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MEXICO CITY: Ravager vs. the Angel of Death

TH

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The current NAPW Champion battles the former EUWC Champion.

First round matchup to be held at the Autry Center, Houston, TX on Rice U.'s campus. No RP limit, RP deadline is Sunday, February 11th at 11:59:59 PM (give or take a second).
 
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AOD

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(Backstage at EUWC Blackout, Angel of Death is settling into his locker room for the evening when his wife, Black Widow, strides in, her bags over her shoulder and a courier envelope under her arm.)

This came for you at the hotel, just after you left.

(She hands him the envelope before dropping her bags on the floor.)

I've got some stuff to take care of for tonight. I'll see you in a bit.

(She leaves quickly, and Angel of Death opens the envelope. Out slides an itinerary and a short bio of his first opponent in the TEAM Invitational Tournament 2007.)

Ah. I've been expecting these.

(He scans the itinerary, taking mental note of the main points, then switches gears to his first round opponent's bio.)

Ravager, eh? I'll spare the obvious jokes. Strong silent type again. Maybe he's related to WhiteNoise? From this description it sounds like they look close enough. But I digress. Frankly, all this bio does is give me a small glimpse into the man I will be staring at across the ring. When he chooses to discuss the match at hand, that is when we will get to see the real person behind the cheesy name. Not that my name completely lacks a certain measure of fromage, but hell, I make it look good.

Again I digress. Next week, the journey begins for every single one of the sixty two competitors in the TEAM Invitational Tournament. Each entrant is 6 wins away from being handed the Merritt Trophy. Each one of us will not only be fighting for our own pride, but also fighting for the honor of our home promotions. Which is why, over the course of the next couple of months, you will hear a lot of bull**** about how great each and every single promotion represented in this tournament is the greatest thing since Sliced Bread number 2. Every single competitor will blow his or her own horn, claiming to be the single greatest combatant the universe has ever had the privilege to convert oxygen into carbon dioxide in the general vicinity of. Know now that much of what you will hear from the TEAM Invitational Tournament will be one colossal steaming fragment of shisno, and take everything with a family-pack sized grain of salt.

That being said, Ravager and I pair up rather well. Both of us are former champions of our respective promotions. Both of us competed in the Dupree Cup late last year. Ravager and crew won the whole enchilada, but I won't hold that against him. Yet. Both of us wrestle similar styles, look similar. All in all, a very interesting first round for both of us. In fact, there is only one simple way that you will be able to tell us apart. When all the dust has settled, I will be the one left standing. I will be the one advancing in the tournament this time. Don't believe me? Go back and see what I did to the ever-popular Adam Benjamin when I was finally booked in a one on one match in the Dupree Cup. That's the reason why I jumped at the chance to compete here once again. This entire tournament is singles matches. Mano-e-mano, without anyone holding me back. Last time I competed in a TEAM event, I was a fish out of water. This time, I'm a Great White, and out for blood. I don't care who you are, where you're from, or what title is around your waist. This year, the Merritt Trophy will call the EUWC home, and I will be the one who brings it there. Ravager, you will be the first, but everyone in this tournament should take note. All of you now know what's in store for you at every turn in this event. Don't say I didn't warn you, any of you.


(He stands sharply, scattering the papers onto the floor. He strides confidently out of the room, the movement of the door stirring the papers further. Zoom in on the TEAM Invitational Tournament itinerary as it floats to rest. Fade.
 

Ravager

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A warning from a stranger is always appreciated. Sorry I don't consider you to be more than that, Angel. But at this point, that's all we are. Strangers. But that'll change soon, won't it?

The camera fades in on a hotel room in Vancouver, British Columbia. Ravager is trying to relax before the NAPW Cold Snap Pay Per View. Trying, but failing.

Not long before I go for the NAPW Heavyweight title. A belt I've pursued on and off for about a year. So you'll pardon me if my total attention isn't on you Angel of Death.

At least, not yet.

