Profile

Ring Name: "The Tennessee Cowboy" James Storm
Birth Name: James Allan Black
Ht/Wt: 6', 245
Hometown: Leiper's Fork, TN
Manager: "The Pride of Tennessee" Miss Jackie Moore
Record: 00/00/00
Trophy Case: Contracted by WIW; assigned to Fusion.

The Woman Behind the Curtain

Credits

Banner by me; Inspiration from Faded Love Designs
and DDG.

What'd I Miss?

Little does anyone know, "The Tennessee Cowboy" James Storm has signed up to work with WIW, bringing "The Pride of Tennessee" Miss Jackie Moore along with him. His first match is scheduled, and it looks to be a helluva challenge. Will he overcome it or be weighed down by the pressure associated with this new company?

Roleplay

Scene 1
Waking Up to Women

The sound of empty beer bottles being kicked around on the floor is heard even though the screen remains blackened.

Female Voice: "Dammit to hell..."

More cans being kicked around is heard as the scene fades in, revealing a pair of legs clad in hot pink pants that go down into a pair of black cowboy boots that are trimmed and decorated with gold thread.

Female Voice: "Storm, if you don't.. pick up these damned bottles.. I'm gonna kill you."

The camera pans up, revealing more of the woman, who's dressed in a hot pink top, black belt, and hot pink pants, with her long black hair hanging down behind her shoulders, ending at her waist. Her smooth coffee colored skin had a hint of age in it; her brown eyes seeming to glow with an inner light, a glint of annoyance reflected in them. If anyone has been watching pro wrestling for the past few years, they'd call her by her name - Miss Jackie Moore.

Miss Jackie: "Storm!"

The call is unanswered, much to her dismay. Wading through the empty bottles, thier previous contents unknown, she makes her way to the staircase at her right, going up them at a nice clip, two at a time, until she reaches the second floor. Looking both ways, she turns to her left, going down the hallway until she reaches a door that's unmarked, it's use known only to the person who's inside. Knocking on it, she waits, frowning angrily.

Miss Jackie: "Storm, open this door! Don't make me come in there!"

She waits another moment then knocks again, her presence ignored by whomever this Storm person is.

Miss Jackie: "That's it, I'm coming in whether you're decent or not."

She mutters under her breath before opening the door.

Miss Jackie: "Please, God, let him be decent..."

Turning the knob, she opens the door, walking in a few steps before letting go of the door. The room is darkened, due to no lights being on and the curtains being closed, but that is soon remedied as she goes over and jerks the curtains open, letting sunlight flood the room. Turning around, she sighs impatiently as she sees someone - obviously the Storm she was looking for - laying facedown on the bed, sound asleep. Going over to the bed, she puts her hand on his shoulder and shakes him, trying to wake him up.

Miss Jackie: "Storm, wake up."

She shakes him again, sighing impatiently.

Miss Jackie: "Storm, come on. You have a plane to catch in about.."

She raises her arm and glances at her watch before dropping her hand back down to pat his back firmly a few times.

Miss Jackie: "...five hours. Before then, you need to get your ass up, get a shower, get dressed, get your stuff together, and get to the airport before first call. Now get up."

Before she can say anything else, a door opens and shuts behind her. Turning, she sees a shapely blonde step into the room a bit further with nothing but a towel wrapped around her. Frowning, the brunette looks her over before talking to her.

Miss Jackie: "And just who are you?"

The blonde looks at her blankly, as if she didn't even hear her before smiling brightly and replying.

Blonde: "Oh, I'm Cammie, James' girlfriend."

Miss Jackie: "No.. you're not. I know who he's seeing, and it ain't you. Try again."

Cammie: "Who are you, his mother?"

Miss Jackie: "No, his manager."

Cammie: "Oh, I'm sorry... you just looked old enough to fit the part."

Miss Jackie's face turns from one of boredom to anger as the blonde smirks at her. You can just see that there's about to be a catfight.. one that everyone would bet on Miss Jackie to win.

Miss Jackie: "At least I'm not some two-bit whore that James found on a street corner for a meaningless fling!"

