcott, formerly known as Beast, who changed his name for obvious reasons. My only question is which wisecrack finally gave the camel scoliosis.

“But I’m not gonna dwell on the name change too much. After all, ripping on the same exact thing that everyone else rips on you for isn’t really my style. You don’t convince anyone that you’re creative when you do that. That’s like me calling A1E the ‘Steak Sauce’ federation or you ripping on me for having a drinking problem. Everyone’s pulled that sh*t.

“…Oh damn, you did that already, didn’t you? But, you’re so unpredictable, who’d have guessed?

“No, instead its Marcus Westcott, who hasn’t seen a TEAM ring in over a year. You’re in this match because I’m the only one who hasn’t retired that has a banked shot at Ravager’s Challenge Championship. Putting the two of us alone in this match would’ve looked ridiculous. And the people mentioned above couldn’t make it. You were the only one twiddling your thumbs, readily available at the last minute.

“Plus, they needed someone they could count on that could bullsh*t their way into pretending they deserve this shot, so the called the spin doctor himself.

Fusenshoff grins at the camera as he takes another swig of whiskey. He’s reminded of the last time Westcott walked into the ring with him, superiority complex and all, only to be defeated when his ego betrayed him again.

“Let’s face it Marcus, you’ve even gone as far as to assume you would’ve won our last match had it not been for ‘the fan’ that threw his beer at you.

“OOOOOooooooOOOOO!!! Not a FAN!!!! Don’t you just hate it when a fan and a glass of beer ruins your whole day like that?

“Only you would be so ridiculous as to blame a fan spilling beer on losing a match. But that’s your Modus Operandi isn’t it Marcus?

“You take everything into account, then spin it so it looks good for Marcus. And you make sure you sound big and bad doing it. Nevermind being creative with it and using wit to get your point across. Nah, that takes some actual thought doesn’t it? And who has time for that. Besides, you’re too damn tired from saying the most delusional **** possible so you look high and mighty.

“Like blaming a loss on a fan.

“And you’re still underestimating both myself and Ravager. That’s your first mistake.

“You have this one in the bag because your STAR shines bright.

“Star light, star bright,
First star I see tonight,
I wish I may I wish I might,
Win on name recognition tonight.”

“Your head’s already too big for this one Bea… err, Marcus. There’s two types of people in this industry; the humble and the soon-to-be humbled. I humbled you once already, but you’ve come up with the lamest excuse I’ve ever heard to rationalize my arm being raised and you sulking. If it takes me beating yet another A1E World Heavyweight Champion, in a TEAM ring, in the middle of his championship reign to get the point across, then so be it.

“In the mean time, keep telling yourself we’re out of our league to make yourself look good.

“I’ll laugh at the look on your face when I’m standing over you with my hand raised again. Like I’m laughing now.”

Fade out as Fusenshoff finishes off the remnants of the bottle in his hand. It’s as empty as Marcus’ justifications.

 

[MarcusWestcott]

(Static occupies the screen for 5 seconds... then the static slowly degenerates until we see a home-video style cam black and white shot of Marcus Westcott, standing in front of a TEAM backdrop. Marcus is decked out in designer shades, a black (at least in black and white) Armani suit, and dress shoes. Over his left shoulder is the A1E World Heavyweight Championship belt.)

MW: Wow, someone got all uppity and courageous all of a sudden, huh, Fuse?

What's the matter? Someone piss in your Jack and put a little attitude in that scrambled brain of yours? Congratulations for showing up with a little bit of BALLS, son.

Too bad all the balls in the world aren't going to protect you from the slaughter you're going to experience at SSX.

That woman? She's an administrator now. She's lost the drive and ambition to get things done where it really counts, so now she sits behind a desk letting her ass get fatter than it already is. Mike Randalls and Tyler Rayne... I've never even heard of them, so they can't be worth all that much.

No, Fuse... I'm here because I'm the A1E World Heavyweight Champion... the biggest star in this little universe of ours.

And you... well, you're just a lucky sonofa*****.

Or unlucky, dependent on whoever's point of view.

You're right though... I haven't been in a TEAM ring for some time, and if you remember, the last time I was here I TORE through the field to get A1E to the Dupree Cup finals, where I outlasted everyone else, and was defeated in the end. Gotta admit... that loss stung a little, so when Jess Chapel came knocking on my door, I have to admit that I wasn't doing the man any favors by coming here.

I'm out to get the win I should have gotten last time. And that doesn't bode well for you and the other little puke in this match.

I'm not here to be creative, Fuse. I'm here to kick ass and take no prisoners. You want to be creative? Join a f*cking art class and stare at the nude model's junk for all I care. I don't see creative OOZING out of you while you're all but passed out at the bottom of the barrel, stuck with delusions of grandeur.

And delusional is the PERFECT word I'm looking for, if you think you HUMBLED me over in EPW. You talk like you actually BEAT me or something. Did you pin my shoulders to the mat? No, you didn't. Did you make me submit? Hell no you didn't.

You didn't do SH*T, Fusenhoff.

If anything, I defeated myself.

Damn straight, a fan caught me with beer in the face. But I let myself get distracted. Then security grabbed me, and you took the opportunity to sneak in a quick kick and roll into the ring and ESCAPE with the victory.
Yet you act like you just out-prayed the Pope himself.

So, tell me... EXACTLY WHO'S the one spinning sh*t to make it look good for themself? And YOU'RE accusing ME of not being CREATIVE?

Give me a f*cking break. You're just a f*cking LOSER.

But no, we couldn't expect the GREAT FUSENHOFF to actually BEAT ME, could we? I mean, really, you were just powerbombed into a F*CKING RING POST, and were down and out. I must have been dealing with those idiots for TEN MINUTES before you picked your ass up off the floor and took the COWARD'S way out.

So if you're so damned AWESOME, Fuse... then why didn't you just roll me into the ring and pin me?

CAUSE YOU CAN'T.

And you f*cking KNOW it.

Even WITH a cheap shot.

Laugh all you want, Fuse. Get it in while you can, cause the only thing you're going to be doing is CRYING IN YOUR BOOZE after I'm standing over you with the Championship of Champions raised over my head.

(The scene scrambles and dissolves into static for five more seconds, then the screen blinks out.)

 

[Fusenshoff]

Fade in to Fusenshoff in the same situation as a few hours ago, this time sporting a brand new, barely touched bottle of Jack Daniels. His clothes are the same as he takes his place on the stool in front of a TEAM backdrop.

