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Dorothy doesn't live here. _I_ live here.; Wichita Promo
Topic Started: Sep 30 2008, 04:45 PM (97 Views)
Alan Fiscus
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Sadistic Solution
[ * ]
* The scene fades in on a solid oak door, with the number "138" etched acrossed it. A brunette nurse walks right by the camera's view, letting everyone know this scene is taking place in a hospital. The camera moves forward, pushing open the door. On the inside, a blonde nurse in a very edgy nurse uniform is tending to the only patient in the room as he is laying upright in a hospital bed. He has a bandage wrapped around his head tight, and a black Alienware laptop in his lap. This man is none other than one half of the CZW Global Tag Team Champions, "The One Man Riot" Alan Fiscus. He is wearing a standard light blue gown. His long, wild hair protrudes through the bandage. The camera moves in and catches the end of their conversation. *

NURSE: "There, all better. Anything else I can do for you?"

ALAN: "Nah, sweetie, unless you can get me out of this hell hole. I hate hospitals."

NURSE (grinning): "Sorry, honey, you're here for the night. You took a pretty bad fall there."

ALAN: "I've taken worse."

NURSE: "Regardless, doctor's orders. Is it not comforting that this is the hospital you were born in?"

ALAN: "Not sure how that would be comforting."

NURSE: "Well, you're stuck here. I'll come check on you later."

ALAN: "Alright then."

* The nurse smiles, tidies up the room a second, and then leaves. She knows a lot about Alan, and this is not odd. He is a local celebrity in Wichita, just like Kirstie Alley or Barry Sanders. The hospital has been swarmed with media as Alan flew directly to his hometown to be treated for his injuries from the Hell in a Cell. Alan watches her ass as she walks away, and can only smirk to himself. He speaks aloud. *

ALAN: "That's the only comfort in this wretched halls, right there. Wesley Medical Hospital. Damn this place."

* Alan lifts up the laptop's monitor, and powers it up. He takes a few minutes to get to a webpage and takes a moment for a drink of water. The camera moves forward and pans around, to show that the page reads "WWW.OMR.COM BLOG" in big letters at the top. Alan puts the drink down, and begins to type. *

"So here we are, devoted fiends of the One Man Riot, stuck in a hospital bed with an I.V. in one arm and a too-tightly-wrapped bandage around my head. Why am I here? Because I was Nasty Bombed through the top of the cell in Memphis, during CZW's 'Extreme Intervention' pay-per-view. And although I fell 6... 7.. 8 feet down to the mat, presumably to my doom, I ended up victorious in that event. Doubt the naysayers, people, because Alan Fiscus ain't goin' out like that. Big Nasty gave me a hell of a match, but in the end, it was still the Sadistic Solution standing tall. Some might say.. 'It was Frank Finch that won that match for you'... Frank was just a catalyst. He was an insurance policy. I would've beaten that giant goof one way or the other, and there's no doubt about that in my mind. But Nasty is known to be underhanded and dishonorable. So I beefed up Anarchy Rising. And if the rumors are true, and Big Nasty heads over to War Zone... I'll be sure to greet him with a boot to his face and a grin on my mouth.

So my ally, Thanatos, couldn't get the job done after all. No sweat, because Jesse... as everyone else is saying, I'll jump aboard... your time as champion is coming to an end. You may have defeated the likes of Matt Stylez... Shawn Waters... Ronnie McNeil... Thanatos... the list can go on and on, and my list of victories will be -just the much- longer. I am the better man between us, Jesse, I've already proven that. Inside the ring and out. It's only a matter of time before I take what it is that keeps you at the top. I'm just waiting for the powers that be to seal the deal and face the inevitable. Once they sign the match, your countdown will begin. I'll be counting the seconds, my friend.

But before I can go and capture the CZW World Heavyweight Title, I need to defend the gold I already possess. BOTH CZW Global Tag Team championship belts. You see, my partner Matt Covey, he and I have a deal. I want to keep the gold, and he wants to beat the ass. It's a well oiled death machine. Here, in my home town, we have to defend these precious metals against the likes of _TWO_ teams. One is a set of brothers that resemble inbred apes. They hail from the land of Tony Blair, Jolly Ol' England. This is not the land of Prince Harry and Paul McCartney. This is land of greed, this is the land of hate, the land of despair. You will not find the golden dream in Wichita, you will find the wicked nightmare. Travis Storm, you have a face only a mother could love. With that hooking nose and dimming snarl, You are the Igor to my Dr. Frankenstein. And I will show you in the ring, why you could only be my servant. What did you think was going to happen? You'd waltz right in and just be handed the CZW Global gold? No, of course not. I'm sure, in your own silly way, you're trying to prepare for this match up. Work out, do yoga, take your vitamins, have sex with your bicycle, whatever it is that you Englanders do. You are simply on a lower level than us. We are better looking, smarter, faster. We have good teeth. This is my home, this wretched hell, and it is your armaggedon. Douglas Storm, you are just the same as your brother. Perhaps even lamer. It's a toss up, really. Who is the lamest of the Storm brothers? That's like asking if God exists. Does God exist for you, Storms? Do you pray? Because you'd better.

