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Post by Samuel Hawthorne on Oct 27, 2010 1:43:27 GMT -5
Tonight's Card:
Trace Birmingham vs Public Enemy
Frank Washington vs Claude LeBatard
Laron Xavier vs Cross
Main Event Ryan Cole vs Buddy Ghee
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Post by Samuel Hawthorne on Oct 27, 2010 1:45:31 GMT -5
Its a controversial time in ACW, but in any case, Samhain will be taking place and is just a few short days away. Things are surely shaping up to be quite interesting.
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Post by Samuel Hawthorne on Oct 27, 2010 1:58:51 GMT -5
Segment: Announcement.
The camera fades in not on an ACW superstar, but on chairman Samuel Hawthorne. He stands there, businesslike as usual, ready to make a speech. There are mumbles from the crowd. There have been many rumors circling around as to the current state of the company, economically and otherwise. Hawthrone reveals nothing from his face, but somehow at the same time it tells a lot. It seems to the crowd that it must have been a stressful few days for the ACW chairman...and the crowd is suddenly sure they are going to be hear about it now.
Hawthorne: I am about to make a very important announcement regarding the state---
The crowd holds their breaths...
Hawthorne: ---Of the Entertainment Championship.
And the crowd sighs in relief. This was another issue that of course had to be addressed, but was not the one they were dreading.
Hawthorne: I stated that by the pay-per-view a decision would be made. Well I can say with absolute certainty that at Samhain, there IS going to be a new Entertainment Champion. The belt has been vacated for far too long, and in ACW's history it has often been as highly competitive as the world championship.
The crowd cheers at this announcement. They have been sick of having a vacated title belt, and finally a new champion will be crowned!
Hawthorne: As you may have noticed, none of our main eventers are in action tonight. ACW's Entertainment Championship division will be showcased instead. Everybody on the card tonight has been given a chance to prove themselves, and I will be watching each match very closely. The first match of the night will be starting right now, and shall feature Public Enemy against Trace Birmingham. Thank you, and enjoy the show.
And he fades out.
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Post by Samuel Hawthorne on Oct 27, 2010 2:19:52 GMT -5
Segment: Late (Credit: Freeman) Public Enemy has arrived to the ring, and is awaiting her opponent - Trace Birmingham. Tonight she has a chance to prove she deserves a shot at the Entertainment Championship. But where is her opponent?McNally: Public Enemy is in the ring...but where is Trace? He should be on his way to the ring by now! Edison: Perhaps he finally gave up and went home? McNally: Judging by what we've seen from Public Enemy so far it might be better if he has. ................. The camera slowly fades in to the backstage area, where the man we've been waiting for - Trace Birmingham - sits outside Samuel Hawthorne's office. Greg approaches him, apparently having just arrived.Greg: Trace, what are you doing? Are these…picket signs? Trace: YEAH! THEY ARE, GREG! YOU KNOW WHY?! Greg: Er…if I thought it made any sense at all I’d say because you were going on strike but--- Trace: BECAUSE IM GOING ON---Oh…how’d you know? There are indeed picket signs next to Trace, as he sits on the ground angrily across from Hawthorne’s office.Greg: Strike…? Trace: Well yeah, Greg! It’s the only way! Greg: To? Trace: DON’T YOU GET IT GREG?! Everybody knows I should be Entertainment Champion…I asked first, and now we don’t even HAVE one. Well, it’s gone too far, and tonight I’m going on strike once and for all! Greg: But what are you trying to accomplish? Trace: Don’t you get it? IM GOING ON STRIKE UNTIL HAWTHORNE MAKES ME ENTERTAINMENT CHAMPION! I WON’T WRESTLE ANOTHER MATCH UNTIL THAT MOMENT! And then they’ll HAVE to give it to me because I’m gonna cost him a lot of money because EVERYBODY buys pay-per-views to see ME! Greg: What do these signs even mean? “TITLE OR NOTHING”? Trace: IT MEANS GIVE ME THE TITLE OR ELSE YOU GET NOTHING! Greg: I’m not sure that’s clear… Trace: Oh come on, Hawthone’s a smart guy he’ll get it! Greg: And what about “ReTRACE your steps”? Trace: It’s got my name in it! Get it? Re…TRACE…your steps? I’m Trace! Greg: Yes I know that, but I mean…what does it mean? Trace: Well…nothing really, I just figured it was a good one to have because it’s a pun and people love those… Greg: … Trace: … Greg: …Yeah, you seem to have this covered so I’m just gonna go. Trace: GO? NO YOU DON’T! And he stands upTrace: You can’t! You’re hear you have to stay here…it’s a sit-in strike! Greg: …A what? Trace: Yeah it’s a sit-in strike! That’s the best effective kind! Greg: So that’s why you’re in the hallway? Trace: Yeah that’s what you do! You sit in the hallway across from the room! Greg: I think those are some kind of drills from school or something… Trace: …No it’s a strike! Greg: Listen, I’m just going to end this. I’m not sure how effective this is going to be, and I think you’d be better off just concentrating on winning a match or something for once. Trace: NO! I AM NOT WRESTLING AGAIN UNTIL I AM ENTERTAINMENT CHAMPION! And then a stagehand walks up.Stagehand: Trance Armstrong? Trace: Er….yeah, I guess. Stagehand: Aren’t you going to go to your match? Everybody is waiting! Trace: I have a match now? 0_0 Stagehand: Didn’t you…check the card? Trace: Nah! I’m not wrestling anymore. Im on strike you see… Stagehand: Oh too bad…the winner was probably going to get a shot at the Entertainment Title… Trace: … Stagehand: ? Trace: … Stagehand: … Trace: WHAT?!!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!And Trace bolts off towards the ring.Greg: I wish I could say he wasn’t always like this…but…yeah…. Stagehand: … Trace barrels down the hallway on the way to his match…the strike apparently over. Fade.
