CCW Resurrection: Richards vs. Violence

[+Donald $. Carlos+]

"Big Daddy"
Josh Violence

vs.

"The Lion"
Thomas Richards


CCW World Heavyweight Championship . . .


2 Promos Each
(Now Let's DO The Damn Thing!)

[Moeru Toukon]

INT. BACKSTAGE AREA

Thomas Richards and Nick Kelly stand backstage, Kelly with the microphone at the ready.

Kelly: Thomas Richards, tonight, you face the world champion. What are your feelings as you go into this match?

Richards: My feelings? Rage, hunger and malice. Josh Violence is a middle age street fighter, blinded by his ego and driven by the thought of some head at the end of the night by a sleeze. That trash talking son of a bitch has nothing on me. I have watched the matches this man has competed in, and have scouted every move he has. I’m going to burn him out, take him on a ride down to hell’s flames and drive that massive bong he carries straight up his ass.

Kelly: Joking aside-

Lion raises his hand, to halt Kelly.

Lion: There is no joke, Kelly, I am going to insert it into his anus.

The crowd cheers, and Kelly brandishes a smile. Lion keeps deadly serious.

Kelly: Really?

Lion looks back to Kelly and raises his eyebrows.

Richards: Of course not, Nick. His ass is mine though, no doubt about it, I can do whatever I want with it. He’s lucky I have a wife and children, Nick. If it were prison then he’d be ragged from pillar to post. And THEN SOME.

Kelly:…Was that…a joke?

Richards: Shut the fuck up, Kelly.

Richards pushes Kelly aside and takes the microphone, staring into the camera with a stern face.

Lion: Nathan Versus…Lance Leonard…Max Macbeth…all crossed off a list I’ve had for a long time. Coming out of ACW, watching those CCW shows and studying every man who stepped out of that curtain made me realise something. I could beat any man who stepped through the curtain, climbed the top rope and declared himself as something special. I signed a contract to come here and begin my climb to the top, and after more than half a year I have arrived at my destination, CCW’s elite below me and in front of me…a paper champion. Everyone has their own personal hell, it’s just yours I am going to expose. Joking aside, you are a remarkable being to achieve the things you have done, but after this is all over-

A CCW official appears behind Richards, apparently looking for him. Lion turns around and looks at the breathless messenger.

Official: Thomas Richards?

Richards: I’m in the middle of something here-

Official: It’s really important.

Richards changes his expression to a worried one.

Official: It’s Mr. Istaz...

Lion storms down the corridor, the official leading him outside and we follow them. They eventually come to a door and walk out to a crowd circling around someone. As Lion pushes people out the way the camera catches a glimpse of a bloody Karl Istaz on the floor, being aided by medical assistance. A female medic spots the camera and walks toward it.

Medic: Get outta here, just get that camera out his face.

The camera is pushed back and we lose visual...snow engulfing the screen.

[+Donald $. Carlos+]

A camera fades in from black, & opens up on a lone shot of resident backstage correspondent Nick Kelly.

He is standing in the middle of a corridor, with a very solemn expression etched across his face . . . a microphone clutched tightly within the balled up fist of his right hand, which he raises the head of to his slightly parted lips once given the signal to start:

Kelly: "Ladies, & gentlemen . . . at this time, I'd just like to bring everyone up to date on the condition of one Mr. Karl Istaz."

Kelly sighs, & gulps out of concern before wiping the back of his left hand over his brow . . .

Kelly: "Mr. Istaz was transported to a local Atlantic City hospital, & is currently being tended to on a 24 hour basis. The degree of his injuries are currently unknown . . . but we have been told that he is currently stuck in critical condition. Our hearts go out to him, & his family . . . & we hope for a speedy recovery."

A round of applause from inside the building is audible to those watching from home . . . bringing a certain amount of tension, & emotion to the situation that was missing only seconds earlier, due to the amount of respect being shown toward "The Lion's" mentor.

