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Post by Moeru Toukon on Dec 18, 2006 22:16:21 GMT
 A New York crowd go crazy as the theme music for CCW Unleashed, “Breathe” by The Prodigy www.youtube.com/watch?v=zonX0Me6EZ4&search=prodigy%20breathe plays as the opening video shows various CCW Unleashed superstars in action…JR: Seasons greetings! We welcome you to Madison Square Garden! I'm Jim Ross, here with Paul Heyman and what a slobber knocker of a card we have tonight! Heyman: Yes, tonight we see Lance Leonard go one and one with Donny Ramon. JR: Later we see Marnie take on Griffin Young, Richards/Versus...a match that will determine who will go to Resurrection to face the champion himself. Will it be Nathan Versus or Thomas Richards? Both of these men have made an impact on this business, it's just who wants it more. Heyman: It doesn't matter, Body Count will destroy all in their path. Just look at the siz of Sammel, JR! JR: We'll wait and see, Paul. Our main event of the evening sees the champion pitted against Vincent Reinhardt, sure to be a massive match. |
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Post by Moeru Toukon on Dec 18, 2006 22:18:37 GMT
The camera fades in on Griffin Young standing in his locker room. The crowd gives a tremendous pop, and Griffin smirks appreciatively before beginning to speak.
Griffin: What is a monster? Well, let’s consult our old friend the dictionary, shall we?
Griffin grabs a dictionary that is laying on the bench behind him and begins reading.
Griffin: Well, there are several definitions here. Let’s see…”An imaginary or legendary creature, such as a centaur or Harpy, that combines parts from various animal or human forms”. Well, Marnie may be a fairy, but that’s about it…
Crowd laughs.
Griffin: “A creature having a strange or frightening appearance”. Getting closer, he IS an ugly bastard…” Pathology A fetus or an infant that is grotesquely abnormal and usually not viable.”. Maybe, but that was then, this is now…
Crowd laughs again.
Griffin: “One who inspires horror or disgust.: ” There we go, I’m sure that’s the definition that Marnie and the rest of the MoPW would like to use. I’m sure Marnie likes to think he’s all threatening and scary and powerful and intimidating. Probably helps him get all psyched up for matches…”Yeah, I’m a MONSTER, I’ll destroy them…” News flash, pal. You’re the least recognizable member of the MoPW. No titles, no major wins I can think of; I already whipped your ass at Brutal Encounter, and still, I’m sure you think you can beat me. Well Marnie, you can’t.
Crowd pops.
Griffin: Let me tell you what my definition of Monster is, buddy. A monster is something I was scared of as a kid. A monster hid in my closet when I was a kid, a thing that went bump in the night. But when it came down to it, there was nothing there. The concept of a monster is null and void. A tiny little insignificant nothing that I could just step right past if I had the desire. And that, Marnie, is exactly what you are. Nothing. See, I have bigger fish to fry. Lance Leonard, now there’s a real monster. There’s a man who can say he’s beaten me, destroyed me. And I’ll finish my business with him when the time comes. Lance, this isn’t over. You will be beaten by Griffin Young. You will know pain. You will know your end. You will know exactly why I am the man known as the Overlooked Soldier.
Crowd cheers raucously.
Griffin: But tonight, I’ll have to be content with sending a message. Lance, consider what I do to your little toadie Marnie a preview of what’s to come when we square off again. Marnie, bring all you’ve got. Hell, bring the rest of the MoPW; I could use the practice. Tonight, the System will Fail. Tonight, Marnie will feel the Breakdown. Tonight, I rewrite the definition of the word monster.
Griffin picks up a lighter and methodically sets fire to the dictionary, making sure to place it on the metal bench before the flames can burn his hand. It burns quickly and brightly, the large number of pages providing more than adequate kindling for the flame. Griffin watches it burn before staring into the camera, the fire reflecting in his eyes. When he speaks again, it is clear he’s in game mode, his words almost a growl.
Griffin: Monster: noun, an instrument of your pain and destruction. See also…Griffin Young.
The crowd pops as Griffin walks out to the ring area, his stride focused and powerful. The camera zooms in on the still blazing dictionary as the camera slowly fades to black.
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Post by Moeru Toukon on Dec 18, 2006 22:28:22 GMT
As the last segment finishes up, the screen fades back from black, & opens up on a lone shot of the ring. Michael Buffer stands there with a huge smile, & adheres to the fans, before bringing the head of the microphone to his lips . . . ready to give them what they want, as the volume of their voices slowly deteriorates into an eager silence.
Michael Buffer: “Ladies & gentlemen . . . the opening contest, for CCW Unleashed, is scheduled for one (1) fall!
Introducing first . . .”
Ennio Morricone’s Mouth Organ electric guitar theme, from “Once Upon A Time In The West”, begins playing over the series of loudspeakers to an instantaneous chorus of boos . . . immediately prompting those lights along the ceiling to dim into complete darkness. Seconds later, a series of shining white columns begin to rain down from up above, & a film noir-esque surrounding is present . . . casting various shadows throughout the width of the arena, as the restless fans look on toward the stage.
Marnie eventually ambles his way through the entrance opening, & stops at the head of the entrance ramp to light a cigarette . . . releasing his inhaled smoke toward the ceiling, grasping the rolled tobacco product in-between the fore & middle fingers of his right hand, & pointing toward the squared circle with a smirk. He then places the end of the cigarette in the left corner of his mouth, before stepping forward to make the journey down the aisle at his own methodical pace.
Buffer: “From parts unknown. Weighing in at two hundred & forty (240) pounds . . . & representing the “Monsters Of Pro-Wrestling” . . . this is MARNIE!”
Upon reaching the ringside area, Marnie scuttles up the left-hand set of stairs in order to reach the apron . . . resting back against the top let hand ring post to take another quick drag of the cigarette, before flicking it toward the floor, & stepping inside through the lull of the top & middle ropes. From there, he removes the brown lapelled coat from around his shoulders, & discards it to the outside . . . venturing toward the bottom right hand corner after doing so, & climbing up onto the 2nd turnbuckle pad to pose. More boos greet him, which forces another smirk to appear along his usually cold face, & he merely waves them off . . . jumping back down to the canvas as the lighting returns to normal, & his music slowly fades out.
The referee takes time out to pat him down for any illegal objects &, upon finding nothing, designates the enigmatic superstar back toward his corner. Buffer moves out of potential harms way, & once again turns back to face the flashing video screen as the enthusiasm in the people’s voices begins to grow . . . triggering a sequence of strobe lights which, in turn, forces the lights to fade out for a 2nd time in as many minutes. The place then comes absolutely unhinged as Our Lady Peace’s “One Man Army” begins blaring over the sound system . . .
Buffer: “And, his opponent . . .”
Griffin Young steps out onto the grated metal platform of the stage, & places his hands on either side of his neck . . . using them to crack the bones within, before doing the same with his fingers, & loosening his tensed shoulders. He then points out toward a particular section of the crowd, & gestures for them to raise the noise level, before turning back to where he can stare at his opponent . . . placing his right hand in front of his face, & extending the index, middle, & ring fingers to symbolize the number 3. Seconds later, he lowers the 1st . . . then the 2nd . . . & finally the 3rd . . . all with the crowd simultaneously shouting them out, mind you . . . which brings about a HUGE blast of pyro from behind him.
BOOM!
As the smoke clears, & the lights return to full luminosity, Griffin remains in place with his arms down at his sides . . . never taking his eyes off the ring, or his opponent, before eventually deciding to begin making his way toward the impending war zone of ringside. Various fans slap at him with appreciation along the way . . .
Buffer: “From Winston Salem, North Carolina . . . weighing in at two hundred & fifty (250) pounds . . . Griffin YOUNG!”
Young reaches the ring apron, & rolls inside the ring underneath the bottom rope . . . instantly popping back to his feet, & keeping an anxious Marnie at bay before turning his attention toward some nearby fans. He places his right foot on the 2nd rope of the bottom (southern) section, & raises his corresponding arm into the air . . . bringing about an explosive, positive ovation, which he is quick to absorb.
After going through this motion, Young is quick to turn back toward the middle of the ring . . . meeting Marnie nose-to-nose, & proceeding to jaw back & forth with him, before succumbing to a pre-meditated slap! The crowd is in awe at this show of disrespect . . . as can be heard due to Young’s music having faded out just seconds before.