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Post by Samuel Hawthorne on Oct 27, 2010 2:23:34 GMT -5
Match 1: Public Enemy vs Trace Birmingham (Credit: Freeman)
Trace barrels down to the ring, panting for breath as he has ran all the way from backstage not wanting to miss his match! He runs into the ring as the bell rings...
Ding Ding Ding!
Not stopping a bit he charges forward aiming a clothesline at Public Enemy! She ducks, however, getting behind him...grabbing him and hitting the Chaos Collision! It connects beautifully...as she easily covers. 1 . . . 2 . . . 3!
Phillip: Here is your winner...Public Enemy!
McNally: ...
Edison: ....
McNally: Well er...that was decisive!
Edison: He probably should have just stayed backstage...
McNally: Well, in any case...this probably isn't going to help his pitch for the Entertainment Championship. On the other hand, it certainly has to look good for Public Enemy!
Public Enemy seems almost disgusted at how uncompetitve the match was....Trace lies motionless on the ground, as Public Enemy celebrates her not-so-hard-fought win.
Fade.
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Post by Samuel Hawthorne on Oct 27, 2010 2:27:20 GMT -5
Segment: The Hunted (Credit: Freeman)
He had almost gotten to him…almost gotten in his head.
The world champion, Jason Freeman, walks backstage with the few remaining members of Ascendancy – Ryan Cole and Steve Phillips. The world champion says nothing, lost in his own thoughts, and reflecting on the past Monday Night Warfare. The Warfare he had been sure that Scorpion was going to attack, and he hadn’t. By the end, as Freeman walked to the parking lot and found that rose on his car…Scorpion had almost succeeded. Almost gotten inside his head. Made him lose control of his cool mind. But it wasn’t going to happen. He was Jason Freeman, he was the best wrestler in ACW, and nobody – not even The Scorpion – was going to take his world title belt off of his shoulders.
While Phillips and Cole say nothing as well, both may have viewed Freeman’s behavior a bit differently. Despite Freeman’s insistence that Scorpion was out of his head, both of them had witnessed him becoming increasingly unhinged…unhinged enough to kick his car as soon as he saw that rose. And while both of them felt uneasy already because the target was on their backs as well, the prospect of an always unstable Freeman becoming even more so was not a reassuring one.
It is then that Kevin Anderson approaches, obviously determined to get an interview from the world champ.
Kevin Anderson: Kevin Anderson here with the world champion, Jason Freeman! Freeman, there has been a lot of talk as to last Warfare, and the word in the back is that Scorpion has beaten you at your own game – mind games. Oh, also, they’ve been saying that you’re afraid of The Scorpion. Is there…uh…any truth to that rumor?
Freeman: ...
Kevin’s change of tone at the end of his sentence is caused by the icy glare that Freeman fixes on him. Suddenly realizing that he may have come on a little strong, Kevin hands over the microphone, and motions towards the camera, telling Freeman to talk away. Kevin, on his part, leaves the scene as quickly as possible, realizing that this was probably not the best time to get on Jason Freeman’s bad side, if ever there was a good time.
Freeman: One would think that after proving myself time and time again I would no longer be forced to put these rumors to rest any longer. I think that as Samhain is only six days away, I should make something perfectly clear. I am not, will not be, and have NEVER been afraid of any mortal man, and as much as he'd like me to believe otherwise, that includes The Scorpion. For he is just that - A man. Does he think that cryptic messages and flowers are going to fool me? Do you think that if he flickers the lights I’ll suddenly believe he’s something more? It seems that once again I am faced with an opponent whose legend far exceeds what he could ever live up to. He has one major victory under his belt against Phenomenal – a man who I defended my world championship against, I might add – and already these fans act as if he is somehow some superhuman force. So maybe he somehow survived the beatdown Ascendancy dished out against him. It proves nothing besides the fact that he’s got endurance, and that he’s stupid enough to come back for more when it’s obvious to me and everybody else that he has been out of his league since the beginning.
Freeman is easily able to sound confident on the microphone, and that confidence is reflected in the eyes of Ryan Cole and the Senator. Cole, on his part, had not started out so confident. After Campbell was attacked, Cole had obviously been shaken up. It seems that Ascendancy has pulled together however, and perhaps was ready to return to the domination they had brought to ACW from Day 1. There was nobody who could stop them from that.
Freeman: I am a little sick and tired of picking off these idols that those sheep masquerading as “fans” cling to. From the seemingly ‘unbeatable’ BK London, who I defeated at Omega Effect, to Danny Mainer who I exposed as nothing but dirt despite these fans’ adulation of him, and now here we go to The Scorpion, the new flavor of the month that the worms have deemed unstoppable. Well I’ve proved everybody else wrong, and I’m going to do it again to you Scorpion. You got a lucky attack in on Dominic Campbell, but let me let you in on a little secret. Compared to Phillips and Cole he was expendable, and now that you’ve struck once, we aren’t going to be caught off guard again. We may have underestimated you, but in case you haven’t noticed, you have underestimated us.
Freeman glares into the camera, showing Scorpion the face of his opponent in just six days. A world championship matchup. Freeman has had enough of these games. Soon it would go to the ring, and that is where Freeman remains confident. No matter what happens beforehand, The Scorpion does not have the experience that Freeman does in the ring. Freeman has gone toe to toe with the best, and has often come up on top. He always had been arrogant, but the results had begun to match his words.
