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Marx / Douglas v Borden / Doe

John Doe

The Anorexic Ethiopian
Feb 2, 2004
Chicago, IL

[/I]A small room, it’s dark, not lighting, when out of no where a backdrop starts playing the John Doe entrance movie. John walks into focus from the left. Lights turn on as John looks at the camera.[/I]


I am beginning to hate this crap. First, I have to get put in a god damn hat and now I am in the ring with Alex Borden on a team. Hell, I mean we are facing Jonathan Marx and Troy Douglas. Two men that had the same problems me and that f*cker Borden had. But hell I can’t complain, maybe this tag team match will be like Joey Melton’s and Cameron Cruises, two men that hate each other yet have the tag team gold. Maybe if you are good enough Borden you can be my tag partner…or not.

First off you got Mr. Monarchy and quote unquote “Gentlemen” Jonathan Marx.

Wait a minute….

Ah….is it not Jonathan Marx that I faced last time in the ring and beat the royal hell out of, But wait! There is also that concept even though me and Troy Douglas did lose to you and Smith, it doesn’t matter cause I beat the royal hell out of you.

Oh…and is not Jonathan Marx that goes off and faces Lindsay Troy into a match up in EPW, first off I don’t know who in the blue hell wouldn’t want to touch that walking STD that f*cks every wrestler she sets her eye on, next thing you know she’ll be asking me if she can f*ck me to. But over that concept is the point that the “Gentlemen” is facing a women in the ring, now let me put this out for you Marxie, if you needed a win so bad why didn’t you just face Sands.

I mean Sands is a has been. Even a man of you insignificant stature most likely could beat Sands. But yet you are facing me…John Doe? You are sicker in the head than I am!

And now we move on the man that cost us the match up when we were teamed together…Troy Douglas.

See I was whooping ass keeping out team in check, then there is Troy, in the corner doing his nails or some sh*t. and when I tag him, he gets his ass whooped, he loses the match, I am there beating people up and smacking people around, I even beat the hell out of Marx for you Try, and what happens you get pinned by Travis Smith?

But hell, I saw how you are as a tag partner.


I guess that can also fly for your wrestling ability. It just sucks. I mean seriously, you think you can take me and Borden? I mean I hate Alex with a passion but he gave me a match up and he is a tough competitor. But you two are just, what’s the word I am looking for….rusted up.


That’s what you two are rusted up old men that are not going to keep up with the new age of wrestling, see I am going to take you in this match, and I will beat you senseless. I have no problem making your old bones work to catch me, hell last time I was in a match with you Marx I literally ran circles around you.

And Douglas when you were my partner I could remember you getting your ass handed to you. And the worse part of that is you got your ass handed to you by Travis Smith!

Now, if Travis Smith was beating the hell out of you, and I was beating the hell out of Travis Smith AND Jonathan Marx at the same time…what do you think I am going to do to you Troy?

And Marx, don’t think I forgot about you, because I didn’t frankly I am going to beat you around like the pig you are but hell you keep think in you are so damn good, and I will just sit and laugh.

But hell you think you can take me on so be it, I don’t know how many times over I can beat you but hell I guess there is a first time for everything isn’t there. Hell, if I could I would beat the hell out of you two, THEN go and beat the hell out of Borden, but I can’t cause we are on a team.

You two are going to have one hell of a night trying to take on John Doe, I mean you are literally going to face the Man. Better show your worth my time, hell if I really wanted to I probably just shouldn’t show up because I don’t want to embarrass Marx and Troy.

But wait a minute you two are practically failures of NEW, I mean Marx you haven’t done sh*t and Troy you haven’t done sh*t also, I mean I have fought for the TV title already, I made a name for myself in EPW and in New Era.

I see the odds in my favor….

You just have to pray that those odds change, which they won’t. For all you know I can just head over to your houses and beat you senseless right then and there. Ah, but that will kill the fun of watching the fans laugh at you when I pin you both.

Frankly men at Raucous I am going to make a very valid point….I am John Doe and John Doe=God.

See you in the ring.



I shunned a voodoo witch, decapitated a black cat
Jan 1, 2000
Milltown USA
Who Is John Doe?

::Marx and Jacobs are sitting at their corner booth at Starbucks sipping their coffee. Jacobs is busy typing on his laptop while Marx is reading the Wall Street Journal::

BRANDON JACOBS: Good news, you are facing John Doe...

