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Post by CEO Vincent Pryde on Jan 9, 2018 2:43:53 GMT
Commish and Bull Segment
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Pan to backstage where a camera follows the Commissioner on his way through double doors. They swing by both him and the camera as both pass into a darkened space that seems somewhat like a utility closet. Lamarche, still dressed in his ringmaster gear, approaches a large outline of a man facing the sole lightsource of this otherwise bleak chamber.
Commish: You are the big man I've heard so much about. So thank you for hearing my call. See, there's a bit of business that we need to tie down in this place. Something our new uncles at SYFY don't need to know about.
Cameras pan over to a large figure in the corner, what seems to be a muscular man nearly seven tall, then cut to the Commissioner whose fae has yet fettered from their interaction.
Corey Bull: What is your proposal?
Commish: One those kind, huh. I get it. You're just the right kind of man for this job - and trust me when I say, there will be benefits to helping me. Money, sure, but things even bigger than--
Bull: Get to the part that involves us, Commissioner.
Commish: All right, you got it big man. I have a new batch of vagabonds - street folk I've rounded up - and they need a right show of force. Something that shows them how to be New Blood material."
The tall figure turns around to reveal the masked visage of Corey Bull. He breathes heavily yet doesn't startle the Commissioner.
Bull: What is their goal?
Commish: If you break them, no one will say anything. I need to find ones that can withstand enough punishment for TV. See, these guys are unhinged. Loons with nothing to live for that'll do anything for petty cash.
Bull: We don't care about your model. What do you actually want from us.
Commish: Bull, I need a barrier to keep the trash out. Someone to fight only the best talent for our program. I need you to crack skulls until you find punks that can take a few bumps.
Bull: And if we should go too far?
Commish: Pryde don't give a shit about these people. Nor do I. All I need is one good body per week. The rest can sink in the Hudson for all I care. We play it up like the untouchables, but really, we throw them out with the bathwater.
Lamarche takes a deep breath as a long silence overcomes them.
Commish: So you in, big man?
Bull: Yes...
Commish: Splendid... so I got a fresh batch in the backroom. Deal with them whenever you want. I'll be in the Owner's office if you need me. Oh, and if you have any mishaps... make sure to bag and toss them.
Confidence brims from his patchwork outfit glitting as Lamarche disappears from the room. Hard cut to Corey Bull still in the same spot. Cut to ringside.
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Post by CEO Vincent Pryde on Jan 9, 2018 2:45:55 GMT
Gray Zee
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The camera turns on and records a dark room. One of New Blood Wrestling's newest signings, the "Big Deal" Gray Zee is sitting on a steel chair reading something on his smartphone. He mumbles some names to himself.
"Ricardo Frenches, Joe Smarts, Broski Jayden... oh my god... let's see who the champions are... First Blood Championship... I don't give a fuck... Tru Grit Championship... nope... here! World Championship! Cassidy Kaine... whatever, my next victim...
Hello Ladies and Gentlemen, Fans of New Blood Wrestling! It is me, the "Big Deal" Gray Zee, one of the newest signings of NBW! I've been doing all these contracts lately, I'm almost forgetting in which feds I am. BUT I can manage it.
Anyways, enough with the happy faces. I didn't join for being on the low class. I am the best young wrestler you can find. With 20 years and 6 feet I am unstoppable.
Dear intelligent people out there, don't believe in the fairytales and utopic stories everyone tells. Deep inside they know that there will be one better than them. But I, Gray Zee, I know that there is no wrestler better than me. I've proven it elsewhere and this time it won't be any different. Oh! Excuse me."
His phone is ringing and with joy he answers.
"Gabriel, my man! What is going on? ... Ah yes? That's wonderful! We are taking over, I know. And we can't be stopped. ... Yes, our next step is winning the VWA Television Championship. Our plan will work. ... Catch you later, bye!"
He has a smirk on his face and watches somewhere, almost having a daydream.
"God, I love this man. There is no better partner and manager than him."
He notices the camera and turns his attention back to the Fans.
"Oh, sorry! How rude from me!"
He focuses on what he wants to say, his intentions are clear. He takes a quick look at this phone, then he continues talking.
"Cassidy Kaine, yeah you, I've got my eyes on you. You are on my personal watchlist. You won't be here for long, I will take care or you and that prestigious title you undeservedly have. Fuck you."
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Post by CEO Vincent Pryde on Jan 9, 2018 2:50:38 GMT
Legato vs Corey Bull Writer: Commish
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Conway: Welcome back, and the action is only getting better.
St. Remi: Debatable…
The morose opening of "Hymn of a Broken Man" by Times of Grace plays out, sending the camera on an arena scoping pan. The crowd goes silent. The lights fluctuate softly between the dark hues of midnight blue and an off white.
From the back, Legato Fulbright makes his appearance, his head lowered to the world and the defeaning music.
Abbi Stein: So we got the preacher man up first… oh shit, it’s Legato Fulbright!
As the intro dies out, he makes his way down the ramp. When the forceful guitar comes blasting out, he picks up his pace, throwing his wet blonde hair back behind him. As he makes it mid way down, he pauses, giving the whole world a scornful look.
Why do we live so blind Like a fallen angel's eyes turned inside? This is a hymn of a broken man
Conway: Is that delusion or unwavering devotion?
St. Remi: He’s quite the mouthpiece. I want to see how much he packs behind those fists. I've heard good things about his striking.
