Post by John Anthony on May 30, 2007 19:17:20 GMT -6
Weekly Role Play #1
/*\ A Promise... Kept? /*\[/u][/color]
“And now, tonight we have a special guest for all of you in attendance tonight!”
Dan Ross, co-owner of Maryland Championship Wrestling stood proudly before a few hundred die-hard fans of the indy promotion. The ring he stood in was his yard and he felt proud to be co-owner of a professional wrestling promotion that stood its ground here in Maryland. The card tonight featured tons of local talent as well as a special exhibition match which would pit Maryland’s own heavyweight champion against IWA East Coast wrestler Chris Hero. The crowd was hot for the announcement of a special guest. Surprises were always welcomed. Dan brought the mic back to his mouth, held his hand towards the entrance tunnel, and continued:
“Making a special appearance for all of you MCW fans, and straight from the locker room of POW: New England… John Anthony!”
His theme song hit the PA system as he burst out of the entrance tunnel. The lighting here left a lot to be desired, but the sound of the fans cheering the surprise guest roused John up. He stood at the beginning of the ramp for a moment, that suave smile on his face as he held his hands in the air. John wore his new “Taste the High Life” shirt and his typical ring pants, almost as if ready to battle out in front of the hungry fans. As his music continued John ran down the ramp and began high-fiving the waiting fans. Finishing his jog around the ring, John leapt onto the ring apron and jostled his way to the center to shake Don Ross’s hand. Don handed the mic over to John, waved to his crowd, and excused himself from the ring. John shook his arms and looked around before slowly bringing the mic to his face. The fans began cheering and a few even began chanting John’s name. That was new. He smiled and slicked back his hair before beginning to speak.
“Ladies and gentlemen! I stand proudly before this crowd tonight after continuing my undefeated streak in POW: New England last Sunday night! But see, all things are not well with John Anthony. A few days prior to my matchup that night, I made a certain promise. A promise to the fans in Maine that my matchup against the tag team of JR Zevon and Victor Bloodmoon would be phenomenal, spectacular, breath-taking. Sadly, it was… well… lackluster. For those who didn’t get to witness it, you didn’t miss much. After about thirty minutes of fuss from the “champion” JR Zevon, we began a back and forth tussle that quickly resulted in a count out victory for Combat Soldier and myself. Now, I’m a man of my word and I truly believe that JR Zevon wanted to have a good match that night. In fact, I think he was just scared of having Combat Soldier in the ring, and I don’t blame him. If a guy threatened to Combat Press me out of the freaking atmosphere than I’d opt for the count out too. But tonight there’s no Combat Soldier, no Victor Bloodmoon. Tonight, I give the fans a chance to witness what should have been, and I give Zevon a chance for redemption! So without further ado, the POW: New England Heavyweight Champion himself… JR Zevon!”
Some fans cheered at the prospect of such a high caliber matchup happening right before them, but the marks in the crowd stood silent. They knew there was no way Randall Lovejoy would pit these two against each other so close to the upcoming DVD taping. Hell, they also knew Zevon wouldn’t participate in a match against John Anthony at an independent fed’s show. Nonetheless, anxiety rose through the crowd.
The lights dimmed and the microphones went silent. All eyes were on the entrance tunnel as the opening lick to “Hall of the Mountain King” began. But then… something changed. The song began speeding up and playing at a ridiculous pace. Pink spotlights shone on the entrance tunnel and the song quickly changed to “Barbie Girl” by Aqua. Out from the tunnel emerged a somewhat stubby man with pale skin, a few extra pounds, and a mask on that bared a striking resemblance to one JR Zevon. The crowd erupted into laughter as the pink lights danced around the bubbly man. The imposter ignored the crowd and marched to the ring. He rolled into the center and stood face to face with John Anthony before grabbing the mic. The crowd voiced their opinions loudly as he tried to speak over them.
“You people, you fans are the worst thing to ever happen to professional wrestling! You cheer this ingrate before you? This man didn’t even know that the Anaheim Ducks didn’t have the word “Mighty” in their name anymore! He’s a disgrace to this company! And you may notice that I’m not wearing my Heavyweight title tonight. That’s because, effective immediately; I will no longer bring the title to any ring unless every audience member in attendance is subjected to both a drug test and a written exam on the spot. Only after passing both will they be allowed to lay eyes on the POW: New England Heavyweight title!”