JONATHAN MARX: Who is John Doe?

BRANDON JACOBS: Thee John Doe, you wrestled him once before in NEW.

JONATHAN MARX: Oh.... THEE John Doe. I think I remember him.

BRANDON JACOBS: Do you have any idea why John Doe is so angry?

JONATHAN MARX: Did we forget to send him a Christmas card?

BRANDON JACOBS: Isn’t he Jewish?

JONATHAN MARX: I don’t know. That is the thing with last name as non descript as Doe, it doesn’t really say much for you are.

BRANDON JACOBS: Well he sure seemed angry, did you sleep with his wife?

JONATHAN MARX: I’ve slept with a million Jane Does in my life, it is entirely possible.

BRANDON JACOBS: Doe is cursing so much he would make Chris Rock blush.

JONATHAN MARX: It is a vain attempt by Doe to be “cool” by filling his promos with vulgarity.

BRANDON JACOBS: He was mocking the idea of a “Gentlemen” facing a woman in Empire.

JONATHAN MARX: Doesn’t he know that unlike NEW, that wrestling in Empire is fake? I am just doing my part as an established superstar to boost the credibility of the wrestlers in Empire before I move on to broadcasting. We barely even touched and afterward we went out to have a spot of tea together. Some times I wonder if Doe likes to suck on paint chips in his spare time.

BRANDON JACOBS: Lindsay must have just scorned Doe’s advances. That is the only reason that Doe would say such things about such a wonderful girl.

JONATHAN MARX: When you look like Doe, it is hard to get a woman at all so I feel for him. Hopefully one day his Jane Doe comes and it won’t be his sister.

BRANDON JACOBS: Is John Doe southern?

JONATHAN MARX: Lets hope not.

BRANDON JACOBS: There has to be some mental retardation there, he called himself God.

JONATHAN MARX: It all goes back to the lead paint chips which Doe sucks on for hours at end. He actually thinks he is better than Troy Douglas and myself which should make the beating we have planned for him even more pleasant. The last time he beat me I was busy with my announcing commitments in WFW and wrestling for NFW where I lead the league in points in a league full of current superstars and legends. I won’t make the same mistake over looking him again and being beaten by a literal no name.

BRANDON JACOBS: I am glad to see you finally fired up, but don’t go too far and send him to the hospital.

JONATHAN MARX: Why do say that?

BRANDON JACOBS: What name would he check in under?



John Doe

The Anorexic Ethiopian
Feb 2, 2004
Chicago, IL


John Doe in the middle of somewhere but it seems to be nowhere. John is spinning in random circles “The Resident Evil Main Title Song by Marilyn Manson (and if you saw Resident Evil you know how creepy that song is, anyways back to the R/p) John is spinning in random. Doe stops suddenly.


Marx….god that name is seriously getting on my last and final nerve.

Oh that is not a good thing for you Marx. I just have to see what makes you tick. Stupid f*cking Brit.

You think anyone cares for your little act, that anyone cares for your spot of tea, god they hate it. Why? Because it is not American!

Ladies and gentlemen out in TV land, even you Marx. See Jonathan Marx is a Brit, a man from Britain, why cheer for the zero when you can (points to himself) cheer for the hero! Marx is nothing, he is a loser, he I s ano good Brit.

His ancestors tried to stop America from being free. That must say a lot about him. Marx is trying to take our good old democracy and change it to...(thinks) MARXISM! That’s right, it’s a form of communism. MARX IS A RED!

Did you just here that? I heard a noise, like a beast, like something coming from over there.

Doe points at another camera crew as EPW Superstar and World Champion Beast is doing a promo-shoot. John makes his way over to Beast as his cameras follow.

Doe: Hey.

Beast: Hey, who are you.

Doe:…Um John Doe….

Beast: OH! Ok…your facing Marx and Douglas at NEW, you’re a funny guy.

Doe: I try.

Beast: Not many men will go up to Sands and hand him a paper plate as a title.

Doe: It’s probably one of his better championship reigns. Kinda of like Marx and his Marxism in EPW.

Beast: That fool doesn’t know what is going to hit him!

Doe: Really?

