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| Perfection Personified; Battle Royal Promo | |
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| Topic Started: Jan 14 2010, 10:35 AM (61 Views) | |
| Deleted User | Jan 14 2010, 10:35 AM Post #1 |
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Deleted User
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The scene fades in on a black back drop, with "Flawless" Frank Finch sitting in a steel folding chair in the middle of the scene, looking directly into the camera. He is wearing a black and very expensive Armani suit, with a cyan tie tucked into his button jacket. His blond hair is pulled into its traditional pony tail. He has a serious look on his face, as he is sitting back. He suddenly sits forward, putting his arms on his knees, continuing to look directly into the camera. Frank "Alright, let me tell you how it is going to be. I'm not going to tell some sort of story with my promo time like everyone else likes to do. I'm not going to further some angle, I'm not going to put somebody over. I'm going to talk about my match. I am a wrestler. If you want a story, read a damn book. I tell my stories in the ring. I write my novels with superb technical ability. I'm not going to tell jokes, I'm not going to play games." Frank pauses for a moment, stroking his chin for a few seconds with his right hand before placing his arm back over his leg. Frank "Albany, New York. The Flawless One finally gets his chance. I have had limited in ring activities in my career here in CZW, which means I've had very few chances to show the people the depth of my skills. But now, I am raring to go and get a shot at becoming the #1 contender to the Intercontinental championship. What do I have to do? I have to survive against seven other men in a over the top battle royal. While Alan and Hellena are back home trying to recover from the brutality that took place in Rochester, I am training. Through the pain and head injury that coward Covey has caused me, I have trained relentlessly. I will not let that waste of sperm and egg put me down like a rabid dog, hell no. Alan got revenge by retaining his belt, but Covey, I want MY revenge and soon. But first things first. My career in the CZW is about to blossom. Everyone sees me as Alan's lackey, as Alan's sidekick. These are ignorant opinions. I am his executive consultant, his trusted confident. But I am much more than that. I am quite possibly the best technical wrestler to have EVER came out of California. I will tell you THIS story. I was born into greatness, as my father was a famous football player in San Diego, even playing for the Chargers albeit only for one season as injuries took their toll. But after that he became an legendary coach of the game, taking San Diego State to numerous titles in the 70's and 80's. I was born into a lavish lifestyle that I continue today. Everything I have done, I have achieved with great success. I am an all-american football star. I am a highly decorated amateur wrestler. My father taught me how to live properly, and how to act accordingly. The bar that I have set for myself is inches and feet above the average human being. in 1995 I began training with Owen Castle, god rest his soul, to become the best professional wrestler ever. Now, at the age of 32, I am in the best shape I have ever been in. After already facing career threatening injuries and then surgeries, I have fought back and am now physically 100%. Now is my time to show the world what I am all about. Now is my time to become the best CZW Intercontinental champion ever. My first task?" Frank smirks and sits up a little Frank "An eight man battle royal. I will face the likes of former I.C. champion El Pablo, and former tag and x-division champion Krimzon Blaze. Two men I have faced before, and unfortunately, not with very much success. El Pablo, in his flying squirrel ways, has defeated me one on one. He and Blaze actually got the win in the last match I was in, a six man with Alan and The Jackal as my partners. Although I didn't take the loss in this one. * winks at the camera * But that was the past, you see. The present will prove a different result. You two midgets are about the high flying, the big spots. You can't do that crap when I am mopping the floor with you in a display of awesome technical skill. I will stretch both of you punks into pretzels and toss you out with the slightest of ease. I am bigger, I am stronger, I am smarter. I am perfect. I also have to face some current champions as well. The longest reigning television champion, Sawyer, and the ultra violent champion, Brian Kirkland. Sawyer, how a blue collar piece of trash such as you has held such a title for so long amazes me. You are crap. I refuse to call you "Godzilla," as that is the most ridiculous nick name I have ever heard. "The Human Airplane" has more quality. You're not some monster, you're just overweight. Kirkland, I don't care about you. Your title means nothing to me. Any bum off the street can be 'hardcore.' Any hobo sleeping on a park bench can be 'extreme.' I am not impressed. Nor does your partner, Mike King, impress me. In fact, I think it is very obvious I am the pick of this litter. Whoever wins Kerosene vs. Wright is placed in this, and I'll be honest. Rob Wright has some skill. However, he has no direction and obviously no confidence. He is green. And Johnny Kerosene? Please. What a joke. I'll shove that keytar up your ass if you don't watch yourself, boy. Not only does the winner of that match enter, but also the winner of the grudge three way dance. So either Kimo Newton, Caleb Walker, or The Zodiac Thrilla will be the eighth man. Kimo takes pride in calling himself a thug. He loves being called a hoodlum. He likes to call everyone dog, and you know why? It's because he is a BITCH. Caleb Walker, here's an impressive man. He has the mass, the skill, and the intelligence to take it all. I respect that. But I am better, and he is destined to remain in the lower mid card. Better luck next time, Caleb. The Zodiac Thrilla, now how fun would that be... to beat up the first ever CZW World champ? Excellent. You see, there's no reason to even show up for this match fellas. I will throw the midgets over the top rope as easy as I spit my gum out. I will run circles around Sawyer until he's too dizzy to see straight and knock his ass right out onto the floor. I will confuse Kirkland with actual chain wrestling, and flop him out on his head. I will throw his buddy King right out on top of him. Kimo, Caleb, Zodiac? Whichever wins that match will be too blown up to be much of a threat in the match that actually matters. Same goes for Kerosene and Wright. Hell yeah it's obvious who's going to win this match. Hell yeah it's obvious I will be the NEXT Intercontinental champion." Finch then suddenly stands up, the camera adjusting as he does so. Frank "Hell yeah I will beat that arrogant prick Maynard O'Toole for his title! O'Toole, you're nothing more THAN a tool, and a paper champion. You can beat worthless pricks up like Andrew Clash all you want, it doesn't prove crap to me. You walk around the back like your shit doesn't stink. You walk with your nose so high in the air you run into walls constantly. You are not anywhere NEAR as good as you think, punk! I relish for the chance to face you one and one and put you in your rightful place. At the losing end. With all your dreams and your massive ego crushed. I am the best technical wrestler in the CZW, hands down. Just let me show you. I am not some simple brawler, I don't live for danger. I live for the SPORT. This is a sport, I guarantee you that. This is like chess, and I am a chess master. I will dissect each and every one of your bodies until you're puddy, and then I will have my way with you. It's plain and simple, kids. I am your next CZW Intercontinental champion. Not Sawyer, not Kirkland, not Pablo, not Blaze. No one else but me, and only me. And if you need any more convincing, take a good look." Finch slowly spins around with his arms held up but to his sides, with an arrogant smile on his face. Frank "I am perfection personified. You are walking errors... and I am -FLAWLESS-! And that's all I have to say about that! I'll do the rest of my talking in the ring, punks!" Finch begins laughing confidently, as he crosses his arms. After a few moments he stops and spits out his gum, swatting it as it cannonballs out of his mouth. The scene slowly fades to black. |
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