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| The King and I. Er..We | |
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| Topic Started: Aug 4 2012, 12:32 AM (88 Views) | |
| Eddie_Rowan | Aug 4 2012, 12:32 AM Post #1 |
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The gathering crowd is massive within the arena. Waves of people navigate the wide corridors, buzzing with anticipation of the event to come. Our cameras pan over the sea of people to give the impression that something big is transpiring this evening, and we are a part of it. Families pass by carrying snacks and beverages, some of the children decked-out in paraphanelia depicting their favorite wrestling stars. A particularly rambunctious group of kids heads down the aisleway before us as we head into the arena proper. Perhaps surprisingly, the center of the arena reveals a wrestling ring, brightly lit by the interior house lights. The large logo of the WCWF, arguably the most prominent American professional wrestling company, is largely printed on the canvas of the ring. As we follow the group heading down toward their ringside seats, we stop three rows from the barricade, turning to the side where we move up next two a pair of familiar faces. Eddie Rowan and Spencer Pierce sit comfortably in their chairs, both dressed in jeans and matching t-shirts. What sacrilege is this? Two CZW competitors attending a show put on by the very man who ended CZW two years ago? As we return to Eddie and Spencer, the event has already begun, two competitors obviously in the business based on their size and look as opposed to their in-ring talent are slugging it out. Spencer stifles a yawn while Eddie is reclined in his seat, his eyes heavy with boredom-induced sleepiness. We fast forward a bit with a quick video dissolve: Two female competitors who are likewise only employed based on appearances are trying to put on a compelling match in the ring. Spencer has apparently gone to the loo and Eddie has completely passed out by this point, his head rolled back over the back of his chair, an audible snore escaping him. Another dissolve: Eddie and Spencer both have their phones out and are apparently engaged in a riveting game of PONG while a large man in the ring delivers the corniest promo ever made to the delight of girls and 10 year olds everywhere. Finally, a bell rings that gets their attention: A look of almost child-like wonder takes them over as the house lights dim and a theme of roay fanfare begins to play. The ring announcer proceeds to mention that tonight is a special, one-night-only reappearance of a legend to the ring. One of WCWF's main villains has been promising to destroy the icons that paved the way for his allegedly superior generation, and his challenge has been accepted for this evening by one of the greats. Ring Announcer Guy: "Ladies and gentlemen, it is my privilege to present to you one of the all-time greatest champions ever to grace the squared circle! He is..."King" Mickey...MONARCH!!" ![]() Mickey looks to be in decent shape considering the time spent away from the ring, though one thing that is impossible to miss is the man's natural charisma and presence. He has the entire crowd in the palm of his hand as he makes his way up the ring steps and between the ropes, posing regally before the crowd. He faces his upstart opponent, smirking slyly as his beautiful handmaidens begin to remove him of his entrance gear and effects. Eddie and Spencer are riveted to the action as the bell rings and Mickey begins to smugly take control, his obvious experience advantage giving him the edge early on. The antagonist is continually thwarted, growing angry and more frustrated every time. Finally, he catches a break, hitting Mickey with a low blow while the referee is out of position. The crowd jeers loudly, but none louder than Spencer and Eddie who are completely immersed in the contest. The antagonist, much younger and aggressive, punishes Monarch mercilessly, but Mickey refuses to stay down for the three count. Finally, Mickey is able to change momentum just a bit, diving out of the way of a huge lariat. Unfortunately, the referee is not quite so lucky, crashing to the mat in a heap as he is struck by the blow. Mickey attempts to seize control at this point, taking advantage of the momentary distraction, but this is a clever villain. He counters, planting Mickey with a brutal slam and then, looking at the unconscious referee, grins wickedly, heading out of the ring and retrieving a chair. The crowd is on their feet now, booing louder than ever as this upstart seeks to destroy a legend, moving to stand over Mickey and raising the chair slowly, getting poised for the coup de grace. However, Mickey is not adverse to using dirty tricks of his own and a well placed boot to the groin stops the antagonist dead in his tracks, doubling over and dropping the chair to the mat. Mickey quickly rolls to his feet, hooking the man's arms and connecting with the ROYAL PAIN, a double-arm DDT, planting the man face-first onto the chair! The fans erupt into a deafening chorus of cheers, and Mickey quickly tosses the chair out of the ring, shaking the stirring ref into enough consciousness to make the count. The already deafening cheers grow louder still as the referee counts to three, and 'King' Mickey Monarch stands victorious, just as he has so many times in the past. Eddie and Spencer cheer loudly, swept up in the magic of the moment. We cut backstage where Mickey is in his locker room, still geared up, favoring his shoulder in a bit of pain but clearly pleased with himself. There is a knock on the door, tapped out like some sort of specific morse code that brings a broad smile to the King's face. "Enter!" Eddie and Spencer arrive in the locker room, bowing formally, though it's obvious that Mickey is a personal friend. "We humbly request an audience, my liege," Eddie says, bowing again. "I humbly request that you cut the crap and get me an ice pack. My shoulder's killing me. I'm too old for this shit!" Eddie grins and heads to a small freezer to retrieve an ice pack while Spencer sits on the bench next to Mickey who promptly gives him a friendly slap on the back. "First match on American soil in years, Spence. I'm looking forward to it." "We're both pretty stoked. Plus, now that we're teaming again, Eddie might stop losing." "Har har har." Eddie hands Mickey the ice pack and then joins them on the bench. "It's not like you'll have to work hard. Those guys you're facing had about a five second match the last time they were around. They might as well not even SHOW UP." All three men look directly at the camera, each bearing a knowing smirk. They then resume talking as though the moment never happened. "Yeah, you know...now that you mention it, is there really a point to doing this promo at all?" All three men look at each other and shrug. "Not really. You just want to skip it?" Again, a mutual shrug. "I could really go for a pizza..." The King pats his royal belly, and Eddie and Spencer tilt their heads in thought simultaneously with a little half-shrug that seems to say that they would not be opposed to having some pizza as well. "I mean, I did have a whole bunch of jokes revolving around making fun of the name 'the Power,' including a little routine using that old 90's dance song..." "Which one?" The song begins to play, prompting all three men to jump up from the bench and dance (poorly) in an obviously (sort of) practiced routine. After about 30 seconds, the music slows in tempo dramatically, continuing until it just stops altogether. "Yeah...I'm just not feeling it." Mickey and Spencer nod in agreement. "Better to save the good ideas for when they actually matter, right? Now about that pizza..." They start to head for the door, and Eddie stops, prompting the other two to turn and look at him. "Hey guys...what if they surprise us all and beat us because we underestimate them? Like, they actually DO show up-" Again, all three of them stare at the camera for a moment with smug grins. "-and they whoop us. That would be pretty embarassing, wouldn't it?" There is an awkward silence as the three of them ponder this possibility for a moment. Then they burst out laughing and leave the locker room, the earlier song starting up again as they exit. |
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