Charlie: Some think he’s our hardest hitter. Glad to say not from experience.
St. Remi: Wanna taste the second hardest?
Charlie: I’m good, Remi. Man he looks rugged even in the dark.
He continues down the ramp, hitting the side of the ring apron. A lost look washes over his face. Yet, his face remains slightly obscured, keeping his viewpoint distant from the audience and the at-home viewers. He clears the whole top turnbuckle and makes his way into the ring. He gives the whole arena one last look before stopping in the center of the ring. Legato falls to the mat, tracing his hand against it in a moment of contemplation. He remains there for a moment, and then cracks his neck. He begrudgingly gets to his feet waiting for his match to begin.
Conway: The intestinal fortitude of this match has everyone guessing.
St. Remi: Oh yeah, there’s going to be blood to pay tonight. And at least one person will be—
Charlie: Hardnosed to find something better?
St. Remi: Yeah, something will be hard…
"The Curse" by Disturbed plays over the speakers and the monster known as Corey Bull walks out to the top of the ramp, four feet of logging chain draped over his shoulder.
Abbi Stein: Time for the biggest guy we got… you know him – 7 footer with a mask… THE HATEBRINGER COREY BULL!
Bull whips his hair back and stretches his arms out to his sides and the ramp lights up as an explosion rocks the ramp area and a mushroom cloud floats to the ceiling.
St. Remi: Okay… that dude is big.
Charlie: Like from my nightmares, man.
Conway: You dream of The Hatebringer?
Charlie: Oh he’s not the only one of roster.
St. Remi: Kids, push ‘mute’ now!
Bull marches to the ring, climbing in and walking to the center of the ring. He stares out at the crowd and raises his hands above his head and crosses the wrists and the crowd cheers him on. Legato eyes the larger man like someone ready to demo a skyscraper. Chandra Betts checks Corey Bull for weapons – much to the audience’s displeasure. Bull swipes the air at her, sending the much smaller referee towards center stage. Both keep intense looks upon each other mid-stretching.
Conway: And that’s the bell! Neither wanting to attack of the bat. A little intimidation perhaps?
St. Remi: Bull has the natural advantage. But I’m not sure who’s got the mental edge.
Conway: Legato shoves Bull without much effect. He hits the ropes and tries again…
St. Remi: You’re not moving a mountain with brute force. He’ll need to play smarter than that.
Legato charges once more... Bull grabs his throat and bends the nack back. Fans leap from their seats hoping for a chokeslam. Wild kicking lets Fulbright squirm free halfway up his lift. Energy deflates for a second – then Legato throws a massive haymaker to the chest of Corey Bull. The larger man walks backwards before hitting the ropes…
Charlie: Leaping lariat! That monster just used his jet boots on that one!
St. Remi: He’s got great bounce.
Conway: You’re too white to say that… Bull now taking full advantage after that lariat. He works to the back of Legato for some variety of suplex. He’s carrying Legato around the ring like a garbage bag.
Charlie: Pendulum Back Breaker! And slammed like an earthquake! Wowie!
St. Remi: Fulbright took on the monster on the demon's terms. He’ll need to find a better avenue if he wants to beat Corey Bull. He may be big looking, yet he’s no dummy.
Charlie: Bid boot stamps Legato to the canvas!
Conway: Bull leaps for a leg drop and stripes it across the neck… and he hooks the leg!
1!
2!
Charlie: Way too early. I think it just barely reached two.
Conway: We knew Legato Fulbright was resilient. No doubt that Corey Bull will test those limits tonight. I have to think an advantage will present itself soon.
St. Remi: In this case, Legato needs to lure Bull into a mistake. Except he’s letting the Hatebringer call all the shots. That won’t bode well if this continues.
Charlie: Oh man, the carnage on display from Corey Bull. What a beast!
Multiple stomps sends Referee Betts from her corner to break things up. She gives a stern warning to Bull about a five-count. Fans give her the executive salute – some in double – as she pulls that exceedingly larger man back. Legato finds space for a breather until Corey Bull attacks with a hammering double axe-handle to his upper back. Fulbright again drives flat to the floor.
Conway: Corey Bull seems intent on being the hammer right now.
St. Remi: Trust me, when you find yourself being the nail. You look for any hint of daylight.
Conway: What does he need to do though? Bull is in charge and with no sign of letting up.
St. Remi: Go cheap if need be. He cannot win this fight from the floor. Or else he’ll get squashed.
Legato pulls himself to all fours. Bull watches then prepares a running kick… Fulbright grabs his ankle then works to his feet. Long swings try to break the hold. He tugs on the leg, and by combined momentum, swings Bull to the ground on a nasty dragon screw. Legato emerges still holding the ankle. Bull thrusts back, kicking the smaller man loose.
St. Remi: That’s more like it.
Conway: The timing on that had to be difficult.
St. Remi: Big man gave a bad look and Legato Fulbright took full advantage.
Charlie: That knee – lord have mercy!
Before he could sit up, Legato punted Corey Bull with a running knee. Now he takes a run at grounded strikes aimed at the lower extremities. Several stomps weaken the back of Bull’s knee. The big man slaps the canvas as he endures multiple hard strikes. Chandra Betts comes back from her corner to be sure things stay under control. Her mere presence riles a chorus of boos – even before she intervenes in this change of fortunes. Bull gets a leg up to create space between them… Legato rolls through for a gorss twist of the joint.