Freeman: I suggest that if you are anywhere near the building you leave it as soon as possible, because if we encounter each other tonight I have a feeling that the world championship matchup this Saturday will not be taking place. I'm not sure if you've realized this Scorpion, but more often than not those who interfere with me get hurt. Badly. Would you like to be added to that list, Scorpion? Ascendancy failed once, but we are NOT going to fail again. You've attempted to hunt me down Scorpion, but I am not a man to allow myself to become the hunted. You can find that out for yourself if you'd like. At Samhain, I'd like to see what happens when the smoke and mirrors fade. When you are forced to look me in the face and back up your actions in the ring. I have a feeling I'm going to enjoy that match, Scorpion. I think that somebody's going to get hurt.
And Freeman apparently has said enough as he places the microphone down, and moves on, motioning for the Senator and Ryan Cole to follow him. Yes, Freeman is not one to allow himself to be hunted. But despite what he says, that appears to be the situation. The Scorpion has decided to take revenge, and Freeman could say what he wants, but Scorpion HAS proved himself. Freeman is dangerous, but the ACW fans have surely not even seen the limits of what The Scorpion is capable of. He will have to back it up in the ring on Saturday, but that's not to say that tonight there wouldn't be a sneak preview.
Fade.
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Post by Samuel Hawthorne on Oct 27, 2010 2:28:39 GMT -5
Southern Sensibilities Composed by: Kris
From a distance, the house that Natalie had won at auction on the outskirts of Durham evoked the sort of romanticism that one would feel at gazing upon Tara, or Twelve Oaks, or maybe one of the other plantation homes that have permeated pop culture. As the camera slowly comes closer, it becomes clear that this isn't a modern retelling of Gone With the Wind; not only are there no gaily-colored period costumes or servants toiling away in fields that haven't grown cotton in well over a century, but the building itself is clearly in bad shape. The white paint job on the wooden siding has long since begun to crack and peel, the green lacquer upon the large shutters in similar disrepair... and it doesn't get much better as more and more detail becomes visible, the window frames all made of wood that has warped and contorted over the years with single-pane glass that is cracked in places. This isn't a fixer-upper - this is a should've-torn-it-down-and-just-started-over. Since that's out of the question, the petite little blond has been forced to make do. This is what we catch her in the middle of; Natalie kneels beside the lone remotely new construction in sight, the framework for a trio of stairs leading up to a porch which is only in passable shape due to being made of brick instead of lumber. A handyman's guide to construction that she borrowed from the local library lays open on the grass beside her as she nails the first of three steps into place. The first few blows of the hammer go as they should; it's not long, though, before she misses the nail-head and hits her finger.
Oh, bless…
Sticking the sore digit in her mouth for a moment, the blue-eyed young woman winces a little. It's not long, though, before she's back up on the proverbial horse, the nail driven home with a few more blows. Setting the hammer on the porch, Natalie rises to her feet, absently dusting dust and small bits of grass from denim-clad knees. It's not until she looks at the camera that she begins to speak, her accent still only slightly noticeable - manners dictate that it's rude to not look at someone when you're talking to them, after all, nor is it proper to not give them your full attention.
To someone with a hammer, everything looks like a nail.
A rueful smile tugs at her lips, her hammer-stricken hand gently shaken one final time to get the blood flowing again before she continues to speak.
I think that's what is going on in this company, truth be told; no matter what they seem to believe, everyone around here seems to think that the only way to get any sort of leg up on their opponent is to run them on the ground, cheapening everything their opponent has accomplished and burning bridges before they've even had the chance to get the framework up. Many would call me a long shot going into this environment, nothing more than a warm body thrown into the proverbial shark tank just because I'm not insulting my opponents and running them into the ground... and they would be sorely mistaken. For all that I am new to this hall, this isn't my first dance - just like it's not anyone's first time when they step out onto what many consider to be the biggest stage of them all. Not that all of the cameras and the ambiance and the... pressure of just where I am isn't going to change things, because they are; at its core, though, not much has changed. Come to think of it, the only two differences I can see is the talent level of my opponents and a far larger audience watching to see who sinks or swims…
Oh, how wrong Natalie is... but it's something that apparently cannot be helped. One could suppose that she's trying to downplay her nerves by saying what she says, but that sort of deceit isn't something she's capable of.
...and I don't care what anyone throw at me, my head's not going underwater without one Heck of a struggle. For all that I hold to my morals, I am fully aware that they have no place in the ring once the bell rings - so please, do not mistake my politeness for weakness. If victory means pummeling someone into oblivion, then I will swing for the fences... and if forcing myself to my feet after taking such a blow is needed, then I will fight my way back up to my feet to take more punishment. I may not have the experience some of you have, or the foul temperament or the mean streaks or anything else that you may end up bragging about in the days leading up to our match... but overlooking me and counting me out simply because I am the new girl is a mistake y'all will only make once. The way I look at it is simple, really. No matter what facet of yourself you - or anyone else - use to build your career with, this business is a labor of love. To deny that is to ignore the simplest truth of all; this industry's not easily endured no matter who you are. We're all here to make something of ourselves, to build something to be remembered... and no matter the outcome, I'd like to think that my first match will be a good first impression for me to build off of. Good luck to you folks - in order to beat me, you're going to be surprised to find that you'll need it.
Is that a bit of confidence showing? Indeed, and the little blond knows it. A final parting nod is given to the camera before she drops back down into a kneel, pulling another nail from the paper sack which sits beside her. Picking up her hammer, she goes back to work as everything fades to black.
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Post by Samuel Hawthorne on Oct 27, 2010 2:32:08 GMT -5
Foreplay?? Kevin Anderson was a bored, bored man, this was painfully obvious as “The Internet” slouched lazily against a production crate with a small electronic device clutched in the palm of his hand. For a change, it wasn't his usual interviewer microphone but in fact a mobile phone. He'd had very little to do this evening, nobody really interesting to interview as despite the fact he is technically better qualified for the job it was a unanimous agreement within the locker room that Charlotte King was a far better, far more tolerable interviewer which had left Kevin as dead wood so to speak. Add to this lack of work that Kevin had no paperwork or sexual harassment suits to discuss with his lawyer he had resorted to idle time-wasting with the applications on his iPhone.