You see, I like to give all my fights the attention they deserve. I'd hate to do you a diservice. After all, you're a former champion as well. You're good enough to be in this tournament. And to be in the Dupree Cup. I know right now that you're a threat to me. And that's all that really matters right this instant. I'm not going to bore you by listing my accomplishments, because I doubt you'll be impressed. I'm not going to tell you what I'm going to do when we face off in the first round because... that would be stupid. Why give it all away right now? You want to know more about me? Watch me wrestle. Go get the tapes. There are plenty out there. Just be prepared for the fight of your life when we meet. And be prepared to be disappointed. After all, the lofty goals you've set for yourself are about to go up in a cloud of smoke.

Cause I have a lot to prove to TEAM. And the Invitational will be my forum to do it.

Fade to black
 

Ravager

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Backstage after NAPW Cold Snap. We see Ravager emerge from the curtains...

With the NAPW Heavyweight Title over his shoulder.

He has a smirk for the camera.

Hey Angel. I guess I can give you the attention you deserve now. Seeing as my biggest distraction is out of the way. Now I can worry about other things. Cause I know this title makes me a target. Not just for the wrestlers in NAPW. But for the rest of the participants in the TEAM invitational. It's not like any of you really want the title. But you're gonna want to prove yourselves. Prove the superiority of your home federation. And what better way to do that than to take down the top dog in another? Hell, that would be my strategy... (chuckles)

So my job becomes harder. My life becomes more hectic. And I wouldn't have it any other way. I want to prve myself to be the best in the world. And what better way to do it than to take down a bunch of thugs with delusions of grandeur about their wrestling home? I have fought for a year to win this title. Now it's mine. And now I have to fight to prove I'm worthy to hold it. That means taking down all comers. Whether they're from NAPW, LoC, PRIME, or EUWC...

Angel of Death. You now get to deal with a champion. Not a former champion. But the top man. I have more to prove now. More to lose. And more attention than ever before. I'll be damned if I let you ruin this for me.

Now if you'll excuse me. I have a victory to celebrate.

Ravager walks off as we fade to black.
 

AOD

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(Angel of Death stands in front of a generic TEAM backdrop. He begins to slowly clap, a smile crossing his face.)

Well, well, well. I suppose congratulations are in order, Ravager. You acheived your goal of becoming NAPW Champion. Kudos, really. It's always nice to see someone get something they want. That way, when you take away something else they want, it stings a little bit less. Sometimes. Other times, it stings a little bit more. Either way, you can know that now that you are completely focused on our match, my satisfaction with beating you will be that much more complete.

Now, please don't get all puffed up thinking that my level of satisfaction from our match has anything to do with that piece of tin you now claim as your own. Aside from what I just explained, your shiny new little trinket will have no relevance in our match. Because this isn't NAPW versus EUWC. This isn't EUWC star Angel of Death challenging NAPW champion Ravager for his title. This is TEAM. Our match, it's only about advancing in the TEAM Invitational Tournament. The outcome of our bout will not be the deciding factor in some fan's decision to tune in to EUWC or NAPW. None of that means anything here. To assume anything more would be ludicrous.

You hit in on the head a couple of times so far. First, when you declined to list your accomplishments, assuming that I wouldn't be impressed. I wouldn't have been, much as I couldn't care less about your latest one. I completely agree that self-centered monologues about your abilities and accomplishments really means nothing in a tournament like this. Frankly, if you want to know more about me, read my bio. You want to know my accomplishments? Check out the website. You want to see what I'm like in a match situation? Tune in to EUWC Blackout. That will give you all of the information you need. Nothing I say here will make any of that any less valuable.

The second time you got things right was when you mentioned using this tournament to prove that you are the best in the world. That is exactly why all of us are here. The thing is, you seem to think that being a champion somewhere somehow makes you a target. Again, your ego is getting in the way of your focus on this event. Frankly, I don't mind that at all. Please, continue to think that what you do outside of this tournament bears any weight once we step through the ropes. That will make it even easier to take you down a peg or two. Please, continue to allow your ego to be the basis of your focus here, so that when you come crashing down, and the count reaches three, you'll stare back up at the arena lights and realize that for all of the gold belts and championship reigns either of us have had, none of it meant anything on that night. Next week, when you and I clash, I will show that I am the better man that night. You are correct to see me as a threat, because for you, and anyone who comes after you, I am exactly that. A threat. Not just to your chances in the tournament, but because I am basically an outsider here. You, and your pals in NAPW, LoC, PRIME, or any of the other promotions that all hang out together, sharing talent are all completely familiar to each other. Many of you know each other from other promotions in the little circle of friends. Myself, and the others from EUWC? We're the new guys on the block. We're the enigmas around here. You, Ravager, you have nothing to prove here. Your name is engraved on the Dupree Cup, having been a member of last year's winning team. Me, Jeremy Oliver, Corbris Grayson and Sanket Desai? We've got a lot to show the entire TEAM family. Our match will be just the beginning, Ravager.


