Post by Pro Wrestling NEO on Jul 11, 2019 22:40:21 GMT -5
PRO WRESTLING NEO - VOLUME VII LIVE FROM THE PIT IN ALBUQUERQUE, NEW MEXICO
APRIL 14TH, 2019 (TAPE DELAY)
The sky. It's sometime during the day though it's unclear whether it's near dawn or the twilight. There's a surreal feeling that comes from this, disorienting in a way. Great, big grey clouds fill the sky and act as a barrier against the sun, blocking the majority of its rays from making their way through. It gives everything a very gloomy and brooding element to this thing that we see every day of our lives. Only a dim amount of light making its way through these defences. The clouds roll by, never letting the sun out to say hello.
OPENER
SINGLES MATCH
"THE PRICE OF KINDNESS"
Evelyn Kuller vs. Sophie El
Left for ten seconds to their own mechanisms, the crowd can only communicate among themselves. Nothing happened within those ten seconds, causing fans to look among each other for answers. Without warning, all the lights in the arena die out, leaving only darkness over the audience. Lights from camera flashes illuminate the setting before a spotlight fades in. It focuses on the entrance way. The light sound of rain begins, accompanying fog seeping from underneath the stage. In a somber whisper, a voice calls out.
“The blackest night falls from the sky. The darkness grows as all light dies. She craves your hearts and your demise. By her black hand, the dead shall rise.”
Suddenly, obtuse instrumentals blast the audience. The source, “Machine Gun” by Portishead, infuses with the dreary atmosphere generating on the stage. Fog tinted by rich purple lighting starts to overwhelm the stage, but in the midst of it...a silhouette appears. Stepping out of the all-consuming fog, Sophie El hides her face behind a black veil and her body until a lacy black cloak. On her head, a crown of lilacs, a symbol of passing, offsets the funeral colors that she chooses to bear. She starts down the ramp, not giving a single look to any of the jeering audience.
ERIN LAMBERT: Introducing first...coming from Paradise itself...weighing in at 157 pounds...she is the Undying...she is SOPHIE EEEEEEELLLLLL!
Sophie stands at the end of the ramp, standing with her hands interlaced. She continues to the stairs, to which she robotically climbs. Once on the ring apron, she slumps on the ropes, before quickly getting into the ring. The awkward pacing of her entrance shows some sort of discourse in the mind of Sophie El. When she gets to the center of the ring, she removes the veil and the crown. As she places it away, she leans onto her corner lazily, lolling her head side to side. As the lights come back from the baptism of deep purple, Sophie’s gaze is shown. Her eyes are glossed over as if none of the world around her matters.
"I've got this burning like my veins are filled with nothing but gasoline... And with a spark it's gonna be the biggest fire they've ever seen!"
At this, "Light Up The Night" by The Protomen kicks in mid-song, bringing out The Perfect Evil, Evelyn Kuller. She stands on the stage, clapping along with the music, mouthing along, getting the crowd going. As it builds to the main line, she holds one finger up as the lights begin to dim, getting them ready for the moment, the crowd building along with her.
ERIN LAMBERT: Heading to the ring right now, weighing in tonight at 160lbs, she is currently residing in Richmond, California, but can be found “wherevers fun to hang out, really”, she is called The Perfect Evil, this is Evelyn! KULLLLLLLLER!!
"We can light up the night!"
The lights explode back on, fireworks along the stage going off as Evelyn sets off on a run down the ring, visibly mouthing along with the song even as she slides under the ropes to enter the ring.
Evelyn pops up to her feet, coming to face the camera. She raises an arm, to the crowd watching live and at home, mouthing along with the song to them.
"Maybe you and I... We can still make it right. Maybe we can bring back the light..."
The song fades at this, Evelyn flashing a smile before moving to her corner, waiting for the action to start.
DING! DING!!
When the sound of the bell leaves, the sound that replaces it is the audience.
“EVELYN! EVELYN! EVELYN!”
Evelyn looks around the arena, taking in what the audience has been chanting since PW NEO’s inception. She replies to the crowd’s support with a smile before looking back at Sophie. Her opponent, on the other hand, seems to be chanting along with the audience, but until the clear pretense of mocking the fan favorite. As she stops, she gives Evelyn the customary bow that she always does. Evelyn frowns a little bit and nods as she begins to pace the ring. Sophie stops, asking if it was a little too much. It doesn’t get a stir out of Evelyn, instead she asks for a lock-up. As they do, the crowd’s volume lowers to a hush, letting the two wrestlers do their work.
Sophie, the weirdly strong girl, takes over the lockup, shoving Evelyn to the mat in an attempt to flatten her out. Evelyn bridges herself, showing some impeccable core and leg strength. Sophie scowls before lifting her foot and placing it down on Evelyn’s chest, forcing her to the mat. From there, Sophie puts all her body weight there, forcing air out of Evelyn’s lungs. Sophie takes a moment to see what she has done and giggles. She leaps up and tries to drive her boot deep into Evelyn’s solar plexus, but the former JCP Champion rolls out of the way.
JIN FUMEI: “Sophie’s offense is deceptively cruel. The personality that she displays may be a bit genuine but the girl’s vicious.”
ELIZABETH LESAGE: “She’s a Kaiser. They’re born mad at the world.”
CERES BENTON: “I’m not sure how accurate that is.”
Evelyn offers another tie-up, which Sophie answers with a shake of the head. Evelyn stands there, looking a little dejected, but shrugs her shoulders. Sophie paces the ring and suddenly goes for a shoot. Evelyn stops the attempt and lifts Sophie to a standing position, holding her hand. Lacing fingers between fingers, Evelyn captures Sophie in a wrist lock. Sophie stiffens up, allowing Evelyn to slowly get a double wrist lock in place. Dropping to the mat, Evelyn catches Sophie into a sort of monkey flip. From there, she spins out of her disadvantageous position to stand above Sophie. With an impressed gasp from the crowd, Evelyn breaks one of the double wrist locks to secure an armbar.
Sophie’s legs jolt out, snagging the ropes effortlessly. Evelyn breaks the hold before the count and holds her arms up. Sophie gets to her feet methodically, keeping her eyes on Evelyn the whole time. When they’re both at a standing position, Sophie stretches her arm and decides to offer the tie-up. Evelyn shakes her head “no”, which gets a similarly dejected look from the youngest Kaiser. Evelyn pauses, shakes her head, and offers it anyways. Sophie agrees and the two lock up again. This time, Sophie hits a quick arm drag, sending Evelyn into the mat. Evelyn rolls to her feet, comes back in, and reverses the subsequent arm drag with one of her own. The two trade arm drags under they both decide to break apart.
Upon the last armdrag delivered to Evelyn, Sophie follows up with a big boot to the side of Evelyn’s head. Evelyn withstood the impact and returns with a heavy forearm. Sophie stumbles back before shooting Evelyn an insulted glare. Evelyn checks her lower lip for blood, but doesn’t find any. The two share looks and Sophie...pouts? Evelyn looks curiously at the sight.
CERES BENTON: “She’s pouting?”
ELIZABETH LESAGE: “Yes, she’s pouting. What else could she be doing?”
Evelyn approaches Sophie, who moves away from her opponent in a sulky manner.
EVELYN KULLER: “What’s wrong, Sophie?”
Sophie doesn’t reply.
EVELYN KULLER: “You can talk to me about it.”
A sharp sigh escapes Sophie and she proclaims that she thinks Evelyn is tricking her. Evelyn stands back before looking at her hands. She realizes that she may have accidentally done so and proceeds to ask for forgiveness out of her opponent. Sophie continues to pout and shy away from Evelyn until Evelyn reaches for her shoulder. Sophie shoves her to the mat with one hand to the amazement of everyone in the ring.
JIN FUMEI: “Holy—“
Evelyn doesn’t seem too hurt by the attack. When she gets up, she starts to ponder on what she was going to do. After a while, she gets out of the ring and heads for a crowd member. She discusses something with him before giving him a thanks and re-entering the ring. As she stands there, she begins to clap her hands. Soon, the fan starts up a chant.
Evelyn gets close to Sophie, trying her best to make her warm up to the idea. Sophie continues to be obstinate, walking away at every turn. Eventually, Evelyn stops and opens her arms to her opponent.
JIN FUMEI: “What is she doing?”
ELIZABETH LESAGE: “Not all problems need to be handled with punches to the face.”
JIN FUMEI: “That’s what wrestling is all about!”
