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WHO THE FUCK CHANGED DEADLINE?!?; Pricks
Topic Started: Dec 22 2012, 02:31 AM (141 Views)
"Bad Ass" Matt Covey
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Bad MF'er
"Tired of the same old hum-drum videos and segments featuring your favorite wrestlers talking the same boring bullshit over and over? Do you ever get tired of watching as brands like *censored* and *censored* repeatedly shove boring, untalented 'superstars' down your throat? Are you sick of looking at John Cena on a weekly basis? Good! Because you won't find him here! And finally, do you long for some of the quality viginettes from wrestling's yester-year? You're in luck! Because......."

THE FOLLOWING ANNOUNCEMENT HAS BEEN PAID FOR BY THE UPRISING.

The video opens in vintage black and white format. Matt Covey stands in place, leather jacket, jeans and boots outfitted as per his norm. A pair of Aviators sit bridged across his nose, framing his stubbled face. Next to him, stands former CZW reporter, now current Uprising-specific interviewer Jenny Jacobs. Her hair has been dyed black. She leans on Matt's shoulder, wearing an "Uprising" baby-doll tee, exposing her finely toned stomach. The camera frame changes several times to different angles of the couple, as those old nW...*censored* viginettes were often want to do. Finally, the camera settles on Matt and Jenny, a sly smirk arching upon his face.

Bad Ass: Why are we doing this again?

Jenny Jacobs: What? The shoot? You're a hot ticket right now, baby. The world is practically begging to hear the things you have to say.

Bad Ass: No, not that. I mean "this". The whole nW...*censored* thing?

Jenny Jacobs: Haven't you heard? Vintage is the future of this business. Today's product sucks so fucking bad, the core audience is practically begging for the days of Hollywood Hogan and Stone Cold Steve Austin.

Bad Ass: Huh. I ever tell you I kicked that bald bastard's ass once?

Jenny Jacobs: I don't believe you did.

Bad Ass: Yeah, in an airport. The EWC was going to do this cross-promotional shit with Vince's crap. Needless to say, we got drunk, got into a brawl, and the entire thing fell through. Still kicked his ass though.

Jenny Jacobs: Impressive.

Bad Ass: Not really. Turns out, the only ass the guy can kick is whoever's married to him at the time. Prick. So out of all the classics, we're going with the nW...*censored* one, huh? Works for me. I was down with the black and white.

JennyJacobs: You were a fan of Hogan and the boys?

Bad Ass: No. I mean I was down with watching Lexington Steele tear Sasha Grey a new asshole. But yeah, that old rag-tag group of geriatrics was okay too, I suppose. Now let's show those old fucks how do this right without blowing out a knee-cap along the way.

The camera slowly pans from both of their faces, to just Matt's.

Bad Ass: Well, well, well. Here we are boys and girls. December twenty-first, two thousand and fucking twelve. As you can clearly see, I'm still standing. Hell, if you're seeing this, you're still standing. And of course, Jen's perky mouth caps are always standing. Where as I'm sure the CZW Universe, the roster, hell...the whole world is probably celebrating right now... I'm here to pop your balloon. We survived some bullshit Mayan cataclysm? That's great. Huzzah. The bad news is, I'm still standing. Matt Covey still walks this Earth. And for every last one of you that has a date with me coming up, that essentially means one thing... "You're fucked."

Matt slyly chuckles to himself.

Bad Ass: You see, the world may not have ended. But the CZW Universe is still on a collission course with the apocalypse. December twenty-fourth. Christmas fucking Eve, marks the death of Combat Zone Wrestling. As much as Derek Damage's alzheimers might try and convince him otherwise, the Uprising have had the run of this pathetic show for months now. We've gone where we wanted. Done what we wanted. To whomever we wanted. And what did we get in return? A few security guards injured? A riot squad having to shut down the show? And yet we still trudged on, leaving the imprints of our boots in any man's ass dumb enough to think he was the Superman of this company. There are no John Cena's here. Not a single one of you in the locker room has that "un-selling" quality that keeps you at the top of the food chain. But for every one of you who deludes yourself into entertaining such a ridiculous notion, we quickly hammered you back down into your splintered hole. And to think, the whole thing... The WHOLE goddamn thing... Is Derek Damage's fault. He could have fired us from day one. He could have suspended us without pay. He could have refused to renew our contracts when the time came. But he didn't. And you want to know why?

