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Jan 1, 2000
(CUT TO: A crackling fire. The camera pans up and shows a pensive, thoughtful looking JJ DEVILLE standing -- hands behind his back, this suit jacket a little tight, with a white dress shirt and pink ascot.)

JJ: "We've got a lot on our mind and we have a LOT to say. So I want you all at home to take your favorite tick-filled pillows -- maybe the one with your airbrushed names on it -- and lay down next to the trashcan fire you call an internal home heating system."

(JJ purses his lips.)

JJ: "And I'M going first. Right now, I want to take the time to talk about my favorite subject... myself. Because that's because I'm one of the few people alive with the sac to tell the INCONVENIENT TRUTHS about this roster. Up first is Eddie Mayfield. Mister President. El Presidente. Monsieur President. Ohhhh, I know everyone at home is marking out and people went crazy about WHAT YOU DID TO ME. Everyone thinks you're such a bad ass for taking a cheap shot and putting out your cigarette on my neck! You caused me a scar -- one I can cover up with a silk ascot courtesy of Jos. A. Bank, but still! Well, what dumb dumbs watching NFW are overlooking, and what all the members of the wrestling press are forgetting..." (JJ opens his hands and laughs.) "I stood across from you, looked you in the eye, and slapped you across the face. I damn slapped the taste right out of the toothless mouth of Bonnie Mayfield's Only Son, of Dougie Mayfield's Older Half-Brother. I DID THAT MAYFIELD! Just like I came out here on national television and told the world that Dan Ryan molested his daughter and he LEFT the promotion because of me. Just like I engineered the demise of Troy Windham and Mike Randall. And, Mayfield, you want to huff and puff and act like you're the big man around here? I control half this place and almost made you quit about three months ago with allllll the paperwork games I'm making you play. So, Mayfield... do what thou wilt. BECAUSE IT WILT NOT BE GOOD ENOUGH!"

(The fire crackles. CUT TO: DORCHESTER STRATTON, bruise around his eye, split lip, sits on a red leather armchair, stares at the camera with damn-near dead eyes. On the arm of the chair nuzzling against him is VERONICA ABRAMS RUMSFELD.)

DORCHESTER: "Jack Bryant... I'm not one to give a lot of credit. But here we are. What we knew was inevitable. All tied up, 2-2. My back's up against the wall, Jack. All eyes are on yours truly. Everyone has said that I CANNOT WIN THE BIG ONE. Everyone says that when a title is on the line that I find a way to choke. Well, Jack, the only choking that's going to happen this go-round is what's going to happen when me and Veronica are both naked, held together only by the NFW TV Title, as she wraps a stocking around my neck."


DORCHESTER: "Jack, I've tried not to go to that place. It's that place where I spit in the wife of WildStar right after I ended his career. It's that place where I dropped my ex-girlfriend Rayne right on her neck. It's that place where I threw bleach in the eye of Joe The Plumber and ended HIS career. It's that where I ended up running you over with a car. I don't know what happens when I go to that place. But... but now... now I don't care. I know that if I'm going to beat you... then I'm going to have to END you. I'm going to have to destroy you forever. And, Jack? You're going to have to do the same to me!"

(The fire crackles. CUT TO: JJ, smirking, holding up a few pieces of burnt paper.)

JJ: "The truths that I speak are inconvenient because they HURT. I hold up the mirror and make you people look at yourselves and see how ugly you really are. But the reason why I cause so much distress and woe is because no one can admit that what I say is right. Like Berlin. One of the stops scheduled for our last European Vacation. Except we didn't get there. Why ohhhhh why was that?" (JJ chuckles.) "Well, the gaspacho I had at a Barcelona soup kiosk was a tad bit cold and I decided I wanted to go home. So I dimed everyone out. I told the authorities about all the drugs people in this league do. All the prostitutes -- UNDERAGED ones at that -- our guys sleep with on the road. All the petty crimes they commit. And I created such havoc and did such a number on the logistics of our European tour that it got CANCELLED. I *CAN* do that again, mind you. And I will if I must teach you morons a lesson again. You see, you're all going to be put in detaining cells and have your baggage searched and miss connecting flights and the like because of me. You're going to have to sit in an unairconditioned room while a humorless German security guard STARES YOU DOWN. You're going to waste hours upon hours of YOUR PRECIOUS TIME because of me. You're going to be cursing and muttering my name the entire time."