Beast: Yeah! I mean I see a lot of similarities between me whooping his ass at the War Games Cage, and you beating his ass a couple weeks ago. I practically took Marx like a rag doll and tossed him half way across the arena!

Doe: Hmm, I am going to try that one. Marx said EPW was fake…

Beast: WHAT!! Oh man if I catch him in the halls of EPW he’s a dead man.

Doe let’s a smirk out

Doe: He also said you are the Beast of Cows and if you want to Fell the MooO!

Beast: That’s it, men let’s go find Marx I think he needs a chat with my fist.

Beast walks off screen as John turns to the camera.


Well it seems like Beast is on the hunt for you, see kind of like me. I am on the hunt, I am looking for a win, a chance to kick in your head Marx.

But honestly, you’re are a clever fellow Marx, I mean that was some funny stuff you said about me, all about the paint chips and me being southern and what not, maybe I should kick your teeth to the back of your head. I mean honestly, I really think you want to get the beating of a life time.

Think about it this way Marx, ok well you get to face off with me, then I get to whip your ass, then I get to pin you one two three. I mean come on life just keeps getting better and better. But let’s come down to reality for a second. Ok you got you Jonathan Marx, a gentlemen, in YOUR own eyes, now since you say you are to busy with NFW, which Itell you my friend I put more money on Non Jonathan Marx then I would for you. Anyways, it’s not like I watch that sh*t whole WFW or NFW, I mean that my friend is more fake than EPW, and you my friend are the fakest of us all.

See, I mean Marx, you say I eat paint ships, hell that’s better than being dropped by your mother MARX. I mean come on you really want to take me on, I mean do you remember what happened last time we went head to head? Can some one roll the tape please!


GHEORGHE: “Troy Douglas trying to make it to his corner … and he makes the tag to Doe! John Doe runs into the ring …. He kicks Jonathan Marx in the gut …. TORNADO DDT!!! TRAVIS SMITH RUNS INTO THE RING …… AND HE IS MET WITH A HURRICANRANA!!! John Doe has planted both Smith and Marx into the mat!”

GHEORGHE: “John Doe yelling at the ref saying there’s no way in hell he’s giving in …….. DOE ROCKING ….. DOE ROLLS JONATHAN MARX ONTO HIS BACK ….. ONE ….. TW—no kickout. Marx with a clothesline … but Doe ducks …. Marx on the rebound …. AND JOHN DOE WITH A BEAUTIFUL SPINEBUSTER AS HE DRIVES JONATHAN MARX INTO THE MAT FULL FORCE!”

JIVE: “Well, at least Doe is tagging out … You don’t want to be one to lose to Doe … that’s like being blacklisted almost.”
GHEORGHE: “Douglas is back in the ring now … and he’s telling John Doe to go up top!”
JIVE: “Is he crazy??”
(SFX: Crowd pops)

CUT BACK: John Doe.


Holy cow and we are back to me, El Champion! Anyway, Marx I think that this is going to be a great match for me to get a little sweat. I mean you aren’t that great of a competitor. You are not worth my time or my effort.

Marx, you are jus a man they thought was great at Raucous I will show once again, that John Doe IS RAUCOUS , John Doe IS New Era, John Doe IS God!

But hell Marx we can see who the better man is, we can try to see who is tronger. But hell you want to try and take me on? Based on what I saw in your quote “fake EPW” end quote, I think that I can take you and beat you like the dog that you are. But hey you want to try and take me. Fine.
It’s not my life I am putting on the line, it’s yours Marx, sure you are funny guy, sure you talk some good smack, the question is Marx can you talk and show for it with your walk, because based on the last time we faced off you talked a good game, and I knocked you senseless.

But who knows, maybe NFW will not be on your mind any more, maybe that sh*t WFW, which is the most pathetic federations I have seen in my eyes, will not be on your mind, focus on your enemy, and you enemy, is John Doe.

Trust me Marx I am not going to go and play nice, I am going to try and break you, I want to see you bleed. But hell you think you can step up to the Man. (Laughs) You go right ahead and try, and you can fail.

See Marx you have this thing saying that you are a vet, I am just learning the ropes, but let me say it for you can understand it. I am going to beat you for one reason Marx…


I know that is overdoing it, it is exaggerating the truth that you are you worse wrestler that has hit my eyes. I mean I will pin you, and I will beat you. This is not just going to be a free for all Marx, this is going to be John Doe whooping your ass until you can’t see straight anymore.