Fusenshoff: “Coming into this match, I really had no idea it’d be this easy to talk circles around you, Marcus. You’re surprised and I’m surprised. You’re surprised because I’m more ‘uppity’, ‘courageous’ and ‘ballsy’ than you expected. Your year away from TEAM hasn’t done you justice.

“On the other hand, I’m surprised because I thought it would take more than my first promo to have you reeling.

“It’s not remarkably shocking though. Once you get the ‘Marcus Westcott patented formula’ down, it’s really just a matter of showing up and dousing the flames of absurdity. The next step is to laugh at all the huffing and puffing you do, amused at the fact that you seem to think ‘Give me a f*cking break. You’re just a f*cking LOSER,’ brilliantly gets your point across.

“I gotta say, you made Ryan Howard stand up and clap for that howitzer Marcus. Where do you come up with this gold?

Fusenshoff grins as he takes another sip of his fresh fifth of blackjack. He shifts to the other cheek and leans in a little closer to the camera.

“You sure hold your emotions on that hairy monstrosity you call a bicep, don’t ya Marcus? I remember that little Dupree Cup you speak of back in two-thousand and… seven?! Damn, has it been that long? It sure sucks when you lose in the Finals of a big tournament, huh? Like the Tournament of Champions where I got runner-up, or the TEAM Invitational Tournament, where Ravager lost in the Finals…

“We showed up at the very next TEAM events.

“We didn’t spend over a year licking our wounds, stomping around like a pre-teen who can’t find her hair curler, sitting with our arms crossed in the corner, unwilling to budge unless we get a title shot.

“Man, you paint yourself into some pretty tight spots sometimes.

“But far be it from me to point out every mistake, no matter how big or small, you’ve been making these last couple of days Marcus. Like for instance…

“You wanna know who the hell is Tyler Rayne and Mike Randalls…

“I wanna know, who the hell is ‘FUSENHOFF’?!

“You’re so prepared to kick my ass in and out of the ring; powerbomb me into turnbuckles; put your size 15 boot up my ass and beat on your chest while I’m sprawled out on the canvas. So prepared that you can’t even say my name right. But don’t worry, you’re “The Mecca”. Preparing for matches, learning the tendencies of your opponents and walking down the ramp focused is for mere peasants. You’re the A1E World Heavyweight Champion. You’ll be just fine.

“Plus, I’m DELUSIONAL.

Fusenshoff takes a moment to let that word sink in… and he’s thirsty.

“Where did you come up with such a splendid word? You really lit up at that moment in your last promo when those ten letters crossed your mind. ‘And delusional is the PERFECT word I'm looking for’ you exclaimed. Let’s rewind to two hours before that, when I said ‘you’re too damn tired from saying the most delusional **** possible so you look high and mighty.’

“PERFECT word. I thought so too.

“So apparently we’re both shouting back and forth at each other, each in our own alternate dimension, unable to comprehend the reality of the situation.

“Or, you’re just copying the same exact sh*t I’m saying about you.

“I know one thing for sure. I’m gonna owe each and every person over at A1E an apology for making their World Champion look like James Varga.

“Oh, you don’t know who that is either, do you? Well, think Duchess and Nakita Dahaka rolled into one… with a cock.

Fuse pauses once again for emphasis. Let’s hope Westcott smartens up in his next promo.

“And keep arguing that I can’t pin you EVER NEVER EVER because I was the one focused on our match last time. You’ll be to China lickety split shoveling that sh*t.

“You beat yourself. I can’t argue with that. From what I’ve seen so far, you’re getting pretty good at it.”

Fade out as Fusenshoff steps off his stool and nonchalantly walks off the set.

 

[MarcusWestcott]

(Static occupies the screen for 5 seconds... then the static slowly degenerates until we see a home-video style cam black and white shot of Marcus Westcott, standing in front of a TEAM backdrop. Marcus is decked out in designer shades, a black (at least in black and white) Armani suit, and dress shoes. Over his left shoulder is the A1E World Heavyweight Championship belt.)

MW: You know Fuse... I don't really think it's reeling. I think it's more like confused. You see, either you're smarter than I am, or much more likely, you exist in some magical universe, or some permanent stupor brought on by drinking so damned much... but last time I checked, what we do isn't settled by words.

Words don't win a match. Once you step inside that ring, it's all about the physical. It's all about wrestling. This isn't theater. This isn't giving a political speech, and it SURE as hell isn't any f*cking spelling bee.

I mean really... what the hell are you going to do? Stand in the center of the ring and TALK me into submission? Are you going to stand there and recite Shakespeare and hope I fall asleep long enough to pin me to the mat?

You might as well, cause we all know you sure as hell can't beat me by wrestling.

And HEAVEN forbid, I use a word that you've already used in your promo. Am I forbidden to use the word "prepared", now? For the love of f*ck... I even implied that I didn't think of the word, but you're rip-roaring and snortin' ready that you're ready to jump on almost anything anyone says.

And f*cking KILL me should I DARE to pronounce anything wrong.

Who are you, the freaking English police? I'm surprised you can even SPEAK considering more booze pumps through your veins than blood. Imagine that, a DRUNK lecturing me about the spoken word.

Oh yeah, speaking of "Who are you?" It's not that I don't know your name... "FUSENHOFF". It's just that I don't respect you enough to use it properly. I'll call you Sally, B*tch, C*cksucker, or Joe the F*cking Plumber for all I care. I'll call you any god damned thing I please.

So let me let you in on a little secret, Janet. Underneath all this "huffing and puffing" is a guy that's DOMINATED this business for the past six years or so. Behind the "Marcus Westcott patented formula" is a guy that's won more titles than you can count.

But don't worry. You won the EPW TV title. Oh wait! You made the playoffs in the Dupree cup! I'm sure you take extreme pride in the fact that only FIFTEEEN other people were better than you in the TiT. Congratulations on all your successes. Really, I mean that.

So why did I not attend TEAM for a year? See, Maria, while you were basking in the glow of all your personal success stories, *I'VE* been off dominating the professional wrestling scene. I've been off defeating entire rosterrs and becoming World Heavyweight Champion, and with the kind of performance, personal appearances and amount of press a real CHAMPION has obligations for, you can say that I haven't had much time for little experiments like TEAM.

