BRAWL: MIAMI

[jediPREZ]

RP DEADLINE: 6/19/12 11:59:59 Astral Standard Time
VENUE: BankAtlantic Center
IN-STORY SHOW DATE: 6/10/12
PREZ NOTE: ALL RP SHOULD GO IN THIS THREAD! YA HEARD ME!

ESEN TELEVISION AND NEW FRONTIER WRESTLING PRESENTS:

SUNDAY SUPERBRAWL
LIVE FROM THE BANKATLANTIC CENTER
MIAMI, FLORIDA

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

MAIN EVENT
TELEVISION CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH

JACK BRYANT (c) vs. TEDDY ALEXANDER

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

TOP CONTENDERS GRUDGE WEAPONS MATCH
THE ORIGINAL SHOWSTOPPERS vs. THE DIRTY ROTTEN SCOUNDRELS

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

IF THE TOP CONTENDER LOSES HE'S DEMOTED FROM THE WORLD TITLE DIVISON...
...SHOULD THE UNDERDOG WIN, HE GETS A FUTURE WORLD TITLE SHOT...
DAN RYAN vs. PHIL ATKEN

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

6-MAN SPECIAL ATTRACTION
SUPERFLY EXPRESS & IMPULSE vs. POINT OF VIEW & DR. CURIOSITY

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

Card subject to change
aka if you have anything to add - HOLLA!​

 

[fugginVOSS]

(FADE-IN: on TEDDY ALEXANDER standing in the locker room of the UWA Proving Grounds wearing a black crimson eyed Stallion tee with the sleeves crudely cut off thanks to his poor tailoring. He wears black Adidas sweat pants with red three-stripes down the outer leg and a pair of all white Etnies skater shoes, namely coz they’re comfy to wear and easily removed.)

(Was it mentioned he’s got that Goddamn neck brace wrapped around his neck?)

(Was it ALSO mentioned that he had crudely scribbled “THE STALLION” across its front with a Sharpie? It wasn’t? Well, consider it mentioned.)

(His mood? Well, he’s almost indifferent as he eyeballs the camera, content with his situation with his hands on his hips.)

TEDDY ALEXANDER:
“Jack, you’ve cast a long shadow over dis joint, brother. A LOOOOOONG shadow and every time somebody thinks of dis joint they think’f YOU.”

(He points down the barrel of the camera.)

TEDDY ALEXANDER:
“Funny thing, honin’ ya craft in da UWA, Jack-o. Learnin’ da ropes from Prosser. Da falls and da spots. Findin’ yourself as a professional wrestler. Creatin’ da man all them kids wanna be, da ladies wanna bed and da fellers most admire. There’s a funny thing here in these parts since ya came through.

“See... you mightn’t know it... and people mightn’t TALK about it... but every time a new guy comes through da ranks here at da UWA they’re compared to someone, Jacky. A success story. Da reason NFW eats from da UWA’s hand, Jacky. You can’t go THROUGH dis joint without somebody comparin’ everybody...

“To YOU.”

(TEDDY slowly nodded his head, adjusting his stance and becoming more lifelike with his gesticulations. Using his hands for emphasis.)

TEDDY ALEXANDER:
“Ya see, Jack, when I was comin’ through here it was da little remarks like You’ll never get to where Jack is without bustin’ yer ass harder and then it becomes If you wanna be da next Jack Bryant you gotta trust ya gut. Before long you’re comin’ to graduatin’ from dis joint and maybe, just maybe, you’re one of da lucky few to get offered a New Frontier contract, Jack.

“You know what dat feels like, don’t ya. To be able to put pen to paper and sign yourself a nice contract with da biggest promotion on dis Goddamn rock.

“You get offered a contract with da New Frontier and there ain't no pats on da back. There ain’t no congratulations. There’s no smoke bein’ blown up nobody’s ass. It’s simply I told you if you worked hard like Jack you’d make it.

“Jack.”

(Stifling a laugh, TEDDY puts his hand over his mouth as if he were stopping himself from saying something.)

TEDDY ALEXANDER:
“Like Jack. Because all I ever wanted when I signed up with da UWA was to be ZACKLY like ol’ Jack Bryant.

“All I ever wanted growin’ up was to be compared to you.

(Mimicking) “Jack – Jack – Jack – Jack – JACK!”

(He throws his hands into the air out of defeat.)

TEDDY ALEXANDER:
“I gotta tell ya, Jack, as much as I admire your handy work in your short time in NFW...

“As much as I respect da fact you’re da NFW Television Champion... A FIGHTING Champion...

“As much as I respect your wrestlin’ ability and everythin’ you’ve done, Jack, I’m sick to Goddamn death of hearin’ your Goddamn name. It weren’t Prosser chantin’ it. It was everybody else comin’ through them ranks. They idolise you man and I get dat. I can under-STAND dat just perfectly fine.

“But every time they compared ME to YOU... just coz I got a little heart and a little backbone... it made me a little angrier every time. Made me hit dat bag a little harder. Throw a couple more pounds on dat barbell. Lock dat sleeper on a little tighter.

“Every time they compared me to you it spurred me on a little further.

“I get how people respect you. I can’t help but respect you myself, Jack, but I don’t want to BE you. I don’t want to be just LIKE you. I want to be myself in dis industry. I don’t wanna be da next Jack Bryant. I wanna be Teddy Alexander. Da Goddamn Spinal Smash Monger. I wanna forge my OWN legacy in dis industry and for me to prove to everybody back home, back in Philly, back in da UWA, dat I’m my OWN man I need to defeat YOU, Jack Bryant.