Matt grabs the camera's sides and creepily moves into frame so that all that can be seen is his face.

Bad Ass: Because he's a greedy old son of a bitch, and he always has been! He might be old. He might be senile. But he ain't stupid. What was he going to do, build his company back up from the plummets he had allowed it to fall to, on the back of guys like Stryker, Rowan, King and Hix? Please. Stryker's outdated. Rowan's fan following reached it's peak in tag team competition. Mike King and his squad wash windows or some shit for a living. And The last time TJ Hix, the same guy who'd been my best friend for the past 30 years of my life; was relevant, he was hemmoraghing money from every company who gave him a world title shot. That is to say, he had the talent to stand on top of the mountain, but he had and still has the personality of a wet paper bag. Not a single star on Damage's roster has the staying power to rival the "big two". And so Damage did what he does best. He made a decision that would come back to bite him in the ass. Against his better judgement, he gave several of us who don't like him, padded contracts to return. Real cushiony type checks ranging in the six figures area. Because we're the only real star power he has. And so we came back. Not to help the old man, God no. We came back with the express intent of taking this company and burying it for good!

He releases the camera which slowly backs away, putting Jenny who is smoking a cigarette, back in shot.

Bad Ass: That is exactly what we of the Uprising will do. Mark your callendars, boys and girls; It's going to be one HELL of a Christmas this year! So the Mayans were wrong. But Ryan Shane is right. Come Event Horizon... Goddamn that name sucks. Who came up with that shit?

Jenny Jacobs: Derek Damage.

Bad Ass: Figures. Come Event Horizon, Ryan Shane will complete his goal. The same goal each and every member of the Uprising share. The CZW will be torn assunder. The old man and his dream will die that night. Ryan Shane will take his rightful place at the top of the food chain, and the company that Derek built will crumble to the sea and be washed away as nothing more than the horrid imaginations of an old man who couldn't keep his hopes up, let alone his dick. Ryan Shane will win the World Title, of this I have no doubt. Your precious CZW will fade away. And in it's place, a new fed will rise from the ashes, and stand atop the world as the greatest wrestling company this world, or any has ever seen! And the Uprising will lead the way. We will take what is broken, corrupted and pitiful, and turn it into something that people can be proud of. We will breathe new life into this hell-hole and spit shine this mother fucker until it sparkles brighter than the fattest diamond!

Jenny Jacobs: I like diamonds.

Bad Ass: Whores typically do.

Jenny JAcobs: Yes. Yes we do.

Bad Ass: See that shit? She's on board. I took the prettiest, most innocent...slightly loose, no offense...

Jenny Jacobs: Truth hurts.

Bad Ass: I took her, and I opened her eyes! It wasn't hard to do. Life is full of choices, and they mostly come in pairs of two. Pepsi or Coke. Jim or Jack. Democrat or Republican. And we gave each and every one of you a similiar choice. Follow the antics of an aging entrepenuer as he drives his company into the ground for a record third...?

Jenny JAcobs: Fourth.

Bad Ass: A record fourth time! Or get on board with the guys who are going to change this company from the ground up to ensure that we all still have jobs come tomorrow! Unfortunately, the majority of you chose to trace the wrinkles on the old man's nutsack as opposed to listening to reason. But that's fine. We hold no grudges. Your world's will be changed rather you want them to or not, and in the end, the only choice you will have left is us or the unemployment line. We're not the bad guys here people! We're forcing necessary evolution to keep this place thriving. Once we've turned this pile of shit into a pile of gold, there will still be a place here for each and every one of you! Think about it! More opportunities! Better paychecks! An honest to God health plan that doesn't involve Damage having to mediate between you and your primary physician, because he wants to save a few dollars!

Matt pauses and lowers his head, laughing under his breath as Jenny rubs his back with her free hand.

Bad Ass: But you fools will never listen. So we will have to show you. We will have to enforce this change as Shane knew we always would. And so we will. At Event Horizon, Shane takes the title and the change begins. Now there's always one or two bad eggs in the carton who would try and unseat Shane from his rightful place on the throne to retribution. And though Shane can hold his own, nobody is perfect. That's where I come in...

Matt looks back up into the camera as Jenny flips her cigarette off screen, turning her head to nuzzle in Matt's neck.