So yeah, when Chapel came begging me to show up, it happened to fit into my schedule, and it gave me the opportunity to right some wrongs.
So while you may enjoy "showing up", there's a GRAND difference between just "showing up" and being the absolute greatest.

But I'm sure a man with ALL the success that you've had would understand such a thing.

But of course. You're Shaniqua. You come to work every day and punch your little time card and say "you were there". Meanwhile, I'm off travelling the globe with my name on the marquee, main eventing international television and pay-per-view, selling tickets and putting asses in seats.

Man, I'd KILL to be you right now. Aaaahh, the good old days, when life was so simple.

But that's ok. You've got the EPW TV title. It all evens out.

Gina, this is the Championship of Champions. Sure, you're entitled to be here, even though that four ounce piece of tin you carry around isn't worth a nickel the pawn shop... it's still a title.

But our respective histories shows which one of us truly BELONGS in this match. Be thankful that you've been give such a dream shot, because after I'm done with you in this match, it's gonna be the last one you're ever gonna be able to compete in.

When it's all over, you'll have plenty of time to TALK about it - after all, all you care about is the words. Put them in a f*cking book, and it can shoot straight to the bottom of the best-seller list and the two-dollar bargain bin, because no one gives two f*cks about you. Not now, not ever.

And you can always add "beat by Marcus Westcott when it really counted" to that spectacular list of accomplishments you carry around with you.

(The scene scrambles and dissolves into static for five more seconds, then the screen blinks out.)

 

[Ravager]

Do I have to introduce myself again?

Sigh.

And here I thought people knew who the Hell I was. Oh well...

Fade in on Ravager. He sits backstage at Polish Hall in Edmonton, Alberta Canada. An hour after the last NAPW show.

So TEAM finally is putting on another show. Here I am ready to prove that the Challenge Title is as valuable as any other title this promotion has...

And it's not on the line. Again.

I should be angry. But then I get told about the chance in front of me. A jump to the head of the line for a shot at becoming Champion of Champions.

Ravager smirks.

I can handle that. Just like I can handle being in the ring with Fusenhoff. A man who I've been looking for since his little upset at the Invitational two years ago. Finally I get my shot at revenge. I won't lie to you Fusenhoff. You're among the elite of my former opponents. For the simple reason that you managed to surprise me. It was my fault for not taking you seriously enough. My fault for not preparing well enough. But I've had a lot of time to work on fixing my mistakes. And I have a lot of extra motivation this time. This time there's a title on the line. This time you're blocking my way from becoming a dual champion. I know TEAM is behind you, because the last thing they want is me with the top two singles titles they have. They haven't been able to take ONE off of me, what chance will they have if I own them both? I will not accept failure. I will not play mind games with anyone. And I will not be caught by surprise. I will be the Champion of Champions. Everything I've done outside of TEAM means nothing right now. And everything I've done in TEAM has all lead to this point. I have busted my ass for three years to earn some respect. And I won't be mocked by some guy who blames a fan for his loss.

Marcus Wescott.

Don't know you. Obviously you're good, or you wouldn't be here. But don't try and dismiss me based on two losses. My record in TEAM should speak for itself. I have beaten some of the best to ever lace boots. I have defended the Challenge title no matter the stipulation or opponent and I have come out on top. I made it farther than anyone ever thought I would in the Invitational. And while I lost at the Tournament of Champions, at least I lost to a wrestler, not because I had beer in my eyes. If that bothers you, Marcus, how are you going to function when a stream of blood is flowing into them? Because if you doubt me for even one second. If you come into the ring with me with your false sense of entitlement, I will break you down, bust you open, and tie you in ****ing knots. I don't care that you're a World Champion. I mean, good for you, but it doesn't matter when you face me. I've said this over and over.

Every man who stands across from me in the ring? He is a main event caliber opponent. He is my biggest test of my career. It doesn't matter where the match takes place on the card, or how long he's been wrestling. If you're in the ring with me, you're in the main event, and you're getting the best I've got. I don't need to turn it up for you Marcus. I'm already dialed to eleven. Adding in Fusenhoff means I'm ready to blow the roof off the arena.

So please, be ready. And by the way, Marcus?

My name is Ravager. I am the TEAM Challenge Champion. I will be your opponent at the TEAM Supershow. If you weren't familiar with me before?

You better get to work. Because there's a world of hurt coming your way if you don't. Disrespect me? Then you better hope Fusenhoff finishes you before I can.

Because 2009, I want more gold. And I'll get it no matter who I have to go through...

Fade to Black.

 

[Fusenshoff]

Fade in to Fusenshoff sitting in front of a TEAM backdrop. He’s got the usual- a black leather jacket over a wife beater, black jeans and boots. Inside his leather jacket pocket holds a flask. Apparently the fifth didn’t go over too well with the TEAM brass.

Fusenshoff: “Glad to see you decided to show up Ravager, and not a moment too soon. Someone needs to distract me while Mr. Westcott catches his breath, picks himself up and digs himself out after I buried him alive.

“You’re here, just like Marcus, making excuses for yourself since the last time we met in the ring. I find it interesting that you choose to call him out on his bullsh*t, blaming a fan, then turn around and say you didn’t prepare well enough.

“Whatever the two of you need to tell yourselves while counting sheep at night doesn’t make a difference to me…

“Rav, you made the mistake of bringing up the subject of that belt you hold to the table. I thought you might’ve learned against Randalls, that’s not a good topic for you.

“You argue, ‘They haven't been able to take ONE off of me, what chance will they have if I own them both?’

“I’m sure you’re well aware of this, but I’ll enlighten those, like Marcus and those others scarcely seen in TEAM, who may not be privy to what the Challenge Championship represents. It is a touring title, meaning the champion may defend it in any federation at any time, whenever he sees fit.

“Now correct me if I’m wrong, and I might be… I don’t follow you around like your genital herpes. But, the only defense I remember is your ‘charity’ match against Rob Franklin, which is appropriately named because giving Rob Franklin a title shot is charity.

“One time Ravager? In twenty-two months?! That’s something to be ashamed of, not proud of. I wouldn’t mention that one again until you show up at EPW, A1E, TEAM, NAPW and REBEL Pro begging for someone to accept your CHALLENGE. No wonder you’re anxious for me to pry that thing out of your attic with as much bug spray and spider repellant as I can find.

“You think TEAM is behind me? That’s a rather absurd assumption, but you might be right. You’ve made a mockery of the Challenge Championship.

“Be careful what you say Ravager, it may end up biting you.