“To get past all dis crap about bein’ da next you I need to BEAT you and I need to beat you good. I need to smash your spine into da canvas with da Ragekill Driver and take your Goddamn belt from around your Goddamn waist and ALL of those voices in my head will SHUT – DA HELL – UP!”

(Visibly upset with the history meeting him, TEDDY’s breathing has become almost maniacal. His eyes are widened and the muscles in his neck tensed.)

TEDDY ALEXANDER:
“Yeah. I’ll admit it. I want your belt. I wanna be da TV Champ, Jack. I won’t stand here and lie to you about dat. But da cherry on my cake, Jack, is shutting up all those people, those naysayers, dat couldn’t see me thanks to da footsteps you’d left behind, Jack.

“Your shadow may cast long and dark over da UWA as one of its success stories, Jacky Boy, but I struggle to understand how it can continue to leave da UWA in darkness when I cut its source off at da knees.

“When I climb out of your dinosaur footprint and lock you in da Warsnare at Brawl 52 I want them all to see da pain on your face. Da agony contorting your pride into anguish as you tap dat canvas. As you yield to me, Jack.

“For me to define myself, Jack, I have to dispense with you. I’ll take your damn belt and wrap it around my waist and everytime you see it YOU will hear those whispers. YOU will hear da doubt. YOU will be compared to ME when I hold your NFW Television Championship high above my head.

“And as a token of my appreciation I shall wrap dis neck brace around your neck as a reminder for my mercy because, Jack, I have no interest in breaking your neck.

“I want you to feel ALL dat I’ve felt growing up in your shadows. I want you to feel dat.

“I NEED you to feel dat.

“Because one day, after you’ve fallen from your pedestal and I’ve snatched da Television Championship from your grasp, you’re gonna come crawlin’ back to ME demanding a rematch to hush AAALLLLLL da voices YOU hear.

“All of them... comparing YOU... to me.”

(FADE to BLACK.)

 

[Biron]

(CUT TO: A stony-faced Jack Bryant, the NFW World Television Championship slung over his right shoulder, standing with a BRAWL in Miami backdrop behind him. He’s dressed in his best-selling, black tee featuring Bryant posing, hands on hips, on the front and “NUT UP” across the back in bold, white lettering, red and white Under Armour fleece sweatpants, and red, high-top Chuck Taylors. Bryant, his right hand holding the belt against his body, runs his left hand through his untrimmed beard.)

JB: “ Ah toss an Open Challenge out an’ Ah don’t see hide nor hair a’ tha’ so-called Heavy Hitters. Hell, gettin’ a match ‘round here, even when yer handin’ out shots at tha’ TV strap, can be like pullin’ teeth outta’ a pissed-off pitbull. (shakes head) Leave it ta’ a wet-behind-tha’-ears rook ta’ stand up an’ take tha’ opportunity when it’s put n’ front a’ him. That’s half tha’ damn battle - havin’ tha’ gravel n’ yer guts ta’ line up an’ go fer it. ‘course, that’s only tha’ easy part a’ tha’ game. Tha’ hard part is steppin’ b’tween them ropes an’ squarin’ up with Jack Bryant. That’s tha’ part where yer feel good, heart-warmin’ tale comes ta’ an abrupt stop, Teddy Alexander. Ah know yer puttin’ a lot a’ stock ‘nta us both comin’ from tha’ UWA. It seems ta’ be tha’ fuel that makes yer lil’ ragefits keep on comin’. Well, Ah’m gonna’ shoot straight with ya’, Alexander, it don’t mean a lick ta’ me. Ah trained there an’ that’s about it. Ah was gone as quick as Ah had arrived. This has nothin’ ta’ do with tha’ UWA ‘er Avery Prosser usin’ mah name ta’ push you kids. Ah’m glad Ah could help ya’all, but, rest assured, Ah’m not gonna’ be helpful come BRAWL n’ Miami. ”

(JB readjusts the TV Title on his shoulder.)

JB: “ Yer not gonna’ be tha’ last boy ta’ roll outta’ tha’ UWA an’ come callin’ after me. An’, one-by-one, Ah’ll listen ta’ tha’ stories an’ then Ah’ll promptly put ‘em on their ass. That’s tha’ plain ol’ truth. Ah beat folks, Alexander, an’ Ah do it real well. Yer over there talkin’ ‘bout strappin’ a neck brace on ol’ Jack Bryant .. (pauses) talkin’ ‘bout showin’ me mercy an’ not breakin’ mah neck. Ya’ don’t have a damn clue what yer walkin’ ‘nta, bub. Sure, yer chest puffs out a bit when yer sayin’ it n’ tha’ mirror at home, but it’s a whole different ballgame when yer motormouthin’ ‘em at Jack Bryant. Ya’ talk a big game, Alexander, tha’ ol’ shock an’ awe routine. Tha’ neck brace is a nice touch, same goes fer yappin’ ‘bout crackin’ necks, an’, heck, it makes ya’ stick out like a sore thumb. It mighta’ even ruffled Bret Kelly’s feathers a bit, but this ol’ boy doesn’t scare quite so easy. Yer steppin’ ‘nta tha’ ring with a whole ‘nother beast. Yer climbin' 'nta tha' ring with more than just 'nother Joe Blow. Ah'm mighty fond a' this belt, Alexander, an' it's gonna' take a helluva lot more than jealousy ta' take it away. Ah fully ‘ntend on walkin’ outta’ there with tha’ TV strap exactly where it’s sittin’ right now - hangin' from this Southern boy's shoulder. Yer gonna’ have ta’ wait fer another day an' another opponent ta’ forge yer legacy an' ta’ step outta’ mah shadow. ”

(Sends a spit rocket flying off-camera.)

