RELOADED 17: Brooklyn [FULL UPDATED LINEUP]

[EastPrez]

RP DEADLINE: 8/11 (11:59:59PM EST, threads close first thing Monday AM!)
IN-STORY DATE: Current 616 Timeline

RP NOTES: NO RP LIMIT! SWING FOR THE FENCES!

SPECIAL PRE-SHOW CONCERT BY JAY-Z AND THE ROC-A-FELLA FAMILY DYNASTY!

NEW FRONTIER WRESTLING PRESENTS:
RELOADED 17: “NO SLEEP ‘TILL BROOKLYN"
BARCLAYS CENTER - BROOKLYN, NEW YORK


*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*
(If IMPULSE retains at RL16, his “List” continues.)

NFW WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP TITLE MATCH

'Marathon Man' IMPULSE (c)
v.
‘Birmingham Stallion’JACK BRYANT

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

NFW TAGTEAM GRUDGE MATCH!
HELL OR HIGH-WATER! SOMETHING'S GOTTA GIVE!

DENNIS EDWARD MAYFIELD (NFW President)
&
JJ DeVILLE (Hellfire Club)
v.
“THE GUILD”
ALEX AUSTIN
& STEEL VIPER

W/ Special Guest Referee Peter Windham!

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

NFW EVERETTE MEMORIAL TAGTEAM CHAMPIONSHIP TITLE MATCH

SUPERFLY EXPRESS
JACK HARMEN & NOVA (c)
w/ CALVIN CARLTON III in their corner!
v.
GRAVEROBBERS
BANDIT & DEVASTATOR
w/ LEGION in their corner!

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

NFW TELEVISION CHAMPIONSHIP TITLE MATCH

'Country Club Assassin'
DORCHESTER STRATTON (c)
v.
'Black Falcon'
MALIK ANDERSON

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*
Card Subject to Change...​

UPDATED 'PREZ NOTES':

This is the full lineup for RL17. Take the deadline time to put in another FULL ENERGY BLAST of RP for the final announcements.

If you are interested in a segment/promo spot on the show, email/PM myself or Katz.

We’re going to try and run with a few new ideas, since we’re pulling away from BRAWLS for awhile, but still will have some surprises and maybe some ‘off-camera’ results for the sake of story purposes. We’ll see how it shakes out.

RP cycle is fast, as I want to get the ship righted ASAP,

NOTE - you may be contacted /summoned by NFW BRASS for some card BLACK OPS.

GET IT IN - ALL RP UNDER THIS THREAD.

FASTER PUSSYCAT! KILL! KILL!

EastPrez JN

 

[LQJT86C]

STRIFEGEIST NYC

(FADEIN: ‘BELLY OF THE BEAST’ training facility on Atlantic Ave. in BOERUM HILL, Brooklyn. The camera moves right and stops at STRIFE’S DISCIPLES – ALEX AUSTIN, STEEL VIPER, LUCKY SEVEN – congregated on the sidewalk after hard training. The sun is shining brightly on them, and the humidity of New York City in July is oppressively brutal, making it hard to breathe. The back of VIPER’s brown sleeveless shirt is soaked with sweat, and so is the black belt that is slung over his shoulder. Austin stands over his two duffle bags in a red and blue Grappler’s Quest Las Vegas 2009 t-shirt and Atama grappling shorts, his beard glistening with sweat as he opens his mouth to sucks down another bottle of water. SEVEN is sitting on her long black duffle bag, hair looking haggard, eyes covered behind blue sunglasses, wearing a white tanktop and black/yellow Muay Thai shorts. She takes a lazy swig from a Fiji water bottle, then douses some of it onto her arm with the full-sleeve tattoo, then the other arm, then both legs which are long, bruised, and tempered from checking kicks and delivering them back twice as hard during Thai boxing sessions. Austin steps forward, takes another sip from his bottle, swishes the water around his mouth, and swallows audibly)

AUSTIN: “The question I’ve been getting lately, the one the Disciples and I can’t seem to escape, is ‘WHO ARE YOU?’ Who is Lucky Seven? (looks over at her, smiles) Who is and who was Steel Viper? (slaps him on the back of the shoulder)”

“Who is Alex Austin?” (smiles)

“Let’s start with who I’m not.”

“I am not Troy Windham. In my shoes, he would be around the corner having lunch at Buttermilk Channel with Jay-Z and Bruce Ratner, discussing the details of a press conference to announce his signing with Roc Nation Sports, with Robinson Cano and various members of the Illuminati in tow.”

“In fact, if Jay-Z doesn’t steer clear of me at Barclay’s, I will absolutely break his arm. I’ll knock his dumb head til it’s IVY BLUE. He’s got 99 problems and they’re all named ALEX AUSTIN.”

(Pours the remnants of the water bottle all over his head, and tosses it in trash)

AUSTIN: “I’m not JJ Deville. Then I’d be off pulling some culturally relevant stunt, like comping George Zimmerman skybox tickets, putting an ignition interlock on Jason Kidd’s BMW before opening night, or arranging for Mikhail Prokhorov’s deportation to Moscow. Congrats JJ, you’re a VH1 “Remember the 2010’s” episode waiting to happen.”

“And I’m NOTHING like Eddie Mayfield, the man with aces in his pocket.”

“Understand something about me, Eddie: I AM the ace. No tricks, no illusions, no backroom dealings. What you see is what you get, and what YOU ARE looking at on your TV screen is a world-class, 1A level submission grappler who can cut through any one of you circus animals like a buzz saw through a marshmallow. I am THAT good. WORLD-CLASS!”