“That’s a natural lead-in to my good buddy Marcus Westcott. Well, it used to work anyway. C’mon Marcus, I have to choose between being smarter than you and living in an alternate universe? That’s what your arguments have come to?

“It really is pathetic when you have to remind your opponent that what we do is wrestle when we meet in the ring. Unless you plan on turning this into a bikini contest, you don’t have to spell it out for me. Then again, you show up in a bikini and I promise you’ll win. If that happens I’ll be leaving and I’ll get counted out. Forget the beer-guzzling fan, a bikini will definitely do the trick.

“And what’s the deal with you claiming, ‘Once you step inside that ring, it's all about the physical.’

“That’s gotta be just about the creepiest thing that’s ever come out of your mouth… are you gonna be wearing the bikini while you perform that medical procedure too?

“It’s gonna be hard as hell finding a two-piece that matches a latex glove.

“Right… you don’t respect me, so you purposely mispronounce one syllable in my name wrong. Well according to Ravager, he has all the respect in the world for me now, and he can’t say it right either. Don’t feel bad.

“So I’ve got Ravager in one corner who’s telling himself that he underestimated me last time and won’t make that mistake again. Westcott, on the other hand, is underestimating both of us and, undeterred, continues to make himself look foolish doing so.

“It’s gonna be one hell of a night come Supershow X. I think that’s about the only thing we can bet on so far.”

Fade out as Fusenshoff pulls out his flask and walks off the set.

 

[MarcusWestcott]

(Static occupies the screen for 5 seconds... then the static slowly degenerates until we see a home-video style cam black and white shot of Marcus Westcott, standing in front of a TEAM backdrop. Marcus is decked out in designer shades, a black (at least in black and white) Armani suit, and dress shoes. Over his left shoulder is the A1E World Heavyweight Championship belt.)

MW: You'll have to forgive me for not knowing who the great, talented, all knowing, all powerful, and all-seeing Ravager is.

Christ, the guy's got a name worse than Beast. You sound like you should be the villain in a C horror flick.

So let me get this straight. You're the TEAM Challenge Champion. You've claimed to beat the best that's ever laced up a pair of wrestling boots.

You're great, you've taken on all comers... blah, blah, blah...

And Lillian over there blasts ME for being unoriginal.

So, Ravager... you've done all this and so much more that means nothing to you at this moment... but you let Susie over there BEAT you? Like, he really DEFEATED you? You mean he either PINNED you or made you submit? There was no cowardly escape, like taking the cheap count out win because he was too scared to actually wrestle you?

HE beat you?

Oh for the love of... you guys have absolutely no idea what you're getting yourself into, do you? Does Chapel just want to HAND me the Championship of Champions?

But, I get ahead of myself. You're motivated. There's a title on the line. You want to be a dual Champion. You want revenge, and you want a fresh pair of tights to crap into once you see me coming at you from across the ring.

You'd better be careful, Ravager, because Sandra over there, he thinks this is all about words. Hell, you should have seen how hard he came at me when I said I wanted to avenge the Team A1E loss in the Dupree Cup.
I can only imagine what he's going to do to you now that you're on record for wanting to avenge a TWO year old defeat.

Watch out for those WORDS, Ravager!

And so.. while you're hear pissing and moaning and soiling your panties about how I don't know who you are, you've got the stones to grill me about asking just how aboslutely TOUGH and IMPOSSIBLE it's going to be for me to wrestle with blood in my eyes.

To steal a page from your book, Ravager...

You have absolutely NO f*cking clue who you're dealing with.

(Marcus pats the A1E World Heavyweight Championship on his shoulder.)

MW: You know how I earned the right to challenge for this Championship?

Have you ever HEARD of the A1E Pier Six Brawl?

The most DEVASTATING match ever envisioned in professional wrestling history. As many as 30 people can be in the ring at one time. Any weapon someone can get to the ring is allowed. The ring is surrounded by a sea of barbed wire, and last year, the barbed wire ropes were covered in it. The only way out? Eliminated over the top rope... INTO the barbed wire.

And when it comes down to the last two?

Hell in the Cell. The only way out is through the barbed wire and out the door.

I WON that f*cker last year, Ravager. I bled buckets.

You really think you're that much of a bad @ss, don't you?

"WAAAAAAH I've taken on all challengers. WAAAAAAH I've been in all kinds of stipulation matches! WAAAAAAH MY P*SSY HURTS!!"

You think you've done it all, Ravager... how about you come step into my world for a moment.

I've BEEN broken down. I've BEEN busted open. I've BEEN tied in knots.

I've been in matches that would make you fall to your knees and cry like a f*cking baby.

AND I KEEP COMING BACK.

I don't stop, Ravager. If you're going to beat me in this match, you'd better be prepared to f*cking KILL me, because I'm not going to stop until that belt is around my waist. Karen over there found that out the hard way, and he had to take the easy way out before his head was seperated from his shoulders.

Go ahead. Dial it up to eleven. Dial it up to a f*cking HUNDRED, I don't care.

If you find out ANYTHING about me as you prepare for this match, you'll find out that I don't stop until it's physically impossible to do so.

Don't you worry about me being ready. I'm ALWAYS ready. That's why I've dominated everywhere I've been.

And that INCLUDES dominating you and f*cking Julia over there, and walking out of this match the NEW Champion of Champions.

(The scene scrambles and dissolves into static for five more seconds, then the screen blinks out.)

 

[Fusenshoff]

”Make the lie big, make it simple, keep saying it, and eventually they will believe you.”
-Adolf Hitler


Fade in to Fusenshoff sitting in front of a TEAM backdrop, ready and prepared to parry yet another half-hearted barrage of WORDS from Marcus Westcott. He’s got his black leather jacket on, his black jeans and black boots. He has his EPW Television Title around his waist. The same title Westcott fought him for, couldn’t win, and now belittles it like it has any bearing in this match at all. His flask is sitting in the custom-made cup holder Fusenshoff has added to the belt.

Fusenshoff: “How do you know when you’ve completely deflated your opponent to the point where he has nothing to talk about? How do you know when you’ve turned his argument so upside-down you have an arsenal of jeers at your disposal?

“When he resorts to calling you girls’ names. That’s what we like to call in this business, REACHING.

“Marcus, you tease me because my team only made the playoffs in the Dupree Cup two years ago while yours went to the Finals. Well, you’ve got me there. Yes, that’s true, and it’s so vitally important to the match we have next week, I might add.