(JJ laughs.)

JJ: "Only, NONE of you will admit that in public. I took tens of thousands of dollars from YOUR paystubs last year. That hurts. And for those of you living cliches who say you wrestle for the love of wrestling... I deprived you of a chance to do just that. Yet -- heeey -- that's cool, you'll just all shrug it off. That's fine. I get it. You all have to save face. You all have to look the part of the larger-than-life heros that you pretend to be. And the easiest, cheapest way to do just that is to no-sell everything and act like nothing bothers you. You know, like our new champion Impulse."

(JJ holds up the paper and purses his lips.)

JJ: "Knox, I'd offer you my congratulations like everyone else did. But I'm not like everyone else. I'm not like the kiss-asses who dot this locker room who so desperately want to stay on the right side of (eye roll) Team Impulse and all of the marketing dollars that your handlers have put behind you. I'm here to be the first to tell the INCONVENIENT TRUTH about you that we all know is true but I and only I dare speak it. Randall Knox... you didn't beat Castor Stryfe for that title. You got lucky. You got lucky that you got put in some gimmick match where skill didn't matter one bit. Falling off of a platform did. Just as you got lucky when you stole the number one contender slot. Castor Stryfe is many things, and I'll get into them later, and an idiot is on that list. Because in a real wrestling match -- a test of skill and technique and manhood -- he owns your ass. Oh, you know, sorta like I DO. You're the least significant world champion in wrestling history, Impulse. Castor Stryfe cares so little about you that he's coming after me -- again, mo'fo'sho in a minute -- instead of getting that rematch clause to take back HIS title. But that's fine. Go defend that title against a bunch of people who, as soon as the match is over, are going to ask for your agent's name. Hold it, Impulse. Because in due time, I'm going to come for it. And when I do, I'm going to unscrew the nameplate that says RANDALL KNOX and put it on the mantle right above this fireplace. Because, Knox... you're nothing more than a paper champion."

(JJ crumples the paper and tosses is it into the fire. CUT TO: BLAINE HOLLYWOOD, standing with a $750 silk black shirt with two of his 10s delinting the back.)

BLAINE: "Legion. You DARED do the worst thing a man can do. You DARED sullied the property of a member of the HOLLYWOOD FAMILY. You DARED to put your hands on the lapel of my father LaMont's Saville Row-tailored sports jacket. You DARED to snake your sinewy arms around his neck and tried to ATTACK a man who is no longer a professional athlete but is instead a commentator. And you did this while HIDING behind your acquisitions... a 7-foot tall mongoloid who doesn't even USE silverware, let alone which is the proper fork to use during the sixth course... and a man who was most made famous when he was *MY* handmaiden in The Dynasty. Legion, you did this and then destroyed the set of my father's PRIDE AND JOY -- his television set, a set he spent a LOT OF MONEY on perfecting. Legion, I am my father's son. He is who bred me. He is who afforded me the opportunity to know the joys of ceremonial fox hunting in the English Midlands. He is who afforded me the opportunity to captain a crew team with the Vinklewoss Twins and Romney brothers both. He is who afforded me the opportunity to become an elite-level master of DRESSAGE and sword-smith in epee fencing competitions. He... he is who allowed me to become AN OXONIAN. You put your hands on my father. You caused him physical harm and untold emotional suffering. For that, Legion... you and your so-called BLACK MARKET must pay dearly. Legion... I am issuing you a FORMAL DECLARATION OF CHALLENGE FOR YOUR INSULTS... you CHURL!"

(The fire crackles. CUT TO: JJ.)