JB: “ See, yer gonna’ find out, real quick, that tha’ shadow yer havin’ so much trouble with, is a drop n’ tha’ ocean compared ta’ tha’ man castin’ it. ”

(FTB)

 

[User Poets]

Dinner party!

The biggest problem with our apartment?

It hasn't been lived in in a very long time.

I figured, what was the point? Rose was staying at her mom's with the cats while she recovered, and then she spent like a month in Los Angeles partying like a rockstar. Since there was nothing to come home to but an empty room, I filled the hours with tons of extra promo work for the Empire and for the New Frontier.

"You know what we need," said Rose, as she swept the hardwood floor in the main entryway, "We need to have people over."

Good idea, I said, polishing out the glasses on the bar shelves. But who are we gonna invite? Eli and Sean and Miss Ivy are all busy with Ultratitle stuff, Lou and Sally are on vacation, and it's not like the rest of our friends are going to travel all the way uptown just to hang out inside.

"True," said Rose, and her energy faded a bit. I felt bad, but it was true: if you're going to take a cab or a subway from Brooklyn or the Lower East Side all the way to Washington Heights, you're going to be in the mindset for going somewhere public.

All of a sudden --

"I've got it," said Rose, "let's invite the new team over."

The new team, I asked.

"What's their names," she said, "Eric and Jason. Point of View, they were? And their manager Bronte. Make 'em feel welcome and all."

I leaned against the wall and thought about it. Not a bad idea, I said, but the problem is, they're part of my opponents at Brawl, they might think it's a trap.

Rose raised an eyebrow. "But they might try to do an Admiral Ackbar impression in the midst of it," she said, "and that would make it all worthwhile."

Laughter ensued. Lots of laughter.

You may be right, I said, but it might still be a little awkward. I know you want to make some new girlfriends in the process and make the new kids feel welcome, but maybe we should invite some more people then, too.

She continued to sweep for a few seconds, and I turned my attention toward the shelf of glasses, when I suddenly heard a minor crash. I turned around in time to see the broom on the floor and Rosie quickly entering the bedroom.

Sweetie, I said, looking inside. Babes? What's up?

What I saw was Rose, sitting at her desk, going through a box of index cards.

"You're a genius," she said to me, "We can invite over the rest of the guys in the match, too, and we can talk about it and give the Point of View our... well, point of view, on being the new kids. And I think it'll be a much better match if we can establish trust and work it out as a simple athletic contest."

So what do you have there, I asked, as I looked over her shoulder. She had taken out a pair of index cards already, and was busily looking for more.

"Addresses, of course," said Rose, "I found Jack's and Dr. Curiosity's, I just need Nova's."

Addresses, I repeated. Why do we have their addresses?

"I have everyone in the New Frontier and the Empire in here," said Rose, "Christmas cards and stuff."

I blinked.

We're sending everyone Christmas cards this year?

Rosie giggled. "You're funny. We sent everyone Christmas cards last year. And here we go!"

She stopped and pulled Nova's address out of her filing system. "This is gonna be so much fun," she said, "I'll send full invitations, we'll get all dressed up, we'll have drinks and appetizers and cheese and crackers and a soup and salad and a main course and dessert, and then afterwards we can have coffee and brandy just like they did in Clue."

You're really serious about this, aren't you, I asked.

"It's the best idea ever!" replied Rose.

One thing, I said, following her into the kitchen, where we kept envelopes and writing implements, Jack Harmen and Dr. Curiosity don't really get along, we should at least make sure they know the other is invited.

"What," said Rose, "that Thirteen thing with the National title? I'm sure they've already made up and forgotten about it."

I wasn't so sure.

But I wasn't going to stop her now: Rosie can knock people over with her enthusiasm when she's on a roll.

So I guess this is it. This apartment is going to, in theory, house Jack Harmen, Nova, Eric Beachy, Jason Murray, Bronte Lakes, Dr. Curiosity, and probably Eegor, too.

The neighbors are gonna just looooove that.

 

[Biron]