“Even though I went undefeated in that Dupree Cup.

“Even though I held up my end against A1E, beating Big Dog.

“You keep yapping about past matches Marcus. Keep tooting your own horn when it has absolutely nothing to do with our battle next week, pretending like it matters because you have nothing else.

“But the thing that really kills me. The thing that makes me shake my head and worry this match won’t live up to its magnitude…

“That’s your blatant acceptance that during this promotional period, during this exchange of WORDS that happens before EVERY match, you’ve totally submitted.

“Submitted like an elementary student… being bullied on the playground at recess. You’re right Marcus, they’re just words. Words I’ve used to berate, belittle, criticize and contradict yours at every turn.

“But the real story of this promo period is your frame of mind.

“You’ve said little else besides boasting about your feelings that I’m not on the same level as you. Normally, I could care less. But I’m perturbed. I’m worried. I’m concerned that your head isn’t where it should be.

“How could it be? I’m walking into this match ready for a war and you’re ready for a cakewalk. I came to TEAM because it’s the one place where everyone comes to fight the very best. That’s the reason I wrestle- to give absolutely everything I have for as long as I can.

TEAM’s the place where everyone has something to prove and everyone comes at you with everything they have. It’s sole focus is competition. There’s no backstage tussles or stables running out to ruin a battle. People come here to match themselves up against the competition.

“And we’re fighting for the top accolade TEAM has to offer.

“This is a Championship of Champions title match and you think you’ll barely be tested at all. I want everything you have Marcus, and I’m prepared to give you the same. Are you prepared for that? Your WORDS say otherwise.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten for one second that it is our actions that matter when we fight.

“I know it will take my supreme focus, every moment of the match, if I’m to come away the winner when we face each other at Supershow X. I know that if I slip up, if I get distracted, even for a moment, any opponent could capitalize on that mistake and finish me off before I know what’s happened. That’s the grim reality of the career we’ve chosen.

“You may think you’re invulnerable to even breaking a sweat in this match. We’ll see just how far above and beyond you are when we meet.

Can you really afford to bring your B-game because you think we’re B-competition?

“Your arrogance may come with a price.

Fade out as Fusenshoff looks both disappointed and concerned, like a father watching his son make a gaffe, but can’t do anything about it. He just has to sit back and watch as his foolish counterpart reaps the repercussions of his own faults.

 

[MarcusWestcott]

(Static occupies the screen for 5 seconds... then the static slowly degenerates until we see a home-video style cam black and white shot of Marcus Westcott, standing in front of a TEAM backdrop. Marcus is decked out in designer shades, a black (at least in black and white) Armani suit, and dress shoes. Over his left shoulder is the A1E World Heavyweight Championship belt. Marcus has got a bit of a smirk on his face as he looks at the camera.)

MW: Cecilia, we need to get one thing perfectly clear.

The ONLY thing I'm reaching for in this little affair... is the TEAM Championship of Champions.

But if you had to listen to my opponent, he would have you think that this match is already over, just because he can string a couple sentences together without slurring or stuttering.

According to Jennifer over there, that's all that this is about.

Which is why when you bring up his PAST, he wants nothing to do with it. Frankette will have you believe that absolutely nothing that I - or he - has accomplished in the past has no bearing on what's going to happen in the ring when we meet for the Championsship of Champions.

THAT, I will offer, is complete and utter BULLSH*T.

You see, Lcille over there doesn't want to talk about what I've done over the course of my career. He doesn't want to have what he's done examined, and have the two compare.

It's hilarious, because for a guy that acts like he's the Second F*cking Coming when it comes to WORDS, he's got an awful hard time reading between the lines.

Stephanie over there has spent his at least his EPW career fighting against the bottom feeders and midcarders, where he proudly carries a low-level card that I wouldn't be bothered wiping my @ss with, and telling the world he's AWESOME because he took the coward's way out against me, and did OK in a couple of TEAM tournaments, finding nothing but mediocre success along the way.

*I*, on the other hand, have spent my career fighting against the upper card, main eventing more shows than I can possibly remember, winning multiple World Championships in two different federations, and enjoying TONS of success against competition that would leave Francine over there with sh*t dribbling into his shoes.

The concept that you simpy can't grasp - or refuse to accept because it would mean your demise and the shattering of what ever useless dog and pony show you've got going on over there - is that everything we've done in the past makes us who we are today. Every decision we've made... every step we've taken... every match we've wrestled, every time we've won and every time we've lost... has molded us into what we are today.
But in Fantasia's world, all that matters is who can put together a couple zingers in the here and now.

Now, call me crazy, but if Tiger Woods is going to is going to step into a playoff against a low-level amateur, guess who I'm going to bet on. It's the bottom of the ninth, two out, bases loaded, and you've got a choice between Doc Holiday or some guy that's had some mediocre success in the minors... guess who I'm going to call on.

And in case you haven't figured it out... you're the minor-leaguer.
Proven history, proven experience, and consistent success are all things that make a great Champion, Felicia, and those are all things that I've got in spades.

And those are all things that you have yet to attain.

You see, I've BEEN there. I've fought the tough matches, and I've won them. I've fought in all the gigantic wars, and I've survived them.
And you think, that right now, I'm done. I'm beat. I suck, you're amazing,

I have no chance of winning, you're the greatest.

And I'm saying the same thing. It's all part of the job, Carmen.

But for some reason, the fact that I come in here shooting my mouth off, ooooh, I'm all over-confident. I expect this to be a cake-walk. I have faith in myself, so that means that I'm not preparing for this match.

I'm taking things too lightly.

Tell me something... are you some f*cking ROOKIE or something?

Christ, no wonder you've never accomplished anything.

Hell, for all you know, it just might be part of the act to lull you in to some false sense of security, and then I'll f*cking POUNCE on you when the bell rings, and you won't know what's hit you.

Hehe... seems to be working pretty damned well so far.

Just because I may act cocky and full of strut, doesn't mean that I don't take ANY match I'm in VERY seriously. All the MORE so when there's a major title on the line. You need to understand this, Lisa, or you're going to be flat on your back and down for three seconds faster than Cameron Cruise can take a d*ck up the @ss.

EVERY match I'm in is a big deal. Just because you don't SEE me watching the tapes, or training in the gym... doesn't mean it doesn't happen. Hell, if that were the case, one could make the same assumption about you, considering all you do in your segments is sit on a stool with another bottle in your hand.