“AW!”
Griffin staggers back due to the unexpectedness of the blow, & Marnie looks to take immediate advantage of the situation by lunging forward with a left foot to Young’s abdomen . . . doubling him over long enough to then follow through with a series of clubbing forearms to the shoulder blades, as the official reluctantly signals toward the timekeeper to ring the bell. The match is now officially underway . . .
DING! DING! DING!
Young falls back against the nearby (left/east side) section of ring ropes, & Marnie follows in hot pursuit to perform an Irish-whip . . . sending Young barreling toward the other side, & hitting him with the self-professed “Best High Knee In The Business” immediately upon his rebound. Young goes down in a heap, & Marnie lands back on his feet in a show of incredible agility . . . taking some time out to taunt Griffin’s manic fans, before following through with a Ric Flair-esque knee drop to the bridge of Griffin’s nose!
“AW!”
Young shoots forward into a sitting position whilst clutching his nose, & Marnie is quick to shove him right back down . . . using the situation to grind his right forearm against Griffin’s face with a rather cocky pinfall attempt, as the referee slides into position to make the count:
ONE . . .
TWO . . .
“NO!”
Young kicks out, as expected, & Marnie decides to waste more time by arguing with the pace of the referee’s count . . . giving up rather abruptly, & deciding to instead inflict more punishment. He climbs back to a vertical base, & drags Young up with him by a handful of hair . . . lambasting the fan favorite with a pair of forearm shivers to the face, before performing a 2nd Irish-whip that sends Young toward the top right hand corner. Griffin hits back first against the crook of the corner, & Marnie takes off after him with an attempted turnbuckle clothesline . . .
SMACK!
“OOH!”
Unfortunately for the Monster, Griffin was ready & waiting with a right elbow to the jaw . . . catching everyone off guard with the sudden impact behind the blow, & forcing Marnie to stop dead in his tracks. He then follows this attack with a right boot to Marnie’s stomach, which doubles him over, & then a powerful knee lift to the ribcage . . . softening him up long enough for Young to then hook Marnie into position to deliver a vertical suplex.
“AW!”
But, instead of repositioning both bodies near the center of the ring, Young simply tosses Marnie back into the crook of the corner . . . causing his body to literally bounce off of the turnbuckles, before plummeting back to the canvas stomach first! Young immediately climbs back to his feet, amidst a deafening chant of “holy shit”, & bends down in-between Marnie’s legs . . . wrapping both of his arms around either thigh, & using them to then launch Marnie onto his back with a release Wheelbarrow German Suplex!
“AW!”
Marnie lands hard on the base of his neck & shoulders, & Young summersaults backward into a rather unique pinning combination . . . straddling his opponents chest, whilst at the same time facing away from him, & hooking either leg by the back of the knee. Then, with Marnie struggling to break free, Young orders the ref to get into position, & make what could be the deciding 3 count. The fans are on baited breath:
ONE . . .
TWO . . .
“OOH!”
At the very last possible minute, however, Marnie manages to shift his weight . . . sending Young forward, & onto his neck & shoulders, in a makeshift victory roll! The referee stops his 1st count rather abruptly, checks to make sure that Griffin’s shoulders are down, & immediately begins slapping the canvas for a 2nd time. Young wriggles as though his life depends on winning this contest:
ONE . . .
TWO . . .
“NO!”
Much to the delight of the fans, Griffin fires his right shoulder up . . . breaking Marnie’s concentration, & his hold on Young’s legs, in a breathtaking last minute counter! Marnie holds his neck while climbing back to a vertical base, & looks on as Griffin does the same . . . looking to catch him off guard with a running clothesline, which Griffin manages to duck under at a moments notice. However, before Marnie has the chance to get his wits back about him, Young performs a standing switch . . . tagging Marnie twice in the right kidney, before immediately synching in “The Tourniquet” (Dragon Sleeper), & attempting to force both bodies down to the canvas.
Marnie shows amazing strength, though, & manages to spin through to where Young’s trademark submission hold is now a front Facelock . . . rushing forward, & shoving the small of Griffin’s back into the crook of the top left hand corner!
“AW!”
Young inadvertently releases the hold, & clutches the small of his back as Marnie proceeds to give him a series of shoulder thrusts . . . further driving his spine into the uncomforting angle of the turnbuckle pads, & softening him up for what is to come next. Then, just for added measure, he gives Young a HARD right handed knife edge chop across the pectoral region . . .
SMACK!
“WOO!”
Young’s head snaps back due to the force behind the strike, & Marnie shakes the pain out of his hand before following through with a 2nd, equally as devastating chop to the collarbone . . .
SMACK!
“WOO!”
This time, Griffin has to bend forward in order to catch his breath . . . allowing Marnie all the time in the world to wrap his arms around Young’s midsection, & hoist him into a sitting position against the top turnbuckle pad. Young tries to fight back with some last minute jabs to Marnie’s stomach, but the enigma merely counters with a HARD right slap across the face!
SMACK!
“AW!”
Young’s head flies toward the right, & Marnie peppers him with several short forearm shivers to the left side of Young’s face . . . eventually turning his back to Griffin, & placing his hands palm up against the pits of Griffin’s arms. Then, with the official watching on, Marnie pushes upward . . . thrusting Griffin into the air, at an angle, & dumping him onto the small of his back with a picture perfect overhead Iconoclast slam!
“AW!”
Marnie lands on his knees at Griffin’s head, & immediately presses himself down against Young’s chest . . . hooking the far right leg for added measure, & bobbing his head along to the sound of the official slapping his hand against the mat:
ONE . . .
TWO . . .
“NO!”
Griffin shoots his left shoulder off the canvas, & rolls over onto his stomach to prevent another pinfall attempt as Marnie argues with the officials count . . . trying desperately to pick himself up, & adhering to the positive reaction surrounding his efforts as he continuously slams his right foot against the mat.
An absolutely livid Marnie eventually rises back to his feet, & shoves the referee back near the bottom right hand corner out of disgust . . . remembering through the anger that is clouding his brain that he is in the middle of a match, & turning around to capitalize on Griffin’s condition. He slowly pries his body up to a lackadaisical base, & looks to continue the offensive front with a suplex variation . . . but out of seemingly nowhere, Young wraps his left arm around Marnie’s neck, grabs the back of his left thigh with the other limb, & rolls backwards with a Small Package pinning combination!
ONE . . .
TWO . . .
“AW!”
Marnie rolls through into a sitting position, & scrambles back to his feet through the humiliation of taking his opponent for granted . . . turning around, & walking right into a strong right-armed lariat from a now fired-up Griffin Young!
“AW!”
Marnie hits hard, but his momentum forces him right back up to his feet . . . allowing Griffin to hit a 2nd running clothesline, & then a 3rd, before taking Marnie to the nearby (bottom/south side) set of ropes. From there, he grabs Marnie by the left hand, & performs an Irish-whip that sends his opponent to the far side . . . catching him on the rebound with a leaping shoulder block to the chest cavity, which causes everyone within the crowd to shoot to their feet in response!
Young shouts toward the fans in a further effort to rile them up, before shooting back to his feet to pick up where he had left off . . . keeping the momentum alive by lifting Marnie back to a lackadaisical base, & taking him right back down with a powerful scoop slam. Marnie is forced right back to his feet due to the position in which his back hits the canvas, & Griffin catches him with a boot to the gut . . . doubling him over long enough to then execute a devastatingly painful DDT!
“AW!”
Marnie lands on the top of his head, & tumbles through to where he is lying on his back . . . allowing Griffin to pop his hips toward the left, & roll both bodies through to a duel vertical base. He then positions both bodies to where his is facing the north side section of the ring ropes, & cinches in a front Facelock . . . hooking the waistband of Marnie’s tights with his free arm, & taking him overhead with a quick snap suplex. Both men hit hard, but Griffin keeps the move intact by again rolling through to where both bodies are standing . . . releasing the front Facelock, & taking off toward the north side with a self Irish-whip.
On the rebound, he reaches forward . . . grabbing Marnie by the head, & falling backwards with a powerful swinging neckbreaker! He immediately shoots forward into a sitting position at Marnie’s head, & rolls over to press himself against the downed mans chest with an attempted pinfall. The crowd counts along out loud:
ONE . . .
TWO . . .
“AW!”
