Post by Eddie Black on Aug 20, 2013 18:13:18 GMT -5
The first thing your fine eyes see is some static before a hand held camera brings a scene to life. You catch a glimpse of a greenish colored eye and some red hair before the camera is turned around. You see some kids, adults attached to them, nothing too interesting as all these people pack this gym. The camera swings fully forward and you see a ring in the center of the gym. Inside that ring stands the star attraction of this promo, a man by the name of Eddie Black.
6’0 a little over 230 pounds, a beard like a greek god and an attitude to match. This guy looks pretty bad ass in his camo shorts, black boots and wrist tape. Right now he’s got the crowd really pissed off as their here, some schmo not under CPW contract laying on the outside of the ring on top of a table.
Eddie: FIRE IT UP!
The crowd yells “FIRE IT UP!” back as Eddie walks over to the corner of the ring and grabs some lighter fluid. He climbs up the corner ropes and squirts it all over the fallen hero, pulling some matches from his pocket, he strikes them and tosses them down. The young man is lit ablaze as Eddie Black jumps off the top rope with an elbow drop through the flaming man and the table!
Fans: HOLY SH!T! HOLY SH!T!
Eddie pops right back up as he pulls the young man to his feet and throws him into the ring. The hero tries to get to his feet but Eddie is quick to throw him into the Choke on It submission and the match is quickly over.
Our feed cuts out…
When the camera returns to life we see Eddie Black backstage, he’s shaking hands with the man he just lit on fire out by the ring and they exchange a quick bro hug. He turns around and sees the camera, a smile lighting up this psychos face.
Eddie: Hey! Did ya see??
The camera nods as he walks over and quickly embraces whoever is holding the camera.
Eddie: I lit that bastard up, that was awesome!
“Yeah… It was something…”
Eddie: What?
“Nothing it’s just… Your contract to CPW came in.”
That smile you saw before when he saw the sweet piece of ass holding the camera? Nothing compared to the one he’s got now.
Eddie: Yeah? Nice, can’t wait to rip some shit up there.
“Eddie, this is big time promotion, you can’t do this kind of stuff there.”
Eddie: Then what the hell did they hire me to do? I ain’t going there to be some dominate ass mat wrestler who bores the crap out of the fans. I’m going to put some asses in the seats while I cause mass destruction.
“Yeah.. I know but uhh… This could be your big break.”
Eddie is still smiling as he takes the camera away and puts it down on the bench near by. We can’t see their faces but we can see their legs as it appears he embraces this woman.
Eddie: It will be, don’t ya worry.
The sound of lips coming together and some gentle moaning is heard before a hand reaches down and shuts the camera off…
6’0 a little over 230 pounds, a beard like a greek god and an attitude to match. This guy looks pretty bad ass in his camo shorts, black boots and wrist tape. Right now he’s got the crowd really pissed off as their here, some schmo not under CPW contract laying on the outside of the ring on top of a table.
Eddie: FIRE IT UP!
The crowd yells “FIRE IT UP!” back as Eddie walks over to the corner of the ring and grabs some lighter fluid. He climbs up the corner ropes and squirts it all over the fallen hero, pulling some matches from his pocket, he strikes them and tosses them down. The young man is lit ablaze as Eddie Black jumps off the top rope with an elbow drop through the flaming man and the table!
Fans: HOLY SH!T! HOLY SH!T!
Eddie pops right back up as he pulls the young man to his feet and throws him into the ring. The hero tries to get to his feet but Eddie is quick to throw him into the Choke on It submission and the match is quickly over.
Our feed cuts out…
When the camera returns to life we see Eddie Black backstage, he’s shaking hands with the man he just lit on fire out by the ring and they exchange a quick bro hug. He turns around and sees the camera, a smile lighting up this psychos face.
Eddie: Hey! Did ya see??
The camera nods as he walks over and quickly embraces whoever is holding the camera.
Eddie: I lit that bastard up, that was awesome!
“Yeah… It was something…”
Eddie: What?
“Nothing it’s just… Your contract to CPW came in.”
That smile you saw before when he saw the sweet piece of ass holding the camera? Nothing compared to the one he’s got now.
Eddie: Yeah? Nice, can’t wait to rip some shit up there.
“Eddie, this is big time promotion, you can’t do this kind of stuff there.”
Eddie: Then what the hell did they hire me to do? I ain’t going there to be some dominate ass mat wrestler who bores the crap out of the fans. I’m going to put some asses in the seats while I cause mass destruction.
“Yeah.. I know but uhh… This could be your big break.”
