BRAWL "BRUTE 66" TOUR: LEG ONE: BRAWLBUQUERQUE [UPDATED CARD LINEUP]

[EastPrez]

NEW NOTES! I'm upping the RP deadline by a day, so you have until Monday Midnight to get in any additional RP. HIT IT STRONG!

RP DEADLINE: MONDAY, 10/14 (11:59:59PM 616 Standard Time or AFTER FOOTBALL)
IN-STORY DATE: Late August, 2013 - HOT IN NEW MEXICO!
RP NOTES: THREE RP LIMIT!

NEW FRONTIER WRESTLING PRESENTS:
BRUTE 66 - THE ROUTE 66 BRAWL TOUR!
BRAWLBUQUERQUE!
'The Lab' @ ISOTOPES PARK
Albuquerque, New Mexico

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*
The road to RELOADED isn't a clear path... Can the Hellfire Club STEAL FOR THE WIN?

NFW WORLD TITLE MATCH
'Marathon Man' IMPULSE (c)
v.
'Future Perfect' BLAINE HOLLYWOOD

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*
THE BLACK MARKET is slowly creeping through NFW, can the Commish drag Lane Cash to victory, or is it FOOLS' GOLD?

NFW EVERETTE MEMORIAL TRADITION TAGTEAM TITLE MATCH
GRAVEROBBERS (c) w/ LEGION in their corner!
v.
DIRTY MONEY
"Commissioner" PETER WINDHAM & LANE CASH


*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*
The Red Menace is on a warpath! Can the DANGERMAN stop him cold?

JACK HARMEN
v.
AKITA

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

NEW FRONTIER WRESTLING DEBUT!

‘Da Man’
XAVIER LANGSTON
v. PLAIN BROWN RAPPER (j.)

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

ALSO. . .
'FUGUE STATE' DOUG MAYFIELD RETURNS TO NFW!

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*


Card Subject to Change...​

'PREZ' NOTES:
This will be an OPEN RP note - swing for the fences, make some fuss against each other. On Friday, I will announce the FULL BRAWL LINEUP, and if at that point you want to BUZZER-BEAT IT over the weekend, which will open up an extra TWO RPS for your cycle to go for. Everybody that RPs in this thread will get SOMETHING to do at BRAWLBUQUERQUE.

STORY NOTES: CONSULT YOUR 5-CARD PLAN GOING FORWARD! Feel free to connect with me on AIM (I live there now. Hope you're happy) and we'll figure it out.

GO!​

 

[Legion]

Re: BRAWL "BRUTE 66" TOUR: LEG ONE: BRAWLBUQUERQUE - Albuquerque, NM

We fade in to see the Graverobbers holding the Everette Memorial Titles on their shoulders and two death masks of Blaine Hollywood on their faces while Legion is in the foreground wearing the brand new Chaos Is King t-shirt...

Legion The taste of victory can come few and far between but when it does [laughs], oh when it does it is ever so sweet. As the fires of hell begin to die down and the Black Market's stock rises to the top we have claimed our first to fall - finally after all the talk of being a 'master of Chaos', for a man that obsesses over Alestair Blaine, you didn't do that great at the last run did you?

Dorchester was busy winding down, Rook decided to no longer deal with your shit and went home and then these guys (points both thumbs at Bandit and Devastator) took you on a nightmare you will not forget - you screwed Jack Harmen and Nova so turnabout became fair play as they sent you to the ground. NFW has now been put in a position it didn't expect - the man that was always behind the curtain of the Windhams and other groups in wrestling as protection has broken to the other side - everyone else will need protection from THEM.

Now we have BRAWL in a place familiar to fans of chemistry if you will, for those that'd like to break bad, well the Graverobbers here are looking for a fight so any team that wants to step up can go ahead but note this - when we get to Reloaded there's going to be a State of the Market address - our thoughts for the next few months are going to become very clear and I suspect that certain clubs and maybe even Guilds or Presidents are going to be very curious on what WE have to say.

 

[User Poets]

Re: BRAWL "BRUTE 66" TOUR: LEG ONE: BRAWLBUQUERQUE - Albuquerque, NM

"Jack..."

Which one? Both, I guess.

Sigh.

"What the hell, Jack?"

(FADEIN...

Twenty minutes in the future. Jack Harmen has ruined the end of the New Frontier World Title defense against Jack Bryant.

I guess the truce is over.

Still in my wrestling gear, still with the New Frontier World Championship over my shoulder.

Still my New Frontier World Championship title belt.)

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised: patience was never one of your virtues. But I have to question your motives."

"You were guaranteed a return shot at this championship; I had it written into the language of the contract I had with Jack Bryant. Whichever of us came out of Brooklyn with the belt would be giving you a fair and equitable return match."

"Instead, you've drawn both our ires."

"Not only did you screw Jack Bryant by interfering against him, but you robbed me of a clean, decisive outcome to one of my title defenses."

"So, instead of taking a breath and getting yourself ready for your own return match, you've got a pissed off Birmingham Stallion and an irate Marathon Man with only two things in common."

"One, we both want to be recognized as the best in the New Frontier."

"Two... we both want to kick Jack Harmen's ass in the process."

"Fortunately for us, when we get to Philadelphia we get the chance at the same time."

Smirk.

"That is, if we don't start it off in Albuquerque at the glorious return of the Brawl."

"I can't speak for the Jacks, but your esteemed World Champion..."

"will..."

"be making an appearance at Brawl."

"Do I wrestle? That's up to the people who put the lineup together. But I dare say, if the New Frontier wants a sellout they'd do well to give me a tough opponent."