JJ: "Oh, hello. Is it me you're looking for? I know it is. Why oh why? That's because I AM THE SHINING LIGHT OF PROFESSIONAL WRESTLING. I am the biggest star in the industry today. And do you know how I know this? It's because Castor V. Stryfe said so." (JJ purses his lips.) "Oh, I know that's not a DIRECT quote. But it might as well be. But it's a not-so-secret rumor, Castorino, that you've had a hard-on for me for years. And this is for two reasons. First." (JJ smiles and holds up 3 fingers.) "I pinned you, giving The Windham Clan -- i.e., ME -- 50 percent of this dumb. And secondly, you were the World Champion in the era of NFW that *I DEFINED*. No one at night stood awake at night wondering what Castor Stryfe was doing next as champion. They were all worried that I was going to wheel lock their cars in the parking lot for some unforseen violation. They were worried that I was going to suspend refreshment service during the show. Castor Stryfe, IF THAT IS INDEED YOUR REAL NAME... you are pathetically jealous of me." (JJ chuckles.) "And I can understand that, Castor. I have so many things that you wish you had. I am the famous person in NFW. I am the person who ended Troy Windham's career. I AM THE PERSON THAT STIRS THE DRINK. You, Castor? You're an afterthought. And, if I may borrow a line from my mentor Troy Windham's past... you're footnote in the chapter of NFW history that is being written ABOUT ME. So, Castor, go ahead. Send that boneheaded karate dojo cleaning retard Steel Viper after me. I'm not afraid of him. He's bigger than me but I've got, ohhhh, 250 or so IQ points on him. I'll find a way to win. And then, Castor? Heh. There will be NO ONE LEFT. You and me. And then... then there's just going to be ME! HAHAHAHAHA! BWAHAHAHAHAHAH! BWHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHHAHAHAHAHHAH!"

(The camera shows the fire burning as JJ cackles. FTB)

User Poets

The Shadow Pope
Jan 6, 1995
Top of the Pile
"I pinned you, giving The Windham Clan -- i.e., ME -- 50 percent of this dumb.

(CUTTO: Calico Rose at an Australian bar with her hair in a ponytail and a gray T-shirt reading "NFW Vice Champion" on the front.)

"Fifty percent of this dumb?"

"Wow, no wonder you've never been a World Champion, you don't even know how to talk. Is the rest of the junkyard gang wondering where you've gone to, Mush-Mouth?"

"Anyways, RK is far too busy with planning his first few title defenses to spend time debating with a trio of wrestlers who will never, ever, ever be the New Frontier Champion, so my suggestion to you, Jessica Jayden DeVille, is to try and get Castor Strife to give you a match right now. Because I think after he's gotten himself shredded in his own match, it's the only time you might have a chance."

"Hugs and kisses!"



League Member
Jun 5, 2007
Ah Blaine.. I decided to address you on my own because I don't need to have my friends rag along on every promo - I abhor people like you, the ones that think they're better than everyone else because of education, what they wear and where they dine at.

I had the same issue with a certain Lord a while back and you fall exactly into the same ball park - myself and the rest of the Black Market made the statement in front of you and the rest of the Hellfire Club to make an impact, one that we noticed has been talked about as equal as Impulse's big win but here's the biggest thing of all: I could have made sure that your daddy could have been put in a state of vegetation with the Pentagram Choke but I stopped - not because I showed any remorse far from it.

Lamont HAS to be there when I face you - watching as I destroy you and take as much of your soul away from you, to leave you broken in the middle of the ring and if the Hellfire Club try and interfere well Bandit and Devastator can take care of them because our match I want signing IN BLOOD...

Prove you have the balls Blaine or are you going to scoff at the idea of having to fight someone face to face and 1 on 1 because if so don't forget the Black Market knows exactly where the 'bodies' are buried and all the secrets can be dug up very quickly..

As Chaos Rules Everything Around Me I will command it as I see fit - just as Osman would want.


League Member
Aug 8, 2007

(CUT TO: Jack Bryant, dressed in a green Birmingham Vulcans RFC tee, seen-better-days Wranglers, and classic
Black Jack Rattlesnake cowboy boots, standing w/ the NFW Star backdrop behind him. The NFW Television Title is slung over his right shoulder and being held by his left hand.)