St. Remi: That one hurts all over - hips, knees, ankles... Legato is pinpointing an effective attack right now. I recommend the same for anyone in his situation. I mean, I definitely would too.
Conway: Fulbright easing the monster on his knees. He’s getting a good lift too!
St. Remi: Spread your legs and go wide. Simple weightlifting at its finest.
Charlie: Powerbomb loaded and on target!
St. Remi: Nice one, Strangelove…
Charlie: Bringing Bull into place – he drops him ever harder!
Halfway into a powerbomb completion, the floors collapse turning into a brutal lungblower bomb. Legato wastes no time on the cover.
1!
2!
Conway: Bull kicks out after a long two. What a risk though.
St. Remi: Corey Bull isn’t your prototypical big man. He can make you pay in other ways. Securing that move was huge albeit the risks.
Charlie: I thought that would be enough. Fulbright just brought the gardens down on that impact!
Now in control, Legato works from behind with a knee pressed into the lower back. Bull squeezes down on the two hands bending his body into a pale banana. Betts leans in for the submission. Her attentive posture garners more boos from their regular fan base. Bull begins stomping, as he cannot reach the opposite ropes. All this works him into a frenzy – pulling apart the submission with both hands, and gaining to his knees. Shoulder thrusts separate the two. An opening allows Bull to try again with his beginning shot…
Charlie: Chokeslam up and down! Oh man, like a bad elevator ride! Wait - he’s looking for a second!
Conway: His knee just gave out!
St. Remi: Guess all that foreplay did its job. Now that tree trunk of man cannot use his full strength.
Conway: Both men now sprawling over the floor. Corey Bull grabbing at his knee, while his opponent is still sorting trough cobwebs. I think we expected something to this extent. What a matchup though. These two are giving it their all.
St. Remi: Yeah, but it’s still fun to see a plan come together.
Charlie: I he hope Bull goes for another.
Conway: If you ask nicely, I’m sure he’ll take you for the same trip.
Charlie: You don’t know that.
St. Remi: He’s right… we don’t know Charlie at all.
Bull has the ground first. He takea one look down at Legato Fulbright before wrenching his deadweight from the canvas. Two hands press upon his throat, wherein the monster shouts about “their superiority” and other inaudible things. He then takes the smaller man into a thrashing and kicking spinout powerbomb. Bull holds the impact for a pinfall.
1!
2!
Charlie: Just inside two… what a show of strength from the big guy!
St. Remi: I’m surprised Fulbright found an early way out of that one. Bull had him down flat.
Conway: He shouts at our dedicated official, whom in turn gives him the "bye Felicia".
St. Remi: That’s relevant to this fan base…
Conway: Either way, The Hatebringer isn’t winning in her courtroom. He then turns that anger upon his opponent by pulling him from the floor again. A lifted chokehold—
Charlie: Huge stike from Fulbright! He just slapped the taste out of his mouth!
Nearly meeting face-to-face, Legato put in a decisive strike to break to the hold. Bull shakes off the hit… moving right into a high-flying 360 degree roundhouse kick. It crashes but does not take the tree down. Legato limps into a DDT clutch and executes a reverse neckbreaker.
Charlie: Brilliant!
St. Remi: He’s in full ass-saving mode now. Bull almost had him dead to rights.
Conway: True, but that has Legato looking gassed as well. Neither can make any form of cover nor finishing submission. Betts immediately beginning her ten count.
St. Remi: Stray strikes stymy that for now… but she’ll jump back in eventually. Betts can’t let the matchup define her rulebook.
Conway: True that.
Charlie: Look guys, Legato is pulling Bull into some kind of back suplex!
St. Remi: He can’t hope to that off. There can’t be a drop left in his tank.
Screaming to the top of his lungs, Legato Fulbright attempts a game ending half-nelson suplex… and it seems to be working. Bull throws a sudden elbow, and in one move, reverses their motion into labored spinebuster. Both roll away from the move – but Bull isn’t finished…
Charlie: Leaping headbutt! He just sacrificed life and limb for this win!
St. Remi: Good one threre, Charlie. You are right though. I doubt there is anything more Bull can do. Shame he landed off the side of Fulbright. Otherwise you might argue for a pinfall.
Conway: True, but he didn’t. And here comes the dreaded 10 count from Betts.
1… 2… 3… 4… 5…
Conway: Can they find a way?
6… 7…
Conway: Is there any heart left to rise above?
8…
St. Remi: Maybe not.
9…
Charlie: And Legato sprang from the canvas! He’s interlocked with Corey Bull!
Conway: They’re both up!
St. Remi: What – she’s calling for the bell!
Conway: But who won!?
Abbi Stein: I guess… Legato wins… yep – that’s what the lady said. Give it up for that guy!
Conway: Fans are screaming. I swear Bull was up first with Legato pushing off of him.
St. Remi: Replays will do nothing. Corey Bull got robbed.
Charlie: That was not what I saw.
St. Remi: See… if Charlie feels wronged, then the universe is off tilt.
Conway: Bull is protesting in ring while the apparent victor, Legato, has gone off to the back. Chandra Betts too heads to her place by the timekeeper. Well folks, this one just got wild. Expect word from Vincent Pryde.
St. Remi: And a rematch…
Conway: We’ll be back after this. Keep it tuned to for of this Bloody Monday...