“And that’s ALL I am. (Shrugs) Nothing more. I seek no fame, no fortune. I am nobody, and no one. Castor Strife is the name I fight for, not Alex Austin. His banner is mine. We all saw what happened in Perth last year. The Great One fell through glass, and in doing so sent the most POWERFUL of messages to Impulse: that the only man who could beat Castor is Castor himself, and if Impulse wanted the belt, he would become everything Castor promised to make him.”

“On that night, Randall the Vandal’s ‘wrestling ethos’ broke into a thousand little shards when he was denied the opportunity to prove himself the best WRESTLER, proving all along he was only ever interested in one thing: GOLD. Castor Strife exposed that, and we are...forever grateful. For NFW knows exactly who it’s prophet and protector is, and it is NOT the fraud known as IMPULSE.”

(Crosses arms; begins pacing back and forth)

AUSTIN: “That was the FIRST great lesson of the Master, who simultaneously destroyed Impulse and made him champion. Every day that he refuses to hand the belt back over to the Guild is a reinforcement of the power of the message of the Man and the Creator and Destroyer.”

“As for lesson number TWO...oh, that will be the greatest of them all. The Master will prove that he can destroy his greatest enemy without ever being on the field to meet him. The mere AURA of the Missing Man, the SPIRIT of his times, the STRIFEGEIST, will be enough to dispose of you, JJ Deville, and he has chosen ME to drive it all through you like a sword.”

“So sad that Eddie has opted to stand in front of you as the tanks roll into the square. He’s proven what we here in the Guild knew ALL ALONG. President Mayfield is nothing but the facilitator of a greater conspiracy to line the pockets of a small few, (pinches fingers, squints eye) SMALL FEW people.”

“The whole saga between Eddie, Troy, and JJ was a wonderful little saga complete with boardroom maneuvering, secret deals, and OH BY THE WAY TROY, you forgot to fill out your paperwork, WINK WINK, NUDGE NUDGE. Well done boys, you fooled ‘em all. But like an owl in the night, the Guild is wise to the noise and WE-SEE-EVERY-THING.”

(Austin walks off camera as it closes in on LUCKY SEVEN, who immediately leans back and crosses her legs)

SEVEN: “Hi Eddie. I’m Laurie, the one and only, the LUCKY SEVEN. I know less than shit about you, but I YouTube’d your old ass and saw you kicking the crap out of some lady named Ann. So you like beating up girls? Try me! My style is fluid and deadly like HIV.”

“My right leg will strike you like a magic bullet - I’ll kick a hole through your head and they’ll SWEAR it came from three directions. Are you a gambling man? Well here’s a tip from a little birdie: steer clear from the outside of the ring. ‘Cause if you run into me, then your luck’s run OUT. I’m turning Eddie to Spaghetti. I’m burning Mayfields DOWN.”

(Alex walks over, puts his hands on Seven’s shoulders)

AUSTIN: “You really think you’ve stacked the deck on us, eh Ed? Stepped in front of JJ to protect him, and for the cherry on top you rigged it so that PETER FUCKING WINDHAM is the referee – the self-claimed COMMISSIONER of NFW who you’ve enabled time after time and who owes you countless favors, not to mention a job!”

“Looks like the wagons are-a-circling. The lions smell a zebra.”

“But just remember something: whether by fatal design, or a critical oversight, you’ve put yourself and The Hellfire Club squarely in OUR BACKYARD. New Jersey, Brooklyn...this is OUR town. We’re in control, and we’ll summon an endless amount of resources to make certain that you leave shipwrecked.”

“This is the context that you’ve chosen, Prez. Our war wasn’t with you, but it’s plain to see that you made your bed. Now it’s time to sleep in flames...”

(Camera moves over and zooms in on STEEL VIPER)

VIPER: “The Frontier’s fond of the video game references these days, so here’s one for you Eddie: ‘I’VE COME FROM ANOTHER WORLD TO DO BATTLE WITH YOU.’ And just like that Ninja, you know the best way to find me is to follow the trail of blood.”

“Think back to long ago: the knife in the water, the terror in the shadows, the bloodlust hidden in fields of black, peering out and waiting for a time to strike. That time is now. That terror is me.”

“STRIFE is the name of the man who brought me back, who made me more dangerous than even I thought I could be. More dangerous than ever before. STRIFE is what I’m bringing to your doorstep.”

“I’m in Brooklyn training every day, anticipating that moment when I squeeze (tightens hands) my hands around your neck, bringing you to an end like I should have done years ago when I had the chance. This time...(clenches jaw)...this time you DON’T survive. This time I leave you in a puddle of sweat, blood, and vomit. The Man who fell through broken glass I need to hurt JJ, a mission I take with honor. But to do that I must destroy you first, and that is no mission – that’s recreation. That’s what I do because I like it, and would do it regardless of orders.”

“You’re a man who needs humbling, Eddie. You need HUMBLING.”

(Smiles crookedly, cracks knuckles. Camera pulls back to capture Austin, who pulls his glass shard necklace out from his shirt)

AUSTIN: “Kill...them...all.”

(Austin winks; Viper folds his arms; Seven leans forward cracking her neck side to side)

(FADEOUT)

 

[User Poets]

The Top Two

"Did you learn, Jack?"

"Or do you need another lesson?"

(FADEIN...

A poster from Reloaded 5, showing the full lineup. Lord Coyner Pollard and The Mighty Impala against Legion and Rook Black, Dan Ryan against Dorchester Stratton in the main event...

A teaser for the signing of Troy Windham.

And a forgotten little match tucked into the undercard: Impulse against Jack Bryant.

Do you remember, Jack?

I do.)

"It all started with Troy Windham attacking Cameron Cruise."