"So who's it gonna be? Who wants to play the spoiler and take my place in the Reloaded main event? Who thinks they've got the cojones to go an hour with Jack Harmen and Jack Bryant?"

"I dare every single one of you on this roster to step up."

"I double dare JJ DeVille, but I think he's pretty much been outed as a coward."

"But this would be his shot. This would be anyone's shot. The Hellfire Club liked to joke that I was some kind of corporately protected strawman, and that the company managed my career?"

"I'm on borrowed time, here."

"Take your shot. I dare this entire company."

"Because when it's my skill against yours, one on one with nobody pulling your strings... nobody in the New Frontier has what it takes."

"Nobody."

FADE

 

[Ford]

Re: BRAWL "BRUTE 66" TOUR: LEG ONE: BRAWLBUQUERQUE - Albuquerque, NM

(MULTIPLE BURSTS OF STATIC interlaced with the NFW WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP GFX.

BLACK VIDEO MATTE.

SFX: JACK HARMEN clears his throat.)

JACK HARMEN (V.O.): My name is Jack Harmen. My agenda is simple.

(FADEIN: JACK HARMEN, dressed in red, blood streaming down his face. It looks to have been filmed shortly after his encounter with JACK BRYANT. He's SEETHING, and has his RED STEEL CHAIR dangling from his side.)

JACK HARMEN: Until I EARN, and am proclaimed the NFW World Heavyweight Champion, all championship matches will involve ME!

(Harmen coughs and sneers.)

JACK HARMEN: This isn't a personal attack against you 'pulse. You have the belt. I WANT the belt. I'm COMING for the belt, and I won't STOP, until I GET IT.

(Harmen leans in, grabbing the camera with his free hand.)

JACK HARMEN: I will be the NFW World champion. I will be the NEXT World Champion. I will scorch the earth if I have to. I will destroy ANYONE, ANY-FUCKING-ONE, who LEAPFROGS me into a title match.

(Harmen lets go of the camera, and turns away. He hacks and spits off the side of the camera frame. Viewed in side profile, Harmen sneers.)

JACK HARMEN: Nothing and no one will stop me.

(He walks off.)

JACK HARMEN: (shouting) NOTHING!

(FADEOUT.)

 

[BigPimpin]

Re: BRAWL "BRUTE 66" TOUR: LEG ONE: BRAWLBUQUERQUE - Albuquerque, NM

"I was there."

[Cold open.]

[Sitting on a steel chair, with his head hovering just above his folded hands, is a mocha-skinned man with a long curly dirty-blonde beard and a full set of medium-length dirty blonde dredlocks. He sits dressed in an open button-down black South Pole baseball style shirt and some ripped blue jeans, complimenting the look with a pair of tan Timberlands on his feet.]

[He stares out at the camera with his steely blue eyes as he continues to speak.]

Man:
Not a big deal, after all. I may have been all around this great country o' ours, but I was born an' raised right on the East Coast, in the heart o' Newark, New Jersey.

I know some people wouldn't be braggin' on that, but if ya ain't proud o' where ya came from, ya ain't got no street ta stand on, ya dig?

[Leaning back, the man rests his hands in his lap. We can now see several gold chains around his neck, as well as a black, Old English X tattooed across his chest, just left of center.]

Man:
Like I was sayin', I was chillin', checkin' out the new, sweet-ass Barclays Center an' all the excitement o' this New Frontier Wrestlin' comin' on the East Side. An' it looked like fun. Not fun like, "I can't believe dat dastardly Jack Harmen cost Jack Bryant a victory." More fun like, "I remember when I was kickin' ass an' takin names in this business." I can't even tell ya why I been outta the game fo' so long, to be truthful. The fed I was in closed, an' then it all jus' kinda snowballed. I picked up some DJ'ing engagements, an' the time jus' flew on by.

But seein' that show...going to Reloaded 17...it brought it all back. The roar of the crowd. The fast pace o' the action. The uncertainty, the drama...an' mos' of all, swingin' one's fist into the side o' one's head and gettin' the satisfyin' feelin' of your fist winnin' the battle o' wills.

So I made some calls. Put out some feelers, if ya will. And after some negotiations, I'm happy ta say I'm back in the game we call wrestlin'.

Guess I better introduce myself.

Hi.

[A wink and a click noise follow his introduction, as well as a brief point of his right hand before it returns to his lap.]

Man:
I'm Da Man. You can call me Xavier Langston, or Xavier, or X, or whatever ya damn well please. You got free will an' all that, an' to be perfectly honest, it don't matter that much. Heck, most o' y'all probably all locked into your own business, an' you ain't gonna remember my name.

I can respect that. I know what it's like to handle my business in an' outta da ring.

But.

[Here we pause, as Xavier Langston stands up out of the chair, his left hand at his side and his right hand making pointing motions as he speaks.]

"Da Man" Xavier Langston:
Jus' like Heisenberg...yeah, I went there, since we goin' ta Albuquerque an' all...you ain't payin' much attention now, but I promise you, when you see me in that ring....when you see me cook up some fresh ass-whuppin' fo' some unlucky soul...you gonna sit up an' take notice.

When you see me lock in My Will Is Law, you gonna nod your head in respect.

When I drop someone with The Firs' Rule, you gonna feel that impact.

And when I'm done here in New Frontier...when I've left my mark on this wrestlin' company...I promise you that like the Breakin' Bad poster says...

You will remember...my...name.