Eddie is still smiling as he takes the camera away and puts it down on the bench near by. We can’t see their faces but we can see their legs as it appears he embraces this woman.
Eddie: It will be, don’t ya worry.
The sound of lips coming together and some gentle moaning is heard before a hand reaches down and shuts the camera off…
So, CPW, guess ya’ll are waiting for me to introduce myself? Name’s Eddie Black, on the indies they called me the All American Outlaw but most of my real enemies, well they know me as the Nightmare Man. Me? I’ve never really cared much for nick names so call me what ya want.
They tell me I get to make my big debut this week on your pay per view, Picture Perfect. Probably lots of self absorbed assholes that like to make some lame ass analogy about how things are gonna be picture perfect for them come the end of the match. But me? I ain’t self absorbed, though lots of ex girl friends call me an asshole. What I am is a realist. And I’m looking at this debut match realistically. Now a win? That’d be pretty damn sweet and apparently it’ll earn me a shot at some belt. Great. But to tell ya the truth the only thing I really wanna do is…
Cause a little chaos.
See, I made my name on the indies just kicking ass, never cared much for betts, personally I think too many idiots put too much into those things. Whoever really remembers what belt some ass clown held for some amount of time? The people, they remember names. And a name is what we all got. Simpson. Franchise. Ice. We all are looking to make that name mean something to the people that run this place and I’m sure each of us have gotta different plan to make that happen. Unfortunately I’m going to have to go ahead and crap all over that parade because I don’t give a damn what your plans are. I’m sure all three of ya want a shot at that big gold belt, I’m sure it’d make all ya dreams come true, I’m sure it’d just be the frosting on the ice cream freaking Sunday of your career.
But! It ain’t happening.
See, whether I win or lose, I’m not going to let any of ya walk away with a victory. Confused? Don’t be. It’s simple. If I render all three of you unable to compete and then just light the place on fire and walk away? No one wins. If I decide to render the three of ya unable to wrestle and then choke out whichever body is nearest, I win. Either which way this goes down I can absolutely promise that…
Ya gonna lose.
See kids, I’ve wrestled matches against men you’d piss your pants at the sight of over in Japan, made a name not fearing the death match, even called me the king once or twice. I made a name in Mexico doing things to those jumping beans they’ve probably only ever had nightmares about. Then I went to England and went toe to toe with the greatest grapplers alive and made ‘em tap the hell out. Now I’m here in CPW, not looking to win that precious world title or north American title or tv title, just looking to keep that reign of terror going.
It’ll be fun for me.
So listen up Simpson, Franchise, Ice, before you even think of opening your mouths and saying something stupid, turn to the people you love, you care about, the people you probably tell yourself you do this for and ask them just how much they love you. If it’s more than a t-rex can show ya then ya may want to reconsider this match.
Otherwise text me with your home address so I know where to send the flowers.
As for the man of the hour, the guy holding the belt who gets to sit back and watch us kill each other before defending the North American title, Kevin Allen… How ya doing? I’m sure it’s a pleasure to make my acquaintance at the moment but the feeling is going to b fleeting, cause see, while I don’t give a rats ass about the belt around your waist, I sure do love crushing me some dreams.
CPW is giving me the chance in my first match to rip some dreams to shreds and for that I’ve got to thank ‘em. It gets better, that fatal four way is the opening app, you’re the main course. See, I’ve been looking into this place, seeing who and what makes it tick and you? You’re the kind of guy that I love to toy with the most. You see that belt you got, the one you only recently one, and you measure your career with it. Wins? Losses? They don’t matter as long as you got that belt around your waist.
Pretty sad.
Wanna know why? Because when I take that belt away from ya, your world is going to crumble and I’m just going to laugh. You’re gonna get to sit back and see me, some punk ass fresh off the indies holding your belt, knowing he don’t give a shit about it, just beating all the ass you wish you could and KNOW that you just wasn’t good enough. It’s a real shame Kevin. I almost feel bad for you. But then the thought of your blood covered face looking up at me with my hand held high, well, it’ll be enough to get me past any regrets I may have.
Thing is kid, that belt? It’s meaningless. You judge your own self worth by how long you carry that belt, who you won it from, who you defend it against but to tell you the truth it’s nothing. It’s gold strapped to leather and when push comes to shove it’s not going to give you that fresh breathe of air you need while I choke you the hell out.
Sorry.