Kevin's delusions of grandeur had escalated into that of believing he is an influential world leader, this had manifested itsself in the form of his incessant abuse of the game “Civilization Revolution” for the iPhone. A down-sized real time strategy for the man on the go.”Stupid Gandhi! You think you're smart bitch?! HUH?! I'll show you! NUUUUUKE!” screamed the incandescent interviewer blissfully unaware of the man in a black polo shirt stood next to him with “ACW” written on the left breast in gold cursive. Kevin roared with laughter manically as his pixelated ICBM missile soared directly towards the capital city of his rival Indian empire, Delhi. The clock was ticking and just when it appeared that all hope was lost for the imaginary citizens run by the surprisingly still alive Gandhi, highly advanced nuclear defences kicked in to life destroying Kevin's only nuke in mid-air before it could do any significant damage. Meanwhile, the production worker kept clearing his throat melodramatically hoping that Kevin would hear him but only got ignored as Kevin's glee turned into total devastation, his final hopes shattered along with his missile.”God DAMNIT!” yelled the interviewer before launching his iPhone at the wall. It shattered into pieces against the wall. Kevin was about ready to storm off satisfied with his victory against the winning Gandhi but he walked straight into the production worker who'd been waiting patiently for his audience. The Afro'd interviewer nearly leapt out of his skin in fright before recoiling in disgust and disappointment. This man stood before him was a production worker. … Ew.”What do you want?” asked Kevin barely tolerating his presence. Stood before him was a man with greasy hair in dirty clothes asking for a moment of “The Internet's” time. Was that going to happen? N-, well yes, it was actually. The production worker already fed up with Kevin's attitude grabbed his hand and stuffed a miniature envelope into the palm of his hand.”It's for you. Some jackass left it in my toolbox.” spat the production worker before leaving disgruntled with Kevin's attitude. Kevin's eyebrows peaked up curiously as he looked at the note in his hand. ”For me huh?” he asked himself. He turned it over and saw his name written in an almost calligrapher worthy formal handwriting. It was very fancy and even if the note was unimportant, he'd keep the envelope and get it made into a stamp or something. It was nice. He opened it and unfolded the tiny note. It was simple but incredibly formal and well written.”Hola Senor. Come to the interview area at once. There are matters of grave importance I wish to discuss with you. -Savio x” Kevin muttered, reading out loud. ”Kissmarks? Oh God, this better not be one of those gay Mexican guys. I had neough of them on me at Charlotte's 25th.” he exclaimed giving away more information than the ACW fanbase wanted. He quickly made his way towards the interviewing area dodging interns as he now finally had some work to do. Upon arrival he quickly looked around and saw that the area was completely deserted.”Hello?! Savio?! Where are you?!”BANG! From the rafters, the man that had beckoned him here appeared from the shadows above. There was a miniature explosion and with one foot in a production winch, the rope began to fall as the man himself sailed down to earth from the thirty foot high ceiling. Soaring from the sky the man who was moving too fast to see looked as if he was going to smash into the ground at fifty miles per hour but suddenly the rope snapped taut. The man hung a few feet off the ground, one foot lower than the other hanging onto this rope. He was a few feet away from Kevin Anderson until he hopped down standing right next to him.”ARGH! Who the Hell are you?!” Kevin yelled, jumping with a start surprised by the man who stood before him. As his vision straightened out what he saw surprised not just him but the entire ACW fanbase. Before him was a man with a tanned complexion, chocolate brown eyes and brilliant pearly white teeth. He had collar length hair, chopped and jagged yet looking effortlessly stylish. Here stood a man who wore colourful green and cream baggy pants like that of a court jester with black wrestling boots and a black wifebeater vest who despite the unusual attire still looked extremely stylish and more importantly? Sexy. With one smile, Kevin was silenced. Even he couldn't help but be taken aback by the good looks of this man.”Hola senor, hola senorita's! Me llamo Savio Romero and I'm ACW's newest superstar!” declared the man himself, at first to Kevin “senor”, and then to the camera and specifically ACW's female fanbase “senorita's”. It was at that moment that everyone knew exactly what they could not deal with. This wasn't just a man who knew how to talk to women. This was an incredibly sexy, feisty man of Latino descent who knew how to make women weak at the knees simply by being in the same room. Instant Sex Appeal. That was the Savio Romero way.”Savio... Romero? Are you from Mexico or something?” asked Kevin hesitantly, not wanting to offend Savio. You know how feisty those minorities can be now.”Haha, no senor. I am from Valencia in Spain. I am a European here in ACW to make it big as a luchadore!” chuckled Savio grinning from ear to ear. Damn he was good. His presence alone was enough to make Kevin Anderson look even more like a dump than he usually did.”And of course, I know you who you are! Rey de la Internet! King of the Internet Kevin Anderson! Muy impressionante! One of the most famous entrevistador's in all of Professional Wrestling! I am honoured!” professed the not just attractive but also modest Spaniard. He bowed his head approvingly and this alone was enough to increase Kevin's potential female companion range from a 3 to a 5. Savio's accompaniment could easily get any man laid. He was the ultimate wingman.”Well, yeah that's all true but of course, tell us more about yourself Savio. You sure do have a lot to say!” retorted Kevin making this possibly the only moment he'd ever been humble in his life. Such was the power of Savio. Savio