Evelyn walks over to Sophie and wraps her arms around her. Sophie’s eyes widen as she struggles to get out of the grip. Evelyn’s hug is too strong for Sophie to get out of until she finds herself forced to accept it. She turns around in Evelyn’s grip to return the hug, which sparks an “awwww” from the audience. However, it is not long before things go sour. Sophie plants Evelyn with a belly-to-belly suplex. When she arises, she waits in the corner for Evelyn to get up.
JIN FUMEI: “Yeah, that’s more like it!”
Evelyn gets up and Sophie comes in for Split the Sky (Discus Big Boot). However, Evelyn ducks underneath it. When Sophie turns around, Evelyn hugs her again. This time, she suplexes Sophie with a clean Northern Lights. Instead of retaining the bridge, she floats over and drops Sophie with a Twisting Brainbuster! Sophie stumbles to her feet and she’s easy pickings for Sheer Heart Attack (Galleria)! She hooks the leg!
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
DING! DING!! DING!!!
ERIN LAMBERT: “Here is your winner by pinfall...EVELYN KULLER!”
JIN FUMEI: “That was a...weird match.”
ELIZABETH LESAGE: “It takes all kinds, I guess, but I’m down for more hugs in wrestling.”
CERES BENTON: “Regardless, Evelyn managed to overcome the strangeness with a dose of her own and get the win!”
Evelyn gets up with an intrigued gaze on her face. As she looks around the arena, she can offer a shrug. Sophie rolls out of the ring, holding her neck. Evelyn gives a weak wave, which Sophie just stares at for a moment. The youngest Kaiser simply shrugs and waves back, indicating no hard feelings lost.
WINNER: Evelyn Kuller via pinfall (Sheer Heart Attack - 10:41)
In her own head maybe, as the cameras open up to find Tabitha Tremont, already in her gear for her very shortly upcoming match against Haruna Sakazaki, Tabitha is sitting seiza position, knees together and her hands loose on her thighs. After a bit her blue eyes opened and she grinned just slightly, teeth showing white against pinked lips.
TABITHA TREMONT: “So I did a little of that, due diligence as people like to say, after I saw I had a match against someone I’ve never encountered before. Haruna Sakazaki, it sounds nice when I say it, doesn’t it?"
Her tongue darted out to the corner of her mouth and then she laughed softly, her chin tipped down and her braid sliding forward on her gear.
TABITHA TREMONT: “I was pleasantly surprised I guess, to see she wasn’t just some new person on the up, looking to make her bones on me. We see a lot of that now don’t we? I mean, I know I was mouthy and a brat when I was coming up in training but I never forgot that Murdock could have beat my ass if he got ready to. I learned a lot about myself, and respect."
Tabitha looked up and grinned just slightly.
TABITHA TREMONT: “I learned that you can also respect someone while telling them all about themselves, if you’re sure you can take the heat. Or you’ve got a little thrill kink? Either or."
A distinct pause and she winked at the camera.
TABITHA TREMONT: “Hi, Kol."
Tabitha laughed and then stood up smoothly, stretching a bit and settling her ring gear, her long, long braid flipping around her.
TABITHA TREMONT: “I mean you already know, Haruna, if you’ve watched even one of my matches, what my goals are. Well, besides winning because that’s everyone’s goal and well, if it’s not it should be. Win, or at least learn, right? But get ready, all the same."
She took a deep, steadying breath and then let it out.
TABITHA TREMONT: “All. The. Powerbombs."
A nod, as Tabitha headed towards the open door of the locker area, and she paused in the doorframe, light spilling around her body.
TABITHA TREMONT: “I may not come out of this with a win, no matter what my ego wants to tell me about how physically capable I am. How I excel in both the sports I work in. All of that, is a constant shifting landscape, and all it takes are those often talked about three seconds. Me, or you."
A beat, before she stepped forward.
TABITHA TREMONT: “Win or lose, I’m going to powerbomb you, just the same."
“Majesty” by Nicki Minaj blasted through the venue - a familiar signaling of a certain Banter Queen. Sure enough, Mila Ainsley stepped out through the curtains to the chorus of boos from the fans in attendance. However, as flashy as her outfit was her equally flashy smile that she usually had was not on display. She made her way down to the ring, lips pursed and all. As she entered the ring she snatched the microphone away from the person handing it to her. The fans kept booing her, but Mila cut through the ruckus and spoke.
MILA AINSLEY: “Yeah, yeah. Go ahead and try to drown me out. You can boo me all you want, but you’re not going to shut me up.”
The fans were relentless at that point, but the young woman simply rolled her eyes.
MILA AINSLEY:“You know what? It’s not even worth it. You guys don’t matter at the end of the day. I have more important issues to address than to deal with all of you losers. You see, I’ve been gone for a bit. Haven’t shown my pretty face around these parts since back at Insurgence. And… yes. I did lose. Deirdre beat me fair and square in the middle of the ring.”
Her voice became bitter once the memories of that event came back to her. Mila shook her head.
MILA AINSLEY: “And let’s face it....let’s be real here. Because of that loss and being unable to move on in the Heaven or Hell Tournament to get a shot at the World championship, it’s gonna be awhile before I can even get a chance at getting some gold. It doesn’t matter how skilled or talented I am. I couldn’t get the job done when it mattered the most, and so I will inevitably be pushed to the back of the line. Others will just breeze by me. I’ll be expected to just wait it out or just deal with it.”
A chuckle left her lips as she started pacing back and forth inside the ring.
MILA AINSLEY: “But therein lies the issue: the waiting bit. I don’t like waiting. I’m not a patient girl. Never been that type of person. I don’t got time to be sitting back and wait for another opportunity to make its way towards me. I already waited long enough to make my big break back at North Pacific Pro. I waited long enough to have my first match there and make an impact over there by becoming a champion. And guess what? All that waiting didn’t work out for me. They closed before I could even get to the front of the line. I just got met with a closed door right to my damn face.”
MILA AINSLEY: “So, I’m gonna open up my own doors. I’m gonna make my own line where I’m at the front and the rest of these bitches are behind me… and I’m gonna do just that by getting in the ring with someone who knows all about blazing their own path in this industry. If I can’t take on any of the current champs, then I’ll take on someone who is no stranger to collecting gold. That is of course if they’re willing to step up and accept this little offer...”
Mila stopped. A nefarious-looking smirk found its way onto her face as she looked directly at the camera. The fans murmured amongst themselves, wondering what’s going on. Their curiosity would be satiated once Mila spoke.
MILA AINSLEY: “So, Nina Stokes. What do you say?”
That proposition certainly got the interests of the fans. Some bore shocked expressions while some cackled, likely at the idea of Mila getting ahead of herself. Some surely thought that it was a joke, but Mila was anything but in a joking mood.
MILA AINSLEY: “Any time, any place. Just be courteous and let me when you want me to kick your ass as soon as possible.”
With a grin on her face and “Majesty” playing out once more, Mila flicked the mic over her shoulder and left the ring. As she made her way back towards the stage, Mila looked into the camera once more, arms outstretched and all.
MILA AINSLEY: “Any time and any place, Nina!”
Soon afterwards, Mila disappeared to the back.
"Hoping to bring efedding a few good steps forward."
Post by Pro Wrestling NEO on Jul 11, 2019 22:51:18 GMT -5
SINGLES MATCH "VERSUS A WALKING TANK"
Haruna Sakazaki vs. Tabitha Tremont
DING! DING!
The bell drew both wrestlers to the center of the ring. Haruna and Tabitha stared at each other for a couple moments. They were sizing each other up. Tabitha was the first to act; she lifted up her right arm and motioned for a test of strength. Haruna knew that was a bad idea. Even still, she seemed as if she were going to oblige as she lifted up her left arm and interlaced her fingers with Tabitha’s. One more side to go.
But before they interlocked that second set of fingers, Haruna contorted Tabitha with a wrist-lock. From there, she drilled the larger woman in the leg with a vicious kick. It forced Tabitha to grit her teeth. But Haruna wasn’t done. She connected with another one. And another one.
It was then that she released the wrist-lock and stepped back. Tabitha slapped her leg to try and get some more blood flowing through it. But it was clear that those shots her painful; there was no doubt about that.