But hell you want to step in the ring with me, fine it’s your life, end it which ever way you want. I mean I can just add you to the names of men I have retired. I had the privilege to end Kevin Watson, Cliff Young, Rage O’ Fire, McMillan the man Jean Rabesque wanted to face off with and could never end…looks I beat him to the punch, Nick Savage. Who’s next in line? Jonathan Marx.

You are the next victim on my list and after I end you I will move on to defeat many others, I am going to show you that I am John Doe, and that Jonathan Marx is nothing but a fluke. That you got the IC title in EPW because it was a fluke, that your success is just a fluke, and I am going to prove that at Raucous one way or another.

I am going to drill in your head that I am the best. But hell Marx you want to beat me, go ahead and TRY.

Everyone has to fail sometimes, looks like your failure is going to show at Raucous.

Well Marx I am going to take my leave…Beast is looking for you…

Cameras see a man running towards John, John’s back is turned to the man. The man becomes closer as it Beast.


Doe takes a swallow of his saliva.

Doe: Um…run….!

Doe takes off as he hit’s the camera.



League Member
Apr 20, 2004
Cleveland, Ohio
Lethal Lottery my ass!

The sky was neon pink as Alex Borden’s huge bus pressed on to yet another promotional event in Missouri. Alex’s face still incessantly throbbed. Like a bothersome monkey on his back, a dull nagging pain followed him wherever he went.

He scowled in frustrated anger every time he thought back to a few short nights ago at his match with John Doe at Destrucity. The whole damn thing went south just when I had him! he thought angrily. I had him. I HAD HIM! Then the lucky f*cker tripped me up and we fell outside. As soon as I experienced a moment of disorientation, the slippery bastard went in on me with his fists. Doe must’ve been desperate, because thats not the way he fought most of the match. He couldn’t hang with me toe-to-toe, but he lured me from the ring and caused a double count-out! That little freak deserves another beat down for pulling that sh*t.

Ever since that match, Alex has been analyzing the tape of the match extensively in his private quarters, trying to find ways to snare John Doe once and for all. Obsessed, Alex scrutinized his own in-ring performance, searching for ways to improve his ring positioning, correct errors in his holds and hone his counter-strategies. He studied tirelessly, determined never to lose control of the match again, all while impatiently waiting for the ringing in his right ear to quiet down.

Alex was laying on his small bed with a smoking Newport in his mouth viewing the raw footage of his match for the twenty-second time when there came a light, polite knocking on the door of his bunking space.

“Yeah?” Alex asked, snuffing the cigarette out on a large, green, glass ashtray on the ground. It was filled with his ash and butts.

Greg Birel’s voice came from the other side. “Uh- Alex? Would you come out for a second. We need to talk.”

God, what now? Alex thought. It seemed Birel bothered him with something every ten minutes. Alex thought he probably enjoyed it. Time flew for him in the hours he spent in his room, hunched over the glowing monitor. He sighed and said “Yeah, I’m coming in a second!”

He took a sip of the beer he had sitting on the ground next to him and got up. Alex slid the door open and leaned against the frame, staring at Birel crossly. “Yeah?” he demanded.

“Come here. We need to talk.” Birel said and started toward the lounge and kitchen compartment. Alex followed him. They sat around the kitchen table as they always did when they had discussions of some particular importance.

“Alright, so what is it now? You want my signature for something?” Alex asked.

“Shut up.” Birel said. “It’s about your next match at Raucous.”

Of course. Alex suddenly realized that in his stressing over what happened at Destrucity, he forgot about the up-coming Raucous only days away! His analysis so absorbed his concentration, that he inadvertently lost focus again.

“Right. So who am I facing?” Alex asked, playing it off.

“The circumstances of this next Raucous is going to be a little different then what you’re used to.” Birel said.

Alex didn’t like the sound of that. “The ‘circumstances’ are going to be different? How? Is Raucous actually going to be ordered and structured? Is everything actually going to go according to plan for a change?” Alex said, scurrilously.

“I always hope so, but thats not what I mean. Marcus LaRoque and Juliet Marceau have decide to host a New ERA Lethal Lottery, when the NEW superstar’s names all get randomly selected for their matches.” Birel informed.