After the sound dies down, Kelly looks toward the buzzing glass lens of the machine in order to refocus . . . immediately picking up where he had left off without missing a beat:

Kelly: "What is also unknown, unfortunately, is the party, or parties responsible for such a despicable act . . . but I can assure you that not only are CCW officials looking into the matter, but Thomas Richards, himself, has guaranteed that vengeance will be his. No matter what the price . . ."

BOOM!

At this particular moment in time, a loud banging noise is heard along the background . . . forcing Kelly to turn toward his right, & the cameraman to refocus the shot as it unfolds:

"Big Daddy" Josh Violence pushes his way through a set of double doors, with a cell-phone pressed against his right ear . . . his face pointed down toward the floor, as he listens whilst also walking. Behind the man is his personal assistant, Heather St. Clair . . . the CCW World Heavyweight Championship title belt wrapped around her upper body as though it were a sash, which she flaunts with only the combination of grace & beauty that she is in possession of.

Violence: "God Dammit, Andy, I'm calling in my debt! That means you either get down here, & get in touch with me by 9:00 tonight . . . or I'm coming after you. And believe me, that's nothing you want to deal with. Not after what I've already been through, today . . . or what I'm going to endure by the nights end.

Do you fucking understand me?!?"

Violence slows down as he listens for a response . . . the look of anger slowly contorting into a sly grin, which precedes the chuckle that escapes his lips before offering a response of his own:

Violence: "That's what I like to hear, homie. I'll see you a little later on, then . . . & don't forget to bring the money. Got it? Good . . ."

And with that, Violence snaps the Razr shut . . . quickly turning to hand it off to Heather, before looking up toward Nick Kelly & the cameraman. Immediately upon noticing them, he runs a hand through his hair, & places his right hand into the designated pocket . . . revealing a joint from inside the material of his jeans, & placing the opened end of the smoking device into the right corner of his mouth.

Violence: "Hey, Kelly . . . what's going on? Why so glum?"

Violence adjusts himself to where he is standing by Kelly's right side, & snaps the fingers on his left hand . . . calling for St. Clair to hand him a lighter, which he quickly accepts. Kelly adjusts the collar of his shirt as Violence then lights the joint, & puffs outward to keep the cherry glowing . . . handing the lighter back toward his beau, which she drops into the right pocket of her business suit jacket.

Kelly: "You mean you haven't heard? Karl Istaz was brutally assaulted by an unknown assailant . . . & it isn't very clear whether or not he'll pull through."

Violence: "Huh . . . no kidding?"

Kelly: "No, Mr. Violence . . . no kidding. It only happened less than 45 minutes ago."

Violence takes a puff from the joint, & inhales lightly before blowing a cloud of smoke in Kelly's face . . . forcing him to start coughing uncontrollably, which St. Clair responds to by giggling. After a few seconds, Kelly is able to come back to his senses . . .

St. Clair: "That's a total shame . . . isn't is, babe? I mean, Tommy was really looking forward to celebrating his victory over you tonight with Karl by his side . . . but I guess that isn't even an option, now, huh?"

Violence: "I guess you're right, Heather. Here's hoping that something of this magnitude isn't enough to mentally derail him before what is arguably the biggest night of his life, though . . . because that would be the real shame. Don't you agree?"

As this last sentence escapes Violence's throat, he & St. Clair can't help but form simultaneous smiles in response . . . causing Kelly to cock his eyebrow with suspicion, as Violence's cell-phone begins ringing. Heather is quick to take the call, which leaves Kelly to ask a very bold follow up question to the Champ that takes him completely off guard:

Kelly: "Forgive me for asking this, Mr. Violence, but . . . is there something you know about the attack that the rest of us do not? Are you responsible for this unfortunate turn of events?"

Violence allows his head to drop back, & a chuckle to escape his throat upon hearing the tone in Kelly's voice . . . flicking the build-up of ash toward his feet, in the process, before responding to the allegation in kind:

Violence: "Jesus, Kelly . . . did your balls finally drop, or are you truly retarded?"

Kelly: "Well, I assumed by your reaction to the original statement that . . ."