(FADEIN: To "The Birmingham Stallion" JACK BRYANT, TV Championship draped over his right shoulder, standing alongside NFW’s Website Editor-slash-Reporter DEVIN MILLWOOD inside of MAC’s COMICS & COLLECTIBLES in South Beach. BRYANT is dressed in a black, crimson-eyed stallion tee, Wranglers, and a pair of light brown, square-toed Double H cowboy boots. Behind them, there are several banquet tables covered in NFW merchandise - bobbleheads, posters, replica belts, and much more - and racks upon racks full of shirts, sweatshirts, sweatpants, shorts, and other apparel. Fans are milling around, looking at merchandise and chatting up the other NFW Wrestlers on-hand, - IMPULSE, SUPERFLY EXPRESS, and POINT OF VIEW w/ BRONTE LAKES. CALICO ROSE, wearing a pair of completely unnecessary and nerdy glasses, is in the midst of a Magic: The Gathering game with a group of teenagers. She's clearly not playing by the rules as she shouts "GO FISH!" )
　
DEVIN MILLWOOD: " Hello NFW, Devin Millwood here at Mac's Comics and Collectibles, where wrestlers and staff are doing a bit of promo work for the upcoming BRAWL 52! For those of you living under a rock or staying in a bomb shelter 'cause you heard the NFW was brining B52 to Miami and immediately thought the worst, this man (eyes flash to BRYANT and back) our Television Champion Jack Bryant will be defending his belt against Teddy Alexander in the Main Event. (BRYANT nods) How's South Beach treating you so far, Jack? "
　
JACK BRYANT: " Good. "
　
MILLWOOD: (cracks a smile) " The notoriously gruff TV Champ! "
　
BRYANT: " Ah'm not here ta' talk weather 'er women, bud. "
　
MILLWOOD: " Alright, I'll skip the small talk. (BRYANT: " Good idea.") Jack, you'll be taking on relative newcomer and UWA grad, Teddy Alexander, who had much to say about your stay in UWA and your connection to fellow UWA trainees. You seemed dismissive at best. Any particular reason? "
　
BRYANT: " That UWA bull can stay n' tha' past, far as Ah'm concerned. Me an' Prosser said 'bout six words ta' each other fer tha' short Ah was there. Ah don't think he particularly liked me an', hell, Ah didn't have much time fer him either. Ah picked up what Ah needed, but that's 'bout it. There's not a special place n' mah heart fer tha' UWA 'er nothin'. It is what it is. If Teddy Alexander wants ta' talk 'bout tha' Little Leagues, Ah'll send him back there quick an' n' a hurry. "
　
MILLWOOD: " Do you feel like you've cast a large shadow over Alexander and anybody else who has or is training in the UWA? He's very adamant about paving his own way, being his own man, and using you, Jack Bryant, as a stepping stone. "
　
BRYANT: " (smirks) Ask DeVille how well ol' Jack Bryant works as a steppin' stone. Ah reckon JJ SUNK. Ask Stratton, too. JJ offered Dorchester another shot at tha' World Title, if he could take mah strap off a' me an' deliver it back ta' JJ. That lasted all a' two minutes an' he threw n' tha' white towel. Ah'm no steppin' stone. (furrows brow) As far as tha' shadow hangin' over Alexander's head, 'course he's n' mah shadow. Ah mean he's been n' tha' Frontier fer all a' ten minutes. He's low-man on tha' totem pole. He's gonna' be n' mah shadow fer a long, long time, but nobody is comparin' his name ta' mine. Jack Bryant is a two-time Television Champion. Ah'm gonna' be a World Champ. He's tha' neck brace kid from Philly. Don't sound like much'uva comparison ta' me. "
　
MILLWOOD: " Ouch, harsh. Let's switch topics real quick. You mentioned a World Championship. Obviously, Calvin Carlton agrees and has been pushing hard to represent you. Are you at all interested? "
　
BRYANT: " Am Ah 'nterested n' bein' n' bed with a deep-pocketed, 'nfluential manager, obsessed with havin' tha' World Title. Good question, Millwood. "
　
(MILLWOOD waits for more answer, but it never comes. He acknowledges that fact with a head shake and a smile before continuing on.)
　
MILLWOOD: " Speaking of managers, Jack, what's the scoop on you and ex-NFW V.P and Director of Marketing Fiona Love? The 'net boards are buzzin' about you two being a couple. "
　
(BRYANT shoots a stony glance at MILLWOOD, who nods his head multiple times as if to say 'Yeah, yeah, I know'.)
　
MILLWOOD: " Well, I've run us into a bit of a dead end here, haven't I? Jack, why don't you go ahead and close up. "
　
(The camera shifts solely onto BRYANT.)
　
BRYANT: " Two years ago, Teddy Alexander, Ah stood n' tha' same spot that you are today. There was an Open Challenge fer tha' PURE Heavyweight Belt. Ah threw mah Houndstooth cap 'nta tha' ring. Ah wanted ta' beat Sean Stevens ... ta' make mah first mark on tha' Frontier. Ah got five minutes with Stevens b'fore them Secret Service boys pulled me away. He said that Ah didn't deserve ta' stand n' a ring with him. That Ah wasn't worthy. He was scared. Scared a losin' what he had. Scared a bein' pushed out by a younger wrassler. Ah'm not gonna' do that fer ya, Teddy. Ah wouldn't think a grantin' ya' that sorta favor. Ah want ya ta' have ta' go toe-ta'-toe with me fer ten, fifteen minutes. 'cause Ah want ya ta' remember this match, Teddy, just like all them stories that bother ya so-much. Ah want ya ta' remember tha' night Ah handed ya' a golden (slaps title) oppertunity ta' not only win mah TV strap, but ta' prove yer better than Jack Bryant, that yer tha' one everybody shoulda' been talkin' 'bout. Ah want ya ta' remember 'cause it's gonna' be tha' night ya realize that ya' bit off more than ya could chew. That yer mouth is plenty fat 'nough ta' fit yer foot n' it. That all them stories don't come close ta' summin' up Jack Bryant. Yer gonna' learn that tha' hard way. (pauses) Time ta' go back ta' school, kid. "

(BRYANT flashes a crooked grin as the camera FTB.)

 

[fugginVOSS]

(FADE-IN: on DEVIN MILLWOOD standing before an NFW Revolution Star background. To his right stands TEDDY ALEXANDER wearing a "Birmingham Stallion" tee with the sleeves cut off. TEDDY eyeballs the camera with a steely gaze and MILLWOOD looks at the camera uncomfortably.)

DEVIN MILLWOOD:
"Well, since the Frontier are SO adamant I speak to every surly superstar this roster can muster I'm here with the challenger to JACK BRYANT's Television Championship, the Philadelphian Nightmare... Teddy Alexander."

(Shifting his stance, TEDDY bounces his head from side-to-side but fails to recognize what MILLWOOD is saying to him.)