The crowd jeered loudly at the insults as John laid his face in the palm of his hand disgusted. He swiftly reached out and wrenched the microphone from Imposter Zevon’s hands.
“Nice to see you’re sticking to your agenda Zevon. But actually, the two of us find ourselves in the ring tonight in front of a hungry crowd. They want to see it, I damn well want to see it, and I’d be willing to bet that the entire POW roster wants to see it as well. I’m talking about you and me, mano-e-mano, tonight in this very ring!”
At first Imposter Zevon looked as though he’d turn down the offer, but then he instead held up a single finger as if to symbol that he needed a moment. The imposter jogged over to the nearest rope and began shaking it violently. He then straddled it and began bouncing up and down, obviously testing its integrity. Standing back up, he then kicked it, only to have himself nearly face plant outside of the ring. Satisfied, he then walked to the turnbuckle. He punched the padding a few times and then started bashing his head against it. The imposter leaned in to inspect the couplings and assembly before nodding his approval. He walked up to John and opened his mouth, but then thrust up his finger again. The imposter flopped down onto the ring and began bouncing around like a fish out of water. Showing a surprising amount of speed, he immediately jumped to his feet and grabbed the mic.
“Nice try Mr. Anthony, but it won’t be happening. After further inspection I feel this ring is rigged! Dan Ross has no doubt laced it with booby-traps!”
The fans went into an uproar after hearing an insult of their esteemed co-owner. John knew this had gone on long enough to serve his purpose, so he delivered a swift boot to the midsection of Imposter Zevon. The man doubled over as John hooked up his two arms. John smiled to the crowd as they waiting impatiently for the upcoming attack. Lifting the imposter up, John brought the man’s head crashing down against the mat via his Even the Odds. The cheers resumed as John stood over the laid out man. He picked up the microphone and walked over to the ropes. Wiping his brow as if he had actually broken a sweat, John leaned on the ropes and addressed the crowd.
“Well Maryland, I’m afraid you’ve been let down yet again. I thought we could give you the match you deserved, but I guess we’ll have to postpone our fun for another day. I do want to take this moment to say something on a more serious note.”
John signaled for the only cameraman to come towards him. John shifted his composure and stared into the awaiting lens.
“JR Zevon, you can have your stipulations. You can have your rules and your campaign to better the image of the heavyweight title. But you listen to me carefully. That ruse you hide behind won’t last forever. You want a drug test? Fine. You can even personally take the urine sample if you so please. A written exam? Bring it on. I’ll take it right in front of the fans with you looking over my shoulder. A series of matches? Well, I defeated you last week fair and square and this weekend I square off against a man that no one else in the POW: New England locker room ever hopes to wrestle with. Now you might have other prerequisites, other concerns, but you can take those up with Lovejoy. Because listen here. The fans and I are done playing your games.
You can insult me backstage and call me the worst thing to ever happen to this business, but the fact stands that when the cards were on the table and you and I stood face-to-face in that squared circle, you couldn’t take it. You fled and were counted out. You insult the very fans who pay their hard earned money to keep this organization afloat! Your actions insult the roster of superstars who lay their bodies on the line for the entertainment of the masses! Your blatant disrespect for the integrity of this business is shown by your regard for yourself as some kind of textbook example of morality. Well enjoy holding that belt around your waist Zevon, because there’s fast coming a time where it will no longer grace the shoulder of a self-proclaimed champion, but instead the shoulder of a man who the people know, who the roster knows, and who Lovejoy himself knows is a deserving champion.
As for Macros, this weekend pits you and me against each other in a confrontation that could open doors for either of us. Both of us are hungry no doubt, and both willing to go the ends of the Earth to get what we’re after. Don’t think that this weekend will be a walk in the park for you just because my mind is elsewhere. I might be preoccupied right now with thoughts on Zevon, but I can shift focus at the snap of fingers. I’m not going to be taking things easy when we do battle. I’m going to make a statement that when you put me against the best, I rise to the occasion. This Sunday in Bel Air, Maryland, the ground will tremble and the skies will roar as two titans lay hit after devastating hit onto each other. When the dust settles neither of us may be standing, but you can rest assured that if my body is beaten to a point where I can no longer come to my feet then I will crawl on my hands and knees to drape my arm over your chest and hear my name announced, once again, as the winner. I’ll see you Sunday.”
With that John thrust down the microphone as a static burst hit the speakers. He rolled out of the ring and shook only a few hands as he walked back towards the tunnel, leaving the imposter of JR Zevon still laid out in the ring.