(He leans in, staring directly ahead of him, an odd twinkle in his eye.)

In this tournament, Ravager, you don't have a lot to win. Me? Well ...

(He chuckles.)

I have everything to gain. I also have nothing to lose. An interesting position, wouldn't you say? It's also an interesting motivator. Think about that for a while, Ravager. Let me know what you figure out.

(He smiles wide as he leans further in, until his entire face blocks our view, reducing it to black. Fade.)
 

Ravager

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Awkward, to say the least.

We fade in on Ravager, as he is walking to his car.

You talked a lot Angel. You think you have everything down. Then you go and mention "my name being on the Dupree Cup". And how I have nothing to prove.

He sighs.

The most humliating match of my career. The only match where I ever tapped out, costing NAPW a shot at the Dupree Cup. I've been mocked for that. I've done my best to make up for that. But bottom line: We didn't win. Which is why I've thrown myself into every card TEAM has put up since then. Because I want to right that wrong. I want to prove that loss was a fluke. And I'll do that by going through any competitor TEAM puts in front of me. Even some "enigma" who doesn't have time to get his facts straight.

You see Angel, I do have a lot to prove in this tournament. And nothing to win? You think being the best out of a field of almost 70 wrestlers is nothing to win? I've obsessed over smaller goals than that Angel. You really don't know me well. But then, I figured that out earlier. You didn't even know the winner of a tournament you competed in.

Ravager gets to his car. Drops his bags in the trunk.

Even if NAPW had won the Dupree Cup, Angel, that would mean nothing in the Invitational. There's no teams or solidarity. Every man for himself. But you were right about one thing. It's not about what we do in the past. It's all about what we do now. My title, your past titles, mean nothing once the bell is rung. All that matters is who is the best, one on one. And I've proven enough times how good I am in those situations.

And I'll do it again when we meet Angel of Death. Just hope your mat skills are better than your research skills.

Ravager smirks and gets into his car. He drives off. Fade to black.
 

AOD

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Okay, okay, guilty as charged. I got a little confused over who won the Dupree Cup.

(Fade up on Angel of Death as he sits in front of a computer with both the finals of the Dupree Cup on a Media Player and an archive of results from the TEAM webpage.)

But please remember that I'm still relatively new here. I can't keep track of all the promotions around here with all the NEW, NFW, NAPW, ESPN, HBO, Showtime, ALS, HIV, ADD and occasional lower back pain to try to sort through, it's not easy for a stranger to keep up. Besides, it's painfully obvious that your concept of tournament competition is extremely lacking. Despite the fact that there are sixty two of us listed for this tournament, to win, you don't have to be the best out of the entire field of sixty two. You just have to be luckier than only six of them on any given night. Next week, when you and I compete for the right to advance in this tournament, it's not going to be about anyone other than the two of us. Which one of us will be lucky enough to advance? I firmly believe it will be me. Call it confidence, call it cockiness, call it whatever you want to call it. Because at the end of the day, your match in the Dupree Cup won't seem so embarassing, because now that I know how you feel about tapping out, I may just look to trap you in the Dark Trick, and smile with satsifaction as I hear your hand hitting the canvas.

(He taps the desk lightly. Then again. Once more, each time his smile widening on his face as he increases in speed until it sounds like he's tapping out. As gradually as it builds, however, just as abruptly it stops.)

That really is quite a sweet sound, isn't it Ravager? I can understand why the memory of it haunts you to this day. Rest assured that I will make sure that one match isn't the only one you remember from your experiences here in TEAM.