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Post by CEO Vincent Pryde on Jan 9, 2018 2:51:39 GMT
FFC Segment
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Open to a camera follwing a chunky may of Irish descent. His ill-fitting suit and school-boy knotted tie give to the greasy appearance of a used car salesman. He then turns to the cameraman, both of which seem to breahting heavily
"Hey guys, its your Fat Fuck Carl," he says with a microphone to his lips. It has a red square with NBW logo on all four sides. "But it's just FFC now, because you know, TV and that. But we know who your boy is!"
He takes the cameraman on a route to the back where you see referee Chandra Betts in athletic gear - right as she emerged from the restroom. Her face turns white at the surprise camera pointed at her.
"All right everyone. We got referee and social pariah, Chandra Betts," he says motioning for a close-up. "So tell me Chandra, why did you make that call for Legato Fulbright. Seems like he was up at the same time as Corey Bull."
"I don't need to defend my call. Get a rulebook, Carl."
"Hey Hey... don't walk away Chandra," he says with a smarmy grin. "I'm here for you. People need to know what you're thinking. Maybe become smarter marks because of it."
She keeps walking, faster than both can jog. FFC turns back to the camera looking pissed now.
"There you have it FFC boys and girls... Chandra Betts really is a bossy bitch. You heard it here first."
Her faint figure stops the makes a 180 degree turn back to he and the cameraman.
"Oh shit!" FFC says motioning to cut. "Run Dwayne! And cut that shit. I dont' want to be on camera getting my ass kicked."
"Oh.. my... god. I can't go on."
"Dwayne, hurry up you fat sack of shit!"
"Oh god - here she comes! Help!"
"God speed Dwayne!"
"Carl - why!?"
Cut to Blair Witch-esque running through the backstage corridor witht he view only seeing the image of that tacky suit in flight. The wimpy voice of Camera guy Dwayne can be heard apologizing to an utterly PO'ed Chandra Betts. Cut to ringside.
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Post by CEO Vincent Pryde on Jan 9, 2018 2:53:41 GMT
Kidsgrove Segment
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The Universal Studios fanfare hits the speakers and the searchlights start to hit the roof. The crowd are also hitting the roof, and not in a good way. It sounds like a hive of bees. After a few moments, Sam Kidsgrove strolls out of the curtain, a look of fury on his face. He looks around the crowd, glares at the commentary table and heads to the ring. He slides in and immediately grabs a mic.
Kidsgrove: Cut the music.
The music stops and the wasp like booing is all you can hear.
Kidsgrove waits for a while and teases the crowd by putting the mic to his lips and withdrawing. He cups his ear and shrugs his shoulders as the booing gets louder.
Kidsgrove: Well.
Booooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Kidsgrove: Excuse me, someone is talking. Show some respect.
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Kidsgrove shakes his head.
Kidsgrove: Fine. I’ll just talk over all of your stupid heads. Last year I went to battle against the owner of this stupid company and was victorious. Last year, Sam Kidsgrove was riding high, a great movie was just about to come out and I finally defeated that idiot wannabe Dracula Vincent Pryde.
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Kidsgrove: Oh shut up. Point is, I thought I had rid of this place. UCI was the right place, with the right people and the prestige. It’s where the big boys played and, well, I belonged there. I deserved to be fighting the likes of Bonnie Blue, L Verez, Andre Holmes, Preecha Kamon, you know some of the best talent this business has to offer. NBW has, well, Steve the Jobber. Some vomit guy, the Snake Pit. It’s pathetic. The night that I was called by Spencer Adams to tell me that UCI was folding and we were all being transferred to the NBW I was sick, it was just a sour taste in my mouth - I wanted to vomit, heave, throw up this garbage that I was about to swallow because I couldn’t stomach going to work as an NBW employee and having to cope with the shit mess that was going to go down. Hell, the whole fucking place stinks.
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Kidsgrove: But then I looked at my contract. Oh yes, my contract. You see I have some creative and beautiful lawyers at my disposal. Some of which were busy when I re-negotiated my deal with Spencer Adams back in UCI. You see, Adams must have known he was selling up because he just let me do pretty much anything I wanted. Let me show you an example. Jenson, can you please come down here?
“Big Blue Dress” By Cranius hits as Andre Jenson walks to the ramp, he’s carrying a bag over his shoulder. He smiles to the crowd and waves as he pleasantly makes his way to the ring. He hops in and shakes Sam Kidsgrove’s hand.
Jenson: Good evening sir.
Kidsgrove: Right, Jenson, tell everyone what you do for a living.
Jenson: I’m a General Entertainment and New Talent Specialist. So pretty much a General Manager of UCI. Now UCI has folded I’m pretty much your personal General Manager.
Kidsgrove: And why are you my personal General Manager?
Jenson: Well, you see.
Jenson fishes into the bag, and pulls out a belt, putting it on Kidsgrove’s shoulder.
Jenson: You are still the UCI Intercontinental Champion. This title is more prestigious than the NBW title, whatever it is called and you were never beaten for it. You are also the last remaining person to be contracted to the UCI. As long as you hold this belt, you are a UCI contracted talent with licence to fight anywhere you want.
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Kidsgrove: That’s right! I am the last vestiges of UCI. I am the champion and I will ensure the name of that great organisation will continue well until this cesspit has been ground into dust.