“Heh. That doesn’t scare me.” Alex said cockily.

“You were put in a tag match-”


“-against Jonathan Marx and Troy Douglas-”


“-and your tagteam partner is John Doe.”

“WHAT?!” Alex exclaimed.

“That’s whats scheduled.” Birel stated matter-of-factly.

“That’s- thats-” Alex stumbled on the words. “-thats bullsh*t!They can’t do that!”

“Yeah they can, Alex.” Birel said.

“No way! Absolutely no f*cking way! How can they do that?! I’m not teaming up with that jackass!”

“Calm down. There is nothing we can do about it.”

Alex glared at Birel suspiciously. “Why are you so damn calm? Don’t you care about this?”

“Of course I do, but there is nothing to worry about. Think of it as just another match.”

“Just another- WHAT KIND OF MANAGER ARE YOU?!?!” Alex exploded. “First of all, I’ve never been in a tag match before, and second, I hate my partner! And I’m wrestling a limey and a frat-boy. How the HELL is it just another match?!”

“It is because you have me.” Birel smiled.

“Yeah right, I feel so assured. Lethal Lottery my ass. This was planned by someone. This is a damned conspiracy against Alex Borden!”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m taking care of it.”

“What? What do you mean?” Alex asked, intrigued.

“I mean... I’ll be in your corner. Relax, I’m experienced in matters like these. I’ll... watch your back.”

“You mean... like when you ‘watched my back’ during my match with Tact?”

“Exactly.” Birel replied coyly.

“Nice.” Alex smiled.

“At Raucous, I’ll see to it that Team Borden/Birel/Doe comes out on top.”

When Greg Birel said that, he never would have believed him before. But for some reason, Alex began to trust him. Birel began to seem like a man who was born and bred inside the business. Borden believed that if he says he’ll get the job done, then he will.


League Member
Jan 1, 2000
Amsterdam, NY
OOC: I haven't done this in awhile, so bear with me. I just had an idea.

Where did it go wrong? Just when the f*ck did everything start to go south?

It had been a four and a half year career, almost to the day, and he'd yet to submit to an opponent. Four and a half god damned years of work, and Jonathan Marx takes away the last shred of dignity he had. He could hold on to one thing, and that was the fact that no matter what, through the injuries, the stress, the psychological trauma, he had never succumbed to the pain and screamed for mercy.

Not when he was burnt by a flaming steel cage in his first world title match.

Not when he was bombarded by tables, chairs, cookie sheets, or anything else in his many "hardcore" matches.

Not when subjected to the most painful submission holds the sport had ever known.

Not once, in 54 months of professional wrestling, had Troy Douglas ever been forced to tap out, submit, or utter the phrase "I Quit".

Until Destrucity.

He'll admit it, he underestimated Jonathan Marx. Not that he didn't know Marx wasn't talented, capable, or dangerous. No, he just honestly thought Marx didn't care.

Watching a man joke around with Brandon Jacobs can make you think that way. Big mistake.

He's replayed that match in his head countless times since that night in Chicago, analyzing and reanalyzing what went wrong. Other than the missed spear, nothing. On that night, Marx was plainly better.

On that ONE night. Not again. He won't let that happen, he never has.

Now, due to the luck of the draw, as some would call it, he's been thrown into partnership with the man who stole from his legacy. Douglas and Marx, together? It worked once before, inside two steel cages at War Games. It failed, too, when both men were unable to gain a shot a Jean Rabesque's TV Title.

What about this time?

Let's find out.


Open on the plainest room one could ever conceive. Beige walls, a closed beige door, a plywood desk and a lucite chair are the only accoutrements in this room. It's a blank slate for the man straddling the chair, Troy Douglas, wearing his typical post-workout gear of loose black sweatpants, a grey Syracuse University Athletic Department t-shirt, taped wrists, and a grey bandana covering his dark brown hair. His face, as per usual, belies nothing of his true demeanor. Brown eyes bore deep into the lens of the camera as he takes a breath and prepares to speak.


Well, well, well. Alex Borden and John...Q....Doe.

Glad to see both of you made it to the party alright. Now, let's get this started the right way.

Alex, I've very little to say to you, so I'll give it to you first.

