Post by markwilder on Aug 15, 2006 16:48:19 GMT -5
OOC: sorry for the small RP, but it's hard to say anything when your opponents don't say shit...although I do know one of them as a legitimate excuse.
[The camera cuts into an empty parking lot outside the Thomas Mack Centre in Las Vegas where we find Mark Wilder standing outside a rental car, looking over what appears to be arena blueprints. He then folds them up and looks directly at the camera.]
“Well...here we are, Lockdown has come and gone and, contrary to what Summer McCoy had wished, I'm alive, well, and still kicking. Granted, I lost the match, but taking a mark in the loss column was worth the look of shock, disbelief, and...yes, I'll say it, FEAR in Summer McCoy's eyes. It was all worth it...especially when I got back to the locker room and I could see that same look on other members of the roster. Of course, hearing Summer's little bitching backstage was even more amusing, especially when her voice got up to the usual whiny levels.”
[He does a whiny (but fairly accurate) impression of Summer McCoy.]
“I would have beaten you, anyway Wilder! You're no match for me! I'm better than you because I'm a high-priced whore...waaaaaaaaaaah! I'm gonna' go bitch and whine to Hudson now.....waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!”
[He snickers at the camera and shakes his head.]
“Wow...if there was ever an actual embodiment of the term 'Sore Winner', that would be McCoy. It's time to face the facts, Summmer...the only reason you have that title is that, until this point, you have never been in a real fight and, like this last fight, you had it handed to you. Of course most of your wins and accomplishments in this company were done on your knees, so I guess being knocked out cold and left broken in the ring like that must have been a new shock for you. But hey, I warned you...I told you that there were things worse than losing. You ignored me, wrote me off as just another easy target, and you got burned, as did your whore in training, Chelsea. By the way...how is Chelsea doing? And that was just me being polite. Next time Summer, I will not be holding back and you, along with anyone dumb enough to affiliate themselves with you will pay the price, including the people shielding you.”
[He gives the camera a smug grin, letting that last comment sink in. It's no big secret that Summer McCoy's been given an easy ride in the HWF, but he's leaving that part unspoken...for now.]
“So...let's talk about what else happened at Lockdown, shall we? It seems that our 'acting President' for the night, Flame, decided to book some matches. Of course, and no surprise here, he gave himself a title match against Bomberjake and gave his primary asskisser Alex Martinez a match for the the US title against the whining Deamon Cohln and the windbag known as Willie Bard. To be honest, I think Martinez will actually walk away with this one, provided he can pull his nose out from between Flame's butt-cheeks long enough to actually participate in his match.”
“And then, you have my little match. Apparently, Flame's decided to throw the four people he sees as a threat into one match and figures they'll tear eachother to pieces and for what...a chance to destroy the HWF's resident hooker with a title. As most of you people know by now, I don't really give a shit about titles, but hey...I'm up for a little bloodshed and the chance to cripple McCoy...nothing wrong with that either. So it's going to be me, Mark Stone, Scotty Blaze and Goblin...two assholes, a wannabe and the village idiot.”
“First off, let's talk about the other asshole in this contest, Mark Stone. To be honest, I think he's a pompous and arrogant piece of shit, however, unlike the other losers out here, Stone can back up the shit he spews. My only question to you, Stone, is this? Why are you even in this match? You're more of the 'brass ring' type who won't settle for anything less than a path that leads to a world title, so I'm guessing the only reason you were put in this match was because Flame sees you as one of the potential threats he wants softened up in this match, same reason I got thrown in here. Flame knows I'm not interested in titles that much and it's obvious that he's set this card up to favor himself and his boyfriend Martinez. So what does this mean for us, Stone...not much. Although, if you stay out of my way, you could walk away with the win on this one. But if you get in my way...well...not only will we tear eacother apart and one of the other two losers will get the win, but Flame and his boytoy will have their perfect night. I don't know about you, but I'm not some pawn to be manipulated and controlled by some egotistical with a wicca fetish and his little buddy.”
“Then we got Scotty Blaze, a little wannabe punk who would like us to think he's a 'real wrestler', but seems to be only competent at spewing shit and playing old arcade games. It's kind of funny when you think about it though. Scotty was all too willing to talk his shit and dare people to step up, but now that that's happening, he's suddenly vanished like a virgin on a prom night. Well, Scotty, I'm not a steroid using basket case and...come to think of it...neither is Stone, then again he's so high on himself he doesn't need any enhancement and sees steroids as being beneath him. As for being RECKLESS...I never thought of myself as reckless. I may be a little arrogant but, unlike you, I can back it up. But what about you...sure, you smacked around some untalented wannabes, but you've never been in a real fight here until now. And once the match was announced, what do we hear from you? Nothing, but complete and total silence and that alone speaks more volumes than you could ever possibly produce in a promo.”
“And finally, we got Goblin, our resident masked luchadore, clown, and village idiot. Hey, I have nothing against clowns and love watching people make fools of themselves, but I'm sorry to say that you're way out of your league on this one, Goblin. And no, I'm not underestimating you...but I also know that, despite your speed and agility in the ring, you and I will actually lock up during the match and then what are you going to do when I break one of your legs or arms? It's hard to move around and use your 'superior speed' when seriously injured. Just keep that in mind.”