chuckled.”Well. What can I say? In my life there are two I value more than anything else. La Bella y la competencia. Beauty and Competition. There is nothing more sacred in this world than the true beauty that surrounds us in every day life. I love to wrestle because when I get to travel around the world I get to see the beautiful sights, locations and features of different cities around the world and even more importantly? The people. The World is all mi familia. Every fan I have is sacred to me, everyone out there is beautiful in their own way and it is my life's aim to see everything about this world that is truly beautiful. On top of that, I LOVE to compete against others. This truly is the perfect job for me!” explained Savio enthusiastically, sweeping Kevin straight off his feet with an impressive charisma roll.”Beauty? That's pretty gay Savio. I mean, sure tits are beautiful and maybe pussy too. Although pussy isn't that good. Women are all like, “It's a beautiful flower.” but it really isn't. It looks like someone fired off a gun inside of you.” questioned Kevin only to receive a harsh slap to the head from Savio Romero who as his heritage implied had that traditional Latino temper. Flared up and ready to go Savio roared at Kevin.”IDIOTA! Eres muy tonto! How dare you disrespect senora's! How dare you disrespect the most sacred force in the world! Aiaiai! I should gut you!” boomed Savio. He wasn't the biggest man in the world but he was fast and he was strong enough to tear apart Kevin should the need occur.”I'm sorry! Yeesh!” apologized Kevin fingering his own ear thanks to the agony induced by Savio's yelling but it wasn't enough. As quick as he'd arrived Savio had left. He sprinted away from Kevin showing his agility as he leapt a top a big crate, then onto a set of lockers before performing a big cat leap and landing on the side of a big scaffold of which it was impossible to climb until you were about ten feet up. Savio quickly made his way up to the top of the scaffolding and disappeared gracefully into some airvents leaving Kevin looking completely lost as the scene faded to black.FADE
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Post by Samuel Hawthorne on Oct 27, 2010 2:34:01 GMT -5
K.I.S.S. (Laron and Thiago)
Tonight, Laron Xavier looks to put himself in position for a shot at the Entertainment Title against Cross who over the past two weeks has made quite the impact, first in the destruction of 'The Soul of Philly' TJ, and then Chris Phenomenal. Yet Laron doesn't appear to be taking the match too seriously as he and Thiago are shown backstage with Nigerian Ali.
Laron: So ya tellin' me Nigga, dat Thiago didn't know why da fuck ya was goin' to get da chicken?
Ali: Yes, is what I tell to you!
Laron turns to Thiago.
Laron: Nigga, ya need to get wit ya stereotypes. Nigga's love da chicken, fry it up and it's like ...
Ali: No, not chicken you eat, chicken you go love, girl chicken.
Laron: Nigga, dat's a hen and why da fuck would I love dat shit? 'cause it give me mo' chicken?
Ali: No, I no speak chicken of the hen, like lover Chicken.
Thiago: See, Ali say same thing to Thiago Gracie and Thiago no understand, Laron no understand, Ali no speak English, Ali need speak English for people to make understand.
Ali: But I am speak English. It learned me in school.
Laron: Fuck school Nigga.
Thiago: Only school Thiago go to is school of Jiu Jitsu.
Ali: But you must learn and broaden mind! I no make it to American and Island of the ACW if I no learn and make smart!
Laron: Nigga, if ya sayin' dat I need to start lovin' dat BBW shit, ya outta ya fuckin' mind.
Thiago: Only thing Thiago learn worth learn is Jujigatame Armbar. Armbar solve all problem, like new learned Miss Low problem.
Ali: Yes Miss Low type chicken, become Missus Low after marry. That chicken is what Ali speak.
Laron: Nigga I ain't understandin' a word ya fuckin' sayin'? Who da fuck is Miss Low?
Thiago: Not Miss Low like women, like Kyra. Miss Low like in Cuba, no good common tits country.
Laron: Nigga dere is no such thing as common tits.
Thiago: No, Thiago no speak like that. Laron must listen close to Thiago ...
Laron: Nigga I am listenin' to wha' da fuck ya sayin' and on da subject a Kyra. I went on t' dat Google shit and man I would fuck her ...
Thiago: Thiago Gracie says Thiago not want hear talk of Kyra this ...
Ali: Like Kyra chickens, chickens no have pee pee.
Thiago: Or Thiago will armbar you arm while Kyra armbar other arm and then you have no arm.
Laron: Nigga, Kyra can do what eva' da fuck she want's to me.
Thiago: Thiago will not longer listen you speak of Kyra this way. Say one word more and armbar will be done.
Ali: Good Chicken, like Kistune and Cross. Chicken were much makeup like.
There's a pause for a minute until Laron turns to Ali.
Laron: Nigga, ya mean a chick, not a chicken.
Ali: No, I talking about the chicken, Ali no like little chick like very bad Pad and File, that no right for Ali.
Laron: Nigga just listenin' fo' a sec'. Chick is a girl dat ya fuck, like I would do Ky ...
Thiago: Thiago will armbar ...
Laron: Chicken is what Nigga's eat fo' three meals a day if ya listen to dose Tea Party Niggers.
Ali: Tea Party? Like Ali pretend make have as young boy with doll?
Laron and Thiago both turn and look at Ali for a second.
Laron: Nigga ya might want to keep dat to ya self.
Ali: Why you say that? What the hell of you?
Thiago: 'cause if not Thiago armbar Ali.
Ali looks confused but smiles and turns the table on Thiago.
Ali: Thiago no armbar Ali Ahmed Mehrmohammandi because Ali turn into real match win move, the Submission of Gloriousness, make Thiago tap.
Thiago: No, Thiago use Jujigatame armbar on Ali and make him tap or else break arm. No move of too much fancy jiu-jitsu beat Thiago Gracie.
Ali: Beat you I would with Submission of Gloriousness.
Thiago: Thiago say no and so no.
Ali: I would win an so ...
And so we continue on once more as Laron just shakes his head at the two. There never seems to be peace in the lives of the Tag Team of Gloriousness, but that's what happens when you can't speak English ... right?