Jenson: Should we do the other thing?
Kidsgrove: Yeah, I think so, why not?
Jenson: Are you going to, or should I?
Kidsgrove: I think I’ll let you do it.
Jenson: Thanks. OK, you can come out now.
Jenson motions to the back and out comes the main commentator for UCI, Jimmy Garcia, he makes his way to the commentary table and forcibly removes the NBW commentators, with a little help from Jenson who has made his way up the ramp to berate them.
Jimmy Garcia: Well, this is nice. Apparently I’m Kidsgrove’s personal commentary team now. I guess I’m soloing this. OK, well, this crowd is red hot. They are not impressed with this turn of events. Oh and here’s Taylor Lorde, that’s nice. I like that she kept her job.
Taylor Lorde makes her way to the ring as Kidsgrove smiles at her. He gives her a mic.
Kidsgrove: Hi Taylor. Can you do it for me? I wanna hear it again.
Taylor Lorde: Ladies and gentlemen he is your UCI INTERCONTINENTAL CHAMPION….. SAAAAAAAAAAAAAAM KIIIIIIDDDDDDDDDDDDDDSGROVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVE!!!!!
The boos rain down heavily now. Things are actually being thrown into the ring.
Kidsgrove: Boo all you want. This right here, this is where it’s at. UCI still lives and there ain’t a thing any of you bitches can do about it. Be prepared, because I’m going to go over this entire shit show and bury the fuck out of it. The name NBW will have the same level of respect as Harvey Weinstein when I’m through with it.
Sam’s music hits as he taunts the crowd.
Jimmy Garcia: OH MY GOD, HE JUST PUT THIS WHOLE ORGANISATION ON NOTICE! GO GET ‘EM CHAMP.
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Post by CEO Vincent Pryde on Jan 9, 2018 2:58:29 GMT
Tru Grit Division Match “Heavy Metal” Masutarou vs “The Handsome Half-Breed” Shadowlove vs Dark Spectre Writer: Vincent Pryde
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“PERSONAL JESUS” by Depeche Mode starts to play on the Bose® (product placement) SoundTouch® (product placement) indoor/outdoor surround sound system throughout the arena.
A mixture of multicolored laser lights and strobe lights illuminates throughout the arena with theatrical smoke and fog setting the scene like a Four Season Fashion Show. The audience throughout the arena stands in unison and waiting in anticipation for what is about to be the "New and Improved" fashion wrestling trend in the New Blood Wrestling season.
Coming through the theatrical smoke and fog and appearing under the fashion show lighting is the one and only, First Couple of Professional Wrestling. Your favorite modern day charismatic and charming, egotistical, narcissistic, politically incorrect, felicitating, self-righteous, second-generation megalomaniac and apex predator, "The Handsome Half-breed" Shadowlove, along with his the simply ravishing femme fatale temptress, and personal bodyguard/valet, "The Fashionista Sensei" Miss Miyamoto.
His classically masculine and modern mussed, razor-textured, choppy finished dark brown hair was perfect and showing off his chiseled fighter's face with an ice cold stare radiating from his sparkling blue eyes. He was stripped to the waist showing off the upper body of a Greek God, with washboard abs, in a newly fresh and crisp custom-made Calvin Klein stark liquid white leather trench-coat with fringe along with his custom-made Calvin Klein crocodile skinned pants and custom-made Calvin Klein alligator skinned boots.
Her raven black hair was pulled back in a French braid showing off her angelic face with her intoxicatingly, incandescent almond shaped green eyes remained hidden behind a pair of RayBan sunglasses on her perfectly flawless nose. Her attractively well-proportioned, slim, trim, toned body built for sin encased in a form-fitting shimmering silver and Vantablack Mandarin sequin dress with a French-cut up the side to her thigh designed by Stella McCartney and Vantablack Jimmy Choo stilettos.
They stop for a second, taking in the aura throughout the arena, and pose like fashion models on a catwalk.
The audience throughout the arena starts going wild and begin clicking away with their cameras and cellphones like the paparazzi during a "Hollywood" premiere.
She leads the way down the aisle with flirty seductive confidence as he follows a few steps behind her enjoying the view and make their way to the squared-circle.
He slides into the squared-circle like, well, like the slithering snake in the grass that he is so proudly being in New Blood Wrestling.
And his sweet and lovely Miyamoto, with Bushidō catlike precision, walks up the ringside steps with flirty and seductive confidence and enters the squared-circle through the second rope in a very highly provocative fashion. “HER STRUT” by Bob Seger & The Silver Bullet Band starts to play on the Bose® (product placement) SoundTouch® (product placement) indoor/outdoor surround sound system throughout the arena.
He stands in the middle of the squared-circle and spreads his arms straight out from his sides and bows his head, as if, being crucified on a cross. And on the third day, Jesus Wept!
The audience throughout the arena continue going wild and begin clicking away with their cameras and cellphones like the paparazzi during a "Hollywood" premiere for Mr. NBW.
She exudes fantastic supermodel energy, as she walks with a stiff, erect, and apparently arrogant and conceited "Strut" around him to a rousing "Standing Ovation" from the audience throughout the arena.
The audience throughout the arena keep going wild and keep clicking away with their cameras and cellphones like the paparazzi during a "Hollywood" premiere for Mr. NBW’s better half, Miss New Blood Wrestling.