But least I forgot the third equasion to this arithmetic. "Rated Ehh for Everyone" Eddie Rowan and "Brainless" Mike Monroe. Beautiful Agony. CZW's Feminine Side, some say. Behind your backs. Because we ALL laugh at you behind your backs. You are the comic relief, the filler, you are there on War Zone simply and only to justify the strong. Anarchy Rising is that strength, Agony. You are the puppies, where we are the big dogs. This match, it's not for YOU. You are there as stepping stones. As pawns. Merely someone to fill space. You have no chances, and you should already know that. You will cry like school girls, you will bawl like babies. Slit your wrists while listening to AFI. Makes no difference to me, or us. We are grade A where you are second string. It's quite simple, there is a pecking order in the CZW. We are the at the top. You are at the bottom. What more can I say? You know what your jobs are. Do them. Go out there, play up to the sheep, do your little fancy moves, get your asses kicked and pinned, and call it a night. Collect your paychecks and keep your mouths shut.

Anarchy Rising, it is not a 'stable'. It is not a mere group. It is a movement. I've said it before, and I'll say it again. This is a revolution, and you're either with us or against us. Eddie Rowan, you are a talented, young man. You will have great opportunities in your future. I'll say it in this blog right here, there's a spot for you in Anarchy Rising if you ditch the losers. There's no reason to listen to grown men singing like little girls. You can actually listen to GOOD music. You can actually comb your hair if you join us. I really hope you see this, Eddie, because this is a window of fortune. You can either stay in the minor leagues, or join the top ranks. I will leave you a message on your cell phone soon. We can talk. There's no harm in talking with respected competitors is it? You will be the only man in that ring who could blink an eye at us. We'll talk soon.

In my time in the CZW, I have seen many changes. Many employees, come and go. At Extreme Intervention we saw two individuals who have not been contracted with CZW for some time now. "The Realist" Kris Kash and "The Biggest Piece of Shit in the World" Rave. A pay-per-appearance deal, perhaps, but it disgusts me. We should be giving air time to our talent, push our stars, not bring in these has beens for nostalgic purposes. Grantham's little fiasco before the main event was horrendous. And now he is gone. Imagine that. You see, GG, people listen when Alan Fiscus has something to say. And I have the right ears in my pocket, son. You were a fool of a GM, and you are a fool of an Ex-GM as well. Derek Damage, now here's a man who can get the job done. The friggin' OWNER of the company. He knows the score, he knows who has his back. He knows who he needs to protect. Finally, the right man for the job. War Zone is going to be very exciting in the near future. And in Wichita, I truly cannot wait to defend the gold against The Storms and Agony. My people will be there. My family will be there. Stephanie will be there. My friends. There's no way I am going to allow ANYONE a taste of my glory in my own match. That night will belong to us, and more importantly me.

Before I sign off on this blog, I have one more thing to discuss. Everyone saw the clip where Sydney Vicious was saying goodbye. Everyone's been e-mailing me, texting me, asking me with such curiousity as to why she left CZW. Well, all I can say about it is, she lost that thrill. So she decided to do something else. She is a coward. A cry baby. Just like a lot of the current roster now. If they do not win a match, they cry to everyone possible about it. No one has the respect for the business that they are supposed to have, and it's making me sick to my stomach. No one has the patience or respect to earn their spots. You have to pay your dues in this business, that's how it's always been and that's how it will remain. Sydney basically quit because after she lost her title, she lost her way. She is weak. I have no time or patience for weakness. She may be in the history books as the first ever CZW Queen of Combat, but in my book she's nothing but a failure with a nice ass. She didn't respect the business, and reality dealt her a cold and stinging hand. There's not many in CZW that I feel have paid those dues. Myself, of course. When most of this roster was still in high school, I was bleeding all over California in the ILL promotion. Who else? Matt Stylez. Whether you want to walk with us or on your own, Matt, you respect the business. and in return, I respect that. That is why you're still allowed to be walking after turning on Anarchy Rising. That is why you're still priviledged enough to have the health to earn a paycheck. But don't abuse that blessing. Or it'll bite you in the ass. If I do anything in the CZW, when it's all said and done, I hope it's that I went down in history books as the one who taught everyone else that grave lesson. Don't take your trade for granted.

I'll be back next week for another edition of my blog, found exclusively here at www.OMR.com. Until then, send me your money. Thank you."


* Alan goes through a quick spell check, and posts the blog. He smiles to himself as the hits are already coming in. He turns off the laptop, closes the lid, and sits it on a small table to the right of the bed. He grabs a remote control and turns on the television that is bolted to the ceiling directly in front of him. He turns on NBC, where the newest episode of "Heroes" is airing. *

ALAN (to himself): "Alright, alright, alright! Let's see who Sylar f**ks up this week..."

* Alan plans to get comfortable as he stretches his arms and reaches for a quick drink. The scene begins to fade as you can hear Peter Petrelli telling someone on a telephone that there is another him walking around. *



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