The blonde's shriek of horror at this comment preceeds the action of her stomping over to Miss Jackie and slapping her across the face, leaving a red mark on her cheek and flinging her cowboy hat off onto the floor. Miss Jackie, not about to take this lightly, backhands her, making the blonde fall to the floor, landing on what little ass she has. Apparently all of this pre-catfight yelling has gotten through the fog of sleep to wake James up enough so he sits up in the bed, rubbing his eyes before alerting the two women to his presence.

James Storm: "HEY!"

The two women, who were in the middle of their fight, stop suddenly. The blonde on the floor looks up at him from the floor, underneath Miss Jackie's heel.

James Storm: "Jackie, get over here and stop stepping on... Casey?"

Jackie turns and walks towards him, stopping in front of his endtable. The blonde gets up and snatches up the towel that had fallen off during the fight, covering herself.

Cammie: "It's Cammie..."

James Storm: "Whatever... Cammie, Casey, whatever the hell your name is.. get your clothes on and go."

Cammie: "But James.. I thought I was your girlfriend.."

James Storm: "In your dreams, maybe.. now get your shit and go."

Pouting, the blonde huffs and walks off, going to do what she was told. Looking up at Jackie, James runs his hand through his flat black hair.

James Storm: "Now why the hell do I have to get up and why are you here?"

She looks at him, clearly annoyed.

Miss Jackie: "I told you. You have a plane to catch."

James Storm: "To where?"

Miss Jackie: "Ugh.. to your first match, James. Remember? You were accepted to WIW, and you have your first match this Friday versus like, eight other guys. I got the fax a couple days ago."

As she was relaying this information to him, she noticed he was continuously looking around, as if looking for something.

Miss Jackie: "What is it?"

James Storm: "Where the hell are my pants?"

She probably would've laughed any other time, but right now, she was too pissed to laugh. Sighing her frustration, she looked around and snatched his pants off of a painting of James and Chris Harris back when they were in TNA as AMW. Tossing them to him, he catches them and puts them on, not bothering to button them.

James Storm: "I'm gonna go take a shower. I'll be out in a few minutes. Make yourself useful.. pack my luggage."

She could've bitchslapped him for that, but she did as he instructed as he went into the bathroom that Cammie had come out of only moments before. Searching through his closet, she picks out the best looking and cleanest clothes she can find before putting them in his bags. Switching gears, she then goes through his dresser, plucking out his ring gear and putting it in a separate bag. Hearing him getting out of the shower and grooming himself, she puts an outfit out on his bed for him to dress in once he gets done. Putting his bags on the bed beside it, she finds a clean place to sit and wait. He comes out of the bathroom a few minutes later and puts on the clothes she's set out before tossing a small case into one of the bags.

James Storm: "You did good. So how long do I have left til my flight?"

She looked at her watch again.

Miss Jackie: "Four hours because you wasted one oversleeping. Now come on.. we need to get to the airport before the plane leaves without us."

James Storm: "Alright, alright. Just let me double check. Beer, gear, grooming kit, clothes, wallet... we're good. Let's go."

He picks up his bags and leaves the room with her following directly behind him. As they leave the house, she flips her cell phone open and dials a number. Handing his bags to the cabbie, he looks at her.

James Storm: "Who're you calling?"

Miss Jackie: "Housekeeping. You need that barnyard of a living room cleaned up."

James Storm: "It ain't that bad... that'd be clean to the APA."

Miss Jackie: "Just get in and let's go."

The cabbie gets back into the driver's seat as they get into the back before driving off, headed for the airport.

Scene 2
Lights, Camera... Reality?

Hours later, they arrive at the studio where Miss Jackie has informed him that he is to tape his first promo for airing for WIW. Carrying an open beer in one hand and a six pack of unopened bottles in the other, he walks in. Dressed in a black sleeveless pullover shirt, blue jeans, and a black cowboy hat, he walks into the room reserved for him, seeing a couple of cameras, lighting gear, a backdrop, an overstuffed chair, and a few women for makeup staff. Shaking his head, he can't believe what his career has boiled down to. Turning to Miss Jackie, he flings a hand towards the setup, clearly not happy.

James Storm: "What the hell is this? I didn't sign up to sit in a chair and talk. When I signed that contract, I expected to have the benefits like everyone else! Free beer, food, a locker room, a hotel room, MORE free beer, women, gold, glory! This... this is little better than what I left TNA having! What the fuck did you pay them with? A couple hundred bucks and two chickens? This is crap, Jackie!"