Bad Ass: Money in the Bank... The winner gets a guaranteed title shot good for a year at the time of his choosing. I'm not going to say we didn't steal that one from *censored*, but we're going to show the world we know how to do it right. There's a lot of stiff competition in this match. From a spectator's perspective, the line-up looks pretty damn good, actually...

Matt smirks, and then cracks up, Jenny turning her head as she's trying not to laugh as well.

Bad Ass: I'm sorry.... I can't say that with a straight face. Look at the list people! Also, let me afore-mention that this was thrown together by our good friend Damage, as well. Daniel Ward... I hate to say it, but this guy has some potential. He's got a distinct look, a tight move-set... Hell, if the guy could hack up some mic skills, he could be the premier superstar of tomorrow. Problem is, he's wasting his life washing windows or whatever the hell it is they do under Mike King's regime. I truly hope to see this guy break out on his own one day. Maybe then we could see his full potential, but as for now, he's merely cannon fodder. A bit of chum being thrown to several hungry sharks. And I mean no disrespect little man, I only wish you had more going for you than playing the part of lackey to a third string team. But that's okay. I'll tell you what... When the Uprising change the face of professional wrestling, we'll save a nice fat pay check on the roster for you to stand out and shine on your own. It'll be good for your career, and it will be good for the product as a whole. Long story short, I'll see you on the other side, Ward. The side that you'll be thankful for when the change comes.

Matt grins.

Bad Ass: That was fun. Who should we do next?

Jenny Jacobs: Why not his friend Newsome?

Bad Ass: Nah, that makes me sad.

Jenny Jacobs: Really? How come?

Bad Ass: I had high hopes for Newsome once upon a time. He was large and bearded, kind of like a brunette Santa Clause. Call it a curse, but I see potential where others do not. A guy of his size? With his frame? He should have been flat-lining people on the mid-card a long time ago! Unfortunately, like most of the roster, Damage allowed him to get lost in the shuffle. Shot the poor boy's self-esteem all to hell, and now he has to resort to being the muscle for the same team that's holding Daniel Ward back. I respect you to much to lie to you, Mountain Man... Daniel Ward has the worst chance of anybody in this match, and unfortunately, his odds are currently better than yours. That makes you the long shot. All the odds are against you, my friend. Unfortunately, you're no Rocky Balboa. You're going into this fight the underdog, and you're losing this match just as fast. But I'll tell you what, it's a generous time of your, and I'm uncharacteristically feeling very genrous. When this is all said and done, and the smoke clears, I've got a prominent position lined up for you as the head of security in the rebirth of this company. A man of your size and stature? You should be bouncing morons of these walls and keeping shit under control. Hell, I'm pretty sure you'd even get more tv time than you do currently.Think about it. Next...

Jenny Jacobs: Big Nasty.

Bad Ass: Yeah... That's not a sore subject or anything. I feel sorry for you, big man. I really do. Your highest moments in your career came as first being Derek Damage's seven foot bitch, and then as a member of a group I ressurected once you opened your eyes. Sadly, it appears you've had a relapse. Damage didn't have the good enough sense to bring you back into the game earlier. Instead he waits until all of his other reseources, that being Fiscus and Pablo, fall flat on their faces, before desperately reaching out to you, his favorite B-Lister. And here you come, happily wagging your tail like a dog who's been outside all day and finally gets to come back inside. You're used goods, and oddly enough you're a little young to be so damn "used". The highlight of your career will always involve you being somebody else's errand boy. Somebody's bitch. If this were Star Trek, you'd be wearing a red sweater and the only name anyone would know you by is "Ensign". Kind of ironic being that Windows has two men invested in this match, as do we in the Uprising, and as does your "best friend" Damage. Problem is, I'm pretty sure he's invested most if not all of his hopes in Sam Attic, which leaves you as nothing more than a distraction. A large, goddamn distraction. But that's okay. I've dealt with you before. Hell, I've dealt with you and Damage by myself at the same time and come out on top. I've got your number, Nasty. And I'm going to use that number to give you a call after you leave Tokyo with your head hung in shame. I'm going to put you where you belong, big man. The highlight of your career came when you spent your time fueding with a janitor. A fucking janitor! And rest assured, once the revolution has begun, we've got a nice cushy job for you, replacing JA Sawyer in the latrine. Because, honestly? You've never looked better than you did the night your head was neck deep in the shitter. Next...