Stick and Move—that was Haruna’s tactic to negate Tabitha’s strength advantage. Haruna booped Tabitha with a jab or two before she dodged a lariat attempt. Tabitha went for a forearm, but Haruna ducked it. She responded with a sole-butt kick that double the TNT over. Haruna shot herself into the ropes, rebounded, and connected with a bullet dropkick. The force dropped Tabitha to the mat. Haruna went for the pinfall as Morgan Huges counted:
ONE!
It was a great offensive flurry, but it wasn’t enough to keep Tabitha down for the count. Tabitha got caught with a kick to the chest as she began to sit up. Haruna hit the ropes and connected with another dropkick. She then kipped up and made her way to the ring apron. From there she sprung up and flew through the air with a splash. She hooked Tabitha’s leg and went for another pin:
ONE!
TWO!
Tabitha kicked out once more. She sat up just as Haruna threw out another boot to the chest—
But Tabitha caught it!
She began to rise back up to her feet as she continued to hold onto Haruna’s foot. Once she was back up to a vertical base, Tabitha drove her elbow into Haruna’s thigh; Silver Lining yelped out in pain. Tabitha then used that leg to lift Haruna up. She stalled for a second before she planted Haruna with a powerbomb. Haruan scrambled to get to her feet, but she with met with a stiff chop. It made her knees buckle. Tabitha took advantage and shot Haruna into the ropes. Haruna rebounded and clocked Tabitha with a forearm. But TNT didn’t fall. Haruna shot herself into ropes once more. She rebounded and leapt up for another strike, but Tabitha cut her off with a forearm of her own. The blow sent Haruna reeling into the ropes. This time, Tabitha charged forward and clobbered Haruna with nasty lariat. It flipped Haruna like a piece of loose-leaf paper in the wind. Tabitha went for the cover:
ONE!
TWO!/center]
Haruna was about to break the count by getting her shoulder off of the mat. Tabitha continued her offensive flurry once she got Haruna back up on her feet. A series of chops lit up her chest. The last one caused Haruna to spin around. Tabitha took ahold of her arms and attempted to drop her with a tiger suplex. But Haruna had the move scouted. She broke free, dropped down, grabbed Tabitha’s leg, and rolled her into a pin:
ONE!
TWO!
TNT kicked out. Haruna hopped to her feet a caught her opponent with a swift flash kick before she shot herself into the ropes. She returned with a shining wizard. She hit all of it, but Tabitha remained seated. Haruna nodded her head before blasted Tabitha with a Lapis Lazuli (Tornado Roundhouse Kick). That flattened Tabitha. Haruna hooked her leg:
ONE!
TWO!
TH—
Someone’s will must have been might. Tabitha refused to quit as she kicked out. Both wrestlers took a moment to breathe before they made it to their feet. But once they were up, Haruna rushed Tabitha and cracked with palm strikes. She forced TNT to the ropes. Haruna kept going and going—
Well, until a right hook nearly knocked her senseless. Haruna wobbled away. That Tabitha the space she needed to plant Haruna with release tiger suplex. Tabitha was right back on her feet as she approached Silvering Lining. She grabbed Haruna by the legs and deadlifted her up. A powerbomb resulted. But Tabitha maintained her grip. She deadlifted Haruna once more before she landed her TNT (spinning powerbomb). Morgan made the count:
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
DING! DING! DING!
ERIN LAMBERT: “And your winner...TABITHA TREMONT!”
“Enjoy the Ride” began to play as Tabitha made it to her feet. Morgan lifted up her hand as the crowd cheered. Afterwards, Tabitha walked over to Haruna and helped her stand. The two exchanged a quick handshake before Haruna exited the ring. Tabitha stayed and soaked up the praise for a little while longer.
WINNER: Tabitha Tremont via pinfall (TNT - 8:47)
Cut in to a backstage area as Christopher Kane is sitting on a chair putting the finishing touches on getting ready for his match this evening. The 22 year old sits up after getting his arm sleeve on his right arm. He lets out a sigh before looking forward.
CHRISTOPHER KANE: Tonight, back at it in Pro Wrestling NEO. First time since I was able to put Tomoyo Hirate and “Dick Kick City” behind me. Took about every goddamn thing I had since I was jumped from bhine at Insurgence. Now, it’s back to looking at future here in NEO. Looking at what could be.
He pauses for a moment to collect his thoughts recalling the months of torture he was put through by Hirate.
CHRISTOPHER KANE: I do apologize for not being at the last show but I had other matters that needed to be attended to in regards to this sport. But tonight is the night. Tonight I take on a bigger guy, Carson Campbell. Carson Campbell
Kane thinks about it for a moment and grins.
CHRISTOPHER KANE: Campbell, I’m starting to get that mojo back I had for a few years. I had everything going my way and 2018 happened. Worst year of my professional year. But you know what? I’ve managed to rebound, and rebound pretty well. Hold a championship elsewhere. Starting to get some momentum here in NEO, and you know something?
Christopher stands up and does a couple of stretches while continuing on.
CHRISTOPHER KANE: Carson Campbell could start another slide. Let’s face it. He’s bigger than I am. Stronger than I am. Better looking. This guy looks like the pinnacle of what a wrestler should look like.
He took a moment to think about that word. Should.
CHRISTOPHER KANE: Should. I’m not the biggest, not the strongest and God knows I’m not the smartest guy in this sport. It’s all I really know how to do. I’ve beaten big men before, been beaten by bigger men before. Tonight, Carson, this might be your night to get some momentum going. Or…
The voice trails off as he opens the door to exit.
CHRISTOPHER KANE: To use an old cliche, bigger they are, they harder they fall. Good luck, Carson Campbell. Not gonna be an easy out tonight, brother.
And exit.
“The Impulse Champion... The Grand Prix Champion... In war, both will create a masterpiece. I must admit my deep envy, Mr. Neilson.”
A tokkuri is the first image on screen, steaming quietly from the top and sitting on a table of splendored wood. Around it, two ochoko sitting around. Worn looking fingers, having touched any number of things lift the tokkuri up and tilt, letting warm sake pour and dribble into a tiny cup. The tokkuri is set where it was once had been before an ochoko filled with sake is lifted with both hands and gingerly sipped off screen. The ochoko is placed back, still steaming with alcoholic liquid. Irina’s voice with a Russian lit comes across. Today there is no sounds of a paintbrush stroking the canvas.
It is hard to put into words what actions must be happening off-screen, yet soon enough the screen follows to the side panning shot with a zoom out. An installation. An incomplete installation as it were, but an installation nonetheless. The various creations we have been watching Irina form are set around the place. Both pictures of Tabitha Tremont and Will Neilson are situated, painted in clear relief. A beautiful image of Fran has been done in watercolors. Yet with her frock on her shoulders and pink circular sunglasses perched on platinum blonde hair, Irina Onegin is not painting.
No. Today, with a sculpting tool in one hand and a carving tool in another, NEO’s Graceful Assassin is trying her hand at clay sculpture. Whatever the clay figure she’s focused on looks like, we are only allowed the briefest glimpses on a platform. Yet she continues speaking.
IRINA ONEGIN: “To imagine you in the main event... A match, champion versus champion against Nora Foley. Mr. Neilson, I am envious of you. I am. I must come clean of that. In this age, to do battle against that of our Grand Prix champion, is something I have admittedly looked forward to from the day she was signed. Miss Tremont, Miss Foley, one day dare I wish it, Miss Fader. I suppose that sounds like a bias, a tribalism from my point of view. Fight within the tribe. Nevermind that. I... still envy you Mr. Neilson. I envy you, I do respect you for what little it is worth. Your ability. Your talent. it is that same talent that put that championship on your proud shoulder, as I like to call it.”
A pause to lap up warm sake with both hands. Those gnarled hands. Those worn hands that God help us who knows what they have done, what blood has been on them. Yet still Irina sips her sake and her eyelids flutter, as her lips smack. Yet even as she’s turned to the camera, whatever she had formed from clay was still not seen.
IRINA ONEGIN: “Yet I realize... I have come to realize that in my envy, even in my respect, I have allowed you Mr. Neilson, to make some bit of disrespect slide. Disrespect not to me. No, no. Nothing you could say would disrespect me even by half. It is... Those words. Those so well chosen, so easily spoken words you put together. That... When it is over between us, a pipe dream in itself... You want my heart. You want Vanity. My lover. My heart. My leader... Our leader.”
It is only then that one realizes that Irina is not alone.
Perhaps she’s never been alone the entire time this has been recording.