[Xavier Langston quickly moves his right thumb across his throad in a slashing motion, and we quick cut to black.]

 

[jediPREZ]

Left turn at Alberquerque 2096 in dMinor

V/O: "You know what the goddamn problem is? They didn't tell you SH(BLEEEP!)T back then about the things you were doin'."

(SFX: Glasses clinking...)

V/O: "One night, you're a pimpled teenaged street urchin sucking down enough Yellow #5 to turn Lucy Liu’s pussy into blackberry smoke, but you're there man... IN REACH OF THE CROWN. TWO THOUSAND... SIX HUNDRED SEVENTY TOTAL HITS and counting, you're deep in the annals (slight chuckle) of Fox McCloud's eye to mind katra, looping along with Slippy Toad like you licked his back with Jim Morrison on a bad day. I went red son, I went RED and after my big bro's best score... and next thing I KNOW…WHOOSH! I was GONE. My momma wept, my sweetheart ended up blowing some drunk baseball jock in a plastic Saturn, while I learned how to bust my nut in a chick named Panzerella. I know things that would drive your mind wild, bro. The truth is... OUT THERE."

(FADEIN: SOUTH ALBUQUERQUE SALOON, New Mexico. A closeup of DOUG MAYFIELD leaning on the bar with a half-empty pint foamed around the edges. MAYFIELD's wearing a chain necklace adorned with pop-caps, sunglasses, keys, hood ornaments, medallions and dozens of other trinkets, while rocking silver-taped wristbands, red and black bandanas wrapped loosely around his neck, a sleeveless black jacket tattered at the torn seams with 12 zipper pockets. DOUG's pointing at someone off-camera, while brushing a grimy hand through his curly mullet and then stroking his unkempt black goatee...)

DOUG: "Now, I'll tell you Pablo."

V/O: "My name's Ron."

(DOUG waves him off, while lighting up a Swisher Sweet.)

DOUG: "Whatever Ronaldo, listen.”

RON: “You can’t smoke in here, bro.”

DOUG: “I know the President, it’s alright.”

(CUTTO: The bartender RON, who looks like a some cross of a Native American, Hells Angel enforcer, Hispanic and not your average neighborly bartender. He bristles as DOUG exhales a waft of smoke in the air, looking up in some sort of remembrance. QUICK CUTTO: TOD DESTINY is measuring an elderly patron with a glowing, ectoplasmic-like reader by the jukebox area. DESTINY’S wearing a black leather vest, black vinyl pants held up by an Orange Datsun seatbelt, and his hair’s styled in a corn-rowed faux hawk. CUTTO: CHAD FORTUNE walking out of the kitchen’s freezer locker, ice steam hovering over his shoulders and head. FORTUNE’s listening to a gigantic portable phone bleeping and chirping faster than a Colecovision on crack, his body adorned with a tire-chain strapping a stripped garbage can top to his chest painted with the CRIMSON STAR, frayed jorts and black combat boots with black socks. FORTUNE’s hair is shaved off on one side of his head, tied in a tight ponytail on the other. CUTTO CLOSE-UP: DOUG snaps out of it and points back at RON again.)

DOUG: “The future’s F(BLEEP!)KED, JACK. Hell on the highway, freaks on the freeway and a lot of human ribs dipped in sweet and sour sauce. And I popped out the portal with those two dudes telling me I WAS THE ANSWER. Now, Yellow #5’s gonna make you say some funny things like Allen Iverson’s in jail and I’m not black, but MY EYES THEN SAW THE GLORY. And by GLORY – I mean the FIRE…the brimstone, the Paris Hilton IV sexbots with red eyes shooting lasers at women and children. A world asunder bro, my BIG BRO DEAD… no, not dead… (DOUG pounds his fist on the table) ASSASINATED!”

DESTINY (off-camera) “HAVE YOU SEEN AKITA?”

DOUG: “Akita knows… Akita knows…”

(DOUG takes a huge inhale off the SWISHER and blows it, but this time RON grabs it out of his hand and stuffs it in his beer!)

DOUG: “A(BLEEP!)HOLE!

RON: “I don’t know what drugs you’re on, b—“

(ACTION CUTTO: FORTUNE and DESTINY fly over the countertop with a DOUBLE SHOULDER-BLOCK into RON!)

(SFX: LOUD CRASH! GLASS BREAKING!)

(CUTTO: RON’s in a rubble of broken glass, brown liquor, tapped beer and shattered dreams as FORTUNE and DESTINY savagely stomp on him, bloodying his mouth immediately. CUTTO: DOUG’s standing up, looking around with a smirk and whistling as frightened customers leave the premises, the shot showing that DOUG’s pants are shredded and torn black sweatpants that almost look like a weird kilt. He also happens to be wearing Derrick Rose XXIII’s.)

DOUG: “Well, this has been a swell pitstop. (mockingly tips his cap towards RON) As stated earlier, my tab can be paid by President Eddie Mayfield.”

(CUTTO: RON being PRESSED UP by both FORTUNE and DESTINY who fling him forwards, sending him richocheting off a ceiling pillar and to the wooden floor in a broken heap. FORTUNE and DESTINY both slingshot over the bar, crick and crack their necks and slowly follow DOUG out of the bar as he fires up another Swisher Sweet. QUICK CUTTO: The parking lot – where off in the distance we hear police sirens! DOUG already firing up a 1987 red and black Trans-Am silverbird that’s been custom-fitted for ‘KIT’ LED LIGHTS and retractable mirror-plating. FORTUNE and DESTINY slowly get in the backseat as DOUG pulls out in a dirt-storm swerve onto ROUTE 66, looking back casually with his head leaned out the window as we...)