(He closes the programs on the computer before shutting it down. As the machine begins the shut down process, he stands, and walks away. Fade.)
 

Ravager

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The exuberance of youth. It's refreashing. And it wasn't so long ago that I felt the same rush. I still do, to a certain extent. I mean, the roar of the crowd. The sound of your opponent's head smacking against the mat. The slap of the referee's hand against the canvas as he counts the pin on your foe. It's the reason I do this. It should be the reason any of us do this. So if a "relative newcomer" makes a mistake, I'm happy to overlook it. But the winner of the Dupree Cup isn't the mistake I'm talking about.

The camera fades in on Ravager as he leaves a local gym.

You think that it's only about the two of us, Angel? Please. Sure, we only have to actually beat six people to win this tournament. But who knows which six men will be put in front of us? In every match you have to send a message to future opponents, no matter who they may be. You have to put on a display of aggression and skill that will psyche your opponent out before they're even slotted into the same bracket as you.
And the winner of this event will more than likely go on to the Champion of Champions tournament. Or at least get a shot at the CoC title. So you have to think about sending messages to them too. There is so much going on in this match Angel. And I don't think you're ready. You're cocky, but you're humble when you have to be. Normally, that would be enough. But if you think the biggest mistake you'll make is about who won a past tournament, then you got a big surprise coming. Because now you talking about trying to make me tap out.

Ravager smirks.

That kind of loss was a once in a lifetime thing. It won't happen again in yours Angel. You try and humble me, and I will crush your youthful spirit. I will destroy all your hopes and dreams with a harsh dose of Instant Karma. You have a future. But f*** with me, and it will be spent in a wheelchair.

Nothing personal. Just business. A harsh, unforgiving business. That I will do anything to get ahead in.

See ya soon Angel.

Fade to black.
 

AOD

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(Angel of Death sits in the back seat of his limousine as it carries him to the hotel in Moscow, Russia, where EUWC Blackout is set to be broadcast around the world this week. His bags, and those of his loving wife Black Widow are piled neatly on the seats to his left. To his right, stretched out on that set of seats, is Black Widow, fast asleep and very much jet-lagged. With merely the passing streetlights serving as our illumination, a definite air begins to emanate from our host.)

Ah, Ravager. Exactly how is the view from your sphincter? Because frankly, all you've been saying lately has either shown you to have your own head firmly implanted up there, or has been total ****. To have even entertained the notion that what you do in our match will even cause a murmur amongst our opponents, let alone "psyche" them "out before they're even slotted into the same bracket" is just plain old looney tunes. Not that you are completely without wit. Please, allow me a moment to congratulate you on your clever little way to work the name of one of your moves into a sentence.

(He pauses, clapping slowly, applause heavily laden with sarcasm.)

I mean, I'm sure you'd only use it as a "Last Resort," but I'm sure I'd still be "The Silencer" of all of my critics when I kick out of everything you could possibly throw at me. Because in our match you'll be the one "Going Home" after saying "Goodbye" to all the fans in attendance, and the ones watching at home.

(Another pause, this time with a roll of the eyes and a little shake of the head.)

Whew. I think I just threw up in my mouth a little at that one. But hey, if that is the sort of mindless drivel that gets you titles in NAPW, no wonder you feel you've got something to prove. Hell, just replaying it in my head makes me feel that much more confident about moving on in this thing. Thank you, Ravager, for making my evening tonight. I will have a good night's rest, and start the day off with a hearty laugh at your expense. I guess things are looking up!

(He is stopped abruptly by the stirring of Black Widow. He looks over at her, smiles sheepishly, then presses his finger to his lips.)

Oops. I guess I'm getting a little too enthusiastic. In that case I'd better cut things off here. Besides, we're almost at the hotel, and I'd rather get myself and my lovely wife to our room and get some much needed rest than continue this battle of wits with someone who's proven surprisingly unarmed. See you in a few days, Ravager! Mexico City. Don't drink the water!

(The limousine pulls into the underground parking lot of the hotel, temporarily plunging the seating area into darkness. Fade.)
 