Ironic, two wrestlers who won't even warrant a footnote in the New Frontier's history.

"But while the Hellfire Club ultimately failed, two wrestlers tucked safely in the undercard are headlining for the World Championship in the greatest city of 'em all."

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

"We don't much like each other, Jack - and that's fine by me, because I trust you."

"I'd rather wrestle an opponent who may kick me when I'm down and want to win on his own, than someone who might help me up, only to take advantage of someone else's interference."

"This is a tricky time in the New Frontier, Jack. The Hellfire Club is trying to weaken this company by 'taking' all of the titles."

You know that better than anyone.

"If they win, the New Frontier loses. Simple as that. This company - this industry - thrives on competition, and the Hellfires don't compete."

"They hoard."

"Look at Rook Black. Off the grid for three years, showing up to defend his title two or three times a year."

"Look at DC Stratton. Attacked the Plumber for weeks without wrestling him."

"Look at Blaine Hollywood. Is he even a wrestler? From what I can tell, he's only there so JJ DeVille can say 'Look, we have four members.'"

"And of course, JJ. An optimist would say that the fact that he only wrestles once or twice a year means that the ratings will only nosedive once or twice a year, a realist says he uses that to make himself look more important; like his actually stepping into the ring is an event."

Yet another thing he ripped off from Troy, along with the plot armor.

"What does this have to do with us, Jack?"

"We've both been screwed by these idiots in the past. And if they somehow manage to get a hold of all the titles like JJ says they're going to attempt, the New Frontier will turn into seven matches a year and three hundred and fifty eight days of Four Idiots patting themselves on the back for being smarter than the average bear."

JJ claims they don't want to shut down the New Frontier anymore, but his selfish, self - serving circle jerk will do that quite handily.

No pun intended, mostly.

"What does this have to do with us, Jack?"

"No matter who wins in Brooklyn, the Hellfire Club is screwed."

"And that's what gives me hope."

FADE

 

[Legion]

Re: The Top Two

[We fade in on Legion - standing behind him are the Graverobbers, wearing deathmasks that have been moulded to look like Nova and Jack Harmen.]

These two men behind me are ones you can say have been abandoned - by people that kicked them to the curb when they proclaimed that their usefulness had run out, whether from Calvin Carlton to Troy Windham, forgotten by the business as nothing more than a sideline to the 'bigger picture' going on around them.

When we convened for the first time prior to the Hollywood's On Fire incident we talked about making sure that the world realises who we all are and with that - the people were abuzz but all three of us knew we had to carry on momentum and despite what some may have said was a 'setback' against Mayfield and Impulse but the chaos we left in our wake was good enough to grant these two men a title shot.

Now Jack and Nova are two men that be considered legends in our world - multiple titles in many companies, in Nova's case he's been a man that's been anti-establishment for many years - whether as a rebel through his chilled out persona or a man screaming f[bleep]k you at the world.

Jack - you and I have danced many times before but people have said that you're the crazy one in this sport - this night you meet two men that have been revitalised, ready to cause as much madness as possible BUT the end goal is this - complete domination of the both of you and becoming the Everette Memorial Tag Team champions of NFW .

[Legion then chuckles maniacally.]

EMT - how fitting. Take heed of the deathmasks you see my men wear - this goes for everyone because when you see them I'd do two things: accept your fate and just realise the truth.

The Chaos has begun - war has risen and you become the next to know exactly where the bodies are buried before you burn.

 

[EastPrez]

Dorchester Enters the DEEP END

(FADEIN: To the Peachtree Street deck balcony of SHANIQUA SHANICE CARLTON, Atlanta, GA. She is bobbing around, bosom-level in her crystal-clear blue infinity pool, mid-day, wearing a white bikini top, exposing the hint of a breast tattoo peeking out behind fabric, of two tennis racquets, crossing themselves. Her newly-blond hair is styled short, and her eyes are hidden behind oversized white PRADA sunglasses, her honey-hued skin glistening in the sunlght. She smiles and nods)


SHANIQUA: “HEEEYYYyyyyyYYYYY! NFW, HOW YOU DOING? DONE DID IT, INCORPORATED has been . . . quiet for a while. My client Jack Bryant, the Birmingham Backbreaker . . . (smirks at that) well, you all know that during a grueling finish to an amazing series, you saw JB have to give up his run as THE most recognized and important NFW Television Champion in this company’s history. JB and I... (Looks down and flick-splashes some water) well, we’ve been having a rough time lately, because as you all know, Jack is a PROUD man, a STRONG man, and we DON’T LIKE LOSIN’, and Dorchester Stratton, you won that series, Golf Claps. Congratulations, you are the NFW TV champ. But now, JB is on to new heights, and he’ll be the NFW World Champion VERY soon, and even though that's a feather in the cap of my managerial excellence, even though I have a sold-out best seller on HSN network with the 'SHE-UNIQUE 3-hour block of beauty products on Friday nights, along with my new line of travel luggage, I still want MORE. My MORE is coming at RELOADED 17 when Jack Bryant brings home the NFW World Heavyweight Belt. (Smiles wide)"


“And that belt? YOUR belt? Well, I LIKE that belt - it still goes real nice in my portfolio, and I’m not ready to let it go just yet. DDI, INC isn’t ready to let go. Jack, he’s been there, done that. But YOU my friend, have not cleared your calendar just yet - because before RELOADED 17, We’re gonna get on my private, chartered jet idling in Jeckyl Island, and we’re gonna land in NewYork City with ONE MORE MAN in the plane, and Dorchester - I know you’re STILL banged up, but it’s time to defend that belt! It’s time to COUGH UP THAT BELT! (Gets angry) and boo boo - it’s gonna come back to my camp after this man finishes you off!