Marnie grabs the bottom rope with his right hand, & stops the count as the officials hand hits the mat a 3rd time . . . confusing some into believing that Young has won, while dashing the hopes of several others upon realizing that he has not. Griffin doesn’t let it bother him, though, & uses the assistance of the ropes to help him get back to his feet . . . scooping Marnie up off of the canvas in the process, & forcing him to remain doubled over with a hard hammer-like forearm to the shoulder blades . . .
“AW!”
Marnie’s body begins to drop, but Griffin keeps him at bay with a chokehold . . . using this as a means for support, before raising him high overhead with a Gorilla press! Young shows off his tremendous power by continually pressing Marnie’s body, & walks around the width of the ring to position himself for the eventual slam . . . but just as he is about to do so, Marnie reaches down to give him a thumb to the left eye.
“OOH!’
Young unintentionally allows Marnie to drop back down to his feet, & he lands behind the bigger man . . . giving him a hard forearm to the lower back, before taking him down to the canvas with his own variation of the Edge-O-Matic!
“AW!”
Griffin hits neck first, & his legs shoot into the air . . . allowing Marnie to reach forward & hook both legs, as the referee dives down into position to make the count:
ONE . . .
TWO . . .
“NO!”
Young gets the right shoulder off the canvas at the very last second, & breaks the pinning combination in the process . . . making Marnie so unbelievably upset, that he begins slapping at the canvas out of sheer anger. He eventually climbs back to his feet, & falls back against the nearby (left/west side) set of ropes to recollect himself, before bending down to give Young a HARD slap across the face . . . using the back of his hand to collect the sweat along his brow, & flinging it down onto Young’s face in a show of blatant disrespect, before turning his attention toward the top left hand corner.
Upon reaching his destination, Marnie steps out onto the apron through the gap of the top & middle ropes . . . flipping the bird to some obvious Young fans in the front row, & telling them to “piss off”, before placing his right hand on the top turnbuckle pad. He uses this for leverage, & pulls upward with his other arm until his feet are touching the 2nd pad . . . trying his best to maintain an ideal balance, before gradually placing the soles of both feet on the top pad. He then bends down to grab onto the top rope, & uses it to ensure his poise, before slowly rising to a full on vertical base . . . watching on through eagle eyes as Griffin Young begins to stir on the canvas below.
Griffin ultimately pushes back to his feet, & remains doubled over in order to recollect himself . . . never even acknowledging Marnie’s presence on the top rope, until he leaps forward with an attempted Missile dropkick . . .
“AW!”
Young turns his head at the very last minute, however, & sidesteps the attack . . . watching on, along with the fans, as Marnie plummets to the canvas, & hits right side first! Young looks to take immediate advantage by stepping forward, & scooping Marnie’s pain-ridden body off of the mat . . . Irish-whipping him toward the far (right/east) side, & catching him on the rebound with a crisp Powerslam!
“AW!”
As Marnie’s body hits the canvas, though, Young holds on to his body . . . showing off his power advantage by 1st climbing back to his feet, & then driving Marnie’s body back down into his right kneecap. He then pushes back to his feet, looks out into the crowd, & performs a 2nd rib-breaker . . . followed by an instant 3rd, before rising back to a full on vertical base, & tossing Marnie’s body up onto his shoulders. From there, he walks around in a circle, before driving Marnie’s head into the mat with a Death Valley Driver . . . successfully completing his “System Has Failed” chain-finisher!
“AW!”
Marnie hits hard, & remains sprawled out on the canvas in a deep state of unconscious . . . allowing Young to slide over toward his left, & hook both legs for what should be the deciding 3 count:
ONE . . .
TWO . . .
Young changes his mind at the very last minute, & pushes back to a vertical base . . . pointing down at Marnie’s limp body, & then into the crowd, before placing his right hand in front of his face. His index, middle, & ring fingers are extended . . . & one by one they go down, thus signaling that “The Breakdown” is near.
He bends down, & drags Marnie’s body back to a lackadaisical base by a handful of hair . . . using his grip to hold Marnie’s head, & talk some last minute trash, before clamping his right hand around the Monster’s throat. He then hoists Marnie into the air, & swivels his body toward the right . . . delivering a spine-shattering “Breakdown” with so much force that Marnie’s body bounces off of the canvas upon impact!
“AW!”
Young remains on his knees between Marnie’s legs, & merely leans forward to place his hands against Marnie’s chest . . . looking on towards the official with a fire burning within his eyes, & bobbing his head to the sound of the officials hand hitting the mat for 3:
ONE . . .
TWO . . .
THREE!
DING! DING! DING!
Buffer: “Here is your winner . . . Griffin YOUNG!”
No sooner than the announcement has been made does Griffin shoot back to his feet . . . standing over Marnie, whilst at the same time staring down at his lifeless face. The official grabs Young by his right arm, & hoists it into the air as to signal his victory . . . gesturing with his right index finger that he is indeed the winner, & giving those in the production truck the signal to play his music. “One Man Army” hits the sound system, & the fans erupt with their approval . . . cheering young on as he finally pulls his arm away from the official, & turns his back to face the left side set of ropes. Young wraps his arms around the top rope, & allows his body to fall over the top rope . . . landing on his feet in front of the apron, & slapping at it with his hands out of nothing short of enthusiasm. He then begins making his way up the aisle with his back to the stage . . . giving out assorted high-fives to anyone who requests them, & connecting with his fans in the only way he knows how.
Upon reaching the stage, he begins to ready himself for “The Breakdown” signal by once again flashing his right hand, & placing it in front of his face . . . extending the 3 fingers, & readying himself to lower them for a celebratory blast of pyro.
WHACK!
“AW!”
Lance Leonard appears out of seemingly nowhere, however, & rushes the stage from the back . . . slamming a lead pipe down against the base of Young’s neck, & forcing him down to his hands & knees from the force of the blow! Young’s fans immediately let loose with a thunderous chorus of boos, but Leonard merely waves them off . . . backing away for the sake of his aim, before once again slamming the pipe down against the back of Griffin’s skull!
WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!
Four shots later, & Young is left lying unconscious on his stomach . . . sprawled out against the grated steel of the Unleashed set, & bleeding from a gash that has been opened along the end of his hairline. Leonard then raises the pipe into the air, & poses over Young’s unresponsive form . . . taking Marnie by the hand as he eventually makes his way up the ramp, & helping him step over Young’s body in order to access the stage. Marnie decides to get a few revenge shots in, however, & leaves a couple of his boot prints along the width of Young’s back . . . making way for the wave of Emergency Medical Technicians to come check on Young’s condition, before both Monster’s cockily make their way to the dressing room area.
The cameraman bends down to get a closer look at Young’s condition, & remains fixated on this scene until a signal is sent from the production truck. This forces the screen to fade to black, as Unleashed cuts to a commercial break . . .
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Post by Moeru Toukon on Dec 18, 2006 22:28:44 GMT
EARLIER TODAY…
INT. PARKING LOT
Leonard and Macbeth, wearing their usual attires and shades of choice, walk from separate Dodge Vipers towards the camera, which backs off as they approach. Leonard looks more pissed off than usual, whereas Macbeth looks as pissed off as he always does. Leonard carries a video tape in his hand.
Macbeth: Every fucking year, man. Every fucking year you have to watch that shitty film.
Leonard: Leave it, Max, I’m not in the mood.
Macbeth: Nightmare Before Christmas, now that's a holiday film.
Leonard: Will you...!
Nick Kelly walks on camera holding his microphone and tries to keep pace with the Monsters.
Nick: Lance, Mr Macbeth…
Leonard: Not now, Nick, we’re busy.
Macbeth: Take a hike, pleb.
Nick: But Mr Hart says to get your feelings on…
The two stop.
Leonard: Last week’s joke of a match? The very important PPV match against Griffin Young on the horizon? Look, Kelly, my only thoughts right now are preparing for tonight.
Leonard holds up the tape. Macbeth pushes his police sunglasses to the top of his head and holds the bridge of his nose in exasperation.
Leonard: I need to do some last minute studying if I’m going to beat this Puerto Rican tosser. If you still need an interview in half an hour… dare to interrupt me and see what happens.
Leonard turns to Max, tape still at head height.
Leonard: Sure you’re not coming?
Max: Fuck you and your shit. I’m going to work out or find Marnie or something.
Leonard: Good luck. Anyway, where were we?
Nick: …You’re off to your locker room?