Ravager

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Don't drink the water? ... He knows the finals of our bracket are in Mexico, right? And that our match is in Texas? What kind of internet connection is he getting in Russia anyways?

*sigh*

We fade in on Ravager. he is at his apartment in Edmonton. He's had a few days off since Cold Snap, and is getting ready to head out for his next match.

I won't lie. I never intended to keep this civil. Because it never is. The amount of aggression we have to have in this business just to stay on top, it sometimes makes us say things we might regret later. Angel. You have a passion for this business. I respect that. You're a former champion. Be proud of that. You want to win this match. That goes without saying. Yet the only facts I haven't had to correct you on are the names of my moves. You learned them. And you used them in a clever sentence. Congratulations. That won't be enough to defeat me. Just saying. And after all this, you still fail to realize the significance of our match. You're going in thinking that it's just one match out of dozens that nobody is watching. I'm looking at it as the beginning. Of a steamroll to the finals. I'm looking at this as free advertising:

Mess with Ravager, you'll end up like this kid.

In the past I've made the mistake of not treating every match like it's a main event, or a title match. People seem to think that if there isn't a belt on the line, then they don't have to give everything they got. And those are the people who lose. And I don't like to lose. Especially to people who can't even take the time to find out where they're actually wrestling.

You're trying to fire shots in a battle of wits, but all you got for ammunition is blanks, Angel. Mock me. Underestimate me. And in the end, you'll lose to me. I'm glad you know the names of my moves. I won't have to list them off to you when I hit you with each one. Makes my job a bit easier.

Ravager smirks.

Enjoy your time in Russia Angel. I'm sure you'll learn a lot. And hold your wife close. Value every moment you can spend with her. Value every moment outside the ring, where the lights and the cameras are off you. Because this business is a harsh one. A fact I'm going to make very clear to you when we meet. And the more you talk?

He chuckles.

The more fun I'm going to have dropping you on your head. You won't even be able to string a sentence together when I'm done with you.

Fade to black.
 

AOD

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Geez, what a stickler for the little things. Apparently I had some jet-lag too, or else I would have remembered that our match is in Texas.

(Angel of Death is backstage at the latest EUWC Blackout event, from Moscow, Russia. He is beginning to set out his wrestling gear in preparation for his match tonight.)

Because frankly, I could care less if it was here in Russia, in Mexico City, in Texas, or in Timbuk-****ing-too, the end result will remain the same. NAPW Champion, regular TEAM participant, egomaniacal Ravager will fall victim to relative newcomer to TEAM competition, former EUWC World Champion, future EUWC Champion, pragmatist Angel of Death. Now, your other comments, in which you claim to know how I am approaching this match in relation to the tournament at large, I'll chalk that up as either just not knowing me very well, or just being a strong case of naivete. In either event, it just provides further evidence towards my claim that I will be the victor in our opening contest. I even have this little telegram you sent, very nice touch by the way, reading, and I quote ...

(He pulls a folded up telegram from his bags, and unfolds it.)

... "It was fun. Best of luck to you for the future. Ravager." Really, very cute. Apparently you already think it's all over. It will be for you, but for me, the sky's the limit. You were right, though. It really has been fun showing the world just how incapable you are. You mentioned earlier that this match isn't for the NAPW title. After our little debate over the past few days, I'm wondering if I shouldn't sign up with NAPW myself. Because if you're the best they've got, I've got some space in my trophy room that the NAPW Title would fit quite nicely in. Of course, that may not be true once the Chad Merritt Trophy finds a home there. I am still new here, I don't know just how big it really is. But I'm sure I'll find the room. See you in Texas, Ravager. I'll make sure my flight gets to the right place at the right time. Besides, Widow makes all those sorts of arrangements. Less for me to worry about before each match. This is just the beginning, Ravager. The beginning of Angel of Death's ascension to the top of the TEAM standings. Feel proud that you will be the first step on my meteoric rise.

(There is a knock on the door, and a slightly muffled voice from outside tells AOD that he is needed for a quick meeting.)

Well, I guess I should cut this short. Another match, another warm up for our bout.

(He quickly closes his bag, and heads out the door. Fade.)
 

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