[He then turns and walks back toward his car...the camera fading to the HWF logo...]
[The camera cuts into an empty parking lot outside the Thomas Mack Centre in Las Vegas where we find Mark Wilder standing outside a rental car, looking over what appears to be arena blueprints. He then folds them up and looks directly at the camera.]
“Well...here we are, Lockdown has come and gone and, contrary to what Summer McCoy had wished, I'm alive, well, and still kicking. Granted, I lost the match, but taking a mark in the loss column was worth the look of shock, disbelief, and...yes, I'll say it, FEAR in Summer McCoy's eyes. It was all worth it...especially when I got back to the locker room and I could see that same look on other members of the roster. Of course, hearing Summer's little bitching backstage was even more amusing, especially when her voice got up to the usual whiny levels.”
[He does a whiny (but fairly accurate) impression of Summer McCoy.]
“I would have beaten you, anyway Wilder! You're no match for me! I'm better than you because I'm a high-priced whore...waaaaaaaaaaah! I'm gonna' go bitch and whine to Hudson now.....waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!”
[He snickers at the camera and shakes his head.]
“Wow...if there was ever an actual embodiment of the term 'Sore Winner', that would be McCoy. It's time to face the facts, Summmer...the only reason you have that title is that, until this point, you have never been in a real fight and, like this last fight, you had it handed to you. Of course most of your wins and accomplishments in this company were done on your knees, so I guess being knocked out cold and left broken in the ring like that must have been a new shock for you. But hey, I warned you...I told you that there were things worse than losing. You ignored me, wrote me off as just another easy target, and you got burned, as did your whore in training, Chelsea. By the way...how is Chelsea doing? And that was just me being polite. Next time Summer, I will not be holding back and you, along with anyone dumb enough to affiliate themselves with you will pay the price, including the people shielding you.”
[He gives the camera a smug grin, letting that last comment sink in. It's no big secret that Summer McCoy's been given an easy ride in the HWF, but he's leaving that part unspoken...for now.]
“So...let's talk about what else happened at Lockdown, shall we? It seems that our 'acting President' for the night, Flame, decided to book some matches. Of course, and no surprise here, he gave himself a title match against Bomberjake and gave his primary asskisser Alex Martinez a match for the the US title against the whining Deamon Cohln and the windbag known as Willie Bard. To be honest, I think Martinez will actually walk away with this one, provided he can pull his nose out from between Flame's butt-cheeks long enough to actually participate in his match.”
“And then, you have my little match. Apparently, Flame's decided to throw the four people he sees as a threat into one match and figures they'll tear eachother to pieces and for what...a chance to destroy the HWF's resident hooker with a title. As most of you people know by now, I don't really give a shit about titles, but hey...I'm up for a little bloodshed and the chance to cripple McCoy...nothing wrong with that either. So it's going to be me, Mark Stone, Scotty Blaze and Goblin...two assholes, a wannabe and the village idiot.”
“First off, let's talk about the other asshole in this contest, Mark Stone. To be honest, I think he's a pompous and arrogant piece of shit, however, unlike the other losers out here, Stone can back up the shit he spews. My only question to you, Stone, is this? Why are you even in this match? You're more of the 'brass ring' type who won't settle for anything less than a path that leads to a world title, so I'm guessing the only reason you were put in this match was because Flame sees you as one of the potential threats he wants softened up in this match, same reason I got thrown in here. Flame knows I'm not interested in titles that much and it's obvious that he's set this card up to favor himself and his boyfriend Martinez. So what does this mean for us, Stone...not much. Although, if you stay out of my way, you could walk away with the win on this one. But if you get in my way...well...not only will we tear eacother apart and one of the other two losers will get the win, but Flame and his boytoy will have their perfect night. I don't know about you, but I'm not some pawn to be manipulated and controlled by some egotistical with a wicca fetish and his little buddy.”
“Then we got Scotty Blaze, a little wannabe punk who would like us to think he's a 'real wrestler', but seems to be only competent at spewing shit and playing old arcade games. It's kind of funny when you think about it though. Scotty was all too willing to talk his shit and dare people to step up, but now that that's happening, he's suddenly vanished like a virgin on a prom night. Well, Scotty, I'm not a steroid using basket case and...come to think of it...neither is Stone, then again he's so high on himself he doesn't need any enhancement and sees steroids as being beneath him. As for being RECKLESS...I never thought of myself as reckless. I may be a little arrogant but, unlike you, I can back it up. But what about you...sure, you smacked around some untalented wannabes, but you've never been in a real fight here until now. And once the match was announced, what do we hear from you? Nothing, but complete and total silence and that alone speaks more volumes than you could ever possibly produce in a promo.”
“And finally, we got Goblin, our resident masked luchadore, clown, and village idiot. Hey, I have nothing against clowns and love watching people make fools of themselves, but I'm sorry to say that you're way out of your league on this one, Goblin. And no, I'm not underestimating you...but I also know that, despite your speed and agility in the ring, you and I will actually lock up during the match and then what are you going to do when I break one of your legs or arms? It's hard to move around and use your 'superior speed' when seriously injured. Just keep that in mind.”
[He then turns and walks back toward his car...the camera fading to the HWF logo...]