(lifts her hand out of the water and points - UP! The camera pans up to the roof of her patio, where we see MALIK ANDERSON, the sun framing him, making him hard to make out from the glare, but he’s wearing black trunks, his big barrel frame blocking out the rest of the sun. He points down at the camera!)


ANDERSON: “DORCHESTER STRATTON! Boy, you’ve DONE DID IT NOW! I’ve been quiet for a LONG TIME now! Jack Bryant, my BROTHER, took you to the ends of hell and back, and well - (looks to the side) he gave what he could, and I don’t fault him ONE BIT - he’s EIGHT-THOUSAND TIMES THE MAN than you’ll EVER be, and he WILL become the next NFW World Champ! But before that, it’s MY TIME to get some bling around my waist!


“I’ve EVOLVED, Stratton. I’m not the same man you’ve battled on many, many occasions. I’ve... (Looks around at the skyline) gotten PAST the hurdles in my life, heh... stuff that held me back MY WHOLE LIFE . . . with the help of the Black Butterfly, Shaniqua Carlton, I’M A NEW MAN, NOW. . . I’m NO SHEEP, brother... I’M A MAJESTIC BIRD OF PREY. And I’m gonna swoop down on your ass at RELOADED in Brooklyn, and SNATCH UP the NFW Teevee belt off of your punk ass! You guys like fire so much? Dorchester - as GOD AS MY WITNESS, I’MMA BEAT HELLFIRE OUT THAT ASS AT RELOADED . . . (pantomimes the belt around his waist, then squats down) AND WIN MY FIRST SINGLES CHAMPIONSHIP! BELIEVE THAT!


(MALIK DIVES off the roof into the pool, slicing into the water with a perfect incision! While he’s still underwater, SHANIQUA cocks her neck to the side and makes a ‘Uhm HMMM!’ face!)


SHANIQUA: “YUP! Shaniqua, Malik Anderson, Jack Bryant! WE’RE LEAVING BROOKLYN outfitted with MAD GOLD! I KNOW that’s right! DEE DEE AH!”


(FADEOUT as MALIK comes up for air, scowling at the camera and rakes his thumb across his throat S-L-O-W-L-Y!)

 

[Rook Black]

Re: Dorchester Enters the DEEP END

ROOK: "Consider this to be a placeholder for remarks that I'll make later, and has nothing at all do with thinking that Brooklyn and New Jersey are interchangeable."

 

[GreggG]

Re: Dorchester Enters the DEEP END

(CUT TO: The porch/parlor of The Hellfire Club Mansion. White wicker furniture adorns the multi-colored brick patio, backdropped by spacious floor-to-ceiling opaque windows that look like (and possibly were at one time) they belong in a cathedral. Sitting on a wicker chair, behind a matching patio table with a small tea glass placed on the white tablecloth, is VERONICA ABRAMS RUMSFELD. Veronica's arms are laid on the wicker arms as she sits back at Emily Gilmore ridge-backed posture. She's wearing a ridiculously slanted pink hat with red carnation on the brim, a light pink shoulderless Chanel dress and a string of white oyster pearls.)

RUMSFELD: "Oh, Shaniqua. I just want to take the..." (Veronica scrunches up her face.) "... time to discuss the upcoming match between Malik Anderson and my shmoopie, Dorchester Stratton. Now, Dorchester can't be here with us right now as he's in physical therapy right now, still healing from his epic match against your charge, Jack Bryant... an epic match that he -- WE -- won, by the way. I understand that you're a busy woman, with your array of oh-so-exciting products hitting the market. Shaniqua, I just received an advanced version of your luggage line. I must applaud you, dear, on it. While I would never be caught dead carrying luggage made from the skin of dead gerbils found in the rear dumpster of a PETCO, they certainly do make for a great donation to the local Salvation Army. Because, Shaniqua, the products that YOU make and hawk on tawdry shop-at-home channels watched by the likes of uneducated garbage women filling their mouths with processed, microwavable foodstuffs are best used for that -- CHARITY. Why, I wouldn't even let one of my SERVANTS place your cat urine-infused haircare products near their skin. If I caught them with any 'She Unique' nonsense, they'd be tossed out on the street and into the gutter where they -- and you -- belong."

(Veronica bats her eyes and takes a sip of tea, holding her pinky finger out.)

RUMSFELD: "Now, I know my words may have been strong just there. And I apologize. Because, Shaniqua, I am a woman of both means AND class whereas you're just a low-rent puissant who happens to have a mother who gives you lots of stuff. And because of my harsh words and demeanor, I'm going to send you a present right now to show you the depth of my apology."

(Veronica smirks and reaches to her lap and shows a white handkerchief.)

RUMSFELD: "This, Shaniqua, is a white handkerchief. This is the very same white handkerchief I HANDED to you when you waved the flag of surrender -- make that PATHETICALLY waved the flag of surrender -- when my shmoopie Dorchester, the greatest tag team champion who has ever lived, defeated that illiterate mouth-breather Jack Bryant. I'll have this packaged and shipped RIGHT off to the Staples located in Atlanta's Buckhead neighborhood where you can pick it up when you're busy stuffing packages of your poisons to the unwashed QVC-trash that you call a customer base. Just keep it as a reminder, Shaniqua, of where you stand in the true ladder that is life."

(Rumsfeld takes a sip of tea.)

RUMSFELD: "Oh, and one last thing. Can you please tell Malik that Dorchester whipped his ask back when he was still DC? And Blaine sends his regards as well -- the 280-pounds of bald-headed worthlessness he carried for all of those years is off his back and he feels better than ever!"