SMACK!

Before Kelly is able to finish his sentence, Violence's right hand shoots forward . . . his fingers wrapping around the bulk of Kelly's throat, & pushing him back against a nearby section of the wall with a great deal of force. Violence takes another toke from his joint, & exhales the smoke through his nostrils this time before leaning in to where he is directly in Nick's face:

Violence: "Yes, well . . . I'm sure you know what happens when people assume the worst about me, by now, don't you?"

Kelly shakes his head in response to the question, & Violence releases his grip . . . watching on as Kelly slides toward the linoleum floor, before bending down to get in his face a 2nd time. He stabs the joint out against a section of the wall above Kelly's head, & watches on as the ash builds up along Nick's scalp . . .

Violence: "And, besides . . . if I was responsible for injuring Karl Istaz . . . I wouldn't be afraid to admit it. So next time you go around accusing people of things, you best make sure to have irrefutable evidence . . . because otherwise, that shit can turn around & bite you back in the ass. You feel me?"

Kelly shakes his head yes, & Violence paintbrushes him HARD across the face . . .

SMACK!

Kelly clutches the left side of his face, & allows his body to topple forward . . . leaving the cameraman to focus solely on Violence & St. Clair, who aren't intimidated in the slightest.

Violence: "Don't humor me, you little bitch.

And speaking of humor . . . Thomas Richards, this match tonight is no laughing matter. I will take you to the very limit of what is possible inside that ring . . . & when the smoke clears . . . when it is all said & done . . . no matter what the lengths I will have to go in order to defeat you . . . 'The Lion' is being put down for good.

Mark my fucking words, bitch boy . . . 'The Lion' becomes another victim of 'The X-Rated Superstar'. And there is absolutely NOTHING you can do to ensure otherwise."

At this point, Violence lifts the front of his t-shirt to reveal the trademark Desert Eagle sticking out from the waistband of his jeans . . . allowing the camera to take a good, long look at the weapon, before allowing the material of the shirt to drop back down into place.

Heather St. Clair finishes her conversation on the phone, & hands the phone back to Violence . . . who immediately answers once the low ringing is heard, & places the receiver to his right ear.

Violence: "Hello?"

Silence falls over the scene as Violence listens to whomever it is on the other side of the conversation. Heather St. Clair ambles toward her mans left side, & wraps her right arm around his back as he continues to listen . . .

Violence: "Beautiful, Adam . . . fucking beautiful. I'm headed toward the dressing room right now . . ."

And with that, Violence once again snaps the phone shut . . . dropping it strategically into Heather's front pocket, before giving her a quick nibble along the nape of her neck, & taking her right hand into his own as he begins walking toward the opposite direction . . . his hand slamming up against the lens of the camera, in the process, & shoving the operator of the machine back toward the floor.

The last thing those people watching at home see are the lights along the length of the ceiling, before the screen ultimately:

Fades 2 Black . . .

[Moeru Toukon]

*OOC*

I just asked my neighbours what they thought would happen. They said:

"Oh, you are so whooped, man! So whooped! Your ass is gonna be like a clown's pocket, Violence!" - Miss Gumphrey.

"Violence = The bread on the gamengiri sandwich!" - The milk man.

"Violence is shit, Lion rules all." - My dog.

And the kids taped the match in advance, here's a still of it...



That's Lion on top, and Violence underneath. RAPED1

[Adzer]

thewrittenword said:

*OOC*

I just asked my neighbours what they thought would happen. They said:

"Oh, you are so whooped, man! So whooped! Your ass is gonna be like a clown's pocket, Violence!" - Miss Gumphrey.

"Violence = The bread on the gamengiri sandwich!" - The milk man.

"Violence is shit, Lion rules all." - My dog.

And the kids taped the match in advance, here's a still of it...



That's Lion on top, and Violence underneath. RAPED1

*ooc*
Shouldn't Violence be a big fat lazy Lion? I think your giving him way too much credit

[Moeru Toukon]

You're right, although, it does make out that he's just a lazy woman.