But hell, we've already been through that whole darned "rip me for something that you already do yourself" bit.

Don't make yourself look any dumber.

The fact is, Julia... I'm in the best shape of my life. Just the past year alone, I've beaten entire rosters and won World Heavyweight Championship gold. I've beat EPW World Champions, and it's number one contenders.

And just because you feel the need to continously tell yourself that you've already beaten me just so you can sleep at night and give you just enough confidence that you're not going to get KILLED in that ring, it doesn't mean it's a foregone conclusion.

If you think I've already submitted... YOU'RE the one that's gotten way too cocky.

Ooops, there's that pesky "turn your insult back around at you" thing again.

I should really stop that before I make you look REALLY stupid.

You want me to bring my "A" game?

Fine, Karen...

It's your funeral.

(The scene scrambles and dissolves into static for five more seconds, then the screen blinks out.)

 

[Ravager]

Ravager paces in front of a TEAM banner.

It stings when people are right.

My TEAM Challenge title sits and gathers dust. Even though I've offered to defend it several times, most feds worry about their own titles, let alone a traveling one. And my focus on TEAM's tournaments has kept the title from being defended. Never mind the fact that even when I did defend the title, half the time TEAM didn't even bother to air the match.

You think that doesn't piss me off? That my title belt has sat for a year, when it's not entirely my fault? People forget the fights I had to keep that belt. They forget who I beat to win the damn thing. And now they sit and wonder why I'm even in this Champion of Champions match?

Is it because TEAM thinks they owe me? A guy who has appeared on every Supershow. Someone who answers the call every time a tournament is announced. Someone who guarantees a good match, no matter the opponent.

Or maybe they think this will be the match to drive me away. Two guys who don't have a lot of respect for me. And me coming in after two of my biggest losses in TEAM. Add to the fact that the title I once held so proud is now a source of mockery from the so called elite. Maybe some of the higher ups hope I'll slip out of town after this match, leaving the Challenge title in the gutter to be forgotten.

Ravager stops pacing and faces the camera.

Or maybe I ignore the mind games from the less confident and the less talented. I am not a match maker. I don't get to choose title defenses or contenders. If I did, why would Wescott even be in a match like this? If I did, why would Fusenhoff be a contender for the Challenge title, when he clearly has no respect for the belt? You boys have been done nothing but talk all week. I try to find the words to answer you, but really, aren't I above name calling? Don't I have better things to do than correct your historical errors? I am getting ready for the biggest match I've had so far in TEAM. Not only am I trying to become Champion of Champions, but there is so much more going on here.

This is TEAM's first show of the new year. We have champions who have been forced to vacate their titles. We have titles that aren't being defended. We have titles that change hands every show. We have an organization that needs a champion to look up to. Someone who can carry the title of Champion of Champions, and give it the distinction it deserves. Now, does TEAM want a guy who is rarely without a bottle of liquor in his hands, or a guy who resorts to using girl names when he runs out of psychological tools to use against his opponents; or two men who have no respect for the champions in the organization they wrestle for?

Is that who they want as Champion of Champions?

Or do they want a guy who will do what is best for the organization. Who will give his all for every opponent. Who will focus on every match like its a title match. I've made my mistakes during my career. I've shown my fair share of disrespect. And that has never gotten me anywhere. Marcus. You're a loudmouth. Juvenile. You have an inflated sense of adequacy as a human being. But you're a World Champion. You've hung with the best. Fusenhoff? You beat me. That's all it takes to get my respect. The two of you are elite athletes.

But neither of you want this as much as me. Because you both are looking for personal glory. And now you got a little vendetta going between the two of you. That works well for me. Because now I see this match for what it is:

A chance for me to save TEAM. Because if either of you two become Champion of Champions?

I'd hate to see where TEAM goes after that.

Ravager smirks as we fade to black.

 

[Fusenshoff]

Fade in to Fusenshoff sitting in front of a TEAM backdrop in his usual attire. This time the EPW Television Title is absent. He intends to watch the Super Bowl after this and carrying the trinket around with him in public isn’t his style.

Fusenshoff: “I guess there’s a first time for everything. Marcus, if you’re gonna call someone out on their past career accolades, you might want to make sure they suck first.

“Don’t call out a guy who has four singles losses in the past two years.

“A guy who beat James Irish while he held your A1E World Heavyweight Championship. A guy who beat Ravager while he held the NAPW World Heavyweight Championship.

“Those were my first two singles matches… ever.

“But I only fight low-to-mid-carders, right?

“I won the EPW Television Title in my second match at that federation. I lost it to Ice Tre, then won it back the very next show. Oh, and those low-to-mid carders I beat because I’m Television Champion and not World Champion yet…

“…one of them was you.

“But keep talking about how I’m not as accomplished as you. I’ve been the hottest newcomer in wrestling since I showed up two years ago. I don’t talk about it because it doesn’t matter. I don’t talk about it because I don’t rest on my laurels. I don’t talk about it because it doesn’t give me a better chance of winning.

“Did you hear that, Marcus? It doesn’t give me a better chance of winning. Sorry to burst your bubble.

“You compare yourself to Tiger Woods and me to a low-level amateur. You’ve shot yourself in the foot so many times with your ‘I’m better than you’ argument that it looks like a cheese grater.

“And you’re doing it to ‘lull me into a false sense of security.’ You’re trapping me by saying I’m not good enough to beat you. Yeah, that makes a hell of a lot of sense.

Fusenshoff stands up, puffs out his chest and holds his arms away from his sides. He sticks his nose up and bobs his shoulders up and down. He’s doing his best Westcott impression.

“I’m the best. You’re the worst. I’m going to win because I’ve won more World Titles. But it’s all a trick so you won’t be ready for me.

Fuse sits down and returns to normal, pulling out his flask and taking a swig.

“But it doesn’t have to make sense right? Thanks for proving my quote from the previous promo correct. That’s a perfect example. Say it loud, make it big, do it enough and eventually they’ll believe it.

“It’s too bad we’re not all a bunch of retarded Aryans.

“The only one who believes your lies is you. The only one who thinks I’m overmatched is you. The only one who thinks tenure means anything once the bell rings is you.

“The only one making excuses to ignore the harsh reality… is you.”

Fade out as Fusenshoff leaves to find the nearest pub, where he’ll watch the Super Bowl and drown himself in ethanol.