As the camera zooms out, there are many of the Church of Oleska. Many within this little installation of Irina’s, this little haven of artistic creation. Molding clay while sitting on stools, painting from small setups of apples and pears with a centralized lighting overhead so they can properly understand the important of shadow in art. Yet from the moment that Irina speaks Vanity’s name... Every single head within the installation rises. Every single member of the Church of Oleska painting stops.
Every single member touching clay stops.
Every single member drawing on a Moleskine with professional pencils stops.
Eyes. Too many eyes staring at the camera.
IRINA ONEGIN: “You will not get past me, Mr. Neilson. Your title that is MY tithe to the Church will not pass me... And in the event, the once-in-a-lifetime event that this happens, and you even believe for a moment you will touch Vanity Fulbright... Mmm. Let me repeat myself to emphasize.”
It is then that Irina Onegin steps away from the clay figure that she has been forming.
It is a perfectly formed... Perfectly sculpted, perfectly shaped clay facsimile...
...Of the very talented, extremely capable Aubrey Moresi of Southside and ACM fame, and honestly that’s just to name a few. Yet Irina seems completely nonplussed as she steps away from the clay figure.
IRINA ONEGIN: “You believe for a waking second that you will lay so much as a single finger on Vanity, and you will not enjoy what consequence follows. Enjoy your champion versus champion match...”
A pause.
IRINA ONEGIN: “...Mr. Neilson.”
The Graceful Assassin of Pro Wrestling NEO goes back to her work without so much as a thought, this time grabbing her sake with one hand to sip as she sculpts. Yet the other members of the Church of Oleska still continue staring at the camera throughout the fade into black and commercial.
"Hoping to bring efedding a few good steps forward."
Post by Pro Wrestling NEO on Jul 11, 2019 22:54:20 GMT -5
SINGLES MATCH "UPSET CENTRAL?"
Carson Campbell vs. Christopher Kane
Head Referee, Matsuda Sumiko, checked both competitors for contraband and weapons. Once she was sure Carson and Christopher were clean, she called for the bell.
DING! DING!
This match was a bit of a slowly paced effort on Christopher part than what the PW NEO fans had grown accustomed to. Though, he wasn’t in a blood feud with a crazy woman who was hell-bent on rustling his jimmies. That peace of mind must have led to Christopher taking his time and being methodical.
Christopher shot in for Carson’s legs as they connected in the center of the ring. It was a great shooting attempt, but Carson was a step or two faster. He caught Christopher about the neck and spalled, which nullified Mr. Kane’s momentum. Carson dropped Christopher down to the mat and blasted him with a knee to top of the dome. That had to hurt, given the fact that Christopher stiffened up. From there, Carson gained side-control. Instinctually, Christopher used his hands to cover his head and neck. But that left his body wide open. Carson began to light Christopher up with a series of knees to the midsection. A sharp one caused Christopher to grit his teeth. Afterwards, Carson hoped up and grabbed ahold of his opponent’s waist. He attempted to deadlift Christoper up and drop him with with a gut-wrench.
The move didn’t connect though, as Christopher was able to fight out and land on his feet. From there, he used his speed and wits to send Carson crashing to the mat with a drop-toe-hold. Christopher rolled off of Carson’s back and slapped on a grounded side headlock. Christopher cranked back as hard as he could. And while the move was effective, he started to feel his leverage advantage leave him as Carson began to rise to his feet. A punch to the gut broke Christopher grip; a moment later he went flying into the ropes. Christopher rebounded only to drill Carson in the knee with a dropkick. Christopher got back up and shot himself into the ropes once more. He returned and blazed in with a single-leg dropkick. He dropped down and went for the cover:
ONE!
T—
No dice. Carson kicked out with authority. Christopher? He took the time roll to the ring apron. He stood to his feet and watched as Carson began to rise. Christopher used to the ropes to spring up into the air. He flew and caught Carson with a dropkick to the face. That dropped Carson. Christopher then kipped up. He ran and leapt onto the middle ropes and sprung back with a moonsault. Christopher hooked his leg and went for the pin once more:
ONE!
TWO!
Carson kicked out again.
Mr. Kane smacked his first against the mat has he thought about his next course of action. Christopher decided slap on a chin lock. He pulled back on his opponent’s neck, which caused Carson to grunt out in pain. However, Carson endured the pain. Having had enough, Carson then grabbed ahold of Christopher’s wrists. A bust of strength allowed him to Christopher’s arms away. Carson then cocked his head back and slammed his dome into Christopher’s nose. The impact caused Christopher’s nose to start bleeding.
Having gained some space, Carson was able to stand up. His eyes glanced over to the leaking Christopher Kane. He delivered a boot to the chest and a kick to the face before he grabbed Christopher by the hair. Carson lifted him to his feet and shot him into the ropes. Christopher tried to make a play on the rebound, but he ended up getting lifted up with a flapjack. His neck slammed against top rope. Mr. Kane held his neck as he gasped out for air. But he was open. That allowed Carson to plant him with a release German suplex. Christopher started to crumble to the mat—
Until Carson grabbed him and deadlifted him up into powerbomb position. He got a running start before he jumped and nearly drove Christopher through to mat. Carson went right into the pin:
ONE!
TWO!
T—
That would have been it, but Christopher got his shoulder off of the mat. Christopher rolled onto his stomach and wiped the blood away from his nose as Carson rose but to his feet. Carson cracked his neck and then signalled for the Flight of the Conchords (Crucifix Powerbomb). He then yoked Christopher up into the air. However, Mr. Kane began to kick and flail his legs. Carson began to lose his grip. And because of that, Christopher was able to reverse his fortunes and take Carson to the mat with a hurricanrana. He hooked Carson’s leg:
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
DING! DING! DING!
ERIN LAMBERT: “And your winner…CHRISTOPHER KANE!”
Christopher wiped some more blood away from his mouth and nose as he stood to his feet. Carson slammed his fists against the mat; he was obviously frustrated by the defeat.
WINNER: Christopher Kane via pinfall (hurricanrana - 9:30)
As the camera shifts backstage, the fans were greeted with the less than impressed face of William Bateman. Clearly annoyed, albeit dressed in his finest of bespoke suits, he could be seen pacing back and forth in an almost aimless fashion. Perhaps it was pre-match jitters, considering that he was slated to go against Fallon Lockhart. Perhaps so much so that he hadn’t even gotten changed into his ring gear for the semi-main event. Regardless, he was clearly on edge-his jaw clenched and his brow furrowed, while a hand brushed through wayward locks of dark brown hair that hung over his face. This continued for a few long moments before he was letting out a low, gruff sigh and glancing toward the distance.
BATEMAN: Where in the Hell is my fucking latte?
He said, a certain exasperation in his voice. Ah, yes. His coveted soy chai latte. He had ordered one of his personal assistants to go get his drink of choice and yet, despite all reason and logic (at least, within his skewed estimation), they had yet to retrieve it for him. Huffing again, he shook his head briefly before continuing on.
BATEMAN: Jesus H fucking Christ, all I wanted out of this town was a fucking latte. I know it’s an absolute stretch for such a backwater shithole as Albuquerque, but come the Hell on! There isn’t a halfway decent coffee shop out here? Not even a...Ugh, Starbucks? What kind of shitshow business do the higher ups of this company think they’re running, coming to the middle of who-gives-a-shit anyway? Christ…
In his exasperation, the pacing had begun again. Clearly, he wasn’t even considering the fact that he was slated to wrestle in the near future. Why would he be? Above all else, that latte was the most important thing to him at the moment. Until now...okay, well no, the latte was still the most important thing to Bateman, and what would happen next would only serve to annoy him further - the voice of none other than HENNY.
HENNY: Well, well, well...
He declared, pretty loudly, as if he wanted anyone in the near vicinity to hear him. HENNY slowly sauntered towards William, eyeing him up and down as he did so, as if judging him.
HENNY: I’ll be honest with you, Bateman. You look like shit. Truly, you do. I mean I get the whole Jesus look, I understand it, obviously, but what are you going for now? The Jesus post-crucifixion look? My challenge must’ve really shaken you to the core, huh?
Before Bateman had a chance to respond it was then that finally, an incredibly worried looking personal assistant appeared before them both. She made a beeline towards her employer, clutching what was probably the only soy chai latte in the whole state of New Mexico. Though in one swift motion, and much to Bateman’s horror, HENNY swiped the drink, taking an almost smug sip after doing so...only to spit it back out of disgust, right over the assistant!
HENNY: What in the ever loving FUCK is this?