Leonard: That’s a Fact. Now if you’ll excuse me…
LATER…
INT. LANCE LEONARD’S LOCKER ROOM
The room is dark, illuminated only by the television off-camera. A close up of Leonard’s head and shoulders as he looks just to the left of us, smiling with an increasing warmness that we rarely see as the television light flickers off his face.
TV: Clarence! Clarence! Help me, Clarence! Get me back! Get me back, I don't care what happens to me! Get me back to my wife and kids! Help me Clarence, please! Please! I wanna live again. I wanna live again. Please, God, let me live again.
TV: Hey, George! George! You all right? Hey, what's the matter?
TV: Now get outta here, Burt, or I'll hit you again! Get outta here!
There is a knock on the door and Nick Kelly enters, microphone in hand. Leonard scrambles for his sunglasses and cigar and puts them on smoothly, hiding the mince pies he was eating under the couch.
Nick: Lance, I was…
Lance: Shhh!
Nick: But, uh, you have a match tonight, and…
Lance: Shut your sass hole, Kelly, the film’s on!
There’s a pause and Lance resumes watching the film.
Nick: …Sass hole?
Lance: Nick, shut the fuck up!
Further silence aside from the drone of TV voices. Kelly’s disappointed eyes leave Leonard and fix on the television screen. Slowly, he walks across the room and sits next to Leonard.
TV: Burt? Do you know me?
TV: Know you? Huh! You kiddin'? I've been looking all over town trying to find you. I saw your car plowed into that tree down there and I thought maybe you - hey, your mouth's bleeding. Are you sure you're all right?
TV: What the…Ha ha ha ha! My mouth's bleeding, Burt! My mouth's bleeding!
Nick (whispering): What’s happened so far?
Lance (whispering): Don’t tell me you’ve never seen this film before.
Nick (whispering): I think I did when I was little. Mind if I rewind it?
Lance (whispering): …Go ahead, I could watch this all day.
Nick reaches for the remote control as we fade to black…
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Post by Moeru Toukon on Dec 18, 2006 22:29:43 GMT
Nick Kelly stands by backstage ready to interview Vincent Reinhardt for a CCW.com exclusive. Kelly seems a little nervous standing in the shadow of the enigmatic big man. He gets the cue and begins.
Kelly: Folks I'm joined at this time by Vincent Reinhardt. Who on the upcoming Unleashed will do battle with the CCW World Heavyweight Champion, Josh Violence. Vincent I would like to ask you how you feel about your opponent and the fact that this match is non-title.
Kelly turns to Reinhardt who stays still. After several seconds Reinhardt removes his sunglasses and glares at Kelly.
Reinhardt: Boy I don't want to have to hurt you. But unless you give me that mic and get the hell out of here. I might be forced to snap that scrawny neck of yours.
With that comment Kelly quickly hands the mic to Reinhardt and hurries off screen. Reinhardt replaces his sunglasses and then turns to the camera.
Reinhardt: My pursuit to teach Adam Machiavelli his lesson has changed me. I no longer have patience. It's about time I started cracking some skulls together and making sure my voice is heard. I've run through Body Count and I knew it was only a matter of time before I met Violence.
Reinhardt pauses and scratches at his chin. He lets out a light chuckle before continuing.
Reinhardt: Likes to call himself "Big Daddy" and "The X-Rated Superstar". I can understand after the things I've seem him do to that whore Heather St. Clair. They almost make me as sick as Machiavelli and Helga. Despite that, I know he sits on top of CCW for a reason. He has left bodies in his wake. He took advantage of the situation to win the gold. I would expect no less from somebody aligned with Adam.
Reinhardt breathes heavily and cracks his neck. Becoming more intense.
Reinhardt: Violence if you watch this, then you need to listen up good. 'Cause I'm sure Adam has told you the things that I can do. I won't be another one of your victims. You won't get to bully me in your backyard. I will get past you. I have to get past you. I need to get past you. Right now your gold isn't my main concern. But don't get too happy about that. 'Cause who knows what the future might hold for us two lost souls.
Oh yeah I haven't forgotten about you Adam. I'm gonna make you pay and pay good. If I have to go through your buddy to make sure it finally happens then I have no problem with that. I'm all about the battle.
A smile finally breaks out across Reinhardt's face.
Reinhardt: Violence. Inside the ring I will go to war with you. You can even get your Body Count buddies to try and help you out. But I will make this as clear as it can be. Body Count will remember the name Vincent Reinhardt. CCW will never forget the force of nature that is..... Vincent Reinhardt.
Here darlin' catch.
Reinhardt throws the mic to Kimberly Jordan who is standing nearby. She fails to catch it and it hits the floor. As she bends down to pick it up Reinhardt speaks.
Reinhardt: Honey you're lucky for two reasons. Number 1, this isn't prison. Number 2, you didn't drop a bar of soap.
Reinhardt laughs to himself as Jordan quickly straightens up. Reinhardt just pulls out a cigar and lights it up. He gives Jordan a look up and down before heading off down the corridor.
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Post by Moeru Toukon on Dec 18, 2006 22:31:43 GMT
Fade in on Leonard and Kelly right where we left them, watching Leonard’s tape. The room is filled with smoke, and Lance stifles a cough on the remains of a half-dregged cigar. Neither of them look away from the screen as they talk.
TV: There they are! Burt, what do you know about that! Merry Christmas!
Nick (whispering): Wow…
Lance (whispering): I know. Every year it gets me thinking.
Nick (whispering): About what?
Lance (whispering): Oh, about how life’s not that bad. About how much difference a man can make to the world. I mean, take me for example. Sure, I may be down after a couple of dispiriting losses, but lets’ face it, if I didn’t exist, there’d be no Griffin Young. There’d be no CCW, because everyone would’ve just turned off after another month of Adam Matthew’s World Heavyweight Championship reign and we all would’ve gone the way of WCW. And there certainly wouldn’t be a Donny Ramon.
Nick (whispering): How d’you figure?
Lance (whispering): Oh, come the heck on. His whole attitude. I was wearing suits, sporting shades, smoking cigars and doing lariats before it became cool. And I did it a way lot better than that talentless Puerto Rican silage heap, who by the way will be tapping like Sammy Davis Jr. after I get my hands on his fat ass.
Nick (whispering): Speaking of, do we have any more Hamlets?
Lance: Uhh… Fresh out.
TV: Merry Christmas, movie house! Merry Christmas, Emporium! Merry Christmas, you wonderful old Building and Loan!
Nick (whispering): I think I know what you mean. Sure, all I ever get is disrespected and laughed at, and I never get dates, and I make an ass of myself when I do get dates, and I got my hand stuck in the mailbox this morning… but this company wouldn’t be able to hold together without me. I mean, how would anybody be able to say they hate each other or how they’re going to kick each other’s asses if I wasn’t holding the microphone to their mouths! Well, I’m sick of it! I’m not gonna be just the interviewer anymore, I’m gonna…
Lance: Shhh!
TV: Well, hello, Mr. Bank Examiner!
TV: Mr. Bailey, there's a deficit!
TV: I know. Eight thousand dollars.
TV: George, I've got a little paper here.
TV: I'll bet it's a warrant for my arrest. Isn't it wonderful? Merry Christmas! Reporters? Where's Mary? Mary!
Lance (whispering): Sorry, what were you saying?
Nick (whispering): I can’t remember. Something about a deficit I owe the bank.
Lance (whispering): Sucks to be you, doesn’t it, Kelly?
Nick (sadly whispering into his chest): Tell me about it.
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Post by Moeru Toukon on Dec 18, 2006 22:33:18 GMT
Shallow by Porcupine Tree creeps into the ears of the fans packed into the sold out arena. Lance Leonard appears wearing a hooded, knee-length black robe. A small firework explosion erupts on stage as he appears, blue and gold spotlights search around the arena throughout. He takes off his robe and enters the ring. When in the ring, Leonard climbs the turnbuckle to second rope and extends his arms outward and throws his head backward as a Shawn Michaels-esque row of fireworks, colored blue and gold, run across the ring behind him.
Michael Buffer: Introducing first..... from Arkham, Massachusetts and weighing in at 256 pounds..... The Leader of The Monster of Pro-Wrestling..... Lance Leonard.