Far as I can tell, you and I are pretty similar, Alex. Talented, motivated, prepared to take any measures to be the best. But, frankly, I could care less right now how similar we are. If you've been paying attention, my work in NEW has been less than stellar as of late. A loss to Marx and Travis Smith, an assisted victory over a guy who went on to be killed by the Ultimate Freaking Warrior, and the first and ONLY submission loss of my career at Destrucity.

I don't mean only just as in that it was the first time it ever happened. I mean the only time as in it has not and will NEVER occur again. I won't let it. Not after how far I've come back from.

So, Alex, I carry no ill will toward you. But, far as I can see, you'll be on the opposite side of the ring from me, and that fact alone makes you my target. After RAUCOUS, best o' luck to ya, kid. But in West Plains, you're going to have to be...how should I put this?

Ah, I've got it.

Sacrificed for the cause.

You can wait in line, Alex, because I've got Rabesque in my sights and I can not and will not stop until I strap that World Championship around my waist. So for now...

Sucks to be you.

Now, on to that cornucopia of wisdom, that bastion of knowledge, the ever loving idiocy that is the life and times of John Doe.

John, for a guy who thinks he can trade sarcastic barbs with the best of 'em, you've certainly got a lot to lose. Now, I know that you spent some time in an institution, so I'll keep this reeeeeeaaalll slow for ya, okay, John?







Get it? Got it? Good. You don't need to go off on verbal diatribes about how Marx is British and Communist and "NOT GOOD". Jon Marx talks a lot, that's his game, take that from a guy who has been through the wars with him for a good long while now.

Believe me, John, don't try and talk back. It doesn't work.

Now, on to your previous comments about how I'm "washed up" and "an embarassment".

Hello, McFly? Anybody home?

You don't want to walk down that deep, dark alley kid. I've been called a lot of things in this business, John. I've fought a lot of battles, and I've lost my share and won my share. I've been beaten, battered, and broken a whole hell of a lot more than you have kid, and I'm still here, better than I ever have been.

John, next time you recover from severe spinal column damage, head trauma, ankle, shoulder, and elbow injuries, severe ligament damage, and Post Mortem Depression Syndrome, give me a call.

Until you've walked in my shoes, you have no god damned right to call me anything, Doe. Until then, you always be, in my opinion, an upstart, green as all sh*t, eyes too big for his stomach little punk who tries to talk a big game just so he can make himself feel better when he goes up against the REAL elite of this industry.

You talk about the men you've retired; Watson, Young, Savage, and the other men you CLAIM to have ended. The ones you've actually retired, scrubs the lot of them, not a half-thimbleful of natural ability combined between those glorified jobbers.

Gospel truth, John. That's all it is.

This time, going after Jon Marx and I, you may have written the big check that you won't be able to cash. I wouldn't say anything else, John, for fear of saying something that may get you into real big trouble. I'm not planning on suffering any more defeats, Doe. At RAUCOUS, your fall begins a chain of destruction.

It's my turn to shine, you can just wait behind Borden, Mr. Foot-In-Mouth.

So, if John Doe equals God, I guess you can just call me an atheist. Best of luck to you to prove it, you megolomaniacal little sh*t. Best of luck.

If you really are, may you smite me where I stand right now.


See you at the end of the road, John. Your exits coming up.



League Member
Apr 20, 2004
Cleveland, Ohio
Promo 1


(The scene fades in with Alex Borden sitting on a stool in front of a huge New ERA of Wrestling banner. The camera is fixed on Borden so we can not see what’s beyond the banner. Borden is wearing a black wifebeater and a pair of dark blue jeans. His brown hair cascades down around his face.)

(He peers at the camera with an expression of intensity and crosses his arms.)

BORDEN: When I first heard that I was booked for this ‘Lethal Lottery’ tag match I wasn’t too happy. Actually, I was furious as all-Hell. But I’ve come to understand that as absurd and as ridiculous as this match is, it can do nothing but good for my career. I know that I’m going to have to take John Doe down in order to reach that first plateau, the Television Title and what better way to show him whats in store for him then by beating the hell out of a couple of people right before his very eyes? He may as well know, because the next time we come to blows, I will win.

(Borden looks angry and his tone becomes tainted with outrage.)

BORDEN: The fact that he wormed his way out of our first match is bullsh*t!! It was a sham!!! And it will NEVER, EVER happen again!!!