Horror shifted to a dull, lifeless expression after the poor woman was sprayed by spittle and steamed soy milk-a look of shock and horror upon her face. For a few long moments, there was an awkward silence that overtook the hallway before Bateman was inhaling slowly. Inhaling slowly, deeply, before raising a hand up to stop HENNY before he could even consider speaking again.
BATEMAN: You.
He said flatly, his tone devoid of even the slightest bit of emotion. His hand shifted, moving toward the woman’s face as she tried to recover from the shock that had overtaken her.
BATEMAN: You’re fired. Get out of here, you fucking embarrassment.
That deepening expression of shock was something that Bateman ignored, his eyes shifting back toward HENNY. Yet again, that dull stare was fixed upon that annoying interloper for a few moments...before he was blinking slightly; an obvious sense of confusion crossing his features, from his slightly furrowed brow to his eyes looking him over. A finger was raised, his mouth opening briefly as though he intended to speak...only to close. His head tilted the other way, his mouth opening again yet nothing came out. By the time that assistant had trudged out of view, his confusion seemed to deepen further before he finally just spat out whatever was on his mind.
BATEMAN: Run that back for me? Not the spit take. The shit I ignored.
HENNY now too is rendered to momentary speechlessness. He casually wiped his mouth with the back of his free hand, flicking any remnant of liquid down to the concrete, generally looking disgusted that his taste buds were subjected to...whatever that was.
HENNY: I said...you look like shit, Bateman. Are you that scared of my challenge a couple of weeks ago?
He smirked for a moment, liking the thought.
HENNY: You can’t keep wrestling powerpuff girls for whatever remains of your career.
The more HENNY spoke though, the more intensely confused the Pretty Boy Assassin seemed to be. It was almost comical, the way he stared the man down as he continued on, even in the face of his slander and smirks. However, for all of that self assurance HENNY presented, William could only blink yet again before responding.
BATEMAN: ...When the fuck did you challenge me?
He said, so clearly taken aback that his usually unnoticed German accent flared up just a little. The smirk, meanwhile, completely dropped off the face of the Swede. He opened his mouth to speak, rarely stumbling over his words for a short few seconds.
HENNY: I-...when...I-...I CAME OUT TO THE RING! It was on Youtube! Trending! That Twitter girl running the company’s account you have a crush on tweeted it! It got retweets, Bateman, you fuck. What do you mean ‘when did I challenge you’!?
HENNY scoffed in disbelief, so much so that he was still holding Bateman’s soy chai latte as he glared at the German. All he got in return was another few moments of dull confusion on William Bateman’s behalf as he took in and processed the information that was offered up to him. It was only after a few seconds of painfully uncomfortable silence that he started laughing. Not full blown, not even enough to make his stomach or chest rise and fall in much of a convincing manner. If anything, it was more of a dry sort of thing-as though he were an adult listening to a senile grandparent tell the same story for the hundredth time. A soft sigh left him, a shake of his head following, before he was reaching out to take that cup of tea from HENNY’s hand.
BATEMAN: Oh man. You know, you’re a terrible excuse for a wrestler but I didn’t realize how funny you were until we were together in person.
Popping the top off of that container, as to avoid making contact with anything HENNY’s mouth had touched, he casually took a sip of that tea...and immediately spit it off to the side. After a mutter along the lines of ‘fucking New Mexico’, he regained his bearings.
BATEMAN: ...You honestly think that I’d remember something involving you, of all people, when there’s something more interesting going on? I mean, it’s Tax season. I handle all of my own accounting, for fucks sake. It takes a lot of time and attention to run the kind of numbers I make on a yearly basis. You seriously, whole-heartedly, believe that I could remember a limp-dicked challenge from a limp-dicked wrestler who’s been so absolutely, undeniably, hilariously terrible over the last few months that you couldn’t even get a job in 4CW as a curtain jerker?
A pause, that drink tossed in the nearby trash can, before he was looking back towards HENNY.
BATEMAN: Funny joke. We done here? Or are you actually serious?
The mood, understandably, had now shifted. Far gone was HENNY’s smirk, and the light barbs the Swede swung the way of William Bateman were now too, gone. He took a moment, glancing towards the trash can before scoffing, like a young teen who doesn’t know what to say after he’s been told off. HENNY nods slightly, raising an index finger.
HENNY: Do you want to know the difference between you and I, William?
A short pause, but HENNY wasn’t going to wait for him to say “no”.
HENNY: If you just had the past couple of months that I had, you wouldn’t be here anymore. Because that’s what you do, Bateman. When it gets tough, you disappear. Anyone with two eyes who actually gives a fuck about your career sees that pattern emerge all too often. You show up, tell everyone how great you are, have a couple of great matches, but when it gets tough - when you have to show the slightest inkling of perseverance, you’re nowhere to be found. That’s the Bateman M.O.
It was almost odd for HENNY to be so direct in that regard, so much so that he almost felt like a stranger in his own body. Years ago - he might’ve let Bateman walk away. But not tonight. It was then that he reached towards him, prodding him in the chest to regain his attention.
HENNY: So no, we’re not done here, and no, I’m not joking.
For all of the passion and conviction in HENNY’s voice, for all of the strength he might’ve felt in the moment in stepping beyond himself and his normal boundaries and for the distant reaction of the crowd, muffled by the countless walls between them and those two men, William Bateman seemed unmoved. If anything, he seemed more annoyed that he had dared to touch his suit than anything that was said. As he said those final words, William merely reached up and brushed off the ‘dirt’ from that small point of impact before he offered up the most insincere of smiles.
BATEMAN: Nice speech. Very heartfelt. Maybe even the tiniest bit convincing. Ultimately though? It’s empty. Empty like every part of the thing you pretend to be when there’s a camera on you. Hollow like the pit in your stomach every time you fail...and fail...and fail again.
Chuckling to himself, he took a moment to adjust his tie before he was taking a step away from HENNY, looking him right in the eye as he backpedalled slowly and confidently, watching him like a hawk.
BATEMAN: You can say whatever you want. Pretend you’ve got a moral high ground. Convince yourself that you and I belong in the same sentence, the same breath, but here’s what it comes down to. You’re the one who has to come crawling to me. You’re the one who has to put my name in your mouth, just to get an inkling of attention away from the fact that you’re freefalling faster than Tom Petty on painkillers. You need me...And you can’t have me.
A pause...and then that smirk. That damnable, damnable smirk.
BATEMAN: Fuck you. Fuck your challenge. Fuck everything you believe. You get nothing.
And with that? He was offering up a small, casual wave before he was turning on a heel and walking off, letting his footsteps echo off the cinder block walls while the camera focused on HENNY, who wore a irritated grimace as he watched William Bateman, strut, yes, strut away - without a single solitary care in the world for HENNY, or his challenge. He took a short second, standing alone in silence before he uttered a few simple words, just loud enough for the camera to pick up on.
HENNY: I wouldn’t be so sure, Bateman...mein alter freund.
HENNY shook his head in disgust, a resentful gaze aimed in the direction Bateman walked off in as the camera slowly begins to fade elsewhere, ending the tense encounter.
The view switches to that of backstage where the view is that of the parking lot of The Pit, arena location of tonight’s event in New Mexico. A car is already pulled up to where the camera is already on and filming, the location itself filled with cars just a parking lot. Shocking, I know. At this point, you’d expect somebody to step out of the car, but the view just pans up slightly to show Will Neilson sat atop the black car which is unidentifiable from the side.
It still looks rather nice.
Will reaches over the hood and grabs what appears to be a championship belt and on closer inspection, it’s that of the Impulse Championship. Making his first appearance on a NEO show with his newly won title, Will hops off the car and throws the title belt over his shoulder. His hair is gelled to the extreme with sunglasses hovering over his forehead, accompanying his attire choice for the day of a short sleeved denim jacket covering a plain grey t-shirt.
WILL NEILSON: “Wahey! Ain’t it nice to be back here competing for NEO?”
He walks forward as the camera starts walking backwards, otherwise Will would have had a collision with said camera and that probably wouldn’t of ended well.
WILL NEILSON: “You already know the reason why I say that, it’s because of the Impulse Championship over here. I was more than excited to view the action backstage on the last show, but here I am now competing in the main event against a fellow champion. Nora Foley is a formidable opponent for sure, but as much as I’d love to talk and hype up that match; there’s something else on my mind.”