Boos bounce off of the walls as Leonard just smirks. The cheers finally arrive when "Puerto Rican Power" by Ween hits the speakers. Donny Ramon walks out wearing a Hawaiian shirt, while smoking a cigar. He just walks slowly down the ramp and talks to the crowd. When he enters the ring, he puts out the cigar in the middle of the ring, and throws it into the crowd.
Michael Buffer: His opponent..... from San Juan, Puerto Rico and weighing in at 284 pounds..... Donny Ramon.
The cheers then slowly fade as the referee calls for the bell to begin the singles contest. The two men circle each other before locking up in the middle of the ring. They spends several moments trying to gain the advantage. Neither man can get the edge so they both break away and step back calculating a new offensive plan. As the two look to lock up again Leonard takes the low road catching Ramon with a quick kick to the gut. With Ramon doubled over Leonard drives a knee into his temple sending him falling to the canvas. Leonard then drops down looking for the pinfall. Driving his forearm into the face of Ramon in an attempt to keep him down.
1...
Ramon kicks out quickly, signaling that it is too early in the game to be thinking about victory.
Ross: What arrogance from Lance Leonard to think he can beat Donny Ramon so easily and quickly.
Heyman: It's not arrogance J.R., I wouldn't be surprised if Lance does squash this clown. Remember only one of these guys is a former World Champion.
Ramon still dazed suffers a series of knees and then fists to the head. Leonard renders his opponent defenseless after a series of stiff shots. The crowd boo as Leonard perfectly executes a Standing lifting shin breaker. Following the move Ramon grabs his shin and tries to roll away toward the corner.
Leonard though doesn't let up as he follows Ramon to the corner. The fan favorite uses the turnbuckle to pull himself to a vertical base. Leonard though delivers a Big Boot to the back of the head once again putting Ramon on dream street. Leonard backs away as Ramon wobbles out of the corner. Leonard then ducks in behind Ramon locking the arms and taking him over head straight onto his head with a Tiger Suplex '85. Leonard bridges through looking for the 3 count.
1...
2...
No
Ramon has the ring presence to extend his leg onto the middle rope and break the count. Leonard lets go as Ramon clutches at his already battered skull. Jeers flow from the fans in attendance as Leonard taunts them.
Heyman: The leader of The Monsters has these idiots eating out of the palm of his hand.
Ross: While I don't agree with you Paul. It's quite evident that right now Leonard is in control of this match.
Leonard waits as Ramon finally gets to a vertical base still in a daze. Leonard adds insult to injury with several slaps to the face of Ramon. With hardly any resistance Leonard grabs a hold of Ramon and proceeds to once again spike him on his skull this time with a Texas Piledriver. Leonard gloats before making a lax cover on Ramon.
1...
2...
No
Somehow Ramon gets his shoulder up off of the canvas. Leonard's eyes bulge giving away the feeling of surprise as Ramon starts to pump his fists feeding off of the crowd's support. Leonard snaps Ramon into a headlock and shoves him into the ropes. Leonard then overpowers Ramon sending him off to the ropes on the opposite side with an Irish whip. Leonard looks to catch Ramon coming off with a Furious Lariat. Ramon though ducks and spins in behind Leonard. In an instant Ramon catches Leonard with a Back Cracker.
Following the move both men lay on the mat. The crowd get out of their seats and urge on their favorite as both men are in a slow struggle to get to their feet first.
Ross: I knew Donny Ramon had the heart. With the fans behind him who knows what can happen?.
Heyman: I know what can happen. He's about to have his career cut short by Lance Leonard.
Ramon is the first to his feet and bounces a series of fists off of Leonard's head. He then sprints into the ropes catching Leonard coming off with a Latino Burner. Ramon then hooks the leg of Leonard with his first pinfall attempt of the match.
1...
2...
No
Leonard kicks out just before the 3. Ramon doesn't let up as he pulls Leonard back to his feet. Ramon doubles him over with a kick to the stomach and then hooks Leonard's arms looking for The Puerto Rican Special. Leonard though has just enough left to reverse it and send Ramon flying with a back body drop. However Ramon doesn't fully rotate and winds up landing straight on his head and neck. The blow practically knocks him out.
With both men exhausted Leonard struggles to somehow lift Ramon up to his feet. Leonard goes nose to nose with him as Ramon's eyes roll back in his head. Leonard wastes no more time bouncing off the ropes at full speed with a Furious Lariat almost taking Ramon's head off. Leonard then aggressively executes a lateral press.
1...
2...
3
Michael Buffer: Here is your winner by pinfall..... Lance Leonard.
Heyman: It's about time people started listening to me. I called a Leonard win and look what happened.
Ross: Ramon gave it all he had. In the end though that head injury was just too damn much.
The official tries to raise Leonard's arm in victory but he pulls away and exits the ring. As he makes his way up the ramp the official checks on Ramon. The fan favourite lays in his ring trying to clear the cobwebs. Leonard stops at the top of the ramp throwing his arms out in celebration and receiving the worst response of the night. Leonard takes it as a compliment and smiles as he heads through the curtain.
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Post by Moeru Toukon on Dec 18, 2006 22:36:05 GMT
INT. BACKSTAGE AREA
Nick Kelly stands to a well focused Thomas Richards with a trench coat draped over him.
Kelly: Tonight, The Lion will face off against a twice world champion, someone who has defeated the best. What are your thoughts?
Lion tilts his head, his neck clicking sharply and takes the microphone to his mouth.
Richards: He's defeated the best? I cannot recollect one time Nathan Versus has pinned Thomas Richards' shoulders to the mat for a three count...(he sniffs around Kelly's general direction) You've been smoking, you stink of cheap cigars... (he carries on, nonetheless) Nor can I remember Nathan Versus ever defeating me in a wrestling ring. He hasn't beaten the best, but he has a chance to, tonight, in Madison Square Garden!
The crowd cheer, almost as much as usual
Lion: I'm going to take this son of a bitch to a whole new level, mine. In New York (the hometown of the 'One Man Army') I'm going to put a show on for one Josh Violence, a marshmallow stacking bastard with the mental age of a four year old. Any moves Versus throws at me I'll launch right back, and if the going gets tough you'll be seeing the back of my hand spin toward your face before long.
Kelly raises his eyebrows.
Kelly: We all know you are a tough competitor, but don't you think beating Nathan Versus, one on one is an almost impossible task?
Lion: I have been within every mind of every man to step through that curtain here, to face off with them and put their shoulders to the mat or to make them submit, tap on the floor because they can't handle me. I am past expectations, I am THE expectation. Versus will leave Avalon, Violence will leave Avalon.
Lion walks off screen, leaving Kelly looking very excited.
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Post by Moeru Toukon on Dec 18, 2006 22:36:54 GMT
The camera opens to show the word “RESURRECTION” written across the t-shirt worn by “One Man Army” Nathan Versus. The Madison Square Garden crowd erupts as the camera pans back to reveal their hometown hero and a chant of “Versus, Versus” quickly fills the arena…
Alongside Versus stands CCW’s Nick Kelly, microphone in hand…
Kelly: (to Versus) We’re just a few blocks away from where you grew up, moments away from your match against Thomas Richards that will determine who will face Josh Violence for the CCW World Heavyweight Championship at Resurrection... The atmosphere inside Madison Square Garden, The World’s Most Famous Arena, is electric… “One Man Army” Nathan Versus, how do you feel?
Versus ignores Kelly, looking past the camera, deep in thought…
The “Versus, Versus” chant continues to fill the arena…
Kelly looks at Versus waiting for a response…
Kelly: (continuing) Nathan Versus… (Versus looks around, staring at the interviewer)… Last time you and Thomas Richards faced one another, back in May, he…
Versus: (interrupting) Beat me… I know… I was there… But let me tell you something, son; the last time we faced one another, I was having what they commonly refer to as a bad fucking day… He was the better man on the night, these things happen, but it will never happen again...
Kelly: Well, you do seem confident…
Versus: And you seem surprised, either because you’re a fuckin’ retard, or because you’ve forgotten that I was first-ever CCW World Heavyweight Champion, the only two-time CCW World Heavyweight Champion, a One Man Army, the future of sports entertainment, the man who made this promotion mean something and the reason twenty thousand New Yorkers are here tonight…
The crowd cheer and Versus snatches the mic away from Kelly, turning to the camera…
Versus: Richards, I got a lot of respect for you, son… You’ve been around, you’ve competed against some of the greatest competitors this industry has ever produced, you‘ve damn near done it all… But not quite…
Versus smiles..