/*\ A Promise... Kept? /*\[/u][/color]
“And now, tonight we have a special guest for all of you in attendance tonight!”
Dan Ross, co-owner of Maryland Championship Wrestling stood proudly before a few hundred die-hard fans of the indy promotion. The ring he stood in was his yard and he felt proud to be co-owner of a professional wrestling promotion that stood its ground here in Maryland. The card tonight featured tons of local talent as well as a special exhibition match which would pit Maryland’s own heavyweight champion against IWA East Coast wrestler Chris Hero. The crowd was hot for the announcement of a special guest. Surprises were always welcomed. Dan brought the mic back to his mouth, held his hand towards the entrance tunnel, and continued:
“Making a special appearance for all of you MCW fans, and straight from the locker room of POW: New England… John Anthony!”
His theme song hit the PA system as he burst out of the entrance tunnel. The lighting here left a lot to be desired, but the sound of the fans cheering the surprise guest roused John up. He stood at the beginning of the ramp for a moment, that suave smile on his face as he held his hands in the air. John wore his new “Taste the High Life” shirt and his typical ring pants, almost as if ready to battle out in front of the hungry fans. As his music continued John ran down the ramp and began high-fiving the waiting fans. Finishing his jog around the ring, John leapt onto the ring apron and jostled his way to the center to shake Don Ross’s hand. Don handed the mic over to John, waved to his crowd, and excused himself from the ring. John shook his arms and looked around before slowly bringing the mic to his face. The fans began cheering and a few even began chanting John’s name. That was new. He smiled and slicked back his hair before beginning to speak.
“Ladies and gentlemen! I stand proudly before this crowd tonight after continuing my undefeated streak in POW: New England last Sunday night! But see, all things are not well with John Anthony. A few days prior to my matchup that night, I made a certain promise. A promise to the fans in Maine that my matchup against the tag team of JR Zevon and Victor Bloodmoon would be phenomenal, spectacular, breath-taking. Sadly, it was… well… lackluster. For those who didn’t get to witness it, you didn’t miss much. After about thirty minutes of fuss from the “champion” JR Zevon, we began a back and forth tussle that quickly resulted in a count out victory for Combat Soldier and myself. Now, I’m a man of my word and I truly believe that JR Zevon wanted to have a good match that night. In fact, I think he was just scared of having Combat Soldier in the ring, and I don’t blame him. If a guy threatened to Combat Press me out of the freaking atmosphere than I’d opt for the count out too. But tonight there’s no Combat Soldier, no Victor Bloodmoon. Tonight, I give the fans a chance to witness what should have been, and I give Zevon a chance for redemption! So without further ado, the POW: New England Heavyweight Champion himself… JR Zevon!”
Some fans cheered at the prospect of such a high caliber matchup happening right before them, but the marks in the crowd stood silent. They knew there was no way Randall Lovejoy would pit these two against each other so close to the upcoming DVD taping. Hell, they also knew Zevon wouldn’t participate in a match against John Anthony at an independent fed’s show. Nonetheless, anxiety rose through the crowd.
The lights dimmed and the microphones went silent. All eyes were on the entrance tunnel as the opening lick to “Hall of the Mountain King” began. But then… something changed. The song began speeding up and playing at a ridiculous pace. Pink spotlights shone on the entrance tunnel and the song quickly changed to “Barbie Girl” by Aqua. Out from the tunnel emerged a somewhat stubby man with pale skin, a few extra pounds, and a mask on that bared a striking resemblance to one JR Zevon. The crowd erupted into laughter as the pink lights danced around the bubbly man. The imposter ignored the crowd and marched to the ring. He rolled into the center and stood face to face with John Anthony before grabbing the mic. The crowd voiced their opinions loudly as he tried to speak over them.
“You people, you fans are the worst thing to ever happen to professional wrestling! You cheer this ingrate before you? This man didn’t even know that the Anaheim Ducks didn’t have the word “Mighty” in their name anymore! He’s a disgrace to this company! And you may notice that I’m not wearing my Heavyweight title tonight. That’s because, effective immediately; I will no longer bring the title to any ring unless every audience member in attendance is subjected to both a drug test and a written exam on the spot. Only after passing both will they be allowed to lay eyes on the POW: New England Heavyweight title!”
The crowd jeered loudly at the insults as John laid his face in the palm of his hand disgusted. He swiftly reached out and wrenched the microphone from Imposter Zevon’s hands.