Will’s expression turns to that of a fairly neutral one, there’s no real smile on his face as there normally would be. The sun definitely makes its mark on the front plate of the Impulse Championship, ooh, all shiny.
WILL NEILSON: “The Church of Oleska. Irina, Vanity and who knows what else is out there trying to extract blood from me… although it’s slightly refreshing. On my first night at Select Your Fighter, I discovered entirely what the church was all about. Soon after in the Heaven or Hell tournament, I discovered what they wanted. Am I a sacrifice? Am I a martyr? Perhaps that’s overthinking stuff. The one thing that’s certain is that Irina believes that her taking this championship away from me is an inevitability. Believing such a thing has gotta be unhealthy for you. The church has always found a way to place themselves within my spotlight when they see fit, whilst other weeks its complete silence. All of this builds up to the Impulse Championship, as it should.”
WILL NEILSON: “To undermine somebody like Irina is something that I refuse to do at this stage, with or without the church leading the way for her. If she wasn’t a great competitor, then we wouldn’t be at this point, so her winning the contendership the night after I won the championship felt bittersweet. She wants me to believe in this inevitability and nah, man, This is the first hurdle! The first challenge in something that I can firmly say is going to be huge, because being the first person to ever hold this title means that everybody looks to you on how that legacy is built on. Attempt to put these thoughts in my head about doubt, uncertainty and inevitability, because all it does is help me. It helps me realise that at the end of the day, ain’t nobody gonna stop this flow.”
The corners of Will’s mouth stretch out into a smirk as he places his hand over the front plate of the championship, breaking out into a more fast walk as the camera slightly struggles to keep up, Will is quite the fast boy it seems. As he gets to the entrance of the arena, voices in the distance suggests that some fans have spotted the Impulse Champion.
WILL NEILSON: “Already? They’re early.”
The smile remains on Will’s face as he speeds up a bit more, back turned to the camera as he turns around for a slight moment, flashing a wink because he’s cheeky like that.
WILL NEILSON: “Grand Prix Champion. Catch you soon, yeah?”
"Hoping to bring efedding a few good steps forward."
Post by Pro Wrestling NEO on Jul 11, 2019 23:06:43 GMT -5
HEADLINE SINGLES MATCH "HEART AND MISFORTUNE"
Fallon Lockhart vs. William Bateman
The overhead lights fade to black, draping the arena in darkness beyond the ever-present flicker of flashes from cell phones and cameras. For several long moments, that darkness is left to reign...only ceasing when the bassline of Kanye West’s “Hell of a Life” comes thumping through the PA system in all of it’s distorted glory; the uptempo rhythm causing a strobe of white and hot pink lights to burst to life, pulsing in time with the bass as milky white fog rises from the base of the stage. It’s only as the full instrumentation breaks loose that the ‘Pretty Boy Assassin’ makes his presence known-an almost expectant look upon his face as a mixture of cheers and jeers reign down upon him while he strides through the curtains. His walk is a slow and purposeful one, taken at his leisure and performed with a certain swagger; each step taken with a slight bounce as he strokes over his beard between long glances over the audience he deems as his own. However, he does land on Erin Lambert, pointing at her to do what she needed to.
ERIN LAMBERT: "Introducing...first? From Los Angeles, California, weighing in tonight at 220 Lbs...I'm never calling you that...WILLIAM BATEMAN!"
ELIZABETH LESAGE: "It cracks me up every time Erin has to do that."
JIN FUMEI: "She should just do her job--anyways. William Bateman is coming out here after a tremendous showing at Insurgence. He was so close to being able to put away Blaise Fader, but she came back strong and got the win. Now he looks to exact some of his rage onto Fallon Lockhart, who I have to say isn't ready. I mean, come on, she was supposed to come out first."
CERES BENTON: "Was she? Maybe it's mind games. William has been trying to play that all this time, alongside that ego of his. Maybe she caught him once. It's just that he hasn't seemed to take notice quite yet."
It’s only once he’s seemingly satisfied with the reaction that he’s beginning that journey down the ramp, his arms rising out to either side and his head bowing-as if soaking in the mixture of adulation or hatred. His arms raise higher, deftly avoiding the outreached hands of the unwashed masses, even as he turns his back toward the ring to continue that arrogant, meandering march toward the bottom of the ramp. It’s only once that he’s there that he’s turning around again, looking out over the crowd again as he paces along the ring side area, idly searching for a person he deems attractive enough to offer a selfie to. It’s only after that person is found and that selfie is given (with security direction to keep undesirables out of the shot), that he’s climbing up the ring steps and onto the apron.
Pacing along the apron, an outstretched hand sweeps over the crowd before rising slowly, as though demanding their adulation once more. The process repeats itself once or twice, ceasing only once he was satisfied before he’s suddenly rushing the corner, a few running steps leading him up the outside of the turnbuckles before he’s somersaulting into the ring. Rather than landing on his feet however, ‘Christ Himself’ rolls through, coming to a knee in the center of the ring...before dramatically throwing his arms out to the side and rising, slowly but surely, with a trademark grin tugging at his lips, almost as though to say that the ‘Real’ show has his permission to start now. It’s only after drinking in the moment that he’s slowly backpedaling towards a corner of his choosing, his attention wandering out toward the crowd as he idly fixes his hair.
JIN FUMEI: "Still no Fallon."
ELIZABETH LESAGE: "She's waiting it out. Make him wait, Fallon!"
Though he stopped, realizing that he was alone in the ring. As his music died down, he forced himself to take concern with the fact that a green haired rookie wasn't standing in front of him. Suddenly, the camera caught wind of what was happening.
It was pre-match for Fallon as she was walking backstage, heading for the gorilla position, whistling, her head held high, hands behind her back. Ever infallible, unbreakable, she kept her chin up and her eyes ahead. The dynamite packed Rookie was nothing short of an inspiration. Maybe that’s why she’d been chosen by the heavyweight as a first example. The camera was trained on Fallon the entire time, but then it panned up to who was coming up behind her with a chair in hand, smashing it across her back!
MICHAEL MURTAGH: “They’ll fuckin’ book you, but not me?”
Furious, a walking embodiment of rage, he was bringing the chair down again, but this time he got nothing but cement as the injured superstar rolled out of the way of his chair shot despite being previously leveled by the first one. In pain, but unafraid, Fallon had the courage befitting a grizzled veteran, even staring down a mad dog with a weapon.
FALLON LOCKHART: “WHAT THE HECK MURTAGH!?”
Ready to fight, even if she was injured by the chair shot, she was standing up to the monster of a man, but between him and that chair, the outcome was evident. They were already brawling, with Fallon trying to put up a front against him, exchanging strikes, but with her reserves already drained and the battle tank built Chiraqi armed with a chair? The exchange was short, but at the end, Murtagh was wiping the blood from his mouth and nose, a reminder that the Fallociraptor was absolutely as fierce as the best of them.
Tossing that chair aside, he looked to the camera, pointing at it.
MICHAEL MURTAGH: “Shit’s only gonna get worse. Either use me right or I’ll find a way to spend my free time until you fuckin’ do.”
With that, Murtagh cut a look to Fallon and… frowned, before walking off camera.
Meanwhile, in the ring, Bateman was forced to watch the spectacle unfold. Blinking subtly at what he saw, there wasn't much else he could do in the situation. Referee Morozov told him that the match had been thrown out and he rushed backstage in order to help with Fallon. Bateman quietly chuckled to himself, walking out of the ring without a second thought.
CERES BENTON: "That was Mad Dog! I didn't even think he was here yet!"
JIN FUMEI: "What a way to make your impact! Take life by the balls, kid! HAHA! Fallon was a contender for the Impulse title, what a wonderful target!"
NO CONTEST
The back was quiet for a moment, the camera focusing in on the woman that was to be the focal point of the shot: none other than Nora Foley. She sat there pretty, in all of her ring regalia with a cape made from a wolf hide stretched across her shoulders, looking like the embodiment of a shieldmaiden. There she sat on a wooden throne, a shield with the insignia of Fianna painted across it, with an axe propped up against the right side of her throne. She was, simply, as she was meant to be: a queen. Her crown was the belt that she wore over her shoulder, polished to a shine with the side plates bearing a wolf beneath the Fianna glyph, Nora was clearly making a statement here.
NORA FOLEY:“Do you know what you a Queen in every corner of her Kingdom? You call her a Queen. Do you know what you call a Queen when she leaves her kingdom? You still call her a Queen.”