She sighs. She knew he was going to do this. He acted little better than a spoiled diva at times.

Miss Jackie: "I know, James, I know. You'll get that in time. For now, you'll have to deal with this. Now go over there and get started. Like I said, they're two up on you, and you need to say something."

James Storm: "No. No, I don't NEED to say something. What I NEED is what I deserve, dammit.. and what I deserve is a helluva lot better than this!"

He goes to storm out of the room, but she stops him. He whirls around, his dark eyes fixed on her, his face contorted in anger.

Miss Jackie: "Storm, don't leave. You HAVE to do this.. don't do it, and they will win. Is that what you want? Do you want anyone else to win? If you leave now, what am I supposed to do with this?"

James Storm: "I don't know, and I really don't care. Shove it up your ass if you want to. Just get rid of it."

He turns and leaves without her stopping him this time. Storming down the hallway, he doesn't know or care where he's going. He just knows he has to get away from the crap that Miss Jackie's pulled yet again. He deserved better than that, and he knew it. He just wished others would wake up and realize it. Shoving open a pair of doors at the end of the hallway, he ends up outside, underneath a canopy that's sheilding him from the rain that's begun pouring down from the grey sky. Sighing, he leans against the dry brick wall, staring out at the weather before he begins speaking to nobody in particular, as if he knew the camera had followed him out here.

James Storm: "This is unbelievable. I'm a former three-time NWA Tag Team champion, NWA North American Heavyweight title... I could go on for hours about the titles I've held... all that, and what do I get? Shit. I get shit. Not even ONE free beer! It's like none of what I've done matters at all. I'm not saying it should, seeing that this is a new company, but I should at least get better than what was in there."

He jabs his thumb towards the building behind him, indicating the room he left Miss Jackie in. Dropping his arm back down to his side, he looks out at the rain that's still pouring down past the canopy.

James Storm: "When I was in TNA, I had it all. Money, fame, glory, women, gold, quality air time, all the free beer I could drink... you name it, I probably had it. Chris and I were on top of the world from the minute we teamed up and dubbed ourselves the America's Most Wanted. Three damn reigns as tag team champions. We beat all there was to beat - Elix Skipper and Chris Daniels, Scott Hall and Syxx, the SATs, Wylde and Rave, Estrada and Siaki, Steele and Punk, Brian Lawler and Disco Inferno, Brian Lee and Ron Harris... we've beat them all. We even went so far as to beat Team 3D. People we didn't even know were buying us drinks at bars, wanting to be our friends for the sheer pleasure of being able to shove it in thier friends' faces. It was like nothing I'd ever experienced. We were the best you could get in the tag team division. Nobody could beat us... nobody."

He paused a minute, collecting his thoughts, reminiscing about those times. His dark eyes seem haunted as he looks down at the concrete, frowning.

James Storm: "At least, that's what I thought. In two-thousand-six, Chris and I lost the tag team titles to Daniels and Styles. That was just the tip of the iceberg, the beginning of what would be a long, steep drop down a black as night hole that I still can't see the bottom of, and it's been two years. Two years I've been falling down this hole. We fought, we caused each other to lose match after match, we officially fought each other, nearly cost me my career. He claimed he was doing what was right for him at the time, much like Kip James claimed when he ditched BG. The breakup of AMW cost us what we so desperately worked for in the years before - the money, the fame, the glory, the women, the air time.. most importantly, the beer. Neither one of us held another title after this. This lead to me having to share air time with Sting.... Sting! Imagine me, former champion and TNA star, sharing my precious air time with that.. that bat-swinging, face-painted idiot! No man should have to do that! Well that was it.. that was the end of my fraying rope. I asked for my release from my contract, and after endless torture, I got it. I didn't know where I was going to go, but at least I was free of that which was holding me back for years. I'm freee to go where I want... and after applying myself to every company that deserved me, I landed here. Here I am, and, with the right incentives, here I'll stay."

He stops again, taking in and releasing a deep breath. It pissed him off to remember how things went down back then, but now was a brand new start for him, even if Chris is now stuck as Jarrett's lackey.

James Storm: "I've been informed that tomorrow night I have my debut match against like eight other guys."

He laughs at this, shaking his head in disbelief.