(Borden closes his eyes and sighs. He runs his hands back through his hair. He looks visibly calmer now.)

BORDEN: John Doe. I’m going to carry this match. I know that, and you probably do too. So all I really ask of you is to stay out of my way. I have this situation firmly under my control and I don’t need your help. So just do your job and don’t f*ck mine up. Got it?

This match is necessary. I understand that. This match will settle all the controversy over who the rightful number-one contender should be. All I gotta ask is who is the assh*le who loves to team enemies together? I know we compete for the fan’s amusement, but I get the feeling that we’re really trying to amuse someone up in high places. I don’t know if it is the President Marcus LaRoque, or if it’s the Vice President Juliet Marceau or someone else. But I know somebody’s behind this!

(Borden sudden smiles when he moves on to his opponent Troy Douglas.)

BORDEN: Mr. Douglas, I look forward to seeing what you’ve got. I appreciate your absence of any ill-will and everything, but it’s like you said, you’ll be on the opposite side of the ring from me, and that fact alone makes you my target. Not that it matters. This match stinks of enough ill-will as it is.

I’ve read your NEW official bio on the roster and I’ve examined your moves, but I can’t say I’ve ever really kept myself updated in the exciting world of Troy Douglas. So you’ll have to forgive me if you’re name doesn’t mean much to me. But here is what I do know of you, recently you have taken on some pretty embarrassing losses. “Too Sweet” Travis Smith is little more than a loudmouthed, idiotic punk, similar to John Doe... but he was good enough to best you in the ring. I beat him, you know. And your team lost in the six-man tag match in Indianapolis. Your opponents were Mindkiller, John Doe and Chaos. Doe got lucky when we fought and got us DQ’ed and Mindkiller and Chaos are surely no more of a threat to me then Smith is. My point is, I seem to be better then your betters.

(Alex shrugs and smiles)

BORDEN: You didn’t have much to say to me in your promo, and thats fine with me, but I think that their is a small detail in our match that you might be missing. I am a submission wrestler. I’m not a technical wrestler, but I win my matches by choking the life out of my opponents. That’s what I do- I’ve done it hundreds of times before. Just ask Suicide- he’ll tell you. You sound like a man who knows how to deal with pain, and your first ever loss by submission at Destrucity seemed to shame you. Well I’m real sorry about all this, Troy, because you have an extremely unpleasant surprise headed your way. Because I’m going to make you tap, and it’s not going to be like The Marxism or any of the other painful submission holds you’ve been in. No, The Choke Out is something else... and I don’t think that it’s going to be anything that your going to expect. I’m afraid it’s gunna suck. Be strong and tap out quick- and I’ll try not to hurt you too much.

(Alex sounds sincere and he actually looks concerned. He clears his throat and continues)

BORDEN: And John Marx, my other opponent. I’ve seen a whole bunch of blue blooded, aristocratic wrestlers like you before. You’re kind is common and is oft laughed at by my kind. I know exactly how people like you function: you play the part of the English gentlemen so well because you’re a snob and you love it. You come in a different package but down at the core, you really are no different then the upper-middle class kids I used to beat up in high school. Your kind likes to discuss their matches with their man-servants over a spot of tea and crumpets, or, if your feeling wild, a Fig Newton and you think you can hang with me. Well, ‘Gentleman’, I’m sorry to inform you that I’m not so gentle.

So listen to this closely, Mister Fig Newton, because I won’t repeat it. You can pull out all stops and you can even use that neat move of yours, The Marxism, but nothing will save you from losing. Just pray that it isn’t you that I make tap- because that is all you can do!!

(Borden laughs and runs his thumb over his throat in an ominous gesture.)

BORDEN: At Raucous, Alex Borden will prove two things: one, that he is the real deal, and not some hyped up loser like Chaos. And two, that nobody, nobody can push him around. I don’t know what kind of image of me New ERA is putting out, but all the fans that are going to be packed in the West Plains Civic Centre in West Plains, Missouri are going to know that there is no stopping me, and there is no controlling me. People have labeled me as some kind of naive piece of muscle that can be easily manipulated. Well put me in any crazy match you’d like, NEW, because not only can I take it, but when I’m the World Champion, it’s going to be me who’s controlling YOU!

(Borden points to the camera rigidly as the scene fades out.)

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