(She sets the cup down and bats her eyes. FTB.)

 

[User Poets]

Come out, come out, wherever you are.

"Is this how you wanted it to end, Jack?"

"A witness to your own inevitibility?"

"Don't let it end like this, Jack. Don't let the bastards win."

(FADEIN...

TC's Pub.

There's really nothing about the scene to say so. It's an empty table. The surroundings mean that it's pretty likely that the table is in a bar. And since it's me recording this, and there's no blood red floodlights and no skanky go-go dancers knocking over drinks at the bar, there's only one place it could be.

Bonus points if you can correctly identify the two places I'm referring to.

And this empty table has one pint glass and one full pitcher of beer sitting on it.

And a sign.

"RESERVED FOR: J. BRYANT"

And...)

"I know how it goes, Jack. You take a pounding and lose a tough one, and it's discouraging. Especially when it's against an ungrateful, unworthy little toad who somehow comes out of it looking like roses because he survived your onslaught while you were handed defeat by someone who isn't part of the match."

"DC Stratton robbed you, plain 'n simple. But I need you to come outta it, Jack. This company needs you to come outta it."

"You're one of the four greatest wrestlers that the New Frontier has ever produced. First came Castor Strife, who took the longest to get to the top. Second was Joe the Plumber, obviously. Third was me, the current World Champion... and you're fourth."

I don't think, out of all the wrestlers who started their careers in the New Frontier, that my list is up for debate.

"But right now, Jack, I'm the only one standing."

"You're too damn stubborn to go out the way you did: carted out like an inviolate. A passive bystander to the end of a promising career. You're better than that."

"You're better than the Plumber."

"You're better than Castor Strife."

"Joe the Plumber was undefeated in this company for three years, and his career came to an end in the Ultratitle, of all places. Round one, against some guy named August Joyce."

"Castor Strife won the Ultratitle, declared himself above all of us, and then, largely due to hubris he was CAST OUT of the heavens in the Cutting Room Floor, and has not been seen or heard from since."

Cautionary tales, Jack.

"I've been the exception so far, Jack. Castor Strife broke my neck when he took the TV Title from me. Officially it was a hairline fracture that healed clean with no verifiable ill effects. The Windham Clan beat the crap outta me when Dan Ryan joined their ranks. Superficial injuries that hurt for weeks, but left no lasting damage."

Because I'm a 190 pound wrestler on steroids. Ask JJ DeVille, he'll tell you all about it. Even though he's admitted to being a heel and a liar, he's only telling the truth about all the terrible things I do. Just ask him.

"And you, Jack."

"You haven't been seen or heard from since DC Stratton stole the TV Title from you."

"Now, I put you on The List because I thought you deserved to be recognized as a main event player in the New Frontier. My intention was for you to remain at the top of the list with Castor Strife until such time that you were ready to claim your rightful shot. The fact that this match was booked at all implied to me that you were ready for it."

You're one of the New Frontier's cash cows, Jack. I doubt Eddie would be advertising this match if you couldn't make it. But this is also a man who was willing to hang his World Champion out to dry for idealogical differences, so who knows.

"I want you at your best for this match, Jack - because I know you. Because I know that if you're able to walk, you're too stubborn to take the day off, no matter how far you are from ring shape. But getting you at less than your best won't satisfy my need to wrestle the best, and if you step through those ropes anywhere but at your best, you'll regret it for the rest of your career."

"If I'm going to eventually lose this title, Jack, I want it to be to a worthy competitor. And if I'm going to wrestle the worthy as I see them, then I want them at their best."

"Which means you."

"Which means that, as the best wrestler in the New Frontier, what I want at Reloaded Seventeen in front of my hometown crowd is to wrestle the only man who could possibly challenge my standing as the best wrestler."

Apologies to Jack Harmen, but his strengths are in other aspects of what we do: he appropriately leaves the mat wrestling to Jack Bryant and myself.

"Are you ready, Jack?"

"Or do you need more time?"

"I know the office signed this on your behalf, but I don't want you to feel like you need to push yourslf to make this match. My fans in New York will understand if you can't make it. I'll wrestle an inferior opponent in your place and you and I will do the dance of death somewhere else, in front of the same fans."

Yeah, for free. I'll pay your appearance, Jack. What else am I gonna do with all this money when I live in a rent controlled apartment without a car?

"Mainly, this is an appeal to you, Jack, as a fan of yours. I've watched you approach every match something like a war, and I want you to wage war against me. I want your absolute best. I want to feel my title slipping away from me. I want to be on the verge of being a former World Champion, because otherwise, what's the point in defending this belt?"

"I want you to be in control of your own career, Jack."

"Not a victim of someone else's legacy."

After I submitted this piece to the New Frontier media team, Devin Millwood contacted me about my assertion that myself, JB, Castor, and Joe are the four biggest names that the New Frontier has ever produced. He reminded me that, back in 2004, just days after my 18th birthday, I wrestled Blaine Hollywood in a double debut rookie match. Devin was concerned that I'd forgotten that Blaine Hollywood is a NFW original.

No, I hadn't forgotten.

Not at all.

FADE

 

[LQJT86C]

Peter Windham: Public Advocate

(FADEIN: The Office of NFW Director of Marketing FIONA LOVE. Fiona’s at her desk in business attire, with the phone up to her ear. We can hear it ringing...ringing...ringing...until finally somebody picks up)

PETER WINDHAM: “Hello?”

FIONA: “Hi, Peter?”

PW: “Yeah this is Peter Windham.”

FIONA: “It’s Fiona. Look, we have to talk about your upcoming – “

PW: “Damn I’m fucking horny...”