Her tone was strangely.. Annoyed, maybe a bit put off considering everything that had happened for her to win the title, plus now.
NORA FOLEY: “My opponent tonight is a champion, one who’s earned his place, and earned his title. I have nothing ill to say towards him, and I hope that he brings everything he has to this fight with the full intention of beating me. He won’t, if I have anything to say about it, but I hope that he intends to, nonetheless. I’m going to give this title the very honor and prestige that it deserves, that it warrants, that it so desperately needs. When people look at it, they’ll want it, they’ll fight for it, because of how I’ve elevated it.”
Pause. Beat.
NORA FOLEY: “Not… how a certain someone, and future challenger, sullied it by trying to play headgames with someone that isn’t as stupid as she thinks. Grace Van Beek, time and time again, has done nothing but painted herself up to be more than she actually is. My kingdom is the ring, it’s the circle of my abilities, I am its walls, its defenses. I’m the one who happily shield my friends using my own self. Grace? Her kingdom, as of right now, is being overrun by wolves and there’s nothing that she can do about it despite her best efforts to stomp out dissent.”
Breathing in, Nora leaned back and crossed one incredibly muscled leg over the other, her dark eyes narrowing as they focused on the camera.
NORA FOLEY: “Truthfully, Grace is a dangerous foe. She has incredible in ring ability, and a strong mind for tactics and an ability to manipulate most people. Now? She’s in a panic. She’s watching things that she’s worked so very hard for slip through her fingers. She had all the will to take what she’s wanted, but she can’t keep hold of it. She can’t seem to grasp why she’s unable to. The fact is, it’s lonely at the top when all of your allies and friends were bought instead of earned.”
That’s when she smiled, a sad smile, but a smile in spite of how she felt.
NORA FOLEY: “Fear can’t keep your enemies away and your sycophants in line forever, Grace. That’s why I won’t rule with it as you’ve attempted to. I welcome friend and foe alike to challenge me. It’s why I’ll meet my equal, my fellow in the champion, in the ring head on and we’ll show NEO which title should be held higher. Mr. Neilson is no weak competitor, and he’s far more worthy than you.”
That’s when Nora uncrossed her legs and leaned in.
NORA FOLEY: “.....That’s why I’m more worthy than you, Grace.”
And with that, the camera cut out.
"Hoping to bring efedding a few good steps forward."
Post by Pro Wrestling NEO on Jul 11, 2019 23:24:44 GMT -5
MAIN EVENT SINGLES MATCH "CHAMPION VS. CHAMPION"
Will Neilson vs. Nora Foley
ERIN LAMBERT: “This following match is your main event for the evening and it’s scheduled for one fall!”
"She said, baby boy, why you lookin' grimy as shit?
I make the wristwatch full of diamond fill my sink
If I got colors on my neck what would my mama think?
We cut the record, took time, let's make these boys extinct
Nah nah nah"
The opening lyrics to 'BERLIN' finish playing as Dom McLennon and Matt Champion come in right after bearface, leading to the arrival of Will Neilson from the back who holds his head down initially, soon looking up as he reaches the center of the stage and holds his arms out, the Impulse Championship wrapped firmly around Neilson's waist and underneath his jacket. His hands extend out and make the 'ok' symbol before Will then retracts them, hopping up slightly from the stage and starting the walk down to the ring, but not before popping the collar of his jacket and doing a small twirl of sorts whilst coming down.
ERIN LAMBERT: Making his way to the ring hailing from the West Midlands, England... weighing in at 217 lbs, he is the Pro Wrestling NEO Impulse Champion...he is the Great British Meme, WILL.. NEILSON!
CERES BENTON: “It was like clockwork. From JCP to NEO, Will Neilson has chased after the Impulse Championship. At Insurgence, he got it in his hands. It took him suffering the brunt of attacks from the Church of Oleska, but he has made it here as champion!”
JIN FUMEI: “Well, we already know that his war with them isn’t over. Irina has the chance to take what he has chased after for so long. However, that shouldn’t be his primary worry.”
ELIZABETH LESAGE: “No, he has a human freight train in front of him. That’s scary than toga freaks any day.”
Will's arms swing as he walks and makes sure to check himself all over, using both hands to slap the front plate of the title before reaching the ring apron, then proceeding to shake his head and flick those blonde locks up and in the air. Neilson detaches the Impulse Championship from around his waist and walks around ringside towards the barricade, leaning against it with his arms raised outwards with the championship, almost taking in the energy of the arena before bouncing off and jogging up the steel steps and wrapping his free arm around the ring post. Not before long, Will uses the ropes to climb to the top turnbuckle and raise the title up high in the air. He then uses the ropes to climb over into the ring, taking off his jacket and throwing it over his left shoulder whilst throwing the title belt over his right shoulder. Will walks towards the far ropes, biting down on his lip and nodding along to his theme before retreating to the bottom left corner and propping himself up on the top rope.
Drums suddenly started playing. Heavy, thundering, celtic war drums as a series of pyrotechnics let loose, shooting off down the ramp with a green light attached, bathing the audience in their radiance as Nora stepped off on top of the Ramp, “HOWL” by Florence and the Machines. Quiet, but with a grin of confidence on her face, she lifted both of her gloved hands into the air, her wolfskin around her shoulders shifting with her body, the ‘hood’ lifted to expose her face. A mouth guard that resembled fangs. Boots and gloves that resembled claws, rocking naught but a sports bra and shorts, she was a mix of minimalist and flamboyant all in one, strutting down the ramp proudly as she stalked down the ramp.
ERIN LAMBERT: “Introducing his opponent...from Chicago, Illinois, USA...weighing in at 240 pounds and standing at 6’5”...she is the Wolf Mother, the Shield Maiden, the Hammer of Andraste, and the Pro Wrestling NEO Grand Prix Champion...NORA FOOOOOOLEY!”
ELIZABETH LESAGE: “Let me wipe this sweat off my brow.”
JIN FUMEI: “Elizabeth--So, aside from my commentary partner’s oddness, Nora Foley marches down as the survivor of that hellacious match to be crowned the Grand Prix Champion. She has come a far way from almost retiring. She is now standing proudly as one of our champions. Now, she does have quite the enemy on the other end, possibly planning and watching--and that woman, Grace van Beek, is the reason why Nora is the champion here tonight.”
CERES BENTON: “The reasoning is vile, the methodology is worse, and we all know that Nora’s itching to get her hands on Grace. But tonight, she has to be like WIll and keep her focus on the person on the other side of the ring. She may be strong but Will is no slouch.”
Belt over her shoulder, clutching it proudly, possessively, she handed it off to the official before looking back to the ring.
Hands out, fingers around the middle rope, she did a vertical leap onto the apron before lifting a long leg to climb into that ring before unfastening her wolf’s skin and letting it drop down to the outside of the ring, throwing her braided hair from her face.
Dramatically, she just lifted a hand and ‘beckoned’ her opponent forward before donning her warrior stance, ready.
DING! DING!!
Nora hovers over Will, her immense size leaving the crowd in awe. She smirks at Will, who gets what’s going on and takes a step back. Nora flexes her muscles and tells Will to come on. Will does just that and comes at Nora with a forearm. It makes a good noise, but it’s to no avail beyond the percussion. Nora lolls her tongue in her mouth before asking for another. Will does again but Nora pushes his arm back by advancing forward. She grabs him on the shoulder and prepares a chop. Will puts out his arms in full defiance to what Nora has to offer.
Then came the sound of thunder.
Will falls to the ground, holding his chest as Nora shakes off the brunt of her own chop. Will gets off the ground, coughing roughly as he does. Nora grabs him on the shoulder, ready to strike him again, but Will starts to retaliate by hitting Nora in the face with repeated forearm strikes. As he alternates, Nora takes a few steps back before gearing up another chop. When it comes out, Will wraps his arm around Nora’s arm.
Taking a technical approach, Will tries to bring Nora down to at least a knee, but Nora drives her opposing arm into his side. Will hangs on, but Nora’s next strike, a knee to the gut topples him. She sends him off the ropes, and Will tries to brace for the incoming shoulder. It does not work in his favor, instead he finds himself in the mat. Nora flexes her muscles again and wipes off her shoulder. When Will begins to get up, she offers a hand to him.
CERES BENTON: “I don’t think Will was trying the strength game, but Nora’s forcing his hand.”
JIN FUMEI: “He’s backed in a corner this early in the match.”