“Nice to see you’re sticking to your agenda Zevon. But actually, the two of us find ourselves in the ring tonight in front of a hungry crowd. They want to see it, I damn well want to see it, and I’d be willing to bet that the entire POW roster wants to see it as well. I’m talking about you and me, mano-e-mano, tonight in this very ring!”
At first Imposter Zevon looked as though he’d turn down the offer, but then he instead held up a single finger as if to symbol that he needed a moment. The imposter jogged over to the nearest rope and began shaking it violently. He then straddled it and began bouncing up and down, obviously testing its integrity. Standing back up, he then kicked it, only to have himself nearly face plant outside of the ring. Satisfied, he then walked to the turnbuckle. He punched the padding a few times and then started bashing his head against it. The imposter leaned in to inspect the couplings and assembly before nodding his approval. He walked up to John and opened his mouth, but then thrust up his finger again. The imposter flopped down onto the ring and began bouncing around like a fish out of water. Showing a surprising amount of speed, he immediately jumped to his feet and grabbed the mic.
“Nice try Mr. Anthony, but it won’t be happening. After further inspection I feel this ring is rigged! Dan Ross has no doubt laced it with booby-traps!”
The fans went into an uproar after hearing an insult of their esteemed co-owner. John knew this had gone on long enough to serve his purpose, so he delivered a swift boot to the midsection of Imposter Zevon. The man doubled over as John hooked up his two arms. John smiled to the crowd as they waiting impatiently for the upcoming attack. Lifting the imposter up, John brought the man’s head crashing down against the mat via his Even the Odds. The cheers resumed as John stood over the laid out man. He picked up the microphone and walked over to the ropes. Wiping his brow as if he had actually broken a sweat, John leaned on the ropes and addressed the crowd.
“Well Maryland, I’m afraid you’ve been let down yet again. I thought we could give you the match you deserved, but I guess we’ll have to postpone our fun for another day. I do want to take this moment to say something on a more serious note.”
John signaled for the only cameraman to come towards him. John shifted his composure and stared into the awaiting lens.
“JR Zevon, you can have your stipulations. You can have your rules and your campaign to better the image of the heavyweight title. But you listen to me carefully. That ruse you hide behind won’t last forever. You want a drug test? Fine. You can even personally take the urine sample if you so please. A written exam? Bring it on. I’ll take it right in front of the fans with you looking over my shoulder. A series of matches? Well, I defeated you last week fair and square and this weekend I square off against a man that no one else in the POW: New England locker room ever hopes to wrestle with. Now you might have other prerequisites, other concerns, but you can take those up with Lovejoy. Because listen here. The fans and I are done playing your games.
You can insult me backstage and call me the worst thing to ever happen to this business, but the fact stands that when the cards were on the table and you and I stood face-to-face in that squared circle, you couldn’t take it. You fled and were counted out. You insult the very fans who pay their hard earned money to keep this organization afloat! Your actions insult the roster of superstars who lay their bodies on the line for the entertainment of the masses! Your blatant disrespect for the integrity of this business is shown by your regard for yourself as some kind of textbook example of morality. Well enjoy holding that belt around your waist Zevon, because there’s fast coming a time where it will no longer grace the shoulder of a self-proclaimed champion, but instead the shoulder of a man who the people know, who the roster knows, and who Lovejoy himself knows is a deserving champion.
As for Macros, this weekend pits you and me against each other in a confrontation that could open doors for either of us. Both of us are hungry no doubt, and both willing to go the ends of the Earth to get what we’re after. Don’t think that this weekend will be a walk in the park for you just because my mind is elsewhere. I might be preoccupied right now with thoughts on Zevon, but I can shift focus at the snap of fingers. I’m not going to be taking things easy when we do battle. I’m going to make a statement that when you put me against the best, I rise to the occasion. This Sunday in Bel Air, Maryland, the ground will tremble and the skies will roar as two titans lay hit after devastating hit onto each other. When the dust settles neither of us may be standing, but you can rest assured that if my body is beaten to a point where I can no longer come to my feet then I will crawl on my hands and knees to drape my arm over your chest and hear my name announced, once again, as the winner. I’ll see you Sunday.”
With that John thrust down the microphone as a static burst hit the speakers. He rolled out of the ring and shook only a few hands as he walked back towards the tunnel, leaving the imposter of JR Zevon still laid out in the ring.