DOUG V/O: “Bugs Bunny can suck my f(bleep!)in’ left nut.”

(FADETOBLACK.)

 

[Legion]

[We fade in on Legion smiling - a slightly unhinged one at that, the Graverobbers stand beside him with their shiny new titles on their shoulders.]

Legion: Let me just say that whoever put the idea of Graverobbers vs Peter Windham and Lane Cash - you deserve a hearty handshake because I couldn't think of two better vic.. competitors for Bandit and Devastator to face in Albuquerque than the man that thinks he has some semblance of power and a man that rides the cliche of playboy to it's grave.

You see - money and power no matter how fabricated or small seem to go hand in hand in this business and not just here in NFW so I'm not surprised that these two would team up - men that have never grown up, one that thinks that by taking the Windham name it would get him somewhere, when in actual fact it's quite the opposite. It's like in that movie Carrie when the mother says to her - 'They're all going to laugh at you', something tells me that Peter's mother didn't quite say the same to him which led to his life turning out the way it has so far.

What's also noticeable is that in Philly - Pete's supposed to be doing his own little showcase and yet we get called in to send a message - I suspect that the office is trying to say something but we'll bite just this once to the people above but it's not going to be for you. Brawl is about sending the message that these two (points to Bandit and Devastator) do not plan to lose our rise any time soon

Lane, Peter you're going to find out why we know the secrets you keep, the bodies that you buried but most important of all you will find out that with us... CHAOS. IS. KING.

 

[Biron]

THANKS, BUT NO THANKS


(CUTTO: Los Angeles, California’s Chateau Marmont - Midday; A sprawling, private terrace - complete with sun-loungers and a glass table w/ chairs around it underneath a canopy, a full bar, and an unmatched view over Hollywood - where a disheveled LANE CASH, dressed in wrinkled charcoal slacks, no shirt, socks, or shoes, and black-rimmed Ray-Bans, sits, hands clasped behind his head, on a lounger that rests dangerously on the terrace’s ledge. There’s a Sony Ericcson Black Diamond sitting on his stomach.)

PHONE: (through speaker) “Just kidding! You’ve reached the voicemail of Peter Windham, Tha Commish! Hahaha, leave a message, unless this is Unemployment calling about, uh … Unemployment-type stuff. In that case, just keep calling back over and over until I pick up cause I’m probably home. Alright, bye!”

CASH: (loud, but crackling voice) “Peter .. pick it up, Pete. I know you’re around, bro. You told me you bought Boogie Nights, a pack of women’s panties from Wal-Mart, and were going - and I quote - rollergirl yourself raw. Thanks for that visual, by the way. (pauses) I wanna know why in the fu - (speaker cuts out)”

(He turns his head toward the camera.)

CASH: “So my buddy Peter Windham somehow got us hooked up with a shot at the EE-EM-TEE Tags. I know Pete’s fired up - he’s probably doing push-ups out in his driveway - but not everybody’s so thrilled. (pushes Ray-Bans up) I’M NOT. Do you really believe the prospect of working in a Minor League Ballpark is going to rouse me out of a booking-induced SLUMBER? (shakes head) Sorry, but I opt for the silk sheets on this one.”

(He pulls his shades back down and lies still for a beat before sitting up.)

CASH: “It’s not just about the inconvenience it will cause me - calling my assistant back from her first vacation in four years to pack my luggage, or having to spend time in an illegal-infested dump like Albuquerque. It’s that I have ZERO INTEREST in carrying around a belt that’s been the (sneers) pearl of Brandon Mueller, or Bandit, or any other douche that’s had it. That’s not my game. But no matter how many times I tell Peter - whether it be his optimism, or a severe lack of education - he keeps hanging onto that dream. (half-grins) It could happen, too. EASY. I could roll into Albuquerque, climb out of the Mile Long Coach, and pull those straps without a hitch.”

(Lane swings his legs over the terrace side of the lounger and jumps down onto the terrace. At that moment, the lounger slides off the ledge and falls out of sight. Lane glances over his shoulder for a moment.)

CASH: (turning back) “I mean, c’mon, look at the puddles the belts are sitting on. Unless I’m not in the know about a modern-day Rumpelstiltskin who can stir shit into gold, anything that involves Bandit and Devastator needs to be FLUSHED. (chuckles, shakes head) Legion, dig up all the dirt you want - I assume that’s how you managed to exhume Bandit and Devastator. TMZ’s been there and done that - “LANE CASH BANGS SIENNA MILLER LIKE DRUM AT KISS CONCERT”. You think I’m worried about attention, that any story you drum up would make me blush? (grins) I’m fucking UNTOUCHABLE (leans back against ledge) and it’s a great feeling, bro - to do what you want, whenever you want. I’m not wasting that on you, your little Graverobbers, or that piss swamp Albuquerque.”

(FADE TO BLACK)

 

[LQJT86C]

Re: THANKS, BUT NO THANKS

(FADEIN: The living room of Peter Windham's house in Shirley, Long Island, a.k.a White Trash Disneyland. PETER WINDHAM is lying on the coach, watching the 10 o'clock news while his answering machine picks up its latest message from Lane Cash)

CASH: (V/O) "...women's panties from Wal-Mart, and were going - and I quote - rollergirl yourself raw.Thanks for that visual, by the way. (pauses) I wanna know why in the fu-" (speaker cuts out)

(Peter picks his nose, looks at it, then flings it onto the rug. Just then, the news anchor flashes on the screen)

NEWS ANCHOR: "Breaking news out of Riverhead Town, where residents are protesting the re-location of 14 trailers housing registered sex offenders into town neighborhoods. News12's Rebecca O'Leary has more."