She lowers her RayBan sunglasses down her perfectly flawless nose of her angelic looking face showing off her intoxicatingly, incandescent almond shaped green eyes, nodding in approval at such a Magnificent Specimen, while tapping a rolled-up copy of the Wall St. Journal in the palm of her hand.
She takes her proper place cradling against his muscular body and moving very little, never turning her head, or revealing any kind of expression that gives the viewing audience at home a clue as to her innermost thoughts with the only exception of a very sharp and penetratingly affectionate and devilishly delicious, malevolent and pleasurable, mischievously smile coming from her very luscious and alluring lips as she starts caressing his muscular chest with her fingers.
He raises his head with his classically masculine and modern mussed, razor-textured, choppy finished dark brown hair in slow motion and shows off his chiseled fighter's face and stares out at the magnificent crowd throughout the arena with an ice cold stare which radiants from his sparkling blue eyes.
His heart rate was a very relaxed 40 beats a minute as the oxygen in his blood helped the preternatural powers of his mind’s eye remain focused and alert to the surroundings around him.
A malevolent, tight wolfish, whiplash smile, slowly appearing on his lips showing off perfectly white even teeth in a "I believed that I need no introduction, I’m The Face Of The Franchise, The Whole F’N Show, Mr. NBW, if you will, or whatever expletive that you want to put in front of my name” shit-eating grin as he strips off his newly fresh and crisp custom-made Calvin Klein stark liquid white leather trench-coat with fringe like a Chippendale dancer.
His sweet and lovely Miyamoto raises her RayBan sunglasses up her perfectly flawless nose on her angelic looking face while hiding her intoxicatingly, incandescent almond shaped green eyes with her middle finger.
And with Bushidō catlike precision, she exits the squared-circle through the second rope and walks down the ringside steps with flirty seductive confidence in a very highly provocative fashion.
A couple of salty looking Japanese dudes named Kyodai and Shatei, known as the bodyguard duo of Black Rain, both sporting jet-black crew-cut hair, sunglasses, custom-made black Giorgio Armani business suits, appear out of nowhere and stand in a very on-guard, very protective, and ever vigilant attack formation behind her outside the squared-circle.
Abbi: Introducing first, that model guy with the rock hard abs! “The Handsome Half-Breed” Shadowlove with his asian tart…”
A single spotlight shines on an entryway somewhere in the crowd. Cue "Uprising". Spectre enters, his arms outstretched as he takes in the reaction from the crowd. He embraces some fans while ignoring the jeers of others as he makes his way to the ring, jumping onto the barricade. He proceeds to signal the rosarie, jumping from the barricade onto the ring apron and sliding under the bottom rope. He springs up, crouching in the middle of the ring as he awaits the start of the match.
Abbi: One of his opponents is the flippity guy with the mask, Dark Spectre.
St. Remi: Her commentating is simply to be desired…
Charlie: Check and check, sir.
Conway: I bet she gets this one right… The scuttlebutt in the back is that Abbi has a thing for our next competitor…
St. Remi: Ooo getting her yellow tail going, huh?
The frantic intro to "Panic Attack" by Dream Theater hits the PA and the lights blast to match the pace. As the riff of the guitar kicks in, the lights change from a throbbing white to a deep pulsing red as "Heavy Metal" Masutarou steps out onto the stage, his arms crossed in an X in front of his abdomen, he raises them each out to his side and lets out a primal, guttural roar.
Abbi: On his way to the ring...from Osaka, Japan...standing at six foot three and weighing at two hundred and thirty pounds..."HEAVY METAL" MAAAASUTAAAAAAAROUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!
Musutarou walks down the ramp, pointing to the crowd on either side of him, occasionally swirling his long hair in a spiral in front of him, climbs into the ring, approaches the center, and lets out a guttural roar heard throughout the entire arena.
St. Remi: The Monarch of Metal Method is here.
Conway: All three competitors are staring holes through one another.
Charlie: Haven’t seen three polarizing opposites like this since I watched Mothra and Rodan take on Godzilla when I was on shrooms in little China town…
St. Remi: Wow… Well let’s get to the ring for the action shall we?
Shadowlove stands in the center showing off his impressive physique as Matsutarou waves him off and Dark Spectre pumps up the fans with a lucha wave.
Conway: A little bit of taunting here, but I can feel the arena about to blow up.
Matsutarou is first on the offense at he jams a forearm into Shadow’s face making him stumble backward. Before Shadowlove can bounce back he is sent over the top rope by Dark Spectre’s running hurricarana, which leaves Spectre on the ring apron.
Charlie: Jack be nimble, jack be quick.
St. Remi: His name is Dark Spectre for christ’s sake, come on Chuck.
Conway: Looks like the Lucha Warrior is aiming to make a statement as he waves Matsutarou toward him.
Matsutarou comes at Spectre, but Spectre springboards over him and rebounds against the ropes with a basement dropkick, driving Matsutarou to the mat.
St. Remi: Damn, jack is quick.
Conway: Oh god, don’t feed into his idiocracy.
Spectre goes to the ropes again and springboards with a moonsault back toward Matsutarou who was playing possum. Matsutarou quick to roll out of the way and lock on a headscissors lock grounding the Lucha Warrior.
Charlie: Nice scissors right there.
St. Remi: Looks like Mr. Centerfold is stirring outside after consulting with his manager, the Asian Dynamite Hottie of my east coast boyhood dreams.