So listen up Kevin. This is going to be your only warning. I’m coming for you this weekend. Not because I wanna be the next champ. Not because it’s been my life long dream to hold a world title or anything as campy and cliché as that. I’m coming for you because seeing your world in pieces is what I live for. I’m going to fight through three other men, I’m going to beat them, break them, make them bleed and scream for mercy and when I’m done…
You’re next…
Ya boyhood dream is about to become a nightmare.
They tell me I get to make my big debut this week on your pay per view, Picture Perfect. Probably lots of self absorbed assholes that like to make some lame ass analogy about how things are gonna be picture perfect for them come the end of the match. But me? I ain’t self absorbed, though lots of ex girl friends call me an asshole. What I am is a realist. And I’m looking at this debut match realistically. Now a win? That’d be pretty damn sweet and apparently it’ll earn me a shot at some belt. Great. But to tell ya the truth the only thing I really wanna do is…
Cause a little chaos.
See, I made my name on the indies just kicking ass, never cared much for betts, personally I think too many idiots put too much into those things. Whoever really remembers what belt some ass clown held for some amount of time? The people, they remember names. And a name is what we all got. Simpson. Franchise. Ice. We all are looking to make that name mean something to the people that run this place and I’m sure each of us have gotta different plan to make that happen. Unfortunately I’m going to have to go ahead and crap all over that parade because I don’t give a damn what your plans are. I’m sure all three of ya want a shot at that big gold belt, I’m sure it’d make all ya dreams come true, I’m sure it’d just be the frosting on the ice cream freaking Sunday of your career.
But! It ain’t happening.
See, whether I win or lose, I’m not going to let any of ya walk away with a victory. Confused? Don’t be. It’s simple. If I render all three of you unable to compete and then just light the place on fire and walk away? No one wins. If I decide to render the three of ya unable to wrestle and then choke out whichever body is nearest, I win. Either which way this goes down I can absolutely promise that…
Ya gonna lose.
See kids, I’ve wrestled matches against men you’d piss your pants at the sight of over in Japan, made a name not fearing the death match, even called me the king once or twice. I made a name in Mexico doing things to those jumping beans they’ve probably only ever had nightmares about. Then I went to England and went toe to toe with the greatest grapplers alive and made ‘em tap the hell out. Now I’m here in CPW, not looking to win that precious world title or north American title or tv title, just looking to keep that reign of terror going.
It’ll be fun for me.
So listen up Simpson, Franchise, Ice, before you even think of opening your mouths and saying something stupid, turn to the people you love, you care about, the people you probably tell yourself you do this for and ask them just how much they love you. If it’s more than a t-rex can show ya then ya may want to reconsider this match.
Otherwise text me with your home address so I know where to send the flowers.
As for the man of the hour, the guy holding the belt who gets to sit back and watch us kill each other before defending the North American title, Kevin Allen… How ya doing? I’m sure it’s a pleasure to make my acquaintance at the moment but the feeling is going to b fleeting, cause see, while I don’t give a rats ass about the belt around your waist, I sure do love crushing me some dreams.
CPW is giving me the chance in my first match to rip some dreams to shreds and for that I’ve got to thank ‘em. It gets better, that fatal four way is the opening app, you’re the main course. See, I’ve been looking into this place, seeing who and what makes it tick and you? You’re the kind of guy that I love to toy with the most. You see that belt you got, the one you only recently one, and you measure your career with it. Wins? Losses? They don’t matter as long as you got that belt around your waist.
Pretty sad.
Wanna know why? Because when I take that belt away from ya, your world is going to crumble and I’m just going to laugh. You’re gonna get to sit back and see me, some punk ass fresh off the indies holding your belt, knowing he don’t give a shit about it, just beating all the ass you wish you could and KNOW that you just wasn’t good enough. It’s a real shame Kevin. I almost feel bad for you. But then the thought of your blood covered face looking up at me with my hand held high, well, it’ll be enough to get me past any regrets I may have.
Thing is kid, that belt? It’s meaningless. You judge your own self worth by how long you carry that belt, who you won it from, who you defend it against but to tell you the truth it’s nothing. It’s gold strapped to leather and when push comes to shove it’s not going to give you that fresh breathe of air you need while I choke you the hell out.
Sorry.
So listen up Kevin. This is going to be your only warning. I’m coming for you this weekend. Not because I wanna be the next champ. Not because it’s been my life long dream to hold a world title or anything as campy and cliché as that. I’m coming for you because seeing your world in pieces is what I live for. I’m going to fight through three other men, I’m going to beat them, break them, make them bleed and scream for mercy and when I’m done…
You’re next…
Ya boyhood dream is about to become a nightmare.