(CUTTO: Female reporter in blue jacket)

FEMALE REPORTER: "Thanks Mike. Riverhead residents are furious that trailers full of registered sex offenders are being moved onto roads adjacent from their neighborhoods. According to the federal online sex offender registry, there are already more than 30 sex offenders already living in the area..."

(Peter Windham's eyebrows RAISE!)

(CUTTO: PW sitting up, with his laptop open. He is on the federal sex offender registry website, and is typing in his own zipcode)

PW: "I swear to God, if any of you kid-touching pieces of shit live anywhere near me, I'm gonna hunt you all down to the gates of hell with a baseball bat that I light on fire. COME ON, assholes! Let's see where you RE-SIDE!"

(Hits ENTER)

PW: "Oh shit! There's like, three who live near me! (looks further) OH SHIT! One lives on my block! (squints) Wait a second...WHAT THE FUCK?!"

(CUTTO: The computer screen, where PW has clicked on the name of the sex offender who lives on his block...and finds a picture of himself holding up one of the NGEN tag titles while making the wolfpack handsign with his other hand)

NAME: Peter Julius Windham
DATE OF BIRTH: July 24, 1973
PLACE OF RESIDENCE: 49 Hollowbrook Dr, Shirley, NY 11967
GENDER: M
EYECOLOR: Brown
HAIRCOLOR: Brown ("Mullet")
ETHNICITY: Caucasian

SCARS, MARKS, AND TATTOOS: Tattoo of Troy Windham's face on his upper left buttock.

OFFENSE CODE: LEVEL II (Moderate risk of repeat offense)

(CUTTO: PW's face - eyebrows definitely raised!)

PW: "Oh man...OH MAN! This is not good!"

(CUTTO: Two minutes later, PW dials his agent)

PW: "YO RICH! It's me. Hey, quick question - any idea why I'm on THE FUCKING FEDERAL SEX OFFENDER REGISTRY! ... YEAH, I'M A FUCKING REGISTERED SEX OFFENDER, MAN! That's not cool! Did you know about this? ... NO, I DIDN'T KNOW! This is the type of shit you need to keep me informed of! When the hell did this happen? ... That long ago? What the shit did I do? Don't tell me she was 17, 'cause that's LEGAL in NY my man... ... 'Urban Legends of Professional Wrestling'? Never heard of it. ... Uh, okay then, just like, call me back or something. This is freaking me out."

(CUTTO: A few minutes after that, PW is on a plain white Angelfire website, with the following headline: "Strange...but true? Urban legends of professional wrestling as heard by the members of the Death Valley Driver board".)

PW: (scrolling down) "'Number four: Ricky Zane got his job in NFW by unleashing his hose on Kerry O'Connor's desk.' HAHAHAHAHA oh shit did that actually happen???? 'Number 19: Javid Dones once paid a hooker to let him poop in her mouth while wearing a purple Charlotte Hornets jumpsuit.' OH MAN THAT SO HAPPENED! I NEED TO READ MORE! 'Number 87: Dez Aragon and The Showstoppers took turns sodomizing Windy with a cable remote, and wound up damaging her anus. She had to wear diapers for 7 months, and this is why she was taken off television.' AAAAAAHHHHHH!!!! Let's see what else..."

(scrolls down further)

PW: "'Number 174: Peter Windham aka Problem Child used to help organize UWA fan trips for teenage boys off Prodigy Classic, where Bob Ryder was the chaperone. Bob Ryder had sex with all the boys, and Peter Windham was rewarded handsomely. Bob denied Peter's involvement, but at the insistence of a fan named Paul Miller, this all definitely happened. Also, all the wrestlers who participated in CSWA's Bob Ryder Invitational Tag Tournament in 1995 had to suck Bob Ryder's dick. Paul Miller said Peter Windham made money off this too.' NOOOOOOOOOOO! THIS IS COMPLETE HORSESHIT! THE INTERNET MAKES UP LIES!!!! WHO THE FUCK IS PAUL MILLER?!"

(Phone rings, PW picks up)

PW: "Yeah, what! I'm trying to record a promo here!"

FIONA: (V/O) "This is Fiona Love. Peter, you really need to end what you're doing here."

PW: "How the fuck are you even watching this right now?"

FIONA: (V/O) "John the Director has been filling me in. Sorry, but I have to draw the line at you questing to expunge yourself from the sex offender registry, and any and all mentions of Bob Ryder."

PW: "You know I had to massage that dude to get my first push?"

FIONA: (V/O) "END IT!" (hangs up)

PW: "Jeez. OK let's start this over."

(FADEOUT)

(FADEBACKIN: PETER WINDHAM standing right where he was before)

PW: "LANE! Yeah, keep complaining that I got you a title shot, dude. Feel free to no-show and go back to what you were doing before, which was DIDDLY SHIT! Look at you, young man barking at me 'cause the title shot I got him wasn't the one he wanted. When I was your age, WE DIDN'T GET TITLE SHOTS! You had to be UNIFIED TOP 50 just to sniff a United States Title #1 contender's match. Now they're creating belts just to make dudes with small penises feel like they matter! Back in the '90s, I would have licked peanut butter off Chad Merritt's balls if it meant I could job to Julius Godreign in the upper mid-card. IF I WAS LUCKY! These days, Impulse is BRAGGING that he fights 367 days a year, offering title shots to people's sons and shit. IT'S NOT RIGHT!"