JB: “Seems ta’ me, Dorchester, that a helluva lot’s changed since we started this 5-Match Series back in September. Ah saw ya’ as nothin’, but a yella-bellied coward that made a career outta back-jumpin’ folks. Ah didn’t think ya’ had tha’ gumption ta’ line up n’ take me one-on-one. Well, Ah ain’t gonna’ piss down yer back n’ tell ya’ it’s rainin’, ‘chester. Yer a damn fine wrassler. There ain’t many men, two includin’ you ta’ be precise, that can say they beat Jack Bryant clean. ‘course, ya’ beat me once with tha’ help a’ yer pals, DeVille n’ Hollywood, too. n’ Steel Viper lent me a unwanted hand at Reloaded 14, which is why Ah’m flappin’ mah gums at ya’ right now, Dorchester.”

(Runs a hand over his beard.)

JB: “When this all started, back when Castor and Ryan were battlin’ like hell, Ah said that’s what Ah wanted. Ah wanted as close ta’ a WAR as Ah could get. We’ve had that fer four matches now, ‘chester. Folks sayin’ we’re cuttin’ years off a’ our careers every time we step ‘nside tha’ squared circle tagether. They might be right n’, then a’gin, there might not be a nickel’s worth a sense b’tween tha’ lot’uv ‘em. All Ah know fer sure is that there’s one damn match left. We need ta’ settle up, bub. We need ta’ see who tha’ BEST really is. You (points at camera with index finger) ‘er me. (thumbs chest) No tricks. No schemin’. No buddies interferin’. Just you n’ me locked ‘nside a CLOSED STEEL CAGE. Tha’ only way ta’ win is ta’ make tha’ other man say I QUIT. It’s either do tha’ breakin’, ‘er get broken. (sneers) Tha’ balls in yer court, Dorchester. What’s it gonna’ be?”



Rook Black

Live Long and Pants.
Jul 20, 2007
Bedford, OH
ROOK: "I'd like to thank J.J. for the mention ealier when-"

(FADE IN: Rook Black in white button down shirt, sitting behind a desk with his hands folded, the Triple Crown Championship on a nice display on a bookshelf behind him.)

ROOK: "..."

(ROOK flips the desk over as he stands. His face twists into a sneer.)

ROOK: "Oh, that didn't happen, did it? Allow me to do some things I don't normally do."

(ROOK's head moves back like a cobra, and his face flushes..)


ROOK: "I don't know if you've noticed or not, but in this modern era, I do not take kindly by those who attempt to mitigate my presence by ignoring me, trying to pretend that I'm not there."

(ROOK yanks the Triple Crown Championship off the wall, sending the stand flying across the room out of shot and a few books tumbling to the floor. He holds the title belt up be the strap and shakes it at the camera."

ROOK: "Remember this? Remember the master plan of the HFC to get all the shinies? Remember what I said on that day you announced that?"

ROOK: "That it was like Christmas. And now it looks like you've stolen Christmas from me, J.J."

(ROOK slowly regains some composure as he straps the belt around his waist.)

ROOK: "I know that my statistically insignificant streak is intimidating, and that if you let things like that bother you, folks generally tend to feel that there's no possible way to win against me, but I thought you were better than that, smarter than that."

ROOK: "Sure, I've extensively documented how much capital you've hemorrhaged from this company to its board of directors, making sure that the days where you could threaten the roster with your random policity implementation are numbered."

ROOK: "Sure, I've undoubtedly hammered divisive wedges in the HFC itself by pointing out how you have a history of being a detrimental liability to anyone you ally with, putting the ideas into the other members heads regarding that the HFC would be stronger and smarter and far less self-destructive with Rook Black instead of J.J. DeVille. And I'm sure that Veronica hasn't responded to my suggestion, not because I'm not smarter than you, not because I'm more patient than you, and not because I'm more successful than you, but because they don't know if they can trust me."

ROOK: "And I'm not upset about that. It falls perfectly within my projections of your group dynamic. But they are thinking about it. And as you provide more and more evidence that what I say about you is factual, that you are downright radioactive to the degree that those closest to you suffer the most from your misguided behavior, well, at that point old untrustworthy Rook Black starts to look more and more like an option for personnel shuffle that they can't afford not to take, regardless of whether or not it's a ploy of mine merely put in place to destabilize your club."