 

[MarcusWestcott]

(Static occupies the screen for 5 seconds... then the static slowly degenerates until we see a home-video style cam black and white shot of Marcus Westcott, standing in front of a TEAM backdrop. Marcus is decked out in designer shades, a black (at least in black and white) Armani suit, and dress shoes. Over his left shoulder is the A1E World Heavyweight Championship belt.)

MW: Jesus Christ, Ravager. Is that all you do is f*cking whine and complain? Is this what you're famous for? *****ing? If you want to defend your title so damned badly, just put it on the line already and shut the f*ck up.

But of course, you won't, since you know you're getting your ass kicked in this match, and then you'll just continue on *****ING that you've got nowhere to defend it.

Give us a freaking BREAK already.

And Jennifer over there...

Don't defend yourself using information that only serves to bury you and make my point for me.

Congratulations, you beat James Irish, a guy that was on the downslope of the hill that was his wrestling career. You beat Ravager, a guy that can barely show up and promote his matches, yet says that he's willing to work his ass off and do what's best for the federation. Yup, that's beating a real winner there.

And then there's Ice Tre. That deserves some REAL kudos, Marcie. Congratulations. You LOST to a guy that's the laughing stock of professional wrestling and quite possibly the worst wrestler to ever lace on a pair of boots, but by golly, you've beaten him, so that must amount for something.

That's quite some A-list of victories you've got there, Melissa. I'd be HAPPY to put that on my resume and get laughed out of every federation
I tried to get work in.

Yup... while I'm off defeating LEGENDS and megastars, you're off beating a bunch of wannabes.

Fantastic comparison.

And then there's that little issue with us.

Yeah, you keep telling yourself you BEAT me, Michelle. Go ahead.

What was that people say about if you keep telling everyone something enough times, they start to believe it?

When you've pinned my shoulders to the mat or made me submit... THEN you can say you've defeated me, and not a damned second sooner, and we all know there's a better chance of winning the lottery than that ever happening. But maybe that's the way you get all your victories. Climb back inside the ring at the stroke of ten after suckering your opponent... yeah, that's something to be really proud of.

But of course, that makes you Mr. AWESOME, so who am I to argue?

But then again, you're also Mr. Logic, so you go figure it out.

And while you're busy trying to comprehend your own stupidity, I'll be busy dropping you on your inebriated melon and taking home the TEAM Championship of Champions.

(The scene scrambles and dissolves into static for five more seconds, then the screen blinks out.)

 

[Fusenshoff]

Fade in to Fusenshoff sitting at a bar watching hockey on television. He has two shots and a brew sitting in front of him that he hasn’t finished yet. He’s wearing the usual, sans the EPW TV Title, which he doesn’t carry around with him in public. He looks at the cameraman sitting kitty-corner to him and begins to speak.

Fusenshoff: “Yeah, so I knock off two World Champions--while they still had their belts--in my first two matches… and you downplay it as a miniscule coup…

“Talk about getting blindsided. You mean Marcus Westcott brushed off an impressive accomplishment as middling, meanwhile touting his list of triumphs as more than grandiloquent posturing? NEVER!!!

“You’re nothing more than a glorified potty mouth. Glorified only in your own mind and in that federation you call home. In this federation you haven’t done a damn thing besides sulked.

“And yeah, you lost to me, you whiny little toddler. You rag on Ravager for complaining about not getting any respect, but every time I mention your LOSS in EPW you throw a little piss parade, throwing out every excuse you can possibly think of to downplay it. You throw your hands up and open your big mouth about it being a travesty.

“You even resorted to arguing I should’ve pulled the fan away, wiped the beer off your shirt, dusted you off and given you a tissue for your eyes, and tossed you back in the ring so we could continue.

“You actually seem to believe that sh*t you spew.

“In EPW you haven’t even smelled the World Heavyweight Title since you asked Sean Stevens for his autograph. It’s been four long ass years since you’ve done anything of note in Empire Pro. Back when you were Beast. Back before you got laughed into a new moniker. Nowadays you’re getting locked in locker rooms by your own tag partner while he grins a mile wide, watching you take it like a canine named Chrissy.

“Your stock has fallen like you’re waiting for dividends from General Motors.

“Your silly ass retorts about the Mighty Marcus being the greatest wrestler in our community are grossly farfetched. I could argue the Detroit Lions will win the Super Bowl and get the same reaction.

“People would laugh in my face, just like they’re laughing in yours over at EPW. Just like they’re laughing at the fact that you waltzed into this match and have acted like TEAM’s savior.

“Marcus Westcott, whose most inventive contribution to professional wrestling is Lindsay Troy penis jokes.

“Marcus Westcott, the man with a more diluted sense of self-worth than Kim Kardashian.

“Marcus Westcott, who holds a title that would be defunct if Big Dog hadn’t groveled at Dan Ryan’s feet to save A1E from annihilation, if not obscurity.

“Save your sorry, bombastic drivel for those in A1E who are impressed with four-letter words as an innovative criticism. The place where your yelling and screaming and pleas for approval are impervious to the perception of mediocrity.

“You’ve already protested that my WORDS are paramount while your wrestling is supposedly superior.

“When our fists do the talking, you may find yourself at a loss for WORDS, Mecca.

Fade out as Fusenshoff downs both of his shots before chasing it with the beer. He turns to watch more hockey, perturbed that he missed a couple of goals to once again thwart any attempt Marcus makes at saving his former reputation in this match.

 

[Ravager]

So, what? Does this Wescott guy have a cousin in film school who needs experience behind the camera or something?

Fade in on Ravager, talking on the phone with.

I mean he's putting out videos like he's on a campaign trail. I mean, if he were trying to get voted as Champion of Champions, I could see it...

Ravager chuckles humorlessly.

Well, he has to have some fans. Someone liked him enough to give him a shot at the title, even if Fusenhoff and I are the only two who really deserve it...

Look at my record the last three years and tell me I don't deserve it. And Fusenhoff, all kidding aside, has beaten me. And he's getting screwed out of his shot at the Challenge title...

Shut up, I do still have it. .... No, it hasn't been retired. Have you listened to anything I've been saying?

Ravager rolls his eyes.

Well, I'm sorry you've had time to forget since my last video. But I'm not just going to put a video out every few hours just to hear myself talk. I'd probably wind up saying the same thing over and over again. I mean, look as Wescott. You might as well call him the Cookie Cutter Kid, because all his promos are exactly the same...