"What I'm trying to do Lane, as your mentor, is show you how the business really works. I'm the NFW COMMISSIONER, but I also happen to be your best friend. Hence, TITLE SHOT. But instead of a thank you, I get criticized 'cause you fancy yourself a singles STAR!"

"Well I hate to break it to you, but you don't have a singles career! Not yet! I mean, how the fuck you gonna go singles, dude? Oh yeah, pardon me Impulse, Castor, Harmen, JB...here comes LANE FUCKING CASH with his 12 Sea-Do model valets, who hasn't wrestled in three months, just demanding to be in the same league as you! I'm sure they'll welcome you with open arms. I DON'T THINK SO!"

"You know how many Twitter followers you have? 90! And 78 of them are porn people and motivational speakers. How the fuck am I supposed to get Dixie Gillaspie, author of "Firepower for Living an Unlimited Life", to buy a Reloaded ticket?"

"Lane, as your Commissioner, I command you to tag with me until you can put some BUTTS IN THE SEATS!"

"I'm what you'd call a LEGEND in this business. People are STILL talking about May Maelstrom '98 when I went over Tex Wayne for the UWA Mid-Atlantic States belt. Those are moments in sports history that people's children, their children's children, and their children's children's children will talk about for generations to come. I'VE RAISED AMERICAN FAMILIES!"

"And whether the people on Twitter talk about my years as Troy Windham's #1 lackey, or spreading rumors about how me and Spike Saunders got kicked out of the Washington Marriott for pooping on Chris McMillan's wife at the TEAM Legends Reunion three years ago, they can't seem to stop HASHTAGGING in front of my initials!"

"So forget about a singles career. You don't have one! All you have are the strings I pull for you, buddy. BE GRATEFUL!"

"As for you, Legion. How dare you accuse me of not growing up! I OWN A HOME! I CHANGED MY NAME FROM PROBLEM CHILD TO PETER WINDHAM! The child has become a MAN and has assumed responsibility of NFW Commissionership. What the fuck have YOU done?! Or you, Bandit? What have you done since you were next to me riding Troy's coattails all those years ago? Two years ago? Did YOU change your name? No, ya didn't. As of now, Bandit sounds like the nickname of the guy who goes state-to-state collecting other men's numbers off park-and-rest bathroom stalls so he can put them over while livestreaming for the bareback brotherhood."

"And Devastator! You know what would devastate me? If you actually...had more than three moves. No, side-headlock doesn't count!"

"You pussies don't scare me. You look like Count Chocula's two asshole friends who got cereal deals because they know him. What Pokemon species are they, Legion? Fucking Igglybuff and Buttfuckameleosaur. I'm tired of even thinking about you. I have bigger things to worry about! Tag team champions? Why do I even have to face you when I can just strip you of the titles and put them on me and Lane! Better luck next time, dickheads."

"Except I can't do that because my partner fancies himself a SINGLES CHAMPION! Well TOUGH TITTIES, Lane! Get your ass to Brawl, do the work we fucking contract you for, and if you're lucky, maybe we'll both walk out of there with a little GOLD. Whaddya say?"

(FADEOUT)

 

[User Poets]

Full Circle

"What a long, strange trip it's been."

"Just about ten years, Blaine. Do you remember?"

"Of course you do."

(FADEIN on a much younger Blaine Hollywood, holding a sporting rifle, with a close cropped haircut, crisp white button down shirt, pantaloons with black riding boots, and a matinee idol charm with a familiar evil glint in his green eyes.)

BLAINE: "And this skaterat who had the misfortune of being cast into a match with me at All-Star week - ROOKIE NIGHT... well, sir, I suggest you and your 'buds' don't quit your day jobs."

He stops to think.

"Wait. I'm sorry - people like you can't HOLD jobs. You're beneath me, 'Randy.' And I'd rather not sully my hands with your blood, so I'll end you quickly, then retire to my stretch escalade, pearl white."

"Mr Knox? It's funny that your name inspires visions of gold, but after a Chance Encounter with Blaine Hollywood, you'll do well to remember what they say about things that glitter - but they never mentioned that those things can also bleed from blunt head trauma just as easily."

(STATIC - CUT... to today.

To the skaterat, Randall Knox.

The wrestler who was beneath Blaine Hollywood.

You know... your WORLD CHAMPION.

Red button down shirt, faded jeans, and the World Championship belt.

What a difference a decade makes.)

"I suppose part of me can be impressed, Blaine. Our double debut match in the New Frontier also prompted the debut of the Hollywood Wrecking Crew, one of the more dominant tag teams in this company's history."

"I am a history buff, after all - and I do enjoy being there for it."

My expression turned very serious.

"But that's not what I remember from that night, Blaine. What I remember is a 25 year old man taking advantage of a barely - 18 year old rookie who wasn't even outta high school."

"What I remember was Miles and McGinnis asking me if I wanted to have a match - one match on TV to give me some experience. Don't worry, they said, it'll be against another newcomer to the New Frontier, it's on an event subtitled Rookie's Night, everything will be fine."

"What I remember turned from a wrestling match to a mugging."

I rubbed the back of my head, like the crack of the chair was a memory, fresh in my brain.

"There was the Golden Boy, the OXONIAN, Blaine Hollywood, 25 years old and evidently not a newcomer to the world of professional wrestling, and he can't get the job done against an eighteen year old kid who was walking into his second ever professional match."