DEVIN MILLWOOD:
"Oh great. It's gonna be another one of THOSE interviews is i-"

(Before MILLWOOD can react, ALEXANDER grabs him by the I crooning wielding wrist and pulls the mic into an audible position so he can address the camera.)

(More importantly... address his opponent.)

TEDDY ALEXANDER:
"Oh, is dat right, Jack. Is DAT right?

"You're gonna send ME back to da little leagues? Huh? Dat's your big plan when we go toe-to-toe? Tell me about how Triple X broke your heart and told you daat you weren't worth da sprog and eggs ya came from? You want me to shed a tear for you, Jack?"

DEVIN MILLWOOD:
"You're kinda hurting my wrist there, Teddy."

TEDDY ALEXANDER: (to Millwood)
"SHUT-UP!

"Listen, Jack... I've heard enough about ya hardships and unrequited love stories. I've sat here and listened to your opinion on me. What you think of me. What you think I'm capable of.

"If you think for one minute, Jack, dat I'm not worth the time limit NFW has set on dis competition then you take your belt, you take your ball, and you fuck off back under da trailer you crawled out from under, Jack. You head on back to Inbred, Alabama, or wherever da HELL you rode in from on dat high horse of yours, and don't even bother wastin' my time."

DEVIN MILLWOOD:
"You really ARE hurting my wrist, Teddy."

(ALEXANDER snatches the mic out of DEVIN's grasp and tosses his other hand aside, spinning MILLWOOD the 180 degrees he needed to face to take his exit.)

(Snarling, TEDDY turns back to the camera.)

TEDDY ALEXANDER:
"I did my time in a place dat hailed false idols as kings, treating you as some sort of demi-god. Yeah, you cast a long shadow over da UWA, Jack. It might be da tear drop in da ocean to da man castin' it but if none of dat means nothin' to you you're either a really bad liar or tryin' too hard to convince me.

"Did I despise da fact they ALL compared me to you just coz I got da guts to follow my dream in spite of my hurdles and my past? Huh? Of course i did!

"I may loathe every-damn-time I heard someone make dat comparison, Jack, but I don't turn my back on my past. On my journey. I'm da man I am today coz of where I came from, no matter what. No matter how hard you try to tell yourself, Jack, you can't ignore da path you've travelled because it's shaped da Birmingham Stallion we see today.

"Yeah... I got da gravel to face you, Jack. I got balls da size of Texas and a chip on my shoulder. I got nothin' to lose and EVERYTHIN' to gain, Jack. There's a path laid before me dat many men have tried to travel before. I can see 'em, Jack. All them bodies you left in ya wake. Good men with hearts beatin' like war drums to face their doom. Palms sweatin'. Guts in their throats. Stammer in their step. Lookin' up da ramp at this surly faced jerk castin' his shadow over us all.

"See, Jack. For all da darkness dat washes over me I still see da light. I still can look past da eclipse before me and see what's on da dark side of da moon. I see me... Standin' in da centre of da ring holdin' the NFW TV title big above my head standin' over your lifeless body, neck brace strapped 'round ya neck, twitchin' from da pain the Ragekill Driver sends coursin' through your spine.

"I see me standin' there victorious over your lifeless body, Jack.

"Castin' a shadow over YOU."

(FADE to BLACK.)

 

[Steve]

(FADEIN: Jason Murray, Eric Beachy, and Bronte Lakes in front of a BRAWL: MIAMI backdrop.)

JASON MURRAY: It’s interesting being on the other side of it, now. Before Tampa, I was the NFW fan who watched the promotion fight to survive every year, and now I’m the employee who understands every movement has an end. Things stagnate. They grow old and predictable, desperate even. When the dead no longer mind dying, even the innocent have to be slaughtered.

I remember being giddy the first time NFW was picked up in a Kentucky market. Buried in cable tv’s afterbirth, sent to die in a midnight slot, and I waited anxiously for the day to begin. When I was able to see NFW as it hit the airwaves, and not have to wait months for a hookup to send me tapes of months worth of shows, I set my day around it. That’s the thing about being part of a movement, even if you’re only a witness to it, you feel as though nothing else matters. I read the online zines, and the last of the dying trade papers all predict with some glee the NFW’s demise.

How they were bleeding money…

How they could never get over in big markets, or with better time slots..

I didn’t know when NFW would be taken away from me, and that’s why I cherished those late nights in my room watching the revolution unfold. But, in the midst of piling debt and weak kneed sponsorships, the NFW killed itself. They latched on to what made money before and they rung it dry.

The bottom line is NFW hasn’t been special for a very long time. That great rock band that played in front of 500 people joined a boy band. Which is insane, because if you there, if you saw them play in the club with just the moonlight lighting the stage you’d swear you were a part of a religious experience.

I believe there are multiple universes in the world.

In one, there’s an NFW free of Michael Manson and dildos and played out CSWA superstars, and its populated by free thinkers, and men and women who push the envelope of what’s possible in the ring, and don’t make a ****ing parody out of it. That universe isn’t the one we live in, but when Eric and I are done, the way we see NFW, will be your POINT OF VIEW as well. I can promise you that.

ERIC BEACHY: And the innocent will be slaughtered Jayce! There are those of you who don’ t like change, who don’t mind the SAME OLD TIRED tag teams trotted out there like cows to be milked. Eventually as it happens on my Uncle Frank’s farm, those old cows can’t give anymore, and when that happens, when they’ve spent their last gallon of goodness they’re put down! People buy this **** because its stamped with the logo and the NFW’s marketing team could sell an anal plug to a bible belt virgin. But change is coming. A new movement has started, the NFW will be cool again and for those sheep who need to be told what to buy, the time is now to go all in on POINT OF VIEW. I’M A HIGH SCHOOL ALL-AMERICAN. I’m the greatest athlete AUSTIN PEAY university has ever seen. And as I showed in Tampa, I’m the HOTNESS!