Versus: The one thing you never managed to do is make it to the very top… Well, tonight, you’ve got a chance to change that, to earn yourself a shot at the one thing that has eluded you your entire career; the top prize, what drives everybody who’s ever taken a bump, the thing that defines careers; the World Heavyweight Championship!
Son, you’re about to realise how quickly dreams can become nightmares… Let’s face it, you’re older, slower, weaker, a man who came close, but just wasn’t designed to accomplish the kind of things that I’ve accomplished throughout my entire career…
This is the biggest match of your entire career; a chance to prove to the world that you are more than just a former National Champion. To me, this is just another day at the office, another step towards my immortality. It’s what I like to call… Destiny.
Versus drops the mic, listens to the “Versus, Versus” chant for a few moments, and then pushes past Nick Kelly, en route to the ring…
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Post by Moeru Toukon on Dec 18, 2006 22:41:18 GMT
Michael Buffer: The following match will be a singles match for the No.1 contendership for the CCW World Heavyweight Championship!
Fire rises from the stage slowly, the emphatic drumbeat of Kashmir pounding through the arena. from behind the curtain steps a coated Thomas Richards, striding to the ring peering round at the crowd.
Buffer: Making his way to the ring, weighing at 254 lbs., he is ‘The Lion’, Thomas Richards!
He steps through the ropes and climbs a turnbuckle, staring out at the crowd as the contours of his face extrude. He does the same for the opposite corner and then drops to throw off his coat and roar at the crowd. The fire at the stage diminishes immediately and Richards' face remains stern.
Buffer: And his opponent…
The lights dim. The intro of the haunting Blood, Milk and Sky reverberates chillingly through the arena. As the music kicks in, fireballs go up either side of the ramp.
Buffer: Weighing at 252 lbs., he is the ‘One Man Army’, Nathan Versuuuuus!
The arena remains dimmed, illuminated by strobe lighting. Versus comes up from beneath the ring on a platform. He walks to the ring looking up an ecstatic crowd. Once at the apron he climbs it and enters, staring into Richards’ eyes. They approach each other, their eyes fixed on one another’s as they realise one another as the obstacle between them and the chance of the ultimate prize becoming their own possession.
JR: Versus: a former champion. Richards: a ferocious competitor. It’s who wants it more.
The bell rings, and the two men continue to stare each other down, before Richards grins, as does Versus. Richards holds out his hand for him to shake and Versus stares at it. He hesitates at first, until he holds out his hand and they quickly grasp, and then pull forward, with whatever pretences of getting along abolished. They begin to trash talk as the crowd livens up even more.
JR: Here we go, Paul!
Versus suddenly jumps up to attempt wrapping his legs round Richards’ arm, but The Lion quickly scouts the jujigitame attempt holding the soon to be hyper extended arm with his other and using the momentum to flip the army onto his back. As Versus as he reaches his feet, Lion attempts a high kick, but Nathan ducks and sweeps out The Lion’s legs, and with his opponent downed raises his foot to bring it down sharply only to hit the mat as Richards rolls out the way and stands.
JR: Both animalistic, ferocious human beings. Two excellent professional wrestlers fighting for pride.
The two stand to lock up in a collar and elbow tie up, and the Lion goes round to wrap his arms round Versus’ waist. However, Versus manages to moves his arm round to hit a headlock takeover only for a leg scissors from the Lion to bring the advantage to a close. Shifting his weight from side to side and using his feet, Versus manages to escape the leg scissors and hit a sharp kick to the side of Richards’ head, a clap thundering throughout the arena. Versus pins.
ONE,
TWO-
KICK OUT.
Lion raises the shoulder, and Versus goes to a kneeling position, hands on hips to then stand and bring Richards up with him. Clasping round his head, the army brings his knees up to crash into his forehead. Once relinquishing, Versus goes to his a right leg to the midsetion, but Richards catches it and hits hard with a clasped fist into the chest of Nathan Versus, before taking out his legs and attempting an early bankrupt. Once holding the legs, Versus squirms, however, out of the hold and rolls back to stand fists at the ready eyeing Lion up and down.
JR: They want it so badly, Paul.
Heyman: I don’t know whom I’d rather get into a fight with, JR.
Lion raises his right hand for a test of strength, and Versus connects with his right. Slowly but surely the left hand of both men clasp and their power collides. Lion seems to get the upper hand early on, before Versus pushes forward with one leg trailing to start lowering him to the floor. Once bridged, Versus brings his legs round to attempt to flatten the bigger man, and in the fourth attempt achieves his goal.
ONE-
Lion lifts once more to bridge with his head and tip toes lifting and supporting, and eventually manages to make a spirited fight back to a standing position. From this postition he kicks Versus’ right and left hand breaking the connection, jumping for supposed gamengiri but roundhouse kicked hard to the mat, from which the crowd reacts with ‘oohs’.
JR: Good Gawd! What a kick!
Heyman: I’ve been waiting for someone to do that!
Versus lifts the dazed Lion to his feet, and hits a snapmare takedown and to drive his right knee into his upper back reaching round with a chinlock, challenging Richards’ body. Richards grunts in the holds, stopped by the occasional sharp pull from Versus. The crowd begins to stamp their feet in support as Lion gets to a standing position, where Versus changes from a chin lock to a headlock. Lion moves back, shifting Versus back into the Southern set of ropes and pushing him to Northern set. Versus comes back, only for Lion to lift him in a spinebuster position and drop him forward in what is referred to in rugby as a ‘dump tackle’.
JR: Shades of his early rugby days!
Versus holds the lower of his back as Lion stands him up and wrenches the arm. Versus manages to roll forward, and wrench Lion’s arm in return. Lion cartwheels and then places his head and his free hand onto the ground to quickly flip over to his feet and hit an arm drag, following up with an arm lock. Suddenly, Lion goes to twist the arm into a Kimura lock, before a wary Nathan Versus brings himself to his knees and rolls forward out of the hold. Both men recuperate and begin to circle the ring, before going to lock up. Versus hesitates from locking up, and hits a stiff elbow to Lion’s head. Richards is angered by this, and comes back with a high velocity knife edge chop against the New Yorker’s chest. Versus doesn’t seem phased, and hits another sharp elbow to his head. Thereafter, he receives another chop in return. Versus goes for it, as his elbows become more frequent before whipping the larger man into the ropes. Lion comes back, with a high kick that Versus only just manages to avoid with a step back.
The two stand still, the crowd fired up as they stare into each other’s eyes. They circle once more, before they lock up and Lion drives him to the ropes. Breaking away, Richards hits a fierce chop, and sends him back off the ropes. Going for the spin kick, Versus ducks and comes back off the ropes to rise the leg for a big boot hitting Lion square in the jaw. Richards does not fall, however, and bounces back off the ropes to duck a polish hammer and spin to hit a kesigiri chop, another, a high kick hard in the temple, another and hits an enziguri. The crowd applauds as both men fall to the mat.
JR: Two of the greatest warriors to step into this ring.
Heyman: Warriors always get killed. You seen Gladiator, JR? Braveheart?
JR: Quit your yappin’, Paul.
Both men rise at the count of five and Lion applies a front face lock to a bent over Nathan Versus. The one man army eventually takes the arm and applies a hammerlock, to which Lion reverses with an arguably greater arm strength into a waistlock. From here, Lion takes the legs and stomps down on the right leg, wrapping his own round the bent ones of his, taking the arms and pulling back for a Mexican surfboard. Eventually, the strain is too much for Lion and releases the hold, and stands to grasp Versus’ leg, lift him up and drop him knee first onto the mat.
JR: Working the leg, here.
Richards stands Versus up, and kicks his leg sharply before taking him down again, and pushes it by the foot toward his head, Nathan grunting in pain. Throwing the leg back to where it lay, he goes for the cover quickly.
ONE-
Versus kicks out and Lion picks him up straight away, to whip him into the ropes. Attempting the hip toss, Versus turns in mid air to hit an arm drag. The two men stand, and Lion hits a discus kesigiri, thereafter attempting to take out the legs. However, Versus turns in mid air to have his head facing where Lion is and flips him over onto his back from a grounded position. They get up for more once again, Versus using his left foot to kick hard into Lion’s ribs, and a spinning back elbow into his jaw, then hooking under Lion’s arm to lift in a suplex to drive Richards’ head into the mat in a brainbuster. The crowd erupts once more, and Versus rolls over to the side shaking his head and wiping his brow. Soon, he stands up Lion and hits a European uppercut, following with an Irish whip into the corner. Versus approaches the incapacitated Lion only to be kicked in the face, and as he has turned away Richards hooks under the arm and grasps the tights for an attempted half nelson suplex. Versus manages to reverse this, and spins to attempt a tiger suplex, but when lifting has a resilient Thomas Richards move forward in a victory roll.