Conway: Really?
St. Remi: What?
Charlie: Cinnamon toast crunch! Shadowlove drops a vicious knee drop onto Matsutarou.
Matsutarou holds his face and rolls away and Shadowlove grabs Spectre up by the mask, bringing him to his feet. Shadowlove points to Miyamoto who cuts her throat with her thumb and then makes a blood explosion effect. Shadowlove smiles and he goes to drop Spectre down with The Dark Gift, but Spectre is quick to reverse Shadowlove into a rolling knee lock. Shadowlove thrashes around looking for a rope break.
Conway: Damn, Jack be quick!
St. Remi: Seriously?
Conway: What? Spectre is pretty fast, that’s all…
Charlie: He’s grinding away at that knee like my dog did to that rawhide with the peanut butter the other night.
Shadowlove lifts up on both palms and he begins to scooch himself and Spectre toward the nearest bottom rope. As he inches closer, it is Miyamoto who pulls his arms to the bottom rope for the break. As ref Zander Hobbs starts to untangle Shadow and Spectre’s legs, Matsutarou drops double knees onto Spectre who thrashes around in pain.
St. Remi: Smart manager move there by Miyamoto pulling Shadowlove out of the ring to go over strategy.
Conway: Strategy… Really?
Matsutarou lifts Spectre up and he irish whips across the ring and on the rebound he lands a high knee dropping Spectre back to the mat. Matsutarou doesn’t hesitate as he drops down with multiple knee strikes to the back of Spectre’s head. Zander moves in for the count.
1!
2!
3!
4!
Matsutarou releases the hold throwing up 5 fingers to show he still had time for the hold. Shadowlove slithers in behind Matsutarou and he spins him around throwing a combo of stiff elbows and forearms to Matsutarou’s face sending him stumbling toward the ropes.
Conway: Shadowlove showing a stiffer side to himself here tonight.
St. Remi: HA! Really?
Conway: Shut up.
Shadowlove grabs Matsutarou up into a fireman’s carry and he moves to the center of the ring. Spectre kips up from the mat and grabs Shadowlove by the head and he sends Shadowlove forward with a rolling senton driving Matsutarou hard to the mat.
Conway: Don’t say it anyone of you.
Charlie: Jack jumped over a candlestick!
St. Remi: Damn it, Chuck.
Spectre doesn’t waste any time as he ascends the top rope. Spectre crosses his heart as he measures up Matsutarou and Shadowlove who are both pulling each other up by the hair.
Conway: Spectre looking to take out two birds with one stone here.
St. Remi: Sounds like something Charlie would say.
Charlie: Well, pop goes the weasel!
Spectre connects with a flipping double knees to the side of both opponent’s heads, sending everyone to the mat. Zander checks on everyone and Spectre pushes him away standing on groggy legs now.
Conway: Oh no, looks like Miyamoto is getting involved…
Miyamoto stands on the ring apron and she screams at Spectre who feeds into it as he approaches her. He cups his ear so he can hear her better, but he is met with a big slap, which allows Shadowlove to do a quick roll up. Zander drops down for the count.
1!
2!!
--NO!!!!
Spectre barely kicks out, but Shadowlove is met by Matsutarou who grabs him in a front face headlock. He lifts him up and drops him straight down with a brainbuster.
St. Remi: Looks like Matsutarou is going to take over now.
Matsutarou shoves shoves Shadowlove out of the ring with a few well placed soccer kicks and he turns his attention back to the the Lucha Warrior. Matsutarou picks Dark Spectre up and he slaps him in the head a bit to wake him. Matsutarou lifts Spectre up in a fireman’s carry and he rams him into the far top turnbuckle before returning to the center of the ring. Matsutarou smirks and he throws Spectre forward and lands a leaping knee strike to the side of his head.
St. Remi: Good god, that’s gotta be it there.
Matsutarou drops down for the pin and he hooks the leg.
Zander slides into a pin.
1!!!!
2!!!!!
3!!!!!!
Conway: That’s it for the triple threat match and what a match it was!
Charlie: I’m still reeling from that Godzilla battle…
St. Remi: Shut up Charlie!
Conway: Still to come our main event.
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Post by CEO Vincent Pryde on Jan 9, 2018 3:02:27 GMT
Main Event Alex Richards vs Sebastian Knight vs K.L. Henson Writer: Kyle
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Abbi Stein: The following contest is set for one fal—aw, fuck this. These three bitches are about to fight it out.
"Heavy is the Head" by Zac Brown Band fills the arena via the PA system as Sebastian Knight steps through the curtian with a noticeable lack of theatrics. His gait was focused as he moved down the entrance ramp, ignoring the calls and jeers the closest fans tossed at him, while the music increased intensity around him. Once at ringside, Knight uses the steel steps to climb onto the apron. He grabs onto the top rope and lifts his leg to step through, before hesitating a moment. He finally acknowledges the crowd, panning the sea of faces for a brief moment. The chorus kicks in, and Knight completes his entrance into the ring, moving to the corner with his focus turned inward once more. The music fades out a few moments later as Knight waits, stony-faced, for the match to begin.
Abbi Stein: The first bitch, from right here in the NYC, Sebastian Knight!
Charlie Hanson: Sebastian Knight doesn’t seem to have a need for any sort of theatrics in his entrance.
Sara Conway: It certainly gives off an air of straight seriousness.