ROOK: "I've done all those things to give you an idea of what playing a match of human chess against me is actually like, J.J. You did not have to take it so personally as to ignore me, and I am fucking offended."

ROOK: "And what have you done as a result of this? What have you wrought?"

ROOK: "In spite of the various levels of mutual dislike among the other champions in the NFW, my absolute loathing for you has reached the tripping point. Impulse is our worthy Heavyweight Champion, not you. Jack Bryant is our worthy Television Champion, not Dorchester. Superfly Express is our worthy tag Champions, not any combination of the three of you. Not to intentionally exclude you, Blaine, but I think you might be a bit off message to be setting your sights on Legion when it's not contributing to the HFC's stated goals."

ROOK: "These four other men and myself, in spite of our differences, espouse at least one common value."

ROOK: "We really do not like you. Just enough. I, being the Modern Mythological Evildoer Villain Final Boss, will not be trusted in any tag matches among then and-"

(ROOK pauses as he looks to the side contemplatively and switches tone.)

ROOK: "Except maybe Superfly Express. Maybe. There's two of those guys so they don't need to fear a betrayal as much, and I kind of don't hate them. Been meaning to corner Calvin on behalf of the board members that want some questions answered anyway."

(ROOK flips back to the aggressive and aggravated tone."

ROOK: "But I digress."

ROOK: "They don't trust me. And they don't need to. The smallests acts of unrisky cooperation against your mechinations, J.J. DeVille, are enough to seal your fate."

ROOK: "Which you know to be true. Because, as you said, on Rook Black Christmas, the HFC was going to exert dominance by collecting all the titles. NFW Champion. The Television Title. The Triple Crown Champions. The EMT Championships."

ROOK: "Which makes us collectively, dominant. Ethically diverse, yes. But collectively tired of your fucking shit just enough to make sure that you, and all your plans, are-

ROOK: "D."

ROOK: "O."

ROOK: "A."

(ROOK crosses his arms and goes contemptuously professorial, with an extra special disdainful sneer crafted exclusively for these very moments.)

ROOK: "You upstarts like to get profound with `Do What Thou Wilt', and I can appreciate the history of that wee remark. But it's also bullshit."

ROOK: "You can only exert your will on reality through the choices that you make. And this means that your ability to exert that will is constrained by your own history of choices, your own actions, the things that you have done."

ROOK: "And when you have completely fucked yourself by your previous decisions, you know, like when you drove Dan Ryan out of the Windham Clan, when you financially despoiled the entire roster, when you damaged the NFW shareholders profits, and when you sabotaged Troy for your exit strategy?"

ROOK: "When you have painted yourself into a fucking corner, and you have effectively bollixed all possibility of getting out from under the steaming pile of shit that you've stacked up that's about to tip over on you, when that happens, J.J.-"

ROOK: "What thou wilst ...

ROOK: "... cannot save you ...

ROOK: " ... from your own worst enemy: J.J. DeVille."


League Member
Jun 5, 2007
[We cut to backstage in the New Laos National Stadium where Legion is a crimson mask, Bandit and Devastator are either side of him, keeping watch.]

I hope you were watching what happened out there Blaine because that my friend is what your future holds - sure I let Akita hit me with the kendo stick but did you figure out WHY? All the Oxonian education in the world may not be able to figure that one out I suspect.

In the world of survival man must do anything he can to survive and the crowd in Laos were chanting Devilman at me I felt two things: power and their fear, a fear that I hope you also feel, yes Randall, Jack and Rook are ones to look out for but I am the one that can change on a dime. You see even though I await a day that may never come against a stalker I walk this earth to make sure people stay fearful of the chaos within.

As Osman started with sigil magic after he broke away with Crowley then came Carrol and Sherwin in 76 - Chaos is the origin of any event and for now my gnostic state is focused on one thing: YOU. Remember: Chaos rules everything around me. We know where the bodies are buried and where all the secrets can be exhumed.

Just like Hollywood burned - so will the son.

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