ONE,
TWO-
KICK OUT!
The two get up relatively quickly, and begin to trade blows of forearms and kicks, until Versus uses his right leg and hesitates in pain. Lion staggers around to finish the trade of blows with a gamengiri crashing into the side of Versus’ head, bringing the former champion to the floor. Lion falls to his knees, exhausted, as the crowd chants ‘this is awesome’. Lion stands Versus up, and attempts the Lion’s Roar, only for Versus to duck underneath it and hit a release german suplex. Both men stand but Versus first, kicking him in the midsection to attempt a piledriver. Lion back drops him, however, and drops a knee to the face, kneeling to hold his head.
Lion picks up Versus from his grounded position, only to be elbowed in the stomach. Versus comes racing off the ropes to attempt a lariat, but Lion ducks and kicks sharply into Versus’ midsection, getting ready a fisherman and then lifting to hit the caliburn. The crowd goes mental, as Lion lies breathless on the mat.
JR: Do we have a winner here?!
Crawling over, ‘The Lion’ pins the ‘One Man Army’.
ONE,
TWO,
THR-
NO!!!
Versus lifts the shoulder, Lion bouncing back up to a sitting position with fury in his eyes. Standing up, he clasps round the former champion’s head and stands him for another kick in the midsection. Versus manages to keep just a little focus and hits a forearm to his opponent, before being forearmed himself multiple times. Dazing Versus, Lion hits a discus kesigiri on the ropes and then another kick in the midsection, wrenching him up for an Istazadriver.
Lion doesn’t go for the pin, but pulls his opponent once more to his feet to bow to attempt the Leaving Avalon, draping him over the shoulder to kneel forward and drive his head into the middle of the ring. Lion hooks the leg as the crowd get on their feet.
ONE,
TWO,
THREE!
DING DING DING!!!
JR: Richards has done it! He’s the no.1 contender!
We go to a commercial break...
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Post by Moeru Toukon on Dec 18, 2006 22:43:22 GMT
A camera fades in from black, & opens up on a lone shot of a long, red vinyl couch.
The couch is located in the dead center of a disclosed, secluded room . . . a coffee table sitting mere inches in front of it, which also has the CCW World Heavyweight Title belt sitting along the wooden top. The straps on either side of the main face plate are stretched out to their designated length.
Laying along the seat cushions of the couch, on her left side, is Heather St. Clair . . . her hair pulled back in the traditional secretary-style bun, & her glasses slowly sliding down the bridge of her nose. Her lips are a bright pink shade, & the smile they are forming is quick to showcase her perfectly white teeth . . . the corresponding side of her head pressed against the open palm of her left hand, with the crook of the elbow digging into the material of the couch.
The camera is positioned at an angle to where the Title belt is in the way of St. Clair's body . . . which is fortunate in these times of extremely ridiculous amounts of censorship, as the black leather serves as a makeshift bar to cover her completely nude body. She uses the situation to her advantage by blowing a kiss toward the screen, & then winking with her right eye . . . trying her best to hide the fact that she is turned on due to the exhibitionism of her actions, whilst at the same time serving her purpose as a distraction.
After waiting for a few seconds, in order to allow the wolf-whistling fans a chance to let the picture sink in, a leg is seen entering the frame from the far right side.
Unknown Voice (Off-Camera): "Ahem . . ."
Immediately upon hearing this, the operator of the machine pans back to an extreme degree . . . revealing the chair toward the right, & the owner of the leg that has interrupted the shot.
"Big Daddy" Josh Violence is sitting back against the chair, with a blunt slowly burning in the fore & middle fingers of his left hand . . . the left foot planted firmly against the carpet, which introduced him, & his right leg stretched along the width of the table top. The second it is revealed to be Violence, those fans within the arena let loose with a deafening chorus of deep, heartfelt boos.
Violence: "Vincent Reinhardt, I'll get to you in a minute . . . because quite frankly, I've got bigger fish to fry as the CCW World Heavyweight Champion. To me, you're in the same boat as a Georgy Moscow . . . in the sense that I am contractually obligated to appear on Unleashed every so often, & squash random jobbers for the sake of making my money."
The crowd boos at the blatant lack of disrespect being expressed by the confident Champion, but he merely flicks the build up of ash on the end of his blunt, & takes a deep drag . . . waiting for a period of a few seconds before leaning his head back, & exhaling the smoke toward the ceiling. It slowly dances along the width, & swirls in the beams of light shining down from above.
Violence: “Thomas Richards . . . ‘The Lion’, if you will . . . it seems as though you’ve had no problem running your mouth about me, lately. Trying to talk yourself up as the next best thing . . . trying to fill the heads of the fans with nonsensical bullshit like you’re World Championship material . . . &, basically, just embarrassing yourself on an almost constant basis by giving in to your own hype.
Well, come December 31st . . . at a little joint-production called “Resurrection” . . . “The X-Rated Superstar” has signed on to show you why you’ll never have what it takes to replace me as the top of the food chain. At “Resurrection”, the World Heavyweight Championship will be on the line . . . & after I BEAT you, & expose you as the fraud that you are . . . my legacy will piss all over the flame within your being, & put it out for good. You will know the lengths to which this ‘marshmallow stacking bastard’ will go to remain the #1 man in this business . . . & if that means I have to beat you down like the pathetic fuck you make yourself out to be, for no reason other than to make my point, then so be IT!”
The crowd buzzes with anticipation over the prospect of Richards vs. Violence, & Heather St. Clair nods her head in approval of the words that her man speaks . . . allowing Violence to take a few seconds out in order to inhale another drag from his blunt, before blowing the smoke in her direction
St. Clair: “Mmmm . . . listening to you when you’re all impassioned over something like this makes me so hot. Why don’t you hurry things up a tad, so we can get down to your pre-match ‘warm up’?”
Violence: “Very well, my dear . . .”
Violence takes Heather by the left hand, & uses it to stand up . . . immediately reaching for the buckle of his belt, which he wastes no time in unfastening. Heather traces her finger down to his fly, though, & stops him before he can get too comfortable in front of the camera.
St. Clair: “Aren’t you forgetting something, ‘Big Daddy?’”
St. Clair points ahead, toward the camera lens, & Violence shakes his head in recollection . . . quickly reaching for the stub of a blunt in his nearby ashtray, before placing it against the inside left corner of his mouth.
Violence: “Ah, yes . . . Vincent Reinhardt. Sorry, Vince, but that right there is a perfect example of how much our match means to me. To be honest, I couldn’t care any less. I mean, you are so little of a threat to me it’s not even worthy of a humorous anecdote. The fact remains that I am the most dominant individual on the Unleashed brand . . . & my imminent victory over you, tonight, will do nothing to either dispute, or prove that.
I mean, seriously, I should probably just no-show. It would undoubtedly be the biggest victory of your career . . . especially when you consider that you’ll take your few & far between victories no matter what the context . . . but, alas. I am a fighting Champion, & I will use the ring to make an example of your worthless 7 foot carcass. And by the time the match is over, Reinhardt, there will be a new date that precedes you everywhere you go. And that will be the date on your tombstone . . . December 18th, 2006.
The night you fell victim to the overwhelming power of . . . The Body Count.”
And with that, Violence exhales another drag from the blunt, & hands the roach-ed remains to his beau . . . turning around to where his back is facing the camera, & allowing Heather to shift her weight into a sitting position without revealing herself, whilst at the same time reaching down to unfasten his belt buckle.
The snap is heard after a few seconds &, before Violence has the chance to drop his pants, the screen slowly fading to black...
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Post by Moeru Toukon on Dec 18, 2006 22:54:37 GMT
Role Model plays and Josh Violence strides to the ring, the title draped over his shoulder and Heather St. Clair at his side. He enters the ring, awaiting his opponent.