Jenny Jacobs: Sam Attic.

Bad Ass: Ooh. Now there's a toughie. We're finally starting to see some competition in this shindig. The little brother of Alan Fiscus. Me and your brother go waaay back, kid. And somehow during our best of times and our worst of times, I never actually saw you stand out. Don't get me wrong, you've had some incredible matches...from what I've heard. Not like I watch the crap we put on tv. You've been here long enough, you know the ins and the outs. Bad part is, that means you've been here long enough to have seen the light, but instead you're lumped in with the rest of these sheep. I've got no grudge with you, boy, but don't mistake my lack of animocity for kindness. You've just not done anything to piss me off yet. Go ahead, go ask your brother what happens when Matt Covey is pised off, I can wait. Or, I can go ahead and tell you, that just because I have no grudge towards you, doesn't mean you're not going to get your teeth kicked down your scrawny throat just as quickly as anyone else in this match. As a matter of fact, you may get it a little worse than the rest. See, about a year ago, maybe more...I used to drink a lot... Your brother took it upon himself to go visit my brother who was retired from our business at the time. Alan then proceeded to assault the poor bastard and finished by dropping a brick on his head. A fucking brick. Now I don't give two shits about that shitty white rapper wannabe, but I dare say I'm all about returning the favor. Let's just say I owe Alan Fiscus a big one, and you're going to be the debt I cash in on. Your ass. My foot. End of story. Like the others, we have a place for you too in the future of this company. I mean, after all, our version of the X-Division is looking pretty lonely with Kabes and Monroe facing each other repeatedly. Next...

Jenny Jacobs: That only leaves you and Crypt.

Bad Ass: Me and Crypt. And there's the conundrum, right? Two guys on the same team, vying for the same goal? Just like Ward and Newsome. Just like Attic and Nasty. It would be easy to say we're the Uprising, we're beyond such competitiveness. But let's face it, this is a competitive business we're in, and everybody, and I mean EVERYBODY here wants to be the top dog at some point in their career. I've been to the top of the mountain. Several times in several places. View ain't a bit different from the top than the bottom. You're still staring at some boss week in and week out, performing like a circus clown for the same retards in the crowd week in and week out. I totally expect Crypt to take his shot at this case. Hell, I'm going to, why shouldn't he? The difference is, we can work more affectively together in that ring than anyone else in the match. Regardless of whether I get the case, or he gets the case, the Uprising still win and the revolution continues as planned. That being said... I don't know much about you, Crypt... You're a former foe of Ryan Shane who suddenly saw the light? Forgive me if I cry "bullshit". I've not found a lot of trust worthy guys in this business, myself. So I guess I'm just waiting for you to prove me wrong. Nothing personal, but outside of Ryan Shane, I don't trust anybody in this business but myself. For all I know, you could be looking to take win this match, take this case, and cash in on Shane in the same night. You could very well be a plant, bought out by Derek Damage to infiltrate the Uprising and tear us apart from the inside... No, wait. That's not very likely. That's the kind of crap they write over at *censored*. But I digress... I only trust one person in this company to get this brief case, follow through with the death and rebirth of this company, and aide Ryan Shane at every turn, and that person is me. I trust me to do the right thing. To take this case and stand by Shane's side, in the event that some turd smuggler attempts to sabatoge that which we are creating! Now, chances are, you've seen the light and you're as fully commited to this thing as I am. And in that sense, you are my brother. But opportunity and greed turn the greatest of allies into the bitterest of enemies. To sum it up for you, if you win and you have our back to the fullest extent, then we all win. But WHEN I win, the future of the Uprising as well as the future of this company is re-assured! Shane will take his place as the rightful heir to the greatest sensation the world has ever seen. And in the event that one of these vagabonds tricks him out of his glory, then it will be MY honor to retreive what will havebeen stolen and bring it back to where it belongs! Long live the Uprising, and long live Ryan Shane!

Jenny Jacobs: Anything else?

Matt breathes heavly, having become very passionate with his last statement.

Bad Ass: Yeah... Merry Christmas, mother fuckers.

The scene fades to black with a message displayed in white lettering as well as voiced over...

THE PREVIOUS MESSAGE HAS BEEN PAID FOR BY THE UPRISING.
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