"To this day, I still don't know what you were thinking, Blaine. Did you think you could make a mark on the company? Did you think the entirety of the New Frontier would stand up and take notice of the awesome of Blaine Hollywood?"

"Against a kid who wasn't sticking around?"

"There was no end - game, Blaine. There was no mad rush of revenge to happen from that moment. You were beating up an inexperienced rookie apparently to show the world that you had the means to beat up an inexperienced rookie... and you still needed help to get the job done."

"But that's par for the course, isn't it?"

"For all your boasting and preening, you simply don't have the ability to win matches on your own, do you?"

"Clinging to Malik Anderson as the Hollywood Wrecking Crew."

"Clinging to Dorchester--"

Which is hilarious for several other reasons.

"--for legitimacy as the non-working member of the Dynasty."

"Clinging to JJ as the fourth most important member of the three man band."

"Ten years, Blaine."

"Ten years you've been with this company, and what do you have to show for it? Two runs with the tag team belts with Malik doing the heavy lifting."

Gonna deny it?

"After all, when the Wrecking Crew split, you both had the opportunity to take the belts for yourselves. Who won that one, Blaine?"

"If the New Frontier was an old - fashioned sitcom, Blaine... Malik Anderson proved you were definitely the First Darren - completely replaceable."

"Was that your plan from the start, Blaine? As an OXONIAN you're clearly better than everyone in this company, so your plan to showcase it was to slack off and hide behind a tag team partner at every turn? Was your plan to remain part of a team or stable for the entire length of your career so you'd never have to show your ass for the substandard athlete that your are?"

"After all, you said it yourself - I'm 'beneath' you."

I jostled the belt over my shoulder.

"Except I'm the New Frontier's World Champion."

"Ten years, Blaine... Ten years since we made our respective debuts in this company, and look at you. You're practically in the exact same place, only ten years older and more run - down."

"I'm a former Television Champion and current World Champion, and I haven't even peaked yet."

"It's an interesting place for me, Blaine... I'm walking into a match with a man who disrespected me back before I knew how things worked in this business, and the power is all right here. I'm walking into a match with a man who tried to end my career before it even started, and I'm doing it with the full knowledge that if I was so inclined, I could end yours."

Not 'try' to end it, Blaine. I could pop a knee, break a bone, any number of things to put you out for good.

"The balance of power has shifted, Blaine... and while I'm not normally a spiteful man... it's going to be my pleasure to show you just how ineffectual you really are."

FADE

 

[BigPimpin]

Re: Callin' Shots

[We fade in on NFW’s newest-signed talent, one Xavier Langston, who is in a similar looking promo studio as he was before. A black banner is over the back of the room, with a New Frontier logo on the back. All of this is pretty standard. What’s not too standard, however, is that Da Man isn’t standing, or sitting on furniture. He’s sitting, Indian-style, on a small rug on the floor. His hands are in his lap and his eyes are closed, and he seems...at peace.]

[He takes a deep inhale of air, and then exhales deeply before opening his eyes, looking straight at the camera.]

“Da Man” Xavier Langston:
A’ight, so let’s do a bit of a recap.

Y’know who I am. Y’know how I got ta your New Frontier, and ya damn sure know where I’m going.

But where I’ve been? How I became the man that stands before ya, primed to change this world?

[A shrug from Da Man. He follows up the shrug by rolling his neck to the left, eliciting an audible cracking noise and the jingling of some of his gold chains against his shirtless body.]

Langston:
I dunno, man. Some people are obsessed wit’ the little things, right? Lookin’ for any li’l advantage, any thing that’ll help ‘em get one step closer to their own dreams comin’ true.

‘Maybe if Xavier Langston had Cheerios for breakfast, I should go get myself a big heaping bowl of em, an’ maybe it’ll gimme that last li’l bit of edge I need to really make it, ya dig?’

Trust me, it ain’t the Cheerios.

Those o’ you lookin’ for a some kinda VH1 Behind the Music bullsh[no audio] on Xavier Langson are gon’ have to keep waitin’. I ain’t giving it all way on the first go through; after all, I gotta keep ‘em comin’ back for more, right? Sure, you could put on one o’ the best shows the world’s ever known, but if ya ain’t givin’ the people no reason to wanna come back, cause ya done told the whole story, then ya ain’t gettin’ much repeat business is ya?

Maybe someday, we’ll have some video specials or some kinda exclusive interview with Oprah o’ some sh[no audio].

After all, when Oprah interviews a brotha, then ya know he dun’ made it golden.

But I ain’t stingy. Y’all tuned in once again to hear li’l ol’ me talkin’, an’ unlike some o’ my so-called colleagues, I ain’t one to send ya home without a payoff. So I’m gonna hook ya up wit' an important revelation...a phrase you hear more an’ more of as Da Man cuts a path through the New Frontier and makes himself right at home.

“The First Rule.”

[And it’s here where Langston rolls to his back, then to his shoulders with his legs in the air, and in one fluid motion kips up to his bare feet with a thump and a jingling of gold chains. No stumble on the landing, no flopping of the body; this one is a perfect kip-up. He pulls at the cutoff tan cargo shorts, pulling them back to their desired position as he continues his speech.]

Langston:
Like you, like anyone else who lives an’ breathes on this planet, I got myself a set o’ rules that I live by. A code, if ya will. An’ like a performance, in the ring or otherwise, you best bring it strong, an’ The First Rule is one o’ the strongest rules in my personal code. Jus’ like the leapin’ reverse STO I gave the same name. It’s deadly. Lethal. Strong. It’ll put you out cold, an’ if I chose I could just end the match at that.