Buffer: Inside the ring, weighing at 300 lbs., he is the CCW World Heavyweight Champion, Josh Violence! And his opponent...weighing at 338 lbs., he is Vincent Reinhardt!
The crowd bood, but soon, Reinhardt walks to the ring, his entrance music ablaze and his eyes fixed on the champion's. He enters the ring, and Violence smirks at him.
DING DING DING!
The two competitors come together in a collar and elbow tie up, neither man seemingly able to overpower the other, before Violence breaks away and slaps his opponent across the face in a show of disrespect.
Reinhardt steps back, looks out into the crowd, then back at the CCW World Heavyweight Champion who hurls a number of expletives towards him. Both men come together for a second time, before Reinhardt breaks away, drives a knee into the midsection, followed by a clubbing blow to the back that drops Violence to one knee.
Immediately bouncing off the nearby ropes, Reinhardt connects with a boot to the face of the champion, before making a cover…
ONE!
TWO!!
Kick Out!
Bringing Violence back to his feet, Reinhardt staggers him with a headbutt, followed by an uppercut, before attempting the chokeslam, only for Violence to counter with an elbow to the head.
Reinhardt breaks away and Violence comes towards with the Body Avalanche, only to be met by an boot to the face, before Reinhardt goes behind for the Cobra Clutch backbreaker, locking Violence into position and then bringing his spine down across the knee.
Violence hollers in pain, arching his back, before Reinhardt pushes him to the canvas for another cover…
ONE!
TWO!!
Shoulder Up!
Immediately Reinhardt sits Violence up and gets to his feet, before landing a stiff kick to the injured back of the champion. Violence gasps aloud, and flops onto the mat, clutching his spine, whilst Reinhardt bounces off the nearby ropes and drives a knee into the injured area.
Ross: Vincent Reinhardt is a man possessed, and this could spell serious trouble for the CCW World Heavyweight Champion!
Heyman: Josh Violence is the greatest champion in CCW history! It’ll take much, much more to put him away!
Turning Violence onto his front, Reinhardt makes a cover…
ONE!
TWO!!
Kick Out!
Ross: Not much more, by the looks of things!
Reinhardt gets to his feet, turning his attention to the official, whilst Violence roles out of the ring to the outside, where he is met by Heather St. Clair. A visibly pissed off Violence shoves St. Clair aside and looks back towards Reinhardt, biding his time whilst the referee counts…
As the referee reaches the count of four, Violence makes his way up the steel steps and onto the ring apron, where he is met by his opponent. As Reinhardt reaches for Violence, Violence ducks down in between the top and middle rope and drives a shoulder into his midsection.
Reinhardt is unable to react as he immediately seized by the champion, who then proceeds to lead him across the ring towards the corner turnbuckle. Violence drives his opponents face into the protective padding, and again, before Reinhardt swings an elbow into Violence’s face.
Reinhardt drives Violence’s face into the padding, causing the champion to sway back and forth on the ring apron, only prevented from falling by his grip on the top rope.
Seizing the champion, Reinhardt raises his fist, ready to drive it into the face of his opponent, before Violence drops down from the apron, bringing Reinhardt’s neck down across the top rope!
Ross: He almost took his head clean off!
Reinhardt staggers back, holding his throat, whilst Violence slides into the ring, sizing his opponent up, before charging forward with a massive lariat that takes Reinhardt off his feet!
A cover by Violence…
ONE!
TWO!!
Kick Out!
Violence hurls abuses towards the official, before turning his attention back to Reinhardt, turning his opponent over and into place for a standing camel clutch, sinking back to apply maximum pressure.
Reinhardt gasps in pain and attempts to struggle free, to no avail. The referee checks on Reinhardt, who refuses to submit. Violence sinks further, increasing the pressure, whilst his opponent attempts to break free.
Reinhardt struggles to make his way towards the rope, but eventually manages to do so. The referee orders the champion to release the hold, which he keeps locked in place until the count of four.
Releasing Reinhardt, Violence immediately follows up by landing a series of clubbing blows the his opponents back.
Ross: Oh no, what’s this?
The camera focusses upon “The Mack” Adam Machiavelli making his way down the aisle. Upon seeing his comrade, Violence continues pummelling his opponents, forcing the referee to intervene. The distraction allows Machiavelli to approach Reinhardt, who is out of the ring on the concrete floor.
From his pocket, Machiavelli reveals a familiar tool…
Ross: It’s the damn cigar cutter! This is sick!
Machiavelli approaches from behind and seizes the arm of his nemesis, preparing to remove a digit. Instead, Reinhardt counters with a jab to the midsection, and another, and another, forcing Machiavelli against the ringside barricade!
Reinhardt charges forwards with a massive shoulder block, knocking Machiavelli into the front row fans, before being met by a Northern lariat from Violence, dropping him to his knees.
Violence quickly rolls Reinhardt into the ring, before making his entrance and signalling for The Violater!
Heyman: This is it, J.R! The end of the road for Vincent Reinhardt!
Bringing Reinhardt to his feet, Violence attempts to lift him in the pump handle slam. Reinhardt remains grounded, struggling against the hold, before freeing his arm and using it to connect with an elbow to the face.
Violence is forced to release his grip, and Reinhardt lands a kick to the midsection, before signalling for the Hellbeast Bomb!
Heyman: No!
Reinhardt lifts Violence with the elevated powerbomb, before bringing him down with a thunderous collision to the mat! Reinhardt makes the cover, but the referee is distracted by Heather St. Clair.
Reinhardt gets to his feet, makes his way across the ring and seizes St. Clair by her hair. The terrified woman is dragged into the ring, where Reinhardt signals for a second Hellbeast Bomb!
Ross: Bahgwad! You’ll kill her!
St. Clair is raised and brought down to the canvas with a crash, much to the delight of the crowd, who bounce up and down in delight! The referee checks on the lifeless body of St. Clair, signalling for medical help from the back!
Reinhardt stands in the middle of the ring, arm raised and absorbing the ovation from the crowd. Unbeknown to Reinhardt, however, is Adam Machiavelli, who crawls back into the ring and stands, a steel chair in hand, waiting patiently for his opponent to turn!
Reinhardt turns, Machiavelli swings the chair, Reinhardt ducks the shot and follows up by landing a kick to the midsection and signalling for his third Hellbeast Bomb!
Ross: Vincent Reinhardt is on fire here tonight!
Reinhardt secures Machiavelli in place when…
CRASH!
The steel chair is brought down upon him by the CCW World Heavyweight Champion. Reinhardt releases Machiavelli and drops to one knee, before Josh Violence lands another chair shot to the head, laying his opponent out!
Heyman: That’s what happens when you assault the champion’s woman!
Violence throws the steel chair out of the ring, signals for Machiavelli to depart, and raises the lifeless body of his opponent to his feet. The Green Top Drop, double arm leg sweep DDT sends Reinhardt, cranium first, into the canvas.
Violence shouts to the referee, who is tending to Heather St. Clair, and makes the cover…
ONE!
TWO!!
THREE!!!
Buffer: Ladies and gentlemen, here is your winner… The CCW World Heavyweight Champion, “Big Daddy” JOSH VIOLENCE!
The crowd boos loudly at the announcement, brining a smile to the face of the champion. His smile is quickly replaced by a look of concern as he notices Heather St. Clair being tended to by EMT’s. Violence quickly rolls out of the ring.
Adam Machiavelli makes his way into the ring and stands above his fallen foe.
Ross: This is sickening!
Reaching inside his pocket, Machiavelli retrieves the cigar cutter and kneels down next to Reinhardt, he raises the hand of his nemesis and a sickening smile appears on his face.
Suddenly, kashmir beats and Machiavelli stands with a bloody knife, Violence looking worryingly toward the curtain. From the crowd comes Richards, entering the ring and Violence exiting it, leaving St. Clair with the EMTs.
Violence goes to enter the ring, but turns away laughing, Lion snarling as he goes. What he does not expect, though, is Lion exiting the ring and chasing after him. Violence turns round to attempt a lariat. Lion ducks underneath, however, and begins hitting forearms left right and centre on Violence, driving him up the ramp. The Violator spins to attempt a strike of his own but Lion goes underneath and hooks a half nelson on him, lifting him up and over his head off the stage crashing into a table below. The crowd roar.
JR: Good Gawd almighty! Violence is out! This is carnage, Paul!
EMTs surround Violence, Lion standing on the ramp staring into the abyss below.
END
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