FADE
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Post by Samuel Hawthorne on Oct 27, 2010 2:34:44 GMT -5
Me Want Title Match
The scene begins in the large, well lit office of ACW's cheif manager and employer, Samuel Hawthorne. Hawthorne sits behind his wooden desk wearing a plain and dull coloured suit. There's been a lot of controversy surrounding ACW and Monday night Warfare making Hawthorne's life a rather tedious task of trying to keep this ship afloat. Not to mention the vacation of the Entertainment Title causing some controversy in the divison.
So, tonight, on Monday Night Warfare, the duty falls to Hawthorne to make tonight either a milestone that will keep ACW secure or give ACW a highpoint for it to be remembered in the years to come. But perhaps the plans of ACW have already progressed far enough for the show to run until atleast the next pay-per-view. Whatever happens, you can be sure that tonight will be a show to remember.
The phone on Hawthornes desk begins to ring and after a few seconds of Hawthorne finishing off paper work, he picks up the phone and puts it to his ear. He listens intently for a few seconds with a look of seriousness on his face.
Hawthorne: Ok, send him in...
Hawthrone throws the phone down and looks to the door at the far end of his office as it swings open and a handsome figure stands in the door way, casting a shadow over Hawthorne. The flamboyant Frenchman strolls into the office wearing a pinstripe suit over a white shirt with a black tie to complete the look. Claude's hair is tied back, showing his perfect face. He has a large smile on his face that lets everyone know he's got something on his mind.
Claude looks around with his smile and begins stroking his chin with delight. Hawthorne looks at him and waits for some sort of speech to enter the room from Claude. But instead he just looks around and lets out a little chuckle. Hawthornes slams his fists on the desk and sits up.
Hawthorne: What do you want!? I've got a show to see through.
Claude takes the grin off his face and picks up an apple from Hawthorne's desk. He holds it up to the light and examines it. He then brings his hand to his chest and looks at Hawthorne.
Claude: I've got an idea for you Monsieur Boss Man, an idea zat you can't refuse. As you know, ze Entertainment Championship 'as been vacated for sometime, and it looks as if nobody 'as taken the oppertunity to take it. You 'ave seemingly ignored it for ze past few weeks. Meanwhile, at LeBatard 'ead quaters, I 'ave been dealing with whiny lawyers and former criminals bitching between each other. Well after two consecutive losses, neizer of which i was pinned in,
I 'ave decided zat something needs to be done about ze situation of ze title. Clearly a worthy superstar needs to be founded, so after ze week of last week I 'ave been searching ze roster for ze perfect candidate. Now bare wiz me, zis bit could be seen as a little controversial, I could not find a worzy candidate bar one man. Zere are numerous men zat I considered but none could measure up to one man, zat man is me! Claude LeBatard.
Hawthorne: Wait, what? You want me to...
Claude: Give me ze title! Yes! I am ze only man worthy of ze title. Ze roster is full of slackers or poor wrestler. I am ze only person zat is worth of ze title. So it falls to you, to do what is best for ACW, and give me ze Entertainment Title. Ze fans of ACW wish to see it, ze staff of ACW know its right. Everyone zat 'as 'alf a mind knows I deserve ze title!
Hawthorne: Woah there! ACW is about fighting to prove your point. Violence never solved anything? Well in ACW it's the only thing that solves disputes. I actually have been paying attention to the Entertainment Title situation, and yes you are a candidate, but there are other canddidates aswell. If you want the title you'll have to fight for it.
Claude: But I am ze only man worthy of ze title! I demand you show me ze respect i deserve! I am practically royalty, now give me my title!
Hawthorne: Oh you'll get a title shot alright, but you're gonna have to fight for your life! Wait and see Claude, go to your locker, get ready for your match! Cause if you win, i'll put you in the pay-per-view for the Entertainment Title!
Claude storms out the office, slamming the door behind him. Hawthorne reclines in his chair with a smug look on his face. It's not everyday you get on over on claude LeBatard. The camera fades out as Hawthorne chuckles to himself.
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Post by Samuel Hawthorne on Oct 27, 2010 2:37:03 GMT -5
Match 2 Frank Washington vs. Claude LeBatard Written by.. Kaji?! (AKA Kris's fiancee) The match starts and the two of them collide in the middle of the ring. They start exchanging right hands. Washington is heavier, but Claude has the height advantage. The exchange of right hands goes back and forth several times before Claude LeBatard shoves his knee deep into Washington's abdomen. Frank Washington is stooped over, and LeBatard seems to be looking for an early finish, backing against the ropes, but Washington sees it coming and leaps forward with a huge clothesline. He quickly covers Claude, but he kicks out at two. Washington looks at the rope, seeming to want a quick finish as well, and so he springboards off the ropes, looking for his moonsault, but he rotates over to land on his feet when LeBatard rolling out of the way. Claude charges forward with a running elbow to the face. With Washington down, Batard climbs up to the second rope and goes for a knee drop, but Washington drops out of the way. Batard clutches his knee as Washington rushes over to him, trying to get him into the Walls of Washington. He eventually gets Batard rolled over onto his stomach and sits out, reveling in Batard's screams as he struggles to get to the ropes. Batard is quick to claw his way to the ropes to break the submission, which Washington holds for a four count, and roll out of the ring to take a limping breather. Washington follows Batard out of the ring, chasing him and making the Frenchman limp away from him as fast as his legs can carry him. Batard rolls into the ring, forcing Washington to follow, but Batard is quick to pounce with clubbing blows. Then, as Washington is getting up, he positions himself and hits a chop block which brings Washington to the canvas. Washington fights Batard off as long as he can, but Batard gets him into the middle of the ring, wraps his legs up, and steps over into the Texas Cloverleaf. Washington fights it as long as he can, but he eventually falls victim to Le Grand Finale and taps out.