FIONA: “Excuse me?”

PW: “Oh shit, a nacho!”

FIONA: “Hey, I don’t have time for this! You wanna take your medication and call me b-“

PW: “DON’T YELL AT ME YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE! MY MOM DIED LAST WEEK AND IT HASN’T BEEN FUN FOR ME! I’M UNDER A LOT OF PRESSURE!”

FIONA: “Whoa, whoa. Look, I didn’t know any of that. Can you just calm down and call me back another-“

PW: “Just kidding! You’ve reached the voicemail of Peter Windham, THA COMMISH! (Fiona clenches her jaw and rolls her eyes in frustration) Hahaha leave a message, unless this is Unemployment calling about, uh, Unemployment type stuff. (Fiona mouths, “Unemployment?”) In that case, just keep calling back over and over until I pick up cause I’m probably home. Alright bye!”

(BEEEEEP)

FIONA: “Peter, this is Fiona Love. We need to talk about your referee gig at Reloaded in Brooklyn. This is a huge opportunity for you, and Eddie is viewing it as a barometer of your readiness...”

(CUTTO: The inside of Peter Windham’s apartment – his answering machine is running as Fiona continues to speak)

FIONA: (V/O) “...to be Commissioner. So if you’re serious about that, you need to give me a call back at 212-791-4600, because we have some things to discuss.”

(The camera moves to find Peter lounging on his couch looking like he just woke up – it’s 2:30 PM – playing NFW RELOADED ’14 on his XBOX 360. He is currently in Create-A-Wrestler mode, editing stats on PROBLEM CHILD ’99 – Power: 100, Vitality: 100, Speed: 100, Strength: 100, etc. The avatar has a mullet and a FRAT 2.0 t-shirt, plus a dog collar. Peter reaches for an open bag of Cheese Doodles and eats one. A brown pitbull is seated next to him)

FIONA: (V/O) “There are a few public relations events coming up that we’d love for you to take part in, meet the fans, sign autographs, all that stuff. If you want to get to that next level in the company, these are the things we want you to do. In fact (sighs)...we have something coming up at Barclay’s involving teenagers from PS 141 in Brooklyn and I’m sure the kids would love to see you.”

PW: “N-n-n-n-n-n-o go back! I don’t wanna save that! Oh good...OK...alright I see what I did. Phew.”

FIONA: (V/O) “So yeah, call me back ASAP.”

(BEEEEEEP)

MACHINE: “You have...FOURTEEN...new messages.”

(PW throws back a can of lime-cherry MD 20/20 and goes back to playing. On-screen, PROBLEM CHILD ’99 is in Legends Mode beating the ever-loving-SHIT out of Joe The Plumber, Nova, Shane Southern, and Armando Montezuma in a Five-Way Death Match. XBOX LIVE NOTIFICATION – chickenandwaffles has signed on)

PW: “A.D.D. in your ASSHOLE Nova!”

(PC ’99 turns and Hornet Splashes JTP, hits Southern with a Director’s Cut, then gets up and knocks down Montezuma with a Sudden Impact superkick)

(PW’s dog starts barking)

PW: “What the FUCK do you want?”

(Dog barks again; PW pauses the game and looks over in the kitchen where the dog is laying near an bowl that has maybe five pellets of dog food left in it)

PW: “Hey, you HAVE food!”

(Dog barks again)

PW: “EAT WHAT’S IN THERE!”

(Dog barks again)

PW: “PETER JR!””

(Dog barks again)

PW: “Peter Jr. eat what’s in there!”

(Dog barks again)

PW: “JESUS FUCKING CHRIST I can’t get anything done around here! (Gets up from the couch angrily and grabs his car keys) Alright, RELAX! I’m getting you food, ok?”

(Peter leaves the apartment and slams the door behind him)

(CUTTO: PW is at Stop & Shop, walking towards the checkout with a big bag of dog food beneath his arm. When he gets to Lane 8, he backs up and takes a second look at the DISCOUNT DVD rack, where plucks a copy of ACTION JACKSON and continues to the checkout. The young girl at the counter rings up both items, and PW takes out a card from his wallet)

PW: “I’m paying with my SNAP benefits card.”

GIRL: “OK just hit EBT and swipe.”

PW: “Yup.”

(Swipes, waits)

GIRL: “I’m sorry sir, your card has been declined.”

PW: “WHAT? WHY!”

GIRL: “I uh, I dunno...I don’t think you can pay for pet food with SNAP benefits.”

PW: “I can’t buy dog food with food stamps? Are you KIDDING ME? ... Can I buy the DVD at least?”

GIRL: “Definitely not.”

(Store manager walks over)

MANAGER: “Is there a problem, sir?”

PW: “YEAH there’s a FUCKING problem! I’m trying to buy dog food and Action Jackson with food stamps and it’s not letting me!”

MANAGER: “That’s a decision they make at the federal level of government. There’s nothing I can do about that in-store.”

PW: “Yeah well, I’ve tried tweeting the Department of Agriculture about similar food stamp issues and it hasn’t worked.”

MANAGER: “I’m sorry. Gonna have to talk to Congress! (laughs) Anyway, you have a good day sir.”

PW: (scratches chin) “Talk to Congress, hmm?”

(CUTTO: Emblem on the closed office door of UNITED STATES SENATE MINORITY LEADER MITCH MCCONNELL)

(CUTTO: Senator McConnell sitting at his desk across from Peter Windham, who is dressed in a blue blazer, brown dress pants, blue suede shoes, and a green dress shirt with red tie. He looks ridiculous)

PW: “Senator McConnell! Thank you so much for meeting with me today, sir.”