James Storm: "My first damn match here, and I'm against eight guys who I've either worked with or don't know at all. One I know real well, though... that bat-weilding, face-painting FREAK, Sting. Hey, Sting, remember when I smashed that beer bottle over your head? That was funny, wasn't it? The way the glass cut you open, how the achohol got into the cut and made it hurt like hell. It's really why I use it. So the little drops of beer still left in the bottle will get inside there and hurt like hell. It's the perfect weapon." [laughs] "I can't believe they actually teamed me with your sorry ass in that tag team tournament. Of all the people I coulda gotten, I got YOU. Thanks a whole fuckin lot, Cornette. Thing is, we lost... because of YOU, Sting! I was just sittin there, mindin my own business, and you went and threw me into that table. Did you even care that we would lose if you did that? Apparently not, or you wouldn't have done that. YOU lost us our chance at the titles, Sting. Not me, not Team 3D, YOU. Well this time, I don't have to rely on you to win it for us. I'll win it for myself."

"While I was lookin over the paper WIW sent Jackie, I noticed a couple more names. Petey Williams and Abyss . Petey I can beat, he's no problem. I just hope he's not a carbon copy of Scotty Stiener like he used to be. That was seriously creepy. Like Steiner had a mini-me or somethin, and one of him is bad enough without having Petey trail after him." [He takes a sip of his beer and continues.] "Abyss... he's a big fucker that nobody really wants to mess with, so here's to hoping we all take him out first so we won't have to worry about pinning his fat ass. I never really liked that guy.. he couldn't do anything more than grunt and practically kill people.. or in his parents' case, literally kill people. Let's just hope he's not feeling too homicidal on Friday, huh?"

Laughing again, a spark comes into his eyes, showing he's actually having fun insulting his former co-workers and other losers. He thinks back and realizes that he hasn't had this much fun since he was a tag team champion back in TNA.

James Storm: "The last one I saw that I used to work with was Raven. Raven.. good ol' Raven, with his gloom and doom prophecies and his psychotic yelling. If you ask me, all he needed was a woman and a case of beer, and he woulda been fine. Did anyone ever offer him that? Nope... they just let him go. Hey, if they're fine with this nutjob bein the way he is, then so be it. Just don't expect me to clean up his mess." [He takes another sip of his beer.] "Now we move on to the other dimwits in this match. Let me get the so-called legend out of the way... Foley. Mick Foley, the homeless lookin man that everyone seems to like for some reason. I have yet to see why. Look at the man... he looks like he just got off the set of Cast Away. It's sad that a legend can't look better than that, but I guess we all go to hell sometime. Him earlier than others, it looks like.. but no matter where he's going in the end, one thing's for sure. He's gonna wanna go back to playing shuffleboard and checkers with the other legends after I get done with him."

"There's three people I don't really know in this, though. Carlito, Brock Lesnar, and Idol Stevens. Yeah, yeah, Carlito sees hisself as some sorta cool guy, but what is he really? A guy from the Carribean who looks like Buckwheat from the Little Rascals? Maybe a walking, talking fern that's grown outta control? That man's hair is ridiculous. I'll even bet he needs to get a tree trimmer to get his hair down to a manageable length. Who the hell grows their hair like that? It looks like he stuck his finger in a light socket and forgot to take it out. Either way, he'll be beaten just as easily as the others."

He lifts himself off of the wall he was leaning against and turns, opening the door that leads back into the building, but before walking through it, he turns back to face the camera with a grin.

James Storm: "I could really care less about Brock Lesnar and Idol Stevens. I've only heard about Brock from Kurt Angle while he was ranting and raving about who he's beaten with 'a broken frickin neck'. [He shakes his head.] "It's really pathetic.. someone should come up with another line for that guy. I'm tired of hearing him whine about his damn neck already. Either fix it for good or get the hell out and complain to someone else who actually cares. As far as this Idol guy goes... just sue American Idol over the name infringement and be done with it, you sorry excuse for an athelete. Maybe even Billy Idol.. who knows? Either way, you're going down just like the rest, and to that, all I've gotta say is... sorry.. about your damn luck."

Going back into the building, he lets the door shut behind him as the scene fades out. Will he make good on his promises? Will he win his first match in a new company? Time will tell come Friday night.. if we're lucky.