ELIZABETH LESAGE: “Can I be backed into the corner—never mind.”
Will gets up, using her hand, but takes a step back. He nods, mouthing something to himself but he goes back to the well. He strikes Nora with a hard forearm, evades a punch, and goes low with a drop kick to the knee. Nora doesn’t fall, instead grabbing Will and hurling him over her with a biel throw. Will gets up with a growl, smacking the mat. Nora doesn’t break her smirk.
Will looks at her but only chuckles to himself, not all mad at her antics. He claps his hands to get the crowd going before he rushes at her again, trying for a shoulder block. Nora brushes it off easily, but Will rolls on his back to his feet and catches her with a drop kick. Nora stumbles back before she catches a rolling wheel kick that puts against the ropes. Will charges for the turnbuckle, ascends to the 2nd, and dives off with a flying boot that sends Nora into the corner. He goes for a corner shoulder charge but Nora catches him in mid-air and walks out of the corner with him.
She attempts a gutwrench suplex but Will overexerts the momentum to land on his feet.
JIN FUMEI: “Wow, that’s some gymnastic skill.”
ELIZABETH LESAGE: “I think that was just lucky.”
Will seems to agree with Elizabeth’s statement but doesn’t mind either way. He ascends the 2nd turnbuckle again, waits for Nora to turn around, and dives over her. Landing on the other side of her, he bends low to lift her onto his shoulders. Catching Nora in the electric position, he walks around with her before crashing her down face first into the center of the ring. He turns her over and goes for the pin.
ONE!
TWO!
KICKOUT!
CERES BENTON: “Will’s back in this with his own heavy offense!”
JIN FUMEI: “That has to be his strategy here. Hit hard and hit precisely.”
ELIZABETH LESAGE: “What about Nora’s?”
CERES BENTON: “Catch Will slipping and crush him?”
Will transcends the top rope for the third time of the match and jumps off with a double foot stomp. He rolls through the impact and hits a diving senton. When he climbs again, he motions to the crowd before going off with a frog splash—only to get caught by Nora. With her opponent searching around, wide-eyed, for an exit, Nora deadlifts Will and gets to her feet. She sends him careening into the mat with a fall away slam.
Nora cracks her jaw before going over to Will. Will begins to fight back immediately, driving fists into Nora’s stomach. When she brings him to a near-standing position, he swings to kidney punches. Nora grits her teeth and lifts Will high above her head and throws him into the nearby turnbuckle. While Will recovers, Nora sees a chance to drag him by the arm away and into her own—LARIATO!
JIN FUMEI: “Oo, that was a jaw rocker.”
She retains her grip and brings Will to his feet, going for another lariat. It connects but Nora’s grip doesn’t lessen. It hardens and she brings him up for the hat trick. When it comes, Will sparks to life and flips around the lariat. He does so with enough force to counter the attack into a sudden Reverse STO! Nora collides into the mat and Will begins to make it to his feet, disoriented from the repeated impact of Nora’s stiff offense.
He runs off the ropes, feeling Nora lifting herself off the mat. He leapfrogs over her and comes back for Viva La Liverpool (Penalty Kick). Nora ducks the hit, sending Will over her. She reaches for his waistband and pulls him into the Ex-Boyfriend (Deadlift German Suplex), and she keeps the bridge impressively!
ONE!
TWO!
KICKOUT!
Nora gets up with a roar, signaling the end was near. The crowd begins to amp up for what was about to come. Will, courageous and tenacious as he was, begins to crawl to his feet. When he does, he turns his back to Nora, unknowing of his current location. When he does, Nora scoops onto her shoulders and paces the ring. Airitech’s Lullaby (Inverted Death Valley Driver) was ready to connect but as she approaches the ropes, she stumbles. Will falls out of her grasp and she looks around. When referee Summers comes close, Nora tells her that she swears someone grabbed her foot.
CERES BENTON: “Wait, what was that?”
JIN FUMEI: “What do you mean?”
CERES BENTON: “I swear I just—“
Summers nods and exits the ring with Nora. The crowd goes quiet as the two of them look around the ring, believing there was some foul play. Will begins to stir, using the ropes to crawl to his feet. As Nora and Summers look at the edge of the ring, they fail to notice the front crowd members starting to reach down for something out of sight. Soon enough, they all bring a golden mask to their face, a symbol that makes the audience start to react loudly and fearfully. Nora turns around to see the spectacle and her eyes widen in shock.
Nora’s head snaps to attention as she hears Referee Summers scream out in pain. Nora spots a woman barely up to her chest, driving a taser into the referee’s neck. As she drops like a sack of bricks, the woman giggles wildly and scurries around the ring steps. Nora gives chase, but she’s unable to catch the woman as she hits ring.
Meanwhile, Will turns around into a devastating and swift rolling elbow! He falls to the mat at the feet of a mysterious woman with light purple hair. The smaller woman joins her as Nora enters the ring, staring them both down. The two culprits gives themselves and Nora some distance, but the Grand Prix Champion is having none of it. She begins to advance before suddenly, the lights go out.
The crowd is muttering and screaming at the same time, wondering what the hell was going on.
JIN FUMEI: “Someone, get the damn lights!”
ELIZABETH LESAGE: “I see another shadow in the ring.”
CERES BENTON: “That makes no sense, Elizabeth! You can’t see in the dark—“
Ceres cannot finish her statement before the lights come back up. Elizabeth’s statement stands true as another person stands between Nora and the two women. Strangely, it’s a man who dwarfs everyone in the ring, including Nora. Nora looks him up and down before throwing out a punch. It cracks him across the face, drawing a sliver of blood down his mouth. Nora looks to throw another, not at all caring for the man’s reaction, but his hand suddenly jolts out and catches her throat. Nora tries to pry herself away immediately, but the man heaves her up with both hands and slams her down with a ring-shaking chokebomb.
CERES BENTON: “This monster of a man just manhandled Nora Foley!”
JIN FUMEI: “What is this madness?! Who are these three? Wait, why are there so many people with—“
To answer everyone’s question, to alleviate any confusion, the All-Mother makes her appearance in the center of the crowd. Around her are many people wearing the Church’s golden mask and they make a path for her. As she makes her way down, the members help her over the barricade, using themselves as stairs. When she enters, the three obvious members of the Church all give her some room. Nora Foley begins to get to her feet, but Vanity shoots her a look. With disgust in her eyes, she runs forward and drives Nora back down to the mat with the Man Made Coma (Knee Trembler)! The crowd begins to boo her sharply as she settles her innate rage. Dusting off her knee, Vanity turns her attention to the fallen Will Neilson.
She tells the bigger man to lift him up for her. Her next order tells the man to tie Will in the ropes. While he does that, Vanity beckons for one of the two women to hand him something. The smaller, fiery girl excitedly retrieves something from under the ring. It was the same pipe that she had on the last episode. With the weapon clasped in her fingers, Vanity aims at Will’s head.
She raises the weapon.
But then the lights go out again.
No music. No theatrics. It was all a distraction.
When the lights come back up, Will is on the outside of the ring, being carried by none other than…
NICHOLAS GRAY!
He mouths to Vanity that he was going to keep his word.
Vanity’s eyes widen in rage as Will Neilson is once again protected from her malicious intent. However, Nicholas motions for her to watch her back. Vanity doesn’t take well to the comment, and instead she dips out of the ring. As she turns, she notes that Nora Foley has gotten to her feet. Noticing this, she tells the rest of the Church to leave the ring. The trio remaining abandons the ring upon command, but the smaller woman gets caught by Nora. Gutsy to the end, she tries to attack Nora but to no avail.
The rage in the Grand Prix Champion’s face is apparent. However, a Church member rushes the ring, trying to tackle Nora. Once again, it does nothing to the Hammer of Andraste. The smaller girl manages to escape, but leaves the disciple to his fate. Retreating to the All-Mother’s side, she watches along with her allies.
Nora gives the Church a look and smiles rather gently.
It’s all a precursor to the poor member getting planted with Airitech’s Lullaby!
Laying out a threat to the Church, Nora beckons for her championship belt. “Howl” kicks up as she walks to the end of the ring ropes, beckoning the Church to return back for more. Vanity and the Church merely back themselves up the ramp. Vanity, in particular, looks behind her to see that Nicholas and Will have long since vanished from her sight. Credits appears as Nora continues to howl for a fight.
NO CONTEST
"Hoping to bring efedding a few good steps forward."