SEN. MCCONNELL: “Oh it’s no problem. I’m happy to give time to the President of the uh, (looks at paper in front of him) National Organization for Crippled Oriental Cancer Kids with AIDS. That’s a...that’s a hell of a condition! (nervous laughter) So what can I do for ya, Mr. Windham?”

PW: “Please, call me Peter. I was actually hoping to talk to you about food stamps.”

SEN. MCCONNELL: “Food stamps? That seems a little out of left field. I’m not seeing the connection?”

PW: “Well, uh, we were hoping to like, expand what the SNAP card qualifies for. I mean, you know...the items it can buy and shit.”

SEN. MCCONNELL: “Have you talked to Harry Reid about this?”

PW: “Yeah! He told me to talk to you. Said you guys were all pissed about food stamps. Me? I’ve been a lifelong food stamp recipient – a loyal customer! – and many of the Oriental cripples we service are also proud food stampers.”

SEN. MCCONNEL: “Well they can buy plenty of essentials with the SNAP benefits card as is. What’s the issue?”

PW: “Here it is in a nutshell: when a Korean or Chinese or Japanese kid loses his uh, legs...or his arms...or one of his feet...he or she is then confined to a device. WHEELCHAIR as the layman calls it. Or um...sometimes a crutch. Or TWO crutches!”

(Senator McConnell squints his eyes skeptically)

PW: (nervous laughter) “And uh...what happens is, their bones are weakened, and become less good at fighting, uh...cancer. And when the cancer seeps in well...heh, heh, uh, that’s not good. IT’S NOT GOOD. Then on top of everything, these kids decide, ‘Hey, I’ve got nothing to live for!’ So what’s their next move?”

SEN. MCCONNELL: “I don’t know...”

PW: “They have sex! Nasty, dirty, rawdoggedy sex. And what does that lead to? (waits for it) That’s right: AIDS! So now these fucking crippled kids...they’ve got cancer, they’ve got AIDS, and to make matters worse...”

SEN. MCCONNELL: “Matters become worse?”

PW: “Oh they get worse! The AIDS causes the mind to deteriorate, and these kids start to crave DOG FOOD! You know, Kibbles and Bits, Ol’ Roy, Beggin Strips, all that shit.”

SEN. MCCONNELL: “That’s quite unfortunate.”

PW: “Quite. And sometimes all these kids want to do is watch a DVD, because it’s the only joy they have left. We find that the kids are HUGE fans of Action Jackson.”

SEN. MCCONNELL: “Is that the one with Carl Weathers”

PW: “You know it, dude. SO...what NOCOCKAIDS is looking to do is get dog food and DVDs added to the SNAP item list. Our children need not be denied this sacred American right. You know?”

(silence)

PW: (swallows) “Right?”

(The Senator removes his glasses, pushes some paper work to the side of his desk, and folds his hands together)

SEN. MCCONNELL: “Mr. Windham, the purpose of the SNAP program is to provide those in need with assistance for only the bare nutritional essentials. Now this program is already wrought with enough waste that we need not compound its difficulties by letting people use public assistance to purchase Carl Weathers DVDs.”

PW: “LOOK motherfucker...”

SEN. MCCONNELL: “Alright, this meeting is over.”

PW: “HEY! Suck my cock you old bastard! I hope your wife sticks her tongue in a woodland creature’s asshole and develops cervical cancer from it.”

SEN. MCCONNELL: “YOU FILTHY PIG! HOW DARE YOU! SUSAN, PLEASE SEE MR. WINDHAM THE HELL OUT OF MY OFFICE!”

PW: “Fine. But I’m KEEPING your pen!”

SEN. MCCONNELL: “You will NOT keep my pen, and you will LEAVE my office IMMEDIATELY!”

PW: “I’M KEEPING THE PEN!”

SEN. MCCONNELL: “FINE! Keep the pen and GET OUT!”

PW: “Later asshole. By the way, I’m not even the President of any group! I’M THE COMMISSIONER OF NEW FRONTIER WRESTLING!”

SEN. MCCONNELL: “Yes, I figured as much!”

(CUTTO: Peter Windham in the office of SENATE MAJORITY LEADER HARRY REID)

SEN. REID: (laughing) “You really told him you hope a raccoon eats his wife’s asshole?”

PW: “Well...any woodland creature in general. And no, I said I hope his wife eats the creature’s asshole. (laughs) But whatever! Let’s get down to business, Senator.”

SEN. REID: “Please...call me Harry.”

PW: “Look Harry, I’m gonna level with you. I don’t know shit about shit when it comes to politics, but here’s what I DO know: my pitbull is hungry. And my eyes are hungry to watch DVDs. So if we could somehow get a bill out there that would allow for my SNAP benefits to apply to both...that would be superb.”

SEN. REID: “I think we can accommodate you, Peter. But you’re going about this all wrong. A bill like that would go down in flames before you can say teabag.”

PW: “Melton.”

SEN. REID: “Just the same. What we’ll need to do is get creative, but I’ve got just the solution. What we need is a RIDER.”

PW: “Easy Rider...I’ve got a subscription. Can we get food stamps to pay for that too?”

SEN. REID: “Not quite. I mean a legislative rider. What we do is tack on an amendment to a completely unrelated bill. Say for instance you want food stamps to pay for Twizzlers. We draft a Food Stamps Twizzlers amendment to a bill that recognize the great achievements of Moses, Booker T. Washington, and Neil Armstrong.”

PW: “Wouldn’t the Republicans oppose that?”

SEN. REID: “Depends. Do they really want to vote against Moses, Booker T. Washington, and Neil Armstrong? I don’t think so.”