St. Remi: I’d say it comes off as more of a lack of imagination. I certainly wouldn’t struggle to come up with something to do on my way down to the ring.
The opening guitar solo to I'm Not Like Everybody Else by the Kinks plays then Alex Richards steps through the curtain, his doctor's bag in one hand, a boot filled to the brim with Zim-Quila in the other. He chugs his drink then tosses the boot into the crowd before raising the title in the air to massive cheers. He then starts walking towards the ring a serious look on his face with a hint of a smile making it seem like he's probably putting it on, which he is. On the way to the ring he delivers his trademark hard high fives to the fans. At least those brave enough to want them. He wanders around ringside talking to fans for a few minutes killing time before finally entering the ring.
Abbi Stein: Next comes the big bitch, the boy who brews a mean ‘Quila, Alex Richards!
St. Remi: At least Richards acts alive out there. A wandering vagrant fit for the Bum Division, but alive none the less.
Charlie Hanson: I think you’re taking the former World Champion and one half of The Guardians lightly, Remi.
St. Remi: Oh believe me, Charlie boy, no one has ever used “light” in a sentence involving Alex Richards.
Henson slowly walks out to the stage. He takes a deep breath then exhales with a wide smile before dropping to his knees with his arms wide open and his head reeled back, almost touching the ground. He then swings himself forward. But as he does so, the lights completely black out.
Abbi Stein: And here, finally, is Boss Bitch himself, K.L. Henson.
Every forth kick from the song, the ramp lights flash, giving a small glimps, almost a still of Henson making his way to the ring until he rolls into the squared circle and gets on his knees again with his arms spread wide as the lights blast a little too brightly.
Sara Conway: And there’s the man who helped brokered the closure of UCI, the former home for many of the men and women on the current NBW roster.
Charlie Hanson: The new viewers turning into the program might be shocked to see an executive producer actually competing in the ring, but I promise you that this man has proven himself a more than capable competitor in other rings around the world.
St. Remi: I doubt Henson wants your endorsements, Charlie. That’s the quickest way to get the fans to turn against you.
Abbi Stein climbs out of the ring, flicking off a pair of heckling fans on her way to the bellkeeper’s station while Head Referee Silo Jones calls the three competitors to the center of the ring. After a brief conversation with the trio, Jones calls for the bell.
DING DING DING
Knight and Henson share a quick glance before they both focus their attention on Alex Richards, who takes a step back to create a little space between him and his opponents. Launching at the big man simultaneously, the duo back Richards into the ropes with clubbing elbow strikes and forearm smashes. Then each grabbing an arm, Knight and Henson whip Alex into the ropes, looking for some tandem offense on the rebound. Richards uses his size to his advantage, though, driving the two men to the mat with a charging shoulder block. Alex tries to stomp the downed Knight, but misses when The Mimic rolls to the outside of the ring. When Richards turned his attention back to Henson, he found the exec on his feet already and took a rake across the eyes.
Sara Conway: It didn’t take long for these men to start fighting dirty.
St. Remi: Given what we’ve seen already tonight, it shouldn’t come as any surprise.
Charlie Hanson: The lack of a disqualification chance in this match has probably opened the door for more blood to be spilled on the already crimson ring.
Before Henson can capitalize on the blinded Richards, he found himself dragged back by his hair to the ring ropes by the outstretched arms of Knight, who had climbed back onto the apron. Sebastian lays a stiff elbow across the jaw of the exec before putting Henson in a front facelock, suplex to the concrete outside in mind. Henson checks the blow, and wiggles out of the hold. K.L grabs Knight’s head and drops to his knees, hanging Sebastian neck first across the rope. Knight snaps back, but he stays on the apron by holding on by a single hand. Henson can’t even find his feet, though, before Richards comes barreling in with a knee to the back of his head. Henson crumples to the mat as Alex turns his focus to Knight, who’s comes swinging with a spinning backfist.
Sara Conway: Poi!
Charlie Hanson: Every time you think one of the fighters is in control, momentum shifts suddenly into another’s hands.
Knight steps over Henson’s body as Richard’s stumbles back, stunned. Shoving Richard’s head between his legs, Knight wraps his arms around his waist, a powerbomb in mind.
Sara Conway: But a backdrop from Alex Richards sends Knight up and over.
Charlie Hanson: And Henson flies in with a Codebreaker! All three men are down on the mat in a match that has been back and forth from the first moment. Whoever finds his feet first is going to have a distinct advantage.
And after getting up to seven in ten count, Silo Jone steps back as K.L. Henson finds his feet first. Pulling Knight up by his hair, Henson is stunned by a sudden step-up enziguri from Knight; the impact sends Henson flying through the ropes to the outside. Knight turns his attention back to Richards, who had groggily found his feet. Knight throws a heavy boot into Richard’s stomach before, in a feat of strength, heaves the big man up into the powerbomb turned double knee backbreaker.
Charlie Hanson: And out of no where, Sebastian Knight lands The Pinnacle on The Guardian.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
Conway: There you have it folks, Sebastian Knight came in and did just what he said he was going to do. With his bold words, one little Cassidy Kaine should be holding his NBW World title very close to his chest.
St. Remi: That dude is a pud anyway, it's only a matter of time before the new guard takes it from.
Charlie: Well join us next week New Blood faithful as we come to you LIVE from our home here at the Madison Square Garden!
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