BRONTE LAKES: Rose, thanks for the invitation. I suspect in another situation, in another time we’d be great friends, but the truth is I’m not here to give feedback on cupcakes and join the party planning committee. The only bonfire I’m interested in is the one that will reshape NFW in the image that it was BEFORE they all sold-out.

JASON MURRAY: Impulse, Harmen…Nova. The crowd will be there to see you, we’re the new kids, the underdogs, Eric and I can’t deny that, but when it’s over the next time they buy tickets it’ll be to see us. It’ll be an honor to get in that ring with you all, but once you’ve beaten legends on your playstation, the thrill is lessened somewhat. Everybody’s a star. It’s our time. This is our POINT OF VIEW.

BRONTE LAKES: And there’s a Doctor in the house to boot! Even TVland launches a new series. If the powers to be won’t stop rerunning the same **** week after week, my boys (kisses Jason on the cheek) will tear this city apart!

(FTB)

 

[Colin]

We find Phil Atken sitting alone in a rather small apartment living room, looking a little bit more run down than usual. He is adorned is a lovely ensemble of a beer stained white t-shirt and crotch ripped open pyjama pants. He is found to be on one of those wonderful telephonular devices, which, thanks to the magic of television we can listen in to. It appears he is in mid-conversation with his (plausible) father, Prime Minister of Great Britain, Dirk Dickwood.


Atken: It'd just be spiffy if you could make it over.


Dickwood: What, for your god damn little wrestling show? So you can embarrass the family again? Why the hell do you think me and Helga moved back over here? It sure as **** wasn't the weather, I tell you that.


Atken: Well...


Dickwood: Helga, your idiot of a son wants me to drop running a ****ing country and pop on over to America to watch him lose one of his bloody wrestling match and you were trying to tell me he shouldn't have been aborted.


Atken: I just thought...


Before Atken can even launch into the sentence, he is once again steam rolled by the mighty voice of Dickwood.


Dickwood: No you didn't you didn't think. That's the problem. Ya think tax payers are gonna lap up me swanning off to America to watch ****ing wrestling of all things. You think that's gonna lead me to gangbuster poll numbers?


Atken: But for the old times...


Dickwood: Call me back when you actually win something. The Roop, he can work with that. Dickwood and Thatcher greet their superstar son. That's the ticket.


The next thing we hear is the booming voice of Phil's wonderfully loving shehemoth of a mother and the current Chancellor of the Exchequer of Those British Isles, Helga Nolaystenamegivven.


Helga: LOVE YOU LOTS VHILLIE BUT ME AND DIRKYPOO HAVE AN COLOSTOMY TO RUN!


Dickwood: Economy ya dumb wench. Look Phil, I gotta go. If you can pull a trillion dollar out of your god damn arse then we can make arrangements, otherwise call me when you have a title strapped around that bulging waist of yours.


We hear the phone slamming down shut as Phil just stares at his receiver in total bewilderment. He is heard to utter the word “sheeite” at least 10 times under his breath before slapping himself out of it. Phil sheepishly puts the phone down on his end


Atken: Well that wasn't exactly what I expected to happen when I invited you over.


Phil begins to chew away at his bottom lip, looking rather befuddled at the matter in hand.


Atken: ...it's just family, y'know. You expect them to be there for you. I thought Dirk being Prime Minister was going to usher in the next great Atken era. Kinda takes the wind from your sails having one of the most powerful men in the world tell you to bugger off.


Atken begins to drum his fingers across the arm of his couch as his eyes dart back and forth. Suddenly, the whole situation just sinks right in and as soon as it does...


Atken: DAN RYAN? HOW THE HELL...WHAT THE HELL... HOW CAN I? I DON'T WANT TO DIE! I'M TOO PITIFUL!


Phil closes his eyes and takes a great big sigh. He starts to roll his head around while shaking his shoulders all up and down and around the joint.


Atken: No come on Phil. You can do this. You can do it. You have legitimate grievances! LEGITIMATE! You want that World Title shot. Then you become the powerful one! You get the fancy jet and the free lap dances! But how do I do it? I mean... Dan Ryan. That's just... Dan... Ryan. He busts egos.


Phil leaps up out of his seat in a flurry of excitement as if he has just cracked the enigma or passed a basic maths class.


Atken: Then again, I don't have much of an ego to bust. How does an ego buster bust such a small ego. Clearly there are most tastier egos out there in the wild. I'm sure Miami is full of all kinds of wonderful egos that he can bust. He could very well be all puckered out before we even meet in the ring.


Phil begins to rub has hands together excitedly or perhaps he was just cold from the lack of central heating in his current abode.


Atken: That's the ticket. Then when he gets to the ring all puffed out from the Miami ego slaughter I just sing him a lovely lullaby and he's off to sleepy town. That title shot is as good as got.


What Phil is saying suddenly has a moment to penetrate his brain space. The brow furrows, the face drops.


Atken: CRAP! I can't sing for biscuits. Or any other kind of tea time sweet snack. Perhaps a waffle or danish. No I can't sing for any of that! No, what to do, what to do. Would a tape recorder be considered a foreign object? I mean I wouldn't be hitting him with it or anything. I just want him to sleep so we don't have to fight.