PW: “Great, so what are we attaching my amendment to?”

SEN. REID: “The amendment to expand the qualified items list under the SNAP program will be attached to a resolution declaring the United States’ opposition to the beheading of children, the beating of women, and the starvation of small animals, as well as our resolve to provide free medical exams to victims of the Holocaust.”

PW: “Oh man! That’s awesome!”

SEN. REID: “Mitch McConnell – proponent of cutting off kids’ heads, or friend of Food Stamp expansion? We’ll let him make that determination.”

(PW stands up and shakes hands with Sen. Reid)

PW: “Senator, it was a pleasure working with you.”

SEN. REID: “Likewise, Peter. Take care of yourself.”

PW: “Alright!”

(CUTTO: Peter is back at the checkout, with Action Jackson and dog food in hand. The cashier is looking at him skeptically)

PW: “That’s right, I wanna use my EBT card! IT’S GOING THROUGH THIS TIME!”

CASHIER: “Are you sure?”

PW: “Hey bitch, I have friends in high places. NOW LEMME RUN IT!”

(PW swipes; accepted!)

PW: “WOOSH! Pitbull fed, attention span STOLEN. I’ll be seeing you.”

VOICE: “WAIT JUST A MINUTE!”

PW: “Huh?”

(CUTTO: Senator Mitch McConnell running through the store in the direction of PW)

PW: “Senator? Whoa...what the fuck are YOU doing here?”

SEN. MCCONNELL: “In the name of the taxpayer, I am hereby STOPPING YOU from swiping that card!”

PW: “But it’s already swiped, dude!”

SEN. MCCONNELL: “Then it shall be unswiped! Somebody get a manager key...”

PW: “Too late! My dog’s FED motherfucker!”

SEN. MCCONNELL: “YOU...SHALL...NOT...SWIPE!”

PW: “YES I WILL!”

SEN. MCCONNELL: “OVER MY DEAD BODY, FREELOADER OF THE PUBLIC DIME!”

PW: “AAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!”

(PW picks up a running McConnell and hits him with a CORKSCREW PILEDRIVER on the floor of the supermarket! A.D.D.!)

PW: “BOOYA! And now for the Melton Express...”

SEN. MCCONNELL: “NO! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!”

PW: “QUIET, GAYLORD! TAKE THIS!”

(PW pulls his nuts out and teabags McConnell on the lips)

SEN. MCCONNELL: “BLAAAHHHH! PEH-PEH! (spitting) DISGUSTING!”

PW: “Shutup bitch, I just put you OVAAAAHHH! You’ve been re-elected to suck DEEEEEEZZZZ NUTTTTSSSSS!”

SEN. MCCONNELL: “I’ve heard of public office, but not PUBIC office! I hereby resign!”

PW: “Good, now lemme get the fuck home!”

(CUTTO: Peter Windham is back in his apartment)

PW: “Peter Junior, I’ve got your FOOD boy!”

(Phone rings; Peter picks up)

PW: “Hello? Oh, hey Fiona.”

...


PW: “OH SHIT I TOTALLY FORGOT ABOUT THAT! Do you have a ref’s uniform for me, or do I have to buy it myself? Ok cool, thanks.”

(Hangs up)

PW: (clears throat; faces camera) “RELOADED! Brooklyn! Right in my backyard, and I couldn’t be happier to call it RIGHT DOWN THE MIDDLE-“

CAMERAMAN: “Cut.”

PW: “Huh?”

CAMERAMAN: “That’s it, man. We’re all out of promo time.”

PW: “BUT I DIDN’T EVEN GET TO PROMO ON THEIR ASSES!”

CAMERAMAN: “You did a bunch of other shit, though. Let’s wrap it up.”

PW: “Damn it! I thought I had all the time I wan-“

(FADEOUT)

 

[Biron]

Re: Peter Windham: Public Advocate

(OORP: Sorry about the delay on this, fellas. Hasn't been my two weeks and this weekend didn't do much either. Pete, until next time!)


(CUTTO: Jack Bryant, dressed in a black Jack Bryant/Jack Daniel’s-styled Alabama Smash Mouth Wrasslin’ tee, sitting in a corner booth at TC’s Pub. The previously seen “RESERVED FOR: J. BRYANT” sign is pushed off to the side. Jack’s typically trimmed beard is a bit overgrown and a black Alabama ballcap is pulled down low over his sandy blond do.)

JB: “ Thanks fer savin’ me a seat at tha’ table, Randall. ”

(Jack cracks a grin.)

JB: “ It’s been a good while since ya’all have seen hide ‘er hair a’ Jack Bryant. Despite all tha’ media speculatin’ this n’ that, Ah didn’t take mah wounded pride n’ tuck tail n’ run. Stratton mighta’ broken bones, concussed tha’ hell outta me, taken mah TV Title, but he never beat me. Ah’m not tha’ kinda man that just goes away. Ah’m not tha’ Plumber. Ah’m not Castor. (takes a swill from his Pabst Blue Ribbon) You see, Randall, there’s a few certainties in this life a’ ours. (pauses) Tha’ Tide’s gonna roll n’, when it’s time fer Jack Bryant ta’ put on his boots, he laces ‘em up n’ goes ta’ work. Ya’ want tha’ best that Ah’ve got ta’ offer? (nods slowly, a crooked grin slipping through) That’s tha’ only way Ah know how ta’ do this sport a’ ours. Come Reloaded, yer gonna get exactly what ya’ want. Yer gonna get everything that Jack Bryant has ta’ give n’, when tha’ dust settles, we’ll see who’s standin’ there as tha’ NFW World Heavyweight Champion. ”

(FTB)