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Post by Samuel Hawthorne on Oct 27, 2010 2:38:10 GMT -5
The camera comes into picture, and shows a man jogging down the street wearing a black hooded sweat shirt, as well as black gym shorts. The man runs past the camera man, but then quickly crosses the busy street and enters into a building. The camera man follows, but almost not as successful crossing the street as the hooded man. Once inside the building the camera cycles around looking for the strange man that quickly bolted into the building after noticing the camera. The scenery is that of a gym, filled with a ring, punching bags, speed bags, weights, hell the list goes on, and on. The man is seen in the corner of the building, beating the holy hell out of a punching bag in the distance. The camera man begins to walk slowly towards the man, but is over come with a sense of fear. The fear is extremely noticable by the shaking of the camera as he moves closer. The hooded man doesn't lighten up, or even notice the camera man. Once to the guy, the camera moves around to see why the man is so angy, but once around it becomes very clear. The man stops, puts down his hood, and looks over to the camera.
Criminal: It has come to my attention that the Entertainment Championship has become vacant. It has also come to my attention that anyone could become a part of the Entertainment Championship Tournament. I have decided that it is about time for me to get back to what i'm good at, and put all the fun and games behind me.
Camera man: Well what do you call that?
Criminal turns around and spins the punching bag around to reveal a face on the other side.
Criminal: Well, all the games can't all be over. I needed a little bit of motivation to get up in the morning and come all the way across town to tire myself out and prepare for such a great oppurtunity...
the camera man mumbles something...
Criminal: Of course the image is of Buddy Ghee, who else has a face that only a mother could love. Well, after speaking to his mother, and well, after a few other things, i guess even a mother couldn't love his face. This man has a face that no matter how much you beat him, nothing could ever change. No fat lips, no black eyes, and the blood cleans up, it's the perfect assault. Also, he's really the only person in line that has a chance, not much of one, but a slight chance of keeping me from my championship. So, hopefully in the first one i can take him out, and then the rest is just easy street for me. Now, if you don't mind, I have a barber shop wanna be to beat the hell out of.
Criminal places the hood back up on his head, but the camera man still stands there. Criminal glances up.
Criminal: That means...GET THE FUCK OUT... I can't be letting my opponents watch the way I train.
Criminal then grabs the camera and smashes it onto the floor, causing the screen to go black.
(Credit obviously goes to Criminal)
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Post by Samuel Hawthorne on Oct 27, 2010 2:40:59 GMT -5
Surprise Challenged Composed by Kris and Scott
The cameras cut to a backstage hallway. At the moment, it is occupied by a blond young woman that would only be familiar thanks to the earlier segment in the show. Natalie Burrows cleans up rather well, looking polished and put-together in a way that's just plain impossible when one is trying to rebuild a house from the ground-up. A simple coral-colored dress hugs her frame closely enough to be flattering, but not too close - she is a tasteful young woman, after all. Blond curls pulled partway up in a silver barrette, the Southern Belle's expression is a soft smile as she explores her new work environment. As she rounds the corner, she finds herself running into someone… a someone that turns out to be none other than Mr. Red. While he barely even budges, that doesn't mean that Natalie doesn't feel bad - so she does as any proper young lady would, her tone apologetic.
Natalie Burrows: Oh bless, I'm sorry… I should have paid closer attention to where I was going.
Mr. Red: Sorry, my ass. You have 2 eyes. Have one on the damn road in front of you next time.
A blond brow quirks at the hostility, the Southern Belle's expression defaulting to one of carefully-controlled indifference. Not paying it any heed, Mr. Red continues to speak.
Mr. Red: Perhaps you should get out of the backstage area when performers are getting ready for the evening. It isn't good for random people like you to be lurking around backstage when we are getting prepared.
Natalie Burrows: But I--
Mr. Red: But you nothing. If you want autographs. How about you seek them after the show like everyone else. This is not the place to be right now so beat it, kid.
Natalie Burrows: Except for... how it is, sir. You see, I--
Mr. Red: Quite frankly, I don't give a damn. I have a meeting with the Chairman and you are getting into my way.
Those blue eyes of hers narrow subtly, her last nerve stepped upon. When next she speaks, her voice is as cold and frigid as a January night.
Natalie Burrows: I work here, sir, so I am exactly where I belong.
Mr. Red curled his lip up at the lady standing before him with her arms folded. He looked around to see if anyone else was in the area.
Mr. Red: Are you telling me that you are the latest garbage to get signed while I am once again a free agent thanks to this crap ass Chairman? This is un-freakin-believable. I am ACW's ONLY 3 time Entertainment Champion and what have you done....ever.
Natalie Burrows: Beyond impressing the aforementioned Chairman with what I can do in the ring rather than stomping about as if I were throwing a temper tantrum?
Mr. Red scowls.
Mr. Red: Whatever. I need an explanation for this. Get out of my way or I will remove you myself.
Natalie Burrows: If you wish for me to move, then you will have to ask… nicely.
Mr. Red: I don't have to ask you anything.
Red takes a step forward to push past Natalie, but she quickly moves into a defensive stance. Mr. Red stands up and puffs out his chest to intimidate the young lady… but she doesn't back down. Mr. Red slouches down to look her in the eye.
Mr. Red: Fine. You seem like an easy challenge. I am going to talk to Chairman about a few things. So here is what is going to happen. I am going to make him give me a contract so that next week, right out there in that ring, I will take you on. I will make sure no one in that arena believes what they just saw. So get ready. Make every preparation you can cause next week…I'm going to put you in your place, you little bitch.
The insult doesn't phase the blond - for all that she adheres to her manners, she knows the world out there does not. Instead, she unflinchingly meets his gaze.
Natalie Burrows: My name… is Natalie Burrows, sir. And after you and I get in the ring together? I'll be surprised if you don't remember it. Now kindly be on your way.