Phil picks up his phone and begins to frantically dial.


Atken: Hello? Is this the NFW Rules and Regulations Board? Hello? Hello? What do you mean go **** myself? I'm a talented athlete with a burning... Hello?


Phil slams the phone down once again in a bout of frustation. The phone wobbles slightly on the table but for any of you out there who were concerned about the health and well-being of the phone, it safely stayed up upon the table.


Atken: So...


Phil gives out a little Tiger Woods-esque fist pump.


Atken: I GOT IT! Dan Ryan has a few bigger fish to fry than I. Let's say he doesn't quite make it to the ring. Let's say that he was trying to bust himself an ego backstage and had a little fall. Maybe a box falls on his head. Maybe not. I can only speculate. Maybe I win by forfeit... Anyone have JJ Deville's number?


Silence.


Atken: No one has his number? None of you? Are you kidding me!


Tumbleweed.


Atken: Alright, I'm off out to totally not the box factory. DON'T FOLLOW ME.


Phil quickly throws on a leather jacket that would have been described as seeing better days a decade ago and sprints out of the door.

 

[Nova]

No Time Like the Present

(CUTIN: Ringside at BRAWL 51 in Tampa just after the SUPERFLY EXPRESS vs. DOC CURIOSITY & NINE tag match. SUPERFLY EXPRESS remain in the ring, NOVA still supporting a dazed JACK HARMEN, who’s recovering from the Schrodinger’s Smack he received moments earlier from NINE. The crowd is on their feet cheering, and HARMEN is taken by surprise as NOVA steps back and thrusts their arms into the air together. NOVA raises EXCALIBUR with his other hand, the broken glass shards gleaming under the ringlights.)

CROWD: “SU-PER-FLY! SU-PER-FLY! SU-PER-FLY! SU-PER-FLY!”

(They get it.)

“SU-PER-FLY! SU-PER-FLY!”

(Do YOU get it?)

“SU-PER-FLY! SU-PER-FLY!”

(Can you DIG it?)

“SU-PER-FLY! SU-PER-FLY!”


(CUTTO: NOVA pacing back and forth in front of a non-descript concrete wall, clad in black track pants, large sunglasses, and a black fuzzy headband that does a poor job of containing the wiry blonde horseshoe of hair circling his scalp. He’s also sporting a black H**k H*g*n style t-shirt with the sides and sleeves cut out, the words “SUPERFLY EXPRESS” in ‘70s Day-Glo bubble letters across the top, and underneath a drawing of The Little Engine That Could coming over a hilltop, except instead of a chimney billowing smoke, a fat joint pokes from the Engine’s smiling lips and leaves a trail of smoke in his wake. JACK HARMEN leans back against the wall, several meters removed from the focus.)

NOVA: (Lighting a cigarette) “When I came back, I struggled a bit to establish what it was I was trying to accomplish. The Frontier landscape had changed dramatically, and when I returned with visions of cracking EXCALIBUR over EDDIE MAYFIELD’s head and redeeming myself with another shot at JOE THE PLUMBER, I was met with a former champion finally gassed out after the two most dominant years I’d ever witnessed in this industry, and an ex-leader of men content to retreat behind a wall of talented guys who were emotionally emaciated and starving for something to fight for. It was like vertigo.”

(Taking a drag) “I had to take a step back, reassess. So that’s what I did. I actually took several steps back, into the woods, away from humanity, and that’s where I stayed, staring into a campfire every night and hoping there’d be a message stuffed into the bottom of my handle of Jim Beam, giving me a sign…something. I didn’t want to wade into the fray of ‘Team NFW’ vs. the Windham Clan. I looked at CASTOR atop the scrap heap with the World Heavyweight Championship in his clutches and while I tried to convince myself that’s where I wanted to be – and I did try – I could feel that that wasn’t true. I looked at Castor and I felt happy for him, but I remembered the person I was when I was King of the Mountain…paranoid, obsessed…amoral. And I remembered what I had to do to stay up there. And I realized that what I was missing…

…was this.”

(NOVA holds the emblem of his shirt out towards the camera.)

NOVA: “An old friend…a shared goal…a new accolade. NFW boasts the most competitive tag team division in professional wrestling. To raise the straps together here, is not settling. It’s not amusing ourselves until our numbers are called for a shot at the WHC. It’s a mission. It’s coming full-circle in my career from the training facility outside CANTON, MISSISSIPPI where my best friend and I decided to enroll as a team and eventually became one of the hottest regional acts in the South and the Midwestern states.”

(He pauses for a moment.)

NOVA: “It’s funny, I had to fall in with the multiple-personality psychopaths in this place before I was able to figure out who *I* was, and what my priorities were.” (Looking back at HARMEN) “No offense.”

(HARMEN offers a simple wave.)

NOVA: “And now that I know, and I’ve got someone who shares the vision, and we’ve got badass Superfly shirts, and intro music, and are in the process of developing sweet double-team moves…all we need now is to win some matches.” (Looking back to HARMEN) “That’s gonna happen soon, I think.” (HARMEN nods.)

NOVA: (Taking a drag) “No time like the present, with IMPULSE and his DEE-LIGHTFUL girlfriend Rosie who inspires us all with her culinary confections…most of which are in my belly.”

(As the scene fades out, first we hear Nova talking to someone about how he didn’t know “how to end that one,” then the camera man is heard asking HARMEN for comment.)

JACK HARMEN: “I’m off the clock.”

(FADETOBLACK.)

 

[User Poets]

Re: No Time Like the Present

(FADEIN...