Well not 100%. He'll use different words every now and then. Maybe we can call him the Mad Libs Mauler. I can see him now:

"Okay, I need an adjective, a Woman's name and a pronoun. That'll put Fusenhoff in his place".

Of course I'm taking him seriously. He's a decent wrestler. And he's my opponent. But if he thinks he's going to win by putting out a video an hour, he's got another thing coming. I don't win matches on the Internet, I win them in the ring. Wescott thinks he's got some kind of momentum, but really, all he's getting is two pissed off opponents. I mean, have you heard Fusenhoff lately? I think he'll rip Wescott's face off the first chance he gets....

Now why would I get in his way? It's an elimination match. Fusenhoff can work out all the anger he wants to. I'll be more than happy to let him take the spotlight. Just as long as he's not too disappointed when I take my turn in the limelight. I've waited almost two years to get him back in the ring, and it won't get any sweeter than to beat him for the Champion of Champions title. Well, maybe if I beat Wescott to take the belt. Maybe it will shut him up once and for all...

No, I haven't heard much from anybody else on the show. But really, I have my own match, why worry about what everybody else does? There are only two people standing in my way of the Champion of Champions belt, and I am more than focused on them. Don't you worry.

Yeah, okay. I'll be in touch.

Ravager turns off his phone, then goes and stands in front of a TEAM: Supershow X banner.

Ravager: So, you ready for me to do this?

Camera Man: No, I think we got enough already.

Ravager: ... Were you going to tell me you were taping?

Camera Man: We were, but then you made us wait half an hour while you took your phone call.

Ravager: (sighs) ****in' techs...

Fade to black.

 

[MarcusWestcott]

(Static occupies the screen for 5 seconds... then the static slowly degenerates until we see a home-video style cam black and white shot of Marcus Westcott, standing in front of a TEAM backdrop. Marcus is decked out in designer shades, a black (at least in black and white) Armani suit, and dress shoes. Over his left shoulder is the A1E World Heavyweight Championship belt.)

MW: Just when I thought that Tiffany over there couldn't get any dumber, he went and opened his mouth again. And it happened.

Wow.

See, June, now you're saying stupid sh*t to try and make yourself look good. Where EVER did I say that you should have saved my @ss? All I'm saying is that YOU CAN'T BEAT ME STRAIGHT UP. If you want to take the easy way out, then that's your bag of marbles, and jeez, if it wasn't YOU throwing the piss parade every time *I* brought it up.

But there's that thing again... you're allowed to say whatever you want, and when someone else turns it back on you, well, then THEY'RE the @ssholes.

F*CK YOU, Julia.

Glorified.... and glorified only in A1E... that's just f*cking precious.
Tell me again, Karen... exactly HOW MANY World Heavyweight Championships have you won? What was that? Don't be shy. You can tell us the truth. We won't laugh at you. Too much.

That's right.

A BIG, F*CKING, ZERO amount of times.

Glorified only in A1E, but went on a 10 month tear in Empire Pro as World Champion, like that's something to laugh at. But not having sniffed the title since then?

Let's see... if I was Dan Ryan, and I was in the middle of a inter-company war with two federations at stake... would I REALLY give my biggest opponent a shot at my own company's belt?

For the love of F*CK are you STUPID.

And then, after Ryan steps down, and the Wicked Witch of the West takes over, a woman I dated, broke up NASTILY with, and have slagged at every opportunity, and she's going to give ME a World Title shot?

Jesus Christ, you ARE that dumb.

And it's not like I don't deserve it. Sean Stevens? Beat him. JA? Beat him. Rocko Daymon? Beat him. So AGAIN, Megan... while I've been out defeating World Champions, YOU'RE the one languishing at the bottom of the card.

You're so busy trying to wipe your own sh*t off your back that you hadn't even bothered to notice that I formally changed my in-ring name OVER A YEAR AGO, but the f*cktards in EPW are only catching up now.
But that doesn't matter, because whatever Frick and Frack says is absolute GOLD, be damned what anyone else says - or PROVES.

Tell you what, Felicia... you can go f*ck yourself with a wine corker for all I - or anyone else on this planet cares. Until you can actually PROVE you're something, you are NOTHING, and so help me God, the officials are going to have to pull me off of your cold bloody carcass. The only way you're leaving that ring is under someone else's power, and I'll be walking right behind you with the TEAM Championship around my waist as I help you into the f*cking ambulance.

You're absolutely correct. I AM TEAM's savior.

Saving TEAM from all YOUR horsesh*t.

And look who finally decides to show up. Ravager, the guy who pisses and moans about never having a challenge, and then when he's given one, won't even man up and answer it.

Ravager, you can speak when you finally become a man. Until then, crawl back into your hole and cry yourself to sleep over how no one's giving you any respect around here. Deserve it, my @ss. Only thing you deserve is being dropped on your head and being eliminated from this match.

(The scene scrambles and dissolves into static for five more seconds, then the screen blinks out.)

 

[Fusenshoff]

Fade in to nothing but a TEAM backdrop. Fusenshoff walks out holding a white piece of paper. He faces the camera and holds the paper up to his chest.

Fusenshoff: “This is a transcript from a Marcus Westcott promotional segment. This promo was presented on January twenty-eighth at four twenty pee em, eastern standard time. Marcus Westcott is quoted in the promo as saying:

“So if you're so damned AWESOME, Fuse... then why didn't you just roll me into the ring and pin me?”

“There it is Westcott… plain as day. You say I’m making it up, but we have you on tape. Let’s see you make an excuse for that. I’m sure you’ll come up with something, you always do.

“And Ravager, thanks for the ‘moral support’, but I can handle this one on my own. I think that’s been pretty clear from the very beginning.

Fade out to a big grin on Fusenshoff’s face. Once again, he’s laughing, while Marcus stomps his feet and grinds his teeth.

 

[MarcusWestcott]

(Marcus Westcott, in front of a TEAM backdrop.)

MW: Me: “So if you're so damned AWESOME, Fuse... then why didn't you just roll me into the ring and pin me?”

You: “You even resorted to arguing I should’ve pulled the fan away, wiped the beer off your shirt, dusted you off and given you a tissue for your eyes, and tossed you back in the ring so we could continue.

Yeah, so WHICH one of us has been busy making sh*t up and spreading excuses?

How about you look in the f*cking mirror for once?

Oh yeah... there's that Francine special "my sh*t don't stink" BS again.

(Fade out with Marcus sporting a big grin.)