But I ain’t done. Not yet.

Because it’s time you all found out what The First Rule is.

My Will...Is...Law.

Another strong phrase. Another catch phrase, o’ sorts. To me, it’s a way of life. Everywhere I go, I impose my will upon those around me, because if you don’t, someone will impose their will upon you. Sometimes it’s somethin’ minor...ya beat someone else to the cooler and get the last Colt 45, ya step in front o’ someone when ya get on a train, li’l stuff like that. Sometimes it’s more complex. When I’m runnin’ the steel wheels up in da club, I use my music an’ my mad skills to make those ladies get up on da dance floor. I will da party into existence.

In wrestlin’? Well, that one’s easy. The entirety of wrestlin’ is a battle of wills. One man or group of men step into the ring against another man or a group of men, an’ the winner, more often than not, is the man who imposed his will upon da match an’ his opponent.

An’ the way I live, the way I fight...there ain’t anyone who imposes his will better.

[A pause as Langston rolls his shoulders forward in a somewhat intimidating manner.]

Langston:
This comin’ Brawl, I’mma step into the ring with someone...I ain’t got no idea who right now, an’ ta be honest it ain’t gon’ matter much. ‘Cause I’mma call my shot, right here, right now. I’mma beat ya from pillar to post. I’mma fly like no one else in the New Frontier can. I’mma hit ya with The First Rule. An’ then, I’m gonna lock in My Will is Law, and we gon’ see what kinda fortitude ya really got.

Ya gonna tap out immediately? I’d recommend it; C-spine fusions is a bitch to recover from, I heard. But if not, I can respect dat. You wanna put up a good fight; give the fans a bit o’ drama, dat’s cool, too.

But in the end, once it’s locked it, ya ain’t gonna have no choice.

[It’s now that Langston slaps his right hand against his right thigh three times at a brisk pace, making a loud slapping noise.]

Langston:
You ain’t got the will to survive.

And that moment is when you realize that I am Da Man...

...An’ My Will...Is...LAW

[Langston turns his back to the camera and grabs his rug off the ground before he walks off stage left. We look at the New Frontier logo as we fade to black.]

 

[EastPrez]

Re: Full Circle

(FADEIN: Fireplace, fire, popping wood burning down to embers. After a beat, the camera pulls back and over to BLAINE HOLLYWOOD, wearing a form-fitting 'Deep V' black tshirt, dark slacks, and dark circles under his eyes. he is resting on the wall near the fireplace, locking a hazel-eyed deathstare on the camera.)

H'WOOD: "You have a LOT to say for yourself, Knox - a LOT, and almost ALL of it is utter garbage, REFUSE. Just like you are, and World Champion or no - that's all you are or ever will be - a faded shopping strip-mall fashion wearing, diminutive GUTTERSNIPE. Do you think because you hold that belt, that makes me IMPRESSED? Knox, you're the type of person who puts ketchup on kobe beef cut of steak - yes, you may be able to afford it, but you still have no CLASS. (sniffs the air) NONE.

"So me being WILLED by the powers-that-be to come to the middle of nowhere to leave you laying is fine for me. Yes, I've been on a losing slide... (looks at the fire) some may say, that I've never been lower. But that doesn't make me EASY, Knox. That doesn't make me LESS OF AN OXONIAN, Knox. That doesn't make me any less... (eyes alight!) DANGEROUS.

"So bring your belt, your smelly old jacket and your sexrag you call a girlfriend to this match, and you'll get NOTHING FROM ME, except my spite, mayhaps a broken back? And just perchance... a LIGHTER SET OF LOT-STORE LUGGAGE, when The Future Perfect takes the NFW World Title for hissown.

"There ARE no paybacks, Knox. Ten years changes nothing - no matter how many phone books you stack on your chair, I'm still BETTER than you'll EVER BE at LIFE. Question me all you want - you know as well as I do that if I wanted to end your career ten years ago I COULD have. And that still stands. Flatter yourself all you want, pouissant - Even in a losing streak, I am still a winner when placed next to a CHURL, such as yourself.

"And the words that come from my lips are as GOOD AS GOLD - and in due time, I'll have YOURS right here... (Pats the mantle) Vainglorious prat that you are."

(FADEOUT as H'WOOD returns to watch the fire.)

 

[Ford]

Re: Full Circle

(FADEIN: HARMEN backstage at NFW. He gets handed a piece of paper, the booking sheet for Brawl.)

JACK HARMEN: Wait, so I get to spew Red Mist into the HOSHI DRAGON'S eyes, then viciously attack BOTH Impulse and Blaine Hollywood while turning the whole production into chaos?

(Harmen calls after the production Assistant.)

JACK HARMEN: I never realized Eddie Mayfield liked me so much!

(Harmen stops in his tracks, and thinks.)

JACK HARMEN: I should bake him a cake. With a nail file in it. Let me go get my prison cookbook.

(Harmen wanders off. He passes by a UWA wrestler, and fakes a punch. The UWA wrestler reacts in defense, as Harmen walks off cackling.)

JACK HARMEN: Oh the FUN we shall have!

(FADE OUT.)

 

[EastPrez]

Re: Full Circle

[JN LOCKS THE DOOR AND PUTS THE KEY INSIDE THAT FAKE FROG STATUE OUTSIDE. COME ON, EVERYBODY KNOWS IT'S FAKE!]

Good job, everyone! RP cycle for BRAWL is in the books. Look for the card in a few days!

JN