On the main entryway into our apartment. If you can picture it, you walk in the door into a short hallway, there's a coat closet immediately to the left, and six steps in, it opens up into a main room.

In our younger days...

Younger days, like last weekend.

But in our younger days, we could fold up the couch and push the makeshift bar against the wall and set up the beer pong table or play darts or just turn the music on real loud.

Tonight, we have Rose's mom's old dining room table set up, with four chairs. Straight back was the kitchen, to the left was our bedroom, and farther down the hallway was the bathroom, guest room, and TV room - slash - study.

Straight back in the kitchen, I zoomed in on Rose, working hard at the stove. She had this scalloped potatoes recipe that she wanted to try for our houseguests--)

"You're not taping me, are you?" she asked.

Uhhh... No, of course not, I said.

"Good," said Rose. "Because I'm unshowered and hideous and if you're gonna drag that thing out tonight you'd better wait until I get ready."

It was pretty warm in the apartment: we had a series of wall units to keep the place temperature controlled, but since I was going to be grilling a london broil on the grill on the fire escape right outside the kitchen window, my poor lady was sweating away pounds she couldn't afford to lose.

So I turned the camera around and pointed it at myself.

This should be interesting, I said, even with the Point of View and Curiosity bailing out. I guess it's meant to be, I said, with our team here we can go over what we know and what our strategy will be.

I smirked into the camera.

And we'll be discussing refined violence and technical savagery over a fairly elegant dinner party.

I kinda like that.

JUMP CUT
​

There was a knock at the door, and Rose walked in front of me to open it. She was showered and changed and looked much happier in a pinstriped skirt and tank top.

On the other side of the door, was quite a sight.

"Did you get him a corsage, at least?" asked Rose.

Jack Harmen and Nova stood there, shoulder to shoulder. It's completely plausible that they showed up together; we were off until Miami and if you're traveling, why not travel with someone you know? Especially if you're tag team partners.

"I brought cupcakes," said Nova, as he held out a covered platter.

Rose smiled as she took the platter.

What've you got there, I asked Harmen.

He looked down at the bowl in his hands.

"Potato salad?" he said.

Wow, I thought.

We never get together outside of the arena, none of us. There's a sense of community in the locker rooms, but that doesn't appear to translate anywhere else. The Windham Clan rides with the Windham Clan, the Dynasty rides with the Dynasty, et cetera, and nobody ever cross - promotes.

"Come in, come in," said Rose, as she backed up so they could enter. "Was it hard to find the place?"

"No, your directions were fine," said Harmen, as he looked at me. "Why are you filming this, dude?"

JUMP CUT
​

We're in the living room, Nova's got a beer in his hand and Harmen has a piece of cheese in one hand and a short glass in the other.

"It wasn't really part of any major plan," said Harmen, "I felt like putting on a mask and you left a spare, so I thought, why not?"

JUMP CUT
​

"I'm not that skinny," said Rose, standing over Nova who was busily drawing with a pencil on a piece of folded paper.

"Please," said Nova, "a slight breeze would blow you down."

If you land on your ass you won't get hurt, I said, referencing the fact that she did have a bit of a ghetto booty.

JUMP CUT
(for safety sake)
​

It was the middle of dinner.

"Curious rules aren't anything to worry about," said Harmen, "He doesn't have permission to use 'em for this match, so he's stuck with the same rules you follow."

Rose passed him the potatoes - Harmen was all over them.

"Besides," he continued, "I've got most of 'em memorized from the month or so I'd stolen it from him, ain't no surprises. The only thing we don't really know about are the kids."

The kids remind me of me, I said, back when I started, only with the wrong attitude. They're talented and they're on the right track, they just have this rookie attitude of 'everyone who's here shouldn't be here,' or whatever.

"What do you think, Cally?" asked Nova.

It's amazing what the simple act of sharing food can do - 'Cally' was a nickname that only her close friends use: apparently those cupcakes were better than she thought.

"I don't like her shoes," said Rose.

That was a conversation stopper.

"Her shoes," repeated Harmen.

"Watch her shoes," said Rose, "RK and I watched what we could from the Ultratitle and she was wearing these big fancy boots to the ring and kept shifting from foot to foot like she was uncomfortable. Like they weren't her boots, you know?"

In a strange way, it made sense.

So they're playing the part they think they're supposed to play, I said.

"Exactly," said Rose.

Interesting.

JUMP CUT
​

Our company is long gone, the dishes are in the sink to be dealt with tomorrow, and the camera is sitting on the table next to me while Rose curls up on the big overstuffed comfy chair, sound asleep.

So it was a productive night, I said. We had a good time and I think Nova and Harmen did as well. And we really got inside our opponents' heads.

What I think is telling is that the Point of View are part of the 'It's popular, now it sucks' mentality that our generation attaches to far too many things.

Yes. Our generation. Only two years between us, Jason.

You talk about Michael Manson as a cancer, and maybe he was, but he was also on the first New Frontier show in the era you talk about with such reverence.

You talk about the played out Greensboro superstars, but Joey Melton almost won the whole shebang in the second season, Dan Ryan was the closest thing we've come to in sixty years to one truly undisputed World Champion, and the Windham Clan--

...

Okay, you've got a point there.

You say the New Frontier isn't 'special'?

I say the New Frontier is whatever you want it to be.

You're showing your age and your experience, gentlemen, so I'd like to apologize in advance for this match being over far too quickly for your taste.

But I'd like to do it again in a year or so when you've got some perspective. I have a feeling we'll give the New Frontier something to remember.

Fade.