Mr. Red opens his mouth as if to say something… but he decides against it, knowing that he will get his chance to make a statement when he gets in the ring next week with the newcomer that refused to back down. Stepping around her, he makes his way down the hall, muscles rippling in an attempt to intimidate the blond. Natalie sighs, shaking her head.
Natalie Burrows: Well… that could have gone better. Ah, well - at least now I know who my first opponent is going to be.
A shrug and she turns to continue her walkabout… or, rather, that is what she intended to do before she collides with someone else. This time, there's enough force generated from the other person that Natalie actually wobbles a bit in those ballet flats. Another crucial difference? Jason Freeman is actually intimidating enough to give the Southern Belle pause, his reputation proceeding him in a way that Mr. Red could only dream of. The beast in man's clothing gives Natalie the sort of look one would give to a trodden-upon piece of bubble gum, at first…
Natalie Burrows: …I-I'm sorry, Mister Freeman, I...
...but then he smirks, a hand reaching out to run along the side of her cheek. There's something in his eyes that suggests that getting pummeled would be the least of Natalie's concerns, a look that his wink does nothing to abate - if anything, it makes it worse. Brushing past her and continuing down the hallway, the Southern Belle takes a deep breath, all too aware of the bullet she just dodged.
Fade.
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Post by Samuel Hawthorne on Oct 27, 2010 2:41:52 GMT -5
Match 3: Laron Xavier vs Cross Written by Kris From the get-go, it's obvious that Laron Xavier has an uphill battle in front of him. Letting loose with a roar, Cross charges his opponent as soon as the bell rings. Xavier isn't intimidated; instead, he surges forward as well, the pair of wrestlers tying up in the middle of the ring. Unsurprisingly, Cross gets the upper hand, forcing Laron to a knee before the smaller man manages to fight his way back up to a proper vertical base. Ducking his head under a massive arm, Laron sends Cross into the ropes - on the rebound, Xavier hits a clothesline on the larger man that staggers him! Throwing himself back into the ropes, Xavier goes for another clothesline and it connects, sending Cross into the ropes. Feeling momentum starting to build in his favor, Laron bolts back towards the ropes, springing off of them with a flying clothesline - and he gets caught! His struggles to escape are for nothing as Cross rams him, back-first, into the nearest turnbuckle. As he winces in pain, Cross releases his hold... only to charge into the corner and damn near crush Xavier with a big splash! The big man hauls Xavier up and props him up in the corner - a few seconds later, he connects with another rib-cracking big splash that leaves Xavier sputtering and the fans booing. Setting up for the third big splash, Cross heads to the opposing corner and lets out another roar before rushing at his opponent... but Laron manages to pull off a ropes-assisted leapfrog, leaving Crosss to ram into the turnbuckle! Before the massive man can recover, Laron's spinning him around and grabbing hold of him before using the turnbuckle to perform an Ode to Compton! From there, it's academic... with Laron Xavier picking up the three-count soonafter.
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Post by Samuel Hawthorne on Oct 27, 2010 2:42:49 GMT -5
Segment: Burying the Hatchet (Credit: Senator)
As the show continues, Senator Steve Phillips is seen standing in the Chairman's office, as Samuel Hawthorne remains in his seat, reading glasses still over his nose, and a large pile of finance sheets on his desk.
The Senator: Mr. Chairman, I did not know you wore glasses.
Hawthorne: Senator Phillips, I have not had the best of weeks, and I would appreciate it if you'd kindly ask me whatever you want, and get on with it.
Senator: Sir, this is not about any requests. We both know that the current situation has been a difficult one, especially for you. The economy is in the tank, and attendance has wilted. Sponsorships are nowhere to be found, and we are now working off the old surplus money that Gingerdude set aside many years ago. I am well aware of your current ordeals.
Hawthorne: Go ahead, remind me further on all the mistakes I've made. If that is what you came for, do finish sooner than later, I know too well how adept you are at the art of the unendurable rant.
Senator: This is the crux of the issue, we have indeed clashed many times in the past, and I may well have been your harshest critic throughout your regime...but this time, it is not my place to critique. Rather, I would prefer to remind you of the situation, so it becomes crystal clear that it is not your fault. You were as much of a rival as anyone I faced in the ring, but I yet feel a great deal of sympathy for you at this time. Neither of us won the power struggle.
Hawthorne: I don't need your pity.
Senator: It is not so much pity, as an empathetic response to a shared fate.
Hawthorne: If you really expect me to buy this act, you are as daft as the rest of the people you serve with in your day job. I intend to hold this office, by myself, for the duration of this companies existence.
Senator: And I would have it no other way. I may have itched for a coup in prior years, but today, you own the office, and all the blessings and curses it holds. My legacy remains in the ring, as well it should. After all, I have enough headaches from representing the fine people of Illinois, I hardly need to run this madhouse as well. Consider this a truce if nothing else. You might not accept my word. I still want to say that we are both on the same side, we still want to do the best we can for ACW, no matter what the circumstance, and as such, I will try my best to stay out of your way.
Hawthorne: I do think one of your major influences said "trust but verify." I shouldn't trust you, but I will yet give you the benefit of the doubt, Phillips. If only because I can't afford to be watching my back and balance this shrinking checkbook.
Senator: I ask for nothing more or less, and that, sir, is nothing, but the truth.
Samuel Hawthorne puts his reading glasses in a case and stands up, the strain of the last few months evident on his face. The Senator's outstretched hand meets him across the desk, and it is firmly grasped. Phillips nods to the chairman, before exiting the room with a flourish. Hawthorne almost smiles for a second, looking out the window, remembering the promise that his job held to begin with. Perhaps things did not end up the way he wished, but he gave his best effort, and for that thought, he does smile for the briefest of moments, before sitting back down, and getting back to work.
Fade Out
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